#the rendering on the nose is great op

[roguegrove]

okay, i need to talk about this straight up right now. it's gonna be long, it's gonna be honest, and probably pointless, but i wanna talk about it.

this? it sucks. it sucks so bad and many of us were fooled. including me.

the thing is, it should have been obvious. but social media moves fast, fandom culture is thirsty for more always, and people have their own art styles and journeys. hell, i'm on an art journey spurred by this community, myself.

and yknow what? art is HARD. bottom line, don't let anyone tell you otherwise. it comes naturally to some, but i promise you that the only reason someone might be "better" than someone else is practice. well-meaning people often talk about "talent" in art, but i don't believe in it. ANYONE could have my skill level or better if they had devoted the same kind of time i did to learning, and i think most artists would agree.

you see inconsistencies in art a lot, especially when someone is learning something new. heads and body parts weird sizes, a particular area that doesn't get as much attention as others, sometimes even whole bits are missing. and all of that is replicated in AI generations and easily overlooked as well as easily masked.

but the thing you will not find with a fan artist who LOVES a character enough to post so many pieces of them? big character details being wrong or changing every time they post something. and i'm not talking style things. i'm not talking about deliberate choices.

my alarm bells went off for fridaypls's work pretty early on, but i ignored it. i really loved a lot of the choices they made in posing, in ideas, and even though there were a bunch of details that just felt wrong, i ignored it. i thought maybe there was a reason, that maybe i was being critical or mean by being a little off-put about some of it.

but if you love sam winchester enough to pump out a shit-ton of drawings of him, you're gonna know what side of his nose that little mole goes. if you love halsin as much as it seemed like friday loved halsin, you're gonna know where his scars and tattoos are. and you might not draw them the same way every time, you may drop one or more for a particular piece if it's not meant to be canon. but you don't put out multiple pieces where the details move so much that they're on the wrong side and swap back and forth between pieces. you just can't care enough to spend that much time on something and not notice that consistently.

if you scroll back through friday's blog (if it stays up and you still can), you can SEE that they cared about these characters. before the art is a lot of meta, a lot of commentary. it's clear there was a love there.

so explain to me how this happens:

the bottom is an official rendering of halsin, just for reference.

art is about observing and then translating, right? so what do we see? the tattoo missing details we can let slide because the thing is damn complicated and getting the general idea is enough. but the placement? get the fuck out of here. it flip flops back and forth between each image. the scars? some are missing entirely, some are, again, on the wrong damn side.

i thought this must surely be a choice, and it is. but not the choice i was thinking. this isn't about style, this isn't about playing with a character: this is about pumping out art quickly that will catch people's eye.

if you really want me to nit-pick, i can. if you want me to talk about the broader inconsistencies or the way things are hidden, i can do that too. but the op and the people who have been looking into this did a great job on that already. i could talk about it all, but i'm trying to make a much simpler point.

my point is that people who love characters will not be so flippant about their defining characteristics. we're the ones who OBSESS over them, scour the internet for every detail. we eat that shit up.

you know what doesn't give a shit? AI generation. AI isn't even generative, it's basically just editing. it's editing a bunch of information together to try and make something "new". and when you edit, what happens? pruning details. you take out what you don't think is important. but you know what else AI can't do? fucking THINK. it doesn't KNOW anything. it doesn't KNOW about halsin's she-bear scars and why that's important to him, so it doesn't CARE where they go.

god, now i'm actually pissed. i'm pissed someone who seemed to love these characters as much as we do would let that happen just for clout and money. it sickens me. like damn, bro. you could have at least taken the time to fix that stuff while you were slapping on filters. if you traced over AI, at least fix the GLARINGLY OBVIOUS bits. couldn't even be bothered, huh?

man, i just want AI to do my laundry, not try and replicate passion. why are we even here with this crap in general?

eta: do not even get me started on astarion renders. do not.

Normally I wouldn't bother making a post like this but it came to my attention yesterday via a twitter thread that tumblr user fridaypls is using AI elements in their fanart. Now, if they were doing this because they didn't feel entirely confident in their artistic ability, and they were just doing this for fanart they posted online, then I'd shrug my shoulders and go "eh, whatever"

However, I then found out that fridaypls is selling this fanart and even making posts like "buy my Gale print and get Tim Downie to sign it" and I just can't sit idly by whilst someone makes profit off AI 'art' and there are so many other artists (myself included) trying to make a living off our own art.

The tweet thread about the use of AI by fridaypls can be viewed here and here but I'll also copy and paste some of the examples under a cut line in this post.

So far on twitter, fridaypls got wind of the thread going around about them and they deactivated their account rather than take accountability. I'm probably going to be blocked by them for making this post, but I encourage you to reblog this and spread the word and please, PLEASE don't buy artwork from someone using AI generated images. There are so many other hardworking artists out there making amazing fanart and merch that you can give your money to instead.

Examples from twitter:

[evilwolf2000]

yesterday was WEEZER DAY!! WOOO!!!!!

we drove up to philadelphia and met my cousin who we grabbed some food with and with their partner. it was really good. but while we were gone my car was about to be towed! i was parked in my cousins apartment buildings lot and they had a parking pass for me but said they'd put it in my car later because they never tow people and i do believe them, but it was a FRIDAY THE 13th! we luckily got back before my car was actually being towed, but i had to pay $200 for the car to not be towed it sucked. i felt better after we started heading to the concert and lucy got me the best vegan icecream ive ever had to cheer me up

the show was amazing!!!! ill try and post a video compilation later. it was all about their blue album but the narrative was that we were traveling to blue planet and they played from other albums along the way. first a jumble of their later eras in no particular order. burnt jam, hash pipe, zero to hero, beverly hills, dope nose, pork and beans, and a few im probably forgetting. there was an evil alien we had to defeat, and there was an awesome graphic of a bunch of small poorly 3d rendered river cuomos taking their glasses off and sending laser beams at him. then we "crash landed" on the Pinkerton Asteroid belt and they played a few from pinkerton. Getchoo, Why Bother, Pink triangle, Across the sea, and even You gave your love to me softly which is a bit of a deep cut and was made for the rock opera that pinkerton was supposed to be before that was scrapped. after that we finally got to the blue planet where they played the blue album in full. it was a great show and i sang every word and again felt proud singing along to the one deep cut and the other lesser known songs that the people around us didn't seem to know. they kept calling us WEEZERITES!

me and Lucy had our picture taken in front of the photo op after the show. in line in front of us was a father and his son probably around 9. the boy said Weezer is his second favorite band, we asked what his favorite band is and he paused and smirked and real slowly said nirvana and we thought that was awesome. we took their picture and they took ours. we took the subway back to my cousins, it was a good good night

[spvce-cowboy]

hi so do you know that pedro tweet where he talks about being high on edibles and watching Incredibles 2. I was wondering if you could maybe write something like that with Frankie?

not to be overly self-indulgent rn but the amount i need this is actually insane

if you are interested, @frannyzooey has a great series, Box Set, that has a similar set-up ! <3 it's really fun would highly recommend

warnings below the cut: edible use (duh), tickling

it’s one of those days where you just about collapse into frankie’s arms as soon as you push the front door open.

he’s on the couch, eyes half-lidded, lazy smile on his unshaven face as your slam the door shut behind you, throwing your keys on the entranceway table before making a bee-line towards the living room. he’s in the middle of reading over a set of documents splayed over the coffee-table. the tv is on but muted. you fall against the couch beside him, burying your face against his shoulder with a hmph.

“hi,” you mumble into the soft material of his shirt. “do we still have some of that brownie left?”

“day that bad?”

“my advisor is exhausting,” you say with a sigh rolling your cheek against his shoulder. your eyes flutter shut. “ ‘m so tired.”

you hear him hum low in his throat, his hand rubbing over the small of your back. you smile against his shoulder as he shifts in order to press a kiss to your forehead. honestly, you could fall asleep right here if you really wanted.

“here,” he says after a second, patting your back as a small warning before he stands. you dramatically flop back down on the couch as he crosses the room and disappears into the kitchen. he returns with the edible, breaking it in half before handing it to you. you accept it readily, tapping it against his half in a mock little “cheers” before downing it. you try not to screw up your face with the taste, but you gulp down your water a little too eagerly after have properly hid your reaction.

frankie lays back on the couch and you eagerly nuzzle into his side. he kisses you, it’s something slow and sweet. it’s a greeting, a welcome home. he pulls away before you can deepen the kiss, pecking the tip of your nose and then your forehead before he tucks you back into his side.

“wanna watch something?” he asks, resuming his gentle rhythm against your back. you hike your leg over his hips, sealing yourself firmly against him, and nod.

“please.”

he puts on one of those quirky romcoms as the both of you wait for that warm feeling to start buzzing through the pit of your stomach and the back of your molars, the heaviness to settle in the lids of your eyes. frankie pushes the edge of your shirt up to the band of your bra in order to feel your skin against his rough palm as he rubs your lower back.

there’s a brief moment where his blunt fingernails flick against your hip that tickles and you don’t realize your mistake in flinching with a soft giggle.

“ticklish?” he chides, you can hear the smile in his voice. you nod without thinking, eyelids already drooping. his hand pauses and your eyes widen, you sit up abruptly, pointing your index finger in his face, realizing your mistake.

“don’t you dare—“ the words barely make it out of your mouth but it’s already too late. frankie has your flipped on your back in the blink of an eye—fucking special ops—and he’s tickling your sides like it’s a personal mission of his to render you into a hot-faced mess.

howling with laughter, you try to weakly bat him away. more for show than anything else, and for the fact that you know he’s going to do exactly what he does: frankie easily gathers your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head as he continues to scrape his other hand against your sides.

you stretch up to kiss him, suppressing your giggles against his mouth. it doesn’t take more than a second before you’re deepening the kiss, frankie’s hand stilling as you distract him. he lets go of your wrists, his tongue darting into your mouth as you curl your fingers into his hair. you wrap your legs around his hips to pull him closer.

you let out a content hum of a sigh as he begins to kiss his way down the length of your body, his hands quickly removing each article of clothing they encounter.

it’s the perfect end to the day. you’ll say that much.

[piratefalls]

A McDanno rec list for a new friend. (These are also authors I enjoy, so consider this a blanket rec list.)

The Bareknuckle Poet by pleasebekidding

After a serious accident left Steve temporarily wheelchair-bound, working towards his recovery, he enrolled at Rutgers for a year. He met Danny Williams in his criminology course, wearing pride pins and chipped black nail polish, so sure of himself that Steve found it breathtaking. What happened next redefined Steve's sense of self, his ambitions, and many of his priorities.

Tax Benefits by renecdote

“Everyone already assumes we’re married so maybe we should just...” Danny gestures broadly with his beer. He’s maybe a little bit… Not drunk, but definitely tipsy.

“For the tax benefits.”

Danny gives him an aggravated look. “Yes, Steven, for the tax benefits.”

Danny (jokingly) suggests they should get married. Steve takes him seriously.

ua kaha aku la ka nalu o kuu aina (the surf has pressed upon my land) by icoulddothisallday, TetrodotoxinB

Steve knows, he learned, how a man behaves. He can play his part. Danny, who is a good man and great father, looks nothing like what Steve was taught. Reconciling the two means giving up everything he's clung too for the last two decades, and there's nothing about it that's easy.

*potentially triggery AF (deals with effects of conversion therapy) but beautifully rendered

the art of leaving and saying goodbye by Verasteine

2007 is the year Danny learns that choice can be the worst kind of heartbreak. AU.

*warning for infidelity (not mcdanno)

in jest by apathyinreverie

“No, babe,” Danny shakes his head with a grin. “If the apocalypse were to go down while I’m elsewhere for some godforsaken reason, then you stay put and I’m coming to wherever you are.” His grin widens. “And I expect you to have cleared any aliens or zombies or whatever else might be messing with us off the island and to have set up a nice, comfortable military dictatorship for us to rule over by the time I get back.”

It’s a joke.

Of course it’s a joke.

Until it isn’t.

(A the-day-after-tomorrow-style apocalypse AU, where the world decides to end right when Danny is visiting one of the other islands with Grace. Because, of course, it does.)

not just friendship (romance too) by earthquakedream

Steve's gone and gotten himself a boyfriend. Danny's not sure what worse: the fact that he's stupidly jealous or that he actually likes the guy.

All I Ever Wanted (It Comes with a Price) by leviarty

Steve gets shot. Again. Danny is not okay.

* warning: a young grace shoots someone to protect both herself and a gravely injured steve

After All Our Troubles, We Have This by Banshi13

"I'm ending this," McGarrett muttered after a few moments of silence. "I'm not coming back until Wo Fat is in the ground. I'll dig his own grave and bury him myself if I have to, but my father is dead, my mother is running all over the world in hiding, my sister and I were uprooted from our lives, and now he's got Danny locked somewhere in a basement in the middle of Japan." He looked both Chin and Kono in the eye, deadly resolve in his eyes. "This ends. Now. This is the absolute last time that man interferes with my life and my family."

The Other Guy by haldoor

Danny tells Steve what he thinks is a funny story from when he attended Grace's school play. Steve doesn't think it's so funny; in fact, it makes him jealous.

Strapped by stellarmeadow

Steve's determined Danny's going to be prepared next time.

Warm to the Touch by veronicaluv

Danny didn't think twice about going to North Korea to find Steve. He just didn't know everything would go to hell when they got back.

Me and my heart (We got issues) by SquaresAreNotCircles

“I’m in love with you, Steve,” Danny says. He does it softly, quietly, laying the words into the darkness of Steve’s backyard like they’re something breakable, something to be tiptoed around. “I thought you should know.”

Steve’s heart jumps. It rams against his ribcage so hard it’s going to leave bruises. So hard he startles awake, and he almost yells before he realizes he’s outside because he fell asleep in one of the garden chairs in his backyard again.

how to be gay for your best friend in ten easy steps by commatme

See, the thing is that Danny doesn’t really do gay sex, what with being straight and all, but when Steve says I love you he sounds so earnest he makes Danny want to consider it. Which is crazy, right? He’s pretty sure that’s crazy, or at least a little unhinged.

It’s Not So Easy Caving In by paradis

The one where Danny used to be a heroin addict.

blame it on the ocean view by carryokee

Danny gives in, freaks out, and comes to his senses.

So Have I Loved You by Brumeier

In which Grace has a surprise for Steve's birthday and there's not a dry eye in the house.

take it back to a couple years yesterday by itsrosencrantz

Danny really, really doesn't want to go to his twenty year high school reunion.

Steve decides they're going anyway, and Danny takes it about as well as you'd expect.

View From The Shipwreck by flowerfan

Danny Williams isn’t in a great place – he’s a reluctant transplant to Oahu and an outsider at HPD. Former Navy SEAL Steve McGarrett isn’t doing much better, having suffered a career ending injury. When Danny’s young daughter Grace wanders into Steve’s bar after getting lost on a school field trip, Danny is drawn to Steve, somewhat against his better judgement – he’s got enough on his plate. He’s not exactly sure what Steve sees in him. As they spend more time together, Danny learns how Steve’s injury has changed his life in many ways, but not the most important ones. As one thing leads to another, Danny realizes that things might be looking up after all.

True North by lavvyan

“Tell you what, my dad’s throwing his annual Christmas Ball on Saturday. It’s not a trip to Aspen or anything, but it is nice. Fancy food and everything. You guys should come!”

On the trail of a suspected war criminal, Steve and Danny have to go undercover at a fancy ball. The sacrifices they make for the job.

Oh, and Steve's pining like the taiga. Nothing new there.

outside the lines by withoutwords

“I’m Detective Williams.” Danny says, not trying too hard to keep it smug free. “This is my partner, Detective Mackenzie.”

Ken Doll keeps his arms up, his eyes flickering between them all as if he's only seeing police for the first time. “Good cover,” he tells Danny, and it sets Danny’s teeth on edge.

“This is the part where you say sorry for assaulting a police detective, for compromising an investigation, and for acting like a complete asshole while doing it,” Danny growls, about to change his mind and cuff the guy himself.

“Sorry, Officer.”

The bastard is still grinning.

