#event: a dark artifact ( playing bait ) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

homenum-revelio-hq · 5 years ago

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A DEADLY ARTIFACT...

Word has reached the Order of the Phoenix about a terrible device that the Death Eaters have acquired, a Dark Artifact that rumor claims can nigh-instantly kill Muggles by the hundreds. Their sources tell them that Voldemort’s forces have yet to determine how to use it - but they are getting close. The Order cannot let this happen.

On December 1st, 1981, members of the Order will thus be sent on a number of missions centered around one purpose: find the artifact and retrieve it... or destroy it.

A SECLUDED MANOR...

After weeks of discussion and gathering information (some a bit illegally, involving stolen documents from the Auror department), Alastor Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt believe they have narrowed down the location of the artifact:

The unnamed artifact lies concealed In the home of Josiah and Leina Nott. Unfortunately, the Order only has a possible description (a rounded orb-like object that may be hot to the touch) to operate on - and even that hasn’t been confirmed.

Select members of the Order of the Phoenix will have to break-in to the home without detection, find the object, and bring it back to Order Headquarters at the Potter Estate. They have knowledge of a young baby, Theodore, in the home as well and instructions are clear: No one not in a mask should be harmed.

A DANGEROUS MISSION...

With their forces spread thin under the pressure of the war, the Order must split its available people among several different tasks. Some will go to the Nott Estate itself to search for the artifact; others will stage diversions to draw attention elsewhere; others yet will monitor from afar; but all will be risking everything... and hoping that they will all still be alive to regroup together after.

Character-pairings have been determined using a randomizer and each pair have been given a suitable mission assignment:

ALICE LONGBOTTOM & JAMES POTTER | PLAYING BAIT (DIVERSION). Information about a fake “Order mission” was leaked to set a trap for the Death Eaters: they will come expecting to ambush the Order, while the Order in turn will be lying in wait to ambush them. This group should be prepared for a full-scale battle with a large number of enemies. Several Order NPCs will also participate.

FABIAN PREWETT & SIRIUS BLACK | TROUBLE IN KNOCKTURN (DIVERSION). They will intentionally cause chaos by creating a disturbance in Knockturn Alley, hoping to draw the attention of many of the local Death Eaters not already occupied with the trap. They have not been instructed to directly engage the enemy, but a fight is likely inevitable. A few Order NPCs will go along as back-up for that eventuality.

ISLA SELWYN-PREWETT & EDGAR BONES | GROUND CONTROL. Through use of a complicated new “tracking map” that several of the Order’s more technically adept wix (including James, Remus, Sirius, and Peter) spent the last month crafting, they will be able to roughly monitor the other missions from HQ (at least until someone steps beyond wards their spell can’t penetrate) and coordinate timing and warnings between groups via patronus-communication. Should the need arise, they are also both Upstanding Citizens with enough social clout to potentially bail their fellows out of trouble with the Ministry - and maybe even with the Notts if worst comes to worst.

GLADYS GUDGEON & GIDEON PREWETT | MONITORING THE MINISTRY. They will be stationed at the Ministry of Magic to keep an eye on activity at the MLEP offices, do what they can to distract, divert, intercept, or otherwise mitigate exposure of Order activities, and as a last resort to potentially warn other Order members when it’s time to get the hell out so no one ends up arrested. With the Ministry’s wards being too powerful for the “mission map” to penetrate, they will be on their own.

REMUS LUPIN & MARY MACDONALD ANTONIN DOLOHOV and MARLENE MCKINNON & AINSLEY ABBOT | KEEP YOUR EYES PEELED (LOOKOUTS). These two pairs will be tasked to go to the Nott estate and patrol outside. They will need to make sure the Order’s exit vector doesn’t become compromised and/or that the infiltrators aren’t ambushed if the Death Eaters figure out the diversions are a set-up and come back too early. The grounds are large, so they are expected to split-up into pairs and to pay special attention to both the front and back doors, as well as the old Quidditch pitch which Severus Snape reports is often used as a broomstick landing pad. They are the group most likely to encounter guards or traps or returning Death Eaters post-diversion and must stay alert.

FRANK LONGBOTTOM & LILY EVANS | A HIGHER CALLING (INFILTRATION). They are in charge of looking through the upper floors of the estate. This includes bedrooms, nursery, private workrooms (potions lab, enchanting room, etc), and other casual areas. This is estimated to be the most likely location for the artifact. Their group also has the highest chances of encountering one of the Notts, although it is expected that Josiah will be busy with James and Alice’s distraction and Leina will be asleep; if all goes as planned, they shouldn’t meet either of them.

EMMA VANITY & LUCINDA TALKALOT | FAMILIAR SPACES (INFILTRATION). In charge of looking for the artifact in the main floors of the estate. This includes the library, parlors, studies, dinning room, and sitting rooms; the more “public” areas of the estate. This is estimated to be the second-most-likely location for the artifact. Their familiarity with the house should help them search it, and if all goes as planned they shouldn’t encounter any threats they might be ill-equipped to fight-off.

SEVERUS SNAPE & DORCAS MEADOWS | WE GO LOW (INFILTRATION). In charge of looking through the lower floors of the estate. This includes the cellar, kitchens, and basic work areas. The “inner circle” does not expect them to find much of value (or of threat) underground, least of all the artifact, but trusting them with this part of the mission gives them both a chance to prove themselves.

EMMELINE VANCE & HONORA LYNCH | PREPARE FOR THE WORST. Assigned to wait at the McKinnon Farm, ready to offer assistance to any injured parties - either by treating the wounded that come to them, or going out in the field to gather-up anyone too injured to make it back on their own, they have the tense and vital task of keeping everyone else breathing until dawn. Honora isn’t exactly trusted yet, but someone has to back Emmeline up should she need to go under fire to retrieve her patients while Benjy holds down the fort... and the powerful healer should be able to keep her half-conscripted partner under control.

NOTE: Andromeda is not included, as she has not fully been integrated into the Order.

PUT TO THE TEST...

Throughout the event, the admins will keep track of what is happening within threads. At random intervals, players will be asked to dice roll for their group, which will then spur a mini plot drop for their characters. Dice rolls will also happen to see which groups are successful in their ventures and which groups will fail.

Remember to tags your posts with the date of event and to tag any open starters with ‘homenumstarter.’ This event does not yet have an end date, as we will vote like we have in the past. Threads set before December 1st can be continued, but no others should be started. You may begin interactions!

#homenumevent #homenumplot #marauders era rp #harry potter rp #marauders rp

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stone-man-warrior · 4 years ago

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January 31, 2021: 3:43 pm:

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(This took a couple of hours to decode, so, here ya go ...)

Pope Twitter terror hit order command language decode 1-31-2021 1:59 pm https://twitter.com/Pontifex/status/1355886051248787459 =======================================================================

Tweet See new Tweets Conversation Pope Francis @Pontifex "Grandparents are the uniting link between generations to transmit to the young the experience of life and faith. Therefore, I have decided to institute the World Day of Grandparents and the Elderly which will be held annually on the fourth Sunday of July." =======================================================================

January & February are off to the side, making distraction. -----------------------------------------------------------

J F = Jeff = Jeffe' = The Boss J = a shape = a fish hook

Two J's = JJ = 2(J) = J + J = Two Hooks (fishing pole, string line, bait, boat, (add lunch) all inclusive) = Two J's + lunch = Trinity Rules = J + J + Ghost = J + J + X = The Boss + The Fisherman (Gordon; Fat Boy; Pig) + Jesus on a Cross = Three J's (a barn on Southbound side of Interstate 5 near Gold Hill. Three J Ranch)

F = Eff = E + FF = Power Ligature = Power Legs = 120 + 120 = 240 = Household Laundry Current = The Martinizer

(write this down for future reference: "F = The Martinizer"

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Based on ten month Real Calendar, begins in March w/36 days and April w/37 days, alternating 36 & 37 days each month after. Leap Day (Quantum Day) is last day of every fourth year additional, where December has 38 days in a leap year. March 1st would best be placed as new years day on the day after the spring equinox, and year end of December 37th on the spring equinox day. Such a calendar similar to that arrangement existed before the Christian Pirates tacked January and February onto the beginning of the year, fouling up everything that is intuitive for humans to know about Earth and it’s relationship to the Sun, Time, and growing food.

The Real Calendar does not require that a new years day exists at all. March could begin at either the winter solstice or the spring equinox and still work better than what we are using for timing for the past 2021 years. The benefit of Spring time March is imminently obvious, and I think people would feel more productive on a personal level simply by the arrangement of the calendar year restarting in the spring time, rather than in the dead of winter as we do now.

The only reason to have a new years day, is to make an ongoing tally of years as they progress, for purposes of recording the events of the past years. In absence of interest in making a accurate record of past events, new years day is completely decorative, like wreath on the door of the house, is useless.

Different parts of the world have differing times of a growing season, but everywhere on Earth there is two equinox, and two solstice within a single annual earth orbit/tilt cycle, so, new years day, and a consistent March 1st world wide probably would not be ideal everywhere for everyone. The reason we have the current Global “oneness” of time keeping is a product of a quest for Global Domination by one group of people who started out with taking control of all global time, 2021 years ago, when they tacked January and February onto the beginning of the year, which really satisfies no one on Earth at all. The quest for Global Domination Under the Cross, is what fouled up everything on Earth.

