#he model the gears after them because there the strongest things he knew

[elimaybeafish]

WELCOME BACK TO EVEN EVEN EVEN MORE CRACK POT ONE PIECE THEORIES WITH ME ELI :)

Gear 4 bounce man is modeled after Garp and snake man after Rayleigh

we’ll see way more logia’s in this saga. Since dressrosa-whole cake was parmecia era and wano was zoan era. Think we’ll see what logia awakening actually do

if Blackbeard doesn’t outright state it law will tell Luffy how Blackbeard has two fruits

Don sai is gonna dragon nail pirate island like what his (gran?)dad did at the Colosseum at dressrossa

[levi-my-beloved]

Birds of a Feather

Chapter one

Pairings: Canon!Levi x F!reader

Content warnings: violence, swearing

Word count: 4K

Summary: You were the most notorious criminal in the Underground City. With your organisation of highly skilled professionals, only one man could take you down. He also happened to be Humanity’s Strongest… and your ex.

A/N: asdfghjkl hello there. so, this has been on my brain for a while now, so i started this as just a drabble. what i thought would stay as just a drabble turned into this 22k+ multi chapter fic because i have zero self restraint or self respect. i’m currently finishing chapter 5 as this is being posted, but i want to keep chapters posted around once every two weeks so i can keep up with the workload. maybe once a week if i start feeling spicy. yeah plot twist this is actually the second time i’ve drafted this up. the first time i managed to get everything done and in order and then manages to delete the entire post with my huge disgusting thumbs. Genuinely felt like crying for a good half an hour.

This is also my first Levi fic! yay! lmk if it sucks and idk i’ll cry or something. nah, in all seriousness please send me criticism cuz i really want to improve and critiques are the best way.

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

“How down, Raven?”

“Six feet.”

Within the dank confines of a stinking alleyway, two green capes marked with the Military Police insignia crept ever closer to the taller, run-down building upon which you and your little squad of Shadows were now perched. No sunlight illuminated your position. Not that you’d ever seen the sun, or know what it even looked like, but you based your guesses upon the pathetic rays shining through the grates littering the ceiling of the Underground City.

The language you used with your Shadows, coded words translated to:

‘How do you want them to be dealt with?’

‘Death.’

It was something developed by your late guardian and mentor, Viper. See, you all had aliases in The Nest, your criminal organisation. The leader was often referred to as The Raven, however your mentor preferred to use his own nickname, stemming from his own reputation.

Then come the aliases for your Shadows. Prongs was your second, a tall, stern looking man with the black mask of a stag settled across his features.

Then came Wolf, and you swore the first time you’d set eyes on him, you thought a titan had wandered into the city. He was enormous, all 6ft 6ins of him carved in hard muscle. Slicked back silver hair and a beard that to rival a bear. Similar to Prongs, a mask sat upon his face, resembling that of a snarling wolf.

Following him was Verdant, Scales and Diablo. Your power trio. Though their special talents lay in different professions, get these three together and they were borderline unstoppable. A white mask decorated with three broad maple leaves obscured Verdant’s pretty features, Scales sported a bronze half mask etched with a snake-like diamond pattern, whilst Diablo, your trained escort, had opted for something that accentuated her own gorgeous features, a mask of black leather arcing high onto her brow on the left side, whilst the right arced low by her jaw. Though you were already spoken for, you couldn’t deny the beauty of Diablo. She did wonders when prying information between the legs of a moaning MP.

To your left crouched the twins, Una and Leaf. Una was gifted her name by none other than you yourself, after seeing her accuracy with a rifle. A single shot was all it took, from any distance. She wore no mask, something you’d allowed simply because she’d complained about the sight obstruction when lining up a shot. You’d agreed, but only under the condition that she wore a low hood. Her fiercely protective brother Leaf had chewed you out for that, but you knew he meant well. Leaf was good at what he did, excellent, in fact. Which was part of the reason you kept him on as a Shadow. The larger part was that you were damn fond of him. Of all of them, in fact. You loved every single one of your Shadows. Every single damned member of The Nest, you adored. You were their leader, afterall.

A masked helmet of black leather, similar material to Diablo’s, perched snug upon your own features. The hooked beak and obsidian feathers of a raven decorated the necessity, covering your face and hair, though leaving your lower features visible. It was a rite of passage, for you especially, and it signalled the start of your leadership.

“Una, set up. Verdant, Prongs, roundabout. Wolf…” your eyes slid to the giant man on your right, a dark smile slicing across your mouth. “Heel.”

The boulder of a man visibly sagged, clearly disappointed at your orders whilst the others sprang into action. Prongs and Verdant leapt across the rooftops in separate directions whilst Una removed her rifle from her back, parting her heavy cloak to reveal rounds and rounds of bullets strapped across her body. Leaf nestled closer into her side, whilst the other four took a step back. It was obvious you’d all been at this for a very long time, despite the twins not looking a day older than sixteen. In fact, most of your squad was younger than you, save for Wolf and Prongs, who had served their respective roles twice previously.

Sitting back on your heels, you watched your team get to work, the warmth of pride blossoming in your chest. Whilst you knew Prongs and Wolf were already incredibly skilled, the rest had flourished under your leadership. It had been ten years since you’d witnessed MPs put a bullet through your mentor’s skull. Ten long years since you’d taken up leadership and expanded the reaches of The Nest. Honestly, you were pretty proud of yourself, and none more so than when you watched your Shadows do what they do best.

Taking care of unwanted visitors.

Una took aim, resting the butt of her rifle in the crook of her shoulder, staring down the makeshift scope. She would be ready to take care of the two soldiers if either Prongs or Verdant failed to eliminate their targets.

Speaking of which…

That kernel of pride ignited as your (E/C) eyes followed Verdant’s careful, calculating form dropping from the rooftops above the alleyway, in sync with Prong’s own movements. The two assassins swooped with the grace of a stooping hawk, the silver glint of metal caught your eye as they both brandished their blades, before sinking the steel into the necks of the two soldiers. You didn’t need to be closer to see they were both dead. Expert precision. Deadly accuracy. That was why these people were your hand-picked Shadows. And why you were the most formidable gang leader in the Underground City. Your little criminal organisation had expanded into something to rival the killcount of Kenny the Ripper. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought.

Una lowered her weapon, strapping it back in the buckles between her shoulder blades.

“Finished.” she simply stated, turning back to drop down between the shattered tiles and splintered ceiling beams that marked your entrance and exit to this lookout point.

“Rendezvous back at The Nest,” you ordered flatly, before dropping forward and into the alleyway below.

“Anything?” you ask, a brow raised behind your raven mask as you saunter over. Prongs held up two sets of blades from one of the crimson bodies now gathering dirt and grime. Useless to you as they were, but somebody would definitely find an interest in them. Verdant seemed to be struggling with the straps of whatever gear these mosquitoes used to fly around. You’d never been able to figure out how to use it, but that shit made good money when in doubt. However, your usual buyers had disappeared off the face of the city, and you’d noticed a decline in gear sales since then. Gritting your teeth, you shook your head to Verdant, laying a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t. It’s not worth it. The thug trio haven’t been back in years. I doubt they’d return to us now,” you explain softly, prompting the girl to stop her struggles and huff defeatedly. You’re heart ached softly at the thought of him, but you pushed the feeling down.

“Here,” she muttered, handing you another rifle. It seemed to be a newer model, something of an upgrade for Una.

“You did good, Ver. I’m proud of you,” that seemed to immediately lighten the girl’s mood, her eyes shining behind her mask as her mouth widened into a toothy grin.

“Thanks Raven!” she beamed, before scampering off back to The Nest, almost forgetting to take the gun back from your outstretched hand in her haste to make it back and tell everyone she’d received a compliment from you. It wasn’t an everyday occurrence. Rather it only happened once in a blue moon…

A huffed chuckle had your head turning and eyes narrowing to your second in command.

“Can I help you?” you ask, your tone dripping with the poisonous threat of hell if he chose his next words poorly. But Prongs continued to smile ever so slightly, shaking his head.

“Not at all, Raven. It’s just, in the last few years, since you drafted her into the Shadows, she’s really come into her own,” Prongs explained simply, shrugging as she stooped to kick over the now drained corpse, hoping to find anything useful. You bristle ever so slightly. That was something you hated. Compliments. How the fuck were you supposed to respond? You tried to think back to when Viper tried to teach you simple social skills.

“Uh, yeah. She has,” you respond, keeping your features as neutral as you could as you turned away, beginning to trudge back to The Nest.

“I’m serious, Rave. You’ve done incredible things for us. You know Viper would be proud of you. I am too. But…” Prongs trailed off, clearing having something to say but not knowing how to say it.

“Go on. But what?” you pressed, wanting to hear what your second in command had to say.

“Well, don’t you think it’s a bit much? Rave, it’s been years. Eyes have started looking in our direction since those three vanished. You don’t think we should be lying low for a bit? Calming suspicions instead of rousing them?” Prongs offered gently. You knew, deep down, he was right. But some notable gang disappearing hasn’t stopped you before, and it sure as hell wouldn’t stop you now.

“I’ll talk to Scar about it,” even just the mention of your advisor, and wife’s name gave your stomach butterflies. Scarlett Obsidine, your other, and better, half. After the disappearance of a certain dark haired man, Scar was the woman who comforted you, and though you missed him dearly, your heart managed to haphazardly piece itself back together and love all over again.

“Rave, listen—“

“Let’s go,” Prongs closed his mouth, the tone of your voice stating clearly that this matter wasn’t up for discussion. Especially not with him.

⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈

“You know he’s right,” you couldn’t help but sigh when your wife’s soft tones calmed your irritated mood. Soft hands gently kneaded at the tense muscles in your shoulders, forcing them to relax as a tired moan escaped your lips. Leaning back, you peer into her shining sapphire eyes, locks of brunette framing your face as she took the sides of your cheeks in her hands and leaned down, softly pecking your lips with her own. You couldn’t help humming a smile against her mouth, reaching up to deepen the kiss, but she pulled away before you could.

“Scaaaaar…” you pout, looking up at her mischievous smirk as she winked playfully.

“(Y/N)...” Scarlett sighed, swinging her legs over your body to sink into your lap, one thumb now caressing one of the most prominent features on your face. A nasty, jagged scar ran down from the the top of your forehead, over your right eye and finishing just past your jaw bone. One (E/C) iris lighter than the other as a result of the old wound. Soft lips chase away the shadows of your past as Scarlett replaced her thumb with her mouth.

“(Y/N), I don’t want to find you dead in some alleyway because you picked a fight you couldn’t win,” a finger poked your chest as she huffed above you, feigning irritation. You roll your eyes, (E/C) landing on your gear now strung across the table. That raven helmet almost calling to you as you shook your head. Disagreeing with your wife was never a good idea, but you were feeling particularly bold this evening.

“Look. So many jobs have opened up recently. We have so many opportunities to make this life more comfortable. More jobs means more money, more money means we can afford the gate toll and actually see the world above ground. And I can finally buy you an actual ring.”. Technically, you two weren’t married. Who the fuck would be stupid enough to perform marriage ceremonies in the underground City? But, it was easier than saying you were devoted to each other in every single way.

Lightly smacking your chest, Scarlett raised herself from your lap with a hefty sigh. “One of these days (Y/N), you’re going to be captured or killed,” she said quietly, unable to meet your eyes. “And then what the hell will I do…?” Scarlett had now completely turned away from you, shoulders hunched. Running a hand down your face, you pick your sore body up from the chair, reaching her in a matter of strides.

“I can’t give this up, Scar. You know that. You knew that when you chose to be with me. You knew The Nest was always going to be my priority,” you held out your arm, hand hovering over her back, not sure whether to comfort her or let her go. The admission almost had her in tears, you could tell by the way her shoulders shook ever so gently.

“You still miss him don’t you?” It was her vulnerable, defeated tone that alerted you to the slight change of topic.

You fell silent, not really knowing how to respond. Yes, of course you missed him. You loved him more than anything. But those days are over, you knew that. You’d cried enough those following nights after his disappearance.

He was probably dead anyway.

“Of course I do,” you wouldn’t lie to her. That wasn’t fair. But you knew the truth was just as painful for her.

“Will I ever be enough? Will I ever be enough to replace him?” the sound of her voice had your heart in pieces. You loved Scarlett. You really did. But your heart wouldn’t let you love her wholly. Part of yourself will always be dedicated to that grumpy kid you’d fallen for all those years ago.

“Scar… I—”

“I know,” she whispered, stepping forward away from your outstretched grasp. “I know,” you watched as the woman you loved, and who loved you, stepped from your shared quarters, hovering in the doorway. “I’m sorry I asked,” she closed the door as she left, leaving you a frustrated, conflicted mess.

⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈⎈

“Understood, I’ll bring them in right away. Thank you Niles,” The Commander of the MPs stood opposite Erwin, arms folded. An expression of irritation plastered on his sunken features. Erwin simply sighed, realising Niles was wanting to stay for this seemingly impromptu meeting. With a nod of his head, a cadet rushed off to find the two soldiers mentioned in their little conversation. Being Commander of the Scouts often had its perks, like having cadets around to run errands for him.

Niles cleared his throat, taking a seat on the green leather sofa within Erwin’s office. “You sure he’d help us? I mean, it wasn’t too long ago he actually decided killing you was probably a bad idea.”—he raised a thin brow, peering at Erwin with barely concealed suspicion—“I’m pretty sure the Underground City would be the last place he’d want to return.” a knock at the door cut their conversation short, both turning their heads as Erwin called;

“Enter.”

Hange was the first to make her presence known, poking her head in as she opened the door. A smile adorned the slightly dishevelled section commander, her hair sticking up in all directions. Clearly she had been in the middle of something when Erwin requested her presence.

“You asked to see us, Erwin?” her eyes sparkling with curiosity behind her glasses as she stepped through the door.

“Tch, just make it quick, I have shit to do,” the monotone voice of Levi behind her made Erwin pinch the bridge of his nose. How many times has he told him not to talk to him like that?

“Yes, come in and make yourselves comfortable.” Hange immediately took up a seat next to Niles on the sofa, Levi preferring to stand against the now closed door, arms folded. Erwin’s sharp eyes shifted to Niles, an indication for the MP Commander to speak.

“Well, no point in beating around the bush. We’ve received an anonymous tip about some criminal gang that’s been plaguing my soldiers in the Underground City.” Levi visibly stiffened at the mention of his old home. His jaw tensed in anticipation. There would be only one reason he would be called into such a discussion, and the answer was a firm no.

Without his permission, his mind flashed back to a (H/C) girl, her face etched with that ever mischievous smirk. He quelled the thoughts as quickly as he could. He needed his wits with him, and allowing his mind to wander back to what he’d left behind wouldn’t help anything. Besides, the likelihood of you being alive was close to none.

“Section Commander, I don’t suppose you would have heard of the group but Captain Levi here surely would have done. The Nest.” Niles continued, now eyeing Levi to gage his reaction. And for a man whose emotions were usually on a tight leash, this seemed to be what cracked his impenetrable walls. His eyes flew wide open, frantically searching between Niles and Erwin. They couldn’t be serious. The Nest? That was where Farlan and Isobel used to—

Shit, he really needed to keep his thoughts at bay. But what he did know was that The Nest was an impenetrable fortress of criminal activity. Trying to mess with them was suicide.

“Judging by your reaction, I’m going to assume you are familiar with them, Levi,” Erwin’s surprisingly calm tone eased the growing tension in the room. Taking a subtle breath to calm himself, Levi’s eyes narrowed to his commander.

“Yeah. I know of it. Why?” it was a rhetorical question, he already knew why, but he wanted to hear it from Erwin himself. Hange looked incredibly confused, looking between the men in the office, trying to glean something, anything, about what the hell was going on.

“The Nest? Why are they so bad?” she asked, not afraid to show how completely oblivious she is to anything that doesn’t concern titans or science. Erwin gestured to Levi.

“Levi? Care to explain? You probably know more than myself and Niles combined,” though his voice seemed kind, there was a slight edge to his deep tones. One that didn’t go unnoticed by Levi.

A heavy silence filled the room as the Captain wracked his brain for all the information he could think of regarding the organisation. It seemed like hours before he finally spoke.

“Well, you got one thing right. The Nest is a criminal organisation. A nasty one at that. Merciless bastards. Whether you’re a soldier or a citizen, they don’t give a shit. They’ll leave you a broken, bloodied mess in the street. I don’t know much about their leader. Only that he took over from the previous one around ten-ish years ago. Since then, they’ve expanded their shitty little gang and taken over an entire section of the city,” he explained, poison lacing his tone. It wasn’t that he was above the whole gang thing, oh no. It was more the state Farlan would be in before he left to meet whoever the fuck led that group of demons. He’d never seen his friend so anxious. So afraid.

“You never met him? Their leader?” Erwin inquired, lacing his hands together on the desk in front of him. Levi scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“If I had, I would tell you. But I know he’s smart. And not the good kind of smart. The kind of smart where he would always be ten steps ahead of you. He has a small group of trusted criminals surrounding him at all times, called his Shadows. They’ll be the ones to look out for,” Despite his voice sounding bored, Levi’s heart was racing. They couldn’t seriously be thinking of facing The Nest, could they? But something in the expressions of both Niles and Erwin told him he was wrong. Dead wrong.

