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jordanianroyals · 4 years ago

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Jordan’s King Is His Own Worst Enemy (Foreign Policy)

There’s much more evidence of the monarch’s poor governance than a foreign conspiracy against him.

BY ANCHAL VOHRA | APRIL 13, 2021, 10:14 AM

A century ago, Sharif Hussein bin Ali had big dreams for his Hashemite dynasty when he was king of the Hejaz and emir of Mecca and Medina, Islam’s holiest sites. But ever since the time of Lawrence of Arabia, when the Hashemites were Britain’s main regional allies during World War I and led the Arab revolt against the Ottoman Empire, the dynasty has been in steady decline. And with the ongoing dispute among Hussein’s descendants in Jordan, the family may have reached a new low.

The Hashemite dynasty has faced myriad challenges over all those decades, both externally and internally. Brothers in the line of succession have often been dumped for sons, but never did the family wash its dirty linen in public—until this month, when an internal rift became public gossip.

On April 3, Jordan announced that it had foiled a conspiracy to unseat its monarch and destabilize the country. Foreign entities, top officials claimed, were colluding with Prince Hamzah to topple King Abdullah II. Two weeks later, the palace still has not shared a shred of evidence, and it’s becoming increasingly clear that the tale doesn’t add up.

More likely is that we are watching the oldest story in the world: a succession battle playing out between royal siblings. Jordan’s monarch placed his half-brother and former crown prince under house arrest to remove the challenge to his throne, along with 18 alleged co-conspirators. But rather than a seditious prince, the whole episode has revealed the authoritarian streak of an insecure king.

Jordan’s tribes have historically owed allegiance to the Hashemites in part due to their religious lineage as descendants of the Prophet Mohammad, who, too, hailed from the House of Hashim. Their support is essential for the dynasty, but they increasingly feel marginalized and disaffected. The United States, which give billions of dollars in aid to the country, have officially backed the king in the feud. But they have been forced to take note of mounting repression in Jordan under Abdullah’s leadership.

Abdullah sold himself to the West as a Harley-Davidson-driving, laundry-washing, pro-democracy monarch, but he has in fact consolidated power inside the palace, gagged the press, arrested protesters, and dragged his feet on devolving actual power to the legislature. The Hashemites, who were once seen as the more modern monarchs, the most Westernized, are coming to be seen as rulers of just another authoritarian Arab state.

According to Reporters Without Borders, Jordan ranks 128th out of 180 nations—below Afghanistan—in press freedom. Freedom House, a U.S.-based nonprofit that conducts research and advocacy on democracy, political freedom, and human rights, demoted Jordan’s status from “partly free” to “not free” in the last year. Abdullah’s Jordan is not Syria or even Saudi Arabia—yet—but those who disagree with the state run the risk of a knock on the door from the intelligence services.

No one believes Abdullah intends on meaningful political reforms, and his economic reforms have produced more allegations of corruption than positive economic results. He unleashed austerity measures to procure loans from the international community and went on a privatization drive that some international observers applauded. But these measures came at the cost of losing support from the kingdom’s tribes.

Tariq Tell, a professor of political studies at the American University of Beirut and an expert on Jordanian politics, noted that the nationalist tribes had been critical of the neoliberal economic reforms that had come to dominate policymaking under the king. “The networks of East Bank tribes have been eroding since the privatization drive,” he said. “Their children are not getting the same jobs and benefits.” As their share of the pie, state jobs, and benefits shrank and discontent set in, Hamzah saw an opportunity to curry favor with this traditional support base. He began reaching out to tribal figures, making appearances at weddings and funerals.

Little is known about the prince’s economic and political ideology and how it compares with his brother’s approach to governance. Hamzah has voiced the concern of the masses but so far has not offered any solutions on how he intends to save a country devoid of resources and flooded with refugees. His biggest asset seems to be his looks, as he bears a close resemblance to his father, the long-ruling and fondly remembered King Hussein bin Talal. Nevertheless, his popularity has nonetheless risen since his arrest.

He is ambitious and was reportedly preferred by Hussein as a successor over his elder brother, a choice that however proved too difficult to reconcile with Jordan’s constitution. His consolation position as crown prince, next in line to the throne, was removed by Abdullah and passed to his own son in 2004. That must have hurt, but it still does not prove that he was plotting a coup against the king.

According to Tell, no one believed a coup was in the works. “Information coming out of the palace is very contradictory,” he said. “The latest events seem connected to a dispute over succession that has been going on since the removal of Hamzah as crown prince. It seems the king wanted to end it.” Adnan Hayajneh, a professor of international affairs at Jordan’s Hashemite University, said the palace’s claims have left him befuddled. “From a political science perspective, I can’t make sense of how foreign powers were involved,” he said. “The implication that Israel must be involved does not make sense because they have good ties with Jordan. Why would they want to destabilize Jordan? And even though the Saudis and Emiratis have sidelined Jordan lately, they also don’t want to destabilize the country.”

Among those arrested for allegedly plotting the coup, just two were connected to Saudi Arabia. But experts say these men are not linked in any way to the prince. Bessma Momani, a professor of political science at the University of Waterloo and a senior fellow at the Ontario-based Centre for International Governance Innovation, said the arrest of Bassem Awadallah, a Jordanian-Saudi dual national and advisor to Saudi Arabia’s crown prince, Mohammed bin Salman, was tactical. “The tribes despise Awadallah and see him as synonymous with corruption and elitism,” Momani said. “But he has no link to Hamzah. Awadallah’s arrest was a distraction.”

The palace’s insinuation is that Israel and Saudi Arabia want Jordan to become an alternative homeland for Palestinians currently residing in the West Bank as part of a broader deal that replaces the Hashemites as the custodians of Al-Aqsa Mosque in Jerusalem with the Al Saud family. Since Abdullah won’t play ball, they want Hamzah to launch a coup by way of a popular uprising. But analysts disagree and call it conjecture.

“The idea has been floated periodically over the past half a century or so without ever being taken that seriously, certainly not by Arab governments,” said Tobias Borck, an associate fellow at the London-based Royal United Services Institute. “It is often suggested that Saudi Arabia or the UAE now actually see this as a feasible policy option. I do not believe that. I have never heard a Saudi or Emirati policymaker seriously argue for it.”

At the heart of the king’s insecurities is the protest movement locally described as Hirak. In 2011, as the Arab Spring engulfed the region, Islamists of the Muslim Brotherhood and members of Jordan’s tribes took to the streets. Tell said the foundations of the Hirak movement were laid in the spring of 2010 by a revolt of Jordanian military veterans: “In 2011, the military veterans released a manifesto, and even though it did not specifically say they wanted to replace the king with Prince Hamzah, their preference was clear.” Jordan’s security establishment is controlled by members of Jordan’s different tribes. Even though Abdullah has appointed the senior officers, his biggest fear is that some might openly revolt against him in favor of the prince.

But many say the king’s fears are exaggerated. “Despite the various ethnic and ideological fault lines in Jordanian politics, pro-reform and pro-democracy demonstrators—from the leftist, nationalist, and Islamist parties and also from nonpartisan youth movements across the country —have marched and protested against corruption and for reform almost every Friday for more than a year,” said Curtis Ryan, the author of two books on Jordan and a professor of political science at Appalachian State University. “This does not mean looming revolution or civil war. Indeed, most Jordanians still support the monarchy and want it to lead the country to genuine reform.”

The king seems to be his own biggest enemy, rather than Hamzah or any popular opposition. History is replete with stories of insecure kings becoming self-destructive. Instead of arrests and unsubstantiated theories, it might serve him well if he focused on genuine political reform and devolved power to the parliament. Driving a Harley does not make him a modern king, but instituting a constitutional monarchy, where he is a figurehead and no more, would do just that.

#King Abdullah II #article

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rattlung · 5 years ago

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sorry this took so long! it kinda got away from me after a bit (it’s like 6k words so i’m rlly hoping this read more works on mobile lmao) and turned into a lot of introspection, as my stuff often does when it comes to mirage for some reason. hope you enjoy :^) and ty for sending smth in

(yeah ik mystik keeping in contact through fuckin fan mail is a bit of a stretch especially since crypto mentions burning letters, implying communication through paper, but it was the only thing i could come up with and i didn’t want this to take longer than necessary. just kinda shrug it off because at this point - eh yknow??? the letter mirage comes across is based off the one crypto sends to mystik in the loading screen with him and gibby

also, i looked up a ton of different sites and even checked the wiki but i’m still nervous about crypto’s name and how to write it properly. if i’m still doing it wrong, please please PLEASE let me know. i will literally rewrite this entire thing lmao)

established relationship kinda idk and also set in a kinda canon divergent au where the games hold seasons that last a few months with set teams

----=----

Despite popular belief, Elliott was a smart guy. He lived and studied under his mother, an amazing engineer in her own right, and even had a huge part in the development of some of the tech he used in the arena. It’s just that, sometimes, even he forgot about his own intelligence. Standing next to his fellow legends, it was like any confidence he had left in one fell swoop. He would stutter under their gazes and second guess himself on anything he said the second he said it. It’s something he’d always berate himself on later when he’s alone in his dorm where no one could see him.

Because he was smart. He’d tell himself that when he looked at his own smiling face, as surrounded as he was by it. Apex merch, some fanart, some cutouts they had stood up in stores he’d been sent. Elliott would stare at it all and remind himself that Mirage in the media was who he was. He’d gotten to legend status on his own, and that wasn’t something to write off. He was as intelligent as the rest of them, he just needed to remember that.

Though, admittedly, it did take Elliott a good minute to realize that the message he’d been sent wasn’t for him.

But, in his defense, this wasn’t an issue that had ever come up before. After their breach that forced them to move planets, the Apex Team had taken extra precautions when it came to legends getting fan mail. Elliott hadn’t blamed them, but he still couldn’t help but raise a brow at the extent they went to. In his opinion, it was just, like, two steps above sending it in on paper the old fashioned way. Honestly, that would go faster, since that didn’t need to be scoured by security software. Sometimes the dates lagged by so much that Elliott would get things months after a someone sent it.

So, yes, it did require a few read through’s for him to parse what was going on in the small paragraph. To be fair, it had his name in it. Don’t act so pretentious, TJ, everyone knows who Mirage is. The rest of the message was written in the same way: to someone who wasn’t actually Elliott and from someone who’s seemingly exchanged letters with this “TJ” before.

Maybe the program was on the fritz, picked out Elliott’s alias and sent it over to his inbox. It was something worth mentioning to the higher ups, because that absolutely had to be a liability in their new safety protocols. But more importantly - and definitely the thing he was going to address first - who was this letter for? Who was TJ?

There were only a few options, as most of the legends had opted to come forth with their real names when signing up for the Games. Elliott knew Bloodhound still operated under a veil of mystery, but he doubted they could be TJ. From what he remembered when he walked passed their dorm - which was usually something he tried to do quickly, since the bird Hound kept in there with them seemed to like Elliott only a little more than it liked Pathfinder - they didn’t even have a computer set up. No contact to the outside world unless it was through interviews.

Wraith just recently came across her name, Elliott remembered. She’d mentioned it in passing before disappearing for a few weeks in an abrupt request for time off. Wraith never really talked to anyone, so it kind of made sense. Everyone needed someone to vent to, even if it was about Elliott. What could TJ stand for? Taylor Jenkins? Tanya Jones?

Tilly Junior.

But then again, it really could have been any of them. Elliott wouldn’t put it passed Caustic to be using a fake name. Any of them could be using a fake name, and he doubted going around and asking would get him anywhere.

Elliott let the holopad slip onto the cushion of the couch he’d been lounging on, his head falling back to thump against the wall. Crypto would be able to help with the new mystery, that was at least something he was sure of. The amount of badgering and begging needed to actually get the hacker to relent and do any helping? Now that was unknown as well.

In the months that the season encompassed, he and Crypto ended up getting closer than probably either of them would have liked - at least in the beginning. Elliott couldn’t imagine what he would have thought then if he was told that most of his nights out of the arena would be spent at the other’s side, in his dorm, Crypto fiddling with some of the tech Elliott had lying around as Elliott himself talked his ear off.

Crypto was a good listener, he found. It was something in the quiet he maintained around him, a whole lot different than, say, Bloodhound’s. Not that Bloodhound was cold and off-putting; it was more so like what Elliott imagined stepping into an ancient library would be like. Something about Bloodhound made anything above a whisper seem too loud, and out of respect for said library, Elliott left them alone.

And then there was that time Crypto had caught Elliott staring at him when he blasted Caustic with a Charge Rifle from about 300 meters away. The only thing he’d done was give Elliott that knowing smirk then followed it up with an honest to god wink. Elliott was gone after that.

Things had changed in a steady progression. Instead of Elliott being the one to find him, Crypto would seek him out rather than hide away in his own dorm. When Elliott would invite him to his dorm, mostly joking, Crypto would surprise him by accepting. There wasn’t any verbal confirmation in the shift, though, and sometimes Elliott would worry about it, wonder if he was reading too much into things. Not that it was a big deal. He never cared much about labels, except when he really, really did.

But then Crypto would sometimes push Elliott against a wall in the downtime during the games while they were looting, or even when they were just hanging out. He’d silence ramblings by covering Elliott’s mouth with his own, and who was Elliott to tell him no?

They were close, now, yes, but for as good as Crypto listened, he didn’t talk much. It was something Elliott attempted to change. He tried to get him to open up in various ways, but the longest he’s ever gotten Crypto to talk was when he asked about the Holo Gear Mirage used on the field. Even then, Elliott did most of the talking. He’d gushed about his mom, how she did a lot of the work and he handled more of the fine tuning, reminisced about their workshop, the long days they used to spent together. Elliott remembered picking up something different from Crypto, then, something almost sad. Like maybe he’d been missing something, too.

Elliott never got to ask about it. Crypto had retreated to his own quarters pretty fast after that. He was too confused to wonder what he’d done wrong, and the worry was put to rest before he ever actually got to worry about it at all when Crpyto sidled up next to him the next day right before the drop. The situation just reaffirmed that there was a lot that Elliott didn’t know, like what kept Crypto so quiet, who he thought about when Elliott talked about working with his mother, what he always seemed to be working on when he was alone.

Or his name, Elliott realized.

After a pause, he scrambled back into a sitting position and grabbed the holopad again. There was public information on every legend that signed up for the Games, but the last he’d checked there had been something wrong with the page dedicated to Crypto. It showed multiple different error codes that were random upon opening the page and sometimes it would even crash a browser entirely. Forums still existed, though, and Elliott would use that to his advantage.

Quietly, in the back of his mind, he felt guilty, felt like he was doing something he shouldn’t.

A lot of the threads were just talking about the recent games and Crypto’s happenings in them. They talked about his marksmanship, which was pretty impressive, Elliott had to say. It wasn’t until a few minutes of scrolling - spent looking through GIFs and videos of highlights, that he won’t admit to - brought him to a specific thread. The person who posted was wondering about the drone Crypto had in his possession, asking about its name, speculating on the model. The top comment on it claimed to have spent time behind the scenes on the Apex Games Production team and declared that the drone Crypto used had a lot of similarities to the ones they use to film the Games.

The next comment didn’t exactly discredit the correlation, but they did say it was likely that the drone’s blueprint was leaked and got sold to another company, not Crypto having the clearance to use Apex equipment.

I doubt they’d let him have one of the official ones, with all the controversy surrounding them, the commenter said.

Elliott bit the inside of his cheek and narrowed his eyes in thought. It was a stretch, but it didn’t stop him from backing out of the forum and searching “apex filming drones”.

The first result wasn’t a link to the Apex Game’s website. It was another website with comment threads, its title “look what i found???”.

So, Elliott did.

i was doing some VERY LEGAL digging around, because i was wondering where the new guy came from and all that, but there’s literally NOTHING that isn’t hidden behind encrypted messes that would take like ten years to get through but when i tried, i got something on some dude named hyeon kim but when i went around looking for more i found this

??????

Below the post was a screenshot of an article from a news site called Outlands’ Journal. Elliott read it over, but the only thing he processed was “Disgraced computer technician, Tae Joon Park” and “Mystik, Joon’s former caretaker”.

And then, a little more down, was the comment, “Isn’t that the dude who’s wanted for murdering his sister or something?”

----=----

Despite popular belief, Elliott was a smart guy. In that moment, though, it really didn’t seem like a good thing.

----=----

The decision was one he made almost subconsciously: Elliott was not going to tell anyone what he’d found.

How would anyone even believe it? Elliott was hardly sure he even believed it. Spoken out loud, it would seem like such a tin-foil-hat conspiracy, and it’s not like he could use the thread he’d found the information in to back the claim up. He’d checked it again when he woke the next day, wanting to make sure he hadn’t had some fever dream, but the entire thread had disappeared. Even the account it was posted from was wiped from the site. On a whim, he checked his history and went to the link directly, but that only got him an error page.

The code was something he remembered from Crypto’s buggy Legend profile.

Elliott had almost been late getting ready for the games, he sat there for so long and stared at it. Luckily, the turbulence that signified they were getting close to the closed off arena literally jolted him as a physical reminder. Elliott shook his head and stood, making his way over to the collapsible, garage-like door in order to pull it down.

Isn’t that the dude who’s wanted for murdering his sister?

He was almost regretful that he wanted to go looking for more information. What if Crypto was somehow able to track the searches that were relevant to the article? That could be how the thread was taken down so fast, how the account disappeared. Was that what he was doing all the time, bent over his computer? Working to hide what he’d done?

Why even join the Apex Games, a program that was widely broadcasted across planets? Wouldn’t he want to keep a low profile? How did he even get the clearance to sign up? The producers had run background check after background check when Elliott had been brought in for an interview. So his public intoxication got put under the microscope, but the murderer they let in for free?

And yet, that didn’t sound right, even when he thought it. Sure, yeah, they all technically participated in a blood sport - but the technically was heavily implied. No one actually ever died; sometimes bones were broken and people had to retire after a serious injury, but that was just about it. Everyone who signed up was capable of killing.

But capability of killing was different than cold blooded murder. At least in Elliott’s opinion.

He was just pulling on the last of his Holo Gear when the door rattled in its frame. “Pull y’self outta bed, we got a game to win!”

“Door is closed for privacy,” Mirage berated.

Lifeline only cackled shortly before replying with, “I ain’t lookin’ at you, am I?”

Mirage pulled the door up so she could see his put-off pouting, which didn’t do much of anything besides getting her to laugh again. He followed her into the loading bay, passing Bloodhound and Wraith. They each gave him a respectful nod, always frighteningly eager to board their dropping platform. Still, Mirage responded with a courteous wink and two solid finger guns.

As the automated commentator announced the approaching drop zone, Mirage was suddenly very aware of the empty space beside him being taken up by another person. At first, neither of them said anything, but that was weird for him, so he had to say something, didn’t he?

“Fashionably late, as always,” he greeted, going for something half-joking, half-flirty. Honestly, he would proudly say he hit the mark, but Crypto didn’t say anything back. “Long night?”

Then, a too long second of silence fell between them as the dropping platforms began to hiss. Freezing air blasted, chilling his face, blowing his hair around, but it wasn’t the reason why his blood went cold in his veins. A voice went off in his head almost like an alarm. He knows, it said. He knows you found out. He knows.

“Always,” Mirage heard, just barely above the wind whipping between them.

And it was stuff like that that made him felt immediately guilty for the fear he held just moments before. There was that haunted, pained tone that took hold of Crypto’s voice that Mirage always seemed to catch when he knew he wasn’t supposed to. Just like how he caught something like longing when Mirage had spoken of his mother. How Crypto’s empathy felt different than others when Mirage mentioned his brothers.

He didn’t talk often, sure, but Crypto couldn’t stop himself from expressing in some ways. Not around Mirage, not anymore.

Obviously, there was the possibility that Crypto had done something - that very specific something - but Mirage just couldn’t see it. He had that gut feeling, and following those types of feelings got him to where he was right then. Standing among Legends.

Legends, and Tae Joon Park.

----=----

It’s about a month of doing his best of forgetting what he’d uncovered when he realized a problem he’d overlooked. Elliott had already come to the conclusion that Tae Joon and Mystik were close, close enough to risk each other’s safety by maintaining their pen pal status. They kept in contact that way, so the fluke Elliott had gotten in his inbox was not the first letter that had ever been sent between them.

Which meant that Crypto was going to be expecting a letter from his former caretaker that Elliott didn’t know how to give him without starting a shit show.