The Christian Pirates use and refer to the Real Ten Month Calendar for their own uses to take over the world, they use the calendar the stole from you and me, so that they can keep us in the dark ages, unable to think on our own.

So, back to the Pope’s mass murder terror tweet, based on a tenth month calendar:

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36 March 37 A 36 M MAM = Russian Hoax 37 J 36 J JJ = power tubes (”bad ones”, rumored to be substandard)

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182

Take it apart:

182 = 180 + 2

182 = 180 (play the turn-a-round) + 2 (Swing sword. make the Ell that makes the cut = 1/2 (one divided by two) = 0.5 = $5 per head at the Walmart Service Counter exchange rate.

36 + 36 + 36 + 36 + 36 = 180 (add 2-way) = one cross

36 + 36 = 72 = one virgin

72 + 72 = 144 = 12² = one gross (add one-half of one half gross (36) two parents of one or more virgin children) + one cross (one two-piece) = 182 (the mother becomes a slave, is stowed below deck, the father becomes Jesus on the mast of the boat, on the cross)

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These are artifacts that show up while decoding:

JJ = Power Tubes (send Amp Guru for bias adjustment, watch for smoke)

MA'M = Female terror Russian Hoax -------------------------------------------------

Mystery yet to solve, w/speculation:

Household electricity current is standardized as two legs, each at 120v, for 240v maximum voltage.

Standard household electric current is often marked as two legs each w/110v and the resulting two-legged current is said to be 220v.

That is the mystery. Appliances are marked with both statements being true some of time.

The speculation is that Amp Guru Music Industry Vatican Choir and One Hour Martinizing Film and Television industry “Hokus Pokus” “Cleaners” are part of that missing 10v per leg.

Use your old See ‘n‘ Say for Farm Animals, to help understand:

Amp Guru says: “Here Kitty Kitty”

The Martinizer says: “Film at Eleven“

Amp Guru runs in stereo, they get two legs differently than does The Martinizer, who is visual based.

The Martinizer will require at least 220v from time to time, so the Laundry Dryer can run without gas.

Amp Guru almost never needs more than 120v while using household current. Amp Guru is perfectly OK with 110v, a Minus Ten situation is nominal for Amp Guru.

Amp Guru tells their friends about their power flexibility with a number of clues left laying around, such as 48v Phantom Power they arrange inside their microphone and recording gear, and the Variac veritable transformer that can be used to “tease” a guitar amplifier into sounding more “Brown“, or have “Higher Gain” resultant of reduced voltage, and high demand for power.

With clues like those, and perhaps others that you know of, the mystery of the Household Power Current Discrepancy can be solved.

Clearly, electricity is not the “Rocket Science” of little tolerance that we have been programmed to believe it is. Fact is, power is sloppy.

Key to solving the mystery of the sometimes missing 10v per leg, is in the fact that we are charged for electricity at a rate of Watts Consumed over time, however, no one has ever drawn a single Watt from a power grid, ever. The appliances and gadgets all draw Ampers, not Watts. So, the key lies in the draw of Amps to our own personal power, while they fake us out with Watts.

When you look at the power details of a electric product, and see that, for instance a lightbulb is 100 Watts, what you are looking at is a measurement of how useful the product is. The Watt is the measure of the work that was done, or the convenience provided as output for you to use.

The Ampers on the other hand, are only contained in small print, hidden on the label that is located on the product, so, they have made it difficult for us to actually know before hand, how much electric power a given product is going to consume. They (the big terror machine) are charging us for the convenience measured by the Watt, while disregarding our need to know about the actual Ampere that is necessary to provide the work that was done by the electric product.

They give us Volts. Standard.

They mesmerize us with Watts.

They baffle us with bullshit, while hiding the truth, that an Amp is what is consumed, not a Watt.

All of that horse shit happens, while the leadership cries foul about electricity consumption, in a world where the same people arrange that we are not able to know how much we are consuming with the products we choose to purchase.

It’s the Ampere that needs to go on the front of the packaging label, along side the Watt.

The mystery of the missing 10v per leg is deep.

If you ask any one to explain electricity to you, all you will ever hear is a bullshit story about water pressure, and the way the water only trickles out of a fat water hose, or will come out fast with a narrow water hose. They will bullshit you all day long about how you need to swap out the size of the water hose in order to get the water to come out with some pressure behind it.

We need to stop going to the Plumber when we need electricity problems solved.

They don‘t want you thinking about Amps, or that missing 10v per leg.

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now, on with the Pope Mass Murder Hit decode:

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This is some text from the Pope Tweet:

“Sunday” = Mass = it's a hit order, so, it's Black Mass Murder

“Grandparents” = the mark = Parents of small children, are "Whales" for fishing = Grand Parents

“Experience” = Jimmies Band (plays a right handed guitar, left handed, backwards, and upside down, and is one of the very best guitar players ever) (other reference can be said: “’Squids’ are baby surfers, they all try to ride goofy foot at least once”; See: “Drop in at Third Point Malibu” and “Long boarder’s rule the beach at the Bu” on this account; Squids ride at second point Malibu)

The word “Therefore” is there to help the reader include the “ff ligature” mentioned above, in order to see “Amp Guru” and by extension “Rocky Mountain Power Corporation of Colorado and all five of their sub-utilities” is present in the message.

“Institute” = places like schools and hospitals. Highly controlled, often subsidized environments.

“Grandparents are the uniting link” = as explained above, they are “Whales”, will be fished out, that leaves the children, easy prey, for capturing and training as terror soldiers, thereby “Uniting the children with the terror army through extermination“

“Generations” can go more than one direction to explain, so, that is more “Squids ride second point Malibu” because it breaks left and right often. Generations can refer to Genesis, a endless source of child terror soldiers to train, or, it can refer to the generations of terror family cell members in USA, descendants of many attack infiltration from Canada. In California, the current kindergartners are fifth generation family descendants of the original paratrooper attack there in 1970′s, of which there is no public record available anywhere but on this Tumblr account. Oregon are third generation, going into fourth generation now from a northern march made from California over many years. The kidnapped captured “Squids” are trained as disposable, and do the more dangerous terror activity, while the Generational Family Members are safe from dangerous activity.

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Complicated Christian Pirate Math starts here:

Elderly = The Swordsmen = Black Knights or Dark Knights = Ell + D + Erly ...

D = a shape = One half annual (play the 180 turn-a-round) = 0.5 (D = 0.5) (it's a concept Jazz blues vinyl album @ 33 1/3 RPM = 33 1/3 = Trinity Rules = Text = Alpha = Side A = one half of the whole = Devil (D = Devil)

Erly = E + R + L + Y = Power + Aarrgghh + Ell + Two Piece = "Primal Power Cut War Cry"

... Ell + D + Erly = Ell + 0.5 + E + R + L + Y = Power + Aarrgghh + Ell + Two Piece = "To Cut in two with Primal Power Cut War Cry” = A Verb = English Language = The Text = The Bible

The Bible = a story of two. One is Up, one is Down. One is white, one is black. One is God, one is the Devil. = A story of division.

---------------------- D = a verb: "To Devil" D = The English Language D = To Cut w/war cry D = One Half D = Music D = The Bible D = The Devil

D = God = a weapon

D = The Fourth = the forth = The March (is covered by January & February on the side making distraction)

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D = The Text = ...

The = God

... = T + X + T = Three crosses = Trinity Rules = Two of one, one of another

D = The Text = God + T + X + T = Trinity Rules = God: Two of one, one of another = "With this Book, and two squirrels and an Owl, we could rule the world"

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The phrase: “With two Squirrels and an Owl, we can rule the world” is insider knowledge, is a statement made by Elisabeth Windsor and Philip Mountbaten I learned in 1970 or there about, from them personally, in California.

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This is just thinking out loud:

January + February = Two Squirrels

Heroin = one Owl

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This is based on combination of many years of learning:

Two squirrels and an Owl are Puppets under the Pope

The Pope = House of Lords + Vatican = The Jim Dunlop (Christianity Crusade Crafters), are Puppet Masters aboard The Flying V Pirate Ship

However ... The Pope does a side show gig under the stage name, Jim Dunlop, plays lead Ax through a stack of Marshalls with endless effect peddles available, for signature, custom tonality.

Tonality = the bottom part of the Cross where Jesus feet are nailed through his toes.

The Jim Dunlop plays Lead Ax with his feet, the children of those who parish at the show.

The Pope plays the Alter, a Lyra, to work the Christians with his hands on deck

The Pope works the Puppets, while the Jim Dunlop works the Masses

The Pope = The Jim Dunlop The Jim Dunlop = The Pope

God = The Devil The Devil = God

God is above The Devil is below

The Bible = Above & Below = God and Devil

The Pope = The Bible

The Jim Dunlop = The Bible

The Bible = The Pope and The Jim Dunlop together on the same stage playing the blues

Once the show is recorded, it's a Vinyl record album, plays at 33 1/3 RPM, is Blues Concept Jazz record, keeps going around and around, has a scratch on both sides. Somehow, it's Progressive Rock. FM.

The album always starts on the A side. It sits on the platter, with the A Side showing. Pope says to play the Turn-a-Round, that’s the B Side, the dark side, flip it ... Mormons.