“They’ve been picking off my soldiers. Always in the same places as well. I was going to leave it, just tell them to avoid certain areas until this tip. Their next job. We know what it is,” Niles interjected, looking down to the floor, his own mind a whirlwind.

“And you want to intercept them. The same way you did with me, right?” Levi finished through gritted teeth. This was absurd. There was no way they could pick them all off. Unless… that wasn’t the goal. Levi’s grey eyes widened slightly, realising what they wanted to do. Yep, this was total suicide. Hange clapped her hands together almost excitedly, as if she was also able to read Erwin’s mind.

“You want to capture him! The leader! Ah! This all makes so much sense now, I was starting to wonder why I was here,” the scientist mused almost to herself, before jumping to her feet. “This is the perfect opportunity to test some of the concept traps I have in mind. Obviously for titans they’d need to be much, MUCH bigger. And of course a few modifications would have to be made so they could adapt to size and body type but oooooooh this is so exciting! I’ll start right away!'' Without allowing anybody to get a word in edgeways, Hange dashed back to her lab to begin her preparations.

“Thank you Erwin, the Military Police will remember this,” Niles said, before he too was rising from his seat. Throwing Levi an unsure glance, he made his way towards the door, only to be shoved into the hallway by Levi, who promptly closed the door behind him.

“Don’t.” he simply said, turning back to Erwin who was peering at him, his expression puzzled. Levi rolled his eyes again, clearly having to clarify what he meant. “Don’t pursue them. It’s suicide,” The Commander’s expression relaxed slightly in understanding.

“We don’t have a choice, Levi. Not only are hundreds of MPs being slaughtered down there, but relationships between the Scouts and the MPs are strenuous at best. It would be in our best interests to—“

“Bullshit.”

Erwin sighed again, having to hold his tongue. Snapping at Levi now for his language would only rile up the man more.

“Levi, we already have a plan in motion. There are soldiers down there now meeting whoever gave us that anonymous tip to further discuss the job The Nest has taken. It’ll be fine, but you’re going to have to trust me.” Erwin’s eyes bore into Levi’s own, the man once again asking his Captain to trust him in a risky call he’s made. Levi’s done it so many times before, why was it so difficult now?

It took yet another pregnant silence before Levi eventually yielded.

“Fine, but don’t be surprised when we’re once again forced to retreat with our tails between our legs.” it was a savage comment, but one that Erwin didn’t take to heart as he watched the raven haired man leave. Yes, this was a risk, but all his risks so far had worked out fairly well. There was no reason why this one would fail. No reason at all.

Levi leant against the door to Erwin’s office, looking down the hallway before letting loose a long breath. Not only would he have to go toe to toe with The Raven, but he also had to face so much of his past he’d wanted to forget. Fuck, this was a terrible idea. Why did Erwin always have to gamble? It was exhausting for everyone else involved.

Folding his arms, the shorter man strode back to his own office, lost in thought the entire way. Would he see you again? Were you even alive? Did you know just how much he had missed you. Just how much he’d wanted to see you again. To hold you again.

Did you know he’d looked for you? How his heart shattered over and over again each time he found no trace of you. He’d never accepted you were gone. Always holding onto that thorn of hope that maybe, just maybe, you’d survived.

Collapsing in his chair behind his desk, Levi unlocked the bottom draw and gently pulled it out. He delicately picked out a small, ebony bird feather you’d crafted into a quill pen. Even though neither of you knew how to write, you knew back then how much he had wanted to learn despite never voicing it directly. All those nights spent copying out basic letters from discarded newspapers and wanted posters. You always had this way of reading his mind.

The smallest fond smile crept across his usually bored face. God he missed you. It had been years and he still missed you like he only lost you yesterday.

[one-piecee]

#ONEPIECE1044

Okay, this chapter is so big I'm going to try and structure it a little differently, discuss things in parts 😭 😭

1. Chapter Events

Chapter title: Warrior of Liberation

So the chapter starts with Luffy saying: What's happening...? How can I still stand? I just lost... but I feel like I'm having a blast.

And music/drums (Doom Dut Da Da) playing all around him - And we've got Zunesha saying Luffy Is Joy Boy!!

(this panel is amazing by the way, wow!!)

And we cut to the Five Elders discussing Luffy and his devil fruit, the "Gomu Gomu No Mi", as we know it-

No matter the era, the world government has always failed to acquire the gomu gomu no mi, even after 800 years of trying.

The fruit Luffy has carries the name of a "God"... After all the gomu gomu no mi is actually a mythical zoan type - human human model Nika

It is allegedly the most ridiculous power in the world.

We cut briefly to Hiyori and Orochi talking, or more like Orochi begging Hiyori to spare his life-

((another BEAUTIFUL panel))

and Kanjuro comes (on his last breath, as the dying flame) and ends up killing Orochi. I have to be honest with you guys here, I wasn't focused too much on this part because LUFFY NIKA JOY BOY LUFFY NIKA JOY BOY LUFFY NIKA JOY BOY

AND THEN WE GOT LUFFY JUMPING TO GEAR FIFTH, ALSO HIS AWAKENING!!

WE GOT LUFFY LITERALLY SWINGING KAIDO AROUND

We also see Luffy literally pick up the ground, and bounce back Kaido's attack - this could be his awakening!! Playing around with all the space around him!!

IT LOOKS SO GOOD!! AND HE'S JUST HAVING THE TIME OF HIS LIFE HE'S LAUGHING AND HAVING A BLAST I LOVE HIM

And again, Kaido apologizing for CP0 (code of honour? I need his backstory!!)

He just looks great, it was an amazing chapter and i literally can't believe we actually got this confirmed. I've seen before (and even years before) that some people thought luffy's devil fruit might have actually been Nika and I need to find that theorist again because????

Okay well this is going to be long because I have three more points to talk a bit more about, I'll put a divider so it doesn't get too much-

2. Why did the Elders wait until now?

I've seen a lot of people comment on the fact that it doesn't make sense that the elders knew that the fruit they were looking for this entire time was called the gomu gomu no mi, and that they didn't go and catch Luffy immediately, or alert the people at marineford or whatever whatever well first of all - the actual devil fruit, nika, hadn't been used in 800 years - the only ones who knew about the fruit were the elders and they didn't know about Luffy!!

As (@/Huureviews) on twitter pointed out, after the conclusion of Marine Ford the elders said:

There was no way for them to know about Luffy's DF because they've never seen him use it, or even seen him at all, the only ones who see him use it are always surprised by his DF - and he always says "I'm a rubber-man", if you don't know about the rubber properties gained after eating the Nika fruit, you won't connect the dots and the only ones who could where the elders (who didn't know)

(+) which is why even more people are now seemingly convinced Shanks meeting up with them was about the fruit

3. Zoan fruits have free will

A very small point - In the chapter the elders say that all Zoan type devil fruits have a "will of their own" and that's why the Nika fruit always seems to evade them - could this explain how Luffy got a hold of it?

We know that Shanks had the DF, but he was also VERY upset when Luffy ate the fruit, and it doesn't make sense that it was that easy for Luffy to eat the DF (that he could just open the box, wouldn't Shanks have locked it up, or kept it away better?) SO what it, Sun God Nika, the devil fruit, in it's own free will wanted Luffy to have his powers? Too many questions, so little answers.

AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST

4. The true abilites of Model Nika

NO, the human human fruit - model Nika isn't the strongest power in the world, or the most powerful as some people suggest - it's the most ridiculous. Another word for it would be comical, that's Luffy's fruit. The user's body gains the properties of rubber, and in combat they are only limited by their imagination - to clear things up, this DOES NOT mean that Luffy's powers came solely from the fruit - it came from his own imagination, will and creativity.

Anyone with this fruit might have stretched a little, thrown some punches and called it a day but Luffy's imagination and his desire to grow stronger and stronger made him train even more, which made him unlock all of these different possibilities. His DF is strong, but Luffy controls it (not vice versa).

And that concludes my rant for the day!! What did you guys think? Some people think Shanks might have gone to the village wanting Ace to eat the fruit, knowing that Roger's son was somewhere there - what do you guys think`?

[randomdcfangirl]

Jason x Superman's daughter!reader

Request: Hi can i request a jason todd x reader where reader is a daughter of a hero and defends jason infront of the jl by @illzarr

(A/N): You didn't specify if you wanted them to be a couple or not but I made them one, hope that's okay :) Also I made it Superman's daughter.

Tags: @redhoodieone @avengerdragoness @comic-nerd-dc

Keys: (Y/N): Your Name (Y/S/N): Your Superhero Name

Word Count: 1,381

Warning(s): Cursing, arguing, mention of child abuse, talking about Jason's death, league may be a bit rude and ignorant when it comes to Red Hood, also a bit insensitive

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

Being on The Watchtower wasn't something Jason liked doing, especially since he wasn't Robin anymore. As Robin it was fun and he liked it but after everything it wasn't a fun experience. Red Hood isn't seen as a hero in the hero community like he is down in Crime Alley. Moral codes got in the way of that.

How the hell Jason got (Y/N) Kent or (Y/S/N) he has no idea, no fucking clue. Why did Clark allow it you may ask? He did not, he doesn't know, good thing Jason carries Kryptonite around, he's not dying a second time to Superman.

Jason doesn't even really know why he was called to this mission, it wasn't hard and they wouldn't need backup so he was a bit on guard because of that. He was walking with his Nightwing, his brother of all people, to this meeting that Jason is pretty sure isn't a meeting. Jason's pretty sure he's getting set up but he was going with it for now, well somewhat.

"Wing, you need to tell me right now, am I getting set up?" Jason asked him.

"I'm not going to take you to get arrested, Hood. If I wanted that it would've happened a long time ago." Dick let out a laugh.

"Wow thanks, glad to know you don't want me in prison." Jason joked. "But actually, this isn't a mission is it?"

"To be honest, I wasn't told anything either. So I honestly don't know." Dick replied.

"Okay, now I know it's not a mission. They were prepared for me to ask questions so they didn't tell you anything." Jason sighed. "Guess I'm arguing with somebody today."

Dick shrugged and they continued on their way to the conference room. That conversation didn't give Jason any information at all. They arrived in the conference room a few minutes later and everyone was there, already waiting for them. There was a seat for Jason at the table between Diana and (Y/N), Jason cautiously walked up and sat in the chair while Dick walked around to sit next to Bruce and Clark.

"Now that we're all here we can get started. So, it's not really a mission." Superman said. Jason's suspicions were confirmed.

"I had a feeling, so why am I here?" Jason sighed.

"Think of this as sort of an intervention, Batman has no say in anything we've done and he cannot stop it." Diana said.

"Intervention for what?" Jason asked confused.

"Your actions as the Red Hood." Clark replied.

"If this is about killing I haven't killed anyone in the past year, bats already beat you to that "intervention" a while ago." Jason said with finger quotations.

"Not just the killing, there's a lot of younger heros that look up to you and you're too aggressive out in the field." Diana explained vaguely.

"But yes mostly the killing." Flash said.

"I didn't sign up to be a role model, that's not my fault. All I do is mind my business and do my job, I don't think that's a need for an intervention." Jason replied.

"Okay, let's talk to Jason instead of Red Hood, drop the persona." Superman said. "Clark to Jason."

"Sorry but Jason isn't any different, I think the person you're looking for died in a warehouse 8 years ago." Jason replied, Clark flinched a bit at that remark. "Just spit it the fuck out, why exactly am I here?"

"They don't like the way you act and work down in Gotham like they have any authority down there in the first place." (Y/N) said from her place next to Jason.

"(Y/N)." Clark warned.

"No, all you guys ever do when he's here is criticize like you have authority over him. Well guess fucking what, you don't. He's a grown man who can make his own decisions and you're not his family. Maybe you were considered so at one point but in my opinion you lost that privilege a long time ago!" She exclaimed to all of them.

"(Y/N) you don't hav-." Jason started but she cut him off standing out of her chair.

"No! I do! I'm sick of all of you trying to change who the Red Hood is! Just because he has a different moral code? Also did you know that he's never once killed an innocent person? Did you know Red Hood has only ever killed murderers, rapists, child molesters, because I don't know about you but those people don't deserve to be breathing in my opinion anyway." She said darkly then turned to Jason and talked softly. "They brought you up here because Joker is dead but they wanted to know if you did it or not. They wanted to see if they could make you say it without straight out asking you."

"He's dead? When? Who?" Jason asked quietly in shock.

"We were hoping you knew." Green Lantern said with a bit of sarcasm in his voice.

"If I was never stopped he would've been dead a long time ago. But no I didn't kill him, I wish I did but nope." Jason was keeping himself composed from the shock.

"Okay, he didn't kill him, like I told you many times. But you wanted to know how I knew so you know what I'll tell you. I was with him for the past 2 weeks every single night and day. He's my boyfriend and he's the most kind hearted, hard working, strongest and intelligent man I've ever met. I've never been treated with such respect and love so I'm not going to sit here and let you tear him a part in lectures anymore. He does too much good down in Crime Alley to deserve it." She said strongly to everyone in the room. Bruce sent her a nod because he's glad Jason has her.

"Oh really, what good has he done?" Green Arrow said.

"When was the last time you guys gave out food to street kids or an orphanage? How many of you guys help kids with homework or the kids who have to cover bruises on their arms or legs while at school? When was the last time you gave a sexual assault victim peace of mind knowing their attacker can't hurt them anymore? When was the last time you worked your asses off every single night to bring kidnapped children home from a trafficking ring? Probably never for most of you but Jason does it every single day while dealing with his own demons up in his mind because guess what he's gone through literal hell and back and that shit ain't easy!" She exclaimed more. "C'mon babe, you have no reason to be up here. Let's go home."

She grabbed his hand after they both stood up and they walked out of the room. They left everyone in the room including her father who didn't know what to think.

"That's three bats now somehow involved with my family." Clark sighed.

"It's not fun from my side either, Clark." Bruce replied standing up. "Also don't ever call a meeting to do with any of my children again. Especially not Jason, he deals with enough already and you have no authority over Gotham so your input on my city is not accepted. Leave my family and my city out of League business, this meeting is over."

Batman is scary but Batdad is scarier.

When Jason and (Y/N) got to his apartment they changed out of their gear and into sweats and comfy clothes.

"You didn't have to do that you know." Jason said wrapping his arms around her from behind while in their bedroom looking out the window.

"I did, I know you won't defend yourself with actual facts and would likely turn to anger to protect yourself so as your girlfriend I decided I'd take it upon myself to protect you the way you try to protect me, even though I'm Kryptonian." She replied. Jason huffed a laugh because he does do that even though she doesn't need it.

"I love you." Jason told her kissing the side of her head.

"I love you too." She replied and turned to give him a real kiss.

They'd deal with Superman later.

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

Hi, I haven't wrote is fic in a long time but here this is. I'm still doing the Jason x Bermudian!reader I'm sorry that's taking so long. But I love you guys and hopefully I'll be more active on here :) <3 (Also I couldn't think of a title lol)

[katsidhe]

could you do 9.10 and 9.13 for episode reviews.

Love your takes btw.

9.10 Final Thoughts

well, well, well, if it isn’t my old friend season 9. God I love season 9. buckle in. 

Plenty of what season 9 tries to do with angel drama falls flat, but plenty of it doesn’t. It’s at its strongest when interrogating the ways that the angels are looking for personal purpose, rather than folding themselves into various suit-clad factions. In this episode, we have Gadreel, Abner, and Thaddeus, all with very different takes.

Thaddeus is the most boring of the three—a straightforward narcissist and sadist. (Lucifer will follow in his rockstar-impersonating footsteps in s12. SPN clearly has a dim view of the music industry.) We don’t care when he dies, and we aren’t meant to.

Abner’s found a family, and he’s let go of revenge. He’s clearly found peace and happiness—but it’s stolen.  I’m ambivalent about this. I guess I could take his word that his vessel was abusive and therefore deserves to have been permanently body-snatched, and I guess I could believe him when he says his new family loves him, even though they clearly don’t know what he is or what he’s done. His regard for humanity as something other than a project is… uncertain. Even if everything is as sunny as he explains to Gadreel, there is fundamental selfishness and short-sightedness here. Get what you want, Abner says, and never let go.

Gadreel asks Abner if his vessel is happy. This reveals both Abner’s scorn for his vessel, and Gadreel’s uncomfortable awareness of and respect for Sam (and his bartender vessel, who Gadreel stares at, and who accepts Gadreel back easily).

Gadreel! OF COURSE Gadreel’s gotta be the scapegoat for Lucifer’s release, HAHAHAH. I love him to pieces, oml. Seriously, the Sam parallels could not BE more blatant. I’ve talked about this before, that it makes the earned antipathy between them all the more alarming, all the more visceral. The big sticking point is that Gadreel’s years of pointless torture came prior to his “redemption” arc, rather than as a consequence of it. Gadreel has all of s5 Sam’s despair and helpless anger and self-loathing, all of his drive to set things right at any price, and all of it is amplified by his trauma.

Sam and Gadreel’s relationship is defined by its liminal spaces. Gadreel threatens to tear Sam apart, but he does not, even when he is tortured. He locks Sam away in a dream rather than force him to watch him kill, or to suffer. But when Sam forces Gadreel out, Gadreel leaps instantly on telling Sam he is weak, reciting back Sam’s fears and Gadreel’s own. This reads like Gadreel is aiming quite a lot of his own self-pity and self-hatred at Sam.