Just another thing to add to the reasons he wasn’t getting sleep at night, because “doing his best to forget” was awfully hard. Tae Joon’s silences were just periods of dreadful anticipation to him now. Every time they were together and the tapping on Crypto’s keyboard would pause, Elliott would expect to look up to see Crypto already staring at him, glaring, asking him how long Elliott had known -

But Tae Joon’s eyes would be on the monitor when Elliott would brave looking up, watching text wrap around the screen at all kinds of speeds. Sometimes it would freeze all at once, certain words blinking, and a corner of Tae Joon’s mouth would pull in an annoyed grimace - meaning he’d done something wrong, and the typing would start back up with a new kind of spiteful energy to it. Elliott would go back to what he was doing, wishing he could let out the breath he felt he’d been constantly holding, because sooner or later the typing would stop again.

Elliott was stressed out of his mind and it was starting to affect his performance on the field, but a horrible, evil little part of himself relished in knowing something others didn’t. That stupid, childish thrill of secret keeping. He wanted to hold it close to where no one else could see it, because he really, really wanted to. If not telling anyone meant protecting Tae Joon, then he wouldn’t tell a soul - even if that included Tae Joon himself.

But that was kind of backwards, wasn’t it? He was literally harboring a criminal, wasn’t he? Regardless of what Elliott’s stupid gut told him. Crypto was wanted for murder - but what was he supposed to do? Tell the authorities and get a potentially innocent man potentially killed? Or tell Tae Joon himself and be proven wrong, find out the very dead way that people Elliott found attractive really are out to get him.

Knowing what he did and not doing anything about it was dangerous either way. Hence the trouble sleeping.

People were starting to notice, too. Tae Joon noticed - and it was stuff like that that was going to get Elliot into trouble. He found himself switching the names around in his head. Tae Joon Park and Crypto were now interchangeable; the only way he avoided not messing up out loud and inadvertently revealing himself and what he knew was just by... not talking.

Which was hard to do.

It was easier than trying to condition himself to stop using the name, though. Because Elliott liked knowing it. There was a certain level of intimacy to it; it felt different now whenever Crypto would corner him or when he’d let Elliott turn him away from his computer. It felt like he was holding someone more, in a way. Not a mystery, but a person. He was holding someone. He was holding Tae Joon, kissing Tae Joon in secret, making a mess of Tae Joon’s bed. It was so much, and in those moments the secret was something he almost couldn’t bear. He’d just barely hold himself back from breathing the name, he’d bite his tongue to stop it.

And then the guilt would flood into his head, because he was lying. It felt so wrong to know this when Tae Joon wasn’t the one to tell him. So, Elliott withdrew. He was polite in the games, communicated as much as necessary, still bantered with Lifeline. Slowly he weaned himself off of flirting with their other teammate and reverted back to the beginning of the season. Except, not quite, really. Even in the beginning Elliott couldn’t help himself when it came to Crypto, but back then it was petty arguments that he didn’t know he craved. Now, it wasn’t much of anything besides civility.

The worst part of it might have been that Tae Joon never asked why. He allowed the regression to happen nonchalantly, but that was on purpose. Every so often, Elliott would still get pushed against a wall, when no one else was around. Tae Joon wouldn’t ask why Elliott didn’t talk to him, didn’t visit him, didn’t invite him to his dorm anymore. He would just kiss him, hard, desperate. It was almost like it wasn’t surprising to him. Like maybe Tae Joon had been waiting for it to end the entire time.

Shame would tear Elliott up after he’d pull away without a word. It would tear him up even worse when the next time Elliott saw him, Tae Joon would act as if nothing happened. Business as usual.

----=----

It had to end in some way, so Elliott really shouldn’t have been shocked when it actually happened - or that it was his fault that it went down the way it did.

----=----

He never had liked fighting Wraith. Mirage had been on her squad a few seasons ago and they’d spent a lot of their time in the arena watching the other work. So Mirage knew her tricks, but worst of all, Wraith knew his. Besides his good looks, charm, and being a crack shot with the Wingman, tricks were just about all Mirage had.

She had followed the sounds of his footsteps when he’d cloaked earlier in the gunfight to heal, weaving through the decoys he’d dropped without skipping a beat. It was a mess of bursts from SMGs, Wraith phasing away to duck behind cover. Another few bursts and MIrage would get sprayed down, only to disintegrate into lights and have him reappear around another corner.

Mirage strained to hear over the firing outside for her footsteps, placing her somewhere downstairs. He continued up, for once being grateful for the Skyhook buildings and the buffer they provided with their multiple levels. It gave him time to repair the damage done to his shields as Wraith presumably did the same before she began her chase again. They were bound to run out of supplies and floors at some point, but all Mirage needed to do was buy time for his teammates to secure their kills so they could come and take her off his hands.

It was a good plan up until it stopped working. Thing was, Wraith was fast, and Mirage was learning that if you’re not in her squad as often as you used to be, you forget just how fast she could be.

He heard the cocking of a Peacekeeper after he was a few paces onto the roof, which is also when he remembered seeing a fucking zipline in the building on his way toward the stairs. He hadn’t thought about it, immediately stored it under the dumb idea section; zipping straight up to the top floor just for Wraith to light him up and have him fall straight back down like a ton of bricks? No thank you, he’d take the stairs.

“Fuck,” Mirage said quickly, just as a shotgun blast exploded in front of him. Most of the spread was dodged by running around one of the pallets stacked with construction materials, but it still cracked through what was left of his shields.

He was dead, Mirage was absolutely dead. There was no way his Wingman was going to win against a Peacekeeper, not unless he hit every shot and Wraith missed all of hers - which she didn’t, she never missed.

A kick was placed neatly between his shoulders and Mirage flailed wildly, gripped at the metal framing of an empty wall and used the momentum to swing around -

- directly into another shotgun blast, one of which he took right into the stomach. That sent him sprawling. He landed hard on his back and the air was knocked out of him, leaving him gasping for it as he skidded a few paces forward.

Calmly, Wraith sauntered over to stand above him, reloading the few shots she’d used in her Peacekeeper. Mirage wanted to say something to maybe lessen the blow his pride and his body just took, but the only thing he could get out was a wet cough.

She grinned at him and knelt, shotgun going to one side so she could show Mirage the blade she held before pressing it to his throat. “Don’t worry,” she whispered, leaning in close. “I would have gotten you either way. Zigged or zagged.”

Mirage would’ve rolled his eyes had it not been for the kunai at his jugular, so all he did was swallow and wait for the push. But it never came. In the very next moment, Wraith was sent flying to the ground next to Mirage, her side smoking from a fresh Mastiff shot, the sudden sound of it nearly deafening him.

She pushed up unsteadily in an attempt to get to her feet, but Crypto beat her by grabbing at the scarf at her neck. “It seems like you zigged,” he started, mocking her previous low tone with his own smug lilt. Mirage watched as he raised his hand and his drone seemingly appeared in his grip while he finished with, “When you should have just quit and gone home.”

The drone came down against Wraith’s head hard, and in the time it took Mirage to blink, she was replaced with a golden case.

Crypto turned to face him, then, showing off the small smirk he’d been wearing. “Fashionably late,” he announced with a shrug.

Mirage couldn’t help the relieved grin that spread across his own face. “As always. Love that about you, kid.”

Crypto knelt at his side, taking the place Wraith had left behind, and fished around in the pack around his waist for the syringes he kept there. Once it was plunged into his chest, all of Elliott’s muscles seemed to twitch, but he felt his heart rate lower down to something manageable. He lost a lot of blood, though. He was going to have to huddle in a corner and lick his wounds for at least another five minutes before he’d be anywhere close to mobile.

“Thank you,” Mirage said in between a few deep breaths. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Match isn’t done yet,” Crypto chided lowly. He stood up straight and held out his hand for Mirage to take.

Which he did, but he only got halfway up before he hit the ground again. The cracking snap of a Kraber shot echoed in the empty air above the buildings and Mirage stared up at the blue sky, wondering why he wasn’t feeling any pain. Then, he heard the sound of himself hitting the floor for a third time and thought, that’s weird, I thought I already did that.

After that, he thought, I lost a lot of blood.

Tae Joon, is the next thing that came to his mind in the form of a horrible realization, one that he ended up voicing out loud in fear, in panic. He sat up from the adrenaline that panic gave him, hysterically hoping that maybe that the other hadn’t heard him, but mostly to satisfy the need of having to see if Tae Joon was okay.

And he wasn’t, not really. He was on his back, too, propped up on one elbow, one hand clutching at his shoulder that was spilling red between his fingers. But worst of all, he was staring at Mirage like the pain was second to the shock.

Mirage didn’t like the look he was getting, and it was especially devastating that it was Tae Joon who was the one giving it to him. Underneath the cloud from the medicine coursing through his system, he knew he had to explain, had to make it so Tae Joon could understand that Mirage knowing his secret wasn’t a big deal, that’d he’d known for a long time and nothing bad had happened.

So, he began with “Tae - “ and then, for some reason, finished with, “Tae - tuh - tuh - uh - totally thought you were going to die from that.”

Finally, he thought, Nice save, and collapsed.

----=----

They didn’t win, but that was the least of their worries. Well, maybe not Lifeline’s, but that was beside the point.

Elliott left the medbay as soon as he could, which still took a good amount of time. The nurse had mentioned something about the side effects of the Revival Syringe along with blood loss and not using anymore meds to stabilize after he was injected. They spent extra time checking his vitals and Elliott didn’t have to be a doctor to tell them that those were going to be skewed.

His heart was still racing when he made his way back into the dorms. It was a little relieving to find that it was empty; after the games, everyone typically accumulated in the mess hall to celebrate the winners. But the at the same time, it was disappointing. He almost wanted to see Tae Joon standing around every corner Elliott rounded waiting to confront him, because getting this over with meant getting back to normal, and Elliott couldn’t wait for that.

So, he risked a glance over at the other’s dorm across the sitting area as if getting a look at it would help him decide on whether or not he should knock, initiate it himself. The door was pulled up, though, left open. Elliott blinked at it once before wandering closer.

The room had always seemed bare, but the emptiness was emphasized now. He noticed that the blanket that was supposed to be folded and draped across the back of the couch to show off the South Korean flag was missing. The box Tae Joon had shoved under there and filled with parts and drives was pulled out, tipped over and empty. Even more, the drone’s docking station was gone.

Elliott rushed over to the desk and tapped the first key he could reach. Only one of the monitors flashed on, glowing blue and asking to proceed with setup.

“Oh, no,” Elliott muttered. He hurried back out to the seating area and looked up to the screens displaying that day’s match stats. Scrolling across the top was the ETA for the ship’s landing. Ten minutes. “Oh no, no, no you fucking don’t,” he continued to say, practically running to the hall for Boarding.

It Tae Joon got into the city before Elliott could catch him on the ship, it was likely that he’d never see the man again. He couldn’t let that happen.

But Boarding was empty, too, bar the few bots that managed the floor. Elliott practically skidded to a stop in front of one of them, startling the unit’s arms up and out.

“Hey, buddy, you wouldn’t have happened to see a guy, this tall - “ He holds up his hand, palm down, level with the top of his own head. “ - might have looked pissed off, which would be my fault, so I’m trying to find him. Have you seen him?”

The bot’s screen on it’s chest flashed red in the negative, then blue in an apologetic sad face.

Elliott grunted in disappointment. “Nah, don’t sweat it,” he assured the bot, even thought he was absolutely going to.

He was biting his lip when he exited, nervous. The ship held at least sixty people on it at once. It was a decent size and if someone like Crypto was hiding on it, someone like Elliott wasn’t going to find him.

Elliott swore, once in frustration, twice in shock when he was thrown roughly against the hard, metal wall of an empty hallway. Someone held him there with a fist against his shoulder and the threat of a pistol pressing into his abdomen. He was blinded before he could gather his bearings by a sudden flash of green light, leaving him blinking rapidly to clear his vision.

“Where did you get a gun?” Elliott chose to ask, deliriously, for some reason. “They don’t let weapons on the ship - “

“Who are you?” Tae Joon questioned. The aggression in his voice was something Elliott hadn’t heard since the first few weeks, around the same time Tae Joon was just as likely to twist his arm as he was to snap at him.

“What? Babe, you know who I am - “

“Elliott Witt is too clean, everything on him was too easy to find - they wouldn’t send an Elliott Witt to hunt me down.” His expression was neutral, but there was so much going on in his eyes that Elliot couldn’t look away, even when the gun reminded him of its presence with little jabs. “So who are you?”

And maybe there were a few things Elliott should have been offended by. Like how he wasn’t prestigious enough to warrant a protected record, or Tae Joon’s implication that he wasn’t capable of something he had already done - mostly on accident.

But what he ended up asking was, “You think I made everything up? You think I lied about my entire life for, what? Getting into bed with you?”

Tae Joon didn’t seem taken aback by the hurt that was evident in Elliott’s voice, but it did leave enough room for one second of hesitation. “Then they got to you,” he whispered, somehow sounding equal parts flat and devastated.

Elliott shook his head in confusion. Who was they? “No one fucking got to me, I actually don’t know who or what you’re talking about,” he tried to explain.

“Then how?” Tae Joon asked - angry. Elliott was finally able to identify one of the things burning in Tae Joon’s glare. Anger, and maybe confusion as well. Fear.

How did this happen, they both seemed to be thinking. How did I let it get to this?

“How did you find out?” Tae Joon snapped when Elliott spent too long watching him. “Who told you?”

“Mystik,” Elliott blurted, shocking the other enough to pull back just a little bit. “Kind of,” he went on in a hurry. “She sent you something, and I - I think the new software they implemented for security read my name enough times in it so it got forwarded to me - I don’t know exactly! I didn’t do it on purpose, it must be mald- malfuk - bugging out! So, I went to check, and I’d show you the forum post I found, but it’s gone already, I swear.”

Tae Joon took a step back, then another. “What did you find?”

Elliott let out a breath, wet his lips in a nervous tic. He shrugged. “Just - just an article.”

Disgraced computer technician -

Wanted for murdering his sister -

Tae Joon looked away suddenly and down the hall, like he was planning on running again. His frown was so intense a crease began to form between his brow.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Elliott said firmly. “I promise. But - what happened?”

“I can’t tell you that,” Tae Joon told him quickly. “If you don’t know, I can’t tell you.”

“Okay,” Elliott replied, despite how much he wanted to push.

Tae Joon seemed to sense that, gave him a troubled look. “I didn’t do it.”

“I know,” Elliott told him. “I believe you.”

It it was so easy to say, but they both knew it was more than the words spoken out loud. The admission meant Tae Joon’s shoulders could drop from their high strung, protected hunch. It meant they could both breathe. It meant Elliott could push off from the wall, get close - slowly - and gently retrieve the gun Tae Joon held to find that the safety was on. Because if he didn’t have to, Tae Joon wasn’t going to hurt him. He‘d never wanted to hurt anyone.

He put his fingers on the cool metal lining Tae Joon’s jaw to get him to look at Elliott.

“I believe you,” Elliott repeated, and Tae Joon kissed him for it. He put an open hand on the back of Elliott’s head and threaded his fingers through the curls that were there, pulling him in roughly. Elliott made a surprised noise but recovered fast enough. He pushed an arm underneath Tae Joon’s open coat to wind it around man’s waist and pressed his front to the other’s, hoping that somehow he’d get Tae Joon to feel the honesty in his words through an embrace. Thinking that he could show off the part of Elliott that was dedicated purely to him by just holding him against his chest.

Anything to get Tae Joon to stop kissing him in that same, desperate way as before, like he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Elliott said when they broke apart. He didn’t let the other go, though, and rested his forehead against his. “So you can’t either.”

Tae Joon’s features darken in a very particular way. “Don’t say that.” When Elliott lifted his head a little to show him a confused expression, he goes on to explain. “They take everything.”

Who’s they? I’ll kick they’s ass.

“They can’t take Mirage,” he said, smiling. “According to you, he’s too hard to carry.”

Instead of laughing, or giving that smarmy little smirk, or even rolling his eyes, Tae Joon raised a brow and asked, “What about Elliott?”

“Elliott’s yours,” he told him without thinking. “No one’s taking that.”

Tae Joon Park moved back in to kiss Elliott again.

=====

thanks for the prompt :^)

#apex legends #crypto #mirage #elliott witt #cryptage #cryage #those are the tags i know i'm sorry #kon's a writer #tae joon park

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screamingatanemptyroom · 5 years ago

Text

I Can’t Eat Love pt 16

Here’s the next part. This involves quite a bit of a time skip.

Next part marks the halfway point of the story, bringing us back to the very first scene between Ronan and Lenora. Things are definitely going to change!

Master Post Link here

__________________________________

The Duchy flourished.

We trained our new officials and solidified checks and balances to keep things honest and efficient. The school expanded to multiple trades, and soon I was cooperating with other nobles to open up similar establishments across the kingdom. Through it all, Armeny led the way, becoming a center for trade, skilled workers and culture.

Another year had passed, I was seventeen, and coming up on the last year before the big scandal that had ruined my life the first time around. I knew that I needed to move out of the spotlight, so that my fall from grace would have as little as an effect as possible of the work I had already accomplished.

Fortunately, I didn’t have to worry about the business “Prosperity.” No one seemed to realize that I was in charge, and simply seemed to think I was one of their most loyal customers. I would be able to continue to run things from behind the scenes.

But the Duchy was a different story. Most of the nobility knew by this point that I was the one actually in charge. At first, some of the older men had protested to my father, decrying it as “unnatural” and “harmful.” Fortunately the Duke’s laziness was not to be underestimated. After getting a chance to live a life free of the responsibilities he hated, my father was not going to be coerced into taking them on again. He simply told them he couldn’t be bothered, and that everything would work out in the end. In the face of his never faltering, if vaguely directed optimism, they were forced to give up.

I had been left in relative peace since then, but that would change once my reputation and status were ruined. To prepare for that, I needed a figurehead. Someone who could help to run the Duchy instead of me, but wouldn’t try to change too many things whenever I wasn’t looking.

And so, I sent for Henry.

A distant cousin on my father’s side, Henry was officially the heir of the title.

Traditionally he should have been at my father’s side, learning to take over from the time he was young, but that seemed that it had been too much effort for the Duke. I had met him only a few times over the years, he was always quiet, intelligent… if a little boring to talk to, and a hard worker. He spent most of his time studying the different uses of plants, and publishing his findings.

He had never inherited the title in my previous life. After my family fell from grace, the Duchy had been absorbed by its neighbors, and as far as I knew he lived his life either unaware or not caring that his inheritance had disappeared. He seemed to find joy in scientific study rather than money and the company of others.

He was perfect.

__________________________________

“So I am to take over the Duchy?” Henry sat across from me, drinking tea, his gaze more on the floor than on me.

“In part. You’ll be taking on some of the workload, but I’ll still have a hand in making sure things stay on track.”

He thought that over for a few moments, sighing. “What’s in it for me?”

THAT caught me off guard.

“You’ll have to be the Duke eventually, and this is part of the job. Also, you get to live in a nice house, you won’t have to worry about money…”

“But I really don’t want the title! I have everything I need at my home.” He shook his head. “I may not have money or a big house… but my plants…

“I’ll build you a greenhouse, and move your plants here so you can continue your studies. I’ll even buy you more plants if you like…”

“I’ll move in next week.” I couldn’t help but laugh at his immediate agreement once plants were involved.

__________________________________

We built a greenhouse, and Henry moved in without causing much fuss. He took to the administrative work naturally. I found to my delight that not only was he easy to work with, but when we had time he would take me through the greenhouse, teaching me the various uses of different herbs and plants.

“And this is winterblue…” He pointed out a leafy green plant without flowers. On looking closer I noticed that the edges of the leaves were tinged with a light blue.

“What does it do?” I felt the leaf between my fingers, noting how soft it was.

“Nothing too amazing. If you brew tea with it, it can boost the body’s health. So if someone is showing early signs of illness, this can be a good thing to give them.”

“Anything poisonous in here?” I was mostly joking, but Henry nodded seriously, pointing at the far corner of the greenhouse.

“The more you know about these kinds of things, the better.” He grimaced. “I study a few of these poisons in hopes of understanding how to negate or treat them.”

“Just keep a close eye on them, please.” It made me nervous to have poisonous plants on the grounds, but after a few months of working with Henry I knew better than to try to persuade him to get rid of a plant. “I’d hate to see them fall into the wrong hands.”

__________________________________

My etiquette lessons completed a year earlier than they had in my previous life, having covered a great amount more of material.

Mrs. Rendler pronounced me a natural genius and claimed I was the best student she had ever trained. I was slightly uncomfortable with the title, given the extra three years advantage that I had, but it wasn’t as if I could set the record straight. I had hoped as the lessons were over I could be excused from visiting the palace, but found myself spending the designated days with the Queen, instead.

