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space-------kid · 5 years

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linger.

Anime/Manga: Kimetsu no Yaiba Pairing: Genya/fem!Reader Additional characters: mentions of Sanemi and the rest of the Shinazugawa family Warning: Is Genya being adorably shy and flustered considered as one? Additional tag: Modern day AU, adult!Genya and Reader (you’re both 20-something *wink* *wonk*) A/N: I should be working on my Garou/fem!Reader story + acad stuff but this one just won’t leave me be (and it’s been stuck in my head for days aaaaAAAAAHHHH)! It’s another dream-based fic - and it was really cute (to me, anyway *chuckles* *shrugs*)! Pls enjoy--

Summary:

She was always singing that one song from a particular band whenever he passes by. Maybe it was just coincidence; Genya really didn’t know. But two things were for certain: He would never stop tossing any spare change he had in his pocket on her guitar case, nor would he cease passing by this street she chose to play at.

Man, if only he was brave enough to ask for your name (and hopefully your number).

Alternatively,

You beat Genya to his goals, and he was more than shocked. Also exceedingly pleased (and flustered).

“but i'm in so deep you know i'm such a fool for you you've got me wrapped around your finger do you have to let it linger? do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?”

linger/the cranberries

“But I'm in so deep You know I'm such a fool for you You've got me wrapped around your finger Do you have to let it linger? Do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?”

Of course you were singing it again.

Every single afternoon he would pass by Wisteria Avenue, Genya would find you standing in your little corner in front of a fountain, guitar in hand and its case on the pavement on your feet, a charming smile on your face while you serenade the passing crowd with your sweet, lilting voice. If he would be honest with himself, Genya would say that you were just one of the faces he had to ignore as he pushed his way past people, some street singer who was just trying to make a name for herself and wasn’t worth that much time listening to. But then he had to go and actually took just a little time to hear what made the crowd drop notes and coins in your guitar case, only to get absolutely floored by your talent he once so callously dismissed.

It was shame for inwardly and thoughtlessly thinking a little low of you that made Genya shove a hand in his pockets and toss whatever amount of money he had in them, but more so out of awe at how lovely your voice were (you were also very good at playing your guitar, but could you blame him for being enthralled with your singing?).

Guess he was really lucky that the fastest way to reach the apartment complex he lived in with Sanemi was Wisteria Avenue, huh?

Because finally, after a long day at work and being annoyed by the throng of people he had to share the streets with, Genya found one good reason not to lose his temper whenever he had to reduce the speed of his usually swift pace because of slow walkers or - the most annoying of them all - couples getting all mushy together and walking as if they were traipsing on the surface of the moon.

Genya wasn’t a fan of girl songs, but he made an exception for that one song you usually played and sang whenever he passed by - it was that song called “Linger” by The Cranberries (he listened to the lyrics and honest to god Googled what you were singing because he had no idea at the time). He wouldn’t go as far as to searching the internet what the song meant, but judging from what he heard he thought that it was about this one girl who fell in love with some jackass who wouldn’t even take her and their relationship seriously.

What a jerk.

But the way you sang it was just-

Damn, he couldn’t even find a proper word to describe it. Was it nice? Was that the influence you had over the lyrics? That you make it sound so playful and innocent at the same time, as if it wasn’t about a hopeless girl and a dipshit who won’t take love seriously?

Genya’s head hurt with how much he had thought about it, so he simply settled with listening to you sing and show his appreciation by giving you any spare change he could fish out from his pockets.

---

Okay, this was increasingly becoming too dodgy to be considered an occurring coincidences.

It was as if you were actively seeking him out from the hustle and bustle of people passing Wisteria Avenue, but Genya could swear that you would start playing “Linger” once you saw him so you would already be singing the chorus by the time he made it in front of you.

Every afternoon the scenario would always be the same. And every afternoon he would be left feeling really shy and utterly flustered because you would smile sweetly at him while you sing - most especially on every chorus - and tilt your head to the side like an adorably cute puppy as thanks while he awkwardly searched his pockets for spare change to toss in your guitar case.

“And I'm in so deep You know I'm such a fool for you You've got me wrapped around your finger Do you have to let it linger? Do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?”

Oh, dear merciful god above. Why did you have to be so cute, so pretty, and so angelic while you sing? Why did your voice have to be so fucking beautiful it sent pleasant shivers down Genya’s spine whenever you made eye contact with him as your lips formed the words of the song?

And why did it always have to be THAT song with him?

You made Genya feel as if he’s the lovestruck, hopeless girl in the song, goddamn it!

(Not that he saw you as the jerkface in the song, though, Please don’t get him wrong.)

Face bright red he could almost hear his younger siblings calling him a tomato, Genya hurriedly grabbed some coins and three crumpled notes, pulled them out of his pockets, and nearly hurled them in your guitar case in his hasty attempt to leave before you could finish the song and before he could say anything stupid.

Oh, god. Why hadn’t he outgrown this stupid nervousness around girls that he had developed when he hit puberty? He was in his twenty-something now, a freaking adult! Why, god, why?

“Thank you~!”

Fuck on a fucking stick. Even your normal speaking voice was too darn cute! Impossibly so!

Genya only managed an awkwardly shy wave before he practically ran through the oncoming mass of pedestrians to cross the street and increase the distance between the two of you.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he won’t chicken out and ask your name. Maybe even get your number.

Right.

Maybe Sanemi could give him some tips on how to approach a girl.

(Genya ditched the plan in getting his older brother’s help. Stupid ‘Nemi for laughing at him when he figured out judging from how red Genya’s face went before he could get a word in.)

---

It’s official. Some of your usual listeners have already established that you would only sing “Linger” whenever that tall, muscular, mohawked guy with a scar on his face came within your field of vision.

An elderly couple would look on knowingly as the young man seemed to shrink gingerly under your appreciative stare, his face red and filled with wonder and nervousness as he watched and listened to your performance. They had been on that awkward stage once, the elderly couple, and could instantly recognize something blooming between two people when they see one.

A group of teenage girls, although intimidated by the height and facial features of the mohawked guy, couldn’t stop muffling their adoring giggles at how cute he looked as he watched you like a shy puppy. Disappointed ‘aawww’s would slip past their lips whenever mohawk guy hurriedly left the scene, sometimes not bothering to finish your song. The two of you have no idea that they have already began shipping the two of you. Hard.

The rest of your listeners weren’t surprised at all that you would not play that one song whenever mohawk guy was absent for the day.

None of them intervened between you and mohawk guy, however. But, man, they just wished that he would soon act on whatever his obvious intentions were. They knew for sure that he was getting - or already had - a crush on you.

Might as well act on it, right? Before someone else could snag you-

---

Alright. This afternoon, he would finally do it.

Genya couldn’t believe how much he was stressing out with regards to asking your name (and number, fingers crossed). It was just simple, right? All he had to do was to be polite, be nice and most certainly not creepy nor intimidating towards you, and compliment you for your wonderful performances and ask for your name (and number!). What’s so difficult about it?

Feeling uncharacteristically confident, Genya breezed past the crowd and smiled when he reached Wisteria Avenue. He immediately headed to your spot, only to stop on his tracks when he realized something.

You weren’t playing his song.

You were singing a different one.

Genya’s brows furrowed with worry. Didn’t you see him approaching? Were you taking song requests now?

He stopped behind the small crowd of your usual listeners, looking rather expectant. He unconsciously pursed and bit his lips when you looked at him and smiled, his face turning beet red faster than he could say ‘fuck’. Genya was unaware of the looks he had been receiving from the people as his attention remained focused at you and his not-song you were singing.

Why weren’t you singing “Linger”? Did you change your playlist? Were you getting tired of it?

Genya breathed a sigh of relief, mentally kicking himself for worrying too much and being a paranoid when you finished the song and began strumming the familiar introductory chords to The Cranberries’ song.

Compliment her when she’s done, ask her name, and don’t forget her number, too, Genya told himself repeatedly as he watched you, trying to maintain his brain functions when you kept on looking and smiling at him while you sang. He couldn’t help but feel as if only the two of you existed in the avenue, the rest of the people reduced to nothing but cardboard cutouts that separated him from you. But he kept his ground, never wanting to disrupt your performance.

Compliment her when she’s done, ask her name, and don’t forget her number, too.

Compliment her.

Ask her name.

Get her number-

“Excuse me, what’s your name?”

Genya had to snap himself back to awareness when he heard your question. He looked around, trying to find who made you stop halfway from singing to ask for their name, eyes widening in surprise when he saw the rest of the audience - all of them - were looking at him.

He looked at you, dazed, and dumbly pointed a finger at himself to make sure if his hunch was right.

You chuckled sweetly (Oh, mercy, mercy, god above!) at him and nodded your head.

“Yeah, you, sweetheart. What’s your name?”

If it was possible, Genya’s heart would be out of his chest right now with how fast and hard it was beating at the moment. You just called him sweetheart for fuck’s sake-

“G-Genya,” he helplessly blurted out, face torn between despair and joy. He planned to ask you your name, not for you to ask his!

With a grateful nod of your head, you repeated where you cut yourself off.

“And I'm in so deep You know I'm such a fool for you, Genya~ You've got me wrapped around your finger Do you have to let it linger? Do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?”

For the love of all that was blessed and holy. Did you just insert his name seamlessly in the lyrics?

What the fuck kind of a power move was that?!

“You know I'm such a fool for you You've got me wrapped around your finger, Genya~ Do you have to let it linger? Do you have to, do you have to, do you have to let it linger?”

That’s it. There’s possibly no way he’s not gonna be able to get your name and number now.

And Genya was so glad that he did. Not only did you let him have your name and number, he even lucked out when he snagged a date with you.

(Sanemi could only gape in disbelief at how his shy and nervous little brother managed to ask a girl out. Well, shit. Looked like he got to catch up.)

fin

#genya x reader #shinazugawa genya x reader #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kny

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sledgefuweek · 4 years

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Hi everyone! As we mentioned a couple days ago, Lea and I thought it’d be helpful for everyone if we made an informational post about the prompts for Sledgefu Week, just in case people were either confused about the prompt itself or maybe looking for some inspo!

Here is the AU prompt list: I’ll pop it under a read-more just to save your dashboards, but do go ahead and check it out! And as always, any questions or comments you may have, our inbox is always open :~)

PIRATE AU

Pretty self-explanatory, and a really popular suggestion on the google form that came before the poll, so I’ll assume most of you have a pretty good idea of what makes a pirate AU! This is a fun prompt to pair up with other ‘ocean’ themed prompts, I’m thinking of sirens, mermaids, sea monsters, however many tentacles you want to introduce into this thing. I think Pirate AU can encompass all of those, plus all the various different degrees of piracy that can be had, ranging from the big bad Captain Hook style of piracy down to something a little more Treasure Planet... the AU doesn’t stipulate anywhere that it has to be on land/water after all ;~) My favourite childhood pirates were the sky pirates from the Edge Chronicles series! Really, the only limit with this prompt is your own imagination, feel free to push the envelope!

SOUTHERN GOTHIC

This is one that I’ve seen a few people be curious about, and honestly as was I! Maybe if you’re American you may have a better understanding of what makes a Southern Gothic story different from a conventional (European) Gothic novel, but I know a lot of people here aren’t American, including myself and Lea, so! I did a little research (but if any of this doesn’t quite ring true to what Southern Gothic is, don’t hesitate to correct me! There’s only so much the internet can tell me haha). It’s my understanding that where Euro Gothic is more heavily rooted in the fantastic, Southern Gothic tends towards magical realism instead. It’s more heavily entrenched into the culture of the South than Euro Gothic is necessarily about European culture. Its essentially preoccupied with examining the values of the American south, so it’s important to exercise some sensitivity and care with some of the themes which can come up when looking at the history of the south; namely racism, and slavery -- for obvious reasons. There are plenty other ways to approach Southern Gothic without making comment on these aspects of the genre if you aren’t appropriately knowledgeable about them... the genre stems from European Gothic after all, which means that although it is focused on the south, it is also characterised by explorations of madness, fear of the outside world, decay and despair, the impact of the past on the present, and events stemming from or relating to poverty, crime, alienation, or violence. It has an absolute wealth of generic characteristics that, once combined with the magical realism that is unique to Southern Gothic, can be really fun to play with. Think Wuthering Heights, you know?

VAMPIRE AU

Another pretty classic one, and an AU that I think warrants very little explanation. I think the fun in Vampire AUs is in making it new -- there are SO many various vampire stories out there, what do you want to do with yours? Draw from popular culture, draw from history, draw from your own imagination... just as with the pirate AU, there’s really no limit to where you can take this prompt. Imagine the impact of an all-vampire company in a canonverse story! Or how would a newly-turned vampire navigate his new condition in the modern world? Plus, the whole immortality thing really lends itself to some great slow burn opportunities here. Or, hey, Twilight AU?

PARANORMAL AU

Okay, so: I know now that this looks similar to our Supernatural AU from last year, at a glance. Maybe it’s just me, but I feel like they’re two very distinct prompts! It’s always been my understanding that supernatural is monsters: werewolves, witches, etc. whereas paranormal means ghosts, and aliens? Either way, if you already have an idea planned for this that tends towards the werewolf rather than the ghost, don’t worry about it. However this is the time where the angst can come in... I feel like The Pacific is kind of a perfect piece of source material to base a ghostfic on -- not to be morbid but well, you know. And of course, it isn’t limited to one of the characters being a ghost -- as I said, my understanding of ‘paranormal’ always encompassed ghosts, but also aliens, and cryptozoology. Now, wouldn’t Eugene being so interested in birds translate nicely into cryptozoology? Wouldn’t Snafu, being the paranoid legend that he is, quite possibly be into weird internet forums about aliens? You can interpret the prompt as loosely or as closely as you like :~)

COFFEE SHOP AU

I feel like I don’t need to explain this. Do I? Are coffee shop AUs still as popular as they used to be? The real challenge of a coffee shop AU is actually this: how will you make the employee of the coffee shop feel anything less than distain for the customer that is the would-be love interest? Fellow customer service workers know exactly what I mean. (But for real, this can be a fun prompt despite how oftentimes overworked it can seem, and that’s because it leaves a lot of room for creativity. Is your character a poet doing a reading at a local coffee house, catching the eye of the person in the audience? Are they a musician, a stressed-out student, a caffeine-hater who is gritting their teeth after every sip just for a chance to speak to the cute barista? There’s tons of options, and I’m excited to see where people go with it.)

GHIBLI AU

So this is quite simply an opportunity to write an AU for any Ghibli movie of your choice! It’s actually my prompt (I was super happy to see it make it up there in the polls!) so I can explain why it’s nice and vague :~) I didn’t like the thought of having to limit every single person who wanted to contribute to the ship week to a specific AU for a specific Ghibli movie: they have such a huge catalogue of movies, and everyone seems to have their own particular favourite! So basically, you have the freedom to pick from any movie made by Ghibli to turn into an AU here. And these AUs can be as close to the source or as far away from it as you like. Want to write Gene and Snaf as background characters ordering bread from Kiki? You got it. Want to have them fighting in the war that features in Howl’s Moving Castle? Your mind. It’s completely up to you! And if you’re not familiar with Ghibli movies, you’re gonna have a great time if you do decide to watch a couple :~) They’re all on Netflix in the UK, but can’t speak for other countries sadly.

ENEMIES TO LOVERS

A time-honoured classic. Who hasn’t read an enemies to lovers AU? If you haven’t, and you’re unfamiliar with the concept, it’s pretty self explanatory! It’s pretty much about two characters who have an oftentimes very long history of conflict with each other, (though the ‘long’ part doesn’t really matter much) that eventually resolves into, well, love! The enemy relationship gets swapped for a romantic relationship. I always associate this prompt with slow burn fic too -- it’s always so good if it’s a gradual descent into affection. Now, this is a very broad prompt, which means it can be applied really nicely on top of other AUs! Just glancing at the list here, you wanna write a centuries long Vampire AU where they start out enemies and become lovers? Go for it!! It’s easily one that can be made unique and really fun by applying it to other AUs if you want to. I always think of Spy AUs or things within that genre too!

MYTH AU

This is another pretty broad one that I think covers a lot of bases, simply because there are SO many myths out there lol. If your culture has specific myths, this’d be a really nice time to get creative with them and also let people learn a little more about myths they might not know! There’s also obviously a ton of myths centralised around the American south so that would be fitting for both characters, but don’t be afraid to branch out! Really, you can apply this to any kind of folklore you want, and it’d be perfect! Obviously Greek myths are super popular and always cool too -- imagine an Achilles/Patroclus AU! But I think what makes this prompt really nice is tha it leaves you some room to actually have a go at making your own mythic tale up. So fall back on the real myths that kinda build up our world, but if you’re feeling really creative, take a stab at crafting your own!

#sledgefu week

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kimarchive · 5 years

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“the girl can’t help it” | lil’ kim interview with mtv news

Kurt Loder: It's been four years. What have you been doing?

Lil' Kim: A lot of people have seen me on the covers of...

Loder: Every magazine.

