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the-mirage-forest · 6 months ago

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Short Story Time!

Wrote a short story last week about Shi and some of his backstory + the aftermath, here's a link: Google Doc

I'm not sure if I'll publish future ones also in google doc, making one long post with it is probably unviable for them, archiving them on Ao3 feels like a decent option but I don't know how tagging would work.

Anyway, because I haven't posted the bios for some of these characters in a VERY long time-some bios getting edits and the almanac unintentionally being hard to access (oops)-Bios and context below the cut! I'd highly recommend at least reading Shi and Saturn's at least.

CONTEXT CUT

SHI & DEATH WELLS

One of the 11 Wielders of The Mirage, Shi is the Wielder of Death. Wielding death itself both metaphorically and literally. Unlike other Wielders, Shi’s scythe is sapient.

On one hand, Shi is a clean freak, judgemental, but intelligent and greatly caring of his family. Usually keeping Death in line and keeping the house where he and his siblings live clean, sometimes babysitting the rest if Saturn is out in public. Spending the rest of his time with Scuro, tends to flub up his english, though Scuro will always be there to correct him.

On the other hand, his scythe is also judgemental, bossy, mocking, and just the (literal) tool embodiment of an a-hole. He can talk and communicate both regularly and telepathically to Shi, usually giving snarky comments and insults towards his siblings.

Shi’s story begins in Mexico around the 1940’s-1960’s, living in poverty and by himself. Shi sees an odd creature, mouselike but not quite. And chases it into a Mirage portal. However, this particular portal was unstable, sending him back thousands of years into the Mirage. as much as Shi wanted to leave. There was a pull that was keeping him there, something was calling him.

So he followed that pull to an old, crumbling crypt. There was where Shi would meet his soon-to-be best friend, Scuro. The Wielder of Shadows, was guarding the crypt. Despite the goo monster at the crypt speaking English (Which Shi didn’t understand), Shi continued on almost robotically. With Scuro threatening to use their powers to throw him back where he came from, but never actually doing so because they don't have the heart to. Quote:“Hey! Go away! I’ll kick you right out of here! I will! I’m not kidding! I will!”

Reaching the crypt, there’s a looming ominous scythe standing by itself upon a pile of rubble. Scuro, quite tired of seeing things die from this scythe. Tackles Shi as he grabs it. Sending off an explosion threatening to collapse the crypt and sending Scuro into a wall. This was Death itself, the Last Trial Scythe. Though accomplishing the impossible of not being turned to bones the moment he touched the scythe unlike those who came before him. It was coming up on Shi, upon being called reckless by this angry scythe. Shi becomes something of a verbal dagger and starts sassing an ancient object until the object asks him to “Take responsibility”. To which Shi, not understanding what this actually meant, said yes. So, Shi got up from this whole ordeal. Becoming the Wielder of death, accomplishing what even The Overseer thought was to be a fruitless waste of time.

SATURN WELLS

I’m not sure why it took me so long to write about the Overseer himself, but it did. This is Saturn Wells, the only Overseer of The Mirage. Very old, very anti-social full-time Overseer and parent. Doesn’t really sleep much, but it’s usually only a few hours long when he does.

5’, birthday unknown, weighing 186 lbs. Saturn’s extremely wise and intelligent at his job. But also a very caring stay-at-home parent, we’re not sure why he cares so much about his own kids. They’re adopted, and he knows they might die and he’ll have to start all over, so why does he even try? According to him “I don’t care if I’ll have to take care of them forever throughout every life. I still want them to live happy lives, every time.”.

His care for the Wielders and the two Starborn are still odd by an Overseer’s standards, though. Most of the time they’re left in someone else’s hands.

It’s worth noting that he didn’t create the Xiilunes, while only he knows of their origins he simply gains a mortified look and never speaks. Although in the few cases we’ve seen him with the goo(s), he’s unable to control them, much less make them spread.

As said before Saturn’s extremely wise and intelligent. However his knee jerk reactions definitely aren’t the best in the world, often leaving him with large problems. Such as when he took the starborn in without realizing he would have to parent them, though he doesn’t particularly regret that one. He does however, have a tendency to become anxious and reacts very poorly to stress. Even small things tend to put him on edge, while very soft and caring for his family. He hates having to interact with the public otherwise, social anxiety and all that.

Lives in a house out in a secluded area, like a hermit and opposed to going out in public. The house has a special spell on it, whoever walks near it in a three-mile radius is unable to leave without his permission. Instead just walking right back to it.

Has pretty bad stress-eating habits and feather-picking habits, and a fear of abandonment, which has gotten bigger in the last few years. Compared to most Overseers, his poor health has led to his magic being a bit weaker than it should be…

SCURO WELLS

WATAWNA WELLS

The “younger” of the two Mirage starborn, Watawna Wells is technically the 2nd-to-eldest sister to the Wielders despite not being one herself. Despite this, they still treat her more like an aunt figure. As she seems to have picked up on her father’s (Metaphorical) softer side.

7’2”, born a few milliseconds after her sister (Something that’s frequently fought about), Watawna spends her days as a pediatrician (focused on the magic side of things). She seems to have her interests drift from place to place and then loop right back around, unbeknownst to anyone. She was a poisoner for a short time, but quit because unlike her sister, she has a better moral code.

Watawna’s something of a kooky aunt figure, the type of person who collects shiny rocks, the type of person who’d get distracted by all the lost stuff they found while cleaning their room. Yes, she’s those types of people with a side of care and bubbliness. Probably intelligent, but really doesn’t act like it. Personally I think she’s a bit oblivious sometimes…but I’ve heard that if she does get mad she crawls along the walls/roof chasing people like a demon in an 80s earth horror movie. Sadly, I can’t say if this is true because it’s literally impossible to annoy her at all that it's annoying in itself

Being a starborn, she’s extremely powerful in her abilities. Most of her abilities makeup what we all know as Hollowlantern Magic. Just like regular Hollowlanterns, she also needs leaves to power said magic.

The relationship between her and Tempest certainly isn’t tense, they may not act like it but they stick together through and through no matter what. It’s impossible to see one without the other nearby, although fights have certainly happened. Some leaving lots of damage and in some cases, casualties. Both are also of equal strength, although neither really show it. In fact at first glance it may seem more like Watawna is the weaker of the two siblings, but no matter how you cut it. They’re the same in their abilities.

Lives in a house with Tempest that’s nearby Saturn’s house, roughly 4 miles away.

TEMPEST WELLS

This is Tempest Wells, one of the Mirage Starborn. Being 0.00000561 milliseconds older (And more responsible in general, but how petty do you have to be to figure that specific number out?)than her sister, she’s considered the older of the two. Standing at 14’1, Tempest’s just an inch above the average Hollowlantern height.

Born sometime around October 22-24th alongside her sister Watawna. She’s one of the few starborn to still exist in this universe, starborn are beings born from magical forces getting caught in a supernova. Resulting in one or more beings of various forms to be born, however, they’re often highly deformed and weak at birth. Tempest and Watawna were extremely lucky, only being born without faces. Something easily fixed from Saturn’s knee jerk reaction of carving their faces, which (somehow?) didn’t kill them. Out of the two, Tempest is considered to be the unfriendly one. Unlike Watawna, Tempest really doesn’t care about others, not that she can’t. She just doesn’t like to. While definitely brash, gruff, and a bit quiet. She has shown to be much calmer and sometimes has a heart. A much better listener than speaker for someone who needs to vent, as opposed to Watawna, who’s version of comfort is…all over the place.

While not extremely aggressive of everyone around her, she most certainly doesn’t like them, letting her pessimism and lack of tone control. Well, control how she speaks. As you can tell, Tempest has a very pessimistic outlook on life. With Watawna there to “remind” her.

Moving on from her personality, no one really knows what’s underneath Tempest’s hood. It’s so old, and well kept, still holds together pretty well from what I’ve seen. Supposedly she got it as a birthday gift and hasn’t been seen without it since, hell even Watawna’s curious. We’ll probably never find out, because even if it goes down to her ankles it’d still be impossible to sneak up on her much less yank it off.

(I’m not sure if I’ll be in trouble for saying this, but while Tempest is a surgeon at O’Ghost General Hospital, I’ve found some evidence she may be a hitwoman on the side…so if you never hear from me again randomly, that might be why…)

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protege-not-protagonist · 1 year ago

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Criminal Minds: The Protégé Chapter 9

Ch 9: The Mountain King- Pt. 2

Blurb: The Appalachian case proves to be a challenge. The Victims remain unidentified. The geography is screwy. There's a new behaviour the Team hasn't seen before. The Profile is unclear and immediately, Grace is unsettled by something about this case, but she struggles to figure out exactly what her instincts are telling her.

Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Audience: mature audience for depictions of violence and sexual references

Author's Note: if you see a trigger warning that concerns you, you can scroll to end and I'll have a brief description what happens. And how to read around it. TW: violence, crime scene depiction, This case mentions sexual assault, autopsy, kidnapping, decapitation, Necrophilia, slight body horror involving needles (mentioned in autopsy)

BAU Jet, US Airspace, Monday, July 17th 12:20PM

Over the weekend Grace had a think over what Dr Reid had said, and how the geoprofile in the last case had revealed an important aspect. So she had spent a whole day designing a template for a quick reference fact file and saved it to her tablet. Now, if she completed this for every case on the plane trip over, by the time they landed, she would have a profile of every town and enough facts to reference quickly if her team asked for specifics. If they revisited any places, she’d eventually be able to do it from memory.

The Harrisburg–Carlisle Metropolitan Statistical area encompassed the counties of Perry Cumberland and Dauphin, and right through the centre of it was the Appalachian trail and Susquehanna valley. And in the middle of that was State Game Land 170 reserve which the unsub seemed to inhabit.

The total area had a population of 603,493 according to the last census. The majority of that were under 40 and white. Violent crimes and homicides were low, property crimes and theft were common, but that was to be expected with over 20% of the population below the poverty line. Though none of that probably was probably relevant as the bodies were dumped close to isolated boroughs and townships with less than 3000 people.

The region had a lot of interesting features in its history with timber and agriculture being the main historical industries with coal mining and industrial towns in the surrounds. Grace continued to trawl through census data and crime stats and compile similar data. Grace knew there was no way she could know enough to pass as a local, but she wanted to be as prepared as she could in the 30 minutes before the plane landed. She had heard that the many Appalachian communities distrusted people from outside their region. It was her hope that knowing enough to not be ignorant would combat some of the hostility that they could receive coming into an investigation as federal agents.

‘So if you named your violin Vincenzo, is Foley an animal or an instrument?’ Luke asked halfway through the flight.

‘He’s a pet.’ She didn't look up from her tablet, viewing the walking trail routes around the towns.

'You have a pet?' Tara asked in a quizzical tone from the seat next to her.

'Yeah, why does it surprise you guys?' She glanced up to see Dr Lewis grinning back at her.

‘Grace has a pet, and she won’t tell me what it is. It’s not a dog, and she doesn’t like cats,' Luke explained to Tara.

‘Not a dog or a cat, hamster?’ Tara asked.

‘Nope.’ She smiled, continuing to work on pinpointing key features on the maps.

‘Fish?’ Luke guessed with a smile and pointed at her. ‘Tropical saltwater fish, because you miss Hawaii!’

‘I See the logic there but, no,’ she grinned. This was more fun than having them try to guess her birthday. ‘I’ll give you a hint. My dear sweet companion Foley is the reason I have to live on the Maryland side of the river.’ She looked up at them with an evil grin.

‘Wait, you live in Maryland?’ Tara frowned.

‘Yeah, Oxen Hill.’ She said with a smirk.

‘How?’ both of them said at once.

‘You said you have a car today in Penelope’s office, so you do drive, so that is like what an hour’s car ride normal and hour and half hour?’ Luke said.

‘Yeah it, but it’s been better since Covid, most people work remote, commute is not too bad these days.’ She said with a shrug. ‘What can I say? I love my little guy. He lights up my world. If that means I have to drive a little further to work, it’s worth it.’

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. One new text message. She saw the contact name and opened it immediately.

‘Oxen Hill is not too far from Indian Head and the surrounds has a bit of forest, undeveloped land. A lot of a space… Foley, or should I say Foal-ly is a horse.’ Simmons joined in and theorised.

‘Nah, she said he’s in her apartment.’ Luke shook his head.

Basement Buddy: Hey G, are you in town tonight?

Grace stared at the message, blinking three times. He’d had texted her during the day. Texted Her while he was still at work. While he knew she would be at work. She checked her watch; not his usual break time. She leant back in her chair and subtly tried to shield the screen from Tara’s view.

G.M: No sorry. On case. What’s up?

She stared enrapt as the three dots showed he was typing.

Basement Buddy: Nothing. Just wanted to hang out.

Typing the word ‘nothing’ at the start of the sentence indicated that there was, in fact, something he was hoping to deflect from. Which meant he wanted to talk to her, but knowing she was on a case he didn’t want to bother her or make her worry. Which meant something was wrong.

What happened? R U ok? -She typed, but then backspaced, opting instead for:

G.M: Whens ur shift end?

Basement Buddy: 9

G.M: Do you want me to call you?

Basement Buddy: I’m ok

No emoji in that response. That was a lie. She typed her reply:

G.M: Want me to write an essay to tell u how I know that’s not true?

G.M:Chat tonight?

He took a full two minutes to reply. The three dots disappearing and reappearing. She nervously bit her lip. Had she been too assertive?

Basement Buddy: I’ll wait by the phone. 😉

She breathed again.

Basement Buddy: Btw. Got it in 4.

She snorted and shook her head. A deflection, but a welcome one. At least he agreed to chat later. The cryptic message was about the Wordle. They must have been some of the only people that still did it every day.

G.M: Got it in 3.

G.M: I win. Sorry.

He sent the GIF of the old man holding his chest in pain.

Basement Buddy: No your not you Sadist 😝

G.M:*You’re

‘Who’s got you smiling like that Five-O?’ Luke peaked over the table.

She pulled her phone to her chest. ‘Your mom.’

‘Oooooh ho ho,’ Tara laughed.

‘Grace has a special friend?’ Luke said in a singsong tone.

‘No, I couldn’t resist a well placed your mom joke and, I have land lady who uses a lot of emojis and they are hilariously in the wrong context. I mean, look-‘ she leant over and showed him a text from her she got this morning covering the time stamp with her thumb.

Mrs Hudson: Will get 💦💦 ⬅️ 👀 by tonight

'She is saying the water leak I’ve had is being checked today, but it just looks so suggestive.’

‘Heh. That is funny. But we-' He gestured to Tara and him ‘-are on to you.’

‘I bet it’s you it’s Ashley from fraud detection, Ashley was making eyes at her the whole seminar.’ Tara smirked.

‘She was?’ Grace said. That whole seminar she thought Ashley had forgotten her glasses or needed eye drops or something.

‘Nah, it’s got to be Cody in ballistics at the Seattle office. They spoke for 45 minutes about ice bullets. Nothing to do with the case. Tangents and fun facts, that’s Five-O’s love language.’

‘It was actually meat bullets, and it was case related.’ She hid her head in her hands. ‘Rossi, when are we going to focus on our approach to the case?’ Grace called out for rescue.

Rossi chuckled, ‘Okay, behave, kids. That’s enough teasing each other. Don’t make me tell your mother.’ He got up and stood between the seats. ‘When we land, I’ll go to the local PD and set up. Simmons, Alvez, you go to the crime scene and see what you can learn. JJ and Matthews go to the M.E. See what you can find. Tara, can you try to bring in the family and friends of victim one? We need to talk to people from the new year’s party. I’ll help with interviews once we’ve set up. Hope was the first victim. She is significant. We will reconvene tonight at 7 to share what we found. We start with victimology and M.O. hopefully this case will start to take shape.’

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Appalachian Trail, Wertzvile, PA 1:40 PM

‘Good afternoon, I’m SSA Alvez and this is SSA Simmons. You are Detective Garner and Head Ranger DeBraun, I presume?’

The detective stuck his hand out and shook both of theirs. ‘Welcome to Wertzville agents. Sorry you aren’t visiting under better circumstances.’

‘We get that a lot, detective. Can you talk us through how the body was found? Was it similar to the previous two?’