The reason given was that I would follow her around, “to get a feel for the work the Queen has to do.” And for perhaps a single week she stuck to this, but it almost immediately evolved into “all the mother-daughter activities Queen Amerande has wanted to do but couldn’t find an excuse to before.”

We visited other families together, went shopping, walked through various gardens and public sites. I meant to beg off in the beginning, to make excuses and miss the less than useful meetings, but… She was so excited each time. She smiled when she saw me, asking about my week. We would talk for hours, and although I tried to keep as much back as I could, she somehow would manage to get me to talk about whatever was going on.

It was painful, sometimes. She acted every bit the mother I had always wanted, but I remained aware that it had to be a simple charade. Something that would end once the engagement was broken. And she must have sensed my concern about this to some extent, because although she continued to treat me as she always had, if not closer, the necklace I had refused remained in her jewelry box, likely waiting to be given to Edith once the prince chose her.

It was what I had told her to do, but it still made me uncomfortable to think about.

__________________________________

Through the next years Nate and I continued to write each other. He seemed to be doing well back in his home country, and was implementing many of the changes we had tried in my duchy back there. His letters were always long, filled with excited rambling that made me smile. It reminded me of how enthusiastic he always was during classes to come up with ideas for the Duchy.

I missed the time we had all spent together. I still visited the royal treasury once a month but it was more to help Jim teach his newer students than anything else. If I ran into a complex problem I either wrote to Nate for advice or visited Jim on a free day to talk it out. I appreciated still having their support… but it was just not the same as it had been.

The letters were often awkwardly worded, as Nate struggled desperately to not reveal his identity through them. He slipped frequently, but I refused to think about it, or consider any obvious clues. I didn’t want to care anything about him… the less I knew about him, the better.

And if I was always happy to receive a letter from him… it was because I valued his expertise in economics… not because I cared at all.

__________________________________

I slowly paid off the family debt, and between the now three stores I owned with Maline, we were both wealthier than I had ever expected to be. We had even opened a branch store geared towards the average person, with well made clothes sold at affordable cost, and soon had to hire more and more people. I was funding my father and mother, as well as Henry’s expenses, but still had plenty more. I put more into the food charity and schools, not forgetting what it was like to not have a job or regular food.

The Duchy was thriving. The family was wealthy. I had prepared everything I could.

The future would be different this time.

__________________________________

“Miss?” Hallers opened the door, finding me sitting in my office despite the fact that it was well before dawn. “Is everything all right? Why aren’t you in bed?”

I sighed, looking at him with a sad smile. “I’m sorry if I woke you, Hallers. I couldn’t sleep. Just trying to mentally prepare for the future.”

Today was the day before Ronan’s eighteenth birthday. It was the day of my last “lesson” with the Queen, my last tea with the prince.

The day that had ruined my life was tomorrow.

“I beg your pardon, Miss, but if anyone had prepared for the future, it’s you.You can’t predict everything, but you’ve worked hard and helped those around you.” He smiled, startling me. “ You’ll be a wonderful queen one day, if you don’t mind me saying.”

I laughed at that, not able to explain the irony of his words. He would understand tomorrow. “Try not to put too much faith in me, Hallers, you’ll only be disappointed.”

He leaned over and squeezed my hand, his eyes kind. “I normally would never disagree with you, it’s not a butler’s place, but I will now: You could never disappoint me. I have never been so proud of someone, as I have been with you.”

“…” I stared at him in shock, as he slowly stood back up, resuming his professional stance.

“Now, you can go back to your room and have a short nap. We’ll bring you some breakfast and send you off to the palace once you’re ready.” He raised an eyebrow. “Is that clear?”

I stood up, chuckling. “What would I do without you, Hallers?”

“Don’t worry, Miss. You won’t ever have to find out.”

__________________________________

My last tea with the Prince was as boring as ever. I hadn’t been able to bring Edith today, as I was able to most weeks, her mother had wanted her to stay home for a dress fitting. Edith had been annoyed, Ronan was irritated once he realized she wasn’t going to be there, and I wasn’t too happy either. Normally I let them chat together, reading a book as they ignored my existence, him bragging and her complimenting.

But today...

“How are your birthday preparations coming along?”

“…” He stared down at the table, refusing to talk. I sipped at my tea, silently glad as I always was that I never let Hallers come along for these outings. I wasn’t sure if the butler had ever killed anyone before, and I wasn’t about to let the Prince be his first victim.

I kept talking, pretending this was a cordial conversation. “I heard your mother hired some of the best musicians around, so the music should be lovely. Of course food will be wonderful…”

This WAS the one thing I had been looking forward to. The royal chef was amazing, and I had missed out on the food at the party last time as I had left in tears after he broke the engagement. This time around I was determined to get to try some.

“…” He nodded silently, pretending I didn’t exist. I reached the end of my patience.

“Well, this has been wonderful, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave early. I need to say goodbye to your mother before I leave, and then finish preparations for the party.” I stood up, relieved I wouldn’t have to pretend enjoy his presence after tomorrow, as I turned to walk away, however, he called out, stopping me.

“Lenora?

“Yes?” I looked back at him. He seemed uncomfortable, but forced himself to speak.

“We’ll need to talk tomorrow, come find me as soon as you arrive at the party.”

Before I even get to eat? “Sure.”

I walked away, wondering how I could hide from him long enough to eat the food before he broke off the engagement, in case I had to leave the party.

__________________________________

“We need to talk tomorrow.” The prince’s face was serious.

“Of course!” I smiled, hoping he thought I looked pretty. “However long you need!”

I walked away, feeling excited. Perhaps the time we were spending together was finally taking effect! Maybe he wants to tell me he loves me! With this and other fanciful imaginings, I thought of little else for the rest of the day

__________________________________

“The tea ended so early, did it not go well?” Queen Amerande asked me with a frown as I approached to say goodbye.

“He really wasn’t in the mood to talk.” Especially not to me.

She reached out, hugging me tightly. “Dear, I appreciate you giving as much time as you have to this, I’m sorry he… he’s like this.”

“It’s fine.”

And it was.

I cared little for his personality, habits, or lack of etiquette. It was amazing how freeing realizing that he and I were never going to be married was in how I viewed him. I had always worried I wasn’t good enough, wasn’t pretty or clever or graceful enough to catch his eye. But now, it didn’t matter. I didn’t want him to notice me.

“No, it’s not. He shouldn’t treat you so poorly.” She sighed. “He’s my son, I love him… but that doesn’t mean I wish I could shake some sense into him sometimes.”

“You can’t force these things.” I smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As I spoke the words I realized: it was the last time we would get to see each other in such a casual setting. My stomach started hurting. I would need to ask Henry to see if he could brew me tea for stomachaches.

Which reminded me…

“I brought you something.” I reached into my pockets, pulling out a packet of dried winterblue leaves. “I was worried you were sounding ill, so if you brew this into your tea, it should help you feel better.

In truth, she didn’t sound sick at all, but I knew she would be soon.

__________________________________

“Where’s the Queen?” It was my first question on arriving to the party. I was nervous, curious about what the prince wanted to talk to me about. I had wanted to see the Queen first, but looking around the ballroom, I didn’t see her anywhere.

“I heard she was too ill this morning to attend.” Edith smiled at me as she spoke. She was dressed much nicer than normal, and seemed… excited, almost. I wondered what was going on, but dismissed the question as soon as I thought of it.

“I hope she feels better soon.” I murmured, making plans to visit the next day.

Edith’s smile widened. “I’m sure she will.”

__________________________________

I had never gotten a chance to visit her after the engagement had been broken, but I remembered hearing that it had taken her quite a few days to recover.

Of course… it might have all been an excuse to avoid me after her son broke our engagement.

Even as that dark thought crossed my mind, I handed her the tea. If she truly did get sick in the past life, maybe the tea would help, and if not… well, the tea wouldn’t hurt.

Queen Amerande took the tea, looking slightly confused. “You know, I must look more sick than I realized. I feel fine, but this is the second time someone has given me tea today.”

That caught my attention, “Someone else brought you tea?”

“Yes, your friend Edith brought me some tea leaves earlier today. She said it would help ‘calm my nerves.’” She shrugged. “I wasn’t feeling stressed, but since she was a close friend of yours I was planning on trying it tonight to be polite. But now I’m afraid I won’t.” She clutched the tea I had handed her, looking extremely happy. “My daughter gave me something better so of course I have to use that instead!”

Dancing around, you would have thought I had given her jewels or gold rather than a simple bag of died leaves. “It will be the best tea I’ve ever had!”

I laughed at that. “You haven’t even tried it yet!”

“You gave it to me! So it’s the best!” She pretended to frown for a moment and then gave me a hug.

I hugged her back, and then made my goodbyes, preparing to leave. The Queen stopped me, handing me a different tea bag. “Here. This is the tea Edith gave me. It’s not the most polite thing I’ve ever done, but I don’t really drink medicinal tea all that often.” She grinned. “Unless of course it’s been given to me by family. You’ve had a lot going on lately, though, so maybe it can help with your stress.”

Shrugging, I took the bag. I would likely throw it away, I wasn’t very eager to try anything from Edith. I was curious that she had made the trip up earlier without me to see the queen, but on closer thought, it made sense. Edith was going to be engaged to the prince soon. She was probably trying to make a good impression on her future mother in law.

It was funny… I had no issues with the thought of her marrying Ronan, my fiancé… but the idea of her being Queen Amerande’s daughter in law made me want to scream in frustration.

I must just be tired.

__________________________________

I headed home, feeling determined. Tomorrow was the day I had been preparing for ever since I had been reborn. So much was different, but still this day always had loomed ahead, a reminder of the terrible ending I had once faced.

It would be different this time.

I was different this time.

I was ready.

#writing #i can't eat love #second life #fantasy #didn't want to stay in the first three yea

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shainlov · 5 years ago

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New Years Exchange!!!

@the-sociopathic-jacket I was your gifter! And this is... longer than it was supposed to, I’m so sorry.

Nemuri never forgave herself, but life moves on.

A year before Midnight joined UA staff, she had a difficult case including her family members that no hero should've go through but it’s just such a common trope.

Nemuri Kayama was forever convinced that the case of Sosuke’s killer was going to forever stay her hardest one. Even five years later, she still grieved the boy she didn’t know until a few brief moments before his demise.

If she were to guess when it all began, it would be when she got involved in the case. Though… Sosuke’s... parents would point at her pathetic hero career and shout that it was then when she went to the hero school when she started... she doomed Sosuke to death... because anyone else would’ve done a better job and saved him.

If she never went to the hero school, Sosuke would’ve never attracted the attention of that villain. Or any villain at all.

If she were a smarter woman, a braver-- If not for her incompetence he'd… well, either way, she’s never been the same.

Kayama saw horrible things, but the death of the young boy taken it’s greatest hit on her yet.

She couldn’t bear the guilt alone... she was very bad at handling her feelings on her own. She depended on people to help her to take care of herself when she was at her worst.

Of course, those people weren’t either Present Mic or Eraserhead, they barely held their emotional baggage. It was her wife who helped her through awful episodes each time.

Midnight was ever so slightly jealously looking at a monitor, watching a disgustingly romantic scene playing out between Ms. Joke and Eraserhead - it was the origin of Emi’s “marry me” joke that she repeated endlessly tormenting both Nemuri and Shouta with.

Both of her... friends were very good actors - convincing enough to make Midnight envious, even a little worried about whether they were genuine. She had to pinch herself to calm down and tell herself that Aizawa Shouta was gay. A few times.

Shouta would never answer to the advances of a person he wasn’t attracted to. Shouta would never try to hurt Nemuri either - hell, he asked many times if she was alright with his part in the operation because he knew of her silly crush.

Other than three of them at the scene, there were also two other underground heroes and a nearby police station on alert, waiting tensely for a signal. One of the extra teammates was inside the bar as an immediate back-up, while Midnight was waiting outside with the other guy. Shouta said he's never seen either of them before. It made Midnight wonder about how big the Underground Agency was.

That’s when Nemuri’s mobile meant for hero-related stuff rang. Excusing herself, she stepped out of the van, gladly distracting herself from the monitors.

“Lovely," She murmured to herself, "who’s this?” She answered in her "Midnight" voice, she didn’t recognize the number. Her fans liked to get her phone number from her agency’s site and call her. Some were sweet, while others just plain creepy.

“Mistress Midnight,” The voice on the other end of the line striked her immediately as someone dangerous. She was pretty good at reading people based off of their voice alone. Nobody in her agency had this voice and only those people addressed her as Mistress. “I’d suggest you come to your office quickly and pick it up, you have a very important message there." The person sounded almost giddy, like a little child who got a treat, or rather, in this situation, left someone a treat and wanted to see their reaction to it. With years of hero training and experience, she formed a suspect’s profile. "Time is extendable, but I don’t have forever.” This could be another freaky fan, but her gut was giving her especially bad vibe. “Ah, and don’t worry, we’re going to meet soon.”

Kayama was confused as to what the hell was that supposed to mean, but for now, she returned to the van. She was still on her mission and she had to keep the watch in case of Shouta and Emi requesting a back-up. Stepping back into the van, she bumped into the underground hero guy.

He shouted at her to get out there and "do her thing" because the operation was going to shit.

Alright then.

Nemuri counted herself as a part of the case ever since the villain called her phone which led her... home. The home of a naive pretty little girl who grew too fond of heroes and aspired to become like them.

Which resulted in the pretty little girl getting kicked out.

At 4 AM, about five hours after apprehending the villain gang and sending them into jail, Nemuri was sitting in her office.

Her leg bouncing as she looked at her phone. She had only a few saved numbers - only people she trusted were there, but there was an exception. There were two numbers saved of people she didn't trust one bit, and the missed calls came from them.

Back then, the agency building was her only home - she had a side room off of her big office - where she lived. Her office was modest, the only pieces of furniture were a desk, three leather armchairs, and her chair on wheels. The walls were covered praising articles and her posters, and also a sue for "too revealing outfit". She won that lawsuit by saying that the costume-regulation laws weren't established yet. They served as amusement for her bad mood.

In her desk's drawer, there were letters from her fans, police officers, some secret admirers and not-so-secret ones. She never responded because of her brand, and the other reason was... well, she was irreversibly lesbian. Male advances flattered her, but she wasn't interested.

"Hard to get" was helping her to sell more merchandise.

Below that drawer, she held some private things - like embarrassing photos of her cousins and aunts - and her identification documents. Only a small fraction though, she knew how things could get messy, and the most important stuff were kept in the side room, where she was the sole person who had access. It was relatively small and consisted of a pull-out couch and a wardrobe, and a small kitchen, and it connected to a bathroom with a shower and bathtub.

She used the shower at around 1 AM and ever since has been sitting motionlessly only changing the object that she was blankly staring at. The leather armchair in her office already dried from the water her wet tangled hair left.

Two notifications read:

You have missed 4 call(s) from Father

You have missed 17 call(s) from Mother

...and Midnight was… puzzled.

What was she supposed to do? The Kayamas have disowned her ages ago! What could’ve they wanted from her? They had everything! She was their disappointment! Her parents disowned her when she got into the hero school because she didn't want to play "status", and "power", and "house".

She disobeyed and went against what her parents thought was best for her. What was she even to them after all? A doll? They've married out of love and she was supposed to be sold? What's fair in that?

Pretty face, no brains and talented at dress-up games - that's what she started as. She still had little to no brain, but she wasn't useless anymore.

Surely, there was no emotional attachment to her. After all, they threw her out of her--their home. Well, not officially, and since that wasn't legal and they didn't want to be labeled as child abusers by abandoning her, they got her an apartment, moved her things and paid for it until she was 21.

She got her act together, unlocked the phone to look at dozens of missed texts.

Most of them were demanding to call back as soon as possible. When that list ended, she noticed the gap between this flood of texts and the last ones she sent them on New Year’s Eve back when she was 22 and hoped that she could fix their relationship... somehow.

So, not minding the hour, she called. It took two attempts - each to different parent - before Mother picked up. Her voice sounded… weary.

“Hello?”

“What happened?” Midnight didn’t quite sit well with the fact she was talking to her parents after promising herself to not look back.

“Nemuri?” The surprise in the woman’s voice that answered the phone was no wonder - she didn’t hear Nemuri’s voice for straight-up over ten years.

“Yeah. Why were you calling me?”

“Well… it’s about Sosuke, yo-- my son.” Nemuri flinched at that.

Of course, her parents wouldn’t know about her being aware of who Sosuke Kayama was. Her mother didn’t tell her she was pregnant, she officially hasn’t met him, she never talked with him. Nemuri was disowned sixteen years ago, and Sosuke was fourteen.

When she heard her mother went into labor, she sneaked into the hospital to greet her replacement and wish him good luck, but after that, she didn’t make any effort to contact him.

“What about him?” She kept her voice flat.

“He’s been kidnapped and it’s your fault.” Kayama Saori’s voice was sweet in her perfume commercials, but now it made Nemuri want to throw up. She leaned forward with her ear pressed to the phone. The heroine didn’t know whether she wanted to start apologizing or to throw the phone yelling that it wasn’t her fault.

“It’s not. Did you call to send me hate mail?” For the first few moments, it didn’t reach Nemuri that she was talking about a kidnapping over a phone. She never came to accept that her mother and father rejected her. So now, thoughts processed slower than usual.

“They want you to be the one to find him. You HAVE TO do this.”

“They?” Nemuri frowned, slightly surprised her mother hasn’t broken into wails yet. That was unusual…

“Yes. Whoever did this.”

It’s a game then?

Midnight bit at her thumb frustrated. Her little brother-- Sosuke was in danger because of her hero career? Was that true?

“I’ll call the police to question you, I am not a detective.” She said simply going for the disconnect button.

“No police or else he will be killed. Hurry.” Her mother hissed before she hung up. That left Nemuri frozen in her seat. So it was because of her.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21848440

#midjoke #midnight x ms joke #bnha #bnha new years exchange #the gift #uwu

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1-1snailxd-art · 5 years ago

Text

Libraries are for Meetings

Master List —– Chapter 7

Chapter 8 - Heart-Eyes in the Library

Warnings: homophobia, negative thoughts, swearing, blackmail

Summary: It is nice to talk and feel safe with the people in your company, but cuddles are even better.

Word count: 2967

Note: reading on mobile can remove the paragraphing sometimes. Use desktop site or visit my Ao3 page if it bothers you as much as it bothers me.

________________________

Beginning Note: So, the initial timeline is gonna jump around a little bit because I am a little stoopid and posted the last chapter with an ending that I actually didn’t want to have there. So sorry about that little mess up.

________________________

As Logan finished his story, the pair stepped through the library’s front doors and Virgil absently continued to walk towards his office; Logan now silently following. It wasn’t until the office door was safely closed that Virgil remembered how to breathe.

“What happened to the guys that beat you up?” He questioned, taking a seat at the messier end of the table. “Were they at least charged or something?”

Logan let out a long sigh as he sat at the opposite end.

“Unfortunately, no. We all walked away with warnings and nothing more and I was not in a position to take the matter further. It was safer that way.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“It may have been the first, but sadly it wasn’t, and won’t be, the last.” Removing his glasses, Logan retrieved a cleaning cloth from his bag and started cleaning them for a distraction. “Not everyone is accepting of my identity. I don’t think I ever would have accepted myself without seeing how strong Patton and Jason were in the face of discrimination and ignorance.”

Virgil stared at the floor, thinking of all the times he had stood by and watched someone be beaten. The cries for help he ignored. The discussions he’d listen to in silence as hate was voiced and the suggested actions that he never attempted to stop.

He was part of the problem. He was just as bad as the people that beat Logan. He was a disgusting excuse for a human and didn’t deserve any of Logan’s kindness for the things he had done.

“Virgil?” Logan stood and moved towards the younger man; head snapping up suddenly at his name. “Are you alright? You’ve gone quite pale.”

Virgil struggled to swallow, mouth dry and heart racing. “What? Oh, I’m fine. Just - um - I-I-I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Logan kneeled before the other, brows knitted in confusion and concern.

“I dunno,” he shrugged and shifted in his chair, “existing. Making you relive that. Wasting your time. Take your pick.”

A firm, but gentle, hand gripped his shoulder and Virgil looked up to meet Logan’s eyes.

“I may not be able to fully comprehend what has triggered that line of thinking, but I assure you it is untrue. I rather enjoy your company, Virgil, and while sharing my story is…painful, to some degree; it is also freeing to be able to share it.”

“You…enjoy my company?”

“Affirmative. Do you enjoy mine?” Colour returned to Virgil’s cheeks and he nodded. “I am glad to hear that. Thank you, Virgil.”

