#figured i would kick the hornets nest

[elgringo300]

why is everybody angry about steve being played by jack black specifically because he's white?

like

his skin color is ambiguous, he's like in a limbo state. You could make him almost any skin color and it would be accurate. why is this your biggest complaint?

[bilbao-song]

a few more highlights fresh from 1996 and 1997

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.177 Daredevil

It got late, and I decided we needed to wrap up the night. We were right across the street from the rental, but I didn't want to mess around and find out this city is unsafe at night. My thought was to go inside for a drink, but it was kind of crowded, so we took a bench just outside one of the entrances for my next party trick.

"You know I love you, right?" I said.

"Yes, Luca."

"And you know I'd do anything for you..."

She nodded.

"And you know-"

"Luca! Stop."

Okay, I threw that last one in there to make her laugh.

"Okay. I'll get to the point. When I bought the flowers, I saw they had all kinds of sweet treats..."

Her eyes lit up just like I thought they would.

"They had chocolate, strawberries, and all the usuals. But you know what I got?"

I pulled out the pink box, and she sat on the end of the bench, waiting anxiously to know what tantalizing goodness awaited her. I sat there for a few seconds, toying with her emotions.

"Luca, open the box!!"

I laughed so hard. Upon threat of harm, I opened the box, and she gasped.

"DONUT HOLES?!?!? You really do love me!"

Score! She clamored for the box, but I snatched it away.

"Wait, now. Let me feed you like they do in the movies."

It only took her two seconds to get all doe eyed on me and open her mouth wide.

My plan was to be funny and toss one into her mouth like a basketball, but my plan backfired. I missed her mouth. Like, entirely. It hit her in the nose and crashed down to the ground. Sophia gasped again even louder.

"Save it, Luca!!"

If I weren't trying to go after it like we didn't have eight more in the box, I would have laughed at her concern for this lone donut hole.

Needless, I let her eat her own donuts after that. No, she did not share, and that was fine by me.

The air got chilly, and Sophia wanted to get away from the breeze and go inside. That was actually perfect because I had one last trick up my sleeve. The gift shop also had all kinds of nectars from all over the worlds. Since strawberries are related to romance, I bought a bottle of strawberry nectar and poured us a glass. I don't know what they put in that stuff, but my lips got real loose. Like I said before, I'm not a romantic dude, but I sure was spitting some serious game that night. My tongue was so silver, they could give it out as an award. I didn't know I had it in me, and neither did Sophia. She was surprised at first, but she ate it all the way up.

But I didn't stop there. I went from dropping lines to kicking the hornet's nest. I should have known better than to start something I can't finish, but I just couldn't get enough of her, and it was so nice having uninterrupted time together. She, too, fought a losing battle, and I knew I needed to stop or figure out how to make this happen because there was no way we were taking this back to the house. The way we get down? Dub will never invite us anywhere again, heh. She cut her eyes at me in that way when we're about to fly to Sixam. I looked around to see if we were alone because we just might have to get arrested for public indecency.

"Closet," she said with urgency.

I looked at it with a raised eyebrow, thinking I'd rather go to jail than find out if that closet is clean or not.

"Seriously?"

"Come on! It'll be fun. No one is around anyway."

I've never turned down my wife, and I was not about to start. She always finds ways to get me to do things I've never done.

Closet woohoo!! Who knew?

[theprinceandthewitch]

I'm definitely kicking the hornets nest with this one but I always thought it was weird how Marcelines "fallen hero" characterization wasn't really utilized... like at all throughout the show.

Marceline is mostly defined by these characters: Simon, her father, The Vampire King and Princess Bubblegum, with PB and Simon taking the forefront.

Which I thought was weird since PB isn't defined by her relationship with Marceline or any other character. PB gets to exist outside of bubbline and other characters while Marceline doesn't.

And... I honestly dont know why that is, other than the writers just don't like Marceline as much as Princess Bubblegum. I don't think they hate her, but they would rather write PB episodes than Marceline episodes. PB is a more interesting and fun character to write for them. They also need to keep up the illusion she's just as bad as Princess Bubblegum by... not actually making Marceline as bad as Princess Bubblegum. Or really doing anything with Marceline other than using her to develop Simon, making her a depressed goth baddie, or creating Bubbline ship fuel.

Yes, I still will not forgive the show for straight up saying Bubblegums shirt [the one Marceline gave her] held more sentimental value than Hambo. Ah yes... the shirt Bubblegums ex gave her holds sooo much more sentimental value compared to the doll Marcelines beloved father figure gave her when she was literally a defenseless child in a post apocalyptic wasteland.

Can ya tell which character they like more?

Anyways...

People usually reference "It Came from The Nightosphere" as evidence of Marceline being as bad as PB but: She didn't summon her father to Ooo - Finn did. Therefore, that was FINN'S mess to clean up and not Marcelines.

The only time she really goes out of her way to mess with people is when she's being an asshole to Finn and Jake in earlier seasons.

Oh right, and using Finn to get back at PB that one time. But other than that - Marcy hasn't done anything thats puts her on par with a dictator.

Unlike PB who will literally gaslight a lemon child into cleaning up a mess she created... or how she would rather kill an entire squad of sentient robot guards for being too violent rather than like... idk... train them to become less violent... Or how literally anything that comes from PB's DNA turns out to be straight up evil... Or how she will perform child friendly lobotomies on her people while having the audacity to say how some people are just built different...

The point is Marcy is definitely not a "good" person, but she's not on that "literal fascist with a god complex" type of shit like PB is.

Another way they maintain this illusion is by separating Marceline and Finn, because if they got more episodes together then you'd have to address Marcelines "fallen hero" characterization. They're not going to address this part of Marcelines character because they were having a grand time making PB into a fascist. So they can't make Marceline anymore sympathetic than she already is. Remember, Marceline is supposed to be as monstrous as PB is.

This is why Marcy doesn't have any episodes with Finn post "Into the Nightosphere" and why we don't get any Finn and Marcy episodes until... [checks notes] Stakes... and even then those arent Finn and Marcy episodes. Like they only time we see them hang out together is when they make a cameo in Dark Purple.

I'm not counting Bad Little Boy as a Finn and Marcy episode because it's more of a Marceline introspection episode focusing on her feelings for Finn.

But yeah i think this show is funny for completely neglecting to make Marcy just as bad as PB is. Ah yes, she is just as PB because Marcy... [checks notes] has depression. Being depressed makes ya just as bad as a dictator dont cha know...

It's also funny how they want me to think Bubblegum isn't as bad as Ashe even though theyre literally the same character - they're both ancient beings with god complexes LMAO.

[arealphrooblem]

A Favor for a Favor Part One

This was written for an original exchange and it got way out of hand lol. The link to the full fic will be at the bottom but I thought it would be fun to throw it up here in parts. This does have named and gendered characters though

Synopsis:

When Roxanne -- Agent name Rocket -- is back-stabbed by a friend and given a serum that drains her of her powers and leaves her helpless, she has no choice but to turn to the one person she can't trust: Her nemesis -- a politician and king of the underworld. With her powerless and in the palm of his hand, what he decides to do with her is greatly influenced by their chance meeting as teenagers that neither of them have been able to forget.

When Roxanne turned 12, she kicked her soccer ball into a tree at the edge of the park. She’d done this many times before, because her aim was shit, which was probably why she never made the soccer team at her school. But this tree was different -- it had a hornet’s nest on the back. 

Roxanne had never actually seen a hornet before that day. Never in her life had she heard a sound more ominous, more terrifying than the buzz of hundreds of them, bigger than her thumb, rising like a dark cloud from behind the tree. 

She didn’t think. She just ran. 

And the whole world changed.   

It was like the entire city became a game of freeze tag or red light/green light. The entire population stood still while she dodged between them. And not just people. Cars stood still on the street, birds stopped mid flight in the air, a stream of pee froze between a dog and a fire hydrant. 

Maybe it was more accurate to say that the world became a photograph and only she could move around in it.

When she stopped, out of breath at her stoop, the world jumped back into motion again.  

Her power gave her freedom beyond anything she ever imagined as a child, and so she kept it a tightly guarded secret against her well meaning but overprotective parents. 

