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loneberry · 2 years ago

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Notes on Palestine

The geopolitical situation right now is extremely unstable. In such moments it always feels like incentive structures are such that all parties are pushed toward war and escalation. I saw how this all unfolded with 9/11; it left an indelible mark on my psyche–to observe the world careening, the hysteria, the march toward endless war. The Iran hawks in the US are out calling for war with Iran (US intelligence and even the IDF have said Iran did not help *plan* the Hamas attacks, though the idea that Iran was behind the attacks is being presented as fact).

Days before the Hamas attacks, I was in an article + podcast rabbit hole focused on Iranian nuclear politics, Saudi-Israeli relations, and the current situation in the “Middle East” (I prefer the term “South West Asia and North Africa”/SWANA but will use “Middle East” for readability). I had also been reading that the US’s attempts to broker a US-Saudi-Israeli deal would piss off the Palestinians. It filled me with immense grief—nobody, not even Muslim Arabs, seem to care about Palestinians anymore. The international community has failed. Now it seems that the world has consented to a protracted genocide of Palestinians. It used to be the case that Arab countries would not considered normalizing relations with Israel without Israel making concessions to the Palestinians. The sad reality is that since the Arab Spring, the resolution of the Palestinian issue has become a low priority for many countries in the Middle East, many of whom have their own feud with Iran and see pivoting toward Israel as a path toward greater security. Of course I’m talking about the Abraham Accords, the so-called “peace deal” brokered by the Trump administration that enabled the normalization of relations between Israel, the UAE, and Bahrain, yet excluded any input from Palestinians. That event had brought me so much grief. It really felt like any hope for the Palestinian cause was dying. There seems to be little political will from any side to put pressure on Israel.

In moments of crisis like these I try to be sober and pedagogical, but such a task feels nearly impossible when it comes to the “Israeli-Palestinian conflict”. People say the conflict is “complicated” and rooted in hundreds of years of religious hatred. It is really not that complicated and only requires basic knowledge of 20th century history. Prior to WWI, the territory of Palestine (and much of the Arab world) was under the rule of the Ottoman Empire for over 400 years. The Allied Powers (Britain, France, Russia, and others) were at war with the Central Powers (Germany, Austro-Hungary, the Ottomans, etc). The Brits saw Palestine as a crown jewel and coveted Jerusalem in particular. They recruited Arab assistance in the war by whipping up hundreds of years of resentment against the Ottomans and promising the Arabs that they would break up the Ottoman Empire and help the Arabs create their own nations (see theMcMahon-Hussein correspondence). Yet the Brits were also keen on recruiting Jewish support on the side of the Allied Powers. In 1917 the British government made a declaration (the Balfour Declaration) that announced British support for the creation of a national home for the Jewish people in Palestine. At the end of WWI (which, as you likely know, ended in Allied success), the European empires on the winning side sought to expand their empires while Woodrow Wilson believed more in self-determination. The compromise was the “mandate” system, where the Europeans on the winning side took administrative control of territories lost by the Central Powers—France and Britain carved up the Middle East. Enter the British mandate for Palestine. The Arabs had been betrayed by the Allied Europeans (no surprise there). One form of colonial rule was swapped for another.

Prior to the end of WWI, the Zionist movement was gaining momentum, partly as an answer to the perennial problem of European anti-Semitism and partly because of the 19th/early-20th century discourse around nationalism. The idea of creating a Jewish state in Palestine began in the 19th century, but it was really in the 1890s that modern political Zionism began with the figure of Theodor Herzl. European Jews began to immigrate to Palestine to form settlements. Yet when the mandate was established, the Jewish population was still relatively small—around 9%. While the territory was under British rule, the Brits facilitated a dramatic increase in European Jewish immigration to Palestine. Between 1922 and 1935, the portion of the population that was Jewish grew to 27%. It’s hardly surprising that violence broke out between Arabs and Jews, as well as Arabs and the Brits (see the Arab Revolt of 1936-39).

The Brits promised a territory to an oppressed people (the Jews) that was never theirs to give away in the first place. The Arabs were quickly being displaced from their home. All of this would come to a head in WWII, when Europe’s vile anti-Semitism was on full display with the Holocaust. How would Europe atone for the atrocities committed against the Jews? There was much momentum around creating a physical state for the Jews in Palestine. This was also a convenient solution for deeply anti-Semitic Europe, as they preferred that the Jews leave rather than be integrated into their societies. In 1947 the UN voted to partition Palestine into a Jewish state and an Arab state, with Jerusalem coming under international administration. 13 voted against the partition (basically all the countries in the Middle East, plus India and several others). 55% of the land would be set aside for the Jews. War broke out soon after the UN resolution. The (WWII) battle-hardened Zionist paramilitaries (backed by European countries) undertook a campaign of ethnic cleansing and captured additional territory. Between 1947-49, 750,000 Palestinians became refugees—around 40% of the entire Palestinian population. 78% of historic Palestine was taken by Zionist forces. This is the event of settler violence and ethnic cleansing that Palestinians refer to as the Nakba (or catastrophe).

There is so much obfuscation about the roots of the Israel-Palestine conflict. What ultimately happened: Europe decided it wanted to create a nation for Jews. It picked the territory of Palestine for this project (other territories were also considered) because the Brits controlled the territory and because of its religious significance. There were already people who lived on the land that was to be used to create a Jewish state. Now Palestinians are stateless and live under a brutal military occupation (the West Bank) and even more punishing blockade (Gaza)—or as refugees. Palestinians were ultimately made to suffer for the sins of European anti-Semitism.

There is a lot more I can say here, about the history of the Cold War and how it relates to the US’s alliance with Israel, about internecine conflicts in Palestinian politics (the split between Hamas and the PLO/Palestinian Authority), about the current geopolitical situation, about contemporary domestic politics in Israel (which currently has the most right-wing govt in Israel’s history) and the Hamas attacks themselves. I see friends gleefully posting about the murder of Israeli civilians. I just can’t get on board with that. Neither can I get on board with Israel bombing hospitals and shelters in Gaza, or calling Palestinians “animals.” All life is sacred, all life is grievable. (People are right to point out that most of the world does not grieve the loss of Palestinian life.)

Events do have a context. Gaza is one of the most unlivable places on the planet. Around 67% of Gaza's population are refugees displaced during the Nakba. It has been under a brutal blockade for 16 years. It’s the 3rd most densely populated place on the planet—over 2.1 million people are crammed into a space half the size of London. The residents have been deprived of electricity, clean drinking water, medical supplies, and food. Nearly half of residents are unemployed and civilians have died by thousands under Israeli bombings (6,407 Palestinians have been killed since 2008). It is referred to as an “open air prison” because the residents are literally hemmed in by a high-tech fence. Given these dire conditions, an eruption of violence did seem almost inevitable.

What I fear: a ground invasion of Gaza. A broader conflagration involving Lebanon and Iran, and potentially the rest of the world. The US going to war with Iran. If the world genuinely wishes to see the end of the “cycle of violence,” Palestinians must be free. Any attempt to bring about “regional security” while ignoring the Palestinian situation is destined to fail.

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neon-junkie · 4 years ago

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Hey everyone,

This will be my final post addressing the fandom conflict that has quite frankly gotten out of hand. Although it’s very likely this post will be picked apart, no matter how well intended it is, I will no longer be addressing, interacting, or responding to any further accusations made against me. Of course, if people have questions from a genuine place of interest, I will be happy to clarify anything for you, either via DM’s or non-anon asks. I will not be answering anonymous asks on this, as I do not want anything else posted on this topic.

As a side note: For anyone tempted to wade into the debate, I sincerely ask you not to get involved. Do not make yourself a target, do not feel you need to ‘pick a side’, and please do not think you have an obligation to reason with either side. It seems to be well past the point of that, so please find people you get along with in this fandom and curate a space for yourself away from all this conflict.

Warning: This post will contain uncensored slurs, mentions of racism, paedophilia, transphobia, LGBTQ+ phobia, death threats, threats of violence, targeted harassment, and abusive language.

To start off, I want to apologise to everyone who has somehow gotten drawn into this mess by either defending me, following me, or interacting with my content. This whole situation with me began well over a year ago when I wrote a crack-smut fic featuring Javier/Micah, posted back in August 2019. A crack fic is defined as “a work of fan fiction that is absurd, surprising or ridiculous, often intentionally.” It was inspired by a camp interaction between Micah and Javier, and like many other fanfiction writers, I decided to write smut about it. The fic was titled ‘Dirty Fucking Greaser’, and if that shocks you, I’m sure you can imagine how shocked I was to be informed afterwards that ‘Greaser’ was in fact a very serious 19th century slur for a Mexican individual. My first encounter with this word as insult was via RDR2, where it was used like a very casual insult. My only prior knowledge of this term was in regards to the greasers youth subculture, so the severity was lost on me. This obviously does not excuse my ignorance, and I should have researched the term better, but this is just again to apologize for that oversight, the insensitivity, and to highlight that my use of this term was not meant maliciously. Following this being pointed out, I proceeded to make 3 separate apology posts [Unfortunately I can only find the third one: HERE], renamed the fic, and added slur warnings in both the tags and the fic description. When I continued to receive complaints and increasingly aggressive abuse (which included being told my apologies weren’t good enough and I should delete my account and even kill myself), I attempted to delete the fic and mistakenly abandoned it instead. I contacted AO3 to see if it could be removed, but they said there was nothing they could do. I contacted their DMCA takedown team, who also said they couldn't remove it. Please note that all this happened 7-8 months ago, and has been dragged on for almost a year.