“No. I haven’t done-“

“You’ve made this week more tolerable and - well, I was wondering if - um. Would you…” Virgil watched as the other man appeared almost nervous; glancing down before looking back up again. “Would you be interested in hanging out tomorrow?”

“Oh - um - I -“ Logan’s hand was suddenly off Virgil’s shoulder and he fidgeted with his clothes as he found himself suddenly afraid of his response. “… I was going to do some work, but I guess I-.”

Logan sighed and felt himself relax slightly. “If it helps, I have this hard drive of personal images that I am desperate to see, and Patton’s laptop won’t read it. I would happily pay you for your services if you are able to offer them.”

“I…” The dark thoughts swirled through his head again, but Virgil mentally shoved them aside as hard as he could. “Lunch would be great. Will you bring your things out somewhere or do you want me to come over?”

“If you wouldn’t mind coming over, that would be great. I have a lecture until 11:30; so, if you meet me near the labs, we can pick something up on the way to my place.”

“Fine with me. I should, um... I've got some stuff to organise in here before my shift starts.”

"Right, yes, of course." the pair slowly stood; Logan backing towards the door. "I shall see you tomorrow then."

"For sure."

Virgil watched them walk away as he turned to his mess of a desk, smiling to himself. Logan headed out toward the main desk to see Katie; thankful Virgil accepted his offer. It would be nice to break up his day before the meeting in the library and he felt so much lighter since opening up to the dark eyed librarian.

"How's it going, heart eyes?" Katie teased.

“Funny,” Logan mused, folding his arms across his chest. “Get it all out of your system now.”

Beaming, Katie stood and started making large dramatic gestures with her body and arms as she spoke. “You look so cute together. Have you seen how red your faces are? They could pick up your blush from a camera in space. I can’t wait to receive my ‘best wing woman’ trophy. Be sure to thank me at your inevitable wedding. If I’m not the maid of honour, I will riot.”

“Are you done?”

“For now.” She raised an eyebrow, “care to rebut?”

“My pleasure.” Perching himself on the desks edge, Logan crossed his legs and fixed Katie with a knowing look. “While I’m sure we do come across as an aesthetically pleasing pair, he has yet to confirm his romantic attractions and I am yet to confirm my own identity with him. While I will not deny some ‘feelings’ towards him; it is far too soon to be making judgements on our potential future relationship status. Considering Jason and I knew each other for over a year before we officially entered our relationship, it would be foolish of you to assume I would enter a relationship with someone I’ve only known for a couple of days.”

“Oh, I know.” Katie smirked and ruffled Logan’s hair as she walked around the other side of the desk. “I just like watching your cheeks redden like a child caught with their hand in a cookie jar.”

“You’re confusing me with Patton again.” He grumbled, combing his fingers through his hair and following Katie to the kitchen.

“You like cookies just as much as him and don’t you dare try and deny it.” Grabbing down three mugs, Katie set to work making two coffees and a tea for herself. “On a slightly heavier note, are you still okay with tomorrow evenings meeting?”

“I’ve kept my evening schedule clear, though my morning is very much booked.”

“Meeting Virgil again huh?”

“Wha-How did you-” Logan stammered.

“I didn’t, but I do now,” she giggled; presenting two mugs to Logan. “Take one to Virgil would you and can you remind him about the meeting tomorrow, I’ve gotta start shutting the computers down for the afternoon.”

“You’re really pushing this aren’t you?”

“You’ll thank me later.” Katie called, and walked off to the computer room with her tea in hand.

Virgil had made quick work of his office clean; only the gaming system remained on the table, just waiting to be boxed up and sold on. He was just sealing a small container of wires when he heard a soft knock on the door. It was odd to find Logan there, and he was a little taken aback.

“Logan? What are you doing?”

“Katie made you coffee,” he offered the mug which Virgil gladly accepted, “and asked me to remind you about tomorrow evening”

“Yeah, I saw the library was booked for some meeting. I’m gonna start cleaning earlier so I can get out of the way.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Logan assured,” we wouldn’t be offended by your presence.”

“What do you mean?”

“We call it a meeting, but it’s more of an indoor picnic. Jason used to organise them with needy groups once a month. After he passed, Katie started them as a way to, I guess, reconnect. We haven’t had one in a while though.”

“It can be tough, at times, when it comes to connecting with people after a trauma.”

Virgil’s eyes widened as he stared at his coffee, the words of his former therapist slipping from his mouth before he even realised. Quickly pulling the coffee to his lips, he hoped Logan didn’t freak out over the comment; which is why the breathy laugh shocked him so much. Logan was genuinely lost for words for a moment, but he finally composed himself and nodded.

“That… is a very wise sentiment, Virgil. It sounds like you have some experience in that area.”

Fingers drumming on the side of his mug, Virgil moved to leave the office. “Yeah, well, nothing like what - um - you experienced, but I have my fair share of shadows in my past.”

“Well I’m glad you are able to connect now,” Logan beamed, following the cautious other to the kitchen to clean his surprisingly empty mug.

“I-“ Virgil looked at Logan’s face, a comforting feeling sitting on his chest and shielding him from his usual self-hate. “I’m glad I am too.”

A high-toned ringing caused them both to jump and Logan rifled through his bag to find his phone blaring an alarm. He silenced it before reading the reminder to go get groceries for dinner.

“I’m sorry about that, but I need to get going.” Virgil took the mug from his hands and he nodded gratefully. “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow. 11:30 at the science building?”

“I’ll be there.”

With a final wave, Logan headed out of the library; pausing briefly at the front desk to scribble a smiley face on a post-it note for Katie.

Twenty minutes later, Katie had locked the front door and was pulling Virgil’s headphones off his head before he could start vacuuming.

“What you need, Reels?” He questioned, leaning against the vacuum handle.

“Nothing, just checking in.” Her voice raised in pitch and she rocked on her feet like a child asking her parents for a pony. “So, how’d it go with Lo-gaaan?”

Virgil rolled his eyes with a groan, “I’m going to do some more computer work with him tomorrow. Happy?”

“Are you?”

The question stirred something in Virgil, and his eyes shifted as he considered it in its entirety. When he was with Logan, the voices of his past were at their loudest, but he also managed to silence them much faster. A genuine smile spread across his face as he finally nodded, meeting Katie’s eyes.

“Yeah. I think I am.”

“Then so am I. Catch you tomorrow afternoon.”

Waving, Virgil returned his headphones to his ears before starting the vacuum cleaner up. The action was soothing and gave him plenty of time to reflect on the week’s events. So much had happened in such a short period of time, and his thoughts and emotions had been on overdrive. Roman had revealed himself to be a reasonable soul, dating the most selfless man Virgil had ever come across. He learnt that Ethan and Ellie were the same person and gender was a lot less black and white than he had believed. Jason had become a name connected to a face with a story he still didn’t quite understand, but Virgil knew he was the keystone to the whole group. And then there was Logan. Passionate and professional Logan. He couldn’t deny the smile on his face as he pictured them; squared glasses, dress shirt, tie, combed hair, pleasant smile.

“… disgusting...” … “…unnatural…” … “What? Are you a faggot too?” … “if you dare mention him to me again, you can forget about living.”

The spray bottle of disinfectant slipped from Virgil’s shaking hands and split on impact with the ground; the solution slowly seeping into the carpet beneath the main desk. Breathing seemed impossible as memories overpowered his thoughts; yelling, insults, cries of pain, screams of distress, blood and the flashing of emergency lights. The library faded to black as Virgil lost all connection with his surroundings.

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

The bus stopped at the top of the street and Patton quickly hurried down the path toward the unit complex. Rows of two-story town houses pressed close together, creating a wall of buildings housing other young studiers taking advantage of the cheap rent and small yard maintenance rates. Reaching the building at the end, Patton slid his key into the lock and felt a wave of relief rush over him as he stepped into their apartment. A pleasant spice smell filled his nostrils the moment he entered; a clear indication that Logan was already busy preparing dinner in the kitchen. Leaving his bags at the door, Patton turned straight into the kitchen and walked right into Logan’s waiting arms for a hug.

“That smells so good, Logie.”

“Your timing is impeccable. Everything is ready to be served, you just need to select the entertainment for the evening.”

Practically vibrating with excitement, Patton rushed around to the TV and started scrolling through their options while Logan set to serving the stir-fry. After placing their plates on the table, Logan returned to the kitchen to split the leftovers into plastic containers.

“Who’s the third one for?” Patton questioned, looking at the three containers Logan had set out.

“No one. I just made too much is all and thought a third container was necessary.”

Patton was not convinced, leaning on the breakfast bar with a knowing grin. “You never misjudge serving sizes. You made some for Virgil, didn’t you?”

“I do make mistakes sometimes, Patton,” Logan assured, quickly rinsing his utensils and setting them beside the sink for washing later. “But should Virgil be interested; I see no harm in sharing our leftovers with him.”

“Sure,” a wink and click of his tongue confirmed that Patton didn’t believe a word of what Logan said, but he turned to sit at the table as an animal documentary started playing on the TV.

Dinner went by with a few laughs and flushed cheeks as the pair discussed their days apart. Logan admitted that he did indeed find Virgil to be pleasant company and a rather surprising positive to come from a shattered laptop. This made Patton feel much better and more willing to confess he rather enjoyed his evenings with Roman. A raised eyebrow, coupled with a smirk, from the science major had Patton glowing like a ripe tomato.

“Pulled those brakes off real fast, Pat. I’m surprised at you.”

“No no no.” Patton waved his arms, but his face only turned redder, “it wasn’t like that. We just - um - He didn’t - I mean, I didn’t - it just… happened.”

Shoving his hands in his lap, Patton pouted in embarrassment while his friend laughed and nudged his shoulder as he carried their empty plates to the kitchen.

“I’m only teasing you, Patton. You know I hold no judgement over what you and Roman do in your spare time.” Patton hummed in agreement and rose from his position to join Logan in the kitchen; wrapping his arms around his friend’s waist and resting his head on their back while they started the dishes. “Was it worth the wait?”

Eyes closing, Patton sighed and recalled his afternoon. “Absolutely.”

Logan smiled and continued his task with Patton holding on to him like a baby koala. Since moving cities, Patton had jumped between multiple relationships; rarely ending pleasantly or being paced at all. The man had so much love to give and was all too willing to give it; often to his own detriment. It seemed Patton had finally decided to take the singles road when Roman asked him out and it turned out to be the best thing that could have happened, and the first relationship the man had taken seriously enough to pace himself. It warmed Logan’s heart to finally see his friend have a positive experience with someone. He’d had similar experience with ‘uncomfortable’ situations before realising his asexuality thanks to Jason. It had always caused him great pain to have Patton recall his experiences, and they rarely left him has happy and content as he was now.

It set a calm tone for the evening as the pair moved to the lounge room, Logan laying in the corner of their couch with Patton leaning against his chest under a soft teal blanket. When Logan woke, the tv sat on a menu screen and showed the time was after midnight. It took some careful manoeuvring, but he eventually managed to slide out from beneath Patton. Sliding the glasses off Patton’s face, the sleeping man stirred and blinked groggily up at his friend.

“Yours or mine,” Logan whispered, bending to scoop his tired friend up.

Wrapping his arms around Logan’s neck, Patton mumbled into his ear and Logan smiled; carefully making his way to his already turned down bed.

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

Virgil couldn’t remember if he fell asleep or passed out, but he woke up under the main desk; morning alarm vibrating in his pocket and the strong scent of disinfectant still in the air. Groaning, he slowly sat up and rubbed at his pounding head. Groggily grabbing his phone to silence the alarm he noticed multiple messages had come through during the night.

Ben: I got some friends over and Im feeling a little loose

Ben: Im gonna to need something to keep these lips closed

Ben: Another 20 should keep em shut

Ben: Your silence wont get my silence

Ben: Youv made a mistake now

Ben: price has gone up again dip shit. I’ll call tomorrow with your new figures. You better answer or I’m tearing this contract up and going straight to that library of yours.

Virgil: *seen*

Suddenly wide awake, Virgil was off the ground and racing to prepare for the day. He would need to get a decent amount of money to calm Ben down now, and only one gaming console to sell. Friday was set to be one heck of a day.

________________________

End Note

Hey, so this was the crazy chapter that wasn’t meant to be. I messed up the timeline in my last upload (well done past me) and then my computer had a melt down and deleted most of this chapter 😭 Thankfully, I was able to run a recovery and saved a lot of stuff I thought I had lost (Look at me being all Virgil like).

Anyway, I’ve got E planned to make a return next chapter and give a little more insight into how they feel about everything. It’s something I have been looking forward to exploring since I introduced them, and I feel like some of the dots should start getting connected now.

Hope you are still enjoying the story. Please let me know your thoughts; I’d love to read them. Happy timezone to you all 💜🐌

On a personal note: Flu seems to have finally moved on (yay), but I may not have a job in the same place next year (boo) and my boss hasn’t really given me a clear list of options (I thought being permanent meant I had more security than when I was on a contract, but whatever).

_____________________________

Chapter 9 — MasterList

What else have I done:

The Perfect Ring (oneshot - analogical proposal)

You Promised (oneshot - prinxiety angst/injury/near death)

Sides of a Hero (Completed Fic - sides are fusions of impulses and aspects of Thomas. Virgil has a depressing past that he is forced to face thanks to Deceit and Rage. Was canon compliant at the time of completion)

The Shield to your Sword (WIP - A fantasy/magic au - Prinxiety (Royal Roman and orphan Virgil - they’ll admit to their love eventually), Virgil angst, non binary, healer Logan, *spoiler* Patton)

Check out my other blog for random fandom reblogs and stuff @snail-giggles

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toreii · 6 years ago

Text

Last night, I was looking at my bookmarked websites on my ipad. One of them is this site I use for my research on Mitsuhide. It’s provided me with insight on him in real life with tidbits like this:

Of course, I verify the validity of what I read. Any time I come across something of interest, I do a quick Google search and see if I can pull up information on my own. About this hiking course:

There’s a map! You can read all about it here: Source

And if you haven’t read Mitsuhide’s poem, check it out:

Source

Apparently, Mitsuhide was quite the poet and I’m wondering if more of his work exists somewhere out there. Not to mention, he was a very educated man. However, I did read somewhere that not many people liked him because of this. He seemed to be a “know-it-all” type of person, and that may have alienated him with others and made him seem hard to approach. I just think Mitsuhide was pretty woke for his time and in his own way. Which you can kind of see with IkeSen!Mitsuhide. He doesn’t quite exactly follow the status quo. Mitsuhide seems to have his own agenda while serving Nobunaga.

While most remember Mitsuhide as a historical traitor, there are still people and places that honor him and his contributions to his people. Mitsuhide is credited with developing the city of Fukuchiyama and its castle.

I took a nice little “tour” of the city by downloading the pamplet online which I can no longer find. But, I did manage to find the city’s official website full of information regarding Mitsuhide and his contributions: Source

This is another story I looked into, and from the same site where I read Mitsuhide’s poem, there was a time where his wife sold her hair to make ends meet.

I know I’ve expressed my disdain for this man, but looking into his life has proven to be entertaining. I had no idea that there were more shrines dedicated to Mitsuhide. For the longest time, I only knew of one, but in researching Mitsuhide, I have come across three more. There’s still so much we have yet to gleam from Mitsuhide in real life. He died taking some very important secrets with him, too. However, what little we do know paints a small picture of what he was like.

And if this family rules/code exists anywhere, I would love to read it! Please! I have yet to find it myself.😆

In any case, I sometimes come to this site to draw inspiration from the real Mitsuhide Akechi so that I can write my stories. Just the other day, I was looking at pictures of Nobunaga’s statues and graves. One day, I swear, I will bring them their flowers. If you’re interested in reading about 150 pages on Mitsuhide, you can do so at this site: Source

I can’t honestly remember how I came across this site, and as I said before, some information repeats itself or is completely unrelated. Still, it’s been quite informative.

#toreishi speaks #personal #information #research #mitsuhide akechi #not ikesen related #lets talk history #there’s so much i want to share #too bad about the post limit

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96thdayofrage · 5 years ago

Text

Slavery’s denial of rights now prefigured Jim Crow, while enslaved people’s resistance predicted the collective self-assertion that developed into first the civil rights movement and later, Black Power.

But perhaps the changes were not so great as they seemed on the surface. The focus on showing African Americans as assertive rebels, for instance, implied an uncomfortable corollary. If one should be impressed by those who rebelled, because they resisted, one should not be proud of those who did not. And there were very few rebellions in the history of slavery in the United States. Some scholars tried to backfill against this quandary by arguing that all African Americans together created a culture of resistance, especially in slave quarters and other spaces outside of white observation. Yet the insistence that assertive resistance undermined enslavers’ power, and a focus on the development of an independent black culture, led some to believe that enslaved people actually managed to prevent whites from successfully exploiting their labor. This idea, in turn, created a quasi-symmetry with post– Civil War plantation memoirs that portrayed gentle masters, who maintained slavery as a nonprofit endeavor aimed at civilizing Africans.

Thus, even after historians of the civil rights, Black Power, and multicultural eras rewrote segregationists’ stories about gentlemen and belles and grateful darkies, historians were still telling the half that has ever been told. For some fundamental assumptions about the history of slavery and the history of the United States remain strangely unchanged. The first major assumption is that, as an economic system—a way of producing and trading commodities—American slavery was fundamentally different from the rest of the modern economy and separate from it. Stories about industrialization emphasize white immigrants and clever inventors, but they leave out cotton fields and slave labor. This perspective implies not only that slavery didn’t change, but that slavery and enslaved African Americans had little long-term influence on the rise of the United States during the nineteenth century, a period in which the nation went from being a minor European trading partner to becoming the world’s largest economy—one of the central stories of American history.

The second major assumption is that slavery in the United States was fundamentally in contradiction with the political and economic systems of the liberal republic, and that inevitably that contradiction would be resolved in favor of the free-labor North. Sooner or later, slavery would have ended by the operation of historical forces; thus, slavery is a story without suspense. And a story with a predetermined outcome isn’t a story at all.

Third, the worst thing about slavery as an experience, one is told, was that it denied enslaved African Americans the liberal rights and liberal subjectivity of modern citizens. It did those things as a matter of course, and as injustice, that denial ranks with the greatest in modern history. But slavery also killed people, in large numbers. From those who survived, it stole everything. Yet the massive and cruel engineering required to rip a million people from their homes, brutally drive them to new, disease-ridden places, and make them live in terror and hunger as they continually built and rebuilt a commodity-generating empire—this vanished in the story of a slavery that was supposedly focused primarily not on producing profit but on maintaining its status as a quasi-feudal elite, or producing modern ideas about race in order to maintain white unity and elite power. And once the violence of slavery was minimized, another voice could whisper, saying that African Americans, both before and after emancipation, were denied the rights of citizens because they would not fight for them.

All these assumptions lead to still more implications, ones that shape attitudes, identities, and debates about policy. If slavery was outside of US history, for instance—if indeed it was a drag and not a rocket booster to American economic growth—then slavery was not implicated in US growth, success, power, and wealth. Therefore none of the massive quantities of wealth and treasure piled by that economic growth is owed to African Americans. Ideas about slavery’s history determine the ways in which Americans hope to resolve the long contradiction between the claims of the United States to be a nation of freedom and opportunity, on the one hand, and, on the other, the unfreedom, the unequal treatment, and the opportunity denied that for most of American history have been the reality faced by people of African descent. Surely, if the worst thing about slavery was that it denied African Americans the liberal rights of the citizen, one must merely offer them the title of citizen—even elect one of them president—to make amends. Then the issue will be put to rest forever.

Slavery’s story gets told in ways that reinforce all these assumptions. Textbooks segregate twenty-five decades of enslavement into one chapter, painting a static picture. Millions of people each year visit plantation homes where guides blather on about furniture and silverware. As sites, such homes hide the real purpose of these places, which was to make African Americans toil under the hot sun for the profit of the rest of the world. All this is the “symbolic annihilation” of enslaved people, as two scholars of those weird places put it.2 Meanwhile, at other points we tell slavery’s story by heaping praise on those who escaped it through flight or death in rebellion, leaving the listener to wonder if those who didn’t flee or die somehow “accepted” slavery. And everyone who teaches about slavery knows a little dirty secret that reveals historians’ collective failure: many African-American students struggle with a sense of shame that most of their ancestors could not escape the suffering they experienced.

The truth can set us free, if we can find the right questions. But back in the little house in Danville, Anderson was reading from a list of leading ones, designed by white officials—some well-meaning, some not so well-meaning. He surely felt how the gravity of the questions pulled him toward the planet of plantation nostalgia. “Did slaves mind being called ‘nigger’?” “What did slaves call master or mistress?” “Have you been happier in slavery or free?” “Was the mansion house pretty?” Escaping from chains is very difficult, however, so Anderson dutifully asked the prescribed questions and poised his pencil to take notes.