The loss of it now was excruciating. Her body moved like a drunk snail, even worse with her injuries.  The world crawled by at an agonizing pace. And she became so acutely aware of how helpless she was without it as she sat in the backseat of a car, blindfolded and trussed up like a pig at a luau, waiting to be delivered into the hands of her worst enemy. 

The Past

The first time they met, the biggest worry she had was completing her anatomy project. The deadline followed her like a shark’s fin, complete with the Jaws theme that played in her head. Any minute now the panic of her procrastination was going to rise from the depths and chomp her in half.

Which was how she found herself walking home from the public library far later than usual, guided only by dim streetlights.  Normally she would just run home  -- the distance from her front door to the library took fifteen seconds when she  used her super speed. But the sooner she got home, the sooner she had to start on her project, so tonight Roxanne took the normal, slow way back. 

Halfway home, a figure stumbled from an alleyway, colliding into her. Before she could right her balance, he quickly shoved her off of him, almost tumbling her into the street. 

“Hey!” she snapped, but he paid no attention to her, running crookedly down the sidewalk. 

He was probably drunk, trying to sneak home before his wife found out. Or maybe he was late for the subway train. Or maybe he was just an asshole.

The next streetlamp revealed a bloody hand print on her shoulder where he had pushed her. Alarm seized her, kept her frozen for long, excruciating seconds. 

Oh shit. 

Oh shit .

The revving of a car motor snapped her out of her panic induced haze. Roxanne lurched forward, becoming too fast for the human eye to track. The man had disappeared from the sidewalk, so she ducked into bodegas and side streets until she found him propped up behind a dumpster. 

Hiding. 

She crouched down before him. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

Which was a stupid question to ask; the answer was a glaringly obvious no. But she always rambled when she got nervous, which was why her presentations always went way over time. 

The man slurred something in response. She couldn’t understand a word of it. It didn’t sound like the kind of drunk slurring she heard at her friends’ parties. Maybe he’d been drugged. Did someone try to kidnap him?

“Where are you bleeding?” she asked again. “Can you point for me?”

He tried to wave her off, the hand in her face covered in blood from a cut on his upper forearm. There could be more, but he probably wasn’t even in his right mind to understand her. 

“We need to get you to a hospital,” she told him, pulling out her phone. 

He mumbled something at that, sounding panicked. It sounded like no .

“It’s okay,” she soothed. “They will take care of you. I��ll even go with you so you’re not alone.”

His slicked, bloody hand wrapped around her wrist , squeezing hard .

NO

She heard it and didn’t. The word echoed -- screamed -- around her, like the word of God. It blasted in her head. She felt it in her chest. 

He was Powered. That definitely complicated things, especially if he was unregistered like her. 

“Okay, okay,” she said. “No hospitals. No cops. But I can’t leave you here, so . . .I guess you’re coming with me.”

Before he could scream-think at her again, Roxanne pulled him up by his shirt and leaned him against the wall. He could barely stand. With some maneuvering and a few extra tries,s he managed to get him on her back. Then she blurred home. 

Thank God it was only a couple blocks away. He was heavy. 

The Present

She didn’t need her blindfold off to tell where they had stopped. The ocean lapping close by, the echo of pigeons above her, the smell of rust and dirt. The freezing cold air.

An empty warehouse by the docks. 

They had to carry her like a sack of potatoes because of how tightly they bound her legs and dropped her roughly onto a chair. 

“This is ridiculous,” she pouted. “I came willingly.”

“Our boss always made it clear never to take any chances with you,” replied one of the men with a snort. 

Well, she couldn’t blame him for that. Over the years, she’d been responsible for breaking a lot of his power in the city underworld and losing him a lot of money. Like a lot . 

Not to mention she needed the shadow that her power’s reputation cast to last as long as possible. Once the truth got out she was toast. 

He could have made her wait in that freezing warehouse as her limbs went slowly numb just to be a dick. She fully expected it. 

Instead, she heard the rumble of another car pull up just when her finger tips started to feel tingly. Then came the distinct sound of his slow, sure footsteps in his Italian leather loafers.

“An abandoned warehouse by the docks?” she complained. “Could you get any more cliched?”

“If it works, it works,” he replied. “I don’t try to reinvent the wheel.”

He stopped in front of her and she could feel the smirk on his face. 

“I should take a picture to immortalize this moment. I never thought I would see the Rocket so  . . .still.”

She’d squirm if she could move. Panic kicked at her chest like a wild horse. It took all her effort to contain it. 

Cool fingers pulled down the blindfold and her gaze met his dark eyes and yes, his smirk. 

“Hello, Roxanne.”

“Hello John,” she countered. 

“Please, I’m dying to know -- what on Earth drove you to offer yourself to me so . . .” he trailed off, his smirk disintegrating into shock. 

She could barely feel him this time. He glided into her mind like a canoe on a glassy river. 

“Oh Roxanne,” he breathed. “You are in trouble.”

Full story here:

Part 2 here

[year2000electronics]

Ok so what’s shimmer relationship like with the main cast like in the brotherhood au?

RUBS HANDS TOGETHER EVILLY. I ACTUALLY HAVE SOMETHING I WROTE A WHILE BACK ABT SHIM AND THE BROTHERS. HEHEHEHEHEEEE

i havent gotten to the outcasts Yet but. one day. i'll put it below the cut!!

“You probably don’t remember me, but-”

That was the first thing Shimmer had decided to say to baby Branch- no, it was just Branch now, wasn’t it? No matter how hard she looked at him, she could still only see the hopeful, gleaming eyes and the sweet smile as that kid she had come to briefly know so many years ago. It was a tough habit to kick- and the other members of the village clearly had a leg up on her with that.

“No, I remember you!” He replied, swinging his hands back and forth as the two of them walked through the village together. “Johnny doesn’t talk about you anymore, not really, but I remember going over to your pod!”

Shimmer tried her best not to seem too desperate for knowledge. Johnny? Her Johnny? Well- formerly hers. Not anymore? She knew it, he hated her, dammit, why did she come here-

“Oh, yeah? That so?” She laughed quietly. “Gosh, you’d make a mess of the place… you were so cute.”

“Yeah…” Branch said, looking off to the side. He was clearly quite a bit surprised, hearing someone talk about him through their sole memories of him being a baby. “It’s… been a long time since then, though.”

“I know, I know,” Shimmer assured quickly. “You’re all grown up now. And it makes me feel… very old.” She gave a laugh to shrug it off, but… it was true. Staring her in the face was the very sobering realization that it had been nearly two decades… Two decades since she had seen any of these people. And yet, somehow, despite Branch going from a baby to an adult…

…It felt like he had changed the least.

“Well- you don’t look very old,” Branch chirped. “Not to me.”

Shimmer looked back at him with a sort of sad smile, combing her hair out of her face.

“...You’re sweet, kid,” She mumbled. 

“No, really! You look Johnny’s age, and he’s not old, so… you’re not old either, right?” Branch grinned. He thought his logic was flawless, clearly. 

Shimmer snorted. “Is that how you see it?”

“Yup.”

Shimmer laughed, and decided to leave it at that. Branch’s peculiar little sense of humor did amuse her, to be sure. 

“So-” Shimmer asks after a bit of silence. “Do you mind if I ask you something, ah… a bit personal, kid?”

“Depends,” Branch said with a shrug. “What is it?”

“What was it like? Growing up here, I mean,” Shimmer asked.

Branch paused for a moment, to think about it. He looked up at the sky, down at the ground, every which way, except at her.

“Normal, I guess?” He shrugged. “We’re safe here, and I had my brothers. I don’t know what else a guy could want.”

Shimmer supposed she should have expected an answer like that. Of course Branch would see everything as deceptively normal. From the time she spent at the village, she didn’t exactly discover any blood sacrifices or chaos magic rituals happening behind closed doors or anything, and even though John and his brothers had morphed into slightly mythic figures, they weren’t referred to as His Holiness or anything. 

“Guess so,” Shimmer replied. “I was just… gone for so long, I’ve been curious, I suppose. About all the changes.”

“There aren’t that many,” Branch mumbled.

“No?”

“No.”

That’s what Branch’s mouth said. But his eyes told a different story. 

—---------------------- 

Shimmer sat down in Bruce’s pod, staring him down. 

His hand automatically moved to grab some matchmaker’s tarot cards when Shimmer lowered it before he could.