So, from this one unfortunate incident, I’ve been branded a racist, and someone who attacks POC, when all I have done is tried to defend myself and correct my past mistakes. I could have done this more gracefully in the past, but frankly when you’re suddenly the target of unrelenting callout posts and nasty anons, it’s very hard to be open to criticism of this sort, but this is what I’m trying to move past.

Over the course of the year, this one mistake has spiralled, and the crusade against me has somehow coincided with moral conflicts over certain characters and ships. This has devolved into dehumanizing abuse, witch hunts, death threats, doxxing, anon hate, and much more unpleasant behaviour.

I have been in fandom for a very long time, and at the heart of all fandom circles is the fear of censorship and subsequent purges, so the ‘ship and let ship’ mentality was more or less the pinnacle of fandom philosophy. And yes, this can be problematic in some contexts. People have their right to be uncomfortable with content, have a right to be offended by content, but that is not content meant for you. This argument has devolved into ‘what material is morally right to engage with’ and that is a mentality in which fandom will not survive, because for every person who is telling me I’m an awful person for writing about Micah, there are three other people telling me how much they appreciate me making that content. For every fic in which I characterize Javier and Flaco a certain way, some people are made uncomfortable by it and others tell me they enjoy it. And this isn’t just white people, but POC too, which makes it very difficult to know whether I am genuinely in the right or the wrong, especially when it comes to the concept of ‘fetishization’ which I have been made aware I need to educate myself on. I intend to do so, but I disagree with the common accusation that finding non-white men romantically and sexually attractive is inherently fetishistic and makes me racist. It’s pushing a catch-22; don’t find POC sexually attractive? Racist. Find POC sexually attractive? Racist.

I am always willing to be (politely) approached about anything my readers may be concerned about, but if it’s something I’ve specifically tagged for (such as themes, scenarios, etc.) I’m afraid you consented to reading it and with that I cannot help you. You are just as responsible for curating your space and what you see/read just as much as I am responsible for tagging it appropriately.

On the topic of racism, I want to bring up my prior use of ‘white racism’ which has obviously been a point of contention among both white and people of colour. The (literal) black vs white concept of racism is incredibly American-centric, and as someone from Europe, which has a history of oppression against white cultures and those of people of colour, it feels inaccurate. However, this has recently been discussed with me and I came to the realization that while growing up, especially in the UK, ‘xenophobia’ and ‘racism’ were marketed as one and the same. So, with this little revelation in mind, I will no longer be using ‘white racism’ (Or ‘reverse racism’) to identify the abuse I have been receiving, but will instead call it by what it really is; dehumanizing, debasing, xenophobic, puritanical.

Very briefly, I will also touch on the NewAustin situation, which has also been dredged into this. I did not ‘chase a POC from tumblr’. NA was a minor who for some reason was on my 18+ blog and took issue with me, likely from the ongoing discourse regarding my fic and initial mistake, as well as my interest in Micah. They were subsequently harassed into deleting their account by anonymous hate following various conflicts with other users for their support of me or their ships in general. I have never encouraged my followers to target anyone, and have always asked to be blocked and blacklisted by those who do not like me or my content. When NewAustin messaged me following the deletion of their blog, I was admittedly indifferent to the point of being unkind, and accused them of sending the hate themselves. This was based on the anon hate being racially-driven without there being any prior knowledge or publication that NA was a person of colour. This aside, I should have at the time, whether I believed it was my followers or not, condemned this behaviour. Regardless of the issues I’ve had with these people, it is never ever ok to send hate to anyone, no matter the motivation behind it, and that should have been stated at the time.

All I can do at this point is acknowledged and apologize for my past mistakes, and try to improve myself going forward.

It is not my place to dictate the morals of the character/ship-aspect of this argument, and I am not interested in waging a war of opinion. This post is simply to clarify how I am involved in this, and why I am so viscerally targeted. You can draw your own conclusions, but I am no longer interested in this endless back and forth.

To my mutuals/followers, I stand by my request to not interact and to block and move on, as this is what I’ll be doing too.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, and I hope it makes things from my perspective a little clearer.

-RAT <3

EDIT: Just after this post was made, the fic in question was finally removed. I had to go through a DMCA take down, which can take months, since I originally abandoned the fic, thinking that meant delete. I explain this in more detail above. Said fic is gone, and has been gone since this post has been around.

#the tea #apology #long post

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bamboozledchaos · 3 years ago

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An impromptu informal essay about Tectone. I try to be neutral when reading through the information, and I shall strive to be respective to all sides.

‪Initial thoughts: I don’t get why we’re allegedly degrading his appearance and marriage. He allegedly has made problematic comments, but part of the hate he got was just so personal and unnecessary. By all means, if he’s problematic, hold him accountable for his wrongs; but don’t attack unrelated stuff about him. To me it seems like a lot of people are hating instead of holding him accountable, and I have a weird feeling that at least a few times his words got taken out of context.

After all research: He had made a few suspicious comments. He did get taken out of context a lot of times, but the other cases prove that the accusations about his problematic nature aren’t entirely without credit.

During research:

The Klee ‘waifu’ comment was about 10-year-old kids having crushes on fellow 10-year-old kids, so I don’t see anything weird. He did add that ‘not all waifus are your waifus’ so I don’t think he bore any illwill at all.

The Yunjin fire truck comment is suspicious; but as a Chinese kid I don’t feel offended. I think he did say not to mock it, while I see a few members of his chat being problematic instead. I’d say, it depends on the Chinese consensus. Some Chinese people are offended while I’m not. If you aren’t a part of the Chinese culture, I would appreciate you letting us decide if it’s offensive by ourselves. We appreciate your allyship though!

I am not African nor do I have contact to any Black people, so I don’t think it’s my place to judge if he’s innocent. His joke about ‘African kids will kill for food so why should he feed murderers’ seems more than off-putting to me. Again, if you are Black, I’d greatly appreciate your input. If it’s proven by the victims of the comment to be problematic, please allow me to apologise on behalf of the toxic fanbase.

He had denied gaslighting and unintentionally invalidated abuse victims, by saying ‘gaslighting isn’t real’. He had no prior context to how a loyal viewer had went though, so he’s providing misinformation by saying she hadn’t actually been gaslighted. I do not know if he knew that the gaslighting wasn’t a misused word for her situation. Again, that particular abuse victim has spoken up about it being bad, so I take this as a ‘yes’ to ‘if he was problematic on this subject’.

He had also said that ‘Chongyun is getting bricked”. His comment about Chongyun and Shenhe insinuates he is okay with Chongyun, a literal kid, getting r*ped by his aunt without his legal consent. Minors cannot consent, and the fact that he’s pairing this kid to his aunt feels like justifying shipping incestual ships. I disagree with the implied sentiment.

About the ahegao, I really hope he just didn’t know why it means like how I had no clue. But then, I have no idea of his knowledge, so I shall give him the benefit of the doubt until proven otherwise.

Summary:

The hate on his appearance and relationship is unwarranted. The hate speech on his status as a straight white man in his middle-ages are unnecessary as well.

Some of his comments could be taken as offensive and problematic. But for now, I shall wait for more input from abuse victims, Chinese people and African people before giving the final judgement. If he is deemed problematic, I’d appreciate anyone who holds him accountable with respect instead of the hate.

Please feel free to let me know if I got anything wrong, and ty in advance.‬ I appreciate any further input! While I try to educate myself, I do tend to miss certain blind spots that I need help with seeing. I am open to being corrected and learning from any mistakes I might’ve made.

#tectone #genshin #genshin impact #genshin twitter

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duchessofostergotlands · 5 years ago

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Hi, jess! Since we’re talking about reality tv, I’d really like to know your opinion on sth that’s been the hot topic in my country these last couple of months. What do you think about people with mental disorders participating in reality shows? I’m currently watching a (now popular - because of the pandemic) reality show called “a fazenda” (the farm). It’s a bit like big brother, but with somewhat famous people (a couple of big celebrities + lots of b-c listers) having to deal with farm duties, like taking care of cows, chickens, etc. It’s wonderful, kinda trashy and I love it! The network that streams the show is very shady (it supported bolsonaro) and it clearly doesn’t know or care about how to approach delicate subjects. Here’s the thing: one of the participants has borderline - the show hasn’t disclosed this info, the audience found out by googling her after she had her first major fight on the show (she has a highlight on her ig in which she talks about being borderline). The discussion we’re having: is the network exploiting her by using her mental disorder as entertainment? Should they release an official statement about it to avoid public misconceptions about her? The participants who aren’t her friends have said incredibly prejudiced things about her, suggesting she likes being “crazy”, “retarded” and “not normal” because this supposedly “helps her get extra tv time” - this is infuriating because she’s clearly in pain when they provoke her. These horribly ignorant people even found out how to triger her and are actively using this to try to make her physically attack them, which would lead to her being expelled. From what the audience can gather from short clips now and there, she’s taking her meds as usual and is being assisted by a psychologist (at least!). Personally I don’t think there’s a problem with having a person with a mental disorder on a reality show, because she has the right to participate and shouldn’t be discriminated because of it - but as long as the show doesn’t exploit her and approach the subject responsibly. The silver lining is that I’m seeing LOTS of people supporting her on social media and completely disagreeing with the other participants’ behavior - her public approval is much bigger than theirs; the admin who’s taking care of her social media during this period has been posting about the subject and invited a psychologist to talk about it and answer a q&a sent by followers. Anyway sorry for the huge text! I really value your opinion and would love to know your insights

Hey :) Well thank you for asking for my opinion, that’s always sweet! We had The Farm here ages ago, I never watched it but I remember it making tabloid headlines because one of the celebrity contestants “stimulated” a pig.