Ivy listened politely. He sat still. Then he began to speak: “My mother’s master was named William Tunstall. He was a mean man. There was only one good thing he did, and I don’t reckon he intended to do that. He sold our family to my father’s master George H. Gilman.”

Perhaps the wind blowing through the window changed as a cloud moved across the spring sun: “Old Tunstall caught the ‘cotton fever.’ There was a fever going round, leastways it was like a fever. Everyone was dying to get down south and grow cotton to sell. So old Tunstall separated families right and left. He took two of my aunts and left their husbands up here, and he separated altogether seven husbands and wives. One woman had twelve children. Yessir. Took ‘em all down south with him to Georgia and Alabama.”

Pervasive separations. Tears carving lines on faces. Lorenzo remembered his relief at dodging the worst, but he also remembered knowing that it was just a lucky break. Next time it could’ve been his mother. No white person was reliable, because money drove their decisions. No, this wasn’t the story the books told.

So Anderson moved to the next question. Did Ivy know if any slaves had been sold here? Now, perhaps, the room grew darker.

For more than a century, white people in the United States had been singling out slave traders as an exception: unscrupulous lower-class outsiders who pried apart paternalist bonds. Scapegoaters had a noble precedent. In his first draft of the Declaration of Independence, Thomas Jefferson tried to blame King George III for using the Atlantic slave trade to impose slavery on the colonies. In historians’ tellings, the 1808 abolition of the Atlantic trade brought stability to slavery, ringing in the “Old South,” as it has been called since before the Civil War. Of course, one might wonder how something that was brand new, created after a revolution, and growing more rapidly than any other commodity-producing economy in history before then could be considered “old.” But never mind. Historians depicted slave trading after 1808 as irrelevant to what slavery was in the “Old South,” and to how America as a whole was shaped. America’s modernization was about entrepreneurs, creativity, invention, markets, movement, and change. Slavery was not about any of these things—not about slave trading, or moving people away from everyone they knew in order to make them make cotton. Therefore, modern America and slavery had nothing to do with each other.

But Ivy spilled out a rush of very different words. “They sold slaves here and everywhere. I’ve seen droves of Negroes brought in here on foot going South to be sold. Each one of them had an old tow sack on his back with everything he’s got in it. Over the hills they came in lines reaching as far as the eye can see. They walked in double lines chained together by twos. They walk ‘em here to the railroad and shipped ’em south like cattle.”

Then Lorenzo Ivy said this: “Truly, son, the half has never been told.”

To this, day, it still has not. For the other half is the story of how slavery changed and moved and grew over time: Lorenzo Ivy’s time, and that of his parents and grandparents. In the span of a single lifetime after the 1780s, the South grew from a narrow coastal strip of worn-out plantations to a sub-continental empire. Entrepreneurial enslavers moved more than 1 million enslaved people, by force, from the communities that survivors of the slave trade from Africa had built in the South and in the West to vast territories that were seized—also by force—from their Native American inhabitants. From

1783 at the end of the American Revolution to 1861, the number of slaves in the United States increased five times over, and all this expansion produced a powerful nation. For white enslavers were able to force enslaved African-American migrants to pick cotton faster and more efficiently than free people. Their practices rapidly transformed the southern states into the dominant force in the global cotton market, and cotton was the world’s most widely traded commodity at the time, as it was the key raw material during the first century of the industrial revolution. The returns from cotton monopoly powered the modernization of the rest of the American economy, and by the time of the Civil War, the United States had become the second nation to undergo large-scale industrialization. In fact, slavery’s expansion shaped every crucial aspect of the economy and politics of the new nation—not only increasing its power and size, but also, eventually, dividing US politics, differentiating regional identities and interests, and helping to make civil war possible.

The idea that the commodification and suffering and forced labor of African Americans is what made the United States powerful and rich is not an idea that people necessarily are happy to hear. Yet it is the truth. And that truth was the half of the story that survived mostly in the custodianship of those who survived slavery’s expansion—whether they had been taken over the hill, or left behind. Forced migration had shaped their lives, and also had shaped what they thought about their lives and the wider history in which they were enmeshed. Even as they struggled to stay alive in the midst of disruption, they created ways to talk about this half untold. But what survivors experienced, analyzed, and named was a slavery that didn’t fit the comfortable boxes into which other Americans have been trying to fit it ever since it ended.

I read Lorenzo Ivy’s words, and they left me uneasy. I sensed that the true narrative had been left out of history—not only American history in general, but even the history of slavery. I began to look actively for the other half of the story, the one about how slavery constantly grew, changed, and reshaped the modern world. Of how it was both modernizing and modern, and what that meant for the people who lived through its incredible expansion. Once I began to look, I discovered that the traces of the other half were everywhere. The debris of cotton fevers that infected white entrepreneurs and separated man and woman, parent and child, right and left, dusted every set of pre–Civil War letters, newspapers, and court documents. Most of all, the half not told ran like a layer of iridium left by a dinosaur-killing asteroid through every piece of testimony that ex-slaves, such as Lorenzo Ivy, left on the historical record: thousands of stanzas of an epic of forced separations, violence, and new kinds of labor.

For a long time I wasn’t sure how to tell the story of this muscular, dynamic process in a single book. The most difficult challenge was simply the fact that the expansion of slavery in many ways shaped the story of everything in the pre–Civil War United States. Enslavers’ surviving papers showed calculations of returns from slave sales and purchases as well as the costs of establishing new slave labor camps in the cotton states. Newspapers dripped with speculations in land and people and the commodities they produced; dramatic changes in how people made money and how much they made; and the dramatic violence that accompanied these practices. The accounts of northern merchants and bankers and factory owners showed that they invested in slavery, bought from and sold to slaveholders, and took slices of profit out of slavery’s expansion. Scholars and students talked about politics as a battle about states’ rights or republican principles, but viewed in a different light the fights can be seen as a struggle between regions about how the rewards of slavery’s expansion would be allocated and whether that expansion could continue.

The story seemed too big to fit into one framework. Even Ivy had no idea how to count the chained lines he saw going southwest toward the mountains on the horizon and the vast open spaces beyond. From the 1790s to the 1860s, enslavers moved 1 million people from the old slave states to the new. They went from making no cotton to speak of in 1790 to making almost 2 billion pounds of it in 1860. Stretching out beyond the slave South, the story encompassed not only Washington politicians and voters across the United States but also Connecticut factories, London banks, opium addicts in China, and consumers in East Africa. And could one book do Lorenzo Ivy’s insight justice? It would have to avoid the old platitudes, such as the easy temptation to tell the story as a collection of topics—here a chapter on slave resistance, there one on women and slavery, and so on. That kind of abstraction cuts the beating heart out of the story. For the half untold was a narrative, a process of movement and change and suspense. Things happened because of what had been done before them—and what people chose to do in response.

No, this had to be a story, and one couldn’t tell it solely from the perspective of powerful actors. True, politicians and planters and bankers shaped policies, the movement of people, and the growing and selling of cotton, and even remade the land itself. But when one takes Lorenzo Ivy’s words as a starting point, the whole history of the United States comes walking over the hill behind a line of people in chains. Changes that reshaped the entire world began on the auction block where enslaved migrants stood or in the frontier cotton fields where they toiled. Their individual drama was a struggle to survive. Their reward was to endure a brutal transition to new ways of labor that made them reinvent themselves every day. Enslaved people’s creativity enabled their survival, but, stolen from them in the form of ever-growing cotton productivity, their creativity also expanded the slaveholding South at an unprecedented rate. Enslaved African Americans built the modern United States, and indeed the entire modern world, in ways both obvious and hidden.

One day I found a metaphor that helped. It came from the great African-American author Ralph Ellison. You might know his novel Invisible Man. But in the 1950s, Ellison also produced incredible essays. In one of them he wrote, “On the moral level I propose we view the whole of American life as a drama enacted on the body of a Negro giant who, lying trussed up like Gulliver, forms the stage and the scene upon which and within which the action unfolds.”3

The image fit the story that Ivy’s words raised above the watery surface of buried years. The only problem was that Ellison’s image implied a stationary giant. In the old myth, the stationary, quintessentially unchanging plantation was the site and the story of African-American life from the seventeenth century to the twentieth. But Lorenzo Ivy had described a world in motion. After the American Revolution—which seemed at the time to portend slavery’s imminent demise—a metastatic transformation and growth of slavery’s giant body had begun instead. From the exploitation, commodification, and torture of enslaved people’s bodies, enslavers and other free people gained new kinds of modern power. The sweat and blood of the growing system, a network of individuals and families and labor camps that grew bigger with each passing year, fueled massive economic change. Enslaved people, meanwhile, transported and tortured, had to find ways to survive, resist, or endure. And over time the question of their freedom or bondage came to occupy the center of US politics.

This trussed-up giant, stretched out on the rack of America’s torture zone, actually grew, like a person passing through ordeals to new maturity. I have divided the chapters of this book with Ellison’s imagined giant in mind, a structure that has allowed the story to take as its center point the experience of enslaved African Americans themselves. Before we pass through the door that Lorenzo Ivy opened, here are the chapters’ names. The first is “Feet,” for the story begins with unfree movement on paths to enslaved frontiers that were laid down between the end of the American Revolution in 1783 and the early 1800s. “Heads” is the title of the second chapter, which covers America’s acquisition of the key points of the Mississippi Valley by violence, a gain that also consolidated the enslavers’ hold on the frontier. Then come the “Right Hand” and the “Left Hand” (Chapters 3 and 4). They reveal the inner secrets of enslavers’ power, secrets which made the entire world of white people wealthy.

“Tongues” (Chapter 5) and “Breath” (Chapter 6) follow. They describe how, by the mid-1820s, enslavers had not only found ways to silence the tongues of their critics, but had built a system of slave trading that served as expansion’s lungs. Most forms of resistance were impossible to carry out successfully. So a question hung in the air. Would the spirit in the tied-down body die, leaving enslaved people to live on like undead zombies serving their captors? Or would the body live, and rise? Every transported soul, finding his or her old life killed off, faced this question on the individual level as well: whether to work with fellow captives or scrabble against them in a quest for individualistic subsistence. Enslaved African Americans chose many things. But perhaps most importantly, they chose survival, and true survival in such circumstances required solidarity. Solidarity allowed them to see their common experience, to light their own way by building a critique of enslavers’ power that was an alternative story about what things were and what they meant.

This story draws on thousands of personal narratives like the one that Lorenzo Ivy told Claude Anderson. Slavery has existed in many societies, but no other population of formerly enslaved people has been able to record the testimonies of its members like those who survived slavery in the United States. The narratives began with those who escaped slavery’s expansion in the nineteenth century as fugitives. Over one hundred of those survivors published their autobiographies during the nineteenth century. As time went on, such memoirs found a market, in no small part because escapees from southern captivity were changing the minds of some of the northern whites about what the expansion of slavery meant for them. Then, during the 1930s, people like Claude Anderson conducted about 2,300 interviews with the ex-slaves who had lived into that decade. Because the interviews often allowed old people to tell about the things they had seen for themselves and the things they heard from their elders in the years before the Civil War, they take us back into the world of explanation and storytelling that grew up around fires and on porches and between cotton rows. No one autobiography or interview is pure and objective as an account of all that the history books left untold. But read them all, and each one adds to a more detailed, clearer picture of the whole. One story fills in gaps left by another, allowing one to read between the lines.4

Understanding something of what it felt like to suffer, and what it cost to endure that suffering, is crucial to understanding the course of US history. For what enslaved people made together—new ties to each other, new ways of understanding their world—had the potential to help them survive in mind and body. And ultimately, their spirit and their speaking would enable them to call new allies into being in the form of an abolitionist movement that helped to destabilize the mighty enslavers who held millions captive. But the road on which enslaved people were being driven was long. It led through the hell described by “Seed” (Chapter 7), which tells of the horrific near-decade from 1829 to 1837. In these years entrepreneurs ran wild on slavery’s frontier. Their acts created the political and economic dynamics that carried enslavers to their greatest height of power. Facing challenges from other white men who wanted to assert their masculine equality through political democracy, clever entrepreneurs found ways to leverage not just that desire, but other desires as well. With the creation of innovative financial tools, more and more of the Western world was able to invest directly in slavery’s expansion. Such creativity multiplied the incredible productivity and profitability of enslaved people’s labor and allowed enslavers to turn bodies into commodities with which they changed the financial history of the Western world.

Enslavers, along with common white voters, investors, and the enslaved, made the 1830s the hinge of US history. On one side lay the world of the industrial revolution and the initial innovations that launched the modern world. On the other lay modern America. For in 1837, enslavers’ exuberant success led to a massive economic crash. This self-inflicted devastation, covered in Chapter 8, “Blood,” posed new challenges to slaveholders’ power, led to human destruction for the enslaved, and created confusion and discord in white families. When southern political actors tried to use war with Mexico to restart their expansion, they encountered new opposition on the part of increasingly assertive northerners. As Chapter 9, “Backs,” explains, by the 1840s the North had built a complex, industrialized economy on the backs of enslaved people and their highly profitable cotton labor. Yet, although all northern whites had benefited from the deepened exploitation of enslaved people, many northern whites were now willing to use politics to oppose further expansions of slavery. The words that the survivors of slavery’s expansion had carried out from the belly of the nation’s hungriest beast had, in fact, become important tools for galvanizing that opposition.

Of course, in return for the benefits they received from slavery’s expansion, plenty of northerners were still willing to enable enslavers’ disproportionate power. With the help of such allies, as “Arms” (Chapter 10) details, slavery continued to expand in the decade after the Compromise of 1850. For now, however, it had to do so within potentially closed borders. That is why southern whites now launched an aggressive campaign of advocacy, insisting on policies and constitutional interpretations that would commit the entire United States to the further geographic expansion of slavery. The entire country would become slavery’s next frontier. And as they pressed, they generated greater resistance, pushed too hard, and tried to make their allies submit—like slaves, the allies complained. And that is how, at last, whites came to take up arms against each other.

Yet even as southern whites seceded, claiming that they would set up an independent nation, shelling Fort Sumter, and provoking the Union’s president, Abraham Lincoln, to call out 100,000 militia, many white Americans wanted to keep the stakes of this dispute as limited as possible. A majority of northern Unionists opposed emancipation. Perhaps white Americans’ battles with each other were, on one level, not driven by a contest over ideals, but over the best way to keep the stream of cotton and financial revenues flowing: keep slavery within its current borders, or allow it to consume still more geographic frontiers. But the growing roar of cannon promised others a chance to force a more dramatic decision: slavery forever, or nevermore. So it was that as Frank Baker, Townshend, and Sheppard Mallory crept across the dark James River waters that had washed so many hulls bearing human bodies, the future stood poised, uncertain between alternative paths. Yet those three men carried something powerful: the same half of the story that Lorenzo Ivy could tell. All they had learned from it would help to push the future onto a path that led to freedom. Their story can do so for us as well. To hear it, we must stand as Lorenzo Ivy had stood as a boy in Danville—watching the chained lines going over the hills, or as Frank Baker and others had stood, watching the ships going down the James from the Richmond docks, bound for the Mississippi. Then turn and go with the marching feet, and listen for the breath of the half that has never been told.

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for-gold-and-glory · 6 years ago

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Weekly Events for April 15th to April 21st

Here are some events G&G Members will be involved in during the week. Or just events that I think are really cool and you should definitely go to. If you’re interested in joining these events just show up or send a message to Aegir or Lirilith Maellan. Or join our discord: https://discord.gg/dCRSWTx ————— Monday - G&G Weekly: The Hero Drink @ 9:30pm EST - Goblet, Brimming Heart, Ward 6 Tuesday - Twin Fates Pt 4 @ 7:00pm EST - Castrum Oriens , The Fringes Tuesday - Musical Silliness at Club Crescent @ 8:30pm EST - W18, P5 Wednesday - Severance, Part 3: The Palace of Spring @ 9:30pm EST - Namai, Yanxia Thursday - The Curious Case of X-51 @ 7:00pm EST - Goblet W6, P5 Friday - Knights of the Oasis: All In the Family - @ 8:30pm EST - Little Ala Mhigo Saturday - Twelvewood Healing Clinic @ 4:00 - 5:30pm EST - Botanist Guild, Old Gridania Saturday - Eorzea!Beat Rave Party @ 8:00pm EST - Goblet W6, P5, Basement Sunday - Day at the Races @ 5:30pm EST - The Gold Saucer Sunday - Garlean Weekly: Welcome to STELLA, a whole New World @ 8:00pm EST - TBA ————— Event Status Guide: * Open, come join us = anyone who reads this is welcome to come join the RP! * Open, please check the link = used for fun events run by other people, its an open event, but check the link to see if there are any special instructions * Semi-Open = anyone who reads this can still join the RP, but contact the GM first so they can introduce you to the plot * Open to “X” = open to anyone who plays a character that fits “X” (usually Garleans), new members and alt friendly * Closed = rarely seen, but used sometimes if the event is not accepting new members, usually for plot reasons

Monday - G&G Weekly: The Hero Drink @ 9:30pm EST - Goblet, Brimming Heart, Ward 6 http://for-gold-and-glory.tumblr.com/post/184214156690/the-hero-drink-930pm-est-goblet-brimming - Congratulations! You have been selected (”selected”) to test an exciting new product from the Crawford Coin & Chemical Hero Returns Collection! Introducing HD-764-V022, the Hero Drink! This prototype honey flavored energy booster (allegedly) enhances ALL levels of performance, specifically strength, stamina, and wound regeneration! You will be the very FIRST lucky adventurers to test out the limits (and side effects) of this wonderful product, under the careful supervision of Crawford Coin & Chemical alchemists. OOC: This is a fun, light hearted sparring event where each participant will get to try out the effects of a prototype hero drink: a potion that increases all of their abilities, especially their ability to take damage. This event is designed to let people go completely HAM in combat without worrying about seriously injuring their opponents. Let’s keep things light hearted and fun. Status: Open RP, come join us! System: Grindstone System, first three hits wins the experiment Genre: Sparring, Comedy GM: Aegir Tuesday - Twin Fates Pt 4 @ 7:00pm EST - Castrum Oriens , The Fringes - The time has come, the hour is at hand. The adventurer's have learned of the main base of operations for the Burning Leaves... And it's right in the fringes. It's time to end this once and for all! Status: Open RP, please join us! Genre: Adventure/Investigation GM: Aedwen Tyrer Wednesday - Severance, Part 3: The Palace of Spring @ 9:30pm EST - Namai, Yanxia - Kazumi's quest continues. Despite a rather dramatic showing for her companions on the last few adventures, it seems that most are, if not trying to help her, at least trying to deal with the trail of corruption that continually turns up at these ancient Yanxian sites. With the scroll from Gensuiji Temple guiding them and the incensory of King Ganen to open the way, it seems that the mysterious Spring Palace is open. But what horrors await them inside..? Thursday - The Curious Case of X-51 @ 7:00pm EST - Goblet W6, P5 - A new adventure begins! A strange visitor has arrived at the company house... With an equally strange request. Status: Open RP, please join us! Genre: Adventure GM: Aedwen Tyrer Friday - Knights of the Oasis: All In the Family - @ 8:30pm EST - Little Ala Mhigo - The Knights are hired by an Ul'dahn crime lord, under the pretense of bringing back an old comrade's son back. What the Knights don't know is that it is a ploy they're normally good aligned senses have fallen for. Will they still be able to save the day, or will a son pay for his father's crimes? Status: The Knights of Oasis is a group of primarily dark knights who are dedicated to helping people in need who can’t afford to hire adventurers. You don’t have to be a dark knight to join though, you just need a good heart! Everyone is welcome, join us! Genre: Action/Adventure GM: Dato Koelklin Saturday - Twelvewood Healing Clinic @ 4:00 - 5:30pm EST - Botanist Guild, Old Gridania http://for-gold-and-glory.tumblr.com/post/184228892910/balmung-twelveswood-healinc-clinic-april-20th - Recreational medicinal healing products to be sold. Status: Open Shop, join us! Genre: Shop, Comedy GM: Aegir Saturday - Eorzea!Beat Rave Party @ 8:00pm EST - Goblet W6, P5, Basement http://for-gold-and-glory.tumblr.com/post/184212217735/for-gold-and-glory-for-gold-and-glory - Welcome to an all night rave inspired by the wonderful orchestrations created by Thavnairian entertainment mogul Gylbwynsyn Disney! Deep in the bowels of the Gold & Glory, the floors have been converted to look like Disney’s Main Street Electrical Parade, only with much more wub-wub-wub! Join DJ P0Mander, DJ Imperial Skillz (AV3P0M) and DJ Carvion the most magical night on Hydaelyn, 4/20! Status: Open Rp, please join us! Genre: Dance, Performance GM: Aegir Sunday - Day at the Races @ 5:30pm EST - The Gold Saucer - It’s an exciting day at the races for the Gold & Glory as Anthony coaxes the adventurers to come gambling with him. This has nothing at all to do with a current promotional tie-in running in the Gold Saucer. Kweh-kweh, wark, wark. Status: IC excuse to rank up our racing chocobos, come join us! Genre: Racing GM: Bragi Odinson Sunday - Garlean Weekly: Welcome to STELLA, a whole New World Pt 1 @ 8:00pm EST - TBA fustuarium.tumblr.com - STELLA’s first official mission finds the imperials and their allies catching a transport to the New World! An imperial colony has gone dark, seemingly vanishing into the mist. The locals warn that there is a curse placed upon the land, one that has permeated the region for generations. Does the Empire have the know-how and the resources to solve this century old mystery, or will they be the next thing swallowed up by the Dreamer. Status: Open to imperial characters and imperial allies, new members welcome! Type: Investigation/Adventure GM: Aegir

#ffxiv rp #balmung rp #weekly

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howrv · 6 years ago

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Fargo's Museum Ranch: Chapter 4

Visually, the ranch was pristine but weathered, much like Fargo. They both have withstood storms, and it showed. The twisting winds are brutal coming off the nearby Chiricahua Mountains. At one moment you see a sand storm in the distance, swirling tornados, ejecting white plumes high in the air. Then in seconds, the swirl overtakes you. There is no light. It is like someone ripped the sun from the sky and you are being blasted and tossed by sand at 40 to 60 mph. You are blinded. Becky and I have experienced such a storm driving our bus on I-10 in the New Mexican desert. The most terrifying 30 seconds of my life.