Kim: Well, yeah. I was just handling my business. I had a lot of behind-the-scenes personal and business problems that I had to take care of in order to be comfortable today. After Biggie died, it was really, really hard for me. I had to take on responsibilities that I really didn't want to do.

Loder: You're signing checks now?

Kim: Yeah... and I'm accepting checks.

Loder: That's always good.

Kim: I want to be comfortable, because I love what I do. If it meant taking a lapse of two or three years, then that's something that I had to do. My record label and I were fighting -- I'm going to tell the truth -- we were fighting, and we're kind of getting it together now. We're trying to come to an agreement, but it's hard. They really don't know what I need as an artist, and I don't think they understood what kind of artist I am. Now I think they are understanding, but now they have to catch up.

Loder: What do you need as an artist?

Kim: Well, Puffy gave a quote-unquote: "Kim is a real artist." A lot of people didn't know that, and they didn't think that, because a lot of people thought Biggie wrote all of my lyrics and that Biggie [and] a whole bunch of men [were] responsible for my career. But, you know, I had a little to do with it.

Loder: On this record, we see you've written everything.

Kim: Yeah, exactly. [Biggie's] not here now, and I don't have a lot of [male] influences in my life right now. I have my family and a few people that came in the game with me. But me as an artist, I need to be accommodated, because I'm a very accommodating person. If you accommodate me, I'm going to accommodate you.

I believe strongly in my work and need time, because I put 100 percent in everything I write and everything I do. My modeling, my music, my acting, everything that I'm getting ready to get into, I put 100 percent into. I want whoever is going to back me with it to put 100 percent into it. And my record label, they just weren't doing that at that time.

I have my own record label, which is Queen Bee Records, and my first artist was Lil' Cease. His album didn't do very well on the strength that [Atlantic] just was giving me that label and letting me put Lil' Cease out. Just like saying, "Here. Here's a label. Here's Cease. Now let's focus on what we need to do." That's not what I wanted. If I could have just made my mark in letting people know that I really know how to produce and I know how to also write [and] be an artist, that would have made me feel much better.

Loder: Were you and Puffy going back and forward about the content of this record? Was he happy with the sound of it? It's been pushed back quite a bit.

Kim: Puffy and I. One thing I can say is, Puffy and I work very well together. [Rolls eyes] Over the past few years, Puffy has been going through his little... you know... personal...

Loder: He's busy.

Kim: Yeah. Very. Busy. [Laughs] It's been hard, because he's been so busy. That's something that I had to understand. He had to work out with his schedule, and also with me working on an album. I'm not on Bad Boy -- he's really just a consultant and friend of the family, and he also executive produced the album with me. We work very good together. We're like Tammi Terrell and Marvin Gaye, I would say... actually, sorry, that's me and Biggie. We're like Berry Gordy and Diana Ross. [Laughs]

Loder: What does Biggie's not being here mean? That you had to do so much more work? Did he take a lot off your shoulders when he was with us?

Kim: Yeah. Biggie was like my everything. I love Biggie from the bottom of my shoes to my heart, all the way up to my head, all the way out. Biggie was very good in what he did as an entertainer. He had an eye for everything. We picked my first pictures. He was at my video shoot. He kind of knew how he wanted the video shoot to go. He always had an idea of what kind of artist he wanted me to be. We always collaborated, though. That's the amazing thing with us, too: We kind of always agreed. If there was a look that I wanted to look like, he always agreed with it. If it was something he didn't agree with, he would be like, "Well, I think you should do this," or "I think you should do that," and I would go, "Hmm, maybe," and we'll work it out. He was a very important asset, plus he knew music very, very well.

Loder: Your album, of course, has been bootlegged. How annoying is that?

Kim: Very annoying. Oh my God.

Loder: When did you find out about it? Did somebody come running in and say, "Oh my God, I bought it on the street?"

Kim: Yeah. More than one person. This is when it really bothered me: I have a girlfriend who's away. She just graduated from college. She lives in North Carolina, and she called me up and was like, "I just bought your CD, and it isn't out," and I'm like, "What? What do you mean?" She described every song. There was about seven songs, and I'm like, "Oh, my goodness." That's when I knew it was real, because she was all the way out in North Carolina. Then I got a call three weeks later from a fan -- fans get my number [to] my house and cell phone, I don't know how -- but this fan just called me up and was like, "You know, Kim, I just wanna say I got your CD, and it's hot, and..." You know what I mean? I'm like, "Who are you, number one..."

Loder: "And where did you get my CD?"

Kim: "And you live where?" He's, like, in San Francisco, California. I'm like, "Oh, my goodness." I knew it was real then. So I made a few calls, and we got on top of the problem. Then it got even bigger. They were bootlegging and selling my album overseas. I had to send my troop over there and kinda pick up whatever was out there. One thing about bootlegging is once it's out there, it's out there. It's hard to get it back. What I did, though, was in honor of my fans. I went back in and I recorded eleven extra songs.

Loder: Whoa.

Kim: You could only imagine. We had only about three weeks to do it. Sometimes it takes me three days to write a song. It can take me three weeks to write a song. Sometimes I have writer's block. I want it to be perfect.

Loder: What do you think when your bootleg comes out? Do you start thinking, "Was it my sound guy?" Do you get paranoid?

Kim: With all this modern technology today, you don't know what it could be. When you're recording in ProTools, people, if they're on the Internet or their computer, they can download while you're recording. It's ridiculous. It hurts, because this is our livelihood. It's how we make our money. It's how we eat. This what we do -- this is what we want to do. It's hard, because these songs are dry. They're not mixed, they're not mastered.

Loder: What do you think about the Napster phenomenon, and Dr. Dre suing these people?

Kim: I'm all for him. Do your thing. I'm going to get behind you, Dre. Because it's ridiculous. It's really not fair. It's stealing. It's cheating. It's just not right. There has to be a way to handle it. What they do, anyway, is they take our stuff and they sell it and make money off of it, so we might as well get our money back from them.

Loder: Have you been working out a lot? You seem more muscular.

Kim: Well, yeah, I work out, but I'm trying to keep in shape. I kinda work out to keep my mind clear, I would say. It kind of relaxes me. I had to figure out a way I could feel relaxed, because I kind of felt I was uptight for a little while, with a lot of the things I've been going through and a lot of the mischief I have seen.

Loder: Is your personal life fine and balanced out now? You have a boyfriend or anything you can tell us about?

Kim: No. I can't say it's balanced out, but I can definitely say that I'm content on the road that I'm going to be balanced out and to be happy. There's a lot of things that make me unhappy, like when my record label makes me unhappy and they don't do what I want them to do, 'cause they have to understand that everything has to be perfect, especially when you haven't been seen in the past three years and people don't know, kinda. Especially with me.

I'm trying to change music and the way the direction of music is going. I like to do different stuff. My new single, "No Matter What They Say," is different, and that was my whole reason for doing it. I love it. It has a calypso flavor, which is kind of popular these days.

Loder: [What do you do] when you go in the studio?

Kim: One thing that I'm going to get more into on my next album is producing my own music. That was another reason that took my album a little long, too, was I tried to go back to all the original producers that I worked with on "Hard Core," [and] they weren't giving me what I wanted. The only way you can change music is if you know what you want as an artist. I knew what I wanted right off the bat.

I wanted music that everyone can listen to. I love rock music, I love R&B; music, I love rap music. I've been listening to music since I was a baby, so I know all kinds of music. I like to put it all together, you know what I mean? I used to love to go to the Dance Theater Of Harlem with my mom, so I know that kind of music.

Some of the producers that I worked with, they just didn't know what I want, so I worked with new producers this time, and I kind of told them what I wanted. I would get sounds in my head, I don't know where they would come from, and I would say, "I want something that goes like this," and I would hum it or sing it, and they would make it to be. That's what makes a good producer. That's what makes a good team.

Loder: Where do you get these little outfits? Are they hard to find?

Kim: Some of them are, because some of them come from overseas. I'm very fortunate to have designers who love me, and when they design their lines, they think of me. Oh, Donatella [Versace], she makes outfits for me. That's just my girl. I support her to the fullest. If I'm in Miami, I'll walk into the store and just buy something, just so I can have my normal Donatella Versace look if I don't have anything with me.

Loder: And keep food on her table.

Kim: Yeah. And then I have a stylist... she always picks out, like, really wonderful, cute little things that no one may have. We're basically off of the couture shows. We love couture clothes.

Loder: You know what's really interesting -- your mother is in your video [for "No Matter What They Say"]. How is your relationship?

Kim: That's my best friend. I love my mother. [We've had] a best-friend relationship since I can remember.

Loder: Not everybody can say that.

Kim: That's true. That's the one thing that I love. My mother is the best, and I'm living now so that she can live. I'm working so she can live. I want her to have the nicer things in life, and I want her to enjoy herself.

Loder: What have you bought for her? You got her a car or something like that?

Kim: Yeah, yeah, she has a Mercedes. She has her own allowance, and she can do whatever she wants to do. She takes trips when she wants, and I'm building her a house. She wants to move to the Poconos. I don't want her to move to the Poconos.

Loder:The Poconos?!

Kim: Yes! She wants a house out there so bad, I'm building it.

Loder: Where did this idea come from?

Kim: I don't know. I'm gonna ask her, "Mom, can you find somewhere where it's nice and warm all the way around?" But whatever she wants, she can have.

Loder: Are you still in contact with your dad?

Kim: I haven't spoken to my dad in years. On Father's Day, I really wanted to call him. I had no numbers on him. However, he did call my mom around Father's Day and left his number. Actually, he didn't leave his number, he just left where he would be staying. And, he was only there for a few days. So I don't know. I said to myself, "One day I'm going to call him."

Loder:You think that relationship might be repaired somehow down the road, maybe?

Kim: Yeah, definitely. I love my dad. Things happen in life. Everything isn't perfect. God understands that. I'm very spiritual, and one day I'm looking to be reunited with him, I'm sure. My father's a very good person. We're both the same sign, and that sometimes does not work.

Loder: What sign is that?

Kim: I'm a Cancer.

Loder: No.

Kim: Yeah. What's your sign?

Loder: [Laughs] Huh? What?

Kim: What's your sign?

Loder: Oh, don't ask me that. That's terrible. There are some mentions of Foxy Brown on the album. Do you get along, you two? Or not, I should say, probably...

Kim: Personally... um... ah... to mention her name would give her too much props.

Loder: Oh, okay. Do you think your lyrics have changed since the last album? That you've become a little less in-your-face?

Kim: Well, I don't think it's really changed. I think I've just made a change as far as in which way music is going. To me, I'm just doing something different, that's all. And I still have those hardcore songs [where] the lyrics are very explicit and just right in your face. I had to do that for my fans. Not only that, but I love doing those kinds of songs.

This time around, I think I wanted to experiment more on a creative side. I did a song with a little girl. At the time that I did it, almost two years ago, I didn't really hear or see too many people putting out little kids and stuff like that. But now I have this creative side.

This album to me is more creative and more versatile than my last album. I think that's what people have been looking for. My whole image, to me, the reason why I came out with "Hard Core," the sexy thing, was to make me different from every other female rapper that was out. That's exactly what I'm trying to do now, is make myself different, because now we have a lot of rappers doing the same thing that I did when I came out the first time. What I'm trying to do is separate myself again from the rappers that are out now.

Loder: You'll be wearing stuff buttoned up to the neck and down to the floor soon.

Kim: No, I don't think I'm gonna cover up any time soon.

#lil' kim #Lil Kim #2000 #mtv news #interview

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the-bjd-community-confess · 5 years

Text

DoA megapost (22 confessions)

Mod: So https://true-bjd-confessions.tumblr.com/post/189300138511/mod-due-to-excessive-offtopic-arguing-in-the

All you guys’ pending DoA confessions presented in no specific order, before we move into the hold, as announced above.

To be clear: I think this is a feature DoA should have yesterday. It’s completely inappropriate to force people to use deadnames and names which are related to traumatic life experiences, or be banned.

However, *weary sigh, gesturing at the multiple 70+ reply confessions on this topic* people told me they were finding the rapidly escalating discussion to be upsetting and offputting, and that’s not my goal for this blog. ❤️

I am exceptionally weary of all the DoA hate over the person who got banned over making a new account after not being allowed to change their user name. DoA isn’t the only doll forum out there. If you don’t like their rules, don’t join. I for one find their rules about on- and off-topic dolls to be unfair and arbitrary as hell, but in the end it comes down to their house, their rules. Move on.

~Anonymous

Us: Sure would be nice to maybe be able to change your name on DOA.

Some of y’all: Are you asking for anarchy?? If we allow this, what’s next?? A reasonable review of outdated rules??? The rules are there for a reason!!1! The reason may be antiqued because technology has updated and changed since then, meaning there are better solutions available, but it’s still a reason so we DEFINITELY should NEVER change!! Change is too scary for me. :( You’re bullies who want to be special :((( Stop that :(

~Anonymous

I love seeing people get so offended at anon saying “bigots”. How do you know it was about you ? Guilty conscience? DOA could allow name changes if they really wanted to. There are other hobbies where they forbid certain people from entering forums while still allowing name changes. It’s not hard if you really care.

~Anonymous

Honestly the way people fall all over themselves to defend DoA against any sort of criticism (regardless of how you personally feel about the validity of said criticism, reader) makes me glad I never got into the community aspect of this hobby. It's just... stressful.

~Anonymous

The transphobia in the comments on this blog in particular are so gross. Being a bigot makes your dolls instantly hideous. And no, I’m not saying everyone who is defending DOAs decision is transphobic. I’m talking about the one who thinks trans people transitioning is wrong and their friends. You’re gross and so are your dolls.

~Anonymous

scammers can & will get around DOA's no name change policy, it's really not that safe. also, DOA isn't the only website which allows the sale of high-value items.

~Anonymous

First it's "if you want name changes coded in DoA, offer to do it yourself!", then it's "why tf would DoA accept some rando to help code their site?" make up your goddamn mind, your argument is falling apart.

Also when did this issue become "DoA vs trans people"? Like, I like DoA yet I also recognize it should be more accessible and updated for the modern userbase. I want it to become as good as it can be because I like the community and would hate to see it die out like so many other forum sites do. Yes, it has flaws- and believe me, the folks who get extremely upset about the idea of admitting that embarrass me- but I liked the format since I was new to the hobby. I just wish it was more inclusive!

~Anonymous

girlisav3rb: "this isn't about exclusion or leaving anyone out". Also girlisav3rb: "I'm just kicking your punk ass off [obvious metaphor for DoA]" yyyyiiiiikkkees

~Anonymous

The DOA username debate is really starting to feel like 4 people's personal beefs against each other. It isn't really about dolls and I wish it wasn't dominating all the confessions here. I don't really care about watching pomoaples, pupkinspce, aigisthewlve and tellmeifthursday make fools of themselves daily.

~Anonymous

10.

Say it louder for the people in the back: IF YOU INSIST ON NAME CHANGES FOR DOA, THEN VOLUNTEER YOUR CODING EXPERTISE. Don't know how to code and are just squawking about something you can't directly contribute towards? Then shut up or offer up money so the mods can hire a computer programmer to make the changes you're DEMANDING from a FREE service.

~Anonymous

11.

God it's so painfully obvious to see how many of the people defending DoA on the grounds that name changes would destroy the integrity of the website have never ever worked on or even been part of a forum or really any website of any kind in their lives. Seriously arguing that "the database" would break if you changed a name like?? No??? Have you ever seen a server backend before? You can automate this shit, you know, keep a log of former names, just... it's not some big huge challenge???

~Anonymous

12.

I don't have a horse in the trans name change race but calling DoA one of the friendlies communities around is abject bullshit lmao. There's not a more elitist, paranoid, abusive community this side of comic books -- but that kind of goes for this hobby as a whole, let's be honest.

~Anonymous

13.

THE RULES ARE IMPORTANT WE CAN't cHANGE THE RULES IT WILL LEAD TO CHAOS IF WE CHANGE ONE RULE WHERE WILL IT END THINK OF THE CHILDREN!!!!!!!! In my town it used to be THE RULES that POC have to go to separate schools and use separate bathrooms, but sure, the rules are the most important thing, not the people. And before anyone says cOmPaRiNg DoLlS tO rAciSm, 1) shitting on trans people IS a form of prejudice you smoothbrains, and 2) my ass is POC and I call it like I see it. Check yourselves.

~Anonymous

14.

I personally think DOA should just.. go away? It’s been around for years, most people use it as reference rather than a community anymore. Everything is on FaceBook and Instagram now, DOA is pretty much just a glorified Dolly Dictionary at this point. Besides, if they aren’t going to change an Incredibly simple, easy thing to change just to accommodate transitioning people, it’s not the best place to be.

~Anonymous

15.

I mean about the whole rules is rules is rules thing about doa: the thing is, some rules are there for a reason and obviously do need to be respected whether you agree with them or not, like don’t block fire exits, murder is bad, etc. but some rules eventually become outdated and need to be changed to keep up with society, and that doesn’t make the people pointing out that they need to be changed evil or entitled or spoiled. Imagine if we all still had to drive 10 mph everywhere because when someone pointed out that car technology had improved since 1915 and the speed limit should be increased accordingly everyone had just shouted them down with “BUT TEH RUUULLLEESS!!!” You’d be pretty interested in getting some of this “special treatment” yourself so you could get to work on time, huh?