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

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9:25 pm:

With Mormon‘s, you get Utah, and Snake River & the Great Salt Lake. It’s not a subject I want to talk about, but you can.

With Mormon‘s and Utah, playing the Turn-a-Round, you get: “Hat U” and “Hate U”.

With “Hat U”, it comes with a graduation ceremony, IV League School.

With that, is the subject we need to think about, because the so called COVID vaccine’s are a “Two-Piece” situation from all of the manufacturers.

The first dose is likely to contain some heroin, make the victim feel very comfortable, and, willing to take the second dose.

There will be lots of “COVID Testing” of the victims.

Those who fail the test that happens between Side A, and Side B, will be given Euthanasia, and the Corona Virus will have taken another victim, at “Hate University”.

I suspect those who pass the COVID Test, and agree to become Christian Terror Pirates, will be given weekly rations of heroin, the way it’s been done in Oregon for more than twenty years. Those people begin to attend “Hat University”, to learn about the dark side of the Pope’s Pointy Hat.

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10:55 pm:

This here looks like a “heads up call” from Boris to the Kuaui Ranch Amp Guru Vatican Choir “Green’s of Olde Three Ply” terror cell on Kuaui. They are the ones who are really running the Christian terror at the White House,US Congress and all of the US Government, at minimum, leading members include Ann Wilson and Roger Waters at the very top of the Triangular Prism that is Amp Guru HQ.

The read only includes three lines of text in the Boris Tweet. There may be more, but I am not interested in anything other than three specific lines of text.

“Admitted to a hospital“

“Positive for COVID19″

“Hannah x”

It’s all “Justified at Center”

The two top lines, line up nicely.

Hannah is a RADAR word, a Palindrome.

Hanna is a place on Kuaui that very few people ever get to see, even if you visit Kauai, the “Road to Hanna” is legendary, songs are written about the “Road to Hanna”. It takes about seven hours to drive the “Road to Hanna”, top speed, about 20 knots ... it’s a Pirate Only Road, you have to dodge many a “Shaved Ice” vendor to make it to and from Hanna, and the road is lined with dozens of Christian Statues and memorial displays, all of which are contained within the overhead drop of a water fall ... it’s treacherous on many levels. There is much more that could be said, but one thing to say, is I don‘t think you will find any US Citizens who have been to Hanna, and lived to tell about one of the most beautiful places on Earth, certainly there are not many, and there are fewer who have stood at the top ledge of the upper most water fall there, as I have.

Hanna is considered Sacred Ground by what few natives remain on the Islands. and also by the Seventh Day Adventist Canables who took over, and hunt there for victims, “Strap”, and “Kiddie Table”.

Ann Wilson is the Head SDA Cannibal.

I am pretty sure David Gilmour is dead, otherwise I would include him at the top of the Pyramid.

I see a “Heads Up” for terror leaders on Kauai, at Kauai Ranch.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mvD1FbguvKQ

https://twitter.com/BorisJohnson/status/1355937035362697217

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2-1-2021: 12:04 am:

https://twitter.com/ReutersUK/status/1356116332530589696

This one may be a tough sell. but:

I suspect the recent Game Stop, Robin Hood, and that other outfit, and, the recent Hydrogen Explosion at the Food Prep Factor, are what is mentioned there in the Tweet from Reuters UK. I further suspect that both incedence of false stories were generated by Google (Twitter) as a way to distract from reality, while maybe making a few Bit Coin at the Canadian run fake nyse, nasdaq, forex, and pink sheets.

So, with that background, and with focus on Google, the Reuters UK story winds up at Amp Guru on Kauai for more “Heads Up”, perhaps in a Google direction rather than an Island Paradise direction.

Shell is in the Oil business, not power trading, not hydrogen power. The inclusion of Hydrogen by Rueters UK (SIS MI6) is suspicious of even more than a heads up.

My read, is one of association to Boris Johnson and the Hannah Island idea, where you already assume that there are some police type folks hovering around at Amp Guru in order to make the connection to Lord of the Flies, where there is a character called Piggy, who finds a giant Conch Shell on the beach, and the Conch becomes very important to the young people trapped on that island where Lord of the Flies took place.

Reuters UK picks up a Conch Shell, points it towards Google, and begins to blow, like a good nun sister should when things are looking down at the Ranch.

They are blowing the call of the Pig, not just any Pig though, it’s an Island Paradise Lord of the Flies pig. A wild boar pig head on a stake, and is sacrilegious. Reuters UK (SIS MI6 nuns) says two messages with a single blow.

The Conch could be pointed at SAG Writers Guild also. They are equally evil, are the people who crafted all of the Time Warp terror, and much more.

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7:04 pm:

now is a good time to mention that dead terror soldier from last night’s walk to the mailbox:

As I gathered my coat, put on my shoes, and got a flashlight (I am starting to use the flashlight when I take a walk, it’s that bad here. Those who know me, know that is really bad), the terror bastards at Chartrands, Chapmans, Monroe’s, and Strong’s terror cells, were listening to the sounds that can be heard with a number of small hidden listening devices they planted in and around my home, and in addition to the implanted microphone transmitter that was installed into my jaw in 2011 by the terror army at a routine dental visit.

They were already in position, as it got dark outside, knowing that I make dinner about that time, and that I will be busy in the kitchen, not watching the front door or windows as I have been doing non stop for about seven, or five years... a long time it’s been that I must stay near the front door to defend against the intruders who get keys to my house from the Josephine County sheriff.

So they heard me getting ready to go get the mail.

I heard the terror soldier as she arrived on the front porch, so, “Siri... Power Down... Android... Power Down“ I said... the sounds I make, all of the words I speak, are received by the local terror army. So, about 30 seconds passed, and then I heard the magic words from the from the front porch while I had my ear to the door... “you turned off my comm” was spoken by the terrorist bitch at the front door.

I opened the door, and standing there was a terror soldier wearing the Pixel Suit electronic camouflage technology. Only her feet and the “Trident” was visible. The Trident is a three bladed sword that straps to the wrist of the terror soldier.

“Freeberg! Your ass is mine...” I said.

I proceeded to defend.

“Ooof” said the terrorist bitch as the Trident was thrust through her head.

“You have to pay extra for the Ooof” I said some more, as I lit my lighter a lot on my front porch.

The terrorist bitch launched away, landed beneath my yard light about 150 feet away.

I walked over there, then decided not to go near her, as the Trident was stuck in her head, and she was rolling around... the terror bastards can kill you even after they are dead. So, I went to check on the frozen heating unit in the backyard, and by then, I had forgotten that anything happened, the nitrous gas with medazolam does that, makes you forget what happened five minutes ago.

I went to the mailbox, and that is when I saw Jay Freeberg’s truck going towards 535 Jackpine, however, it looked as if the truck kept going passed the Freeberg terror cell at 535.

The rest of what happened was written last night with the fake Carpenters Union mail.

Assessment is Jay Freeberg, General of the Terror Air Force, is dead.

Further assessment includes that the Pope terror cell: “Green‘s of Olde Three Ply” at the Vatican Choir HQ at Kauai Ranch in the State of Hawaii, learned that I was killed, when reality is Janice “Jay-Bob” Freeberg was killed. The Vatican Choir needs me dead or otherwise silenced before mass murder terror commands on Twitter can be done, because they all know I can read their command orders they present on Twitter, so, the Pope account thought I was dead, and that triggered that Mass Murder Pope Pirate terror hit to be launched, it’s a repeat, that one has been Tweeted before, I read it the same way before, the terror bastards know that particular Tweet, they know that it’s a command to March on a plan to kill parents, and take children captive for training as terror soldiers of the future, and for use as sex slaves, and the strongest among the children are used as experimental surgery “specimens”, in preparation of the goal, where the terror leaders created slave people surgically customized to perform tasks with ergonomically designed equipment and machinery that they will become “extensions of the machine they operate”.

What I am saying includes that today’s Twitter time line from major news media network “Verified Accounts”, was also triggered to release many pre-recorded Tweets about “Opening the schools” and “Assisted Living Facility” news items was rolled out, among other “Institutional” controlled environment locations where victims will be exterminated like insects in a jar. Many of the women taken as slaves, men all killed or used as “experimental surgery specimens” and the children captured as mentioned.

All because Jay Freeberg was killed in defense on my front porch, while national security was jacking off.

Joe Biden is not going to acknowledge any terrorism in USA. He will stay with the Russian Mother of all Hoaxes story lines, about Iran, Syria, Russian interference and China as the enemy.

The Joe Biden Team works for the Pope, Amp Guru, and the One Hour Martinizer, he is told what to do, when and how to do it, by British House of Lords.

US Congress is not going to help to stop any mass murdering in USA or anywhere, it’s their job to maintain the Pirate Ship, and to make sure that any national security, US Military, or other public safety personnel all wind up in a bottleneck trap, are gassed, captured, tortured, killed and replaced with Canadian look-a-like replacements under direction from SAG leaders under direction of Nancy Sinatra.

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coe-lilium · 7 years ago

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FGO Dantes drama CD

I’ve looked around here and found nothing about the story, so why not doing a post myself since I’m in the mood.