The detective looked at them with a tilted head. ‘Well, the missing head is pretty unique. Can’t say I’ve seen this kinda thing before the first one, has to be the same guy. This isn’t the big city, homicides are rare. This though? This I’m hoping is rarer.’

‘What I meant to ask was is the presentation of the body similar or different from the others?’ Simmons asked.

Head Ranger DeBraun answered this time, ‘I was the first responder. I’ve also seen all three scenes, it’s the same reserve. I would say this scene is pretty identical. Similar story with discovery as well. The hikers found me and another ranger doing track condition survey.

'They were pretty shaken up. There’s spotty reception here, if you’re not with the right provider, you can find yourself in dead spots that are miles wide. The couple had been trying to get help for half an hour. They’re photographer’s, they started out at 5, wanted to get an early morning shot of the creek with the low cloud that sort of thing. They found me and showed me where it was. On the way to the body I radioed it in to Garner here, cause he was on the first one.’

‘Can you point out where the body was?’ Alvez said. The ranger lead them over to the creek bed.

‘Like the other sites, bodies were right on the edge, wrapped up and left there. The second one had her feet in the water, but others were just close to the edge. All sites were on slight bends of the creeks, hidden from the trail’s view, but they’re kind of scenic points. People often venture off the track to take photos here.’

The detective walked up and pointed to the area where the evidence flags showed the bodies had been laid out. ‘The only other difference is this time there were two, but everything otherwise is the same.

See, at the water’s edge, there are no footprints that trail back toward the track, no shoe prints we can identify. Judging by that and the fact that is takes about an hour to get here on foot using the trail. I don’t think this guy was carrying them all the way. One theory we’re working with is he’s got a boat. Jumps out stands in the river, throws the bodies out and goes back the way he came. We had the dogs out here. Nothing came of that except that he came from upstream, east aways.’

‘That’s toward Summerdale, Marysville, right?’ Simmons asked.

‘Sure is, and the site there had the same thing happen when we brought the dogs out. They lost the scent down steam heading further west.’ Detective Garner shook his head. ‘Our combined police forces and rangers swept that forest cleaner than a germophobe’s soap box, found nothing.’

‘So the bodies were never in the water fully submerged, just on the edge?’ Alvez asked.

‘Nope. Just toes touching for one, but otherwise laid out on the bank.’ Garner confirmed.

‘If you want my opinion agents, it's a forensic countermeasure. This is bear country. Animals come to the water’s edge regularly to feed and drink. I guess this guy was hoping they'd clean it up. And honestly, that has me worried since we've got a big gap of time between victims.’ DeBraun surmised.

Simmons nodded, ‘I agree with you both that it’s unlikely, but if this guy was to come on foot, how long would it take him to get to a site like this from town? Is the trail connected at to where the other bodies were found on?’

‘Of for sure, the trail connects eventually. It’s all the same river, same valley, same mountain range. But there are obstacles. As the crow flies, we’re pretty close, but in actuality, going around the mountains would take a day and a half at least to get to Marysville. Each site was a over a hour’s walk away from the populated area’s entry on the trails. That’s a long time and way to be carrying a body.’

‘Any secluded places nearby here or the other sites?’ Simmons asked.

Garner laughed darkly, ‘It’s the forest. If a tree falls on you in the forest, and there’s no one around, there’s no scream. And most people 5 minutes from the town centres have acreage. It would be harder to find a busy area round here. You can see why we’re worried.’

‘I more thinking abandoned places, places nomadic types would live. Whoever did this knows the area very well. They probably spend a lot of time in the wilderness. Can you think of any caves or bunkers or ranger huts?’ Alvez clarified, looking at Simmons to see if he was also getting the same idea he was.

‘Not really. I'm aware of a cave nearby that’s inhabited, but Booboo’s not your guy. He’s got a microchip and an alibi.’ DeBraun said.

‘Booboo?’ Luke asked.

‘A bear?’ Simmons guessed.

‘Yeah. Caves are rare here. I doubt there would be one uninhabited. I doubt a human would be brave enough to live in one.’ DeBraun explained.

‘You know of any hermits living in the area?’ Alvez asked.

‘I can think of a few transients that walk the trail between towns,’ Garner said. ‘I’ll get you people a list.’

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Central Police Station, Harrisburg, PA, 2:23 PM

‘So the police report seems to suggest that Hope walked into the forest in the middle of the night in winter? But your testimony means that Hope was taken from her car as she drove home, and the car was dumped back at your place. So you can see why we are a bit confused, Jenny, because these are two very different stories. You want to tell us which one is right?’ Rossi asked the young woman who sat in silence across from them. She didn’t look up at them. ‘See, people don’t usually just walk into the forest at night, especially young girls like yourself and Hope. And when you say to the police that you walked Hope to her car at midnight and saw her drive off, then in the morning you call the cops because her car is still out the front of your place, it doesn’t add up. It’s a bad look for you Jenny. It implies that you know why she went into that forest and you are hiding something from us?’

Jenny fidgeted in her seat, but remained silent.

‘I don’t think you did this, because you called the cops as early as you did, but I think you’re scared that you’re going to implicate yourself or someone else by telling the truth. We know you were probably drinking underage, maybe on drugs. It was New Year’s party after all, but we don’t care about that, we need to find who did this to Hope. You need to help us by telling us the truth of what happened that night because Jenny, cause this guy is still out there, he killing other girls.’ Dr Lewis said.

Jenny looked up at that news and swallowed. Tara observed the sheen of unshed tears as she shakily opened her mouth.

‘It was a stupid dare.’ She began and her hand shook, placing down the photo of Hope she had been clinging on to face down on the table. ‘We were drunk-No, I was drunk. Hope wasn’t. She was good like that. At about 11, people started to dare people to do this thing we called 7 minutes in hell, where you give someone something scary to do for seven minutes.

‘There was a stretch of track that went past the back of the houses on my street, backed onto my yard. But you could come off the trail down the end of the street and walk back in front of the houses. It was only a 10-minute walk. After the first person got dared to do it… We all did it. In the dark, with only our phone light, we had to film it to prove we did it. We all did it, but… Hope, she was scared. She chickened out.

‘We laughed at her… We locked her outside on the porch for the rest of the party as a joke. I was drunk, and I was stupid. I told her she away plays everything safe, and she never does anything fun that she was a boring person. I told her that. It wasn’t true. Our last night together, I was such a shitty friend. I was awful to her. After that she said she was leaving… I watched her from the window walk back to the car…’

‘But you didn’t see her drive away, did you?’ Dr Lewis asked.

Jenny shook her head and sobbed. ‘It was stupid. It was my fault.’

‘So she was taken from her car off the street?’ Rossi asked.

‘No…’ Jenny cried harder. ‘I-I opened the window and told her she couldn’t come back unless she had proof she walked it.’ Tears spilled down her cheek and her voice cracked. ‘When I saw her car still there when I woke up, I knew something bad had happened. I think she, got out of the car and tried to walk the trail. She’s dead because of that stupid dare! She’s dead because I told her she was boring!’

Rossi looked to his colleague and sighed, passing a tissue box across the table to her.

‘Do you think Hope probably had her phone with her, to capture proof?

‘Yeah, she would have filmed it.’ Jenny sniffed.

‘Jenny, was anyone else missing or leave early that night?’ Dr Lewis asked, reviewing the answers she had given to police.

‘No, but I passed out about 12:30, Hope was the only one who left early.’

The same answer she had given before, but she had to be thorough, if Jenny had lied the first time, then she might have lied about something else.

‘Did you see anyone hanging around the trails before or after that night?’

Jenny shook her head ‘No. But it’s a trail. People walk it all the time. Especially the bit that goes behind our property. People go jogging there.’

‘Can you remember anything strange happening at the time? Any repair men around, surveyors, salesmen, anything like that?’

‘No.’ She shook her head again, giving no knew answers. Tara nodded and was about to signal to Rossi that they had all they could get when Jenny’s expression changed. Tara cocked her head

‘What did you just think of Jenny?’ She asked.

‘It’s stupid.’

‘Nothing is stupid, it could help.’

‘It sounds crazy, but… I heard things, from the forest.’

‘Like what? Noises? Screams?’ Tara prompted.

‘No, um… in the following days… sometimes, when I was in the yard, I thought I heard someone call my name.’

‘Why didn’t you tell the police?’ Rossi asked.

Jenny hung her head, ‘I thought it was just in my head. You don’t understand… when you live here, it’s different. There’s a saying: if you heard your name called in the woods, no you didn’t. Look people say they hear crazy things all the time, and they say there’s like skin walkers, feral people and cannibals. Strange things that happen out there in those hills. I just tried to forget it. Pretend I didn’t hear it.’

‘Do you remember exactly what the voice that called to you said, was it just your name or was there anything else?’ Tara pressed.

‘It was really weird actually, that’s why I thought it was in my head.’ She blew her nose and a look of concentration crossed her face. ‘I would hear my name. But sometimes I heard him say, “Jenny… Your friend trips inside the hill.” Over and over. She trips inside the hill. Like that’s crazy right? No one would say that? That had to be myself hearing things?’

She shared a glance with Rossi, what were they supposed to make of that? Sure it could have been Jenny’s internalised guilt manifesting in auditory hallucinations, but it could of also been the killer attempting to lure her too. And more disturbingly, the later seemed more likely.

‘Why didn’t you tell someone this Jenny?’

‘I thought I was going crazy or something. I don’t believe in the supernatural, but everyone around here is like superstitious. There are legends. You don’t have to believe them to be scared of them. I thought maybe, me hearing my name from the forest, was like my punishment. Like the forest wanted me too.’

Tara stood and opened the door, gesturing to Jenny that she could leave.

‘You’re free to go Jenny, but we’re going to need any footage you and your friends have from that night.’

‘Yeah of course, I’ll get it for you, and tell the others to do the same.’ She nodded and hurried out of the interview room.

‘If that girl would have told the truth the police investigation would have not spent a month looking at Hope’s car for evidence.’ Rossi shook his head and packed up the files.

‘It seems she’s is suffering enough,’ Tara observed. ‘She has to live with that night being the last time she saw her best friend.’

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Harrisburg Morgue & Coroner's office, Harrisburg, PA 1:15 PM

‘Hello all, I’m Agent Grace Matthews, I’m just here to examine you. I’ll be as quick and respectful as I can. I want to figure out what happened and who did this to you.’ She greeted the three bodies laid out on the metal slabs under white sheets. JJ shared an uncomfortable glance with the medical examiner, who Grace had unintentionally ignored on the way in.

‘I’m SSA Jareau,’ JJ shook the Medical examiner’s hand, giving her an apologetic look. ‘Dr Davis?’

‘Ah, Actually No, I’m Dr. Ganley, I’m the new coroner assigned here. Dr Davis retired last month. But I’ve gotten up to date with the case. Hope has been buried, but here is her report. We still have Jane Doe here-’ she pointed to the first one, ‘-And victims Three and Four, I’ve just finished their reports.’

‘And what have we learned, Dr Ganley?’ Grace turned to her and glanced down at the Doctor’s extended hand. ‘Oh, sorry…’ Grace extended her hand half-heartedly and avoided eye contact, focusing instead on the doctor’s hand in her own. Grace took her hand back and smiled up at the doctor, but she was met with a frown and a raised eyebrow. Dr Ganley turned back to JJ and continued talking to her.

Grace was immediately put at unease. She stared at her hand, flexing it and un-flexing it a few times. She inspected her fingers as the doctor continued to talk to JJ. It felt wrong. Grace hated physical greetings from people she didn’t know. If Covid had been good for one thing, it was reducing the number of times she had to awkwardly oblige the invasion of her personal space. But usually as a woman, and a young, timid-appearing woman, people tended to not bother. Generally, she had observed men tended to only shake hands with other men or people in charge. When women initiated handshakes, it always read as more assertive than friendly to her. Well, that was how she perceived it. But there was just something about that action Grace felt she missed. That it wasn’t just her being unreasonable.

Was it the context? It was odd that a person in the medical field would extend a physical greeting in a post pandemic world. Was it the feel of the hands? The Doctor’s hands weren’t gloved or clammy from being inside gloves recently. Fair enough, she had just been writing a report. Was it the doctor’s eagerness to shake her hand even though she gave cues she did not want to? But then again, Dr Ganley was the new coroner. Maybe she was trying to be assertive and display confidence.

‘-Cause of death was decapitation.’ Dr Ganley finished and passed a clipboard with the reports to JJ.

‘In all cases?’ Grace chimed in, looking around for a box of latex gloves.

Dr. Ganley inhaled in a shocked laugh. ‘I would say so, yes.’

‘From the photos, I noticed Hope, and Two have rough severances, indicating multiple hacks and struggle, but Three and Four have cleaner cuts.’ She spotted the gloves near the wash sink and made her way over to it and began to scrub up.

‘That is correct,’ Dr Ganley confirmed.

‘So what killed Three and Four?’ Grace prompted more directly, pulling on latex gloves.

‘I’m sorry Agent Matthews, I don’t follow?’ Dr Ganley gave her a pacifying smile with an irritated undertone as she fiddled with a gold ring worn as a pendant on a chain at her neck. Married, Grace observed. Medical professionals often worn their wedding rings as pendants so they didn’t interfere with gloves. People played with their jewellery when they were anxious. Grace felt bad. She didn’t want the doctor to feel anxious, but she couldn’t let a mistake like that go unchecked.

Grace walked with purpose over to the slab and peeled back the sheets. ‘Excuse me,’ she whispered to victims and folded down the sheets. ‘A clean cut like this indicates Three and Four were already dead or incapacitated at the time of decapitation, so what caused it?’

‘It was my assessment that the cleaner cut was due to the killer gaining experience.’ Dr Ganley huffed as she scrubbed up and put gloves on.

‘Experience doesn’t render a victim motionless while a killer hacks their head off with an axe, it just reduces the number of swings it takes. What you see between Hope and victim Two is experience, what you see here-’ Grace pointed at the distinctly different cuts between victims Two and Three. ‘-Shows an evolution in M.O.’

Dr Ganley stared at Grace incredulously.

JJ broke the tension. ‘Matthews, hey, Dr Ganley is just doing what she can. See here she has run tox screens on the new victims. If there was a sedative, we will know soon. This is still a preliminary examination, right Dr Ganley? I imagine you don’t see a lot of homicides like this in these parts?’

‘Yes, this is the first one I have encountered that is this violent,’ she sighed. ‘I am still waiting for a few reports to come back. Most importantly DNA, to check that the semen is from the same individual, we’re also waiting on toxicology, particulates from the victims’ fingernails, and fingerprints for the ID of the victims.’

JJ looked over the report, ‘So Three was killed about three days before being discovered, and Four only one day before. And then both bodies were disposed of at the same time? Are the time lines similar for Hope and Two?’

‘Hope we have the best time line for. We know she went missing on the 1st of January 2022. Her body was found January 6th 2022, at discovery she had been dead about 24 hours. Two, we don’t know how long she was held by the killer, but she had been dead for about 72 hours at the time of her body being discovered.’ Dr Ganley reported and sighed, ‘Which brings me to the sexual assau-What are you doing, Agent?’

JJ turned her head to see Grace had pulled back the sheets to the chest of victim Three and was lifting the body up, looking at their back.

‘Grace-’ JJ began in warning.

‘There’s no pooling at their back. Have you pumped them?’ She asked.

‘I would prefer for integrity of evidence that only I handle the cadaver, Agent Matthews.’

'Cadaver?’ Grace asked, somewhat incensed. She could feel herself getting worked up, but she was unsure why. She was helping. Why was the doctor irked by her questions? Grace looked to JJ’s face. JJ didn’t seem to observe any problems, so Grace had no reason to get so worked up. She took a breath. I need to be polite, trust the Dr Ganley was doing her job the best she could. ‘I apologise, doctor, if I overstepped. I just believe it’s important for our profile,’ Grace explained and gently laid Three back down. Softly apologising as she did.

‘Well, you can talk to them without touching them.’ Dr Ganley said, folding her arms across her chest.

Grace turned to stare at her. JJ eyed her with a look, as if to say, ‘Don’t.’ But it was too late.

