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neptunesgrl · 2 months ago

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Things that my redacted favs do that are true because I said so

SWEETHEART, LASKO, GUY

SWEETHEART:

- Calls Milo angel in private, had a couple drinks and it ended up slipping out in front of the pack. David looked very confused for the rest of the night and proceeded to call SH in the middle of the night to say “what do you know”, “what did they (Angel) tell you”, etc. Angel found it incredibly amusing.

- Drinks scotch. Rarely, since it makes Milo uncomfortable. They had it in their apartment once and after they’d learned of his father’s struggle with it, they made sure to keep it out of sight when he came over. Hasn’t bought a bottle since they moved in.

- Reverse pick-pockets everyone. Hates when people make a big deal out of apologies or big emotional things. Their way to avoid it is to make silent apologies. Often but not limited to leaving a couple hundreds in their wallet, cause we all know SH makes bank.

- Nicknames for Milo include: Mi, angel (as previously mentioned), hun/honey, babe.

- Takes the NYT crossword incredibly seriously and looks forward to it more than they’d like to admit

- Raised in New England. Hopes to move back if they decide to have kids, that is until they gain their powers, and need to move back to Dahlia.

Side note: Their child listening to ‘California’ by Chappell Roan on full blast in their room and giving SH war flashbacks

- Has gained a slight NJ/NY accent from Milo. Slips out when they get mad. Specifically with the words: ‘jackass’, ‘told her (so i told ha)’, ‘off (awf)’, ‘call (just cawl me)’, etc.

LASKO:

- Constantly holding Dear’s hand. At first, it was difficult for him to initiate, but once he realized it was the least embarrassing thing he could ask for, it became habit. Sometimes Dear slides their thumb to his wrist to check his pulse when he’s nervous.

- (UNEMPOWERED AU) Dear is an EMT. Sirens used to startle and disturb Lasko, now he finds comfort in knowing Dear is getting to save people (corny and tooth rotting fluff ik)

- Once, Lasko wore Dear’s fleece that went with their uniform since they’d left it at his place and it was too cold to go out without one. It took him 10 minutes of pacing at the front door to go outside and grab the food he ordered. Just in case someone on the 2 second walk down there would need medical attention and thought he could help since he’d be wearing the EMT jacket.

- He owns every single PJO book and shamelessly reads them at least once a year. He’s in the Zeus cabin (obviously). Grover’s his favorite, because in his words, “he’s the only one worried about the logistics.”

- ‘Guilty as Sin?’ is THEIR SONG. I will not be taking any criticisms at this time or ever. It’s just the lyrics about feeling guilty for thinking about the other in that way. Like are you kidding me. ‘I’ve screamed his name, building up like waves’ DEAR WE KNOW ITS YOU IN THE WRITERS ROOM.

GUY:

(these are mostly fem leaning i am so sorry)

- Watched The Real Housewives. Insists Jersey is peak, Honey agrees. They take the finales very seriously. Honeys favorite is Margaret, Guys favorite is Melissa. He insists Honey and him are exactly like Joe and Melissa. I have RHONJ brainrot save me.

- Uses a sleep eye mask from dollar tree that says ‘nap queen’ on it. Found it in Honeys childhood bedroom.

- Raised in NYC (Brooklyn), insists he knows how to use the subway and always gets lost. Honey cracked the code within 2 days.

- Had headgear in high school. No further explanation. That’s it. That’s the HC.

- Child of…

🥁

dddiiivvvooorrrccceee!!!! i’m projecting He is so Chandler Bing coded don’t lie.

- Somewhere down the line, he’d like to write a book about him and Honey. Whether they work out or not. Very “You were a wonderful experience” / “You were…everything.” coded. Can you tell that not only am i awful at it, but I hate angst?

- Love letters EVERYWHERE. On dressers, in nightstand drawers, on the windshield of Honeys car, this man will find anywhere to put one of the many notes he has written gushing about his partner.

☕️📰🤍

This has been in my drafts for so long I feel emotional posting it. Please take good care of my baby.

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted guy #redacted milo #redacted mates #redacted sweetheart #redacted lasko #redacted dear #redacted listener #redacted fandom #redacted headcanons #redacted honey #redacted milo greer #redacted lasko moore

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claireverlasting · 8 days ago

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Ah yes there it is, the chapter where most of the les amis died hugo misquoted the iliad. Buckle up people, this is long.

So! This is the paragraph in les mis (hapgood):

Homer says: “Diomedes cuts the throat of Axylus, son of Teuthranis, who dwelt in happy Arisba; Euryalus, son of Mecistæus, exterminates Dresos and Opheltios, Esepius, and that Pedasus whom the naiad Abarbarea bore to the blameless Bucolion; Ulysses overthrows Pidytes of Percosius; Antilochus, Ablerus; Polypætes, Astyalus; Polydamas, Otos, of Cyllene; and Teucer, Aretaon. Meganthios dies under the blows of Euripylus’ pike. Agamemnon, king of the heroes, flings to earth Elatos, born in the rocky city which is laved by the sounding river Satnoïs.”

And this is the one in book 6 of the Iliad (Peter Green translation, line 12 to 36)

Diomēdēs, good at the war cry, now slew Axylos,

Teuthras’s son, whose home was in well-built Arisbē:

a person of wealth and substance, hospitable too,

for his house stood on the high road, was open to everyone.

Yet of these not one was there to save him from wretched death,

by facing the foe before him: Diomēdēs cut off both

him and his henchman Kalēsias, at that time

his charioteer; together they entered the underworld.

Euryalos slaughtered Drēsos and Opheltios, then went

after Aisēpos and Pēdasos, whom on a time a nymph,

a naiad, Abarbarea, bore to blameless Boukoliōn.

Boukoliōn was the offspring of noble Laomedōn,

his first-born, though his mother bore him in secrecy.

Tending his flocks he was when he lay with the nymph,

who conceived and delivered twin sons. It was of these

that Mēkisteus’s son undid the power and the resplendent

limbs, and stripped off the armor from their shoulders.

Astyalos fell to the staunch fighter Polypoitēs; Odysseus it was finished off Pidytēs of Perkōtē

with his bronze spear, while Teukros killed noble Aretaōn.

Antilochos, Nestōr’s son, with his shining spear laid low

Ablēros; Agamemnōn, lord of men, slew Elatos

who dwelt in steep Pēdasos by the banks of wide-flowing

Satnioeis. The hero Lēïtos caught Phylakos

as he fled him; Eurypylos slaughtered Melanthios.

Descriptions got deleted (fairs), some orders got switched (why), literally can’t find a Meganthios aside in les mis so pretty sure Meganthios/Melanthios was a typo on hugo’s part (sigh), Lēïtos got deleted (sorry dude), and wow wait what was that?

Polydamas, Otos, of Cyllene;

…what.

Long story short, the original part was a description on the Achaeans’ side, and Polydamas—you’ll see him later in the Iliad as the guy who tried to stop Hector’s attack on the ships because of a bird sign—was a Trojan, and very, very much shouldn’t be here.

Funny enough, Hugo used another part of the Iliad later, and would you look at that:

…or, like Phyles, father of Polydamas, to have brought back from Ephyra a good suit of mail, a present from the king of men, Euphetes;

The one in the Iliad (book 15, line 520 to 534):

Megēs, on seeing this, sprang at Poulydamas, who

ducked away from the blow. Megēs missed him—Apollo would not

let Pánthoös’s son be vanquished among the front-line fighters—

but instead hit Khroismos full in the chest with his spear.

