#bid declaration sample

[bidhelp]

Declaration Regarding Submission and Approval of Samples—Bid

Bid on government jobs through the GeM (Government e-Marketplace) Portal. In order to do this, you need to know how to send samples and do advance sampling. That way, the teams that buy things can be honest and sure about the goods they buy. Besides that, they help providers bid easily. Let’s go over this important part of bids in more depth.

What does the GeM Portal Declaration about Sample say?

Anyone who wants to bid puts in a sample statement to show that they can and are willing to provide product samples if the tender needs them. GeM lets the government get real samples of goods to make sure they meet standards, are good quality, and are ready to be sold. This sentence is very important when making a choice.

Purpose: The main goal is to make sure the product lives up to the strict requirements laid out in the offer.

When do you need it: The person who is buying may ask for a sample as part of the process? This is especially true for things where quality control is very important. Submission: Send these papers: It needs to be sent with the bid papers or as per the rules of the tender.

Advance Sampling: The Key to Competitive Bidding.

Before some bids are opened, an extra step called “advance sampling” may need to be taken. The seller has to send a sample of the item before the bids can be seen by everyone. Before the last bids are looked at: a sample of the product is sent in. The term for this is “advance sampling.” This is done to make sure that the things being bid on are exactly what the buyer wants. Why does it matter: If something goes wrong, this method helps fix it and makes sure that only buyers who can offer things that meet the buyer’s wants are chosen? Things that bidders will like: Samples can be sent by sellers before they send any money to show that the things are of good quality and meet the needs.

Importance of Both Declarations in the GeM Portal It is important to make sure that all the rules are followed and that the quality of the product is good before the deal is finalized. The sample statement and advance sampling are both important ways to do this. These are things that small businesses need to know to see if their product meets the needs of the buyer and if the buyer can move on to the next step in the buying process.

More people will trust it: People are more likely to trust a source to give good goods if they say clear and true things about samples.

Makes sure the tender terms are followed: When sellers offer samples, it means they can meet the technical and quality standards stated in the ad.

More often, bids win. The seller who does everything asked of them, like putting in an example, is more likely to get the deal.

How to Submit the Declaration Regarding Sample and Advance Sampling?

What do I need to do?

You can send these comments easily, but they need to be real. This is what you need to do most: Get to the Offer: Sign in to your GeM account to find the bid or offer paper you need. Read the following: Pay close attention to the bid paper to see if it asks for any samples or early examples.

What you need to do is: Either fill out the sample statement form online or send the right paperwork with your bid if it says to.

Show what you mean: Make sure the buyer gets the sample on time and with all the right papers if they ask for one. In your statement, you should say that the sample you sent in meets the requirements set out in the offer.

How to Send in a Good Sample Read and make sure you understand: After reading the offer paper, make sure you fully understand the technical requirements. Only then should you send in a sample. Make sure that it’s good: If you get the job, the model you send in should show how good the work will be. This should be a great way to meet the needs. Getting ready on time: Send the statement and any real samples by the date the buyer gives you. You could be kicked out of the game if you come in too late. Clear Documentation: The sample should come with all the necessary proof, like product licenses, quality compliance records, and information about the box.

Conclusion

A big part of how the government gets things is what the GeM portal says about samples and advance sampling. Buyers for the government are more likely to trust a dealer if they send samples that look good and are the right thing. Also, this will help them get deals more often. Always pay close attention to the product specs, needs, and due dates when you read the deal. Making this move will help you win the bid more often.

Declaration Regarding Sample and Advance Sampling for Bid Number

Date: [Insert Date]

To,

The Procurement Officer, [Name of the Procuring Organization], [Address of the Procuring Organization], [City, State, PIN Code].

Subject: Declaration Regarding Sample and Advance Sampling for Bid Number [Bid Number]

Dear Sir/Madam,

We, [Your Company Name], located at [Your Company Address], hereby submit this declaration concerning the provision and handling of samples and advance samples as per the requirements specified in Bid Number [Bid Number].

Declaration on Sample and Advance Sampling

Provision of Samples:

Sample Submission: We confirm that we will provide samples of the goods specified in the bid document upon request. These samples will accurately represent the quality and specifications of the products we propose to supply.

Sample Cost: Any costs associated with the provision of samples, including shipping and handling, will be borne by [Your Company Name], unless otherwise specified in the bid document.

Advance Sampling:

Advance Sample Provision: We agree to provide advance samples as required by the procuring organization prior to the final contract award. These advance samples will be provided in accordance with the specifications outlined in the bid.

Advance Sample Handling: We will ensure that advance samples are provided within the stipulated time frame and are representative of the final product to be delivered. The advance samples will be used to assess compliance with technical and quality specifications.

Compliance with Relevant Regulations: This declaration is made in accordance with the following regulations and guidelines:

General Financial Rules (GFR) 2017 – Rule 169: Guidelines on the provision of samples and advance samples in public procurement.

Manual of Procurement of Goods – Procedures for sample submission and evaluation.

Central Vigilance Commission (CVC) Guidelines – Standards for sample handling and procurement transparency.

Supporting Documentation: Attached are any relevant documents related to the sample and advance sampling process, including previous sample test reports and compliance certificates.

We affirm that all information provided is accurate and conforms to the requirements stipulated in the bid documents. Any failure to provide samples as required or misrepresentation of sample details may lead to disqualification from the procurement process or cancellation of any awarded contracts.

Thank you for your attention to this matter.

Yours faithfully,

[Signature] [Name of the Authorized Signatory] [Designation] [Your Company Name] [Contact Number] [Email Address]

[tsumuus]

Helloo!! Ugh, I love your fics. I go buck wild whenever you feed us a new one. For your event, I would like to request 💌 with Tenya Iida? He's so silly I love him. I'm also 17, and love the vibes of your fics, like the American high school one. So so real. I know 3 guys like Iida in that one.

Valentine’s Day had never been anything special to you.

At least, that was what you thought until you walked into class that morning to find a neatly folded white envelope sitting atop your desk. Your name was scrawled in elegant, deliberate handwriting on the front, the ink a dark, bold contrast against the pale paper. A few of your classmates were already in the room, chatting amongst themselves, oblivious to the way your heart lurched at the sight of it.

You hesitated for a second, your fingers grazing the edges before you finally picked it up and flipped it open. The moment your eyes met the words, your breath caught in your throat.

The letter was beautiful. It was sincere, carefully worded, each sentence crafted with an almost reverent care. Whoever had written this had clearly spent time on it. There were no clichés, no over-the-top declarations, just quiet admiration and a deep, unspoken longing that practically bled from the page. They spoke of how they had watched you- not in a creepy way, but in quiet awe. How they admired your strength, your perseverance, the way your laughter brightened the atmosphere. How they had wanted, so many times, to say something, to reach out, but feared ruining what little connection you shared.

Your fingers tightened around the paper, a strange ache blooming in your chest. And then, you reached the end.

No name.

Your heart, which had been steadily climbing in your chest, plummeted. An anonymous confession.

You barely had time to process your emotions before a squeal erupted from behind you.

“Oh my God!” Mina’s voice was sharp with excitement as she practically materialized at your side. “What’s that?”

Wordlessly, you slid the letter toward her, your mind still reeling. Her eyes darted across the page, growing impossibly wide with every passing second before she gasped dramatically. “Oh my God, this is so romantic! This is like, straight out of a drama! Who do you think it is?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” you murmured, fingers pressing against your warm cheeks. “But there’s no name.”

“Then we’ll just have to figure it out!” Mina declared, slamming a determined fist against your desk. “Meet me after class. We’re solving this mystery!”

The investigation took longer than expected. Mina, in full detective mode, had dragged you through a list of potential suspects, interrogating classmates in hushed whispers, scrutinizing handwriting samples, and dramatically crossing off names with exaggerated flair. But one by one, the possibilities dwindled. Kaminari? No way he could be this eloquent. Kirishima? Too direct. Midoriya? Definitely not his style.

Eventually, the list was whittled down to a single name.

Tenya Iida.

You had immediately shot the idea down, shaking your head so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash. “No way.”

Mina raised a skeptical brow. “No way? We’ve literally eliminated everyone else. And look at this letter! It’s so well-structured, polite, and heartfelt. It practically screams Class President.”

You bit your lip. “That’s exactly why it couldn’t be him.”

Mina crossed her arms. “Why?”

“Because…” You faltered, your stomach twisting. “Because if it was him, and if he… felt that way about me… I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

Mina’s expression softened, and for once, she didn’t push. “Well, if it’s not him, then I guess we’ll never know.”

You sighed, slumping against the couch. “Maybe that’s for the best.”

Later that evening, after Mina had bid you goodnight, you lingered in the common room a little longer before deciding to head to your room.

You barely made it a few steps before you bumped- quite literally- into Iida.

The impact sent you stumbling slightly, but his hands shot out in an instant, steadying you with his firm grip. “Ah! My sincerest apologies, I should have been watching where I was going.”

You blinked up at him, noting the way his face was dusted a deep red, his gaze darting anywhere but at you. That was strange. Iida was always composed, always meticulous with his words and movements. Seeing him this flustered was… odd.

“It’s okay,” you said, waving off his concern. “I should’ve been looking, too.”

There was a brief, awkward silence before you cleared your throat. “So… how was your day?”

Iida stiffened slightly before giving a vague answer. “It was… eventful.”

You hummed, nodding absentmindedly. “Yeah, same.” You hesitated for a beat before adding, “Actually, I got a letter today. An anonymous one.”

You watched as Iida’s entire body went rigid.

You swallowed, pretending not to notice. “It was really sweet. Really personal. But there was no name at the end, so I have no idea who sent it.” You let out a soft, nervous laugh, trying to keep your tone light. “It wasn’t from you, was it?”

The question was meant to be a joke, an offhanded remark to fill the silence.

But then, Iida went impossibly red. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his lips pressing together as if he were physically holding back words. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then took a deep breath.

“…It was,” he finally admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart stopped.

You stared at him, mind reeling, as he straightened his posture, forcing himself to meet your gaze despite the obvious discomfort it caused him. “I wrote the letter,” he repeated, stronger this time. “I have been… infatuated with you for quite some time. But I did not wish to burden you with my feelings, nor risk disrupting our friendship. However, today, I felt it would be best to at least attempt to express them, even if indirectly.”

Your breath hitched. “Iida…”

He swallowed, his fingers twitching at his sides. “I understand if you do not feel the same, and I will not pressure you for a response. I merely wanted you to know.”

For a moment, you could only stare at him, your heart pounding violently against your ribs. And then, slowly, a smile crept onto your lips.

“Iida… you absolute idiot,” you murmured, taking a hesitant step closer. “I’ve been crushing on you all year.”

His eyes widened behind his glasses, lips parting in shock. “You… what?”

You chuckled softly. “Yeah. And if I’d known that letter was from you, I wouldn’t have wasted all day trying to figure it out.”

His mouth opened and closed uselessly, his ears burning crimson. And then, finally, after a moment of stunned silence, he let out a breathless laugh.

“…May I take you to dinner, then?” he asked tentatively.

Your smile widened. “I’d love that.”

valentines event | masterlists

a/n in my head me n iida are married with 12 kids 4 cats 7 dogs and we live on a farm but also have a penthouse in the city😩 tysm for the request and ur so cute anon ily (guys please request iida content i never see any and if you wanna see more like i do pls just request i love this man sm but i struck out creatively anytime i try to so rlly just request anything pls and thank you)

[kinq-sleazee]

Kento Nanami Fluff | Comment , Reblog & Follow for Pt.2

♔♕♚♛

SingleDad! Nanami ? *bites lip while nose bleeds profusely.

SingleDad! Nanami ♕ | the blonde bombshell with honey brown eyes, a diamond etched jaw and expensive taste in suits.

SingleDad! Nanami ♕ | who has a son from a previous marriage that fizzled out from a poor work-life balance but he will always make time for his child. opted for joint custody arrangement of one week on and one week off and none of that once a month bullshit.

SingleDad! Nanami ♕ | raises his little one to be an utter gentleman. a mini knight in shining armor that rescues your little girl from “playground bullies”. tussles with those little losers and spends the rest of the evening playing make believe with her.

SingleDad! Nanami ♕ | feels pride swell in his chest when you compliment his son’s character but insists that it costs nothing to do the right thing.

SingleDad! Nanami ♕ | makes small talk while watching your kids play together. learning that you’re also a single parent; a stay at home mom that’s new to the area looking for a change.

SingleDad! Nanami ♕ | smiles softly while listening to you get carried away about your dreams of opening a bakery. he likes the sparkle in your eyes when you talk about it. he thinks you look beautiful.

SingleDad! Nanami ♕ | chuckles when his son runs over with your daughter , hand in hand, declaring that they are now best friends forever.

SingleDad! Nanami ♕ | offers to exchange numbers with you for “future play dates” but it’s really an excuse to keep in contact with you.

SingleDad! Nanami ♕ | texts you to make sure you made it home safe and bids you goodnight and sweet dreams.

SingleDad! Nanami ♕ | spends his “off” week consumed with work but it’s nice to get little texts from you throughout the day.

SingleDad! Nanami ♕ | enjoys getting to know you over the next few months. he looks forward to your outings at the park where he samples your baked goods while listening to you gossip about PTA meetings.

“Store bought brownies to a bake sale ! Can you believe that ?” You giggled, absentmindedly reaching up to wipe crumbs from his face. “Absolutely scandalous” he adds in his monotonous voice but his affectionate smile does nothing to hide his interest.

SingleDad! Nanami ♕ | doesn’t know what this is between the two of you but he really doesn’t want it to end.

SingleDad! Nanami ♕ | invites you and your daughter over to his upscale apartment for an intimate birthday gathering for his son. the day is spend finger painting, playing board games and decorating cupcakes.

SingleDad! Nanami ♕ | loves watching you interact with his som and his completely enamored with your daughter. can’t help but think of what a cute little family the four of you make.

SingleDad! Nanami ♕ | thinks it’s cute how flustered you get when he mentions it to you. there’s been some light flirtation between the two of you but nothing this direct.

SingleDad! Nanami ♕ | cages against the kitchen counter when the kids aren’t looking. staring deeply in your eyes he confesses his feelings and silently pleads for you to accept them.

SingleDad! Nanami ♕ | is elated when you rise to your toes to peck his lips. with a hand on your cheek he brings you back for a deeper kiss, sighing heavily at the feeling of your tongue sliding against his. his arms encircle you, hands resting on the small of your back and the nape of your neck. picks you up on the counter, settling between your legs to leisurely massage your thighs.

SingleDad! Nanami ♕ | goes a bit red when he hears an exaggerated gag and small giggles, clearing his throat and redirecting the attention off the little trouble makers with the next activity.

SingleDad! Nanami ♕ | can’t wait to get you alone but for now will enjoy this time with his growing family.

[maswartz]

My idea for how the MCU should have done the Fantastic Four

Reed Richards- A young entrepreneur who made a fortune on multiple patents allowing him to indulge in many scientific curiosities. He holds degrees in multiple fields of science. The press has dubbed him Mr. Fantastic. After the accident he gains the ability to stretch his body to incredible lengths Susan Richards- An expert computer programmer and hacker she’s able to sneak into any network. Her programming software is used in all of the FF’s hardware. The accident gave her the power to create invisible force fields as well as cloak herself and others from sight. She calls herself the Invisible Woman as a result. Johnny Storm- A stuntman and experienced pyrotechnics expert he lives to chase the thrill. When his sister invited him on the trip he leaped at the chance. The accident gave him the ability to create intense heat and cover himself in flames. He declared that he was the Human Torch from now on. Ben Grimm- A test pilot who went to college with Reed and has kept in touch ever since. He volunteered to pilot the test flight but suggested that Reed either address the shielding or postpone until the storm passed. The accident mutated him into a rock covered Thing giving him increased stamina and strength. Before battle he recites the motto of the Yancy Street Gang “It’s Clobbering Time!”

