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retiredteabag · 2 months ago

Text

Wishful Thinking

arranged marriage with Nanami… a continuation

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - next part

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

The silence that permeates the car you were shuffled into with your husband is suffocating.

Your life partner had let go of your hand the moment he had reached to buckle you into your seat. You strain your fingers now, hoping the sweat on your palms hadn't been noticeable.

A driver from your clan's estate had been tasked with dropping you and your husband off at your newly arranged space. You knew this man, the man who was seated directly to your left, was not affiliated with any clan, this meant you had no idea where you were headed.

Several shipments of your belongings had been retrieved over the weeks since the higher-up's declaration of marriage for you had been in place. A steady and simple move-in awaited you. Something you weren't particularly happy about.

You thought through a list of things to occupy yourself with instead of awkwardly standing in this stranger mans presence.

As curious as you were about your future arrangements, you truly could not ignore the silence in this vehicle much longer. Had you married any of the expected bachelors, you were sure your ear would be talked off at this point, yet, you did not even know this mans name.

You took in a deep breath, preparing to speak, the blonde fellow, (your literal husband) turned to meet your eyes, likely having expected you to say something. His eyes shock you, and you turn away once more to stare out the window.

You strain your hand into a fist and work up the courage. Turning with an inhale once more, you force out words before you can change your mind, "Terribly sorry..." You start, looking him in the eyes, "Could you remind me of your name?"

You had never been given it to begin with. Perhaps the officiant at your wedding had recited it in his speech, but you had been a little distracted at the time.

"I'm sorry?" He strains his neck in your direction, eyebrows raised.

"Your name? Sorry... I think I ought to know it, right?"

"You don't know my name?" His head shakes a little as he speaks, incredulous.

You hesitate, "...No? I wasn't paying the most attention for it during the ceremony..." You mumble the last bit, waiting for him to cut you off, but he just stares at you.

"I'm sorry-" His hand hovers mid-air, "You weren't given my name?"

Oh no, you've offended him.

"Oh! It's not like that! My family is....very fond of you! And the higher-ups speak very well of you as well! I...well...I erm..." How do you fix this? Stroke his ego?

His hand is firmly on his forehead now. "That is not what I meant. I'm asking you - you were not informed of my name? Who I am? Were you even aware you were to be wed?"

You fumble a bit with the skirt of your dress, "Of course! Yes, I just... well, I didn't know who, but the marriage bit was no surprise."

"But the rest, that is all true? You had no idea you would be marrying me?" He looks frustrated, to say the least. You had no idea this would come as shocking news, someone should have informed you.

He is peeking at you through his hand, "Well...no, but-" He cuts you off now, but he seems to not be speaking to you.

"No wonder you looked so ill up there..."

Okay ouch.

"When did you agree to this marriage? Was this simply... decided for you?

You weren't sure what to say. Had this not been decided for him as well? Speaking frankly, you were not entirely sure of why he had been chosen as your partner, he had no duty to his name. Even so, he looked repulsed at the realization, eyes shot wide.

"Well... it was-" Were you supposed to be talking about this? Should you say this to your husband? "Umm... Well, I'm sure you know the higher-ups are involved with the clans..."

He shifted in his seat to face you fully now, "You...were forced?" He almost looks frighted at the concept. You want to laugh.

Of course, you were. How else did he think marriage worked?

Despite your thoughts, all you said was, "No, it was a mutual understanding that I would be married."

"Yet you know nothing about me." He looks forward at the road.

Was that what this was about? "I'm a quick learner, if you're concerned about that."

He sighs and smacks a hand to his face again. "No...No that is not what concerns me."

You have a litany of responses ranging from, 'I see...' to 'what does concern you then?' but you say none of them. You just sit forward and stare at your palms.

Oddly enough, it does not take long for the silence to be broken once more.

"Nanami." He says.

"I'm sorry?" You hadn't expected him to speak, eyes wide, you turn to him again.

"Nanami Kento. That's-" He sighs, as if it's a real chore to introduce himself, "my name is Nanami Kento."

You look to one another for a moment before you quickly break the connection, gazing out your window, deigning to not look again until you arrived.

"Mmm...thank you." You finally say.

Although you knew the house was not terribly far from your family estate, it felt like hours had passed before you allowed yourself to move once more.

Mr. Nanami had climbed from his seat once the car had halted.

Eager to be away from me it seems.

Only, he had seemed surprised as you climbed from your door as well, having walked around to greet you.

"Allow me," He had said, reaching for the small train case in the back of the car, it had been filled with small wedding gifts and your husband insisted on carrying it for you.

I wonder how long he will keep up this act. You found yourself thinking. Your new residence was sizable. Nice, in an uncomfortably clean way. Perhaps that is how your husband liked it.

As you stepped over the threshold, moving out of "the man of the house's" way. You took it in.

This place must have been chosen by the higher-ups. Your father would not have bought you a home, nor did you expect a man without clan connections to have been able to purchase such a plot of land.

It was only mid-afternoon. Yet your life was impossibly different than it had been only a few hours prior. You had expected the driver to stay and discuss the honeymoon with the two of you but it seemed he had not been instructed with that information.

As many frightening realizations occurred to you, you were able to resign yourself to acceptance, putting aside the...bedding...situation... the concern that stuck with you was dinner plans.

Were you expected to have that prepared? You didn't know what he preferred though....

Thoughts of your...marital duties swam in your head while Nanami was making his way towards the living room.

"Of course," He was saying, "You're free to use whatever you like, these things are as much yours as they are mine..." He had rounded through the sitting area and around the kitchen into the master bedroom, never once turning to look at you.

It was clear that people had come to prepare the area for you two. On his bedside table, you see a comfortable pair of plaid pajama pants and a loose grey shirt. You had not been presented with such. No, on the bed, strewn out for the both of you to see was a... sordid... set of black lacy lingerie.

You stood in silence. A resigned look on your face. Your husband on the other hand, had coughed, spun around, and fully walked from the room in moments.

What was he doing? Was he sickened by you? Did he expect you to appreciate his apprehension? If you were being honest, you would like for him to get this act over with as quickly as possible.

Looking at your marital bed, you were once again reminded of your mother's sobs only this morning. You looked down at the gown that clung to your waist. You had felt pretty today, despite the occasion. You knew you would not feel beautiful in that raunchy piece of string.

How long do I have? You wondered.

Finally moving yourself, you come before the undergarments, sit next to them, and run your hand along the bed's silky duvet.

You sat in silence for longer than you expected to be given. You finally reached your hand up your spine. Unzipping the dress, unbuttoning the clasp at your neck.

You slid it off your body. Walking around the room near-nude to lay the dress along the ladder of a bookcase. It was nice, actually. Maybe you wouldn't mind it here.

You did not rush to dress in the sexy, frilly, underthings. You might not have been perfectly comfortable in your body, but that didn't matter. Not when you had knowledge of the intentions behind your wedding for years.

It was a bit of a challenge to get it on. You weren't sure how to get your arms through at first, and then you swapped them around when you couldn't figure out the neck bit.

What did it matter, it would be coming off anyway.

After dressing, you sat in the same spot on the bed for a while, staring at your hands. You wondered if he was expecting to eat first. Seeing as he had left you alone, however, you figured he would return eventually.

It was cold like this, you hopped he would hurry.

Just as you were beginning to consider moving to look at the bookcase, (panty clad and all) your spine snapped into place when you heard him calling for you. When had you given him your name? You weren't sure.

He was speaking loudly so you might hear through the wall, but not in a frustrated manner, "The kitchen staff is arranging something for us to eat-" He had slowly began to open the door, when his eyes landed on you. Not a moment passed before he dropped whatever he had in his hands. It loudly clattered to the floor and he slammed the door shut. The noise echoed in the room.

"What-??!" He stuttered, "What are you doing?!!"

Your mouth opened and closed repeatedly like a fish. What were you doing? What did he mean? And how exactly do you respond?

"I... uhh-" You looked down at yourself in the ridiculous lace.

You had not been trained in much regarding sex, having been told that the man you would marry would be well aware of how to educate you when it came to your actions. Suddenly self-conscious, you wondered if you had done something wrong.

Nanami calls your name from outside your new bedroom, then repeats it. Firm and unmoving. "What-are-you-doing?"

Your hands flounce around. Stuttering for a response, "I- I don't know!?" You finally force out, the tone coming off a little too questioning for an answer.

After a moment there is a dull *bonk* against the door. You hear no response for a long while. The room is so silent, you can hear your heart pounding. It was so painfully uncomfortable, you reached a hand to your chest to try and calm it. Finally, he clears his throat and calls out to you from behind the door again.

He speaks your name gently, as if calling to a child, "I'm going to come in now, okay?"

You sit upon the bed once more, back straight. "Alright." You nod to yourself.

Unsure of what to expect, you watch the door handle tilt to allow for your husbands entry, but your eyes narrow as he shifts into the room, avoiding your gaze - in fact - avoiding your presence completely.