Cas’s murderous rage at Gadreel when his identity is revealed is fun. It shows that Heaven’s PR team did a good job, for one thing. But Cas is furious because it’s specifically Lucifer. And the Apocalypse, and all the attendant suffering, his and Dean’s and Sam’s. It’s a personal wrath.

“Stupid for the right reasons…” oh, Cas, your scarcity of positive human role models is showing. Also, Cas’s particular brand of reassurance here isn’t actually something Dean has a problem with. He expresses regret over having been tricked—he says he’s stupid, he says he got played—but he’s never in doubt that his intentions were good. He’s never in doubt that he did the righteous thing. He’s never in doubt that he’d do it again.

Dean apologizes to Cas for barring him from the bunker. (Sam will not receive an apology.) Cas compares what Dean did to Sam to what Cas did by trusting Naomi. There’s a key difference here. Cas’s moral compass is not the problem; it’s his critical thinking skills.

Crowley, Cas, and Dean are a hilarious trio. (Also, I really hope that Cas’s pimpmobile got to Heaven too, like the Impala.)

Crowley being genuinely sorry that Kevin’s gone and his willingness to risk his life to help Sam are the best two moments of the generally weak Crowley-has-human-blood plot line. They feel earned. [also Crowley’s ‘I told Kevin he should’ve run!’ is both accurate, funny, and sad.]

Let’s talk 4.21 parallels! I mean, first, the glaringly obvious: Sam locked down to be purged of something supernatural; Sam suffering; Dean unable to bear Sam’s tortured screams; a very atmospheric fan. Dean walking away.

and then, of course, there’s “at least he dies human.” Right off the bat, Dean tells Cas he’s going to kill Gadreel. Cas, concerned, says that this will kill Sam too; Dean, sounding tortured, says he knows. Now, obviously, Dean doesn’t kill Sam. He doesn’t even get particularly close. But it’s really interesting that this is the first thing Dean brings up! He declares unprompted that he’s ready to kill Sam rather than leave him possessed. Which is both a recapitulation of the save-him-or-kill-him mantra, and an ironic twist on the decision Dean made in 9.01. Then, Dean knew Sam would rather die than be possessed, but had him possessed anyway. Now, Dean has decided instead that Sam must die because he is possessed. Obviously Dean’s opinion on the possessing entity has changed in the meantime: Sam’s hasn’t, but Sam’s isn’t what matters. 

Dean reaches new levels of PEAK IRONY when he declares that Cas should possess Sam too. Cas has to actually point out that Dean can’t, in fact, volunteer Sam’s permission. Because apparently Dean had forgotten, lmaooo. Crowley, on the other hand, is happy to oblige. Dean directs Cas to burn Sam’s tattoo off.

The language of this entire scene is so sexual. I mean, it’s Crowley, of course it is, double entendre is his first language. But this theme recurs again and again. Here it is just more pointed than usual. It is queasy.

Gadreel has Sam trapped in a Dean-type happy place—a hunt with ghouls and cheerleaders, no organic produce to be found. And I don’t think it’s because Gadreel doesn’t understand what Sam likes. I think it’s because Gadreel’s aim was for Sam to feel comfortable, not blissful. It smacks of Hallucifer, just a bit—using the verisimilitude of Dean’s louder moods rather than trying to appeal directly to Sam’s contentment, because of his always questionable, always a question, sense of reality. If things were too smooth, too cheerful, Sam might just be suspicious. Sam is easier to trick by proxy. 

The HORROR of this episode for Sam: Gadreel washing someone’s blood off of Sam’s hands. Crowley pushing needles into his brain. Sam’s body and life as a bargaining chip as Gadreel threatens to kill him, and then as Dean threatens to kill him right back. The quiet heartbreak as Sam remembers Kevin’s death, as he realizes the magnitude of Dean’s betrayal. But the worst part of it, I think, is somehow still Sam’s face when Crowley comes to get him in the dream where Gadreel stashed him. How his expression just crumples as Crowley tells him he is trapped in a lie, that his mindscape is once again a prison, that he truly cannot trust his reality. The sheer devastation of this on top of Sam’s history, plus the knowledge that Dean did this—and he pulls himself together and puts his foot on Gadreel��s neck and casts him OUT anyway. Sam Fucking Winchester.

and then the Bridge Scene. The lighting, the staging… it’s fucking gorgeous. It’s one of those scenes where I knew as I was watching it for the first time, seven years ago, that it was going to be something. I held my breath and still hold my breath. I can’t take my eyes off the way that Sam is shaking slightly, the entire time. The way he can barely meet Dean’s eyes but he does it anyway. He SAYS HIS PIECE, says it clearly, says it with an even tone despite what he’s gone through, despite the holes in his head that were healed seconds ago.

I love the gentleness between Sam and Cas here. I love knowing that 9.11 follows this. I love that there is no question that Cas will leave with Dean—he is staying with Sam, to heal and support him, even after he spent this episode mostly reassuring Dean.

Dean does not start this conversation to apologize. He starts out with the intent to DELIBERATELY egg Sam on: “come on, let’s hear it.” It’s an incitement, because Dean wants Sam to act angry, so that Dean can feel more justified in leaving. Sam does not rise to the bait.

Dean has an excuse for every point Sam has: I had no choice, you were dying, it’s not in me, he saved your life. He says, “I did a bad thing with bad consequences and I would 100% do it again, anyway, bye.”

And then the most infuriating thing: Dean is in the wrong, so he tells the person he’s wronged, ugh, I’m just such an awful poisonous person, I’m going to burn for this. It’s so clearly wrong-headed. Intentional or not, it’s such an obvious invitation for Sam to comfort him that it might well have been embossed. If this were in e.g. season 15, or if the crime he’d committed had been less awful, I can easily hear Sam’s reassurance: no, Dean, I promise you’re a good person, we all make mistakes. It is the most toxic way possible to frame a potential apology.

The textual theme of Dean-as-poison (and, for that matter, the consequence of Kevin’s death vs. the initial crime of the possession) is an intentional muddying of the waters: Crowley, Cas, and Dean himself all bring it up in some fashion, linking some fundamental aspect of Dean himself rather than Dean’s choices to Kevin’s death. Crowley is trying to be cutting; Cas is trying to be supportive; Dean is both excusing himself and camouflaging that fact in his exhausting self-loathing. There is a complicated interplay of what the text says about Dean’s guilt and what it condemns; this pattern continues throughout s9, and reaches its apex in the next several episodes. Dean’s love as a condemning feature rather than a redeeming one is one of my favorite things about SPN, and s9 has it in HIGH gear.

But, here, at least, Sam doesn’t rise to this bait either. “Don’t go thinking that’s the problem, ‘cause it’s not.” The problem is obviously, achingly, exhaustingly clear. Sam’s spelled it out in this very conversation: you tricked me. You lied to me. You got me possessed when I was willing to die. But Dean, and a fair portion of the audience, can’t hear it. So he doesn’t. And they don’t, and they pretend that this line is some sort of puzzle! a cliffhanger on a conversation unfinished! when it was the conclusion, not the beginning.

image that is now inextricable from 9.10

[nrth-wind-a]

Aaaand that’s the last of these kiss prompts! One last one that I had @flamekeeperbellroc pick a kiss type for me because I need at least one where Skrael was givin Bells a kiss! Here is [Forehead] + some fluff to make up for the angst just now <3 --

“Bells? Are you alright?” Skrael gave a gentle knock on their door.

He didn’t mean to hover; he really didn’t. It was just… 

“You’ve been listening to… ‘Mr. Brightside,’ on repeat for the last hour? It’s not-- a problem, per se, just--”

The sounds of The Killers turned less audible through the walls, and Skrael could hear shuffling inside their bedroom. As he was about to turn back to his own room, feeling horribly awkward, Bellroc’s door opened a fraction. 

He whirled back to face them, quickly. As of now was his first actual sighting of them since the morning, when they’d grabbed their favorite 21 ounce mug, filled it near to the brim with barely-lighter-than-black coffee, and stalked back to their room without a word. 

Standing in front of them now, he gave them a once-over, worry growing. He knew what they were working on-- it was the project all three of them had to turn in by the end of the semester-- and while it wasn’t quite that Skrael was unbothered by the assignment where they were, it was just… Bellroc had been having a bit of inspirational trouble. 

The assignment had all three of them out of their comfort zones, to be entirely fair-- randomly assigning them a classic style prompt. 

But Nari had been the luckiest of all three of them, getting “historical vintage - mid-60’s”; it was different from her modern designs, but it still fell rather squarely in her skill range. She adored making flowing silhouettes and using lighter colors than either Bellroc or Skrael favored, to bring out a more natural look on her models. The hippie movement of the era would support her concepts perfectly.

Skrael, on the other hand, who had managed to end up with “black tie,” wasn’t particularly struggling either, but he did have to consult the professor on more than one occasion about toning down the hints of alternative fashion that had slipped into more than one of his drafts. 

Bellroc, however, had ended up with “sportswear.” 

And it wasn’t that they despised sportswear clothes. They understood that the style served a function that was in high demand. They even held a certain respect for designers that could make their entire careers in sports fashion. 

But it was also nearly the polar opposite of the formal, campy, vaguely punk designs that they wanted to make into their brand.

 So it had been difficult. 

Bellroc raised an eyebrow at Skrael’s sudden silence, and before he could try to remedy that, they turned to walk back into their room. They left the door open, though, so Skrael knew he was being invited in. 

This was furthered when they mumbled, “shut the door behind you, please,” as they sat back down at their desk.

He complied, grateful for the excuse to do something, as he gathered his thoughts.

Skrael started with something easy, to breach the subject’s surface, but only just. “So... How’s the project going?”

They shot him an unappreciative look. 

He winced. “That bad, huh?”

Bellroc exhaled through their nose. “Yes.” It sounded nearly physically painful for them to admit that.

Skrael softened, walking over to place one hand on the back of their chair, and the other on their desk, as he leaned over to get a look at what they’d been doing. 

His brow furrowed. “Wait. I thought you said it wasn’t going well. These look great!”

They gave a frustrated groan. “They’re fine, I guess, but they feel… typical. Boring. There’s nothing about them that would stand out in a Nike store.”

Skrael hummed. “Well, I suppose that’s true. But do they have to stand out? Don’t you want them to look like they belong there?”

“Maybe if it wasn’t Overton. But you know how he is. He’ll dock points immediately for unoriginality.” 

Skrael gave a quiet sigh. They were right. 

“Hm. Okay. Well. Let’s brainstorm. Wanna bounce some ideas off me?” He asked.

Bellroc considered the idea, and Skrael gave them one more nudge, “I don’t mind.”

They looked at him skeptically. “You’re not busy, too?”

He shrugged. “Nah. Overton and I have another draft meeting tomorrow, so I’m at a good stopping point.”

“...If you’re sure.” They hummed.

“I am. Now. What do you have so far?” He asked, glancing down at the various pages scattered around their desk. “I see these, which I still think look great,” he gestured to the top page, “But how are the others?”

Bellroc gathered the pages into a stack and passed them off, “Here. Feel free to rifle. I’ve stared at these for way too long today, anyway.”

Skrael accepted the stack with a reassuring smile, before he flipped through them slowly, taking it all in. 

“Hm… Okay. I like pages one, three, four, five, and seven; I think those are your strongest pairs so far. Have you considered trying shoe designs?”

Bellroc nodded, “Yeah, but I’m saving those for another day. I wanted to get the clothes done first.”

“Right. Well, the jacket on page three is really nice. I highly recommend making that one of the main statement pieces. The pants on page one are good, too, and… I mean, honestly, everything on pages four, five, and seven seems nice to me, too. And none of these have been colored yet, so I’m sure you could do something with that. Maybe experiment with some various palettes? Add prints or patterns to some of these?”

They nodded, gesturing for him to hand back the sheets. He did so, and they scribbled out the notes he’d given on the back of page one, adding them to a long list of crossed out brainstorm ideas that were already there.

Skrael couldn’t help a small, fond smile, before they glanced back up, and he schooled his features into something more neutral. 

“I was thinking about some prints on the shirt; they might add something dynamic to them, make them less flat. It’s just, there’s only so much you can add to workout gear before it gets in the way of actual physical activity.” They grumbled.

“Can you not do athleisure wear?” Skrael asked.

“Overton said not to put that many of those pieces in it. He’s looking for functionality.”

Skrael frowned. “Oh. Well, okay, so, not too many distracting prints, but a few would be alright, right?”

They nodded. “Yeah; a few. I’ll probably rely on patterned fabrics, though. Lots of geometrics.”

“Ah, yeah! Geometrics are nice for workout gear.”

“Mhm. Thing is, there’s only so many hexagons you can apply to something before it gets repetitive.” Their voice was wry.

Skrael snorted. “True.” 

Silence fell in the room, then, as they both tried to brainstorm further ways to combat the unoriginality problem.

After a few moments, Bellroc finally chucked out an idea, and Skrael picked it up and ran with it, leading them to a new idea, which again allowed Skrael to follow it to another one, giving Bellroc even more creative inspiration. They carried on this way for a while, Skrael eventually ending up in a pulled up chair next to Bellroc at their desk, as they traded concepts back and forth, occasionally throwing out ridiculous ones, just to get the other laughing. 

Finally, Skrael suggested, “Maybe you could mess with texture? Or some different-looking fabrics?” He perked up. “Oh! How about--”

Their eyes went wide. “Reflective metallics?” They finished for him, also sitting up straighter, and he flushed.

“Have you already considered that one?”

“No, but I…”

“--like those kinds of flashes when you need to spice up a piece. Right. That’s exactly why I was gonna suggest it.” he caught on, smiling.

“Exactly.” They grinned back. “Well. This has been a very successful session. It seems I should have started the Mr. Brightside loop, earlier, hm?”

Skrael laughed softly, “Maybe so. Do you think you’ve got enough concepts now?”

Bellroc beamed. “Yeah. Thanks to you.”

Skrael shook his head. “Thanks to your brilliance.”

Bellroc got a funny look on their face that Skrael couldn’t quite identify, but to avoid an awkward silence after his… disarmingly honest compliment, he said, “So. Can I steal you for a break, now?”

Bellroc looked a touch relieved at the subject change, before a sly grin crossed their face. “Mmm… if I was convinced…” They shot back.

“Well…” Skrael’s eyes turned mischievous. “We haven’t had a bad horror movie night in a while.”

“Oh, that might just do it.” They smirked.

Skrael resisted the laugh that threatened to break his demeanor, as he playfully said, “I know what you like.” He winked.

Not one to be outdone, they matched his tone. “You sure do, darling.”

“Only the best for you, my dear.” Skrael stood back up, but before Bellroc could stand, too, he moved one hand to their shoulder, looking them in the eyes. 

“But, first. On a serious note, are you sure you’re feeling up to it? I won’t force you; I just think a break will be good for you.”

Bellroc stared into Skrael’s eyes, searching for something, before their face eased into a softer expression. “...Yeah. I’m sure. I feel a lot better, now. Which is also thanks to you.” 

Skrael was no stranger to their hugs, so feeling their arms loop around him, he adjusted quickly, reaching to wrap his arms around their shoulders, placing one hand on the back of their head.

“I’ve got your back, Bells. Always.” 

Neither of them acknowledged the soft brush of his lips against their forehead, for fear of breaking whatever had just passed in the air between them, but as Skrael’s chest warmed, and Bellroc’s face heated, they both allowed themselves a hidden, indulgent grin.

[gryffindorcls]

Okay, well, first, co gears on 300 followers!!! And could you do adrinette with “I’m not going to stop poking you until you pay attention to me!” Please??

Thank you for your ask @fantasticfangirlwonderland!

Enjoy your Adrienette fluff!

If anyone else would like to submit a prompt ask, the list of what’s left can be found here.

Enjoy!

—

#14 Adrienette- I’m not going to stop poking you until you pay attention to me!

Tikki sighed as she watched Marinette throw her phone on the ground and flop face-first onto her chaise.  The tiny being stroked her holder’s cheek while the teen sobbed into a pillow.

“I know you had a tough day, but you need to try and calm down.  I don’t want you to get Akumatized,” Tikki whispered.

Marinette looked up and turned her tear-streaked face towards her Kwami.  “But it just keeps getting worse!  There are even more comments now!”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“No!  I want to be upset and cry like a normal human, but stupid Hawkmoth won’t even let me do that!”

“Is there anything that I can do to make you feel better?”

“I want Adrien.”

“Well, luckily he’s only a phone call away!”  Tikki picked up Marinette’s phone.  “Here you go!”

Marinette shook her head.  “No, Tikki!  It’s late, and he just got back from his week-long shoot in Milan.  I don’t want to bother him.”

“But he’d want to know if you were upset about something…especially something like this.  He’s going to find out eventually.”

“I know he will, but…you know what?  Nevermind.  It’s stupid.  I’ll talk to him about it tomorrow.  I’m just going to go get a shower and go to bed.”  Marinette pushed herself off the chaise, opened the hatch on her floor, and descended the stairs.

“Tomorrow will be too late,” Tikki mumbled as she placed the phone on the computer desk and scrolled through Marinette’s contacts.

***

Adrien threw his suitcase onto the floor and stumbled into the bathroom to brush his teeth.  He was exhausted, but he was happy to be at the end of a long, excruciating week of modeling in Milan.  Now that he was home, he couldn’t wait to go back to school, talk to his friends, and see Marinette.