He fell with a thud: Megēs started stripping the gear

from his shoulders, but Dolops, a highly skilled spearman, attacked him,

Lampos’s most warlike son, and Laomedōn’s grandson,

a man well acquainted with fighting valor, who now

thrust his spear squarely into the shield of Phyleus’s son,

coming at him from close quarters. But the thick and plated

corselet he wore protected him, that Phyleus long ago

brought back out of Ephyrē, by the Sellēïs river,

a gift from a guest-friend—Euphētēs, lord of men—

to wear in battle, a defense against enemies: this

was what now kept destruction from the flesh of his son.

Wrong kid! Phyleus/Phyles’ son was Megēs, not Polydamas. Another interesting thing happened a little earlier of this part (book 15, line 518 to 519):

…while Poulydamas killed a Kyllēnian, Ōtos, the comrade

of Phyleus’s son, the great-hearted Epeians’ leader.

Well now we know where that weird little kill count came from earlier.

Anyway, maybe Hugo just wanted to reference the fancy armor later so he pull Polydamas forward (not even his armor tho), maybe he messed up his notes, we will never know. 🤷🏻‍♀️

#the barricade of rue de la chanvrerie #lm 5.1.21 #les mis letters #les misérables

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thepersonperson · 3 months ago

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just to clarify the reading of 「凡夫」

while common translation for 夫 by itself can be ‘husband’ (read as おっと / otto), the 夫 in 「凡夫」 is read as そ, giving the meaning of ‘that person.’

「凡夫」 meaning ‘that ordinary person.’

apologies if my English is not correct. I want to help with translation Japanese. :)

Yes, you are 100% correct. No one would ever think to read Bonpu as “mediocre husband” and that’s my point. Sukuna’s wordplay banks on you breaking the rules a little to see the hidden secondary meaning.

Take for example Sukuna's Shrine or 御厨子 (mizushi).

When analyzing the kanji, the person in this post says this:

"A “厨子/zushi”, ignoring the “mi”, is a small Buddhist shrine used for storage."

"Also - the “厨/zu” kanji is most directly translated as “kitchen” iirc."

By isolating the kanji, the poster was able to explain why the Mizushi was translated as Kitchen or Shrine. They also concluded that both meanings were probably to be taken at the same time. That makes sense—it is quite literally a shrine in his Domain, but because we know Sukuna loves food and the rest of his Curse Technique (CT) is cooking prep themed, the kitchen reading is just as valid.

I linked another example in the Bonpu post...but the account that explained Enchain=Megumi Activities got nuked (screw you fElon Musk). I did take screenshots though!

So we have the translation of Enchain from 契闊 (keikatsu) which might be better localized as Separation.

契(kei)闊(katsu) can be written as 恵(kei)活(katsu). 恵 can be read as kei or...Megumi. (It's the literal kanji used for his name.) 活 is where you get "activities" from, which leads us to Enchain=Megumi Activities.

Sukuna is also referencing a poem about lovers. (Here's a link to the full poem and context of it.)

In summary, it’s about a soldier who is on the brink of death, having lost nearly everything after being abandoned by those in power, lamenting the happiest days of his life with his love are ones he can never get back. (Hey that sounds just like what Sukuna did to Yuji!)

Sukuna here is not only straight up telling Yuji he's going to steal Megumi's body, he's also mocking how the two will be separated by the act. (And he appears to be acknowledging the love between them is more like a couple's than it is friendship.)

But as you can see, the reading of “Megumi Activities” is not something the character hearing this or person reading the kanji would think of first. In hindsight we recognize that Sukuna was most certainly using that hidden secondary meaning.

With all this in mind, let's go back to Bonpu.

There are other kanji you can use for ordinary and unenlightened. There's also the fight being framed as a date and Gojo showing up to it dressed as a groom. That's why the kanji 夫 for husband is so sus. Perhaps Sukuna really did mean it that way too. (It doesn’t help that Sukuna hesitates slightly before he says Bonpu in an isolated bubble. This framing draws attention to it in a way I can’t ignore.)

Hopefully this explanation makes sense?

Completely unrelated...

I'm choosing to ignore that 契 (kei) in Keikatsu/Enchain is also the kanji used for sexual intercourse, especially between husband and wife, since it might mean there's a 3rd layer to Sukuna's Keikatsu wordplay of 契(chigi, spousal sex)活(katsu, activities). Hang on maybe I need to update Sukuna's Negative Rizz again.

#cactus yaps?#This happens in Umineko which is why it makes me want to strangle Sukuna.#Ah yes instead of telling this person I love them I will engage in extreme violence and hope they understand the symbolism.#And if Mx. [redacted] is doing this because of trauma. Sukuna is too.#Geto also did this with declaring war on Dec 24th.#Flirting is when you tell someone you're going to kill them and all their loved ones.#Girlfailures Sukuna and Geto both fumble Gojo because they refuse to communicate their love to him directly.#Yuji and Megumi? They’re breaking this toxic doomed yaoi cycle by being honest with their feelings.#But that’s its own post I am currently working on.#ryomen sukuna #sukugo #jujutsu kaisen #jjk spoilers

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justinspoliticalcorner · 12 days ago

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Hunter Walker at TPM:

President-elect Donald Trump has been filling out his administration in the week since his landslide election. On Tuesday, he announced that former Arkansas Gov. Mike Huckabee is his choice to serve as U.S. Ambassador to Israel. The pick is notable because Huckabee has a long history with the country, including statements that indicate he doesn’t necessarily believe in the two state solution to the country’s conflict with the Palestinian people.

In multiple posts on the site once known as Twitter, Huckabee has suggested the nation of Palestine does not exist at all. For example, in 2019, Huckabee tweeted “there has NEVER been a nation called Palestine.” That comment came as a response to reports about the first Palestinian-American congresswoman, Rep. Rashida Tlaib (R-MI), including a new report at the time about a map in her office that was branded with a post-it note saying Palestine placed next to Israel. Huckabee offered a similar perspective in a 2020 tweet where he endorsed former Georgia Sen. Kelly Loeffler (R) against the man who ultimately won her seat, Raphael Warnock. “Until terrorist Yassar Afafat ‘invented’ a ‘Palestinian nation’ in 1962, the term applied to ALL who lived in the region, including the Jews,” Huckabee wrote.

Huckabee did not respond to a request for comment. His contention that Palestine has never been a country and that the term “Palestinian” has applied to everyone in the region is a decidedly ahistorical one. The modern nation of Palestine, which includes the territories of the West Bank and the Gaza Strip, is recognized by over 140 other countries. That list does not include Israel, which has been engaged in a decades long conflict over borders with the Palestinians since its own founding in 1948, and the United States. The Palestinian people, a group that includes Arab Christians and Muslims, have been described as inhabiting the region since the Biblical times. English translations of the Torah and Bible translate the Arabic and Greek references to the group by calling them Philistines. In the relatively modern era, the region was ruled by a series of colonial powers, including the Ottoman Empire and the British, who left the territory in 1948, setting off a conflict between the newly-declared Jewish State of Israel and Arabs in the region.

However, in Huckabee’s telling, any notion of a Palestinian state seems to be totally illegitimate. He reiterated this view in February when President Joe Biden visited the town of East Palestine, Ohio. On Twitter, Huckabee quipped that Biden made a mistake and thought it was “actually a visit to the mythical land of ‘Palestine’ where Jew-hating genocidal Hamas & Fatah rule and celebrate murder of Jews.”

The long simmering Israeli-Palestinian conflict reached a new level of urgency in the aftermath of the Oct. 7, 2023 attack staged by Hamas, which controls the Gaza Strip. During the violence, Hamas militants invaded southern Israel, killed over a thousand people and took more than 200 hostages. The Israeli government of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu responded by staging an invasion of Gaza, which is ongoing and has left over 40,000 people dead, so far. Fighting has also spilled over into Lebanon, Israel’s Northern neighbor. President Biden’s support for Israel despite an invasion that many on the left view as a genocide is one of the issues believed to have helped erode support for Vice President Kamala Harris as she lost last week’s election to Trump. While some Democrats and leftists may have been unhappy with Biden’s support for Israel, during the election, Netanyahu displayed a clear preference for Trump. And, despite shifting comments on the conflict, Trump has increasingly indicated he would be open to a so-called one-state solution that saw Israel take control over the Palestinian territories.

