#how can a tech company be so inept

[lab-gr0wn-lambs]

When you’re having technical difficulties with emails and the solution is to send the help team an email :)

[psi-hate]

talking with xfinity tech support getting nowhere because i know more than the agent and am literally teaching them what's wrong and to get me to someone that has the power to fix it. my issue is that the router gateway from their supplied router locks "advanced" settings like Port Forwarding and DMZ stuff behind the mobile app, but trying to access these settings from the phone app only gives an error so they're impossible to edit. researching this issue and apparently for 3 years there's been just a fucking dumbass issue where NOBODY can access their advanced settings because the app is broken and the only solution is to beg the AI chatbot to give you an in-app redirect to the page instead of using the UI (an authentication error i assume the chatbot provides a workaround for?) which doesn't work anymore.

i just bought a whole new fucking router so i don't have to use their proprietary software that doesn't work. massive pain in the ass to be a network engineer that explains to tech support how their own shit is broken and have to constantly remind them when they repeat the steps you've told them you've already done 6 times over. like please i get you have a script but save me the trouble and just say you aren't equipped to deal with the problem their company created and forward me to some other inept support department lol

[hawkepockets]

okay now i am introducing my v for real 👇😡

📋 full name: vi shui tao

vi is her family name, but enough americans misunderstood that she got sick of it and “v” is more intimidating for a merc to go by than “taotao.”

👩🏻‍💼 backstory: corpo

born in shanghai to a large family employed by kang tao. v’s parents, who were bodyguard and stylist to the kang tao ceo’s wife, brought her along for an extended work trip to night city as a child. they sold out to arasaka, releasing a cyberware-frying daemon into their boss’s hotel room, in exchange for a full ride at arasaka academy for their daughter. both parents succumbed to the virus along with their employer, and v was left alone in california with nothing but the scholarship they’d applied for with their lives.

her relatives back home encouraged her to stay in america and use the opportunity, so she rose to deputy head of arasaka counterintel at a young age (though not as young as “canon” V—she’s in her 30s!) and doesn’t have many detailed memories of china or her extended family. though when they do surface, she tends to get red-faced, teary, and sullen… SHE’S FINE ON HER OWN!

🐭 she is a professional thief, a coward, and a rat and has an awful case of internalized misogyny, but also a strict code of honor, in her own way. it’s not often legible to people who don’t know her well - but she doesn’t kill anyone but scavs if she can help it and considers the relationships between clients, mercs, and fixers sacrosanct.

when he wasn’t calling her chica, or “corpo-rat” out of abject disappointment in how she’d turned out, jackie called her “mousie.”

🔧 +20 technical skill! a talented combat netrunner and huge know-it-all about tech.

🎹 used to be the keyboardist and tech for a band while in school. the other musicians all flamed out or left night city as they were serious about the anti-establishment messaging in their songs, while v stayed behind, locked in on her career and determined to sell out. she never found another band, unless you count samurai, but put her speaker-whispering skills to use a few times as a roadie for extra eds. has always thought frontmen were full of shit and annoying. ESPECIALLY rockerboys. ick.

cannot sing at all.

she really admires nancy/bes isis, which makes johnny reconsider how much he’s overlooked samurai’s pulitzer prize winning keyboardist, the only band member with the skillset to make a material political difference in the city.

💬 socially inept, runs very hot and cold. will be unavailable, blunt, and short-spoken for long stretches, then suddenly say smth florid and intimate or pull a brutal cold read on someone out of nowhere. known for her offputting signature maneuver of kissing a friend on the cheek then immediately exiting the conversation. a smug, sourpuss skeptic in all things.

⛩️ neighborhood: japantown

❤️ best friends: takemura, alex, judy, mitch, and RONALD “RONNIE” P.T. MALONE!

🚩 got together with river mostly just to antagonize johnny by fucking a cop. quickly realized she found river boring and felt worse about using him than she’d thought as he was actually kind of a relentlessly good guy. cheated on him with judy, never told him, let him think his terminally ill gf died a saint and never ever mentioned the silverhand thing. she adores judy’s company but ultimately it’s all silverV triangulation. sorry.

🚬 in love with johnny, since he apologized for the initial violating behavior and she stopped thinking of him as a parasite. (it was a particularly sensitive subject for this v, who had already contended emotionally with an unwanted pregnancy while at saka and had a hard time separating her feelings about the engram from her regrets about the fetus.)

they never ease off the negging, but can both feel each other’s rush of affection at the sound of an irritating voice in their head, so it lacks bite. she’s wanted him to survive and take the body for far longer than she’d admit to herself, to him, or to any of the people who want her to make it out of night city. she’d rather be him than herself, though. but he doesn’t want to be himself alone.

it’s weird. they’re weird. i actually hate them.

🏯 after arasaka fired her, she took very little convincing that the corporation deserved to burn. that johnny was actually competent enough to burn it, and achieve more than just a forgettable murder-suicide? took a lot more convincing.

she never once fully believed in one of the cures offered to her, though. she just had to go through the motions of self-preservation.

🏍️ cannot drive a car. never learned. she exclusively drove jackie’s arch until getting johnny’s porsche back from arasaka, by which point johnny’s muscle memory had bled into her body enough that she could handle just that car. exclusively just that car. please stop making her drive other people’s vehicles.

🕶️ at first, it was obvious who was controlling the body because although both were smokers and both had a mean smirk, johnny always wore reflective aviators while v had her oversized kitschy red sunglasses. later, they started wearing each other’s sunglasses while fronting, to feel less alone and separate. johnny still has hers to this day of course. and doesn’t do anything weird while wearing them…

🍶 endings: king of cups + temperance

[loominggaia]

kid-az A shame… in a more accepting world Ojio’s suits would’ve been a huge hit… but alas, he lives in Looming Gaia, where smelting a single ingot of metal no matter how eco-friendly it is immediately puts you on the Nymph’s shitlist. 😔😔😔

--

(WARNING: Spoilers ahead)

It's true that the Nymph Pact prevents his inventions from going global. There are a lot of people who could benefit from a Mechaskema, but can't access one simply because they live in a Nymph Pact territory.

However, in this case the main problem here is not nymphs, it's corporate greed. Ojio wants these devices to be accessible to everyone, and he wants them to be used only to improve everyone's quality of life.

Ojio does not want these devices to be used to hurt or exploit people, but that's precisely what these governments and corporations intend to do with them. These entities want to trap as many citizens in the Mechaskemas as possible so these citizens will be forced to keep paying them for support services. They want to monopolize the technology. They want to use the devices for war and oppression.

The devices now have a bad reputation because of the way these entities have misused them. The bad media exposure brings the protests and resistance...and of course these faceless corporations and governments get none of the blame--it all goes to poor Ojio, because he is the face of the ChroMight company.

Ojio is just a sci-fi geek who wanted to make his nerdy dreams a reality. He has no experience in the business sphere, in fact he's rather socially inept. He stood no chance when those scummy businessmen waved all that money in his face and said, "Haaaay we'll fund your research if you share your tech with us! ;) We pwooomise we won't do anything fucked up with it teehee! ^w^"

He is sickened by the abuse of his invention, and now he wants to find a way to release people from the Mechaskemas unharmed so he can stop this madness.

*

Questions/Comments?

Lore Masterpost

Read the Series

[felonious]

My mind is swirling with thoughts. I woke up too early. But I went to sleep too early. So when I wake up early (2am) I will maybe stream a movie and I was trying to stream a movie and it kept stopping saying no internet signal. So I check my connection and it’s on and I try again and it streams a minute and stops, and I check and I have a connection so I check the speed of my connection and it’s down. I live rural and internet is always an issue in the country but..and I’ve been patient. It’s a constant thing with this company. And the tech support never supports. It just tries to bump me up to the next more expensive package. But the package I pay for promises a certain speed. And they aren’t providing me with it. Why the fuck would I give them more money when they don’t even give me what I already pay for? It’s a small company started by local people which makes it really hard to call them up and scream. But this morning after 2 hours of fucking with streaming a movie I lost it and I sent them an email and I told them not to bother with passing it to their inept tech dept. the tech guy is the son of one of the owners. He started at the start of COVID. Maybe he had to leave a job and his mummy gave him one and he really doesn’t know how to do it. I don’t know if any one of them knows what they are doing. I left hughesnet for this. Sometimes I think I should have stuck with hughesnet. They offered me a low low price of 30/mo to stay. But the good thing about the smaller company is that they openly let customers know that there was a federal program to help with low income families to help with internet costs and I am a recipient of that program so I pay 10+tax a month instead of 40+tax a month, and if hughesnet has the same deal, I doubt they actually send you a letter about it. A lot of benefits are hidden so that people in need has to do their research. It’s an acquired skill, and it takes some work, and not everybody is equipped to do that so I appreciate them for that. And now I feel a bit of a shit heel for that email, should I send a bit of gratitude their way? Apologize? Nah, srsly, not being able to stream a movie in SD at 4am is just not acceptable. I really don’t ask for much.

But then another company I do business with is Blick for art supplies and I recently ordered a box easel which is a box and has easel built in so when the lid is up it’ll support a canvas or whatever and also carry art supplies and comes with palette and I wanted this for going outside where I cleared a place yesterday with the help of a hired hand. In the middle of a group of trees we cleared branches. As we were working I was saying how great a little spot it would be to have a picnic, just put out a blanket and an ice chest of food and drink and hang out there for an hour or two when it isn’t windy and if it doesn’t get swarming with ants and a harbor to the no see ’ems and mosquitoes. But that box, yeah it arrived and a part on it had broken off and sadly it was a glued on piece so I sent them a picture and asked them how they could help and they gave me a choice of a 30%discount or send me a replacement. I’m not a cabinet maker. I don’t have the right clamps for repairing it. I don’t even have wood glue. I didn’t want a discount, I just wanted a working box but I was feeling stressed that I would have to send back the broken box. So they told me to throw the broken box away and they’ll send a replacement. Wow. What a relief. Of course I’ll keep the broken box and donate it to the old school gallery for the kids’ art table at the Ramah farmers’ market that I facilitate. Maybe somebody passing by will be somebody with clever clamps and offer to fix the box so that the kids can use the easel too.

It’s warming up so it’s time to watch out for rattlesnakes. They’ll be stirring and feeling peckish. They like my place. Rocks, and woodpiles and plenty of food. What I need to add to my eco system is a confusion of Guinea fowl.

[isotropicposts]

Wow, what a blast from the past

It puts things into perspective to see how far I’ve come. 

Things got really bad at some point. Some thoughts about reading my old posts:

Damn I was really dramatic. But more relevantly, I think I’ll start writing a little bit about some of my thoughts as a means to try to get through the recent hurdles I’m experiencing. 

Retrospective #1: 

It should have been more apparent to me, that I needed to address my mental health problems first, before obsessing over the fact that I was single. A relationship quickly sours, or a breakup quickly becomes extremely painful if you are unable to be okay by yourself. 

Retrospective #2: 

You know those girls who I obsessed over following rejection, or a failed relationship? Can’t even remember their names at this point. So the long game suggests that these rejections, while painful in the moment, are not fatal. 

Retrospective #3: 

For all my perceived failures (and actual failures), I ended up in a pretty good spot. I’m in a fairly low-stress relationship with a wonderful gal. We share our love with two adorable doggos, and objectively, things are going pretty well. 

Retrospective #4: 

The perception of failure (at the time) is significantly worse than what it will look like taking a more macroscopic view. I stumbled through college and academia thinking I was dumb, inept, incompetent, and lazy. 

Laziness has its own discussion points, which I guess I’ll leave for another post, but if you were to ask me as a student, if I could believe that I would become a fairly well regarded engineer, at one of the largest tech companies in the world, I would have told you it was a pipe dream because I was too dumb. 

Part of this can be attributed to two things: 

1. Depression, and the tendency to view things in a negative light

2. Others telling me that I was dumb/inept/incompetent

I’ve come to the realization that boy oh boy, you can be great at school, and worthless in the field. 

The key learning that is perhaps, under emphasized in college is *problem solving*. Yes, it’s great you can calculate something, or know how to use a formula, but it’s pretty worthless if you can’t cut through the bullshit to find the true problem and find a meaningful solution. 

Retrospective #5:

Man, did I go through an alcoholism phase. I’m pretty happy to say that I’m mostly sober. I don’t have a weekend drink to take the edge off, and mostly drink socially once every few months. And honestly, I don’t really miss it. So, good job, me. 

Anyway, that’s a pretty long post. I think I’ll stop here. We’ll go over things of a more recent nature soon. I think we can talk about what it means to be me. We can flesh that out, because it’s an untapped vein and it will be nice to write it down to remind myself that I’m not just X. 

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The infosec apocalypse is nigh

When the Pegasus Project dropped last week, it was both an ordinary and exceptional moment. The report — from Amnesty, Citizenlab, Forbidden Stories, and 80 journalists in 10 countries — documented 50,000 uses of the NSO Group’s Pegasus malware.

https://www.occrp.org/en/the-pegasus-project/

The 50,000 targets of NSO’s cyberweapon include politicians, activists and journalists. The Israeli arms-dealer — controlled by Novalpina Capital and Francisco Partners — has gone into full spin mode.