His arm is shaking off his nicely tailored suit jacket. Still turned to look at the closet, he comes before you, jacket in hand, and reaches out for your shoulders. You almost want to shrink back from this odd behavior but remain still as he wraps you up in his clothing.

After a few awkward seconds, he turns to look at you. "What are you doing?" He repeats, low and calm.

You raise your brows, "What... are you doing?" You reach up to feel the jacket covering your collar and torso, instantly, he drops his hands from your shoulders.

He shakes his head, a hand tugging at his loose blond hair. "I don't... understand." He is no longer looking in your vicinity. His voice shakes and all the air leaves his lungs.

"I'm sorry." You wrap yourself tighter in his jacket, shifting to stare at him, "Was this not... expected?" His apprehension certainly came as a surprise to you.

Suddenly he's back, fully facing you, "Expected?" He raises his brows, "What is this? You're... what? Doing what is expected of you?". Despite the severity of the moment, it is now that you recognize how expressive his features are. His neck, up to his cheeks, up to even his ears are a warm pink. It wouldn't be improbable to assume his chest is a rosy shade right about now as well.

You decide to push the boundary, share your frustration. Why is he upset? If he does not want you, he should just say. It's not as if you desire him in that way. This has been an incredibly stressful and tense day, at least he knew who you were before all of this, you did not have that liberty. If anything, you should be upset with him!

"Is it not?" You speak up, "Forgive me, but I was under the impression that...this" You pull your arm out from under his jacket to motion between you two, "was how this worked."

He makes a face. Revolted.

"You are- we-" He cuts himself off, waving his hands before himself, then covers his face, "no." He gets out, "This is not how this works."

"Well." Now you're flushing, embarrassed. You straighten yourself, balling his suit jacket in your firsts. "What... would you like for me to do? I told you in the car that I learn quickly, if thats-"

"Stop." He spits out, voice suddenly higher than before, "Just...stop."

You swallow. What does he want from you? "Okay." You whisper.

He calls for you gently, and motions for you to stand. He turns away from the bathroom now and shifts in the other direction, looking at your wedding gown strewn across the bookcase ladder. He purses his lips. "Please.... dress yourself." He swallows, motions towards the wardrobes along the wall. "Something comfortable in there. I was... going to ask your preferences, for a meal-for dinner. Let me-"

He clears his throat, moving away now toward the bedroom door, he drops to the floor and picks up what must be his phone, having been dropped earlier, he rubs the screen on his pant leg. "What would you like?"

You stare at him, straight-faced. "Anything you like." You're not a picky eater.

He sighs, looking up at the ceiling, "No. What do you like to eat?

You shrug, "Anything. I don't mind." You shake your head at him and he just looks you up and down. The stupidly large jacket comes mid-thigh.

He takes a deep breath. Then exhales dramatically. Nods. And he's gone. This time, when closing the door, he makes an effort to do so gently.

You had found a soft cotton pajama set in one of the dresser drawers. Having long since removed your previous attire, you wonder what your husband is thinking of as he silently serves two plates of Chinese food.

You wonder what your father would say if he saw Mr. Nanami serving up dinner for his wife as you sat on the living room couch.

You're taken from your thoughts as Nanami places a large wooden tray on the couch, he places the food on it.

It seems you will very much be eating together.

"I hope you enjoy it. Let me know if you don't." He murmurs, seating himself near you in the dimly lit room.

In no world would you complain about the food your husband served you. Even if you disposed it, luckily, you liked Chinese cuisine. Before you can even get out a word of appreciation he is speaking again, "I think we should talk."

You sit up straight. "Alright."

He motions for you to eat, "Feel free. I think we ought to have an open discussion."

You grab your utensils but don't reach for anything until after he takes a bite. Awaiting his words.

"Well... I believe we ought to be on the same page about this. I had been under the impression that we were... but as I can see, that is not the case." He stares at you intently.

He is not speaking down to you, but rather, making space for an open conversation. You set down your chopsticks, and await further explanation.

"I suppose I should know what exactly the higher-ups asked of you."

You raise your brows, "Sorry?"

An apology has become a common synonym for many of your reactions.

"Earlier, you asked me for my name. And just then-" He flushes a little, motioning to the bedroom, "well- you mentioned expectations and I feel I ought to ask you what is is that has been requested of you."

Is this man daft? Is he playing with you?

Before you respond, you test the waters, "What did the higher-ups demand of you?"

The man sighs.

"I am terribly sorry," he calls your name again like its easy, a habit that makes your stomach flip, "It seems that people have not been honest with you, you deserve an explanation. I just expected you to be aware of this before our union."

He pauses for a moment, his eyes watch you and the chopsticks laying on the wooden tray.

Ah.

You reach to take a bite. It's good, and oddly puts the man before you at ease.

"Before this, I was intending to leave sorcery."

He states it as if it is nothing. Your eyes bug out and he pauses, allowing for you to ensure you heard correctly.

"The higher-ups have a large amount of sway in Tokyo, I'm not sure about Kyoto, but they were not fond of this plan."

I can't imagine why that would be. You thought as you recalled the moment you had first seen this Nanami Kento.

It had been an annual meeting between the Kyoto and Tokyo branches. You had heard him refer to sorcery as "a pain". Had he been considering retirement even then?

You simply nod, listening quietly. "It was their intention to find me...a wife." He huffs, "Maintaining a life in sorcery was highly important to them."

Oh, you see. Perhaps he wasn't so different from you after all.

The higher-ups have only had one expectation for you, even since showing promise in the world of sorcery, even after moving up the ranks at Kyoto Metropolitan Curse Technical College. Your job was plain and simple.

To have babies.

Sorcerer babies.

Had they been so afraid of losing one sorcerer to the regular world that he was cornered into loveless marriage? All to keep him from departure? Was that why Gakuganji had been so immediate with his instatement of your husband?

"I see..." You nod once more.

"I would like to know your experience as well. What was it that they asked of you?" He had both hands laid flat on the makeshift table between the pair of you.

You consider what to say. "I...have known-" you try again, "My duty has been laid out for some time now." You tilt your head, he's squinting at you.

"Please. Just tell me. They... forced you - to - to do that?" He points his head in the direction of your room once more.

Now you're confused. You want to speak in a way that doesn't insult his intelligence but he's making is difficult for you. "Did you not... marry me for children?"

He chokes.

Coughing to clear his throat, he wipes his mouth. "That is not- eugh-" he tries again, "They cannot ask that of you. I will not do anything that you are not explicitly requesting of me." He pauses effecting a moment of silence before, "Do you understand?"

But you don't. "Mr. Nanami, are you... not expected to produce children? Is that not why you were chosen to be in this situation?"

He responds quickly and with precision, "I did not marry you for what you could give me. No."

You can't hold in your confused laugh, "Then...why?"

"Was it not the easiest for the both of us?" He smirks at you, his shoulders have eased only slightly after hearing your laugh, "I was informed that your other options were not the most savory."

"You knew you would be marrying me?" You ask, ignoring his reference to your suitors and flummoxed by how easy it is to speak comfortably with a man you had been so recently adverse to.

"Yes. I... cannot believe you were not provided the same..." He pauses, "I was under the impression that this was a mutual decision..."

"Oh." It's all you can say.

Nanami takes in a deep breath from across the couch cushions. "I'm sorry." And you really believe that he means it. "I would not have agreed if I knew." He forms a flat line with his lips.

"I think you're right, though..." He looks at you, addled, so you continue, “This was the easiest choice. I think so too." You're unsure of how else to conclude.

Your wedding dinner had not been what you would have expected and the night, unlike anything you could have predicted.

Nanami Kento, no matter how you denied and tried to shuffle from the bedroom, had sworn himself to a guestroom after collecting the night clothes laid out for him on the bedside table.

He had gently grabbed your shoulders, maneuvering you towards the bed and away from the exit. Pleading with you to remain in the master bedroom. Claiming that he had intended to sleep in a separate bedroom since the beginning.

Though you pulled at his arms to try and swap your standing, telling him adamantly to take the bigger of the bed options, he simply drew close to you, shifted farther from the door and blocked your sights. He lead you softly to the bed, and when you attempted to side step him and make your way to the guestroom, he took one arm, catching you by the waist, and swiftly lifted you from the floor.

"Please. Do not ask me again. Sleep here, alright? All of your things are here. I will be very comfortable in the guestroom."

And before you could get out any complaint, he had you placed upon the duvet. His hands were off you in an instant, but he remained looking in your direction as he backed to the door you had been fighting over.

"Do sleep well." His long strides had brought him to the rooms entrance with no delay, you were still caught up with the fact that he had lifted you like a sack of potatoes, with one arm no less. "We will likely have to arrange the...trip tomorrow."

The honeymoon, that's right.

He said it in a way that sounded like, 'just to warn you' or 'you should know'. But all you could reply with was, "Right."

"Right." He echo's, turning to walk through the door, and looks to you once more. "Sleep well." And there's your name again, leaving his lips as though you are long time friends.