It’s a nice bonus published with TM Chaldea Ace back in April, basically a mini-detour in the novel proper timeline, adding some wider Nasuverse stuff (Church, vampires... possibly destroying every chance for the events of Tsukihime occurring in the Fate timelines where’s our Tsuki collab event Nasu. You can’t throw this kind of stuff at us and then hide, get to writing mushroom man!).

To my knowledge, there’s no translated transcription, but reddit/BL got a detailed summary :D

*some names may have suffered from poor romanization*

Chapter 1: Faria recalls how he met Edmond and calls him his son.

Chapter 2: October 1837. Concetta narrates that this is the story of the Count of Monte Cristo's other revenge. Angelo Braga calls on Edmond in his home. Haidee warns Edmond that he should not have brought Angelo here, but Edmond tells her to go away, as it is not yet time for the two of them to meet. When Concetta comes to his room to tell him that Angelo has arrived, he's alone. Concetta asks if he was talking to someone, and he says that it was just a phantom.

Chapter 3: Edmond and Angelo talk over dinner. Edmond had apparently been sniffing around the church and Angelo is here for him, and the location of the treasure of Monte Cristo. Edmond reveals how he was taught by Faria and calls him his second father, and also reveals that this was a trap for Angelo, one of the Three Wise Men who got Faria locked up. The food is poisoned and Angelo has taken a lethal dose. It doesn't work because of his special church training and he attacks Edmond. They fight a bit (Edmond with a pistol) and Edmond can't scratch him, so he has Concetta activate a trap which blows Angelo up along with the mansion; Angelo does barely survive but Edmond finishes him off with a black key.

Chapter 4: October 1837. The count moves to Rome to continue his plot. The target is a cardinal. It's mentioned that Concetta is Giovanni's cousin. They plan to draw the cardinal in with money.

Chapter 5: One of Edmond's informants, one of many he has all over Europe, is killed. The killing was thought to be by bandits or pirates, but Concetta narrates that it "went over the line". The scene cuts to Tarantella interrogating a man. Tarantella talks about the role of the Eight Sacrament Association he's from: He doesn't expect to find any sacred artifacts in the man's home, but there's someone on the loose who was trained by a heretic who used holy relics for his own gains, and attacked a cardinal, and so he has to do his job here. The man notices blood on Tarantella's hands, and Tarantella says it's his daughter's blood, or was it his wife? Either way he will end up the same. Concetta narrates that the second set of killings was of a man who started an investment company in Spain, and his wife and 5-year-old daughter. Edmond's group are the only ones who realise that these killings are connected, as the man who was killed was related to Morrel. The killings continue, and some of the corpses are left without a drop of blood.

Chapter 6: Edmond is sure that the killings are the doing of the last of the Three Wise Men and is mad. The killer left behind a message by spelling out a word, letter by letter, with the organs of his victims: Tarantella. Edmond wonders if this is how the church works, or if Tarantella is just crazy, and if this is vengeance for Angelo, or if he's just playing around with people's lives. Either way he's mad, and drinks more of "the elixir". He tells Concetta to prepare, and she narrates that the counterattack began. They started by spreading information that the Count of Monte Cristo would be holding a huge party as bait, and they rent the Villa Medici for this purpose.

Chapter 7 (1/2): Haidee warns Edmond that this is way too dangerous. She wants him to live, and says that Faria would have wanted the same. Edmond says nobody knows what the dead want, and all he's doing is ridding himself of his own sorrows. Haidee wishes she could heal him of his sorrows, but Edmond just tells her to begone, and to wait for him on the other side beyond love and hate. Tarantella shows up and there's nobody else at the "party" besides him. He recognises the count by his white hair. Tarantella says that Faria turned his back on the church saying that he wanted to save all life. Edmond says that those are the church's teachings, but Tarantella says that's just the church's front, and the truth is different. Edmond says that they're a bunch of heretics, bloodstained murderers who themselves turned their backs on the messiah and the prophets, and activates a trap which fires spears at Tarantella, and then a trap which binds him with chains made to subdue tigers. Tarantella breaks out easily. Edmond shoots him in the forehead and starts laughing but Tarantella gets back up and pulls out the spears.

Chapter 7 (2/2): Tarantella uses a white light that burns Edmond and defeats him instantly, but doesn't kill him because he still needs to interrogate him. Edmond asks if the church is all monsters, and Tarantella says that not all members have power. The cardinal was a weak human for example, who wasn't even an executor- an inquisitor, who represents the will of god- like Angelo or Tarantella. Edmond is enraged by the claim that they're doing god's work and gets up again, blocking Tarantella's vision with his coat and stabbing him in the heart with a knife. Tarantella says that he's not just an executor, and asks where Faria's treasure is while hitting Edmond with more magecraft. Edmond says that there is no treasure. Tarantella observes that Edmond doesn't fear death, or pain, or damage to his body, thinking that time in the chateau made him strong, and says that he'll have Edmond recall what pain is like by destroying one of his belongings, and leaves. Edmond regrets listening to Ali and Concetta and not using explosives in the traps. Haidee calls out to him and asks her to give him more power. She says he already has it within him.

Chapter 8: Concetta is worried. She and Ali wanted to fight alongside Edmond but he refused, and Ali was sent back to Paris while Concetta waits at the inn. Tarantella shows up at the inn and enters her room. She shoots him in the heart but he heals immediately, so she goes after him with a knife going for the throat, but he doesn't take any damage and kills her.

Chapter 9 (1): Tarantella finishes sucking Concetta dry just as Edmond arrives. Edmond realises that he's a vampire. Tarantella says that he's not a vampire, and reveals his true name as Mikhael Roa Balldamnjohn. Faria narrates about dead apostles and Roa, and says that he wasn't able to tell Edmond about this because Roa put a curse on him. Faria also mentions that he left Edmond "the treasure of darkness", he stole from the church, that would one day help Edmond out when he one day faces a non-human enemy that he would lose to- The treasure of Monte Cristo, which has the power to remake a person. Edmond laughs and says it doesn't matter what Roa is, and that he, and not Roa, represents god's will, and starts burning with black fire. He immediately understands how it works, and how it's a weapon for him to burn his enemies, and quotes the bible saying "vengeance is mine". Roa recognises the black fire as the Monte Cristo Mythology, a legend hidden in the mountain of Christ, the despair of those without god, the flames of hell and the void, power equal to that from the age of mythology, which forces a magic circuit and magic crest into the user.

Chapter 9 (2): Edmond tells him to shut up and blasts him through the hotel's wall. Roa runs, Edmond flies after him, and they fight in the air. Roa uses the moves of multiple reincarnations, including the curses of the seventh and the barriers of the fourth. Edmond just gets madder and calls upon the fire of vengeance to eat his soul and turn to a black flame, breaking the barrier imprisoning him, and he grabs and burns Roa while laughing, declaring that they'll just have to see whose soul is incinerated first. Roa doesn't believe that there's such a thing as a fire that can burn souls, but Edmond says that this fire can. Roa can't heal and Edmond asks him to just try and pretend to be the messiah in front of god again. Roa says "bakana bakana bakana bakana bakana bakanaaaa" and starts to say that he can just reincarnate even if his body is destroyed, but is cut off when Edmond laughs at him and spouts his victory lines from FGO.

Chapter 10: By the time he realises it, Edmond is standing alone. Nothing is left of Roa but cinders. He feels something vanishing from his body, and believes that that's the treasure of Monte Cristo, and realises that he was saved by Faria again. His body will never be enveloped in black flames again, not unless he's someday reborn as something as inhuman as a vampire. He prays for Concetta to watch over his vengeance. He heads for the cathedral and is stopped by a guard, who demands to know who he is. He laughs and says that the Count of Monte Cristo has come for the cardinal.

Chapter 11: Haidee narrates that some time later the cardinal lost his position, and that it's unknown if Edmond killed him. Either way, his vengeance in Rome was over; But this is only the tale of the vengeance for Faria, the other vengeance, and so this is not the end but the beginning of the Count of Monte Cristo's story of vengeance in Paris.

Get fucked Roa :D

Here’s to hope an eventual Tsuki collab isn’t too far from us T_T

#fate series #i picked up the novel again today after... uh middle school? i think #anyway i got feels and researched on the fate ver a bit more #im pleased with what i've rediscovered #why did he had to be drawn by the daganrompa guy #why #edmond dantes #i like this dude #might try roll for him once he comes back even if i don't like the card art #also #he's hot drawn by literally everyone else but his official designer #give him to konoe for god sake #now that i've reread the story/saw more of the fate ver the koto ship has a bit more wieght #they're both sarcastic trolls

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valamerys · 8 years ago

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we were forced to hide in this very cramped space (from friends/authority figures/people trying to kill us) and this is a very awkward position to be stuck in with someone you’re avoiding because they’re too attractive for you to deal with” au WITH RHYS AND LUCIEN?? PLS??? I CRY???

this was for the prompts from a while ago!! still doing them, it’s just taking me 5ever lol. BUT THANK U FOR THIS GIFT IM ALSO CRY.

WHO IS READY FOR RHYCIEN?????

———————

“Get off me, you idiotic--”

“You’re the one who’s on me, you get off.”

But there is nowhere to go, and after a few moments of futile struggle, Lucien is forced to settle with his shoulder wedged against the door, half being poked by the cleaning supplies sticking from the shelves in this comically small maintenance closet, and half with Rhysand flush against him, their limbs askew and intertwined as they’re posed to avoid randomly hung buckets and mops.