NSO insists that the report is wrong, but also that it’s fine to spy on people, and also that terrorists will murder us all if they aren’t allowed to reap vast fortunes by helping the world’s most brutal dictators figure out whom to kidnap, imprison and murder.

As I say, all of this is rather ordinary. The NSO Group’s bloody hands, immoral practices and vicious retaliation against critics are well established.

It’s been four years since NSO’s assurances that it only sold spying tools to democratic states to hunt terrorists were revealed as lies, when Citizenlab revealed that its weapons targeted Mexican anti-sugar activists (and their children).

https://citizenlab.ca/2017/06/reckless-exploit-mexico-nso/

Then Citizenlab found 45 more countries where NSO’s Pegasus weapon had been used, and demonstrated that notorious human-rights abusers got help from NSO to target everyday citizens to neutralize justice struggles.

https://citizenlab.ca/2018/09/hide-and-seek-tracking-nso-groups-pegasus-spyware-to-operations-in-45-countries/

Outside of human rights and cybersecurity circles, the story drew little attention, but it did prick NSO’s notoriously thin skin — the company dispatched (inept) private spooks, late of the Mossad, to entrap Citizenlab’s researchers.

https://www.nytimes.com/2019/01/28/world/black-cube-nso-citizen-lab-intelligence.html

As far as we know, the company never managed to infiltrate any of Citizenlab’s systems — but their weapons were found on the devices of an Israeli lawyer suing them for their role in human rights abuses.

https://www.nytimes.com/2019/05/13/technology/nso-group-whatsapp-spying.html

That had some consequences. The attack exploited a vulnerability in Whatsapp, owned by Facebook. FB retaliated by suing — and terminating NSO Group employees’ Facebook accounts. Judging from NSO’s outraged squeals, getting kicked of FB hurt far worse.

https://www.vice.com/en/article/7x5nnz/nso-employees-take-legal-action-against-facebook-for-banning-their-accounts

Through it all, the NSO Group insisted that its tools were vital anti-terror weapons — not the playthings of rich sociopaths with long enemies lists.

They continued these claims even after Pegasus was linked to the blackmail attempt against Jeff Bezos, in a bid by Saudi royals to end the Washington Post’s investigative reporting on the murder and dismemberment of the journalist Jamal Khashoggi.

https://www.vice.com/en/article/v74v34/saudi-arabia-hacked-jeff-bezos-phone-technical-report

Despite all this — attacks on the powerful and the powerless, grisly deaths and farce-comedy entrapment attempts — NSO Group plowed on, raking in millions while undermining the security of the devices that billions of us rely on for our own safety.

Until now.

Something about the Pegasus Project shifted the narrative. Maybe it’s the ransomware epidemic, shutting down hospitals, energy infrastructure, and governments — or maybe it’s the changing tide that has turned on elite profiteers. Whatever it is, people are pissed.

Finally.

I mean, when Edward Snowden calls for the owners of a cybercrime company to be arrested, people sit up and pay attention. But Snowden’s condemnation of NSO and its industry are just for openers.

https://edwardsnowden.substack.com/p/ns-oh-god-how-is-this-legal

Snowden describes NSO as part of an “Insecurity Industry” that owes its existence to critical vulnerabilities in digital devices in widespread use. They spend huge sums discovering these vulns — and then, rather than reporting them so they can be fixed, they weaponize them.

As Snowden points out, this is not merely a private sector pathology. Governments — notably the US government, through the NSA’s Tailor Access Operations Group — engage in the same conduct.

Indeed, as with all digital surveillance, there’s no meaningful difference between private and public spying. Governments rely on tech and telecoms giants for data (which they buy, commandeer, or steal, depending on circumstances).

This, in turn, creates powerful security/public safety advocates for unlimited commercial surveillance, to ensure low-cost, high-reliability access to our private data. Those agencies stand ready to quietly scuttle comprehensive commercial privacy legislation.

This private-public partnership from hell extends into the malware industry: the NSA and CIA can’t, on their own, create enough cyber-weapons to satisfy all government agencies’ demand, so they rely on (and thus protect) the Insecurity Industry.

But as Snowden points out, none of this would be possible were it not for the vast, looming, grotesque tech-security debt that the IT industry has created for us. Everything we use is insecure, and it’s built atop more insecure foundations.

We live in an information society with catastrophic information security. If our society was a house, the walls would all be made of flaking asbestos and the attic would be stuffed with oily rags.

It’s hard to overstate just how much risk we face right now, and while the Insecurity Industry didn’t create that risk, they’re actively trying to increase it — finding every weak spot and widening it as far as possible, rather than shoring it up.

It’s a cliche: “Security is a team sport.” But I like how Snowden puts it: security is a public health matter. “To protect anyone, we must protect everyone.”

Step one is “to ban the commercial trade in intrusion software” for the same reason we “do not permit a market in biological infections-as-a-service.”

We should punish the cyber-arms dealers — but also use international courts to target the state actors who pay them.

But this fight will be a tough one. The huge sums that governments funnel to cyber arms-dealers allows them to silence their critics — I’ve been forced to remove some of my own coverage thanks to baseless threats I couldn’t afford to fight.

Writing in today’s Guardian (who also removed unfavorable coverage of NSO Group following legal threats), Arundhati Roy demolishes the company’s claims of clean hands.

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2021/jul/27/spying-pegasus-project-states-arundhati-roy

After all, NSO charges a 17% “system maintenance fee” that gives them oversight and insight into how their tools are being used by the demagogues and dictators who shower them with money.

https://www.thecitizen.in/index.php/en/newsdetail/index/9/20672/pegasus-hack-how-much-did-it-cost-to-spy-on-citizens

“There has to be something treasonous about a foreign corporation servicing and maintaining a spy network that is monitoring a country’s private citizens on behalf of that country’s government.” -Roy

The NSO Group claims that the human rights abuses it abets are exceptions that slip through the cracks, but the reality is, it has no business model without state terror — without powerful thugs who demand weapons to help jail, torture and kill their critics.

NSO, more than anyone, should know this. But as Upton Sinclair wrote, “It is difficult to get a man to understand something when his salary depends upon his not understanding it.”

[antoine-roquentin]

As the virus seized the world last year, a new, epidemiological metaphor for bad information suggested itself. Dis- and misinformation were no longer exogenous toxins but contagious organisms, producing persuasion upon exposure as inevitably as cough or fever. In a perfect inversion of the language of digital-media hype, “going viral” was now a bad thing. In October, Anne Applebaum proclaimed in The Atlantic that Trump was a “super-spreader of disinformation.” A study earlier that month by researchers at Cornell found that 38 percent of the English-language “misinformation conversation” around COVID-19 involved some mention of Trump, making him, per the New York Times, “the largest driver of the ‘infodemic.’”

This finding resonated with earlier research suggesting that disinformation typically needs the support of political and media elites to spread widely. That is to say, the persuasiveness of information on social platforms depends on context. Propaganda doesn’t show up out of nowhere, and it doesn’t all work the same way. Ellul wrote of the necessary role of what he called “pre-propaganda”:

Direct propaganda, aimed at modifying opinions and attitudes, must be preceded by propaganda that is sociological in character, slow, general, seeking to create a climate, an atmosphere of favorable preliminary attitudes. No direct propaganda can be effective without pre-propaganda, which, without direct or noticeable aggression, is limited to creating ambiguities, reducing prejudices, and spreading images, apparently without purpose.

Another way of thinking about pre-propaganda is as the entire social, cultural, political, and historical context. In the United States, that context includes an idiosyncratic electoral process and a two-party system that has asymmetrically polarized toward a nativist, rhetorically anti-elite right wing. It also includes a libertarian social ethic, a “paranoid style,” an “indigenous American berserk,” a deeply irresponsible national broadcast media, disappearing local news, an entertainment industry that glorifies violence, a bloated military, massive income inequality, a history of brutal and intractable racism that has time and again shattered class consciousness, conspiratorial habits of mind, and themes of world-historical declension and redemption. The specific American situation was creating specific kinds of people long before the advent of tech platforms.

To take the whole environment into view, or as much of it as we can, is to see how preposterously insufficient it is to blame these platforms for the sad extremities of our national life, up to and including the riot on January 6. And yet, given the technological determinism of the disinformation discourse, is it any surprise that attorneys for some of the Capitol rioters are planning legal defenses that blame social-media companies?

Only certain types of people respond to certain types of propaganda in certain situations. The best reporting on QAnon, for example, has taken into account the conspiracy movement’s popularity among white evangelicals. The best reporting about vaccine and mask skepticism has taken into account the mosaic of experiences that form the American attitude toward the expertise of public-health authorities. There is nothing magically persuasive about social-media platforms; they are a new and important part of the picture, but far from the whole thing. Facebook, however much Mark Zuckerberg and Sheryl Sandberg might wish us to think so, is not the unmoved mover.

For anyone who has used Facebook recently, that should be obvious. Facebook is full of ugly memes and boring groups, ignorant arguments, sensational clickbait, products no one wants, and vestigial features no one cares about. And yet the people most alarmed about Facebook’s negative influence are those who complain the most about how bad a product Facebook is. The question is: Why do disinformation workers think they are the only ones who have noticed that Facebook stinks? Why should we suppose the rest of the world has been hypnotized by it? Why have we been so eager to accept Silicon Valley’s story about how easy we are to manipulate?

Within the knowledge-making professions there are some sympathetic structural explanations. Social scientists get funding for research projects that might show up in the news. Think tanks want to study quantifiable policy problems. Journalists strive to expose powerful hypocrites and create “impact.” Indeed, the tech platforms are so inept and so easily caught violating their own rules about verboten information that a generation of ambitious reporters has found an inexhaustible vein of hypocrisy through stories about disinformation leading to moderation. As a matter of policy, it’s much easier to focus on an adjustable algorithm than entrenched social conditions.

Yet professional incentives only go so far in explaining why the disinformation frame has become so dominant. Ellul dismissed a “common view of propaganda . . . that it is the work of a few evil men, seducers of the people.” He compared this simplistic story to midcentury studies of advertising “which regard the buyer as victim and prey.” Instead, he wrote, the propagandist and the propagandee make propaganda together.

One reason to grant Silicon Valley’s assumptions about our mechanistic persuadability is that it prevents us from thinking too hard about the role we play in taking up and believing the things we want to believe. It turns a huge question about the nature of democracy in the digital age—what if the people believe crazy things, and now everyone knows it?—into a technocratic negotiation between tech companies, media companies, think tanks, and universities.

But there is a deeper and related reason many critics of Big Tech are so quick to accept the technologist’s story about human persuadability. As the political scientist Yaron Ezrahi has noted, the public relies on scientific and technological demonstrations of political cause and effect because they sustain our belief in the rationality of democratic government.

Indeed, it’s possible that the Establishment needs the theater of social-media persuasion to build a political world that still makes sense, to explain Brexit and Trump and the loss of faith in the decaying institutions of the West. The ruptures that emerged across much of the democratic world five years ago called into question the basic assumptions of so many of the participants in this debate—the social-media executives, the scholars, the journalists, the think tankers, the pollsters. A common account of social media’s persuasive effects provides a convenient explanation for how so many people thought so wrongly at more or less the same time. More than that, it creates a world of persuasion that is legible and useful to capital—to advertisers, political consultants, media companies, and of course, to the tech platforms themselves. It is a model of cause and effect in which the information circulated by a few corporations has the total power to justify the beliefs and behaviors of the demos. In a way, this world is a kind of comfort. Easy to explain, easy to tweak, and easy to sell, it is a worthy successor to the unified vision of American life produced by twentieth-century television. It is not, as Mark Zuckerberg said, “a crazy idea.” Especially if we all believe it.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 129

129

Gearing up, Keith’s body shook as he strapped his gun into place. They had a lead. They finally had a lead worth chasing. Coran had been working hard behind the scenes, trying to match the trace elements found on the clothing Matt, Sam, and Shiro had, but it was a pissed off vampire that’d given them their lead. The fucking opera was a set up. An auction held for the rights to hand over Lance and Lotor to Sendak. Attending the opera had provided the evidence that Lotor was cooperating with VOLTRON, a move seen as going against Zarkon. The winning bid had the rights to present Lance and Curtis to Sendak, with the promise of some kind of riches from Zarkon over the return of his son to his side and the breeder for experimentation. Lotor had no clue there was a joint bounty on his head. His stupid ego probably thought no one would dare turn against him or sell him out. Lance’s existence had become the source of rumours in the vampire community. Keith felt sick at the way they spoke of his boyfriend like he was some kind of trophy.

Betrayed by the continual fail of payment, then removal and death of half their group, they couldn’t confirm the location where Lance would be being held, they’d given the address of the vampires they’d been betrayed by. They had no evidence Lance was alive, or what had happened to him since they’d been double crossed before they could personally make the apprehension. All they had were their damaged egos... and their heads seeing Keith hadn’t set eyes upon them personally. With confirmation of the intention of removing Lance and Lotor on private jet.