"You too."

But the door has been silently shut.

His touch lingers on your waist from where he had lifted you. Not in the way your fathers hand would linger after he drug you to and from meetings, not the way his fingers would remain painfully on your neck after he would steer you into conference rooms. But rather, in an almost ticklish way.

You shiver.

And run your hands over your new duvet.

When you had made up your childhood bed and left this morning, you had listened to your mothers cries, sure that last night would be the last time you would have the peace of your own bed. Your heart swelled with the knowledge that you had been wrong.

Your fingers traced the stitching on the comforter. Swung your legs from the mattress, and almost-almost grinned.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

tag list @longlivegojo @kitkatlover015 @l0v3rgirl-owo @smailaway (if your name is here but you didn’t get tagged. I think it’s either bc your blog is new/blank/empty or you need to check your privacy settings)

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ao3demographicssurvey2024 · 1 year ago

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The AO3 Demographics Survey 2024 has arrived!

This project is an independent survey (not affiliated with AO3) which seeks to research the demographics and behaviours of AO3 users. The survey will take about 10-15 minutes to complete, will be open until 1 February, and can be found at https://forms.gle/2kt5J17ipzcAbnFY9

We are hoping to survey as large a group of users as possible, so we really appreciate anyone who shares the survey, whether by reblogging this post or sharing posts on other social media.

If you have any questions for us, we have FAQs on Tumblr or on AO3 which will be updated as the project progresses. And of course, you can follow us on Tumblr or AO3 if you want to see the survey results!

#ao3 demographics survey 2024 #survey promotion #fandom statistics #fandom stats #archive of our own #ao3 #fandom research #fandom survey #demographics #ao3 demographics

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thmgau · 2 years ago

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if you need a new name for this,can't you just look at other magical girl things for inspiration

i guess so yeah but theres a problem in my brain that has like a specific name assigned for everything (only exception here is salems descent which had its name changed 4 times over the course of 6 years)

an example unrelated to the thmgau is the main characters in TEoA. a lot of them have names that still have direct ties to geometry dash but like. the names FIT yknow. jumpy. geist. blast. even fucking lenny (remember the lenny face icon?). i cant just change these names because they fit, in some weird way. like how the thmgau fits, in its own weird way.

#thmgau #despite the band barely being affiliated with the au at all anymore #of course most of the villains & characters are clear references to the songs & the MCs still have the same tie colors as the band #its kind of like stranded in salem in a way i guess.#the original sis had real people in it. albeit everyone in that story agreed to be in it but still #i dont. talk to any of them anymore (for the most part). but i still liked the story idea so i revamped it #hope this makes sense

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eleanorpowers · 4 months ago

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WAIT

"with unexpected ferocity"

"Cat winced but kept her eyes on Jean"

I feel like I've overlooked this passage every time I see it. Did Jeremy's sibling kill themselves? Did they play exy? Did they die at the banquet?

Cat Winced BUT kept her eyes on Jean. She reacted directly to what Jeremy said. She. KNOWS WHAT IS UP.

When someone kills themselves, it has to be assumed a homicide as protocol (ask me how I know 😀) so family members or those in the immediate vicinity will be interviewed by police and any items at the scene that should be tested for fingerprints and stuff will be. That could be how Jeremy knows the police.

Suicides are so taboo still. For a rich politically affiliated macho family they'd be even more taboo, and in 2007? Christ no wonder he doesn't talk about it.

And of COURSE his mother would send him to therapy after THAT. Did he find the body of his sibling? Was he supposed to be with them but went to an exy banquet instead?

AND. Suicides totally break up families!! Christ, my family hasn't been the same for seven years. I'm basically estranged from my older brother because we were so busy trying to survive our trauma we stopped asking about each other's lives.

I'm, like, KINDA SOLD ON THIS THEORY RN.

#all for the game #tsc #jean moreau #the sunshine court #jeremy knox #aftg #jerejean #IM SOLD ON THIS THEIRY RRRAAAHHHH

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redflagshipwriter · 8 months ago

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batmom cass: reveal

masterpost

Oh. Fuck. He was invisible. A flood of genuine fear washed through him. He was discovered again, he was away from any allies, he had to get away-

Danny went intangible out of sheer survival instinct and lurched downwards. Bruce made a punched-out sound and lunged to grab him. He actually got his hand around Danny’s wrist and clenched despite Danny being invisible to human eyes. It was no use. Danny slipped through his grip, the chair, and then the floor.

He caught himself there and paused, hovering in the flooring. He could see the weird joints underneath the kitchen, a dark crawl space with way more spiders than Alfred could possibly know about. One of them reared up and waved its front legs at him in what was either a threat or a greeting. Danny shuddered involuntarily and pulled back a little to give the arachnid personal space.

“Danny?” Cass’s voice was muffled but calm. “Sit in your chair, please.”

She made it sound so sensible.

He blinked rapidly. “Right. Right, okay.” He floated back up through the floor and avoided eye contact as he settled back into place and the visible spectrum. He stole a glance around the room. Cass and Damian looked unaffected. Bruce’s face said the same, but the pulse point was jumping rapidly in his throat. His hand was pressed firmly against his thigh as if to remind him that it was a physical thing that existed.

“This GIW is harmful to you?” Damian asked, sensible and unaffected. He pushed his empty yoghurt away a few inches on the tabletop. “I gather from the acronym that we are dealing with an organization rather than an individual.”

“....Yeah.” Danny gripped his knees under the table and clung to the hint of normalcy. If they were going to act like that hadn’t been weird, then maybe he was okay. “I think they’re government affiliated. They say they are. They, uh.” He cleared his throat. “They’re the Ghost Investigation Ward, but I call them the Guys in White.”

“And they are a problem because?” Damian asked crisply. Cass was watching with the full force of her formidable attention, but it wasn’t a heavy gaze.

Danny forced himself to stop fidgeting. “Well, I might have died a little.” It came out as a question. “And they’re not sure it’s me- at least, they weren’t, but I guess that they are now.” Oof, that was hard to internalize. Of course they did. Now that they knew about Vlad, they had all the pieces to put it together. His parents had definitely put it together. The look on Mom’s face when she saw him hauling Vlad out of the lab…

He felt cold. Danny rubbed at his thighs as if that would help.

There hadn’t been another choice. It ate at him a little bit that Danny had thrown his life away for someone he didn’t even like, but what else could he have done? Vlad was Vlad, yeah, but Danny couldn’t have left anyone there.

Bruce had a look that Danny had never seen on him before. Intense. Focused. Dangerous. Danny instinctively pulled away from it, sitting all the way up in his chair.

Bruce wiped it away, but the memory still sent Danny’s blood rushing. Ecto gathered in his mouth like saliva, his body readying to fight for his life. He swallowed it down with difficulty.

“As you said,” Cass interjected. She scooted her chair a little closer to him and laid an arm along his shoulders. “Like Jason.” She rubbed at his upper arm. He leaned into her touch.

“Like Jason,” Bruce echoed. His tone was hollow.

Danny ducked his head and missed the meaningful look that Cass shot her BatDad.

“What are their capabilities?” Damian pushed. His dark eyes glittered when Danny looked back at him. “You clearly have invisibility and density shifting. Are they able to counter you?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Danny blinked rapidly to try to force himself to focus. This was… so weird. Someone had found out about him and he wasn’t fighting for his life. Even his friends had found out when he was actively under fire from a ghost. His nervous system didn’t know what to do with this. He cleared his throat. “They have a lot of tech, uh.” He flexed his hands. “From my parents.” He stared at the woodgrain on the table. It was probably real wood and not the heavy duty polymer that the Fenton table was made out of. “They’re not exactly competent, but there’s a lot of them, and they have had some success.”

His stomach lurched. He swallowed hard on bile. He didn’t think about what he’d found when he went after Vlad. He didn’t think about Vlad in his human form, strapped down and incisions pinned open, literal pins holding open his torso and skin layers on his arms. He didn’t think about the quietly despairing hums coming from rows of ghost cores on a shelf, neatly labeled with specimen numbers.

“Let’s walk.” Cass hustled him up and muscled him down the hall without letting go of her comforting grip. Danny went along with it numbly. But she was kinda right. Moving shook him out of his head. The walls were changing around him, curtains and windows and framed portraits and some of Tim’s photography. They passed a room he had never seen before. Cass pushed the door open, let him look around, and then tugged him down the hall before he’d had time to do more than catalogue the novelty.

She did that at the next door, too. Oh. An impromptu tour. The novelty of seeing new things started to drag him back to the real world, right now, which was not exactly a fight for his life.

At the third door, Danny managed, “Does anyone play that piano?”

Cass made a mysterious hum. It took her a while to unstick her tongue. “Damian can. Jason, if you ask with big eyes.”

Danny nodded at this information. Damian did seem like the kind of person who would hone a few classic artistic skills. And Jason was manipulable, good information.