He glanced up at her, confused.

“Don’t,” She grunted. “I’m not here for that. I don’t even want to know.”  The sooner she could stop Bruce from doing the matchmaking thing, the better. There was a whole nest of hornets there- and whatever he said about her “potential prospects” would just remind her that a part of her never moved on from John Dory. 

“Then-” Bruce furrowed his brow, leaning back. “What are you here for?”

Shimmer gave him a surprised glance. “For you. Is that so hard to believe?”  

Bruce scoffed, leaning on one of his hands as he pressed his elbow onto the table. “Usually people come to the matchmaker’s pod because they want their match made, miss Shimmer. And yet, here you are, asking for me and not even wanting a match while you’re here! I think that makes you the strange one.”

Shimmer groaned. “Neither of us are strange, Bruce, don’t play this game with me-” 

Bruce laughed. “Oh, man- I did miss this. How is it that I’m always able to get under your skin?”

“I don’t know, you little devil-” Shimmer snorted. She cleared her throat, combing some hair out of her face. “But- that’s the only part that feels like it hasn’t changed, after all this time. What’s someone like you doing with a job like… this?”

Bruce frowned. “Are you trying to imply this isn’t a real job? The village won’t like that.”

Shimmer furrowed her brow, putting a hand up. “That’s not what I said. I mean- this job feels so prestigious. And everyone I asked about you immediately followed ‘Bruce’ up with ‘The matchmaker’. Doesn’t that… bother you at all?”

“Would it really matter if it did?” Bruce said with a shrug. 

“I mean-!” Shimmer gave an exasperated sigh. “I… I just want to understand. Everyone here is used to this, used to you all being leaders, I was just…” She shrugged. “I guess I was just hoping an old friend might be able to help me stop sticking out like a sore thumb.”

Bruce frowned, studying Shimmer’s face and body language. She seemed to be sincere, though her pride clearly held her back from just straight-up begging. And he did feel quite a bit bad for her… it was true that Bruce and Shimmer had been pretty close back when he was Spruce, and back when Shimmer was “JD’s girl”. They got on each others’ nerves endlessly, but that was almost part of the charm.

…He could use something like that again, perhaps. Nowadays, the only teasing he could get away with was either to Baby Branch or doing something so subtle to JD and Floyd that most other people shouldn’t be able to notice. 

“...Being a matchmaker is fine,” Bruce began to speak. “I’m rarely ever wrong, I’ll have you know. People trust me, and I like that. It feels… good to be trusted, I guess.”

He took out a tarot card from his deck, studying it. “I mean- I’m trusted for manners of romance, friendship, intimacy… But nobody is puttin’ pressure onto me to be a leader. In a way, I guess… I’ve got the best job in town.” 

“Still,” Shimmer said quietly. “I wouldn’t mind hanging out with Bruce-the-man instead of Bruce-the-matchmaker. If you can bear taking some time off your busy schedule.”

Bruce tilted his head noncommittally. “I’ll think about it. Gotta keep up appearances, y’know. That’s a big part of everything.” 

“I guess,” Shimmer half heartedly agreed. “Not that I’d know.”

“It’s good that you don’t,” Bruce replied, an oddly soft tone in his voice. So soft that Shimmer dare not toe the line and ask him to elaborate on that. Her absence of a question, though, left the two of them sitting in the candlelit room in silence.

“...So what’s the story behind the new name?” Shimmer asked to break it.

“Eh,” Bruce waved a hand casually. “I wanted a reinvention.”

Shimmer paused, mulling that over. “It suits you,” She said, finally. 

“Thanks,” Bruce smirked. He held up a hand, tilting it towards her. Between his fingers was a tarot card.

“Hey! I thought I told you not to do the matchmaking thing!” Shimmer protested with a frown.

“Relax, miss Shimmer,” Bruce replied coyly. “This one’s just about your social standing.” 

She took the card from him, studying it- oh. It was The Star.

“It means renewal,” Bruce said simply.

—--------------------------

“Morning, Floyd. I’d apologize for interrupting but I feel like that ship’s sailed already,” Shimmer grunted, going to sit on a mat near where Floyd was meditating.

He cracked an eye open, glancing over at her. “...Shimmer,” He said with a simple nod.  

She began stretching her legs, grunting every so often- this type of stuff didn’t come as easy to her as she wanted it to. 

“...Why did you come back?” Floyd asked bluntly. That made Shimmer stop in her tracks, glancing over at the younger troll with a befuddled look on her face.

Floyd put his hands up in a gesture of false surrender. “I don’t mean it like that! Don’t misunderstand! It’s just… one doesn’t just wander back into a place like this without reason.”

“Well- it’s home,” Shimmer admitted, bending down to touch her toes. “I was feeling… disoriented. Like I had lost myself. I didn’t know where else to go, so… I came back home.”

“Yeah, sure, but… you said it yourself. This place has changed. So, I guess, a better question would be… what made you stay?” Floyd asked as he bent himself into a different position. His tone was casual and calm, but there was a certain hunger in his eyes that let Shimmer know that he was very invested in this line of conversation. 

Shimmer’s mouth went dry. That… that was a good question. Especially since Floyd was playing a bit of a dangerous game, where she would make a major social faux pas if she wasn’t careful- Floyd was implying that someone coming to the village and staying there was strange. Of course, it was a perfectly safe place, but Shimmer knew she and Floyd both could feel the gated-community vibe of the village where nobody ever comes in and nobody ever comes out. She counted herself damn lucky that they even let her in at all. 

“...I suppose I’d say- it’s because some part of this place didn’t change,” Shimmer mumbled. 

“Really?” Floyd asked, stretching one of his legs to the sky.

“Really. That’s what keeps me here… I think. It’s all very confusing, this new village stuff, but when I look at all my old friends here… I guess I can’t help but see the boys I used to know,” Shimmer bashfully said as if she was admitting a crime. 

“So you really believe that…” Floyd said quietly. “And- is it the same with me?”

“Sure it is,” Shimmer said, rolling over to be on her stomach as she grabbed one of her legs. “You were always the one who sat in the back, weren’t you? Just… watching. Soaking it all in. I still see a lot of that in you today. With Branch and Bruce, too, the more I talk to them, the more I realize there’s still parts of you I’ve met before.”

She sighed. “Stupid, I know.” 

“No, I don’t think it’s stupid at all…” Floyd replied. “I… I think it’s kinda nice, actually.” 

He smiled, looking up at the roof of the large cave they called home. He let the moment sit for a bit.

“Sometimes… I don’t really feel like that boy anymore. I don’t feel like I was ever him at all. It’s… confusing, I guess,” Floyd said at last.

“Ugh, tell me about it-” Shimmer grunted, stretching out another one of her joints. “I was looking at an old poster of myself yesterday, and it was like- who WAS she?” 

Floyd gave a gentle little laugh. “I guess we’re more alike than we thought, then. It’s… nice.”

“I don’t get to talk to people much about this stuff,” Floyd continued. “Me, Johnny and the others try to be strong… for the village. So- it just… doesn’t come up.”

Shimmer gave him a nervous glance. “I’m not stepping over a line, am I? You’d tell me if I broke some sort of village rule. You would. Right?”

“Calm down,” Floyd squeaked desperately. “You’re fine.” 

Shimmer sighed. “Sorry… sorry. It’s just-”

“A lot, yeah,” Floyd finished. “That’s the village for you.”

—-------------------------

Shimmer was never sure if it was her place to mourn Clay or not. She had known him once, but at the same time, that was a long time ago. Was it illogical that she felt like she didn’t deserve to mourn him like his brothers did? Maybe. But she couldn’t change how she felt.

Still, that wouldn’t stop her from leaving some lily-of-the-valleys near his memorial spot every now and again. 

“Sorry I missed you, Clay,” She murmured. “I would have liked to have gotten to know who you grew into.”

—---------------

Shimmer wasn’t looking forward to this. She wasn’t looking forward to any of this. In fact, she had taken extreme, deliberate steps to avoid this from happening.

But what she hadn’t accounted for was bumping into John Dory on his stupid shitty morning walk, DAMMIT- 

He dusted himself off, clearly taking on a facial expression that was preparing for an apology, only for him to realize exactly who it was he had bumped into. Right- the troll he hadn’t talked to since he initially told the village to let her in.