Pidge was a gremlin channeling her scary talents into tracking down the lead with such determination Keith felt compelled to find something. He couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t start hunting on his own if this didn’t pan out. He’d tried so hard to be the man Lance would want him to be. But it was harder by the day. 10 fucking days was too long.

Placing her hand on his shoulder, Krolia gripped it hard

“Keep your head in the game. If you mess up, I will drop you”

Like he’d mess this up. Their first real lead. Lance’s health and safety, alone with Curtis’s, took priority

“I know”

“If he’s there, we’re getting him out”

“I know”

“And if he’s not, you need to be prepared for it”

“I know!”

He knew all too well. The information was out of date and provided by angry vampires that could simply be looking to take advantage of the situation

“Good. You’ll be with me. Shiro will be leading the wolf squad”

Why were they being separated? Shiro was an exemplary agent, not... oh. Ohhh... They thought both of them too emotionally compromised to complete the mission without going off script. The wolves would stop Shiro, with Krolia stopping him if she felt he was acting out. Yeah. Keith might not be able to stop himself if the moment presented itself... but he and Shiro had earned the right to be there when their boyfriends were found

“Am I understood?”

“Yes, ma’am”

““Mum” is fine. I want him back too. I won’t fail you, Keith. If you think about it, he’s my son too. My family, too. That’s why you’re coming with me”

So his mother was saying if he interferes with her getting Lance out, he’d be expected to provide cover for the both of them. It wasn’t that she thought him inept. It was that she lost the love of her life and didn’t want him going through it too...

“I... mum... what do if he isn’t there?”

“Then we follow the evidence, even if we have to go it alone. I’m sick of this game. I’m sick of knowing you’re going through hell. I’m going to do whatever I can to bring him back to all of us. Him and Curtis... thank god these rooms are sound proof”

Keith found himself chuckling, almost immediately feeling guilty for the sound, sobering sadly

“I didn’t think I’d see the day you’d sideline the mission”

“I didn’t think I’d see the day when I did either. I think I spent too many years as a hunter and not nearly enough as a mum”

“To be fair, I wasn’t ready to let you in”

“And to be fair, I tried too hard. I love you, Keith. I won’t let you down”

Krolia was surprised as Keith threw his arms around his mother. Keith also kind of surprised. He could feel his mother’s warmth. Feel the way her body tensed, then instantly relaxed. She’d worked so hard. The bags beneath her eyes were next level. Not only was she working, she’d been there for everyone in their group. She’d even been out running errands for Miriam, then providing a buffer when Luis came to scream at Coran over his mother being apprehended. A lot of things had happened over the last ten days, but it was finally coming to an end. All those times he’d sworn to get Lance back were finally going to become reality.

As he was getting ready to leave, Pidge came rushing into the room, throwing her arms around his waist. Hunk hovering, but when Keith extended his arm, the big teddy bear came in for a group hug

“Be safe out there. I can’t lose another brother”

“I will be”

“Don’t be reckless. And don’t get hurt... and ...”

“Pidge, I can’t rescue Lance if I’m too reckless”

“I know... I wish I was coming with you. I want to see these bastards pay for what they did to us”

Hunk nodded

“Be careful, bud. We don’t want to lose you”

Hugs were such a strange thing. Keith felt almost invincible, or at least a hundred times more ready to face what was coming with a simple hug from his two friends. He’d been such an arsehole worrying about Lance. He’d barely been able to contribute. Pidge was a tech wizard, bullying her way into getting access to everything. Hunk was just as bad as her. Put the two of them together with Sam and all things tech related were at their mercy. Breaking the hug, Pidge pulled something out her pocket

“I have this. I know we can’t come, but if you need support you can reach us on this one. It’s the same as what the blades us, but I’ve keyed in a seperate channel for just us. It’ll also tell me your location...”

Just in case something happened. He got it. This time he was the one wrapping arms around Pidge. She was brilliant. Completely and utterly brilliant

“We’re going to get answers and we’re going to get him back...”

“And then I’m going to punch him in the dick for being kidnapped”

Keith snorted

“Not before I do. Okay. You guys should head back. It might be a while before you hear anything and Mami is going to need your support”

“We’ve got this handled. Take care of yourself”

“I will...”

*

Lance had seen enough movies to know when something was up. Lotor had been moved into the same room as him. Chained on the other side of the bed. Acxa, Zethrid and Ezor were chained together, with Curtis in seperate chains. Curtis had the most mobility of them, he could “waddle” around, waddling from where he’d been thrown into the room across to sit beside Lance. There were bruises across Curtis’s face. His horn seemed longer too, but his friend still smiled at him. Out of everyone, Lance was most relieved to see Curtis was okay. Tangling their chains together they clung to each other. After being silent for so long, Lance couldn’t find the words to tell Curtis how relieved he was. That and both he and Lotor had been gagged. The ball gag in his mouth was made from some kind of spiked metal. His lips taped over, with extra tape over the side straps of the muzzle device they’d forced him to put on. Curtis couldn’t get the tape off properly, the pain leaving Lance in tears... then again, he’d already been crying with happiness over seeing Curtis again.

Lotor’s gag was worse than his, as were his chains. Metal spikes dug into the vampires face leaving weeping wounds. His chains must have had a higher concentration of lead or mercury as the wounds around his wrists were no joke. Lance had had a lot of time to really break things down, he now believed beyond a doubt that Lotor had tried to trade himself to Sendak in order to secure their release, only to be betrayed by Narti and her own ambition. Him getting Shiro, Matt, and Sam out was the best he could do... and maybe he thought like Lance did that together they’d be stronger than what they turned out to be. He still didn’t like Lotor as a person. His ego made him want to smack the fellow vampires head into the closest wall until he learned humility.

When they finally came for them, Zethrid nearly had Lance laughing. He maybe, definitely, kind of liked her. She seemed kind of freer to be herself when Lotor was gagged. She had a joke for every occasion, including being led off into the unknown. Thanking the room for being “drab”, “filled with terrible company”, and “an experience she wouldn’t recommend”, she actually waved as she was led away. Lotor had seemed bored of her commentary, but Lance hadn’t been. She’d laughed a lot. Compared him to Keith with both of them being helpless and cute, and needing them to show up and rescue them. She’d made Ezor jealous as she complained about Lance not turning into a cute little bat. Ezor promised Zethrid could have a hundred pet bats if she just stopped wanting Lance for a pet. Zethrid pointing out that those bars didn’t have a cute human form that looked cuddly. Lance really was glad she hadn’t been gagged, though Keith would have pissed enough to gag her himself.

Between the three witches being taken and returning for them, hours must have passed in the matter of minutes. When they undid his chains from the bed, Lance held onto Curtis so fiercely that the vampire on chain duty couldn’t pry him off his friend, even with the threat of the cattle-prod. Spitting in his face, the two of them were let together, snarky remarks made about him being a “slut of a breeder and a mistake”, thrown around like leaves in a breeze. This was their final chance to escape, but now he’d gone and bonded with the others, he wasn’t okay with leaving anyone behind. Captive bonds and all that aside, it was true that Zethrid and Ezor had helped Keith at the shipping yard on his birthday. He at least owed them for that. Acxa didn’t say much, though Zethrid did tease her a hell of a lot about her possibly liking Keith. Alas for Acxa, Keith was his and he’d never willingly give him up, though Acxa did say that it more like kinship that love... Yeah. No. She’d not be left alone with his boyfriend when he finally got back to Keith.

Not moving fast enough, Lance was smacked over the head with the handle of the cattle prod, stumbling and nearly taking Curtis down with him. Both of them were already leaning against each other in an attempt to remain upright. How Curtis could stand being so close to him when he was a mess Lance wasn’t sure. He’d been too docile. He should have been louder. He should have screamed the house down and made things harder for his captors. Meeting Curtis’s eyes, Curtis smiled softly at him. It seemed as if he’d already accepted they wouldn’t be getting out of this. Well fuck that. If he had the chance he’d be taking it.

Seeing they were being moved, Lance got a good look at the place they were being held. Another set of stairs confirmed there were two stories underground, practically purpose built for housing vampires. The hallways dimly lit, wallpaper peeling in places. He tried to absolutely memorise everything down to the smallest detail. Depending on the outcome he wanted to have enough information to provide an airtight statement that couldn’t be rebuked by even the best lawyer. So everything was memorised. The size. The layout. The mould in the air. The creek of the floorboards. This place didn’t have much love poured into it. Not like his house. He always had sunlight streaming into every room. Warmth and love filled his home. He wanted to avoid the sensation of being trapped underground and everything stereotypical vampire trope.

Led through to a darkened living area. Lance’s knees went weak. Standing before them, in all his unholiness was Sendak. Disgusted by his surrounds, blood was splattered across the floor. Death hanging in the air. Narti’s body hadn’t been moved. The witch’s features still held the same almost surprised look, despite the decay of her body. The stench was as shocking as the senseless waste of life. As Lance’s body broke out in goosebumps, Sendak strode across the room, cloak billowing as if there was some kind of supernatural wind behind him. Taking Curtis by the horn, his friend was cast aside, Lance’s nails scraping his arms as he tried his hardest to ignore the urge to submit to the vampire in front of him. Taking him by the chin, Sendak’s eyes met Lance’s. Lance paralysed by the feeling of terror coursing through every fibre of him. Sendak’s ego was every bad thing that lurked in the night. Every bad thing in every depiction of hell. His touch felt scolding, as if a red hot poker had been driven through up his chin and into the core of his brain. This was a true vampire. An old vampire. A vampire that’d been reborn by the monster inside. No humanity remained in those eyes as black as charred flesh.

Tilting his chin, Sendak examined him. Lance knew very well he didn’t look presentable. Even in the days he’d let himself go with depression over his cursed state, he’d never let himself fall this far. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had some kind of facial hair messing up his handsome face

“So this is it? This is the thing all the fuss is over. Remove these chains. He’s hardly fit for much more than lying on his back, and that’s already been seen to. A full belly of human filth”

Keith was not filth. Their children were not filth. His body was screaming to submit, but he knew he could push past an ego now. He’d done it to Lotor. Lotor had tried to make his mind go all dreamy, but he’d fought it. He needed to fight past Sendak’s ego. He couldn’t even spit in the man’s face. The best he could do was sloppily take a swing when his chains were being removed. Sendak catching his fist and twisting his arm as he turned him, pushing up so hard something snapped and Lance screamed around his gag. How fucking dare Sendak touch him?!

“Do not think you can fight me. You’re valuable, even without those things inside of you. Accidents do happen. Load them up. I want them out within the half hour”

When Sendak released him, Lance dropped, cradling his very broken arm to his chest as he dragged himself over to Curtis. Curtis was awake, semi-dazed, and his horn ripped clean in half. The half showing a sick dark red, almost crystalline mess. He tried to say Curtis’s name, but all that came out was whimper in pain. Curtis was tough but this was cruel. Cruel like burning ants with a magnifying glass. He was only human. Letting go of his arm, he took Curtis by the hand, squeezing to let him know he wasn’t alone. Grunting in pain, the hunter returned the gesture. Curtis knew full well that Lance couldn’t go against Sendak. He knew all the shameful feelings being in the vampire’s presence brought up. If Curtis could have, Lance knew he would have tried to protect him from him. He couldn’t even lie and fake a smile. He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t exhausted to the bone or that he didn’t have a glaringly obvious compound fracture. He wanted to. He wanted so badly to crack a joke and show Curtis he was trying. If he could just get his mouth free... He could get his mouth free. His hands were free. He was the freest he’d been in days. If he could... if Curtis could give him some blood... he might... he might be able to finally be useful.

[toysoldiers-rwby]

Countdown till Vol 8: 36 Days!

Drawing and Writing Request are open!

Characters: Fiona Thyme (POV), Robyn Hill, Winter Schnee, May Marigold, Joanna Greenleaf

Rating: Teen

Summary: Bad first impressions, sharing a bed with your not-crush teammates, and saving a Thief from a Huntress?

Word count: 3k

A/N Another scrapped piece (ch 3) from my Show Your Teeth story. I scrapped it because it took too long to get to the plot but i do love the character interaction.

Dinner was… odd. For one they weren’t up in Atlas Academy, eating a care package Klein and Weiss sent or causing trouble in the mess hall. They were on the floor of Robyn’s apartment, surrounding a stained and uneven coffee table.  

Eating food that was dropped off by a mysterious Thief capable of hacking into Atlas’ network.  

And it was peaceful.  

With two of the hottest heads in Atlas Academy.  

For a moment Fiona wondered if Elm’s rocket launcher knocked her out and this was all a dream. But Robyn dived in and soften her crash. She frowned looking at the Mantle women. She expected bragging or teasing but Robyn made sure she was okay then went back to the Grimm. It was beyond professional, even Winter liked joke around but this was serious for Robyn.  