…Not that Danny would need much help there. He felt a little sheepish at how threatened he’d felt earlier when he remembered the sincerity and protectiveness he could sense from both Cass and Jason.

“What should we do about GIW?” Cass broached the topic, as if she knew that he felt better. She probably did know. “Investigate cautiously? Destroy?” She held up two fingers to count off the ‘destroy the GIW’ options. “Horde of lawyers descend from Wayne Enterprises jet, or Justice League?”

Danny snorted. It turned into a laugh, hysterical and too long. He wiped tears away from his eyes. “Personally, I like the idea of blowing up their base,” he admitted. “But someone should rescue the test subjects first.”

“Oh?”

Cass was so weirdly easy to talk to. He leaned a little harder against her. She wasn’t a big woman, but there was something so solid about her anyway. It must be a Black Bat thing. “I left because I was getting someone out,” he admitted. “They were a lot more captives than I knew about.” He squeezed his free hand to ground himself. “I grabbed as many as I could and tossed them through the portal, but I don’t know if that was everyone or if just being home let them heal up.”

Hell, maybe someone had come along and eaten all the helpless cores. Danny shied away from the horror of that thought. His intuition had identified the helpless ghost cores as viable ectoplasm, healing and delicious. They were scared at his approach because they sensed him, they knew they were helpless shells to crack open and lick out the sweet marrow–

Ah. Yup. He stopped in his tracks and heaved his snack onto the carpet.

#batmom cass #red mama bat #dp x dc #dc x dp

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alex51324 · 3 months ago

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On the other hand, Slate* also did this article about how a new PAC is taking out ads on porn sites, linking Trump to Project 2025's goal of banning pornography.

The ads are scheduled to run in the two weeks before the election, in swing states like Pennsylvania and Georgia.

The article talks about some of the logistics of this campaign, including how it took some effort to find an ad network that handles porn sites, allows political ads, and has the ability to do state-level targeting. They also designed the ad to make sure that the money shot (so to speak) comes in the 5 seconds before the "skip ad" button becomes available.

The PAC is, of course, not affiliated with any campaign.

(*Slate is an x-free-articles-a-month site, but the incognito window trick works, if it says you've hit your limit.)

#us politics #defendant trump #ftw pac

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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 months ago

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China hacked Verizon, AT&T and Lumen using the FBI’s backdoor

On OCTOBER 23 at 7PM, I'll be in DECATUR, presenting my novel THE BEZZLE at EAGLE EYE BOOKS.

State-affiliated Chinese hackers penetrated AT&T, Verizon, Lumen and others; they entered their networks and spent months intercepting US traffic – from individuals, firms, government officials, etc – and they did it all without having to exploit any code vulnerabilities. Instead, they used the back door that the FBI requires every carrier to furnish:

https://www.wsj.com/tech/cybersecurity/u-s-wiretap-systems-targeted-in-china-linked-hack-327fc63b?st=C5ywbp&reflink=desktopwebshare_permalink

In 1994, Bill Clinton signed CALEA into law. The Communications Assistance for Law Enforcement Act requires every US telecommunications network to be designed around facilitating access to law-enforcement wiretaps. Prior to CALEA, telecoms operators were often at pains to design their networks to resist infiltration and interception. Even if a telco didn't go that far, they were at the very least indifferent to the needs of law enforcement, and attuned instead to building efficient, robust networks.

Predictably, CALEA met stiff opposition from powerful telecoms companies as it worked its way through Congress, but the Clinton administration bought them off with hundreds of millions of dollars in subsidies to acquire wiretap-facilitation technologies. Immediately, a new industry sprang into being; companies that promised to help the carriers hack themselves, punching back doors into their networks. The pioneers of this dirty business were overwhelmingly founded by ex-Israeli signals intelligence personnel, though they often poached senior American military and intelligence officials to serve as the face of their operations and liase with their former colleagues in law enforcement and intelligence.

Telcos weren't the only opponents of CALEA, of course. Security experts – those who weren't hoping to cash in on government pork, anyways – warned that there was no way to make a back door that was only useful to the "good guys" but would keep the "bad guys" out.

These experts were – then as now – dismissed as neurotic worriers who simultaneously failed to understand the need to facilitate mass surveillance in order to keep the nation safe, and who lacked appropriate faith in American ingenuity. If we can put a man on the moon, surely we can build a security system that selectively fails when a cop needs it to, but stands up to every crook, bully, corporate snoop and foreign government. In other words: "We have faith in you! NERD HARDER!"

NERD HARDER! has been the answer ever since CALEA – and related Clinton-era initiatives, like the failed Clipper Chip program, which would have put a spy chip in every computer, and, eventually, every phone and gadget:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clipper_chip

America may have invented NERD HARDER! but plenty of other countries have taken up the cause. The all-time champion is former Australian Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull, who, when informed that the laws of mathematics dictate that it is impossible to make an encryption scheme that only protects good secrets and not bad ones, replied, "The laws of mathematics are very commendable, but the only law that applies in Australia is the law of Australia":

https://www.zdnet.com/article/the-laws-of-australia-will-trump-the-laws-of-mathematics-turnbull/

CALEA forced a redesign of the foundational, physical layer of the internet. Thankfully, encryption at the protocol layer – in the programs we use – partially counters this deliberately introduced brittleness in the security of all our communications. CALEA can be used to intercept your communications, but mostly what an attacker gets is "metadata" ("so-and-so sent a message of X bytes to such and such") because the data is scrambled and they can't unscramble it, because cryptography actually works, unlike back doors. Of course, that's why governments in the EU, the US, the UK and all over the world are still trying to ban working encryption, insisting that the back doors they'll install will only let the good guys in:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/05/theyre-still-trying-to-ban-cryptography/

Any back door can be exploited by your adversaries. The Chinese sponsored hacking group know as Salt Typhoon intercepted the communications of hundreds of millions of American residents, businesses, and institutions. From that position, they could do NSA-style metadata-analysis, malware injection, and interception of unencrypted traffic. And they didn't have to hack anything, because the US government insists that all networking gear ship pre-hacked so that cops can get into it.

This isn't even the first time that CALEA back doors have been exploited by a hostile foreign power as a matter of geopolitical skullduggery. In 2004-2005, Greece's telecommunications were under mass surveillance by US spy agencies who wiretapped Greek officials, all the way up to the Prime Minister, in order to mess with the Greek Olympic bid:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greek_wiretapping_case_2004%E2%80%9305

This is a wild story in so many ways. For one thing, CALEA isn't law in Greece! You can totally sell working, secure networking gear in Greece, and in many other countries around the world where they have not passed a stupid CALEA-style law. However the US telecoms market is so fucking huge that all the manufacturers build CALEA back doors into their gear, no matter where it's destined for. So the US has effectively exported this deliberate insecurity to the whole planet – and used it to screw around with Olympic bids, the most penny-ante bullshit imaginable.

Now Chinese-sponsored hackers with cool names like "Salt Typhoon" are traipsing around inside US telecoms infrastructure, using the back doors the FBI insisted would be safe.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/07/foreseeable-outcomes/#calea

Image: Kris Duda, modified https://www.flickr.com/photos/ahorcado/5433669707/

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

#pluralistic #calea #lawful interception #backdoors #keys under doormats #cold war 2.0 #foreseeable outcomes #jerry berman #greece #olympics #snowden

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charliemwrites · 6 months ago

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Part 7 is finally here! I only gave this a quick look over so if there are any glaring issues (like a random cut off sentence) please let me know! I was just so excited to get this one out.

Content: Brandon.

For all the power and influence it has amassed, SpecGru is a notoriously discreet and secretive operation. Mind, no one’s ever strolling down the street shouting their criminal affiliations for God and everyone to hear, but even by criminal standards, SpecGru is like a collective boogeyman. By the time most anyone knows they’re there, it’s already too late – and the rare (verbal) survivors only ever see masks and guns.

Granted, no small part of SpecGru’s prestige comes from whispered stories and unconfirmed rumors. Criminals are locker room gossips, the lot of them. Not that it’s completely unfounded. An execution is an execution, whether someone died with all their teeth and nails or not. (Usually not)

Few people know Price as more than a shadowy theoretical. (Someone must be in charge, that’s how the mafia works.) Even fewer know his face, never mind his name. It’s just good business that way.

In fact, SpecGru’s entire inner circle is shrouded in mystery. There’s not just the gray silhouette of the Don looming over their enemies’ heads. There are the lieutenants to contend with as well, acting on his direct authority, speaking on his behalf (with permission, of course) in his absence.

And then there’s Price’s right hand, the de facto boss should something happen. His heir, for all intents and purposes.

For those that have met Price in person, and by extension his few but devoted confidants, there’s always debate.

Is it Soap, loud and brash, but sharp as a whip? A decisive man, affable with a hidden mean streak?

Or is it Ghost, the quiet and calculating figure always at his side? A deadly and brutal enemy, shrewd and observant?

Kyle lets them stew in their assumptions and reminds himself that they’ll learn eventually – or they’ll be dead. He’s not fussed either way. It would suit SpecGru just fine if a few of those knobs keeled over sooner rather than later.