‘I understand you might not have autopsied murder victims very often in a city like this Dr Ganely, but these women, have already been dehumanised enough, they’re not cadavers for you to practice on or poke around, they did not volunteer themselves to this. I choose to talk to the dead because that’s I how I show respect. And I know that it’s not a foreign concept to you because you’ve been taught to talk to corpses in medical school. It’s etiquette, but you obviously don’t practice it. Instead, you protect yourself by reducing these women to objects. Now, it’s okay to be nervous, it’s okay to be detached and to be clinical, but if you’re going to be disrespectful to these women or mock me for how I deal with the dead Dr Ganley, then please don’t do it around me.’

‘I didn’t mean any offense, Agent Matthews.’ Her demeanour shifted. Dr Ganley seemed to make herself smaller and her eyes watered.

‘And neither did I.’ Well, that was a lie. But looking at her face now, Grace regretted taking a tone.

JJ Stepped in between the two and smiled nervously, ‘Doctor, I’m sorry, Agent Matthews is our resident expert with mutilations and overkill. She can forget not everyone is used to the level of violence we see in our field.’ She shot Grace a chastising look. ‘Can we continue?’

The doctor smiled curtly at them both and walked between the tables, ‘To answer Agent Matthews’s earlier question. Only victim Two, has been pumped. She was embalmed after her autopsy to preserve the body. Three and Four have not been pumped yet, but Agent, the absence of discolouration from pooling is because there was no blood left to pool, which again I believe is consistent with decapitation.’

Grace bit her tongue. That was not correct. Decapitations left blood pooling in the feet and limbs, at least. For no blood pooling to occur after three days, meant complete and utter exsanguination. Perhaps the bodies had been hung upside down after decapitation.

‘Your killer also washes his victims. All of them have small scrapes and abrasions, like they were dragged over rock at some point, but getting particulates was difficult. Where there were traces of dirt and blood on the body, they have been cleaned. But that brings me to the sexual assault…’ Dr Ganley lifted the lower half of the sheet of victim Three.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

JJ Stepped to the side, averting her eyes.

‘Excuse me Mam,’ Grace said.

‘What?’ Dr Ganley turned around.

‘I was talking to her.’ Grace inspected the legs of victim Three. There were no indicators of a ligature marks or anything else that would indicate the body was hung upside down. But as Dr Ganley parted her legs. Grace grimaced. She knew what the medical examiner was going to say, and it made her feel queasy.

Dr Ganley pointed with a probe as she explained, ‘They all have traces of semen. He didn’t clean them here, so I think the cleaning wasn’t a forensic counter measure. But here’s a thing we haven’t been able to tell until now with the newer bodies, because they’ve been found relatively quickly. As you maybe able to tell from the state of victims’ genitals Agent Matthews…’

‘We’ve got a necrophile.’ Grace finished in disgust.

‘Eugh,’ JJ remarked.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Grace moved over to victim Four’s table.

‘Pardon me Mam, I’m sorry I have to look.’ She lifted the sheet. She had to check the same indicators were on this victim. Dr Ganley hovered over her shoulder. As she carefully examined the young woman. It was very similar to the previous victim. Except for one thing. A tiny blemish caught her attention.

‘What is this here, just above the Mons Pubis and below the stomach?’ she asked the doctor.

‘What?’ Dr Ganely appeared beside her and lifted the sheet further up. ‘This here? It’s just a minor bruise. Perhaps something sustained in an attack or from bumping into a corner of furniture? It’s only superficial, but I did note it in the report. None of the other bodies had it.’

‘Can we turn the examination light on?’ Grace asked.

‘Sure.’ Dr Ganley said quietly and flicked the switch. ‘Do you want a hand lens?’ She asked, but Grace detected a sarcastic tone.

She ignored it. ‘Yes please, doctor, that would be helpful.’

A magnifier appeared in front of her and she examined the bruise to see what she expected in the centre of it.

‘This is a needle mark,’ Grace told her.

‘Really?’ Dr Ganley asked, seeming shocked. She snatched the lens from her hand and double checked the bruise. ‘Yeah, um… you’re right, yeah, it is. I’m sorry I can’t believe I missed that.’

‘Needle mark?’ JJ asked and came around the side of the table to look at it too. ‘That’s a weird spot for one. Could they have been drugged? Or would it be from like a local anesthetic?’

Grace fixed her glasses and squinted. ‘No, not likely. It’s an 18 gauge. It’s not usually used for administering drugs. If the average person were to buy a needle, they wouldn’t buy this type.’

‘You can’t tell the gauge just by looking at it-‘ Dr Ganely pulled out measure and peered under the hand lens ‘-Its… Three millimetres, which is… that’s impossible.’ She looked at the measure and double checked it.

Grace didn't do well to hide the satisfied smirk that twitched on her face.

‘Why?’ JJ asked.

‘A diameter of three millimetres is 18 gauge,’ Grace smiled.

‘No, why wouldn't a regular person not buy this needle?' JJ asked.

‘Oh, the smaller the number, the bigger the needle. This is the second biggest needle they make. This is for inter-muscular injection, administering blood, or large amounts of emergency medication quickly, this is like an ICU needle, JJ,’ she explained. And then it occurred to her what the needle would have been used for in that particular spot. She looked up at the doctor. ‘Can I probe this?’

Dr Ganley scoffed, ‘No. You’re not qualified to come in here probing stuff like you own the-‘

‘-Then respectfully, doctor, can you probe it? How deep does it go?’ she tried her best to remain polite.

Dr Ganley sighed and walked over to a tray of instruments, and picked up the thinnest probe available. She inserted it into the puncture. Her brow furrowed in concentration and after a while, the doctor pulled it back out.

‘3 Inches, then it’s through into the bladder,’ the doctor reported.

‘Well, can’t say we’ve dealt with something like this before.’ Grace frowned. ‘JJ, you may want to step out of the room.’

‘Why? What’s that mean?’ JJ looked at the probe and then Grace.

‘Dr Ganley, can you perform a dissection of the bladder right now? We need to check its contents.’ Grace gave JJ an apologetic look, knowing the next words were going to conjure unpleasant images in her mind. ‘I think this unsub externally filled this victim’s bladder with something.’

‘Oh, gross,’ JJ baulked.

‘I’ll stay here till this is done. You could go fill the others in at the station? I’ll see what Dr Ganley can find here and see if I can pull some stings at the lab to get the reports fast tracked, then met you guys tonight for the debrief?’ She suggested.

‘Sounds good,’ JJ nodded and before she left the room, nodded her head in the direction of Dr Ganley and mouthed the words, ‘Be nice.’

‘Me?’ Grace scoffed back at her silently.

‘Yes, you.’ JJ pointed and left.

---------

Next Chapter

Taglist: @bridgeoverstrawberryfields

Spencer will be in the next chapter, I promise this one was just getting to long to not split it I'm sorry. Hopefully you liked it.

If you love this story or even just like it, leave a comment, like, reblog, ask a question with Character Mail, whatever, it is much appreciated and it really motivates me.

if you want to be added to taglist please comment on this post.

TWs:

Sexual assault, Necrophilia : I will try not to be graphic at all in this story, this chapter just has it mentioned as part of what the unsub does, but at the morgue Grace does inspect the bodies, medical examiners office and the unsub is revealed to be a necrophiliac. this scene is not graphically described but if you don't want to read it, stop when you see the -------- and continue after the next set of dotted lines.

Autopsy: the whole section under time stap where is says Harrisberg Morgue... is a post mortem exam.

Slight body horror : I will try not to be graphic here, but in autopsy it is found that unsub fills Bladders externally with a injection. Again not going to describe that more than I have too.

violence, crime scene depiction: cannon typical throughout this story

kidnapping: Unsub is implied to kidnap victims and hold them for a few days.

decapitation: this is part of the unsubs M.O.

#spencer reid #BAU #criminal minds #oc #luke alvez #mentor spencer #big brother spencer #spencer gets a happy ending #the protege #OC Grace Matthews #fanfic #my fic #criminal minds case #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #the protege chapter 9

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longlivebatart · 8 months ago

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Van Vliet's Interor of the Oude Kerk, Delft

Wow. 15 episodes and eight months. This episode is the season finale. I hope you’ve had as much fun listening as I’ve had talking to you. I really appreciate you spending your time with me and taking this tour.

Welcome to Long Live Bat Art, the podcast for art lovers who don’t see art as much as they want to. My name is Sydney and thank you for taking this slow tour through an art gallery with a casual art lover. Today, I’ll be talking about Interior of the Oude Kerk, Delft by Hendrick van Vliet. I hope you enjoy.

Hendrick Corneliszoon van Vliet was born in either 1611 or 1612 in Delft. He studied under his uncle Willem van der Vliet, and was admitted to the Painter’s Guild in Delft in 1632. That painter’s guild, as I’m sure you’ve been able to guess by now, was known as the St. Luke’s Guild. Van Vliet was adept at perspectives in his interiors, mainly of churches, and later started portrait painting with Michiel Jansz van Mierevelt.

Van Vliet married Cornelia van der Plaat in 1643. They had three children, two sons and a daughter. The sons’ names were Marinus and Cornelis, and they became painters. I couldn’t find the daughter’s name, but she apparently took care of her parents when they got older.

Van Vliet died in 1675 in apparent poverty, and ended up being buried in the same church he painted that features in today’s episode, Oude Kerk or Old Church. Twenty-three of his works survive.

On to the painting.

The painting is of the interior of a high-ceilinged building, most likely a church. The building is mostly white- columns, walls, and doorways. There is brown wood in the image, almost rosy in color. On the right of the image, in the foreground, is a wood object. It looks almost like a pew. The back, which is what the viewer can see, has what may be a place to kneel, but it isn’t cushioned like any of the churches I’ve ever been in. The top of the possible-pew is angled, stretching into the space of the painting and then dropping into the front of the pew. You can see what looks like a footrest for whoever would sit in the pew. In front of the pew are two columns, spaced a little farther apart than the length of the pew.

The columns are white stone with no other color in the material. The base of the columns are octagonal in shape- the sides are white and angled around the bottom. The very base of the columns are black. Above the base is a rounded band with two slimmer, flatter bands above it, each bringing the column in and making it slimmer. Above those is a shorter octagonal part, with the same bands capping it. These bands are casting shadows on the angled stones below it. The column continues upward smoothly, and is topped by an elaborately-carved capital. The carving broadens the column until it’s the same width of the base once more. The top is angled the same way as the lower part, as well. The carving is graceful and almost leaf-like or floral, with curved lines. The carving is gently split in half horizontally, with the lower half the same width as the column and the top the same width as the base. The carving’s transition is smooth, then it takes a sharp angle to the bands that top it.

Above the bands, the stones continue into a tall arch. You can see on other columns that the arch is slightly pointed, but you can’t see the top of this arch or the one to the left of the painting.

At the top of the wall, just before it curves to form the arch, is a wooden support beam. You can barely see the bottom, but you can see more of one on the support of the archway to the right. It extends up, probably to the ceiling or near to it, but it’s unclear because the painting cuts off before the end. Just before the very top of the painting, you can see the wood extends at an angle from the main part and the ceiling is wooden. You can’t actually tell that from the ceiling in the foreground are supporting, but in the midground there’s an opening that has the same columns and wooden supports. The ceiling is ribbed to provide further support.

Against the first column is a broom. Between the columns bracketing the pew are wooden boards and a pie of dirt that the cleaner had swept together. On the closest column, there’s a diamond design on the left side, angled so the viewer can see it. The outside is possibly a dark wood. The strip is wide and comes into the design. The inner part is deep red with gold details. It almost looks like it could be a representation of one of the Stations of the Cross, though I can’t tell which one it depicts if that’s even what it is. There’s a similar diamond design or sign on the column in the midground at an angle to the first one, and another one on the column behind that one.

The column to the right of the pew has a metal bracket on the shorter octagonal part above the base octagon. The bracket is swirled, almost like an ‘S’ if the letter had more swirls on either end before it ended. On the right of that column is a short wooden barrier with posts, almost like a wide ladder with unusually-close rungs. The barrier is around a column, but it takes a sharp turn deeper into the space of the painting and joins a wooden structure.

The structure is large, wider than the columns. It’s attached to the column the barrier is also protecting. The wooden structure is split almost halfway up the column. The top part isn’t connected to the base. The top part starts with a wide-bottomed angled shape. I can see at least seven sides, but it’s connected to the column so there’s room for another side if it was free standing. Set into and on top of the brim of the top part is a dome supported by arches. The dome has a tower in the center, with thin supports. Above the supports is a smaller part of the structure, more thin supports, then a similar part. These parts look like, since I promised myself I would be honest with you, cartoon hamburgers. The bottom is flat, the middle has a slightly wider part where the burger would go, then the top is rounded. Above the smaller ‘hamburger’ are two ovals, the top one smaller than the one below it. The very top of the design is a disk topped by a small, thin protrusion. Think a toy top.

In the center of the room is another dark wood structure. This one is short, only about two people high. The base is solid, then there’s an empty space, then it continues to a flat top. It looks like a ticket booth for parking lots or carnivals. In front of that is a man. He’s in profile and his face isn’t discernible. He’s wearing a long tan coat, the color of a classic trench coat. You can barely see a strip of white above it where his shirt shows. He’s wearing a flat black hat, almost a beret. His pants are also black. Above the ticket booth is a brass chandelier, with two levels of arms for candles. The arms are curved- extending out from the center, coming down, then swooping up half the dropped distance into the resting area for the candle.

Further into the background and at the left of the painting, the room opens up into a brighter area. It’s similar to the closer room, with the same columns and a chandelier. There are two men talking, one swearing a brown coat and the other a black. Both are wearing hats that match their coats. Further into the room is another figure you can barely see. He’s walking towards a doorway.

In the midground on the right of the image is an open wooden gate. The gate doesn’t extend to the ceiling. There are two men past the gate, and a woman and child walking towards the foreground. The men are almost identically dressed with brown coats, white shirts, and dark hats. Makes me wonder if they’re debating who should go home and change. The woman is wearing a deep red skirt with a blue shirt. She has a white bonnet on her head. The child barely comes up to her hip and is wearing a brown coat.

Beyond the gate is a similar structure as the one in the midground- the one topped with hamburgers, not the ticket booth. This one doesn’t have the spindle, however.

The area above the columns look like walls. The walls form a right angle with the left side being further into the painting. The right side comes closer to the viewer and is then hidden by the columns in the midground. The wall continues between the columns into the background. Above the walls are what look like stone barriers as if there’s a second floor. But the barriers are below windows- there’s no space between them for a balcony. The floor is dark gray square tiles, probably of stone.

Now for my thoughts.

The details in the painting- the white striand of shirts, the hats, the color of the faces even though features can’t be made out. It’s all so recognizable for exactly what it is. Van Vliet executed his vision. I chose this piece, which was right next to a similar painting of the same church from a slightly different angle. The other one seemed a bit more…dull, for lack of a better word. Not in subject matter, but muted in colors. It was just as detailed, and just as realistic, but I liked van Vliet’s better. It’s brighter and it’s more interesting to me. I don’t know why I was drawn to this painting, like most of the ones I chose.

I thought it was interesting that the people in this painting are off in the distance. The focus is on the space, and there isn’t even a ceremony or celebration or other event going on. It’s just the interior of a church. It’s beautiful, but when I was in the exhibit people walked by this painting or only stopped for a moment or two. There were other pieces in the exhibit, of course, but this one just…captured me. Maybe it’s because of the almost-emptiness of the space. It’s peaceful and light, and you can almost miss seeing the people entirely. It seems like a good place to pray or gather your thoughts.

The paintings I tend to like have a certain presence to them. It doesn’t have to be large in size or fantastic in terms of subject matter or even how famous the artist is- I actually chose The Milkmaid before I realized it was a Vermeer, after all. The painting can be simple, but I think there has to be an emotion I connect with. I don’t always know what emotion it is, but I think I need to see myself reflected back for me to enjoy a piece. It could be an experience I’ve never had, or in a place I’ve never been to, but there’s a common humanity that I can see. Some human experience or emotion- talking, doing chores, or longing, loneliness, pleasure. Just something I can easily see and identify. It often takes some time for me to realize why I chose a particular painting for you all. Sometimes I still don’t know after thinking for some time, and as I said in episode thirteen, that’s alright. You can’t dissect enjoyment, otherwise you can overthink it to death. You’re allowed to just be.