Mike Huckabee, who is set to serve as US’s Ambassador to Israel, has repeatedly pushed the pro-Israel Apartheid apologist false notion that Palestine doesn’t exist. Well, Mr. Huckabee, various agencies and several countries would beg to differ there.

#Mike Huckabee #Israel #Palestine #Occupation of Palestine #Israel Apartheid #US/Israel Relations #Trump Administration II #Israel/Palestine Conflict

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gasolinerainbowpuddles · 9 months ago

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𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 🎃💦 ∘₊✧ 𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝟚𝟙 ✧₊

|| ︶꒦꒷𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥꒷꒦︶ | main masterlist ||

@absurdthirst's Kinktober 2023 Prompts

day 21: Anonymous Sex, Hair Pulling, Masturbation

𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐥��𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐲𝐦𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐲

| PAIRING(s): Javi G. x masseuse staff | RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 1.1k | CONTENT: sensual massage, crunchy woo woo energy exchanges, bad Spanish translations, anonymous sex acts, sex furniture (?), cock milking massage table vibes | SYNOPSIS: Javi gets the attention he deserves from six strangers.

It was advertised in the unlisted services as the “Twelve Hand Symphony.” Javi had been coming to this establishment for a long time to keep his mental clarity and physical agility in fine tune. Of course he was privy to and proffered its other offerings, but he’d never taken them up on it. Not until now.

The anonymous aspect of it was what made him finally ask to book it for himself. Glory holes and the like felt a bit seedy, and he’d always preferred the more sensuous side of things. This place offered a bit of everything – for those whose bank accounts had enough commas, anyway.

It was discreet and clean and regulated. There wasn’t anyone there against their will or under dire circumstances. There was never any fun in an unwilling partner for Javi, and his stomach turns at some of the conversations he��s heard in passing amongst business partners, family, and every other man rich and powerful enough to get away with such things.

He shakes his head. He doesn’t want to think about that, not while he’s already disrobed and is supposed to be finding a comfortable position face down on the table. It was a curious design – certainly ergonomic – and he was pleased to find that despite its awkward configuration it was actually very comfortable. It almost felt like getting onto a motorbike at first with its designated arm and leg rests, but the final position was like being on all fours while fully supported.

Javi’s head settled into the hollow headrest. The curved support under his hips lifted them up, presenting his backside fully to the warm room. His soft but sizable cock dangled out from the circular hole crafted for this exact situation. It was more sex furniture than massage table, but he relaxed into its elegant, precise design so quickly he could’ve easily fallen asleep if the room were darker.

A soft tap at the door and the sound of it creaking open. “Mr. Gutierrez? Are you ready for your service to begin?”

Her voice was light but confident. He liked that. He wondered if anyone else was going to talk. He’d marked ANY under who he preferred to render his service. It sent a thrill through him wondering if he’d be able to tell a man’s hands from a woman’s as it worked his body.

“Yes, I’m ready, mi amor,” he replied, eager and curious. “And, please, call me Javi.”

“Wonderful, Javi.”

The soft padding of feet. The weighty presence of others entering and occupying the room with him.

“We’re all very eager to get started. Please let us know if there’s any discomfort while we work.”

“Claro que si (of course),” he affirmed.

The first two sets of hands applied warm oil to his arms and ran smooth strokes against his major muscle groups. Each masseuse bent his arm and laid it against their torso, working his hand against their lower chest. Javi spread his fingers, an experimental touch in this new experience, and only felt one pair of breasts. His cock twitched at the discovery of mixed company working on him.

Another bit of gentle pressure applied to his scalp. Another oiling his back. One of each of his legs. The six sets of hands on him would’ve been overstimulating if they hadn’t all been in such harmony. No one practitioner applying too firm a pressure or deep a touch. His body felt like it was melting onto the table within the first 10 minutes.

“We’re going to begin the next portion of the massage. Again, let us know if there’s any discomfort.”

He could only groan in assent. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this dazed and loose. There was something intoxicating about the gentle, attentive regard of numerous human beings all focusing their energies into him. It felt as though he was absorbing all their uplifting, peaceful energies through touch alone.

The first slip of an oiled hand to his inner thigh almost made him startle at the potent juxtaposition. His arousal came flooding, dam walls crumbling and giving away entirely. Two sets of hands now worked along his inner thigh, making no effort to avoid brushing against his balls and cock. The pitched moan that left his chest was unfamiliar to his own ears.

“You have such a gorgeous energy, Javi. It’s so beautiful.”

His hand darted quickly to the waist of the speaker. Soft, supple skin met his greedy touch. The curvature of it felt like a woman. He gripped harder, something to anchor himself to. He began to mindlessly squirm, his body begging for whatever was next. He hadn’t been mindful that he was growing more impatient, but his body was in no state to wait for his mind to catch up.

Firm pressure against the knots in his shoulder. The pair of hands on either side of him that gently spread his ass apart to let oil drip down down down. When a fingertip grasp gently cinched around his cockhead, Javi whined loud and overwrought. The fingertips spread the oil that dripped down until his entire cock was covered in the slick liquid.

His hips began to writhe in sync with the hand stroking his cock and the two hands spreading him open and gliding firm pressure against his puckering hole. It felt as though the hands working over him had multiplied to cover every inch of his body. Everything moved of its own accord, all cognizant presence now filtered through a euphoric trance.

“A few of us would like to use our mouths. Is that okay, Javi?”

“Sí, quiero que me hagas tuyo (Yes, I want you to make me yours),” he gasped.

A warm, wet mouth closed around his cock, and that combined with the hand cupping and tugging his balls sent him right up to the edge. When the pair of hands on his ass spread him apart to let a flittering tongue press firmly against his hole, Javi was gone. He panted as he spilled into the stranger’s mouth and grinded into the tongue massaging him.

After he’d emptied every last drop, the hands and mouths in the room caressed and kneaded his pliant body until he was nearly drifting off. A hot towel wiping away the excess oils roused him again. All sets of hands laid against his body once more, and the soft, confident voice from before was next to his ear again.

“Thank you for letting us have this experience with you. We appreciate the energy you brought here today to share with us, and we hope our energies have found a home in you as well."

“Gracias por todo (Thank you for everything),” he whispered.

“Of course, Javi. We hope to see you again soon.”

He almost laughed at the idea that there was any doubt he’d be back.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #javi gutierrez #javi gutierrez x reader #pedro pascal characters

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mariacallous · 2 months ago

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Anne Applebaum’s new book explaining the rise of ‘modern autocracy’ through the politics of patronage, fear and misinformation will strike a familiar chord with observers of the political landscape in the Balkans.

Anne Applebaum’s timely book Autocracy, Inc.: The Dictators Who Want to Run the World explains the rise of modern autocracy in terms of simple greed and shamelessness. It details the shift away from dictators even pretending to uphold the values that characterised the post-World War II international order – and the collaborative efforts being made to undermine these institutions and replace them with transactionalism and their own control.

Applebaum explains how façades of democracy have been successfully manipulated by those who seek to undermine it as a system. Discussing the “shock therapy” approach taken to economic transition, which planted the seeds for many of these elements in the former Soviet space, she notes the role of Western companies and shell companies, banks and financial institutions. These greased the wheels for kleptocractic superstructures while getting rich and enabling widening inequality.