If only they knew that the hand that would one day grip their leashes was currently holding your purse so that you could pet a cute dog.

Not that Kyle minds; you have good taste. In purses, that is – though the dog isn’t half bad. A fluffy white and grey thing with a stumpy tail, practically crawling onto your pretty blue skirt as you coo and fawn. He started recording the minute you handed him your bag. (Price owes him for this.)

“His name is Mister Beans,” the uni girl enthuses to you.

You practically sob. “Mister Beans!”

He’s loath to hurry you along, but he’s supposed to meet up with Price for a Business meeting in only a half hour. Thankfully, you’re a considerate sort and don’t linger for long.

“Thank you so much, have a great day!” you cheer to the young woman. Then you turn back to Kyle, smiling huge. “Wasn’t he so cute?”

He chuckles. “It was. Wish I could have pet him, but white hair on this suit…”

You hum sympathetically. “I have a lint roller in my apartment.”

“I’ll scratch the next one,” he promises, offering your purse back.

You take it with your far hand and another mumbled “thank you,” then loop your closer arm through his. Don’t even seem to think about it, just accept the escort automatically. Kyle tries not to beam with pride. He used to have to prompt you, holding his elbow out at an awkward angle for you to get the hint. Now, you reach for the arm of whoever you’re with on instinct – as you should. (Another thing Price owes him for.)

“Do you like little dogs?” you ask, strolling with him for your apartment.

In the office, you’re a speedy little thing. Zooming from your desk to Price’s and back at velocity deserving of a ticket. Soap calls you a busy bee and it’s apt. Fluttering to and fro with stacks of papers or your tablet (“Reginald” you call it) everyone knows to make way at the click-click of your smart heels.

Outside, though, your purposeful stride slows to something less awe-inspiringly machinelike. Little Miss at work is a much different creature from Little Miss off the clock – but Kyle quite likes both.

“My mum had a little white dog while I was growing up. Crusty old thing,” he explains. “Prefer medium sized myself. Like a corgi.”

You giggle. “Like the royal family?”

“Oi, I liked ‘em before that.”

You just laugh harder at his defensive tone, patting his arm. He’s always impressed by how fearlessly you joke and tease him and the others. Have taken everything in stride from the beginning, didn’t even flinch when you first met Simon. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost think you had no idea just who you arched your eyebrows at this morning because of a “scheduling disagreement.”

“Speaking of dogs…” you mutter, mirth disappearing.

He follows your gaze through the clear glass of the building’s entry vestibule. Your ex is standing inside, already spotted you and fluffing up like the cock he is.

“Mind keeping back, doll?” Kyle murmurs.

You make a noise of protest even as you hand him your keys. “He’s not going to do anything after what Soap did.”

There’s an ugly black cast around his hand and up his wrist. Kyle smirks at him through the door.

“Rather not take any chances,” he replies.

You huff a bit, but quietly slip your arm from his, letting him take the lead into the building. (He still holds the door for you of course – he’s not a numpty.)

“Get the fuck out, mate,” Kyle says as soon as the door opens.

Brandon looks downright taken aback. “And who the fuck are you?”

“None of your business,” you interrupt, stepping up beside Kyle.

“The hell it’s not!” Brandon replies, taking an angry (stupid) step forward. Kyle mirrors him, making a point of loosening up his shoulders. In a surprising display of good sense, Brandon stops there. “Look, bunny, a high-value man needs a high-value woman.”

Your voice comes out flat and unimpressed. “And that’s you, is it? A high-value man?

Brandon rolls his eyes but sighs, as if he’s trying to be patient with you. Kyle’s fingers twitch. His piece is burning a hole against his back.

“Obviously. I have a degree, a six-figure salary, and two properties – all under forty. I’m objectively attractive, work out regularly, don’t smoke. I’m a good catch, don’t kid yourself that you can do better.”

At Kyle’s elbow, you go very still. The type of still that precedes blood and screaming. He’s seen it in Ghost before.

“Then why are you here?” you ask, tongue dripping acid. “Since you’re such a catch.”

Brandon sighs and shakes his head, trying for fond exasperation and only achieving constipated.

“I’m not willing to just throw away two years. I’ve invested a lot in this relationship, and we can still make it work.” It actually starts to make Kyle nauseous, the way he talks about you like a business decision. “I mean, you have some things to make up for but eventually, we can go back to the way we were.”

“And what,” you say through gritted teeth, consonants sharp enough to pierce skin, “do I have to make up for?”

Kyle listens, flabbers absolutely gasted, as Brandon answers.

“You ran off to play desk bunny for a man I don’t know. God only knows what ‘favor’ you did to land that job. You’ve lowered your value as a marriable woman but there are ways to make it up to me—”

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”

Kyle’s ears ring like the first time he heard his mum curse.

Brandon looks taken aback too. You don’t give either of them a chance to respond.

“I know it’s not fucking me. Because if you were talking to me, you’d be stupider than you look.”

Brandon’s face flushes with anger. He takes another step forward. Kyle takes two in return, shaking his head in warning. Unfortunately, Brandon doesn’t know how to read his face any better than yours.

“C’mon, mate, it’s common sense. A lock that opens for any key and all that.”

Kyle’s heard it before. “Women ain’t locks, mate.”

“If you don’t get out of this building right fucking now, I will ruin your life,” you snarl.

Brandon does a double take. “Is that a threat? You can’t—"

“You bet your pasty ass it is,” you reply without missing a beat. You raise your voice every time he tries to interrupt, barreling through his weak protest like a train. “Fifteen fucking minutes. That’s all it would take to destroy you, your stupid sister, your bitchy mother, your pervert father, and that fucking slag you got pregnant twice.”

Kyle’s eyebrows rise with each word until he’s fairly certain they’ve floated up to the ceiling somewhere.

Brandon, though… Brandon’s face is ashen.

“How… how did you…?”

“Get. The fuck. Out.”

Kyle doesn’t give him the option to refuse. He scruffs Brandon by the back of his bland suit and shoves him out the first door of the vestibule. It closes and locks just as he turns around, a rebuttal finally juddering to his bloodless lips. You haven’t even turned to watch him go.

Kyle approaches you feeling a bit like he does coming to Price with shit news when he’s already pissed.

He almost says, you sure know how to pick ‘em – but thinks better of it. There’s practically frost forming beneath your feet, the air around you is icy.

“Walk you up, little miss?” he asks, offering his arm.

You gently take his arm and exhale heavily. “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

You invite him in at your door. Your hands are shaking a bit. He politely accepts, shooting Price the others a text that he’ll be a bit late. He’s not about to leave you in a state.

As usual, you step out of your shoes at the door, leaving you in your shimmery stockings, then pad to the kitchen.

“Tea?” you ask as he follows.

“I haven’t the time, doll, I’m sorry. I just want to make sure you’re alright before heading out.”

You turn, expression softening. Just like that, you’re back to your usual self, sweet as honey.

“I’ll be alright, I think,” you reply, sighing. “That was a long time coming.”

He leans his shoulder in the doorway, unable to help chuckling at the memory of your ex’s gobsmacked expression. The corners of your mouth curl up in shy amusement.

“Seemed like it,” he replies. “We should weaponize those f-bombs you dropped.”

That coaxes a giggle out. “Graves would be first on my list.”

“The boss’s too.” And oh, Kyle can’t wait to tell Price about this. (As if he needed another reason to hate Brandon and adore you.)

“Christ,” you groan, “you’re going to tell him about this, aren’t you?”

He’s at least able to muster an apologetic grimace. “You know I have to, sweets.”

“Suppose I’ll get the really good tea tomorrow,” you muse.

“He liked those pistachio scones from the corner café, too.”

You light up. It just so happens that they bake your favorite muffins too. “Good idea.”

“I’m full of ‘em.”

You snort, but there’s a fond smile on your face. Regretfully, he notes the time on the stove clock behind you.

“You’re sure you’re alright here by yourself?” he asks.

“I’m sure,” you promise, crossing to give him a warm hug. “I lock the door and windows like Simon told me.”

“Atta girl,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, yeah?”

“Seven sharp!” you chirp.

He pauses at the door, “You call if there’s any trouble.”

You poke your head around the corner. “You don’t sign my paychecks; you can’t tell me what to do.”

He points right back at you. “That’s from the bossman direct.”

“Then he can tell me himself.”

He arches his brows. You blink.

“Don’t tell him I said that.”

He chokes back a chuckle. “Sweet dreams, little miss.”

“Get home safe, Kyle!”

As far as business meetings go, one with Los Vaqueros is almost pleasant. Sure, they always try to overprice their products, but haggling them down is practically a game between Price and Vargas by now. The shipping agreement between them and SpecGru is long established by now, a major link in the international arms market.

“Negotiations” are relaxed enough that Rudy and Valeria are playing cards with Ghost and Soap at the sitting table, whiskey glasses at their elbows. The plan for the next six months is all but set when Price suddenly jerks. In an instant, his face goes dark, shoulders tense.