Oh, yeah.

Also, his ex. 

“...Shimmer,” He was the first one to cut through the silence as he looked up at her, adjusting his scarf. “You look… well.”

Shimmer scoffed, looking away. “You and I both know that’s a gross exaggeration.”

John frowned as she looked away. That caught her eye. She coughed, immediately trying to steer the ship of a conversation back on topic. Much as this was her old flame… this guy was also someone she clearly didn’t want to get on the bad side of. Best not to get… too testy.

“But- other than looking like I rolled out of bed basically every day, I’ve been-” She sighed. “Fine. How about… you? How- uh- how have you been?” 

John Dory blinked once or twice, not expecting her to turn the question back on him. “Me? Oh, yes, I’ve been great, as usual. Never a bad day here in the village. Heh. You haven’t… been having any trouble, have you? I know the villagers can get a bit testy with… ‘new’ people.”

Shimmer shook her head no, folding her arms. “No, it’s been fine. Just… just fine.”

“Good… and you’ve been behaving too… right?” He said- although his tone was light as a feather, he knew the underlying meaning in what he said- here was a girl he had been close with before she disappeared- She could drag him back down to feeling mortality, be so casual with him in a way he hadn’t felt from anyone besides his brothers in years- and if she wanted to disprove his lie, he’d have to put whatever feelings he still had for her aside. For the sake of the village.

“You think so low of me, John,” Shimmer scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Yes, I’ve been behaving. I’m a guest here- guests follow the host’s policies, and they’re thankful. That’s how I was raised.”

“Good!” JD chirped. “I wasn’t too worried about that,” He lied. It slipped naturally off his tongue as smooth as butter. 

Shimmer paused, looking him up and down some more. He looked at her looking at him, waiting to see her reaction and cautiously preparing for it.

“...It’s a bit of a different look for you, I’ll admit, but… I don’t hate it,” Shimmer spoke with a shrug. “The red looks nice.”

John laughed, flicking an earring. “Ahhh- thank you. It does, doesn’t it? I’ll admit, your look was a bit surprising, too. You’ve really changed, I almost didn’t-”

He paused, not wanting to finish the sentence… but Shimmer knew what he was going to say.

I almost didn’t recognize you. 

She knew that’s what he wanted to say, because she thought it when she first saw him.

Jeez, what were they? They used to be a teen hot couple, the poster boy and poster girl for puppy-love… But here she was, a disgraced pop troll who couldn’t sing… and there he was. The hero and saviour of an entire village. 

It was more obvious to her now than it was to her than that him even noticing her at all was… nothing but a stroke of luck. A fluke. There he was, brilliant, important, in control… And then there was her. A total mess. A flop. She felt like an intruder in the village, and now, being face-to-face with JD only made things worse. In every other brother, she saw that past part of them she once knew, but with John, she felt like she was only reminded of her own insecurities, her own failings. 

She swerved past him, eyes firmly trained onto the ground.

“I’ll get out of your way, John,” She mumbled half-heartedly, trying to just put a miserable end to the conversation and stop her mind from attacking herself so loudly. But as soon as she started walking, she found herself unable to keep going. Locked around her arm was none other than JD’s hand. She glanced back, looking at him in confusion.

“Wait,” He started. “...Come over to my pod sometime. You, ah, need to update me more on how you’re settling in. Yes. As the village leader… it’s part of my responsibilities, y’know? So- don’t leave me hanging.”

Shimmer’s breath caught in her throat. She hated the idea of seeing him more, and yet, the fact that he had requested her presence specifically… It made her heart skip a beat. 

“...Sure, yes,” She replied quietly.

She expected John to let her go at this point, but he kinda just kept staring at her in silence for a while. Somehow, she found herself staring back.

“...I’ve missed you,” He confessed with a breathy whisper. 

Shimmer tried to muster back a reply, but words failed her. She tried again, and again-

“I didn’t even think that was possible,” She finally said back. 

[childotkw]

Not to add another AU to your never ending AU list but, what do you think would happened if Lucerys just takes out his eye in Storm's End...

Do you think Aemond would forgive him? Or even better respect him? Maybe he doesn't participate in the war after that, not knowing what the fuck to do. Maybe he even switches sides?

I've read quite a few AUs (all of them delicious, of course) based around that idea!

I genuinely think that if Lucerys did it, Aemond would be a mess.

The nuances of how the actual event took place would definitely affect his initial reaction (anything from sadistic amusement, vindication, anger, grief or regret) - but I do believe that Aemond wouldn't be able to emotionally comprehend the situation after that first knee-jerk moment.

I see him being largely shocked, and that shock would probably make him come across as cold and detached. In reality, he's just had his entire world upended and is processing.

He's built up an image of Lucerys in his head as a bastard, a coward, a little scared boy unable to leave the safety of his mother's skirts. He probably never thought Lucerys would have the guts to do it, and having that mental image shattered, as well the sudden end to what was a decade-long obsession, would probably leave him feeling unfulfilled. He wouldn't understand his own emotional state.

From there, I'd see a very strange new obsession begin to form. Aemond would be upset that he doesn't feel satisfied at the debt being settled. He'd grow agitated and angry and would probably flip between wanting to strangle a healing Lucerys for being so maddening and being fascinated at discovering this new facet of his nephew.

I imagine after the eye-thing happens, Aemond would be very politely but firmly asked to leave Storm's End because they have to send Lucerys back to Dragonstone (and hope that Daemon doesn't come back on Caraxes and burn them all down for both declaring for Aegon and letting his kid get mutilated in their halls).

He'd arrive back at King's Landing and be adrift. He'd want to track Lucerys back down and figure out this new itch.

Meanwhile Lucerys would have his hands full trying to reign in his parents and siblings after he comes back sans an eye - but would be quietly relieved that all this antagonism between him and his uncle can finally be put to rest.

Poor boy doesn't realise he's just kicked the hornet's nest though.

An angry Aemond obsessed with taking his eye is one thing. An intrigued Aemond obsessed with all of him is a thousand times worse.

[orkbutch]

spare hogboyz lore? i'm super interested on what i've seen so far (also sorry if i missed something on twitter, i'm not on that hellsite anymore)

There are more things mostly on Twitter but honestly I think its all just porn of Kelly and Sadie LMAO.

Not lore, but the story blurb would be something like this:

Kelly McBride is a roaming survivor of a violent gang war that killed almost everyone and thing he cared about. One fateful night he kicks the newest, biggest, baddest hornet's nest in Dead Australia: God's Elect, a growing gang of strange religious extremists, that are now intent on killing the fuck out of Kelly. Hogboyz follows him and his mentor across the continent as he avoids his pursuers and tries to survive while amassing a gang of his own.

As for lore... Post-apocalyptic Australia (either Dead Australia or Country depending on who you ask) is sparsely populated. Most people are either Gangers or Tenders. Gangs/Gangers are nomadic occupation-based motorbiker guilds that move between the small communities and landmarks across DA/C, scavanging, raiding and trading. Most of the settlements in DA/C are built around pubs maintained by Tenders. Gangers and Tenders have a mutually beneficial symbiotic relationship of trade, travel, long-distance communication, protection and community exchange. Other than Gangers and Tenders, there are lots of other figures you'll find in most communities across DA/C; Doctors, Body Modders, Tradies, Truckies, Posties, Security, ect.

There are pockets of exceptional cultures across DA/C of course, and one that is so big it is The Notable Exception and might actually be a Very sizeable community, but I won't talk about them yet since its still early in being written/fleshed out :) but thats a little Hogboyz lore.

[sasukimimochi]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 (you are here). Part 4 Part 5 ...

Overall Warnings: grotesque written imagery, body horror, blood, possession(?) sort of (more like integrating), voices, loss of self (since this isn't really MCD), Darker WWX (he's not classic wwx), violence

I was very easily convinced to post part three early. (looking at you @mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess) No warnings for this part! It's a little rough, but that's what every part will be like. The Ao3 version will be fully proofread.

-

Part 3

· ✦ Excuses ✦ ·

Despite their qualms, Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji both kept a tight lid on Wei Wuxian’s apparent handicap through the war and beyond. When it came to qualms over the carrying of his sword, Jiang Cheng was quick to defend and he figured this was one of the best ways to do it. Of course there were questions, but they were deflected with the best lie they could think of: the sword, Suibian, had been critically damaged before being recovered.