Marvel’s Fantastic Four

Reed Richards creates a spaceship in the hopes of making spaceflight available to the public however during the test flight a cosmic storm strikes the earth. The cosmic radiation mutates Reed, his wife Susan, her brother Johnny, and the pilot Ben giving them strange powers. However they were not the only ones effected. Bolts of cosmic power strike all across the world (setting up future heroes and villains). One such bolt strikes a mountain sending cosmic radiation throughout it. A man named Harvey Elder was mining in the mountain when the bolt hit causing a cave in. However the energy mutated him and the life within the soil around him. He became the Mole Man and commanded an army of mutated worms, insects, and moles to do his evil bidding. Fighting him was the first test of the Fantastic Four!

Marvel’s Fantastic Four: The U-Foes

About a year after the cosmic storm hit Earth, Simon Ultrecht head of U-Forces a rival of Reed’s is contacted by a mysterious benefactor who managed to obtain a sample of the cosmic energy. Driven by greed Simon exposed himself and three others creating the U-Foes. The Fantastic Four must prevent these superpowered threats from wrecking havoc.

Marvel’s Fantastic Four: Doom

Little did the Fantastic Four know that the mysterious benefactor was watching them, studying them, analyzing their strengths and weaknesses until he had the knowledge he needed to strike. Victor Von Doom has returned to get his long awaited revenge against Reed Richards!

Marvel’s Fantastic Four: Galactus

Months after the battle against Doom a strange object enters Earth’s atmosphere, a silver man on a silver board. The Silver Surfer declares that Galactus is coming and that none can stop him from consuming the world. It’s up to the Fantastic Four to find a way to stop the Devourer of Worlds from destroying the Earth.

[heschoking]

AI constructed outline, written by me.

The elegant dining room exuded an air of sophistication, illuminated by the soft glow of candlelight and the sparkle of crystal glassware. Sarah and her closest friends, a diverse group of professionals, gathered at their favorite steakhouse to celebrate a recent promotion. Laughter and animated conversation filled the air as they settled into their plush leather chairs, eagerly anticipating the feast ahead.

As the waiter approached their table with a silver platter, Sarah's eyes lit up with excitement. She had been dreaming about sinking her teeth into a juicy steak all day, her mouth watering at the mere thought. With a flourish, the waiter revealed the perfectly seared steak, its aroma tantalizing her senses and igniting a fierce hunger within her.

With a gleeful grin, Sarah wasted no time in cutting into the tender meat, savoring each succulent bite as if it were the last meal she would ever taste. Around her, her friends indulged in their own culinary delights, their faces alight with pleasure as they sampled the array of mouthwatering dishes spread before them.

Amidst the clinking of silverware and the hum of conversation, Sarah felt a sense of contentment wash over her, grateful for the opportunity to share this moment of joy with her closest companions. Little did she know, however, that their evening of revelry was about to take a dark and terrifying turn.

In the midst of her enjoyment, Sarah suddenly felt a sharp pain shoot through her throat as a large piece of steak became lodged in her windpipe. Panic surged through her veins as she gasped for air, her eyes wide with fear as she struggled to draw a breath.

"Sarah, are you okay?" one of her friends exclaimed, reaching out to her in concern.

But Sarah could only shake her head frantically, her throat constricted by the obstruction as she fought to stay conscious.

As the gravity of the situation dawned on her friends, a wave of panic swept through the table, their voices rising in alarm as they realized the severity of Sarah's condition.

"Someone call an ambulance!" one of them shouted, already fumbling for their phone in a frantic bid for help.

In the chaos that ensued, Sarah felt a sense of helplessness wash over her, the world spinning around her as she struggled to stay upright. Each passing moment felt like an eternity, her vision blurring as she fought to keep the darkness at bay.

With trembling hands, Sarah attempted to dislodge the obstruction, pounding on her chest with all the strength she could muster. Tears streamed down her face as she gasped for air, her body wracked with coughs as she fought to expel the deadly morsel lodged in her throat.

But despite her best efforts, the steak remained stubbornly lodged, its presence a suffocating weight on her chest.

Just when all hope seemed lost, a voice rang out above the din, calm and authoritative amidst the chaos.

"I know what to do," Sarah's friend, a former paramedic, declared, springing into action with a sense of purpose.

With practiced precision, he positioned himself behind Sarah and began to administer the Heimlich maneuver, his hands moving in a rhythmic pattern as he applied pressure to her abdomen.

And then, miraculously, the obstruction dislodged with a wet, choking sound, sending Sarah gasping for air as she collapsed into her friend's arms, her body trembling with relief.

As Sarah caught her breath, she felt a flood of emotions wash over her: relief, gratitude, and a profound sense of awe at the fragility of life. She clung to her friends, their presence a source of comfort and solace in the aftermath of the harrowing ordeal.

In the quiet moments that followed, Sarah and her friends shared a moment of reflection, their bond stronger than ever in the wake of the near-tragedy. Though shaken, they knew they would carry the memory of this experience with them always, a reminder of the precious gift of life.

As the tension ebbed from the room, Sarah's friends surrounded her with love and support, grateful to have her safe and sound. And with that, they continued their meal, savoring each bite with newfound appreciation, knowing that life was too precious to waste on trivialities.

[canon-fcdder]

"T'is truly a most wondrous privilege, to beest deem'd thy noble ste'd this day." Said with a bow more befitting a knight to a prince than simple classmates heading out on the town, every word still held the utmost truth behind their fanciful pledge, even if it sounded rather silly to outside ears. "Bid me, O' Fae Prince: What is the destination you seek?" //-BARRELS INTO YOUR INBOX LIKE A CAT WITH THE ZOOMIES(TM) FROM HELL- hi :3 - ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @world-of-stones-and-colors 」 ˙ ˖ ✧

「 ☆ 」 Ortega’s leg had been bothering them that day, much to their chagrin. Fatigued by attempts to hide it and push on regardless— even if they leaned more on their cane scepter than they’d prefer —knowing they had plans with Atticus ( although ❛ plans ❜ is a rather loose term; more-so their friend knew Ortega wanted to spend time with him once classes finished ) helped keep their spirits from plummeting. Still, there’s no denying how tired Ortega’s eyes were before they focused upon Atti. Notably lighting up at the ego-preserving sight of their ❛ steed ❜ accepting his role.

Relief loosens their shoulders, smile soft with vulnerability for a breath before they straighten their spine and take on a demeanor more befitting a Prince who had called upon their noble knight. While Atticus lowered himself, it was Ortega’s duty to rise. It was their pleasure to. Lest they make Atti bow to someone not worthy of it. So it’s with a delighted smug smile that they answer the poetic question with the declaration, ❝ A new gelato place just opened and we have to try it! ❞

Ortega prides themself on knowing which desserts are the BEST in the area. Especially when those treats ring with familiarity to them. Which means they have to sample each new business as soon as possible. After giving Atticus the directions as though hailing a cab driver, Ortega then pulls out a credit card with a flourish. Held expertly between two fingers, they flit it across their knuckles as if performing a card trick before giving it a small toss into the air and snatching it. ❝ And I’m paying— obvs~ ❞ Technically their mother is paying, since he’s using the card she gave them…

But it’s practically the same thing. 「 ☆ 」

[wewerecore]

The Great Pro-Wrestling Adventure Hour - 011 07/27/23 Defy TV 4:00 PM - 5:00 PM EST Filmed at the Good Time Theatre at Dorney Park in Allentown, Pennsylvania

SEGMENT ONE (EIGHT MINUTES):

- The show opened with Sudu Upadhyay and "The Living Legend" Larry Zbyszko at the commentary booth, but this week they were joined by former host of The Chew and The Good Dish, Daphne Oz. Daphne brought out the King and Queen of Dorney Park's Grand Carnivale who were flanked by jesters and stilt walkers carrying some of the special dishes available to park goers during this event. Sudu, Larry, and Daphne sampled and gave their thoughts on the sauerbraten sliders, the crepes champignon, and the krapfen di carnevale. They also tried some of the new refreshments including the Carnivale Cocktail and the Triple Glitter Jam.

- The Great Pro-Wrestling Adventure Hour opening aired set to "Black Swan Lake" by Janko Nilovic.

Kylie Paige vs. Amaris Blair Kylie Paige defeated Amaris Blair by reversing Cattle Mutilaton into a backslide. (3:40)

SEGMENT TWO (EIGHT MINUTES):

- CORE’s AI Generated ring announcer Good Time Charlie declared that the next contest would be Match 1 in the Trench Trial Series. After Trench made his way to the ring, Good Time Charlie announced this would be a No Disqualifications match and introduced Trench's opponent, Japanese deathmatch legend Shadow WX.

Trench Trial Series - Match 1: Trench vs. Shadow WX Shadow WX defeated Trench after blowing fire. (4:11)

- Daphne Oz welcomed us to a special edition of the Coal Region Roundup live from the commentary booth. - Daphne announced that on August 5th in Scranton, New Japan wrestler Francesco Akira will be joining Lio Rush, Flamita, and seventeen other wrestlers in participating in the Risky Raffle. - Daphne confirmed rumors that Titus Alexander, who has been absent from CORE since losing to Roderick Strong, has been in advanced negotiations about returning to CORE in the near future. - Daphne Oz's final news item was revealing of the next two automatic bids for Trios Kingdom 2023. Making their return to CORE after appearing at the Co-Op 2023, representing Just 5 Guys will be TAKA Michinoku, Taichi, and Yoshinobu Kanemaru. Also making their return to CORE for the first time since August of 2016 will be Katsuyori Shibata and Kazunari Murakami. They will be joined by Manabu Hara to form Team Big Mouth LOUD.

SEGMENT THREE (NINE MINUTES):

- As Sudu, Larry, and Daphne welcomed us from commercial they were unexpectedly joined by Utami Hayashishita. Utami said that before she returns to Japan, she wants to challenge the best woman wrestler in CORE. Tessa Blanchard made her way out and said that she already has a match tonight and that Tessa no longer has any interest in wrestling other women. Hayashishita apologized if her English was poor, but she said she wanted to wrestle the best woman wrestler in CORE, not Tessa. Utami called out Giant Baba Yaga. Giant Baba Yaga, puffing on an American Rebel cigar, came to ringside and accepted the challenge for next week on Defy TV. Tessa stormed off as we transitioned back to the action.

MV Young vs. Magnum CK Magnum CK defeated MV Young via countout. (1:05)

- Early in the match Brogan Finlay and Marcus Mathers made their way to ringside and were intercepted by CORE officials Trik Davis and Jigsaw. MV Young left the ring and went after the two. As this was going on, Starboy Charlie attacked Larry Zbyszko at the commentary booth from behind. Starboy began to go after Larry's injured knee, but "The Bounty Hunter" Bryan Keith was fast on the scene and chased after Starboy. Ricky Morton emerged and threw himself between the two, absorbing a Yakuza kick from Bryan Keith as Starboy escaped. As the four interlopers ran out of the building and the locker room emptied, Larry Zbyszko got on the microphone and said he had to know if those vermin were still hiding in the walls; and if so having MV Young leave his side would lure them out into the light. Zbyszko challenged any two of them to take on MV Young and Bryan Keith right here next week. - As some of the wrestlers helped restore order around the ringside area, MV Young grabbed Kylie Paige, rolled her into the ring, and accused her of letting Starboy, Mathers, Finlay, and Morton into the building. Kylie denied it and reiterated earlier claims that she hadn't spoken to any of them since Wilkes-Barre, but MV Young didn't believe it and to a roar of approval from the crowd and the delight of Larry Zbyszko, powerbombed Kylie in the middle of the ring.

SEGMENT FOUR (EIGHT MINUTES):

The New Brain Busters (Brock Anderson and Tessa Blanchard) vs. Something/Nothing (Jake Something and Vincent Nothing) with UltraMantis Black Something/Nothing defeated The New Brain Busters with a black hole slam from Jake Something on Tessa Blanchard. (6:54)

SEGMENT FIVE (NINE MINUTES):

- We return from commercial to a music video montage of Raychell Rose at UltraMantis Black's School of Professional Wrestling Management and Bartending set to "We Hate School" by Jimmy Hart. Footage included Raychell laying out an outfit for a Tuxedo Match when Jimmy Hart pops up offering her a choice between powder blue briefs or boxer shorts with hearts on them. We see Slick shaking his head at Raychell's techniques for massaging her client's shoulders during an interview until she improves and gives her a double thumbs up. And close on Jimmy Hart presenting her with a variety of distinctive foreign objects to carry to the ring including a fishing rod, a pickleball paddle, a field hockey stick, a pool cue, and a pair of drumsticks.

Trios Kingdom 2023 Qualifying Match The Family Tree (Afa Jr., Sean Maluta, and Journey Fatu) vs. The Von Triers (Dale Von Trier, Keith Von Trier, and Kirk Von Trier) The Family Tree defeated The Von Triers after the Savate Kick Shindig from Maluta and Fatu followed by the Black Adam Punch from Afa Jr. on Kirk. (5:40)

SEGMENT SIX (THREE MINUTES):

- Our hosts signed off with a special thanks to Dorney Park & Wildwater Kingdom for sponsoring today's show. Sudu announced the Trios Kingdom qualifying match for next week will see the folkstyle faction of Shaw Mason, Tim Bosby, and Hunter Holdcraft facing off against a team called The Practice consisting of Dr. Redacted, Dr. Cornwallis, and Dr. Daniel C. Rockingham.

Next Week On The Great Pro-Wrestling Adventure Hour The Trench Trial Series continues. MV Young and "The Bounty Hunter" Bryan Keith in tag team action against two members of Kerry Morton's stable. Trios Kingdom 2023 Qualifying Match: folkstyle (Shaw Mason, Tim Bosby, and Hunter Holdcraft) vs. The Practice (Dr. Redacted, Dr. Cornwallis, and Dr. Daniel C. Rockingham) Utami Hayashishita vs. Giant Baba Yaga

Upcoming Shows:

The Great Pro-Wrestling Adventure Hour Every Thursday from 4:00 PM - 5:00 PM EST on Defy TV

CORE Pro #118 Breaking Training: The Risky Raffle 08/05/23 West Scranton Little League Carnival - Scranton, Pennsylvania Featuring: Lio Rush Flamita Francesco Akira And a Trios Kingdom 2023 qualifying match!

CORE returns to the Good Time Theatre at Dorney Park in Allentown, Pennsylvania! 08/06/23 Television taping for The Great Pro-Wrestling Adventure Hour as seen on Defy TV.

CORE Pro #119 Burning The Tomato Worms 08/21/23 Pittston Tomato Festival - Pittston, Pennsylvania

CORE Pro #120 Trios Kingdom 2023 - Night One 09/01/23 Penn's Peak - Jim Thorpe, Pennsylvania Featuring: The Calling (AKIRA, Rickey Shane Page, and Delirious) with Raven The 37KAMIINA (MAO, Yuki Ueno, and Toi Kojima) Jake Something, Vincent Nothing, and Giant Baba Yaga with UltraMantis Black Team JTO (Ren Ayabe, Fire Katsumi, and Akira Juumonji) Black Generation International (Kaito Ishida, Flamita, and Yutani) The Production (Derek Dillinger, Magnum CK, and Ziggy Haim) Just 5 Guys (TAKA Michinoku, Taichi, and Yoshinobu Kanemaru) Big Mouth LOUD (Katsuyori Shibata, Kazunari Murakami, and Manabu Hara) The Family Tree (Afa Jr., Sean Maluta, and Journey Fatu)

CORE Pro #121 Trios Kingdom 2023 - Night Two 09/02/23 Charles Chrin Community Center - Easton, Pennsylvania

CORE Pro #122 Trios Kingdom 2023 - Night Three 09/03/23 Martz Hall - Pottsville, Pennsylvania

CORE returns to the Good Time Theatre at Dorney Park in Allentown, Pennsylvania! 09/04/23 Television taping for The Great Pro-Wrestling Adventure Hour as seen on Defy TV.