And her elites? In her head she could hear Winter huff and puff about eating evidence. While Winter wasn’t as by-the-book as Vine this was the only clue they had to find the Thief that hacked into Atlas. And as a daughter of one of the richest families she could be poisoned or drugged. May would normally be barking over every little thing, such as Robyn sitting too close or staring too long at Fiona. The little lamb gave her elites worried glances. They were… docile and guilt ridden.

They lived up in Atlas all their lives. Everything they wanted was at their fingertips while Mantle had to scavenge for their scraps. Including the military’s attention. The Thief had to trick them into killing a Grimm!  

Fiona sighed and slipped another piece of stuff chicken into her mouth. She kept her worried glances on her teammates and listened to the only conversation. Robyn and Joanna was talking about logistics and timing, the planning it would have taken the Thief to make the food and deliver it.  

“They has to be working with someone,” Joanna argued.  

“They aren’t,” Robyn and Fiona said at the same time. Robyn blinked surprised. Then a grin spread a crossed her face and she leaned forward. “I knew great minds think alike.” Fiona rolled her eyes at the arrogance but ended up smiling a little at the playfulness. “Do you want to explain it or shall I?”  

“You can have the honors. Winter and May respect smart asses that has more smarts than ass.” Fiona said. Joanna covered her mouth, trying not to giggle or choke on her food. The elites sneered and rolled their eyes.  

"I like to think I’m well rounded," Robyn said, playfully glaring Fiona. Winter tried to cower that arrogance with a glare but even with May fuming at her side Robyn didn’t back down. She seemed to preen under it, “Snowflake said she’s there was enough Dust to blow the block-”  

“False, I said the Dust is potent enough to destroy the block,” Winter said. She held the spool of fire Dust, her Aura causing it to glow bright. “This… is potent enough to heat this building for an entire month. Understand the difference?”  

“Several questions, we’ll get back to that,” Robyn said. “The Thief has super Dust,” Fiona noticed Winter frowned at the word but didn’t interrupted, “Strong enough to kill the Grimm but they tricked you three into coming down instead. Someone with that much firepower and skill doesn’t need help.”  

“… They needed a distraction but we were too close,” May mumbled under her breath. Then she turned to her partner, “That isn’t SDC Dust is it?”  

“No,” Winter said. “It’s far to pure to be from my father’s poisonous company.” She spat, anger raw in her voice. She took a deep breath, she held it out for anyone else to inspect but no one grabbed it. Fiona even saw Robyn and Joanna lean away a bit. Winter licked her lips, trying to frown instead of smile. “It’s not gonna combust. Wrong Dust for that.”  

“I don’t wanna burn myself! Scars are hot an all but their still painful,” Robyn said.  

Fiona laughed and took it from her leader’s hand, “Good manufactures have a type of stabilizer or… or a sponge,” Her Aura flared bright, trying to pour into the spool. It bright red but didn’t burn to the point where Fiona had to drop it. “Point is there’s other materials to keep handle the excess Aura so people won’t hurt themselves.”  

“So it’s safe? Even for the Dust inept?” Joanna asked. The trio from Atlas nodded and Joanna tried it. It was a dull glow. Winter tried to hide the smile but Fiona saw it anyway. Robyn pulled out her Scroll, typing a few things.  

“Solo, Dust, Tech, possibly from Mistral,” Robyn listed, “Cook, highly likely a neighbor of mine.”  

“How is cooking important?” Winter asked.  

Robyn paused and looked at her. “Can you elites cook?” Winter frowned, the light glare trying to hide the blush. Robyn smiled a little but Fiona recognize the bitterness in her eyes. Fiona was the same way when she first met them. “Cooking is a very… independent skill,” Robyn said. Fiona would have used the word survivalist. “It’s also a compassionate and communal skill,” Robyn explained, adding those words to her notes.  

Winter paused looking down at the food they were eating. Fiona hoped she was smart enough to link everything together. She wasn’t blind to the horrors her father was committing but she was still Atlesian. Did Winter understand how expensive food was here, that sharing it was putting another life before your own?  

Winter grit her teeth, “They’re still a criminal.” Fiona’s heart sank a little. Atlesians…  

“Not all crimes are severe-”  

“Hacking into Atlas’ network makes them threat!”  

Fiona heard the sharp whine before everyone else. Her ears immediately pointed at May as she twitched a little. The noise completely caught Winter off guard, head jerking to look at May. The usually angry women whined again, pitching low into a groan as her eyes tried to fluttered open. She was awake long enough to snuggle into Winter’s shoulder and immediately fell back asleep, mouth open and soft snores coming from her. Fiona grinned and giggled behind her hand. For such an elite she was wore herself on her sleeves.  

“I guess we’re finishing this in the morning,” Robyn said with a soft sigh.  

She looked conflicted, wanting to relax but her guarded blue eyes wouldn’t stray from the Mantle pair for long.  

“You three can take my bed, I’ll crash with Robyn for the night.” Joanna said.  

“Three?” Fiona asked slowly.  

“These idiots are the most overprotective people we’ve met,” Robyn added with her arms crossed. Fiona nodded in agreement before she could stop and stuck her tongue out when Winter frowned at her. “Would you really let Fiona sleep in the living room in a stranger’s apartment?”  

Winter blinked. Fiona could sense the tension fading from the Schnee’s body. Winter ate one last stuffed mushroom. “Huh,” She said. Robyn and Joanna waited for more acknowledgment or appreciation but Winter only closed her eyes. Signaling the end of that conversation.  

Robyn scowled and Fiona stepped in to try and pacify her, “Thanks. It’s… it’s been tough but I’m sure it’ll better now that we have a fourth member, right?” She looked at her teammates.  

May was drifting into deep sleep and Winter was softly glaring at her partner.  

“Ideally,” Winter replied only after Fiona cleared her throat. Winter picked up May and Joanna guided the trio to her room. Fiona tried not to imagine all the hard muscles in Winter’s back and arms as she set May on the bed. She just moved her partner around so effortlessly  

“Sorry we don’t have any extra clothes or toothbrushes for you,” Joanna mumbled.  

“Oh, I think I have some actually,” Fiona said. She concentrated and flexed her hand, recalling the memories associated with the object.  

It was a conversation after a surprise trip out of the Kingdom when a Search and Destroy suddenly became a Search and Rescue. Thankfully it was a success but the elites would not stop complaining about their hair. Or maybe it was a break in the usual routine that pissed them off?  

Fiona manage to exude two toothbrushes and… a hair brush with long blue hair. “Damn it, May,” Fiona sighed. “I guess it’s a good thing she’s asleep.”  

“She usually doesn’t tire so easily…” Winter said softly. Fiona leaned to the side to see her hand linger through May’s hair as she brushed it out of her face. Fiona started her suspicion count then, even if she had several ones before it. “Maybe Weiss and Klein are right. We need a break.”  

“Or a date,” Joanna mumbled too softly for the humans to hear. Fiona’s ears perked up. She silently gasped up at Joanna who tried not to blush and fidget. Joanna cleared her throat, “Maybe you three can go shopping tomorrow? To blend in better.”  

“That’s a good idea,” Robyn said walking up, “Every time you three are in Mantle the Thief’s gone out of their way to mess with you.”  

“I suppose we can be bait,” Winter said with a nod. She slipped her usual tie loose and undid a few buttons on her shirt and cuffs. Obviously undressing for bed.  

Robyn smirked. Fiona could tell another sly remark was on her lips but Joanna quickly shoved her friend out of the room, “Goodnight! Bathroom is on at the end of the hall!” Winter sneered watching the pair retreat to Robyn’s room and quietly closed the door behind them.  

Fiona closed her eyes, ears wiggling in their direction, “I wasn’t going to insult them,” she could hear Robyn pout. “In fact I had very nice things to say.”  

“Do you really want to get between whatever those elites have-” Joanna cut herself off with a sigh. If Fiona’s answer was ‘Yes, I’d love to get between the pair of sexy elites’ Robyn was probably in the same boat. She could imagine Robyn’s smug face and Joanna’s tired exhaustion. “I will kick you out of your own bed if you don’t behave.”  

“Yes, ma’am,” Robyn said with a laugh. The sound made Fiona’s ears flutter and her eyes slowly opened. It was… soft and gentle in a way she didn’t expect for such an arrogant women.  

Fiona finally closed the door and when she turned to the bed she saw a nearly nude Winter hovering over May. This time Fiona treated herself to Winter’s sculpted muscles, the old light catching her pale skin and highlighting all the right planes as she breathed and shifted. Fiona only wished she was in her usual night lace. Maybe had her hair down completely down but it gave Fiona odd butterflies knowing it was done by May.  

Hearing the door clicked close Winter glanced over her shoulder, revealing a frown, “May still has dirt and rubble on her clothes.” Fiona walked over and May’s shirt and pants. She concentrated. Separating closely touching objects was always harder. She focused on the coat and shirt, the little bits of rocks and dirt. She imagined May out of the designer cloths- standing nude in their dorms.  

Her semblance activated, clothes absorbing into her and leaving… May in her a simple bra and boyshorts. Fiona exuded May’s clothes with a relieved sigh. She was never doing that again… not while she was pent up. Fiona tried shaking out all the small rocks before folding them neatly next to Winter’s cloths and finally slipping out of her own thick clothing. Feeling the difference Fiona made a quick list of what shops to drag the pair to in the morning. Hopefully Robyn would have some proper coats for the pair. She closed the lights and finally got in bed.  

Fiona didn’t realize she was in the middle of her two elites until she was already settled in. She was sure Winter had a crush on May… if that was true wouldn’t she want to sleep next to her? Winter caught her confused frown through her Scroll, "I’ll be up a little longer. You two can cuddle each other to death.  

Fiona smiled and rolled her eyes. May has a bad habit of crushing anything in bed with her to her chest. There was a brief light and the sound of a Glyph being summoned. That finally stirred May enough, but only to turn away from it and drape an arm on Fiona. Winter smiled. A lot more open than usual in the dark and obscured through the hard-light screen. She always looked better when she wasn’t acting like the perfect soldier. The thought stunned the little sheep long enough for Winter to wrap the scarf loosely around her neck.  

Fiona closed her eyes and took a deep breath. May always smelled like flowers for some reason, fresh snow. Her ears wiggled happily. “Goodnight, Win. Don’t stay up too late.”  

“Goodnight. Don’t let May drool all over the scarf.” Winter said. Fiona giggled and nodded.  

She fell asleep quickly, nestling into the stranger’s blankets and pillows with a warm and familiar arm comforting her. Fiona remembers blue eyes watching them and maybe a cool arm drapped over her in the middle of the night.

Then she heard a rush of noise under May’s soft snoring and Winter’s heavy breathing. The brush of thick clothes and solid leather boots. Fiona opened her eyes only to blink them close. May’s warmth and Winter’s cool embrace oddly nice, the smell of fresh snow and flowers nearly lulled her back to sleep.  

Then something her ears honed in on. The slow soft creaking of a string and the sudden click of a crossbow woke her up. Her ears straighten, pointing to the door.  

“We should wake them up!”  

“You heard the Schnee!” Robyn whispered back. “They’ll turn the Thief in!”  

“With your help and ta da your in Atlas Academy!” Joanna whispered. Fiona slipped out of her teammate’s arms and crawled over May. Winter flinched and grumbled as May snuggled closer to her but neither of them woke up.  

Fiona’s hand hovered over her teammates for a second but… She hadn’t seen May look this peaceful in a long time. She missed the goofy idiot that was excited to enjoy life. And their Aura did take a beating with Elm’s rocket launcher. The little lamb turned away from the pair and quickly threw on her clothes while listen to their host.  

Joanna was still trying to talk some sense into Robyn, "They’re being chased by Glynda Goodwitch!" Fiona nearly tripped pulling up her pants. “What makes you think we can help them escape that?”  

“She’s Vale’s best Huntress but she’s not a god though… I’d worship her if that’s what it takes.”  

“Robyn…” Joanna said with a frustrated sigh. Fiona heard the front door open and the light shined bright under the door for a moment. “I hope you know what your doing.” And then it clicked closed, the light gone with it.  

Fiona rushed out through the window, taking the fire escape two steps at a time as she raced for the top. The plan was to follow them on the rooftops but when she finally got to the top, Joanna was frowning down at her but Robyn smirked.  

“Great minds-”  

“Shut up,” Fiona sighed. Robyn didn’t say another word but Fiona didn’t know if that smug grin and offer to help her up was worse… She did deal with Winter and May. Fiona took the hand and gasped at the strength behind it. She was effortlessly pulled to her feet but Robyn didn’t let go. Instead her Aura flared, engulfing Fiona’s arm. “What’s…”  

“How much did you hear. lambchop?”  

"I know your trying to save the THief from Glynda fucking Goodwitch," Fiona hissed. It glowed green. Robyn’s grip didn’t let up so Fiona matched it, squeezing tight and that was barely half her strength. She let herself enjoy Robyn’s surprise for a moment. “And are you dumb?! They’ll charge you as an accomplice!”  

Robyn sneered and rolled her eyes, “I’m a cop.” Red. Robyn sputtered, blushing hard while Joanna laughed softly. Fiona squeezed harder making it clear Robyn trapped herself with her own game. “Kinda! Mostly… We’re on out two weeks notice!” Green. Fiona relaxed a little. “Stupid semblance… My turn, are you going to stop us?”  