They both knew the sword was intact and well in Lan Wangji's custody though, and was glad the man remained silent despite their frequent arguments about his cultivation.

Wei Wuxian never made an attempt to rise up to the invasive questions, actually. Jiang Cheng took over every time he opened his mouth, and it seemed the man had no qualms about allowing the leader to take over every conversation that questioned him. The excuse of another sword being made was simply answered by “Suibian was important to my head disciple and we are working on plans to recover it after the war.”

After the war though, time ticked down quickly and the excuses were running dry. Asking about it however was like poking a hornet's nest, which was Jiang Cheng. His glares had gotten critical from the repeated irritation he showed every time the question was asked, which actually did a pretty good job warding off most cultivators who would ask.

Then, it was time for the Phoenix mountain hunt.

“Wei Wuxian…I don’t think you should go.” Jiang Cheng was shining his sword, but lifted his head to look at his shixiong as he did so.

Wei Wuxian stopped twirling his flute, tilting his head in Jiang Cheng’s general direction so they could see each other. “Okay. Why though?”

“Multiple reasons. I’m tired of making excuses for you, for one.” Jiang Cheng sighed and squinted at the other, his hand stilling on his sword. “And the eyes are going to make people ask questions too. Can’t you make them go back to their old color?”

“Not really, they're kind of stuck like this.” Wei Wuxian smiled, still as eerie as he was during the war. "Probably the ocean of resentment i'm carrying."

“And that! Why do you look like a demon now?? You’re gonna get me in trouble with that eerie grin of yours!” Jiang Cheng huffed, finishing up his sword and sheathing it again. “It was great for intimidating during the war, but you doing that nearly had sect leader Yao asking if we had bad intentions!”

“I won't deny it was absolutely great seeing him shrink back like he did. My face just looks like this though.” Wei Wuxian frowned, “I’m not sure how to change it.”

“Well then…stop smiling in public I guess.” Jiang Cheng shrugged, throwing his hands up. “We can’t have the sects thinking you’re out to get them.”

“Those sects are filled with rotten eggs.” Wei Wuxian rolled his eyes, baffling Jiang Cheng in the process. It still surprised him every time, considering how different he acted now. “But I will do my best to appease my shidi.”

Jiang Cheng groaned loudly and held his forehead. “Alright, I'm sick of you for today. Get out of here.” He waved his hand and pulled over a stack of letters he needed to get to. “I’ve had enough ‘help’ from you today.”

Wei Wuxian hopped up from his seat and hummed. “Alright, if you say so.” He stood there in silence a bit longer, but Jiang Cheng was used to this strange behavior that Wei Wuxian had adopted. If Jiang Cheng called him out on it, it would only be met with an irritated glare, and despite his desire to kick him into his place for it, it was a harmless behavior despite its strangeness.

As if finally deciding something, Wei Wuxian saluted his sect leader and then strolled out of the office, off on his little adventure.

[mariacallous]

In 19th-century Russia, Nikolai Gogol’s “dead souls” were deceased serfs who were nonetheless valuable. For 21st-century Russia, dead souls aren’t serfs, though they often act like it. Rather they are a legion of useful idiots who do Moscow’s bidding in places such as Washington, London, Paris—and Budapest.

Among all of Russia’s useful idiots, few have sought to make themselves more useful than Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orban.

The Hungarian leader, who just last week took over the rotating presidency of the Council of the European Union—a gig assignment that somehow carries even less weight than its name suggests—promptly jetted off to Moscow for his first trip in his new ceremonial role. There, Orban acted more like an ambassador called back for consultations than a European statesman, parroting Kremlin talking points and doing his best to undermine Ukraine’s desperate fight to preserve its territory, its sovereignty, and even its children’s hospitals. He then went on to Beijing to cozy up to the main supplier of critical military technology for Russia’s meat-grinder war.

Orban kicked off a hornet’s nest in Brussels, not just by going to Moscow and Beijing and purporting to act for the 27-nation bloc but because all he did was regurgitate Russian propaganda. In a letter to the real EU president, Charles Michel, Orban claimed that Russia was winning the war so hard that it wanted to begin peace talks immediately—the starting point of which would be the permanent occupation of bits of Ukraine that Russian troops haven’t even occupied or vaporized yet. The condemnations from EU officials were so fast and furious that they could yet be a new franchise in the film series.

The question isn’t so much what Orban is doing as much as why he is doing it at all. Hungary is a member of both NATO and the EU. Both of those blocs, writ large, are trying to stop Russia from further terrorizing Ukraine. Yet Orban, whether in his pilfered European garb or his more comfortable homegrown nationalist attire, persists.

“Hungary is the extension of Russian foreign policy. At the moment, Orban is [Russian President Vladimir] Putin’s most useful idiot,” said Peter Kreko, a nonresident senior fellow with the Democratic Resilience Program at the Center for European Policy Analysis.

Superficially, Orban could be taken for a simple mercenary. Hungary, after all, does seem to get preferential terms on energy imports from Russia. That remains a big deal, especially after Moscow’s invasion of Ukraine and the resulting wave of EU and U.S. sanctions on Russian gas and oil exports that has caused spiraling energy prices in Europe. And for far-right Hungarians, for whom Orban is the petard-bearer, there are bits of western Ukraine that would fit more comfortably back inside Hungary, the way things were before World War I redrew maps and modernity.

The problem is they don’t get good deals and they won’t get new lands. Hungary does rely extensively on Russia for natural gas and even some nuclear power plants, but Orban has not managed to turn vassalage into even the kind of price discount that China enjoys for importing blacklisted Russian energy.

“The figures don’t add up. Not that the terms of the contracts are made public, but you can determine the price of the gas, and it seems like Hungary has paid an enormous amount,” Kreko said. Add that on top of all the other EU funds that Budapest has forgone because of Orban’s trampling of the rule of law and assorted other foibles, and it is clear that his bromance with Putin now pays fewer dividends than Gazprom.

“It has brought him nothing good so far—nothing,” Kreko said.

To understand why a European leader, a standing member (if not a member in good standing) of two of the most exclusive clubs in the world—the EU and NATO—would crawl to Moscow in the middle of the continent’s worst war in three generations requires going back just that far. It’s not that Orban loves Putin. It’s that he hates the West.

Russia’s original Vladimir and first puppet master—Vladimir Lenin—was happy to take German money to cause mischief inside and outside Russia, a pattern that merrily continues to this day. But Orban has taken German ideas instead and added a homegrown grievance.

Nobody in the West today reads Oswald Spengler, the German Cassandra of the early 20th century whose The Decline of the West was an homage to farm life, the simple Volk, and a denunciation of scheming, rootless cosmopolitans. But Orban seems to have, and he kept receipts. (One of Orban’s planks for his six months in the EU presidency is to promote a “farmer-oriented” agricultural policy.) With his chameleon-like transformation from a reformist, liberal politician after the fall of the Berlin Wall to a textbook authoritarian, Hungary’s leader made the world safe for “illiberal democracy.”

“I really think he is channeling Spengler,” Kreko said. “You can read Spengler, and it sounds like an Orban speech. He really believes in the decline of the West.”

But Hungarians of Orban’s ilk have a different grievance that seems academic and dusty yet explains much of the animus on display. When the Allies won the Great War, they signed peace treaties with the losers, such as the infamous Treaty of Versailles that gave an Austrian watercolorist so much to talk about in German beer halls and bunkers.

Hungary had its own treaty, Trianon, and it is very much still a live wire. The treaty eviscerated Hungary’s territory and culled its population by giving away much of its land and removing many of its people. U.S. President Woodrow Wilson, the famous champion of self-determination and moral values, lifted not a finger to help. A generation later, in 1956, when Russian tanks rolled into Hungary to stamp out the barest green shoots of dissent, Washington and the West were nowhere to be found.

Patriotic Hungarians were aghast last week that Orban would go cap in hand to Moscow, given the historical memories. But from his point of view, the West has brought nothing good; Russia has brought plenty of bad, but that was then.