[writer59january13]

A dangerous and mandatory evacuation – man the poop deck!

Ha!

Human (rat) race doomed! Foregone conclusion hashtagged,

linkedin, predicated, et cetera, cuz

overactive derrière of yours truly

(no names mentioned, nor fickle

finger of fate pointed), and writer

of these words and one among many

riders (he adores) on the storm – referring to brewing, looming, and quaking potentially severe economic fallout shattering The "debt ceiling" or "debt limit"recommends ye dear unknown (anonymous) readers bid thee toodle loo to civilization and its discontents.

So much for hyperbole! How axiomatic, ironic, quixotic, zoologic that thee unavoidable rectal urge occurred

while in the midst of writing about that

vitally important bodily function, which

for any other Tom, Dick or Harry would

be safer endeavor at least within their home.

That margin of err rear harmlessly doth

NOT exist within the rented domicile

of this twenty six plus years a married

(lighthearted) middle aged man.

What requisite non-forceful,

essential, dutiful call visiting

the potty to purge the body electric of supposed waste matter

(quite efficient machine Homo

Sapiens anatomy), regarding

said expelling solid, loose, liquid...

thru anus ought to rank as minimally risky private business. Imagine matter of fact saunter

to the loo fraught with Uriah heaps

of danger that could imperil

the very existence of (in this case)

myself, and the rest of humanity. Upon attempting to amble very short distance, (perhaps

half a dozen paces), an

immediately deleterious,

hellaciously luminous, and

perilously serious threat

(unsurpassed even by hooliganism signature destruction forever

enshrining Gothic or Vandals –

if such peoples lived today and occupied this apartment unit),

loomed as a far more impossibly

harrowing mission any combination

of maximum strength (Excedrin would be superfluous) supposed

major natural disasters all rolled

into one frightful maelstrom.

Oft times the powerful need

to relief thyself disallows any

preparation H(abiliments), thus I am forced to make a quick dash

to the toilet, BUT between

the cozy comfort of this easy chair and the durable material

designed to suction even the

baddest, biggest, boldest BM belies a trail and mountain

far more of wicked bewitched

crossing then say the now defunct Fukushima Nuclear Power Plant.

Though this comparison may seem

like an exaggeration, the higgledy

piggledy hewn heap of fetid foul

fermenting faecal matter poses dangerous, death defying diabolical

(DO NOT ENTER) dump.

No other option existed for me

to eradicate, expel, exorcise, et

cetera potential fecal matter except

to strike out toward barrier reef

of noxious, odoriferous, pestilential,

queasily revolting sky high (declared SuperFund Site) to enjoy simple

pleasure, whereby Gluteus Maximus

dispenses with human toxins.

The urge to let loose a stool sample

overrides any time to pen loving

note to surviving family members, which (two darling grown daughters

seem like foreigners (or survivors

on a desert island) as each precious

Punim pursues autonomy countless

miles, whereby the eldest then

a Junior at The University of Pennsylvania,

and the youngest offspring plane

and simple sailed about seven years ago to become

seasoned student abroad.

Though a tenant at this subsidized

(and quite agreeable accommodations

nestled within Perkiomen Valley,

Pennsylvania), no exaggeration necessary to describe daily cataclysm perchance

spelling doom and downfall of this

dry husband and loving father to deux

progeny, who would hate to leave said

special offspring behind under

the sheltering sky.

Thus every onset to traipse

so few feet to flush out thine flotsam and jetsam,

(when stream of urine sprays like a hose) to pay obeisance

and homage to modern plumbing, the flash of mine

lxiv years zips thru me memory, particularly when

carefully, gingerly lumbering ridiculously slow

(lest mishap finds ambulance

siren wailing destiny of this chap

(most likely pronounced

dead on arrival), whereby tell tale sigh of turgid tummy

would automatically inform doctors

that obstruction preventing quintessential rear supply tubby

undisputed venal wickedness.

Tis at unstoppable twitches

to defecate, (which sharp

saber rattling rectal spasms)

denote common urgent irrepressible

need arising within bowels), when mental gallows humorous arises. Such an embarrassing ending

(post eerie er) demise re: conclusion

to my rather ordinary life – (visa vis

being constipated, deprived

or hindered freeing offal,

would put to shame “windbag”

i.e. google as proof positive

of blocked means to eliminate waste).

Also in tandem (though very

slightly tangential to above

distressful horrible likely presentiment,

this xMan bemoans being

swept off my yam bic pent tam meter feet (literally)

by gigantic hands of she

(thee divine Gaia, who now

scatters defecated detritus

damning ability to access

commode constitutes reflection

on remaining Norwegian

Bachelor farmer from Lake Woebegone.

How trajectory of one measly

mortal primate webbed whirled wide eyed schleps

along boulevard of broken dreams

(he may as well live planets,

galaxies or universes apart

worlds) ever shared

an intersecting vector

with another continues

to confound this crossword puzzler.

Again that sneaky sobriquet

irony doth mettle with steely goatherd drivers

goes Pasteur homo, where gin till lit tee lives.

Long story short described below.

Circumstance found this then

quite content solitary son of the soil invited

to admirable, estimable, inimitable estate listed as “Glen Elm”

within National Registry of owned properties within

Collegeville, Pennsylvania.

Garrison Keillor slated guest of honor.

He possessed je nais se quois

ability to tell tall tales,

whereby audience members

became rapt with seduction,

usurpation, and wide eyed yearning

to lean in so as to hear the suspense, which increased in magnitude

in direct proportion as

his home spun voice became softer.

Unbeknownst to this

poor country bumpkin, when he took bathroom break

during impromptu intermission, a gal in her mid thirties

livingsocial with her parents within the Mainline

(very wealthy enclave of residents within southwestern Montgomery

County, Pennsylvania) agreed to follow Jewish tradition,

asper prearranged marriages. Though neither of Semitic peoples,

nor the least bit familiar

with one of the oldest Religions,

thee family, whose youngest daughter

hinted of spinsterhood, their open minded kindred ideas

generated exception to dictum remaining steadfast

to pinpoint “a nice Jewish Kosher Boy”!

As frequent attendees

at this Leiper Mansion and storied magnet for literati,

the accidental chance encounter found thyself and unfamiliar gal

(fate decreed as thy bartered bride)

happened to be awaiting use of water closet. As tends to be the predilection

of so called fairer gender sex,

this petite and attractive dame

introduced herself, which subsequently

found us becoming more curious about the other.

The natural order of two

heterosexual individuals (one male, the other female)

allowed basic instinct of attraction to engender

fledgling friendship, that quickly leapfrogged into

a sexually intimate dalliance. Without any precautions

qua birth control inevitable outcome of hitting

the figurative bullseye linkedin while listening to the rhythm method occurred. This reality determined

tepid reception courtesy

future parents in law to marry gal,

whose youngest daughter's

future child I fathered.

Even from this fairly commonplace

getgo dynamics wildly described

along seismograph of 10.00 earthquake, one category 5 hurricane,

and an F5 tornado thrown in for good measure for measure,

these tidbits totally hyperbolic,

thus equal much ado about nothing relative to the interpersonal juxtaposition

of our quite rapid tête-à-tête,

that continues (to much lesser degree –

analogous to subsiding

storm of the Century 21) to this day.

After surviving approximately

two and a half dozen plus years, (the marital inflictions

unquestionably more harrowing, strangulating, and threatening

life and limb) battle scars (many broken bones begot

by innocuous shuffling to bathroom) populating neary

every square inch of this ordinary chap deserves a medal of honor.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Games Workshop declares war on its customers (again)

There’s a difference between a con-artist and a grifter. A con-artist is just a gabby mugger, and when they vanish with your money, you know you’ve been robbed.

A grifter, on the other hand, is someone who can work the law to declare your stuff to be their stuff, which makes you a lawless cur because your pockets are stuffed full of their money and merely handing it over is the least you can do to make up for your sin.

IP trolls are grifters, not con artists, and that’s by design, a feature of the construction of copyright and trademark law.

Progressives may rail at the term “IP” for its imprecision, but truly, it has a very precise meaning: “‘IP’ is any law that lets me control the conduct of my customers, competitors and critics, such that they must arrange their affairs to my benefit.”

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

In that regard, it is a perfect grifter’s tool — a way to put you on the wrong side of the line for simply living your life in the way that works best for you, not the grifter.

Now, copyright and trademark’s framers were alive to the possibility that they might become this kind of weapon, and they wrote limitations and exceptions into each doctrine that were meant to safeguard the public’s right to free speech and free action.

But those limitations and exceptions are weirdly self-eviscerating. Both trademark and copyright’s limitations assume that they aren’t being weaponized by immoral sociopaths. Both collapse if they are.

Take copyright. Copyright has a suite of limitations and exceptions under various global legal systems, including US law. US law also contains a specific set of exceptions colloquially called “fair use,” a subject of much mystification for lay people.

Under fair use, someone accused of copyright infringement can ask a judge to find that their use of someone else’s copyrighted work is permissible because to deny it would be socially harmful.

The fair use law sets out four factors that judges MAY consider when considering such a claim. Note that these four factors are neither comprehensive (judges can weigh other factors), nor dispositive (failing to satisfy a factor doesn’t disqualify your use from being fair).

If that sounds confusing to you, don’t worry. It is confusing. As the lawyers say, “fair use is fact-intensive.”

The specifics of a use really matter: who’s making the use, what they’re using, why they’re using it, how they use it, and how much they use.

That’s why anyone who claims that “X is never fair use” (for example, commercial fanfic) are full of shit — as are people who say “X is always fair use”).

Commercial fanfic absolutely can be fair use. No less a body than the Supreme Court says so:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Wind_Done_Gone

Despite all this ambiguity and nuance, IP grifters who want to force other people to arrange their affairs to their own benefit are laser focused on the four factors, reasoning correctly that if they show a judge that the factors favor them, they’re more likely to prevail.

Half of the four factors are out of the grifter’s reach. As a rightsholder, you can’t control “the purpose and character of the use,” or “the amount and substantiality of the portion used.”

But the other two factors are more readily within the IP wielder’s remit. As someone seeking control a work, you can frame “to the nature of the copyrighted work” by talking up how much creativity and originality went into it, which judges will weigh in your favor.

More importantly — and disturbingly — is the way that an IP holder can influence the fourth factor: “the effect of the use upon the potential market for or value of the copyrighted work.”

Think about that fourth factor for a moment here: if my use of your work doesn’t cost you any money, then it’s more likely that my use is fair.

The corollary: if you can bully some people into paying for something they’ve always gotten for free, then you can claim that the people who refuse to pay are ripping you off — that there is a “market” for the use, and that their failure to pay weakens that market.

This is effectively what’s happened to music sampling. Seminal albums like “It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back” were produced with thousands of uncleared samples — but at the time, no one was clearing samples.

https://memex.craphound.com/2011/07/08/creative-license-how-the-hell-did-sampling-get-so-screwed-up-and-what-the-hell-do-we-do-about-it/

Had the rightsholders to those samples dragged Public Enemy into court, they wouldn’t have had the fourth factor on their side. No one was paying for samples, so a failure to pay for samples had no “effect on the potential market for the copyrighted work.”

However, in the 33 years since Nation of Millions dropped, paying to license samples has become common practice — and the mere existence of paid samples makes not paying for samples more legally risky.

So say a rightsholder decided to aggressively license simple quotations — as the Associated Press did in 2008, when it offered to sell you a license to a 5-word quotation for a mere $12.50.

http://nielsenhayden.com/makinglight/archives/010341.html

All other things being equal, a short quotation from a news article is likely to be fair use. But if the AP managed to terrorize enough bloggers into coughing up $12.50 for a 5-word quote, it could create a market for 5-word quotations.

That market would change the fair use argument for people who don’t pay — yes, they’re making a transformative, critical use, but they’re also undermining the market for the copyright, and a judge might find this change tips the scales away from fair use.

Even more importantly, the additional uncertainty might stampede more people into paying $12.50 for a 5-word quote rather than risk a $250,000 statutory damages award for copyright infringement.

The more people who pay for 5-word quotes, the sturdier the market becomes and the riskier it is to rely upon fair use.

The fourth factor looks like an escape valve for uses that harm no one.

But it actually rewards to bullies who intimidate others out of money they don’t actually owe — until they do.

Trademark has a similar gotcha. Trademark is very different from copyright. Fundamentally, trademark is about protecting buyers, not sellers. Trademark meant to help buyers avoid being tricked into buying an inferior product because it was deceptively named or styled.

If you buy a can of Coke, you want the true Black Water of American Imperialism, not an inferior brand of dilute battery-acid.

But if your Coke turns out to be a fake, you might shrug off the harm or balk at the expense of punishing the fast operator who mis-sold you.

So trademark empowers Coke — and other vendors — to punish third parties who trick their customers, acting as their customers’ champions. Trademark doesn’t exist to prevent Coke from losing money to a rival — it exists to help Coke drinkers get what they pay for.

Trademarks can be registered with the USPTO, who nominally weigh trademark applications to ensure that they’re distinctive and original. Practically, examiners are busy, sometimes careless, and ideologically inclined to grant, not deny, claims.

https://memex.craphound.com/2018/06/14/son-of-cocky-a-writer-is-trying-to-trademark-dragon-slayer-for-fantasy-novels/

But you don’t have to register a trademark to assert it. You can threaten or pursue legal action on the grounds that someone has violated an unregistered trademark, which is any distinctive graphic or phrase that is associated with your product.

Registered or unregistered, trademark enforcement primarily comes down to whether a “naive consumer” would be mislead by someone else’s use of a mark. That is, when you bought a Coke-branded sack of chicken feet, did you think it was blessed by the Coca-Cola company?

If there’s no likelihood of confusion, trademark holders struggle to enforce their trademarks.

This standard seems reasonable, but, like the fourth factor in fair use, it has a sting in its tail.

One of the ways you can induce confusion in the public is to gain a reputation for being a litigious bully. Say Coke is known far and wide for clobbering anyone that uses its trademarks, no matter how trivial the use and no matter how bad it made them look.

If Coke is truly notorious for its zero-tolerance policy, that will lead to a widespread public understanding that every time you see Coke’s marks, the use was blessed by a Coke lawyer — meaning a use that might not otherwise be found to be confusing can be made confusing.

“If that was any other company’s trademark, I’d assume that they had nothing to do with it — but since I know Coke has an army of baby-eating attack lawyers who destroy anyone who uses a mark without permission, that must be an authorized use.”

Like fair use’s fourth factor, trademark’s confusion standard rewards the most vicious and uncaring businesspeople with new rights that their more reasonable competitors do not enjoy. IP selects for sociopathy.

Now, IP — in the most sinister sense of the phrase — has pervaded every industry, but the contradictions of IP are felt most keenly in its spawning grounds: the culture industry.

Culture is in tension with the control of ideas, because culture is the spread of ideas.