~Anonymous

16.

Honestly the easiest solution would be let people change their names only once and have it trackable.. as a trans dude its NOT that deep.

~Anonymous

17.

I notice that the unrelenting attacks on DoA are now even using the same phraseology along with the name-calling and implications of sinister motives. These are textbook bullying tactics. Next is the boycott, except that most of these people already say they don’t use the forum because they are just too “21st Century” for it.

Luckily this is just a confession board and no matter how many folks you manage to rile up here, it’s not going to affect DoA. Now, this is why I love DoA–you can’t go on their own site and spew this nonsense. They have Rules. They are Strict. They attempt to avoid drama, especially off-topic drama, and they don’t allow meanness, vulgarity or obscenity. If you’re looking for a pleasant, safe space, it’s your best bet.

~Anonymous

18.

Easy to lay bigotry, laziness, stupidity and worse on DoA mods for not just accepting tales of trauma and pasts to erase. But the internet has always been full of lies by people trying to get their own way or escape consequences. Not just pro scammers. People who cry things like illness, trauma, disaster, family or pet problems over and over to get sympathy for demands or as all-purpose excuses. Recast ownership lies. People who never got a no before, and don't like being turned down no-how.

~Anonymous

19.

I just realized that no one understands the people saying DOA can allow name changes are the people who have actually modded forums before, most forums unless they’re running a totally outdated system use user id numbers that are linked to display names, which can be changed, and you can write a simple string of simple-baby-code to show old display names on a profile, to explain it in simple terms.

~Anonymous

20.

Honestly I think that the anti-name change people are mostly just shilling for DoA because they can't believe that their precious forum with its volunteer mods could be anything but flawless. Or something like that, given how indignantly these people have *always* reacted to confessions criticizing DoA, even before the trans controversy was a thing. There have definitely been some obvious transphobes as well though, whose bile is really more suited to conservative FB pages or something. Go away!

~Anonymous

21.

the DOA mods can obviously change people's usernames because it's 2019 and basically every other site in existence can do it. they might have to change the site slightly to accomplish this. maybe there are reasons for them to choose not to do that, but let's stop pretending it's some technological impossibility.

~Anonymous

22.

How about this: Implement a system on DoA that indentifies users by a unique code and allow users to have a changeable display name. Changing the display name could become a paid feature to pay for the technical changes. Think of a system like discord has. It's a win-win situation. Thoughts?

~Anonymous

#BJD #ABJD #TrueBJDConfessionz #BJD Confessions #DoA #Just let people change their damn usernames

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poorreputation · 5 years

Text

That Being Said, So Get This

A Supernatural-Buzzfeed: Unsolved Crossover! All part of the @cocklesdestielfiction Cockles-Destiel Crazy Crossover Challenge! (and @verobatto-angelxhunter)

To read on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20960567

Wordcount: 6390

Ship: Destiel

Rating: Teen and up

Any kind of warnings: canon-typical violence. If you watch either show, you should be fine. Also, lots of in-jokes. Maybe too many in-jokes.

Also: contains SPN S14 Spoilers

Summary:

What happens when Buzzfeed: Unsolved and Supernatural are set in the same universe! Ryan Bergara, the believer. Shane Madej, the skeptic. The Winchester Brothers- serial killers? And whatever happened to James Novak?

Story below the cut!

Ryan Bergara waits for the sound engineer's cue, then begins reading aloud from his script, "In June of 2008, James 'Jimmy' Novak disappeared, leaving behind wife Amelia and daughter Claire. Just a few years later, in 2010, Amelia vanishes, as well. Jimmy is reported to have been spotted a handful of times since then, but what could have lead a loving father and husband to vanishing from the face of the earth? And what prompted his wife to join him?"

A pause, a second reading of the same paragraph, and then Ryan continues, "The Novaks were known for their devout faith and regular church attendances. According to close friends and family, Jimmy became a zealot in the months leading up to his disappearance, saying that he'd gained the ability to 'talk to Angels'. It's said this put a great strain on his and Amelia's marriage. But, is this what caused him to leave? Did he even leave under his own will?"

More details are fleshed out, more takes are made, until Ryan reaches his favorite part of every Unsolved episode, "That being said, let's get to the theories. Our first theory builds off of Jimmy's known fanaticism. That he had become convinced he could talk to, and become a vessel for, Angels, and so left his family to fulfill his mission to god. This, however, does not explain what happened to Amelia, or why she disappeared so long after her husband.

"Our second theory is more far-fetched, and comes mostly from the internet rumor-mill. Over the years, there's been alleged sightings of Jimmy Novak, not only nationally, but internationally, as well. He's most controversially been claimed to have been spotted with infamous serial killers, Sam and Dean Winchester. Coupled with this is the idea that Jimmy and Dean are romantically connected, which people cite as to why Jimmy left his family in the first place, and that Amelia didn't disappear while looking for Jimmy, but was, in fact, killed by Dean. And, for the record, I think this is horseshit."

Ryan looks up to see the sound engineer silently howling with laughter, which puts a dumb grin on his own face, "But wait, it gets worse!"

Clearing his throat, and fighting to keep a straight face, Ryan continues, "Our third and final theory is that Jimmy and Amelia weren't running towards anything, but away from someone. That someone? Their 10 year old daughter Claire, who some, as in the internet, claim is a Demon-" Ryan breaks off his sentence, laughing so hard he gives himself the hiccups, "This is gonna be our worst episode, ever."

3 WEEKS LATER

Ryan Bergara and Shane Madej step out of one of two rental vans, as the rest of the crew starts to unpack. Shane, the taller of the two hosts, stretches his arms, "God, it's good to get out."

Ryan doesn't respond, looking on at the location for that week's episode. His stomach aches just from the sight of it.

"You all right there?" Shane asks, "Breakfast making a reappearance?"

"Nah, just." Ryan shakes his head, "The cases with murder always get me. So fucking creepy."

"Yup." Shane claps his shoulder, leading the way to the front door.

The house is a single story home, very modern, less than ten years old. Only one family had lived in it, and now it's vacant. The lawn is trimmed, as it's the least the city can do, but the walls, windows and porch are filthy. Items deliberately thrown at the windows are dry and caked on, and Ryan can just picture kids in costumes throwing eggs at the house on Halloween, probably on a dare.

Shane fishes out the keys from his pocket, waits for their cameraman to give them the thumbs-up, and unlocks the door. Motioning for Ryan to go first, Shane gives a cheeky bow.

"Alright, whatever." Ryan mutters.

Everyone filed in, lighting tested and cleared, Ryan begins. He walks into the living room, Shane just a pace behind, and soaks in the scene. The furniture is gone, a light fixture and a bookshelf are all that remain. trying to recall the grisly crime scene photos, Ryan waves hand where the couch should have been. "In August of 2011, Marianne Wyatt and her three boys sat in this area, as someone came up behind them, and shot them, one after the other. They'd been bound, unable to escape, and-" Ryan blinks, nausea overwhelming him, "And a few days later, the father, Marianne's husband, Phil, was found dead. His death ruled a suicide, no note was ever found. Police couldn't prove it, but the theory was that Phil killed his family, and then himself. No one knows why."

"Neighbors on either side said they heard nothing?" Shane says, prompting Ryan out of his daze.

"Heard no screams, no shots. Police couldn't even pinpoint the wife and kids' time of death." Ryan nods, "I think I need some water."

The cameraman shoots some B-roll as Ryan sits, one of the producers handing him a water bottle. "thanks." Ryan nods, as he takes a swallow.

There's rumbling outside, followed by one of the crew commenting, "whoa, look at that ride!"

"Sweet car." the boom operator quips.

Shane looks out the window, "Eh, too obnoxious for my tastes."

"That's a '67 Chevy Impala." the first crew member replies, "You have no taste."

Several people, including Shane, laugh at this, and leaves Ryan with an odd sense of deja-vu. Maybe if the room would stop spinning, he could figure out what it is.

With Ryan looking so sick, the rest of the crew agree to break for the day. Shane drives Ryan to a gas station to get the sickly man some medicine and a Sprite to calm his stomach. Feeling much better, Ryan stays back for a bit to check out the souvenirs the store has to offer, "We could get a hat, or maybe something small like a shot glass."

"Or, we can get gas station nachos!" Shane grins, his smile only getting broader as Ryan pales at the thought, "And here I thought you were a hardened pro, Ryan Bergara."

"It might just be food poisoning." Ryan replies, thumbing through some key chains. A car pulls into the lot, loudly announcing its presence, and Ryan has to stop himself from rolling his eyes, "What's it with people around here and their shitty mufflers?"

"Oh, that's not very fair." Shane replies, the sarcasm lightly sprinkling his words, "I mean- look! -it's the same car from earlier. You shouldn't make such generalizations."

Ryan peers up as they start walking towards the cashier, as the black, classic car comes to a stop, the engine cutting off a second later. Ryan's eyes widen, as he remembers where he's seen this car before. He shakes his head, willing his heart to slow down. As Shane pays for their stuff, Ryan can't resist the urge to try and catch a glimpse of the car's owner. Just to reassure himself, nothing more. However, by the time Shane's ready to leave, the driver of the Impala has already gotten back in the car.

The ride back to the hotel is quiet, save for the radio tuned into some local station. It's a sports station, and Ryan feels it's a nice gesture Shane put it on for him, but Ryan just can't concentrate. He can feel Shane glance his way every now and then, and as he pulls into the hotel parking lot, "Hey, if you're really feeling that bad, I'm sure we can find an Urgent Care, around here."

Ryan shakes his head, "It's not that."

"What's on your mind?"

Ryan stares out the window as Shane parks the rental, "Reading up on all of these cases, it makes ya kinda paranoid after a while."

Shane laughs, "You don't have to be so serious about it."

"No, really. The car we saw earlier? It reminds me of the episode we filmed a few weeks back. The Novaks, remember?"

"I don't recall the devout Christian couple driving a muscle car."

"Right." Ryan nods, "I'm an idiot, I didn't include it in the script, but it's the car Dean Winchester's known to drive."

"So? It's a 'classic car', I'm sure a ton of people drive it."

"But it was in front of the Wyatt house, earlier."

Shane gives a single shrug, "Maybe it's a fan. There was a data breach, last week. Someone could've leaked the location of this week's episode."

Ryan has to admit to himself, Shane's reasoning does make him feel better, "You're probably right."

Dean steers the Impala into the motel parking lot, as Sam sits next to him, reading from his phone, "Marianne Wyatt and her kids are buried together at Eternal Rest Cemetery. Phil, however, was cremated."

"But, a man is reported to be seen in the house?" Dean asks.

"That's right." Sam confirms.

"Some personal items of Phil's still there?"

Castiel speaks up from the backseat, "House was empty when we searched it earlier, save for some signs of 'squatters'." he answers, using air-quotes, "Have we considered the possibility of the spirit not being Phil Wyatt?"

"No one else has lived in the house, let alone died here." Sam says.

"What if Phil's suicide was staged?" Castiel poses, "The wife and children are killed, the husband's taken hostage for insurance. Something goes wrong, Phil is murdered, and it's staged as a suicide."

"There wasn't any physical evidence tying Phil to the murders." Dean agrees, "Could've been a set-up. It'd also make sense why he'd be a vengeful spirit."

"Again, we don't know it's Phil, or what's tying him, there." Sam sighs, "It feels like we're going in circles."

"If not Phil Wyatt, then what? The killer?" Dean asks, "Unless the guy died in the house, why would he be stuck?"

Castiel thinks, "Maybe the real killer has something from this crime. Kept it one his person, even in death."

"So, the 'real' killer's stuck in someone else's house?" Dean shakes his head, "This shit's giving me a migraine, god."

Entering the motel, Sam gets to work researching any possible leads on the Wyatt murders, as Dean hops in the shower, and Castiel is left standing in the middle of the room. After a minute of tense silence, Sam takes the bait, "What's wrong, Cas?"

"The beds look disgusting." Castiel practically spits, not in harsh judgement, but genuine concern. Sam looks over at what he's talking about, and sees the usual grimy, cheap motel pillows and comforters. Both beds have old, faded stains, and minute tears. Sam figures Castiel being without powers makes him more sensitive to cleanliness, or lack thereof, more than as an Angel.

"Don't know what you want me to do about it." Sam sighs, "I'm sure they're just old."

"I think I want to sleep out in the Impala." Castiel mutters.

Sam resists the urge to roll his eyes, "Ask Dean for the keys when he gets out, then."

Castiel resorts to standing awkwardly in the corner, as Sam does his best to just research the Wyatt murders. By the time Dean returns to the main room, back in his old, sweaty clothes, making the shower seem entirely pointless, Sam stumbles upon some interesting information.

"Hey. So, get this," Sam calls the other two men over, "There was this leak at the Buzzfeed headquarters, some of it revealing the Unsolved guys' sites for the new season."

Castiel stares blankly at him. Dean sees this and goes, "It's a couple of assholes on the web who mess with ghosts and Demons. Sam, being the serial killer fanboy he is, is obsessed with their true crime series."

"I'm not a fanboy."

Dean mutters to Castiel, "Yes he is."

"The reason I bring it up," Sam presses, "is because this week, they're covering the Wyatt murders."

Dean pauses, "Wait, that camera crew we saw earlier-?"

"Looks like it's Buzzfeed."

Castiel leans over, peering at the computer screen, "The- the disappearance of the Novaks?"

Sam and Dean turn, and confirm Castiel’s observation, "Oh, my God."

"I mean," Dean starts, "There's more than one Novak out there, you know?"

"From Pontiac, Illinois?" Sam asks.

Dean frowns, "Well, I guess that means you can't meet your idols, Sammy."

Sam scoffs at this, "They're probably gone by now, anyway. They never stay in a location for longer than a day."

"Let's use caution when going back, regardless." Castiel says, turning to Dean, "May I stay in the Impala, tonight?"

Dean, flustered and blushing, replies, "What's wrong with in here? Afraid to share the bed? I was gonna make Sam sleep on the floor, anyway."

Sam feels a part of his soul wither away from the second-hand embarrassment.

"This room is filthy, and I don't want to stay here." Castiel answers.

"That's just character." Dean mumbles, taking out his keys, "Fine. Whatever."

After Castiel shuts the front door, Sam braces himself for Dean's inevitable angsty tantrum, "He didn't have to be so rude. We stay in places like this all the time! Sure, none of these rooms come with a third bed, so maybe he was afraid to bunk with one of us, especially you." Dean points at Sam, "You kick in your sleep. In fact, I was just gonna make you sleep on the floor, with you being the youngest and everything."

Sam wonders how close the nearest liquor store is.

At midnight, Dean can't help himself but to check on Castiel. He needs a good excuse though, so he grabs the remainder of the six pack, all that Sam didn't drink, and heads out into the dimly lit parking lot.

Dean can tell from some distance away that Cas is still awake. The Impala's interior is alight, and as Dean nears he can see Cas in the backseat holding up a book. Reaching the car, Dean knocks on the window, then lifts the cans of beer when Castiel glances up. Castiel moves to unlock the door, and without invitation Dean scoots in, ignoring how close-quarters the situation is, and offers Castiel a drink. Dean's so preoccupied with not brushing up against Castiel in any way, that he forgets to actually say anything.

"Did you need something?" Castiel asks, opening the can with a pop.

Dean, suffering from a brain-fart, "Just, uhm, checking in."

The awkward silence is so palpable, Dean feels like he's about to choke, "So, this place can get pretty uncomfortable. Did you, er, want a pillow? Or something? Blanket?" he says, sweating profusely.

Castiel points to the front seat, "I already have a pillow, thank you."

Dean gives a high-pitched hum, and, with little to add, exits the car.

Back in the motel, "I think Cas is upset." Dean says as he closes the door, "He doesn't want to be in the same room as m- us," he looks up at Sam, who's doing his best to ignore his older brother at the moment, "You think he's still mad about the whole 'you're dead to me' thing?"

Sam rolls his eyes, "Gee, what could ever give you that impression."

"I was just being angry!" Dean starts to pace, right as Sam's head starts to pound, "I yell at you sometimes, and you know I don't mean it!"

"I've known you for 36 years, I think I've picked up on that." Sam deadpans, "Maybe, and here's a novel concept, you tell Cas that yourself?"

"I don't know, I think you-"

"No." Sam presses, "I'm not gonna be the messenger between you guys. You want to patch things up with Cas, do it yourself."

In the morning, after a full night of not resolving their issues, Castiel returns to the motel from a coffee run. Wordlessly passing around three cups, the group huddles around Sam as he gets ready to show them his recent findings.

Ryan and Shane return to the Wyatt house first thing in the morning, the crew waiting for them out front. Working off of nothing but coffee and toast, Ryan's ready for take two. They enter the house, set up their equipment just like the day before, and get situated.

"There's one suspect, outside of Phil Wyatt himself, police posit committed these crimes" Ryan says, "And since the guy's dead, it'll remain as speculation."