Boys Like Me, We Try Too Hard by romanticallyinept

Steve's always wound so fucking tight.

And Danny's worried about him. Legitimately worried about him. Because maybe Steve always lays into the perps a little hard, and maybe he follows his own rules and his own morals and doesn't stop to sleep unless his body's actually shutting down around him, but usually, Steve's okay at the end of the day. Usually, Steve's not leaning against the wall of the alley they're in, eyes closed and shaking, with the perp he'd cuffed a minute earlier lying on the ground and crying about his broken nose.

Steve keeps a secret, and Danny does his best to patch him back up when it comes to light.

Transformative by boxparade

“You know, I’d heard you’d changed a lot after high school, but I’ve gotta admit, this is a little weird.”

* trans (FTM) Danny

All the Way by VictoriaAGrey

Danny has lost count of how many times he and Steve have used the sexual tension between them for undercover work, only for it to be bottled away after the op is over. With Saint Michael as his witness, that ends tonight.

Nocturne in C# Minor (featuring Stevie Ray Vaughn) by minor_demimonde

So, to recap, Danny has beautiful eyes, great shoulders, a pleasantly-shaped butt, a delectable mouth, expressive hands, and he smells good.

You know, Steve has gone to bed with women who didn’t have that much going for them.

seen it in the flight of birds by Siria

AU from the beginning of Season 2. The Five-0 task force has been reinstated, but the new governor's determined to shake things up. Facing changes and unexpected betrayals, the team has to work together to face new challenges.

It Ain’t Me Babe (Nah), It Ain’t Me You’re Looking For (Babe) by tourdefierce

A story in which Danny makes lists and can't find his heterosexuality underneath all his homogay, Steve has a lot of faces, Kono is perfect in every way and Chin continues to keep Hawaii safe from the Five-O's general disfunction—Or, a story about Kono being awesome and how she likes her men with hearts in their eyes for each other.

Ratios, Decimals, and Percentages by fuchs

In which Steve takes an internet quiz and slowly loses his mind. Danny's okay with it.

Let’s Dance Like We Used To by AndreaLyn

There isn't a world in which Danny wouldn't go after Grace. So when Rachel moves the family to California, Danny goes with. Steve gets left to process life without Danny.

Gunfire, Rainfall, and Beach Erosion by thegrrrl2002

Steve and Danny are kidnapped. After which there is too much swimming and too much rain and it's all very romantic. If you are Steve, that is.

Moving In (To Every Single Aspect of Danny’s Life, Including the Boring Bits like Dry-Cleaning by westgirl

It felt wrong for Steve to sound unsure of his place in Danny’s life. His place in Danny’s life was at Danny’s side, driving him slowly insane. Steve should feel secure about that.

Always Known What I Wanted To Be by mickeysixx

Grace Williams has always wanted to be a cop.

The Taper Phase by popfly

It’s like being run over by an armored car, like the impact of gunshot to tac vest. The pride Danny feels for his daughter and something else, something about Steve’s tank top sticking to his stomach, the way his shorts stretch across his thighs. The goofy grin that lights up Steve’s face when he sees Danny and Charlie, waving one hand while he nudges Grace with the other.

Pitching Woo by SBG

In which Danny pitches (and then accidentally catches) woo.

clue: four letters, ‘is a many splendored thing’ by armillarysphere

“Crosswords? What are you, sixty?”

“They stimulate brain activity, Danno. You ought to try it sometime.”

Steve doesn’t even look up from his newspaper, half-chewed pen resting at the corner of his mouth in an entirely too distracting way.

That’s Not Just Friendship, That’s Romance by thismuchmore

Danny and Steve start out accidentally dating each other, and it turns into something more.

it’s not what you’re sure of (it’s what you don’t know) by somehowunbroken

Art thief Steve McGarrett and his team come up against FBI Special Agent Danny Williams, and things spin wildly out of control from there.

Same Deep Water by JiM, kalena

This isn't the first lifetime Danny's been in Hawaii. When the stress ratchets up, the dreams get more and more real. Turns out Danny has some unfinished business . . . with Steve.

Warning: Ambien use may lower inhibitions in a wakeful state.

Curiosity Didn’t Kill This Cat by unadrift

"I'm confused," Rachel says. "Are you two dating or not?"

Danny sighs. "You remember that thing with the cat in the box? The one that's both dead and alive?"

"Schroedinger's cat?"  

"It's kind of like that."

"Okay," Rachel says. She clearly has no idea what he's talking about.

2727 Piikoi Street by imaginary_iby

The ways in which Danny makes himself at home by Steve's side, and the family he gains as the years go by. (Featuring Steve in Timberland boots and little else, and happy goofs who like to make out against the front door).

All The Earth Awaits Thee by Portrait_of_a_Fool

Steve knows all about war and willpower, but this is still the hardest battle he’s ever had to fight.

* warning: life threatening illness, no MCD

The Vertical Challenge by AlamoGirl80

Five times Danny thinks about his height, and then realizes that being "not-tall" doesn't really suck at all.

Some Things to Think About When You Decide to Be an Asshole by sutlers

Steve gets high and tries to fuck Danny; things devolve from there.

Inked by thehoyden

Of course Steve is enjoying himself. They're bait for a serial killer who has some sort of serious hangup about tattooing loved ones' names on their skin -- of course Steve thinks this is practically like a vacation, but better, because the chances of collateral damage are higher.

This Thing Of Ours (It Needs a Better Name) by leupagus

Cosa Nostra: (kō'sə nō'strə) etym: Italian n. The branch of the Mafia operating in the United States. Literally, "our thing" or "this thing of ours."

Ho’oponopono by ember_firedrake

Groundhog Day AU. Danny finds himself trapped in the same day over and over again.

Swim for Brighter Days by zarah5

Danny kisses Steve late on a Tuesday, early on a Wednesday. Steve punches him. (Set vaguely post-finale, so spoilers for that.)

All My Guards Away by sheafrotherdon

Tag to episode 1x18, with all the heartache that implies. Now with bonus fixes. With thanks to dogeared for all her suggestions and edits.

Let’s Take it from the Top by pterawaters

Steve goes along with the bachelor-party-in-Vegas, because he chose Danny to be his best man, and that's what Danny wants to do. Unfortunately, the things that happen in Vegas don't necessarily stay there.

How to Keep Your Mouth Shut by primetime

Danny’s sometimes gay. Gay, sometimes. Does dudes. He doesn’t know how to say it right. He doesn’t know how to say it at all.

Don’t Turn Me Home Again by gyzym

After a rough day of island living, Danny wakes up in New Jersey and learns the hard way to be careful what he wishes for.

End-Around by t_fic

Steve hesitates with his hand on the doorknob, looking back over his shoulder at Danny and nodding once before disappearing inside, and yeah, Danny is going to be so fucking lucky to get through this night without a coronary event.

Lonely People Do Stupid Things by waketosleep

Danny decides to show Steve the true meaning of Christmas, and does it by dragging him to New Jersey.

Down Beneath the Waves by samjohnsson

A picture may be worth a thousand words, but sometimes it takes another thousand to explain it.

Love’s a Battlefield (and the Navy Did Not Train Steve for This Shit) by cyerus

The Kalakaua-Kelly clan are determined to matchmake Steve. Out of desperation, Steve makes up a boyfriend named Danny.

It doesn't quite go according to plan.

put your mind at ease by eleanor_lavish

Somewhere in the last year, while Steve was busy killing bad guys, Don’t Ask Don’t Tell has been erased from the books and guys like Jeff can marry whoever they damn well please.

You’ve Got Hawaii (and all I’ve got is you) by queenklu

In which Danny has issues, presents, and Steve fleas, not necessarily in that order.

Jaws by JoeLawson

Danny has a secret.

[xavierck]

Hey hi hello!

I’m a character artist in the game industry working on a Dungeons & Dragons game at Hidden Path Entertainment, and my job title is literally Character Customization Lead. I’ve been working in games for over a decade, and a ton of that time has been spent working on character customization and leading teams of artists, designers, and engineers who are trying to make character creation work.

I too am extremely frustrated with these aspects of character customization in games, and I can shed a little more light on why this type of thing happens.

Ironically, character customization has gotten exponentially harder over the past couple decades, and we unfortunately can’t lean on a lot of the same techniques and tricks that were used in games like DA:I, Mass Effect, or even more recent stuff like Elden Ring most of the time. The technology to make BEAUTIFUL and WELL-CONSTRUCTED characters and the technology to make CUSTOMIZABLE characters are at odds with one another, and the gulf between expansive customization and good presentation gets wider every year.

There are basically two major techniques that go into customizing a character:

Swap parts

Customize parts in realtime

Swapping parts is relatively straightforward because you basically make sure that everything fits in the same spot, and you’re good to go. However, you also need to make sure that every single piece works with every other piece.

Making every piece with every other piece is already hard enough when you just have something like 10 torso armors and 10 gloves (100 permutations JUST for gloves and torso armor), but then you also have to make sure those also work with pants, boots, helmets, etc. This is definitely a solvable problem, but it becomes literally twice the work once you add in a second body shape. And if you add in another body shape, it keeps scaling linearly.

I had to construct Excel sheets with literally tens of thousands of entries to keep track of armor sets when I was working on the Neverwinter F2P MMO many years ago, and that type of work has never gone away. It’s unlikely to ever go away at any point.

Customizing parts in realtime is definitely possible, but look at how they accomplish this in things like the From Software games: altering the position of bones in the character rig is great for kinda general shapes like the length of limbs, but it will never offer the fine-grained control to allow for believable body shapes. You get body shape not just from the position of your joints, but also from muscle and fat deposits, changes to skeletal structure (thick or thin fingers or wrists, anyone?), and even posture or attitude. Accounting for a stereotypically masculine and stereotypically feminine body shape is already extremely hard using the same model, so adding in even more things like body weight makes it incredibly hard to find solutions that look even OKAY rather than GOOD.

Add to this the fact that the money guys are constantly demanding higher fidelity rendering, and every single little tweak and adjustment becomes an exercise in hiding your sins. With a preset face, for example, you’re going to get the best an artist can give you because it’s essentially locked down and can’t be squashed into a shape it wasn’t designed for. Add in the ability to move a nose around, and suddenly the publisher is asking why there are stretched textures on a character’s face. Add the ability to stretch an arm or something and the money guys are asking why the flowing, beautiful pattern on that armor looks squashed on a body it wasn’t designed to fit.

I, personally, would prefer that last bit wasn’t an issue. It’s solvable through good art direction and tight stylization, but some things are outside the control of the little people.

So yes, OP, you are correct in pointing out these flaws and omissions. I hope it helps a little to understand some of the context and difficulty, though.

This is something I’m actively working on every single day, and I’m staring down the barrel of multiple years of work for myself and literally a dozen other people just on my team. Many other folks in the industry are doing similar, and none of us are having a particularly good time with it because it’s such a huge collection of hard problems.

im a little bit mad at BG3's character creator, yes its really unique and detailed in ways that most games have never offered before but youre basically stuck with a preset face to colour in. games have let you fully customise faces since fucking 2005. why cant i choose my nose or eyebrows.

[aion-rsa]

Line of Duty Series 6 Episode 1 Review: Who Killed Gail Vella?

https://ift.tt/3s4cUyW

This Line of Duty review contains spoilers.

Is this allowed? Somebody please check. Can Kate just leave AC-12? She’s a third of the operation. One of the three pyramids at Giza may as well stand up and walk away. The strawberry from Neapolitan ice cream, silver Olympic medals, degrees 240 – 360 of all circles… could they also just call it a day? Unacceptable. This is AC-12 we’re talking about. 12 as in four times three: the gaffer, Steve and Kate – the corners of the straight-backed, clean-nosed triangle of truth. 

No wonder Ted is feeling sore about it. The Super could barely bring himself to look at Fleming’s picture in this series six opener, the sight of those blue, blue eyes prompting him to mutter about loyalty and then change the subject to great wee girl Chloe, AC-12’s newest recruit. Last series’ investigation into ‘H’ clearly left a grubby stain on the unit’s reputation. How will Hastings react when he finds out that Steve also has one foot out the door?  

We can’t blame Steve for requesting a transfer to Jolly Rogerson’s Major Violent Crime unit. He’s currently living a life as grey as his waistcoat. He spends his days chasing up expenses receipts and his nights washing down blister packs of over-the-counter painkillers with premium lager. Meanwhile, Kate’s out there wearing the waistcoat of danger, complete with bullet proofing, reflective stripes and a radio. Who wouldn’t want to swap?

I’ll tell you who I wouldn’t swap places with right now: anybody. This is a new series of Line of Duty and we’re at the top of the toboggan run. Episode one is the push start, building up speed for the tortuous descent, sharp turns and bit at the end that goes so fast your ears fold back and you can taste blood. We’re going places, is the point, and after a year of hardly straying further than our front doors, I can’t be the only one willing to kiss the ground beneath AC-12’s feet. 

Now, what do they have for us this time? Operation Lighthouse: the unsolved murder of Gail Vella, a crusading journalist shot dead outside her home in the Kingsgate area a year ago. (Prematurely killing off guest stars is one of Line of Duty’s favourite tricks, but a series is usually polite enough to wait at least until it starts before doing so. Not in the case of Andi Osho’s Vella.)

After the first whiff of a clue in months, senior investigating officer DCI Joanne Davidson (new guest lead Kelly Macdonald) diverts the team on its way to collar the suspect to a suspicious-seeming side mission that loses precious time and potentially, their man. Did her spidey sense really start tingling at the split-second glimpse of a parked van, or was the armed robbery a planned distraction?

In addition, Davidson’s boss DSU Buckells (we’ve met him before) screws up the op paperwork, leaving a gap in surveillance coverage long enough to allow a Russian circus, let alone a single suspect, escape from the flat in question. Next, the Covert Human Intelligence Source (or CHIS. Keep up, this was all covered last term) able to ID the suspect is found very much pushed off a tall building.

What we need to know: Is Davidson deliberately obstructing the hunt for Vella’s killer, and is she working with Buckells to do it? 

Read more

TV

Line of Duty Series 5 Recap: Framing Ted Hastings

By Louisa Mellor

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Line of Duty: Ranking Every Bent Copper By Level of Corruption, Mother of God!

By Louisa Mellor

In the ‘yes’ corner is PS Farida Jatri, a member of Davidson’s team who tips Steve off about her boss’ suspicious behaviour. We don’t know what Davidson is capable of, warns Jatri. But not so fast! Farida also turns out to be Davidson’s spurned, secret lover. Does that make her testimony likely to be more reliable, or less? Valuable insight, or axe to grind? 

In the ‘no’ corner is the fact that, after nicking Terry Boyle – a recurring Line of Duty character with Down’s Syndrome and a long-time associate of the OCG – and spending the episode pushing the theory that he was Vella’s obsessed stalker, Davidson let him walk. Until that moment, she’d looked guiltier than a dog with a cat’s tail hanging out of its mouth. Everything she’d done and said suggested that she was part of a plan to frame Terry while the real killer – likely one Michael Banks (a relative of series five OCG member Lee Banks?) – got away. In this theory, Banks shot Vella to stop her from exposing links between police officers and organised crime, and Terry was meant to be the OCG’s fall guy.

At this stage in proceedings though, any theory is a just house of sticks waiting to be blown away by big bad wolf Jed Mercurio. Maybe Farida will be revealed as the killer. Maybe Terry really did do it. Maybe new DC Chloe Bishop is Tommy Hunter’s long-lost granddaughter here to bring down AC-12 from the inside. Maybe they need to focus on hunting down this Mike Indigo fellow everybody keeps talking about on their police radio. Right now, we simply can’t know. It’s just a case of keeping our eyes open and taking everything down in a little notebook.

A few things to note down: 1) Steve’s painkiller addiction – a hangover from the serious injuries he sustained in series four and a potential weak spot for the DS. 2) The missing freezer from Terry’s flat, which we know used to contain the corpse of series one’s Jackie Laverty. 3) Jo Davidson’s Fort Knox-levels of door security and complicated feelings about that family photo. 4) Kate’s separation from Mark, and that little hand stroke from Davidson at the end. 5) Terry being told he’ll be safe in secure accommodation (will he?).