“If [former U.S. President Donald] Trump can turn the party of Reagan pro-Russia, Orban can make Hungary more pro-Russia as well, even if we have had more bad experiences with Russia,” Kreko said. “History is shortsighted and can easily be rewritten.”

That points to the larger problem of Orban: He is not alone in Europe but stands first among unequals. His far-right grouping just remade the European Parliament, with a huge assist from France’s own pro-Russia, far-right movement that last week flirted with winning control of the French National Assembly; the movement’s figurehead had vowed to paralyze French aid to Ukraine. The new power bloc didn’t exactly go over well with other European leaders.

In Britain, Nigel Farage, he of Brexit fame, created a new party bent on destruction, but this time he targeted the Conservative Party as much as Europe or migrants and was almost as successful: The Tories had their worst election ever, and Farage at long last won a seat in Westminster. One of Farage’s biggest cheerleaders during the election was Russia’s foreign ministry. Germany has its own far-right Russophiles, but Moscow already captured Berlin years ago.

The biggest elephant in the room remains overseas, in the United States. Trump and Orban not only have a mind meld—Orban’s canceled speech to the European Parliament was literally titled “Make Europe Great Again”—but also a tactical cooperation. If Britain was long the beachhead for American trans-Atlanticists, Hungary is the landing zone and inspiration for America’s far right.

Case in point: Orban will make his way to Mar-a-Lago, Florida, to meet with Trump just after this week’s NATO summit, less than a week after checking in with Putin. In spy novels at least, cutouts are meant to disguise the connection.

Russia has always had its fellow travelers, especially since the Bolshevik Revolution more than a century ago; some of them were useful idiots peddling the Kremlin’s line around the world, while others were more idiots than useful. What is alarming today is that the idiots are becoming, in many cases, pivotal.

[thelegoninjagomovie]

Oh? You'd like to discuss Misako Montgomery Garmadon of whom I love a lot? Let's go!!!

I'll start if u don't mind; I think she's actually an epic mom and ppl who hate her don't realize the writers cannot fucking write women at all in the slightest and actually she loves Lloyd and she's an epic mom !!!

i already KNOW this is going to get long so i’m throwing this under a cut lol

SO. i agree VERY MUCH WITH THIS STATEMENT. you can tell if you rewatch ninjago that they had no clue what they wanted misakos character to be. she definitely suffered the most from the “ninjago was originally 2 seasons” thing. by the time they figured out her character (which to me is s13) it was too late for her :(. also people who think she hates her son are so funny. so many ninjago fans cannot separate their own projections onto characters from canon so they just make up the most random bullshit about characters they don’t like. there’s more i’d say about this but i’d actually be kicking a hornets nest.

i’ve said this before but i REALLY think misakos character would’ve benefited so much from a sad backstory. i love the idea of her having a terrible mother and the whole breaking the cycle of abuse we could’ve had it all….. like the idea of misakos mom being what ppl think misako is would have been the best ever to me. her own mother not liking her and thinkjng she’s an inconvenience and getting in the way of her career is SOOOOO *kissy noise* the only thing i’d change would be her mother leaving her somewhere. personally i’d make it where misako ran away or got lost and her mom was like “aw :(. anyways!” and never bothered to look for her. think billy batson from shazam but less sympathetic for the mother character.

i actually wish they had made misako silly…. like another reason i feel like her character suffered is bc they were so insistent on making her a female wu that it feels like she isn’t even her own character sometimes. like the wise mentor trope is cool but im so over making every female character the hashtag epic girlboss. but if they were so insistent on making her a wise mentor why the FACK didn’t they ever use this or bring this up?????????

i’ve rewatched ninjago from beginning to end like 5 times and i swear they NEVER mention this once. like other than misako giving nya some advice here and there they never show misako actually. MENTORING nya. which makes no sense bc we the audience know that misako is capable of teaching fighting skills and wisdom. ninjago is very much a ‘tell don’t show��� type of show and misakos character suffers because of it so much :’(

i’ve said this once but misako and cecil SHOULDVE BEEN SIBLINGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i know some ppl prefer the exs route or just them having always not liked each other which i can see but come onnnnnnn. cecil literally looks like if they had to make a guy misako. you know stitch and the pink thing that looks like stitch but a Girl. that’s misako and cecil but siblings bc yes i know that stitch and angel the pink one are dating.

do you see my vision. also i know this wouldn’t make sense also is kinda stupid but dr julien as the hidden third sibling. literally only so misako can be a middle child. imagine lloyd having to call this mf uncle cecil.

misako should’ve had more screentime with lloyd that’s a given but i think she should’ve had more screentime with the ninja in general. would’ve loved to see her chillax with them also the idea of her going in an adventure with them would be fun *stares at secrets of the forbidden spinjitzu fire chapter*

uhhhhhh what else what else…. OH yeah autistic misako is real af forever.

OH YEAH ok i just remembered what i was going to say i think ppl who think misako is like. really uptight and would yell at lloyd over little things over even at all are so baffling. girl how did you even come to that conclusion. she would be his number one supporter she literally owns a sweater/hoodie with his face on his. love that for her.

the ronin misako dareth friendship was interesting. it could’ve been cool but writers decided to immediately drop it. but also i think it was really weird?? the ronin misako part anyways because they put that in after shadow of ronin so that makes it so awkward to me lol. no clue how shadow of ronin did so maybe they just chose to ignore it but knowing what happened in that game makes it so funny in a really awkward way

season 9 was great that scene where misako tells lloyd to leave her behind…… ough. would’ve loved to see her interact with the other elemental masters a bit more but i’ll take what we got.

ALRIGHT i’m actually out of things to talk about rn so i hope u enjoyed reading all of that. thank you for letting me be autistic about my best friend in the world misako.

[renardtrickster]

I feel like you maybe shouldn't kick a hornet's nest if middle-school rhetoric like "at least I can criticize the countries I believe in while if you did the same you would get arrested" could kill you instantly with no possible defense or recourse. But I feel like the thing that's ultimately pathetic about tankies, why they're such moral and intellectual blackholes, why they are incapable of achieving any real wins for the socialist cause and can only resort to jerking off over their based historical figures like Stalin or Mao or deluding themselves on copium like the idea that fucking China is a communist state, and why any proletarian interest movement can only survive if they exclude, make fun of, and defend themselves from infiltration from losers like these, is for one simple reason.

When anarchists call China and the USSR and similar "authoritarian", they mean that genuinely. They probably think their state like the US or Canada is objectively better than those guys, but I've yet to see one who thinks its perfect. The US is fucked with authoritarianism, the police have stupid amounts of legal immunities and ill-placed public support, millionaires and corporations have their thumbs pressed on the internet, feds trawl through our private messages, and our political body is seemingly incapable or unwilling to fix any of this, and that sucks, and I want it changed, and will support any action or cause that seeks to ameliorate these issues. I want the excesses and flaws of my country righted, then the rest of the world. Meanwhile when MLs and other LARPers bust out this line, they are not interested in the call coming from their own house. They aren't aware of any human rights abuses or censorship, or they do know but don't care, or they do care but think it's correct in some way and will explain why disappearing protestors and unionists is vital for a worker's state, and if they can't do that they'll just deny it (while saying that if it hypothetically did happen it would be okay). They are the worst of the worst America exceptionalists "like it or get out" but for countries that have red flags. And they resort to smears like this when talking with obvious, shaking contempt towards anarchists (who they hate because their authoritarian daddies killed them, and they can't stand the knowledge that anarchists hold more potential for societal change in one knucklebone than they do their entire body) because they certainly can't come up with a convincing defense for their shit. So the best they can do is throw bad faith (and stupid) rhetorical gambits like these out, because they aren't interested in constructing socialism, they're interested in deconstructing (exclusively american) capitalism and anyone who actually wants to build real socialism. Completely un-revolutionary and pathetic.