"Victor Myers was the personal assistant to a business mogul." Sam begins, "He traveled frequently, mainly within the United States. Occasionally, he would go into the next town over, pick a target, and kill them. The longer he did this, the bolder he got."

Ryan says, "Victor started off killing one, then two people at a time. After a couple of years, he found his rhythm in killing families and making it look like a break-in." he looks around the vacant living room, a chill going down his spine.

"He wrote about some of his kills," Sam continues, "but it's suspected he took many more lives, around 30, at least. He died of a stroke, four years ago. Police only knew of the murders after searching his home and DNA evidence. The deaths of the Wyatts are thought to be connected to Myers, judging by Victor's whereabouts at the time and the nature of the kills, but obviously the police can't pursue it."

"So, we're dealing with the ghost of a serial killer?" Dean asks.

"Serial killers are known to keep 'trophies' of their victims." Castiel adds, "It could be what's tying him to the house."

Sam's eyes widen, as he lifts up the laptop for everyone else to see, "Maybe not."

Castiel tilts his head to the side, "The events began before Victor's death?"

"So," Dean asks, "Who's haunting?"

"The thought of Victor Myers being behind these killings seems like a no-brainer," Ryan says, "but it doesn't have everyone convinced. Personally, I think the cops here know it's the truth, but don't want to go through the trouble of proving Myers did it."

"Wouldn't be the first time." Shane nods in agreement, "Too much paperwork."

After filming, the cast and crew pack their things, and get ready to leave the Wyatt house, and the small suburban town, for the last time. Ryan can't help but breathe a sigh of relief; the suffocating feelings he'd had the day before weren't as strong, now, but they were still incredibly unpleasant. At the threshold of the once occupied home, he turns back to the empty rooms that echoed their steps and voices, "If there's a Victor around here, you can kindly fuck off."

Shane shrugs his bag higher up on his shoulder, "The camera's are off, buddy. No idea what you're trying to prove."

"That there's a thick and toxic presence in the house?" Ryan asks, shutting the door behind him, "One that we'll never have to deal with again?"

Shane groans, "It's True Crime season, Ryan. The one season where you and I are on the same page. And you have to make it about your spooky stories."

"Most murders have some whisper of the supernatural to them." Ryan replies, "I just don't always bring it up. This time I did. So, there."

Shane shakes his head, "What an active imagination you have."

Dean methodically checks all of their weapons, handing each item one-by-one to Sam for packing. Their gear, stored in two duffels, is almost ready to go, Sam zipping up the first bag and readying the second. Castiel does a once-over of their motel room, as after they're done with the Wyatt house, they're heading straight out of town; all three men agreed, with the extra attention on them from those 'paranormal investigators' from Buzzfeed, it wouldn't be smart to linger.

An hour later, Dean gathers everyone around, "We'll park the Impala a block from the house, walk the rest of the way. Someone spots the car, they won't automatically know where we are. Ready?" a nod from Sam and Castiel, "Right, let's go."

Flight not until mid-morning, the crew decide to treat themselves to some drinks at the local bar. A couple of rounds in, Shane returns from the bathroom and says to the group, "Hey, guys, I forgot to leave the key at the house. Can one of y'all drop me off?"

Ryan, who's only had one beer, raises his hand, "Got ya covered."

A minute later, both men are back in the rental, driving down that familiar street. Ryan pulls up to the curb, front passenger's door lined up with the sidewalk leading to the house. Shane steps out, then looks back at Ryan, "Aren't you coming?"

Ryan blinks, "Why would I?"

"Make sure I get to the door safely. For goodness' sake, Ryan, if I can't drive myself, what makes you think I can walk straight."

"Bullshit, you just want me to go near that house."

Shane's face splits into a wide grin, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Get it over with." Ryan says, climbing out of the car.

With more than a little swagger to his step, Shane leads the way. Both men, however, stop in their tracks as a crashing sound is heard, coming from within the house.

Ryan doesn't dare blink, "What-?"

One of the lights turns on. Ryan recognizes it as being the bedroom window.

"Well." Shane says, "Leave a door unlocked for a few hours, and this is what happens." Ryan doesn't miss the note of unease in the other man's voice. Unbelievably, Shane continues to walk towards the front door.

"What are you doing?!" Ryan hisses.

"Well, we should probably kick them out." Shane explains, as if it were obvious.

"No, we call the cops."

"You do that, then."

Ryan pulls out his phone as Shane foolishly enters the house. Before Ryan can pull up the keypad, he hears Shane exclaim, "Holy shit!"

Ryan can't help it, "What's wrong?" Not waiting for an answer, feet with a mind of their own, Ryan walks through the darkened doorway.

More crashes are coming from one of the other rooms, people yelling, grunting, as Ryan turns on his phone's light. All along the walls of the living room are pentagrams, the smell of spray-paint permeating the air, making Ryan dizzy. He can feel his hands start to shake, and he thinks he's gonna puke.

Shane turns to him, pale in the light, "We should leave."

The bedroom door shakes, the voices on the other side increasing in volume until-

-silence.

Simultaneously, the front door slams shut as the one to the bedroom swings open, bouncing off the wall and sending small chunks of plaster flying. It takes a moment for Ryan's eyes and mind to come to the same conclusion, that within the room, standing around the body of a man, crumpled on the floor, are three men. It takes a second longer for Ryan to realize who these men are.

The eyes of infamous killers Sam and Dean Winchester, and missing person James Novak, stare back at them.

Shane runs to the front door, trying for the lock. The door wiggles and shakes against the frame, and Ryan can tell it's not budging. "Come on, COME ON!" Shane grunts.

"That's not gonna work." Dean Winchester, the shorter of the brothers, says, "Bastard is keeping that, and all the other doors, shut. We're on lock-down."

"How did you do that?" Ryan chokes out, impressed with himself that he can say anything at all.

"Let us out." Shane rejoins Ryan, standing side-by-side.

Dean grimly laughs, "Would if I could. Last thing I want is for a couple of vloggers getting in the way."

"We were just returning a key." Ryan doesn't know what else to do, what to say.

The tallest of the trio, Sam, comes walking towards Ryan and Shane, hands held out in submission, a container of table-salt in his right, "I'm not gonna hurt you, but we need to get you guys in a safe place."

Shane isn't so convinced, "And what's 'safe', exactly?"

"Within a ring of salt." Sam answers.

"Oh, god." Shane groans, "Don't tell me- you're dealing with Demons?"

Ryan turns to his friend, "Why would you suggest that? What is wrong with you?!"

"Um, yeah." Sam grimaces, "I realize that's gonna be... a bit of a problem..."

Ryan can already begin to feel his heart race, palms sweating and legs becoming like lead, "No, this can't be real."

"We don't have time for this." James Novak says, and the sheer fact he's in the room, saying anything at all, brings Ryan that much closer to a panic attack. He doesn't even flinch when Novak uses a gun, Ryan has no clue what kind, to direct where he and Shane should go.

At the appearance of the weapon, Shane's tune changes, "You know what? Fine. Demons are real, where do you want us to stand?"

This snaps Ryan out of it, "Wait, so it takes spending five minutes with serial killers to convince you, but I can't?!"

"They have guns, Ryan. They could sell me a piece of the moon and I'd write them a check."

Ignoring the banter, Sam pours a circle of salt around the two men, "No matter what happens, stay in this circle."

"Who are you people?" Ryan asks, feeling unusually brave.

"Not what you think." Sam replies.

"We're Hunters." Dean states, chin up in pride.

"Hunters of what?" Shane asks.

"Monsters, ghosts, Demons." James Novak replies.

"And how'd you get involved?" Ryan asks Novak, "Where's your wife?"

Novak tilts his head, "The Djinn Queen?"

"They were doing a video on Jimmy, remember?" Dean says.

Ryan pales, "You- you saw the leak?"

"That you spoke of the Novaks, yes." not-Novak answers.

Annoyed, Shane goes, "If you're not James Novak, who are you?"

"Castiel. I'm- was, an Angel."

"Was." Shane nods, "So, not anymore?"

Castiel shakes his head.

"Meaning," Shane continues, "There's no way to prove with, say, magic tricks, your claims?"

"Stop needling the serial killers." Ryan hisses.

"You mean monster hunters." Shane sarcastically corrects.

"I'm sorry about my friend." Ryan announces, "He's kind of a dick."

"You don't say." Dean deadpans.

"Hey, is it true," Shane starts, "that you and Columbo over there are knockin' boots?"

Castiel stares down at his shoes, while Dean goes red and Sam sucks in a breath, trying not to laugh.

"You're insane." Ryan says to the air, unable to look at Shane.

"Might as well find out." Shane shrugs.

"Dean," says Castiel, "I apologize if, at any time during the evening, I've stepped on your toes."

Dean looks to age five years in as many seconds, "No problem, Cas."

"And that man, in there?" Shane asks, "He's just sleeping, right?"

"He was dead before he hit the ground." Castiel responds, "We never know for sure, when there’s a Demon present."

This information makes Shane falter, if only a little, "And why do only we need to be in the salt circle?"

Dean and Sam pull down their shirt collars, revealing pentagrams tattooed in black ink, just above their hearts. Castiel lifts up the hem of his shirt, revealing several lines of text written in a foreign language. "We're good. And unless one of y'all's a tattoo artist… ?" Dean says.

"No." Shane relents, "You still can't prove it, but whatever."

"You are exhausting." Ryan says.

"I'm thorough."

"Shut up, Shane."

"That's enough!" Dean barks, "We're dealing with a fucking Demon, now act like it." he glares at his two companions. As the trio resumes their work, Shane and Ryan are left in silence.

"You gonna try your phone?" Shane mutters.

"No, they've got guns." Ryan responds, "I think they can draw faster than I can dial."

After a few minutes of tense silence, Shane pats Ryan's arm, getting his attention. Turning to him, Ryan mouths 'What?' while following Shane's gaze. Down the hall, leading all the way to the back of the house, is the only other door leading outside.

It's open.

Glancing at one another, the intent is understood; at least one of them can make it out. Knowing Shane's got the longer legs, Ryan figures he'll have a better chance, so he prods at Shane's back, encouraging him to make a break for it.

Shane sprints for the door, and is at the other end of the hallway by the time the Winchesters or Castiel notice. Ryan doesn't see the trio's reactions, though, focusing on whether or not his friend escapes.

Shane opens the door wider, gets one foot on the first concrete step-

Cold air fills the room, enveloping every inch of Ryan's skin. The room grows darker, like someone's dimming down the lights. Every breath he inhales is freezing, and every exhale the same temperature. It's like Ryan's overcome with a sudden fever, left weak and in a cold sweat. Arms and legs locked in place, he can feel his heart slow...

"RYAN!"

Dean looks from one idiot to the other; the tall one that tried to leave the house, in what was obviously a trap set up by the Demon, and the second, shorter one that was in the broken salt circle, currently having a long stream of black smoke rush into his throat.

The Demon's found a new body.

"RYAN!" Shane shouts, and for all his smart-ass quips, the tall one wasn't that sharp. Perfect opportunity to get the fuck out and leave things to the pros, but he's gone and pissed that away. Dean feels his lip twitch into a smirk, realizing he'd do the same if it was his family. Hand closing around the Angel blade, his smile falters.

Ryan collapses to the ground, still as stone. Sam intercepts Shane, who tries to rush to his friend's side. "What did you do?!" Shane yells.

"Stay back!" Castiel shouts, charging forward with more salt. Dean's stomach jumps with worry at the sight of Castiel going in on his own. Old habits of being an Angel, thinking himself indestructible. Dean begins reciting the exorcism, his Latin clunky, as always. Smoke begins to spill from the corners of Ryan's mouth as Castiel approaches.

A hand suddenly lashes out, striking Castiel with such ferocity it throws the man clean across the room. Dean continues the exorcism, mind on autopilot, as he looks to see if Castiel is still in the fight. The former Angel knocked out cold, Dean turns his head just in time to see Ryan's hand extend out towards him.

"I'm tired of playing with you." the Demon smirks a toothy grim, causing Ryan's brown eyes to flash to black.

Dean feels his feet lift from the floor, and in a blur of speed, his body be thrown up against the ceiling. Pinned here, and momentarily stunned, Dean tries in vain to continue the exorcism.

"Shut up." the Demon hisses.

Dean's voice dies away. He can only watch as Sam tries to take the Demon on.

Angel blade in hand, Sam goes in, and Dean can tell Sam isn't looking for a kill shot. Swipes, stabs and arcs to distract, but none fatal. Maybe he's hoping for Castiel to wake, maybe he hopes the Demon can't concentrate on more than one Hunter at a time. It's not a bad strategy.

One slice too close to Ryan's neck makes Shane rush forward, spin Sam around, and snatch the blade from Sam's stunned hand. "What are you doing-?"

Both men are sent crashing to the floor, as the Demon steps out of the remains of the salt circle. Cracking knuckles and stretching arms, Ryan's lips curve into a smile, as Dean realizes what's coming next:

Villain monologue.

"Winchesters, your reputations proceed you." Ryan walks over to Castiel, who's starting to stir, "Here I am, with my humble, little set-up, and here you are, sticking your noses where they don't belong." He presses a boot against Castiel's neck, pinning him to the wall, "Don't you have bigger fish to fry? A God to fight?"

Castiel gasps for breath, and Dean struggles to free his arms, legs, willing any muscle to move.

"I'm a nobody." the Demon laughs, "I should be dead, right now. You all have lost your touch."

Shane slowly starts to rise from the floor, trying not to get the Demon's attention.

Ryan's head snaps in Shane's direction, "Shane! Buddy! How ya been?" with a hard kick to Castiel's head, Ryan begins to calmly walk over.

Shane tries for the door, and it looks like Sam was right; it's unlocked, and the Demon can't focus on more than a few things at a time.

With that, Dean frees his arm, can move his lips. He starts the exorcism from the top.

"WHAT DID I SAY." the Demon bellows, waving his hand towards Dean, again. This time, Dean's throat closes up.

Sam continues the exorcism from his place on the ground.

Ryan waves his hand again, throwing Sam into the room with the man's corpse.

Castiel, blood pouring out of his mouth, picks up the chant where Sam left off. The Demon is so distracted, Dean's able to get free. Bracing himself, Dean falls to the floor, and, after a few shaky seconds, joins Castiel.

Teeth clenched, veins pulsing, Ryan yells, "ENOUGH!" sending both men staggering back, falling to the ground, and then pressed up against the wall.

The front door bursts open. Dean cannot, for the life of him, believe that the tall idiot's back.

"Hey! Dumbass!" Shane calls.

The Demon turns to look at him.

Dean, thinking he's seen it all, and can't be surprised anymore, tonight, feels his jaw drop.

"Do you want to di-" Ryan starts, just before Shane douses him with a water gun.

The screams coming from Ryan are simply inhuman. Smoke rises from his skin, as he covers his face. The air, already pungent with sulfur, becomes insufferable.

Sam staggers from the back room, finishing the exorcism.

A rush of smoke exits through Ryan's mouth, the pained scream still echoing off of the walls. And then-

-silence.

Shane considers the squirt gun in his hand, then looks back up at the trio of Hunters staring at him. "It's- it's filled with holy water." he gestures to an unconscious Ryan, "His idea."

"So, you're really monster hunters?" Shane asks, wincing at the alcohol being applied to his scraped knees. They were the worst of the gashes on him, sustained when the Demon threw Sam on top of him.

"Yes." Sam replies, taking a bandage from the Impala's first aid kit. Shane had gotten Ryan, who was still out, in the rental car, and parked that just behind the Chevy. Everyone is now taking a breather before parting ways.

"So, not serial killers?"

"No."

Shane pauses, "Sorry, about taking your knife. I just didn't want you stabbing my friend."

"You ended up saving all of us, so I think we're square." Sam looks over to the open trunk lid, behind which Dean and Castiel were securing the corpse the Demon had initially possessed.

"Ryan's gonna be unbearable when he wakes, you know." Shane says, "'Ooh! Demons are real! We don't have it on camera, but it happened!'"

"Will you keep doing the show?" Sam asks, trying not to sound too eager.

"Probably. Ryan'll want to catch lightning in a bottle twice, but never do another Demon location, again."

"You sound disappointed."

Shane shrugs, "It's fun seeing him scared."

Sam shakes his head.

"So," Shane begins, "You watch the show."

"... maybe."

"How many of the places we visit are actually haunted?"

Sam thinks, "Most were, but we, or other Hunters we know, cleared 'em."

"Huh."

After saying their goodbyes, and with the understanding that no one would believe Ryan and Shane if they tried to profit off of their Demon encounter, the two groups part ways. The Hunter trio climb back into the Impala, but not before Dean throws Sam the keys.

"I'm spent." Dean explains, "You take over for a while." Dean also opens the back door for Castiel, but only when he thinks Sam isn't watching. Dean crawls in after him, and does everything he can to not meet Sam's eyes in the mirror.

It's a half hour later, when on the highway, heading towards the Bunker, that Dean tries to make amends.

"Cas-" Dean starts, voice just above a whisper.

Castiel grabs his hand, both are dried and crusted with blood, "I'm sorry." he mouths, "For everything."