One chapter criticises the role of media, social media and the technologies and algorithms that enable the erosion of trust with the rapid dissemination of mis- and disinformation. She also sketches out how autocrats are learning from one another in a manner that in many ways is more efficient and effective than anything being seen on the other side.

For anyone living in and observing the political dynamics in the former Yugoslavia, everything outlined in her book seems extremely familiar and tangible.

The nexus of politics and power, and the predominant role of fear, misinformation and patronage in driving governance, rather than electoral and institutional accountability, has been the core feature of the domestic and international cycles of dysfunction in this region for over a generation.

I could not help but link her description of Austrian and West German gas and steel industrialists meeting with Soviet counterparts in 1967, with the transactionalism we see today between German and broader EU interests in making deals on lithium in an increasingly autocratic Serbia.

In some ways, today’s reality is worse; in 1967 there was no pretence of democratic process; today this and other deals are being made in spite of a lack of informed community consent or institutional good governance.

It would be hard to imagine a more illustrative sign of the potential for further Balkan-American oligarchy than the recently announced deals by Donald Trump’s son-in-law and daughter to develop luxury hotels in Serbia and Albania, or the recent forays into North Macedonia by Trump allies.

One issue that Applebaum grapples with is the hopeful naïveté, or willing ignorance, of so many decision-makers at the end of the Cold War, convincing themselves that free market capitalism and rules- and rights-based democracy would, and even must go, hand-in-hand.

The late Benjamin Barber, a political theorist, in 1992, and later in his 1996 book, saw the writing on the wall in terms of the toxic mix of media conglomerates, popular anger, economic precarity and inequality together enabling the rise of anti-democratic extremisms of all flavours.

Throughout the Western Balkans, I’ve come across many people who have had the feeling that engagement in the former Yugoslavia was always more about capitalism than democracy.

As people have failed to see their lives get substantially better, and as they’ve seen deals being made between supposed Western democrats and known regional anti-democrats, they are increasingly skeptical of motives, words, promises and intentions. They have seen a local branch of “Autocracy, Inc” become firmly established in their own neighbourhood.

I was eager to hear Applebaum’s prescriptions, and in the epilogue she suggests a number of steps to be taken globally and perhaps most importantly in the West itself: adopting legislation to require transparency in the registration of business and real estate; reducing the scope for abuse by shell companies and tax havens; tackling misinformation, including by changing the balance of social media, so users own their data; and decoupling and de-risking business ties, including in the energy sphere, among others.

Many of these are in line with efforts over the years by the US, the EU and others to build democratic institutions in the Western Balkans and beyond. However, these have mostly failed because they tinker technically around the edges while avoiding the political life support systems at the core.

When talking about political reform in Bosnia and Herzegovina, for example, I have lost track of how many times I’ve heard Western diplomats show they have little belief in the possibility for meaningful structural change, noting that “turkeys don’t vote for Thanksgiving”, so acknowledging that the politicians in the country have little interest in changing a system that suits them.

This self-interested scepticism is also evident in consolidated democracies; witness the lack of Congressional support for – or public awareness of – the Anti-Corruption and Public Integrity Act in the US, for example.

No ‘Cold War 2.0’

Applebaum writes that in terms of resisting the increasingly coordinated and coordinating autocrats, the challenge is not a “black-and-white, binary contest, a ‘Cold War 2.0’”. Through this framing, she highlights the nuances among various types of autocrats, as well as the fluid transactional pragmatism among those seeking to amass and keep wealth and the power that comes with it.

She suggests one difference is that there are no “blocs” to join, or clear geographical boundaries, somewhat downplaying the emergence of BRICS, the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation and other constructs.

I wish she would have engaged more with the clarion call made by Oliver Bullough in his 2022 Offshore Cold War: Forging a Democratic Alliance to Combat Transnational Kleptocracy. Bullough, describing many of the same facilitating systems, mechanisms and structures in the West that have enabled the growth of oligarchy and kleptocracy, calls for the same unified and concerted effort against this democratic threat today that was seen during the Cold War.

On this, Applebaum would agree – she closes by calling on democrats to unite as effectively and confidently as the autocrats have done in establishing their own connectivity models.

Western diplomats engaging in the Western Balkans today – and often hailing or even facilitating kleptocratic business dealmaking – would do well to read her book.

They could then recognise the signs that we’ve seen in the region for years, and the potential allies among citizens in the region who know the playbook all too well – and wonder why the West still has not learned.

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olibird · 3 months ago

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KitKat Rambles 6

Part1. Part2. Part3. Part4. Part5. Part6. Storms. Power. KitKats.

Sorry about this being late/ not making sense. I had it all written out but it didn’t save so I had to redo it so ideas got jumbled T^T

On leave: First time got 8km out of base decided to walk to town alone. (Scared the shadows that he ran into, because he was pretty far out). After that he either has to get a taxi or go on leave with a different shadow. (He dosent take leave often so it’s manageable).

Money: He doesn't have his own bank account so all the pay checks are sent to N-30s account. Meaning KitKat just doesn’t get any of the money. (N-30 has figured this out but it’s low on his to do list). So for a while KitKat would just not buy anything, would asks others to. After a while Graves (or a oc like 7-11) figures out and takes 1/3 of the pay check and makes it into cash for KitKat. (Again another reason the shadows probably don’t like KitKats dad o7)

He has a few stuffies. His favorite is his military bear from his dad (like this). He also has a caterpiller (like this) he got from a shadow (Someone can claim giving him this if wanted). He also has a bunch of mostly cat stuffies in his room in a big pile, mostly from other shadows or using his paycheck for them.

Radio: He always has his radio on him, Albite has a tracker in it (it’s engraved with ‘don’t remove we don’t want to lose the gremlin’). He keeps it on mostly for that, but also he likes being able to keep contact with others cause he doesn’t have a phone. (If the shadows ever want to put a tracker he would just put it in his radio and forget about it)

Birthday: He will try to get leave for the week of his birthday. Albite will have civilian time with him, taking him around different towns and fun places. (Albite has the tradition of making a KitKat cake without KitKats). So if he can’t get leave he will hangout with the shadows. Might be disappointed about the cake but will still have fun with them.

Medical: He’s a good patient, will sit still the best he can. Wont move away unless surprised. Is willing go to the med bay if needed, won’t bug them over simple things.

Tattoos: Has to tattoo one on each wrist (hides it with his gloves) just a simple ‘Albite’ in cursive on his left wrist. And on his right has ‘Kit Rūpa B+’ in simple lettering.

KitKat learning basic Spanish from someone like Pixel or (I don’t know if anyone else speaks Spanish T^T).

Text because handwriting is hard to read

A mi me gusta escuchar música! (I like to listen to music)

A mi no me gusta cocinar! (I don’t like to cook)

#Albite (cod)#shadow company oc #shadow company #kitkat (cod oc)

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vocalsynthbdays · 1 year ago

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happy birthday Mai(synthv studio) and XIA YU YAO(utau) !!!!!!!! [nov 10]

mai

yu yao (original)

Mai is a japanese synth developed by dreamtonics, and released in 2022. she is voiced by Honoka Kitta, but her illustrator has not been revealed. mai was created with jpop, dance, and idol-like music in mind.