But the Museum Ranch stands as it has for decades, everything in its place choreographed by a master set director. There are a dozen or so sheltered gathering spaces (sitting areas) around the ranch. Each unique and all displaying memorabilia and photos of movie stars with their arms draped on the shoulder of a younger Fargo. These gathering spots are in the corner of barns, under carriage sheds, by fire pits, attached to a hen house or upstairs over a storage shed. In each one, there are places and porches to sit and talk. Some have a few chairs and benches, while others have a few metal milk crates turned on end, or maybe a log for us to straddle. But most notably, in every space there was a single armed chair with a padded seat were Fargo would hold court to a captive audience of us.

There was always music playing in the background. Radio set to a Mexican station or a phonograph player softly emitting vocals of Patsy Cline, Hank Snow, Rex Allen, and Ernest Tubb. Signature cowboy songs. A perfect underscore to match our cinematic imaginations, while Fargo told stories of the old west.

While Becky and Fargo were chatting, I was admiring a Stetson hat and removed it from a hook on a post. Barton was quick to tell me that I should "replace it like I found it" because if it were 1/8 inch off, or rehung askew Fargo would notice.

Fargo and his ranch hands each had a few trucks. Quattro even had a Cadillac. But all vehicles were stashed behind a grove of mesquite or under the back side of a shed, not distracting from the perception that we were back in the late 1800's. An electric golf cart was the only hardware that belied the visual genera. Fargo needed it's assistance to get around and check on things. He would fatigue quickly and often pulled out an inhaler from his jeans to allay coughing and breathlessness. But at 89, he was still leaner and keener than most of our friends just reaching retirement age.

We climbed aboard the electric cart and set out to see the ranch. He rode us to where stagecoaches and chuck wagons were stored. The one carriage with a large frame, Jonny Cash liked best. Quartto pointed out the chuck wagon used by Lee Marvin and Brian Keith in The Quest and Monty Walsh. There was the stagecoach Maureen O'Hare while swishing her petticoats climbed in and rode off, in Big Jake. He pointed out items used in McClintock, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, wagons from the Little House pilot, saddles and spurs from Three Amigos and yokes and harnesses that accompanied the mule teams in Bonanza. Most, he said, he had sold or left back in Old Tuscon where we visited last year. But he still had an amazing collection of important antiquities from the silver screen.

He called our attention to an old blacksmith's anvil. "That thing weighs 350 pounds," he said with half grin half grimace. "You know how I know?" To which I gave a shrug. "Arnold Schwarzenegger picked the damn thing up and told me," Fargo grinned, adding emphasis by raising his eyebrows up and down three or four times making his hat bob on his head.

Homing pigeons moved in and out of their roosts. Fargo explained how intelligent they were and their dependable characteristics. He supplied Old Tuscon with birds for many movies. So if you are watching an old John Ford western and you see birds a flight, they were probably trained by our friend Fargo to fly on cue.

Once he was commissioned to provide deer for a scene of the animals running through prairie. The scene was to be shot from above from a helicopter. However, the producers were prohibited from herding or using live game in a shoot. So Ole' Fargo rigged antlers on his goats, placed them at one end of a canyon and put Barton at the other end of the canyon with the pappa goat to call the "deer herd." The helicopter lifted off and the scene was captured in one take.

We headed down a fence line on the safe side of longhorn steer and bulls to a wood-hewn building with a cross on the front. Quattro hobbled in with us as we entered the chapel.

At the front, centered between two wood beams was a large print of the last supper, the one depicting the servant in the foreground. On the right was a pulpit draped in a colorful sarape blanket with two wooden slats tied in a cross on the front. Behind the pulpit was a statue of The Madonna and another cross above it. On the walls were Indian ceremonial feathers and bells, a menorah, a yarmulke, and plastic flower arrangements. Beside the pulpit was a photo of Mother Teresa and The Pope.

On the left side of the chapel was a firebrick altar with a leaded glass backdrop. A brass cross leaned against a wood mantle and two tin cups dangled below. Fargo retrieved a now extinct, Blue Diamond self-striking match from a Ball Jar, scratched it across the brick, and began lighting several candles. I was about to cross myself or genuflect when Fargo broke my reverence and uttered, "Yeah, I've got all kinds of religious shit in here. I've got Protestant shit, Catholic shit, Jewish shit, Indian shit, and we've even had a few weddings. Quattro there's a minister, and he officiates," gesturing to Quattro who was now standing behind the podium gripping both sides firmly.

Quattro, the minister, told us a little of his story while standing behind the pulpit. He had originated in Pensylvania and came out to Arizona to visit his brother at UofA in Tucson. He met Fargo on set at Old Tucson, fell in love with the west and never went back. He helped Fargo with the animals, worked as a bronc rider and stuntman, and fit into the movie business as Fargo's sidekick.

After blowing out the candles on the altar, we left the church and headed down the lane, opening and closing gates behind us. We drove onto open range where fifty miles of sagebrush, tumbleweed, and sand lay in front of the jagged Chiricahua mountains where we hiked just days before. We arrived at a clump of mesquite trees that shaded seven grave sites. We sat on benches and listened as Fargo told us stories about each ranch hand who was buried there. His words were kind with a deep appreciation for their service.

We carted back to the coffee pot area. It was 2 pm. Fargo moved his chair from in front of the padlocked door and opened it. The door swung inward to reveal a saloon right out of the movies. Four stools, a swinging door, and a bar lined with bottles of whiskey, bourbon, and tequila in front of mirrored glass. Hanging behind the bar were cowboy hats, Indian headress, scores of photographs, lanterns, spurs, feathers, beads and oh yes, an Indian scalp. I wasn't too surprised when he pointed out the spur marks in the oak bar top.

We looked through his stacks of 12-inch long-play records. An impressive collection. Becky chose Hank Snow and we enjoyed a few cold ones while Fargo told more stories of movies and the stars he knew.

We had spent the entire day with three of the most interesting men I've ever met. We learned more about animals, birds, Indians, history and movies, than I had in a lifetime. But this was just the first day of three. The next day we were to bring our forty-foot Allegro Bus (our Home On Wheels) and park right in the middle of The Museum Ranch, 12 miles and a hundred years from town.

#homeonwheels #howrv #jonandbecky #homeiswhereyouparkit #retireontheroad #fargo

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livingcorner · 3 years ago

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All Kitchen Nightmares Updates@|what happened to the restaurants on kitchen nightmares@|https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-emlGYLI8XR0/U0h4AGbsm3I/AAAAAAAADLM/LOShu12OnbQ/w1200-h630-p-k-no-nu/Kitchen+Nightmares+Open+Closed.jpg@|25

This page will have updated statistics of the restaurants that have appeared on the US version of Kitchen Nightmares. This will be continually updated, so feel free to bookmark it and share it with others.

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There are relevant links to the restaurant updates from this site, as well as links to reasons why restaurants have closed and how well they are rated.

I have kept comments available on this page, so if you see anything I may have missed or have any updates regarding a restaurant status, feel free to leave a comment or contact us.

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Running Total Of Episodes That Have Aired – 60 of 77 Restaurants Have Closed, 15 of 77 Restaurants Are Still Open, 2 of the 17 Have Moved, 2 Restaurants Sold

Season 7 (2014) – 2 of 6 Restaurants Open, 4 of 6 Restaurants Closed

Episode Restaurant City Status Comments 6 Bella Luna Ristorante Easton, PA Closed Closed just 3 1/2 months after Kitchen Nightmares filmed. The landlord kicked them out. They claim they want to open elsewhere. More Detailed Update. 5 Zayna Flaming Grill Redondo Beach, CA Open Still open with very good reviews and a lot of them. Keeps an up to date Facebook. More Detailed Update. 4 Mangia Mangia Woodland Park, CO Closed Still open with mixed reviews as recent as 10/2014. Brought some menu items back. Closed in November 2014 More Detailed Update. 3 Kati Allo Flushing, NY Closed Still open average to above average reviews, and have a lot of complements on the food. Closed in April 2014, shortly after their episode aired. More Detailed Update. 2 The Old Neighborhood Restaurant Arvada, CO Closed Restaurant was for sale when the episode aired. Stayed open for a bit, but closed in April 2016 – More Detailed Update. 1 Pantaleone’s Denver, CO Open Still open with above average reviews and people raving about the pizza. Owner says they are still struggling. More Detailed Update.

Season 6 (2012-2013) – 8 of 13 Restaurants Closed, 4 of 13 Restaurants Open, 1 Has Moved, 1 Restaurant Sold

Episode Restaurant City Status Comments 1 La Galleria 33 Boston, Massachusetts Closed Still open with above average reviews, although there are some 1-star reviews mixed in. Closed in November 2018. 2 Mama Maria’s Brooklyn, New York Open Still open with above average reviews. Keeps an up to date Facebook page. 3 Ms. Jean’s Southern Cuisine Wilkinsburg, Pennsylvania Open- Moved The restaurant is still open with minimal reviews and the restaurant has moved locations. Restaurant has positive reviews but there are negative reviews about catering 4 Barefoot Bob’s Beach Grill Hull, Massachusetts Closed Still open with below average reviews as recent as 4/2016. A lot of 1-star reviews. Keeps an up to date Facebook page. Closed in late 2016 – Info on closure. 5 Olde Hitching Post Restaurant & Tavern Hanson, Massachusetts Open Still open with average reviews as recent as 2/2017. 6 Levanti’s Italian Restaurant – Renamed Levanti’s American Bistro Beaver, Pennsylvania Closed Closed in November 2013 (despite a lot of positive reviews) with the owner saying he was retiring and wanted to get out of the business. 7 Sam’s Mediterranean Kabob Room Monrovia, California Closed Closed in the summer of 2013 stating business never picked up after the show. 8 Nino’s Italian Restaurant Long Beach, California Closed Still open with average reviews as recent as 4/2016. Recent reviews are much better. Keeps an up to date Facebook page. Closed in August 2016 – Info on closing. 9 Mill Street Bistro Norwalk, Ohio Closed Mill Street Bistro was renamed to Maple City Tavern in December 2013. There are a lot of complaints about the owner in local articles. Restaurant closed in 2/2016 – More info on the closing. 10 Yanni’s Seattle, Washington Open Still open with above average reviews as recent as 1/2017. Reviews weren’t too bad before the makeover. Keeps an up to date Facebook page. 11 Prohibition Grille – Renamed Prohibition Gastropub Everett, Washington Sold Still open with average reviews as recent as 2/2017. A lot of 1-star reviews filtered out. Sold to new owners mid to late 2016 and is still open under the same name. 12 Chappy’s Nashville, Tennessee Closed The restaurant closed and was seized by the state of Tennessee in June 2013 due to unpaid taxes. Owner did a lot of complaining about Kitchen nightmares saying it ruined his business. 13 Amy’s Baking Company Scottsdale, Arizona Closed Not enough words for this one. This was the first restaurant that Gordon walked out on, and the story went viral after that. Amy and Samy responded to people on Facebook calling them names. Pretty much all the reviews are people bashing Amy and Samy from the show and not actual diners. They plan to sell the restaurant and will close if the sale goes through – More Information. Amy’s Baking Company officially closed on 9/1/2015 – Info on closing.

Season 5 (2011-2012)- 9 of 14 Restaurants Closed, 5 of 14 Restaurants Open

Episode Restaurant City Status Comments 1 Blackberry’s Plainfield, New Jersey Closed Closed in March 2013 due to stagnant growth 2 Leone’s Montclair, New Jersey Open Still open with average reviews. 3 Mike & Nellie’s Oakhurst, New Jersey Closed Closed in January 2012 according to their Facebook page, which was just a few months after their episode aired. 4 Luigi’s D’Italia Anaheim, California Open Still open with average to above average reviews. Better reviews as of late. 5 Burger Kitchen Los Angeles, California Closed Was under new ownership in late 2011 around when the episode aired, and closed in February 2012. Owner thought online reviews killed the restaurant. More detailed update. 6 The Greek at the Harbor Ventura, California Open Still open with average to above average reviews. 7 Michon’s College Park, Georgia Closed The College Park location has closed, but they have a small location in Atlanta, GA, and are opening another location in St. Louis. UPDATE – Atlanta location now closed and St. Louis location never opened. 8 El Greco Austin, Texas Closed Closed in December 2011, about 5 months after filming. Closed before their episode aired. 9 Park’s Edge Atlanta, Georgia Closed Their lease ran out in November 2013 and they plan to reopen somewhere else, but have not done so. Apparently they may in Spring 2014 10 Spin-A-Yarn Steakhouse Fremont, California Open Still open with average reviews, but there are a lot of reviews for the restaurant. Some complaints about prices. 11 Charlie’s La Verne, California Closed Closed in July 2012 according to Yelp reviews 12 Cafe Hon Baltimore, Maryland Open Still open with average to below average reviews. Some of the recent ones are more positive. Keeps an up to date Facebook page 13 Chiarella’s Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Closed Still open with above average reviews as recent as 3/2015. Closed in June 2015 – More info on the closure. 14 Zocalo Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Closed Closed around February 2013 and apparently had some unpaid tax issues.

Season 4 (2011) – 10 of 12 Restaurants Closed, 2 of 12 Restaurants Open

Episode Restaurant City Status Comments 1 Spanish Pavilion Harrison, New Jersey Open Still open with average reviews. Keeps an up to date Facebook page. 2 Classic American West Babylon, New York Closed Closed in August 2013 according to their Facebook page. 3 PJ’s Steakhouse – Renamed PJ’s Grill Queens, New York Closed Closed in May 2009 a few weeks after filming the episode, and was closed before the episode aired. 4 Grasshopper Also Carlstadt, New Jersey Closed Closed in October 2012, and a new restaurant is now in its location. 5 Davide Boston, Massachusetts Closed Was sold in November 2013, and eventually closed in January 2014 6 Down City Providence, Rhode Island Closed Closed in December 2011. Gordon’s changes weren’t liked by many old customers. 7 Tavolini Bridgeport, Connecticut Closed Closed in December 2010 just after Christmas. Was investigated by the Attorney General for selling gift cards right before closing. Owner said they closed due to medical reasons. 8 Kingston Cafe Pasadena, California Closed Still open with average reviews. Some complaints about service and price. Closed for a little, but reopened in Nov. 2013 with the same name. Closed in August 2018 – More info on closure. 9 La Frite Sherman Oaks, California Closed Still open with lots of reviews that are average to above average. Keeps an up to date Facebook page. Sold in 2016, closed in Oct 2017 – More info on closure. 10 Capri Eagle Rock, California Closed Still open with above average reviews. Keeps an up to date Facebook page that has a cover photo of the twins and Gordon Ramsay. The restaurant closed in September 2019. More info on the closure. 11 Zeke’s Metairie, Louisiana Closed Closed in October 2012, and a new restaurant is now in its location. 12 Oceana New Orleans, Louisiana Open Still open with a lot of reviews, many of which are above average. Keeps an up to date Facebook page. More detailed update.

Season 3 (2010) – 9 of 11 Restaurants Closed, 2 of 11 Restaurants Open

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Episode Restaurant City Status Comments 1 Hot Potato Cafe Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Closed Closed in August 2010 according to their Facebook page. 2 Flamangos – Renamed The Junction Whitehouse Station, New Jersey Closed Closed in April 2011 3 Bazzini Ridgewood, New Jersey Closed Owners claimed they only talked to Gordon Ramsay when it was on camera and that’s it. Restaurant closed around June 2010 4 Mojito Brooklyn, New York Closed Still open with average reviews as recent as 4/2014. A lot of 1-star recent reviews. Keeps an up to date Facebook page. Closed in 3/2016 – More info on closing. 5 Lido di Manhattan Manhattan Beach, California Open Still open with above average reviews. One of the better rated restaurants from the show. Keeps an up to date Facebook page 6 Le Bistro Lighthouse Point, Florida Open Still open with above average reviews. One of the top rated restaurants for Lighthouse Point on Tripadvisor. 7 Casa Roma Lancaster, California Closed Still open with minimal reviews. Changed names at one point, but it is back to Casa Roma now. Closed at the end of June 2017 – Info on closing. 8 Mama Rita’s Newbury Park, California Closed Closed in December 2010, but the owner Laura is still doing catering. 9 Anna Vincenzo’s Boca Raton, Florida Closed Closed in late 2010. Gordon went back to visit in an episode in 2011 10 Fleming Miami, Florida Closed They went back to their original menu, and closed in October 2010 11 Sushi-Ko Thousand Oaks, California Closed Closed in August 2009, a few months after filming. Closed before the episode even aired.

Season 2 (2008-2009) – 11 of 11 Restaurants Closed, 0 of 11 Restaurants Open

Episode Restaurant City Status Comments 1 Handlebar Mount Sinai, New York Closed Closed in 2009, not long after the episode originally aired. 2 Giuseppi’s Macomb Township, Michigan Closed Closed in July 2009. Owners blamed the bad economy and the lack of liquor license, which they put out a lot of money for. They were happy with Kitchen Nightmares 3 Trobiano’s Great Neck, New York Closed The restaurant closed in October 2008 after it was seized for not paying taxes. This was not long after the episode aired. 4 Black Pearl New York, New York Closed The restaurant closed in September 2008 just days after the episode aired. 5 J Willy’s South Bend, Indiana Closed Owner was trying to sell the restaurant in October 2008, and ended up closing in February of 2009 6 Hannah & Mason’s Cranbury, New Jersey Closed The restaurant closed in February 2010 citing the bad economy and less customers 7 Jack’s Waterfront St. Clair Shores, Michigan Closed The restaurant was sold in 2009, and the new owners ended up closing in late 2010 8 Sabatiello’s Stamford, Connecticut Closed Closed in December 2008, and the owners opened another restaurant in Greenwich, CT, which also later closed. 9 Fiesta Sunrise West Nyack, New York Closed Closed in September 2008 before the episode even aired after failing to pay back taxes 10 Santé La Brea Los Angeles, California Closed Closed in June 2011 according to their Facebook page. 11 Cafe 36 La Grange, Illinois Closed Closed in April 2009, a few months after their episode originally aired.