"No." Dean fails to keep the break out of his voice, "I'm sorry. You're family, Cas. Nothing's gonna change that."

Castiel looks away, and Dean knows from personal experience what he's trying to hide.

"I miss Jack." Comes Castiel's broken sob.

Dean squeezes his hand, "I know. I do, too. I should've done more."

"We should have." Castiel corrects.

They sit together in a bittersweet silence. The car interior is dark, the rumbling of the road beneath their feet thunderous, and Sam's eyes on the road. Dean and Castiel are in their own little world.

"I love you." the words spill from Dean's mouth before he can stop them, and funny enough, he doesn't regret it, or treat it like a mistake. It's been years in the making, really. And when Castiel looks back at him, eyes wide with wonder, and more than a little red from fatigue, Dean just brings their joined hands up to his lips, and gives the back of Castiel's palm a gentle kiss. Castiel leans in, meeting Dean forehead-to-forehead, "I love you, too."

Shane's pulling up to the hotel parking lot when Ryan finally wakes.

"Ugh, god." Ryan rubs at his eyes, "What a fuckin' nightmare."

Shane puts the car in park, turning off the engine, "What do ya mean, buddy?"

Ryan looks over at Shane, then around the rest of the car, "Wait, didn't we go by the Wyatt house, and drop off some keys?"

"Yep."

"And I was driving."

"Uh-huh."

Ryan blinks, "Did I hit my head or something?"

"No, we met up with serial killers Sam and Dean Winchester, along with missing person James Novak, and took on a Demon. You got possessed."

Ryan's face screws up in disbelief, "Very funny, asshat."

"No!" Shane insists, "It really happened."

"Bullshit."

"Then, what was your nightmare about?"

"Getting chased by a rabid Paddington." Ryan replies, his eyes glazed over in a haunted stare.

Shane throws his hands up, "Fine, we’ll go with that."

________________________________________________________________

Thank you!! For reading!! ♥♥♥

#SPN #Buzzfeed: Unsolved #crossovers #fanfic #writiers #writing #Dean #Cas #Destiel #Sam #Pray for Sammy #Ryan Bergara #Shane Madej #RPF #AO3 #S14 Spoilers

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lodessa · 6 years

Note

So I was bulk reading your blog (how dare life interfere with my internet time), and I saw you posted a prompt list for established relationships. Most of it was a little too modern for Voyager, but then I saw this... “You had a business trip and I missed you so much that I kind of tore up the house in your absence like a dog with separation anxiety… sorry? AU”. And like, I can’t even decide who in J/C would do this. Both of them?

I could see either scenario working, but this is what I came up with. I hope you enjoy it:

All the lights are dark as Chakotay trudges up the path to the house, and he can barely contain the feeling of disappointment as he realizes that means she must not be there.

It’s been ten days and they’ve been comming but it’s not the same. After all those years working together every day but not being together, he hadn’t thought about the very real alternate problem of being together but getting to spend everyday together, but it's definitely been hitting him hard now that he’s been off planet at a conference without her this last week and a half.

He wouldn’t have asked her to wait around for him to get home, but she’d known he was getting back this afternoon and he’d hoped… well he’d hoped she’d missed him at least a fraction of how much he missed her.

He shoves aside the paranoid thought that she isn’t just out of the house at the moment, that she’s left it and him permanently. There’s no reason to think that.

Reaching the front door he keys in the code and walks in. Strangely the automatic lights do not come on. That’s odd. He goes to turn them on manually, but they don’t respond to that either. The power must be off, but the neighbors had lights on so it can only be their house.

“Kathryn?” he calls out, thinking she might be home after all, but she doesn’t respond. A different sort of dread fills him at the thought: What if some disaster has happened? What if someone sabotaged the power and then ambushed Kathryn?

Trying to reassure himself it is probably something much more mundane, he fishes a flashlight out of the drawer in the kitchen and goes searching for her.

It’s a good thing he pulled out the flashlight; because, he nearly trips in several places where things are out of place, access hatches open and wires exposed. Something is definitely not as it should be.

He finally finds her, legs sticking halfway out of an access panel in their bedroom, cursing at something inside.

“Kathryn!” he exclaims, “What’s going on? What happened to the power? Are you alight?”

“I’m fine, Chakotay…” she emerges covered in dust and grease, “I must have lost track of time… Sorry about the mess.”

He embraces her anyway, lifting her off the floor a little, relief and excitement mixing together.

“The lights weren’t working and you didn’t respond and I worried… What is all this?”

“I may have blown some fuses while doing some upgrades to our electrical system.”

“Upgrades? What was wrong with our electrical system? And why didn’t you just call B’Elanna?”

“I…” she looks a little embarrassed, “Honestly I just needed something to do to keep myself from going a bit crazy… crazier waiting for you to get back.”

“You tore up all our wiring because you missed me?” he says, not sure whether to be filled with awe that she cares that much or laugh at the ridiculousness.

“I meant to clean it all up before you got back. I just maybe got a bit overambitious.”

That is certainly Kathryn. She’s always been prone to biting off more than any one person could possibly chew.

“You know, most people just read a book to distract themselves when they are bored.”

“Says the man who took the bathroom down to the studs to remodel last time I was out of down for more than two days,” she points out.

“Did you not like your new bathtub?” he teases.

“I did, when you finished it a week and a half after I got back and I stopped having to use the showers at the headquarters gym. Ugh. I have to clean up this mess.”

“We can deal with it tomorrow,” he tells her, not wanting to let her go as he wraps his arms more securely around her, resting his chin on the top of her head, “Maybe next time we can go together.”

“Yeah I’m sure the academy is just going to let you take off whenever I have to.”

“I’m going to develop a new course: Applied Intro to Command,” he chuckles, “students get to follow Starfleet’s brightest and best admiral around and see what the job really looks like.”

“Why don’t you follow me, and I’ll show you what missing you really looks like

#janeway x chakotay #Anonymous

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fromtheground39-blog · 5 years

Text

10 Years of Gaming PCs - 2009 - 2014 (Part 1)

let's open with the most important thing to take away from this video simply switching on incognito mode or private browsing - is not enough to keep your data safe online. Also, just because you aren't doing anything illegal doesn't mean that no one is after your personal information and that there's no benefit to staying private thing is guys these days pretty much everyone and their dog is out to get your browsing data and that's not tinfoil hat Paranoid delusional stuff. The main reason is that companies and other organizations like political parties, want your eyeballs glued to their message and the data that they get from your behavior online helps by giving them an advantage when they serve up those juicy ads everywhere that you frequent. The good news is that staying private online is actually less difficult than you might think and pretty much anyone can do it. So, let's go through some easy strategies, starting with one of our favorites using a VPN like private Internet access. For those of you new to VPN or virtual private networks, they take in your data encrypt. It then send it through their network of servers before forwarding it to the destination country of choice. When the VPN sends your data out into the world towards the intended destination, it decrypt the data and makes it look like the data originated from that exit point rather than your computer, so whether you're torrenting or looking up content that might generate embarrassing ads in your Browser the next time someone sits down at your computer. We consider a VPN an essential part of staying safe online with that said, while a VPN does secure your data in some ways making it so, your ISP can't tell what you're doing and allowing you to circumvent. Most firewall blocks when your information leaves the VPN network, it's all still there and can be used to track you. So a VPN is just one of the tools in our belt. Now, let's talk about the onion router or tor, as some of you know, it we've actually covered tor before, but summary version goes a little something like this. The Onion Router isn't a physical router like you'd, think of plugging in in your home. Rather, it's an internet networking protocol, that's integrated into the Tor web browser and it's designed to anonymize the data relayed across it. So it keeps your online activity anonymous by encasing your traffic in multiple layers of encryption, then sending it through a number of nodes that peel back those layers one at a time. This makes it difficult, if not impossible, for snoops to see your webmail search, history and other online activity now tor is also imperfect and leaves us vulnerable until our traffic reaches its network. That'S why we're using our PI a VPN to mask that initial jump now thing is using a VPN, can actually lead to issues if you are specifically being hunted by some government agency, because your traffic will have a predictable exit point. But for most people, whose goal is to thwart more casual surveillance and advertisers, this vulnerability isn't that important, now incognito mode which, by the way, isn't useless, plus a VPN and tor, is pretty good and probably enough for most people. But since we're going for the ultimate private set up, we're going to take things a step further with our secret weapon, the hey there, it is super secure, password. The linux-based tails is the operating system equivalent of your weird uncle after too many drinks. It'S designed to forget everything it ever heard or saw. The entire OS is built around the Tor protocol and runs all Internet traffic through the Tor network, not just your browser traffic. One of the other key benefits of tails is that the OS essentially runs off of your computer's RAM. So once you turn off the system poof any data that was lingering on it is gone and there's nothing to your identity to the last browsing session. Another advantage of this solution is that you can take it with you and launch it on nearly any computer with a USB port. So then, now we are ready to browse the web anonymously. Almost the first thing, you'll, probably notice about the tor browser, is how similar it looks to firefox and that's not by accident. It'S because it is Firefox just set up to use the Tor protocol and that's nice, because it makes configuring all these little tweaks pretty familiar and straightforward. So in no particular order, regardless of our browser choice, we want to make sure that JavaScript can't run. We want to install the privacy badger extension to stop trackers and provide ad blocking, and we want to set our default search engine to DuckDuckGo, for what I hope would be fairly obvious reasons. So then, now we are fully ready to both browse the web and stick it to the man. At the same time, let's do a few tests here to see what that looks like so. We'Ve got two machines for our side-by-side test: a completely vanilla one running Windows and using Google, and then our tails Linux, one with the https://www.debate.org/routerhost/ tor browser. Now. Something to note is that we're not actually using a VPN on either of these machines, because here we're trying to get a representation of the worst case scenario, and here P ia actually doesn't recommend using their VPN from within tails. Although they do have a free proxy included with your account, which they do say, could be a good idea depending on what it is you're trying to achieve. So, let's go ahead and search for Expedia. Ok, first hit is expedia.com this one Expedia dot CA. So immediately. Our location has been anonymized and also Expedia blocked us from even accessing their site. That'S cute did we know that was gonna happen. Expedia blocks tour. Let'S try a different provider. We can't tell if you're a human, I'm human Xperia t3. It'S like pretty sure. I'M a bot hey, taking it sweet time, three freakin CAPTCHAs, no we're good all right. Let'S find a friggin flight here, New York departing tomorrow. Okay, let's do a quick search matter. Ch now we haven't actually been researching flights and hotels, so there may not be much benefit in terms of pricing to anonymizing any of this, but there's only one way to find out all right, so we're looking at 699 dollars, Canadian round trip and 347 pounds. Let'S do a quick conversion. There 556, I just saved a hundred and forty five dollars. This is the same damn flight and it's over a hundred dollars. Cheaper includes taxes and fees, including taxes and fees, yep, yep, yep, apples to apples. You have ear to ear. First Expedia hates Canadians now, let's click to read more do another fun little test. Let'S go to what is my IP comm, that is, in fact our IP and over here my public IP is some nonsense. I'Ve never seen or heard of before, and I'm apparently based in Bessel bsch, where the devil is that Switzerland. Now, let's do another fun little test, let's go on a popular shopping website like say newegg.com. Now, let's shop for let's say video cards, maybe a rock phantom Radeon, seven, what's a site with really really obnoxious ads. What'S that one that, based in Australia, that's like super obnoxious, tweaked out tweaked out thanks, Luke, alright, and let's have a look at what kind of ads are lurking for us on the page ho ho? What do we have here, Vancouver to London Vancouver to New Delhi? Vancouver to Lima and Vancouver to San Salvador shockingly, they didn't manage to come up with any graphics cards ads which was sort of what I was going for here. But I think we've made our point as for this. Well, it looks like they're not getting any ad revenue from us, which, of course, we feel pretty badly about as an ad-supported enterprise ourselves. But at the very least, we are not being tracked across the internet, which is the only reason that we enabled the ad blocking on this particular one. In the first place, you can of course, anonymize your browsing significantly without blocking ads altogether, just saying so for fun. We'Re gonna disable, both privacy, badger and you block origin and reload this page. So there's our ads, but as you can see, they are completely irrelevant. So we've got some scarlet audio interfaces in whatever language. This is an ad for the stream deck excel. That'S an English at least an ad for Corsairs hydroxy Rees liquid cooling. So there you go so that was a pretty compelling demonstration of the benefits of private browsing, but it has some clear disadvantages as well. Now this machine on the right is actually faster than the one on the left, but you guys might have noticed that browsing from within tales using the tor browser was slow as hell. That'S because the more hops you go through the more latency you're, adding to the connection, also some of the creature comforts that we've gotten used to on the modern web. Things like shopping carts that remember all the things that you added to them or websites that remember that you logged into them, so you don't have to enter your password every time that stuff ain't gonna work over here also something to bear in mind guys is That no matter what you do, it is going to be imperfect. This was fairly basic guide and privacy. Browsing is a rabbit, hole and a half. Furthermore, even on a properly set up machine, while you're browsing and searching and almost all of your internet usage might be basically invisible. Nothing is bulletproof because the weakest point in the entire chain exists between the keyboard and the chair. You and I are human and we are nothing if not creatures have had it, and if someone is trying to find you, your habits are likely to end up being the thing that gives you away with. All of that said, though, for the vast majority of use cases following either of the methods that we laid out here, should obscure your data footprint enough to make it nearly useless for advertisers and other parties. Speaking of advertisers. This video is brought to you by PI, a private intern. Private Internet access supports a variety of VPN protocols and types of encryption and authentication allowing you to dial in the level of privacy that you need. They'Ve got apps for Windows, Mac, OS Android, Linux and Google. Chrome and you can connect up to five devices at once, using a single account. Their apps include DNS leak, protection and ipv6 leak protection, as well as their internet kill switch feature which blocks all traffic if the VPN becomes disconnected unexpectedly so check it out today. At LM GGG, /, p ia, we're gonna have that links down below. So thanks for watching guys, if this video sucked, you know what to do, but if it was awesome hit like get subscribed or maybe consider checking out where to buy the stuff we featured at the video description link below also down there is our merch store. It has a cool shirts like this one join our community forum. It looks like that or like that, if you're in the tor browser well

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star-trekkin-across-theuniverse · 7 years

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Cover You in Oil, pt16

Word Count: 6050 Tags: @outside-the-government, @yourtropegirl @to-pick-ourselves-up-7, @ghostssss, @rampant-salamander, @saysay125, @sistasarah-sallysaidso @shewhorunswithfandoms, @flirtswithdanger @supermoonpanda @rayleyanns

“I miss you.” The email was to the point. Sally laughed to herself, and smiled despite feeling tense and anxious. She picked up the telephone at her desk and dialed Tony’s number; she suspected Victor was somehow monitoring her calls and Internet use. She wanted to save the secret of the satellite access on her cell phone for as long as she could.

“This is an unfamiliar number but the country code is Latveria, which can only mean one thing.” Tony answered after three rings.

“I miss you too.” Sally felt the tension leaving her shoulders as his voice carried across the line.

“You got my email! I don’t know why I was worried, I knew you would get it,” Tony laughed. “How is it? Spooky? I didn’t realize it was right in the middle of vampire country. You should have packed vibranium scarves.”

“It’s beautiful, Tony. It’s so quiet compared to New York. I mean, that’s not hard, right? But I’ve never lived far from the sound of the ocean before. In New York, it was so noisy that I didn’t even notice that the sound of the waves was missing. But here? It’s quiet. There’s birds. I think they’ll wind up annoying eventually. And if you sit still long enough, you can hear the wind. But the trees are incredible, and the castle overlooks this valley, and it’s stunning.” Sally ran on once she started talking.

“Unmarred by modern man?” Tony chuckled.

“Victor says he’s got a very advanced robotics program. So maybe not completely unmarred,” Sally laughed.

“Victor?” Tony’s voice raised in pitch. Sally smiled to herself and shook her head, even though Tony couldn’t see it.

“Victor von Doom. He’s the emperor of Latveria. It’s his car,” Sally explained. “Actually, you met him. He’s who picked me up at the airport.”

“I thought his name was Hans?” Tony interjected.

“Yeah, me too,” Sally laughed. “I get the feeling he’s a very hands-on kind of leader. Wants to be involved in the day-to-day operations of the country.”

“Robotics?”

“I’ve probably said too much already, Tony. It is a closed border. Besides, I haven’t seen any of it. I only just saw the car for a few hours today. Latveria has very strict working hours. The app has been rendering the photos into a 3D scale model for me for the last 6 hours. I hope that doesn’t count as working. Apparently you are only allowed to work seven hours a day. And Victor has said that skipping meals is not allowed.”

“Let me guess. He doesn’t have anyone willing to bring you pizza so you can work through,” Tony laughed.

“It’s more formal here. Makes sense, right? He’s an emperor, he’s got to keep up appearances,” Sally sighed. “I don’t mind really. This is a big job. Having to break to leave the garage for a meal will force me to sit back and consider the steps I’m going to need to take.”

“How is the car?”

“It’s fucking amazing, Tony. It’s a complete custom. It’s like, twenty-five feet long, or some sort of nonsense. Sixteen cylinders. The front end is longer than Clint’s Challenger. And classic, elegant lines. But it looks like it’s going to be a lot of work,” Sally admitted. “And I may be a little out of my league. The engine is more like an airplane than a car.”