Creators (and execs) are vulnerable to the pirate/admiral fallacy: “When I take from my forebears, that’s legitimate artistic progress. When my successors do it to me, it’s theft.”

This pathology, combined with ready-to-hand IP weapons, incentivizes all manner of wickedness. Remember when Marvel and DC teamed up in a bid to trademark the word “super-hero” so that no one else would be allowed to use it?

https://memex.craphound.com/2006/03/18/marvel-comics-stealing-our-language/

These perverse incentives are made tragic by the inherently participatory nature of culture.

It’s not merely that Marvel and DC wanted to steal the word “super-hero” right out of our mouths.

It’s that super-heroes are culturally important because of how we take and remix them in our lives. Marvel went on to use the law to stop us from pretending to be superheroes online, something Casey Fiesler called “Pretending Without a License.”

https://www.researchgate.net/publication/277598023_Pretending_Without_a_License_Intellectual_Property_and_Gender_Implications_in_Online_Games

Which brings me, at last, to Games Workshop, a company that has consistently led the IP bully pack, indiscriminately terrorizing the Warhammer 40k fans who made it a massive commercial success.

Warhammer is a strategy/roleplaying game that is played with miniature creatures that players buy, modify and paint. If you’re not familiar with all this, maybe this sounds a bit like toy soldiers.

It’s a lot more interesting — not just because of the game rules or lore, but because of the incredibly, unbelievable, jaw-dropping virtuosity of Warhammer players when they paint and style those miniatures.

There’s a reason I look forward to Saturday morning’s weekly linkdump from Jonathan Struan of the week’s best Warhammer and other RPG miniatures:

https://www.superpunch.net/search?q=warhammer&max-results=20&by-date=true

and why I follow incredible painters like Aurelie Schick:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/110246635@N06

Warhammer is intrinsically participatory, co-creative and active — it’s not media you consume, it’s media you produce.

Games Workshop has become fantastically rich off of this…and they hate it, and they always have.

For years they’ve pursued fans for producing their own fan-made supplements and additions to the game:

https://www.lumendatabase.org/notices/99301

The more Warhammer players complained about the indiscriminate censorship of their fan media, the harder GW cracked down on them, wiping out whole genres of creative work:

https://www.boardgamegeek.com/geeklist/48933/games-workshop-files-purge-09

GW claimed it was only defending its rights, the grifter’s signature move, making you a crook for having the audacity not to put their shareholders’ interests ahead of your own.

Then Games Workshop claimed a trademark on “space marine,” a generic term that had been widely used in science fiction for decades, including, notably, in Heinlein’s classic “Starship Troopers” (1959).

https://web.archive.org/web/20130207002144/http://mcahogarth.org/?p=10593

They didn’t just go after RPGs that used the phrase — they used trademark claims to remove novels from Amazon for having the phrase in their titles.

“Space marine” is a generic phrase, but GW was betting if they were sufficiently, spectacularly brutal in their enforcement, they could create a proprietary interest: “Now, I know GW destroys anyone who uses ‘space marine,’ so this ‘space marine’ must be endorsed by GW.”

GW just launched a new set of terms of service, including: “individuals must not create fan films or animations based on our settings and characters. These are only to be created under licence from Games Workshop.”

https://www.games-workshop.com/en-WW/Intellectual-Property-Guidelines

Now, this isn’t how copyright works. There are many ways in which a fan film or animation could be fair use, no matter whether GW forbids or permits their production. But this isn’t mere overreach: it’s a direct play against the fourth factor in fair use.

If GW can establish that all animations and vids are produced under paid license, then any fanvid that doesn’t pay for a license has a weaker fair use case, because the fourth factor protects existing licensing markets.

Indeed, as Rob Beschizza points out on Boing Boing, GW timed the terms of service change to coincide with the announcement that they’re launching a subscription service including “cartoons, in-house hobby videos, access to a vault of ebooks and mags.”

https://www.pcgamer.com/now-even-warhammer-has-a-subscription-service/

This is bullying with a business-model, in other words. Fans have figured out how to have fun with each other for free, and GW wants them to stop and pay the company for its in-house version of that fun.

Warhammer creators are demoralized and disheartened. The creator of the hugely successful Oculus Imperia Youtube series posted a heart-rending message of surrender.

https://twitter.com/OculusImperia/status/1421136444437970949

Oculus Imperia also edits “If The Emperor Had A Text To Speech Device,” (TTS) another beloved Warhammer fan series. Alfabusa from TTS posted his own absolutely demoralized goodbye to his work.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OXljeaktnDA

Ironically, both channels would have a stronger fair use case if they mocked and criticized Warhammer, rather than celebrating it, as fair use tips favorably towards critical uses.

The fact is, they love their hobby and its community and they want to improve it, not tear it down.

Neither wants to get dragged into a brutal copyright case against a deep-pocketed corporation. Even people with great fair use cases balk at that:

https://waxy.org/2011/06/kind_of_screwed/

Now, some people might be thinking, what’s the big deal? Why don’t these creators just make up their own stories instead of remixing the ones that come from Games Workshop?

Those people are assholes.

*All* stories are fanfic of some kind or another. Every mystery novel is a remix of Poe’s Murders In the Rue Morgue. Games Workshop’s stories are the thrice-brewed teabags of many sf writers (remember “space marines?”).

Tolkien straight up ripped off his characters from the 1000-year-old Norse poem “Elder Edda,” which features dwarves named “Thorin, Balin, Dwalin, Fili, Kili, Oin, Gloin, Nori, Dori, Ori, Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur.”

https://musingsofatolkienist.blogspot.com/2015/07/hobbit-origins-catalog-of-dwarves.html

Culture is made of other culture.

GW made something wonderful with Warhammer — by plundering the stories that preceded it.

The sin isn’t in the taking, it’s in the pretense that it never happened, and the vicious grifting that punishes anyone who does unto GW as they did unto everyone else.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

“The stage of "aftermath" [of the Michigan prison riots of 1981] consists largely of the allocation of blame. Here the Michigan Correctional Officer’s Union [MCO] was the obvious target, especially after the Detroit News broke the charge that the State Prison of South Michigan [SPSM] Block 3 guards had turned over their keys voluntarily.

On June 15, Perry Johnson announced that Gerald Fryt, union head, and another local officer were being fired, and 14 other correctional officers, including the 2 from Block 3, were suspended. The MCO threatened a statewide guards' strike. However, on June 26, Fred Parks and Perry Johnson signed an agreement which ended the strike threat. Thirty vacancies were filled at State Prison of South Michigan, and it was agreed that the Department of Corrections and MCO would jointly review the discipline policy.

Also, on June 15, Perry Johnson fired the deputy warden of the Northside Complex and demoted the assistant deputy warden and the commander of the morning shift. They "had information on May 25," said Johnson, about plans for the disturbance, and neither acted on them nor informed the warden.

Perhaps the Michigan riots were too easy to explain. The first SPSM riot was on  by the MCO. Michigan Reformatory rioted because Jackson rioted. The May 26 Northside riot happened because certain officials were incompetent. Johnson originally claimed that "Marquette was clearly a planned, calculated disturbance by some really tough, hard-core, maximum-security prisoners." In support of this, Marquette officials originally claimed that the fires had been started with incendiary devices prepared in advance. Later, however, the investigators for the Padden Commission found no evidence for this. That left the department with the fallback explanation: Marquette rioted because of all the other riots.

To us this is a little thin. A riot in one prison does not automatically bring on a wave of riots in other facilities in the state. Attica didn't. Joliet didn't. We suspect that the turmoil in the entire state system had something to do with it.

On the other hand, a newspaper poll reported on June 1 found that the public in Michigan thought "lax discipline" was to blame. Fifty-three percent of their sample of Michigan residents agreed that was "a real reason" why inmates rioted, compared with only 32 percent who blamed the guards. (Eighty-three percent cited overcrowding as a reason.) The universal belief among inmates we interviewed was that the guards had been the victors. A year after the riot inmates had fewer privileges, less yard time, and were locked in their cells more. Some believed that the guards had provoked the riots at all three institutions on purpose, in order to justify tighter security measures. Others believed in a conspiracy to provoke inmates to riot and then make graft off the contracts to rebuild. Inmates at Marquette—not so much elsewhere—believed that the riot had been a unifying experience and were more likely to see it as a justified rebellion. One inmate who had faced charges after the riot said it would have been morally wrong for him to plead guilty to a lesser charge, and that he was obliged to show courage, having been named as a "leader."

Shortly after the riot, the U.S. Department of Justice filed suit against the State of Michigan, charging that the conditions at SPSM, MR, and Marquette were unconstitutionally bad. The suit was settled in 1984 with a consent decree, which required the state to provide for better sanitation, medical services, and access to courts and lawyers.

The Padden Commission produced a set of recommendations, targeting for reform staff racism and the grievance procedure as well as other problems. However, there has not been enough money in the DOC budget, or enough interest on the part of the state legislature, to implement them in a systematic way.

Gerald Fryt took his bid for reinstatement to arbitration but lost. The arbitrator's opinion declared that the wave of riots had taken place because of Fryt's individual action. Barry Mintzes was replaced at SPSM by Dale Foltz. Michigan Reformatory is still open. The Michigan prisons are still full to capacity, and the Emergency Powers Act has been invoked repeatedly. Violent disturbances, small riots, and deadly assaults on inmates and guards have been recurrent features of the system since 1981.” - Bert Useem and Peter Kimball, States of Siege: U.S. Prison Riots, 1971-1986. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991. p. 159-160. [AL: The photo is from the Michigan Daily, of June 2, 1981, about the opening of a new maximum security rushed in the wake of the riots.]

[bonniebird]

Ivar x Reader

Requested by @chellestrash

There was a smile on your face as you walked through the main hall. It had been such a long time since Ivar had been in a good mood. So far his good mood had lasted two weeks. Hvitserk warned you that you should find out what Ivar is doing that was making him so happy. 

However Ubbe agreed when you explain, you didn’t care as long as the gods found a way to help Ivar’s heart fill with happiness. Pausing, in your admiration of the fine fabric samples you’d find at the market, you heard soft moans, breath and filled with light giggles. You heard Ivar’s laugh follow after. The unmistakable moans. Slowly padding towards your bedroom, stepping as if a single creak could throw the main hall into chaos, you peaked in the doorway.

Ivar was naked, wrapped up with a girl in the furs on your bed. His brothers liked to womanise, they even shared, Ivar had told you. But Ivar had declared he would never want anyone but you. Yet there he was, whispering softly as he kissed across the girls neck and shoulders. If he glanced up even slightly he would see you. Even when you took a nervous step forward he didn’t notice. It felt like you’d intruded on something intimate and private. As if describing them was something that you shouldn’t be doing.  When Ivar didn’t notice you, you slammed the things in your arms on the floor. With your heart beating furiously fast and anger starting to sear through you as you waited for him to look you in the eye before you turned on your heels and started to leave the main hall. He called after you. Any other time you would have halted immediately, turned back to the young king and saw what you could do to ease his unhappiness. Now you ignored it and kept your eyes on the door as you marched to it. There was a shout, a few bellowes and a series of clattering and smashing sounds. Judging by the fact that the girl he’d been with ran past you and out the door, clutching her clothes, he had threatened her.

He was shouting and snapping at people that rushed around, a few of his guards blocked your way out of the main hall and insisted that you go back to Ivar. When you refused they grabbed you by the arm and marched you back. Trying to pry yourself from their grip, you dug in your heels and winced as your shoes scraped across the wooden floor. It made your anger worse, that you could have your own army of shieldmaidens and you could wear a crown and be called queen. But never, in all your time with Ivar had he allowed your demands to be yours.

These men should be yours to order too. Yet they ignored their queen's demands to release you. Ivar had not given them permission to do your bidding. The way your shieldmaidens needed his permission to go to war. Ivar would demand you ask before you leave the main hall. You had to tell him where you’d been, where you were going. It wasn’t unusual that you found yourself defended or explaining why you’d done things that only Ivar deemed incorrect.

When you saw Ivar sat at the end of his bed, now dressed by Thrall who rushed away so as to avoid the fallout of Ivar’s wrath, it took all the strength you could muster not to roll your eyes. He was tearful like a child. His bottom lip trembled as he whimpered and held his hand out for you. Now and only now did the men release you. But you didn’t move. Ivar’s eyes widened for a moment as fury flared through him but it ebbed away. “Will you not come and comfort me?” He asked. His tone was the one he used when he was trying to be gentle, the soft cooing sound that lulled you into his grip, a grip he would use to snap your neck if he felt like it. It was the tone a wolf used to seduce a rabbit from its burrow. From the corner of your eye you saw his brothers arrive, rushing to see what was happening. They didn’t dare say a word, one wrong move and they would be sending you to the gods before they could sooth Ivar’s temper.

Ivar pushed himself up on his crutches and started to cross the room. You stepped back until one of Ivar’s bodyguards stopped you. You could see Hvitserk give Ubbe a nervous glance. Now Ivar was in front of you. He waited for you to do something, anything at all. Instead you glared up at him with the hardest stare you could muster.

“How can you be angry with me?” Ivar cooed softly, leaning his weight on one crutch as he reached up to stroke your cheek. “I needed to be comforted and cared for, you were just shopping for silly things, not here for me.”

“I am so sorry Ivar.” When the words left you they sounded almost sensire. Anyone other than Ivar could hear the venomous drip to them. He smiled, the way a child who had nagged down an adult to surrender to their whim would smile. With a quick move he grabbed your face, his grip hurt but you didn’t move, simply staring up at him still. He kissed you, frowning when you didn’t respond. He pulled away and frowned at you as if he could not understand why you would not melt into his kiss the way you usually did. Kissing you again you relanted enough to have him give up.

“There, now we are all happy, off you go.” He smiled and shooed you away from him. “Make sure she does not go far.” He added to his bodyguards.

*****************

The loud crash woke Hvitserk with a start. He jolted up so quickly that at least two of the girls he’d been with the night before, toppled out of his bed. See Ivar throwing his things about he groaned, wrapped a fur around his waist and marched over to his kitchen that was now in shambles.

“What do you want brother?” He sighed out.

“Where is (Y/N)?”

“Why would I know that? She is your wife.” 

“She is not at the main hall, or the market, the guards do not know where she has gone, nore to the Thrall.” Ivar complained and Hvitserk scoffed.

“I do not see what that has to do with me brother. I have been busy.”

Several shouts from outside drew Ivar’s attention. Hvitserk hesitated, looking at his bed, before grabbing at his clothes and dressing. When he got outside, Ubbe was snapping at Ivar who was watching his men. A small, frightened thrall was on her knees, White-hair’s hand grabbed at his hair and she cried out as she tried to loosen the grip.

“Where is my wife?”

“The queen has gone.”

“What?” Ivar spat out, his gaze hardened and the gril whimpered.

“She left last night. Her warriors helped her escape, they have gone. I do not know where, I swear!” She gasped out. The way she blabbered over and over made it clear that she didn’t know anything more.

“Keep her locked up, she may know more.” Ivar snapped out and rushed to his chariot. Ubbe slapped Hvitserk’s arm and the brother’s rushed to two hourses that were idling in the shade of nearby trees. They rushed after Ivar who stopped his chariot, only when he reached the top of the cliff that overlooked Kattegat. Very small and in the distance there was the unmistakable sight of boats, your flag flying from them as they rowed away.

“She will not get away with this!” Ivar seethed. He stared after your boats. Ubbe shook his head at Ivar’s words and turned his horse away. Hvitserk hesitated. Under the growing anger on Ivar’s face  was utterly devastating pain. Ivar was muttering to himself that he would have vengeance but to Hvitserk he looked like a man that had just been broken. A if it had just now occured to Ivar that he should have been kinder to you. Tried to be less cruel. Hvitserk turned his horse away, leaving Ivar to stare after your boats and rushed the horse to catch up with Ubbe.