Lucien swears and Rhysand asks, almost incredulous, “does the Fall Court not believe in adequate storage space?”

“Couldn’t you just replace all their memories with giant squids or something?” Lucien snaps in response, “Cauldron boil me, you’re supposed to be this all-powerful godlike creature and we’re hiding in a closet--”

Rhysand puffs out a laugh and Lucien can feel it on his ear. “I am an all-powerful godlike creature, first of all. And there should be an ‘extraordinarily handsome’ somewhere in there too.”

Insufferable. Insufferable. That he is, in fact, extraordinary handsome, and the slight implication that he knows Lucien thinks that... there are so many awful people in this court it seems impossible that Rhysand could introduce him to new ways to hate a person, but here they are, pure frustrated loathing coursing hot through Lucien’s veins as they hide from the Fall Court guards.

It is entirely Rhysand’s fault, a stunning highlight to this diplomatic trip that seems to have been planned with the specific goal of making Lucien’s life difficult every turn. Today Rhysand had been taking an uncomfortably close look at one of the Fall Court heirlooms, when he definitely had no business being unaccompanied in the vaults--Lucien had stumbled across him and must have startled him, because Rhysand dropped the precious glass artifact he was inspecting, and the sound of shattering was met with cries from the guards and the sounds of approaching boots. A mutual look of fury and fear--neither prince wanted to be associated with the crime, much less face Beron’s wrath for it--and they’d taken off down the hall, since winnowing was magically disabled in the palace. Lucien had been the one to pull them into a closet as the guards drew closer, and as Rhysand’s elbow digs further into his side, he regrets it fervently. His father’s retribution--or almost anything--would have been better than enduring this. It’s pitch black in the closet, and the darkness is heightening his other senses: Rhysand is warm and firm against him, and Lucien is discovering nuances in Rhysand’s scent, thick between them, something like saltwater under the citrus-musk, and he likes it and he hates that he likes it.

Rhysand goes on after a pause; Lucien suspects it’s because he can’t handle the mere suggestion that he’s less powerful than he’s supposed to be.

“In any case, the peace between Night and Fall is tenuous--”

“It gets more tenuous with every passing second of your knee jamming into my thigh.”

Rhys pauses to make a huffy little show of being interrupted. “--As I was saying, is tenuous, and tampering with will or memories leaves traces, if you know where to look. Your father employs people who know where to look. I’d like to not endanger that peace by giving anyone cause for suspicion.”

“Yes, we certainly wouldn’t want you, sneaking around the vaults alone and fondling ancient magical items, to seem suspicious.” Lucien loads it with as much venomous sarcasm as possible.

“Interesting word choice.”

“Oh, you’re going to distract me from your snooping with innuendo? Very mature behavior from a High Lord apparent.”

“I’m not the one who said fondling.” A pause, and Lucien can hear the filthy smirk in Rhysand’s voice when he adds, low and breathy, “And I could distract you with a lot more than innuendo, if I wanted to.”

The points where their bodies press into one another suddenly feel very heavy, and the air around them very thin. Lucien is going to kill him. He’s going to set all of Rhysand’s clothes on fire at once; even if Lucien gets third degree burns by proximity and/or murdered by Night Court spies in retaliation it’ll be worth it.

“Do you just go through life assuming everyone in the world is insatiably attracted to you?” He hisses.

Rhysand hums faintly. “Mostly. I tend to be right, though.”

How can he be so casually haughty, so at ease in this ridiculous pose they’re holding? How in the world does this not phase him?

And what would it take to break that cavalier composure of his?

Lucien feels the urge to try, one way or another, throttle him or kiss him, something, anything, to bring him down to some part of Lucien’s emotional level of lusting contempt. He manages, with great effort, to ignore it and lie instead.

“Consider me an exception.”

“Really?” It’s an amused little purr. “You’ve never thought about me fondling anything other than glass trinkets?”

"Incredibly, I find arrogance something of a turn-off,” Lucien bites out.

“I’m not sure I believe you. Maybe I should rifle around in your head and check.”

“Stay the fuck out of my mind, Rhysand,” Lucien snarls; aware that it’s bait, rising to it anyway. “I catch you trying to get past my shields and I swear I’ll—“

“You’ll what? Mouth off to me some more?” Rhysand says, sharply, baldly. Lucien feels thin fingers find his face in the dark, finds himself paralyzed with equal parts fury and heat as Rhysand traces the shape of his lips, his jaw. “That temper of yours is going to get you into trouble, little Lucien. I hope you get as good at finishing things as you are at starting them.”

The nickname is too much.

Lucien snaps with something like a growl in his throat, and they collide with the clatter of cleaning supplies, door rattling as Rhysand shoves him against it, lips hot and seeking against Lucien’s. Hands grapple ungracefully, pulling, tugging, digging into clothing, both of them seeking to take; Rhysand tastes like sweat and the dust of the room and a bittersweet darkness, and Lucien is all teeth in search of more of it.

“You bit me,” Rhysand grunts, although it doesn’t stop his hand’s frenzied ascent up under Lucien’s now-untucked shirt to touch his bare chest.

“You called me Little Lucien,” Lucien pants petulantly, as Rhys latches onto his neck, sucking out his revenge.

“Well you are proving me wrong, aren’t you?” Rhys palms the generous bulge of Lucien’s hardening cock by way of explanation. “Not so little.”

Lucien holds back a groan, instead gritting out, “Fuck, I hate you.”

Rhysand chuckles, and Lucien kisses him again, rough, sloppy, just so he’ll shut up, for cauldron’s sake—

And then the world is bright, and they’re both tumbling backwards. Lucien hits the ground hard, arousal interrupted by the painful weight of Rhys landing almost entirely on top of him.

The poor maid who opened the door—and managed to dodge out of the way before her prince and the foreign dignitary he’s clearly making out with tumbled out—stands there in absolute shock, a hand clasped over her mouth.

“Sorry,” Lucien apologizes to her vaguely, feeling his shame return to him with his sense of sight.

———————

Rhysand rights himself and slips away before Lucien can finish calming the frazzled, embarrassed maid, and is mercifully absent for the rest of the day, as Lucien grows more and more mortified about the event. By the time he retires for the night, he’s considering hiding in his room for the remaining days of Rhysand’s visit and also maybe the rest of eternity.

But he opens the door to see Rhysand, calmly inspecting the contents of his desk.

“What are you doing here?” Lucien blurts, too surprised and lingeringly embarrassed to put any real hostility behind it.

Rhysand puts down whatever he was playing with, walks over to where Lucien is rooted to the floor with that brand of disaffected self-assurance that reminds Lucien: he hates him, he hates him, don’t make out with him again--

“We weren’t finished when we were interrupted earlier,” Rhysand murmurs, and kisses him.

Arrogant, entitled, presumptuous, insufferable, insufferable, insufferable--

Lucien’s resolve crumples like wet paper and he kisses him back, Rhysand’s night-cool aura washing over his senses, making him forget why this was ever a bad idea. Somehow they end up stumbling towards the bed, Lucien gripping the back of Rhysand’s neck as they tumble onto it.

“It’s Rhys, not Rhysand, when you come,” Rhys manages to get out against Lucien’s lips, somehow still imperious when he’s underneath Lucien, both of them flushed.

Lucien swears softly. “Only if you promise to stop talking.”

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thisisevenharderthannamingablog · 8 years ago

Text

6.18 Where Bluebirds Fly

I’m having a difficult time writing an intro this week, because every time I think about the second scene my brain shorts out for a minute. I know a bunch of stuff happened other than this, but what?

In the past: On her way to the Emerald City, young Zelena befriends a woodcutter named Stanum, an unusual youth who does not fear her magic and who is impressed by her kindness and her use of magic to help others. Many years later, when she rules Oz, Stanum returns to ask his old friend for help. He is under a curse that will turn his body to tin unless someone helps him retrieve a magical heart guarded by a terrible monster.

Slightly terrible anyway.

At first inclined to dismiss his plea, Zelena is goaded into accompanying him in order to prove that she is indeed the most powerful witch around. Although she defeats the monster and retrieves the heart, she scoffs at the idea that having a friend would be worth the price the artifact demands: giving up her magic. She abandons Stanum to his fate.

In the present: The Black Fairy approaches Zelena and suggests that an alliance would be best for her and her daughter’s well-being. Hook and Emma’s morning plans are interrupted by Snow, who is determined to get this wedding in motion, but they are sidetracked by the news about the Black Fairy. Zelena is minded to take her on by herself, and stalks off. Regina is supposed to investigate the wand piece Tiger Lily sent to Emma but does not get around to it.

Rumple tells Belle about Gideon’s heart. The Blue Fairy remains in her coma, unable to be wakened until her magic is restored; Rumple has played into his mother’s hands by removing the one person who ever knew the Black Fairy from the conflict.

Zelena asks Belle to babysit while she goes off to the mines to hunt down the Black Fairy by herself. Charming discovers that Henry has tried to force the Final Battle to a good end using the magic pen, but it’s not working; Emma must fight. Henry, too, is drafted into the planning activities.

Regina finds Zelena and attempts to stop her. The argument escalates into a physical fight, causing a partial rockfall that blocks the way back.