“Something wrong, hermano?” Vargas asks.

“I’m getting a call.”

Soap and Ghost snap to attention.

There are only a handful of people that can reach Price during a meeting. All but one is in this room.

As he brings the phone to his ear, Kyle sees your name on the screen.

“Yes, love?” he answers.

Even from a couple feet away, Kyle can hear your voice through the receiver – high and panicked. Kyle’s already reaching for his keys.

“He fucking what?” Price barks.

Soap and Ghost jump to their feet, cards and drinks forgotten.

“Barricade the door, get a knife. We’ll be right there.”

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Masterlist

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #mafia boss price #mafia!au #assistant!reader #oddly wholesome for a mafia au #brandon the crash dummy

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oceanreveuse · 5 months ago

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𝗡𝗢𝗪 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚: 𝗼𝗳𝗳𝗶𝗰𝗲 𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗲, 𝗳𝗲𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘀𝗹𝗲𝘆.

◟fem!reader, ooc wrio? more common than u thinkies, so so so self indulgent, riding, semi-public sex, is this a breeding kink? /ref (wrap it b4 tappin it pls), daddy kink, belly bulgeeee !! praise + petnames (good girl, baby) ◟anastasia's footnote : this is one of my older works & it shows, apologies ＿|￣|○

“that’s it,” his voice is low, a heavy timbre that rumbles from his chest as his hot breath tickles the back of your neck, “that’s a good girl.”

there’s the embarrassing wet squelch of your bodies colliding as you give your first hesitant bounce on his lap. your legs straddle him, feeling his chest press against your back as he presses loving kisses to your shoulder blades. you’ve barely began your ministrations and yet your legs are crumbling beneath you, quivering as you raise your hips to slam them back down again.

“takin’ me so well tonight, huh?” WRIOTHESLEY chuckles, a large palm sliding from your waist upwards, following the curve of your side before he cups your breast in his hand, “so fuckin’ tight baby.”

secret meetings like this in his office were nothing new between the two of you. plenty of times had you found yourself visiting for a mere cup of tea shared in the company of your partner and yet ending up tucked underneath his mahogany desk, your pretty lipgloss coated lips wrapped around his length and a calloused hand buried in your hair.

numerous times had visitors questioned wriothesley’s questionably sized desk chair and wriothesley always uttered the same excuses with that coy grin of his; it was for comfortability, of course but you knew the truth - it meant that your body could fit snugly on his lap for a multitude of purposes.

“daddy—” there’s the faintest reflection of crystalline tears in the corner of your eyes when your hips slap down onto his, his tip pressing to your spongey spot like it has done thousands of times before. wriothesley knew your body well, after all, “s-so full—”

you’re babbling and it’s barely coherent, much to wriothesley’s amusement as his spare hand wanders over your belly, pressing hard onto the bulge that comes with every bounce of your smaller body. he clicks his tongue, his hand idly squeezing your breast before it returns to your waist and helps guide you. you’re losing your pace, faltering as you arch back against his broad chest, your head resting on his shoulder as you cry out.

“you’re doing such a good job, baby, you know that?” he groans close to your ear, feeling the way your walls tighten in response to his words. your hands blindly fumble to find his arms, his hands, any of him so that you can claw at his pale skin, leaving pretty red marks as you try to find purchase.

there’s a fluttering in your tummy that can only mean one thing, drawing out more harmonious moans from your swollen lips as wriothesley’s fingers trace over your sensitive clit, giving an exceptionally sharp thrust, “makin’ such a mess… gonna have to finish inside…”

it only takes a few powerful thrusts, wriothesley’s strong grip almost bruising your waist as he holds you down on his lap, his cock bottoming out as it twitches, filling your womb with hot, sticky seed as your walls clamp and milk him dry for what he’s worth. there’s a breathy chuckle from your partner, your overstimulated body shuddering as you finally relax back against him. your legs ache, spent once again from another simple “visit” to your boyfriend’s office.

[ the magazine is affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum ]

#( whispers in the waves )#wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley genshin #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin #genshin impact

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biowaredisasterbisexual · 24 days ago

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I really don’t understand the criticism that Veilguard doesn’t include enough open, devout Andrastianism. Like, it just perplexes me?

Unlike the first three games, which take place in Southern Thedas (the purview of the Orlesian Chantry, the Sunburst throne), Veilguard takes place almost entirely in Northern Thedas. And it’s clear the Chantry’s role there is very different than in the South.

In Southern Thedas, the Chantry is a power unto itself. The Southern Divine, holder of the Sunburst Throne, occupies a place of real significance and power. She has her own militarized forces (the Templar and Seeker Orders). She politically has to interface with the rulers of the various places in Southern Thedas (Orlais, Ferelden, the Free Marches, etc.), but is not formally associated with or dependent on them. The South is comparatively poorer than the North, and we see a majority of services (taking care of orphans, medical care, the Circles, and very significantly education) being taken care of by the Chantry without necessarily much assistance from the relevant countries.

The Southern Chantry is an ever present figure in Southern Thedas, even for those that aren’t devout. And that is reflected in those stories and the cultures we learn about there.

The Tevinter Imperium is not like that. And that’s not terribly surprising. First, the Imperium pre-dates Andrastianism. They have another, older religion that helped form some of their cultural touchpoints. The Imperium did adopt Andrastianism, but did so as a consolidation of empire (which tracks with the Imperium being, in no small part, a reflection of the real life Roman Empire). As such, the Chantry is folded into and subordinate to the Imperium’s government. The real power in Tevinter, and control over the incidents of daily life that we see the Southern Chantry involved in, is the Magisterium and the Archon.

The Imperial Divine doesn’t control the Templars, the Magisterium and Archon do. He doesn’t control the Circles/education. That’s the Magisterium and Archon again. He is, in practical terms, less powerful than Dorian. He can’t make any real change as the Imperial Divine, so he dons a mask and runs a vigilante group to free slaves and make change that way.

The Northern Chantry simply isn’t as omnipresent as the Southern Chantry in the areas it exists, and it competes with a preexisting cultural backbone in a way the Southern Chantry doesn’t (because it largely stamped that out, though some of the Avvar and Chasind are still around).

I think a lot of people are comparing the impact of Andrastianism in Veilguard to that in Inquisition, because it’s the most recent, and the criticism spawns from that. But that…doesn’t make sense. The Inquisitor is leading a religious organization, ultimately affiliated with the Southern Chantry itself and founded by the left and right hands of the former Divine. It claims its legitimacy from Andraste herself (even if the Inquisitor doesn’t believe a single bit of it). The people who join the Inquisition are all okay enough with Andrastianism to affiliate themselves openly with it (Solas aside, but of course he has other reasons), and many are devout.

The Veilguard are just…random people. Skilled, powerful, talented people, but not people with any real affiliation with any Chantry. Davrin and Bellara have complicated relationships with the Dalish religion they grew up with, for obvious reasons, but they weren’t raised in Andrastianism or an Andrastian culture. Neve, per her, “barely keeps the holidays.” Her relationship to Andrastianism seems closer to the average non-church-attending American who celebrates Christmas and Easter, but isn’t particularly Christian beyond that. Lucanis does seem open to belief in the Maker and Andraste, but is kind of ambivalent to it. More agnostic than anything else. Taash wasn’t raised Andrastian, their mom largely still embraces much of the Qun even if she left, and Rivain was always kind of religiously funky anyway. Only Emmrich and Harding are particularly Andrastian, and even then Emmrich is from Nevarra which although deeply Andrastian is unique. Harding is the only companion whose Andrastianism we’d recognize from the prior games.

So in a game set in a region where Andrastianism is culturally less of an influence, where the Chantry holds far less power, and that has companions that aren’t devout Andrastians…how is it a failure of the game that it isn’t brought up more. That makes sense. It’s consistent with the world building that came before it and the continued reveal of that world in game.

I don’t get it.

#datv #dav #dragon age veilguard #dragon age: the veilguard #musings on Thedas

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pftones3482 · 2 years ago

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I want to be excited for the live action Little Mermaid so badly

The Little Mermaid is my favorite Disney movie. Anyone who knows me knows I'm obsessed with mermaids as a whole and will watch any media that has them. Hell, I own my own tails and monofins. But every time I see a gif or a video for the new Little Mermaid, I cringe

(btw, this is NOT because of the casting. If you're against this movie because Ariel is black, you're a racist piece of shit and this post isn't for you)

My issue lies with the CGI. It just looks so FAKE. We've seen through the course of movies and TV shows that use it that CGI does not age well, and that's because technology is constantly improving. What was impressive in 2005 is not impressive in 2023 (Just look at Aquamarine, another movie about mermaids). And the CGI on Ariel and her sisters already looks fake and the movie isn't even out yet!