Well firstly I don’t think a mental illness should disqualify anyone right off the bat. Different conditions will have different challenges, different people with the same diagnosis will present differently, and different reality shows will bring out different challenges - like it would be different to be on something like Bake Off which is generally supportive and you can go home and be with your family in between challenges versus Love Island which is a show here largely based on attractive people getting off with each other so there’s a lot of tabloid attention, a lot of pressure to look a certain way and they’re all cooped up with no contact with the outside world for weeks and often plied with alcohol. There’s also a difference between having a diagnosis and actually still displaying symptoms at a clinical level. Lots of people with BPD like me show less symptoms as they get older until they’re sub clinical but they may still be branded with the diagnosis by others or feel they want to keep it themselves. And even someone like me who very much still deals with their condition on an active basis, I still have legal competence to make my own decisions and it’s infantilising to suggest a diagnosis of a mental illness automatically disqualifies you. So as much as possible it needs to be an individualised process to decide and the reality show needs to be honest about what it will entail. I don’t know about over there but we have psychiatric evaluations for our reality shows. I don’t know how good these are but if they are robust and informed by people with the specific conditions then I think these can be a good way of deciding if someone can actually handle the specific challenges of that show. One evaluation is not going to work for everyone, it needs to be someone with specific expertise in that condition.

If someone with a mental illness is accepted on the show then something that’s missed out a lot in the UK and probably elsewhere is the care during and after the show. Firstly they should have a specialist on hand who can identify when the contestant is having a more difficult time and if it’s necessary to have private, off camera check ins with them about their mental health. And for BPD and other severe conditions like schizophrenia or bipolar these people can’t just be psychologists. Being a psychologist doesn’t mean you have the knowledge to deal with the specific condition. There have been some suicides of reality show contestants over the last few years here and a lot of blame has been pointed at the producers and studios for not supporting people when they leave the show and are suddenly famous. There should be a clear care plan that is specific to their needs and the producers and studios need to commit to ensuring that the level of care provided is fit for purpose. Sending an email with the name of a psychologist with general expertise is not enough. Some people may require regular sessions with people with specific qualifications and they need to be willing to commit to that for the safety of their participants.

I also think when it comes to the point around disclosure, nothing should ever be confirmed without the person’s explicit consent and them being able to approve any wording about it. Even if they’ve talked about it openly prior to going on the show, it would be exploitative to me to release a statement about a contestant’s specific health issues without first checking with them. If they do feel that the way things are being portrayed could negatively impact her long term health then I think they have a duty to raise it with her even if the show is ongoing and decide if she would be happy for it to be shared. If it is, I think the tv channel or whoever is releasing the statement should accompany it with links to support services and helplines and should invest time in promoting resources which explain BPD - or the condition the person has - and humanises people so that the bigoted views being spouted on the show are not able to go unchallenged. I’m really glad to hear the person managing her social media is using the opportunity to share info and that people are responding well to it. If the show does ever acknowledge it then I think they would have a responsibility to participate in those efforts, it shouldn’t be down to her team alone.

#ask #15billionyears #non royal #reality tv #mental health #mental illness

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ask-de-writer · 5 years ago

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DARING DO and the ADVENTURE of the X'IBIAN VASE! : MLP Fan Fiction : Part 13 of 21

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

Daring Do

and the Adventure of the X'ibian Vase!

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

And

Carmen Pondiego

Cover Art by

Doctor Dimension

52630 words

Writing begun 08/26/15

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions, provided that such things are done without charge. I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images provided that I receive a copy of each image for my archive.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fictions is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

Relaxing on a chaise lounge beside the delightful pool that used to be the bath of an Emperor, Carmen adjusted her dark glasses against the glare of the sun on the letter. She was wearing only a skimpy bikini of bright red and her trademark hat.

The floating island of VILE’s headquarters was presently in the tropics and that suited her perfectly.

She skimmed through the Chineighese characters with utter familiarity. Her brother in law, Marehem, was having the time of his life, bedeviling the ROT expedition. She was chucking at the recent double disaster with the railroad cars and flipping ROT’s truck. (He insisted on using the character of poison toadstool for them).

Done with the letter, she handed it to Blendin, who was visiting. He was chuckling himself as his mother hit the pool. Her hat and glasses sat on the lounge. She was a red and khaki torpedo swimming underwater to the other end of the pool.

She shot back, underwater again, the whole length of the pool and surfaced like a one horned porpoise. “What do you think, Blendin?”

“I think that Adora would be furious if she knew but she really has no grounds to be. She did ask Eris to see what she could do to mess up ROT’s expedition. It was Eris’ idea to send Uncle M!

“After all, he has had so much fun with the Empire over the ages. Simply amazing how much chaos VILE’S temporal transport device can cause in the right hooves and his are as wrong as they can get!” They both shared a giggle.

Baron Von Nighthoof leaned down and took Carmen’s arm, lifting her effortlessly from the pool. He was smiling warmly at her. He hugged her closely and stepped back a single pace.

He offered her a flat case of the darkest wood, inlaid with his cutie mark. Carmen took the case and opened it. Her gasp of sheer pleasure was almost more reward than the Baron expected.

He nodded, “The copy of Pharow Underrock’s Golden necklace. It is ready to grace the only neck on this whole world that can outshine its beauty.” He reached forward and lifted the golden wonder out of its case and set it around Carmen’s neck, pulling her close as he fastened it.

She snuggled up to him and whispered, “You are not only evil, you are wicked! And I love it!”

~~ ~~ ~~

Jeremy was riding in the carry saddle of Sehang Shu while they discussed his knowledge of Ethnological Geography. After several hours, she said thoughtfully, “You actually do know more than your prior testing revealed, Jeremy. I do wonder why you did so poorly when it came to the tests.”

Glumly, Jeremy stared out at the bleak landscape about them and replied, “It sounds like an excuse. Blame my family. They are old Equestrian Military Service and proud of it. When I tried to study around them, they always interrupted it. Celestia forbid that I complain about it, either.”

“Did they not finance your education at the Royal University?”

“No, Sehang, they did not. I was entirely dependent on grants and scholarships. I have earned my way through my schooling.”

“I see, Jeremy. I have earned my way also. It is sad that such a family could not see fit to support so worthy a goal as education.

“Surely, though, with you at the University and they in Service or on the Family Estates, they had little opportunity to disrupt your studies?”

Jeremy snorted bitterly. “I wish it was true, Sehang. They had a nice townhouse in Canterlot, too. They made such a career of “visiting” the U to noisily interrupt my studies that, at the end, Princess Luna, as the Chancellor of the U had to forbid them entry to the property of the University at all.

“My uncle, Colonel Broadhoof, spoke out against her interference in a family matter. The Princess pointed out that it went beyond family, when they upset the other students’ studies.

“He called her a pustulent creature of nightmare, to her face.”

Sehang Shu commented, “That sounds as unwise as telling the Emperor to shove one up his ass!”

Jeremy smiled a little at the humor and went on, “The suddenly Sargent Broadhoof found that out! He was broken, forbidden any Canterlot Mustering and given a month of nightmares as punishment.”

“Bad dreams for a month is a severe punishment?”

Jeremy sucked his lips as he thought of a way to explain. “Let me put it this way. Somewhat over two thousand years ago, the Nightmare Wars got named that BECAUSE of Princess Luna’s use of nightmares as a weapon. Almost 20% of the unicorns attacking the Fortress of Nightmare committed suicide within five days of coming to the battle front.”

Very softly, Sehang Shu said, “I see. And she has had over two thousand years since to perfect that craft. Did he survive?”

Soberly, Jeremy replied, “Yes. Sort of. They released him from the Asylum about six months ago. He is still under treatment. The family blames me. They say that it would not have happened, if I had not chosen the University over a military career.”

Sehang Shu nodded sadly. “Some other herds view us in a similar manner. I am sorry, Jeremy.

“I have a question though. With a military background, how did you miss Qushi Han Le’s sharpshooters at the dock in Singapone?”

Grimly, Jeremy replied, “That was my fault. I was thinking of everything wrongly, and so did not even look for them. I have only realized today from talking to you, that I had any problem. Equestrian Superiority was an unquestioned value in my family. I did not even realize that it had soaked into me since my foalhood. I may still lapse but ask your forgiveness now. I will do my best to sort this mess out.”

Sehang Shu nodded thoughtfully. “The most important part of education, Jeremy, is not the learning of facts, as important as that is. It is the admission of ignorance and error accompanied by the effort to remedy them.