Snow and Charming argue about the suitability of different venues and eventually of doing this at all with the Final Battle looming; Emma at last intervenes and says they ought to wait. They love each other, they’re comfortable, and there’s no need to get married at high speed just in case they all die.

In the mines, there is more arguing until the sisters stumble across a vein of fairy crystal. The Black Fairy and Gideon arrive. Assigning her minion to delay Regina, the Black Fairy leads Zelena down to her lair and baits her into doing magical battle -- which turns all of the crystal dark, meaning that they can now be used to fuel her evil, um, whatever it is she plans to do that will be the Final Battle. She then poofs the sisters away. Regina tells Zelena that she may as well go back to Oz while the rest of them clean up her mess.

Zelena summons a twister from Oz to bring her the Crimson Heart, and use it to destroy her magic, returning the crystals to their normal state and thwarting whatever the Black Fairy wanted. It was probably bad.

From Zelena, the others learn about Blue’s condition and that she is being kept on ice in Gold’s shop. Emma uses a piece of the crystal to restore her magic, meaning that she can now be wakened.

The Black Fairy appears unperturbed by the crystal setback; the really important thing is that Rumple doesn’t learn (presumably from Blue) why she gave him up as an infant.

Parallels: The very heavy-handed Oz flashback talked about how what Zelena really needs is friends, and if she wasn’t so messed up she would value their lives more than her magic, more than this idea that she needs to be the strongest witch around. In the present-day timeline, she makes that sacrifice even though other people are not necessarily behaving a friendly fashion to her.

The line “who’s ready to put their hearts into some wedding planning” feeds into “the Black Fairy has Gideon’s heart?” in one of their odder transitions to date.

Snow draws the parallel between her wedding to Charming under threat from Regina and her desire to plan Emma and Hook’s; “it gave people hope.”

Wardrobe Department:

In Hindsight: I’m gonna have to assume that Dorothy came along and rescued this guy later, and also that once Glinda got banished, all of the other witch positions went evil, because what the hell else do I make of the “wicked witch of the North”?

I don’t particularly like the way they’re writing Snow, but I do feel that it’s consistent. She’s talking about her daughter’s wedding as if it’s a political stage event, not so much taking the lead on as entirely taking over the planning process in a way that makes Emma’s participation appear an afterthought, and this is, unfortunately, the way Snow seems to work. She talks a good game, but she never seems to be on quite the same wavelength as her daughter.

On to bigger issues. I have a problem with the writing on the show this season, at least as far as the Mills sisters are concerned. Maybe this is inevitable when you try to redeem a major villain, but it’s making me very uncomfortable. I feel like they’re crossing the line between explaining and excusing villainy these days. I posted this bit separately while I was writing this review, but I’m going to include it here and expand on it a little.

The show has not been all that big on showcasing acts of direct restitution. There have been a handful for Hook, there was Rumple’s death in 3a, and Ingrid’s death. But where they have done that, I always felt like the emphasis was where it ought to be, on the damage that was done to the other character. We know a lot about Baelfire, for instance, so Hook handing him over to Pan and Rumple letting him go through the portal are very meaningful events for all of the characters; the impact is clear. Ursula’s story was swiftly but fully sketched in “Poor Unfortunate Souls.”

With “Page 23″ and “Where Bluebirds Fly,” the emphasis is on the perpetrator’s emotional pain. We never learn anything at all about Stanum, about who he is or why he got cursed or why he’s so keen to befriend Zelena. He exists in the flashback purely to provide psychological analysis that is mirrored in the present day by the Black Fairy. In “Page 23” the focus is 100% on Regina -- not the fairy who destroyed her own life trying to save her, not the father she would later murder in cold blood, and not the villagers she terrorized for years.

With these two episodes, it seems like we are supposed to feel sympathy for Regina and Zelena while they are committing some of their most terrible acts of villainy, because the story has now gone to lengths to explain that they were sad the whole time. We ignore both the suffering they cause in others and the fact that they were sad due to situations they largely created themselves. The disposability of characters in this show has always been a problem, but it seems even worse than usual to me in these episodes. Ingrid became more sympathetic to us over the course of the season, but there was never a point where the show seemed to say “well, that’s all right then” about anything that she did.

(I can talk about “Swan Song” if anyone wants, but I feel the emphasis was very different there.)

When you provide a sympathetic focus to how the villain feels *while they are engaged in acts of villainy*, that’s… well, that kinda skeeves me out. It approaches if doesn’t downright become excuse-making; the audience is led to prioritize one character’s emotional state over others’ actual lives. The victims become invisible in this scheme. Given that we’ve already replaced Robin with a new version who was never Zelena’s victim -- a novel form of erasure I must admit -- I really cannot enjoy any of this storylne.

The Mills’ sisters relationship in this episode, in this whole season, has been one dose of high-octane weird after another. They start the season on a high note, but it quickly sours; even at her nicest, with all of the darkness(™) sucked out of her heart, Regina can’t forgive Zelena for her role in Robin’s death. The evil side of Regina, meanwhile, courts Zelena on the strength of their grotesque similarities, only to betray her and eventually try to kill her. Since the two Regina halves made up and split their evil difference, Zelena has barely been in the story at all, but it seems that Regina has extended no olive branches. In this episode, Regina -- who certainly doesn’t seem any nicer to me than she ever has in the past -- is quick to take on a self-righteous tone, quick to take offense and to dismiss her sister’s losses, quick to attack when Zelena fails to cooperate. She can be magnanimous at the end of the episode, of course, secure now in being the more powerful of the Mills sisters, but I am at a loss to figure how we’re supposed to take all of this.

It seems to me that they decided against Regina as the final villain at some point, but also that they forgot to write Regina as even marginally likeable after making that choice.

As much as I enjoy looking at her, the Black Fairy continues to be the worst villain in the history of the show, on a par with Hades. There’s no THERE there, no history, no connection, no motives -- a void where there should be a story element. Literally all she has done at this point is talk (and kill that one guy in the flashback). I could not care less about whatever additional bit of sad backstory they’re going to saddle Rumple with this weekend.

#b thinks about once upon a time #ouat 6x18 #anti regina #anti zelena

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fyeahwonderbat · 8 years ago

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Wonderbat prompt: Diana finds out she's slowly losing her immortality the longer & farther away she is from Paradise Island. She & Bruce discuss the implications for Diana and whether or not she should return home versus a possible future for them together.

“I can’t believe it’s still here.” That haunting voice found her just as it had the day they met, the way his breath crept along the bare skin of her neck however was something much newer, more tantalizing than she would have found it a year ago.

Diana could not look away from the ‘Sword of Alexander’ as it rested in its glass case, for she feared that Bruce would see her to be just as fraudulent as the artifact they had been standing next to when they spoke for the very first time. Instead, she hardened her voice when she answered him, “I can; the pride of a collector diminishes over the years, and the hubris of man takes its place.”

“I hope you don’t think of my gallery in the cave like that.” The Batman quipped at her – joked at her otherwise sullen response. She wasn’t a fool, she knew why he was trying to be sociable and create a pleasant air around them before carrying on with the conversation she had abandoned earlier that night. The gala was just as crowded as she remembered and the air was just as posh as she expected, which is why she had tried to escape from her world as a superhero and return the alias of Diana Prince, in order to find some reprieve from the calamity that intended to curse her no matter which façade she wore.

She had worn a dazzling black and blue dress that seemed to represent her battered soul.

She had driven herself to the event, taking care of herself as she always had done.

She had hoped she could sample the artifacts at the party – authentic or otherwise – and find peace in the history of worlds she had never participated in.

Regardless of her wishes, Diana wasn’t at all surprised that Bruce had found her. His detective skills made him quite the expert of hide and seek, especially with those who wished to remain hidden. So, as a kind gesture of acceptance to being discovered, Diana softly gazed over her shoulder at her partner and conceded, “Your gallery is worth more with all you have collected from your one lifetime of adventures than this gala has, all together.”

The unashamed compliment caught Bruce off-guard, for she managed to chip away at the socialite persona he was wearing rather easily. In silence did they stare each other down, Diana feeling both small and tall as she observed the proudest man she knew. Wonder Woman could be one of the strongest beings on Earth, and she would always demonstrate herself with grace as well as power, but there was something about the Batman and the man beneath all of that armour that managed to prey upon the indestructible Amazon.

Her heart was in his hands, whether he wanted it or not.

Unable to stand the silence, Diana swiveled her body and took merely two steps away from him before his hand found her arm, just as it had the last time she had tried to escape him. If only she had been successful the first time. “Bruce, not here.” Diana warned.

Without taking a moment to breathe, Bruce shot back in her ear, “Then let’s go home.”

“My apartment needs a thorough cleaning.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I don’t think you want to visit Themyscira.”

“Don’t play games with me right now,” voice firm, grip tense, Bruce’s ability to banter was suddenly lost to him, easily replaced by his scolding nature. “You can’t just fly out of the cave because you don’t like what you’re hearing and expect me to—”

Ripping her arm away from him was child’s play due to her strength and therefore looked effortless and unproblematic to anyone nearby. The fire in her eyes, though, were clearly not to be trifled with. “How dare you. It was you who did not wish to hear me. And when I give you the space you so clearly desire, you follow me regardless. There is nothing I can do for you, Bruce. If you wish for me to accept your choice, then respect my decision to end a conversation where neither of us are willing to give in to the other.”