“I… I don’t know,” Fiona mumbled. She was half surprised when the Aura let up green. But Robyn wasn’t and her grip finally relaxed so Fiona let hers slacken too. “Yes, having access to the network makes the Thief is dangerous but I think it puts them in danger. Especially if they are alone.”  

“Alright. We find them, help them escape then figure things out from there,” Robyn said. She looked at Joanna who nodded then down at Fiona who also agreed. Robyn smiled, “You can let go y’know.”  

“Ugh,” Fiona rolled her eyes and pulled her hand free. She didn’t comment on how Robyn’s fingers lingered on her palm and she definitely did not feel a rush of heat flutter in her chest.  

Robyn pulled out her Scroll lowering it so Fiona could see it. It was a broadcast from an airship. Goodwitch walked down the street while the Thief tried to dart away. Every time they got close to an alley, dumpsters would move, blocking their path or a car was lifted off the ground. With Goodwitch’s Telekinesis it even slammed into the Thief, forcing them to grab their hood and hold it down to hide their face. Whenever Goodwitch got too close, a wall of fire erupted from the Minstral robes and the Thief was able to put some distance until their dance started again.  

“Goodwitch is waiting for our little Thief to tire out,” Robyn said.  

“They’re near the street you blew up,” Joanna informed. She smiled at the blush and nervous twitch of Fiona’s ears. She easily jumped across the alley and started running. Robyn flashed a two finger salute and smile before following. Fiona frowned, watching their long ass legs easily make the gap. Fiona stepped back a little, getting a running start and leaping across.  

When Robyn saw that she cleared the gap with ease she smirked and sped up. Fiona rolled her eyes. She wasn’t going to be baited into a childish and unfair race. Fiona glanced around for a better path, she saw it in the form of a heating vent and Joanna’s broad shoulders.  

“Sorry!” Fiona said with a laugh, vaulting off some random piping and onto the giant’s shoulder. Then onto the vent and finally to the next building. The fall was short, the impact of the metal roof was barely familiar but her body tucked and rolled like she never left Mantle. Fiona took several dashing low strides sliding under some pipes and kicking off of them. Despire Robyn’s long strides Fiona kept pace.  

“You should slow down, save your energy for Goodwitch,” Fiona said with a smirk. This time Robyn was the one that rolled her eyes but took the suggestion seriously. The pair did tease Joanna a little, keeping one building a head of her.  

“I’m letting Goodwitch whip you with that riding crop,” Joanna mumbled a little winded.  

Fiona tried to frown through the blush rising to her cheeks. She was successful for the most part, but the twitching ears gave it away, “Does she really?”  

“Your eyes are sharper in the dark. You tell us,” Robyn said waving the pair to the ledge she was on. Robyn handed Fiona a pair of binoculars. The little lamb noticed the police logo and the worn spots. Fiona saw the bright purple darting around a few streets down, then a surge of fire.  

Through the binoculars she saw the Thief almost stumble to the ground, the gravity Dust in their robes flickering. This time Goodwitch tore up the road, shards of debris making a wall. They tried dashing up it, gravity leveling their legs against the uneven vertical surface but it was a Telekinetic surface. It moved under Goodwitch’s command, trying to wrap around them but it was like grasping water. The Thief was always slipping out and moving, but the Dust was either running out or their Aura was finally reaching its limit.  

“This would be a lot easier with May,” Fiona said. Robyn nodded, silently offering Fiona a vaulting point. Fiona gave her a light frown but used it to get to the next building, they’ll be time to argue later.

[trubilee]

so i guess i’ll write (blogwrite?) now.

today we were authorized for early release at D, the way we are whenever there’s a holiday, so i decided to use up my 3 hours of company-gifted time to try and write this morning (not write this blog, but write other stuff, which tired me so now i am writing this blog as my treat for this last hour).

it has been a challenge to write these past several months.  i sort of think i know why, or i know what triggered it at least.  not sure why the difficulty persists but i guess i could pat myself on the back for trying this morning.

there are a lot of things i’ve been wanting to write about.  in no particular order, my performance eval at work, my strange quarantine life-related skincare fixation journey (oh, the ups and downs), wes and happiness and my odd overthinking of it sometimes, the chasing francis book i finished a couple weeks ago, the funeral last week, and... hmm.  maybe that’s around everything i can think of.  oh, music in the time of rona too.  also stuff in me that the writing has kicked up.  i guess i could try.  oh, and my bras of choice during these WFH times.  maybe a little about daisy and the vaccine.

so.  performance eval.  it went extremely well.  we took the full hour.  my leader L is not the type to give much feedback, but in the first half of that hour she basically looked straight at me and told me all the things i would’ve wanted to hear.  about client group 1, and 2, and 3, the breadth and versatility and equal parts drafting and interpersonal connecting components of them all.  i repeated it all to paul when i told him how it went, and really, really it was everything i would’ve wanted to hear from her.  i was praying thanks to God as she was talking to me through the screen, because i was just absorbing all the words that i had been so hungry to have her give to me this whole past year.  and there are so many things to it too.  things like, i know i am not perfect and everything to everyone the way i think i should--even could be--and i can’t necessarily just say to myself “oh but nobody is” because actually, at this company, there are some people who are, they really really are just so good, and i feel so bad just taking in how good they are at thinking on their feet and killing it at getting things done here, and being so articulate and effective at communicating and dynamic and all of it.  anyway, the conversation felt so... whole-making.  hahaha.  make-whole-ing?  another part of it is that i have always been grateful for the job, i always felt like it was suck a lucky winning when i shouldn’t have necessarily landed it and with that came this default set of thoughts that went, oh they hate me.  oh they think i am inept.  oh they see how inept i am.  they regret hiring me.  i don’t want them to regret hiring me.  that would be one of my worst fears, jobwise.  to burden someone with my existence on their team.  i know that it’s healthy to think that a company is lucky to have you and to know your worth and all, but bc i’m kind of acquainted with my own versions of total failure, i’m not good at thinking that way.  i’m always thinking that i’m lucky to work for X company.  it would probably make many a leadership coach or asian american advancement advocate grimace.  i’m sure it’s a handicap to me careerwise, salarywise, etc etc, but asking me to fix it is like asking mesomeone to stop being insecure.  in that, it's not something you can change by will.  it almost feels like a part of my dna, not just some protective armor.  this is why i sort of roll my eyes inside when someone announces that she (it’s usually a she) has imposter syndrome.  it’s unfair, i know, but i almost want to look around and say, wait is that not just the normal state of things?  why are you acting like it’s some sort of unusual complex that you have?  i thought everyone, anyone with any noonchi, had that.  that’s like saying that--gasp--you don’t think you’re the absolute sh*t.  it doesn’t mean you're afflicted with anything.  i should ease up a little.  

damn.  i only have 20 min left.

ok another thing about the performance eval.  about which i joked to my leader, when she said we could have these conversations more regularly if we wanted to, that my heart could only take once a year at most.  i was so relieved, so happy, i felt so uncaged afterwards.  bc again, really it extinguished all of the unhelpful fears that had made me so tense about work this year.  and part of me, the part that is always maybe a little too self aware, thought to myself, that gosh, if getting a positive review from my leader at some big company where i am a corporate peon is this satisfying to me, then perhaps my world, my dreams, are just rather small.

i was thinking about that and preemptively tried to put it to paul this way:  that sometimes i feel very rich.  not like money-wise, bc i know just enough of the wrong people to ever feel that way (lol).  but more in a life-currency sort of way.  like when i think about my little family of three, my son who is so perfectly delightful that i don’t even know how to--i don’t know how to appreciate him or even just take him in without feeling like his delightfulness is slipping through my fingers simultaneously with, even AS i’m, looking at him and trying to appreciate him and take him in (does that make any sense?), my husband who i have similar slightly overwhelmed feelings about when it comes to his quality as a human being and heart on this earth, and my mom and dad who both survived their different cancers.  about how somehow God provided me with not just the friends i needed but even extra friends who i didn’t dare think i had a chance at asking for, and even this house, and having and seeing daisy and family regularly, and gosh even my inlaws who only seem to ever give and never receive (sorry, ommonim abbonim...) and my sister in law who i feel the same way about, and our nanny, and yes this job too, this job i once never thought i had the right to even dream of having bc of said past failures, this job for two companies brands i adore and believe in.  and the chance to write, and feeling like i have something to write about.  and even knowing a handful of living, breathing, non-robot human beings who actually read what i write, actually think it’s worth their time.  what marvels.

on the other hand, sometimes i feel rather poor.  i feel like we don’t have enough savings, we aren’t saving enough.  i feel like we will always just need to work for a salary bc neither of us is in a job role where we make dividends happen for us.  and i am so junior here at a place where promotions are slower than slow anyway, and salaries aren’t tech or finance salaries anyway.  and i feel ugly and like a half-distracted working mom whose life is devoid of glamour or romance or margin or space or passion / vision.  well, i guess my “poor” list is a lot shorter than my rich list.  

all this to say, after my dumb performance eval i felt like a rich woman.  not because they told me i was getting some big raise (i’m not, and i don’t generally care bc the raises are so small and have you seen the mass layoffs happening here).  i felt rich bc i felt like i got really validating feedback from leaders i really admire, both on a professional and personal level, and i work on a team with colleagues who i think are really excellent at what they do, and i work at a company where i really like what they make.  i feel kind of silly typing all of this out bc it’s so freaking wholesome and vanilla and, again, small, but it’s true.  those things made me happy after my review.  and this is the job i report to 8 hours a day.  yep.  real stable, ordinary stuff.  

i told paul that in thinking about how happy i felt and feeling self-conscious about that happiness, i would rather feel like a rich woman and be objectively “poor” than to be the other way around.  to feel like i am poor but in reality be quite rich.  

it’s also funny bc B and G also specifically separately felt compelled to send me messages confirming this same exact thought, now that i think about it.  how wonderful.  thank you.

next topic.  bras in rona times.  yesterday i bought my fourth--no, lemme count--seventh! eberjey bra.  it’s not bc i’m being greedy, it’s just that the ones i started with i wore so often that they jstarted wearing out.  the eberjey bras are generally underwired, with no lining except a thin layer of lace, and they make my boobs--my post-maternity, seen-such-better-days, already wilted boobs look terrible under my clothes.  but i am working from home and don’t need the extra lining for decency’s sake.  and when i see the bras in my bra drawer and i deposit my boobs into them every morning it feels lovely.  the bras are unflattering but they are delicate enough (while still practical) and comfortable to wear and are lovely to look at.

well i need to start my workday now.  if i ever get around to it i’ll write about other stuff.

[yousadclownofaman]

Happy Worldbuilding Wednesday! Lets talk about family, found or otherwise. How do people track lineage? What does a typical home arrangement look like? Do people tend to stay in touch with their relatives? Do blood relations even matter much, or does "family" mean something different?

Man, these questions hit it out the freakin park every wednesday! Since I have a hard time generalizing abt the world as a whole in regards to “”typical”” households, as this is a world where social class varies so wildly from person to person, I think I’ll tryn crack this Q in bits;

Besides blood lineage, one major development in near-future society has beeen the idea of your company being a new family, and a new identity. For example, a sarariman is provided for entirely by their company’s staff, from housing to food to health care, which in theory makes them a greater worker & more productive. What it really has done is allowed multinationals to erode the “traditional family unit” that they originally had to push in the name of sales, and to retrofit it in terms of producing not for the nation but rather for whomever the land owner is. The families of life-long businessmen are tooled to provide carne por la machina, meat for the machine, so that the chosen industrial giant can continue surviving. In this way, Lifers can be incredibly socially inept in large crowds, and such behavior company-wide has spawned a whole sub-sect of the population including techs and programmers with about as much intersocial sense as spiders. That being said, let me talk a little abt Lincoln & Roy’s family situations.

Lincoln’s mom, Mama Hooper, is a single parent which is very common nowadays in the future. Artificial insemination & gene therapy have made adoption a super-science, but Lincoln was not adopted. Instead Mama gave birth herself, and has since found out she wasn’t even technically supposed to be able to grow Lincoln in her womb due to underlying medical issues, and yet Lincoln came out relatively healthy with only a minor issue with his sight & processing light naturally thru his eyes. Mama had to take two jobs plus began hustling smuggled authentic grain alcohols out of the back of her business (a high-tech bodega in a nasty part of New Boston) in order to get him thru public primary school and had plans to attend a Community Career Center a couple years after graduating from primary school (a mix of on-campus and virtual schooling). Most kids his age don’t get the chance to finish High School let alone plan for the Trip-C so all things considered, he’s not doing toooo bad. The real issue is that his civil record is tarnished now, and after getting releases back into the population after a stint in jail, re-adjusting to the world has shown him certain aspects of what it means to have true, trusted friends and therefor, an extended found family. Lincoln’s living with his Ma again after getting out of the city hoosegow, and though their relationship is strained over the reason for Linc’s arrest, Mama Hooper’s apartment is a safe haven and comfort zone for Linc whether he likes to admit or not.