“You must know something about airplane engines, Sal. Your parents were both aeronautics engineers,” Tony prompted.

“We’ll see. I helped Pops with a Cessna once. This is a little different,” Sally laughed.

“Princess, if there is anyone in the world that can restore the car, it’ll be you. Victor von Doom chose well,” Tony reassured her.

“Aw, thanks,” Sally paused. “I miss you already.”

“Your side of the bed is awful cold,” Tony agreed. Sally smiled.

“I should probably go. I have no idea what the long-distance calling plan is like, but I don’t want to run up Victor’s bill if it’s not awesome. I love you.” Sally looked out the window, taking in the sunset across the valley. “I really wish you could be here. It’s beautiful.”

“I love you too, princess. I’ll email you again tomorrow,” Tony said. “Good night?”

“Yeah, good night. It’s eight pm here,” Sally laughed. “Good night, Tony.” She placed the phone back in the cradle and picked up her cell, waiting for the inevitable text message barrage. It didn’t take long.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s stupid.”

“What’s stupid?”

“I just feel unsettled. It’s probably just jet lag.”

“Can you pinpoint why?”

“No, just a feeling. That’s why it’s stupid.” Sally sighed and pursed her lips. She wasn’t sure what was bugging her, and saddling Tony with her paranoid worries wasn’t fair.

“You let me know if you feel unsafe, and I’ll be there in a matter of hours.”

“I’m just being silly. It’s fine. We’ll talk again tomorrow. I want to keep the texting on the down low. Which is stupid because there’s nothing to worry about. But I want to keep it quiet anyhow.”

“Anything, Sally.”

“I know. Love you.”

“Love you more. Be safe.”

Sally exited the texting program and locked her phone screen before tucking the phone away in her purse. She double checked the rendering, and noted the progress bar was at 30%. The bathtub was calling, and beckoned her to draw a bath, dropping into the deep tub under a mountain of bubbles and soaking the exhaustion from her bones. The setting sun shone through the stained glass window in the bathroom, casting beautiful jewel toned light everywhere. She must have nodded off because she wakened in the dark. The water was still warm, but just. She reached for a towel and stepped out of the tub, drying off as she paced back into the bedroom. There was a quiet but insistent knocking at her door, and Sally sighed before pulling it open, wearing just her towel. Victor wasn’t facing the door, instead glancing at his watch. He looked up as the door swung open, revealing Sally and her towel, some bubble residue clinging to her shoulder.

Sally pursed her lips and raised her eyebrow, aware of how rude her body language was, but unable to stop herself. Victor sucked in his breath, his pupils dilating.

“I was hoping to invite you to join me in my study for a night cap.” He regained his poise quickly.

“Study? Night cap?” Sally asked. The words were from a different era.

“Sounds a little more elegant than inviting you to watch Doctor Who in the TV room,” Victor admitted. Sally laughed, loud and sudden. Confusion crossed Victor’s brow and Sally caught herself.

“Doctor Who sounds awesome. Can you give me a few minutes to get dressed?” Sally asked. She took in his appearance quickly, mentally running through her wardrobe to find something that would fit. He had khaki slacks on, and a sky blue sweater over a plaid shirt, unbuttoned at the neck. His sleeves were pushed up and when she glanced at his feet, she saw he had soft leather slippers on. Casual, she thought. Not blue jeans and Tony’s stolen Black Sabbath shirt casual, but she realized she’d at least be able to get away with pants. Victor nodded.

“Of course, I’ll come back for you in fifteen minutes?” He offered. Sally nodded and closed the door. She dug through the drawers of the dresser, pulling a pair of navy capris out before rummaging through another drawer for a soft pink fleece pullover. She pulled a comb through her hair and pinned it back off her face. As she headed toward the door to wait for Victor, she brushed a layer of gloss across her lips, and was suddenly grateful that this wasn’t her every day life. Life with Tony might have society expectations, but it was never going to have dress-for-watching-TV demands.

Calling it a TV room was a modest description, Sally realized as Victor led her into a home theatre every bit as well equipped as the theatre in the Avengers Tower.

“We have just secured broadcast rights for the last three seasons,” Victor began, “but I have every episode available. We can either watch what is on tonight, or start wherever you prefer.” Sally settled into an easy chair and swung the legs up, adjusting her bum to get comfortable.

“We could start with Nine, if you are okay with that?” Sally suggested.

“Nine?” Victor gave her a surprised look.

“Well, a girl never gets over her first doctor,” Sally laughed. “And I’m going to be here for a while, so it seems appropriate to start at the new beginning.”

“Perhaps this can be a standing arrangement then,” Victor suggested as he reached across the counter at the back of the room for the remote. Sally forced a smile.

“Far be it for me to say no to an emperor,” she nodded, hoping there was sufficient lightness to her tone. Victor stilled, one hand holding the remote pointed at the front of the room. He stepped forward and tilted his head, taking Sally in. She hoped she looked relaxed and at ease. He settled on the edge of the table between the two chairs, and took one of Sally’s hands in his own.

“Sally, I don’t want you to stand on ceremony, or feel you are subject to the whims of a monarch. You are in my employ, but you are also my guest. While you are here, I want you to feel welcome. Like you are a member of the family,” Victor began.

“Do you have one?” Sally blurted. She instantly regretted it, and her regret grew when she looked up at Victor.

“My mother passed some time ago, and as you have probably gathered, I remain a bachelor,” he replied. Sally cringed inwardly.

“I’m so sorry, that wasn’t approp-“

“Sally, this is what I am talking about,” Victor interrupted. “You’re here, alone. I’ve torn you away from your fiancé to work on this project when you should be home, working on wedding plans. I don’t want you to feel you need to treat me like a king. I want you to see me as a friend. A confidante. We are both alone, we could perhaps combat the loneliness with friendship.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Sally stammered.

“I invited you to join me this evening for this reason. To give you something that feels a little like home,” Victor explained.

“Let’s watch some TV then,” Sally nodded, gently pulling her hand away. She readjusted herself on the easy chair and waited as Victor got everything set up and settled into the easy chair opposite her

She must have fallen asleep because she remembered the beginning of the first episode, but not the end, and she woke with a start when Victor touched her shoulder. “Sally, it’s quite late. I didn’t realize you’d fallen asleep. I suspect it’s the time change catching up with you.”

Sally wiped the drool off the corner of her mouth and ran her hand through her hair. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. I hope I wasn’t snoring.”

“As I said, I didn’t even notice you were sleeping. Allow me to see you back to your rooms.” He held a hand out for her. Sally, relaxed and disoriented, took Victor’s hand and allowed him to help her to her feet. She stumbled a little, and he wrapped an arm around her to steady her. When she stiffened at the familiarity, Victor steadied her and held her away from himself. “I only sought to assist you, Sally,” he explained. Sally hung her head and sighed.

“I’m sorry. You’re being very kind and thoughtful and here I am, skittish like a scared kitten,” Sally yawned.

“I don’t expect you to drop your guard immediately, Sally. Only a fool trusts blindly,” he shook his head. “Come, you’re exhausted, and I am sure you’ll be wanting your run in the morning. The night is far gone for an early riser.”

Sally yawned again. “Thanks, Victor.” She allowed him to lead her back to her rooms, and waited as he opened the door for her before stumbling inside. She shut the door and waited until she heard his footsteps retreat before she locked the door and stumbled into bed.

Just as Sasha had suggested, the back gardens were much more pleasant for running. Sally oriented herself quickly to the grid of rings making up the paths of the green space and found that the paths were level and smooth, with just enough give to make it feel more like trail running than road running. Despite Sasha’s assurance that the paths were paved, it was not pavement, but some sort of stone and pebble aggregate that had less impact shock that a paved road would. She still found herself winded earlier than she would like, but reminded herself that the altitude change was significant and it would just take time before she was back to her normal endurance. A shiny glint on the grass caught the corner of her eye as she slowed to a walk, gasping for air, and she swung her head around to see what it was. There, on the grass, were two men in fencing whites, practicing. The taller would lunge, the shorter would parry, and then the scene would change. As she walked to catch her breath, Sally watched in fascination, drawing closer as she followed the path. She picked back up to a run as she passed them, and tried not to stare as the men continued sparring. On her second lap, she pushed herself to run until she could see the men again, and the slowed to a walk to catch her breath, captivated by the careful elegance of their movement. Again, just as she was passing, she picked back up to a run. By the time she made it back to the garden entrance, the fencers were also reaching the door, masks held under their arms. Sally was surprised to see one of them was Victor.

“Good morning, Sally. I trust the garden paths were more to your liking?” He asked. Sally swiped her forearm across her brow, trying in vain to keep the sweat from reaching her eyes.

“The paths are very well maintained, and the gardens are beautiful,” Sally agreed. “That was you I saw fencing?”

“As I said before, running is not my sport,” Victor laughed. “But we all must find something to keep us in shape.” Sally noticed his hair was damp with perspiration, and realized fencing was likely a harder workout than it appeared.

“It looks so elegant. Like a dance,” Sally commented as they stepped through the garden doors.

“You were able to observe then, as you ran?” He asked.

“Kind of hard to avoid looking,” Sally laughed. “You’re quite tall, and in case you hadn’t noticed, dressed entirely in white. You stood out amongst the greenery.”

Victor smiled in return. “Just as running is your morning constitutional, fencing is mine. It’s a gentleman’s sport.”

“Gentlemen don’t run?” Sally quirked an eyebrow in question, biting her lip to hide her smirk. Victor blinked slowly, almost as though he was considering his response.

“Only in an emergency,” he chuckled. Sally laughed and shook her head. “It would appear we both need to wash up before breakfast. I will see you in the dining room.” Victor excused himself and headed the opposite direction from the living quarters. Sally made her way to her suite and quickly showered and dressed for breakfast. Before she headed to the dining room, she checked in the 3D rendering of the car and was pleased to see it was finally ready. She wanted to start stripping back the body and tearing down the engine, but it was going to take weeks, she feared. The sooner she could start on it, the better. Every piece was going to need to be inventoried, categorized and its location marked so she would be able to reassemble the engine and the car. That meant a photo every time anything was done.

The dining room was quiet, and Sally slowed her steps as she walked in. She approached her seat and dropped into it with a sigh. A servant quickly brought her a cup of coffee. Sally smiled in thanks and gazed out the window at the mountains beyond the castle. They were idyllic. It was hard for her to believe that those mountains were where the Dracula legends had started. She was so lost in the view and her coffee that she didn’t notice Victor arrive and sit until he spoke.

“The summer will soon draw to an end, and the mountains will be blanketed with snow. Have you ever skied?” Victor asked. Sally shook her head.

“No, I’m a beach girl, right to my core. I moved south for a reason,” Sally laughed.

“You will like skiing, I think. And maybe snowshoeing. We’ll have to find something to keep you active when the gardens are buried and there is nowhere to run,” Victor smiled.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Sally admitted. “I don’t think I’ve ever had to reschedule my runs for an entire season.”

“We will get you on snowshoes as soon as there is a good snowpack. It’s not as fast, but the soldiers complain that it is just as exhausting,” Victor laughed. Sally found herself smiling.

“That might be okay. I did get myself snow pants.” Breakfast was served to them, and they both fell silent to eat. Despite being able to hear her stomach growl, Sally forced herself to eat slowly, keeping pace with Victor’s slower movements.

“Vurdalakovich will meet you at your rooms in fifteen minutes, Sally,” Victor began. “To escort you to the garage.”

“I really don’t need an escort, Victor,” Sally protested. “I appreciate that he’ll come –“

“You do need a guard, Sally,” Victor disagreed, cutting her off with a sharp look. “And he is happy for the assignment.”

“Of course,” Sally acquiesced. It wasn’t worth angering the man who might very well be the most powerful in eastern Europe. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to change.”

“I would walk you to your rooms, but I’m afraid I am needed in the labs,” Victor nodded. “I will see you at lunch.”

Sally nodded, and rose from her chair, stepping away from the table with a careful backward step before turning to head toward her rooms. She carefully hung her sundress in her closet and pulled on a pair of shorts and tank top before pulling her coveralls on. After pulling on her socks and boots, she tied her hair up and dropped a lip-gloss in her pocket. The decreased humidity was giving her chapped lips, and as she rubbed her lips together to spread the gloss around, she had a sudden recollection of Tony kissing her, and goosebumps rose on her skin. She tapped out a quick text on her phone before turning it off again. As she plugged it back into the charger, a knock sounded at the door, and she collected her tablet before opening the door to Sasha. He nodded, wordlessly, and led her to the garage. Once they were away from the view of the castle he relaxed enough to ask questions.

“Do you know anything about this car, Sasha?” Sally asked, flipping through the images and flagging areas where she needed better photos for the rendering.

“Not really. I took a look at the engine for the emperor when he was first looking for mechanics, but it was past my knowledge, even from working with my grandfather,” Sasha admitted. “I’ll be able to help you, but not until you have an idea of where you want to start.”

“I think we need to start with a tear down. And meticulous photos so my program can render a proper blueprint for us. I found a handbook for the vehicle yesterday, and I’m going to scan it and see if I can get a translation, but if you speak any German, it might be helpful.” Sally stopped and waited while Sasha opened the garage for them. He turned the lights on and Sally approached the wall of tools on the far side of the garage. She pulled a grease pencil out of her overalls and dropped it on top of her tablet on the bench before pulling a series of tools off the wall. “I haven’t used metric tools that often.”

“It’s no different. Just match size to size,” Sasha laughed and approached the bench. He pulled down a few more tools. “You’ll need these more than others, if this is built like any other German vehicle.” Sally smiled. Picking her tablet up again, she circled the car one last time and took the photos that she felt she needed while it was intact.

“Do you know if there’s any drop cloths kept in here?” She asked as she tried to decide where to start.

“I believe there is a cupboard by the toolbench filled with them.” Sasha nodded. “How many do you want?”

“Laid out along either side of the car. I’ll need a black marker too.” Sally popped the bonnet on the engine and took some more photos. She heard Sasha rummaging and then heard the snap of a cloth being opened. “Thank you.”

“This is more worthwhile than standing outside when the door locks from the inside anyhow,” Sasha laughed and laid out another sheet. “Some of the body panels are going to be very heavy.”

“Yeah, there’s an overhead hoist though. And I’m stronger than I look,” Sally laughed in return.

Once the sheets were on the floor, Sally grabbed some tools and started taking the car apart. It was slow, meticulous work, stopping to take photos with every piece she removed, and marking where everything came from both on the sheet and in her app.

“I’ve never seen anyone do this before,” Sasha commented as Sally wrote notes about a group of screws on the drop sheet and then placed the screws in the circle beside the notes.

“Did you notice how I moved all the sheets back about six feet after you laid them out?” Sally asked. “They don’t move now for the duration of the restoration. Where they are on the sheet directly corresponds to where they came from on the car.”

“It’s clever,” Sasha nodded. A short tone sounded from his pocket and he sighed. “That would be my dinner alarm. I know you haven’t got very far, but the emperor –“

“I know, he made it clear that he expects me at every meal. I’m anticipating this tear down is going to take weeks, Sasha. It’s probably best to set a routine and stick with it anyhow,” Sally interrupted. “It’s just going to be get increasingly frustrating when I have to leave thirty to forty-five minutes prior to meals to wash up and dress.”

“Am I right to suspect that even though you are only working a seven hour day here in the garage, that your computer will be working through days and nights for the first weeks?” Sasha asked. Sally laughed as she scrubbed her hands in the utility sink.

“It would take ages to get an accurate rendering if I only processed info during that seven hour work day. Surely that isn’t forbidden as well?” She asked.

“I think as long as you are not working, the emperor will have no objections,” Sasha nodded. “Let’s get you back to the castle so you can dress for dinner.”

Sally was careful to dress more formally than she had the previous day, and when she entered the dining room, Victor rose and smiled. His appraising gaze lasted a little longer than Sally felt comfortable with, and she could feel a flush creeping up her neck and cheeks in response.

“Forgive me Sally. Every time I see you, you are more beautiful,” Victor complimented as he held out her chair. She glanced away uncomfortably as she sat.

“Thank you,” she murmured. The meal was quietly and efficiently laid out in front of them. Sally glanced up at the clock, worried she’d been late, and was reassured that she hadn’t been. The staff were just exceptionally prompt.

“While you readied yourself, I spoke with Vurdalakovich. He said you expect the initial work to take weeks?”

“Yeah. Because I’m not familiar with the vehicle, I want to be really careful to document every thing that comes off the vehicle, right down to the smallest washer or nut. With his help, I was able to lift the bonnet completely this morning. I’m going to strip all the body panels first so I can figure out what needs fabricating as soon as possible. You said you had a good fabrication shop here?”

“Primarily for the robotics lab, but anything you need, Sally,” Victor nodded. “The fabricators can make anything for the car. Engine components, body pieces, whatever.”

“That’s fantastic, Victor,” Sally sighed in relief. “And if they’re usually used for robotics they’ll be well calibrated.”