XIA YU YAO is a chinese japanese synth developed by E-CAPSULE. shes originally introduced in 2014 and is the first of the VOICEMITH(ecapsule's virtual singer production brand) synth. xia yu yao is voiced by Mi Yang. yu yao's original, "OUTSIDE" utau append, and synthv illustrator is izumi, and the illustrator for her "INSIDE" utau vb is Nyaroro. yu yao has other illustrators for different things, but im only showing (what i believe to be) izumi's and nyaroro's art. i am uncertain of how drew yu yao's 3.0/ v3 utau art; i think it might just be izumi again, however Shénzi is credited as the "2018 illustrator" on the utau fandom wikia, and im not sure what they drew. the 3.0 bank was released before 2018 though, so who knows. on 4 aug 2015 yu yao's 2.0/ v2 utau bank was relased, on 10 nov 2015 her OUTSIDE and INSIDE utau appends, on 26 feb 2016 her 3.0/ v3 utau vb, and on 30 jan 2023 yu yao's synthv studio ai vb. ecapsule originally wanted to release yu yao for vocaloid 3, but that didnt happen due to differeing opinions between them and yamaha. yu yao was originally 17yo, but this was changed to 18yo on 22 jun 2016. she is 158cm tall and taiwanese. she enjoys taking care of others, and has a wind attribute which gives her wind powers that let her blow away peoples bad emotions and cleanses their hearts with her magical wind. xia yu yao is the most popular vocal synth in taiwan ? or like is the most popular taiwanese one ? or is just very very popular in taiwan ?? something like that sorry im not sure

2.0

outside

inside

3.0

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orangameelectronics · 23 days ago

Video

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glaciertea · 6 months ago

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Masterlist here

Tales the Songs Weave

Ch.17<< >>Ch.19

Chapter 18: To Bring You to that Other Place

Word count: 3.4k

Your eyes shoot open as you examine the still room with the occasional muffled car horn blares or morning chirps from birds draping in. Dimly rays of golden yellow filled the parts of the area, leaving gorgeous streak patterns on your walls and furniture.

You groaned out from the achy, tender stings flooding all over and rolled over to an empty, torn bed.

“Miggy?” Your voice was very gravelly. He really did a number last night.

“Mi Estrella?” No response.

It wasn't bizarre for him to be gone before you awoke at times, but when it comes to an extreme moment similar to last night, he normally waits to check if everything's fully okay with you. It was odd that he rearranged your guts and then dipped. Even more so, as you wanted to express your concerns about his new out-of-the-blue habits.

Deciding to strain yourself, you reached over for your phone when an excess amount of medicated pain pill bottles, your heating pad, and a glass of condensed water sat on the bedside dresser.

Snatching the phone up, you began to scroll through the texts he sent before the crack of dawn. “That’s odd. Why so early?”

‘Morning. Sorry for leaving before you woke up. Work needed me.’

‘I left some pain relievers and other things. I also put money in your bank account to cover the deliveries for breakfast and lunch. If you need extra for dinner, let me know.’

‘And I’ll replace the sheets and mattress again.’

‘Enjoy your day off.’

You sat up quickly, flinching at the sharpness from your hips downward. Pulling the covers back, you staggered at the many welts and blemishes. He enjoys leaving markings on you to boost his ego and self-pride, but not to this degree. Furrowing your eyebrows together, you reread the messages, and ran your hand through your hair in complete and utter disbelief and bewilderment.

There is something going on, and he’s trying to run from it.

All day, you've been messaging him, only to be met with lackluster responses or barely any. You tried to get a hold of Ronnie, but she was too distracted by the business to give any sort of feedback besides, ‘I’m here for you, remember that.’

You refused to believe what your boss was implying. Simply denying it all. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Overworked and spent, obviously. That was the only explanation that made the most sense.

It couldn’t have been anything else.

Yet, as two days passed, nothing changed. Miguel still answered with those lifeless replies, and the scarce times he did visit your place and job, you were met with forlorn stares and that freezing embitterment.

You and Ronnie conversed during the slow hours of work, as Ronnie did everything in her power to not drive to the point that Miguel was maybe trying to wedge himself from you on purpose.

It did, however, go south when he showed up Sunday with a box of gears he wanted to return while you were out on break. Ronnie nearly wrung him a new one, spouting how dare he try to pull a stunt like this while you weren't here.

“I don’t fucking know what the hell your problem is, but whatever it is, you need to get it fixed and not bring my girl down in your sinking ship.”

She rejected the tools, spitefully mocking him, saying that she had no room to store those supplies and that he ‘better’ keep them. So he snatched them back up and left without speaking another word. Even at your job, he couldn't escape the boorish judgment.

Miguel was catching flak on both ends. Peter was pleading and bargaining not to call it quits with you, to objectively take a peek into the others to find out if he was missing something. Jess was back on his ass, wondering if he had broken it off, in which case he would furiously dismiss them.

No matter what happened, it was destined for failure. He couldn't make anyone pleased.

And the one he wanted to please was originating destruction upon the world.

The more he isolated himself, the more you would communicate. He was stuck. He struggled to keep away so he could figure out what to do, but you always made it so difficult with that magnetized, gravitational pull you held.

It's hard to keep pretending not to want to be near someone you want to be around. Especially in his case.

He hated this. He hated himself. He hated this whole thing.

Trapped in this cell. A bandage he didn't want to rip because he knows that wound will never heal; it'll only sit there bloodied and pained—an unsettling integrity.

When he left the shop, he went back into his office and on his platform. He yelled and catapulted the pack of trinkets everywhere, letting them shower all over the cold, metal flooring.

“You know you don't have to do this. There could still be time to fix this-”

“I'm ending it when she doesn't have to work the next day. It makes things easier. Now leave, Peter.”

“Miguel, things like that don't magically become easy. I would know. You would know.”

Peter began to clean up the tiny cogs, placing them back into the box. He wanted to try one last, final time to steer him away from this decision that may impair him even more than he already is.

“Nothing can be done, Peter.”

He could hear the cracks in Miguel's heart.

And that's when he understood his friend was set in stone. Sacrificing that slice of what everyone else gets to have because that's how it goes. They have to listen to this entity that predetermines their lives.

Peter once again has to merely sit back and watch Miguel's world slip through his fingers. He is the hourglass that holds the sands and can only watch the particles trickle beneath his feet before being swept away by the winds.

“I'll… I'll alert Jess about it.” Peter turned his back. Reeling his head to his depressed friend, he opened his mouth, but immediately closed it and gripped his empty chest, silently leaving him to his own devices.

Miguel waited until the sounds of Peter's footsteps faded away. He was alone. How it's truly supposed to be.

All he could see were the twines of enshrouding twilight. No light, not even his own, could be seen by him.

You glanced over your phone for the millionth time today. Miguel hasn't texted a word all day. Which didn't help with your anxiety because he somewhat chatted with you the last few days. But today, you didn't even receive a ‘good morning’ or a ‘how are you?’

Your mind went down a rabbit hole of scenarios about his job—that something drastic happened to him, and he's gravely injured somewhere out there in the billions of universes. Or, a better option, that work was crazy today and he had to haul around non-stop.

You endured to keep your thought process on the second path.

Checking the time, you typed a few messages, hoping to get something from him. “If he doesn't respond by eleven, I'll give another call. Yeah, that's reasonable.”

It was less than five minutes away, so you put on a song and slumped on the couch. Closing your eyes, you allowed the notes to flow over your anxious body, soothing your jittery knee and overloaded conscience from indulging in any more negative notions.

Inhaling and exhaling out, you were beginning to find that inner peace when a knock snapped you out of it.

Fluttering your eyes open, it took a second to regain your bearings when the rapping at the door got louder. You didn't order in and weren't expecting any guests to come over. Stumbling off the couch, you looked out the peephole and nearly gasped.

It was strange for him to be out this late today, but you chalked it up to him coming over to clarify why he couldn't respond. Clumsily opening the door, you beamed at the giant man.

“Miggy! I was just about to call you! Come on, don't be shy now.” You sang out and teetered out of the way with an arm outstretched.

Miguel nodded and slogged in; the heavy weight on his shoulders seemed to only worsen. He barely had any sleep, going over a script on how this would go and how fast he wanted to get this over with.

He scanned your place, and the memories of laughter and admiration directly flooded on him, which wasn't helping with the tons of grief and weariness settled upon.