Season 1 (2007) – 9 of 10 Restaurants Closed, 1 of 10 Restaurants Sold, 0 of 10 Restaurants Open

Episode Restaurant City Status Comments 1 Peter’s Babylon, New York Closed Had bad reviews after Gordon left, and closed in December 2008. 2 Dillon’s – Renamed Purnima New York, New York Closed Very dirty restaurant when Gordon visited. Owner tried to sue him to prevent show from airing. Closed in December 2009 3 The Mixing Bowl Bellmore, New York Closed Closed in January 2009. People think the manager was to blame 4 Seascape Islip, New York Closed Closed around October 2007(same month the episode aired)and a new restaurant has opened up in its place. 5 The Olde Stone Mill Tuckahoe, New York Sold Was sold to new owners in 2009. Restaurant still goes by the same name and has average to below average reviews. 6 Sebastian’s Toluca Lake, California Closed The restaurant closed in January 2008 when the owner moved back to Boston for family reasons 7 Finn McCool’s Westhampton, New York Closed Buddy sold the restaurant in 2009, and the restaurant ended up closing in March 2012 8 Lela’s Pomona, California Closed Lela’s closed by the time the episode aired on TV because the debts were too high. 9 Campania Fair Lawn, New Jersey Closed The restaurant was sold in 2010 by Joe and eventually closed in January 2011. Joe actually committed suicide just days after selling the restaurant 10 The Secret Garden Moorpark, California Closed Still open with average to above average reviews recent as 5/2015. Better reviews as of late. Keeps an up to date Facebook page. Closed in 11/2015 – Info on the closing.

Also if you watch Bar Rescue, visit Bar Rescue Updates for updates on that show.

See Food Network Gossip for Restaurant Impossible Updates and how many restaurants are Open vs. Closed. For updates on businesses that have appeared on CNBC’s The Profit, visit The Profit Updates

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baddly-well-done-translations · 4 years ago

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Hole/M. Manson: The Beauty and the Beast | by Richard Royuela, Rock Sound magazine N°15, year 1999

There’s no doubt that at the present time, Courtney Love and Marilyn Manson are two of the most controversial characters in the world of rock: egocentric, capricious, intelligent, shrewd… Well, they possess all that sort of adjectives that anybody needs if he wants to triumph in this complicated circus.

Both of them are the frontmen of their bands, Hole and Marilyn Manson if somebody was left with doubts, and have been at the center of the world these last nine months because of the editions “Mechanical Animals” and “Celebrity Skin”, albums which practically have overcame all commercial and qualitative spectations everyone had on them.

The big surprise came when at the end of last year, it was announced that Hole and Marilyn Manson were going to protagonize a two month American tour in which they’d play in big enclosures with the increasingly popular Monster Magnet. Lots of people didn’t believe in the implausible nature of the prompt, since it didn’t seem easy for the egos of Courtney and M. Manson to coexist too much time together, but at the same time, being as intelligent as they are, both of them should have known that it was the perfect way for them to be seen by the biggest number of people it could be. This way, the big question of the year was open. Or did somebody doubt this wouldn’t be?

Aerial crisis n°1

Obviously such an event couldn’t be ignored, and because of that, we decided we had to be there at all costs. The chosen date would be Sunday 14th of March, in which both bands would visit the legendary Forum of Los Angeles… But it wouldn’t be so easy.

When I entered Barcelona's airport the Saturday before the concert, I wasn’t minimally aware of what was going to happen. The so classical behind-of-schedule arrivals made me lose the junction between Paris and Los Angeles. It seems that the fact that twelve persons had to make that same junction wasn’t enough motivation for the airline to wait for us fifteen missere minutes, and there you watch me rotting seven magnificent hours in Paris airport waiting the eight of the night to come so I could take the following flight… But the surprise had to come soon, because after two hours waiting, the “magnificent and educated” company’s staff told us that the flight had been canceled and it wouldn’t leave until the next day. That meant I’d lose an entire day of my short stop in Los Angeles and also have the beautiful sensation of being treated as a donkey and of an oh-so-educated staff of my new favorite airline called me “rubbish” because I asked for explanations of that big caos. Let’s see if he’s so confident when the report arrives to him. Anyways, let it all be in the name of rock.

The preambles

Thanks to God I arrived safe and sound to Los Angeles with the exact time to go to a hotel, contact with the person from Universal Records, the great Jose Puig, take a shower, eat something and go to the Forum. Little time to find out that that would be the last concert of the tour. Yes, all those bad omens from the bad talkers had come to reality, and the tour hadn’t even lasted one month. Hole had decided to abandon. Official reason was “production problems”, a too broad term to be taken seriously. In some declarations I found on MTV, Courtney Love said that she had soon noticed that playing in sites with 25.000 persons wasn’t a very good idea and the best was to finish it soon. But as it’s often the case, the rumorology had started and now other motivations about Hole’s abandonment were running. The most popular one was one the actress Rose Mcgowan, current Manson’s girlfriend, had started. Reportedly, she was totally jealous about the possibility of Mrs. Love approaching her man and because of that, she prohibited him from having any kind of contact with Courtney. This and some declarations she made in the magazine Alternative Press, in which she said that she couldn’t understand how anybody could like Hole’s new album, and that if the press said good things about it, it was because they were scared of Courtney Love; it seems that these things flamed up the fuse of discord. What is clear is that watching the show Hole gave made it easier to me understanding why the band’s desertion. But we’ll talk about it later.

It seems that difficult times start to be history for Monster Magnet. Dave Wyndorf himself has affirmed on more than one occasion that after the “Dopes to Infinity” tour he thought about ending the band, at least at a professional level. Luckily for him and all of us, “Powertrip” has achieved an unexpected success in America, they’ve just been awarded with a gold album and in Europe they’ve even managed to increase their status in Europe. The fact that “Powertrip” has sold 500.000 CD’s in America hasn’t only been useful to the confidence of the band for going high, but apart of that to open the doors of big tours like this one. However, it’s obvious that on this tour Monster Magnet is nothing more than a special guest, as Faith no More in the tour of Guns ‘n’ Roses and Metallica. With a technically empty forum, and an empty forum is something impressive! Monster Magnet started the short half hour it had available. Without doubt the tracks of “Powertrip” are the ones that take up the totality of the repertory, being “Space Lord” and “Powertrip” those which were best received by their few, but unconditional, fans that acoplated in front of the scenery. With the inclusion of a second guitarist, the total protagonist of the stadium is Dave Wyndorf. Getting rid of his guitar in more than half concert, he feels more comfortable in his character of frontman and lots of his movements remind of the ones of his admired Iggy Pop. Having in mind that the conditions weren’t made to triumph: few lights, poor sound, so little amount of time, the truth is that Monster Magnet got off the scenery more than successfully, proving that all the rewards they’re getting and will get are more than well-deserved. At this time, a tour with Metallica, that isn’t little.

Courtney’s rage

For any fan of Hole, a start with “Violet” and “Awful”, the best songs of the new album, would be enough to be satisfied. And that’s no more, no less, what they did. Although in the course of these two songs, it’s easier to understand Courtney’s rage. Far from being the double billboard that was sold, Hole wasn’t more than some luxurious support band. The Californian quartet didn’t compete, neither in terms of scenery and sound quality, at the same conditions as Marilyn Manson and also a big part of the public, although the forum was technically full, wasn’t there because of them. But any of that was an impediment for Hole to perform an antologic concert. With the ascension of Melissa, a red-dressed goddess and the entry of the new baterist, Samantha (from Shift), spectacular and effective to the maximum; Hole has gained a lot in the aspect of visuals. Courtney is still the main focus and Eric, as always, is “conformed” with being staying next to the podium carrying the musical weight. And although she isn’t that beast that seemed to be dying in every concert anymore, she still is a star full of charisma that not even Hollywood could calm. The concert was based on “Celebrity Skin”, although the memories from the past -”Doll’s Dress”, “Miss World” or “Teenage Whore”- weren’t left to the side and in the 60 minutes the group demonstrated that they’re in the right path to be an atemporal rock band, or the Fleetwood Mac of the 2000, said in other way. As the concert continued, Courtney got hot and as she started getting out of her clothes (she ended in a transparent dress and an ass check in the wind) she didn’t stop shouting instructions against the press, television and whatever got through her head. Definitively it won’t be easy to stop Courtney and the fact that “Celebrity Skin” has got up again in the American charts will surely help with that. As expected, she didn’t even condescend to thank Marilyn for the days they spent together.

And with you, the most stupid fall of all the history of rock

When Mr. Manson appeared in the scenery crucificted in a cross made of televisions, the hysteria was total. That’s the unequivocal simbol that they’re a big group with all that entails. Dressed in the same way that in the tour that brought them to Spain, there wasn’t any real differences with what we had seen before. That means that his ribcase was punched, there were microphone foots all around the floor, the stilt act, etc… although it’s fair to recognize that the band was having an inspired night. But the great moment came when in the middle of the interpretation of “Rock is Dead”, Mr. Manson, over a one meter high platform, decided to lower his pants to his knees. Not conformed with that, he tried making some steps. Result? He couldn’t maintain the balance and fell off straight to the floor, totally fulminated. While he was still totally inmovile in there, the rest of the band kept playing as if nothing extraordinary had happened. After that the lights went off and Manson was dragged out of the scenery. In those moments we all thought it was part of the show, but something indicated to us it wasn’t normal when the concert didn’t resume and the loudspeakers told us that because of technical matters the show was going to stay interrupted for another five minutes. Five minutes which guided to the final communication said that because of an accident of the artist, the show had ended. Only a few complaints as an answer. Would we have reacted the same way in Spain? And 25.000 persons with a “circumstance face” started getting out of the forum. The next day it was said that M. Manson had suffered from an ankle break and the tour would continue with Monster Magnet and Nashville Pussy as guests.

It was speculated that the fall could had been an act that would permit Manson gain time and restructure the tour after Hole’s dissertation.

An unforeseeable end, or depending on how you see it, totally previsible for a tour that had only started a month ago.

Aerial crisis n°2

The next day I had to abandon Los Angeles and return to Barcelona, but a new surprise was waiting for me. The flight had been canceled again and I’d have to stay a short night in Los Angeles. Incredible. And as if it weren’t enough, in the hotel I was given I couldn’t smoke and there wasn’t any porn channel. Somebody take me the hell out of here!

#marilyn manson #hole #courtney love #90s nostalgia #90s aesthetic #early 00s #old magazines #translation #it is mine

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allwoodjacee95 · 4 years ago

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borrow against term life insurance

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Cashing out your life insurance policy and it can cost thousands. But you might not have any reason not to. Life insurance companies are legally required to make you purchase a policy if you’re under 70. If you don’t buy a life insurance policy before your 70th birthday, though, that’s a big possibility. Because a life insurance agent isn’t required by law to explain why you should buy a policy and explain you to your life insurance agent after you’ve made your first payment. If you purchased a policy prior to your 70s, you still have a major financial risk of losing your life insurance. You often get this insurance policy because life insurance can become more expensive. And, after you’ve made a series of life insurance payments, you’ll need to keep up with the payments. There are a lot of factors that can affect your life insurance rate. The last factor is your age. Your age is one of the key factors that determines your level of.

What is borrowing against your life insurance policy?

What is borrowing against your life insurance policy? It is the same reason for life insurance – borrowing against your existing policy is an expensive mistake to make. However if your current policy is less valuable than an equivalent policy, you may be able to borrow against it in the event of a future accident. In the case that you have already borrowed money, you should apply for the policy with the new money as new instead of borrowing it. If you want to avoid a potential policy cancellation later on, check with your current insurance provider first – many insurance providers will allow for a cancellation if you are planning to cancel a policy early. However, the cancellation of an existing policy will fall under any circumstances where you want to terminate your coverage at any time, even if you think you won’t need it anymore. The cancellation may be arranged for a specific time period or you may not need it at all. If you should cancel your policy, you should not expect it to be cancelled by your existing insurance provider. However, if you do need a cancellation.

Should I Borrow Against or Withdraw from My Life Insurance Policy?

Should I Borrow Against or Withdraw from My Life Insurance Policy?If I Give You My Information, What You Will Do With It, But Do You Need It? If you re looking to protect your assets, you may be asking, Do you need life insurance? Here’s why: Because life insurers take on risk, they must pay out in cash. They can be regulated to ensure they don t get turned or diminished in value. And, because the cost of a policy is based on the risk, the cost to insure the policy can be far higher than a regular policy — often costing at least $2 to $4 per month for policyholders. If the insurer feels there’s no value in being in a cash windfall as the policyholder faces a loss or is likely to default on a payments, you’ll have to get a separate policy in order to make payments. You may even need it as a result of your existing life insurance policy. But if you’ve already maxed out your other policies, you.

Lose the life insurance when you quit a job?

Lose the life insurance when you quit a job? If you quit early enough to be able to pay your premiums for your coverage, you could just stop paying altogether, even with full coverage. This would eliminate a large payment difference and leave you without insurance. It’s also very possible to avoid the entire process by using your current coverage. Remember that your existing coverage won’t impact whether or not you can continue coverage in the future. This is because your current policy ends. If you renew that current policy, then your coverage doesn’t end at the end of this new policy. This means that you won’t need new insurance even if you stop paying premiums for current coverage. You also won’t use the life insurance coverage after the age restrictions for your current policy have expired. Because coverage for new claims is typically based on the new policy period and you won’t have a new policy for a while, this coverage might end after your new policy is up for renewal. That means that your premiums.

Making Withdrawals from Your Life Insurance Policy

Making Withdrawals from Your Life Insurance Policy: A withdrawal will increase your premium, regardless of whether the coverage is in force. The amount you would have to pay back will be less than your premiums, but the actual amount you would be billed to is determined by medical reviews, research, and other considerations. If you do decide to withdraw money then you will be liable (or legally liable) for the withdrawals, and you will not be able to get your policy reinstated. Many times policies will be canceled over the life of the policy. Any outstanding loans or loans against your cash value will be the determining factor, and not only will an interest rate decrease once a policy is canceled, but it is easier for your policy to laps. The lower the withdrawal cost the higher the price of your premium. Withdrawals will depend on who is applying for the policy. We have developed a list of common scenarios to discuss in greater detail in this post. Withdrawal is usually less than the premium and is usually.

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tamboradventure · 4 years ago

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10 Things to See and Do in Natchez, Mississippi

Posted: 10/17/2020 | October 17th, 2020

As the Southern cotton economy expanded on the back of slave labor in the early 1800s, towns emerged to transport the cotton on the Mississippi River. New Orleans, Memphis, Vicksburg, and Natchez are the four most famous of these towns.

Located high on the bluffs of the Mississippi River, Natchez, Mississippi, was established by French colonists in 1716. The defensible strategic location ensured that it would become a pivotal center for trade.

In the middle of the 19th century, the city attracted Southern planters, who built mansions to show off their vast wealth from the cotton and sugarcane trade. Natchez was where planters came to escape the heat and isolation of the plantations. It was the Hamptons of the South — the place where the rich relaxed and socialized.

I never heard of Natchez until a few weeks before I visited. While in Nashville, I met some local guys at a bar. Fascinated by my road trip plans, they gave me all the information they could on their home state of Mississippi. I mentioned my desire to see antebellum homes.

“That’s Natchez. If you want antebellum homes, Natchez is the place to be,” they agreed.

So I drove to Natchez, with its dozens of pre-Civil War antebellum homes. As a former history teacher who specialized in pre–Civil War America, I have a significant interest in this part of the country. I’m fascinated by the hypocrisy and duality of pre–Civil War Southern society.

On the one hand, it was genteel, polite, and formal. On the other, it was brutally racist. Southern egalitarian views of chivalry, equality, and honor extended only to a small segment of society and they found no hypocrisy in owning slaves, whom they brutalized to no end.

(Note: Reams of essays and books have delved into Southern culture. If you’re looking to learn more, check out Ken Burns’s The Civil War and The Fall of the House of Dixie: The Civil War and the Social Revolution That Transformed the South.)

Today, Natchez remains a beautiful city and many of the historic homes are still here. Secession sentiment never ran high here and the city quickly surrendered to the Union Army in 1862. Therefore, none of the destruction that took place in other cities occurred here.

Today, Natchez trades in tourism instead of cotton. Visitors to the historic homes, surrounding Natchez Traces, and gambling on the riverboats sustain this tiny town.

But the old homes are the biggest draw.

By today’s standards, they are average suburban homes. You wouldn’t stop and think “Wow, that is a mansion!” But for the period, these homes were an ornate testament to the planters’ great wealth, with high ceilings, intricate wallpaper designs, and multiple stories. They were filled with fine china, exotic carpets, and expensive furniture.

There are over 20 homes here. I didn’t get to see them all, as many are private residencies. But I saw a lot – and the following are my favorite historic homes to visit in Natchez:

Longwood

This was one of the most interesting of all the homes. It had stunning grounds and an incredible design featuring a huge onion-shaped dome. It’s the largest octagonal house in the United States and entirely unique.

Construction began in 1859, however, the owner died before most of the house was completed, leaving the entire upper floor unfinished (to this day, only a handful of the rooms are finished)

Today, it’s one of Natchez’s most popular homes and you’re free to tour the home and read about its history. Be sure to wander the grounds, too. They’re beautiful! Admission is $25 USD.

Rosalie Mansion

I found this mansion to have the most beautiful interior of the handful of antebellum homes I visited. Built in 1823, its design was so popular that it inspired many other homeowners in the region to mimic its Greek Revival style.

The mansion was built for a wealthy cotton broker. In 1863, after the Battle of Vicksburg, General Grant commandeered the home to use as his headquarters. General Gresham, who commanded Union troops in the region after Grant, continued to use the mansion as his headquarters for the duration of the war. There are all kinds of historic artifacts and furniture inside from the 19th century too.

Today, the mansion is on the U.S. National Register of Historic Places and is an official U.S. National Historic Landmark. Admission is $20 USD.

Stanton Hall

Stanton Hall and its grounds take up an entire city block. It had the prettiest grounds of all the homes I visited too. Built in the 1850s (for the paltry sum of $83,000 USD), the home is a replica of the original owner’s former home in Ireland. Knicknamed Belfast, the interior is incredibly elaborate, featuring Italian marble and glass chandeliers.

In 1890, the estate became home to Stanton College for Young Ladies. In 1940, it began its transition to a historic home and museum and is one the U.S. National Register of Historic Places as well as the U.S. National Historic Landmark list and the list of Mississippi Landmarks. Admission is $25 USD.

Melrose Mansion

Built in the 1840s, this 15,000-square-foot mansion represents the peak of Greek Revival design. Designed by a local lawyer and landowner, the original furniture of the home is still in use today, having been passed down through the centuries with each successive sale of the house. Most of the furniture dates to the pre-Civil War era.

In the 1970s, the mansion was used for elaborate parties and events before being turned into a museum and historic site. Like many of the antebellum homes here, it’s on both the U.S. National Register of Historic Places and the U.S. National Historic Landmark list. Admission is $10 USD.

Other Things to See and Do

In addition to the antebellum homes, there are a few other things to see and do in Natchez:

The Natchez Pilgrimage During the Natchez Pilgrimage in the spring, all of the private historical homes open up to the public. The costumed guides — some descendants of the original owners — explain the history of the home, their family, and the region. It’s the city’s biggest annual event and there are some 20 homes on display.

Ghost Tours In a town with so much tumultuous history — including wars and oppressive slavery — it’s no wonder that there are all kinds of eerie and unsettling tales to be found in Natchez. If you’re a fan of the paranormal (or just want to do something unique), try taking a ghost tour. Downtown Karla Brown offers ghost tours a few evenings each week for $25 USD. You’ll hear all about Natchez’s haunting and spooky tales and get to see a side of the city most tourists miss.

Magnolia Bluffs Casino This casino is located on the Mississippi River in the town’s old mill. The mill opened in 1828 and operated until 1962, eventually being bought and turned into a casino. It’s small and a bit outdated, but they have plenty of slot machines and a few table games, and the views over the river are picturesque.

St. Mary’s Basilica This church was built in 1842 and took over forty years to complete. While the exterior is a little plain, the elaborate interior is beautiful, with colorful stained glass, statues, and a spacious vaulted ceiling. The original organ from 1882 is still in use as well. It’s on the National Register of Historic Places.

The Emerald Mound This sacred hill just looks like a flat, grassy pentagon. However, it was once a well-appointed holy site. Constructed sometime between the 13th and 17th centuries, it was an elevated place of worship for the Plaquemine Native Americans. Ceremonial stone structures used to sit on top of the mound, which is 65 feet tall, though it is empty today. All kinds of animal bones have been found nearby, leading researchers to believe it was the site of religious or sacred activity.

Visit the King’s Tavern Visit the King’s Tavern, which was built in 1769 and is the oldest bar in the city (and, according to legend, the most haunted). After the Revolutionary War, it was used as an inn and tavern, as well as where the town’s mail was delivered. Until the development of the steamboat, the tavern relied on both coach drivers and outlaws who stopped by in between trips. When the invention of the steamboat made travel in the region safer, business dwindled and it was eventually sold. Today, it’s a farm-to-table restaurant.

For a map of the area and suggested sites to include on your self-guided tour, check out this free tour from Visit Natchez.

***

Natchez is beautiful and elegant. I loved strolling around the streets, marveling at the beautiful homes, stopping at King’s Tavern for wine while avoiding ghosts, and sitting in the park as the sunset over the Mississippi. It was the highlight of my trip to the state.