The ‘Kate’s in another unit but not undercover’ twist aside, this hour bore similarities to some previous series openers. Both two and five started with disaster-struck police convoys deliberately diverted by female officers in the pay of the OCG. The character of Michael Farmer in series four also gave us the interrogation of a young murder suspect with a learning disability. Would a drama this well-tuned into its own detail and history not care about repeating itself? Doubtful. Line of Duty knows that its audience pays it the same level of attention that a Labrador pays to somebody eating a Jaffa Cake; if we’re being led to draw comparisons, there’ll likely be a reason, and it’ll likely be to pull the rug out from under us.

Does Davidson bear similarities to past leads? She’s less of a cold fish than Lindsay Denton – see that banter with Kate in the opening scene – but like her, lives alone with a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc for company. She’s as commanding as Roz Huntley – whom you could also imagine asking a churlish underling if the word “ma’am” was in their vocabulary – but more emotive and less inscrutable. (Huntley would never have lost control enough to respond “shit, shit, shit” to the armed robber being shot, or exploded like that in Buckells’ office.) Innocent, or up to her neck in it? That’s what we’re here to find out.

The game with Line of Duty at this stage is to keep the important things the same (long, tense interrogation scenes; naturalistic jargon; exhilarating doc-style action; Ted taking any opportunity to mention pipe bands, Tayto Crisps or Gloria Hunniford…), while getting us hooked on a new lead and a new mystery. Episode one? Job done. In the words of the Super: I’m gonna need more, son.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Still have questions? Read our weekly episode theories explainer here. Line of Duty continues on Sunday the 28th of March at 9pm on BBC One.

The post Line of Duty Series 6 Episode 1 Review: Who Killed Gail Vella? appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[vegetacide]

Whump●tober - Ransom

Veg-notables:  Second last Whumptober post ::wailssssss:::

TY to @gumnut-logic cause she continues to feed my muse and deal with me :)

Obligatory whumptober stuff: @whumptober2019 @la-vie-en-whump

Blanket warning:  bit of swearing… actually a bit of swearing has been in all of my posts but I keep forgetting to warm ppl… oops.  I work in the construction industry so a bit of swearing is my S.O.P

Characters:  Almost the whole gang and an honorable mention

Whumptober - TaG’verse

Previous post can be found HERE

27 Ransom

Enjoy…

oOo

"Thank fuck" Virgil whispered to himself as he stepped onto the gangway and carefully took the stairs from Tracy Two down to the hanger floor.  

"Home sweet home huh, Virg?" Gordon grinned tossing arm around his shoulder and unobtrusively leading him toward the lift up to the villa.

"You have no idea."

"Oh I have a few ideas." He chuckled companionably as they made their way across the vast space. "Though you may want to re-admit yourself once you remember that hospital food is so much better than Grandma's cooking… less gut rotting too."

"And here I was just getting used to having a stomach lining again.."

There was a bark of laughter and Gordon and thumping him once on the back. "Holy shit. Scott you hear that? Virg told a joke."

"Will wonders never cease." Came the reply from some behind them as Scott exited the family plan with John hot on his heels.

Kayo appeared as if out of nowhere the other side of Virgil.  Silent as ever and Gordon sucked in a breath.

“Damn, Kayo. A little warning would be nice. Friggen quiet as a cat maybe we should put some bells on you.”

She just rolled her eyes and slipped a guiding hand into the crook of Virgil’s arm.  “I got this, go give Alan a hand with the bags.”

“Sure thing, Spookio.”  He turned back,  “Oh, and we could but the bells on a bright pink little choker.  You would look great in pink..”

“Not likely” She muttered and shooed Gordon away. “Such a brat.”

“He’s just blowing off steam in the only other way he knows how besides the pool.”  Virgil shrugged.  He really couldn’t blame him for the need with TI security and the GDF on high alert due to what happened to Scott.  

Virgil also suspected that his younger brother was feeling a bit responsible for whatever small part he seemed to have played in things, though he wouldn’t confirm or deny anything. Virgil didn’t bother voicing this as he suspected he was purposefully being left in the dark for one reason or another.

Another thing for Virgil to ponder.  It’s not like he had anything else to do besides physio and the painful neuro-therapy he was being subjected to daily. It was also really starting to make him wonder if the Doctor that had been assigned to him was a secret sadist. Pushing him the way she was with a smile on her face despite his grunts of obvious discomfort.

Kayo seemed to like her though so there was that one positive working for her. That and the fact that there had been some improvement the last few days in his recovery. If it had been otherwise Virgil would have protested the torture rather loudly.

Turning his head to brushed a kiss over the crown of her head in appreciation for everything and continued the long walk across the hanger.      

Kayo shifted at his side and he got the impression that she was looking at him “How you doing, Big Guy?”

“Happy to be home..looking forward to being anywhere but that blasted hospital.”

She bumped shoulders with him playfully, “Me too”  and lifted his hand to brush her lips over his knuckles.

There was still a lot to contend with still but things seemed to be finally heading in the right direction and Virgil took solace in that.  

Canting his head he listened to the echoes of sound off the high stone ceiling, the hum of the machinery that sat idle and waiting for action,  the shuffle of Scott and John as they brought up the rear.  And the distinctive cadence and timbre of the Terrible Two as they starting pitching insults at one another.  

God, he’d missed home. The sounds, the smells, the familiar settings and hopefully one day soon, the sights.

Reaching up, he pushed the nearly total blackout sunshades back up his nose as a twinge of pain flared through his skull.  The overhead lighting was bright and it was like bolts of agonizing electricity to his overly sensitive, visual hindered ocular senses, a wonderful side effect of his condition and the neuro-therapy that was rewiring his brain and optic nerves.   Yippee skippee.

“Headache again?”  Kayo’s voice was soft as they rounded the corner to the elevator bay.  Pitched for his ears and his ears only, she knew he wouldn’t want to alert the others to his discomfort.  

He couldn’t hide it from her. She knew him too well, was too finely tuned to the subtle nuances of his facial expression to be able to disguise with anything but the truth so he nodded slightly and her hand rubbed up his back.  “Let’s get you up to bed. You can take a couple of the tablets the Doc proscribed and zone out for a bit.”

She wasn’t going to get a protest from him and when he said nothing he could feel her attention zero in on him. Singularly focused. The worry palpable in the tightness of her grip on his arm.

“Bad one?”

He gave a shrug. “I’ve had worse but..this one has potential.”  

He heard the ding of the elevator, caught the blurry glare of twin metal panels opening, the flash of the interior lighting that had him grunting..

She led him in and he settled back against the wall as they waited for John and Scott to catch up.  

The huff of discomforted had his head turning, ever the worrier himself when a brother was down and out  “You doing okay there Scott?”  

His brother was a mass of bruises or so he had been told though contrary to his physical state he attitude was surprising light as of late,  floating up above Five for some reason  It had been an up-lifting change from the sense of distress that had been hanging over them and the contrast seemed to make things a bit more bearable.

It wasn’t until the mood had shifted to the more positive that Virgil realized just how much it had been weighing on him, pulling him down and making it hard for him to breathe.  With that thought in mind,  he pulled in a greedy lung full and savoured the salt tang.

“I’m doing.”  Came the laboured reply but there was an air of the jovial to it “Bloody ribs. Remind me next time I get the brilliant idea to take on a group of thugs to use something other than my torso for a punching bag.  A concussion is more then another to deal with, the rest of this is just bullshit.”

Virgil smiled and couldn’t resist. “Well with how hard your head is it’s really no surprise they went for your soft underbelly.”

“Ouch, is that a jab at my fitness level dear brother?”

“No, just an observation.”

“If you had used what was in your head your torso wouldn’t have been a ‘punching bag’ in the first place.” Came the very logical assessment from John. The first thing he had said since they’d set out for home from the mainland.

“Ya but what would be the fun of that?”  

Fighting words if ever Virgil had heard them and he cleared his throat to dispel the growing tension.  

It had been a topic of argument destined to be stuck on repeat since Gordon and John had located Scott in a dead end alley surrounded by three very unconscious masked goons. An argument they’d all had a part in, one that had finally had Grandma seeing red and losing her ever loving marbles all over the lot of them.

Reprimanded within an inch of their lives, they’d all gone off to lick their wounds but the issue remained.  One of their own,  their commander and chief had taken off to parts unknown. His subcutaneous tracker rendered useless by a very sophisticated jammer so they had no way of finding out where he had ventured off to.  

His assailant had been well prepared,  well trained but the one thing they hadn’t taken into consideration was how wily Scott could be when enticed.  They hadn’t counted on him being able to defend himself with as much gusto as he had even with alcohol and drugs in his system.  

Or that he’d beefed up his training since his stint in the military. He was a veteran that had seen active combat on multiple fronts, both in the air and out.  Kept up his training physically and mentally and had the added benefit of a trained MI6 agent and Covert Ops specialist re-upping his skill set.  So of course the guy could defend himself against three very determined individuals who had wanted to take him alive for whatever reason.

The GDF had been livid, the local law enforcement baffled and Grandma had gone on the warpath.  So here they all were, back on the island where security could be assured.  

Might have been A.M.A but when Sally Tracy put her foot down,  there was nothing that could move it...even stubborn brothers that should know better.

Sighing as Scott and John started snipping at each other like teenagers Virgil braced for another onslaught of ‘what ifs’ and ‘should haves’ warfare.  

Luckily for them,  the elevator doors opened up.  Unfortunately it was on the lounge level and Grandma was standing front and center, her foot tapping in annoyance.

She’d returned to the island earlier with Allan and Brains to sort the medbay out and resupply the kitchen.  It had been a while since they had all been home together and the food pantry had needed to restock badly.  With two iR operatives down for the count eating while off island was going to be limited to supply runs as operations were temporarily suspended.

The GDF was just going to have to put on their big person pants and handle things on their own for a bit.

There had been one concession to their early release from Auckland Memorial  and that the addition of a new member their island home for the interim of Virgil’s convalescences. One Doctor Emaline Harris was expected on their island paradise in the next few days to continue his treatments so prepping in advance for her arrival was of the utmost importance.

“Boys, please don’t tell me there is a need for a repeat of earlier because I am not in the mood and I am liable to ground you all like the children you seem to be impersonating.”  The all seeing eye of Grandma knew all.  

Virgil resisted the urge to chuckle and bit down on his lower lip to hold it in. Last thing he wanted to do was have Grandma focusing in on him. He would rather slink off to his rooms with Kayo under his arm and hide until the Dread Doctor arrived with her torture device of pain.

Luck as usual, was not on his side. “Virgil, honey. How you holding up?”  

Crap.

“Fine, Grandma.”

“You look tired.”  And this is where the great Smother Hen characteristic originated…

“Been a long day.”  

“I am sure it has dear.  I heard from that lovely Doc Harris that this morning’s therapy was quite the grueling ordeal.”

Kayo gave his hand a squeeze in supported as their Grandmother stepped into the elevator to ride it up to the living quarters.  

“I’ve made some soup.  I’ll bring you up some once you and Scott have settled.”

The thanks was said in stereo as Scott and himself replied in unison. The excitement behind their words was ‘epic; and Kayo tittered at his side.  

A hand brushed his cheek and he caught the lavender fresh scent of his Grandmother’s lotion.  “You’re hurting.”  She stated.  

If it wasn’t for the fact that his eyes felt like there were about to fall out of his head, Virgil would have rolled them.  Scott was over and on him before his Grandmother had even finished pronouncing the “T.”

8-8-8

Even injured as he was, Scott could be a right pain in the ass.  

It took some doing but Virgil finally made it to his room,  he’d only had to submit to a quick med scan from a portable scanner for it to happen and Scott standing over him as he dutifully popped back a couple of the hospital’s prescribed pain pills to do it.

Feeling loogy as the drug started to kick in, he leaned back against the door as Kayo order the automated blackout blinds down and the in suite lighting to low before taking his hand and tugging him towards the bed.

He shucked his sun shades and tossed them in the general direction of the night stand not really caring if they reached their intended destination or not.

It had been a long, long day of medical appointments,  treatments,  travel and family bickering and his bed was calling his exhausted and still recovering body home.  

“Whoa.  Not yet, Big Guy.”  Kayo said as she placed a hand on his shoulder effectively stopping his desired belly flop into his mound of pillows and the oh so soft duvet that was beckoning him.  

“Sleep..” He mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I know but first the bathroom and then some fresh, comfortable clothing.  After that you can crawl in and hibernate for the next few days. No poking, no podding,  just sleep” She commanded and turned him towards the loo.  

“You promise?”  He felt like a child as she turned him to the bathroom and pushed him through the door.

She tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulled it up and over his head before sneaking in to sweep a kiss over his lips.  “I promise, even if I have to guard the door to do it.”  

“God, I love you.”  

Her movements stilled, her hands stopping on the draw string of his jogging pants.  

It took him a moment to realize what he’d just let slip.   He’d never said those words to her before.  True they had been dancing around it for months but with their busy lives and the limited time they actually got to themselves they just hadn’t gotten around to saying it.  

“What did you say?”  Her voice was quiet in the stillness of the bathroom and he could make out the fast pace of her  breath as she stood in front of him.  The quick hitching it as it fanned over the taut muscles of his chest.

He opened his mouth a few times,  closed it while he gather his wits enough to respond.

The words had tipped so easily off his tongue and it shocked him that he hadn’t made the time or found a way to say them earlier.  

Taking both of her soft, capable hands in his,  he brushed his thumb over the knuckles and he strained to make out the beautiful, fine boned features of her face.

Seeing no defined edges, just a blurred outline, he dropped his head and let go of her hands. “Nothing, never mind...”  He turned towards the direction of the shower, fumbled as he tried to find the handle for the glass enclosure, stubbed his toe the edge of the vanity.  Cursing a blue streak he parked his ass on the toilet and the next thing he knew she was in his arms.

Hands on his face she forced him to look at her.  Impaired vision or not, didn't seem to matter to her at the moment.

“Don’t you dare.”  She spat, anger and frustration bearing down on him. “Don’t you dare brush that off like its nothing".

Her grip eased off.   "Say it to me again." She demanded.  

"I…"  

"No hesitation, just say it". It was implored, the lilt of her voice filled with emotion he couldn't see in her eyes.  "I don't care if you can't see me.  I don't care if you can never see me again.. no matter what happens after today.. I love you, you big idiot.  Now say it before I break your jaw and you have to eat through a straw."

He couldn't help the chuckle at her threat, knowing she was fully capable of following through with it if she so wished.

"Well now, threats of bodily harm aren't going to get you far.".

"You wanna bet." She grinned, looping her arms around his neck and settling in closer to him, her body pressed in tight where she knelt between his knees.

Her tone grew serious again. "No matter what," she repeated again, dropping a tender kiss on his lips.  "I want you to know that.  Nothing could change the way I feel, nothing  So don't hide from me. There's no need to be the altruistic hero here, it's not what either of us want."

He leaned in chasing her lips, finding them without sight and sighing when he struck gold.  The kiss was slow and gentle. A lazy sensual meeting that left them both panting.  "No, it's definitely not what we want."

"Good." She booped him in the nose and pushed up to her feet.  "Now that we have that settled, shower and bed for you because there is no way I will be able to pick your muscle-bound ass off the floor if you decide to flake out right here."

Deciding the likelihood of that was fairly high, he grunted up to his feet and finished divesting himself of clothing.  

8-8-8

Showered, changed, snuggled into bed and blissfully numbed out for the time being Virgil sleepily smiled as Kayo crawled in after him.

"Kay?".

"Mmhmm"

"I love you."

Sight or no sight, she would stay by his side and if that was a sacrifice she could contend with, a price she was more than willing to pay, who was he to argue?

Pulling her in close, he whispered the words she wanted to hear in her ear again and drifted off to sleep.

oOo

Epilogue - A week later

Rolling over in bed, Kayo stretched out pleasantly achy muscles and blinked up at the sun lit ceiling.  The dabbled early morning light shifting across it as the ocean breeze blowing in from the window made the thin gossamer under curtains dance.