It had taken a few months for Adrien to find the courage to ask out Marinette after they unintentionally learned each other’s identities; however, now that they had been dating for over a year, things had never been better.  They’d encountered a few bumps in the road, but they always found a way to navigate their problems together.  After all, they were Ladybug and Chat Noir.  They were partners.  They were made for each other.

“Hey, lover boy!” Plagg yelled from the other room, “Your girlfriend is calling!”

Adrien rushed into the bedroom and picked up his phone.  “Hey, Princess!  It’s pretty late.  I thought you’d be asleep.  That’s why I didn’t call.”

“Sorry, Adrien.  You’re not talking to Marinette right now,” a small voice said on the other line.

“Tikki?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“Is that my Sugarcube?!” Plagg zipped over to his holder.  “Put it on speaker!”

Adrien rolled his eyes and obliged.  “Happy?”

“Yes,” the black Kwami floated closer to the screen, “Good evening, Tikki!  Did you miss me?”

“Yes, I missed you, Plagg, but right now I really need to talk to Adrien.  It’s about Marinette.”

Panic began to bubble in his gut.  “What’s wrong with Marinette?  Is she okay?  Is she hurt?  Is she sick?”

“She’s really upset right now, and I don’t want her to get Akumatized.  She’s been crying almost all afternoon, and it got worse about ten minutes ago.  I suggested that she talk to you, but she didn’t want to.”

“Why?  That doesn’t make any sense.  She knows she can come to me about anything.”

“I know, but she thought that you would be too tired from your trip…or at least that’s what she told me.  If we’re being honest, I think there’s more to it.  Right now she’s in the shower trying to calm down, but I think she needs you.”

“Say no more.  I can be over in five minutes.”

“Maybe make it more like fifteen.  Let her finish getting ready for bed.”

“Right.  Right.  Okay.  Thank you so much for letting me know, Tikki.”

“Thank you for being there for her.  Oh…she’s coming back.  Goodbye!”

The line went dead and Adrien looked up at his Kwami.  “Are you up to going to Marinette’s house tonight?”

Plagg crossed his arms.  “You and I both know that the last thing we need is an Akumatized Ladybug.  Besides, I’ll get to see my Sugarcube.  I’m ready whenever you’re ready.”

“Alright…Plagg, CLAWS OUT!”

***

Marinette crawled into bed and covered herself completely with her blanket.  Tears started to fall once again as she buried her face into a pillow.  Her head ached, her heart hurt, and she desperately hoped she would fall asleep soon.

“Princess?” a familiar voice called out above her, “Would it be okay if I come in?  I brought ice cream.”

She hastily wiped the wetness from her cheeks and peeked out from behind her comforter.  When her eyes locked onto a worried-looking Chat Noir, her heart sank.  She felt more tears begin to slip down her cheeks.  In an effort to hide it, she pulled the blanket back over her head.  However, she knew it was too late.  He’d already seen her.

“Oh, Princess,” he whispered as he landed on her bed, “Plagg, claws in.”

Even from under the comforter, she could see the glow of his detransformation.  She felt him pull back the blanket and slide next to her.  He wrapped his arms around her and gently stroked her hair.  For the first time all day, she felt safe, warm, and loved.

“I missed you,” she mumbled into his soft, cotton t-shirt.

He sighed.  “I missed you, too, Bugaboo, but how about you tell me what’s actually bothering you.”

She shook her head and continued to cry.

“No, huh?” Marinette could almost hear the grin on his face by the sound of his voice.

Adrien pulled away and started poking her arm, causing her to curl up even more.  She swatted at him, but he ignored her protests.

“Nooooo!” she whined as a small smile appeared on her face, “STOP!  I’m too sad!”

“I’m not going to stop poking you until you pay attention to me!” he declared.

Marinette giggled.  “Fine!  You win.”

He pulled her back into a tight hug.  “There’s the smile I’ve waited all week to see.”

“I’m still sad though.”

“That’s okay, but at least you seem more open to talking now.  You know you can talk to me about anything at any time, right?  You can call me at any hour of the day, and I will be there.”

“I know…it’s just…I haven’t seen you in a week, and I wanted to be happy when you saw me again.  Also, I know you’re probably tired.  I didn’t want to bother you with my problems.”

“So what if I’m tired?  Marinette, if something is upsetting you, I want to know about it.  It doesn’t matter if I saw you ten minutes ago or if I’ve been gone for a week.  You are the most important thing in my life.  You mean the world to me, and I don’t ever want to feel like you have to be sad by yourself.  I will always be here for you.”

She looked up.  “Really?”

He kissed her forehead.  “Yes, really.  Now, will you please tell me what’s wrong.  I may not be able to fix it, but I’m always ready to listen.”

“You might get mad.”

“Okay.”

“It’s about something someone said about you…and me.”

“Okay…”

She bit her lip.  “Well, do you remember how you wore a shirt that I designed in one of your photoshoots this past week?  And then how you posted something about that shirt on Instagram?”

He nodded.  “I do.  It’s a wonderful shirt.  You did an amazing job designing it, and I wanted the world to see how incredible it was.”

“And that was so sweet of you.  But…someone went onto my Instagram account and started commenting on how they thought that I was just using you to get ahead as a designer.  Lots of people started replying to this person, and I guess the media caught on.  They were waiting for me when I left school today.  They started asking me all these questions and taking pictures.  Surprisingly, Chloe was the one who got them to go away.  I’ll have to thank her for that later, but…it was awful.  I know you have to deal with the press all the time, and there’s no reason to complain about something like this…”

He cut her off.  “No, you have every reason to complain about something like that.  You shouldn’t have to deal with that kind of stuff.  I’m so sorry I wasn’t there with you, Princess.  I’m sorry you had to deal with that on your own.  I should have been there.”

Marinette frowned.  “That’s just it.  You aren’t always going to be there to protect me from stuff like this.  I knew what I was getting into when I started dating you, but I guess it was just really jarring.  I’m used to getting media attention as Ladybug, but it just kind of sucks that the first time Marinette gets noticed it’s because I’m involved in a scandal.  I don’t want your dad to be mad.”

“I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t going to be mad, but I can tell you that he’s not going to be mad at you.  He hates bad press, but for some reason he loves you.  He thinks you’re incredibly talented.  If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have picked you to be one of his summer interns last year.  You worked hard to create a piece good enough for my father to feature in one of the shoots in Milan.  He may be kind of awful at being a parent ninety percent of the time, but if there’s one thing he’s good at it’s dealing with the press.  He’ll set them straight.”

Marinette looked away.  “So…you’re not mad?”

“No, but I’m a little upset that you didn’t want to call me right away.”  He gave her a gentle squeeze.  “I hope you know that I would do anything for you.”

She snuggled closer to him.  “I know you would, kitty.  I just…I don’t know.  I guess I was a little worried that you’d think that it was true.  I know it’s stupid, and you’d never actually think that…but what they said made me feel a little insecure.”

“Marinette, you are my lady.  You are my partner.  You are the strongest, kindest, and most incredible person in the world.  I also know that you are super talented, and you don’t need the Agreste family name to help you get ahead in anything.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“You’re amazing, Adrien.”

“I know.”

She snorted.  “And oh so humble.”

He flipped back his golden locks and placed a hand on his chest. “Puh-lease, Purr-incess.  This handsome knight knows that he’s amazing because he brought is equally as amazing girlfriend ice cream.”

Marinette rolled her eyes.  “I guess I’ll let it slide this time.”

“You love me.”

“I tolerate you.”

“Are you lying?”

“Maybe.”

Adrien began peppering her face with kisses.  “I’m not going to stop until you tell me that you love me.”

She giggled.  “What’s with all the threats today?”

He kept kissing her face as she lapsed into a fit of laughter.

Marinette pushed him away.  “Okay! Okay! You win!  I love you.”

“What was that?”  Adrien placed a hand next to his ear.  “I didn’t quite hear you.”

“I love you, you silly cat!”

“That’s better.”

Adrien stood up on Marinette’s bed and opened the hatch above them.  He reached out onto the balcony and grabbed a bag that had been sitting on the other side.  He pulled out two bowls, two spoons, and a carton of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream.

Marinette smiled.  “Oh, my favorite.”

He scooped ice cream into a bowl and handed it to her.  “I know.  How else was I supposed to make sure that my beautiful girlfriend would stop crying?”

“Wait…how did you know that I was upset?”

“Uhhhhh…a little red bird told me?”

“Ah, I see.  There was some divine intervention involved.”

“Maybe next time I won’t need it because someone will tell me when they’re feeling upset…no matter what it’s about.”

Marinette nodded.  “Okay…but only if you promise to always bring ice cream.”

Adrien tapped his spoon on her nose.  “Deal.”

[el-dritchknight]

baby, you’re a firework [ironstrange new years’ eve fluff]

Title: baby, you’re a firework

Summary: Life is strange for a futurist who couldn’t imagine his own future. Thankfully, Tony gets to welcome the new year with a budding sense of hope in the form of a certain cute, cardigan-wearing wizard.

Characters | Ships: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange, Ironstrange

Notes: late-ish new years ironstrange because we’re kicking off TwentyBiTeen right!! please feel free to leave comments, especially constructive criticism!! y'all, tony, and stephen deserve the best, so i want to be able to improve my writing ùwú

While the sight of the universe’s strongest heroes mingling and making fools out of themselves at the New Year’s Eve party at the Avengers’ compound was a rare and amusing sight (bar Groot’s horrified stare at the Christmas tree they had forgotten to put away), Tony had to say that the night sky was pretty sublime.

The stars were once a solace, shiny beacons of hope in Tony’s dark childhood. Then space became a gaping maw of death and destruction after Thanos’ first invasion in New York.

But now that it’s been a year since they’ve successfully defeated Thanos, Tony's had a chance to repair his relationship with the stars. Sometimes this attempt was eclipsed by nightmares of losing oxygen in an adrift spaceship, and he couldn’t stand sparing a glance up the blanket of blackness over the Earth.

Other times, Tony sees the glittering expanse of night and thinks about the other planets out there. He remembers the taste of victory, of Nebula’s twin blades against Thanos’ neck, of Peter Parker in his arms as they watched everyone cheer against the backdrop of a the multicolored sky somewhere in the Andromeda Galaxy… and Tony feels like one day he’ll be able to fulfill his childhood dreams of space exploration without fear.

Bringing his thoughts back to Earth, Tony glances at the party behind him to see Shuri and Peter laughing at an exasperated-looking T’challa. Tony can see that the king is trying not to laugh, however. The sight pulls a smile from Tony’s lips.

“Enjoying the party, Stark?”

Tony looks up to see Stephen Strange walking up to join him on the balcony. The other man is in casual wear, donning a cute cardigan sweater that should not look as good on him as it does. He’s smiling at Tony, head tilted inquisitively and hands in the pockets of his jeans.

Tony’s heart does a flip, and it has nothing to do with the sudden boom of fireworks in the background. “Funny, I should ask you the same thing. Heard you were a bit of a party animal back in the day, doc.”

“No offense to New York’s party king himself,” Stephen says wryly, still looking at Tony with that little half-smile, “but honestly, it’s not a lifestyle I’d want to go back to.”

“Hear, hear.” Smirking, Tony tips his wine glass at him and promptly takes a sip of his grape juice.

He turns back to the sky, now alight with greens, reds, and yellow explosions. It’s all very aesthetic, but it’s nothing Tony hasn’t seen—and even done—before.

Stephen comes to stand by his side. “Not a fan of fireworks?”

“Eh, they’re alright. Got nothing on those fancy magic sparks I see when you’re around,” Casual as can be, Tony glances at him out of the corner of his eye, heart-rate spiking over how Stephen would react.

But the sorcerer supreme merely chuckles. “A side effect of channeling energy from other worlds, I’m afraid. I’m not doing anything special.”

“You���re still pretty impressive to me, awesome facial hair bro.” Though Tony’s tone is flippant, he genuinely means what he says. It’s a testament to how far he’s come that he admits this, though the admiration is more for Stephen himself than the actual practice of… magic.

Stephen hums and does some of what Tony likes to call his “wizardly gangster signs”; with his signature boom boom woosh sound effects, Stephen spreads his hands to reveal… a tiny Tony Stark made out of golden sparks. Tiny Tony starts to suit up, shimmering red as his armor covers his body similar to how Iron Man Armor: Mark L operated. The miniature Iron Man does figure-eights around Stephen’s hands and comes to float in front of Tony, who looks at it in wonder.

“Damn, doc, that’s…”

“Impressive?” Stephen says with a wink. Tony’s heart kicks into high-gear once again.

Thankfully, Tony’s saved from saying anything by his miniscule double. Flipping his face plate up, Tiny Tony flashes them with a wink and double-finger guns before he flies off into the night sky and explodes next to a bout of fireworks.

Tony snorts, looking at Stephen with an amused curl of his lips. “Is that really how I look like?”

“I should hope so. I spent hours trying to perfect it,” Stephen says with a grin that borders on cheeky.

“So, how many reference pictures of me did you use, huh? I’m betting at least a thousand.” Tony nudges his shoulder.

“I’ve got a photographic memory, actually.” Stephen clears his throat then mutters, “Not that I would’ve been able to concentrate if I had used those reference pictures Wong gathered anyway...”

It’s not much to go on, but Tony’s mouth gets ahead of his brain as he says, “You know, you could just call me next time. I’ve done some freelance modeling back in the day, you know, to advertise Stark Industries and all that. I’d definitely be open to modeling for you.”

Stephen stares at him with wide eyes. Tony holds his gaze, hoping against hope that he didn’t botch things up...

After a beat of silence, Stephen smiles and averts his eyes. “Are you... propositioning me to stare at you all day?”

“Only if you wanted to.” Tony holds his breath.

Stephen finally looks back at him, jade eyes bright. “Nothing would delight me more.”

Tony somehow manages to reign the grin that threatens to split his face in half. “I could also model in the nude, if that’s more to your favour.”

The laugh that bubbles out of the wizard is music to Tony’s ears.

Tony steps closer and takes hold of Stephen’s hands. They’re covered in battle-scars, in momentos of Stephen’s bravery and sacrifice. “In all seriousness, Stephen…  I have never met anyone quite like you. You’re caring, compassionate, creative, and smart as hell. You saved the universe thousands of times over, and you made me fall in love with a magician, despite my allergy to all things magic. I’d like to take you out if you’d let me.”

I’d like to have you in my future, if you’d let me.

Tony’s known as a man of tomorrow with all his inventions and ideologies, but for the longest time, he’s been a futurist with no future. It was invention after invention, mission after mission, day after day spent securing others for the future that Tony couldn’t see himself living in.

But years of therapy, medicine and support from his loved ones—especially Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy—helped him have hope again. Even if the future didn’t turn out exactly as he’d expected, even if he and Pepper didn’t work out, even if his dreams of fatherhood hadn’t been fulfilled yet, there was still hope. It was often found in the most unexpected places. Peter and Harley, for example, were like the sons Tony never knew he wanted.

Today, Tony has hopes that things are going to turn out alright. Moreover, he hopes that his future is standing right before him: a man who chose to sacrifice his life and half the world for Tony, a man who Tony inadvertently saved in New York all those years ago, a man who is now staring at Tony as if Tony had held all the secrets of the universe.

“Tony,” Stephen says, and his voice is soft and shaking with all sorts of emotion, “Tony, I—”

Ten! Nine! Eight! A sudden chorus of voices chanting the New Year countdown pierces through the moment.

They jump apart, and Tony sighs at the loss of contact. “Talk about the timing.”

“Indeed… but I guess this means that I can just show you my answer.” Stephen’s eyes are bright with the reflection of ongoing fireworks and the glint of mischief.

Seven! Six! Five!

“Ye—hang on, is that the reason you came outside? Did you plan this?”

Stephen gives one of his trademark enigmatic smiles, the same one that first drew Tony in like a flame. “I had hope.”

Four! Three! Two!

“You saucy minx.” Tony laughs as he tiptoes to wind his arms around Stephen’s shoulders. The thought of who he’s holding, of what the future holds, making him drunk with giddiness.

“You love me,” Stephen points out. His hands are a warm anchor on Tony’s waist.

“Yeah, I do.” Tony rests his forehead against Stephen’s.

One!

Stephen’s kiss is, for a lack of a better word, magical—not only because it comes from a wizard, but because it comes with the promise of a new year, a new future, a new hope for both of them.

[bffhreprise]

Entry 256

 “Would you two mind joining me for dinner at my home?” inquired our son.

 “Isn’t this a bit short notice, son?  Your mother surely has something planned already.” suggested my husband.

 I hadn’t gotten around to talking with him about dinner before… things happened.  “Well, dear, I was actually going to talk you into eating out after we finished shopping.”

 “Perfect.  Mind taking your car?” asked James.

 Before either of us could respond, Mila’s voice came from his pocket.  “No need, master.  The restorations to your vehicle are complete.  I already have the new model parked outside.”

 “Oh.  Excellent.”

 “What happened to your vehicle, son?” questioned my husband.  He seemed a bit startled, probably because he had really loved that car.

 “When we confronted the man who was making the aforementioned zombies, he destroyed my limo and car.” explained James nonchalantly.

 Imagining my son in danger, I asked “What?  Why would you confront such a man?”

 My husband quickly agreed.  “That sounds extremely dangerous.”

 “No more dangerous than being shot.” replied James as if that shock had been nothing much.

 “Speak for yourself.  I nearly died where a bullet wouldn’t have fazed me.” argued Lady Pendreigh, smiling slightly.