This time, Bruce stumbled in keeping pace with her conversationally. In all honesty, Diana did not expect herself to snap at him with little to no effort, but there was something eternally vexing about Mr. Wayne that no amount of time in his presence could cure. Bottling up her emotions as she had ever since she had learned the wretched news had done wonders to her patience and she could think of no one better than Bruce to release her fury upon.

When he seemed to recover from her tongue lashing, the bat glowered as he motioned with his now empty hand toward a doorway that was off to her right. “Perhaps we could discuss this somewhere more private?”

“I think we have discussed things as much as we possibly can. This is now my decision, Bruce, as the consequences no longer affect you—”

Diana was silenced, not by words, but by Bruce’s expression. His eyes grew wide while the rest of his face turned to stone before his heroic instincts could compel his body to move. “Everybody, RUN!” He bellowed loud enough to shatter the peaceable tone of the event. In the blink of an eye, the cold brush of a winter’s breeze ran over Diana’s skin for a reason she could not comprehend as she pulled behind an artifact stand. There was no explosion, no bullet or laser to avoid. Instead, a sickening cackle floated on the wind and sent a fierce chill down her spine.

“No…”

“Don’t cause too much of a fuss, everyone,” chided the intruder, the volume of his voice growing louder even though there were no steps to warn of his approach. As the guests of the gala scattered without reform, there was not an ounce of concern to be shown. “After all, I’m not here for any of you.”

From their crouched position behind the massive stand of ancient weaponry, Bruce tapped his ear piece almost as quickly as Barry might have. “Victor, come in. I need you to take down the security cameras here. We have a situation.”

While Batman focused on the covert angles of their operation, Diana decided to peak out of their hiding spot to assess the damage that had been done, and the perpetrator who was more than likely willing to cause more. To her momentary surprise, the wall she had been standing before just moments ago had seemingly vanished without a trace. That chilling air had flooded the party like a spilled glass of wine, spoiling the festivities. But that wasn’t the reason that Wonder Woman had gasped when she had heard that sickening laughter as the intruder let himself in. Her bright eyes scanned the room and upon finding her target, she bit out a name that she had hoped to never utter again, no matter how many years more she had to live. “Faust.”“You know this man?” Bruce inquired, but his question fell on deaf ears. Instead of satisfying his curiosity, Diana leapt to her feet and glanced down at her signature gauntlets. Ever since she had agreed to become a hero again, she had never taken them off. Fighting Faust would be a perfect example as to the benefit of always being prepared.

Stepping out from behind the display, Wonder Woman sized up her opponent while his back was turned to her. The room had indeed emptied of all other guests – Bruce’s warning and the levitating man to follow were enough motivation for the upper class party goers to flee – and therefore, there would be no causalities when they fought.

A perfect outlet for her frustrations, this night was turning out to be.

“What sort of deal did you make with Hades this time?” Elegant as always, Diana sneered at the sorcerer. His cliché cape fluttered about his body while he stood before the Sword of Alexander, fixated on it so much so that he did not even turn to look at her when she addressed him.

“Ah, Princess Diana. I was wondering where you were when I visited Themyscira.” Faust found everything funny, or so it appeared, given that he could not keep himself from chuckling for more than a moment or two.

Refusing to be baited by his cruelty, she bypassed his claim and rephrased her question, “What are you doing here?”

The old man sighed and finally decide to acknowledge her, his boredom with their interaction plain to see on his face, let alone to hear it in his tone. “Relax, child. I came here for this sword alone, the one that is said to cut through the Gordian Knot. I am trying to conduct myself much less…aggressively, I promise you. Had I known you’d be here tonight I would have rescheduled my intrusion.”

“How thoughtful of you.” Diana mockingly answered. She did not show it on her face, nor in her stance, yet she couldn’t help but wonder where Bruce had gone off to or why he had not revealed himself. She did not want to move on Faust until he had given her reason to do so; magic was not something she was unfamiliar with, but rather, something she had learned not to trifle with if at all possible.

Unaware of her hesitations, Faust waved his hand at the sword and grumbled as if he was much younger than his deal with the devil had made him. “However, you yourself must know that this sword is nothing but a fake. And now I—…must find the original.”

Ignoring the hitch in his voice, Diana warned him, “I am sure the dark forces you work with would be more than willing to assist you, wherever it is that you typical contact them from.”

“Yes, they could. Or, I am sure you could help now, couldn’t you? Yes, you Amazons know a great deal about historical artifacts. If you are here, dressed as you are, attending the event of some mortal…then you must live among men now, don’t you, princess?” The sickening way that his grin curled was just as uncomfortable to witness as Lex Luthor’s speech about Zeus had been.

“Amazons are meant to protect all of mankind—”

“But Hippolyta had forced you all to forsake that duty a few millennia ago. No” – suddenly, he teleported himself so that he was standing directly before her, with no warning of any kind – “you’ve been banished, haven’t you? Princess Diana is a princess no more.”

Again, his blatant attempt to rile her missed the mark. Instead, the curious Amazon moved to ask the most important question she could think of, “What do you want the sword for, Faust?” She knew that he could easily harm her with a handful of different spells – to disembowel her, to flay her skin, to force her brain to implode – but Faust was one of her more reasonable villains, and she suspected that they both had something the other wanted before their encounter could turn violent.

Much more gracious than she recalled him to be, the sorcerer revealed rather effortlessly, “I need it to unlock the lost library of Tsar Ivan IV Vasilyevich.” Cut and dry, he admitted to be hunting for the legendary stronghold of Ivan the Terrible’s collected and translated books. Diana knew that such a myth held great weight in the world of historical finds, given that many original philosophical scrolls and multitudes of books that had been presumably lost to the world were said to be hidden in such a mysterious place. No one had ever found its location and before her now stood a sorcerer who claimed to need such a sword in order to reveal the location of the long lost library?

“You know where such a place is—”

“Diana,” he patronized her with the way he said her name. “I provided you with a great deal of information, have I not? My background in alchemy requires that I receive equivalency of exchange.” Then, expecting his reward thusly, Faust’s eyes glazed over with a disturbing shade of indigo, gazing deep into Diana’s mind to the point that she could feel his stare piercing the inside of her skull. It felt like immaterial, boney hands were digging through her memories, searching for whatever it was that suited the needs of their caster. The location of the real sword…

A gas bomb exploded at her feet, the thick fog rising with momentum and encircling her body. A signature of her missing ally, no doubt.

Thankfully, it also disrupted Faust’s mind games; he lost contact with her memories and violently ripped himself out of her head. Diana gritted her teeth through the inexplicable pain so as not to give the wicked man the satisfaction of harming her. She knew that the disruption wouldn’t be a great hindrance to the man, so Diana utilized her Hermes-inspired speed and galloped backwards until she was nearly on the edge of where the missing wall was supposed to be. A chorus of police sirens alerted her of incoming reinforcements, but she knew that this matter was not meant for ‘mortals’, as the sorcerer had referred to them.

However, it seemed as though there would be nothing for the police to do upon their arrival, for through the fog came a rather insidious voice. “Well now, that was our least dramatic interaction, I’d say. Let’s agree to make this the positive end to our tumultuous relationship, shall we?” And just like that, the man who made it his goal to ruin the night of hundreds of people came and went in the matter of minutes. The wall that was not reassembled upon Faust’s departure was the only true grievance of the random and unwanted encounter.

“Diana!” Bruce called to her while he ran through the remnants of the fog he had created. His silhouette looked much more intimidating than she knew the unmasked man to be, and a devilish part of her – that unapologetic heart of hers – welcomed his incoming presence greatly after what she had just endured. They were alone as the heavy dissipated, much to the Batman’s evident disappointment; scowling while he scanned the empty showcase of a room, he made is natural instincts appear so effortless, all while forgetting how miserable he looked when he was working.

How headstrong and surprisingly blinded he could be.

“The police are coming, and I imagine that all of the guests are scattered across the property—”

Before Diana could finish her own assessment of their predicament, the ruthless, blunt, questionably cruel Batman blurted out, “You need to fly us out of here. It’s the only way we can avoid being connected to this.”

The truth of his words were immediately overridden by the awkward and instant reminder of the very conversation they had had earlier that night, the one that made her exit the BatCave in a huff and attend such a stuffy event, the very one that forced him to hunt her down. The tension between them returned to the very intensity she had escaped of her own volition, yet she was immersed in it once again mere hours later due to the selfish unpredictability of the bat.

Her frown was deep and somehow transparent. Diana stood her ground, taking a powerful Amazonian-like stance, as the stress of the evening and the headache in her mind propelled her forward. Knowing their entire escape operation rested on her shoulders gave her the confidence to bite out, “Had you succeeded in sending me away tonight, you would have lost your means of escape.”

Beneath his heavy brow, Bruce’s eyes burned into hers like the very hellfire that her people protected Man’s World from. “I am not sending you away.”

“You brought me into your world – you made me into a hero again!”