Roy on the other hand had a slightly different upbringing. Both parents of his were present for his upbringing, and one is still alive today living in a retirement community off the coast, but eventually Roy’s trying to make enough money to get her off-planet and into Low Orbit where she can spend the rest of her days feebly croaking out ‘One Toke Over the Line’ on repeat & roastin’ up a bone all the way to the big potfields in the sky. Already I think that’s an image of his mom to work with; in her youth she married an army man, Roy’s dad, and they stayed married only a year before they had their first child, Roy’s (unnamed as of yet) older brother. Roy’s dad was a member of the Key Lime Commandos; a group of private military contractors hired out by Global Delights Foods Inc. to secure land-rights to the last living grove of healthy, genuine Florida Key Limes in order to patent the genetic material & begin developing hybrid plants while maintaining exclusive rights to anything produced thereafter. During his tour he was exposed to an experimental chemical weapon that, unbeknownst to him, had seeped into his own genetic material. Roy’s older brother, the couple’s first son, was entirely healthy save a cleft lip & a temper like his father eventually, but the lip was corrected expertly at birth & all that’s left is a rather fecting lip-scar. ROY on the other hand was the second and last child because Roy was born with all sorts of health defects that almost made him a candidate for stem cell harvesting. Fortunately a new program director at the hospital had just been instated and those policied had been given stricter guidelines to adhere to by the time Roy came along. He was born without working eyes, as the structure of the organs themselves had more-or-less collapsed in-utero, along with a degenerative aging disorder that exponentially gets more severe as he gets older. This made him the Black Sheep, the runt of the litter whose birth was the final straw for his father’s bitterness. Roy’s dad soon slipped back into drugs and alcohol while Roy was growing up & eventually just disappeared one day with money coming in over the wire every couple of weeks. It devestated his mom for years and his brother’s almost entirely left the family, so really Roy’s just got himself and dear old Mam to worry about. That being said, he tries to take really good care of her, sends back as much as he can when he gets his paychecks to make sure she’s got money for her medicines & activities. Roy cares about his mom more than his own hide a lot of the time which gets him into trouble. Occasionally. But the ‘ceuticals help even him out now & again.

[fluffiestodin-blog]

Why I’m blogging.

In July 2019, the first Fortnite world cup was hosted in the United states and was played out across the internet and a number of US TV channels. Media attention was drawn to a many aspects of this suddenly highly publicized event, the prize pools on offer, the players progress and their journeys into competitive gaming were all featured. As expected, news outlets with comments sections and social media platforms all received much attention and a wide variety of perspectives were put forward by those wanting to have their say on the matter, this is all well and good and I personally loved the fact that so many people were getting involved. The increase in publicity was, in my view, absolutely fantastic.

However, there came a point where I just had to start correcting inaccuracies within a number of these comments sections. Yes, I can just see you shaking your head in disappointment at how I suddenly got sucked into this trap of never ending back and forth with people I’d never met, at one point I even looked at myself with something just shy of pity!! But I couldn't help it....

I’ve been a gamer for a long time, since about 1996 I’ve had some sort of tech that had a couple of flashing lights on it and challenged me to play it and complete some sort of challenge/objective, I’ve continued to game for the last 20+ years, got a degree in Computer Science and become a techie that builds his own gaming rigs. Through all this, people have been describing all the dangers of computers and gaming, to such an extent that by now I should be blind, obese, socially inept and looking like some sort of swamp monster that hasn’t showered for the last decade. Due to these inaccuracies, I’ve always felt the need to defend technology and especially the video games industry.

Returning to Fortnite, comments in regards to the esports industry, the fitness of players, their education, the support networks professional gamers have access to, their training regimes, government investment and so much more were all thrown around with little to no knowledge and attacked many innocent people and companies that had done nothing but show off a particular skills or create a product people enjoy using.

In the end, as you’d expect, I was forced to give up on my one-man information sharing crusade, I couldn’t read and provide answers backed up with the relevant research fast enough. But maybe I have a chance to change some minds and provide a balanced perspective in regards to video gaming, esports, and a bit of general technology through a blog that is a bit more permanent. I’ll update and post new stories regularly, backed up by proper research it will hopefully give people pause for thought on something they would usually just dismiss.

[threewaysdivided]

Idea for an Age-swap AU

We’ve recently seen some age-swap and role-swap AUs floating around the DP fandom.  The most common of these are the direct reversals, where Vlad is the teenage protagonist and Danny is the adult villain.   Now, I’m not the hugest fan of the straight-swap versions because it’s not particularly interesting or in-keeping with the canon characters.  If Danny becomes the amoral villain and Vlad the plucky protagonist then you basically just have the original Danny Phantom again, except with the characters wearing each other’s skins.

However, a version of the age-swap that keeps the characters closer to their canon personalities has great comedy potential.

Imagine this:

Young!Vlad is a disaffected but highly intelligent freshman whose ‘genius’ is seemingly unrecognised by everyone in town.  Pretty much everything sucks for him - he’s bored at home because his parents are always away on work, he’s bored in class because he finds the material too easy, the school’s head jock and posse make a policy of ruining his day, the student body president is ‘inept’, and - despite Vlad’s intelligence and apparent ability to analyse people - he never seems to make it into the spheres of the influential or popular classmates.    He’s aloof and vaguely disdainful towards everyone around him, except for his two best friends; the naive and eccentric but occasionally brilliant Young!Jack, and the beautiful and sharply intelligent Young!Maddie.  He hangs out with them partly due to their mutual interest in the paranormal, but also because Maddie is the only person in town he sees as an equal and he really wants to date her (too bad she’s always making eyes at Jack).   [If you’re looking for a reference he’s basically a cross between Sue Townsend’s Adrian Mole and Velma Dinkley from Scooby-Doo! Mystery Incorporated]

Like in the original series, the three of them attempt to build a proto-ghost portal as a step in their research.  This one goes even worse (after all, it was built by teenagers) and Jack rushing to activate it gets Vlad blasted with way more ectoplasm than in canon.  Just like the original it lands him in hospital for a bit - but in this case only a few months.  On coming back to school he is very resentful (mostly towards Jack though he’s a bit miffed that Maddie didn’t come to visit his room while he was awake) both for the accident and the Danny-like power-problems he’s experiencing.  Although in Vlad’s case he hides them from his friends and outwardly acts like everything’s been forgiven.

As he gains controls of his powers, Vlad decides to put them to use ‘correcting’ some of the ‘wrongs’ in his life; serving disproportionate comeuppance to the jocks, subtly embarrassing Jack in from of Maddie, scheming and manipulating his way through the school’s systems, and generally messing with people to alleviate his boredom.

It basically turns into a Deathnote-like moral situation, in which Vlad is a nominal ‘hero’ on the best days and an entitled, arrogant person at worst.  He may be the protagonist but he’s sure not the ‘good guy’ of this story. (He still makes himself a vampire-style suit and goes by Plasmius in ghost-mode because despite being highly intelligent he’s also a dumb 14-year-old who unironically thinks it looks cool.)

How does Danny get involved?

While Vlad is still in the nominally-heroic part of the story (dishing out retributions to people who actually had it coming, chasing away some minor ghosts that were attracted by the portal explosion, manipulating outcomes that fix genuine problems etc.) he starts to notice an older person hanging around and following him. At first Vlad’s concerned - has someone caught on?  Is it an enemy ghost?  A rival trying to take out the competition? - until Phantom introduces himself.  Danny’s a lot of things but subtle is not one of them.

Older!Danny is in his early 30s.  His parents were some of the first modern ecto-scientists and successfully built a working portal (the source of the accident that gave him his powers) but because the hauntings stayed localised near the portal (never spreading beyond his own hometown) their ecto-research didn’t reach mainstream science beyond a few ‘professional ghost-hunters’, paranormal aficionados and an obscure branch of government that mostly just makes messes bigger in their attempts to ‘contain and study all unauthorised ectoplasmic entities’.

Despite his unease, Danny is honestly happy to meet another half-ghost. He might have reservations about actual teaching (“I’ve got an Engineering degree, not a Dip. Ed.”) but he genuinely wants to help this new kid through what he remembers being a tough period of power-adjustment and guide him to use his abilities productively.   Unfortunately, Vlad is having none of it - who is this condescending fool to tell him what to do?  In his eyes Phantom is either trying to recruit him so that he can use his power (after all, that’s what Vlad would do) or he’s an idiot for wasting such potential. Actually, he must be an idiot either way because who else would try to manipulate someone of Vlad’s intelligence?

Eventually this devolves into a cat-and-mouse game in which Young!Vlad uses his brains and abilities in attempts to manipulate his way into Maddie’s affections, positions of influence and possession of powerful items, with Phantom having to step in and ‘defeat Plasmius’ before someone gets hurt.  Unlike in canon, where Vlad mostly toys with Danny to demonstrate his superiority, Young!Vlad learning techniques from their fights is intentional on Older!Phantom’s part. Phantom really wants to give this kid a chance to turn things around, and figures that letting Plasmius experiment with his powers in a relatively safe space might help Vlad get under control and avoid the temptation to do something truly stupid.  Unfortunately, all this actually does is teach his accidental-arch-rival to be a more competent villain.

Shenanigans ensue:

Vlad deliberately creating dangerous situations so that he can impress Maddie by ‘dramatically rescuing’ her from the ‘evil Plasmius’.  What he forgets is that, under her pretty face, Maddie is a top-tier asskicker - at least a third of the time the love of his life hands his ecto-hide to him long before Phantom can intervene. He’d find it attractive if it wasn’t so humiliating.

Jack also proves disturbingly competent with his ‘anti-creep stick’.  It’s literally just a baseball bat with a cross-stitched handle and the club logo sprayed on the side but Vlad still makes a point of stealing and destroying them whenever Jack makes a new one.

Maddie concludes that Plasmius and Phantom are both evil and working together.  

Vlad: “Of course, but as the older and stronger, Phantom is clearly in charge.  If we get rid of him then surely Plasmius will leave.”

This results in Vlad doing a very careful dance whenever he and Danny are in ghost mode while Maddie and/or Jack can see them.

In attempt to ‘eliminate the competition’ Vlad considers alerting the Guys in White to Phantom’s status.

Danny: “Look, kid. Vlad. If you go to them with that intel they’re going to wonder how you got it.  I might survive - my company holds the patents for a lot of their tech - but you’re a high-schooler.  You really want to risk outing both of us?”

This is one of the few things they eventually agree on: Under no circumstances is anyone to intentionally involve the GIW.

Vlad tries to recruit other ghosts in attempt to keep Phantom distracted.

This mostly consists of him failing to intimidate Skulker with his scrawny teen stature, then flattering him into it because “surely as the first and strongest of his kind Phantom would be a much worthier prize for such a skilled hunter.”

He has more luck with the resentful Yiddish vultures, although they can’t do much beyond being a nuisance.

The Box Ghost offers his services.  Repeatedly.

Vlad travels to Amity Park in attempt to steal ecto-tech from Fentonworks.  On arrival he is horrified to see just how haunted the town is due to its permanently active portal.  He beats a fast retreat after getting cornered and resolves to come back with better plans.

Vlad returns to Amity Park in attempt to recruit more minions from the thronging masses. This is somewhat successful, but a few rogue ghosts follow him home - forcing him to try to contain the situation while hiding it from Maddie and Jack.

Youngblood starts messing with Vlad’s schoolmates (interfering with some of his social schemes in the process).  As an adult Danny is incapable of seeing him, and Maddie and Vlad’s tendency to act older than their age means that Jack is the only one with a real handle on the situation.  Eventually (to his intense horror) Vlad has to do things Jack’s way to solve the problem

Jack: “You know what V-Man, I’m glad to have you back.  You’ve been so serious these last few months, I was worried you’d forgotten how to have fun!”

Vlad: *audible teeth-grinding*

Vlad refuses to swear because he thinks it’s a sign of inferior intellect and therefore beneath him.  Danny doesn’t swear because he’s desperately trying not to teach this kid any more bad habits.

Vlad makes a deal with Technus to steal some software for use in a financial scheme. Too bad that they make this arrangement in the same week that local Information Technology rising-star Tucker Foley is invited to speak at the school’s career day.

Vlad’s plans failing because his ‘superior intellect’ leads him to over-engineer excessively complex schemes.

Danny: “You know you could just have done this, right?”

Plasmius later tries Phantom’s suggestion and Danny is kicking himself because darn it I was trying to get him to knock it off, not give him pointers.

Vlad attempting subtler social schemes (e.g. overshadowing staff and student council members to make changes).  These sometimes work but other times Jack messes up the plan with his overenthusiastic support for his ‘best friend’.

Danny eventually recruiting one of Vlad’s classmates Red-Huntress-style because look, I’m running my parents company, volunteering at the observatory and trying to keep the ghosts under control.  I can’t be constantly flying to another town to make sure Plasmius isn’t bringing on the ecto-apocalypse.