“Do you think he will kill her?” Hvitserk asked quietly.

“She was a warrior before Ivar captured her, I doubt he could if he tried.”

“Where will she go?”

“Wherever Ivar thinks she is not going. Ivar thinks of her as some small, timid girl who must be watched at all cost lest she get lost or stolen. There is a reason Kattegat rejoiced that she became queen. (Y/N) is everything Ivar is and yet she has a heart that would bleed for her people. If he tries to have vengeance. It will be Ivar’s weakness.”

Hvitserk turned to look back at Ivar. He sat on his chariot, head in hands as he leant forward as if hoping to see your boats turn around, Hvitserk wasn’t so sure Ubbe was right. You had already broken Ivar by leaving.

[sunsoothed]

perception

Vincenzo loves.

bi vinny! | rated t | 1.5k words | pre-canon, canon-divergence | internalised homophobia, self-discovery

read on ao3

enjoy!

~

It is when he is nine that he has the stirring, growing suspicion of something different. An ad on TV, and the commercial break cuts, and there is a man with another man. And they stand together, but Vincenzo’s mind registers together, and he thinks the shriveled, suppressed excitement within him is indicative of something too similar to pride.

And then Papa changes the channel, a click to his tongue, and Mama keeps her gaze carefully away, and Vincenzo recognises that this is something he’s too young to understand.

-

Too young to understand. Thirteen and walking home, when the seniors from school have a new curse to hurl at him. So this is what Papa wanted to say.

Bitterly, at the back of his mind, he indulges himself. Eomma would never say that.

-

Vincenzo never does find out, for an hour later broken glass will make it to his list of allergies, and a strong, clasping hand will settle on his shoulder; he will forget until Fabio makes him sweat buckets, and bleed buckets, and sentences him to a communal shower.

Vincenzo knows his early rising will be seen as dedication. It is only to hide his shame.

-

Aurelio is from the Abruzzese Familia that Fabio has been trying to establish reluctant ties with. Aurelio singles him out with a look too knowing. One brush of his arm over Vincenzo’s arm, one answering shiver, one grin thrown over a callous shoulder.

A bad seed has sowed in his near-perfect sustenance. Hunched over the sink in the washroom, water dripping down his face, Vincenzo takes in his acne-marred skin, shudders, and pulls out a paper-towel. Why must all these events line up? Eomma’s abandonment is enough to stir a caucus of self-deprecation within him. He doesn’t need to be seen any more than he is already. And now he has to go face a caucus outside of him, of the children he already feels so distant from.

Did Fabio really have to transfer him here at the dawn of fucking high school?

-

It is fumbling hands and breaths too short. That is how he would describe it. Their shirts are unbuttoned. There is no air in their lungs. Vincenzo grasps for breath, finds it in holding onto Aurelio’s upper arm, who, much like him, is disarmed of light.

They hadn’t gone far.

Vincenzo sits up, some energy in him, puts his back against the wall. He stares at his open shirt.

“Are you okay?”

He blinks. Aurelio’s already buttoning up, wiping the corners of his mouth. “Vincenzo.”

“I’m okay,” Vincenzo says. There is a fogging christening his senses. “I’m fine.”

Aurelio seems somewhat suspicious, but he’s not one to be caught up in other people’s affairs. He stands, gives his companion a cursory once-over.

“I’m…” he gestures to the door, one thumb protruding out, and Vincenzo can tell he’s itching to uncover the packet of cigarettes from his pocket.

“Go ahead,” Vincenzo tells him. “I’ll see you in a minute.”

Aurelio leaves wordlessly. Vincenzo, watching the door scream shut in increments, waits for the silence to clear the fog. Light remains absent.

He plucks at his lowermost button, runs his nails over the ridges formed by thread, and slowly begins to button his shirt. Halfway up, he holds something heavy in his throat. By the time he reaches his collar, his eyes are red with strain.

An air of smoke will hang around him for the rest of the evening. Vincenzo will purchase a lighter. He won’t smoke until he remembers this fateful party again, until he remembers Aurelio’s grip again.

-

It will be years later that Vincenzo finds, out of primal desire, a craving for something dangerous. Him and Luca have an arrangement. It is nothing more than convenience sampling and convenience persevering, but once he will sit up in bed and think, lover, and once he will bake in smoke until his head rings fuzzy and thoughts come and go without intervention.

Luca, of course, notices. They don’t talk about it. They don’t sleep together about it, either. But they don’t cook together that day forward, and Vincenzo bids his leave before the sky can turn the indelible shade of dark it sometimes does, and eventually, even the air they breathe melds back into the distinction of you and me.

Which melds back into the distinction of business and brotherhood, in such vengeance that Vincenzo will forget until, years later again, he will note himself in a particular dilemma and only think, lover.

-

Lover changes and snaps. But lover is markedly known to be sass and self-preservation, and loved is known to be devoted and coveted. Vincenzo sometimes demarcates lover and loved so much so that nights of clairvoyance, under a stranger’s roof, tell him: loved. So much so, that a trap easily avoidable, will tell him: lover.

He scrunches his nose, picks up his cigarette, and draws a Venn diagram.

-

When Hong byeonhosa-nim suggests seduction, an allowance for Vincenzo to be in his element for an act, for a case — to weaponise the one thing he’s kept between his coronary arteries, Vincenzo feels a cold elation.

If this was the Vincenzo of five years past, the one who had come to see his mother served injustice, he would have considered a hotel-room night with Hwang Minseong, conveniently conventional in his preferences, conveniently attractive, convenient enough to push buttons and to shut up.

But Vincenzo knows who Hwang Minseong is, now.

“You’re on board with this, then?” Hong byeonhosa-nim asks.

Vincenzo nods. “What’s the plan?”

-

He lets his fingers dance over Minseong’s hand when he hears about his mother. He knows Hong byeonhosa-nim is watching him critically, Mr Nam even more so, but he lets the words and his anger channel themselves in his bruising grip on Minseong’s forearm, in his request to spend the weekend together. Minseong will take his barred teeth as an invitation. Vincenzo squeezes his neck when he gets up to leave, and Minseong will take that as an invitation as well.

-

Hong byeonhosa-nim accosts him at night, dragging him to the terrace of Geumga Plaza despite the overcast hour. She presents him with a tetra pack of banana milk and nothing else, and declares, as they sit opposite each other, “You were very much in your element.”

Vincenzo, plastic straw in his mouth, only blinks at her. He knows what she’s talking about.

She nods, somewhat at par with his thoughts, takes a sip of her own banana milk. Observing the skyline, marking a line of pollution, she observes as well: “Takes one to know one.”

-

They sentence Hwang Minseong the way they know best. He won’t be lonely in his jail cell. He will, Vincenzo supposes, have to come to terms with himself and what overt pleasures he serves himself as a means to cope. He doesn’t feel sorry. He is not Hwang Minseong, despite what similar depth they carry.

-

Takes one to know one.

Jang Hanseo, over a shared serving of makgeolli. Before he picks up soy sauce to drink, he says, Vin-hyung, and Vincenzo knows what will proceed. He’s known since he caught Hanseo’s eyes trailing after him when they first met, a gaze all-too-familiar.

“No one can take this from you, Hanseo-yah.”

And cue: Hanseo’s hand stills, an image of dried sobriety. “What are you talking about, hyung?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” Vincenzo says. He nudges Hanseo’s bowl up, and Hanseo gets the hint, downing the makgeolli. “Don’t feel sorry for your desires.”

Hanseo splutters. “Hyung.”

-

Yeorim. Five years ago, in the dazed streets of Itaewon. Yeorim, he had been introduced. Vincenzo had admired the drape of hanbok upon him, light pink and white, a flower adorning the delicate flush of his ears. He had read Vincenzo clearly, and Vincenzo had read him clearly, and the one-night stay at the Hyatt had been, to Vincenzo’s best knowledge, read and forgotten clearly. Upon the appearance of cream fabric and a white flower, he remembered Yeorim.

Yeorim had prefered his pleasure face-down with a hand on the back of his neck. In the negative space carved between their bodies, Vincenzo, lightened beyond grief and the events of the day, had felt a strange, subliminal connection to his homeland, where he is still expected to run under an industrial daybreak and fend for himself apart from his people. How homely. How comfortable.

-

At the end of the day, it isn’t perfection Vincenzo seeks; it is completion. In a restriction of childhood bedroom, over the brilliant idea of makgeolli in bed, he encounters Chayoung confessing.

She hadn’t loved me, she explains. She hadn’t loved me because we were good friends who just so happened to, ah, find solace in one another.

Is that what she told her parents?

And Chayoung shakes her head. That is what she told me.

He makes spaces for her to wipe her tears in his bare shoulder.

How about you, byeonhosa-nim? I have reason to believe you’ve been popular.

Reason being?

Chayoung wrings her hands to make an awfully crude gesture, which Vincenzo takes great offence to, because engaging with him in any activity of the sort is anything but crude.

I have… my fair share of experience.

You sound ashamed.

I used to be.

What changed?

I loved, Vincenzo finds himself saying. And no love deserves to be shamed, Vincenzo finds himself believing.

[higuchimon]

[fanfic] Not A Good Job

He slipped in through the window, sneering at how easy this was.  For all that this Haou had a monstrous reputation as a duelist, he didn't seem very aware of how to keep unwanted guests from entering his home.

Snowdun kept his tail tucked close to himself, ears perked and nose drawing in air, ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.  But so far, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.  He could tell that there were spirits in the area, but this was the castle of a warlord.  Spirits were all over the place.

So carefully he moved forward, finding the areas that would leave no trace of his passing.  He passed rooms where people talked to one another about whatever the servants of Haou spoke about, none of them noticing anything as he did so.  He sneered to himself again; this would probably be the easiest gig that he'd pulled off in his entire life.

Somewhere around here, he knew, would be Haou's treasure room.  He didn't know what sort of treasure it was, but he knew one thing - Haou was a king, a mighty warlord who'd ruled this land for quite some time now, and that meant he had treasure gathered somewhere.  Treasure that Snowdun would identify, decide if it was worth his efforts, and then return to take away.

This wasn't even close to the first time that he'd done this.  Snowdun enjoyed going around to whatever fortresses he could find, scoping out their most valuable treasures, and taking them away to sell for money.  He'd done it to Brron several times; the Mad King hadn't even noticed.  There were other as well that he'd dealt with over the years. 

Though he wasn't ever going to try sneaking into the Fallen Angel fortress ever again.  He wasn't even certain which one of them had caught him, but he'd seen the look in the eyes of Fallen Angel Lucifer, and he never wanted to see that ever again.

He shook his head to dismiss the memory and focused on what he was doing now.  Where would Haou keep his treasures?  The most sensible place would be down below, where most people would never be able to get to.  Carefully he flicked down there, bypassing guards and warriors alike, sometimes having to wait in hidden alcoves for half an hour or more at the time.  He found himself quite grateful that he didn't have anywhere else to be.  Not to mention that he'd neither eaten nor drunk before coming here.  The last thing he would have wanted in this situation was to have a sudden call of nature and not know where the proper area was!

But slowly he made his way downward.  He listened to those he passed to determine if any of them said anything that might be useful.  Once he stopped, concealed by a fine tapestry, and paid strict attention to the conversation.

"Did you pick up anything interesting?"

Snowdun resisted the urge to peer from behind the tapestry and see who it was that spoke.  These voices weren't familiar, but anything could provide him with information.

"A few things."  This voice whispered of flame and burning death.  Snowdun flinched briefly at the sound. He'd never been fond of fire.  He closed his eyes, trying to ignore that and focus just on the words.  "I put them in my hoard."

Hoard.  Snowdun licked his lips.  Hoards were treasure.  Now all he needed was a way to get to the hoard.  But - that could also mean - he had to look.

Slowly he peeked out, keeping himself as concealed as he could while still seeing what was going on.  That wasn't easy but he did have a lot of experience. It mostly involved staying very still, since movement attracted attention.

Two monsters stood there chatting with one another.  One he recognized as Skull Bishop - one of Haou's chief servants, his Death Duelists.  Snowdun had made a point of ensuring he knew what all five of those, and the two or three others who were known to be close to Haou, looked like.  At least this wasn't Snoww, Magician of Dark World or Freed the Dark General. 

The other one, however, was even more terrifying to him.  He bit back a whimper of fear at the sight of Dark Blaze Dragon, a creature of pure flame.  It hovered above the floor, tail twined about itself, voice hissing with the flames that composed it.  Snowdun shivered; he'd never robbed a dragon's hoard before, let alone a dragon of fire.

Never robbed a dragon's hoard before.  He considered that carefully, then slowly smiled to himself.  He didn't know any other thieves who'd done that either.  While robbing Haou would be impressive and worth a great deal, robbing a dragon's hoard would be even more so.  And if he could do both?  They would sing of his exploits forever.

He kept himself back behind the tapestry, listening harder.  There had to be a hint of where the treasure would be.  Did Dark Blaze Dragon keep their hoard in the castle or did they have somewhere else to store their treasures?  What were they even doing here?  Did they guard Haou's treasure?

"Haou-sama said I could keep it,"  the fiery dragon purred, tail moving back and forth casually.  "He has no use for it."

"That doesn't surprise me."  Skull Bishop agreed.  "Are you going to attend dinner tonight?"

The flaming tail shifted back and forth, possibly in some form of negation given the following words.  "I would prefer to hunt for my dinner tonight.  I've caught the scent of something interesting and I wish to track it down."

Snowdun winced.  He did so hope that it wasn't him the dragon hunted.  He thought he could hide enough - he was very good at that - but being chased never set well with him. 

The two of them bid farewell and departed, each in a different direction, neither of which were near Snowdun.  He leaned his head against the cool flagstones and pondered his options.  Tracking Dark Blaze Dragon would probably lead him to the dragon's hoard or maybe even Haou's treasure.  Following Skull Bishop might not award such treasures. But continuing downward stood both a chance of finding the loot and doing so without being caught.  If he found nothing, then he could take another chance at a later time.

Once he was certain that no one else was out there, he moved onward, looking for a way to the lower regions.  He headed down a row of stairs, through another corridor or two, then more stairs.  This wasn't the first time he'd had to go so far down to find treasure but by the time he spied a wide set of double doors, reinforced with steel, but with no guards outside of it, he looked forward to carrying as much out of here as he could right now.  He had an enchanted bag with him that he'd intended to use to gather a sample of the treasure to carry back and ask his contacts how much they were worth before going back to take the rest of it.

Now he would pick everything up that wasn't nailed down.  Haou could and probably would take more from wherever he got this.  He didn't need all of it.  He didn't need any of it.  He controlled his minions through absolute terror.  They didn't get paychecks. 

Snowdun waited behind a pillar, watching and sniffing.  He could still smell hints of fire here, so Dark Blaze Dragon probably came down here a lot.  This might even be his hoard after all.  It wasn't labeled; it could be anything.  Slowly finally Snowdun moved forward and rested his fingers against the door.  It didn't seem locked.

In retrospect, that should have sent him fleeing as fast as he could go.  But at the moment he pushed the door in and entered, still trying to keep himself aware and yet in awe at what he saw.

Treasure chests everywhere.  Each one sealed and locked, but he was a thief.  It was what he was, a Burglar.  He knew treasure when he saw it, and he knew that these would bring him wealth beyond his wildest dreams, before or after he sold it all.  He whisked out his bag and started to drag it over the nearest chest.