“That is what Ethnological Geography is all about. Our ignorance and erroneous knowledge of past civilization and the effort to remedy it is the whole foundation of the discipline.”

They revised their discussion of the subjects to be tackled in the colloquium. Jeremy found the conversation fascinating.

He actually regretted it when it was time to dismount for making dinner. After stretching out the kinks in his legs from the saddle, Jeremy wandered over to the cook stove.

He was mildly surprised when Soree made room for him. “How can I help, Soree?

“Measure the water into that pot to the third line, please.”

Measuring in the water, Jeremy commented, “It seems unfair for us to eat and none of the herd to have any.”

Sang He’s voice replied, “In the desert, we need only drink once in seven days. That will be a large drink, but it will do. We need only eat once in ten days, though we can eat or drink any time that the opportunity presents itself.

“Our ancestors were made for mountain and desert lands.”

“It still seems unfair! I presume that you do know what you are doing, after all, this is your home!”

He was surprised by the chuckle from the herd.

Dinner preparations were interrupted by the bellow of a musket and a cry from Sehang Shu!

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

Tyranny was fuming. “They had no business seizing our truck! Wasn’t it bad enough that their recklessness had already cost us one truck and most of the load?”

Overthrow, speaking from behind the wheel of the truck that they were in snapped, “That was your fault, Tyranny! So was getting into that train wreck! You disobeyed clearly posted signs about staying off the slope while the crossing was in use.”

Robber, sitting in the back of the cab put in, “How come, in the name of Discord, did you not read the traffic law pamphlets that I gave you? It was the Lock Keeper finding that out that you got your permit without taking their knowledge test that cost us the truck! Their rules are very clear and blunt. They seize vehicles that are used in deliberate violation of their driving rules.”

Tyranny glared out the window of the truck at the passing rice paddies and neatly laid out farms. His teeth ground. The worst of it was that they were both right.

All that he could do was growl under his breath about injustice, so he did. He sourly commented, “At least we have now got past the last two canals and what? Four railroad crossings without any further problems.”

Robber consulted their map. “See those bluffs up ahead? We will be going through an area of mountains. When we clear them, it will only be about twenty kilometers to Cantrot. We will have two rail crossings and one canal between us and the city.”

Ignoring Robber’s comments, Tyranny snarled, “That so-called Antiquarian, Daring Do, set us up! I have found out that she did not even take a single truck on her expedition! The expedition proposal that she gave us, before she quit on us, is why we came this way!”

Overthrow said dryly, “So, you finally figured that out? It took you long enough. I knew that she took us to the cleaners on the proposal as soon as I saw them go on upriver, without even transshipping.”

He suddenly applied the brakes hard, jolting them all. They were stopped only a few meters from a water buffalo on the road.

The two trucks behind them, driven by experienced Chineighese drivers, stopped without incident. Tyranny was reaching for the horn button when Overthrow knocked his hoof away.

“Stop trying to interfere! Tyranny, sounding the horn at domestic livestock is illegal. All that we can do is wait for it to move or try to ease around it. The law pamphlet suggests waiting in the case of water buffalo.”

He snarled, “Why should we wait? We can drive around it!”

Outside, over a tonne and a half of highly irritated domestic water buffalo was pawing the roadway and lowering its head to charging position. A peasant in plain cotton robes and flat conical hat was toiling up the road embankment toward the beast that was easily three times taller than he was. He had a long wooden switch to herd the loose animal away.

He barked some command at the buffalo. It turned its head and regarded its master briefly. Tyranny chose that moment to lean out the side window and make shooing gestures at it. The distraction caused the enormous brute to snap its head about and focus entirely on the truck! It charged.

The impact shoved the truck back and sideways almost a meter! It was accompanied by the shattering of glass night driving lamps and the crunch of metal. The buffalo backed off, shaking its head.

The peasant’s switch got its attention and it started to walk sedately away, guided by taps of the long wand. Tyranny, seeing it waking away, yelled, “Shoo! Get out of our way!”

The transition from walking away to charging was almost instantaneous! The huge heavy horns and thick skull of the enormous animal slammed into the right hand door of the truck. It was almost perfectly centered, smashing and folding the door inward hard enough to bounce the dazed Tyranny almost entirely off his seat!

The very upset peasant used his switch and fanning motions of his hat to steer the water buffalo away, successfully, this time! Robber shuddered as he saw the peasant’s orange mane and blue fur for the first time.

The steering still worked properly. Overthrow got the truck back on course and they were cautiously back underway.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

<==Previous Next==>

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

#DARING DO AND THE ADVENTURE OF THE X'IBIAN VASE #Part 13 of 21 #MLP Fan Fiction #Written by De Writer and Carmen Pondiego

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twilightknight17 · 5 years ago

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Today on Royal: Pain! :’D

He’s eating the map and I’m getting steadily more weirded out by all of this the longer it goes on.

I’m definitely worried now. Where the fuck is the Velvet Room. How is he powerful enough to override the Velvet Room?

So he wants me to see “his reality”. Which means going out and seeing how happy all of Akira’s friends are. And they are happy! ...but not happy enough that a few well-placed dialogue choices can’t start poking holes in the story they’ve been fed. Maruki’s not perfect at this. And honestly, he’s taken Akira’s friends, not given him anything. We went from everyone wanting to spend time with Akira to everyone having other things to do. Ryuji doesn’t even know why they’re friends. Thinking about how they met is what starts to crack his illusion.

While I was looking for my friends, I ran across this couch outside the furniture store in Kichijoji.

Examining it yields only this:

So now I gotta go back to Kichijoji after it frees me from the plot so I can see what’s up with this conspicuously Velvet blue couch.

(I will say, if I have one complaint about this part, is that it’s six days of the same thing. Wake up, locate Friend, see how they’re doing, return home, spend evening in bed contemplating whether this is a good thing because Friend is happy. You can’t do anything else, see how any of your other confidants are doing... What does Iwai’s ideal world look like? Takemi’s? Hifumi’s?)

I think out of everyone I feel the most bad for Morgana.

I mean, he spends half the game as it is worrying that he’s some sort of monster instead of a human. And now that he’s human and I’ve gone and jabbed a hole in his dream, he’s spending a week growing more and more afraid as he realizes that something isn’t right about himself. That’s just straight-up existential terror.

Goro didn’t really find a lot during his week of investigating. Mostly just that Maruki’s been doing cognitive psience stuff since college, and that Okumura and Wakaba are...actually alive.

Does that mean if we end the dream, we’re murdering them?

Not taking the Misericorde with me feels like a betrayal of my role as heir to the title of Trickster, but I can’t really turn down an extra thirty points of attack. X’‘‘D Especially since Goro and I are going into the Palace alone.

Other than the weird security cameras, this place really is beautiful. And apparently the music that I like so much is called “Gentle Madman”. Stop hitting all these fucking tropes I like, Maruki. It’s not fair.

Oh heck, wait, are we doing this now? This is an actual question? I assumed that was for the endgame. Well, if I’m here... The safe room was right downstairs...

Let me be selfish. Just for one moment. Please.

Please.

.....no, wait, this hurts.

This hurts a lot.

Because they deserve this. They all deserve this happiness. I’ve never heard Goro sound that genuinely happy as he did in this ending. But the only way to give them this is to leave them trapped under the will of a dictator. And they deserve better than that.

From the Den:

They’re looking at you. Judging you for the sin of the choice you made.

I find it interesting that while Akira and Goro are clearly looking at you with full knowledge of what you did, the game itself doesn’t seem particularly judgemental. I got the “view the ending” trophy and the option to save clear data, which to me implies that it’s...obviously the wrong choice, but a valid choice regardless. I never got the “Good” Ending in vanilla P5, so I don’t know if that offered the same level of legitimacy. This was treated as a real ending.

[reloading save data]

Of course we can’t accept this reality, why would he even think we would do that? X’‘D

Sumire is throwing a fit because she still wants to be Kasumi, and is getting ready to fight us. Shit. Still, she’s inexperienced, and both of us are strong enough to han--

Goro: I could deal with this, but I’m assuming you want her to leave here alive, right?

It’s sweet of you to take what I want into consideration, but yeah, I’d really rather not kill her, so just tone it dow-- Aaaaand he’s walking away and leaving me to fight her alone. Thanks, honey.

Shoutout to using the same strategy as the battle arena and just equipping something that repels physical. She took her own swords dance to the face and got knocked out.

......what the fuck are you doing? This just looks like torture.

I know for a fact that that’s not Nyarlathotep because I’m pretty sure I’d have had people beating down my door to point it out already. Because crucifixion pose by itself? Common imagery. Tentacles? ...coincidence, probably. But if this had been Nyar puppeteering Maruki or something? I’m one step away from being Super Duper Valid. I already feel pretty valid anyway.

HELLO, Persona 3! Nice(?) to see an out of control persona again. I wonder how close her persona was to reverting to a shadow? Sumire feels like more of a “dungeon” sort of person. Since she’s suppressing something.

But...what was Maruki’s goal here? Beating us into submission? He’s just letting Sumire’s emotional torment go out of control; hell, he’s literally feeding into it with the Biyarkis. He’s using her to fight us, and that’s...disgusting, honestly. You want everyone to be happy, but you’re going to let her throw herself at us over and over? Really?