My final challenge for you this season is this: create. I don’t care if it’s a painting, or a poem, or a short story, or a clay bowl. Just create. Creation is both human and divine, but sharing that creation in uniquely human. Creating and sharing is something that we all do, something that no matter what we intend we show our hand of whoever we are. Everything is a statement, and everything you do shows another facet of yourself. And every facet of yours is beautiful.

If there’s one thing I want you to take away from this whole season it’s that people have always been people. They had fun and laughed and mourned and prepared food and did chores and played music and slept and worked and made mistakes just like people do today. Like I said- there’s a common humanity threaded throughout time and space. I’ve never been to any country where these artists came from. But they saw the same things I do today, and they decided to memorialize it. And the fact that they did means that they’re still reaching across time, showing me what they saw and what they loved. And I don’t know about you, but I’ll gladly take that guiding hand.

If you liked this episode of Long Live Bat Art, please consider telling a friend and reviewing to help the podcast grow. A link to the transcript of this episode is available in the show notes below. And you can follow me on Twitter at Long Live Bat Art and tumblr at tumblr dot com forward slash Long Live Bat Art. That’s Long Live B-A-T Art. Thank you for listening to this episode, and I will see you in July.

#episode transcripts

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leonbloder · 2 years ago

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Learning To Fish vs. Learning To Trust

Several months ago, I deleted my Twitter account because I spent too much time scrolling through it every day and getting angry at all the ridiculousness I found on it.

I also have some philosophical differences with the new owner of Twitter, so there's that, too.

But before my exodus from the platform, I did see an exchange between two people that amused me so much that I noted it for such a time as this.

The first guy posted a tweet in response to an article on a government program for people stuck in the cycle of poverty that essentially said:

"Jesus taught people to fish. He didn't give them handouts."

To which another guy responded:

"Oh yeah, I forgot the story where Jesus taught 5,000 people to fish so they could feed themselves."

I had to laugh at that whole thing for a couple of reasons. The first guy obviously needed to read the New Testament more carefully.

Jesus never taught anyone to fish. He wasn't a fisherman. When he gave the disciples advice on fishing, it wasn't a lesson on fishing but a lesson on trust.

Jesus told the disciples in the fishing boat to cast their nets again after they'd been fishing all night and caught nothing. Peter probably sighed before he responded, "Well, you see, we've been fishing all night and haven't caught a thing, but because you say so, I'll do it."

And then they pulled in a haul that was so large it almost broke their nets.

The disciples knew how to fish; they had been doing it most of their lives. They didn't know how to trust, though. Jesus fixed that.

Further, the point of the second guy in that Twitter exchange is well-taken. When Jesus fed the multitudes who had gathered to hear him speak, he was meeting their immediate need, which was hunger and a more profound need, trust.

Both the multitudes and the disciples, who were flummoxed by Jesus' direction to feed everyone, got to experience the rush and joy of having their needs met and their trust in God enlivened.

So what do we learn from this?

The Way of Jesus demands we meet people where they are, and sometimes where they are is in a place of immediate need that needs to be filled before they can learn to trust and begin to find their way again.

And if we ignore their immediate need, we do violence to the Gospel.

James, the brother of Jesus, put it like this in his letter to the Church:

If one of you says to him, "Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed," but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it? In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead.

The myth of the American success story is often buoyed by accounts of those who we are led to believe pulled themselves up by their bootstraps, made their way in the world, worked hard, imagined more, and came out on top.

What's missing from those accounts is that, more often than not, they were given a leg up along the way; someone offered them something they would not have attained on their own.

Another hard truth is that in the wealthiest country in the world, millions are living below the poverty line, most of whom have long given up trusting that there is a way out.

You can't pull yourself up by the bootstraps when you're barefooted.

And so, like Jesus, we are called to do everything we can to try and meet the immediate needs of those whose immediate needs keep them from imagining a better life, a good God, and a kinder, gentler world.

This is the Way of Christ. May we live into it with all the love we can muster.

And may the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with us all, now and forever. Amen.

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i-cant-sing · 3 years ago

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How would (any) yandere react to a darling who just gets random bruises? Speaking from experience I’ll just look at my legs, go, “Huh, that’s new,” and have no clue where it came from—legitimately I’ll wake up and at some point in the night I bruised myself???

(Cut to reader randomly poking their bruises while bored, going, “Ow,” then doing it again)

Yanderes reacting to reader getting bruises

I did Naoya Zenin, Toji Fushiguro, Gojo Saturo, Todoroki Clan and president Kai chisaki for this one💕

Platonic Yandere Naoya (+Zenin clan)

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DONT KNOW?!" Naoya yelled frustratedly as he stopped pacing back and forth. He was referring to the bruises that were littering your legs. The rest of the Zenin clan was in the room too, Aunty Zenin sitting by your feet and pressing a warm compress to your bruises.

"IT MEANS I DONT KNOW!" You yelled back, honestly tired of his interrogation.

Naoya shook his head in disbelief. "You're covering up for someone. Either the servants have been hurting you or-" He narrowed his eyes at you. "-it's that boy you've been hanging around with, isn't it?"

You raised your brows. "Who? Junpei? Yuji? Yuta-?"

"THERE'S MORE THAN ONE?! WHY ARE YOU TALKING TO THEM?!"

"YOU TOLD ME TO BE NICE!"

"I TOLD YOU TO BE NICE TO ME!"

"Yeah well that's simply not possible." You said, blowing on your nails. "Are you done, Aunty? I need to go on my run."

"No!" Naoya got in your face, wagging a finger at you. "No more runs for you until these bruises heal. No junk food, no ramen! You're gonna be put on a healthy diet and you're gonna take your vitamins and you're gonna do everything I say until you're better! God knows how you survived living below the poverty line before, my poorer than a church mouse niece-" you whacked him in the face with your Koi plushie.

Platonic Yandere Gojo Saturo

"I don't like this." You said, arms crossed as Gojo sat beside you, sipping tea. The driver remained silent as he drove.

"Your bruises? Well, that's why we're going to the hospital." Gojo replied.

"No. I don't like you threatening to manhandle and fly me towards the hospital. You used my height phobia against me."

"You don't have a height phobia."

"You think you know me so well."

"I do." Gojo smiled, pinching your nose. "And you don't have a height phobia. I watched you jump off the roof yesterday."

You scoffed. "I only did that because Sukuna was standing down there. He'd been my landing cushion!" You looked out the window. "I don't like you forcing me to do things I dont want to. Like- like making me stay in my room whenever Naoya or anyone from the clan comes. Or forcingme to drink that godawful tea that you claim is supposed to make me strong but only makes me sleepy. Or making me wear your stupid blindfold because you didn't want me to look at other guys!"

"I am your guardian- actually, father would be more appropriate- ow!" Gojo caughtyour wrist before you could punch him again. "I have to do things that are in your best interest. And if dragging you to the doctor for your wounds that you have no idea how you got them." Gojo smiled before patting your head. "You're my favourite student and the best to be my successor, its only right I take care of you."

Platonic Yandere Toji Fushiguro

"Ow." You hissed lowly while poking your bruises. You have no idea how you got them, you didn't even notice them until your father pointed them.

"If it hurts, stop poking it." Toji said, rolling his eyes as he brought out a bag of frozen peas. He held them to the huge, nasty discolouration around your knees. "Never knew you bruised like a peach."

"I don't." You pouted.

"Well then..." Toji looked at you seriously. "I need you to answer me honestly."

"Okay?" You raised a brow, confused.

Toji eyes scanned your face as he asked the question. "Is Naoya or someone from the clan hurting you?"

"What? No!"

"Its okay. You can tell me if its any of the servants or someone else. I'll deal with them quietly. Naoya probably put them up to it-"

"Uncle Naoya can't hurt a fly! Not because he doesn't want to- he hates insects- but because he can't! How the hell is he gonna lay a hand on me without losing it?" You smiled. "As annoying as he is, he does care about me. If he didn't, he wouldn't have bothered raising me."

"Naoya's not around so no need to sing his praises." Toji said, jealous of the bleached brat that you have a soft spot for. And Toji didn't tell you that Naoya only "raised you" after he kidnapped you from Toji and used you to make him join the clan.

If your safety didn't depend on it, Toji would love giving a good beating to the whole clan. But Naoya convinced him that with Toji's line up work, you're always bound to be in danger. And with the amount of cursed energy you have, you're gonna have a target on your back. At least with Naoya, you're gonna have someone to protect you. Naoya may have left out the teeny tiny detail of wanting to train you because he knew Toji would strangle him.

Toji only asked you because he still remembers the one time when he came to surprise visit you at the Zenin house when you were just a small kid. He'd found the servants calling you "a bastard", "a whore's child", "a stain on the Zenin name" and other savoury names, all while you stood with your head held low and small sniffles escaped you. His blood boiled, but the moment they began thrashing you, Toji was livid. He instantly walked behind them and bashed their heads into the wall. He didn't kill them right then, he couldn't, not with you standing there all scared.

The commotion had got members of the clan rushing in, including Naoya. Toji only picked you up and walked out of that room. He needed to comfort you first rather than give an explanation. As soon as Toji had lulled you back to sleep, Naobito and the elders asked him what happened. That's when Toji went off on them, ripping them a new one- verbally. He specifically targeted Naoya since he was the one who insisted on looking after you. The only reason why Toji didn't beat the shit out of him then was because your tiny hand held his finger. Naoya stormed out of the room and from the distant screams, Toji knew his cousin was handling the servants himself. The whole fiasco had Toji staying at the house with you for the whole month. Your father wanted to make sure that you were okay- physically and mentally. He spent his entire time reassuring you, and handpicked the new servants for you himself, with obvious threats if they ever even hurt a hair on your head. To this day, those servants are loyal.

Toji looked at you as you continued poking your bruises.

For you, I would walk through hell barefoot.

Platonic Yandere Todoroki Clan

They're all freaking out. Every single one of them, there is no calm. Shotou and Rei are 100% convinced you are dying, Fuyumi is blaming the bruises on Dabi and also on you wanting to get out of the house, Enji is googling your symptoms and is now convinced you have internal bleeding and about 10 minutes before you go into coma, Natsuo is the one checking you and Dabi is fighting with Fuyumi that he did not hurt you by flicking your forehead or pulling your hair.

"Guys... its okay, I'm fine-" but you're cut off by Rei gently holding your face. "Why didn't you tell mommy that you're hurting?!"

"Because I'm not?"

"OH MY GOD NATSUO! SHE JUST LOST JER SENSE OF PAIN?!"

Natsuo shook his head. "No, mom. It's okay. I think she's anemic or just low on iron. I'll run some blood test to be sure. Come on, let's go to the hospital." He held out a hand for you but was cut off by Rei crying. "SHE CANT WALK, NATSUO! SHE'LL DIE! ENJI, GRAB HER!"

"What? No-" but Enji simply picks you up and the whole family piles up in the car, with you in the back with Dabi and Rei, Shotou and Fuyumi sitting behind you and Natsuo in shotgun while Enji drives.

"Wha- all of you are coming?!"

"We're all very concerned, Y/n." Fuyumi said, shooting a glare at Shotou who was holding your hand from the back.

Dabi leaned down and whispered. "Road trip."

"I told you everything is fine." You huffed out, crossing your arms.

"Everything is not fine." Natsuo said, resting against the chair. "You may not be actively dying, but you do have some nutritional deficiencies. Iron, calcium, vitamin D-"

"Well vitamin D wouldn't be an issue if you guys let me out of the house! But nooo, no sunbathing or swimming or fun for me!" You told them, clearly pointing out the time they didn't let you go to the beach.

"I still don't understand why you got so mad at the hospital." Fuyumi said, painting your toe nails her favourite colour. You pulled back your feet at her words and glared at her. "You don't know? Did you forget that as soon as we got there, all of you carried me to the emergency and Dabi actually pushed a patient off his bed and laid me on it!?"

Dabi paused from eating your chocolate stash. "Hey! That guy was not in a critical state!"

"HE WAS BLEEDING THROUGH HIS ARM, DABI!"

"THATS NOT A CRITICAL STATE! THATS A BITCH STATE!"

"YOU'RE A BITC-"

"ENOUGH!" Natsuo interrupted you both. "That's enough. Y/n, you can't be getting angry like this. You know your blood pressure was high."

"Well then stop making me mad- Shotou, let go of my hand! I'm mad at you too!"

"But why? What'd I do?" Shotou looked like a kicked puppy, but still didn't let go of your hand. "You kept swatting the male nurse's hand when he came to draw my blood! You kept at it until a female nurse came!"

"Y/n~ honey, please don't yell. You know your body can't afford to be angry. You'll pop some vessels!" Rei said as she walked into the room with a tray full of nutritious food.

She sat on your bed and picked up the bowl of spinach soup. "Now come on. Be a good girl and eat your greens."

"I'm not really hungry..." you nervously said. "I can reheat them and eat it later?"

Rei's eye twitched, but before she could say anything, Enji popped in. "If you eat your dinner now, we can have some ice cream later." Your eyes twinkled while Rei's jaw dropped. "Enji! No desserts after dinner!"

Enji shook his head. "The doctor said she's low on calcium, so she definitely needs icecream, Rei. Here, give me the bowl. My little princess will eat from my hands, won't she?"

You smiled while Dabi gagged audibly in the back.

Yandere President Kai Chisaki (+kids and AFO)

"Nasty purple, green bruises on the First Lady's skin! Is she being abused?!" Headlines like these had sent the world into frenzy, along with the paparazzi pictures of the said wounds on your limbs.

The servants and staff at the Presidential House were whispering among themselves, so rumors about you being shackled to a monster were bound to spread. Not to mention, the Internet wasn't any kind to Kai either. As edited pictures of you that made your wounds look worse were spread, the comments underneath called Kai awful names. The hashtag #saveFirstLadyY/n quickly become no.1 on trending around the world.

President AFO (aka, Y/n's past sugar daddy) also readied up his country for war. He was going to save you from Kai and bring you to his country.

Your kids? Dabi, Himiko and Tomura weren't very concerned when they saw your bruises initially, but then you had a fainting spell right in front of them and they were convinced you ate dying. I mean, Tomura immediately started bawling his eyes out, while Himiko and Dabi started kissing your "boo boos" even though the both of them were firm believers that they did not work when you did it to them. But now, they'll even believe in Santa (or Satan for Himiko) if it means you're all better.

And Kai? He had arranged for a medical team to check on you immediately. Turns out, you're low on iron. Which confused you because the last time you checked, you were eating a balanced meal.

Well, they ran more tests.

AFO stormed through Kai's office. "Where is she?" AFO asked, tone dead serious. He went to your room first but didn't find you there.

Kai narrowed his eyes and walked towards another door in his office that lead to his room. There, on his bed, you were sleeping peacefully with your three Teletubbies surrounding you.

AFO was confused, so Kai began talking. "I have not been hurting Y/n. Never have, never will. She's just a little weak because she hasn't been eating enough food."

AFO glared at him. "She's your wife. You're supposed to take care if her-"

"I know, I know. I am sorry, but it was an honest mistake." Kai smiled as he gazed at you. "Afterall, I didn't know she was pregnant."

The look on AFO's face was so worth it for Kai.

"Dont worry, I'll make sure she eats for two now." He patted AFO on the shoulder.

"We'll make the announcement tomorrow. Stay for the celebration, will you?"

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rainbowvamp · 2 years ago

Text

an unsent letter: 1950

AO3

Oh stranger, Dear Stranger. Too many nights have passed with nightmares for too long. I don’t know how I survived a century in poverty when just the torture of my own mind feels like agony.

Perhaps because those factors were external, things I could believe I would get over, live through, and come out of. I’m not always sure I’ll come out of this. I still jump at loud noises, five years after coming back from the front lines. I still wake up with the memory of dead eyes of men I couldn’t save branded onto my eyelids, there like zombies every time I blink. I still feel the blood on my skin from holding wounds closed in vain, desperate to save just one more man from death. Death that I know is inevitable, but is never intended to be so early.