A curious look settled over her features as she pondered what was different.  It took her a second to compute with her sleep addled mind but when it registered she pulled herself from the tangle of sheets, slipped into one of Virgil’s t-shirts and wandered over to the open doors.  

There was sunlight in their room.   A room that for the last few weeks since they had returned, had been shielded against the intrusion for fear of causing a spike of pain to drill through Virgil’s head..  Black-out curtains fully open with the acception of the light, whipsy sheers that sat underneath.

Stepping up the the open glass sliding partitions, she leaned a shoulder against the frame and gave her head a shake of amazement at what she was greeted by.

Virgil was leaning perched at the railing, a cup of coffee at his resting elbows and face turned towards the awe inspiring site of the rising morning sun. Its light playing of the waves far below and flickering through the overhang of nearby palms to flicker playfully across his skin.  

Skin that glowed healthily, and warmly with colour and vibrancy. All  of the six foot tall, buck ass nude, a hundred and eighty odd pound of it.

Saddling over to him, she picked pinched his mug of the railing and took a sip, her eyes raking over every inch of him.

He turned,  brows arched as she stole his morning fuel and she returned the look though her gaze had a hard time staying put on his face with everything all out and the wind and such.

“Hey,  are we turning the island into a nudist colony or is this just for my benefit?”  She wiggled her brows suggestively and he smiled, skimming a finger across her cheek.  

“God, your beautiful.”  He whispered, her loose hair brushing over his knuckles as it was caught up in the gentle, salty breeze.

Her smile blossomed across at the unexpected compliment and she was about to reciprocate when her mouth dropped open in shock.

His expression alight with excitement she stepped up to him and  pushed up on her toes and stared into his warm brown eyes. The answering happiness she say in their depth had her gasping in elation and she jumped up into his arms crushing his lips to hers. The actions saying so much more than words ever could

His arms pulling her in close, the last few remaining tendrils of tension brought on by weeks of worry finally leaving with the morning fog.  

Kissing the tip of her nose, he turned back to watch the spectacular display of light and colour as the sun reached ever higher into the sky.   Pushing back the darkness and revealing a world that wasn’t so scary after all, especially with her and his brothers at his side.  

It seemed that he’d paid the ransom on his sight in full and the world had once more been returned to him in all its splendor.  

oOo

The Master List of prompts can be found HERE

[annashipper]

I-Luv-Benny-C - Shared Bank Accounts in a Showmance???

If we are to believe Enty’s new blind, we must assume that Ben has been allowing Weirdo access to his bank account the way normal married people share their assets.  

However, if this is a PR-arranged showmance where the couple lives in separate postal codes and only meets for scheduled pap ops and RCs, Enty’s blind doesn’t make any sense.  Ben would be crazy to share his assets with Weirdo (a paid employee) beyond the contractual agreements made for her designer clothes, feeble attempts at fetch and conspicuous silence in public.

Enty suggested in a previous blind that Weirdo complains about the salary she gets (to play his wife).  Now  with this blind, he suggests that Weirdo is somehow able to drain Ben’s bank account because they’re a real married couple.  Which is true?

My only guess is that Ben’s PR is now working with Enty to push the narrative that Weirdo is a money-sucking parasite so Ben can save face with the public when the split takes place.  This narrative is designed for public consumption, not for skeptics who know Ben & Weirdo aren’t a real married couple who share assets.  Enty’s older blind about Weirdo’s salary was definitely crafted as a ‘wink’ to skeptics.  This new blind gives me hope that Ben will finally end this disaster.

As far as the money being funneled to a boyfriend, I don’t think a 'not his’ is wise.  Publicly denying parenthood is a risky game of 'he said, she said’.  It’s a minefield that could ultimately make him look like an douche.   

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

@i-luv-benny-c, the money sucking wife who has a boyfriend she gives money she’s taking from her husband to  narrative is nothing new as far as Enty goes.  Yesterday I put up 8 old blinds (5 of which have already been revealed) that all point in the same direction.  Reposting them herein for easy reference:

What is very interesting to me with this latest blind is that it revisits a narrative that’s been pushed to the side since 2016.  Painting a woman that’s been kept mute during the past 3 and a half years as a cheater and a thief would do wonders to soil her reputation and render whatever she has to say to any tabloids that would listen useless.

If they’re smart enough to go with this narrative, it would also wrap this whole showmance up in a big red bow and send her on her merry way without causing any dent to his good name (save for making him look like a sainted fool who was blinded by love and his trusting nature).

I love that people on the CDAN site have a perfect recollection of the one “Ben is a cheater” blind but conveniently forget all of the above blinds by the way.  What is great about that is that Enty always reposts old blinds when a split he’s predicted is announced to remind his readers that he’s been in the know for ages.  The fact that he’s had soooooo many blinds on the Dismals over the past 3 and a half years is going to make those reposts that much more entertaining  :D

As far as the shared accounts go, I’m about to post a submission from @captainjcat that I think is right on the nose with that.

[caveartfair]

Why Sally Mann's Photographs of Her Children Can Still Make Viewers Uncomfortable

Jessie Bites, 1985. Sally Mann Phillips

In the early 1990s, photographer Sally Mann transformed one of the most banal elements of family life—the sentimental photo album—into discomfiting, divisive, and ultimately unforgettable artwork. For her series “Immediate Family,” she shot her three children (Emmett, Jessie, and Virginia) in vulnerable positions at their summer home in rural Virginia. The ensuing criticism the images received questioned the line between pornography and fine art and problematized the objectification of children.

This past December, elements of this debate again came to the fore after an online petition ordered the Metropolitan Museum of Art to either take down or newly contextualize the 1938 painting, Thérèse Dreaming, by the French artist known as Balthus. The older, male artist had portrayed a pre-teen girl sitting with a raised knee, revealing her underwear underneath a red skirt. (The museum declined to comply with the demands.) That controversy follows a long year of protests targeting art institutions and specific works, from Dana Schutz’s Open Casket (2016) at the Whitney Biennial to Sam Durant’s Scaffold (2012) at the Walker Art Center. Each of these fights hinged on the discrepancies in power between artist and subject. As artists of all disciplines grapple with the ever-evolving ethics of representing others, what can we learn from the scandal surrounding Mann’s “Immediate Family” photographs, a major touchstone of the 1990s culture wars?

Despite how the media has portrayed her, Mann views herself less as a portraitist and provocateur than as a documenter of place—specifically, the American South. Many of her photographs pay homage to her family farm in Lexington, Virginia. Mann was born Sally Munger in the small town in 1951. She first studied photography at the Putney School in Vermont, where she attended high school. During her two years at Bennington College, she met her husband, Larry Mann. She completed her undergraduate work back in Virginia, at Hollins College, in 1974, where she also received an MA in writing the following year. Her passion for narrative found another outlet when she published her memoir, the National Book Award finalist Hold Still, in 2015.

Vinland, 1992. Sally Mann Phillips

This March, the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C. will open “Sally Mann: A Thousand Crossings,” an exhibition of around 115 photographs culled from Mann’s over 40-year career. The southern landscape plays a starring role, whether the photographs are of Civil War battlefields or Mann’s children. A deep sense of drama derives from shadows and light on historically fraught land. “Despite her great talent and prominence...the full range of her work had not yet received sufficient and widespread critical and scholarly attention,” says exhibition curator Sarah Greenough.

This survey will doubtlessly broaden the knowledge of Mann’s career beyond her most indelible, and controversial, series. But the photographs in “Immediate Family” remain worth exploring in their own right.

Mann began photographing her children as soon as they were born. “For years I shot the underappreciated and extraordinary domestic scenes of any mother’s life with the point-and-shoot,” she recalls in Hold Still. “But it wasn’t really until 1985 that I put on my photography eyes, and began to see the potential for serious imagery within the family.” She considers her first “good family picture” to be a shot of Jessie’s face swollen from insect bites. Immediately, the darker side of childhood, as opposed to more pristine and tired visions of innocence, attracted her. She describes her family photographs as a superstitious means of warding off real harm to her family.

The New Mothers, 1989. Sally Mann Phillips

Many of the subsequent images that eventually formed the “Immediate Family” series featured her children on the family farm—in the nude, injured, or in other vulnerable positions. Emmett’s bloody nose, Virginia’s wet bed, and Jessie’s naked dance on a table all became aesthetic fodder through their mother’s lens. In the pictures, their ages range from around one to twelve years old. Mann debuted the series at New York’s Houk Friedman Gallery (now Edwynn Houk Gallery) in the spring of 1992. Later that year, she published the images in a photo book of the same title.

Within three months, the book sold out its printing of 10,000 copies. Mann’s children became ever more visible. While they enjoyed being photographed at the time, there was no telling how their opinions of the experience would develop. Mann recalls taking her children to a psychologist to assess the impact her series was having on them; he thought they were just fine.

In September 1992, The New York Times Magazine ran a cover story by arts critic Richard B. Woodward entitled “The Disturbing Photography of Sally Mann.” The piece wasn’t overtly critical, but honed in on the children’s sexuality and raised ideas about child abuse and incest that seemed deliberately designed to spark controversy. Mann later complained that Woodward had taken her words out of context. Letters to the editor ranged from pleas to consider how Mann’s actions were affecting her children’s sexuality, to applause for Mann’s novel and striking depictions of intense maternal love.

Damaged Child, 1984. Sally Mann Phillips

The Wall Street Journal published an op-ed in February 1991 by food writer Raymond Sokolov critiquing Mann’s work. The paper accompanied it with a nude image of Virginia that had run on the cover of Aperture Magazine in 1990. Here, however, they censored the photograph by placing black bars over her eyes, nipples, and vagina. “It felt like a mutilation, not only of the image but also of Virginia herself and of her innocence,” writes Mann. She argues that the censorship, not the picture itself, gave the image a tinge of pornography.

Defending her work, Mann stresses the dramatic nature of the photographs and their separation from reality. “These are not my children; they are figures on a silvery paper slivered out of time,” she wrote over two decades later. “I believe my morality should have no bearing on the discussion of the pictures I made.” She cites Ernest Hemingway, Ezra Pound, and Paul Gauguin as artists whose works shouldn’t be disregarded due to their less-than-angelic lives. (If Mann could dismiss the articles and the letters, more frightening was the stalker her work attracted. One man wrote to the children’s school—in addition to editors and  journalists—asking for more information about them. Both Mann and at least one of her children suffered sleepless nights in fear of their own safety.)

I asked National Gallery curator Greenough about the connection between a series like “Immediate Family” and more recent backlash against, say, the work of Balthus. “I think that it’s fascinating the way culture seems to be going in cycles,” she noted. “When we began [planning our exhibition] in 2014, it did seem as if most of the moral panic over the depiction of child nudity had receded and that ‘Immediate Family’ really had been widely embraced as one of the most consistently affecting and revelatory photographic explorations of childhood that had ever been published.”

Dog Scratches, 1991. Sally Mann Edwynn Houk Gallery

The timing of Mann’s initial unveiling of “Immediate Family” situated her work within larger discussions about morality in photography. In 1989, U.S. senators Al D’Amato and Jesse Helms railed against artist Andres Serrano’s 1987 photograph Immersion (Piss Christ), which depicts a plastic figurine of Jesus on a crucifix submerged in Serrano’s urine. The artist had indirectly received partial funding from the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) to exhibit the work, and the senators wanted to prevent similarly “obscene” art from receiving government money. The Corcoran Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C. subsequently cancelled an exhibition of sexually explicit photographs by Robert Mapplethorpe, which had also received NEA funds. In 1990, the director of Cincinnati’s Contemporary Arts Center, Dennis Barrie, went to trial for obscenity after the museum displayed Mapplethorpe’s portraits of semi-nude children and BDSM practices. (He was acquitted later that year.)

The same year, the F.B.I. confiscated Jock Sturges’s equipment and prints of nude women and children who had consented to model for him. Sturges, they said, may be guilty of criminal violations of child-pornography statutes, but the U.S. Grand Jury decided not to indict him after a 17-month investigation. Mann worked under a similar threat, though the government never took action against her.

Interestingly, the uproar over “Immediate Family” represents one of the few cases where both the political right and left have united to condemn an artist. Feminist writer Mary Gordon attacked Mann for unnecessarily sexualizing her daughter, while charges of pornography emanated from conservative circles. In her defense, Mann invoked Oscar Wilde who, she writes, asserted “that the hypocritical, prudish, and philistine English public, when unable to find the art in a work of art, instead looked for the man in it.” Wilde died in 1900. Over a hundred years later, we’re still debating—albeit with more nuanced ideas about how power functions—whether artists’ foibles and oversights render their work unfit for exhibition halls, publications, and screens big and small.

from Artsy News

[fishdavidson]

Dream Journal 2018-01-08: Sky Piracy Is A Fine Way To Redistribute Wealth

Buckle up, my friends, because I suspect this may be a long post! This most recent dream takes place in a future version of our world where income inequality has continued to grow unchecked but the one bright spot to this future is that everyone has access to flying cars and jetpacks. People at the top of the hierarchy had wealth, power, and influence almost beyond comprehension, and there were maybe a few dozen people like this in the world. Everyone else led lives that today would be considered “lower-middle class.”

The wealth disparity between these ultra-wealthy people and literally everyone else was so great that stealing from these rich people was a relatively common way for regular people to make ends meet. Poor people would stage (mostly) nonviolent raids against the flying luxury ships that transported the wealthy people and shake them down for money. And it was more cost effective for these ultra-rich people to just give the poor folks whatever money they asked for instead of hiring armies of bodyguards every minute of the day.

Holding people for ransom was still a crime, but even demanding $1,000,000 from these people had such little impact on their net worth that it was effectively imperceptible. The courts of this reality agreed, and people who were convicted of piracy faced a maximum of three years in prison. But the upside was that you still got to keep the money you stole, even if you were convicted. This was mainly because the time of these wealthy people was worth more than attempting to recover the money and the rich people got to write off the ransom payments as “charitable giving” or something similar.

I was one of those people who just barely managed to scrape by each month, so I decided to strap on my jetpack and try my hand at robbing the next luxury liner that I saw. I didn’t really need the money, but it would be really nice to have some sort of financial safety net. That’s how I ended up soaring over the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of New York, waiting for the next airship to come back from London. I tried to time everything correctly so that I would be the first person to target the ship once it made it into US airspace.

Unfortunately another individual had similar thoughts, and she (like me) was going to try to shoot a grappling hook onto the cruiser and board it while the vehicle was still flying. But our grappling hooks got tangled up together and ruined the element of surprise. We tried to demand ransom once we got inside the cabin, but our demand did not go over as we had hoped. In most cases, the pirate gets sack of cash and tossed out of the plane immediately, but we were asked to make a choice. We could either continue our attempt at piracy, after which we would be reported to the police and convicted for the 3-year maximum sentence; or we could wait until the vehicle landed, do a favor for this wealthy dude, and walk away with much more money and be in the good graces of a very powerful individual.

Despite having zero reason to trust this guy, I, along with the other bumbling pirate, opted to see what favor this guy was going to ask us to do. The lady who unknowingly attempted to pillage the ship alongside me was a professor of literature who hoped to score some money to pay for her wife’s cancer treatments (because health care is still apparently a problem in the future US), which was why she wanted to stick around to hear about other potentially legal methods of obtaining more money. I had no such lofty goals, but my opinion is easily swayed by additional large bags of cash and I opt to stay out of laziness so I don’t have to try robbing another dude in the future.

Once on solid ground, we are escorted to a Chinese restaurant near the top of skyscraper. A man in a purple suit who looks a lot like Will Ferrell in Night At The Roxbury is talking to a man named Tony Chen who owns the restaurant. The man we had attempted to rob was not actually the wealthy guy we were expecting. He was an assistant to the wealthy guy, and the dude in the purple suit was actually the person we were hoping to snatch money from. Tony and the man in the purple suit were arguing about something when we got there.

"My time is worth more than thirty billion dollars a minute, and you want to ask me something that will take up more than three minutes?" Purple Suit asks Tony. And then apparently Purple Suit offers Tony a significant amount of money to jump in the koi pond inside the restaurant in exchange for not asking any more questions and letting Purple Suit conduct his business in peace, which Tony agrees to.