“I was so worried about you, you know?” You locked the door and gave him a warm hug from behind, triggering him to stiffen immensely. “I thought something bad had happened. I wanted to keep other options on the table, of course, but your line of work makes it kinda tough.

“And I can't believe you used the door. You didn't use your key, but hey, this is a step in the right direction!” You snorted and giggled, then abruptly paused, noticing the melancholy on his face and in the air.

“Mi Estrella? Everything okay?” You pulled away and seated yourself back on the couch. “Is it time to talk about what's been going on in your mind?”

He didn't sit down along with you; he only towered in the middle of the apartment, feeble and inconsolable. Everything he practiced went out of the window. He couldn't explain this to you; he couldn't do this to you.

And yet, he had to. He had to be one to turn this wrong into a right. The wound is there; it's hidden under that patch. Does he rip it away painfully quick or tenderly slow? Either way, the damage will still be in the open.

You firmly tightened your lips into a thin line. Your heart suddenly began to race, nerves were blasting off all over, and your body began to burn up.

“Mi-Miguel? What's… what's going on? Is everything alright? You know we can discuss it at your own pac-”

“We need to break up.”

Quick and painful won the round.

You blanked. There was not a single noise. Not even from the outside. Maybe you misunderstood him. That had to be it.

“I-I'm sorry, I don't think that I- maybe I misheard what you sa-”

“You heard it.” He didn't mean for it to come out brashly. “We… we can't be together anymore. Lo siento mucho.”

Miguel glazed down on the floor as you remained motionless. Your brain was trying to comprehend where this surfaced. It could explain the weird detaching, but it still makes no sense.

“I-I know it's coming out of nowhere, but there's multiple affirmations behind it. They may not make sense in the beginning, but the logic and justifications when I explain down the line are all there.”

You didn't know rather to hear him out, dissociate, or evaporate into thin air. You picked the first and second options.

He has disdain for this, but even when he's the one creating pain, you are still willing to be patient and listen.

He was certain he didn't deserve you to begin with.

“Okay. You know that there are infinite universes. I told you that, and I don't think I need to go over that again. Right? Right, no. No. I don't think so. Yeah, I think.”

He was off to a horrible start.

“Remember that day you wanted to know about how you and I were in other universes? Wait, no, that's—that's too early, I think.”

His thoughts jumbled as you stared at him to continue.

“The night we met, I went to the park, but when I did, I didn't go out the back; I went out the front. You may not see it as nothing, but it isn't. That isn't like me going out where I can be seen in this sort of manner. It isn't a canon thing for me to do.”

“Canon?” You held some sincerity, but mostly hesitancy.

“Yes, canon. I remember the night when you told me you lov-” he choked before clearing his throat. “You looked into the idea that life doesn't have a road and that it can take you anywhere. But, from what I've learned, life is predetermined no matter what. There's a reason behind everything you do. Like a beautiful web.”

You didn't say a word.

“And my canon got knocked off track when I walked out those doors. Now, you're thinking, what does that mean? Why is that a big deal?”

You only nodded.

He took in a huge gulp and exhaled loudly. “It's a huge deal because... because this... because this world is... it's unraveling. It's being destroyed as we speak.”

Your eyes broadened and your throat parched as you clenched onto the sofa until your knuckles turned white.

“Yes, it is a terrifying thing to think about. One moment everyone is here and the next,” his eyes glassed thinking about Gabi. “The next... they're simply gone.”

“And that's why we have canon events to make sure things like that won't ever happen. To prevent a catastrophic devastation such as that.” He balled his hands up.

“Is there a way to stop it?” You whispered, eyeballing the floor.

Miguel bit his tongue to hold back the tears. “Yes. My canon shows a major flaw in this world. There's a flaw that's detrimental to us all... and that's us being together.”

Your shoulders slumped down as you tried to retain all this new, strange information.

“We aren't meant to be together. Remember when you asked me to check out the other versions of our relationship? Well, each and everyone I saw, you were either with someone else, we didn't know each other, or we did date... but none ended well.”

Words got caught in your throat. What if you never made that request? Would things have been okay? Would the world still have been destroyed?

“And that's when I realized it was happening again... You loving me was wrong to begin with.”

Your head snapped up, accidentally pulling a muscle, but you didn't care. You leered at him bug-eyed, as he was alienating his brain to wanting to end this as swiftly and fluidly as possible.

“When I walked out and met you, that's when the world started to glitch. The new waves of anomalies, this strange gut feeling, and how things were seemingly going too well. The world was knocked out of place, confused about what was going on.”

He shook his head and wiped away the threatening tears that wanted to leak down. “We shouldn't have ever met. We shouldn't be together. And the only way to stop this universe from being consumed is for us to stop... to stop what we have going on.”

He turned to you with that stupid pouty face—the face you grew to admire and fawn for. The face that showed you true love.

“So... what I'm hearing is that what we did was for naught? What we had was all just… nothing?”

“In a way. No, wait, not like that. Yes, but no. Mi Lu- look, ever since that night, I've been doing things I would never do in a million years. Yes, I have things I enjoy, but this,” he gestured at everything between you two, “This isn't me. This was never me.”

“Are you serious?” Your voice full of disbelief, trying to hold back a scoff.

“I'm not joking; this is all serious. Our world is dying because you wanted to become attached–”

Miguel dug his talons into the side of his hip. You gawked over that incriminating stance, nausea taking over your stomach.

“I shouldn't have said it like that. I-I didn't mean for it to come out that way.” He roughly ran his claws through his curls.

No response.

“Look, just listen; if you didn't—if I didn't—if you didn't cause me to step out, we wouldn't be in this danger. We wouldn't–”

Crickets.

This isn't how it was supposed to go. There was supposed to be a back-and-forth conversation where he could steer it in a way that it could've gone through effortlessly. But you weren't saying anything; you barely spoke a word.

You barely even expressed any emotions, unless he somehow missed them. But he has to keep going. He has to shove all that guilt aside for your protection… And for the others.

“Please say something… I know–I know it's hard, but it has to be this way. It has to. I have to—I need to protect you. And I know my Spider-Man work was always confusing, but please just... please give me something.”

Hushed. A blank glaze.

“Don't—don't make this more difficult than it already is. I know it's so sudden; that's why I tried to distance myself, trying to give you the last few good moments together. I know, it's hard, but for the canon's sake, we have to go through with this.”

You crossed your arms and stared ahead. This was all too much to take in. Many questions scrambled in your head. Why was his work unexpectedly a huge interference in this relationship? Why is he haphazardly saying something about this to you now? Why is he making this decision for the both of you?

But you kept listening to this whole nonsensical, pious conception.

Miguel paced, anticipating something, anything. The only sentences that are repeating in his head are his own, and they aren't clear-cut winners.

“¡Por favor! Please! Say something! Anything!”

Not a single peep.

“Look! I know it's hard! You don't think this is hard for me?! Knowing that the person who I lov- the person who got attached to me—shouldn't even be here? Shouldn't even be with me?!” His eyes were blurry as droplets of tears and snot dripped onto the wooden floor.

“Excuse… excuse me?” You straightened up your back. “What… wha-what did you just say?”

Miguel recoiled, agitated, and vexed with himself. Regretting this whole affair that he still wants.

“I shouldn't be here? I shouldn't be here?”

Your words were low but penetrated deeply. Miguel's own heart pounded in his ears at that.

“I… I'm the one who shouldn't be with you? Not you. No, no. Me. Only me.”

“I- you…” He trailed off, his voice inaudible.

“What?” Your tone slightly increased.

“You shouldn't… shouldn't-”

“Huh?! I can't—I can't hear you!”

“You–you…”

“Speak. Up. Speak. Up!” You tried to control your rage, but it faintly seeped out.