Out of respect for Vlad’s privacy Danny doesn’t reveal the secret identity thing. Instead he asks them to keep Plasmius under control and also look out for Vlad Masters because the ghost might be interested in him.

What Danny didn’t notice was that this kid really doesn’t like Masters and has a pretty big grudge against Plasmius after being on the receiving end of one of his schemes.  What should have been a simple recon job instead ends up with them aggressively pursuing an intense rivalry with both of Vlad’s halves.  They also get overzealous in their ecto-hunter task and start going after Phantom as well.  So now Danny has two problems.

Jazz Fenton (a qualified and practicing psychologist in this AU) takes a job as the school’s councillor.

While there she works to convince Vlad of the benefits of altruism, tries to wheedle him into confessing his connection to Plasmius (Danny told her everything) and attempts to foil his social manipulations.  The first two aren’t met with much success but she does get in the way of the third a few times.

For his part Vlad tries different schemes to get her fired or make her leave so that he can continue plotting without interference.

Vlad sneaks into the Ghost Zone in attempt to steal a powerful item (Ring of Rage, Pandora’s box, the Fright Knights Soul Shredder etc.).  This goes about as badly you’d expect.  Unlike in canon, where Vlad bails and makes Danny deal with it, Older!Phantom drags Young!Plasmius back by the ear because you made this mess so now you’re going to help clean it up.

Phantom: “So, did we learn anything today?”

Plasmius: “I should do more research before handling powerful objects.”

Phantom: *aggrieved sigh* “You know kid, I honestly thought you were smarter than this.”

Whether Young!Vlad eventually learns his lesson or keeps spiralling until he becomes a canon!Vlad level criminal chessmaster is something that could go either way.  

What I’m getting at is:  Can someone please do a version of the age-swap AU where Vlad Masters/Plasmius is an intellectually snobbish, overly theatrical, entitled adolescent ‘mastermind’ (who isn’t quite as bright as he thinks) and Danny Fenton/Phantom is the well-intentioned and experienced adult hero (but poor teacher) who really wants to give this kid a second chance but is getting more and more done with all the villainy nonsense.

[monotonemanday]

Hey hey! #38 with Yoosung, fluffy or goofy? Thank yoooou~! ^^

Ayeo! Sorry it took light years, but here’s some floofs with the Yoos! 

“You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” Yoosung x MC

~

It was year 2 of University.

Year one, you quickly learned that student dorms weren’t for you.

Separate student housing? Some tiny apartments?

Sure. Anything was better than getting stuck with another insufferable roommate.

You had lived in your shabby apartment for two weeks now, but you were slowly making it a pretty happenin’ pad.

It was very much your aesthetic. So you didn’t care if paint was coming off the door.

You normally caught sight of your neighbors daily.

Passing them on the stairwell. Entering your apartments at the same time. Helping each other when you noticed toppling groceries or open backpacks.

You were cordial with all of your neighbors and they all found you quite pleasant, and you found you enjoyed these little interactions.

There was, however, a neighbor you hadn’t yet interacted with. At least not directly.

A blonde boy.

A cute blonde boy.

A cute awkward blonde boy.

A cute awkward handsome blonde boy

A, well, yeah. A boy.

You saw him. Often but he always seemed preoccupied. In a hurry? No more like…scattered.

Sharing a wall you heard your fair share of his daily affairs.

It seemed like a lot of yelling…and…whining? But both were…endearing. Cute.

The yelling was usually related to what you can only assume was online gaming. Being upset about not finding specific items on a raid or losing to a different guild.

More often than not you heard “AAAHH WHO IS THIS NUMBER ONE HACKER GOD?!” This was normally followed by a phone call from a friend he referred to as “Seven”

It happened that way so often you made the connection yourself. His friend Seven must be a giant troll. But you thought it was adorable your neighbor couldn’t piece it together.

You spent a lot of time, let’s say “overhearing” your neighbor. Because you were definitely not eavesdropping.

The whining, the yelling. You heard how he talked to his friends. Eventually, he answered the phone with a super optimistic “Yoosung here!’ and you learned his name.

He was constantly telling two people named Jaehee and Jumin that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to work at some big company. Or that they didn’t need to worry about him being responsible. That he wasn’t a baby.

Telling someone else named Zen that he didn’t want to run 3 miles every morning and go through an 18 step beauty regiment in the morning just to get a girlfriend.

And his conversations with Seven…well. You just tried to push those out of your mind.

But in all honestly, most of his struggles, you related to.

You felt like you were learning everything about him without actually interacting with him.

What you didn’t know, was that the lack of interaction was purposeful.

The reason he always seemed to fly into his apartment when you arrived at the same time.

Why he pretended to answer his phone and basically sprint if he saw you on the stairwell.

You were cute. So cute. Like, make his knee’s weak, palms sweaty, omelette on his sweater already, cute.

He couldn’t believe someone as angelic seeming as you had moved into the apartment next to his.

And what’s more, he listened to you too.

Listened to you play vinyls and hum along.

Cackle at youtube videos.

Make cute grunting, exasperated noises while playing console games.

He could only hear this through the thin wall connecting your apartments but anytime he envisioned it, his face was hot and flushed.

Neither of you had the courage to actually approach each other so awkward encounters for an eternity it was!

Well, until one fateful day.

You were getting ready for the day when you decided enough was enough. You psyched yourself up in the mirror.

"You are a treasure! You are cute as hell! So what if you are very awkward and can be pretty damn socially inept. That blonde beauty next door is yours for the taking, so woman up!”

You were still nervous but your self-pep talk helped…sort of?

Grabbing your backpack you started to turn the knob on your apartment door when you heard Yoosung’s voice.

“Look Zen, I will! I’ll talk to her. It’s just, what if she doesn’t like me? Or doesn’t think I am very manly? Or she laughs at me! Then I have to live with that embarrassment. We’re neighbors!”

Your lips curled upward like you belonged in a psych ward. Didn’t even know you were capable of such a wide and toothy smile.

Practically skipping downstairs you made your way outside to start your day.

Plans for the day, however, were quickly detoured.

You heard whimpering in some of the thorny and scary looking shrubbery you passed on your usual walk.

Deciding to follow the noise, trembling and terrified you found a small puppy. A boxer. No tags, no collar. Young. Like just got separated from the rest of the litter young. And you would definitely be keeping it.

The thorns and pricks tearing up your arm, mangling your clothes. You braved it all to rescue the pup. Even though your heroic efforts were successful you had to make sure the poor thing was actually in decent shape.

But empty pockets were a big problem. A college student living on their own did exactly walk around with a bag lined with foxy money.

Then an idea hit you like a ton of bricks.

Eavesdropping, errr, I mean, overhearing, paid off! Yoosung!

Studying to be a Vet. Currently interning as a vet tech.

Awkward and excited footing carried you back to your apartment building where instead of leisurely unlocking your apartment door, you were banging on the door of a certain blonde boy.

Minding his own business you were sure. Just being a blonde boy…doing what blonde boys do?

Okay, you really needed to socialize more.

Yoosung came to the door. Big purple eyes. Royal Gems. They stared at you in a flustered state of shock and awe.

“Y-yes?” He managed to spit out.

“Uhm, Yes hi, I well, there’s no reason for me to know this but you are studying to be a Veterinarian right? I found this poor pup, struggling and crying. I was wondering if you could take a look at him?”

This was his chance. Alright. Superman Yoosung. He took the small boxer from your arms and began to examine him.

You watched how gentle he was. He had this silent determination and you were impressed.

If ever there was time for your heart to murmur Doki Doki, this was it.

Yoosung finished his exam and gave the pup a small pat on the head.

“He is fine! Oh, it’s a he by the way. I think the poor little guy was just scared and in shock. Are you planning on keeping him?”

“You know, I am. I kind of adore him.”

Yoosung scratched the back of his neck nervously and gave you a bright smile. He went to open his mouth in hopes he could capture your attention longer by saying something suave.

That’s when he looked down at your arm and his expression changed drastically.

Something he hadn’t quite gotten over yet. Even though he would need to if he was going to help animals.

Blood made him squeamish.

You watched his eyes double in size. His shoulders tense up. And then finally his face turned a ghostly pale.

Instincts took over and you held out your arms.

About 8 minutes later, he came to.

His head felt like it was set on a cloud and he could feel something unbelievably soothing happening where his hair was.

You had his head elevated in your lap and you were gently brushing his bangs back off of his forehead.

“Did I…oh god did I pass out?!”

“You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” A slight smirk was on your lips, but it quickly turned into a gentle smile when you saw how pink his cheeks had gotten.

“I…your arm. It was bleeding. I’m not very good with blood. I guess we have to work on that.”

“We?” Now it was your turn to change shades. Your face grew warm and Yoosung developed a little smirk of his own.

“After that embarrassing display, you didn’t think we were just going to stay eavesdropping neighbors did you?” Who is this smooth man?

“You’re right! Hmmm, how about, the first thing we do, however,” You scooped the tiny boxer pup into your arms as Yoosung sat up from resting on your lap. “We name this little guy.”

~

[ehentha]

Maldives Twitter VS Francesca Borri

Imagine getting harrassed on twitter by a bunch of people you claimed didn’t know english or have smart phones 😂

— ‎ބ̸̤̯̍̏ު̵̩͔̬͑͝ރ̴̢̝͓̅ަ̶̜̌͊ކ̴̱̮̚ަ̶̹̱̥̽ށ̸̘͒ި̵̻̘̍̆͗❓🎈 (@Burakashi) January 27, 2019

*smartphone 😫🔫

The Maldives is one of the most oppressive countries in the world. It has a constitution that makes the lives of non-Muslim and LGBT Maldivians illegal. This makes life incredibly difficult for any progressive Muslims that want to bring about reforms as well as saying anything against extremist sheikhs will get you labled an apostate. Progressive Muslims like @moyameehaa (Ahmed Rizwan / Rilwan) and @yaamyn (Yameen Rasheed) who have spoken out for Maldivian minorities, progressive Islam, and secularism have been taken away from us. Sheikhs are not safe either, as one of the only moderately progressive sheikhs, Afrasheem Ali, was also brutally murdered in 2012.

First they came for the bloggers, and I did not speak out Because I was not a blogger. Then they came for irreligious, and I did not speak out Because I was not laadheenee. Then they came for me and there was no one left to speak for me.

— Mohamed Shuraih (@MohamedShuraih) January 27, 2019

The greatest battlefield in the war for the hearts and minds of Maldivians is the internet. Bloggers like Hilath Rasheed have been the targets of escalating campaigns of harassment and death threats. In 2012, Hilath himself barely survived his neck being slashed. This was after years of attacks against people deemed laadheenee.

Maldivian extremists have used the internet for their terror and propaganda activities. One of the earliest Maldivian extremist groups, of which Rilwan was an ex-member, called “dot” or “dotu” literally got it’s name from “dot com”. Right now there are dozens of terrorist recruitment facebook and twitter pages, telegram, whatsapp, and viber groups, and websites brainwashing Maldivians with extremist propaganda.

He made a list of “dhivehi kaafarun”. We reported his account and now he’s changed the name to “Dhivehi atheists”. But here is proof of the original name https://t.co/WvbfkKbMp1

— ‎ބ̸̤̯̍̏ު̵̩͔̬͑͝ރ̴̢̝͓̅ަ̶̜̌͊ކ̴̱̮̚ަ̶̹̱̥̽ށ̸̘͒ި̵̻̘̍̆͗❓🎈 (@Burakashi) June 16, 2018

Their latest efforts including making a list of Dhivehi Kaafarun (Maldivian infidels) on twitter (which twitter support refused to remove, the account is still active), and a telegram group called “MV Murtad Watch” (Maldives apostate watch). This has also not been removed despite even making the local news.

Maldivian extremists are free to spread hate on the internet. Especially if they use Dhivehi, a language that cannot be automatically translated. This means that the support staff of these platforms often don’t even know how to recognise hate and fear speech when it is written in Dhivehi.

Murtad Watch MV is still active on @telegram. They claim to not be making death threats.But they state multiple times the verdict for apostasy is death. After which they list pictures, names & personal info of alleged apostates. Calling stoning cruel is enough to get labeled one. pic.twitter.com/hqcOXAI0fb

— ‎ބ̸̤̯̍̏ު̵̩͔̬͑͝ރ̴̢̝͓̅ަ̶̜̌͊ކ̴̱̮̚ަ̶̹̱̥̽ށ̸̘͒ި̵̻̘̍̆͗❓🎈 (@Burakashi) January 27, 2019

murtad watch is like "these people are apostates & apostates should be killed. here are their personal info. BY THE WAY THIS IS NOT A THREAT" that's a death threat. why would police do anything? when these groups commit murder police's job has always been to cover up the murder

— 🎈Thihen Vany (@basneyheemaa) January 27, 2019

I hope I have set the scene for you. An intolerant constitution that outright bans thinking and freedom of conscience. Extremists getting away with murder, and using technology as a means of oppression in a highly connected and tech literate society while the multi-million dollar companies that run them turn a blind eye.