The people involved in this meeting are escorted over to a large round table. In addition to the literature professor and Purple Suit, there are three or four other people present. Purple Suit tells us that we were brought here to help him accomplish a particularly audacious plan. Purple Suit was one of the richest men in the world, but alas, he was not the richest. So Purple Suit reasoned that if poor people could steal from rich people with relative impunity, other rich people should be able to do the same.

"If you are rich and powerful enough, you will always be above the law,” he told us. “And if you help me pull this off, I will make sure you are always above the law.”

Then Purple Suit tells us his crazy plan, which of course happens in real-time in the dream. A team of people in a nearby tower is in the process of giving an even richer guy some sedatives before he goes on an yet another international trip. This older, richer guy has in his possession a box that is connected via a physical wire to his pacemaker. The battery in the pacemaker keeps the old guy’s heart pumping, but it also provides power to that box. Inside that box is a tiny circuit board that generates time-sensitive cryptographic keys that are used to secure his vast and fabulous riches. If the key generator is disconnected from the battery for more than a few minutes, it stops working permanently and can no longer be used to access his fortune.

My job is to take the box, hook it up to an emergency power supply that can put out enough power to last for maybe 10 minutes, and run down to the base of the tower where I will meet my next team member. I’m freaking out a little bit because I know I’m not very inconspicuous as I’m running through elevators with a pile of wires in my hand. But the next team member intercepts me before I get to the ground floor.

This guy is probably in his late 30s and he’s got a beard. He gives me a silver sticker called a LOOP that I’m supposed to keep on my person until the mission is complete. I don’t know what the first letters stand for, but the “OP” in LOOP stand for “Obfuscation Protocol,” and this sticker is supposed to be able to jam electronic location trackers from following the path.

But there’s still one last problem that we have to get past in order to reach the rendezvous point: there are a few security guards who know something is up (presumably because the airship that was parked on the roof didn’t take off on time. The Bearded Dude gives me a backpack and sends me into a janitorial closet to change clothes.

Inside the backpack is a bunch of athletic clothes. I ask The Beard why I need to change into these particular clothes, and he tells me that if I dress and act like a runner, no one will suspect anything. Runners can look disheveled, and they also have an excuse for running in public places.

Seems like solid logic to me, so I change clothes and go “jogging” with The Beard as my running buddy and the code generator is tucked underneath my shirt. Nobody pays us much attention, despite us passing right under the noses of several of the building’s security guards. We pass off the code generator to the next group of team members waiting in a limo, and they reconnect the code generator to a more stable power supply and use the codes that it generates to siphon away the riches of the older guy.

In exchange for our troubles, each of us is given several million dollars and a favor from Purple Suit that may be cashed in later. I woke up before I could ask about the specifics of the favor, but I’m pretty sure it would have afforded me a life of luxury for the rest of my days.

----------------------

Header image is of a render of the proposed DeLorean Aerospace flying car featured in a recent article in Wired.

[lazuliblur]

[draft] awwyii 1

A woman cried out in the middle of the street. The noise attracted the attention of a passer-by, a man in his twenties with light combed back hair and an impeccably pressed suit in the same faded shade of blue as his glasses. Seeing a petite young woman with flowing black hair leaning against a wall and holding her foot, he put his newspaper under his arm and approached her.

“Are you all right, miss? Do you need anything?”

She looked up, dark onyx eyes set in a pale face, fixing him with unexpected intensity. For a moment, it was as though reality folded in on itself. There was something about those eyes that… fascinated him.

“I’m fine, thanks. I think I twisted my ankle.” She showed him a high-heeled shoe. Her cheeks blushed pink as she smiled. “I’m not used to wearing these… Could you help me walk over there? I don’t think I can manage on my own right now,” she said, pointing towards a bench in the shade of a maple tree across the street.

Her hair smelled like wild berries and she was biting her lip so beautifully that it sent the man’s thoughts spinning in a tight loop. At that one moment, she could have asked him anything and he would have said yes.

“Of course!”

He let her lean against his side and held her around the waist as they ambled towards the bench. Her foot must have hurt badly because she kept jostling him and throwing him off balance. As lithe and elegant as she looked, the man was surprised to discover that she, in fact, had a solid constitution. He never would have imagined her to be so heavy. Every time she bumped against him a little more roughly, though, she laid a hand over his, the picture of daintiness as she giggled and apologized for her clumsiness.

Once they reached the bench, he helped her sit down. By then, he was enchanted by her and he didn’t even think to question her motives when she grabbed his arm to keep him around for a while longer.

“My hero! Thanks for the help,” she said. “I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

“I— uh… no, not at all, miss,” he stuttered. No one in his life had ever looked at him with such tenderness in their eyes.

She reached down to rub her ankle, giving him an eyeful of cleavage in the process. He stiffened and almost averted his gaze, would have if her head had been turned in his direction. It wasn’t.

“So, are you from around here?” she asked.

“Here” being the largest port town in the Land of Hot Springs.

The man had to fight his racing thoughts to find the words with which to answer. With the ability to form full sentences out of his reach, it was all that he could do to mention that he had not been born there, but had just moved from a close-by island belonging to Water because of the new factory that was scheduled to start operating there next week.

“Shigeki Global. I’m Regional Manager there. We’re the largest company in the canned goods business out in the Land of Water and this is our first factory in the continent. It’s a big milestone.”

“Shigeki… Oh! I’ve heard of that place! Wow, you must be some kind of a big shot, huh?”

He preened under the attention, unconsciously adjusting his glasses.

“You might say that.”

“And have you ever met the big boss? He’s been all over the news lately. I wonder if any of those things they say about him are true.”

The man grunted. The stories circulating were not favorable towards his employer. They ranged from the ludicrous, about how he had made a deal with a devil, to the outrageous, like how he intended to dethrone the Water Daimyou and seize control of the nation for himself. The young manager suspected that their competition had had a hand in spreading such malicious stories.

“Taro Shigeki is a great and generous man, a corporate genius! He inherited a near bankrupt company and turned it into the most thriving enterprise in our country. When the children of Water were starving, he was the one who fed them, paying for the food out of his own pocket! He put them through school and provided them with a future! You shouldn’t pay any attention to those filthy rumors, miss.”

She leaned down to slip her shoe back into place. After a few experimental tugs, she deemed her ankle sufficiently recovered.

“Well, I hope you’re right. The world needs more good men in it,” she said as she stood. “Now, thank you for stopping to help me. I think I’m all better and it sounds like you’re a busy man, so I’d hate to keep you. Maybe we’ll see each other around, now that you’ll be working here.”

She extended a hand. He took it between his own to bid her goodbye. Her skin was cold and surprisingly coarse.

“I’d like that very much. Take care!”

As the man walked away, he looked back a few times to make sure he had not just had a complex hallucination. But no, the young woman was there and real and looking back at him too. He rounded the corner with a smile on his face, heart warmed by the thought of meeting her again in the future.

As he left her sight, the woman clasped her hands in a simple hand seal. “Release!” she said and a cloud of smoke erupted. When it dissipated, a young man stood in the woman’s place. Like the woman, his hair was jet black, but that was the extent of the similarities between them. The right side of his face bore deep scars and he wore a patch over one eye. The one that he did have, was red, now darkening to black. Sharingan.

Another man soon joined him in a second cloud of smoke. This one was light haired, just as tall but with a slighter build, but his left eye was similarly covered. Without looking his way, the first man pulled a book from his pocket and tossed it over at his partner.

“Here’s his agenda, Kakashi. You look it over...”

Obito sat down on the bench and lowered his head between his knees. Before looking at anything, Kakashi took a moment to ponder the street that Shigeki Global’s new Regional Manager had taken. His one visible eye was shining with humor as he turned back to Obito.

“You’re surprisingly good at playing that role. Is there anything you’d like to share?”

“Gods, shut up! I’ve told you before about what happens when you try to be funny. It’s creepy.” Despite his words, though, Kakashi could tell that Obito wasn’t really bothered. He knew because the glare he was given was nowhere near the Shut your mouth or I’ll punch you into next week end of the Obito spectrum.

“I think he would have said yes if you’d asked him out,” Kakashi couldn’t help but add.

“It was just genjutsu! Don’t make it weird.”

Obito jumped to his feet, physically needing to leave the topic behind. Impersonating others came so easily to him. Sometimes, he scared himself with just how easily he could slip into a role and pretend to be someone else. To leave himself behind and start over with a clean slate. It was frighteningly tempting. There was much of Obito’s past that he would like to pretend never happened.

Unaware of these thoughts, Kakashi fell into step next to him, leafing through the pages of the daily planner that had taken so much sacrifice to obtain.

“That guy was gross, anyway. Did you see the way he looked at me and how he couldn’t keep his hands off me? I don’t just paw at every strange girl that crosses my path,” Obito mumbled.

“To be fair, you were holding on to him and you don’t know any girls.”

Obito huffed a laugh. Looking over at Kakashi, who had his nose in the stolen agenda, he felt a surge of pride. Who would have thought that his once emotionally constipated teammate would ever learn sass? Better yet, who would have guessed that, after a childhood of rivalry, Obito would one day call him his best friend?

If there was one thing about his past that Obito was glad to hold on to, it was this bond. Through all the guilt and hardships, Kakashi kept him sane.

“Crane’s a girl.”

“True, but you’ve never actually met her, have you?” Kakashi pointed out.

Their current assignment required them to forego their uniforms for the sake of discretion, but the two surviving members of team Minato were actually working as Tiger and Hound, ANBU’s – and by extension the Leaf’s – top two-man team. They held the record for the longest-running string of successfully completed missions since the founding of the black ops.

Because neither of them had any knowledge of medical techniques, however, they sometimes called upon the services of Crane, a young medic who was leading an experimental program to render long-distance medical assistance to teams on the field. They had never met in person, but, as far as Obito was concerned, she was an unofficial part of team, ever since she had saved Kakashi’s life during a mission gone wrong.

“I’m sure I’d know more girls if my best friend would take a certain job.”

As easy as flipping a switch. Kakashi lifted his head and pinned a warning look on Obito. “We’re not talking about that.”

“Shit, you’d think they were asking you to sit in for torture!” Obito said. When that failed to get a response out of Kakashi, he added: “Something’s very wrong with you, you know? You were offered the best job in the world and you won’t even consider it! All you have to do is put on a damn hat.”

Kakashi hummed, determined to cast the ambient noise his friend was producing aside. “Elephant Island… Looks like Taro Shigeki goes there every other month. I wonder what’s there.”

Obito scowled at being ignored.

“You know I’d kill for that job and Lady Tsunade just gave it to you. The least you can do is show me some respect and take it!”

“We are not talking about this now.”

Obito was quickly growing sick of hearing that. Every time, it was Kakashi’s go-to phrase. Well, not any more. Head full of memories about the Fourth World War and of how easily their world could have ended – in no small part, thanks to Obito’s actions – the Uchiha planted himself in front of his best friend and forced him to stop.

“If not now, then when? It’s been like two weeks since you were asked and you still haven’t dug up your head out of the sand. This is not just going to go away! Lady Tsunade’s retiring and you need to step up and face reality. Hokage, Kakashi! Ho-ka-ge!”

They stared each other down for a small eternity, mismatched eyes fixed on each other. Even the civilian residents out for a walk sensed the tension between them and picked up their pace as they passed by.

Kakashi’s mask hid his expression and the slanted forehead protector covered an additional quarter of his face, but Obito had known him long enough to be able to guess which way the wheels were turning inside his friend’s stubborn one-track head. Kakashi was going to dismiss the subject. Again.

Except he didn’t.

“Not everyone has the same calling.”

It was the first time he had said anything on the subject. Before Obito could come up with an appropriate reply, though, before he could piece together what that comment was supposed to mean, Kakashi held up the planner, opened on the page bearing the current date.

“Found something,” he said, in a sing-song voice. “Shigeki has a meeting scheduled for tonight at the factory. It doesn’t say who else will be there, but we’d better start working on getting ourselves invited.”

Obito sighed and stepped aside to let Kakashi lead the way down to the docks, where the new Shigeki Global factory was located. The mission had to come first, as always. Sun down was only a couple of hours away so they did not have a lot of time left to scout the location.

“All right. Let’s wrap this up. But I’m not done with you,” Obito warned. “We’re totally talking about you taking this job afterwards. And by ‘talking’ I mean me beating you up until you accept it.”

“Sure. Whatever you say, crybaby.”

*

“How sure are we that this Shigeki’s a bad guy?” Obito – or rather, Tiger – asked. He and Kakashi were crouched on the rafters above the entrance of Shigeki Global’s new factory. A backup team was on the ground, covering the entrance of a secondary building. Now that they were off the streets, the animal masks and full ANBU uniforms were back in place to protect their identity.

Shigeki was due to arrive at any minute.

“I mean, Lady Tsunade says he’s rotten, but from the way everyone we’ve met so far talks about him, you’d think Shigeki fed every baby and pet every puppy from here to the Hidden Mist.”

“Who knows what his full story is,” Kakashi replied. “Apparently there’s reason enough to suspect him. Keep in mind that it was the Mizukage who flagged him as dangerous.”

And that was a big red note written in all capital letters on the cons side of the table, Obito had to admit. He and Kakashi had personally met the Mizukage during the Fourth Ninja World War, a woman by the name of Mei Terumii. She was a Mist ninja through and through. Like every other survivor of the sadistic practices that had been common place in that village under the previous Mizukage’s rule, she did not scare easily. It would have been out of character for her to advise the other villages in the ninja alliance to keep an eye on the business man unless she had good reason to doubt him.

“How long has it been since we’ve heard from the Hidden Mist, though? It has to have been weeks since we got an update on their investigation.”

“All the more reason to make sure of what we’re dealing with before Shigeki expands his business to Fire Country territory. No castle was ever overthrown by caution,” Kakashi said, as though quoting from a rulebook.

Obito hated it when that dead, mechanical tone made a comeback. The conversation stalled, however, as his sharingan caught the shapes of five people coming towards the factory.

Two of the individuals looked murky in the greyscale world of the Uchiha’s bloodline ability, their chakra systems underdeveloped. It was characteristic of civilians, as the flow of their vital energy naturally grew more and more impaired by age and disuse. The other three were very different. Their chakras shone in bright, sharp shades of blue. From the intensity and speed of their chakra circulation, he estimated them to be around chuunin-level ninjas.

Obito did not like it. Thanks to the new information sharing policies that had come with the establishment of the united shinobi alliance, he and Kakashi knew for a fact that none of the hidden villages were working with Shigeki. These three had to be rogues.

“Showtime,” Obito told Kakashi and the backup team through their radio transmitter, right before the bulky factory doors opened with a metallic screech.

Their friend, the Regional Manager, was the first to step inside, almost tripping over himself in his haste to hold the doors open for the others. His glasses slipped a little further down his nose every time he lowered his head in a bow.

“I beg your forgiveness, Mr. Shigeki. I was sure that I’d brought my agenda with all the security codes with me… There is no excuse for my forgetfulness!”

Another man followed, his every two steps marked by the tap of a cane on concrete. He all but ignored the Regional Manager as he walked in, pausing at the edge where the blade of amber street light coming in through the open door met darkness, chest open and chin held high. His white designer long coat with a full mink fur collar spoke of massive wealth.

Obito and Kakashi’s mission briefing scroll had only included a brief description of Taro Shigeki – tall, fit, thin brown hair and eyebrows, with a distinctive mole on the right side of his jawline – but there was no mistaking the look of pride in a man surveying his domain.

Shigeki waved the cane behind him.

“Lights! Lights! Let’s see what we have here!”

The Regional Manager hurried to flip the main switch on the state of the art circuit breaker. Row after row, the lamps hanging from the ceiling lit with a wave of resounding clangs until the full length of the open-plan factory was illuminated.

Obito and Kakashi’s position became further obscured, as they lay immediately above one such light. Their thoughts, however, were far from whether or not they would be spotted. They were confused.

The remaining three members of Shigeki’s entourage had stepped inside the factory. Mist ninjas. Their forehead protectors bore the intact symbol of their village. What was the Mizukage up to?