 James sighed, obviously not wanting to take the bait.

 “Wh-what?” I asked, disturbed by how casually these two talked about death.

 My husband stared at Lady Pendreigh as he inquired “What happened?”

 “Same thing that happened to your son’s car.  The man was able to produce some form of light absorbing spell that devoured everything it touched, except James.  Your son’s virtually invulnerable to magic when he has enough energy.” she explained, sounding proud.

 “Son, is this true?”

 I had moved to embrace my husband’s arm as he spoke.  This was all too much for one day.

 “Yes, and he’s still out there.  I was too worried over Alma to stop him.” replied James.

 My husband tensed even more.  “Stop him?  You wanted to pursue him?”.

 “How do you think you’d feel if someone harmed Mother in front of you?” retorted our son, staring him down.  “I felt rage like I hadn’t known before and almost gave into it, but Alma was calling for me.  I could see the ragged beating of her heart, Father, exposed in front of me.”

 We sat in silence as I continued embracing my husband, feeling his tension gradually ease.  I knew he was thinking things over.

 Eventually, he cleared his throat, looked to Lady Pendreigh, and asked “How did you survive?”

 “A vampire arrived to save me.  She used another type of rare magic to heal my wounds.” she replied.

 “I… see.” he stated, not sounding sure what to believe anymore.

 I certainly didn’t know.  Superheroes, vampires, and the like…  How had we never known?

 “Shall we be off?” questioned James with a smile.

 “James, dear, I know you have a chef, but I don’t want to impose on him with such short notice.” I replied, uncertain whether or not we really should be taking up his offer just yet.

 “Marco has already been informed of you joining us.  If you don’t come, he’ll have prepared too much.” insisted Mila from James’ pocket.

 “Oh-oh.” I replied, not seeing a good way to excuse us.

 “Since her return, Mila has taken over a great deal of scheduling from what I’ve been told,” stated James.  “She has a great knack for handling situations before they evolve.”

 “Returned?  Where did she go, son?” questioned my husband.

 “Her primary systems were in the car when it was destroyed.  The new model’s safely in my home.” explained James.  “Come on.  Let’s be off.”  He strode outside, confident that we’d follow, but there was no car waiting for us.

 My husband and I looked around, feeling anxious, but there really was nothing.  I jumped when the car materialized in front of us.  Was this magic too?

 “I see this is every bit as much of a Bond car as before.” suggested my husband, smiling and not seeming nearly as surprised as he should have been.

 “I can give you a rundown of many features if you would like.” offered Mila, her voice now coming from the car.

 “Later, please.” commanded James.  “Alma, would you mind squeezing in the back with Portentia and me?”

 “I am actually off the clock now.  I was planning on going out on patrol.” replied Portentia from the doorway.  Barely any of her red suit was visible.

 James nodded.  “You know I wouldn’t try to stop you.  I’ll see you later then.”

 “Be sure to lock the door.” ordered my husband.

 “No need, Mr. Somerset.  My integration into your home’s security system allows me full access to the locks.  Your home is always protected.” insisted Mila.

 My husband’s smile vanished as he nodded.

 Lady Pendreigh stepped around my husband to get up to the driver’s door as she said, “I don’t mind allowing your parents the front.  They’ll be more comfortable.”

 I frowned, looking at my tall son. “Are you sure, dear?  You have such long legs.”

 “I’ll be fine.” he stated.  “Just don’t smash me with the seat.”

 Once we were inside, James said, “Let Mila do the driving, and she can update you on what exactly I had placed in your home.”

 My husband seemed more relaxed than I felt.  I half-expected things to pop out at us with how this day has gone, but nothing did.  The vehicle went into gear and started pulling out of our driveway without anyone touching a thing.

 “Lady Pendreigh, would you mind signing a few things, so I can start my briefing?” questioned Mila.

 There was a light coming from the back of the seat, so I guessed she had a screen there.  She certainly reached forward and did something.

 When Lady Pendreigh was finished, Mila explained to us that our insulation had been replaced with a type of insulating armor which could stop some very large-looking bullets.  Then there were weapons hidden throughout our home, which she controlled.  Tons of sensors had been installed as well.

 “So much for privacy in one’s own home.” stated my husband, sounding exasperated.

 “Privacy versus security is always a debate, but I can assure you that Mila is trustworthy.  Though Aaliyah may review anomalies that arise, she has no need to actively look into your home through the system.” insisted James from behind me.

 “The master is correct, sir.  Mother has never invaded your privacy through the security system, and no one outside of your immediate family has access.” confirmed Mila.

 “Mother?” I questioned, uncertain why she’d be using that term.

 “Mila’s taken to referring to Aaliyah as her mother.  Recovery seems to have been an intimate process for them.” explained James.

 “Oh.” I stated, not able to picture it with Aaliyah being so tiny and adorable.

 Motioning to the windshield, which was acting as our computer screen, my husband said, “I still don’t understand how all of this was installed without us knowing.”

 Mila explained “That information is classified.  I can formally forward your inquiry to Mother if you would like, but I doubt she will declassify the material.”

 My husband turned to look back at our son.  “This technology is extremely useful, son.  Is this how you pull off studying with your schedule?”

 “Oh, yes.  I don’t utilize it as well as I might, but I do get things accomplished.” replied James.

 “Your son’s being modest.” insisted Lady Pendreigh.  “He learned Mandarin in under a week.”

 “Actually, I learned seven dialects of Chinese” he admitted.

 “Really?  That’s very impressive, James.” she told him with a smile, sounding a touch surprised.

 “That’s incredible, son.  I never knew you had such a gift with languages.  That must come in handy with my old business.” suggested my husband.  “How is the company doing?”

 “Well, the vampires are still in my employ, but the werewolf was fired.” teased James.

 Not amused, my husband told him “Son, I’m being serious.”

 “As am I.  The vampires you had employed were very nice people, but the werewolf was a killer.  I wasn’t entirely open with the reason behind my purchase, father.  Your hotel was a known favorite of numerous patrons you would deem to be supernatural, including the necromancer I mentioned earlier.” explained James without a hint of mirth.

 “I truly am sorry for pressuring you into selling, Mr. Somerset, but I needed greater access to the hotel to pursue the man.” interjected Lady Pendreigh.

 “But why would you look for such things, knowing they’re dangerous?” demanded my husband.

 She glanced at James, nodded, and said, “My family acts as a sort of governing body over many creatures.  We’re part of every major government and eliminate dangerous creatures before they get too out of hand.”

 “What?  You kill them?”

 “Yes.  Disposing with false modesty, I am one of the most gifted magic users alive and far more skilled than most.  My failing with the necromancer was due to me underestimating him, nothing more.  The explosion you surely saw on the news wasn’t a terrorist cell but a clean way to cover up the mess that man made.” she explained as if relaying facts of life.

 “So many people… why?” I questioned, remembering how terrible that mess had seemed on the news.

 “I didn’t kill any humans.  He had already turned every last person in the vicinity into a zombie.” she stated.

 James quickly said, “We did look around.  I promise.”.

 “But how could you be certain?  There might have been children hiding…” argued my husband.

 With a nod, Lady Pendreigh told him “Magic.  I can tell you the precise temperature of anything you point out around us as well as things you cannot even see.  I’ve proven capable of creating temperatures you would find on the sun.  Of course, I have to be prepared to contain a nuclear blast at that point.”

 The idea was startling.  I remembered seeing the view of the scene from the news helicopter… so much fire…  I took a breath, not sure how to feel about all of this.

 James then told us “More recently, she created an abundance of snow in my yard, which she used to make a snow village around a small ice palace.  The snowball fight was pretty great, though I didn’t win.”

 “Alma did then?” I asked, remembering their speed.  

 “No.  I can’t actually claim to be the strongest person your son knows.” she stated.

 James looked a touch nervous as he said, “Ummm… yes.  Well, let’s say that someone far more swift than us easily hit everyone with a snowball as we did our best to remain perfectly still.  She gets… skittish.”

 My husband sighed and shook his head.  “Son, do you realize how that sounds?  Lady… er... Alma just told us that she can create nuclear explosions, and now you want me to believe there’s someone worse?” questioned my husband.

 “Huh?  No.  I wouldn’t call either of them bad, father.  Yes, they could be dangerous if provoked to it, but that’s different.  They’re just… powerful.” argued James defensively.  “I hope you can at least see why broaching this subject was difficult for me.  Things are far stranger than I ever would’ve guessed before exposure to them.”

 I frowned.  Though my husband nodded, I could tell he wasn’t taking things very well.  Neither was I, in all honesty, but I was trying.  There was so much strangeness to all this.  Too many new facts about the world were piling on us.  What was reality when myths walked the streets?

[trentontrtd321-blog]

5 Surefire Ways Colleges Will Drive Your Business Into The Ground

Numbers say over words in particular when we're considering business world and profit figures as a proof of as being a successful business. GE?s numbers within the last 20 years have been getting the highest level because the foundation in the company. Jack Welch has been doing charge from the company?s operations during all of this time. Under his leadership GE has undergone numerous transformations that caused it to be number in the field of these operations today. Welch well known as one with the best managers of the century for not merely meeting the forecasted figures but also for changing the minds of his employees and being the best inspiration for the kids.

His famous "hardware" reduction and remodeling happened right away after he stepped into his CEO office. Taking into consideration economics? recession and drastic restructuring of the company Welch met strong criticism of his politics, but GE?s future was the supreme goal for his actions. The company was delayered and destaffed greatly. These were the 1st important steps around the path of accumulating potential as well as distribution in the right direction. Instead of having seven layers within the company with numerous divisions and sectors with even more managers, Welch rebuilt GE So that there are only three layers underneath so that it was possible to directly contact each division and know each top manager. All of that was over for better control, free flowing communication and a higher level responsibility of everyone inside the company.

The "software" component change was going on after GE dramatic structural innovations. Welch knew that without inner comprehension of every employee with the significance about maintaining productivity levels, there would be no change. "Work-outs" and "Best practices" were the initial performance boosters implemented by Welch in late 80?s. The real difference was seen in the few years when productivity increased first by 2% and compared to 4%. By integrating the efforts of employees on all levels and considering their suggestions, GE surely could reach such amazing results, especially taking into consideration the money it saved-thus earned. "Best practices" was continuing to fight for higher productivity levels, mainly because it brought the understanding that they needed better processes planning and much better customer care, in addition they had to develop friendly relationships using suppliers. Those actions combined together resulted in higher productivity and realization of accomplishing somethings wrong, which experts claim permitted to be right in the future.

It becomes clear that Welch stood a new vision was his company by firstly implementing drastic changes in the skeleton for the firm and as opposed to organs of the "body" were undergoing changes. Those changes were geared towards giving people tasks that could integrate knowledge and experience and desire of self-development. The combination of such techniques made GE one in the strongest companies inside the world, one in the best employers. The power of as being a great place to operate at led GE to really being # 1, the duty that Welch was pursuing since he had become the CEO.

Integrate diversity, the so called "boundaryless" company was another challenge that Welch sought to beat. The company?s employees was lacking to consider advice or technologies outside GE, all of it was obtainable in their own company. With this newly adopted system, players of the team learned quickly from the other person and cooperated successfully among the other. An integration model was developed for the basis with the hundreds of post-acquisition reviews to be able to guide manager in almost any part in the company, who are to blame for integrating a newly acquired operation. Those activities could vary from taking control with the account to realigning the organization.

Stretch programs- there would have been a unique way to set high goals and employees were inspired to get as good since it is possible a beachside lounge chair to realize them. Managers weren't responsible for those goals but those who got it done were greatly appreciated and awarded accordingly. This was just how Welch saw a and trusting environment inside company which guaranteed as practice have proven to get the best performance accelerator and creativity source. The results of the system failed to make management wait a long time. People with no boundaries to the excellence started aiming at the greatest possible a higher level performance and let their imagination free. The differences in numbers are not with regards to a few hundredth, but about whole quantities of 10 inventory turns, which seemed impossible till the system. The success on this newly originated system laid in ?no-punish-failure?, where people were not afraid for being fired because of unachieved goals. Rather is was stated which they ought to be aiming at whatever they see as his or her best and so these were driven by their particular ambitions to have on the desired number but not work a sixty hour week for that sake of possessing number written on their own time sheets. Because this idea found a real great implementation in real business it's really a superb method to make people take interest inside their work and perform on the better level.

Another great discovery in the industry realm of GE were service businesses that took GE?s take a look at whatever they do with a new level. No more they were just manufacturers of high quality equipment, these folks were the check in services that took good care of any risk a client might face inside the course of employing their product. Multi-billion investments into services business equipment for monitoring Aircraft Engines during flight or medical diagnosis in solid time, led the corporation to having two thirds of the business in services instead of in manufacturing. This goal was obviously a implausible Welch?s dream last but not least it came true in the late 90?s. With the integration of the new company line, GE made their customers almost fully dependable to them. This was obviously a perfect strategic move, which gave the corporation far more power his or her services were needed as much his or her products and combined together these folks were the core of success. Value-added benefits that customers received from GE?s services were of great importance and provided both companies with strong partnership ties, on several levels. It not only caused profits for both parties but generated trusting and reliable conditions for cooperation.

Apart from high productivity, correct strategic politics and necessary employee satisfaction there is another necessary factor in the core of the successful business. Product quality is blood from the company and if it isn't clean, company cannot function properly. In 1995 the company?s survey demonstrated that most employees were dissatisfied with all the product quality they were making. When services were analyzed as it turns out GE was operating at a rate of ten thousand times the Six Sigma substandard quality. It meant a lot of money being lost and a great deal of productivity as well. GE invested huge amounts of money into educating its managers that has been not optional as Welch wanted to get only the most effective people he might get. As a result in two years, GE?s performance was greater than expected. For instance their repair shops were operating three times faster compared to shops with their immediate rivals. Also medical equipment showed tenfold increase in the products? life the truth that consequently provided strong customer trust and loyalty toward GE products. The returns around the investment were well over the expected amount and resulted in the investment was a very successful one.

Welch as a leader of an big multi-business company desired to see only highly professional people in it. This was the purpose of another project that also became a success. The new model with the company requited only those with highest standards and big dreams to the future. A player from the team that could not match what's needed of the "4E?s" was let free. The essence of GE ended up being to take a lot from their employees and also to offer a whole lot. Welch thought that they ought to get paid well, loved and respected. They need to feel they are the most recourse from the company, they need to become constantly educated and challenged. Jack Welch was this kind of employee himself and wanted to understand the same attitude toward work and company from his team. Such philosophy was the key of the huge success story called Jack Welch. His innovations and reforms were dramatic occasionally, but always proved to be the right thing. He took everyone of his business entities as a separate most significant one and gave it essentially the most attention, thus the GE empire will almost certainly grow and develop in the future, in case there is GE being guided by such leaders as Jack Welch.

[dingdongsicheng]

[ need a ride? ]

   character(s): cha eunwoo/lee dongmin    genre: who tf knows but it swears a lil    word count: 1293    a/n: here’s scenario number two.  this one is way longer, and unedited.  i hope you guys like it!  i’m sorry i made you all wait so long, i just got really overwhelmed with school.  again, if you have any requests, just hit up my ask box! :)

   You jolted in your seat when the final bell of the school day rang its shrill siren at three.  History was your last class, least favorite subject, and your worst grade.  The end of the school year was approaching at an alarmingly fast rate, and though your GPA was more than acceptable, senior year was coming to a close, and your motivation to put forth any effort into history might as well have been nonexistent.

   Scrambling to put your notebook, worksheets, textbook, pencil, and pens into your backpack so you could run out of school as fast as possible, you only paid slight attention to your teacher long enough to memorize the assignment for tonight, and remember the date of the next unit exam.  Once you gathered all your things, you hoisted your 25 pound backpack over your shoulders and walked out of your classroom, meeting your friend Julia at her locker.

     “Jules, you ready?” you asked her.  

   Julia turned around after grabbing her sweater and greeted you with a warm smile.  Julia had been your best friend ever since sophomore year when she was the new kid in school and you were assigned to show her around the first day.  As it turned out, you both had the same humor, and she was a history buff but struggled in math, whereas math was your strongest subject and it was no secret you didn’t have an affinity for history.  It seemed pretty simple to you guys: you would help her with math, and she’d teach you everything she knew about history.

   “Yeah, let’s head out.  I have two pages worth of calc today, and I need all the time and work I can get or I am all the way fucked,” Julia chuckled.  “And,” she added, “Mr. Cook’s dropping the exam from Hell next Tuesday--can’t wait to take a 75 question test complete with five short answers on Henry VIII and his little scuffle with the Catholic church!”

   You snorted.  “Shut up Julia.  You have a 97 in that class and you’re guaranteed an A on the exam.  I’m the one that needs help or my ass is grass.”

   Laughing, Julia agreed.  “That’s true.  Without me, you woulda been toast years ago!”

   “Without me, your A- in precalc last year would’ve been a D so keep on laughing,” you jibed back, snickering.

   “That’s very true.  Sad, but true.  Anyways, I think it’s time we start walking.  The café will be full and we’ll have nowhere to sit and attempt to get our shit done if we get there any later than 3:15.”

   Nodding your head in agreement, you and Julia walked side by side through the hallway and out the doors of your school.  Strolling on the sidewalk, you finally arrived at La Fleur Cafe, where you and Julia went after school almost every day to study.  