[aonoexpat]

The rollercoaster that was quitting my job after a week and a half

02-03-2023

Unfortunately, that cafe turned out to be more of a challenge to get away from than I had anticipated. Everything went South last Thursday when the manager called me into the office to talk about my availability, since I had told him I needed more time for busking, because it wouldn't work in the cafe. He was unhappy with me pulling back, and we agreed it wouldn't work out. It seemed like we would go our separate ways perfectly amicably, but then he got back to me and brought up the contract we had, and how it dictated I had to give a 1 week's notice, so I'd have to work another full week. I told him well, the contract also dictates I'm not obliged to work any more than two hours per week. Suddenly, that same contract seemed to lose all relevance to the conversation, and he implored me to just put my head down and work, and not "kick that hornet's nest." This didn't sit right with me, so I had another talk with him about the terms on which we were going to end this contract. He proceeded to tell me how grateful I should be to be offered shifts on the weekend, how "you can't live off of your passion", and even if you try, you "really should cover all your bases first". When I told him I didn't need his advice, he got offended. Our talk was cut short because duty called, so I wiped my tears in the bathroom before getting back to the bar and finishing my shift.

The next day, I called in sick. I was shaking on the couch as I sent the text. I was absolutely terrified. This was not how I've been taught to behave. I have to be professional, I have to be nice, I have to be polite and if my feelings get hurt I should rise above it. I should be a good girl and finish the hours I'm expected to work as I humbly resign because clearly I must have been in the wrong. According to him, I was the one breaching our initial agreement, and he was an authoritative male figure so I felt quite intimidated. Still, my text was accepted and suddenly I was free for the day. That felt wonderfully empowering, and you know what I did? I walked into town and got another job. And another. And another. Now I have my pick of other places that all seem 1000x better than this one.

That Monday he texted me saying how "glad" he was that I was "feeling so much better", because "a friend of his" had seen me busking at the markets Sunday morning (low-key stalker behaviour if you ask me). He told me I was expected to come into work the very next day. This forced my hand a bit, because I had been waiting to officially resign until payday, fearing they might try to withhold my salary once I informed them of my intention to leave. I headed over to Wellington Community Law, who volunteer their time giving out free legal advice to those in need. With their help, I drafted up a resignation message, telling the manager I was not coming in for more than the two hours mentioned in the contract, and even that was a courtesy because he had failed to communicate the work roster to me at least a week in advance, which the contract dictates he must do. He texted me back telling me I was dead wrong, that I was misinterpreting the contract, and to show up for all scheduled shifts or else there would be legal consequences. He even had the gall to tell me I should really get some sound legal advice before making this decision. I told him I already had, and that he could not legally require me to work all the ~45 hours (!!) he had decided to put me on the roster for, because that would be an unlawful availability provision (loved learning the legal jargon for this, thanks wclc ❤️). He told me to write an official e-mail with my "complete concerns" and my decision not to work the required shifts. Luck would have it that I had already been typing away for three days at about a kilometre of text detailing all the broken promises and everything that he had done wrong, including but definitely not limited to some non-consensual touches during work. I ended the e-mail reiterating my (courteous) offer to still work the two hours, and, as advised in a second session with wclc, gave him a deadline before which he was to tell me which hours he wanted me to come in. Suddenly he was very quiet, until I got a text message the next day stating very shortly that I was not required to come into work anymore that week, and all outstanding payments for previous worked shifts would be made within a week 😤

Mind you, my stress levels were through the roof throughout this entire process. I was shaking, I was waking up early, scared to look at my phone, worried about the consequences I had been threatened with. In my most fearful thoughts I saw him coming to my house and trying to harass me. I'd never done anything like this before, and his manipulative words unfortunately had their intended effect on me. I was scared I was actually wrong, that he would sue me, and I would be deported. But wclc assured me I did everything right, and I was happy to be able to believe them over him. The waiting for replies was scary but I'm very lucky to be surrounded by some truly wonderful people here who supported me, kept me from buckling and helped distract me from the stress. "This is not Europe," they told me. "You can just block his number and never go back." It turns out employees are legally in a much better position to start with over here, which is very refreshing.

And let me tell you, I feel like I've grown a couple of centimetres through the whole ordeal. It feels amazing to stand up against somebody like him, somebody who made conversations way more personal than they needed to be, told lies about me to the rest of the staff, and basically told me to let him exploit me, and WIN. The act itself is invigorating already but the moment he texted me saying I wouldn't have to come in anymore, I jumped with joy. I was so scared but I WON. He's never going to apologise to me, nor is he going to like me ever again (which is something I've been taught to feel bad about), but I'll sleep soundly just imagining what his face must have been like when he realised he was wrong. I know I'm not the first person he exploited, but it seems I was the first to walk out like this. I do hope he learns a lesson, or that I might set an example for the rest of the staff.

So if you ever need some courage to stand up for yourself, I've found that listening to these songs helps:

Doja Cat - Boss Bitch

Todrick Hall - Wrong Bitch

Blackpink - Pretty Savage

It really sounds so much easier than it is, but as Rascal Flatts put it so beautifully, you can do what you think is impossible 🤩

[venturethighs]

They were kind enough to free both your legs and offer to sew you up after everything that happened to you. The only problem was having to take off your shorts and underwear in order to sew you back together correctly– they promised that they wouldn't judge, it was something they were used to– but touching your body gave them sensations that they hadn't felt in millennia. To say they were stiff in more ways than one would be an understatement.

Regardless, they brace themself and begin to thread the surgical steel needle with medical grade twine. Your single arm shyly hides your exposed front as their hands grasp at your cold flesh to sew it lovingly back together. Although the sensations were not what they used to be back when you were alive, you could still feel their fingers working carefully to ensure a tight hold.

Once they make their way towards your inner thigh you could feel all the violet blood in your body rush back to your core, illuminating your face with a lavender blush. You bite your lip and swallow the whine that bubbles up in your stitched up throat.

"Why were you here in the first place? You didn't tell me you were coming over..." They ask, trying to break the tension to no avail.

"I needed a replacement." You look over at your missing arm.

"I would've made the place look nicer if I knew you were coming..." They reply. "Dusted. Changed my wraps– I'm sorry you have to see me like this."

You didn't understand because every part of them still looked gorgeous. Their unkempt bedhead, their glowing eyes, peeking at their skin underneath the messy bandaging showing intricate tattoos and scars from centuries ago. They were lucky to still have their figure in tact so that every curve of their muscles were still preserved for all to see. It took every ounce of your electric current not to just unravel them right here and now.

"I'm the one who should be apologizing. I'm sorry about looking for a spare arm in your pyramid. I could've just gone to the morgue." You explain.

"So, why didn't you?" They're intrigued now.

"I–" You weren't ready to admit your feelings yet. "I don't know..."

They tug harshly on the string and reconnect your leg where it belongs. Their hands reach for the other one and start repeating the process. Your words stir inside their 'mind' for a few minutes before they let out a sinister sounding laugh.

"Do you really think I'm that naive?" A dark undertone taints their voice– the cursed spirits voice mixing together with their own.

It sends shivers down your undead body and stokes the growing 'heat' within your hips. They lean in and look directly into your empty eyes. You could smell heavenly spices on their breath.

"I see everything that goes on in this place." They continue weaving your detached leg without looking.

Your lavender blush flushes through your entire body.

Their voice lowers to a whisper, refusing to break eye contact with you. "I saw what you were doing. Back in my day, I'd have you put to death for that."

Another tight pull yanks your second severed leg back into its proper socket, but you barely even notice. They sever the twine and place everything back into your sewing kit before setting it aside. All the while your heart is pounding inside your rib cage, and if you could sweat then surely you would be covered in it.

"You know what I'm going to do about it now?" Their rough hands squeeze the skin of your outer thighs as a grin forms on their face.

Every last nerve you had was screaming to be ravaged. Your breaths mingle for a moment before you open your mouth to reply.

"... do you promise?" You whisper back.

They throw their head back in laughter.

You truly had no idea how deep you were in now– there was kicking the hornets nest, and then there was punting it against a wall. What did you just do? You just picked it up and crushed it with your bare hands.

They close themself in on you before violently pulling you against their own hips to make it known just how stiff they truly were. Wetness starts to gush as you arch your back off of the pyramid floor, wrapping your newly attached legs around their waist to pull them even closer. Without warning they tug your shirt off and leave you completely exposed– stitches, scars, discoloration– all for them to see. Their tongue glides over their lips in pure, carnal hunger.

"Beautiful– Hathor still blesses me, I see." They mumble to themself.

They waste no time discarding their own silks before pressing their length against your entrance. A whimper leaves the back of your throat as they teasingly press the tip of their cock into you before promptly pulling out and leaving you empty once again. Watching you squirm draws another dark laugh from them– so delicious, they could devour you whole.