Taro Shigeki walked further into the room, spinning in place with his arms wide open to encompass the full scale of his newest business venture. He took a deep breath, held it in, expelled it out.

“Ahhh! Can you smell that, Tanaka?” he asked the Regional Manager, a grin brightening his features. “Brine and oil! Brine and oil! Doesn’t it fill you with excitement for all the wonderful things that will take place here once the factory starts production?”

His employer’s high spirits helped Regional Manager Tanaka overcome his initial embarrassment. He came to stand next to Shigeki, imagining that he too experienced a portion of that wonder as he glanced at the bare walls and exposed wiring of the incomplete building.

“Yes, sir. The first shipment of equipment is due to arrive in the morning. We’ll start the assembly of—”

Shigeki interrupted his carefully prepared report.

“Brine and oil, Tanaka!” He tapped his young employee’s shoulder with the crystal encrusted tip of his cane. “That’s all you need for success, or so my father used to say. The raw materials and the hard work to turn them into something that people will pay money for!”

“Yes, sir.”

Shigeki regarded the other man with an uplifted manicured brow and a benign smile. His brief sigh did not escape the Leaf ninjas’ notice. In the face of his employee’s limited vision, his speech became less extravagant.

“Well, it looks like we still have some time until our friends arrive. Why don’t you fill me in on the current state of operations here, Tanaka?”

The Regional Manager’s joy to be back on script was entirely transparent. Obito and Kakashi, though, were not as interested in listening him talk about the company’s phased hiring plans or the detailed inventory of the cargo that was due to arrive by boat at their private dock over the following days. Nothing about his speech stood out as uncommon or unexpected. Just regular business proceedings.

The three Mist ninjas were still, stationed by the door. The Leaf team began to suspect that they were there as spies to inform the Mizukage about Shigeki’s dealings.

Obito and Kakashi shared a shrug. Everything pointed to the conclusion that their mission was a bust. They hadn’t been able to find a single thing out of place. Taro Shigeki was just another business man who had gotten lucky and made a fortune off of the post-war needs of the people of the Land of Water, it seemed. The two of them were stuck in place for the moment, though, as Kakashi, the official team leader, was too thorough to cut their observation short early.

Kakashi sent one long tap over his radio transmitter, a signal to the backup team to hold their position and stay out of sight.

Obito nudged Kakashi then and whispered.

“Hey, does this remind you of Threads of Sorrow or what? That part where the Princess buries her father?”

Kakashi’s eyes moved from their targets. Leave it to Obito to start thinking about a movie at a time like this. The scene he was talking about didn’t even have anything to do with their current situation. The Princess’s love interest, at the time nothing but an enemy who had sworn to kill her, had hid behind a rock while she spoke aloud about her father and taken pity on her.

Well, with a little stretch of the imagination, there were some parallels, Kakashi supposed. Only Obito could have made such an association, though.

“You watch too much crap. Jiraya’s original books are better.”

There was an ongoing debate between them over whether the films or the books they were based on were better. Kakashi claimed to have never seen the adaptation (secretly, he had) but he said that the books were better anyway and that Obito should make himself less of an illiterate ignorant by reading them.

“Hey, don’t badmouth Rin! She’s a great actress. Besides, those books have zero taste.”

Kakashi gave Obito an exasperated look. “Like you’ve read them enough to know.”

Taro Shigeki was walking further into the building, inspecting office spaces and the few technical rooms that were already set up with electrical appliances along the way, so the two of them had to move to a better location if they hoped to continue watching him.

“Don’t need to. The words make out in the title pretty much give everything away.”

Kakashi never got a chance to reply. Both of them cringed and lifted a hand to their ears as their radios chose that moment to deliver a loud inhuman shriek directly into their eardrums.

Beneath them, Shigeki and his employee carried on their inspection, as though nothing had happened. The Mist ninjas trailed after them a short distance away, equally unfazed.

The noise had been so shrill and obnoxious that it took Obito and Kakashi a few seconds to recover and realize what it was.

A scream. Their backup was under attack.

Activating his Mangekyou Sharingan, Obito transported both himself and Kakashi to their teammates’ location.

One of the Leaf ninjas was already down by the time that the two of them arrived. Standing opposite was a full squad of Mist ninjas, decked in their customary blues and greens and bearing unmarked forehead protectors. Like the group left behind, these were not rogues either.

There was no reason, then, why they should be fighting their Leaf allies.

Obito wasted no time before throwing himself into the fight, sharingan blazing and doing his best to incapacitate rather than kill. Kakashi hung back, taking out the incautious ones with mid to long-range strikes, while he tried to make sense of what caused the confrontation. Discretion was tossed out the window.

Obito entered a state of semi consciousness. After so many years serving as an active ninja, he no longer needed to think about his moves. His muscles knew how to react on instinct. If one of the enemies struck high, he ducked and kicked them in the gut. If they struck low, he jumped and jabbed them in the throat with the metal plates on the back of his gloves. As long as they were gasping on the floor for air, there were two less enemies to worry about.

Two more attacked from the right – and Obito let them pass through him, becoming intangible so that he could catch them with an incandescent fire breath from behind.

He never completed the handseal sequence, though. A dull, rumbling roar coming from somewhere out at sea broke the quiet of the night and a chill that had nothing to do with the weather electrified Obito’s spine.

He froze. For a moment, the ground beneath him did not look like flat cement, but rather a desolate battlefield of jutting rocks. The swaying shapes cast by the ceiling lights on the wall to his left ceased to register as shadows, looking more like deadly tails and tentacles reaching skywards from white monsters with infinite chakra stores, ready to wipe out the world from existence.

Obito furiously blinked through his panic and the illusion passed as if it had never been. Were he a lesser ninja, his distraction might have cost him his life. As it was, he was able to keep his cool long enough to snap back to reality and realize that it was only the sound of a ship’s foghorn that he had heard.

He did not wait a second longer before forcing himself back into action. He phased through the enemy’s mostly blind attempts to retaliate and systematically took out those threatening his teammates’ lives. Kakashi removed the remaining enemy ninjas from the battle with well-aimed kunai throws and lightning techniques.

The battle was short lived, but it caused too great a disturbance to go unnoticed. Running footsteps approached from the direction that Shigeki and his Mist escort had been in.

“Obito?” Kakashi asked. His friend’s odd moment of hesitation had not escaped his notice.

“I’m fine,” the Uchiha said without a second thought. They were the only ones left standing. Their entire backup team was down. “I’m calling Crane for help, these guys are in bad shape!”

“You’re an interesting one.”

The foreign voice was quiet and smooth, but it came out of nowhere. It sent Obito and Kakashi whirling around to look for the speaker, only to find that the man who spoke wasn’t hiding at all. Just standing in front of the door with the Mizukage by his side.

He did not appear to be from either Leaf or Mist. Wrapped in burnt orange robes, pale skinned and with long, unkempt hair covering half of his face, he had a strange symbol tattooed on his forehead and extending down the bridge of his thin nose. Only half of it was visible, but it was reminiscent of an elephant’s head.

His eyes were fixed on Obito.

His chakra could barely be felt. Even the Uchiha’s sharingan could only discern a dull smudge where a fully formed chakra system should have been. The same thing was true for the Mizukage, even though Obito knew that her chakra burned a bright amber. If not for what their eyes undeniably told Obito and Kakashi, the two newcomers would have been invisible to their other senses.

It was hard to believe that they had been there all along, watching the fight. It was an unsettling thought, almost as unsettling as trying to decide whether the stranger was friend or foe. The Mizukage was the Leaf’s ally, yet the squad of fallen Mist ninjas at their feet told a different story.

“Lady Mizukage?” Kakashi asked, but he was cut off by the stranger, who waved a hand at the Leaf team.

“Darling Mei, would you please?”

The Mizukage started forward, a coy finger rubbing her bottom lip in preparation to use one of her deadliest techniques.

That, at least, settled a few of Kakashi and Obito’s doubts, though it brought a whole new batch of questions to the table.

“Lava Release…”

[pepperpaprika]

S3 Squeeing

Under the cut, mostly nonsense. :’D I’ll do a proper review once I digest it maybe!

First watch, no subtitles, GO.

(I’m sorry about name spellings)

EPISODE 1: 

huh they still have the same opening.

KEITH IS SO SAD

ah yes the zarkon shiro moaning

NO KEITH DONT DO THE WOBBLY EYES

ahhh i forgot the robovoiceover thing the bom have need to add.

skirts seem to be a status symbol with galra.

NINJA RUN OMFG.

oooh nice torpedo, hunk!

omfg an actual parade.

WAIT WAS IT KOLIVAN SAYING "IM SORRY KEITH" earlier??

pooegian? aw cute name. im seriously getting avatar flashbacks tho.

planet keffron, feathery ears

freedom fighters.

intergalactic fashion pirate coran- YES

lance is all about the glory lmao

OMG ALLURA NO- LOOK AT THAT SHOCK.

you can tell they ALL know they stepped on keiths landmine.

Commander Thrak --OH NO THEY ARE HIDING ZARKONS ILLNESS.

this guy is hunched.... OMG SHES A CHAMELEON.

LOL KOLIVAN IS AT THE HEAD

galra empire is most massive... it seems like it could rule another ten thousand years.

LOL KEITH. SO ANGERY.

poor boy.

oh hey pizza roll and pig in a blanket.

LOTOR a;lskdas;klj -Exiled prince -halfbreed at best, no honor -generals can fight for the throne -fighting beside your forces is considered lowly.

omfg. OMFG. LOTOR IS PRETTIER THAN I THOUGHT.

OMFG WHERE DID THEY COME FROM

YEAH GROWL BB

alskdjaskdjaskldj;asjkd;lasjkd;laslk;jdlasjk;dklajsd HES SHORT

LOL NICE PUNCH

Your own agression is your undoing.

oh he was expecting to be killed wasnt he.

arena is to the death confirmed.... so how did that robeast survive.

as;ldkjasdkjasd HEY THEY HAVE GEMS ON THEIR GLOVES/HANDS.

DONT TURN YOUR BACK ON A BLOODTHIRSTY GENERAL LOTOR PLS.

I mean sure theres an audience but still.

oh wow that guy has wolverine hands.

pet the kitty

let him rot with the ice worms~

LOL theyre all looking at lance... i guess they agreed beforehand.

EPISODE 2

nice seaside mediterranean city

is that an elephant?

whoah chameleon girls antenna is super long.

HOW DID THEY LAND GENTLY. oh i see... hmn ita racial.

whoah. she strong.

oh my god. HES THERE.

well i like how chameleon girl is like ty lee

LOL how allura chose the colors.

LOL SAME KEEF.

BLACK LION LOOKS SO SAD ON ITS SIDE. /CRAI

aw ladies first.

LOL PIDGE. lajkasdjasl;kdj

NOT IT. YES HUNK.YOU DIDNT EVEN TRY.

I LOVE IT HUNK.

PIDGGGGE

30 mins of lance sitting in the lion.

but im not you. i cant beat them like you.

PLEASE NO. OMG

LOL LANCES FACE. SO DISAPPOINTED.

I DONT ACCEPT THIS.

OMG SHES PLAYING WITH THE CAT

"no black lion"

oh. shes part snake not lizard?  DID SHE HYPNOTIZE HIM

THIS ONES FOR YOU SHIRO.

oh. they have warp technology.

Lancey Lance. JUST A PHASE. lmaooooo. HIS BEST LINE.

controls dont respond like the red lions.... hmm..

KEITH PROLLY TRAINED IT TO BITE MY HEAD OFF.

Allurance shoulder touch. well I didnt see that coming.

YEAH ALLURA.

There's something different about that lion... its pilot isnt in control.

lol keith thanks coran but not lance. I mean its not his fault this time, technically.

BE CAREFUL WITH RED.

weve seen enough, retreat.

LOL zarkon has a son allura: deeply disturbing.

LANCE STOP TALKING LIKE YOURE GONNA LEAVE HER FOR GOOD.

FALLEN WARRIORS.. AND SHIRO.

"I'm glad it was you."

OMG KEITH.

Episode 3

lol keith no. NOT EVERYONE CAN FLY A THING IN TWO MINS OK.

LOTOR WANTS TO KNOW MORE INFO

fkljas;kdfsaklj YES GO ONE ON ONE

LANCE WHY

omg. OF COURSE HES GOOD AT FLYING. OF COURSE.

DOES THIS THING HAVE BREAKS.

lol yes this was gonna suck from the start.

LOL GARRISON TRIO

GREAT LEADERSHIP KEITH FFFFFT

man this is a trainwreck.

oh man theyre not gonna be able to form are they.

LOL

LOTOR CAN SEE YOU

How disappointing... indeed, Lotor.

oh no keith playing straight into his hands.

nice planet tho.

omg. NOOOO KEEF NO.

huh Hunk has been really careful of allura huh :o its kinda interesting that hes the one who woories about her most... ope theres lance

'its not about the team its about the mission" - very telling.

lol he looks like orochimaru in that helmet, lotor.

generals call him lotor. interesting

LOL THAT SPLAT

alkdjasdkjsa NOOOO

oh no hes gonna capture allura first.

WHY ARENT THE LIONS GUIDING THEM?

ohhh no she dropped into the abyss.

aw shes super scared.

lol yes keith you followed him into his trap.

"oh em gee"

WHAT WOULD LANCE DO

laskdjasldjkaskjdjskjsadfjkljksdla

ALLURA WHY OMG. PARTICLE BARRIER.

abbb ok she must want to be guided. makes sense.

d;alsjdasl IM GLAD WERE ALL MAKING FUN OF LANCE looool.

ahhh there we go 3 eps in before voltron can be formed.

HUNK IM A LEG pretty cool right. IMMORTAL WORDS.

EPISODE 4

lol allura you were never gonna be the last alteans alive unless youre a lot worse at shapeshifting than you thought.

I love this science talk.

DONT GO INTO THE LIGHT.

oh its a wormhole.

ahah a time capsule ship of alteans. Nice.

Orrr not.

whoah lots of arms on that one. IS IT SLAV.

wheres slav anyway.

bom?

ALdaslk;djAS:LKdjasdljOMFG

OMFG.

YES IT IS SLAV AND SHIRO. SVEN.

aldfjlkqwlk;jehs ITS THE ACCENT.

"I MAY BE CRAZY"Nice slav.

ldjasd;lkj LOL LANCE HAS RED GUN.

"OH THATS HIM"

;ldkaslkak I LOVE ITTTTT

ALTEANS ARE EVIL. YES.

EMPRESS

WHAT IS THAT BEHIND THEM A YUPPER.

NO DONT HELP THE EVIL ALTEANS PIDGE.

its nice that all the new chars are girls.

alkjd;askdjasjkl;d I CANT EVERY TIME SVEN TALKS.

Moxus hmn. OMG BRAINWASHING. ALTEAN BRAINWASHING.

preservation of life. is the highest prioirty.. interesting...

YOOHOO UP HERE.

I love how sven has a mullet.

GUNS OF GAMORA.

Voltron can travel between realities. I love this plot device.

ohhhh no. oh nooo. shes doing it WHY ARE YOU SO BLIND.

awww the mice are so SAD.

i cant stop laughing whenever i see Sven.

ASLkdjaskld;jasjdkl THIS IS THE REALITY WHERE EVERYTTHING WORKS OUT FINE.

DOGPILE

I LOVE ITTTT.

;lkvsdf;aldkas;lkd LOL SVEN SVEEEN. lol shance with sven?

DOES HE DO THIS IN EVERY REALITY.

I LOVE THIS REALITY TOO SLAV.

NOOO DONT TAKE IT TO LOTOR. though thats probably needed to make a comparable weapon to voltron.

DESTROY IT

welp.

EPISODE 5

alk;sdjaskj SHIRO

SHOW ME THAT LONG HAIR BABY.

oh wait this is a dream isn't it.

whoah. such hair.

HOBO SHIRO

wtfffff is happeniiing. STAGE 3??

wow the animation quality went up tho.

YOU BE THAT AMERICAN NINJA SHIRO

hmm thigh wound.

anime snow...

aw haggar, its ok.

Yep thigh wound. Niiiiice legs. oh nooo.shiro.

interesting. an oasis of warmth. ohhhh NO NOO NO. GET AWAY.