One by one each chest ended up in the bag.  Snowdun stopped paying attention to what else happened in the room as he worked on clearing it out.  Hours must have passed before he finally turned back to the door, ready to leave.  He'd done a very good job.  There wasn't a single chest or random coin or jewel left.  The last item he held and admired, a glorious golden goblet, set with diamonds and rubies.  Quite gaudy and probably worthless to drink out of, but Snowdun liked it. 

But when he raised his head, ready to slip out, he stood shocked.  There in the door stood those two same ones from before - Skull Bishop and Dark Blaze Dragon.  Snowdun growled low.  This wasn't going to be a good night.

"I told you that I smelled a thief,"  Dark Blaze Dragon declared, tail lashing back and forth, setting small bits of dust on fire as they did.  "A Burglar, in fact."  A tongue of flame licked at their jowls.  "Dinner."

Skull Bishop chuckled, regarding Snowdun as if he were some sort of dirt beneath his feet.  He fingered his great sword.  "You were right indeed.  Now, thief, set the bag down and I might consider requesting Haou-sama to spare your life."

Snowdun shifted, gripping harder onto the bag.  He'd taken this all - he wasn't going to give it up.  "Why would I do that?  I'm not hurting anyone!"

"You're attempting to take what's mine,"  Dark Blaze Dragon hissed, tail flashing harder, tiny bits of flame falling from their claws.  "And I will not allow that.  Haou-sama has assigned me to guard this place and I am free to devour any who enter here without permission."

Snowdun backed off, clutching the bag and goblet close to himself.  He didn't have any spare hands to defend himself and he didn't see any other ways out of here.  Skull Bishop stalked forward, boots clicking on the floor.

"If you choose not to surrender what you've stolen, then my companion will roast you.  Surrender the items and you might be spared.  Haou could find a use for you."

That didn't encourage Snowdun at all.  He shook his head. "There's nothing that I would want to do for Haou!"  He judged the distance between the two of them and darted forward, intent on sliding between them and pelting his way up the stairs.  He would figure out what to do after that - but finding the nearest window and jumping out of it remained one of his favorite plans.  Most people didn't expect that and while they stood around in shock, he could get to safety.

He was a rat, after all.  Hiding in plain sight was one of his specialties.

He'd scarcely begun to slide between them before Skull Bishop's heavy sword slashed down onto him, knocking him to one side and sending that goblet skittering across the floor and out of sight.  Only the fact it was the flat of the blade saved his arm from having been taken off.  Snowdun skittered to one side, uncomfortably aware of how close he was to Dark Blaze Dragon, especially when one fiery claw caught onto the back of his shirt.

"Fleeing isn't an option,"  the flame dragon hissed.  "Especially not when you carry what isn't yours with you."  A claw of flame wrenched the bag away from him, then the creature sniffed even more at him. "He has more treasure on his person,"  Dark Blaze Dragon reported.  "Search him."

Snowdun wanted to get out of there.  But Dark Blaze Dragon shoved him towards Skull Bishop, who wrapped one powerful hand around his throat, choking his air off.  The rat creature struggled and squeaked, tail lashing furiously, his metallic claw trying to grab hold of Skull Bishop's hand and get it off of him, but to no avail.  If he'd been able to get a grip, it might have been different.

Coldly and clinically, Skull Bishop searched him, pinning him up against the wall with one hand.  One by one he pulled out other bags that Snowdun had with him, dropping them with small metallic clinks onto the ground.  He shook his head.

"I'd heard rumors of a skilled thief.  You might be useful indeed to Haou-sama.  This is your last chance.  Agree to serve my master or face the consequences of refusal."

Snowdun twitched harder and harder, tail lashing hard against the cold stone, trying not to look too often at the dragon and how the dragon kept staring at him, as if he had a sign over his head reading "good food here".  He wasn't doing a very good job of it.  "What would he want me to do?"  If he could buy just time enough to escape that would be good enough.  He had no intentions whatsoever of doing anything that over-arrogant human wanted him to do. 

"You are skilled in getting in and out of places without being seen.  You can go to where people resist Haou and worm your way into a position to open gates for our army.  In return, you would be allowed to live."  Skull Bishop informed him.

Snowdun snorted as harshly as he could.  Speaking wasn't his greatest strength, especially not not when he had only what air he could get in through Skull Bishop's grip on his neck.  But he tried his best to appear unaffected - and knew he still wasn't doing a good job of this.

"Be his little run ahead dog?  Why would I do that?"  Every word was one more moment that he had to live.  Each moment he lived was one more moment to find a way out of here.  He thought he saw one, slim as it might be, but he had to walk this carefully. He fought to keep away a moan of fear just at the thought of Haou and having to do anything that he said.

Skull Bishop's lips performed a movement that in someone else might have been considered a smile.  Snowdun wasn't so certain about it.  He thought it might mean the same thing.  Or at least be intended to.

"Because if you don't, then you're going to be killed.  You won't even be allowed the honor of a duel - if you even know how."

Snowdun had to admit to himself that he didn't know how.  He'd never gone to the effort to learn, not when thievery came so much easier to him.  He twitched harder, then sank back against the wall, relinquishing all efforts to get away.

"Do I really have a choice?"  He sagged back, hoping this would allow him some air if nothing else.  At least he wasn't yet to the point of not being able to speak at all.  Though he didn't doubt Skull Bishop would get him there with little effort.

Dark Blaze Dragon's tail swished ever so lightly.  Tiny bits of trash on the floor flared up in its wake.  "You can choose to serve Haou - or you can choose to be my dinner.  I can tell you which one I would prefer."

Skull Bishop shifted his grip so that Snowdun could actually breath but wasn't touching the floor at all.  "I'll introduce you to Haou-sama."

Snowdun found himself carried along like a child in a sack.  His own sacks were taken by Dark Blaze Dragon into the vault and the last he ever saw of them included the dragon tearing open the bags and starting to sort out the treasure as it tumbled out in a waterfall of silver and gold with thousands of sparkles of gemstones.  He wished that he would have the chance to come get it all again.

But he told himself over and over as he was dragged up the stairs he'd worked his way down so carefully that even if he had to open the way for Haou's army, that also meant that he could open the way for anyone who might want to enter into Haou's castle.

If he were stupid enough to trust a Burglar, then Haou deserved whatever he got.

The End

Notes: I do have plans for a sequel. One day. But not today. Also, I love the Death Duelists and I wish we’d seen more of them. Well, that’s what fanfic is here for!

[parkvcrs]

Stakeout ;

SUMMARY: steve harrington and dustin henderson go on a stakeout, searching for soviet spies.

PAIRING: steve harrington x fem!reader.

WARNING(S): mild cursing since dustin swears like a sailor sometimes.

NOTES: i hope you have a good day. ^—^

The Starcourt Mall was a shopping centre located in Hawkins, Indiana and a subsidiary of Starcourt Industries. The mall's opening in 1985 was inaugurated by Mayor Larry Kline. Both Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley worked at the Scoops Ahoy, an ice cream store, in the mall's food court. The place quickly became a popular hangout for teenagers and adolescents.

Although Starcourt appears to be a normal mall at first glance, it was actually built as a front for a secret Russian base, which houses the first Key built on American soil. This base was hidden far underground. Starcourt Industries is also controlled by the Soviet Union.

At the Starcourt Mall, Robin is translating the Russian message, rejecting Erica Sinclair’s request for more "samples". Her coworker Steve Harrington is not on duty, instead sneaking around the mall with Dustin Henderson using a pair of binoculars.

“You see anything?” Dustin questioned his partner in crime who is currently looking at shoppers through the pair of binoculars as the pair hid behind a planet display. “Uh, I guess I don't totally know what I'm looking for.” Steve sighed, longing for their search to end so he could return to the job that pays him minimum-wage.

“Evil Russians.”

“Yeah, exactly. I don't know what an evil Russian looks like.” Steve pointed out, mumbling.

“Tall, blond, not smiling,” Dustin presumed what the Soviets looked like, frowning as he looked around the perimeter of the mall as well. Steve, hummed since he was humoured by the teenager’s persistent demeanour. “Also, look for earpieces, camo, duffel bags, that sort of thing.”

“Right, okay, duffel bags,” Steve repeated the boy’s sentence in a groggy tone. After a few moments, something catches his attention. “Oh, you've gotta be kidding me.”

The tone in Steve Harrington’s voice intrigued Dustin Henderson beyond all recognition because he believed they found a lead in their investigation. “What?” The teenager asked in a hurried manner.

“Y/n L/n is talking with that meathead Mark Lewinsky.” Steve groans, squinting his eyes to ensure his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

Dustin peels behind the plant they hid behind, searching for Y/n before catching a glance at her. “She works at JCPenney. She’s talking to customers since it’s her job, you Airhead. You aren’t focused, just give me the binoculars.” Dustin briefly explained the situation before ultimately wanting to reprimand his superior of his binocular privileges.

“Aw, whatever happened to standards?” Steve ignored the young boy beside him. He continued to eavesdrop on the people who used to attend Hawkins High School. “I mean, Lewinsky never even came off the bench.” He added.

“Dude, you are the worst spy in history, you know that?” Dustin insulted the high school graduate before taking it upon himself to snatching the binoculars. “Stop, hey. Stop.” Steve swatted the teenager’s hand away as he continued to look at Y/n whilst Dustin was able to take the binoculars and use them to his advance to scout out the Soviets.

“I don't get why you're looking at girls. You literally have the perfect one in front of you — just go talk to her.” Dustin gestured towards the h/c haired girl who separated from Mark Lewinsky and started talking to other customers scattered around the mall.

“You know what? I don’t want to hear any more about N/n. Just…” He then transitioned to a hushed voice, regretting what he was going to say next. “Look for evil Russians?”

“Y/n,” Dustin said quickly to get on Steve’s nerves which seemed to work wonders.

“Seriously, if you say her name again...” Steve trailed off, looking over at Dustin before turning his attention back to the h/c haired girl.

“Y/n,” Dustin repeated himself as Steve Harrington fumed beside the teenager. “No, don't. No.” He waved his arms as a gesture to Dustin that he needed to stop whatever he was trying to achieve.

“N/n, N/n, N/n.”

“No, man, she's not my type,” Steve lied through his teeth and he came to the conclusion that he will go on with his fabrication. “She's not even... in the ballpark of what my type is, all right?”

“What's your type again? Not awesome?” Dustin poked fun at the adult’s taste in women. “Thank you,” Steve replies in a sarcastic tone as the young teenager hums.

“And, for your information, she's still in school. And she's... weird?” Steve’s tone was inquisitive, his eyebrows knitting together as he tried to come up with more excuses. Yeah… she's a weirdo. And she's hyper — always happy when she came to school. I don't like that she's hyper. And I think she did drama. And you know that’s a bad look.”

“Now that you're out of high school, which means you're technically an adult, don't you think it's time you move on from primitive constructs such as popularity?” Dustin practically insulted Steve, lowering the binoculars from his eyes.

“Oh, primitive constructs?” He repeated his sentence. “That some stupid shit you learned at Camp...” he gestured towards Dustin’s hat. “Know... Nothing?”

“Camp Know Where, actually,” Dustin corrected Steve, giving him a strained smile because he took pride in going to the camp for the summer. “And no, it's shit I learned from life. Instead of dating somebody you think is gonna make you look cooler, why not date somebody you actually enjoy being around — although I don’t know N/n all that well. Just look at me and Suzie for an example.”

“Oh, Suzie. Yeah, you mean, ‘hotter than Phoebe Cates,’” He didn’t believe that Dustin actually managed to get a girlfriend over the course of the season. “And, uh, let's think about how exactly did you score that beautiful girlfriend?”

Before Dustin could respond to Steve’s questions, a voice interrupted their discussion, “Harrington!” It was a feminine voice that the graduate recognized almost immediately.

The boys looked in the general direction of the spokesperson to see none other than Y/n L/n approaching them. Steve was like a deer in headlights, stunned that he was spotted.

As she got closer, Steve nudged Dustin in the ribs and signalled towards the binoculars he had in hand and silently demanded him to hid them. Not wanting Y/n to get the wrong idea.

Knowing that Y/n was bound to embrace him, Steve wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, gently rubbing her arm before pulling away for a few seconds.

“Have have you been?” She laughed, resting her hands on her hip. “Good.” Steve did not want to admit that he concluded not to go to college and was now working at a store that paid minimum wage.

“What are you doing here?” Y/n looks between the two, knowing that it would be rude not to include Dustin into their chat.

“Looking for evil Russians.” Dustin Henderson admitted, earning him a sigh from Steve who pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Okay?” Y/n giggles at the teenager’s peculiar response. “Well, my colleague, Vanessa, told me that you work at Scoops Ahoy. I didn’t know you worked there.” She looked at Steve’s brightly coloured sailor uniform that he donned.

“You didn’t?” Steve asks, checking the liability of her declaration.

“Yeah. I might have to come down there sometime when I’m on break to see what it’s like,” Y/n nods her head, looking around at the crowd just as a distance voice calls for her. She awkwardly laughs, facing the boys sheepishly, “That must be my manager. I should get going. See you around, Harrington.” She bids farewell as she left their side.

“Y-Yeah...” Steve Harrington stammered, watching as she disappeared among the shoppers. “Told you so.” Dustin Henderson laughed, pulling out the binoculars that he hid behind his back.

[maswartz]

My idea for how the MCU could do the FF

This is my idea for how Marvel can do a Fantastic Four movie series if they ever get the rights back from FOX. And yes I know a lot of people are in love with the whole “set in the 60s” idea but I’m not.

Reed Richards- A young entrepreneur who made a fortune on multiple patents allowing him to indulge in many scientific curiosities. He holds degrees in multiple fields of science. The press has dubbed him Mr. Fantastic. (think Elon Musk {minus the bigotry and insanity} meets Bill Gates meets Steve Jobs) After the accident he gains the ability to stretch his body to incredible lengths Susan Richards- An expert computer programmer and hacker she’s able to sneak into any network. Her programming software is used in all of the FF’s hardware. The accident gave her the power to create invisible force fields as well as cloak herself and others from sight. She calls herself the Invisible Woman as a result. Johnny Storm- A stuntman and experienced pyrotechnics expert he lives to chase the thrill. When his sister invited him on the trip he leaped at the chance. The accident gave him the ability to create intense heat and cover himself in flames. He declared that he was the Human Torch from now on. Ben Grimm- A test pilot who went to college with Reed and has kept in touch ever since. He volunteered to pilot the test flight but suggested that Reed either address the shielding or postpone until the storm passed. The accident mutated him into a rock covered Thing giving him increased stamina and strength. Before battle he recites the motto of the Yancy Street Gang “It’s Clobbering Time!”

Marvel’s Fantastic Four

Reed Richards creates a spaceship in the hopes of making spaceflight available to the public however during the test flight a cosmic storm strikes the earth. The cosmic radiation mutates Reed, his wife Susan, her brother Johnny, and the pilot Ben giving them strange powers. However they were not the only ones effected. Bolts of cosmic power strike all across the world (setting up future heroes and villains). One such bolt strikes a mountain sending cosmic radiation throughout it. A man named Harvey Elder was mining in the mountain when the bolt hit causing a cave in. However the energy mutated him and the life within the soil around him. He became the Mole Man and commanded an army of mutated worms, insects, and moles to do his evil bidding. Fighting him was the first test of the Fantastic Four!