One downside to the city is that it’s expensive. There are very few Airbnb options and private rooms cost at least $95 USD per night. For a budget hotel, you’re looking at at least $60 USD per night. (Of course, if you want to splurge you can also stay in some of the historic homes here, as many have been converted into B&Bs. You’re looking at at least $150 USD per night for those.)

But, while accommodation is expensive, food and drinks are relatively cheap so you can balance it all out.

Natchez may not be a budget travel destination, but if you are looking to learn about American history, see beautiful homes, and visit a destination off the beaten path for most travelers (visitors here tend to be from the surrounding region), visit Natchez. You won’t be disappointed.

Book Your Trip to Natchez: Logistical Tips and Tricks

Book Your Flight Find a cheap flight by using Skyscanner or Momondo. They are my two favorite search engines because they search websites and airlines around the globe so you always know no stone is left unturned.

Book Your Accommodation You can book your hostel with Hostelworld. If you want to stay somewhere other than a hostel, use Booking.com as they consistently return the cheapest rates for guesthouses and cheap hotels.

Don’t Forget Travel Insurance Travel insurance will protect you against illness, injury, theft, and cancellations. It’s comprehensive protection in case anything goes wrong. I never go on a trip without it as I’ve had to use it many times in the past. I’ve been using World Nomads for ten years. My favorite companies that offer the best service and value are:

World Nomads (for everyone below 70)

Insure My Trip (for those over 70)

Medjet (for additional repatriation coverage)

Looking for the best companies to save money with? Check out my resource page for the best companies to use when you travel! I list all the ones I use to save money when I travel – and I think will help you too!

Want more information on the United States? Be sure to visit our robust destination guide on the USA for even more planning tips!

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tego-nie-ma · 4 years ago

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The Persecution of Daniel Lee

An Internet smear campaign nearly destroyed the South Korean star, but he fought back with the only weapon he had: the truth.

July/August 2011

Photo: Timothy Archibald; Hair and makeup: Veronica Sjoen/Artist Untied

By Joshua Davis

On August 19, 2010, Dan Lee stood on the steps of Meyer Library and pointed to a nearby patch of grass.

"The Rodin statue," he said nervously. "It was here."

The Korean television crew following him noted that there was nothing there, just a well-mowed lawn. Students on bikes zipped past, paying no attention to the cameras or the skinny, dark-haired 30-year-old they were filming. In Seoul, it was hard for Lee to walk down the street without being mobbed. To Koreans, he was known as Tablo, a chart-topping rapper who was also married to one of the country's most prominent movie stars. Until recently, he had been one of Korea's biggest celebrities. Now his career was in tatters, he'd parted ways with his record label, and his family was receiving death threats.

The reason? Hundreds of thousands of Koreans refused to believe that Lee, '02, MA '02, graduated from Stanford.

The cameraman for the television crew closed in on Lee as he looked at the empty lawn. They were here to document for Korean national TV whether or not Lee was a liar.

"It's not here anymore," Lee said, staring at the spot where he knew The Thinker had been. He rubbed his face and wondered if maybe he was going crazy.

When the program aired two months later in Korea, this was the opening moment.

In 2001, when Lee told his parents that he was going to be a hip-hop musician, they were horrified. They were thinking doctor or lawyer, not rapper. In Korea at the time, hip-hop was not a popular genre. The music scene was dominated by attractive young people assembled into groups by record labels. They belted out sugary sweet songs—dubbed K-Pop—and strived to sound upbeat and happy. Critics saw no room for a guy who produced his own lyrically complex music, particularly when it dealt with issues like discrimination and class warfare.

Lee formed a band with two other musicians. They called themselves Epik High and released their first album—Map of the Human Soul—in 2003. It begins with a swirl of harps and what sounds like a 1950s-era ballroom dance class: "We're now going to progress to some steps which are a bit more difficult," an instructor says in English. Then there's an explosion of lyrics, beats and a dense overlay of sounds.

It was infectious and Epik High went on to release seven albums during the next seven years—an astounding burst of productivity. Five of those albums reached No. 1 on the Korean charts and they scored six No. 1 singles. As if that weren't enough, Lee published a collection of short stories in both English and Korean in 2008. It sold 50,000 copies in its first week and became a bestseller in Korea.

Lee's music had such broad appeal that he began to attract fans outside of Korea. He launched a series of U.S. tours starting in 2006, playing Caesars Palace in Las Vegas and the Hollywood Bowl in Los Angeles. In March 2010, Epik High became the first Korean group to reach No. 1 on the iTunes U.S. hip-hop sales charts, topping Jay-Z, Kayne West and the Black Eyed Peas. Korean hip-hop had broken through.

It seemed like a modern fairy tale, complete with a match made in celebrity heaven. In 2009, Lee married Kang Hye Jung, a beautiful actress with a string of hit movies. Celebrity blogs in Korea breathlessly reported news of the wedding in October 2009 and hundreds posted comments of support.

"OMG!!!!!! CONGRATULATIONS!!!!!!!" one fan wrote deliriously. "OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMG."

"Way to break a girl's heart," wrote another more ominously.

In the summer of 2010, Korea was reeling from a streak of fake diploma scandals. It began in 2007, when the chief curator of a modern art museum in Seoul was found to have fabricated her Yale PhD. (It didn't help that Yale initially confirmed the degree.) She was jailed for 18 months on forgery charges, and a nationwide hunt for other offenders ensued. Prosecutors investigated at least 120 cases of diploma fraud, ensnaring celebrities, politicians and even a monk.

"There are definitely more people out there," one of the prosecutors told the Bloomberg news service in 2007. "We just can't spot them."

While this was happening, Lee regularly appeared on Korean television shows and was asked about his credentials. He said that he had not only graduated from Stanford in 3 ½ years, but that he also had received a master's degree in that time. He said he had written his book, Pieces of You, while he was an undergrad and that he had received a creative writing award for one of the stories from author and Stanford professor Tobias Wolff, MA '78.

In May 2010, a group of Internet users created an online forum titled "We Request the Truth from Tablo," better known by its Korean acronym TaJinYo. The group didn't buy Lee's story. They started referring to him as "God-blo" because only God could have accomplished as much as Lee. The members of the group participated anonymously and attacked Lee from behind user names such as Whatbecomes and Spongebobo.

To many in Korea, TaJinYo's questions were legitimate. For instance, it usually takes four years to complete a bachelor's degree. A master's normally takes another two. Students typically also write a thesis to attain a master's and yet Lee said that he never wrote one.

Lee hesitated to respond. The whole thing was absurd to him. He was a musician. What did his degree matter?

To his detractors, it mattered a lot. "What is it good for in rapping? Nothing," says Hyungjin Ahn, a vocal critic. "But Koreans still said, 'Wow, he is great. If we listen to his rap, we could get in touch with something genius and holy.' Mothers in Korea worshipped him. He was a role model for every child in Korea at that time."

Entertainment gossip sites reported the existence of the anti-Tablo site and membership swelled to nearly 200,000, many of whom launched their own investigations into Lee's past. Tobias Wolff and Stanford registrar Thomas Black were barraged by emails from Koreans who questioned Lee's educational background. Black alone received 133 emails on the subject. Everybody wanted to know one thing: Was Lee lying?

When online hecklers started to criticize his wife for marrying him, Lee realized something had to be done to protect his family's reputation. On June 11, he released his transcript to the JoonAng Daily, a newspaper in Seoul. That same week, Black issued an official letter.

"Daniel Seon Woong Lee entered Stanford University in the Autumn Quarter of 1998-99 and graduated with a BA in English and an MA in English in 2002. Any suggestions, speculations or innuendos to the contrary are patently false. Daniel Seon Woong Lee is an alumnus in good standing of Stanford University."

That should have been the end of it. Instead, it was just the beginning.

As the members of TaJinYo began to dissect Lee's public statements and dig further into his past, an elaborate conspiracy theory took hold. Forum members were willing to accept that a man named Dan Lee graduated from Stanford, but they weren't willing to accept that the rapper they knew as Tablo was the same person. They argued that Tablo had taken over Dan Lee's identity in order to parlay a Stanford credential into fame and fortune.

"He just paid a lot of money to do this, lied about it and still became famous," one forum member told a Korean TV crew, who blurred her face. "It represents a total loss of hope for people who work hard."

The conspiracy theorists did not just accuse Lee, they implicated his entire family. An anonymous researcher uncovered a newspaper clipping from 1995 that stated that Lee's mother had won a gold medal at an international hairstyling competition in 1968. The researcher posted it online and pointed out that Lee's mother did not actually win the medal, implying that Lee's family had been lying about their achievements for decades.

"Can anybody give me the phone number of Tablo's mom's hair salon?" wrote one Internet user. "I would like to ask her how it feels to be a criminal."

Lee's mother began to receive threatening phone calls. At a family dinner, she answered her cell phone and heard a man's voice. "You're a whore," he said. "You and your family should leave Korea."

The attacks spread. Posts appeared that questioned Lee's brother David, who had begun a master's at Columbia but never finished. A researcher found a web page that indicated that David had completed the master's and calls flooded into the public broadcasting channel in Seoul where he worked. He was fired.

David's home address and phone numbers were published and he also started to receive worrisome calls. One caller threatened to stab him to death for his alleged transgressions. The tenor of the anonymous mob was turning decidedly more violent.

"If #blobyblo doesn't leave Korea, something bad might happen to him," one heckler warned on Twitter, referring to Lee by his Twitter handle.

Lee felt that his recording label, Woolim Entertainment, was doing little to counter the accusations against him and his family. "We have nothing to say about allegations against Tablo that he had fake education qualifications," the agency stated on June 7. Two days later, it publicly pledged to help, but Lee felt that his representatives never followed through. He left the label later that month.

"It broke my heart," he says. "They abandoned me."

In the midst of the controversy, Lee's wife gave birth to their first child. It was a moment of joy, but as Lee walked the corridors of the hospital, he saw people looking at him coldly and he panicked.

"Since my attackers were all anonymous, there was no way for me to know who was after me," Lee says. "I didn't know if the doctor, who's putting needles in my baby, is one of those people. It was terrifying."

On the streets, strangers would shout at him, calling him a liar and a cheat. "It was like I had stepped into the middle of a modern-day witch hunt," he says.

Lee stopped going out—the environment had become too hostile. Still, he did his best to respond to the attacks. Fifteen years prior, Lee's mother had contacted the author of the newspaper article that incorrectly stated that she had won the medal. She had told him that it was an error and he apologized. Now the reporter issued a statement confirming the mistake and Lee forwarded it to the press.

He also tried to explain that his brother did not maintain the web page that indicated he had completed a master's. Whoever had typed the information made the error. Lee pointed to other online résumés that correctly stated David's credentials.

The conspiracy theorists online dismissed all this as simply part of the conspiracy. They argued that the reporter had been paid to defend Lee and didn't believe that the error in David's résumé was accidental. Lee's efforts to answer their questions were turned into evidence of how far he was willing to go to defend his false identity.

Part of their suspicion stemmed from the fact that Lee is not actually a Korean citizen. When he was 8, his family had moved to Canada; he became a Canadian citizen when he was 12. That meant he was exempt from compulsory military service, even while his two Epik High bandmates were drafted. Many forum commenters interpreted this as yet another example of how Lee had gamed the system.

The doubters scored what they believed was a major victory when they discovered a man on Facebook named Daniel Lee who got a degree from Stanford in 2002. This Daniel Lee lived in Wisconsin and worked as a mechanical engineer. Tablo, they claimed, had stolen his identity.

In the registrar's office, Black fielded a series of emails about this allegation. The truth: Two Daniel Lees received Stanford degrees in 2002. One got a BA and master's in English and became a rapper in Korea; the other got a master's in mechanical engineering and works at a product design firm in Wisconsin.

"One day I started getting random emails from people in Korea who were violently angry at me for allowing some rapper to steal my identity," says the other Daniel Lee, laughing at the recollection. "I had no idea what they were talking about."

Black repeatedly confirmed that Daniel Lee the English major was a graduate in good standing but that only seemed to create more agitation. Some emailed to question Black's integrity, suggesting that he was colluding with Lee. Black got angry. "These people don't want the truth," he says. "They dismiss everything that doesn't align with what they already believe."

Lee continued to fight back. On August 5, 2010, he released his Canadian citizenship certificate to the press. To his astonishment, he was promptly sued by four anonymous Koreans who charged him with forgery.

"I was doing everything they asked and it was never good enough," Lee says. "That's when I realized that they weren't looking for answers, they just wanted to destroy me."

Korean media widely reported the suit, which only served to further sow doubt about Lee's identity among the general population. Gossip-oriented celebrity sites pored over every detail of the charges; the mainstream press even covered the case. The fact that Stanford had officially confirmed Lee's diploma did not seem to check the flow of articles. By midsummer, Lee's travails had become one of the biggest news stories in the country.

Sean Lim, '01, MA '02, had a front-row seat to the drama. He was a morning news anchor for Arirang, an English-language network in Korea, and watched with horror as the story dominated the summer news. It was a surreal experience because he knew Lee wasn't lying: The two were friends from Stanford.

In fact, Lim could count himself as one of Lee's oldest fans. He lived with Lee in Okada, and was an enthusiastic member of the audience at the small dorm events Lee's first hip-hop group, 4n Objectz, played. So when people started to question Lee's background, Lim told everyone he could that Lee was a Stanford graduate.

"The problem was that it was just me and the people I ran into against the millions online," Lim says.

One man's word wasn't going to turn the tide so Lim contacted Kevin Woo, MS '92, the secretary of the Stanford Club of Korea. Lim asked the group to issue a statement in Korean vouching for Lee. He felt that part of the problem was that all of the evidence in support of Lee was in English and was coming from Stanford, an overseas source. Maybe if a trusted Korean organization such as the local alumni association took action, it would come in a form that ordinary Koreans could appreciate.

The president of the association, Joon Chung, MS '88, PhD '93, decided not to issue a statement. "It was an unusual situation," he says. "Some people believe it's not good to respond to irrationality."

According to Woo, Chung wanted to do something publicly to support Lee but alums in Korea warned him not to. These alums had never met Lee—he'd never attended an association meeting—so many felt that they couldn't be sure that he was who he said he was. They were afraid that their reputation as Stanford alumni in Korea would be tarnished if they erroneously vouched for the rapper.

Instead Chung sent an email to members urging them to take individual action on Lee's behalf. It would be up to each member to decide whether or not to do anything.

Lim was furious. "They left Dan hanging out to dry," he says. "They could have ended this but nobody wanted to get close to the fire."

It was an understandable fear. The online mob wanted blood, and anybody who stood up against them could incur their wrath. Lim himself admits he struggled with the decision to help. He had a job in broadcasting and relied on public goodwill. He could endanger his career if he spoke out. "I'm ashamed to say that I thought twice about helping Dan," he says. "I saw what they were doing to him and I was scared."

Lim met with his old friend at an out-of-the-way coffee shop in July. Lee looked exhausted and said he hadn't been sleeping. He was depressed and his emotions were getting the better of him. Only months earlier, he had played sold-out concerts and was besieged by requests for autographs on the street. Now, he had to sneak around just to meet a friend. "I was contemplating whether my life was actually worth living," Lee says.

Lim realized there was no choice: He had to do something. He started emailing friends from Lee's days at Stanford and, collectively, 22 of them formed a Facebook page in support of Lee.

"I don't want the memories Dan, I, and others shared to be erased by people seeking to prove that he never went to Stanford," wrote Eddy (Chi) Qi, '01. "Memories including him taking my drunk and occasionally vomiting self (once on his shoe) back to my dorm after a party."

"I remember suffering through some rough early performances at the AASA [Asian American Students' Association] talent shows and am glad to know his talent eventually caught up to his enthusiasm," wrote Tipatat Chennavasin, '00.

Although the Korean press reported that Lee's Stanford friends were rallying around him, TaJinYo members refused to believe it was real. Kang Han, '02, a friend from Lee's freshman year and the first to post on the Facebook site, received threats even though he lived in Los Angeles. "Watch your back," one person messaged him. Another peppered him with emailed insults and called him a liar.

In Korea, Lim received a call from the prosecutor investigating the charges against Lee. He was asked to come to the division headquarters in Seoul and bring his Stanford diploma. When he arrived, an investigator took the diploma and held it up to the light to determine if it was a forgery.

"You've got to be kidding me," Lim said. "You want to test the paper too?"

The investigator looked at him without smiling and told him he was going to send the document over to the forensics department to test the paper.

"I started to understand how Dan felt," Lim says.

When the attacks on Tablo began in the spring of 2010, Ki Yeon Sung received more than 200 emails requesting that she investigate Lee. She was a seasoned producer with a show called PD Note, something akin to 60 Minutes in Korea, and explored topics such as politics, organized crime and corruption. Celebrity gossip wasn't her beat so she ignored the requests.

"We have more important things to worry about in Korea," she thought at the time.

The situation changed when the attacks grew to include anybody who offered evidence that supported Lee. Reporters and their managers who published stories disputing TaiJinYo claims about Lee were flooded with outraged emails, calls and demands for the reporter's resignation. Nobody wanted to be threatened so, according to Sung, reporters stopped adequately questioning the validity of the claims. As the story became one of the top news items in the country that summer, she saw that the mob was have a chilling effect on the coverage. That's when it became something worth worrying about.

Not that Sung necessarily believed Lee. It did seem unusual to her that Lee had accomplished so much, so fast, and she could understand how people might have doubts. Many students studied extraordinarily hard to get into a top school and then worked even harder to do well once they were there. Lee appeared to have breezed through Stanford in a short amount of time and come away with a master's on top of it. His story had the power to make people feel stupid.

The dominant conspiracy theory suggested that Lee had appropriated someone's identity, so Sung decided to challenge him directly on this point. If Lee was who he said he was, then he should be able to travel to California and request a transcript in person. If he got it, the mystery would be solved.

Lee accepted the challenge.

It was the first time Lee had been back to campus since graduation and a lot had changed. For one, the damn Rodin sculpture had been moved, and that had the potential to make him look like a liar on Korean national TV. (When not on loan to other institutions, The Thinker now resides in the Cantor Arts Center.)

Luckily, when he walked into the English department, student services manager Judy Candell recognized him and gave him a hug. She'd heard about his troubles. "I hope all this goes away," she said. "Because we believe in you."

The camera crew followed him to the registrar's office where Thomas Black was waiting. Lee pulled his diploma and transcript out of his backpack and laid them down on a table for Black to inspect. He also handed Black his passport. Black printed Lee's transcript off his own server, compared the two and checked Lee's name against the name listed in the passport.

"It's exactly the same," Black concluded, holding up the two transcripts. "Line for line, word for word."

The footage would air as part of a two-part special on MBC, one of Korea's four national networks. Lee was vindicated, but all he could feel was numbness.

"The people who are doing this to me will never stop," he said. "They just won't believe me no matter what I do."

Lee filed suit against 20 of his most virulent attackers. By October, the prosecutor investigating both his claims and the allegations against him determined that Lee was who he said he was. The prosecutor demanded that a Korean Internet site divulge the true identities of the 20 attackers. Whatbecomes, the leading agitator, was revealed as Eung Kim, a 57-year-old Korean-American businessman living in Chicago. Korean police asked him to report for questioning.

"I posted in a fair manner, so I will not answer the summons," he told them.

The police then issued an international warrant for his arrest, which he has defied now for months. On the TaJinYo forum, Kim questioned whether defamation was an international crime and vented his frustration at being unjustly targeted. "I am so angry they are treating me like a suspect when they have not confirmed I am a criminal," he wrote.

To outside observers, the case was closed. At a cabinet meeting, Korean President Lee Myung-bak stated that what happened to Lee was a "witch hunt that should never happen again." Ashton Kutcher, who follows Lee on Twitter, chimed in. "Time to kill the evil eye on this guy," he tweeted.

Lee, however, hasn't recovered. He's still afraid to go out in public and doesn't know if he'll ever be able to perform for an audience again. This May, he returned to Stanford to give a speech to the Asian American Students' Association. It was his first public appearance since the controversy erupted and even though it was a friendly crowd, Lee was paralyzed by stage fright, something he'd never experienced before. He felt nauseated throughout the talk and periodically had to pause to catch his breath. It reinforced his fear that he'd never be able to dominate a stage as he once did.

"Honestly, I'm damaged," he says. "And I don't know if I'll ever be better."

The crowd didn't seem to mind. After the speech, Lee was surprised to see a long line of people waiting for his autograph. He posed for pictures and seemed to relax. He smiled and, for a moment, there was a glimmer of hope.

source: Stanford Magazine

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