TENTACLES.

WHAT IS THIS OTHER ALIEN.

lol shiros face. he's so done.

but somethings not adding up.

why was he allowed free?

eiii the return of the term "years"

IDK WHAT IT IS BUT HOBO SHIRO LOOKS SO MUCH BETTER RENDERED SOMEHOW? LIKE AN OVA?

lol yes why dint they GO WITH HIM.

but how did his hair get so long??

ALTERNATE REALITY?

VOLTRON.YES SHIRO. AH HES TOO FAST FOR ME.

oh. THAT ARM.

Lotor is on bad terms Haggar. I AM THE LEADER BUT I AM NOT MY FATHER.

holy shit that arm looks like shiros arm.

OH NO SHIROOO.

alksdjasjd OMG MEMORIES.

BLACK SAVE HIM. SAVE HIIIM.

NOODLES.

EPISODE 6

LANCE LIKE WHIPS. OF COURSE HE DOES.

WHERES SHIRO.

oh new white undershirt.

KEITH JUST TALKING TO SHIRO IN THE DARK IN HIS ROOM.

"they need you you know." Keith talking about himself.

AS MANY TIMES AS IT TAKES TO SAVE YOU SHIRO.

oh. SHORT SLEEVES.

oomg. omg.

I LOVE THE GEEK TALK.

...OH NO

HEY MAN.

SOLID MATH LOL.

Leave the math to pidge. LOL. solid advice.

HUNK BUTT WIGGLE.

LOL keith defers ofc.

THE HAIR IS ALL WROOONG. ITS GOING THE WRONG WAY.

oh no.

THIS MAY BE THE WORST POST IN THE GALRA EMPIRE BUT ITS MY POST. VICTORY OR DEATH. I LOVE YOU FOR THAT THROK.

oh its lotors guards.

???

OMG. OH NO. TELEDUV.

ohh no. SHEITH FIGHT.

lol they believe shiro ofc.

oh so it IS her.

OH YEAH AMBIDEXTROUS KEITH.

aw yes allura grab lances scruff.

ohhh no. this is a rift.

lotors brains vs shiros brains. hmn.

NICE KEITH.

ooooh no.

I wonder if Throk is still alive and can snitch.

Shoulder touch.

SOFT LOOK. The black lion has chosen you.

landing codes? what? whoa lotor. SO THAT PLAN WAS TO SET UP THROK? HES THAT PETTY??

episode 7

IS THAT HAGGAR?THE BLUE PALADIN??

ORIGINAL VOLTRON PALADINS

OH DEAR.

LOL ZARKON HAS A MACE. OR A HAMMER.

MORE KNOWLEDGEABLE AS AN ALCHEMIST THAN A SOLDIER

BEAR ALIEN

ERODES DISCIPLINE.

QUEENS AND KINGS NICE.

alluras already old there huh

and lions are super recent.

omg. ZARKON IS AFRAID OF CATS.

Minerva? Onerva?

OH ALLURA IS A BABY. THATWAS HER MOM SHES A PERFECT COPY.

HES MARRIED TO AN ALTEAN.

oh ships vs clean energy.

OH NO ITS SENTIENT.

why does she sound so dead???

WHY ARE THE LIONS ALL BANGED UP THEYRE SUPPOSED TO BE NEW??

also zarkon used to be so small

GALRA HAVE PUPILS

so blue lions are flirts. hmn.

IS THAT A LIL KITTY NOSE ON THEIR HELMETS?

THE SQUAD. THEYRE SO CUTE.

LOL LEG.

waiiit. WHY DOES KEITH STILL PUSH HIS BAYARD IN FOR FORM SWORD??

isnt it with lance now??

live foreverrr.

Enerva is Haggar??

ohhh thats why his eyes are pink. SO THISIS THE BIRTH OF DRUID MAGIC, THE PARTICLES.

....THATS IT??

[retrosedes-writing]

Star Crossed Part 2

For Ignoct Week, Day 1: Falling in Love

Rating: General, fluff Warnings: The Slowest Burn in Existence Summary: First Meeting

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Save a dashboard, reblog the preview instead!

Ignis had already reached his sixth birthday by the time little Noctis Lucis Caelum was ready for his guidance. Having heard several rumours about the young heir apparent's rebellious disposition and penchant for misbehaving, he was a bundle of nerves about being properly introduced for the first time.

What if the future king didn't like him? If he refused to listen to what Ignis had to say? What if he was even smarter, rendering his position useless?

Entering the nursery suite with his uncle at his side, he was immediately taken aback by the sight before him.

King Regis was kneeling beside a rather average-looking little boy, clasping his small hands in his own and quietly murmuring to him with a kind smile hiding underneath his neatly trimmed beard.

Surely this was not his son, the prince? Noctis was barely younger than Ignis himself, only a couple years separating them at most, but this scrawny toddler with shocks of coal black hair partially covering his eyes was somehow not what he had been expecting.

"Your Majesty." His uncle bent at the waist to announce their presence and the King quickly got to his feet to welcome them with open arms, giving Noctis a little nudge to scoot off the chaise longue as he did so.

With his father's hands on both shoulders, the boy was shepherded around his long legs to stand reluctantly in front of his guests, giving Ignis a closer look at his pale, round face. His expression was somewhat forlorn, his gaze filled with a sort of compelling innocence, and his eyes were very blue, like the last remaining light of the night sky after the sun had long since disappeared below the horizon.

"Are you excited to meet your new playmate?"

Ignis bowed uncertainly, slightly worried about colliding with the prince's head as Noctis was just that much shorter than him.

"Shake his hand, son," King Regis instructed Noctis gently.

To be greeted as an equal rather than as a subject caught Ignis off-guard yet again but nevertheless he extended his hand to Noctis as he'd been taught. After a brief hesitation, the boy hastily grabbed his hand and shook only the very tips of his fingers, then looked back to his father for further guidance. Completely unsure how to react, Ignis followed suit, staring unblinkingly up at his uncle through the big, round lenses of his glasses.

King Regis chuckled good-naturedly. "You'll have to forgive him, he's yet to do this before. Still so much to learn. Like this, Noctis," he said, winking at his son. "Mr. Scientia and I will give you an example of how it's done."

Ignis watched as the King graciously shook his uncle's hand. He then looked curiously back at Noctis as the prince's soft, warm palm shifted slightly upwards to wrap around his own. The boy seemed to be blushing; an embarrassed rosy pink had developed and spread across his cheeks. Looking away to one side, he staunchly avoided eye contact and stowed his hand into the pocket of his shorts.

It was at that moment that Ignis realized he was shaking hands with a boy like any other, just another little kid already being groomed for the trappings of high society like himself. He was a child from an important bloodline, certainly, but he was real nonetheless.

"Good job, Noctis!" Regis applauded them warmly. "I hope you'll do your best to become friends. Why don't you start by showing Ignis your new toys over there?"

They were led by the hand to the corner of the room where a considerable array of children's playthings lay scattered around a large custom playmat depicting what was probably a highly inaccurate cartoon version of Insomnia, complete with the Citadel at the centre, and then left to their own devices while the adults conversed with each other at a slight distance.

Feeling distinctly older than his own age, Ignis settled down beside the quilted map and tried to pay dutiful attention while Noctis shyly presented him with his favourite toys.

He fidgeted with a cactuar figure wearing a chef's hat and driving a small shiny red car which he had immediately grown partial to while he politely observed Noctis in action, looking on as the young prince began to lose himself in his own imagination. Eventually he joined in and together, they pushed life-like toy trucks along gentle fabric roadways, crashed miniature convertibles into piles of multi-coloured building blocks and launched off makeshift bridges Noctis had constructed out of books clearly borrowed from his father's study.

Yet despite having another boy from his own age group to play with, the tiny successor to the throne seemed more enamoured by his father's presence than anything else. He kept looking over at the adults and frequently toddled back over to them to deposit his toys in the king's lap instead, seeking his attention and approval before being kindly redirected back to the play corner where Ignis was waiting.

Soon enough, however, there was a knock on the door and another grown man poked his head in. "Your Majesty, the delegates are-"

"Growing impatient, I'm sure," King Regis supplied, standing with the intent to depart and heaving a sigh. "Tell them I'll be right with them momentarily. Ancilla," he asked of one of the nursemaids hovering nearby. "Please, watch over my son."

His uncle left them a few minutes later as well, giving them over to the care of the prince's governess and nursing staff for a couple of hours. For the most part, the women let them be and gossiped among themselves around the corner so their hushed voices wouldn't carry to the ears of the children, trusting Ignis to prevent Noctis from doing anything drastic.

Surprisingly, much of the young heir's bashfulness quickly disappeared after his father had exited the room. He regarded his new playmate with much more interest and open curiosity even as he largely ignored him to tug a variety of realistic, detailed rubber fishes out of a toy aquarium by the magnetic hooks in their mouths, lining them all up in a row to compare each catch with the kid-friendly depictions in the accompanying species identification booklet. His future advisor picked idly at the carpet fibers and refrained from interrupting.

The longer he watched Noctis, the more he thought there was definitely something special about him, immersed somewhere in the cerulean depths of those eyes perhaps, but Ignis couldn't quite put his finger on what exactly.

Nevertheless, he felt somewhat awed at finally being in the presence of the prince he was preparing to serve for the rest of his life. The boy sitting beside him was at once so much more and so much less than he'd been expecting; his pale green eyes were wide and his heart was open, because Ignis too was just a child then.

And then Noctis experimentally tried to put one of the toy fishes into his mouth, causing Ignis to panic and grab it away from him before he could swallow it and die. He picked his nose while his governess was looking the other way, because that's just what little kids do, and Ignis quickly felt his preconceived notions of divine royalty come crashing down around him.

Not that he told him to stop. No, he merely chose to look the other way awkwardly. Someday, Ignis would do a fine job of growing out of his apprehension for scolding the prince of Insomnia, telling him what to do or not do, but today was not that day.

Once he had gotten over his shock that the inheritor of the power of kings was in fact just a normal toddler as equally clueless and awkward in private as he was (perhaps moreso), Ignis gradually came to terms with the fact that his position was also currently lesser than what he'd been promised. The talents he had been training to possess later on in life weren't necessary just yet, so instead, he was essentially brought in early to help with what was really just... glorified babysitting.

He held the prince's hand and took him to the lavatory when he needed a restroom break, called for the nurse when he got sick, and encouraged Noctis to pay attention during lessons as the younger boy had a great tendency to doze off. Most importantly, Ignis tried his best to keep Noctis out of trouble, something which his petite royal highness was very good at getting into when he thought no one was looking.

Not that he minded at all. Ignis gained a new appreciation seemingly every day for the fact that his lifelong "occupation" was a real, living, breathing human being like himself, capable of holding interesting conversations and independent thoughts (be they limited to the topics and questions that would typically occur to a very young boy). His loneliness at being "abandoned" by his parents for an existence of perpetual servitude to the crown had all since evaporated.

As the two steadily grew older together, side by side, it was inevitable that they became friends.

Noctis was not as an aloof a prince as he appeared to be at first glance; it seemed he merely took a while to warm up to people, especially people who occasionally had to tell him what to do "because of the rules." But when left alone together, as one of the few boys his age in the vicinity, Ignis was always his first choice for a partner in misadventure.

It didn't matter that he was technically intended to be a sort of attendant, like his uncle Mr Scientia but significantly smaller, because the adults were simply no fun at hide-and-seek or playing Hunters and Daemons and could not be enticed to co-op video games with him either (not that Ignis was much better at them).

He didn't take it personally that Ignis always insisted he tell an adult member of staff where he was hiding just in case he couldn't be found after a set time had passed, and remained in bright spirits even when the young advisor-in-training tried to put a stop to his more boisterous shenanigans.

Of course, to keep the spirit of their friendship alive, Ignis had to compromise his duties now and then... He didn't always say no. Sometimes, he didn't really have much a choice, as Noctis would merely shrug and say, "You're not the boss of me. I'm the prince."

He had a point.

Ignis learned to choose his battles wisely. If he didn't see any real harm in the prince's ventures, he joined in just to keep a trained eye on the situation and sometimes even off-handedly brought a couple of well-chosen books along as well, in the vain hope that he could maybe convince Noctis to study on the go. This rarely worked, though the younger boy did seem to develop a liking for one book in particular, which depicted many beautiful illustrations of the various constellations and explained the cosmogony behind them. Even if he could barely read (and didn't like to try because learning was hard), he obviously enjoyed the pictures.

An unfortunate side effect of this was that it increased the prince's desire for a nighttime escapade tenfold.

Ignis often slept over by request and every other week it seemed he was woken by Noctis tugging on his sleeve to let him know he was hungry and sneaking out of his rooms to find the kitchens, or (to his utter panic) trying to climb out the upper part of the window with the intent of accessing the purely ornamental balustrade that lined the outer walls of the Citadel.

"How did you even get up there?!"

"I dunno, I threw something at the window to try and get it to open and then I was on top of it."

"Please get down."

For Ignis, following the king's wayward son out into the darkened, empty halls of the palace was quite the stressful ordeal - where Noctis could only be lightly punished for disobeying curfew, Ignis was risking his very livelihood.

Yet what else could he do? Noctis posed more of a danger to himself while wandering the corridors alone than he did with a reluctant accomplice who could at least keep him in line. No longer satisfied with watching the fish in the palace garden's koi ponds, the prince had already been caught by the guards while slipping out on his own to the nature park behind the Citadel buildings more times than Ignis could be bothered to count.

"I just wanted to see the stars," Noctis mumbled, tears dripping off the end of his nose into the mud splatter which he had tracked halfway across the foyer floor before being caught mid-jump in a skid by his stormy-faced father coming into the front hall. His jubilation at having made it outdoors without being seen by the guards had quickly transformed into an expression of horror. "It's impossible with all the city lights right outside... I'm sorry I let you take the blame."

"I know. It's okay," said Ignis, pulling him into a comforting hug, although he stared unseeing over the prince's shoulder at the lengthy streak of mud on the floor as the angry, booming voice of the king still echoed in his mind. His heart was beating weakly against his chest as if trying to escape the predicament they were in.

King Regis usually tolerated Ignis taking the blame for his son's misbehaviour, with a twinkling in his eyes no matter how stern he appeared on the surface, in such a way that Ignis suspected he secretly didn't mind them getting into typical childhood trouble every now and then. This time it seemed they had crossed a line.

Even his uncle had something to say about it. It was uncharacteristic of him to raise his voice to such a volume.

"You cannot simply abscond from the Citadel with the prince in tow whenever the two of you feel like it!"

His normally even-tempered uncle had been practically spitting, his eyeballs nearly bulging out of their sockets in anger. He paced the room in front of Ignis while sweat gathered on his glistening forehead.

"Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to take the bloody crown prince outside the palace, at night of all times? There are people who wish the royal family ill, here in this very city! You never know who may be lurking about out there, waiting for their chance. What if you had walked right into their lap?"

Ignis looked down at his shoes. "I'm sorry, Uncle," he said quietly. "I had no idea it was so unsafe behind the Citadel." He paused, trying to collect himself as tears welled up in his eyes. "I should have known better," he muttered, more to himself than for his uncle's benefit.

In the end, it was decided that when Noctis and his father departed a few weeks later for their first planned visit to the royal family of Tenebrae, Ignis would be forced to remain behind as punishment. Perhaps if he wanted to be advisor to the prince, he should first learn how to act like one, or so his uncle told him firmly.

Ignis was gutted that their single late-night excursion beyond the palace walls had cost him such an important diplomatic opportunity. It didn't matter as much to him that he had family in Tenebrae; after so many years apart from his parents, he could scarcely remember what they looked like, let alone desire to be reunited with them.

Nevertheless, the hole they had left in his life by sending him away at only four years old was quickly re-opened with Noctis's absence.

Who was he without the prince at his side? Having been tutored privately most of his life, he didn't have any other friends and he wasn't about to make any new ones attending private school part-time. He suspected that anyone attempting to ingratiate themselves with him were most likely only trying to get a good word in with the royal family and besides, he didn't really have time to socialise anyway. As another part of his punishment, his study-load had increased to include a history of the dangers posed to the Crystal and the royal family of Lucis by the outside world.