Oh my stranger, what a pathetic picture I paint. I know that it’s never so easy as “forget and move on” but in the fast paced world, in this 20th century, my patience has grown thinner than it has ever been. I wait in agony for my days as a living undead man to end. I wait in agony to see you again. I wait in agony to do something, anything, that feels normal without being encroached on by my own terrible memories.

The wars of times past did not affect me like this. It startles me, sometimes, to realize how much different I’ve become. I wonder if you’d even recognize me. I wonder if you’d pity me, like so many people do, or think me weak, as so many more do. I don’t know what is about the violence of machine warfare that has caused such a tempestuous reaction in me, but I know that I will never be able to fight in a war again. I will never be able to do this again. Not if I stay this on edge, this jumpy, this hollowed out.

There are some days where it is hard to find the things about life that used to make me love it. On those days I try to draw back on my love for you, the deep and overflowing pool, filled and nurtured for well over 300 years now. I try to remind myself of that all consuming desire to awake myself, but find that the numbness is stronger than my efforts.

I wonder if it would still be this hard, if I hadn’t ruined things, like I did, in 1889. I wonder if I’d struggle like this if I had a certainty of you. I don’t know. I can’t know.

I think about how people not that much younger than me are necking in the back seats of cars and I’m sitting alone in my flat trying to hold myself together long enough to get a steady job or fake my papers well enough to move on. I don’t think there’s anything left for me here. I hadn’t exactly built a good life for myself outside of my medical practice before the war. After it, I feel dispassionate about medicine. I feel dispassionate about most things.

I wonder, sometimes, if it weren’t for you, if I would seek death. I like to think not. I hope not. But… I’m not sure how much of you is the threat I cling to in this life, to keep me from going to the next.

The man across the hall from me, he comes and visits now and then. Younger than me, by quite a few years. Probably young enough that he either missed the war all together or maybe he just didn’t see the worst parts of it. I’ve never asked. It seems rude. He’s somewhere in his 20s. A good lad. Brings me some of his mum’s cooking anytime she sends it. I’ve tried refusing. He refuses my refusals.

Maybe I should stop trying to refuse. I think I haven’t been this isolated since my destitute days, but even then I spoke to people. The other street walkers and I were friendly, if not entirely chatty about it. I am not a man meant to be isolated and alone. I’m made for people, and for company, even if I don’t feel like it. Even if it’s hollow for me right now, with the aftermath of war still burned into my brain.

I think I’ll invite the lad over for tea. Might make for a nice change. Might surprise him that I even know his name. It’s Kenneth. I’ve heard the nice girl on the floor below us call him Kenny. I won’t call him that. I think Kenny is an abysmal name. And he’s never asked me to call him that, besides.

I don’t know when writing this letter turned into me trying to cheer myself up, but I’m glad for it. I feel a little less empty. Maybe there’s still a little hope left in this old broken heart of mine. Maybe there’s still some things worth living for. Bad names and kind mothers and connections just waiting to be made. Maybe there are some things that are still good without trying to be. Some things that are still easy.

I think 30 years ago, I’ve have been the one bringing left overs to shut ins who lived across the hall from me. Maybe it’s not so wrong to take the help, now and again. Maybe it’s not so bad to need it.

I think of all the people who refused my assistance out of pride, over the centuries that I’ve been offering it, and I don’t know if I ever understood how hard it must be, to feel like you are at your lowest and to be approached by a stranger who doesn’t know you from Adam, trying to help you.

I grew up in places where assistance, community, was a foundation of the very social structure. So much of that has gotten away from me now. I’ve reached out helping hands, offered kind smiles, but building community hasn’t been high on my list of needs since I was a mortal man. I cannot die, I do not age, and so I have no choice but to leave community after community behind. Maybe I made the mistake of refusing to be attached. Maybe it’s a mistake that it’s not too late to fix.

I might go out for lunch today. The weather is nice and warm, no rain expected. Maybe I’ll say hi to a few people on the way. I haven’t done that in a years.

And on my way back, I’ll leave an invitation to tea at Kenneth's.

#lore's dreamling letters #dreamling

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littlelittlesimmies · 3 years ago

Text

Sorry long non-sims post.

I live in France. I went to vote yesterday. I hoped. And I was wrong.

We now have the choice between a fascist whose political party was founded by an SS and a Nazi collaborator, and whose discourse has changed in form but not really in substance since that time, and that f- contemptuous Macron who dissolves the public services to closer to an American model, depriving the poor of access to care, education, housing, and so on, who chooses among his ministers rapists in complete relaxation, and condemned twice during his previous mandate for climate inaction (and that's just a rough summary, I'll skip the piling up suicides among students, farmers, etc).

Less than 1%.

Less than 1% difference in votes to potentially escape this. It's historic, and dramatic.

I cried for nearly seven hours straight.

I'm scared, so scared for my loved ones. My nephew. He just turned two. In what world will he grow up ? His brother or his sister to come, same. My best friend, whom I consider as much as my brother and my soul mate at the same time. Poor, gay, half North African. He gets out of it, but for how long if the Nazi ideology returns ? Because yes, we think we have eradicated all that for the past 50 years, but realize... a party based on Nazi values has just been elected in France in 2022 ! I think of his mother, whom he loves above all, lesbian, racialized, chronically ill, disabled. I think back to my friend Loubna, who committed suicide, abandoned by the French state. She was amazing, she fought for others, she saved so many people, spread so much love, educated so many people. I think of my friend Coraline, who died of cancer, leaving a 5-year-old daughter behind, and I see the hospitals, the public services, which could perhaps have saved them... continue to be dismantled. And even me! I live below the poverty line, I am chronically ill, disabled. I survived cancer in 2009, but if it happened again today, would I have the same luck ? I have doubts.

What are we going to become ?

France has long reflected the image of a country of human rights. Believe me : it's just an image.

If you still imagine France as a nice country, a pleasant destination, a model, or whatever : stop. France is no longer welcoming, if indeed it ever really was for non-white and non-rich people. And it's not going to improve in the next 5 years, far from it.

I fear for the future. I fear for our children. I fear for my loved ones. I fear for all those who will try to take refuge here in the hope of a better life. Their lives, our lives, are in great danger.

I probably won't talk about it again here, but I needed to express it at least once. And sorry for my broken english.

#non-sims #sorry for the long post #we'll fight

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iesnoth · 3 years ago

Text

Late night thinking

About a lot of things. This will be a disjointed list.

About my lack of creativity and motivation recently. Probably due to stress at work, but I digress.

About the shedding of childish things, both good and bad.

About where creativity comes from.

About how I don’t talk to people about things that genuinely interest me, and realizing I may not and may never be fully known.

About how most people probably feel that way.

About the weird sounds I make. I squeak and squeal a lot. Do other people do that?

About how being on social media is probably squelching my creativity, as I’m not learning anything per se, but also being intimidated by all the talent out there. I also imbibe a lot of negative media which hurts my mental health.

About how I have no ambitions. Wealth? I have literally never cared about money, though I’ve been below the poverty line for most of my life. Power? Lol. Fame? When I was younger, sure, but now I like anonymity. Making a difference? Not really. Not in a big way, anyway. Again, anonymity.

About how I might actually live to old age? The Peter Pan syndrome has been strong with me. But now that I’m actually getting old, I realize I might actually have to get insurance and be healthy so I don’t suffer as much later. I kinda just want to die now.

About how I don’t have the space to do a lot of things I’d like to do. Like make my own clothes.

About interior design, and actually owning things for the aesthetic. Whether I’ll actually act on this...?

About the things I like as an individual vs a group. For example, when watch a movie I really like, I have to look into the fandom, to see what other people thought and consume fanworks. But some things, like art or music, I don’t need to join the fandom for. It probably has to do with story and theory versus more emotional, vague experiences.

About how society has skewed my view of men. I have literally never met a man who has disrespected me for being a woman (crazy I know). Yet I still distrust men and on some level see them as less emotional though I know that’s not true. The only place I’ve heard this narrative is society at large.

About my weird luck in avoiding negative female experiences. I’ve never been catcalled, flirted with uncomfortably, asked when I’m getting a boyfriend/married/having kids, never been told to smile, or wear less/more make-up.

Am I a genderless alien?

About how the creative process can be so easy yet so confusing at the same time.

About all the stories I want to tell, but when I try to write them down by brain gets constipated.

Maybe I’m not ambitious because deep down I don’t believe I deserve good things.

About how being “righteous” these days is less about the good “I” do, and more about how I’m better than my enemy, which makes me feel righteous. What do I do when the person on the “other side” is a good person too?

About the lack of forgiveness in the world.

About how blessed I am to worry about my weight, or social anxiety, and not about safety or health.

I think about a lot of things, and where has that gotten me? Nowhere.

“All things are wearisome, more than one can say. The eye never has enough of seeing, nor the ear its fill of hearing. What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.”

Ecclesiastes 1:8-9

#this is an exercise in... something #tag yourself i guess lol #it's late and i'm procrastinating writing #tw: death #tw: suicidal thoughts #i guess but not really #but thought it best to tw anyway

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struwwelzeter · 4 years ago

Note

I’m surprised yet I’m not surprised that I haven’t seen anyone on tumblr talk about the Balenciaga collab. Twitter and Instagram are almost universally panning the move and are quite pissed off at it. Personally I think the collab was a dumb and tone deaf move on the management, but I can’t fuss about it too much because of a lot previous musicians I liked ate these kinds of designer streetwear brands up and I just had to turn a blind eye to it eventually.

😕 I was really happy tumblr largely ignored it because I expected the outrage and dreaded it. My take is not gonna be a popular one, and I am sorry it’s probably not what you hoped to get. I’ll try to explain why, but I do have big feelings about this and I don’t know how articulate i can be.

The thing I am seeing in all of these comments, and what I think you refer to when you say it was tone deaf, is a lot of hurt. And in a way I completely, 100% understand that. The problem is, I think, that it’s misdirected when it is directed at the band. The fact that some well off fashion victim can drop what some of us earn in a month on a hoodie, hurts. It hurts that people that have been with this band for years and years, have saved any and each magazine clipping they can get their hands on and struggle to save up for months to buy a concert ticket while other people can do that - that shit hurts. And I understand that. I really do. I feel it too.

The thing is though, and this is where I fear what I say could be taken the wrong way: Rammstein doesn’t owe anyone anything. They don’t owe anyone to stick with only accessible merch, they don’t owe us some weird class loyalty where they turn stuff like this down. They just don’t. Why would they? Why? Because the thing that is hurtful about it is systemic, and they don’t owe us to fix systemic unfairness. They don’t owe anyone to not take advantage of it either, when it is offered to them, because they aren’t exploiting anyone but the exploiters, if that makes sense. They just don’t. Sorry. They are a well off band, but they aren’t rich enough to fix capitalism. I am gonna ask you very honestly, would you say no to becoming successful in a system that by it’s very nature devalues what you do, makes it a huge lottery draw if you can even make a living of what you do and takes advantage of you wherever it can? Rammstein got very lucky, and worked very hard for longer than most people on this website are alive. But in general, the way this society treats people like them, yes, even a large potion of their fan base, is a disgrace. They are a 1 in I don’t know how many cases of people who took the same risks and had the same passion and didn’t make it. And I think they know that too. I am sorry, but they’ve earned it.

I grew up far below what is considered the poverty line in my country, in a community of artists, and I feel very strongly about this one thing: The same person that will drop a 6 figure number on a painting will tell you not to go to art school and get a real job instead, because you can never be “successful” that way (whatever they mean by that.) Please read that sentence again.

Society doesn’t give a shit about artists. And when I mean “society” I actually mean fans, too, because ... I could write an essay about this, but basically because they complain more about not getting a ticket refund than the fact that currently thousands of artists fall by the wayside and won’t make it through this pandemic. I repeat, society, AT large, don’t give a wet fart about artists. It pretends it does, because they want to look cultured, but it really doesn’t. Every now and then they lift one up into the heights of the glittery temples of fame and stardom, to circle jerk with their art criticism and their champagne events and photo ops. And it’s disgusting it works that way, yes. But again, that is systemic. And what I need you to understand is that the majority of people who turn to the extremely precarious lifestyle of trying to paint or to make music for a living, take up with how the world is treating them, take the risk of falling of the grod financially, take the degradation of being asked to “work for exposure” and the “why are you still doing this, wouldn’t it be easier to —— it’s clearly not going anywhere” questions year after year after year for ... they do it for that one tine little chance to be that 1 that gets lifted. This isn’t about the passion — you don’t make art to be “successful”, there are so much easier ways. It’s about taking the merciless grind and maltreatment for that one shot to one day be seen and recognised as worthy people and to get out of the grind. And when it happens, they are supposed to turn it down? Why?

Sorry, but no.

I understand that this is an inflammatory take. I do, in a way, understand why people get angry. I just don’t agree with the direction of the anger - at all. The thing is, if you look at it in a more innocent way, the creative director of Balenciaga, as I understand it, was a civil war refugee who somehow managed to become the leading designer on one of the biggest name in fashion. Do you think it was likely for him to get there? Do you think it was ever easy for any boy to become a fashion designer against a backdrop of constant teasing and a probably even smaller chance of “making it” than musicians? But he did it, and turns out he is a Rammstein fan. So he does what he loves. Big deal. To be clear: I think the existence of brands like Balenciaga is stupid to me too. But still - the same person that will drop a 1000€ bucks on a raincoat will tell you not to go to fashion school, you know? Rammstein also have a history of being in the high fashion world. They had 3 exclusive photoshoots with zoo magazine in the time they had like, idk, 1? With Rolling Stone, they were in fashion magazines first in the US, they had runway shows in their early career ... this was a long time coming. I WAS surprised it was Balenciaga. I hoped it would be something like Givenchy or McQueen but I guess they’re not that classy - what do you expect from a bunch of guys who wear sandals with tracksuits.

Another take I see quite often is the whole “well now there will be knock offs and people that don’t even know the band will start wearing it” and while that is a huge pet peeve, I have to think of Flake writing about that in his book and being all awed by how anyone could become that big - and just feeling a but of a misty eyed satisfaction of “they made it.”

I understand people are angry. But maybe consider of you’re really angry at the band - or simply the fact that we live in a world where some people have to make a living for weeks off the same money someone else drops on a t-shirt.

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montmartre-parapluie · 4 years ago

Note

Will you please explain American Girl Dolls to my poor European self? Thank you!

Hi @orlissa!

I’m probably not the best person to explain, being a UK gal and very, VERY new to the fandom- but what the heck, I’ll try!

picture-heavy below the cut!

I’ll borrow from my good friend Wikipedia for the serious facts:

“ The Historical Characters line of 18-inch dolls, which were derived from the 18-inch dolls made by Götz in West Germany (during the late 1980s to the 1990s, were initially the main focus of Pleasant Company, founded by Pleasant Rowland in 1986. This product line aims to teach aspects of American history through a six-book series from the perspective of a girl living in that time period. Pleasant Rowland came up with the idea after she returned from a trip to Colonial Williamsburg, where she noticed there was a significant void in the toy market for younger aged dolls and saw an opportunity to provide an alternative to baby and adult dolls.

Although the books are written for girls who are at least eight years old, they endeavour to cover significant topics such as child labour, child abuse, poverty, racism, slavery, animal abuse and war in manners appropriate for the understanding and sensibilities of their young audience.”

There were initially 5 original dolls. You could choose from Molly, a girl from World War 2, Addy Walker, a fugitive seeking freedom during the American Civil War, Kirsten, a little Swedish girl from 1854 who lives on the prairie, Felicity, who deals with outbreak of the American Revolutionary War, and Samantha, who’s from 1904.

it sounds pretty dry and educational In the Wikipedia , but oh my giddy aunt, the QUALITY of the stuff they put out!

for instance, here’s Kirsten - and this is just a FRACTION of her collection. She had hand-painted wooden furniture, beautifully made. She had trunks. She had 19th century accurate little footwarmers, reproduced ACTUAL children’s books FROM the 1850s, Her Saint Lucia’s Day outfit! Even down to warm flannel underwear for those cold nights out West in the New World!

And here’s a close-up of the LITTLE school set. A REAL Victorian school slate, chalk that actually works, a little schoolbag - authentic miniature exercise books from the 1850s - even tiny merit awards printed on card! And all authentic!

This isn’t the only doll they do this for, either? Addy?

real little crinoline, working wooden Lazy Susan table, Victorian bonnets, tiny perfect little sewing accessories.