“YOU SHOULDN'T EXIST!” He roared out, grasping his skull to prevent himself from breaking something in your apartment.

“You—you don't belong! You don't—you don't belong in this universe!”

He was losing his mind but managed to lower his voice, yet he still had it marginally booming. “You... you shouldn't have fallen in love with me! It's wrong! It's all wrong!”

He plopped down on his knees, rocking and shaking as you mournfully gazed at an empty rift.

“You're an anomaly in this world! The others... the others didn't fall in love…”

He stained your dusty, wooden floors as he strangled those wails he didn't deserve. This isn't what he imagined. He thought more words were going to be shed, but he only heard his.

His vile words that he stormed onto you.

You were ready to flatline. There was too much given, and there was no way to properly handle it. You didn't want to cry. You don't want to shout anymore. You didn't want to do anything. You wanted to daze ahead in a white space for hours.

“Please... please just say something.” His whimpers were pathetic and he knew it.

Your head turned down as the shriveled, broken man curled up. His eyes are red, either from sobbing or whatever his spider condition is. It took you a minute—a good, long minute—as Miguel dreadfully sat still, forced to endure this pitiless, silent void, but you did find the right words.

“I have work in the morning. There's the door.” You spoke in a scathing, withdrawn way, standing up to open the exit.

He froze at the mistake he had caused. Not knowing what to do anymore, he obeyed, stood up, and lumbered out the door, capturing the jaded fuzziness plastered all over you.

“I'm so sorry…”

“Yeah.”

And that was it.

You closed the door on his face and instantly collapsed onto the ground, scorching, broken tears now flowing down your face.

The light will shine no more. The dark side of the moon and burnt-out stars form nothing in the damaged skies.

Both now completely bound by the twines of endless heartache.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@ella-janehaven @prozacgooble @sanguwuxyoonbummy

#tales the songs weave #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #atsv miguel #miguel fanfic #miguel spiderverse #miguel x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv

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helmetkeeper · 14 days ago

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hai! could i get a playlist 4 a fictive of four from battle for dream island: the power of two? my music taste sux so i need moar stuff 2 listwn 2. i like ska and punk rock and like fiona apple/neutral milk hotel type stuff. ty!

- @fourscorneroftheearth

hello @fourscorneroftheearth !! and sure :]. not exactly sure if i got the ska genre right, but regardless i think you'll like some of these ^_^.

order: song by artist [notes / extra artists] (english translations)

dividers by @/saradika-graphics and @/sweetparty

Nothing {Can Make Me Love You More Than I Do} by The Nite-Liters

Shortenin' Bread by The 3 Pieces

BUZZARD FEATHERS by Compost

Shut Up by Bloodhound Gang

Mata Hari by The Atomic Fireballs

Start Wearing Purple by Gogol Bordello

Have Fun Rotting by Yourself by The Arrogant Sons Of Bitches

People Pops & Fudgesicles for the Hit Factory by The Arrogant Sons Of Bitches

Hard Man Fe Dead by Prince Buster

Come Down {Pomps and Pride} by Lord Tanamo

Dracula, Prince of Darkness by King Horror

Whatever Gets You Outta the House by Death Of Guitar Pop

Caminando por la Calle {Me Voy de Mi Casa} (Walking down the Street (I'm Leaving My House)) by Las 4 Monedas

My Daily Food by The Maytals

Manila by Telethon

Operción Sol (Operation Sun) by Los De La Torre

Guns Fever {Blam Blam Fever} by The Valentines

Mughead Ska [single version] by Llans Thelwell And His Celestials

Soon You'll Be Gone by Blues Busters

Jumping Beans by The Sign of Four

People Funny Boy by Lee "Scratch" Perry [and The Upsetters]

Rude Boy Dreams by The Skatalites

Swing Easy by The Skatalites

Time Bomb by Rancid

2-Tone Army by The Toasters

Ska Wars by Capdown

Stepping Out by Big D and the Kids Table

Ma and Pa by Fishbone

Razón (Reason) by Los Caligaris

The Skinheada Dem a Come by Mr. Symarip

Bullet In The Mattress by The Gadjits

Rat-at-at by The Skints

El Corrent by VADEBO

Temerario by Itaca Band

What Is Love by skameleon [def. my favorite one by far lmao]

We Want Less by Bongo Botrako

Girl Anachronism by The Dresden Dolls

Jesus on the Telephone by Machinery of the Human Heart

Good Fortune by PJ Harvey

Hold It In by Jukebox The Ghost

The Great Gig in the Sky by Pink Floyd

The Reckoning by Dom Fera

Dinner At Eight by Rufus Wainwright

Wicked World by Laura Jansen

Dog by Ben Folds

Walk Away Renee by The Left Banke

Dear Elaine [2007 remaster] by Roy Wood

Rosy Won't You Please Come Home by The Kinks

On the Bombsite by Duncan Browne

How Can I Be Sure [single version; mono] by The Young Rascals

Care Of Cell 44 by The Zombies

Mermaids by Florence + The Machine

Caution Repetitive by Princess Chelsea

Ful Stop by Radiohead

Holocaust of Giants by Rasputina

Mirage by Alexandra Savior

Season of the Witch by Donovan

Morning Sun by Dave Bixby

Waves by Norma Tanega

Spin Spider Spin by Patty Zeitlin

Come Outside! by FESTIVAL

Heavy D by Fire on Fire

Black Is the Color by The Dry Spells

Gypsy Storie by Faun Fables

#request accepted | applause! lady gaga #playlists | groove is in the heart! deee-lite #fourscorneroftheearth #battle for dream island fictive #bfdi fictive #kin music #kin playlist #otherkin playlist #fictive playlist

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klbwriting · 8 months ago

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Our Strange Duet

Chapter 10 - Empty Chairs

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

Warnings: violence

Summary: YN takes care of Maroni, Jason and Dick confront Bruce

Notes: sorry it took forever, its been a rough week! There is one more chapter after this so I hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @deans-spinster-witch @amberpanda99

There's a grief that can't be spoken There's a pain goes on and on Empty chairs at empty tables Les Mis

Jason and Dick had gone out to confront Bruce. YN had said she would send the proof of Sal Maroni’s new drug and its effects to the GCPD, and she would, just after she did what needed done. Jason was so laser focused on Bruce’s betrayal that he wasn’t thinking about the fact that sending Maroni alive to the cops would probably make him talk, tell them he knew who Red Hood was, then word would spread and soon everyone would know. YN wouldn’t let that happen. She would protect Jason as much as she could. She couldn’t do anything if Two Face or Joker found out about him, but Maroni she could.

She steeled herself for the work that needed done, arriving to the alley entrance to the headquarters. She had worked there enough to know the back ways around the place, and she had been with Jason long enough to know how to spot the cameras and how to avoid them. She knew that if you entered Maroni’s office from a secret side door that the camera in the room wouldn’t activate. That camera was only for blackmail material, and the only people he would blackmail came through the front door. YN slinked to the desk chair and waited.

It didn’t take long, she had made sure that someone had seen her sneaking the back halls, paying him a hefty amount to tell no one but her father she was there, ever, so she wasn’t surprised when Maroni came into the office from the side entrance. He was irate, face already a deep shade of red as he approached his desk.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he demanded. “You have a lot of nerve coming back here after you took my data. You’re lucky I don’t have three guys in here popping you full of lead.” YN actually smiled a little, standing from the chair. She held up the revolver she had brought, aiming for his head.

“Yes, well, maybe you should have brought them,” she said. That had been the only real risk, that he wouldn’t come alone. She had banked on the fact that he saw her as weak, as a child who didn’t know how to take care of herself, who needed to sleep with a vigilante to be safe, and she was glad her gamble worked out. Maroni looked surprised to see the gun, but then he chuckled. “O, feeling tough now, are you?” he asked, moving around her to a bust by the window. He flipped it open and pressed a button. Nothing happened. He pressed it again.