   Opening the doors of the café, Julia checked her watch.  “3:12.  Y/N, knock knock.”

   You let out an exaggerated sigh as you played along.  “Who’s there.”

   “Justin.”

   “Justin who?”

   Julia was already laughing.  “We are Justin time to beat the after school rush!”

   You started scanning the menu, trying to decide on what you were going to order.  “Julia?”

   “Yeah?”

   “That was disgusting and I hope my ears bleed before I ever have to hear that joke ever again,” you deadpanned.

   “Fair enough,” she replied.  

   The pair of you ordered your drinks and proceeded to sit down at a booth.  A waiter came over and gave you your drinks.  You gave him a quick thanks and pulled out your homework.

   Three hours had passed, and it was 6:20 pm.  Julia had finished all of her calc homework, and you were feeling more confident about Henry VIII and his marriage issues and were ready to take on the next week’s test.  

   “Gotta go, Y/N.  Mom’s gonna go nuts if I don’t get home by dinner.”

   “Alright, see you on Monday, Julia!”

   “Bye!”        And then you were alone.  Feeling Julia’s absence, you thought you would run through your notes a couple more times, just to get the information on lock.  As you picked up the notes from today’s lecture, the cute bell that signalled a customer entering the store chimed.  You looked up and saw a beautiful boy walking in.  Trying to stare at him as inconspicuously as possible, you recognized him as the intelligent and kind boy from your physics class who usually kept to himself, Eunwoo.  He was the epitome of true beauty, and everybody knew it.  He had a pearly white smile with perfectly straight teeth, like the ones that look fake in the toothpaste commercials.  Shiny black hair topped his head, and his skin was something straight out of makeup magazines.  His eyes glowed with a pureness about them.  Models would be jealous of his slim, yet muscular and tall figure.  In other words, he was human perfection.  

   Eunwoo walked to the counter to order.  “Hi! Can I get a medium caramel macchiato with coconut milk please?”

   “Of course.”  Eunwoo nodded his head and smiled in thanks, and turned around.  You definitely weren’t as inconspicuous as you thought because Eunwoo walked right toward you and sat down in your booth.  

   Not knowing what to do or say, you just stared at him.

   “Uhhh…” was all you got out.

   “What’s up?” Eunwoo began the conversation.

   “Not to be rude, but like...we barely know each other.  Why are you, you know,” you paused as you waved your arm in front of you, “sitting here?”    

   Eunwoo giggled.  “I know that your name is Y/N.  I know you’re in my fourth hour physics class.  I know you looked pretty lonely just sitting at this booth alone.  So, here I am.”

   The same waiter from earlier came over and handed Eunwoo his macchiato.“You’re still here?” he asked.  “You’ve been here for three, almost four hours now.  We close at 7:30, and it’s 6:45 right now.”

   Eunwoo just looked at you.  “Yeah,” you replied.  “I’ve just been uber focused on my homework.  I’ll be gone soon.”        The waiter walked away.  You looked back at Eunwoo.  For about a minute, neither of you said anything as you just stared at each other.  You were hoping it didn’t feel as awkward to him as it felt to you.  Then, your phone vibrated with a text from your mom telling you to come home.  

   “Oh shit!” you exclaimed.  Your mom wanted you home by 7:00 at the latest, and the café was at least a 20 minute walk from your house.  You didn’t have a car, so usually Julia was your method of transportation, but you generally left when she needed to leave.  Since you stayed behind, you didn’t have Julia to drive you.  “I gotta go!”

   You shoved your study gear into your backpack, hopped out of the booth, and ran towards the door.  

   “Wait!” Eunwoo yelled.  “Where are you going?”

   “I’m gonna be so late going home!  I really have to go!”

   Eunwoo stood up with keys dangling from his right hand.  “Need a ride?”

   You put your hand on the door and pushed, debating.  “That’d be great.”

   Eunwoo stood up and joined you, and then you two got in his car and drove off, you giving him directions.  

   “But, wait,” you started.  “You didn’t even take a sip of your macchiato, and it was like seven dollars!”

   Flashing his famous smile, Eunwoo said, “I guess so.  To make it up to me, let me take you out for coffee tomorrow.”

   He pulled into your driveway, and you hopped out.  Before you closed the passenger door, you smiled.  “Sounds like a plan to me.  Pick me up at three tomorrow.”

[wionews]

The thinking behind Kim Jong Un's 'madness'

On an icy December day in 2011, North Korea's new leader Kim Jong Un was accompanied by seven advisers as they escorted the hearse that carried his father, Kim Jong Il, through the streets of Pyongyang.

None of the men remain with the young Kim. This October, he demoted the last of his father's aides, both men in their nineties. They were among around 340 people he has purged or executed, according to the Institute for National Security Strategy, a think tank of South Korea's National Intelligence Service (NIS).

Kim, "obviously a madman" in the eyes of US President Donald Trump, has completed a six-year transition to what the South calls a reign of terror. His unpredictability and belligerence have instilled fear worldwide: After he tested a "breakthrough" missile earlier this week, he pronounced North Korea a nuclear power capable of striking the United States. But a closer look at his leadership reveals a method behind the "madness."

At 33, Kim Jong Un is one of the world's youngest heads of state. He inherited a nation with a proud history, onto which a socialist state had essentially been grafted by Cold War superpowers to create a buffer between Communist China and the capitalist South. Under Kim's father, the economy was mismanaged, and the collapse of Communism in the Soviet Union eliminated an important source of support. Up to three million people starved.

To consolidate a weak position, the young leader has been cultivating three main forces: military and nuclear power, a tacit private sector market economy, and the fear and adoration of a god. To this end, he has executed two powerful men and promoted one young woman – Kim Yo Jong, his younger sister, who Korea-watchers say is also Kim's chief propagandist. She is Kim's only other blood relative to be involved in politics: His elder brother, Kim Jong Chol, was rejected by their father as heir.

Over the five years to December 2016, Kim spent $300 million on 29 nuclear and missile tests, $180 million on building some 460 family statues, and as much as $1 billion on a party congress in 2016 – including $26.8 million on fireworks alone, according to the Institute, which employs high-level defectors.

"Yes, he has replaced many top commanders and officials so easily and ruthlessly killed some of them, which could make you wonder if he's sane," said Lee Sang-keun, a North Korean leadership expert at the Institute of Unification Studies at Ewha Womans University in Seoul.

"But this is a historical way of governing that can put you in power for a long time."

Great Leader

In ancient days, Pyongyang was the capital of a mighty empire, Koguryo, the root of the modern word "Korea." Going back through history, the Great Leader concept is a blend of several ideas handed down through time: an almighty god, the Confucian worship of a parent, and a king with the Mandate of Heaven, according to Lee Seung-yeol, a senior researcher at the National Assembly Research Service in Seoul.

Lee, a leading North Korea leadership researcher, said the state's theory of succession meansKim the younger's rise should have been completed while his father was alive: Kim's father was anointed 20 years before he took over, giving him time to build allies and a leadership system.

Kim Jong Un had just three years as leader-in-waiting.

Born in 1984, he was third in line for power and a fractious, competitive child, according to Kenji Fujimoto, a Japanese chef who worked for the family and one of the few people to recount meetings with the young Kim. In his memoirs published in 2010, Fujimoto, who now runs a sushi restaurant in Pyongyang, said Kim once snapped at his aunt Ko Yong Suk for calling him "Little General." Kim wanted to be called "Comrade General."

When Kim Jong Il knew his young son would soon succeed him, researchers have said, the father took several measures to protect the boy. Lee said these included shifting the country's power base to create rivalry between the elites so Kim the younger could play one group off against another.

Kim Jong Il had declared the military the country's supreme power – a policy known as songun, which means "military first." At a party conference in 2010, he changed the setup so the military had to compete with the party administration for the leader's favour.

"Poor man's weapon"

Military strategy was the first thing Kim changed. His father had used the promise of nuclear disarmament as a bargaining chip for aid, and in February 2012, young Kim started in his father's footsteps, promising to freeze North Korea's nuclear programme in return for food aid from the United States.

But weeks later he changed tack, saying North Korea would fire a long-range rocket. "The negotiations were carried on as the legacy of Kim Jong Il," said Wi Sung-lac, a former South Korean envoy to talks in 2011 that contributed to the February deal. "Since then his strategicthinking has shaped up."

In Kim's view, Saddam Hussein of Iraq and Muammar Gaddafi of Libya were fatally weakened by not having nuclear weapons, North Korean media say. "History proves that powerful nuclear deterrence serves as the strongest treasured sword for frustrating outsiders' aggression," the official KCNA news agency said in an editorial in January 2016.

North Korea is racing to achieve a nuclear deterrent because the state feels threatened, worrying particularly that Kim may face a fate like Gaddafi. The Libyan leader agreed in 2003 to eliminate his weapons of mass destruction; in 2011, he was killed by rebels that the United States and its allies had supported.

Months after Kim's accession, North Korea updated its constitution to declare itself a nuclear weapons state.

One leading pallbearer at Kim Jong Il's funeral was Ri Yong Ho, Chief of the General Staff of the Korean People's Army. Kim sacked him in July 2012. South Korean intelligence later confirmed that Ri had been executed.

By December 2012, North Korea had carried out another, successful, rocket test.

In 2013, Kim outlined a new policy: The "byungjin line," or parallel development, to combine the nuclear buildup and economic growth.

A nuclear deterrent is essential to that, says Thae Yong-ho, North Korea's former deputy ambassador to London, who staged a high-profile defection to South Korea in 2016. The threat of absolute destruction makes a nuclear bomb a "poor man's weapon" with which to tighten control of the country and ensure long-term rule, Thae said.

"Once he has assumed control of usable nuclear weapons, he has more room to allocate resources more flexibly, and allocate the military forces for civilian construction," said Thae.

"Foolish dream"

North Korea spends about a quarter of its GDP on defence: Russia's President Vladimir Putin has said Kim Jong Un would have his people "eat grass" rather than give up its nuclear programme.

But with a legacy of famine, Kim also says he wants to boost people's prosperity.

The former chef, Fujimoto, said that on one summer break from school in Switzerland in 2000, the young Kim was preoccupied with a visit to Beijing his father had made.

"Let's talk," Fujimoto recalled the future leader saying over drinks on his father's private train. "I hear from higher up that China seems to be succeeding on many fronts – engineering, commerce, hotels, agriculture - everything," Kim said. "In many ways, don't we need to take them as a model example for us?"

In 2012, shortly after taking power, Kim went a small way to mimic reforms China made in the 1980s. Farmers were allowed to keep most of the harvest. State enterprises were given the right to buy and sell at market prices and to hire and fire workers. Private entrepreneurs and traders were encouraged to invest in state projects or with party and military entities. Kim also began to turn a blind eye to informal markets – a force his father tried in vain to contain.

That April, Kim addressed the nation - the first time in 17 years North Koreans had heard the voice of their leader. "It is the party's steadfast determination to ensure that the people will never have to tighten their belt again," he said.

Outsiders hoped the reform signaled a new political openness as Kim drove to promote the North in the world: In 2012 Antonio Razzi, an Italian senator for Forza Italia who calls himself the only Italian to have met the leader, said Kim had asked him to find training facilities for soccer players in Italy.

"I have talked with many (North Korean) local leaders," Razzi said. "They have no plan to attack anybody. North Korea is interested in nuclear only as a form of defence."

Kim worked to ensure the economic freedom would not unseat him.

Also escorting his father's funeral car in 2011 was Jang Song Thaek, an administrator at the vanguard of the reforms. He was married to Kim Jong Il's sister, was a special envoy to China and had overseen a host of new Special Economic Zones all over the country.

In December 2013, Jang was hauled out of the Politburo in front of the cameras and accused of plotting a coup. "Jang dreamed such a foolish dream," state media said, adding Jang hoped his reformist plans would help him "get 'recognised' by foreign countries."

Jang was shot "dozens of times" by an anti-aircraft gun and his remains removed with a flamethrower, according to South Korea's National Intelligence Service (NIS) – an account no one has confirmed.

"Development dictator"

From that point on, Kim honed his personality cult. On the day Jang's purge was announced, North Korea's official daily the Rodong Sinmun unveiled a song dedicated to Kim Jong Un, titled "We Know Nothing But You." More were to follow.

The next year, Kim also ordered school textbooks be revised to focus on idolisation of himself and include images of nuclear weapons and missiles, according to the NIS-affiliated Institute for National Security Strategy.

The idolisation campaign kicked into high gear in 2016, focused on pop culture and youth: Kim's chosen female singers, the Moranbong Band, staged a series of musical performances and plays calling for loyalty to the leader, while the Shock Brigade, a crew of young North Koreans in charge of major economic construction, produced about 1,200 poems and other literary works, the Institute said.

"He has linked his own legitimacy to improving the economic situation in the country," said John Delury of Seoul's Yonsei University. "Kim Jong Un wants to become a development dictator."

At home, he casts himself as a bringer of plenty. In 2015, almost half the times he was photographed were at economic events, data from Seoul's Unification Ministry shows. Only this year, as his weapons tests multiplied and met an angry response in the United States, have military appearances come back into prominence.

Standing tearfully behind Kim Jong Un at their father's funeral was his younger sister, 28-year-oldKim Yo Jong. On the same October day that Kim dropped the last two of his father's aides, he included her in his Politburo. Kim Jong Chol, their elder brother, leads a quiet life in Pyongyang where he plays guitar in a band, according to former ambassador Thae.

"I think Kim Jong Un has been making good use of the existing system, while strengthening his power base and dictator regime in a very shrewd manner," said Lee Su-seok, a research fellow at the Institute for National Security Strategy.

]]>

[olivereliott]

Blown Away: Supercharged KTM by Hazan Motorworks

The custom motorcycle world is moving fast. It’s a world of Photoshop renders, digital sketches, computer aided design and 3D printers. Which is good to see, but also makes us a little sad at times. Motorcycling is a visceral, mechanical experience, and injection molded plastics don’t quite have the charm of bodywork turned on an English wheel.

Fortunately, there are still a few guys who know how to operate a lathe and build a frame by hand. And Max Hazan is in the top echelon—because he adds artistic vision and historical appreciation to create an intoxicating mix.

Max is quite clear that this latest build isn’t designed for cross-country trips. “It’s just something that has two wheels and was fun to make,” he says. “There was no intention of making something practical.”

The idea for the KTM has been kicking around in Max’s head since he made his first bike in his dad’s workshop, while recuperating from an off-road accident.

“I made that bike for nothing, with virtually no metalworking tools. It had a Honda GX engine that cost $89 from eBay, plus some bicycle parts. The bike went way faster than I expected, and I knew that the next bike I built would have to be out of motorcycle parts.”

“So the idea here was to make something like the first motorized bicycle: light, cheap and fast,” says Max. “The KTM RFS [Racing Four Stroke] engine is perfect. It has the cleanest shape of the modern 450-type motors, it’s easy to work on, and it’s relatively bulletproof.”

A quick hunt on Craigslist turned up a clean KTM 520 with a full Öhlins setup. Max hauled out the engine, and put the other trick bits aside for his own SMR track bike.

To prevent things from getting too straightforward, he then plumbed in an AMR350 supercharger. It’s an obscure Roots-type blower made by Aisin, and similar to the tiny superchargers fitted to small, Japanese-market subcompacts. Still, the performance boost is nothing to be sniffed at: it displaces 300cc of induction air per revolution.

To hook up the blower, Max has machined a blower-drive/stator cover with a sealed drive shaft, and an aluminum blower ‘snout’—all from blocks of 6061 aluminum, turned by hand the traditional way on a Bridgeport mill. “After 30 hours of turning knobs, they were done.”

The bike is way more powerful than expected. “I ran the blower gearing at 1:1 to start, and found it perfect at about 7 to 8 psi. I actually left the engine compression stock: I just run the bike on 110 octane race fuel, and back off the ignition timing a few degrees at the crank trigger.”

The fuel mix is now fed through a single Keihin FCR41 carb—“With monster jets, the bike drinks fuel”—and the engine now makes around 85 hp at the crank. “It runs like a stock motor, but it’s just a little trickier to start. And it leaves you deaf after riding it!”

The radiators are oil coolers from a Cummins diesel, believe it or not, and coolant runs through part of the frame. (A separate part of the frame is used as a catch can for the engine breather.)

As you might expect, there’s no ABS, no CAN bus, and no ride-by-wire. So the electronics are very minimal, mounted under the engine next to a tiny 4-cell lithium battery. It’s good for about 30 seconds of cranking with no decompression.

The frame looks minimal, but Max reckons it’s the strongest one yet to roll out of the Hazan Motorworks shop. It’s all 1/8-inch wall, 1.25-inch chromoly tubing, with the neck milled from a solid block.

The forks and front suspension are equally unique, carved or machined from solid 2-inch chromoly bar stock. Although some of the parts are heavy, the finished bike clocks in at a mere 245 pounds wet—around 111 kilos.

Much of the effort on this build went into the unusual rear hub setup. “That was about a third of the cost of the whole project,” Max reveals. “It was an idea that I had, but required sending the design to a CNC shop.”

The hub uses an asymmetrical lacing pattern—radial 10-spoke on one side, crossed 20-spoke on the drive side), and does not have any hub flanges. The spokes lace through the sprocket itself—which is ½-inch 700 series aluminum.

The rear brake is another first. “I was initially going to run a rotor off the drive sprocket, which has been done many times before,” says Max. “But then ran into clearance issues with the supercharger drive. So I decided to run a shaft to the rotor, driven by another sprocket.”