Marvel’s Fantastic Four: The U-Foes

About a year after the cosmic storm hit Earth, Simon Ultrecht head of U-Forces a rival of Reed’s is contacted by a mysterious benefactor who managed to obtain a sample of the cosmic energy. Driven by greed Simon exposed himself and three others creating the U-Foes. The Fantastic Four must prevent these superpowered threats from wrecking havoc.

Marvel’s Fantastic Four: Doom

Little did the Fantastic Four know that the mysterious benefactor was watching them, studying them, analyzing their strengths and weaknesses until he had the knowledge he needed to strike. Victor Von Doom has returned to get his long awaited revenge against Reed Richards!

Marvel’s Fantastic Four: Galactus

Months after the battle against Doom a strange object enters Earth’s atmosphere, a silver man on a silver board. The Silver Surfer declares that Galactus is coming and that none can stop him from consuming the world. It’s up to the Fantastic Four to find a way to stop the Devourer of Worlds from destroying the Earth.

[originalhybridloverfics]

Eda’s Robot, Serkan’s Fairy Girl - Don’t Let Your Star Die - Part 2

Summary: Serkan and Eda make up for lost time. Eda confronts Serkan's father.

A/N: I thought the last chapter deserved a second chapter so here we are. This is my longest Edser chapter yet.

WARNING: SMUT

It's not all smut but there is smut. If that's not something you want to read I advise you to skip past it.

Also, I started writing this before it was revealed that Serkan moved into one of ArtLife's Apartments.

“Are you sure about this?” Eda asked, worrying her bottom lip as she sits on the edge of her hospital bed.

Serkan stepped forward and cupped her tilting her head up toward him. “I had to argue with your aunt and the girls but I finally got them to agree. I’m not going to back out now.”

“But you have work.” Eda protested. “You need to be at the office, I -”

“I need to be wherever you are.” Serkan corrected with a smile. “And you need to be resting and I promise you can do that quite perfectly in my home.”

“Which home?” Eda asked, cause she really could not deal with his parents.

She had been in the hospital for almost a week and was now being discharged under the condition that she would be cared for at home. However, Eda, would not be able to face Serkan’s parents until she was stronger. Only then could she confront them about her parent’s death.  

“My home away from my parents. I moved out of my place with them.” Serkan told her.

Eda looked at him in surprise. “Did you move out because of me?”

“I moved out because I no longer want to see my father.” Serkan brushed her hair back. “I want nothing to do with him anymore.”

“Serkan, he’s your father, you can’t cut him out of your life.” Eda protested. She didn’t want to defend Alptekin but she didn’t want Serkan to lose his relationship with his father.

“How can you say that?” Serkan wondered. “Aren’t you angry?”

“I am but I know what it’s like not to have your parents in your life. I don’t want the same for you.” Eda replied.

Serkan shook his head. “How can you be so selfless?”

Eda smiled and reached up curling her hand around his neck, tugging her down to his level. She pressed her lips to his softly.

Serkan pressed closer, cupping her face tenderly, his lips pressing back against hers.

“Pardon,”

Eda pulled away from Serkan, flushing as her Doctor walked in with her released forms followed by a nurse wheeling in a wheelchair.

“Is the wheelchair necessary?” Eda wondered. “I can walk just fine.”

“Yes, you should not exert yourself early on.” her doctor answered. “It’s important that you don’t do anything to sabotage your recovery. Furthermore, I would like to go over instructions for home care. Now, this is very important.”

“She will do exactly as you say.” Serkan took Eda’s hand in his. “I will make sure of it.”

“Good,” her doctor said, he looked between them. “First, as I said she mustn’t overexert herself.” his eyes flickered between the two of them pointedly. “That means no strenuous activity. Especially with a partner.”

Eda’s eyes widened, her face heating in embarrassment.

She looked up at Serkan to see him, awkwardly rubbing at his neck, avoiding eye contact as he said. “Understood.”

“Furthermore, you need to allow your arm and your ribs time to heal, you need to be careful of your head injury until you are finished healing. I want to see you twice a week for the foreseeable future until I declare you healed.”

“Okay,” Eda nodded. “I can do that.”

“Good. We will be contacting you about your first appointment at the end of the week.”  The Doctor smiled and handed Serkan a prescription. “I am prescribing a powerful pain medication and here’s a sample until you can get it filled.” the doctor handed over a small prescription bottle.

Serkan nodded. “I will have it filled immediately.”

“I just need you to sign these discharge papers, Ms. Yildiz and you’re free to go.” The doctor handed her the paper and Eda signed the papers.

The doctor bidding them goodbye as the nurse and Serkan helped Eda into the wheelchair.

“I can take it from here,” Serkan said and wheeled Eda out of the room.

When they reached the elevators Eda closed her eyes. “I really hate this,”

“Don’t worry, we aren’t taking the elevator.” Serkan wheeled her past the Elevators.

Eda’s eyes opened, her surprise. Evident. “We’re not?”

“No, we are taking the stairs,” Serkan answered as they reached the door to the stairway. He maneuvered the wheelchair so he could push the door open.

“Serkan, we have to go down 6 floors. How do you intend to get the wheelchair down a flight of stairs with me in it.” Eda asked as the door closed behind them.

“I don’t.” Serkan moved around her sliding an arm beneath her back and another beneath her legs and lifted her.

Eda let out a surprised shriek and wrapped her good arm around his shoulder, clinging to the back of his neck. “Serkan!”

“I am going to carry you,” Serkan started down the stairs.

“I can’t believe how sweet you are,” Eda said with a smile. “Thank you.”

“Don’t distract me with your beautiful smile.” Serkan shook his head, fighting a smile of his own. “We’ll fall down the stairs and end up back here at the hospital.”

Eda grinned, tucking her head against his chest. “Okay,”

Serkan held her tighter against him as she curled in his arms.

When he reached the bottom of the steps he carried her out of the hospital toward his car that was parked in the parking lot.

He set Eda gently down and opened the door for her.

“Thank you.” Eda eased into the seat and Serkan reached around buckling her in before pulling back and closing the door.

Serkan rounded the car getting in the driver seat.

“Can I smile at you now?” Eda asked, already smiling at him.

“No,” Serkan reached out, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I will be driving and can’t afford to be distracted.”

Eda grinned. “Does my smile always distract you?” Eda wondered.

Serkan's thumb smoothed across her cheek. “You distract me. Everything about you, your smile, your eyes, your beauty, your kindness. Your very presence calls me to attention and you are all I can focus on.”

Eda smiled wide, her cheeks flushing, she cupped his cheek, her finger scratching through the stubble covering his jaw. “Good. It is the same for me.”

Serkan leaned forward giving Eda time to pull away. She did the opposite, she closed the remaining distance, pressing her lips to his softly.

Serkan’s lips moved against hers slowly, savoring the feel of her soft lips. He pulled back slowly, staring up at her. “The things you do to me, Eda Yildiz.”

“The things you make me feel, Serkan Bolat.” Eda bit down on her bottom lip.

Serkan eyes flickered down to her mouth again and it took all his strength to pull away and focus on pulling out of the parking lot.

“You’re going to kill me one day, do you know that?” Serkan asked as they pull on the road.

Eda laughed and ducked her head to keep from smiling at him and causing him to be distracted.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Eda felt herself being moved and her eyes opened as Serkan lifted her from her seat, kicking the car door shut. “I can walk.”

“I like carrying you,” Serkan countered. “I’ve missed the feeling of you in my arms."

Eda smiled, laying her head on his shoulder, allowing him to carry her into his home.

He gently placed her on the couch. “You rest here and I will fix you something to eat.”

“I’m not hungry, just sit with me.” Eda held her hand out to him.

Serkan lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “After you eat,” he insisted.

Eda pouted up at him. “Just a few minutes.”

Serkan shook his head. “You know what you do to me when you look at me like that.”

Eda’s pout slowly transformed into a beautiful smile that had Serkan, giving in and taking a seat beside her.

Eda tucked herself into his side and Serkan gently brought his arms around her as she leaned against his chest.

“I want to stay here,” Eda said.

“For how long?” Serkan fingers sifted through the soft strands of Eda’s hair.

“For the rest of the night.” Eda turned her head, tilting it up to look into his eyes. “You?”

“I have you in my arms, I don’t ever want to move.”

Eda beamed at him and tucked her head back into his chest.

A peaceful silence fell over them. Serkan forced himself to pull away ten minutes later. Eda had fallen asleep, he moved carefully, slipping a pillow beneath her head. He grabbed the throw blanket from the back of the couch and tucked her in.

Eda burrowed deeply into the couch, her hand unconsciously reaching out for him.

Serkan swept her hair back from her face and forced himself to turn away.

He moved toward the kitchen intending to fix her something healthy to encourage good healing.

Eda woke up to the smell of delicious Aroma’s filling the hair.

She sat up slowly, disoriented with sleep. “Serkan?”

“I’m right here.” Eda turned to see him setting the table. He walked over and helped her off the couch, taking her by the hand and leading her to the table.

Eda eased down into the chair, frowning at the bowl of soup in front of her. “You made soup.”

“Yes, it will be good for you and help you get your strength back.” Serkan set a glass of water next to her.

Eda forced a smile. “I’m sure I will like it.”

Eda let her smile drop as Serkan walked away. It wasn’t that it didn’t smell good. It was just that she did not want to eat soup. She was tired of eating healthy, she had enough of that at the hospital. Was it too much to ask for something with sugar or something fried?

Still, this had to be a step up from hospital soup. That had to count for something.

Eda had just talked herself up into eating the bowl of soup when Serkan placed a covered platter on the table. “Once you eat your soup you may have some of this.”

“What is it?” Eda reached for the lid. “Did you make a dessert?”

“No, no dessert.” Serkan caught her hand. “You eat first and then you will discover what it is.”

“Okay,” Eda smiled, picking up her fork. “I will eat.”

Serkan took his seat next to her, preparing to eat his own meal. He frowned, glancing at her injured arm.

“What is it?” Eda asked, noticing the change.

“If you weren’t injured I would hold your hand while we eat,” Serkan said.

“How sweet you are,” Eda said, scooping up a spoonful and taking the first bite.

Serkan ducked his head, smiling, he looked back at her, his eyes shining with love and adoration.

Eda ate the food he prepared. It was good but she was interested in what was on the silver platter.

She quickly finished her food, Serkan laughing at her haste all to get to what was hidden beneath the covered platter.

“Now what is beneath the platter?” Eda asked.

Serkan removed her plate and placed the platter in front of her, he grabbed the lid. “Are you ready?”

Eda nodded quickly.

Serkan eyes never left hers as he lifted the cover, setting it aside. He was delighted in the way Eda’s smile brightened so much her eyes shined.

“You actually made me some french fries?” Eda asked, turning that bright smile on him. “I didn’t know you knew how to make something so unhealthy.”

“It’s an easy dish and I know you love them.” Serkan smiled retaking his seat. “I hope you enjoy them.”

Eda grinned and grabbed two fries holding them out to him. “Since you made them you must help me eat them.”

“I will not.” Serkan shook his head.

“Yes,” Eda smiled widely and pushed the two pieces into his mouth.

Serkan chewed reluctantly while shaking his head.

Eda grinned at the look of fondness on his face and started eating her fries. It had the perfect amount of salt and was delicious. “This is good.”

Serkan smiled. “After you eat, I thought we could watch a movie or go outside and enjoy the stars?”

Eda smiled. “Are you trying to make up for lost time?”

“No, I just want to spend time with you doing the things we love,”

“Then perhaps you should kiss me,” Eda suggested.

“Kiss you?” Serkan repeated, his eyes darkening, his smile widening.

God, it had been so long since he smiled or felt this happy.

“Yes, I want to do things we love to do together. I love it when you kiss me,” Eda’s smiled, a blush covering her cheeks. “Do you love to kiss me?”

“I do,” Serkan leaned forward, cupping her face in his hands and brought his mouth to hers.

He moved his lips slowly, enticing her to do the same.

He stood slowly, pushing his chair back and moving closer to her, and wrapped his arm around her waist pulling her up.

A noise escaped Eda with the move, her body pressed against his hard muscled one. She ignored the pain in her arm, her body, and arched against him.

Serkan coaxed her mouth open, sliding his tongue inside, his hand slid down her neck slowly, down the side of her breast coming to rest on her hip.

Eda shivered at his touch, she felt her body was coming alive, whimpering into his mouth.

The needy sound had Serkan forgetting everything but the passion, the heat brewing between them.

He pushed the plates to the other end of the table and picked Eda up placing her on the table, dragging her to the edge as he stepped between her legs.

Eda arched into him, needing him closer, still. Her tongue tangled with his and reached both her arms up to encircle his neck.  

She pulled her mouth from his reluctantly, a pained noise escaping her. Her arm ached.

A look of regret washed over Serkan. “Eda, I’m sor-”

Eda pressed her finger to his lips and shook her head. “Don’t apologize, it's not your fault I’m hurt.”

“We’re not supposed to be doing anything to slow your healing, I got carried away. That makes it my fault.”

“Then it’s my fault too. I wasn’t stopping you. I wanted it. I still want you.”

“Don’t say that to me. Not now. Not when I can’t show my appreciation for you in my touch. When I can’t make love to you.” Serkan helped her down from the table. “Go relax on the couch. I’ll join you for a movie, once I clean up the dishes.”

Eda nodded and moved over to the couch. Serkan made quick work of the dishes before joining her on the couch.

Eda chose the movie and curled into him as it began playing. Serkan ran his fingers slowly through her hair.

Eda would like to say she paid attention to the movie but that would be a lie. She focused on the feeling of being pressed against his body. The feel of his chest rising and falling, his fingers combing through her hair. She could focus on nothing but being in his arms. For the first time in weeks, she felt at peace and that she could just be.

Slowly she felt herself drifting off. Serkan felt her breathing evened out and maneuvered them until they were stretched out on the couch, with Eda curled around him, her legs hooked over his and her head resting over his chest. He was careful not to jostle her and disturb her healing injuries.

Serkan laid there with Eda in his arms feeling like his world had returned to him. He had trouble sleeping since he had ended things with Eda but now having her back with him, he could feel sleep coming to him easily. Wrapping his arms around her carefully and allowing sleep to claim him.

Hours later Eda’s eyes drifted open, taking in her surrounding she found Serkan sleeping peacefully with her half laying on top of him.

She reached up with her uninjured arm, tracing the beautiful angles of his jaw. Her nails scratching through his stubble that had grown a little more since their departure from one another.  

Serkan’s eyes fluttered open and he stared down at her and she watched fascinated as his eyes filled with emotion, the irises darkening.

“Good morning,” Eda murmured cupping his jaw.

“Good morning,” his hand came up to cover hers, he turned his head kissing the inside of her palm, his eyes never leaving hers.

“What are you thinking?” Eda asked, after a long moment, moving to sit up, however, all she ended up doing was straddling his lap.

Serkan set up slowing leaning his back against the arm of the couch and resting his hands on her hips. “That I want to wake up every morning just like this.”

Eda leaned forward and brushed her lips against his, her hair cascading around them in dark waves.

“A beautiful way to start the day,”

Eda pulled back suddenly. “Don’t you have to get ready for work?”

“I can work from here,” Serkan dismissed.

“Serkan, you have to go to work,” Eda laughed.

“I will be working and if there’s a crisis I will go to the office but until then I will work from home where I can be here for you and we can make up for lost time.” Serkan insisted, brushing her hair back over her shoulder.

“I won’t be a distraction for you?” Eda questioned, her hand moving slowly down his chest.

“You will be the worst distraction I can possibly have but I will handle it.” Serkan's hand circled the back of her neck. “It won’t be the first time you’ve taken my focus from work and it most definitely won’t be the last.”

He tugged her forward, claiming her lips with his own.