Samantha also gets accessories that look like they’re straight from an Edwardian Toyshop...

(the flower pressing kit! the tiny skates! The painting box!!)

Molly’s stuff wasn’t/isn’t as interesting to me, because I’m not really into the 20th century, but even her accessories are cute! (the little 1940s radio!)

I tell you, I would have SOLD my soul for any of this. ANY of it. But especially Felicity, because the 18th century has always been my favourite time period , and her stuff...just WOW. I feel the need to give you all her stuff, because... it was amazing.

THE TEA SET. THE PATTENS. THE MINIATURE HORNBOOK. THE CLOTHES PRESS.

And this stuff is all really faithfully produced, and just... really well made and researched. As a history nerd, I get twitchy fingers just looking at all this!

And they just.. KEPT on producing this awesomeness. All through the 1990s and 2000s. They extended the range to include Kaya'aton'my, a Native American girl from 1764, Josefina, a Spanish Colonial girl from 1824, there was a Regency girl, Caroline from 1812. - and Marie Grace and Cecile, a lovely set of French friend dolls from New Orleans in the 1850s - and there were so many more!

I am incredibly bitter & twisted that Europe & the UK didn’t get a look in on buying these. (although I think West Germany had them in the early 1990s?) I suppose as it’s American history, they didn’t think it would sell well abroad, but - gah, I’d have bought it all! And they could have branched out into European history, which is just such a tempting thought....

(You can probably see why I post about A Girl for All Time - they’re very much a new UK take on American Girl)

My mother actually collected American Girl stuff for a while when the US postage was cheap enough for it to be feasible , but I wasn’t around then much and only took a vague interest. Lock-down’s been making me re-evaluate my opinion! Especially once I learnt the company made do-it-yourself SEWING PATTERNS as well...

(this is definitely on my to-do list, by the way. )

Recently the company has archived most of these lovely things in favour of more modern dolls, which I think is a REAL shame. Educational, well-made and fun is a hard mix to achieve in one go, but American Girl did it. Definitely worth a Google search if you’re interested in seeing more!

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ronsenburg · 4 years ago

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i saw this post and IMMEDIATELY started writing an essay, so I moved it here so as not to clutter up someone else’s post...........

it absolutely blows my mind that, today in 2021, i honestly can’t remember what’s canon from the turnabout serenade case, what i read in a fanficition, and what is my own personal HC. like, it’s been more than a decade since i played the case for the first time and it’s probably been 5ish years since the last time i played AJ (definitely forgot to play it again before writing youngblood which is.... contributing to this) so i really don’t know if what goes on in my head is accurate, but, over the years, i’ve come up with a Lot of Thoughts, which i’ll discuss below.

tldr; it’s all about power (the desire for, the subversion of, the need to maintain), but if you’d like the specifics, here you go:

daryan: i think the explanation that he did it for “the money” is a line. please don’t mistake me, daryan is an asshole and a murderer, im not discounting that, but in court ive always thought that he was playing the part that everyone- especially klavier- is expecting of him. he’s the bad guy. might as well make it a finale for the books.

i’ve always seen daryan and klavier as opposite sides of the same coin when it comes to family and career aspirations. where i imagine klavier came from a well off and well loved family before his parents died, i see daryan from a working class, difficult upbringing. i read a few papers on the psychology of children/parenting style of police officers and decided early on that daryan’s dad was also a cop. his mother is either dead or (more likely) left them early on. dad coped by working a little too hard, gambling/drinking a little too much, and was overall not around a lot and kind of an authoritarian/controller when he was. it left daryan with a lot of anger he had to cope with, about what it means to be a cop, the idea of a “just cause” and the ends justifying the means, and an issue with authority (which is laughable, considering what a bully he turned out to be. sometimes we emulate our parents unintentionally; it’s the only thing we have to model our behavior on). so daryan started off at a disadvantage. klavier started off loved and supported and surrounded by expensive belongings, but the death of his parents and the subsequent emotional and financial abuse by his newly appointed guardian/brother left him in a similar place by the time he and daryan met. i think it was probably the foundation for their bond, and i think it’s why klavier decided to become a prosecutor instead of following in his brother’s footsteps and why daryan ultimately decided to enter law enforcement as well. i think they had a lot of optimistic, idealistic thoughts on being better than the people that hurt them, on utilizing the law to make the world a better place. i don’t think klavier ever conceived that kristoph could have wanted him in the prosecutors office as another pawn to play, and i don’t think he realized how fluid daryan’s morality could be.

shipping alert—you guys know me, im crazy for the idea of a “best friends to on again off again lovers to tenuous coworkers to bitterly disappointed in but still harboring feelings for the other person despite being on opposite sides” dynamic between daryan and klavier. i honestly can’t separate the ship from the case and im sorry about it. if you read youngblood you know that i think daryan started to resent klavier pretty early on, when they were still together, when the band was still successful, because klavier was able to move forward and work through the issues of his past while daryan was seemingly stuck. yes, daryan had made detective and the gavinners were a hit, he’d risen above his initial social standing and thrown off the control his father, he had money and fame and a future. but everything he had was because of klavier. daryan needed klavier, emotionally, morally, financially. but even when klavier was professing his love for daryan, both privately and in the form of chart topping songs, he didn’t need daryan. it was obvious (and of course, healthy, but how do children of abuse learn what a healthy relationship looks like without help? especially when the only relationships you’ve ever had are codependent and, in some ways, just as toxic?) and so things spiraled. daryan got possessive and angry again and klavier got distant and they broke up and got back together and broke up and didn’t get back together but kept ending up back in each other’s arms for comfort and for support and because how the hell do you move on when the person you’ve been in love with since you were 15 is sitting next to you on a tour bus and is also your partner in a homicide case and singing songs he wrote about you on stage in front of thousands of screaming fans?

okay, shipping glasses off, sorry. but no matter how you look at their relationship, daryan’s promotion out of homicide was probably the most distance they’d had from each other in years, as it removed a large chunk of the daily “working relationship” aspect. and without klavier there to act as a moral compass, it was likely easier to slip back into his earlier thoughts about what constitutes justice and his intense hatred of being pushed around by someone who has more power than you. so enter the chief justice with a son who is sick, dying even, but can’t get the medicine he needs because there’s a government out there telling them no. The reasons are arbitrary: the medicine could be used as a poison and can’t be found anywhere else so it might come back to bite the country in the ass if it’s misused by criminals. newsflash: pretty much all medicine is poisonous if it isn’t used correctly, should we stop using penicillin entirely because some people might be allergic to it? they’ve essentially condemned a whole bunch of people to death because they’re worried about their reputation. and that doesn’t sit well with daryan, who is caught up remembering the bullshit justifications his dad would spout when he knocked him around, that kristoph would give when withholding every single penny of money klavier was entitled to until he agreed to do what kristoph wanted. it isn’t right, it isn’t fair and unfair laws shouldn’t have to be upheld, especially when they’re the unfair laws of a country you most definitely did not swear to uphold and protect. it was never about money, though daryan agrees to take it when the chief offers it to him, more for his comfort level than for daryan’s need or desire. it’s about justice and putting a bully in it’s place with a (seemingly) victimless crime that should be so easy given his role in the international division of criminal affairs and klavier’s sudden hard on for the country of borginia. seriously, how could this have been any more straightforward? daryan is capable of murder, though. all cops are. and if it came down to a “them or me” shootout, of course he’d pull the trigger.

machi: when you come from nothing, the desire to have something of your own is overwhelming. the idea that machi is famous and financially set is disingenuous; he is not individually famous, he is Lamiroir’s “blind” pianist. yes, she views him as a son and seems to care deeply for him, but his main purpose in her life is to perpetuate a lie. machi has been abandoned before; what will happen to him if lamiroir suddenly remembers who she was in the past? what if she has a family and a true son of her own and has no use for him? what if their secret is found out and the public rejects him for his role in it? he is 14. what does he know about being provided for? about contracts and trust funds and royalties? he ended up in an orphanage originally because he was unwanted, and that led to a life of poverty and hardship. abandonment issues are rooted in fear and are rarely logical. i find it far easier to believe that machi did it for the money, but more for the power money might have given him towards independence in an unfeeling and capitalist world.

kristoph: i won’t get into this, because this is supposed to be about daryan and machi and the guitar’s serenade, and kristoph is not really involved in that at all. but i think everything that kristoph has ever done in the game, good or bad, is rooted in a pathological need to constantly be in control. i think that kristoph and klavier both have very intense personalities that they have sought to control over the course of their lives for the sake of their careers. kristoph believes that to be a good lawyer, you need to play your cards close to your chest, that to show your hand is to expose a weakness that the enemy can exploit, that to show no weaknesses at all places you in a position of power. klavier believes that to show his true self, to display his weaknesses and fears to the public, would result only in their rejection. as such, they both wear masks of their own creation even under the most intense of pressures: kristoph as pleasant and calm, klavier as magnetic and dynamic. note the primary difference in their rational? klavier wants to be wanted, while kristoph wants power. and power corrupts, after all. once you have it, what could be more overwhelming than the idea that you might lose it all? it can drive even the most rational people to commit acts of passionate irrationality in the name of holding on to that power. and kristoph has so many pieces involved in his strategy to maintain.

#i love daryan crescend i'm so sorry #i cut this to spare you all the pain of my rambling and also my inability to use caps and proper punctuation #gonna tag this as klavdar so you can avoid it just in case it bothers you #i think it's hilarious that this is JUST AS MUCH ABOUT KLAVIER as it is about any of these other people #shut up krissy #i have a lot of feelings about this case okay #man i'm still obsessed with lamiroir and machi's portrayal in 'dirty sympathy'#excellent stuff i'm going to go read that again #klavdar #i don't think i ever managed to squeeze in my hc about the specifics of kristophs abuse towards klavier into any fics #specifically the financial aspects of it #but its absolutely an effective weapon #klavier's money from his parents would absolutely be in a trust and controlled by kristoph until he was legally able to access it #he would have to ask kristoph for EVERYTHING #can you imagine how easy that would be for kristoph to turn against him? as a means of control? i just......#broke: kristoph physically abused klavier when he was a kid #woke: kristoph didn't have to abuse klavier when he could manipulate him so completely with money and mind games #all the while making klavier believe that he was truly looking out for him and any hurt klavier experienced was selfish and misguided #and klavier's fault #:|

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brokenmusicboxwolfe · 4 years ago

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I need to come up with a way to bribe myself. That’s all there us to it.

The reason? I am 100% pro vaccine, not afraid of shots, and and .... I haven’t gotten the covid vaccine yet.

See, my phobia, my blinding, incapacitating terror, panic attack inducing fear, is health care professionals. There are reasons I won’t go into, but suffice to say if I were an adult, or maybe even if these things happened in the more aware current world, people would be in jail for some of what happened to me when I was a little girl. Not only do I have PTSD like symptoms connected to it, I haven’t visited a doctor in almost 30 years. I don’t even watch medical dramas, EVER. Growing up I ruled out anything that would include a physical, and was very upset it meant giving up some of my dreams. Letting some fuckin’ health care professional touch me is the hardest thing imaginable for me.

And before you ask, yes I tried the therapy thing. Finding one that would even consider treating me in this hick area was almost impossible. The only one that did had a wee bit of trouble getting that I am not afraid of needles or the like but those abusive self absorbed assholes in scrubs. One conversation about myself generally had him declaring me a “very unusual person” and then not bothering. Options aren’t great in the rural south, especially when you live below the poverty line anyway.

And also, yes, I know that phobia will probably lead to a premature death from something treatable. But hell with it, I’ll die with my body my own.

So, anyway, until now I’ve been putting off the vaccine. The nearest place to get it is ten miles away. I’ve been busy or injured or something. I never am around anyone, so it wasn’t like I had anyone to infect or get infected by. But I really can’t keep this up, especially since I expect to be the only person still wearing a mask next time I go shopping.

What I need most is someone I trust, someone I’d feel would watch my back, tell me it would be alright that I’d believe, or even just hold my hand.

I don’t have anyone.

TBH, if my parents were still here it might not help much anyway. They loved me but never really were help with this. They just assumed I’d get over it, at least when it was important. A smart person doesn’t yield to fears I guess, and I was supposed to be smart. Maybe I was just a fool all along.

Then again they would probably be able to drag me along for this, even if they found my fears exasperating. I dunno. Pop’s dead, Mom’s not in a position to help, and there is no one else.

So now I have to force myself. But how?

Reason doesn’t work. Fear of covid doesn’t work. Promises of things I’ll get to do once fully vaccinated won’t help when I don’t have anything I’ll get to do different (broke, no social life, chained to the feeding schedule of the animals). All I have left is bribing myself.

And that’s the trouble. What kind of treat can I offer myself in exchange for the emotional agony? It has to be good, something I wouldn’t otherwise buy or do, an indulgence. But I’m broke. I can’t think of a single thing under $10 that would feel special enough to make up for even the anxiety I feel now in anticipation.

Geez, if only they’d give me the hypodermic I’d inject myself. I once many years ago cut a growth off my on leg with a razor rather than go to a doctor, so a shot would be a snap.

Speaking from experience, give me rattlesnakes and loaded guns pointed at me head any day. Things like that are calming and I feel invigorated afterwards. I can take so many things that frighten “normal” people, but this? If I didn’t have to drive myself I might experiment with getting drunk for the first time in my life first!

#my day #fear #phobia #ptsd #medical #Maybe if I could embrace the fight in fight or flight #beat up a scumbag and feel better

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arcticdementor · 3 years ago

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I was talking to Sarah yesterday and I had a revelation I think is worth sharing.

Let’s begin at the beginning. About a month ago, Instapundit posted this.

Now, I’ve been thinking of the rise and fall of civilizations lately. I can’t think why it’s been on my mind. It’s a tale as old as time—a civilization emerges, establishes a new worthwhile order, the good things brought forth by said order soften up the people maintaining it, the softening turns to decadence, and the decadence gives way to the barbarians, who clean the slate. Where would you say things are lately?

…

In short—the federal government of the United States of America has become impotent at almost all good things.

Expanded out—There is no start to its talents. It cannot maintain its borders. Since the “election” it doesn’t even try. No surprise there. It cannot maintain friendly relationships with allies—as our recent screwing of Britain on our way out of Afghanistan shows. The “leader” of the “free world” could not be bothered to pick up the phone for our closest ally. Speaking of Afghanistan, it can’t win a war. It can’t even lose gracefully. In fact it fucked up leaving so badly some people are entertaining that it intended to fuck it up, because how the fuck does somebody above the age of six not notice that pulling the military out first and the civilians out second is not even a remotely workable strategy? Resulting in leaving millions of dollars of equipment—and—excuse me, what? Millions of dollars of dollars in the desert? Fantastic.

It makes self sabotaging and idiotic choices to stymie its own domestic oil industry, while accepting a pipeline not from Canada, but one that’s a joint Russian-German venture instead. Which means the problem, contrary to any environmentalist whining, isn’t the pipeline—it’s the pipeline with a friendly country. Big surprise— its only true interest in the environment lies in international agreements that hamstring us while doing nothing to China, the world’s largest polluter. It either can’t be trusted on energy production and the environment, or is trying to get it wrong.

It can’t manage its economy. What could have been a “V” shaped recovery has been turned into an “L” shaped one. What could be contributing? Paying people to do nothing? Rampant inflation? Meanwhile all the dumbasses running the country can think of is spending several billion more dollars that don’t exist. The country has infrastructure problems for a fact, but they’ll only acknowledge that to the extent of cynically plastering the word on an “infrastructure” bill which is in fact just a far Left wishlist that largely ignores actual infrastructure, in the hopes people will be dumb enough to support it because it has the right label.

And on.

What aptitudes does it have besides taking money, trampling civil liberties, and ignoring constitutional laws at gunpoint? News flash, dummies: We don’t need peaceful protestors incarcerated without a trial. We don’t need the weight of the federal government turned to the problem of violating states rights because Texas passed a law Biden doesn’t like. We need military egresses that look like they weren’t planned by Bozo the clown and an economic plan better than something China would design for us as an attempt to permanently sink the country. Is there anyone at all in DC who can provide that? If not, is there anything useful they can do? I’ll wait.