When the first images of the KTM appeared on the net, some folks got all hot and bothered by the brake setup. “They were saying it wouldn’t work, it wouldn’t stop, the wheel would flex, and the chain would skip,” says Max.

“All understandable concerns while it was being designed, but it’s now been ridden and tested. It works just fine, and it doesn’t fade when hot.”

Bodywork? There’s very little of it, but it’s gorgeous. The slim tank is hand-fashioned from 6061 aluminum, and at the front (on the left side) is a separate coolant reservoir.

The finish is ‘Black Nickel,’ a first for Max. “It’s polished and plated in the traditional way, then chemically tinted, then clear coated. It looks amazing but it has to be treated like paint—it’s much more delicate than regular nickel plating.”

The wheels and ‘clincher’ tires are an age-old combination that Max is familiar with. Each rim has a flange that interlocks with the bead of the tire, in a system and size that owners of the Ford Model T and its contemporaries will recognize.

“I wouldn’t trust them to drag your knee,” says Max, “but I’ve never had an issue with those tires—as long as they are in decent shape, and fully inflated. They offer a hard ride when running at the required 55 to 60 psi. I have tried to run 30 psi and they just slide on the rim. Definitely not the most ‘performance’ tire out there.”

So what’s it like to ride? “Amazing and terrifying at the same time. There’s a foot clutch and a tank shift, and it’ll lift the front wheel in the first four gears. It’ll also take your shoelaces and pants if you don’t pay attention.”

“The KTM is not street legal,” says Max. “It is what it is—something I wanted to make for sake of making something. It goes and stops and puts a smile on my face.”

We must thank motorcycle enthusiast Robert (Bobby) Haas for making this build possible. He commissioned it for the Haas Motorcycle Gallery in Dallas—which displays vintage bikes dating back to the start of the twentieth century, and more modern customs such as Craig Rodsmith’s turbocharged Moto Guzzi.

“Robert is also the man that kept the doors open at Hazan Motorworks when I was literally one day away from going back to a full time job three years ago,” says Max.

So what’s next? “I’m currently working on another Royal Enfield ‘Musket’,” Max reveals. “I also have a 1938 JAP 500 on deck. After the commissioned bikes are done, I’ll do a personal build—a KTM 950 supermoto that I’ve been dreaming up for a little while.”

“Aircraft engines and a twin-turbo rotary will also have to happen at some point…”

Hazan Motorworks | Facebook | Instagram | Images by Shaik Ridzwan

[oselatra]

HIA Velo brings bike-building back home

The Little Rock manufacturer says the heck with Asia, builds carbon-fiber bicycle frames in Little Rock.

You may think it has nothing in common with the bike that Bicycling magazine has proclaimed the "hottest bike of 2017," Allied Cycle Works' Alfa, a sleek racing ride practically as light as air thanks to its carbon fiber construction.

But it does. Like AMF's old Roadmasters of the 1950s, '60s and '70s, the Alfa is manufactured in Little Rock. The factory, on Brookwood Drive in Riverdale, doesn't turn out 3,000 complete bikes a day, as the AMF factory did on West 65th Street, but what it does is special this way: With the exception of billion-dollar bike-maker Trek and artisan builders, Allied Cycle's is the only carbon-fiber frame manufactured in the United States, and Trek is making 99 percent of its bikes in Asia.

Little Rock native Tony Karklins, who founded and is CEO of the manufacturing company HIA Velo, which created the Allied Cycle Works brand, says the company will have produced between 800 and 1,000 bikes by the end of this year and plans to double that number in 2018.

So not only does the Alfa model have a "Made Here" label on it, Arkansans also can take pride that it's made in Little Rock. That's thanks to Karklins.

"What separates HIA Velo from anybody else setting up a bike company comes down to Tony Karklins," says cycling journalist Patrick Brady. Brady, who writes about cycling on his blog, "Red Kite Prayer," came to Arkansas from California in May to see the operation and try out the Alfa All Road, the multisurface member of the Alfa family. "I don't have any reason to build up the legend of Tony Karklins — it doesn't do me any favors," Brady said, "but he's one of the most interesting people in the bike industry right now."

Plus, Brady said, he's smart. "He understands what it takes to make a quality bicycle."

So here's how you become a quality bike frame manufacturer in Arkansas: You raise close to $3 million from some well-heeled folks — they trust you because of your 36-year career in the bike business — and buy at a bankruptcy auction a factory that had been in business for 24 years (Guru) in Montreal. (The $400,000 loan you get from the Governor's Quick Action Closing Fund and the $50,000 grant for training helps, too.) Then you haul the factory to Arkansas in six semi tractor-trailers. You fly Specialized bike company engineer Sam Pickman to town from California and put him up at the Capital Hotel ("with all the upgrades," Karklins says); Pickman immediately buys a house in Hillcrest. Guru's mechanic, Olivier Lavigeuer, decides he'll join you, moves from Montreal to downtown Little Rock. Jim Cunningham, founder of CyclArt, knowing nothing about humidity, agrees to move from San Diego to Little Rock to create the amazing paint finishes on the bikes. You spend your first year in business putting in about 100 hours a week developing the frame, hiring and training dexterous workers to place the 351 small and weirdly shaped pieces of carbon fiber that go into the making of the frame. Then you hire another 25 to cure the frames, machine them, sand them, paint them, put them on a rotisserie so the paint doesn't drip and ship them out, either fully assembled with parts ordered by the customer or the frame alone.

The process — from bringing the factory to Arkansas in March 2016 to putting out five to six bikes a week now — has been accomplished at "hyper speed," Pickman said.

But the business is still ramping up, tweaking the technology and production time and proving that the investment was a good one. Karklins envisions a factory that one day will employ 250 to 300 people and sell several thousand bikes a year. But right now, marketing is taking a back seat to catching up with the orders that "clobbered" Allied after Bicycling magazine wrote that the Alfa "absolutely rips."

Why in Little Rock? Because it's Karklins' hometown, where he's been in the bike business since he was 11 years old, when he had a job at Chainwheel fixing flats. And because investors wanted it here.

"I knew it could be done very economically here," Karklins said. The factory space "costs $6,000 a month to rent here. That would be $50,000 to $60,000 in Southern California."

Why bikes? "Because I was a troublemaker growing up," Karklins said. "My parents had been saving money for a minivan — they were both social workers — but instead they figured out a way to buy a small piece of Chainwheel so I could get a job. They knew I was going to get in trouble in the afternoons if they didn't plop my ass in Chainwheel. It gave me structure. So I grew up in bike retail in Little Rock."

By age 16, Karklins — who didn't even ride a bike before he began working at Chainwheel — had purchased a third of the business and become manager. "It gave me a home and it was really cool. The people were cool in the bike world. And I loved the equipment and I loved selling bikes. ... I loved selling bikes to people like you," he said, nodding to this reporter, "because I'd teach them about bikes and see that that customer would come back and buy a better bike and then a better bike and within two or three years be doing the Big Dam Bridge 100. I'd think, 'I did that to that person.' I love that."

The annual Big Dam Bridge 100 is in its 11th year. By the time it rolled around, Karklins had been in the bike business more than two decades: He'd bought and sold Chainwheel and brought the U.S. headquarters of the Spanish bike brand Orbea to Little Rock. He was Orbea's North American managing director from 2004 to 2014.

"Then," Karklins said, "I went off on this quest on what to do next." After visiting 20 bike companies that he thought should be in the United States, he decided he didn't want to do that again. "I had this sort of epiphany," he said. "Nobody makes anything here. It's really kind of sick." So, rather than marketing a bike made in Asia, Karklins decided to create and manufacture a brand here.

Bikes aren't manufactured in the United States for the same reason nothing else is made here either: It's cheaper to manufacture abroad. "It's hard," bringing manufacturing back to the U.S., "and after being involved in this project, we know how hard it is," Karklins said. To make it in the U.S., "we have to be smarter, faster and do it in a place like Arkansas," he said.

But if it's hard to build here, it's equally hard to be innovative when you don't, engineer Pickman said. The 36-year-old — one of the fastest amateur cyclists in the U.S. before he got married and settled down — began working at Specialized right out of college in 2004. Unlike at Specialized, for Allied he doesn't have to fly back and forth across the Pacific Ocean to meet with manufacturers, and he doesn't have to convince his company to invest to come up with something new. "You're handcuffed" at big companies, Pickman said. "You say, 'I want to try this,' and they say, 'Nah.' ...

"If you really want to evolve, take bicycles to that next step, you have to break out of that model. That's what drew me to this."

At HIA Velo, where he is hands-on during the whole frame-making process, Pickman can not only improve on the Allied brand; he can also improve on "literally every unit" of the Alfa the plant turns out.

"Our business model," Karklins said, "is to identify all the things that the big companies that manufacture in Asia cannot do, and that's exactly what we are doing."

The Alfa, which comes in 12 sizes and can also be custom-sized ("in case you have extremely short arms, or something," Pickman said), sells for between $4,000 and $10,000, depending on the needs of the buyer. Allied Cycle Works will fit the frame out with the gears and handlebars and seats, etc., of the buyer's choice; the buyer chooses the color, as well.

The bikes are competitive with those sold for $2,000 to $4,000 more, cycling writer Brady said. "The Alfa All Road — it's a bike that I put alongside the best from the biggest companies in the world." And, he added, he's reviewed thousands of bikes. "So this Alfa that I'm reviewing, I'm going to make it mine."

What makes the bike so good, Brady said, is the quality of fiber work going into the frame: "It is an order of magnitude more complicated" than other work he's seen.

Carbon fiber is both light and strong, which is why it's used in aviation, but the fibers run in only one direction. For strength, they must be laid into the frame form in pieces in varying orientations — Brady compared it to papier-mache. In addition to coming up with the strongest fiber recipe for each frame, Allied has partnered with polypropylene fiber manufacturer Innegra Technologies of South Carolina to add another layer of strength to the carbon.

For Little Rock cyclist Traci Howe, however, the reason she decided to buy an Alfa when she wanted to replace her old Orbea bike, was not just its quality, but because "I wanted a bike that was made here in America. I thought, 'How cool is that?' "

Howe, 45, who rides with the bike club CARVE (Central Arkansas Velo, no connection to HIA Velo), also likes the look of the bike. "There's a little symbol on the downtube," she said, referring to the eagle logo, and the word Allied in small print on another part of the bike, and that's it. Other bikes, she said, have their names all over them. The Alfa has a clean, sophisticated look.

HIA (which stands for Handmade in America) Velo (bicycle in French, deriving from the Latin for speed, as in velocity) owes a large part of its success to cofounder Doug Zell, Karklins says. Zell, the founder and CEO of Chicago's Intelligentsia brand coffee and a bike enthusiast, co-founded HIA Velo. The Times couldn't get an interview with him, but Karklins described him as "one of the most interesting persons I've ever encountered. He lives in Boston, Chicago, bought a house in Napa and now he lives [in Little Rock] in the Heights; he relocated his primary residence to North Jackson Street."

Zell, who founded Intelligentsia in 1995, sold a majority stake in the company to Peet's Coffee in 2015; Karklins knew he was looking for a new project. "I really went to him because I wanted his help in crafting a brand. That's hard stuff. I've been in other projects, you create a brand and present it to the world and it's like crickets. Doug was very instrumental in bringing the Allied brand together."

When Karklins took the first finished Alfa to Philadelphia to meet with the editors of Bicycling last year, he was nervous. "We were flying to Philadelphia with this bike that was going to be on the cover and no one had ever seen it." He took it out of its case, "and everybody went, 'Oh, my god.' It was the coolest, most genuine moment."

The bike — which had come off the line only three days before — was chrome red and classy. "The bike industry has been in this Nascar graphic thing: How many times can you put your name on a bike?" Karklins said. He'd once sold a bike that had its brand name on it 21 times.

The look of the bike was important because the old way of selling bikes had changed. "When I was with Orbea," Karklins explained, "the way it used to work was you would find the fastest rider and he would be in every one of your ads and your catalog. And then they'd all get busted for drugs. So we thought, 'Shit, we've got to come up with a new way.' "

The eagle logo on the bike is just like the eagle on the Intelligentsia coffee packaging, only its wings are lifted; it's in flight.

Zell is also the founder of The Meteor coffee shop, which opened in June at the corner of Kavanaugh Boulevard and Markham Street, in the same building as Spokes bike shop. Zell also bought Spokes, which is now known as Spokes at The Meteor; it will gradually coast away from the Spokes name. The Meteor is co-owned by Chris St. Peter, a lawyer and friend of Zell's from Chicago.

St. Peter said coffee shops and bike shops complement each other: "There's a general sense of community. Coffee houses bring people together and cycling also serves that purpose." So it made sense to him and Zell to combine the businesses. It also made sense to do it in Little Rock: Zell was involved in HIA Velo and Little Rock had a "vibrant" community of cyclists, St. Peter said. The historic building that Spokes is located in — the old Little Rock Paint and Wallpaper Co. — also seemed perfect. The Meteor has renovated the famous Little Rock Paint sign and will restore its neon.

St. Peter, who enjoys racing, was surprised at the number of bike enthusiasts in Little Rock. He participates in the once-a-week "Velo lunch ride" that sets off from the Brookwood office and heads to Burns Park over the Big Dam Bridge. It's as fast a ride as any St. Peter participates in, he said, with cyclists zipping along at 30 miles per hour.

Not surprisingly, St. Peter rides an Alfa, which he calls one of the best all-around racing bikes, "proficient in all categories," from stiffness of material to aerodynamics to comfort. "It's among the best bikes I've ever owned," he said. He hopes to be able to sell them in the bike shop when Allied Cycle is geared up to get ahead of its orders.

Arkansas may be flyover country, but it is in the early stages of becoming known as a destination for cyclists. There are a number of biking clubs in Little Rock — Mello Velo, Major Taylor Cycling Club, Arkansas Heels on Wheels, the Arkansas Bicycle Club among them.

"I had no idea that the cycling culture was so strong here," Pickman said. He finds it curious that Little Rock doesn't do a better job of selling its River Trail to tourists. Little Rock's cycling is known regionally, but not nationally yet.

That's not the case in Northwest Arkansas, where the Walton Family Foundation has poured money into creating bike trails. The trail system — which includes more than 200 miles of mountain biking as well as the Razorback Regional Greenway from Fayetteville to Bentonville — "scrambled my brain," said cycling journalist Brady. "It's colossal. And the cost of living there ... I could move to Bentonville tomorrow and all my money woes would disappear." (Brady lives in Santa Rosa, Calif.) "The imagination used in creating those trails is world class," he added.

The Big Dam Bridge, which opened in 2006, has undoubtedly contributed to Arkansas's biking and hiking culture. It has given Arkansas an identity other than the place where Orval Faubus called out the troops to keep nine black children from desegregating Central High, a reputation happily replaced by its being the birthplace of Bill Clinton. The Big Dam Bridge 100, the Tour de Rock and the Little Rock Gran Fondo may not be as famous as the Mt. Tam Century in Marin County or the Leadville 100 in Colorado, but they do attract cyclists in the thousands.

But Arkansas's noncyclists have a long way to go, noted members of the CARVE group gathered last week at the Clinton Presidential Center for an evening ride along the Southwest Trail to the Terry Lock and Dam. A woman named Sheila — this writer didn't get her last name before she pedaled off — said she's had bottles of water thrown at her from passing cars, once in the Rockwater riverside neighborhood in North Little Rock and once in the parking lot of the Two Rivers Bridge, which is dedicated to pedestrian and bike traffic. Sheila's companion said cars have gunned it behind him and passed with little room to spare; they do not understand, nor do they want to understand, road etiquette. One of Little Rock's rides, the Wampoo Roadeo Metric Century, honors the memory of cyclist Marilyn Fulper, who was killed by a driver who just didn't see her on the road. Upholstery tacks have been scattered on Highway 300 and Pinnacle Valley Road, a popular biking route northwest of Little Rock.

But if Little Rock could get its motorists educated, it would find that having a cycling infrastructure improves the quality of life in a city. It's a way to not just attract tourism or new business but, Brady said, to convince people who might otherwise move off to literally greener pastures to stay.

That bike trails increase the appeal of a region is an idea that seems to have finally sunk in at the Pulaski County Quorum Court, which in June turned down a $2.6 million federal grant to engineer a 65-mile trail between Little Rock and Hot Springs, part of a "rails to trails" program. A few justices of the peace said the grant's match — $520,000 to be split between Pulaski, Grant and Garland counties — would be better spent on highway improvement. A study's conclusion that the trail would be a multimillion-dollar boon to the economy by bringing tourist dollars and jobs to the county did not convince them. Last week, however, the JPs reversed course and voted 10-3 to accept the grant.

Central Arkansas Water is also studying putting a mountain bike trail around Lake Maumelle. "That would be huge," Karklins said.

In the meantime, Allied Cycle Works will build its business. Karklins hopes to get ahead of orders and have a showroom in six months or so. The company, which is working with distributors in five companies in Asia, has also worked out a deal to distribute the bike in Scandinavia. The United Kingdom and Spain are next.