Compare this image from the trailer

To this screenshot from H20: Just Add Water (a TV show that came out in 2006):

You can see the details of the scales in the second image

The first image is flat. Sure, it's colorful, but it's flat. It's fake. Halle herself is the most beautiful and alive part of the image, because everything else is fake

The difference?

H20 had costume designers, ones specifically trained in mermaid tail making, HAND CRAFT every tail on the show. All of the scales were hand laid, all the tails molded to fit the actors/actresses perfectly, painted by hand

Let's even look at someone with no affiliation to TV or movies:

This is Mermaid Linden, a very well known (in the mermaid community) professional mermaid. You can tell her tail is not as high quality as the ones made for H20 (though it's still a VERY expensive tail) - but it still looks like it's a part of her. You can still see the details. Because professional mermaid tails are also all handmade and molded to fit each person. Even if they don't lay every individual scale, good professional mermaid tail makers are very meticulous about what they do.

This is what happens when Disney refuses to pay practical effects artists. We could have had beautiful, handmade tails that would look real on screen for decades to come and could be reused for promotional purposes - instead, they're underpaying and overworking their non-unionized employees to make CGI tails that don't even look real now.

(to be clear, I'm not shitting on the artists. As I said, they're being underpaid and overworked. This is not their fault)

And before anyone comes and says "But swimming in those is difficult!" Absolutely it is. You should never swim in a professional level tail (or even just fabric tails) without practice and training. Which Disney could have given the cast if they were willing to PAY people (the cast of H20 [a TV SHOW] literally learned how to be mermaids on set. It's been done before)

Disney's "Live Action" needs to be rebranded as "CGI with some real people tossed in" because that's all any of these remakes have been, and it's exhausting when I look at what we could have had.

#tlm #the little mermaid #h20 #disney #mermaids #professional mermaids #also trust me when i say i think all cgi mermaid tails look bad #but for some reason these ones just look so much worse #we saw the same thing happen with the 'live action' lion king #the lions looked SO BAD #but then you look at like???? aslan from chronicle of narnia????? which was made YEARS before the lion king #and he looked more realistic #and its disneys fault bc they WONT PAY PEOPLE

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makeitmingi · 1 month ago

Text

When Flowers Bloom In The Dark [Chapter 8]

Genre: Romance, Mafia!AU, Violence, Angst, Slow burn

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Florist!Reader, Mafioso!Hongjoong, Mafioso!Seonghwa, Mafioso!Yunho, Mafioso!Yeosang, Mafioso!San, Mafioso!Mingi, Mafioso!Wooyoung, Mafioso!Jongho

Summary: When you appeared and wept at his mother's funeral, Hongjoong found himself wanting to find out more about you. A regular girl, who owns a flower shop in his territory and has a relationship with the mother that he hasn't spoken to in years, why hasn't he ever noticed you before?

[Warning(s): 18+ for violence, use of weapons, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight gore, gang affiliation, tattoos and character deaths. Minors DNI. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the Ateez members in real life.]

Word count: 3.2K

"You can add a layer of natural compost to provide the plant with the nutrients its missing. Then add a layer of this mulch right at the top, it'll help keep the moisture in. Your plant should be fine right after." You smiled, handing the bag of mulch and natural compost to the customer after she paid.

"Okay, I'll go home and repot it properly. Do I stick to my regular watering schedule?" She asked.

"Water it every alternate day instead. Since we're retaining moisture, there's no need to water it every day now. Or it might drown the plant." You informed.

"Ah, I don't want that to happen." She giggled and you nodded with a laugh.

"Come back if you need any other help." You told her, walking her to the door. She bowed her head and left your store.

Once she left, you went back to working on online order pick ups. You recently received a big order for a huge event so you were trying to clear orders and you were not able to take in anymore new orders.

"Excuse me. Are you open?" The door opened.

"Yes, I am. How can I help you?" You wiped your hands and went out to greet the customer.

"I need a bouquet for a friend in the hospital. Do you do that? Maybe a small teddy bear, I don't know..." She smiled in embarrassment. But you knew what she meant and what she wanted so you waved her further into the store.

"Do you know the person's favourite flower? If not, there are sunflower bouquets, those are popular because of how bright they are." You chuckled.

"She doesn't have a favourite flower... Let's just go with the sunflowers. I know she likes blue, can that be added?" She asked.

"Of course. I'll wrap the flowers in baby blue tissue, there'll make it really pretty." You smiled.

"Thanks." She sighed and sat down to wait. You hummed softly to yourself as you picked out the sunflowers and began to trim the stems, remove the excess leaves and arrange them.

"I'll add some extra flowers on the side if that's okay, just to bulk up the bouquet." You checked with the customer.

"Sure." You nodded.

She watched as you laid everything out in a bouquet arrangement and tied the stems together with a rubber band first. Then you wrapped the bottoms with wet tissues and began to wrap the whole thing in decorative tissues. The girl watched you as you worked, securing the bouquet together with a ribbon.

"These are the designs of small animal plushes we have. You can pick one and I'll add it to the bouquet. Also, you can write the card." You placed the box on the counter for her to pick.

"This one. She likes cats." The girl explained. You placed a holder and positioned the flowers while she wrote the card.

"All done. Is there anything else I can do for you?" You asked as you walked her to the counter.

"No, that's all. Thanks for all your help, the bouquet is beautiful. I don't know anything about flowers. I just know you get it for people when they're sick." She shrugged.

"Of course, happy to help." You showed her the bill and processed the payment on her card.

"Thanks again." She bowed and walked out of your store.

"Now, where were we?" You continued to work on your online orders. Suddenly, someone tapped you on the shoulder, making you flinch and jump, letting out a small yelp in surprise.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you, I forgot to ask for a name card." The girl from earlier asked.

"Sure, sorry about that. I overreacted." You tried your best to maintain composure as you went to retrieve a name card for her before she left again. Your heart was racing, you didn't know why you reacted so badly to someone touching your shoulder.

Who were you kidding? Of course you knew. Because it was like the guy that was at the club. You shivered as a flash of what happened passed in your head.

And at the same time, you wondered if the guy would come back and sought revenge against you. Or was he even alive?

"Don't think about that." You scolded yourself with a frown. You didn't know the state Hongjoong left the guy in, he could be dead or alive.

"Focus on work." You let out a long, shaky exhale and proceeded to throw yourself back into your work. Hopefully, that will be the last that you encounter Hongjoong.

You didn't know what he did and what he was but at this point, you'd rather not find out.

"Hi. I'm here to pick up order #2140?" A male came in.

"Yes, sure. Let me help you get that. Can I see the order confirmation? Just to be sure." You wiped your hands against your apron. He nodded and showed you in email.

"That's great. Here it is, order #2140. You can check that everything is to your liking. Then you can pay." You told the customer. He scanned the bouquet and nodded in approval, going to settle the payment. It was a standard bouquet that you had on the website, an anniversary bouquet that was quite popular.

"Have a nice day." You wished as he left. Since there was a little bit of lull time, you stopped working on orders and worked on your botany.

"Tincture." You opened your botany book. Tinctures were made of dried and/or fresh plants and herbs, steeped in either vinegar or alcohol to extract their properties.

"This, this and this." You sought through your collection to find what you needed.

Following the recipe, you picked out the herbs that you needed and placed them into a glass jar then added concentrated alcohol.

"Ready in 4 weeks? Wow." You wrote the date and type of tincture on a piece of tape and taped it to the jar. Then you placed the jar on the shelf to let it mature.

"Hi (y/n). Here for today's pick ups." The delivery man came through the back door like always.

"Hey, Mr Kim. Let me see which orders are for delivery." You went to the area where all the prepared flower orders were.

"Looks like it's all these here." You gestured. He nodded and began to bring the flower boxes out to where his truck was parked in the alley. You helped him carry the bouquets while he picked up more of the wreaths and flower boxes.

"You've got the addresses already right?" You confirmed. He hummed and scanned all the barcodes on the order invoices against his checklist to make sure everything was there.

"There's a bouquet missing it seems. Order #418?" He showed you the screen.

"Hmm. Let me check, it could be mixed up with the pick up orders." You went back into the store and looked for it.

"Roses bouquet with black and grey tissue." You checked the description on your order list. Maybe you had missed out on the order while wrapping the flowers.

"Sorry, Mr Kim. Let me quickly put that bouquet together." You bowed and apologised.

"No worries. It happens." He waved you off.

"Feel free to have some tea while you wait." You gestured to the pot of tea that you always brewed in the shop, it's usually for yourself or familiar visitors like delivery men. You quickly picked out the flowers that you needed and made the bouquet. It was a standard rose bouquet with baby's breath surrounding the red roses.

"There, sorry again for delaying you." You handed him the bouquet once it was done, all wrapped in the layered tissue and secured with a thick, silver ribbon.

"No need to apologise, (y/n). Thanks for the tea. Have a nice day." He patted your shoulder and left to make the deliveries.

"You too!" You waved as the truck drove off. After that, you went back to getting orders sorted.

Finally when you sat down, you winced as you lifted your leg. It was a sprained ankle, nothing too major but you've been hiding the bandage under pants and the pain with a smile.