…

This is what decadence looks like. When the government stops even attempting competence because nothing and nobody that currently exists can replace or displace them so who cares about results? When comfort and plenty have become so common, been taken for granted for so long, that the question of utility or even basic sanity isn’t even distantly considered. When it’s assumed that self-harming policies that will obviously damage the country won’t really matter because nobody has ever known a world without America and fundamentally has no idea how the present day came to be. When the country’s most educated start chasing bizarre and unimaginably stupid ideas on economics that boil down to “inflation won’t happen if you double the monetary supply by printing money, if only you just believe hard enough”. In fact, when education stops being a means to greater insight, more useful abilities, and a better life, and becomes a cult devoted to the kind of idiocy that can survive only with strenuous censorship, the tenets of the cult being treated by the indoctrinated as a collection of sacred mysteries and deeply-thought paradoxes— while to those not similarly trained it is self-obviously a collection of contradictory and self-serving lies.

Verily, decadence is here. We can infer that what comes next is the barbarians. And we have options. Mexican illegals? A heady mixture of poverty-stricken Marxists who have never known a system that wasn’t corrupt, functionally lawless, and devoted to the tenets of voting oneself rich; and outright criminals with lives like “a demon’s resumé”? Perhaps radical Muslims? By sheer numbers worldwide they’re the most likely option. The Taliban just got a huge infusion of cash and a big boost in morale. In a few short days we’ll know whether they’ve arranged a thank you gift for Zho Bi-Xen and his kleptocrat marching band to commemorate his intended pull-out date. But even if, and God I hope, they have not, we can expect an uptick in terrorism and quite shortly. Or perhaps China? The Middle Kingdom would laugh at being called barbarians, but I call genocidal communists like I see them. Mao was morally three steps below a pig and Xi has enough power to aspire to greater depths. As is I wouldn’t dream of feeding a pig Mu Shu Xi due to the great risk of poisoning the pig.

But there is a barbarian group not considered. Us.

Hang on. Before you balk, listen. Look again at what these idiots are selling as the fruits of civilization. Defenses of pedophilia and urinals as art. And more, too—sterilization and disfigurement of teenagers in the form of sex changes. Black supremacy as a panacea to made up threats of white supremacy. Books nobody reads, movies nobody watches, paintings that exist only to launder money—even the ones not made by Hunter Biden.

What good person would not be proud to be considered a barbarian by these miserable, over-decorated Faberge people? I’d be mortified if they agreed with me! So they think I’m a sexist or a racist or whatever. Fine. They do not use these words to mean the same things I mean, so it’s a pointless argument, and they are now officially beneath my explaining myself to them. When the people who are calling me names are so morally opaque that the Taliban can make devastating critiques of them just by referencing the foundational works of their own gender studies programs, I’m done caring about the names. Fine. I’m what you think is a racist. I’m what you think is a sexist. But you think a lot of very stupid things, and as the curtain continues to draw back on the carnival of madness that’s been behind the scenes the entire time it’s occurring to me that what you think and reality overlap so seldom that the only time not to ignore you is when I can ridicule you. If that is your civilization, someone hand me a pointy horned helmet.

…

Yes, this is a moment of peril, but also opportunity. See in your country what every hostile group listed above sees in it—the makings of great civilization, along other, less stupid lines. All of it guarded by weak, fat, stupid people with no will and no self-belief. Take that mindset and go forth.

Get involved in your local systems. There is an old prayer for God to make ones enemies ridiculous. Congratulations to whomever was still praying it. Your prayers have been answered. Will you tell me that you cannot defeat these people? People who lose casual debates to terrorists not on principle but on basic facts?

…

You can’t reason with them so don’t bother. Recent events have made it clear you may as well try to talk sense into a three-day-old mackerel. Just confront them with their own stupidity so that people who see the inevitable video understand what this is about, and don’t feel that you are too good to shout them out of the room. You’re the barbarian, remember? Not like the nice civilized people with their gender-queer Tik-Tokers pushing vaccine propaganda. That means you’re excused from conversations with morons. Don’t bother trying to find common ground. Look at where they’re standing! Do you want to try to find the midpoint between that and reality? Silly. Pointless. Send them back to their walled online gardens to whine to their equally stupid friends about the barbarians.

Can we take it back from the ground up? I don’t know. But hey, it’s got to be worth a shot. Join the fun! Find some friends and locate a low-hanging political event to raid. When was the last time you went to a town hall for your town? Isn’t just a part of you curious to know whether your local county commissioner starts by declaring her pronouns? Wouldn’t it be wonderful to see someone like that made very uncomfortable? You can make that happen. You can probably do it within the next month. Bring a few friends! Or a few dozen. Some of the people reading this probably were afraid to do that kind of thing for fear of losing their job. The Biden economy might have freed up some of your time. What have you got to lose now? More importantly, the way things are going, are you going to lose it anyway if things continue as they are? Think on it.

#thomas kendall #sarah a hoyt

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moved-attre · 4 years ago

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Here is my review of Cyberpunk 2077! It is a bullet point list of what I liked, and did not like about the game. I mean no offense in my writing, and am, of course, willing to be educated if I am wrong about anything! But please do not send me anonymous hate. I know many fans and haters of this game can be very, uh... So take it all with a grain of salt, and form your own opinions.

This is very long and likely boring so if you manage to make it to the end, I will be very impressed! Also, I may ramble or repeat myself, sorry. There’s more bad points than good, since the game is very glitchy and I couldn’t not mention the glitches I have experienced.

Obviously, this contains major spoilers! 👁👄👁

I’ll start off by saying, this is a game where you will likely not get what you expected. If you expected Cyberpunk 2077 to be a game filled with features that were never before seen, to revolutionise the gaming industry as we know it and become the most iconic video game ever made... You will not get that. If you expected it to be the worst, most irredeemable video game ever created that you’ll hate... You will not get that, either. If you expected a game that is a fairly standard RPG with some impressive graphics when played on a high spec PC, albeit with some bad glitches and a wonky story with lots of potential, then you’ve got it!

Pros:

The majority of the voice acting, such as in V, Johnny and Viktor, was very good and emotional. Viktor in particular made me tear up! And the way V manages to sound almost like Johnny with the subtle accent change was amazing!

The character’s such as Takemura, Jackie, the LIs, Johnny, Viktor, Misty (I could go on) and even many random NPCs were interesting! I wanted to know them and loved their relevant missions. The best ones were unromanceable, of course, but that’s what imagination is for.

THE ALDECALDOS! I love them! A found family, and I wish there was more to do with them other than Panam’s missions and a few side missions. I love found family, and I’m disappointed V couldn’t form their own, so I’ll take what I can get and love the Aldecaldos, even if V can’t join them until the very end. Panam had the best missions of all the LI’s, even if the last one felt very abrupt. (At least, on her friendship route.)

Night City felt alive. There was always plenty going on, it felt like a real city, and it could be beautiful.

Jackie and Corpo V’s friendship was lovely. I loved their “To this!” inside joke, and I loved how Jackie roasted V but would jump to their defence in a second. It didn’t feel forced at all.

There’s lots of environmental storytelling. The atmosphere of a city choking to death under it’s own pollution/corruption was very apparent in the areas not lived in by the rich. Lots of homeless characters, violence, drugs, absolute poverty, trash (The dump! I felt sick just looking at it, and I couldn’t even smell it! Poor V, though.) and general apathy from a lot of the residents really sold the concept.

Johnny and V’s dynamic was the best part of the story! I hated him at first, but slowly came to enjoy his commentary and advice. His interactions with V were very funny at times, and thoughtful at other times. He was an interesting perspective for the player to consider, while still being an asshole you could dislike for much of the story. He has some really emotional scenes and I played a V that viewed him as a friend, so it was really nice hearing him call V the closest person he’d ever had. They became so devoted to each other! CDPR did good with this element, but I can’t help wishing for more. The dynamic had so much more to give, and a romance/happy ending could have worked.

And to add on, the mission where Johnny takes over V’s body to go on a bender was great! I loved all the moments to play as Johnny in V’s body. All the symbolism between them was so good. Every mission matters, and you can replay to look closer at details! He also comments on other side missions with no personal relevance to him, which was neat.

All the enemies had unique names. A minor detail, but it made me feel some guilt over killing them. 🤣 I think all character’s had unique names, which is such a nice detail.

The soundtrack was incredible, I loved every original piece and radio song. I have several saved on Spotify, which is big praise coming from me! I very rarely listen to video game soundtracks.

V can adopt a cat! 🐈‍⬛ It was adorable, and Johnny’s interaction with it made me tear up!

The size of the map was good, not too big or too small. I got about 100 hours of play in by exploring, which is pretty good to me! I got lost a few times, but always found something interesting to do in the meanwhile. I loved the Badlands especially.

Some of the side missions, particularly the more mysterious ones involving investigating deaths and the cyberpsychos, were very enjoyable! I’m a big slut for mystery, and there were some interesting cases to figure out. I wish we could’ve done missions like that with River, though, especially once he becomes a PI.

I was complaining about the lack of aliens in CP2077, but I suppose we did get a couple space themed missions which was pretty fun. I still want to go experience going into orbit, though. 👽 Or the moon!

Separating voice and body in the CC was a good idea, even if it was handled a little strangely. I’ll talk about this more in the ‘Cons’ section below!

Act 2 was my favorite part of the game, but it blended weirdly with Act 3 and that put me off. I am nostalgic for Act 1, but not eager to replay it because it felt so slow... I’m not sure on this point! I liked Act 2 because the story picked up and I was excited for more, but the more I got wasn’t as I expected. So, yes, Act 2 was good.

The scenery is very beautiful, and sometimes the outside lighting is absolutely perfect. The Arasaka parade mission was lovely to look at. I always stop the car and watch the sunrise/sunset, and I like going out to the Badlands to look at the stars!

An addition to that, is the lighting in some main quest missions. Very noir! It made for some beautiful screenshots. (Of which I sadly can’t share because my game doesn’t record well on medium settings. 😳)

The motorcycles are fun to drive! Mainly because I can zoom in between cars and Jackie’s motorcycle has a lot of sentimental value, as well as other vehicles like Johnny’s Porsche and Jake’s car. You can open the trunk to dump bodies in, which was a cool detail., and each one drives differently!

There could be amazing attention to detail, such as making Jackie look like his mother. I expected his mother to be a randomly generated NPC, but she was completely unique. It’s the minor things like that which stood out to me the most.

The scanner was a fun tool and very useful! I liked being able to find alternative ways to do a mission, it felt more realistic than the standard “massacre everybody, pick up an item and get out” fetch quests normally seen in RPGs. I could sneak in a tunnel or a side door! Perhaps irritating and unnecessary to some, but I liked it. I love utilising every possible option.

The interface color changes if you have Johnny controlling V’s body. Another small but good detail! The game is good with the minor details.

The sex scenes were not... awful. I expected much, much worse! I expected fully animated first person porn. Instead, I thought they were fairly realistic and intended to be romantic. Still very awkward, though, and unnecessary.

When they didn’t glitch, the animations were very good. Not as impressive as I hoped, probably because of glitches, but in line with other AAA games like Horizon Zero Dawn, I suppose? I noticed Judy’s animations in particular as being good, and Johnny had lots of unique ones too!

The clothing options are very fun, I like the holographic items and “Bitch” clothes, hehe. Also including Hijabs! 🧕 Great idea, and more games should do that.

The diversity of the NPCs was welcome. I enjoyed seeing Native American, Asian, Black and Latinx NPCs who weren’t there just to suffer! They would occupy important roles in the story, such as Fixers or friends/romance options for V, so they were pretty much unavoidable! It felt very natural, and they helped Night City feel more realistic.

Adding to that, the different cultures included were interesting too! I liked the Haitian characters in Pacifica.

The photo mode is pretty good. Not as good as I expected, the camera angle presets were useful but the filters weren’t very good. I liked that the photo mode could be used in cutscenes, though! It was standard, and I hope more bits will be added in for it.

A lot of the glitches are hilarious, but I recognise not all will share that opinion so I’m just adding this down here. The T-Posing NPCs are a highlight for me. Call that the Skyrim effect.

Cons:

No NB gender options/No pronoun options. Would they/them have been so difficult to implement?

No body or height sliders. There’s so many fat character’s in the game! Why can I not make my V fat? Or muscular?

Gender restrictive hairstyles and clothes. Come on, guys, it’s 2020/2077! Aren’t we beyond gender restrictive appearance options?

No tattoo parlours, no plastic surgeons and no hairstylists for V to change their appearance. I don’t understand why a CC was included at all, since we spent the majority of the game in first person. It reminded me of Far Cry.

The main story started off strong, albeit slow, picked up in Act 2, then felt very rushed in Act 3. The point of no return was very abrupt!

The celebrity cameos felt very gimmicky. The one exception to this is Keanu Reeves, who did a very good job as Johnny. Genuinely brought tears to my eyes at times... but Grimes was just embarrassing! Why was she there! A talented VA could have done Lizzy Wizzy much better, giving her actual emotions instead of just monotone “boredom”.

I don’t know what the point of owning apartments is. You can only sleep in V’s bed, what is the point of looking in the mirror? V has no use for their terminal in their apartment, they never get any messages after the first time they meet Johnny. It was so unnecessary, especially when there’s several across the map. I can access the stash of weapons and clothes from my car! Why would I ever need to go home? Judy gives me her apartment and I’m like, girl, I’m never visiting unless you have a mission to give me.

Also, there are no penalties for not showering or sleeping. I wanted character’s to comment on that! Call me stinky or tell me I look exhausted!

V doing side missions makes no sense, and no explanation is given for why we can do them. Why would V, who is dying and has precious few days left to live, be driving for hours on end to deliver packages and shoot random criminals? When they could be figuring out how to survive the biochip! Who the hell would care about a some extra money or buying every available car for sale, when they’re dying of something that could be preventable?

Some side missions were either very poorly done or obviously majorly glitched, since it felt like they skipped important parts and I was often very confused at the end of them! For example, the Corpo V side mission was so short! I expected to be able to hunt down Abernathy and get revenge for V and Jenkins, but instead, I shoot some random assistant I don’t even remember? And that’s it? Done in 2 minutes! If that! What is the point of that? I didn’t even have fun! Also, what happened to Garry? I wanted to save him but V just never follows up on it.

And, I wish we got closure with T-Bug. The fact that V never bothers to find her body and give her a proper burial was just poor form.

The endings were not... good. There are technically 6 different endings, all wrapped up into 3 parts. In my opinion, the best ending is the one where V kills themselves and has a very “Arthur Morgan watching his last sunset” vibe. It made me cry. Another good ending is having Johnny take over V’s body forever, as you can really see how much Johnny has changed as a person thanks to V’s influence. But they still felt very... eh and the story just never got that boost it needed, ending before it could take off. In the “best” ending, the Nomand ending with Panam, V ”survives” but has only another few months to live. So they die off screen. Satisfying? Uh, no. Not at all. There’s no possible ending where V has any hope of survival, but I much preferred being there with V until the very end. I disagree with the people calling Johnny’s ending the “bad” ending, because it really isn’t! I ignore all of this of course, and my V is living happily ever after.

I kind of hate that CP2077 has this illusion of options when some are clearly intended to be chosen more than others. Judy and Panam have the best endings in term of romance. Why bother with River and Kerry? Kerry is more of a fling than an actual romance, and is met very late in the game at a point where you can ignore him completely and just end the game, and River’s romance is so glitched that many people can’t even do it fully, and in every ending he dumps you, so it feels like none of it mattered to him despite him being the most “domestic” of the possible LI’s...

Takemura’s ending! He died in my playthrough, because the game didn’t tell me I could save him. That really annoyed me. Also, I recognise that V is in no place to lecture him, and there is some wisdom to his quote: “You speak against corporations yet offer no valid alternative.” But, Goro, bro... anything is better than fascist mega corporations keeping most of the city in absolute poverty, while waging devastating wars against other mega corporations? I wish we could have opened his eyes a little. There’s a good, even ground between Takemura believing Corps to be doing the best for humanity and Johnny being willing to kill 12k people for a revolution. This game went a little “capitalism is bad, but the alternative is worse!” at times, in my opinion. I wish more could have been done against the corporations, instead they just kind of... exist... in the background. And I know, “Realism! “ because we live with massive corporations like Amazon in our lives and can do fuck all about them but we’re not V. V is an absolute unit who survives death multiple times... I wish there had been two paths, like do Johnny’s path and work against the system or do Takemura’s path and work with the system? Sort of like The Witcher 2?