“Sorry Sal, I cut the power to your little alarms,” she said. “You left me alone here too much, well, you left me alone my entire life so…” she shrugged, nodding to the desk chair. “There’s a needle with your drug in the drawer, inject yourself.”

“You’re nuts, I’m not doing that,” he said. He did sit at the desk and open the drawer though. He took out the needle and looked at it. “I don’t use my own supply, bad for business.”

“Well, curiosity is going to get the better of you this time. You’ll inject yourself and by the times the cops get here and see what you’ve done they’ll never believe you when you spout off about who Red Hood is. They’ll just think you’re hopped up on something,” she said. “Either that or you’ll be dead, shot with the very same gun you hide in that desk.” She held the gun into the light more so he could see that it was in fact his. “Up to you honestly. Get a little high before the cops bust down the door or be dead when they do it, which one?” She could see she was winning; Maroni was panicking. He looked from the gun to the needle and then finally to her eyes. Whatever he saw there must have terrified him because he picked up the needle and injected himself.

“You know, every day you were coming in here I was thinking how much you looked like your mother. But right now…right now you look like me. A killer, ruthless, heartless,” he said, sitting back. She could see the effects of the drug starting to wear him down, making him almost sleepy. She walked over and put the gun to his head.

“Your right dad, I am ruthless, I am heartless, and now, because of you, I have to be a killer. No one will ever hurt Jason again, least of all a lowlife fucking deadbeat like you,” she said softly before she pulled the trigger. She quickly placed the gun in his hand and bolted out the side door, rushing down the back halls of the building until she got to the ground floor. She ducked into the lab, finding the incinerator they normally used for burning toxic materials and grabbed the bag she had hidden there. She got changed and burned the bag with the old clothes. She checked herself again for blood before she left the facility out the alley door, driving back to the apartment and sending the data to the cops just as Dick and Jason had asked.

Since YN couldn’t be in the musical but was doing such a big part of the lifting with heading the music development for it the director arranged for her to have a small showcase after dress rehearsal. Everyone involved in the show would be there to celebrate her talents and she could invite anyone she wanted. She only really had two people to invite so she was pleased to see Dick and Barbara in the audience next to Jason.

She had already been in bed when Jason and Dick had returned home the night before from confronting Bruce and Jason had not been in the mood to talk about it that day. She had asked Dick about it, but he said it was something that Jason would have to tell her about. He needed time to process everything and once he was ready, they would all talk. She had been a little surprised that he had even gone to dress rehearsal, that he wasn’t burning rubber to get out of Gotham and hide, but the fact that he was there, having preformed amazingly at rehearsal and now was sitting there, focusing on her, made her so proud of him. He was such a good man and she hoped one day he would see that also.

“Hey everyone, um, thanks for coming to this, I know you’ve all been working hard on the show so the fact that you are taking this time to watch me is humbling, thank you,” she started before motioning for someone to join her on stage. “So, I have a few songs to play, all covers, I couldn’t write anything new while doing the music supervision, so I hope you don’t mind. The first song is with our very own Andre, Callum Bloom, and we will be preforming Exile by Taylor Swift and Bon Iver.”

Jason heard the song start, had heard her singing it to herself while she was preparing for this show. The first few lines were fine, Callum was fine, then the bridge hit and for some reason it sent Jason back to the night before, back to confronting Bruce in the manor. It had been the most emotional Jason had ever felt.

I think I’ve seen this film before And I didn’t like the ending You’re not my homeland anymore So who am I defending now? You were my town Now I’m in exile seeing you out I think I’ve seen this film before

“What are you doing here Jason?” Bruce asked as Dick stood off to the side. He was there to support Jason, but he knew that his brother wanted to do this on his own. He wasn’t the child Bruce knew anymore and he wanted to prover that.

“Sal Maroni? Ring a bell?” Jason asked. Bruce looked confused, looking to Dick, who just shook his head, nodding back to Jason.

“What are you talking about Jason?” he asked.

“You sold me out to Sal Maroni!” the younger man bellowed. Bruce stared. “He knows who I am, and he said I wasn’t the only who knew masks in this town. Well, the only person who knows Red Hood’s identity is you and Dick and I know he wouldn’t betray me like that. And up until last night I didn’t think you would either.” Bruce stood silent, staring at the person who once was his son. Jason stared right back at the man who he used to think of as a father. He realized now that Bruce had never been his father, his drill instructor, his warden, his creator maybe, but not his father. Dick had been more of a father to him in the last year and a half then Bruce ever had. This betrayal was just the nail in the coffin of his childhood and Jason was about tired of being in coffins.

“I did not do anything like that. I would never, not even after everything you did, I would never do that…”

“You’re right, he wouldn’t. But I would,” said another voice. They turned to the entrance of the room to see Tim Drake. He stood tall, looking arrogant, righteous in the firelight. Bruce’s jaw went slack as Jason’s eyes narrowed.

I can see you staring honey Like he’s just your understudy Like you’d get your knuckles blood for me Second, third, and hundredth chances Balancing on breaking branches Those eyes add insult to injury

“Tim?” Bruce finally said, voice barely a whisper. Tim walked further into the room, sitting in one of the plush armchairs like he was the master of the house. He sat straight, eyes like a shark’s.

“We know all the criminals in this city. You said so yourself, criminals don’t get to hide behind masks and alter egos. The cops should know them, they should know each other, everyone should know them. Red Hood is a murderer, he is a criminal. You were too blinded by nostalgia to see that so I did what you couldn’t. Maroni was looking for information on him, so I gave it to him,” Tim explained. Bruce stared at him, and Jason could see him finally realize what he had created.

“Tim, Jason is family…” Bruce began.

“Jason Todd is a murderer, Bruce. And you said so yourself, killing is never the answer, no matter what happens. Joker killed Jason and he still walks this earth because you know the line, you drew it yourself. He walked past it and he no longer can be considered a hero, or even a vigilante, in this city. He is a killer,” Tim said. His voice never wavered. He wasn’t reconsidering his actions. He was right, Bruce was wrong. Bruce was going back on all his teachings and lessons to the boy, but Tim wasn’t going to falter in their black and white view of things. Bruce looked at Jason and then back at Tim.

“Did you tell anyone else?” Bruce asked.

“Not yet,” Time said. Bruce nodded. “If you would like to use it I have it all on the batcomputer, I can send it out to everyone whenever you’d like.” Bruce grabbed his phone.

“Alfred, wipe the batcomputer…yes, get rid of everything, including the backups. We’ve been compromised,” he said, voice breaking at the end there. He hung up and Tim stared, clearly confused. “I have failed all of you.”

So many signs, so many signs You didn’t even see the signs I think I’ve seen this film before So I’m leaving out the side door

Jason was pulled back to the auditorium when he heard applause. He clapped also, seeing YN looking right back at him. She smiled at him, and he forced a smile to his face as she continued her show. It was the final song, the one she hadn’t let him hear her rehearse.

“I know it’s corny to dedicate a song to someone you’re dating,” she said from the stage. “But I for one, love corny shit like that, so this one is for Jason, I love you and I always will. Now please enjoy my last song, One Bedroom by Yellowcard.” Jason actually did smile at this as she started playing the guitar and singing.

You’re the light from the moon tonight You’re the history I will write You’re the last stop and I arrive You’re the one for rest of time What good could I do in a life without you? What more could I lose than what I’ve found in you? The song was just fading out when Dick shook Jason’s arm and held out his phone. There was a police alert. Jason read the notification and then reread it.

Sal Maroni found dead from self-inflected gunshot wound in office

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