"Do you want it?" Their voices are practically dripping with venom. Now you knew the reason for the asp engraved on their tomb. "Tell me how bad you need it!" They demand.

You groan as you feel yourself widen around their tip once again.

"I don't need it." You reply. For a moment they were confused, until– "I need you."

Clearly they weren't expecting that response. "... me?"

"I need you–" You repeat, panting as your impatience begins to grow. "I need you– inside me– to make us both feel nice and warm– like when we were alive."

"Alive..." They repeat underneath their breath.

You feel them fully insert themself inside of you as another moan escapes. "Just– don't rip my stitches, please!" You beg.

You feel the grip on your legs lighten immediately. The look on their face suggests they're still coming to terms with what you said earlier. You squeeze your legs around their hips once again and buck your hips to help them reach further into you, causing a growl to resonate inside their throat. Without thinking, their name falls from your lips and fully pulls them back into reality.

"I'll teach you what happens to grave robbers around here." They spat, feeling a playful sensation building up in their chest.

They know you're no grave robber– but they can still have a little fun... right? They give you no chance to reply before viciously (yet carefully) pounding into you just as you had asked. You reach up for them with your singular arm and they lower themself enough so you can wrap it around their neck affectionately. You press kisses to their lips before letting them slip their tongue inside– only to have your eyes widen in surprise.

They pull away long enough to let you see it completely– unexpectedly forked like a snake, it had snuck its way down your throat from the sheer length, and just as quickly as it had left your mouth it reenters and you begin to feel it slithering within once more. Every noise that resonates from your throat is swallowed up as their ruthless pace continues driving you further into the cold, brick floor.

One hand moves from your thigh and up to your chest, softly squeezing what they could grab on to before playfully rubbing your erect nipple with one of their fingers. Electricity courses through your body with each repeated stroke. Memories run through the back of your mind, just like the day you were reanimated, convulsing on the table as thousands upon thousands of volts coursed through your undead being... except this was much more pleasant.

You pull away from their mouth long enough to whimper into their ear. "Don't stop– don't stop– my body is on fire–"

You certainly weren't lying. The electricity running wild in your system was creating a heat you had only felt once or twice before, but never to this degree. The only coldness you felt was the floor below you and Sloan atop of you– and they couldn't get enough of it. All they ever felt was cold. Ice cold. Not even the sun at it's peak could have provided such a heavenly warmth to indulge in.

It was truly like being alive again.

"I'm close–" You murmur, grasping at their hair as you stare at the ceiling. "It– feels so good– don't stop– never stop–"

You cry out and jolt forwards and their hand moves to hold the back of your head protectively. They whisper soft encouragement in ancient Egyptian as they feel you gripping hard on their length.

"My sweet queen/king/monarch– let beloved Hathor send you over the edge." Their breath hitches as you continue uncontrollably spasming around their length buried several inches inside of you. "Let me spill my seed inside you. Every last drop. I know you're close. Let go. For me. Let go– let go– and be good for me."

Electricity shoots through your nerves before exploding inside your hips and you come harder than you ever had in your entire after life. Stars and patterns flicker in and out of your vision as Sloan proceeds to cover your insides with thick ropes of come. They spend a few more minutes holding you, panting, reveling in the bliss you provided for them.

You're not sure how long the two of you were lying there for afterwards. They only fully pull out when they're physically unable to stay inside anymore, and the emptiness has you pouting just a little. It's only when you feel tiny legs scurrying about on your arm that you glance to see a beautiful iridescent scarab using its front legs to tighten all the stitches that had come loose during your lovemaking.

"Seems like Rosetta likes you." Their voice returned to normal, the curse subsiding for now.

She finds her way into your palm and rests with ease.

"If I had my other arm I would give her some pets..." You attempt to lightly thumb her back and she flaps her wings affectionately.

"Oh. I forgot about that. Maybe you should go ahead and get to the morgue, then." They suggest.

Sloan helps you to your feet and wraps their arm around your waist for stability. Rosetta nestles inside the tangles of your hair, resting as the two of you make your way down the twists and turns of the corridors.

"I'll show you the way out. Next time you're over I promise it'll be clean..."

You can't help but giggle.

"Or maybe you just like seeing me get trapped, hm?" You tease.

A soft blush paints their face. "Okay. Maybe a little bit..."

[quantalive-blog-blog-blog]

http://logs.omegle.com/1c7b052d0f42337e

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say STAND WITH THE CHINESE PEOPLE AGAINST THE CCP!

You: hello

Stranger: hi

You: Just me a good movie to watch

You: action or thriller

Stranger: thriller

You: Sorry

You: I meant

You: Suggest me a good movie to watch

You: there?

Stranger: Girl with a dragon tattoo

You: Looks interesting

Stranger: it's good

You: Daniel Craig!

Stranger: yes

You: Do you like watching movies?

Stranger: very much so

You: cool

You: Where are you from?

Stranger: Canada

You: Would you like to watch a movie together?

Stranger: how??

You: Let me figure out

You: Do you have amazon prime?

Stranger: no I do not

You: Any OTT account?

Stranger: not really I use computer mostly

You: I mean on computer itself

Stranger: we used to use chat rooms to watch stuff LOL

You: haha that was way back

Stranger: hate paying for things if I don't have to

You: But I like text chat more than video

Stranger: all depends really

You: It involves real talking. Video chat is all about faces

Stranger: sometimes video is easier if doing other things

You: yeah that too

Stranger: true but does not mean you have to show face

You: Sorry I didnt ask earlier, what is your name please?

Stranger: could show mtns or grass or a wall

Stranger: Terry

You: Hey Terry!

You: My name is Ashish

Stranger: Nice to meet you Ashish

You: What do you do Terry?

Stranger: I work for a building company

You: Ok great. What are your plans for the Friday? I guess its still early morning in that half of the world

Stranger: it is 10:30 am here

Stranger: I am not sure yet, I have the whole day to myself

You: haha cool

Stranger: yes it is

Stranger: what do you do Ashish?

You: I am longing to watch an action movie tonight before the start of the weekend!

You: I am an architect

Stranger: very cool

You: yup thanks! I love building stuff

Stranger: very cool job indeed

You: It was wonderful talking with you Terry

Stranger: hope you enjoy your day

You: I will probably spend tonight watching The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

You: :D

Stranger: there are 2 more after that

You: which ones?

You: Do you have any imdb watch list?

Stranger: hold on I will find

Stranger: The Girl Who Played with Fire / The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest)

Stranger: The Stieg Larsson Trilogy: (The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo / The Girl Who Played with Fire / The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest)

You: Very Interesting

Stranger: ENJOY Ashish!!!!

You: Yes, thanks Ashish!

You: I mean thanks Terry!

Stranger: LOL

You: Wish you a great day and the best weekend!

Stranger: You as well

Stranger: 😁😁

Stranger has disconnected.

[nicksswedishblog]

Week #15 blog

Stieg Larsson- The girl who kicked the hornets nest

pages: 76-131

word count:316

Summary- Blomkvist is the only one who knows where salander is and journalists are blowing up his phone asking do you know where she is or who’s side are you on and all that sort of thing. Gullburg who works for a “special section” hand picked three colleagues which rose to 11 people who he personally met with everyday and he was subordinate to a hierarchy under the head secretariat of the security police. Zalaxhenko is salanders parent figure and he did not know he was only two doors down from her and salander felt uneasy because she knew he was out there somewhere.salander started to realize that she needs a lawyer and she felt bad she didn’t know where niederman after she had escaped

Critical Analysis- “she laid it next to her hip and fell asleep” I chose this quote because separate from zalacheko salander has no clue they are in the same hospital just a few doors down and neither does he. She felt a feeling of uneasiness. She felt as if she could not breathe because of the neck brace and she released it and it dropped to the floor and she felt better after she had a pencil that she laid next to her hip to protect her. and she came up with a plan that she would stab him if he were to come and finish it once and for all

Personal response- After posting my qoutes this week they looked pretty random once i read them back. This week was good a lot has happened since the beginning of the book and i’m already 131 pages in its flying by. i am still kind of picking peices and names from book 2 that i skipped because i did not have access to it. over all it was a good week of reading.