Why do I feel like all of this “I want you to understand, we can talk, you’ll see things my way”, all of this asking for consent, is bullshit? Does he really want us to see things his way? Or can he actually not alter our reality without consent?

Thank god for the cavalry because this battle was clearly impossible from the first round. I love that the other Thieves have no idea what the fuck is going on, but their leader is in danger so they’re gonna Fight.

I think there’s not. We don’t want to talk. Fuck off. And also stop swiping tropes I like. You’re not Rubicante; you’re not earning my respect by refusing to fight me when I’m tired.

Goro, I know you’re Done with everything, but that’s really not helping.

The Phantom Thieves are momentarily baffled, because it’s clear that we have to change Maruki’s heart, but they’re getting thrown off by the fact that he’s not “evil”. Yeah, he’s not. He has good intentions. But he’s doing bad things to accomplish those intentions. Doing bad things for good reasons is still bad.

...if he wasn’t like this... maybe it would be okay. If he could make everyone happy, erase their trauma, make the world better...without rewriting memories or being a brainwashing dictator... That might not be wrong. But he’s made it pretty clear that he’s on a power trip and doesn’t want dissent, which is no better than Yaldabaoth.

What we did to Futaba and what he’s doing are vastly different things.

...Morgana calls her “Lady Lavenza” and that’s really cute, actually. I’m realizing I portray Lavenza as more of a child than the game does, but I like both.

Oh so now we can press Morgana for what’s wrong. Learned from your prior mistakes, huh, ‘Kira? XD

.....I love her.

It’s extremely weird to have the whole squad interacting with the Velvet attendant and addressing her by name. That’s so strange in comparison to how it usually is. But these are strange times, and once again, it’s unnerving how much power Maruki has.

He’s strong enough that he’s suppressing the Velvet Room. That’s horrifying. I wonder if he knows they exist; I could see him considering them a threat to his ideal world. Normally I’d be sure that Igor and Lavenza could kick his ass if he tried anything, but... I genuinely don’t know anymore. Igor is still recovering from being imprisoned, and Lavenza is barely able to manifest to talk to us.

Meanwhile, Maruki is using a persona.

Normally I’d be fussed about him summoning in reality, but apparently reality is still half-fused with Mementos, which in the greater scope of Persona lore feels like something similar to what was happening in P1 and P2. The collective unconscious is very close to the surface. I’d be curious whether or not the kids could summon outside of the Palace with a bit of practice, but I’m sure the game won’t go into that.

...although, that doesn’t explain him being able to use his powers in reality before the beginning of the year. Mementos only started fusing with reality in December.

I’m looking directly at you, Atlus. You made a human villain stronger than what I imagined for the strongest persona-user?

......oh, Mona, I’ve got like 3 different notes documents for you to read about why that can be allowed. X’D

*cracks knuckles* Not to take Goro’s side, but...we already killed one god, didn’t we?

But...this is our fault, and we have to fix it. I don’t completely understand how Maruki granting the Thieves’ wishes transferred the belief of the masses to him, but... This can’t go on. If Mementos completely fuses, this becomes permanent, and there will be no way out. Time to go.

I really do appreciate that Goro was invited as one of the Phantom Thieves. And Ryuji asked for his input on whether we’re going after Maruki.

...you all said it. He’s one of you now. No take-backs.

#Li plays P5R #long post #these posts keep getting longer #so much is happening X'''DDD

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operationwell · 5 years ago

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Reflections on Past Institutionalization

Today was the day that I knew would be coming. The day I would have to face, process, and differentiate between my past experiences in psychiatric facilities, and my future stays. I know that all of this doesn’t necessarily happen in one day, but rest assured - it is happening.

5 years ago, In April of 2015, I entered a hospital in Schaumburg, IL at around 8pm. My Auntie had heard that this hospital offered free psychiatric evaluations, and we had planned to go and have a simple assessment where they could provide insight into which medications were hurting and which were helping my cause. About 6 weeks prior to this, I had been prescribed Celexa as an antidepressant and it caused my depression and anxiety to skyrocket beyond my control, and I became flooded with suicidal ideation. My doctor (the psychiatrist of every student on psych medications throughout my university) insisted that I remain on the medication for 6 weeks. As my symptoms worsened, he prescribed me Trazodone as a sleeping aid and Klonipen to help with my multiple panic attacks daily. As medications were thrown at me, my health worsened. I struggled with sleep disturbances (insomnia, night terrors, inconsistent sleep schedule), I lost weight (food quickly became unappealing on the medications, I had no appetite, I had difficulty eating as I would become nauseous and vomit during and after consuming food) and my health deteriorated. I stopped going to Yoga and working out multiple times a week because I was no longer functional enough to continue. My grades slipped and I received 3 “incomplete”s in my classes and had to finish my work months later for credit. I dropped my commitments to the Chicago Coalition for the Homeless, alongside many clubs and school groups. I was closeted from my family and all but 2 friends, I had recently broken up with my partner of 3 years. I was in therapy on my college campus, and nothing seemed to be working... so a free psych evaluation sounded like the right thing to do.

That day, I received an award from Loyola University Chicago School of Communications that I was their top student in the Advocacy and Social Change program. Little did the school staff know that within a few hours I would be Baker Acted. I got dressed up and invited my Auntie and 2 friends to the celebration. Like most days when the world feels like it is crumbling, I laughed and smiled and moved through the motions. Saying goodbye to my friends, I packed a weekend bag to head to the suburbs, this was typical seeing that my Auntie is one of my closet friends and mentors, and I frequently “ran away” to her guest room in order to escape my troubles. We agreed to go to dinner with my uncle and cousin, then go for the free evaluation. I pushed food around on a plate and I drank a Shirley Temple with my then 9 year old cousin, Dylan.

I entered the hospital with Auntie late in the evening. I put in my headphones to listen to Bon Iver because my anxiety was triggered by the hospital environment. I filled out a form that asked two yes/no questions:

Within the last 24 hours, have you had thoughts of killing yourself? Yes No

If yes, do you have a plan to kill yourself? Yes No

I circled yes for both.

I told myself that dishonesty was not going to get me the help I needed, so I told the truth. After I handed in that questionnaire, my hands were tied. No matter what I said in the clinical evaluation, they would legally have to keep me under the Baker Act. I tried to explain the ways that the medications I was taking were making it worse, how my anxiety and depression were related to trauma, but they were not interested in that. They were interested in protecting me from the threat of myself. The admissions staff informed me that I would be staying for the next few days in the hospital. When I protested and tried to leave, they threatened to call the police. I looked to my Auntie for guidance and she broke down saying “I am so sorry, I wouldn’t have brought you here if I knew they would take you from me”. My auntie is the light of my life and even though this experience was incredibly trying, I am so glad that she was there with me holding my hand and making sarcastic jokes throughout the process. She was, and continues to be, my rock and my safe space. Thank you, Auntie.

I was stripped of my clothes, searched, asked to squat and cough. I was brought into the adult ward with nothing besides the clothes I wore in, and a notebook. I was shocked as I finished the evaluation process - it was now the middle of the night. One of the night staff saw me enter my room and was intrigued because “I don’t look like the other patients in here” to which my response was “what should I look like?” we spoke about religion, and what my goals were; I shared with him my purpose - to bring peace to the world through advocacy, conflict resolution, and vulnerability. He was kind. He very well might have been an angel. But I am convinced he was real. He gave me a gift, and I still have it. A book about hope, religion, and peace. Inside the front cover he wrote “Be at peace and know that you are love”. When he left my room less than 30 mins later, I showered and got into my bed, I slept till the techs woke me to take my blood and I never saw that man again.

The next 72 hours consisted of sharing a room with an older woman who insisted on being naked 24/7 and caused plenty of problems in the ward, attending all-day therapy and coping skill development groups, trying to convince the doctors and nurses I was cured and able to leave, attempting to escape my parents worried calls, being constantly poked and prodded by nursing staff, commiserating with other patients (most of whom were much older than me), and coloring in mandalas and calling it “art therapy”.

During this stay, the psychiatrist kept my diagnosis of depression and anxiety and added “You need to watch out for Bipolar”. He immediately started me on Abilify, an antipsychotic, and after 3 days was convinced the Abilify helped enough to discharge me. I went straight to the pharmacy after my stay and found the medication was $116/ pill. The drug was new, did not have a generic at the time, and I could not afford that, so I discontinued the use of the medication.

By this time, I am deeply concerning my parents and they have bought me a one way flight to South Florida for the summer after my sophomore year. I was planning on working at Boston College for the summer and spending my entire junior year abroad in the Philippines and Vietnam, but the international travel was not brought to fruition. My parents were hurt by my secrecy, terrified, and looking to help alleviate some of my suffering. They helped me to get to a psychiatrist that might be able to help with the medication situation, and he did. I was put on Zyrexa, an antipsychotic, and the next day the sun came out. I stayed on the medication for over 4 years, but it caused grueling side effects including excessive sleeping, sedation, mixed mood episodes, and extreme weight gain to name a few.

After I was institutionalized, I told myself that I would try whatever I could to avoid the trauma, the expense, and the repetition of my experience in the ward. I felt that while I was held there, I was a prisoner, I had no rights, I had no resources, and I had a one person support system. I never wanted to go back.