“Absolutely. You need but ask,” Victor agreed. “But let us speak of something other than work. We are both on our meal break.”

“Okay,” Sally smiled. “Tell me more about Latveria. You’d mentioned the country had maintained neutrality during the wars. I grew up during the Cold War, Victor. Was Latveria a Soviet Bloc country?”

“No.” Victor’s tone was firm. “Latveria was lucky to remain free from the influence of the Bolsheviks, despite being surrounded during the Cold War. It has always been a monarchy.”

“Did you inherit the throne from your father?”

“Latveria’s internal history has been a little less than peaceful over the years. I took the throne from the previous monarch. He was,” Victor paused, “problematic. For the people.” Sally quirked an eyebrow and sipped her coffee, hoping Victor would continue. “The mountains are home to the Romani, and the last monarch’s treatment of ethnic minorities was troublesome.”

“The Romani?” Sally asked.

“I think Americans use the outsider’s term,” Victor explained. “Gypsies. It’s a slur. The past ruler hated the Roma. He was responsible for my parent’s deaths. I took his country from him so that he couldn’t exterminate the Roma, and have brought Latveria out of the dark. We are now the leading nation in robotics.”

“And you don’t even have a Wikipedia entry,” Sally smiled. Victor pursed his lips in a frown and Sally held up a hand in surrender. “That was a joke.”

“I prefer to keep prying eyes out of our business. The entire GDP is dependent on our advantage in the robotics industry, and as a result, I need to run the country like a corporation. Espionage is a huge problem in technology and engineering,” Victor lectured. Sally nodded. “Enough about politics. I think I mentioned the incredible winter sport?”

“I really hope to try snowboarding,” Sally admitted. “While snowshoeing sounds like it will be excellent daily exercise, snowboarding is a little like surfing on the mountainside. And I do love to surf.”

“I will see to it that the runs are groomed for you. I am sure there will be days when you cannot do much work on the car and will need to bide your time,” Victor smiled. “Now, tonight after supper I am needed in the lab. I’m afraid I have to excuse myself from our evenings plans already.”

“It’s just as well. I’m finding the jetlag catching up to me, and would like an early night,” Sally smiled. “That said, I should probably head back to the garage so I am not cutting hours from my day.” She excused herself but still waited for Victor to dismiss her before heading back to her room to change back into her coveralls. Sasha caught up to her halfway across the grounds and glared slightly.

“Do I need to find a bell for your neck so I know where you are?” He asked.

“Sorry. I wasn’t sure where you were, but I got caught up in conversation with Victor and lunch went long. I really want to get some more peeled off that chassis,” Sally apologized. She wasn’t really sorry, and she knew Sasha could tell.

They settled back to the tedious task of cataloging each piece that came off the car, and worked through the afternoon. It was just approaching dusk when Sasha quirked his head and then checked his watch.

“It is time, Sally,” he commented. Sally sighed.

“I feel like we’ve made no progress at all,” she complained. “Let me take a few more photos and we can go.” She grabbed her tablet and quickly took photos of everything they’d completed.

“I shouldn’t have to remind you of your own words, Sally, but remember. This is an unfamiliar vehicle, and a once in a lifetime restoration. You’ve got six months. This is day two,” Sasha laughed. “It will come more quickly as the days progress and you get more comfortable.”

“Victor was right to assign you as my detail. You’re a good assistant. I don’t know much about the guard duty stuff, but you’ve certainly been helpful with the car,” Sally smiled as she washed her hands. “Do you have coveralls? It’s just going to get dirtier, and your uniform probably shouldn’t get coated in grease.”

“I’ll see about getting some,” Sasha nodded and waited for her to step outside the garage before he locked up.

Sally was relieved to be in slightly more casual clothing again after having to dress for lunch, and knowing that she was free for the evening after the meal made her anxious to be finished so she could go and work a little, off the clock, and talk with Tony. She was looking forward to talking about the car with him, but more wanted a chance for a video chat so she could see his face.

“You seem distracted this evening, Sally,” Victor commented, snapping her back to reality.

“I’m sorry, Victor. I’m missing Tony today, and the time difference hasn’t worked in our favour yet. It’s early days, I’m sure I’ll be less homesick as time goes on,” Sally apologized. Victor smiled and nodded.

“I was wondering about that. Your internet connection has only been used for a few emails.” Victor’s words hit Sally like a slap to the face. Her suspicions had been correct.

“I didn’t realize you were monitoring my accounts.” Sally chose her words carefully.

“Like I said at dinner, Latveria’s advantage depends on preventing espionage. Outgoing messages are monitored for attachments that could be security breaches.” Victor said it like it was completely normal, expected behaviour. Sally swallowed thickly.

“Of course,” she nodded. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to, darling,” Victor smiled, laying his hand across hers. “You’re hardly a spy. You blush if someone looks at you too long.” As if on cue, Sally blushed again and gently extracted her hand from under his.

“Yeah, I’ve never had much of a poker face,” Sally laughed uncomfortably, before falling silent again. Victor looked at the clock at the end of the dining room, laid his cutlery across his plate gently and placed his napkin carefully beside his plate.

“If you’ll excuse me, I must get back to the lab.” He rose and departed before Sally could respond. She pushed her plate away, appetite gone, and quickly made her way to her room. Once she was settled in her pyjamas, she connected to the castle Internet and sent emails to her mother and Tony, while texting Tony on her phone.

“I need you to respond to my email so that we can video chat.”

“Let me get into something more comfortable.” Sally could almost hear the teasing leer in Tony’s text.

“Yeah, about that. Victor is monitoring the castle Internet. I figured he was, but he confirmed that while we ate supper.”

“So this is video chat sex then?”

“No!”

“He’ll stop monitoring if we’re talking filth and I’m naked.”

“Alternately, he’ll monitor us more closely. You’re a good looking guy, Tony.”

“I’ve responded to your email now. Shut up and video chat me before he gets more suspicious. ;)”

Sally checked her email quickly, and read Tony’s reply before she opened the video chat app and dialed him. He picked up, and she breathed a sigh of relief that he appeared to be fully clothed.

“You look exhausted, princess.” He was to the point.

“I’ve only been here a couple days. I believe the term is called jet lag?” She laughed.

“Right. I forget that not everyone has a JARVIS to monitor them. Drink more water. And remind me to make you your own AI when you come home.”

“I’m going to have other things on my mind when I come home,” Sally laughed. “How’s the planning coming for the wedding?”

“It’s been two days, babe.”

“And you’re trying to tell me Pepper hasn’t made progress?” Sally laughed again. “Not possible. More likely that you haven’t asked yet. I’ll email her right now.” She opened a window and sent a quick message to Pepper and one to Natasha as well. If Victor was going to monitor her email, she was going to make it as boring and mundane as she could. Bridezilla would be sending emails every day. To everyone involved.

“Warn everyone to expect a lot of wedding emails from me to clog up Victor’s monitoring.” She sent the text on her phone and looked back up at Tony. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too. It seems like two weeks, not two days,” Tony admitted.

“Are you keeping busy?”

“Always, princess. I’d kind of fallen behind on things once you arrived. I guess there’s a benefit hidden in the thousands of miles separating us. I’ve got to focus on my work,” he laughed.

“I am not going to be blamed for your inability to focus!” Sally protested, laughing.

“God, I miss that sound.” Tony was suddenly serious.

“Me squawking?” Sally furrowed her brow in confusion.

“You laughing. Any chance you’ll be finished that car in two weeks?” Tony asked. Sally almost thought he was serious.

“This car is incredible. I’ll have to ask Victor if I can send you photos,” Sally said. “I’m pretty sure it uses airplane engine technology, but I haven’t actually got into the engine yet. I’d say we’re about ten percent into the tear down.”

“We?”

“I have a security detail who was a mechanics apprentice before he was in the royal guard,” Sally explained. “He’s helping. Tell Clint I have a better apprentice now.” A light behind Tony started flashing red and he glanced over his shoulder.

“No, Dum-E! Stop!” He called before turning back to the monitor. “I’m sorry, Sal. I gotta go deal with this.”

“Don’t forget to sleep, Tony,” Sally chided. He rolled his eyes.

“If I get ahead of my deadlines while you’re gone, I’ll be able to slack off once you’re home.” Tony was walking toward whatever was going on while holding the phone on his end.

“Or you’ll sleep through the honeymoon, and let me tell you how happy that will make me,” Sally laughed. Tony winked and shook his head.

“Not at chance. Not after six months apart,” he argued. “Shit, I’ve really gotta deal with this. Dum-E, stop! I’m sorry.”

“Go rein in your problem child robot. I love you. Talk to you tomorrow?” Sally asked.

“Wouldn’t miss it. Just knock me another email to let me know you’re waiting,” Tony nodded. “I love you. Sleep sweet, princess.”

Sally closed the connection and finished getting ready for bed, plugging in all her devices to charge. Just as she was drifting off to sleep, she received a text from Tony.

“I’ve had JARVIS redouble the security on the satellite link, and Natasha is going to see what her old network can give us on Victor and Latveria. I’m not going to let you stay there if you aren’t safe. JARVIS assures me there is no way that Victor can pick up our satellite communications.”

Sally relaxed with the phone still in her hand and drifted off to sleep.

#avengers fanfic #tony stark x OFC

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irradiate-space · 4 years

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This thread was moderately well-spread on Twitter (5k retweets, 12k likes), but what I think is interesting is that it shows the reasoning behind why some people appear to have written off the whole Internet as a place for reasoned debate.

I’ll quote the whole things here, and risk angering Tumblr’s block-quote bugs.

I get the longing--I even share it--but the naivete is annoying. Online pundits should know (and factor in) that social media as a "public square" where "good faith debate" happens is a thing of the past. Disagreement here happens through trolling, sea-lioning, ratios, dunks. Bad faith is the condition of the modern internet, and shitposting is the lingua franca of the online world. And not just online: A troll is president. Trolling won. Perhaps we can agree that these platforms aren't suited to the earnest exchange of big ideas. Of course that's frustrating, especially to those who wish to debate things like abortion. But there's a history here: platforms got flooded by devil's advocates who wasted the time of people with real investments--cruelly, for sport. That tends to weed out good faith engagement. Add to this that most arguments worth having have been had and witnessed 1000x already on these platforms, in several permutations. We know their tired choreographies, the moves and countermoves. At this point we mostly enjoy the style of whichever dunk we happen to agree with. Does that lead to paranoid readings and meta-debates that seem totally batshit to onlookers who aren't internet-poisoned? Yup! "All Lives Matter" sounds perfectly reasonable--as a text--unless you know the history of that discourse. (And you'll sound pretty weird explaining it.) "Why would you refuse to debate someone who's simply saying that All Lives Matter?" is the kind of question an Enlightenment subject longing for a robust exchange of ideas might ask. Well, the reason is that most of us know, through bitter experience, that it's a waste of time. It wouldn't be a true exchange. We know by now what "All Lives Matter" signals and that what it signals is orthogonal to what it says. Your fluency in this garbage means you take shortcuts: you don't have to refute the text to leap to the subtext, which is the real issue. To outsiders, that leap will look nuts. That's obviously what all the coded Nazi shit is for and about--the 14 words, the numbers, the OK hand sign that both is and isn't a white power sign, the Boogaloo junk. They're all ways to divorce surface meaning from intentional subtext. Yes, this is bad for discourse! Yes, it inhibits intellectual exchange! Yes, it makes productive dissensus almost impossible. But that's not because of "cancel culture" or "illiberalism." It's because in this discourse environment, good faith engagement is actually maladaptive. It's possible and likely that knowledge gaps between people who are online too much and folks who aren't are making things worse. If Atwood (or whoever) isn't online much, she might be shocked to see people accuse a nice-looking boy in a Hawaiian shirt of wanting a 2nd civil war. It might indeed look like cancel culture gone mad. He's just standing there! Civilly! Offering support to Black Lives Matter protesters, of all things! Can't we all, whatever our disagreements, come together in support of a good cause? It's *also* possible that people who've learned to read *through* stuff (to whatever bummer of a subtext we're used to finding there) sometimes overdo it. Some of us might reflexively ignore the actual text--fast-forwarding to the shitty point we "know" is coming even if it isn't "Free speech defender," for ex, will mean something different to an idealist than it will to someone who watched reddit hordes viciously defend revenge porn and sites like r/beatingwomen, r/creepshots, and r/Jewmerica while people whose pictures got posted there begged for help. Free speech! they were told. Anyway. Sure, good-faith debate would be nice. Instead, the internet pressure-cooked rhetoric. Again: people can watch the same argument be conducted a million times in slightly different ways, and that's interesting, and a blessing, and a curse It produced a kind of argumentative hyperliteracy. If you can predict every step of a controversy (including the backlash), it makes perfect sense to meta-argue instead--over what X *really* means, or implies, or what, down a road we know well, it confirms. This isn't great. People talk past each other, assume bad faith. But it's not the fault of "illiberalism" that good faith is in short supply. And if that's where your analysis begins, I can't actually tell whether you're naive or trolling. And I'm no longer sure which is worse.

In summary:

Places that were once known for being suited to the free interchange of ideas have become flooded by trolls and naïfs, and it is not possible to tell the difference between trolls and naïfs on first glance

Many of those who are Learnéd in the patterns of the Discourses get tired of the same old same old arguments coming up over and over again, whether they are spoken by trolls or naïfs. “What if we programmed the AI to be good? Then AI safety wouldn’t be a problem!” and suchlike.

In search of new things to discuss, the Learnéd Discourse has become increasingly meta, discussing not the terrain but maps and maps of maps. Someone wishing to debate the terrain is either a troll or a naïf, but they show up on the map in the same way.

Much of the world’s population are naïfs, and don’t understand the Learnéd Discourse that drives culture and politics. And when they seek to engage, these naïfs are indistinguishable from trolls, and get turned away in the same way.

This set of observations is leading many people to write off Online Discourse entirely.

Maybe this explains why people dislike SSC’s comment section and subreddits, and similar places: because they are places where ideas were freely exchanged, and accepting to well-behaved naïfs, they’re indistinguishable from places welcoming to trolls and badthink.

I wonder what happens when the Learnéd Discourse class writes off political discourse as being impossible to conduct at all.

#politicking #original #twitter thread #millicentsomer #discourse

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gracewithducks · 5 years

Text

Following... (Matthew 2:1-12) - Sunday School Stories #15, preached 12/22/19

In our modern world, when we need a question answered, we go to the internet. We ask Google, or Siri, or Alexa – who’s the highest ranked NFL team? How do you make chocolate chip pancakes? Where’s the nearest gas station? Will there be snow on Christmas Day? – and the internet obligingly searches the library of human knowledge for the answers we need to know.

Sometimes, though, what we’re looking for isn’t a fact but an opinion, a suggestion, a story or some advice. I don’t know what your Facebook looks like, but mine is often filled with requests for recommendations or insights: One neighbor asks, “Is there a locksmith in the area!” and another says, “Does anyone have any extra wrapping paper?” or “Where’s the best place to get a haircut?” Family members post pictures of Christmas cookies, asking for the community to vote for their favorite decorations; children of distant cousins ask us to fill out surveys on how much coffee we drink every day. And pastor friends ask, “Which hymns are you singing the Sunday after Christmas?” and “Does anyone have a good story about hope?” and “When did you experience God’s grace most fully?” and “Anyone have any good ideas on how to minister to a divided congregation the weekend after the impeachment vote?”

And no, that’s not what this sermon is about – except to remind us that Jesus was born into a politically divided and divisive world; Jesus was born into a world where foreigners crossed borders trying to follow their call, and Jesus was born into a world where religious leaders partnered with the government powers in order to line their pockets and crucify the vulnerable, and Jesus was born into a world where the poor suffered while the rich feasted, and Jesus was born into a world where he proclaimed good news for the poor – and Jesus also was born into a world where just the news of his birth drove a fearful and angry leader into a paranoid, murderous rage. Political division, competing ideologies, tribal alliances which outweigh reason or compassion, families divided amongst themselves, economic gaps too drastic to comprehend – none of it’s new. This is exactly the world into which God chose to be born – and I believe that God is with us, still.

But I digress. We were talking about the internet – and while it can bring out the worst in us, it’s also a place where we can share stories and support. It’s a place to share feedback, recommendations, and advice – and I’ve noticed that, often, once someone posts a question, almost within minutes a few new comments will pop up – comments that don’t answer the question, but instead, just say one word: “Following…”

And I’ve been thinking about that word a lot this week: “Following.” We often talk about our faith in terms of following, don’t we? The Hebrew people followed a pillar of cloud and fire through the Wilderness. When Jesus called the disciples, he said, “Come; follow me.” And today, we shared the story of the Magi, the wise foreign scholars who studied the skies, who saw a new star on the horizon, and decided: we need to follow that star, and see where it might lead.

They didn’t know, exactly. They knew that the Jewish holy writings promised a new king; they believed that this star was meant to show them the way. But they didn’t know where that star would bring them; in fact, when they got close, they were distracted by the bright lights of the big city – they thought a new king must surely be in a palace in Jerusalem, and were surprised to find out that he was in fact born in a born in a little town no one had ever heard of. They had set out with their gifts; they had set out with the intention to find and worship this new king – but even so, they didn’t know where that road was going to go. Still these foreigners set out, trusting the promises of a faith they didn’t observe, trusting in a star they didn’t understand – the Magi started following.