Eda didn’t want to continue trying to convince him he needed to work when she had missed having his attention on her, the feel of his lips gliding over hers, and the feeling of his hands roaming her body like he was trying to worship every inch of her with his touch alone.

She fell into the kiss, savoring every moment of his affection and touch.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Eda sighed as her phone vibrated for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Your Aunt?” Serkan asked, leaning against the wall.

“No, this time it was Melo.” Eda put her phone away. “They're just eager for good news. I need a clean bill of health.”

Serkan was in full agreement. He needed Eda to have a clean bill of health for both of their peace of minds.

Since the accident, Eda had been practically living with him for the last few weeks. He loved having her there. He loved sharing a bed with her however the pent-up sexual tension was going to be the death of him.

He had barely got any work done, the last few weeks had been him making out with Eda, watching movies, looking at the stars, just being with her but he had held himself back constantly when all he really wanted to do was make love to Eda, reclaim their love in the physical sense he felt they both needed.

Serkan’s head snapped up as the door to the hospital room was opened and Eda’s doctor stepped in.

“Mrs. Yildiz, I am pleased to inform you that you have a full bill of health. Your ribs have healed up nicely, you’re received from injury and I see no prolonged injuries with your shoulder in any of your x-rays.” The doctor said while looking over her chart.

“That’s great. Does that mean I’m free to go?” Eda asked.

“It does, just make sure to see your primary physician in a few weeks as a precaution.”

“This is great news,” Eda pulled out her phone. “I have to call Aunt and the girls and tell them.”

“Quick question,” Serkan stepped forward. “I want to make sure I understand fully. Eda has a full bill of health and can return to her life as she had before? Exercise, daily activities, strenuous work?”

“Serkan!” Eda’s cheeks heated.

“What?” Serkan’s shoulders raised in his defense. It was a legitimate question and one he needed to know.

“Yes, she returned to all previous activities, strenuous or otherwise,” The doctor took the question in stride. “You’re free to go. Remember to see your primary physician in a few weeks.”

“I will,” Eda promised as Serkan helped her back into her jacket.

10 minutes later they were back in Serkan’s car. “Where are we going?” Eda asked. “To see the girls, my Aunt?”

“No.” Serkan stopped at a red light and looked over at her, his eyes were dark. “We’re going home.”

“Home?” Eda’s body heated from the look in his eyes.

“Home.” Serkan reached over and took her hand and brought it to his lips.

Eda shivered as he pressed his lips against her pulse, there was something so sensual about the touch that had her craving for so much more.

Eda shed her coat when they made it through the door, Serkan reached for her drawing him to her, his mouth taking over hers in a heated kiss walking them backward.

Eda pushed his coat from his shoulders and he released her long enough to take off his jacket, he grabbed the bottom of her shirt and pull it from her body, leaving her in her bra and blue skirt.

Eda’s hands moved to the button of his shirt, quickly undoing the buttons.

Her fingers fumbled with the last few buttons as his hands slipped beneath her skirt, clenching at her thighs.

Her core throb with need as his fingers grazed closer to her sex.

“Serkan,” her voice broke with need, desire, want.

Serkan lifted her, his fingers digging into her ass and he started moving through the home, his mouth placed opened mouth kisses along her cleavage.

Eda grabbed his face directing his lips back to hers, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth.

Serkan groaned, grinding his hips into hers, pushing her skirt higher up, bunching it at her hips.

Eda let out a gasp feeling him pressing against her through the fabric of their clothes.

She arched her back, pressing her breasts against him.

Serkan pushed off the door and walked to the bed, laying her back on the soft mattress, he stood over her staring down at her, his eyes dark and fathomless with desire.

Eda sat up slowly, her chest heaving as she pushed his shirt off the rest of the way.

Serkan gathered her in his arms, his hand threading in her hair, tilting her head back, his lips seeking hers, his right arm slid behind her back and expertly undid her bra with one hand.

Eda reached up and pushed the loosed garment off her arms and tossed it away. She placed her hands against his chest tracing every muscle all the way down to the dip of his waist. Serkan placed his hands on her shoulders and urged her back. Eda rested back against the soft mattress her hair fanning out along her, watching as Serkan removed his belt and undid his pants.

He nudged off his shoes and rid himself of his pants and boxers until he was standing in front of her stark naked. His cock fully erect and standing at attention.

Eda bit her lip, admiring every perfectly sculpted inch of him. He was perfect.

Serkan leaned forward grasping the waistline of her skirt, hooking his thumb beneath her panties, and dragged them down, he ran his hands down her calves removing her heels before lowering his body and kissing a path from her ankle up to her thigh, working his way to the apex of her thighs.

Eda felt his bot breath on her flesh and she held her breath in anticipation, she could feel her sex growing hotter, wetter with her arousal.

“Please,”

“Shh,” Serkan hushed her gently. She would never have to beg him for anything. He'd gladly give her whatever she wanted. All she had to do was ask.

Eda’s breath quickened, his lips pressed to her sex and she gasped.

The first taste of her on his lips was tantalizing to Serkan, he gripped her thighs and positioned them over his shoulders, opening her up further, he stroke his tongue slowly against her wet sex.

Eda moaned lowly in the back of her throat, her chest rising and falling as Serkan pleasured her with his tongue.

When he pulled back she let out a whimper that quickly turned into a cry as his thumb found her bundle of nerves rubbing in circles. His mouth closed over her sex and he sucked.

Eda cried out, her fist clenching, hips thrusting against his seeking tongue. “Oh, fu-”

Her orgasm was building fast. “Serkan,” she said in warning, grabbing a hand full of his hair, trying to tug his mouth away. “I’m going to-”

“I don’t care,” the words were from deep in his chest, his wet lips brushing against her sensitive flesh. His mouth covered her and he sucked hard.

Her body bowed as she hit her crest falling over the edge, screaming Serkan’s name.

Her breathing was ragged as Serkan licked up every last drop of her arousal, she fell back against the mattress her chest heaving.

Serkan swiped his thumb across his lip, sucking the digit into his mouth and cleaning her juices off.

Slowly kissing his way up her body, her legs falling to his hips, he braced himself on his arms, cradling her close to his body, his stomach pressed to hers, her soft supple breast pressing against his muscled chest, his hard cock pressing up against her, sensitive flesh.

“Are you alright?” His voice was deep and sounded like sex.

Eda grasped his face, and kissed him tasting herself on his lips, hitching her legs higher on his hips.

Her hands released his face, sliding over his shoulders and down his back, her left hand moving between them to grasp his cock and position the head at her entrance.

A groan vibrated through Serkan’s chest, his hands fisting in the sheets on either side of her.

Her other hand pulled at his ass urging him forward.

It was all the encouragement Serkan needed. He thrust his hips forward, his cock was sheathed in her wet heat in one smooth move.

Eda ripped her mouth from his, gasping, throwing her head back in pleasure.

She rocked against him, the slightest movement of him inside of her, sending small shockwaves of pleasure through her.

Serkan breathed heavily, his hands moved to grab at her thighs hitching her legs higher as he withdrew from her until just the head of his cock was still inside of her.

Eda whimpered in protest, "Ser-”

Serkan pushed inside of her sharply until his hips met hers.

“Kan!” Eda’s voice broke off into a cry she grasps at his shoulders, nails digging in as he started a fast hard space that had her body jolting, the sound of her cries growing louder with every thrust. Pushing her closer and closer to a second orgasm.

“Eda, you feel so perfect,” Serkan groan, the way she tightened around him felt exquisite.

Eda keened, her hands clutching at him in an attempt to ground herself. Her hips arched off the bed and her back bowed as one sharp thrust had him hitting a spot inside of her that had her seeing stars.

Serkan felt Eda, convulsing around him right before she came, her moans growing loud.

She tightened around him so fucking tight, he buried himself as far as he could, placing his mouth against her chest and breathing deeply, holding off his own release.

He wasn’t done, he was gonna make damn sure, Eda had another orgasm. It was going to be slow and beautiful as their love for one another.

Eda slowly came down her breaths shallowing out and her hands moving over his back. “Wow,” she breathed, “that was-” she broke off on a whimper as Serkan’s redrew his cock from her before pushing back inside her slowly, inch by inch, until she could feeling nothing but him, pushing inside her, stretching her in a way he hadn’t before “Fuck!” she cursed.

Her body was so sensitive from her previous two orgasms and his cock was hard inside her, his body rocking against her, his large hands sliding across her body like a sensual massage, his mouth pressing to her skin with a reverence.

It was like he was worshipping every inch of her inside and out.

Serkan hands ran along every her body, touching every inch of her, mapping out her curves to carve into his mind, his heart, the feel of her wrapped around him too good of a feeling too ever be taken for granted.

Eda soft moans turned into a cry of pleasure as Serkan grasp her ass angling his hips and drove into her sharply, his angled changing, pressing against her.

Pleasure washed over her with his slow, loving movements.

There was something about the slow torture that pushed her over the edge, giving her an orgasm that put the last two to shame.

Serkan helped her through her orgasm before sub combing to his own release, he gave a few sharp thrusts and buried himself as deep as he could, and spilled his essence inside her, groaning her name as he came hard.

Serkan braced himself on his arms, careful not to crush as he brushed lips across her collarbone, whispering “I love you” into her skin.

Eda smoothes her hand through his hair and down his back, she pressed a kiss against his forehead and grasped his face, bringing his mouth back to hers, in a slow kiss.

Serkan wrapped his arms around them and rolled them until she laid across his body and tangled his hand in her hair, deepening the kiss.

Eda parted their lips, staring into his eyes with nothing but warmth and love. “I love you, too.”

Serkan smiled, pressing another kiss to her lips.

After Eda laid her head on his chest, the beat of his heart against her ear, his arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly to his chest as she drifted off to sleep.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Serkan and Eda had spent the last couple of days cut off from work but now he had to go into the office. Serkan had a meeting with a client and he didn’t trust Efe's intentions for anything related to Art Life or the Holding. The quicker Efe was gone from his life the better he would feel.

Serkan took a quick, shower, and dressed in his suit, he fixed his tie and stepped out into his bedroom.

Eda was still fast asleep, her arm thrown over his side of the bed as if she was reaching out for him. He smiled softly, placing one knee onto the bed, and leaned over her, tucking the blanket around her.

He brushed her hair back from her forehead, his fingers grazing her skin.

Eda’s eyes fluttered open and her lips pulled into a sleepy smile.

“Rest,” he said, leaning forward and brushed his lips against her cheek. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Eda nodded, her eyes falling shut again and Serkan smiled and released her, making sure she was as comfortable as could be, he turned, swiping his phone and keys from the table to head out.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Eda exited the Taxi and walked past the gate into the Bolat home. After waking up and reading a note Serkan had left her about going to the office and would be back shortly she thought now was the perfect time to go and see Alptekin Bolat.

She walked through the garden out to the outside patio, Seyfi was with Aydan as she did her relaxation exercises.

“Hello, Aydan.” Eda greeted, she smiled over at Seyfi. “Seyfi.”

Seyfi smiled widely. “Eda, it’s good to see you again.”

“Eda,” Aydan stumbled trying to stand up straight and swept her hair back quickly. “What are you doing here?”

“I wish to speak with you and Alptekin.” Eda raised her chin, taking a breath. “I know the truth about my parents' death. Serkan told me.”

“Oh, Eda, I am so sorr-”

Eda held Aydan and held up her hand. “Stop. I don’t want to speak more of this until I can speak with both you and Alptekin.”

Aydan fell silent and nodded. “Come to the house,”

She turned and started walking and instead of following Seyfi moved to Eda’s side. “Eda, are you alright? I heard from Serkan about your accident. I wanted to visit but Serkan said it was not necessary.” he rolled his shoulders. “I think he just wanted to keep you all to himself. He cares about you so much.”

“Thank you for asking. I am fine.” She smiled and started following behind Aydan.

Alptekin looked up when his home office door was opened, his lips pulled into a smile at his wife but it quickly dropped Eda entered the room. He stood quickly. “Eda?”

“We need to talk,” Eda said, her voice sharp with anger. “Serkan told me everything.”

Alptekin swallowed. “Eda, I wanted to tell you but Serkan-”

“Don’t” Eda cut him off. “Don’t blame him. This is on you.”

“You’re right, it is. Please, give me the chance to explain.” Alptekin pleaded, walking around his desk to stand directly in front of Eda. “Let me help you understand.”

“How can I possibly understand any of this? You are the reason my parents are gone and you let your son shoulder your mistake. You let him take the blame for something that wasn’t his fault. It was destroying both of us and still, you said nothing. How sorry could you really be?!” Eda demanded.

“More than you know,” Alptekin said. “I wanted to tell you the truth but Serkan wanted to protect you. I’m not blaming him. All of this is on me, I was reckless and overwhelmed and your parents paid the price. If I could go back and change things I would.”

Eda’s eyes filled with tears. “You can’t and all there is left to do is to move forward. I look at you and I see my parents but that’s not all I see. I see your son, Serkan, who I love more than I could ever imagine was possible.”

“Eda, don’t make Serkan pay for this,” Aydan said, she took a step toward Eda but then stopped. “He loves you, he was only trying to protect you from this.”

“I know but it wasn’t his decision to make, it’s mine.” Eda held up her hand when Aydan opened her mouth to speak. “Let me finish. Serkan should have trusted me to not blame him because I don’t. He did not indirectly cause my parent's death.” she looked Alptekin. “You did. I don’t know if I would have got involved with Serkan if I had known the truth from the start but it’s too late now. I love your son, he’s a part of me. He’s the other half of my soul and not even this will make me give him up.”

Aydan nodded, clasping her hands together.

Alptekin nodded. “I’m glad to hear that. Serkan has struggled without you.”

“I want a future Serkan and he wants the same with me which we will be a part of each other’s family but don’t mistake that for forgiveness.” she looked at Alptekin. “I’m not sure I can ever forgive you. However, I want Serkan to be happy. I want Serkan to have both parents in his life. I will be civil with you for him but that is all I can offer.”

Alptekin nodded somberly. “I understand, I hope one day, you can forgive me. I will do whatever I can to make this easy for you. My son is lucky to have someone who cares so much about his happiness.”

Eda thought of the way Serkan loved her. With his whole being. They both were lucky to have found a love so strong it could overcome all obstacles.

Her phone vibrated and she looked to see Serkan’s name flashing on the scream. “Hello,” she pressed the phone to her ear.

“Where are you? I’m at home but you're not here.”

Eda could hear the worry in his voice. “Relax. Be calm, Serkan. Everything’s fine. I was taking care of some business. I’m coming back now.”

“Good. Are you hungry?” Serkan asked, and she could already hear him moving things around in the kitchen in the background.

“Starving,” Eda answered.

“Good, I’ll prepare us something for tonight and we’ll eat together and go for a walk with Sirius when you get home.”

Home.

Eda smiled. Yes, home. She used to believe that home was a place. It was the house she lived with her aunt and Melo, where she spent time with girls. However, that wasn't true anymore. Things were different.

Her home hadn’t felt like home since she fell in love with Serkan.

Serkan he was her home now. Her safety. The place she belonged.

“I’ll see you soon, Love,” Eda said and turned away from the Bolat’s who were watching.

She was going to Serkan. She was going home.

The future wasn’t going to be easy but she was confident that she could face anything as long as she had herself and she had Serkan.

She believed in them more than she believed in anything. She was choosing to believe their love could brave any storm.

Because their love was worth fighting for.

A/N: Thanks for reading. I hope you're enjoying reading EdSer as much as I enjoy writing them.

Tags: @jaxxarewe @pinhaaan