Now, I am in very different shoes. I have knowledge and information. I have an entire degree dedicated to better understanding mental health and the system, I have years of experience working clinically in the field, and I have an incredible support system. I am currently seeking treatment to titrate off all unnecessary medications, to stabilize my mental and physical health, and to work intensively with clinicians on sustainable coping mechanisms. This is not like before.

Today I spent most of the day crying and wondering how I could possibly face being stripped of my agency and belongings again, being isolated from my supports again, and being forced to take medications without consent again. The answer that I found in my tears is that I don’t have to face that again. This new situation of seeking residential treatment is dredging up emotions and memories from my experience 5 years ago; but this is different. I am afraid, and I am allowing myself the grace to feel that fear and tend to it. As I care for myself I am also caring for my younger self, my self at 19, and at any other age when I felt alone, afraid, and out of options. Once I have done my tending, I am able to open my eyes and see that in the here and now I am surrounded by support, I am brave, and I am patient with my options.

I am surrounded by love. I am love. I am at peace.

Here is something I created in 2015 while in the psych ward. All text is quotes of staff and peers during my 3 day stay.

#psych ward #psych #mental health #triggers

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fanfics-of-marvel · 5 years ago

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Please Stay

One Shot

Release date: 04/02/2020

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Y/N: You’ve been working with Bucky at S.H.I.E.L.D. for about a year during which you both had kept aside the fact that you like each other. Until one day Bucky unexpectedly shows up at your apartment with a most valuable present.

Words count: 3.1K

A/N: This was supposed to be a Christmas fanfic but I was unable to finish it before Christmas, so I decided to re-write it with a different theme but keeping the original idea.

Warnings: None!

One Shots | Masterlist

Taglist: @all-things-marvel-related ; @steeeeverogers ; @chipilerendi ; @starkershomelife ; @itavero-pater (still unable to properly tag this person) ; @merlin-288 ; @nutellakirb ; @livsheph ; @ivvitm1109 ; @misstummelisa ;

I’m not a native English speaker, so there might be spelling or grammatical mistakes.

This fanfic is my own work, it is not to be re-posted on this site or posted anywhere else without my knowledge and consent!

——————————————————–

“Bucky?” You asked surprised after you opened the door and saw him standing outside of your apartment.

You had been working for S.H.I.E.L.D. for 4 years during which you had gradually become a top level agent proving countless times your abilities. You usually worked alone or in a small team of people upon the most dangerous missions. And about a year ago you started having common missions with Bucky.

The first one happened shortly after he joined the organization alongside Sam. They were a duo, only sometimes partnering with Sharon on bigger missions. Until about a year ago.

There was a rumor of a big gang of people who were supposed to be new followers of Hydra. More agents were immediately sent to help the trio, including you. The mission was tough and you had to do a lot of spy work trying to infiltrate the alleged criminal organization. It all turned out to be a false alarm which made everyone angry. All that exertion for nothing.

It wasn’t until you had to prepare your report of the mission when you actually noticed Bucky. He’d always been just the biggest weapon of Hydra for you. The longest serving POW. A tragic victim. You never paid any attention to him while he was at the base, nor when he was at the café for lunch as well. You’d always passed by him as any other colleague at S.H.I.E.L.D.

But after your vain mission was over the task for writing the report was given to you two. And on that day for the first time you actually looked at him. Not just for a quick glance while passing by him at the corridor or coordinating your next moves on the mission. You actually looked at him. You noticed the beautiful features of his face. You sank into his captivating steel blue eyes. You melted at the sight of his smile. Your knees felt weaker at the natural scent of his body. His voice sounded like music to your ears, finally hearing it speaking softly for a normal conversation, other than yelling in the walkie-talkie how the suspects were getting away or that something was not going according to plan.

Your breath was taken away and secretly your heart was stolen. But you didn’t realize that until much later. For a while your missions were different than his, so you rarely saw each other. It wasn’t easy to forget Bucky once you’ve met him up close but your job totally consumed you, so your mind was constantly distracted. You rarely even saw him at lunch breaks.

This continued for a while until you got another order to follow Bucky and Sam into another mission. Your heart skipped a beat as you felt butterflies in your stomach knowing you would be close to Bucky again. It only got reinforced when there was a direct danger for you two and he bravely grabbed you in his arms and covered you with his body in case of bullets being fired. Face to face you could feel his warm breath upon your face. His muscly body was roughly pressed against yours. You got lost into his eyes which were looking straight into yours. You completely forgot about the ongoing situation until a nearby explosion blew the two of you few meters away.

The mission was successful and Fury started putting you on assignments alongside Sam and Bucky more often. Work was work, so you two usually kept a distance from one another. That little distraction from the previous mission could have costed both of you your lives. Completely synchronized you two started avoiding each other and only allowing some momentary glances here and there.

Until that tragic day.

Completely unexpected there was a terrorist attack with a suicide bomber. 115 people dead and more than 500 people injured. You were immediately sent with Bucky, Sam and other agents to investigate the premises. The hardest mission you’ve ever had.

With a heavy heart you learned that amongst the victims was your beloved aunt – your only living relative who adopted you after your parents died when you were just a teenager. You were devastated.

Then it was the only time when Bucky allowed closeness between you two. He held you in his arms as you cried and cried until his jacket was very wet. His soft right hand stroked your head as he spoke gently in your ear assuring you that everything would be alright. How she was at a better place now and he would always be there for you when you needed him.

But shortly after the funeral the distance between you two got bigger again. Your strength didn’t let you have any breakdowns and you took the hit like a hero. You didn’t need Bucky. Not at all.

“What are you doing here?” You asked a little shocked. Bucky didn’t know where you lived which meant he had asked at the base particularly for your address.

“I’m sorry to be bothering you.” He replied seemingly uncomfortable.

You looked at him concerned. Your heart skipped a bit. Could it be that another tragedy had occurred?

“May I come in?” Bucky finally asked after a short pause.

You took your time too. You weren’t certain whether you wanted to let him in or not. Nobody at S.H.I.E.L.D. really knew where you lived except some high-ranking agents such as Fury and Hill. And you preferred it that way. It gave you a certain level of calmness and you knew the chances of complications were lower. You loved your privacy and intimate zone. And now suddenly Bucky was invading it.

“Of course.” You finally said as you walked away from the door, so he could walk in.

You noticed he was caring a small box nicely wrapped as a present. The paper was dark purple with a light purple ribbon on top. Your favourite colour.

As Bucky stood in front of you as close as possible you noticed everything about him again. His beautiful blue eyes, the handsome manly features of his face, the barely perceptible scent of a cologne. Had he dressed up for you? He was wearing a nice plane shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans. He was clean shaven and his hair was nicely combed. His metal arm was discretely hidden underneath a glove. During missions and at the base he was always at his battle outfit, his hair was messy, he always had a stubble beard and he never wore any cologne. This was either for you or he was going on a date afterwards.

So many thoughts of him passed through your head. So many old memories which you had suppressed because you thought it was wrong to seek any closeness with him for he was your colleague at S.H.I.E.L.D. An agent with whom you had common missions. A forbidden man even though there was nobody to forbid Bucky from you.

You suddenly remembered how beautiful of a person he was with a most soft soul. You remembered a particular mission during which he had risked his life in order to save a small puppy from eminent danger. How, during another mission, he had fed some homeless people on his way to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s target. Or about the fact he could often be seen spending time with some WWII veterans as he told them stories of his own, too.

But most of all you remembered the mission during which your bodies were entangled together as Bucky protected you from a possible direct hit. And when he held you in his arms while you cried after losing your aunt. You had never felt such warmness and caring prior to it.

“Is there any particular reason you came here?” You finally asked even though you knew there must be one.

“Erm…” Bucky seemed nervous and slightly uncertain of what he had preliminary intended to do coming to your apartment.

He was looking down at the present he was holding as if it would tell him what to do next.

“Is this for me?” You finally asked. You didn’t want him to torture himself any longer.

Bucky took a deep breath somewhat relieved. “Yes.” He said after which he handed it towards you.

You were looking at the box wrapped in purple at Bucky’s hands. What could he possibly be giving you? It wasn’t your birthday, nor Christmas. Maybe he was confused?

“Thank you.” You quietly said after you took the present from his hands. You looked at it for a while. “Why purple?” You finally spoke.

Bucky looked down seemingly embarrassed. “You mentioned once purple is your favourite colour.”

“I don’t remember talking about it with you.”

“You didn’t.” Bucky replied even more embarrassed. “I overheard you during lunchtime once. You were talking to agent Ross.”

You observed him for a moment. Perhaps while you hadn’t paid attention to him during lunch, he had paid attention to you.

With very careful and uncertain moves you started unwrapping the present. Bucky observed you cautiously. The box beneath the wrapping paper looked like a jewelry box. You gasped. Why would he be giving you any jewelries? You slowly opened it and found a medallion inside.

You looked at Bucky a little bit confused. The medallion looked awfully familiar.