“I know that. But had I known that your immortality would be put at risk in all of this, I wouldn’t have—”

She couldn’t barely stand before him without her anger causing her skin to tingle, let alone listening to him finish that sentence. “Wouldn’t have, what? Lived through our battle with Doomsday?”“Diana—”

“Used my abilities to help you build your Justice League?”

“Amanda Waller can’t know that we were here!”

“Allowed yourself to fall in love with a dying woman?”

It looked as if she had punched him with all of her goddess-esqe might, the way Bruce Wayne’s stomach looked as if it recoiled beneath his fancy, expensive, upper class suit. The respect she held for the man she had been romantically involved with for months – pining for unbeknownst to either of them for much longer – was no longer a barricade to shield him from the animosity she housed within her. If her encounter with Faust had taught her anything, it was that she had no genuine reason to desert her chaotically assembled family; they were the people who she had found and built a comradery with all on her own, for the first time in one hundred years.

How dare the man who claimed to love her expect her to leave this life of hers behind.

She had half a mind to leave him behind, as her astute sense of hearing immediately noticed the incoming parade of heavy feet, charging towards the very room they were having their stand-off in. But Diana was a hero, as she so easily accused him of forcing her into the role. Approaching him and grabbing hold of his waist easily enough, she braced her feet before shooting sky high. Her raised fist easily shattered a skylight she had spotted and she took off all too quickly for anyone on the ground to notice. The sturdy body she had pressed against her own was distracting in every sense of the word, only her ingrained responsibility as a trained warrior granting her focus while she tried to find a safe space to land.

And she did, on top of the Daily Planet building.

Upon releasing him from her grasp, Bruce reached for his face with both hands and scrubbed it with great frustration. He paced a few steps away from her and said not a word about the neutral territory in which she wished to conduct the rest of their conversation. Diana felt as though she was observing one of the many beasts that lived on Themyscira, the ferocious felines that she used to stalk and prey upon in the hopes of a different sort of challenge when the battle arena with her sisters had bored her once again; from left to right, Bruce skulked in each direction exactly twelve steps at a time, claiming a great deal of the rooftop for himself.

He also chose to claim the first word of their continuation, as he snapped at her, channelling the befuddled emotions that were buzzing between them. “How can you expect me to turn a blind eye to this? Huh? When your mother sends word to me about you losing your immortality the longer you are away from your home, how am I—”

Diana tossed her hand in front of her with the intent of dashing his mistake. “Themyscira is not my only home anymore!”

“Your apartment in Washington and the Manor aren’t tied to whether or not you can survive another battle like Doomsday’s!” A few of his once tidy strands of hair fell almost cautiously over his forehead. A jerk reaction, a tense hand shot upward in order to brush them away and it was almost as though he placed his CEO mask on in the process. “Whether or not you return to Themyscira, it won’t detract from the immeasurable value you’ve had in constructing the League.”

In that instant, the wind that had been taunting her at the party found her on that battlefield of a rooftop and rushed over her, almost as if it was trying to side with Bruce and blow her away. Nevertheless, it was the cruel dismissal in his words that stole the air from her lungs. “This isn’t about holding onto my mantle as a co-founder of the Justice League. Do not stand there and lie to me, avoiding the true issue we should be discussing right now.”

“The issue is whether or not I allow you to use the League as an excuse to die a warrior’s death!”

Allow?

Excuse?

A warrior’s death?

“Hera, give me strength!” The cry from her mouth was pleading, desperate and enraged before she stepped towards the man she had somehow managed to love as she threatened, “If I had my lasso, I wouldn’t be at all hesitant in using it on you!”

“You’d need to use it on yourself, first! Do not lie to me and pretend that losing your immortality isn’t something that scares you, Diana! Fight me up here, threaten to use your mythological arsenal on me, but don’t lie to me, either.” His voice was loud, forceful, all while tempered. It was the way he spoke to his villains when they were gifted one last chance to listen to reason, before he threw them into a cell at Arkham Asylum. The empathy he had scarcely shown her was no more and it provided a great deal of relief to the impatient Wonder Woman.

However, there was another part of her – one that had been cruelly uncovered by his proclamation – that was not at all pleased to see this side of him.

Never one to stagger, she stood her ground. She knew that the silence was a sign of weakness, of a partial forfeit, yet there were no words waiting on her once lashing tongue. She had been so intent on pushing her disgruntled feelings onto Bruce and his immediate favour to send her back to Themyscira that she had not given herself the opportunity to process her own emotions in regard to the prospect of…dying.

Of losing some of her invincibility.

Of saying goodbye to a portion of her strength that had allowed her to help a young Steve Trevor and the Allies, that gifted her the chance to play a major role in creating Man’s World’s greatest form of defence against evil.

Of joining her long-lost friends and soldiers in the ground, where they were laid to rest when their mortality stole them from this world.

Once more did the breeze whip her all over her body, despite the numbness inside of her that could not be ruled by such vicious treatment. She had been exposed to death her entire life – Diana’s people guarded the door to Hades’ realm, where all the world’s departed spent eternity – but to have the possibility of it claiming her when she least expected, while powerless and…no longer wondrous, was something that she could not bear to imagine.

“I” – a deep breath was required before carrying their conversation onward – “did not lie to you. I never once denied how frightening death can be.”

A guarded expression was Bruce’s answer to her personal assessment, a silent testament to his understanding of her words.

Placing a hand over her heart, Diana closed her eyes and tried to regain the stability she so typically housed within herself. Fear could be crippling if she allowed it to possess her, especially when the trauma of the first World War had haunted her all of these years and could still wake her in the middle of the night whenever it chose to rear its ugly head within her mind.

Her mind…

Faust had invaded her mind, looking for information that would help locate Ivan the Terrible’s missing library.

Instantly, her innate need to help, to hunt, to discover welled up inside of her and toppled the twisted knot of horror inside of her, cutting through it much faster than that infamous Sword of Alexander could have hoped to cut the Gordian Knot.

Diana fixed an awaiting Bruce with her brown-eyed stare and decreed, “But I will never return to Themyscira, and I think you know this. I have spent the last one hundred years wandering from place to place, pointlessly existing with these powers of mine, homeless since I left my people and entered into Man’s World. My immortality was not something I earned or forged – it was gifted to me, and I have used it to accomplish many great things.

“I stole my girdle and my sword to do what I felt was right. It is the same with you, Bruce, with your bat suits and your gadgets and your nightly patrols of your city: I cannot imagine ever doing anything else with my life, and I will continue doing what it is I was born to do until the day I die, just as I imagine you plan to do, too.”

This time, when her words attempted to impale him, Bruce Wayne looked as if he was ready to hiss at her in yet another protest. Unwilling to be denied any further, she sauntered over to her sullen partner, her hopefully permanent lover, and squared off against him face to face. Towering over him ever so slightly, she had to do her best not to smile victoriously despite the power play she had made in approaching him.

Taking a moment to pause, Bruce puffed his chest with a heavy inhalation of breath. “Fighting alongside an immortal goddess is less life-threatening than being with a mortal Amazon.” As true as his words may be, the implication that he intended to be with her still, that he knew he had lost, meant the world to Diana in that one blissful moment.

Then, the Batman whispered to her such tender words that she nearly missed on the wind, “Watching you die would have an…extreme impact on my mortality, as well.” Finally, after all of their heated words and avoidance of the main issue, the root of the matter was brought into play. It was a secret admission which possessed so much of Bruce’s own internalised terror in one short remark that it reverberated within Diana’s powerful body just as fiercely as her own worries had. In a very connective and yet inappropriate gesture, she couldn’t help but smile to finally hear the words that she had courageously been hoping to hear ever since her mother’s words somehow found the BatCave.

“Then shall we go home?” Diana teased him quite openly. The insufferable weight of their bought had been laid to rest at their feet, and Wonder Woman was ready to take to the skies if it meant that they could resume their once peaceful private life, amongst the fury of their alter egos. Eagerly did she hold out her hand to him, choosing to be much gentler this time as she prepared to escort him back to the manor.

“You know, you were right, princess.” As if he hadn’t heard her question or seen her outstretched hand, Bruce reverted to a more common façade and appeared to be much more like the public version of himself; he wore a smile that tipped up in only one corner of his lips, just as he had grinned at her when she had poked fun at his boyish behaviour with Luthor’s hard drive.

“What about?” She felt it was appropriate to ask.

Reaching for her hand and allowing himself to be carted home by her metahuman ability to fly, the typically guarded dark knight gifted his partner, his lover with a rare compliment as he referred back to their very first conversation and said, “I don’t think I ever have or ever will know a woman like you.”

As she secured him against her hip, the lapping winds urging her to take flight, Diana’s full lips couldn’t keep from smiling as she ordered, “Hold onto me tightly.” And those words were meant to hold true for a great deal longer than their mere flight home.

((A/N: Aha! Did you think I forgot my promise already? Nay! I have been slaving over this one since Tuesday and I just needed it to feel like a full story before posting it, so it took more time than expected. Yes, they returned to the very spot where they spoke for the first time in Batman V Superman~ Aren’t I romantic? I feel as though I have touched on the issue of Diana losing her immortality in another story, but this one allowed them to have it out without it feeling inevitable, you know? Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and feel free to prompt me whenever you’d like! ~ Maiden

P.S. 4,686 words, yo!))

#maiden writes #post bvs #wonderbat #wonderbat fanfiction #story: Give and Take

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