He would remember in vivid detail the night he had fallen asleep with his nose in a passage about how the Empire of Niflheim had begun weaponizing daemons to invade the few parts of the world that still opposed them. His nightmares had followed him back into the waking world as his uncle gently shook his arm to rouse him. The expression on his lined face bespoke grave news.

"We've just received word from the Crownsguard. There was an attack."

Ignis stared back at him for a solid few seconds, unwilling to believe. When he spoke, his voice sounded hoarse.

"Noctis?"

"The prince... has sustained severe injuries. They're continuing on towards Tenebrae as soon as he's stable, with the intent to seek healing from the Oracle as quickly as possible."

Was this some sort of cruel joke? Another punishment for not understanding the danger Noctis was in outside the palace? No, he must still be dreaming. He had to be.

By the dawn's morning light, nothing had changed.

Over the next few weeks, news from the King's convoy continued to trickle down from the higher-ups at the Citadel.

They had arrived in Tenebrae.

The prince was in a coma.

Ignis was beside himself with anxiety and grief. Noctis couldn't die. He was still so young! After everything they had worked toward together these past 6 years of childhood, his friend had to live to become King one day. That was his duty, wasn't it, to guide him once he took the throne? What would he do if, one day, the prince just.. wasn't there?

He couldn't stand the thought of it. It made him sick, like a stone had become lodged in his too-dry throat and then sank to the bottom of his stomach. Yet at the same time another part of Ignis, his more pragmatic side, began to steel himself to the possibility.

To his great relief, however, after many weeks had passed in the grey and hollow rituals of daily life with no updates from the Crownsguard, Ignis finally received a letter from Prince Noctis himself:

Hi Dear Iggy,

I'm okay. Sorry if I made you worry.

Anyway, guess what? I made a new friend. Her name is Luna and she tells me stories like the ones in those books you're always trying to make me read. She has a lot of those books too.

Do you like dogs?

- N

Beneath the prince's crude handwriting, he had drawn two rather bean-shaped animals in what was presumably black and yellow crayon.

If anything, knowing Noctis was alive and well and enjoying himself elsewhere made Ignis miss him all the more.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

[wellpresseddaisy]

I'm really surprised by the comments defending Dumbledore here. He was, objectively, a terrible Headmaster. He played favorites in the most obvious manner possible. He fostered an environment in which an entire House was villified by the student body (and some professors - Hagrid's comments) while giving lipservice to cooperation. He flat ignored and excused bullying which nearly resulted in the death of a student. He allowed a student to break just about every rule going and rewarded him for it.

Is fostering an environment where it's acceptable for upper year students to hiss at an 11 year old due to their sorting acceptable? Would having all your hard work through the year disregarded for the celebrity kid attending school with you (in your rival house, no less) make you feel welcome? Make you feel positively toward him? It's a great setup for a great deal of festering resentment.

To the comment that he was 'restoring points taken unfairly through the year due to pro-Slytherin bias' (paraphrased), this is absolutely not the case. First of all, Gryffindor lost the points due to Harry &Co. being out of bounds after hours and were taken by McGonagall. Is McGonagall secretly pro-Slytherin? Snape gave no points to anyone and took fewer than any other professor. Second of all, he's giving points unfairly based on an situation no other students had access to. Points are generally given for work in class or for being helpful outside class, but in situations where any student could have earned them. The troll? A fair earning of points. Any student could have rendered aid to Hermione. The Stone? Unfair, since only Harry was being lead by the nose right to it.

It's also interesting to note that some people feel it's appropriate to humiliate students in public when they're Slytherin and Dumbledore is doing it, but a crime worthy of public execution when it's Snape and Neville, for example.

Some people (this is not directed at the OP in any way, and is a general statement about fandom) want to yell about Snape terrorizing students (usually read as 'any student not in Slytherin'), but ignore that we only see his interactions with Harry, Neville, Ron, and Hermione. That he's certainly rude and a prime asshole, but hardly terrorizes them (do terrorized students cheek their professor?). That he gives no points, but takes very few (for acceptable reasons) and gives few detentions.

He does seem to frighten Neville, at least for the first couple of years, but even Neville seems to feel it's a bit silly to be so frightened of Snape. It simply isn't fair to a character to ascribe things we don't see them do to them. We don't see Snape with higher level classes. We don't see him with Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs. We can't generalize his behavior with a specific group to the larger school community when it seems everyone else (including Hermione) respect him and feel he's not completely unfair.

So I love my complicated asshole Severus Snape, the spy who sacrificed everything for a child he hated with eyes he loved, who was one of the most badass wizards on the Light Side who still had to make himself feel better by terrorizing children.

I also pity the hell out of him. A part of me will always be convinced that the main reason Snape never grew the hell up because that would have conflicted with Dumbledore’s plans.

For all this talk I see about how Snape terrorized children (which is true and valid), I hardly ever see anything about Dumbledore and his treatment of the Slytherins. Imagine those Slytherins Harry’s first year, when Dumbledore deliberately swept away their victory to make sure Harry’s house won the cup. It was public humiliation and a clear demonstration that the Gryffindors would always be better than the Slytherins in his eyes. 

Harry choosing to be in Gryffindor? Dumbledore made it clear that was Harry choosing Light over Dark. How many other instances like that were there in the books? How many before Harry arrived? How many Slytherins went Dark because they were taught that was the only path for them? How many times did it feel like it was the other three Houses against theirs? With Gryffindor reigning supreme, of course.

This is the man who knowingly kept Harry in an abusive household, then later made him a sacrificial lamb. He made himself a martyr by forcing Snape, already fucked up and under his heel, to kill him.

I love my fucked up Snape, but I can’t help but wonder how much of that is due to Dumbledore’s manipulations. He had a game plan in mind, and he needed his chess pieces to know their roles. If Snape grew up, if Snape began to heal, then he would be much harder for Dumbledore to control. Snape was Dumbledore’s tame, broken Slytherin, just like Harry was his pure, sacrificial lamb.

So when ranting about Snape and how he made himself feel better by terrorizing children, don’t forget how Dumbledore targeted an entire house of children to make himself feel wise and powerful and Good.

[aion-rsa]

Line of Duty Series 6 Episode 2 Review: What is Kate’s Game?

https://ift.tt/39l9RLa

DCI Jo Davidson: D for Devious. C for Corrupt. I for I wonder what hold the OCG has over her. Because that flappy car tantrum was not the act of an ice-cool customer solely in it for the spondulicks. Jo’s a foe in woe. Why? We don’t know.

What we do know is that AC-12’s shade-ar now has a 100% detection rate. Every time it’s pointed at a potentially bent copper, it finds one. The moment Davidson picked up that burner phone from Beardy Blue Van Man, she lost all claim to innocence. Everything now points to her having 1) tipped off the OCG about Carl Banks running his mouth, 2) bought them enough time to kill him and the CHIS framed for Banks’ murder, and 3) used her keys to Farida’s to plant those burner phones and frame her as the leak.

What made Davidson do it, and whether AC-12 will be able to nail her are the questions. This series is still at the drawing-us-in phase, making steady progress by laying the ground and setting mysteries instead of bounding from one shock to the next.

Speaking of nailing Davidson: now that she’s dirtier than a street dog, is Kate about to lie down and catch fleas? DI Fleming was firmly on Team Jo this episode, thumbing her nose and rolling her eyes at AC-12 at every opportunity. When Steve tried to muster a sense of bonhomie in that piss-stinking underpass, Kate was having none of it. She betrayed him to get in Davidson’s good books, exposing Steve to a humiliating defeat when he and his troops stormed the Hill, his waistcoat puffed up with the fair winds of justice.

Was Kate and AC-12’s break-up really that bad, or – and a prize poppadom to everyone who got here earlier than me – is the lady protesting too much? It wouldn’t be the first time Fleming has gone undercover via a different anti-corruption team. The twist would be that, having exhausted all the Forster, Francis, Flynn surname variants in previous series, this time she’s gone undercover as herself, playing a disgruntled ex-anti-corruption officer who’s had it up to here with those pious tossers at anti-corruption. Hate those guys.

It’s one explanation for the cosy glass of wine, lingering hug and weekend invitation. Another equally plausible scenario is that Kelly Macdonald is a pre-Raphaelite beauty, even in her sensible trousers, and Kate’s recently single and ready to mingle. Who could blame her?

It is in the air, after all. John Corbett’s widow Steph let Steve know that he’d be welcome to visit her bungalow whenever the desire arose. Steve’s problem is that thanks to his injury and painkiller addiction, nothing of his has risen for well over a year. (Not strictly true. In a victory that couldn’t have been more bittersweet if it had come dipped in Green & Blacks Organic Dark 70%, Steve’s finally been promoted to DI – rewarded for his loyalty by a Super he’s planning to skip out on.)

Uncharacteristically, Steve wasn’t at Steph’s for yet another unwise sexual liaison, he was there to covertly suss out why she’d visited Ted at work. If I heard it right, Steph told Ted “You promised you’d call me back, it’s HMRC,” before he ushered her out of headquarters. Are people starting to get suspicious about that so-called life insurance sum (actually £50K of hooky cash Ted passed Steph to make up for the lack of police pay-out on John’s death)? Another mystery: are Ted’s buttocks the ones leaving a dent in Steph’s sofa in front of that big TV on match nights? 

Read more

TV

Line of Duty: Who is DC Chloe Bishop? Fan Theory Suggests Series 1 Link

By Louisa Mellor

TV

Line of Duty Series 6 Episode 2: Ryan, Davidson & All Our Questions & Theories

By Louisa Mellor

Apologies there, for the blasphemous mention of Ted Hastings’ buttocks. Three Hail Marys and an act of contrition later, where were we?

That’s right, the return of Ryan Pilkington or The Caddy V2.0. The OCG’s newest inside man, Ryan’s history with AC-12 made for some awkward moments – whenever Steve showed up at The Hill, Ryan had to duck behind a tall plant lest Arnott remember that time he tried to amputate his fingers with a set of bolt cutters. Kate, now working alongside Pilkington, struggled to place him as the kid she’d once attempted to scare straight with threats of the sexual assault he’d face in juvenile custody. For Ryan to be Farida’s replacement on this case means there’s definitely somebody on high pulling the strings. Two to one odds it’s CC Osborne, whose conspiracy to cover up Steve’s botched Counter-Terrorism op in series one we were reminded of in that first Vella clip.

No thanks to Murder Squad, there was a breakthrough on the Vella investigation. Steve and Chloe (Ted was right, a great wee girl) have learned that Vella was poised to go public with her findings on police corruption, and so was likely killed for her silence.

The Vella case has been the force’s highest priority for over a year and has got nowhere. AC-12 poke it for five minutes and they’ve already uncovered a motive. It’s amazing how much police work can get done when the investigators aren’t being bribed to drop the evidence in puddles and misplace their pencil when it’s time to take down witness statements. “Working their bollocks off to find Gail Vella’s killer,” are they, ACC Wise? If Central Police are so desperate to solve Gail’s murder, why put Ian pigging Buckells in charge, an officer with only half of what it takes to be a useful idiot. 

It’s a clever trick, inserting Vella into the past investigations. Zoom out a little from every series we’ve watched and it’s easy to believe there she’s been, watching alongside us, raising eyebrows and keeping receipts. Vella’s a mouthpiece for series creator Jed Mercurio’s well-aired opinions on PR and optics-led politics and policing. (Literally a mouthpiece. He gave me her line questioning what corrupt police officers were getting out of their relationship with Jimmy Savile back in 2016.) Her case may also have been partly inspired by the still unsolved murder of Daniel Morgan in 1987 – as namechecked by Vella’s producer – a case with alleged connections to serious police corruption. 

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Wrapping Vella around the past series is a neat turn, but comes with the drawback of needing to keep those cases alive in viewers’ memories. That means more recap dialogue than we’re used to from a series that usually, flatteringly, speeds off without a backwards glance and expects us to keep up. “If your man pulled the trigger that means he’s a gun for hire, the order came from higher up,” said Ted this episode. “If organised crime ordered the murder of Gail Vella, they’re protecting Carl Banks and framing Terry Boyle,” said Steve. “Yeah, we get it”, says Kate, speaking for the viewer. Credit us with some grasp, Line of Duty. Loyalty works both ways.

The post Line of Duty Series 6 Episode 2 Review: What is Kate’s Game? appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[ramrodd]

Joeseph DiGenova and Roger Stone: separated at birth?

COMMENTARY:

Joe DiGenova is an American attorney who served as the United States Attorney for the District of Columbia from 1983 to 1988. He ran the persecution of Marion Barry for being Mayor while negro because the MAGA hat crowd that came to town with Reagan in 1981 really resented Home Rule because it got in the way of the corruption they wanted to import from Miami and Los Angeles (the Wall Street corruption was already part of the anti-Barry white DC establishment that found Barry inconvenient and included Donald T. Reagan of Merrill Lynch and his son-in-law, David A. Lefeve, who ran Merrill Lynch's International Desk from his offices at 1100 Connecticul Avenue overlooking Duke Zeibert's patio).

DiGenova claimed to be zeroing in on corruption in Barry's administration when, what was actually going on was a great deal of chaos from the Barry people fighting their way into an administrative construct owned and operated by the white southern Congressmen on the House Committee on the District and for their convenience and benefit. A lot of this goes back to my cousin, "Woody" Wilson, who brought his rancid self-righteous southern Presbyteran bigotry to DC as "original intent" Jim Crow laws that continue to shape DC's relationship with itself.

Joe DiGenova is part of that Jim Crow tradition of white privilege personified by Brett Kavanaugh and his job was to defend the white status qou by cutting off the balls of the biggest swinging dick inside the Beltway, Mayor-for-Life, Marion "Night Train" Barry, a veteran of SNCC, which raised holy hell in the South for white privilege. Very smart, WEB DuBose Kappa Alpha Psi kinda of determined Black Power political activists who made AOC possible. And DiGenova couldn't get actionable material on him because he was so obviously bought and paid for by the DC white establishment that he was Teflon.

Eventually, DiGenova gave up and got out of public service to collect his reward in private practice for services rendered like John Kasich and David Stockman, but, as part of the Roger Stone element of the GOP Deep State, he and his wife, another career femi-Nazi, kept their hand in the game as political activists and colluded with Jay Stevens and crypto-Nazis in the FBI to engineer a Soviet-style honey trap to compromise Barry for smoking crack.

Barry was betrayed by a black women with a murky relationship with the crypto-Nazi elements in DOJ. He went up to the woman's room for a quicky and if a little dope was an improtant element of the woman's foreplay, well, he wasn't one to be rude, if you see my drift.

My personal introduction to cocaine in the 80's during the blizzard of nose candy that came to town with the Hollywood and Miami people who came to town with Reagan. Cocaine does for the female libido what pornography does for a man's dick. In the circles everybody was cruising in the 80's, players called cocaine "Bait".

Cocaine was one of differences between the 80s and the 70 but the important difference was the flower child sexual permissiveness of the victorous 60's counter-culture and the abuse of power and mercenary agenda of the corporate careerists who were basically on the losing side of the cultural wars until the confluence of their personal wealth and cocaine opened up a brand new world of sexual opportunity denied them in the 60s and most of the 70s.

The collision of those two world views occured in DC between Joeseph DiGenova and Marion Barry. And this is exactly the cultural incubator that created the Brett Kavanaugh generation of white male privilege inside the Beltway and have coalesced at the core of the Tea Party/MAGA coalition in the GOP Deep State that has common cause with Roger Stone, Steve Bannon, Mick Mulvaney, Bill Browder and the friends of the Russian Kleptarchy that sent the tanks to crush democracy that Yeltsin faced down and are enemies of Putin.

So, at some pretty blatant level, DiGenova has supplied an example of the sort of Fascst sophistry that defines all things associated with William F. Buckley, Jr., Newt Gingrich and, of course, Donald Duck Ass. This is the sort of logic that informed Jefferson Davis's theory of States Rights, the anti-Planned Parenthood business model of the Pro-Life business model and the Tory Socialism and class warfare of Reaganomics.