That word – “following” – is so important. Following is something that happens over time – it doesn’t describe a single step, but a process, a path. When we talk about faith, we don’t talk about arriving; we don’t say, “I’ve arrived” or “I’ve got it all figured out.” Jesus doesn’t say, “Come, sit down next to me.” But what he says is, “Follow me” – he beckons, inviting us to start on a journey, to travel with him, to leave behind the comfortable and the familiar, to take risks, and to trust that he will be with us wherever we might go. Follow the leader is, for Christians, a life-long journey. And the good news is, it’s not like Simon Says: one mistake, one missed step, and you’re out of the game forever. No, Jesus invites us to follow, and when we lag behind, when we stumble or get distracted, we can always turn back and follow him again.

As I said, I’ve been living with that word “following” this week. And I rather liked imagining our faith journey as something akin to following a post or a person online. If we follow someone – on Facebook or Instagram or Twitter or whatever the new thing is kids are using these days – if we follow someone, it means we care about what they have to say; we have a connection with them, and we want to share their lives; we believe that what they’ll say is worth hearing; we believe it’s worth following them.

And when we follow Christ, we affirm the relationship, the connection, that he shares with us; we commit ourselves to sharing our lives and ideas, and listening when he shares his. And we invite his voice, his presence, into our every day.

And that’s a place to start, I suppose… except I noticed something else about Facebook this week: a whole lot of the time, at least for me, is spent just skimming and scrolling by. Somewhere out there, an algorithm decides which posts I get to see, and even among all those that do pop up, many are – frankly – not something I’m very passionate about, just white noise I pass by in search of something or someone that matters more.

And that’s not exactly a great way to imagine our relationship with Christ: just one more profile we follow, one voice lost in the cacophony of voices which shout into our lives.

So then I thought about the way my friends and neighbors use the word “following” whenever a question is shared. There, “following” means: I don’t have an answer, but I’m intrigued by the question; I don’t know the answer, but I’m hoping someone else does; I can’t solve this problem, but I want to be a part of the conversation; I too have this question – and maybe we can find the answers together.

“Following” is a way of saying: I’m in. I want to be a part of this discussion. This matters to me. And “following” says: I’m willing to listen. I’m not going to make up answers that I don’t have. But I’m here. I’m listening with you.

And there’s something significant about that: because really, isn’t that a lot of what the community of faith is about? It’s a place where we follow together – where we share our questions, where we invite each other to tell our stories, to offer our experiences and advice – and where we listen, where we can say: “That’s a good question, and I can’t answer it; so let’s keep asking together and see what others have to say.”

That’s what community looks like; that’s what it looks like when we wrestle with God’s presence and follow God’s guidance, together.

But then I started thinking some more. Because it’s not enough just to show up – often, those friends who start “following” a conversation are just flies on the wall, willing to sit back and eavesdrop while others do the heavy lifting, perhaps chiming in to offer criticisms but rarely with anything productive to say.

But eavesdropping isn’t enough. Mouthing the words isn’t enough. And letting the voice of God be just one voice among many – it’s not enough. That’s not what Jesus said when he said, “Come, follow me.”

The Magi remind us that following isn’t easy; although we often picture them standing alongside the shepherds on Christmas night, it’s much more likely that they wandered, searching for the newborn king, for as long as two years before they found him. They journeyed together through months and months of uncertainty, strangers in a strange land, relying on the hospitality of strangers; they ran into trouble with the government and had to run for their lives.

The ones we call wise men didn’t have the answers. But, much like the disciples, the Magi left everything to follow, to search for the Christ; and when they went back to their old lives, they were forever changed because of him.

Following Christ isn’t quick, and it isn’t easy. It’s not like following a Facebook post or a celebrity on Twitter, not like following a recipe or a script or following directions – it’s complicated, it’s messy, it’s chaotic sometimes, and it looks different for us all.

As I contemplated this week, trying to imagine what it must have been like for the Magi on their long, uncertain, sometimes terrifying journey, thinking about what faith and following looks like for us today – the image that came to my mind is an image from the Holy Land.

Some of you have heard me talk before about the Via Dolorosa, the Way of Sorrows, which is the traditional route through the Old City of Jerusalem along which Christ carried his cross. It’s a fascinating place, in this ancient city, full of holy sites intermixed with souvenir shops and cafes, this ancient city full of neighborhoods people have called home since before Christ was born and where they still live today. It’s a city full of history, beautiful, full of the weight and dust of the centuries in a way we just don’t experience in the States. But the road are old roads, from generations before cars; the streets are uneven, narrow, and twisting. In some places the Via is only about as wide as a car – which is interesting when cars try to squeeze through and the path is packed with pedestrians who have no place to go… other parts of the Via are more like a hallway, with no cars but with crowds of people stumbling up or down ancient stairs.

The Via Dolorosa is one of those must-see, must-walk experiences for pilgrims to Jerusalem from around the world. On any given day, you’ll encounter not only people who live in Jerusalem, trying to get to the store and to work, but you’ll rub shoulders with Christians from all around the world.

Literally, you will rub shoulders with them. When I visited the Via, the path was so crowded that our tour group was forced to make our way travelling single file, to hide our numbers – I mean, so we could stay together. We were spread into a long line, all following the leader up front. At least, we knew our leader was somewhere up front – we just couldn’t see him. Our line was so long that those of us in the back couldn’t even see the top of the flag our tour guide carried. All these other groups were pressing against us, trying to cut through our line, pushing in the other direction – so intent on following their leader that they didn’t care if they cut in front or cut us off.

We knew our guide and bus captain were at the front of the line – but we couldn’t see them. And it was nerve-wracking: because we didn’t know where exactly we were, or where we were going; we didn’t have a map, didn’t speak the language, and didn’t want to face those crowds alone. Our guide up front was doing his best to push our path through the crowds, but he was small and quick, and he kept slipping farther away.

Our anxiety was through the roof – until one of our leaders came back to walk with us.

Miraculously, we made it through the Via without losing anyone in our group. And I believe, I firmly believe, it’s because we decided to put a leader not just in the front but in the back, a leader who made sure that nobody got left behind, nobody was distracted by a souvenir shop or accidentally tried to follow the wrong guide. That leader was our shepherd, watching out for wandering sheep…. That leader was the one who slowed whenever someone struggled to catch their breath or navigate uneven stairs… That leader was the one who, when somebody needed a break, made sure we could rest without being afraid. That leader was the one who gave us confidence, who calmed our anxiety, because we knew – no matter what – we wouldn’t be lost alone or left behind.

And that, I think, is the kind of following we do in our faith. We follow God, but God is not just way up or “out there,” far away, out of sight, as mysterious and untouchable as a star in the sky. But the good news of Christmas, the good news of the Incarnation, is that God comes to the back, to walk with us. We follow a God who comes to the back of the line, who knows where we’re going, who encourages us, and who makes sure that we don’t get lost or confused or left behind.

The Magi weren’t a part of the people God had claimed, but still they come: they come, searching for God with more persistence and more perseverance and more faith than many of God’s chosen people who had grown up with the promises that a Messiah would come. And to me, the fact that they had not just the knowledge to search for the star but the desire to seek out and to follow it shows that God was already present in their story; God wasn’t far away, hiding, but the Spirit was moving in them long before they started moving towards Bethlehem, before they even glimpsed the star or made the choice to follow it. And God is with us; God has always been working in us – even when we didn’t feel like a part of the community, even when we didn’t have a way to name or to claim our faith. In Christ we see that presence written large; at Christmas we know, and we are so grateful, for a God who came to the back, and who walks with us – not just leading us, but walking beside us, as we do our best to follow the way.

May we follow this Christmas season. May you know not just that the light out there is guiding you but that Christ walks beside you, and the Spirit is at work within you. You are not lost, and you are not alone.

God, we thank you for the faith of the Magi: the outsiders whom you wove into the story, showing from that very beginning the Jesus didn’t come just for some but for all. Thank your for coming to the back of the line, to walk with us. And give us the compassion to walk with others, to remember that we do not follow you alone. In Jesus’ name we pray; amen.

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thecoroutfitters · 6 years

Link

Written by R. Ann Parris on The Prepper Journal.

Editors Note: Another article from R. Ann Parris to The Prepper Journal. Admit it, when you saw the title you thought this was about one of the Internets search engines. Alas, and thankfully, it is about something so much more important. If you have information for Preppers that you would like to share then enter into the Prepper Writing Contest with a chance to win one of three Amazon Gift Cards with the top prize being a $300 card to purchase your own prepping supplies!

Search and Rescue codes largely entered mainstream American awareness in the U.S. courtesy of massive hurricane disaster areas. We saw them before Katrina, although she brought them into American homes and still bears their scars, and sadly, we’ve seen them since and will likely continue to see them.

For preppers, there are two main reasons to understand the most common codes used to mark structures by teams in a disaster area.

One, there’s the counter-intel aspect. They can be used as camouflage, misleading others about our home or the entire area around our home – which can keep others from even getting close to us if applied properly.

*Be able to cover or remove markings especially if applied to a whole neighborhood in case a real disaster occurs and somebody is able to respond. If it looks like another unit checked the area or has done follow-up recently, they may assume SNAFU is in full effect and hop the block/road to work an area that hasn’t been covered yet.

Two, we can use them to gather intel should we find ourselves moving through a disaster area.

Let’s hit that “moving through” aspect, because there’s usually a lot of resistance there.

There are all kinds of reasons we might be out and about after a disaster, whether that disaster is what drove us out or we wander into the aftermath of a disaster while passing through.

Straight from the news: air, surface, and ground water contaminated by chemical spills from trains, factories, mines, and ships; housefires, wildfires, and droughts, which then exacerbate rain into floods and mudslides; upstream dams and levees failing; natural disasters kicking off fires, releasing previously contained toxins, cracking wells, tumbling houses, and wrecking cellars.

That’s not the what-if of a paranoid prepper.

That’s straight from the news.

Fires occur and spread daily – it’s why you have a fire department. Annually, monthly, weekly, we get things beyond our individual control, already causing people to relocate or find alternate resources even with all our technical advances in our nice, modernized nations.

That’s not the WROL (Without Rule of Law)/pandemic human-contact concerns, or the cooling tanks in nuclear plants steaming off over days or 2-20 years. It’s not droughts lowering water tables, animal plagues, or woods too emptied of trees or animal/plant foods to sustain another winter and spring. It’s not somebody traveling even “just” 30-100 miles from home before a disaster strikes.

Using just things that happen, pretty regularly, portions of the population are forced from homes that had seemed like perfect locations.

There are all kinds of reasons to include a Plan B (or C,D,E…) that involves traveling, and not always in nice, empty backcountry.

Being able to recognize what we’re seeing from either the “safe” resource site or avoidance perspectives while passing through is huge.

We can also plan to learn the CDC and HazMat codes that may become applicable even in our local neighborhoods.

Recognizing where we don’t want to be is one of the biggies for gaining International Search and Rescue Group – INSARAG literacy.

Lots of bodies, no marks for reclaiming them, disease is hella prevalent, pretty much guaranteed. I would rather not pick through a building that was already so questionable a search team opted not to press a full search. If it was already overrun by rats “then”, unless I’m desperate enough to eat them, I’d really rather hop well out of that neighborhood before we find a bed-down pocket.

We can learn lots of things when we know how to read INSARAG. The dates and updates alone can give us information about the area, human climate, and resource potentials.

Disaster Search Codes

In the U.S. we mostly use and see FEMA “X” codes – a circle divided into quadrants. Other NATO nations use a circled box.

There’s also a separate box that’s part of a three-tier structural integrity rating.

Take that with a grain of salt, because it’s “significant” hazards. Lesser risks that were no big deal in a mostly functional world can deliver a world of hurt if we’re already working with limited resources.

It’s also being assessed by teachers, lawyers, random National Guard types, clerks, landscapers, and cops, as opposed to firefighters, who develop a good eye for these things, or qualified civil engineers.

Those X’s that denote a big issue are worth paying attention to, period. Something stuck out at them to be marked. If that box is empty or “just” a slash … again, it was probably not cleared by professional housing inspectors. Be super-duper leery anyway.

There’s also a victim-location code based around a V. It’s sometimes used on its own, but it’s most commonly seen as an add-on.

All three contribute to streamlining both initial searches and follow-ups or retrieval operations. They convey basic information like the date, status of the structure, victim information, and risks.

There’s some personal twists added sometimes, some specific-unit tweaks and shorthand, and in some cases, simplification and deviations that develop in really widespread disasters.

The variations can help us if we’re using them along with noise and light discipline to discourage incursions during excessive loss of rule of law or by looters/survivors after a disaster.

Anyone familiar enough with the codes to accurately read what we’re saying will expect to see some of those deviations. However, if you put information in the wrong place or use some random combination, you may actually attract attention.

X codes are most common in the U.S. but it’s worth learning what you’re seeing in NATO INSARAG boxes and reading-writing victim V-codes, too.

FEMA “X” Search Codes

Top goes the date (and rarely the time). Left goes the unit that’s searching (and sometimes the time). Hazards, actions we took, and special notes go to the right.

Everybody knows a flood means human waste, wood rotting as it goes, and mold developing, but if the floor’s crumbling already, that gets put there with “hamster removed” and “GL” (gas or fuel leak visualized or smelled).

That’s also where a no-go, break-off, or exterior-only survey is noted, with or without a secondary structure box.

In the bottom, a zero or empty quadrant means nobody’s home, dead or alive. Victim counts are listed live to dead, top and bottom or left to right separated by a dash, dot or slash.

FEMA now advises to mark search results on windows and doors, and use their big stickers when available, instead of wrecking house paint and siding. If local teams are doing it and you’re aiming for camo, mimic them.

*If you’re marking for an animal rescue that’s coming through after you, make it Big and Bold, and note if it’s going to require saws/jacks to get them out.

Top Three Super-Duper Big-time Warning Signs

One, there’s that “no go” structural safety box with the X. If professionals with healthcare did not want anybody else to poke inside, that’s a real good one to skip.

Two, we want to be hyper-vigilant for the word “dog(s)” somewhere.

Now, I like dogs. I like my dogs a lot. But, my dogs make me very, very aware of other dogs. Especially my current girls, because they – Lab-terrier mixes, never strays, never starved, never abused, with no training for it – will separate, hug verges all nonchalant, easy-going postures, and then launch for takedown from multiple angles like a pack of lionesses.

So I watch for whether dogs are happy to see people, period, or happy and excited about chasing something that’s not as athletic as a squirrel. And I watch my flanks for others.

Three, we want to be very leery if we ever see a single diagonal slash with or without a date.

See, we’re trained to mark a slash – and, unit by unit, the date-time – before we enter a building or floor/area/apartment in large buildings. If we abandon a search before we finish, we are supposed to paint a dot/circle in the middle of it. (Completed searches get the X, even if it’s “did not enter/exterior survey only – hazards”.)

Even if we’re leaving in a hurry, we’re supposed to put that dot on there.

That way if we don’t make our rally or contact, people know right exactly where we are. No question of did we get snatched off the porch, have an accident after leaving the building, or which building, floor, or compartment we bounced to next. If we drew that single slash and there is no other marking (+/- the date), we are still within that threshold.

This applies to preppers as “oh my my” because if there is only that slash, we have two conditions.

One, there is still a team inside. Maybe good, if we’re seeking other intelligent life. Maybe cause to fade away if we want to go unnoticed.

Two, the searcher(s) went in and either did not come out or something so bad happened inside that they un-A’d the AO in such a rush they didn’t even take time for another slash and an X-box.

That suggests, right up there with dogs, bodies, and compromised structures, that we do not want to go through that door.

*If you’re aiming for camo in EROL conditions, don’t use that one. SAR, first responders, and military will go in after each other almost as fast as if we heard a crying baby.

Now, shorthand/personalization that develops in widespread disasters means some never even drew a slash. But if we see just that slash, that is a warning sign.

Applying INSARAG Markings

INSARAG can provide intel on local conditions just by the quickie versions that suggest more need than available CERT/SAR teams could handle, and give us the number and types of teams working an area.

We can also use clues from how they’re marked. For instance, any time markings seem really high up on a building, or have serious up-down wavering of lines, circles undulating like scalloped pattypan squash, or oval “tornado spirals” instead of circles, it indicates a flood high enough that it was easier/safer to stand in a boat to paint than be in the water. Heights and dates of marks can tell us if water was rising or receding.

On the counter-intel front, we can use things like follow-ups and some of those super-duper bigtime warning signs to disseminate false information, projecting that fires gutted flats or stores, or there’s heavy mold and decaying bodies, etc.

They’re worth being familiar enough with to plan our actions to mitigate likely risks, choose avoidance of an area, or pick locations that may still have useful resources with the safest access, even if we’re not planning a bugout, ever. Too much goes wrong even right now to steadfastly insist we’ll never be away from home and traveling, or ever be forced out of our homes.

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