“I found it during our final mission.” Bucky started. “I knew about the medallion and what it meant to you because I’ve heard you talking about it during lunch.” He paused for a moment. “I saw it lying on the ground covered with dirt. Easy to miss.” He pointed at the locking mechanism. “It was broken and I guess that’s how it fell. I bought you a new chain but if you want the old one I still have it at home.” He added speaking so softly.

With watery eyes you looked down at the object in your hands. You took the medallion out of the box. You pressed the mechanism and it opened like a book. You saw the only photos which you had left of your parents whom you lost in a fire alongside all of your belongings prior to it.

“Oh, Bucky…” You gasped overwhelmed of reuniting with your invaluable possession. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything.” He replied gently. After a short pause he continued. “I didn’t know how to give it back to you. I thought I could hand it to somebody else who would then give it to you. Maybe send it to your apartment or leave it on your desk at S.H.I.E.L.D. But…” There was another pause during which the two of you just stared into each other’s eyes. “I thought it’ll be best to give it to you personally.”

By this time actual tears were falling down your face. Your lower lip was trembling. You couldn’t even find any words.

“Thank you.” Was the only thing you could say.

Then abruptly you felt Bucky’s burly body pressed at yours as your hands were wrapped around his neck. Your breath stopped for a moment when you felt his hands replying to your hug by putting them around your waist. You stayed like this for a few seconds inhaling the divine scent of his body mixed with the cologne.

“Come here.” Bucky said as he gently pushed you away and then turned you around still holding you.

You felt his warm right hand moving your hair away revealing your neck exposed. You could feel the gentle tickle from his breath. Shivers ran throughout your entire body.

Suddenly, both of his arms were around you as they gently took the medallion from your hand. You noticed he had removed the glove as his metal arm was gleaming underneath your corridor lamp’s light. He put the medallion around your neck.

Bucky’s hands remained upon your exposed skin for a moment while his lips were just a few centimeters away. You felt like he was fighting against the desire to kiss the nude skin of your neck. You closed your eyes expecting this to happen any moment breathing heavily. Instead you felt Bucky stepping away.

“I guess I should be going.” He said.

You opened your eyes disappointed. Not the sequence you hoped for. You slowly turned to him and looked him straight in his eyes.

“Stay.” You whispered.

The closeness of his body and mind, his breath upon your skin, his scent, his soul was all that you wanted right now.

“Please stay.” You whispered again as you made a step closer to him.

“I can’t.” Bucky whispered back.

You knew very well why he was saying that. He was afraid of what might follow. You were colleagues at S.H.I.E.L.D. There was no direct ban against two agents dating but such relationships weren’t much tolerated because the management thought it might affect their work or might lead to compromising the missions.

“Y/N, you know I can’t stay.” Bucky was insistent as you made another step towards him.

“But I want you to stay.” You were right in front of him looking at his sparkling eyes.

“Bucky…” You whispered as you put your hands around his face and gently pulled it down towards your lips while lifting yourself up.

Bucky didn’t fight it. He couldn’t fight it. A moment later your lips touched his. Both of you shuddered. The kiss was long and sweet.

After that you moved away and looked him in the eyes hoping to read what they were saying. Instead Bucky put his arms around your waist again and pressed his lips at yours. Your bodies trembled even more. The kiss turned into a gentle making out. You ruffled Bucky’s hair while he pressed you even harder at his body.

When the kiss was finally over you held Bucky’s cold metal arm in your small warm hand. “Stay.” You whispered again as you walked further inside your apartment.

Bucky obediently followed you without any resistance. While smiling and looking back at him you suddenly bumped into a wall. Bucky took the chance by pressing your body at it with his and kissed you passionately until you got dizzy and sweaty.

Then for the rest of the day you two got completely consumed by each other. You spoke about your parents. You told Bucky who they were, what they did for a living. How your mom used to make a Sunday cake for the three of you every week. Or how mad your dad would get every time you said you were going out with a boy. You told him of that time when your mom almost forgot you at a supermarket when you were little because she got carried away talking to a friend. And how loving and caring your parents were until a house fire took them away from you.

In his own turn Bucky told you about his life when he was growing up. What meals his mom used to make and what a troublesome son he was. How he used to do mischiefs all the time and how often he would drag his sister into them as well. And how she always got away with it because their parents knew that it was entirely his fault. And even though his dad would punish Bucky for his misbehaviour he couldn’t have been more proud of his son when Bucky joined the army. But Bucky’s smile slowly faded as he reached the point of the war talking about the misery he had gone through.

You two absorbed any word told by the other and before you knew it a few hours had passed. Completely drained by each of your stories you two were just sitting and looking into each other. You had never felt closer to anybody beforehand and same was applicable about Bucky.

Then he took any chance to kiss you again and again as you tried to make dinner. He helped you prepare it while holding you from behind with his body pressed at yours. Whispering gently in your ear how much he’d always liked you since the very beginning. How you had taken over his mind but he had always kept it inside in fear of compromising his or your work at S.H.I.E.L.D.

And after you two had dinner Bucky held you in his arms for a slow dance when the proper song came on the radio. His metal arm was pressing you at his body as to ensure that you wouldn’t run away from him. And once when the song was over he continued holding you for a while without saying a word as you two were consumed in the moment.

Then came your sudden muse to make cookies when Bucky trashed your entire kitchen. Remembering the times when his mom used to make cookies when he was a kid the child in him awoke. The naughty little boy returned as he blew some flour in your face as a tease and held objects in the air knowing you were too short to reach them. When you tried to protest Bucky grabbed you from behind and kissed your neck purposely tickling it. You screamed in hopes of help even though you loved this. In these acts you pushed down numerous objects off of the countertop breaking jars and spilling ingredients. Then Bucky started eating the dough before you had made the figures in which you wanted to bake the cookies. You wanted to stop him but he started running around the kitchen pushing down even more things.

Once you had managed to put the cookies in the oven you pretended to be angry and offended, even though you had fun. But Bucky read straight through you as he started tickling your entire body. You screamed and tried to run away. Bucky was chasing you throughout the entire apartment when you accidentally tripped and fell. You laughed like crazy as Bucky sat down next to you laughing as well. Then he held you and lifted you up.

Your bodies were close again and your lips found each other on their own. Bucky put you on the countertop with his hands wrapped around your waist. Your hands were around his neck gently stroking the back of his head while your legs were squeezing the sides of his hips.

Kiss after kiss, abruptly, you sensed the smell of something burning. “The cookies”, you screamed but it was too late. You were disappointed that all of your efforts were ruined. But Bucky gently kissed your forehead and said “It doesn’t matter”. Then he lifted you and carried you the couch. He ordered to stay there and find a nice movie to watch. Few minutes later he came back with two mugs of hot cocoa. You smiled like an idiot as you snuggled at him drinking the sweet delicious drink.

Once you finished them Bucky took the nearby blanket and lied down on the couch making sure your head was upon his big chest. You sunk in the divine scent of his body. What a luck it was that you happened to lose your medallion.

——————————————————–

Thank you for reading! If you liked it please react - reply/like/reblog! Your support is appreciated!

This fanfic is my own work, it is not to be re-posted on this site or posted anywhere else without my knowledge and consent!

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amazignphil · 6 years ago

Note

Why do you not like hugs raf?

I never said i don’t like hugs. I love hugs. BUT PLEASE, PLEASE PLEASE, DON’T HUG ME WITHOUT MY CONSENT OR ATLEAST MY KNOWLEDGE??

Its not that I have an issue with hugging. I have an issue with people touching me without me knowing prior to them touching me. if someone touches me without me knowing they are gonna, I will freak out and hurt them and myself in the process. I carry around a pepper spray all the time and if someone startles me, which is a given if you touch me without telling me, I AM gonna feak out and spray it all around me. Including into my own eyes. No, i am not dumb. This is me panicking. I talked about this to my therapist and he says its an impulse reaction that most people have but some people who have had anxiety attacks in the past, are more prone to loose their shit in this cases. And I have lost my shit due to this, a lot of times. I told all the people I ever meet/interact with to NOT touch me without asking me but literally all of them forget it or just dc about it shrugging it off “what’s the big deal its just me” yeah, i know NOW it you, but a second ago when you were just a THREAT TO ME ACCORDING TO MY BRAIN BECAUSE YOU FREAKED ME OUT? What then?

Its really not hard to get, I can’t deal with people touching me withut my permission or knowledge because it freaks me out... it realyl isn’t.

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samreadsalotofbooks · 3 years ago

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Book Review 10/25/2022: These Violent Delights (SPOILERS!!)

I feel like I should start off stating that this book lives up to it’s name. It is pretty violent. There’s murder, gore, parents being abusive, gang violence, mentions of communists, just a lot of violence in general to be honest.

This novel was a spur of the moment buy in October 2021. Before this moment I’ve never heard of this book. Let alone the author. So, I went in without knowledge of what this is about. I did read the first paragraph before deciding to purchase it. That first paragraph had me hooked, so I bought it. A week or so later I found out it has a sequel.

Shanghai 1926 reimagining of Romeo & Juliet. Scarlet Gang (Chinese) versus White Flower (Russian). Cai family is Scarlet Gang. Montagov family is White Flowers. Of course there’s a blood feud between the two families with a mix of betrayal, romance, and supernatural lice like creatures.