You know how in Saints Row, The Boss has homies they can call on for help? I wanted V to have homies to help them out in fights. It felt pointless building trust with the Fixers only to not have them help out at all with fights against the NCPD/Militech/Arasaka in their territories.

The stealth mechanics are not good. They are funny! But not very good. Often, It’s better to just attack and save yourself the trouble of sneaking only to get caught by a guard who can see through the back of his head.

The fact that you cannot get arrested and have someone bust you out of jail. Maybe RDR2 set my expectations too high, but I thought this would have been included.

I’ve read about the cut content, and I’m really disappointed they weren’t included in the game. Wall running would have been amazing! And the police hiring mercs to hunt V down? I would have loved to see it! 😔

Driving cars is terrible. Just awful. Sometimes, you crash. Other times you’re flung up into the air and break through the sky into the void, spinning for all eternity.

River’s glitched romance deserves a special mention. The relationship just drops off suddenly and you cannot interact with him properly again. It does not affect the main story at all, so you wonder, what was the point? The text messages also glitch and V will sent messages that you can’t control, leading to disappointing dialogue, like with Joss.

The romances in general were just not all that impressive. I was expecting something great, considering there was only 4 and thought they’d really affect the main story, but I’d only recommend Panam and Judy. I would have played the game just as well without romances, and they felt very unnecessary but I wanted to do one to get the most possible story content. I think we should all leave romances in RPG’s as the exception, not the norm. Some studio’s can do them well, other’s cannot. CDPR cannot, in my opinion...

Obviously the many glitches and bugs, several of which are game breaking. I usually have to reload a save at least once an hour, because an NPC won’t talk to me or I can’t move the mouse to select different dialogue options! Or my gun won’t equip, so I die.

The AI in general is very bad. Sometimes cars will stop in the middle of junctions for no reason, causing you to crash or mount the sidewalk to get past, meaning you’ll likely run someone down and get a police warrant. NPCs just walk from one end of the road and back again, over and over on a loop. It’s very creepy!

The lighting, mostly inside buildings. Everything is pitch black! Why does V not own a flashlight? The amount of enemies I’ve barrelled into and alerted because I couldn’t see is too much.

The lack of dialogue choice, it was less interactive than what I’d been told to expect. There was only two or three options, with one only ever rarely being unique to one of V’s three possible background choices and most will yield the same results with a few exceptions, like avoiding combat.

V’s personality is already decided by the game, and is not really customisable. Do not expect full control over your V’s personality, as they are very much a canon character and exist outside of your (limited) choices. I didn’t expect Baldur's Gate 3 levels of customisation, but I did expect something more like Dragon Age 2’s dialogue wheel? Nice, Sarcasm and Angry? You know?

Obviously, the seizure inducing scenes were very dangerous. I get a headache whenever I have to do a braindance, and I wish it was skippable!

Accessibility as a whole is very much an afterthought in this game, I think. The subtitles are in “speaking English”, so instead of: Hey, how are you? It’s: Heyyy, how’re ya? It is often difficult to understand, and sometimes I just couldn’t work out what was being said.

It’s nitpicky but I wanted to do a pacifist route and I realised you can’t, you need to kill certain character’s...

The main “villains” such as Yorinobu and Adam Smasher were very forgettable, and V had no personal stake in taking them out. I honestly forgot all about them. Takemura was talking about revenge and I’m like, who? Who are you talking about? Why are we kidnapping Hanako Arasaka, again? Johnny, why would I bother killing Adam Smasher? If they’d personally murdered Jackie, then yeah, I’d understand! But all V needs is to remove the chip and I don’t know... I just didn’t feel anything.

So, to summarise: I think CDPR were out of their depth. The long, very long, troubled development process was an indication of this before the game was even released, and the story I’ve experienced in the game is proof enough. I don’t think they knew what they wanted from this game, and as a result, we have a game that is honestly very confusing and frustrating with a story that always got close to gripping, but never quite makes it. All in all, I found this game to be pretty average. When the bugs are ironed out, I will think better of it. But as it stands, if I had to score it, I would give it a 6.5/10 or maybe 7/10. Good concept, somewhat misguided execution. The best part of the game was the Johnny/V dynamic, but I wasn’t satisfied with how it ended. They needed more time together! Anyway, it will be interesting to see what happens next.

#cp77 spoilers #cp77 critical #cyberpunk 2077 #I’ve already been vagued about a few times for my CP2077 opinions so I expect more to happen now I’m posting this hehe

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solar-pxwered · 4 years ago

Text

Reparations

- a Jin x Zuko story written by Panja Mysy

☆ ☆ AO3 ☆ ☆

❀ ❀ Tip Your Waitress ❀ ❀

Story below the cut to keep people’s dashboards clean and cut, of course! Enjoy!

There is no war in Ba Sing Se.

At least, that's what the Dai Li had been pushing on the people for decades, and after so long hearing the same sentiment, being told to stay quiet, and citizens disappearing when they tried to tell anyone otherwise...well, the people of the city had begun to believe it. If you lived your life, did your job, kept your head down, and just fell in line then you were left alone. So it was that decades down the line, not even the actual Earth King had known the war was truly happening let alone the common people.

This was why when the Fire Nation and Dai Li brought down the great walls no one was prepared to stand their ground against the occupancy. The lower ring citizens weren't trained in any weapon use other than muggers and their cheap knives or the occassional sword passed down through a family from their original arrival as refugees. The citizens weren't soldiers; a simple girl whose family ran a wool stall in the market least of all.

Jin had never felt more afraid than when she witnessed the komodo rhinos stomping down the streets, packing the solid dirt even more firmly than the millions of feet before them. Fire Nation soldiers rode on their great backs and warned citizens to get indoors lest they face the consequences. Jin had taken refuge in the tea shop she frequented, a horrible realization sinking into her chest.

"So it's true," a patron of the shop was whispering quietly behind her, out loud but to himself. "I've always heard rumors about the Fire Nation but no one could ever prove it. We really have been at war this whole time then?"

"It would seem so." Mr. Pao confirmed in a grim tone. "Rumor also has it that the Earth King has just...disappeared and is nowhere to be found."

"Dead most likely." One of the city guards muttered, his hand at his hip was shaking as if he was debating running out there to clash swords with the invaders. Jin seriously hoped he didn't; this was no time for a show of bravado.

"What do we do?" Her voice sounded so small, choked in her fear as she clutched the neckline of her robes and worried the material there.

"What can we do?" the guard responded with a defeated sigh. "We wait. We keep our heads down, and we survive."

That had been two years ago now.

"Jin, dear, can you cut me off a yard of the undyed wool please?"

Her mother's voice broke the girl from her memory and she shook her head to clear it as she grabbed the shears from the table. "One yard of undyed, coming right up."

Life went on. Ba Sing Se had continued to thrive even under the rule of the Fire Nation because the rules still remained the same: live your life, do your job, keep your head down, fall in line. Jin's family had continued their business and opened the wool stall the very next day and ,even though they had no business at all, it had spurred the other members of the marketplace to follow suit. Soon the market was a bustling, busy place once again as they all adjusted to the new normal.

There were those who spoke of grand schemes to overthrow their new government, whispered plots over pints of cheap ale and tobacco smoke in the seedy taverns of the Lower Ring, but the few who tried to rise up were very quickly and very publically stomped back down. Jin was well familiar with the scent of burning flesh and hair after only a few days of the occupation. Over time things had settled down and even the more raucous of rebellion groups had been crushed in the months that followed the first march into the city.

Thankfully, the months of occupation were few; a mysterious group of people had reclaimed the city, or at least that was the story. All who were present to see it told tales of firebenders using the comet to destroy the Fire Nation defense, of waves flowing in the streets which washed down the lines of soldiers, Earthbending being used to crush tanks and topple statues, and even tales of epic sword fighting. If the stories were to be believed then it would mean their liberators were representative of all the nations combined...and Jin was happy to believe that.

Whatever the case, the city was free again and King Kuei had returned from his long absence and tales from the world began to trickle into the streets; each one was more fantastic than the next! The Avatar, the last of the Air Nomads, had defeated the Fire Lord in combat. Kyoshi Island's famous warriors had represented the Earth Kingdom with unmatched ferocity. Three children had taken out the entire Fire Nation air fleet. The Dragon of the West himself had freed Ba Sing Se. There had been a siege on the Fire Nation during the eclipse.

Today a new bit of news was making the rounds.

"Have you heard?" the woman buying the undyed wool was asking her mother in a conspiratorial way, "They say the new Fire Lord is on his way to the city and should be arriving in only a few days. Apparently the King invited him personally to discuss trade agreements and reparations."

"I should think so," Jin's mother, Yon, replied easily as she wrapped the wool in paper and tied it with twine to complete the package. "The Fire Nation owes the world far more than empty promises. If he's as eager to change the world as they say then what better place to start than here?"

"Ah, but they say this isn't his first expedition at all! I heard the Earth Kingdom colonies were the first places he went and that there were uprisings and that he came to stomp them out! Apparently he and the Avatar got into a heated disagreement and they almost came to blows."

Yon's lips pursed unhappily and she shook her head in disappointment.

"He sounds like more of the same. It's almost like those people are born without any empathy."

Jin bit her lip, turning her back on the gossip as she put the remaining wool back in it's container. Her mother's statement brought back up those stupid feelings she had been trying to quell for years now; feelings related to a certain Firebender who she knew was nothing like the evil Princess who had conquered the city from within. A shy boy with a scar on his face who served tea and lived in peace among them.

She was no fool. He had all but blurted out the truth when he had lit those lanterns at the fountain that night. She could still see the nervousness and heard the awkwardness in his tone if she closed her eyes and focused on the memory of that strange date with the strange young man. She could still smell the heat frome the quickly summoned flames in the air. He had firebent those lights into being and he wasn't fooling anyone with his "don't peek" attempt. She hadn't peeked, of course, but she hadn't needed to.

Lee had been a Firebender, and Lee was nothing like the rest. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Night fell dark and heavy on the Lower Ring, the shop keepers counting up their earnings for the day and many of them were dispersing to the newly opened public houses and seedy pubs to spend any excess they might have. Drunks and vagrants and beggers lined the dirt streets under the glowing lamplight, spending and making money both, feeding habits and trying to make it in the simple hell of poverty.

Jin didn't stand out physically, dressed in simple browns and light greens, but her green eyes help far more light than most of the inhabitants of this area of the city. She held her head high as she walked, her steps light and sure. The wooden sign of her favorite establishment called to her and she smiled at the familiar creak of the door as she opened it, the light, smells and sounds from inside pouring into the street as she did so.

"Jin! Over here, I saved you a spot!" a voice called and Jin searched the crowd for the source of the voice. She found the object of her search and smiled, waving to convey she had heard the message.

"Hao, is it just you tonight?" Jin greeted her friend as she sat in the empty chair next to him at the four person table.

Hao smiled and shook his head, his black hair falling into his almond shaped eyes and he pointed vaguely at the area of the tavern often used for dances when there were musicians who chose to play. Tonight was a sort of special occasion, the end of Summer and the recognition of the seasons changing to Fall, and it was displayed nicely in the gold and orange and red colors of the banners strung between the high, slightly warped wooden beams of the establishment.

"Nari and Akemi are over there, probably trying to catch the attention of that fiddler."

Jin found the two girls with no problem, the two of them linked arm in arm as they skipped in a circle in time to the music, a simple dance usually done with several other people so you could switch partners on each pass, but it was clear that they were having enough fun without anyone else on the dance floor. Nari's chestnut brown curls bounced with every skip and she had her head tossed back in laughter, Akemi was always much more calm and collected so the only hint of enjoyment on her face was a simple smile.

"Ah, yes, of course. When Nari's on the hunt, men and women beware." Jin laughed lightly, "So how was work today?"

Hao tipped his mug back and took a large swig of the ale Jin knew was inside before he let out with a heavy sigh.

"It wasn't the best," he admitted in a bitter tone of voice, swirling the contents of his cup around as he looked inside the pint. "I guess people just aren't in the mood for candles even though the days are getting shorter."

"Hey, cheer up, Hao," Jin reassured him, "With the long, warm days coming to and end people will be needing what we've got to offer more and more every day. You'll make up for the slow summer, don't worry."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Hao rolled his eyes good naturedly and nudged Jin's side with his elbow, "Hey, you never know, maybe I'll marry into money."

"Keep dreaming, Waxy!" Nari's always overly loud voice cut into the conversation as she plopped heavily into the seat across from their male companion. He gave her a rather unamused sort of sneer and she responded by sticking her tongue out, arms crossed over her chest.

"No luck with the fiddler, I'm assuming?" Hao shot back and it was clear by the way Nari rolled her eyes that he was correct.

"Hey, his loss!" Nari countered easily as if having her advances rejected was nothing. She seemed almost bored as she called out to the waiter as he passed. "Hey, can we get three pints over here?"

"Oh, none for me," Jin said quickly but Nari ignored her.

"Hi, Jin!" Akemi said softly as she took the last remaining seat at the table. She was far too prim and proper for such a place as this but for all her manners and quiet personality, Akemi has never once felt like she didn't belong in their rag tag group of friends. She didn't have the unkempt curls of Nari or the typical Earth Kingdom green eyes like Jin or the almond eyes like Hao; she was pale, blonde and blue eyed, a very uncommon mix of traits in one person in this part of the world.

"Akemi, you're someone who might actually appreciate a little bit of cultural news, unlike these two troglodytes." Jin had been eager to share her news with someone of equally open mindedness as she, Hao and Nari just weren't as interested in anything beyond the walls of Ba Sing Se. "I heard rumors today that the new Fire Lord is coming to visit King Kuei in a few days."

"Oh my!" Akemi leaned forward, her blue eyes flashing with interest, "Did anyone know the purpose of the visit?"

"Not that I've heard," Jin admitted, nodding to the waiter as he set her pint in front of her. "But I imagine it has to do with trade deals and reparations and the like. Politics, of course, he's way too busy to be coming here for a vacation."

"Well, it's about damn time he showed his stupid face here," Nari grumped as she tucked into her pint with almost barbaric fervor.

"How do you know his face is stupid?" Akemi asked innocently, "Maybe he's incredible handsome and smart to boot!"

"Please," Nari rolled her eyes, "He's Fire Nation."

"Have you SEEN Fire Nation people?" Hao asked, incredulously. "I mean, not trying to be funny, but they're HOT!"

Jin and Akemi laughed and even Nari cracked a smile inside her pint glass so no one would notice.

"Yeah, yeah, ok," she admitted, "But isn't he old as hell?"

"The Fire Lord?" Jin raised an eyebrow, "Have you been living under a rock, Nari? The new Fire Lord is only nineteen, the youngest in a very long time."

"Huh," Nari seemed thoughtful at that bit of knowledge, "Hey, maybe I'll be the one to marry into money instead of Hao."

"Dream on," Hao echoed her earlier insult with a grin that earned him a chunck of hard bread in his face. Akemi didn't even seem upset at the loss of her bread as she laughed along with the other girls. "Real mature Nari. You know I should really-"

"Oh, would you two just kiss already?" Jin interjected.

That brought a profound silence to the table and they all finally focused on their drinks and the cheery atmosphere of celebration in the room. After a few more drinks, everyone forgot about the Fire Lord, their jobs, the failed attempt at wooing the fiddler and even Nari was laughing out loud by the time the four of them stumbled into the street.

"See you guys tomorrow night?" Akemi, the only sober one, asked as she held Nari upright.

"I've got no plans," Hao confirmed.

"Be here with bells on," Jin added, a hiccup escaping at the last word and making her giggle.

Nari and Akemi headed East as Hao and Jin headed West towards their homes, arms draped over eachothers' shoulders as they walked without a care in the world as the alcohol worked it's magic.

Just another workday ending in the Lower Ring of Ba Sing Se.

#jin x zuko #jinko #Avatar The Last Airbender #avatar fanfiction #zuko

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