HIA Velo brings bike-building back home

[houstonlocalus-blog]

Houstonian Tales: Lauren Eddy

Lauren Eddy. Photo: Hanna Gonzales

  Twenty years ago in this town, you wouldn’t have seen too many people champion the efforts of women in the music industry. It’s pretty vile when you think about it, but that’s just the way things were, unfortunately. However, unless you’ve been living under a rock lately, it’s pretty hard not to notice all that women have been doing for the music scene in Houston and throughout the country. You also wouldn’t have given much thought to Galveston having much of a thriving music community twenty years ago, either. In fact, you probably wouldn’t have given it much thought a decade ago. While Lauren Eddy isn’t the only person booking shows on the island, her efforts through Wake The Zine shouldn’t go unnoticed. The monthly zine, which can be found at various shops like Deep End Records, Insomnia, and Wired Up, is a calling card to DIY culture and making the most of wherever you live. Through the zine and her band EL LAGO, she’s proving that she can not only write about music, but make some of the most intriguing music coming out of our area today. On the heels of finishing their debut album, Free Press Houston caught up with one of the strongest scene builders and artists you ought to get acquainted with.

  Free Press Houston:  Where are you from? You weren’t born in Galveston, correct?

Lauren Eddy: I’m originally from Texas City, right across the Bay, but the Irish side of my family has old roots in Galveston. I’ve lived here for five years now.

  FPH:  You co-produce the DIY zine, Wake The Zine for the Galveston area. What made you decide to start doing the zine and how long have you been making it for?

Eddy: It was a solo project at first, but a small team coalesced around it. My good friend Jorja Montgomery became the co-editor and did layout for a solid year, but she is currently on break. Grant Loomis and Lisa Gulesserian will be working on layout and editorial duties with me now.

I started making the zine because the shows here felt so underground. Only this small social circle knew or cared, and I was hoping to broaden that circle and bring people out to shows. I made the first issue in October 2015. That was before I met Dan Schmahl, who runs Super Hit Press in Galveston. It’s more fun now with the Risograph printing process.

  FPH:  You’ve gotten to land some pretty strong interviews, especially for the zine world. Have there ever been times when you couldn’t get someone you wanted to interview, or has there ever been a time when you landed an interview that you didn’t think you would?

Eddy: We did have an interview declined for the first time! Julian Jimenez, who is a longtime contributor, is a go-getter and tried to interview Clem Burke, the drummer from Blondie. We were hosting the Split Squad and Dressy Bessy at the local VFW Hall, but Julian said he just couldn’t seem to engage Burke in a conversation. Honestly, I can only begin to imagine how that rewires your brain socially — you know, to have that level of celebrity. I don’t blame him one bit. I think it could happen to anyone. Or maybe he isn’t supposed to do interviews unless they go through certain channels. I have no idea! I didn’t assign that one though. I think I’m really most interested in up-and-coming bands and local bands.

  FPH:  The zine also produces shows in Galveston. What was the catalyst in putting shows together and about how many have you done now?

Eddy: The collective has hosted about 20 shows now, the majority of which I’ve had the pleasure of booking. I love putting lineups together! There’s a lot of room for intuition and imagining how things might go together. And I tend to book gender diverse lineups because it feels so much more natural to me.

Before the zine, I was trying to bring in bands through EL LAGO. Starting out, Galveston was the only scene we felt like we had access to, although Houston feels like such a welcoming place now! It means so much to be included. I never thought that anyone in Houston would care about the zine or the band at all, you know?

  FPH:  Is there ever a time when it feels like people on the island don’t get what you’re trying to do down there with the zine and the shows, or have they been pretty receptive?

Eddy: The first year blew me away! I was shocked to move 300 copies every month, even if they are free. People don’t have to pick it up, but they do. And I’d never had a sparsely attended show until very, very recently — which is pretty wild!

It’s been a little more trying for me personally this year. With any project, it’s all about the chemistry and momentum, and that will kind of ebb and flow. I had to discuss a values issue with one guy who I was working with, and that wasn’t fun. He couldn’t really dialogue about it. Sometimes people don’t understand why things like that are so important to me.

I still appreciate Galveston so much. I’m muscling through for now with the amazing friends who still give a lot of their time and energy to make the zine and the shows happen. Every single person who comes out, I appreciate so much. I try not to “expect” anything or take it for granted.  

  FPH:  For people who don’t know, where can people grab a copy of Wake The Zine, and how often does it come out?

Eddy: We’re trying to get back on schedule with a combined June/July issue, so we hope to get it out the first week of each month for the rest of 2017. Most of the zines stay in Galveston at MOD Coffeehouse, but I also take some over to Deep End Records and I send some to the Miss Champagne online distro. I also need to upload some past issues to our website soon.

  EL LAGO. Photo: Jordan Asinas

  FPH:  You also front the band EL LAGO, who has had quite the year since this time last year. Is it hard coming up for shows so frequently when you have to make the drive back to Galveston each time?

Eddy: It can be pretty brutal! The roads do feel dangerous late at night. One time we pulled up to our building in Galveston, and Charlie and I heard this truck come screeching down Market Street. There was some kind of drunken fight at Buckshot. We heard this sound like a gunshot, so we dropped our gear on the sidewalk, left the car door wide open into the street, and ran inside to duck for cover like it was a drive-by. I heard afterward that it was the sound of a rock being thrown at the man’s windshield. That will make more sense if you’ve seen some of the crumbling sidewalks here! He hit a pole and left his bumper on our curb, so I’m glad we dropped everything and ran.

Funny, there was a similar place my grandpa told us about. When he was growing up, there was this place downtown called the Imperial Club, and it was modeled after a saloon. They called it “The Blood Bucket.” Thankfully, there are cops outside Buckshot just waiting for it now.

  FPH:  El Lago has been in the studio working with Austin Sepulvado of Buxton and Dollie Barnes, as well as with Steve Christensen. How did that come about and was it difficult working with two seasoned veterans as them?

Eddy: I met Austin at one of our early Houston shows. I believe you had told him to check us out, so thank you! I had fallen out-of-touch with Houston music, so I was so happy to discover this new wave of incredible artists like Dollie Barnes, VODI, Rose Ette, Ruiners, Black Kite and so many more! Austin has worked with Steve a lot and we talked about working together on our first release. He did production and added perfect, subtle synth parts.

Steve and Austin are both a total pleasure to work with! I’ve only been playing electric guitar for about three years now, and some guitarists will try to pick holes in your playing or push their ego at you, but I never have to be defensive with Austin. I ask him lots of questions, and he recommended a guitar tech, James Love, who set up the tremolo piece on my Mustang. I’ve really enjoyed that.

Steve is the best imaginable person to work with, and I also adore his cats, Black Cat and Other Cat, even though I am allergic and was on meds the whole time! He’s such an ace! And he has his workflow down so smoothly! It’s to the point where you might not know how much of the weight he is carrying because it’s so seamless.

  FPH:  I know that the album is pretty much done already, do you guys have a release date and a title or are you still working that out?

Eddy: It’s our first time to go through this process, so I really need to do my homework. We’re talking with Jessica at Miss Champagne about doing the tape release, and I can’t think of anyone I’d rather go through! We love Jessica, and it would be really special to us to be on the same label as so many local bands we love. We’re not sure about the title yet. Maybe Colors?

  Lauren Eddy. Photo: Hanna Gonzales

  FPH:  As a woman in the music industry, who fronts a band, who writes music, who produces shows and your own publication, do you ever feel like it’s tougher to get respect than it is for a guy to get it who maybe does less than you do?

Eddy: There was some initial skepticism toward me, but it got better from there. I got the most skepticism as an electric guitarist, because there weren’t any women doing that in Galveston at the time, that I knew of. It really hasn’t been an issue since. No one has asked me if I’m a roadie or a girlfriend lately.

The same with the shows I managed. There was some concern early on that I should have a man work the door instead. I was assumed to be “too nice.” Now people are used to seeing me around, and I do have peers like Melanie Stone (India Tigers In Texas) and Sara Sims (Kink Shame) and Catherine Stroud.

I’m still trying to push for change beyond myself. I’ve had a few tough conversations with male friends and peers in my scene regarding language used on stage or in conversations, and some of them have been really understanding and willing to hear a different perspective. I appreciate that so much. Others have been maybe too fragile or too proud to dialogue. I guess it’s a good way to tell who your real friends are! They may not be the most cosmopolitan and they may not always choose the right words… but that they can handle an honest conversation about it and not resent you for challenging them in a heartfelt way.

  FPH:  You’ve kind of created your own world down in Galveston with everything that you do. Do you ever get overwhelmed with it all or is it just what you do?

Eddy: Oh, for sure! Charlie knows how overwhelmed I get. I think I am a little too private, and my friends don’t always know what I’m feeling or thinking. I strongly need an outside perspective sometimes though! I also want to tell you that you are doing such an essential thing, David, by connecting the Houston area music scene. You work so hard and I think it inspires all of us to keep pushing it forward. Thank you so much for this interview.

  It’s definitely inspiring to see one person push so hard for their city to be considered part of the Texas music landscape. Through EL LAGO, Wake, and the shows Eddy is hosting on the island, she’s definitely helping to cement Galveston as a spot for people to catch touring and local bands on the regular. You can read the latest issues of Wake The Zine, here, you can listen to EL LAGO here, and you can see EL LAGO June 30 at the Birthday Club Tour Kickoff show. The all ages event has sets from Holly Halls and Ether Wave as well, with doors at 9 pm and a pay what you want cover, with more information here.

Houstonian Tales: Lauren Eddy this is a repost

[untitledcreativeproject]

Day 6. [1705]

No idea why this one took so long. Probably because I didn’t really care for the prompt. I just wanted the reward.

Gatas had lost track of how long she had been wandering through Hell trying to find its king. She knew she was wasting time that she could be spending back in the living realm, although how much was indeterminable. With eternity stretching out before her, the passage of time felt like it took so much longer. She had started blasting holes in landmarks she passed to mark whether she'd already gone in that direction; even still, she had yet to come across Dabura's grand staircase or his throne.

"Oh my god," she heard whispered behind her. She stopped.

"Is that really her?" another whispered voice asked, sounding on the verge of nervous laughter.

"I didn't know whether to believe she'd actually died, you know?"

"Did you hear about the one guy who was going around telling everyone he saw her escape from that Majin? He said she's actually in hiding somewhere and she's plotting to kill all the Namekian Alliance's war heroes one by one."

"Yeah, what a fanboy." Tittering. "Guess he was wrong."

"We still don't know if that's her."

"Well, let's ask."

Gatas heard rustling. She resisted the urge to turn around, partly hoping that, despite all evidence to the contrary, she wasn't the subject of the conversation happening behind her. 

"What?" That voice sounded panicked.

Loudly, "Hey!"

Gatas was slow to turn, looking over her shoulder first before fully committing to the movement.

"Oh god--" One of the two boys behind Gatas took a step back as her gaze fell on him. She stood taller than the both of them, and neither looked very experienced in the ways of combat and warfare. Gatas scoffed at the boy who had most recently spoken. It was unbecoming of a Dragon Clan Namekian to behave like a coward.

"Are you Gatas?" The other boy, a Konatsian, was much bolder. "You're a hero in the eyes of the Red Ribbon Army, if you are. You killed the Immortal. They say when he finally managed to hit you, you laughed in his face."

Gatas grinned despite herself. Being a soldier, being a warrior; it was never about the glory for her, but she was also not the type to deny how well she did the things she did. She saw that both boys were dressed in standard-issue Red Ribbon gear. Both their jackets bore the organization's logo. Gatas composed herself, her lieutenant's tattoo making itself known on her skin. "Report," she commanded.

To their credit, both soldiers moved to stand at attention. One of them, the Namekian, seemed to grab for a rifle that he then realized was not with him. "Casualties are high on both sides of the fight," he announced, his nervousness gone as he got into a role he was comfortable with. "A lone Saibaman attempted to destroy Namek in its entirety. He was stopped by the Namekian Alliance, but not without a few losses on their side."

Gatas watched him carefully as he spoke, but the boy gave no indication of concern for what she assumed was his home planet. It wasn't surprising, per se, but she felt it was noteworthy that a Namekian warrior would align himself with a faction that intended to destroy his people's way of life.

"Magnok and I were among the fallen. There was a resistance effort to keep the locals from interfering with the Saibaman's plans, but we were outnumbered in the end."

Namek was intact, and it sounded like neither side had a clear advantage over the other. She could still return to the front lines, if she ever managed to find Dabura.

"Yo, inferior organisms!" A scruffy-looking youth stepped out from behind a rock formation, his hands in his pockets. "Any of you up for a fight?"

Gatas immediately fell into a fighting stance, her attention completely focused on the newcomer. She was always ready.

The would-be challenger leaned back, looking down his nose at the Shikirian and her companions. "Tch, as if. I'm just asking for a friend. Isn't that right, Maxy?"

The unseen person he was speaking to lumbered into view. Maxy, as the kid called him, was of average height, but was built wide. His arms and chest were almost comically disproportional to his head, and as he stood before the three Red Ribbon members, his heavy breathing caused his chest to strain, pulling taut some of the exposed wiring in his torso.

"Big robot," Magnok commented. "I thought Android models were numbered only. Why's he get to be called Maxy?"

"His power is maximum," the scruffy boy said. "Anyway, the good doctor wants us to put the big guy through his paces, so we got sent out to, uh, recruit some volunteers. I take it Big Red here is willing?"

"Her name is Gatas," Magnok said, "and yeah. Count her in. I bet she'll turn your robot gorilla into scrap metal!"

Gatas was less than appreciative of the Konatsian boy speaking on her behalf, but she wasn't about to argue. She had only seen the action from the sidelines at the Cell games, and she was itching to take some frustration out on someone who might be able to handle more than a few hits.

"Good. Follow me." The kid pushed on Maxy's arm to rotate him until he faced the proper direction, then led the other three on a winding path that ended with a double-wide metal door on the side of a hill. Gatas questioned the logic behind installing an underground bunker in Hell but said nothing.

A passcode and undignified slide later, they arrived in what looked to be an empty underground warehouse. The blinding lights dotting the ceiling prevented any accurate guess to the height of the place, and the area was unfurnished except for an old-school wrestling ring. Gatas shook her head in disbelief. Zoning and construction laws were clearly not a priority in Hell, and it seemed that their host had a penchant for old school Earth melodrama.

Maxy hefted himself up onto the outside of the ring, then ducked in between the top and middle rope to get in. He struggled with the gesture as his broad shoulders kept catching the ropes, remiscent of a dog with an oversized stick in its mouth trying to get through a doorway.

"Doc! We got a live one!" The call echoed through the open space.

Moments later a rickety old man zoomed out from the depths of the room on a souped up Segway, his lab coat billowing out behind him. Once he was close enough to the ring, he slowed to a stop and removed the goggles from his eyes. "A live one, you said? Impossible. We're all dead here."

"You know what I meant."

"When speaking, you must be clear in your meaning, Dimitri," the strange old man chided. "As for my guests, welcome. I am Doctor Gyro, not to be confused with that hack Dr. Gero from the Red Ribbon Army."

"We're Red Ribbon," Magnok shot back, offended. "Dr. Gero was a genius."

"Gero was a blind fool, thinking that organic matter would improve on the pure power that machines have. All you need is a skin suit to make your androids passable for humans, and they far outperform the capabilities of a mere mortal. No squishy organs like a heart or a brain to make for an easy weak point."

"We came for a fight, not a lecture." The Namekian soldier had found his voice again, it seemed.

"If it's a fight you want, then it's a fight you shall have," Dr. Gyro promised. "But Dimitri, you said you had one. There are three here, and I don't want to waste Maxy's time with three different opponents. Determine who the strongest of them is and they can fight him."

"They already volunteered the girl to fight."

"Oh! Well then. Join Maxy in the ring, won't you? The rules to this fight are simple. No ki-based moves. This is a test of strength. Outside weapons and flight are not allowed. Maxy has a built-in gauge that tracks his damage taken and boosts his power accordingly. I'd like to test and make sure that works."

Gatas jumped into the ring from where she stood, then waited for the signal to begin. The eccentric doctor pulled a boxing bell from his coat and rang it three times, which both fighters understood as a "go." Gatas knew she had to do some damage without immediately ending the match, so she waited for Maxy to make the first move.

Maxy bellowed a war cry and barreled towards her. She caught him by the shoulders, sliding back a bit as she stopped him in his tracks. He tried to throw some body shots, but was rewarded with a heavy knock to the top of his head. His bulk was an obvious disadvantage. The whole match devolved into Gatas catching and throwing the android bodily whenever he tried to charge at her.

When Maxy did finally hit his limit break, he swung a wild right at Gatas and caught her in the jaw. The Doctor whooped excitedly and shook a less than enthusiastic Dimitri to attention. Gatas proceeded to dodge every other attack that the metal man attempted, one of which was a straight punch that dented one of the corner posts of the ring. Bored now, the Shikirian grabbed Maxy by his head and tossed him over the top rope and onto the floor. Her comrades started a 10-count, but stopped after she climbed up the ropes herself and launched herself at the android while he struggled to get up. His head cracked against the floor. Finally, Gatas grabbed a handful of Maxy's exposed wiring and yanked hard. Electricity sparked in her hand and she abruptly let go, getting up with her eyes on her opponent to see if he would follow. He didn't, his head twitching as a result of the compromised connection.

"Maxy no!" Dr. Gyro wailed. "You cretin, look what you've done! Get out of my lair!" He pushed a button on his wristband and the entrance door opened. Gatas shrugged and flew out with the other Red Ribbon boys in tow. So much for that.

[Running Total: 9,270 words]