"Hello~" Jihoon entered through the back door and you quickly put your leg down, making sure your pant leg covered the bandage.

"Jihoon, what are you doing here?" You blinked in surprise.

"Well, hello to you too, neighbour. I'm here to deliver you a warm lunch! You're welcome." He held up the paper bag and the iced drink that he was holding.

"Thanks, Jihoon. Let me know how much everything is and I'll wire it over." You smiled gratefully as you stood up. At your words, Jihoon shot you a flat look. He knew you would insist on paying but he didn't want you too.

"Hush, just eat. Don't worry about paying." He sat you back down and cleared your table so he could put the sandwich and drink down.

"Hmm..." You shot him a look but sighed in defeat and patted the seat beside you. Before sitting down, Jihoon poured himself a cup of tea from your warmed tea pot.

"This is nice. What is this?" He pointed, taking a sip.

"Mixed dried berries with raspberry leaf." You replied, taking a bite of the warm sandwich.

"Isn't that what pregnant women drink?" He raised an eyebrow. You shot him a surprised look but nodded in confirmation.

"Yeah, my mom gave a lot to my cousin when she was pregnant with my nephew. Supposed to make birth easy or something. I swear she even bathed in it once." Jihoon scoffed.

"It'll help with muscle cramps too, it's an anti inflammatory and anti oxidant." You explained.

"Hopefully it'll get rid of my calf muscle pain then." Jihoon chuckled and took another sip. You laughed and continued to eat your sandwich, enjoying your chat with Jihoon. Mrs Kim was always your lunch time companion, Jihoon must know that you would feel the absence of her presence and come.

"Do you miss her?" Jihoon asked. Your hands stopped and you paused your chewing before nodding your head with a hum, knowing he was referring to Mrs Kim.

"You know that she was the closest thing to a mother figure that I have ever had." You replied.

"Mhmm. I also know you didn't even give yourself a break." Jihoon stated.

"I don't need a break, Jihoon. Continuing and distracting myself with work is what helps me, not sitting at home and crying." You shrugged, standing up and going to toss the trash.

"Don't you have a cafe that needs running?" You chuckled, changing the subject so you wouldn't harp on that topic for too long.

"They'll survive without me." Jihoon waved you off. You laughed and shook your head.

You and Jihoon continued to chat until your lunch break was over and you chased him out. No doubt his workers were good but you didn't want to be the reason why their boss slacks. So after giving him a bouquet of flowers to decorate his shop with, he left.

"Welc- Hongjoong sshi." You blinked, stopping in your tracks. Having heard the bell, you thought that there was a new customer. You didn't expect Hongjoong to come in.

"Good afternoon." Hongjoong bowed his head as he entered your shop.

"W-What can I help you with?" You blinked.

"I... wanted to make sure you got your ankle looked at." Hongjoong cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Oh! I'm fine, it's just a sprain. Nothing big. Please, have a seat and make yourself comfortable." You forced a small smile and gestured to the seats by your work table.

"I'm glad. Thanks." He unbuttoned his jacket and sat down on the stool. You poured him a cup of tea and offered it to him.

"Please, don't let me stop you from your work." He gestured to the materials that were scattered around.

"So, how have you been Hongjoong sshi?" You asked to try and prevent an awkward silence from falling down on the both of you. You kept your head down, focusing on the bouquets you were preparing to put in the display and fridges for walk in customers. Hongjoong watched you, sipping his tea.

"Same as always. What about you?" He asked back. You had stated clearly the last time you met that you didn't want the incident to be brought up again but Hongjoong couldn't help it.

"Fine. Same as always, too. Just here, running the shop, fixing orders, you know..." You shrugged.

"Hongjoong sshi, I don't mean this in any way at all but what's the real reason you came here?" You finally asked him.

"(y/n) sshi, I feel like I owe you yet another apology." He confessed with an honest look on his face. The way he looked at you, it just reminded you of Mrs Kim.

"If it's about what happened last week-"

"No, I mean, yes. Partly. I... I know we're practically strangers but I've been treating you unfairly." Hongjoong sighed

"Okay, now you've lost me." You chuckled. Hongjoong was relieved that you laughed, making this conversation a whole more lighthearted than he thought it would be.

"Like I said when we first met here... Whatever my relationship with my mother was shouldn't have clouded my view or attitude towards you. It's just... I don't know... It seems like we knew her as a different person entirely." He rubbed his temples.

"I get it..." You nodded your head with a hum.

"But that shouldn't excuse how I've been towards you. I have to deal with my demons myself." He confessed.

"It's okay, Hongjoong sshi. I know it can't be easy with everything that's been happening. And honestly, it's conflicting to me too." You empathised with him.

"So I'm not crazy." He cracked a smile.

"Far from." You giggled, fixing up the bouquet. You momentarily left the conversation to put the bouquets in the fridge.

"But still, I apologise." He insisted.

"There's no need to but if you insist, apology accepted. And I think at this point, we can drop the formalities." You turned your head to say to him as you arranged the bouquets.

"I'd like that." He smiled kindly as you returned to the work bench. You noticed his ears turning a light shade of pink. Dropping formalities didn't immediately mean a friendship but at least you two were no longer just strangers. Whether you liked it or not, the universe keeps making your paths cross.

"(y/n), I have another request, if it's okay with you." Hongjoon gulped as he mentioned. You nodded.

"I'm not ready to talk about my mother. My relationship with her, your relationship with her. I'm not ready... But when I am, I hope you'll help me." He looked at you with desperate eyes.

"Of course, Hongjoong. Any time. Whenever you're ready." You smiled softly.

RINGGGG

"Ah, hang on." Hongjoong clicked his tongue, annoyed that his phone broke that moment you were having. He looked at his phone to see Yunho calling.

"What?" He hissed, turning away slightly. You weren't gonna eavesdrop so you just continued your work.

"Look, Yunho. Just... hire another gardener, you don't need to tell me this! You make decisions too, all 8 of us do. If you need some sort of approval, ask Hwa." Hongjoong threw his head back with a groan.

"Fine, fine... Yeah, sure. I'm not sure why you want to add to my workload with this but I'll look when I get home later... Yeah, whatever. Goodbye." Hongjoong hung up with a grumble, glaring at his phone as he did.

"Everything okay?" You stifled a laugh.

"Oh, yeah. It's nothing. One of my brothers can't seem to hire a gardener himself all of a sudden." Hongjoong clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes.

"Well, if it's not too much. If you're too busy to find a gardener now, I could help you in the mean time." You offered.

"What? Really? I don't want to make you busier, I'm sure you have a lot to do with the shop." Hongjoong shook his head.

"I wouldn't have offered if I couldn't. My shop is closed Sundays and Thursdays anyway, I could go once a week on those days to tend to the plants." You shrugged.

"Just until I have the time to find a gardener." Hongjoong said.

"Sure, whatever you're comfortable with. Do you have a picture of your backyard?" You asked.

"Oh, let me see. Although, I don't know what plants we have." Hongjoong took his phone out and scrolled through his pictures, trying to find the last time he took a picture of the backyard garden. When he finally found one, he showed it to you. Your eyes widened at the huge backyard. The fenced garden only took a portion of it.

"Wow... That's a big garden..." You couldn't help but be in awe.

"It is. But you'll just need to tend to the fenced area. The rest of the field behind it is not necessary." Hongjoong informed. That was where they killed or practiced weapons sometimes.

"Sure, I'll be there on Monday." You smiled, excited to be working in such a big garden space.

"Here's the address." Hongjoong took the small piece of paper from the table and scribbled it down for you.

"Thank you." You took the paper and tucked it into your pocket.

"When I came in here, I didn't think I would leave after having offered you a job." Hongjoong admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. You nodded in agreement.

"You never know what the universe has in store for you." You chuckled and cleared your work table.

"Thank you, (y/n). I have to return to work now but I'll see you soon." Hongjoong slid off the stool.

"You're welcome, Hongjoong. Thank you for stopping by. I'll see you Monday." You walked him to the door. He nodded and bowed politely before exiting the shop. You watched as a chauffeur opened the door for him to enter a luxury car before returning to drive off.

"What just happened?" You asked yourself in disbelief as you walked back to your shop counter. You told yourself you should steer clear but here you were, offering to work for him.

But it was too late to regret now, what's done is done. You knew you couldn't go back on your word.

You'll just go, tend to plants and leave. Simple.

"I'm not ready to talk about my mother. My relationship with her, your relationship with her. I'm not ready... But when I am, I hope you'll help me."

Hongjoong's words from earlier replayed in your head. It was so different, he looked and sounded so involuntarily vulnerable.

To be frank, you were not ready too. You were fond of Mrs Kim, she took care of you, cared for you.

But were you ready to hear how sour Hongjoong's relationship with her was? No, you were not ready to hear any of that. Especially since that wound still felt so fresh.

"I hope I don't regret this." You muttered to yourself.

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