It’s so fucking insulting that Maldivians have to fear for their lives because of goddamn @telegram groups, but meanwhile there’s western experts writing books claiming we go gaga at the sight of an iPhone. I wish these terrorists didn’t use phones, would make our lives easier 🤬

— ‎ބ̸̤̯̍̏ު̵̩͔̬͑͝ރ̴̢̝͓̅ަ̶̜̌͊ކ̴̱̮̚ަ̶̹̱̥̽ށ̸̘͒ި̵̻̘̍̆͗❓🎈 (@Burakashi) January 27, 2019

#NowReading Destination Paradise - Among the jihadists of the Maldives pic.twitter.com/6y4E5BYQf5

— Nash (@NashNasheed) January 21, 2019

Enter Francesca Borri with the radical insight that there is only one bookstore in Male’, all the while seeming to imply that most Maldivians don’t know English.

This book was published in 2017. It is factually incorrect. There’s only an Islamic bookstore? 🤦🏻‍♀️ This author is delusional. pic.twitter.com/ngPcG5yRhY

— Nash (@NashNasheed) January 26, 2019

And that there is no local cuisine.

Page 39. “I think that the Maldives are the only country in the world where there is no local cuisine”. Okay. Now this is going too far 😡

— Nash (@NashNasheed) January 26, 2019

And that Maldivians are amazed by smartphones.

Page 53. “A text arrives and my phone lights up... there’s an ooh of general amazement because it’s an iphone and no one has ever seen an iphone here”. 🤦🏻‍♀️ Seriously @francescaborri? Starting to doubt that you were even in Male’. Btw. Tweet sent from my iphone.

— Nash (@NashNasheed) January 26, 2019

“While the rest of the world watched the Olympics, in the Maldives most people watched the battle of Aleppo. And rooted for al-Qaeda”. What? Which channel on medianet was the battle of Aleppo broadcasted on? pic.twitter.com/wSaOPpQKRR

— Nash (@NashNasheed) January 21, 2019

But perhaps most insulting is the fact that we’d give a damn about the Olympics when we could be watching football. Also how the heck do you reckon people cut up the “Battle of Aleppo” for broadcast television? Do you think they had an HBO style miniseries?

Hey @francescaborri what medieval technology do you think this Maldivian terrorist group used to post this to Facebook? A 🥥 ? Can you help decipher the strange language they’ve used to threaten my life? I’m sending this via economy pigeon. May it reach you safely. Pls send halp. pic.twitter.com/wNvYbd06kZ

— ‎ބ̸̤̯̍̏ު̵̩͔̬͑͝ރ̴̢̝͓̅ަ̶̜̌͊ކ̴̱̮̚ަ̶̹̱̥̽ށ̸̘͒ި̵̻̘̍̆͗❓🎈 (@Burakashi) January 27, 2019

You get the picture. A hastily strung together piece of orientalist trash that makes the situation worse for people suffering because of Maldivian extremists. The last thing progressive Muslim, non-Muslim, and LGBT Maldivians need is more misinformation out there. Especially not from someone with a savior complex.

How can you trust anything written in this book when it features so many blatant fabrications? Fabrications deliberately worded to make Maldivians sound like backwards people rife with extremism who can’t read and are technology inept.

98% of our population had internet access five years ago. We have one of the highest tech proliferation and device per capita stats in the world. This isn't lazy research, this is outright malicious https://t.co/slgUtYcoYe

— Naailu🎈 (@kudanai) January 27, 2019

Well I’ll have you know us Maldivians are backwards people who are incredibly tech literate. And we can read too, to the shock of the author who is currently at the receiving end of the wrath of Maldives twitter.

Finally in bookstores. pic.twitter.com/ujRIg867gI

— francesca borri (@francescaborri) November 13, 2018

Here are some of the funniest and most insightful tweets directed at this latest savior who thought they could turn a profit on the suffering of the global south. These are the words of Maldivians speaking about their own country. Listen to them.

Lmao loving how conservatives and liberals are uniting against the mostly false portrayal of our country by @francescaborri . Nobody can trash-talk Maldivians except us amirite? 🇲🇻

— 🎈Nora Nazeer ✨ (@NoraNazeer) January 27, 2019

When western "journalists" parachute in to a South Asian country and assume they know everything and that they are always right. A Frenchman, who did the same, told me after visiting Maldives that Borri "took a lot of liberty" when writing her book. As in, she made up stories. https://t.co/wnBPUZgoi1

— Junayd 🇲🇻 (@mjunayd) January 27, 2019

But you could see how it perpetuates an idea of Maldivians that’s quite patronizing, even to the extent of orientalism, right? I mean, I do agree that extremism is at a critical stage here, but surely that could have been said without this inaccurate depiction of the rest?

— Aryj (@Arrryj) January 27, 2019

So tell me, how did you come up with this shit? 👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻 I graduated in an IGSE Cambridge examination back in 2008...from my island. Got an A in English. Even starting primary school, I had access to books from authors like Enid Blyton, R.L Stein and Louis Cooper... 🤦🏼‍♀️

— ShinyShine (@ShinyShine18) January 27, 2019

Might want search Google Maps for "bookshop" next time. This book is a blatant lie at this point. Even given the benefits of the doubt, this book falls short of acceptable. Tldr: Riddled with lies for dramatic purposes. pic.twitter.com/TXycTvAzqC

— A. A. Nawaz 🎈❓ (@aanawazu) January 27, 2019

When someone from the global north decides to do a book about one of the smallest countries in the global south without much research and one that won't easily be scrutinised for the factual inaccuracies, with sweeping generalisations, this happens. Awesome thread btw https://t.co/0TKA9KmHV4

— Ahmed Tholal🎈 (@Tholman_79) January 27, 2019

Whats an iPhone? Im tweeting on my iCoconut https://t.co/RPYxQKUFDR

— Faafa🎈 (@psychofart) January 27, 2019

Actually it’s Dhonmeeha: *whips out iPhone 6S* Mordis meeha : *whips out iPhone XS Max, iPad Pro, the New Mac book Air DJI Mavic pro, DJI Osmo and 2 GoPro Hero* https://t.co/nK3ux1I7VZ

— Simbro (@aachym) January 27, 2019

(“Dhon meehaa” literally means “fair skinned person”. It is the word used by Maldivians for “white people”. And it’s true, turn a Maldivian upside down and shake them little. The contents of an Apple Store will fall out).

the "worst parts" in the book are absolute lies. are we as maldivians not entitled to be upset over them? ignore them and move along? these are "facts" written by a "journalist" in a published book. https://t.co/2mFKGEw7hn

— ˗ˏˋ 𝑅𝒾𝒻𝑔𝒶 ˎˊ˗ (@MRifgaR) January 27, 2019

for the record i'm still a bit confused about your reviews @dbosley80 but ok. at least you made it clear that you don't recommend this book by @francescaborri pic.twitter.com/DUpatyXurX

— ˗ˏˋ 𝑅𝒾𝒻𝑔𝒶 ˎˊ˗ (@MRifgaR) January 27, 2019

Love it when white people feel the need to exaggerate and look down on an entire country and reduce their entire culture and history to what they came across in a day or two lol. pic.twitter.com/olIe8jDGoj

— Alhaaves NulaaFA (@ShafaRameez) January 27, 2019

I think the verdict of this would end up like, i condemn thee @francescaborri to 1 year of internship at Divehi Bahuge Academy 😅 so that by the time she's done there she can translate this godforsaken book to Divehi so us natives could actually learn about ourselves

— Aishath Ibahath (@AishathIbahath) January 27, 2019

Just had garudhiya, baiy, theluli faiy and theluli mas. The height of Italian cuisine!

— Junayd 🇲🇻 (@mjunayd) January 27, 2019

In Maldives we have no local cuisine to the point that when we attempted to make that shit, we sucked so much that we left it to cook for days and that is how we had rihaakuru and now we just eat that

— thikujja stan account (@ahunafu) January 27, 2019

If @francescaborri did her research properly she'd know about the dissent against extremists from Maldivians. Specially in our twitter community. I for one didn't applaud them as heroes. https://t.co/358lReKjMq

— 🎈Nora Nazeer ✨ (@NoraNazeer) January 27, 2019

At the end of the picture that sentence, is that saying the minority that speak English is rich and WHITE????

— Sharlight❓🎈 (@sjaufar) January 27, 2019

Shame these important interviews are in an a book with so many lies in it @francescaborri https://t.co/GeHpH5BU0m

— amani naseem 🎈 (@amaninaseem) January 27, 2019

Francesca Borri Vaguthu 🤝 Jaanalizam

— Threefish 🎈❓ (@three3fish) January 27, 2019

(vaguthu [“time” lol] is a Maldivian tabloid rag that primarily posts moral panic inducing “journalism” about Maldivian minorities).

Maldives has no local cuisine?!? I wasn't bothered when the author called us all extremists cause that's just typical white people racist fear mongering but NO LOCAL CUISINE?? Ive half a mind to make a thread about local cuisine & tag the author in it. https://t.co/QrpE3QPBcP

— Faafa🎈 (@psychofart) January 27, 2019

just because I am so offended I am going to write my whole masters thesis on Maldivian food

— Malsa Maaz (@malsamaaz) January 27, 2019

So fiction writers, here's a heads up. @7StoriesPress are very fond of fiction, specially investigative parody works. Ask franny @francescaborri she had the easiest of rides with that "Maldives in a Parallel Universe" work she did.

— Naif Naeem (@nAAYf) January 27, 2019

People like @francescaborri is what is wrong in the literary world, creating fake news with half truths to earn a buck. And also publishers, bookstores etc who support to push this garbage onto mainstream. Shame. https://t.co/Vi53939fLG

— p3st (@p3st) January 27, 2019

I read what was available on google because I’m not going to give a racist money - and yes, @francescaborri you’re racist.

— くたばれ🎈 (@hoshiyoshii) January 27, 2019

I’m tweeting from my iphone while I’m eating ‘Rihaakuru ‘ u know.., local cuisine. 😎 After finishing my food, I’m going to the ‘book store’ next to my house with English Arabic n international language books. 🖕🏼that’s for u 😉

— Jen (@jennasym) January 27, 2019

Hello uncultured jihadi Maldivians without bookstores tweeting using rocks and smoke signals or whatever, If you have a moment, please do send a messenger pigeon with your thoughts about @francescaborri’s book to google DOT com review What’s what? Click https://t.co/822PDLTTgR https://t.co/uR1UpoAFkm

— insaan🎈❔ (@pikomonster) January 27, 2019

people are saying @francescaborri makes sense despite exaggerating some stuff. but i think her “exaggerations” demonstrate an extremely skewed, clearly orientalist perspective which entirely rescinds her entire narrative. she lacks any coherent context. what a silly woman

— xiena saeed 🎈 (@dorinbakedbeans) January 27, 2019

Thanks @francescaborri. The roasting you're receiving is really entertaining. The tweets coming from iPhones are especially tasty. Almost as tasty as our cuisine, and now I'm craving some rihaakuru dhiya. Ta Ta, gonna go have some while I keep up with this roasting.

— Nomura-sama has slain Nabith (@nabithahmed) January 27, 2019

What an ignorant writer @francescaborri is! Our school system is based on the English language since decades ago—almost every Maldivian can converse in English. Many physical+online bookstores in Male. I own an iPhone. Tweet at me and I will send you recipe for Rihaakuru Dhiya https://t.co/TA773n5PgQ

— Maahil🌺❤️🍃 (@MaahilMohamed) January 27, 2019

How long was the research period to write this book? 😂 #localtweetingfromiphone

— Azza Rushdy (@UGLY_Y) January 27, 2019

Its from a parallel dimension...on Earth 51, maldives is like that 🤪 tuna has run out of the oceans and no more rihaakuru and palms sold to dubai hence no coconut for mashuni...

— p3st (@p3st) January 27, 2019

Your portrayal of maldives as backwards and having little or no indentity of its own (except the one you try so hard to force on your readers) is proof that you wrote this on hearsay and some internet research done whilst sitting on your ass at home.

— Ahusan (aka.Jack / Pusheen) (@awhosun) January 27, 2019

Hi @francescaborri, there are about 4 main bookstores with multiple outlets in Malé and many independent ones that stock many titles in English. This tweet was kindly translated to English by a member of the minority and sent from my garudhiya baiythashi. https://t.co/iSloEziYl1

— 🌞 (@izznzz) January 27, 2019

According to the author Maldives is the only country in the world with no local cuisine. So @francescaborri should I stop researching for my PhD on, guess what, LOCAL MALDIVIAN CUISINE? Shameful. https://t.co/7gntvUeCeV

— Mo S. (@moshen81) January 27, 2019

We have many qualified people capable of producing an accurate assessment of radicalisation in Raajje that @francescaborri so spectacularly failed at. If one good thing comes of this, can it be that? Or is it only the dhon meehaa who can talk abt it w/out fearing for their lives?

— Azka (@Azka__Anees) January 27, 2019

Nothing brings Maldivians together like a good roast.

Thank you @francescaborri. It's really nice to see you get roasted by a whole country, everyone together.

— Emaz (@emaaaz) January 27, 2019