Yeah, you read that correctly. When these lice like creatures burrows into the human, the human goes mad. This madness causes the victim to claw their throat out. It’s a concept that I hadn’t read (not that I can remember at least) before. It’s different but I liked it.

I can’t stand Juliette’s cousin Tyler. He irritated me to no end. I think he’s the only character that made my blood boil. One duo I truly loved was Marshall Seo (Korean) and Benedikt Montagov. At least I think Benedikt is a Montagov. Also up until chapter fourteen I had thought these two were in their thirties. It’s their mannerisms that led me to this conclusion. Turns out Benedikt is NINETEEN. I think Marshall is either one year younger, the same age, or one year older. I’m not 100% sure because I already forgot.

Speaking of ages I’m not sure how old Juliette is. I’m sure it’s mentioned somewhere in the book, I just can’t remember. If I did the math correctly Roma is nineteen. I admit I panicked when a semi steamy scene between Roma and Juliette happened. I still panicked even after I figured out that they’re both 18 or 19 years old. I just, I dunno, I don’t feel comfortable reading steamy scenes of characters that still have the word teen in their age, I feel so much worse when the characters are minors. I personally don’t feel comfortable about that.

That steamy scene made me tear up a bit. Just to clarify both of them did consent. It’s just the conversation they were having while they were holding each other. Four years prior Roma had some of her people killed. This is the betrayal I mentioned. Juliette confronts him about it. In that moment all he could say was he had no choice. Later on, during a second confrontation, it’s revealed that Roma was ordered, by his father, to kill Juliette. His father found out about their romance. Then he was given a choice. Attack Scarlet Gang or kill Juliette. Of course he chose to attack because he loves her too much.

The way Juliette had betrayed Roma was just as harsh. Before departing for America, she gave the address of where his mom resided to Scarlet Gang members. With that information they had gone to the address and slit the woman’s throat. To save face White Flowers told everyone that an illness killed her. For four years Roma had no idea that it was Juliette who gave the address. When she confessed to this my heart broke for Roma.

So, about supernatural stuff and madness. Turns out the lice like creatures come from a monster. When it’s revealed who the monster is and who Larkspur is I got mad at myself. The reason is because ALL THE SIGNS WERE THERE!! Somehow my brain didn’t register any of them. For real, Paul Dexter made it way too easy for Juliette to find Larkspur. Then he had the audacity to say he loves her and that all he was trying to do was impress her. Qi Ren turned out to be the monster. He seemed to accept his death in the end. This would imply that he didn’t want to hurt people. Maybe he was just following orders.

The chapter before the epilogue was intense and heartbreaking. This is when Juliette confesses her betrayal. Marshall “dies”. That destroys Benedikt. They are my favorite duo, but I wonder if there will be romance between them. I’ll find out in the sequel, I hope. Otherwise I’m gonna throw hands with the author. (Obviously that is a joke and not meant to be taken seriously.) I do hope the best for all of these guys. Except Tyler, he can step on a lego. Or I hope he steps on a lego with his bare foot.

This book was a fantastic read to me. I recommend it to the world.

#These Violent Delights by Chloe Gong #book review #book recommendations #thought about the book #bookish rant #bookworm

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hypnoobiwan · 8 years ago

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My Last WEEHU

I told one of the organizers this yesterday, so let's put it on public record: WEEHU 2017 was my last WEEHU. If you know me, the reasons won't surprise you. When awareness of Headcrash's consent violations and sexual abuse of play partners, and @panavatar's defense of that behavior by gaslighting and attacking those who reported it, became common knowledge I responded to it as I often do to highly emotionally-charged conflicts -- by trying to be the most reasonable person in the room. I listened to everyone on all sides of the issue and did my best to support the people involved without condoning the vile acts at their root or asking anyone who was harmed by Headcrash to forgive him. In the case of Headcrash and @panavatar, this was with the understanding that the abuse and the reprisals against the survivors of his abuse would stop and that they wanted to earn their way back into the community. Which leads directly to ...

Reason 1: The abuse hasn't stopped.

I learned recently of an incident this calendar year in which Headcrash negotiated a scene with someone and then proceeded to ignore negotiated limits and boundaries. @panavatar interceded to try and prevent the abused person from going public, gaslight them into doubting their position, and essentially forced them to choose between being loyal to their long-term partner and being loyal to Headcrash and his group. Yes, exactly what some in the community have come to call The Headcrash Pattern.

I happen to agree with @panavatar about the value of what's sometimes called "restorative justice" -- that is, finding a path for people who have offended or harmed others to make amends and earn their way back into the community. Though sexual assault is not something I'd apply that to, the concept is reasonable for lesser offenses. But an absolute, non-negotiable prerequisite for that has to be contrition and an immedate end to the problem behavior. You don't get to keep harming people and expect to be forgiven.

Reason 2: WEEHU is no longer a community event

While I was at WEEHU this year, @panavatar and others made remarks at the commencement referring to WEEHU as its own community, or family, and how wonderful it is to be part of that family. There was no acknowledgement (other than a brief mention of NEEHU by Mephki) that any other events or community groups exist, despite the number of non-local attendees and new (first hypnocon) people. I'm human, and therefore as subject to confirmation bias as anyone else, but to me it sounded eerily like cult language -- designed to create a strong exclusive attachment to the group and its leaders. That made me uneasy at the very start.

During the con, the feeling among people with prior WEEHU experience was that while they were enjoying themselves, this WEEHU had an unsettling air about it. Some described it as "circling the drain" or "siege mentality". I felt some of that myself, as I noted how easy it was to walk through the main hallway during what should have been peak traffic periods, and how the play spaces went virtually unused during party hours. And since I was quietly excluded from the tasks I had volunteered for -- before-con data processing help and DM duty -- I had plenty of free time to look around, count noses, chat with people about their con experience, and warn the newbies against playing with Headcrash.

After the con, one of the organizers approached me in the parking lot to discuss a personal matter and confirmed for me that yes, the WEEHU team's attitude toward the rest of the community is one of "Fuck them, they hate us anyway" rather than seeking to make amends and rejoin it. That conversation finalized my decision for me and made a lot easier to compose this post.

My loyalty has always been to the erotic hypnosis community, and WEEHU has deliberately chosen to secede from that community. But if WEEHU isn't for the community anymore, what's its purpose?

Reason 3: WEEHU exists primarily to benefit Headcrash

@panavatar's remarks to @jukeboxemcsa earlier this month, which I finally read on the plane home, make it very clear that WEEHU's primary purpose is to give Headcrash an opportunity to present. This is more important than getting high-quality, well-known presenters such as @ladyruetha. Headcrash needs WEEHU for that because he's been banned from so many other hypnosis and BDSM groups for consent violations and worse that other opportunities are scarce.

While the WEEHU team do an excellent job of providing for their attendees' needs -- snacks, group events, and emotional support "troubleshooters" in case something goes wrong -- @panavatar’s remarks suggest that the attendees are important mostly so that Headcrash can present to them. Some have also suggested that Headcrash uses WEEHU as a honey pot to attract new play partners; I can't speak to that with any direct knowledge, but if it's true that also supports the idea that WEEHU exists to enable Headcrash.

We now have a full year until the next WEEHU. As a community, we need to do everything we can to make sure people are aware that WEEHU is not affiliated with the greater erotic hypnosis community, exists to enable and legitimize a known predator, and is NOT the only way for people in the western US to learn about erotic hypnosis.

-wg

@ladyruetha @jukeboxemcsa @meltinggoldanddippingthingsinit @daja-the-hypnokitten @girlfurniture @hypno-sandwich @scarlettred912

#weehu #hypnosis #erotic-hypnosis #community #no more

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stone-man-warrior · 4 years ago

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1-16-2021: 10:29 pm

I am using the same computer I always use for this post, I am not using a smart phone, I am not using any kind of phone. The system is hijacked to make it look as though a phone was used for making this post. It is very difficult to find a text box to write in that is not hijacked, so I am trying this one, it may show up as though Sparacino of 545 Jackpine wrote the post, or, Monroe at 434 Jackpine could show as the place the that posted this. neither one is the author of the post.

It could show that Wesely Crowel of 549 Jackpine is the one who posted the information, but he is not the author of the information. So far, no one of official capacity has ever spoken with the author of this information in any way, not by phone, nor by email, nor by US postal mail, nor with response to this account at the place where messages can be sent at Tumblr. I only get one scary message that is about my children being safe, and far away, with no other information or contact from them in many years. A phone call from family is no good anymore, Screen Actor Guild has too many ways of manipulating the voices and words with combination of recordings, actors, and audio effects processors. There is no way to be certain who is on the calls unless they are saying some identifiable information that no one else could possibly have, and even then, that information will be recorded, and used as a way to fool everyone involved on a telephone call. Text message is absolutely useless for knowing who is on the other end of the message.

There is some good news, is probably a set-up though. I was able to access this text box for editing with my computer. Here is another screen shot of my computer as I write. I will open a Ten Codes tab at the top tabs to try to help identify what is what, and the time on the bottom.

Scroll down to see it at after three other photos of my computer screen.

11:38 pm:

I write. The page gets long. The part I already wrote inches up higher in the computer screen, up there, above the tool bar, out of sight, is where the terror bastards are changing what I wrote a moment prior to that. Then, I post what I wrote, then read it, to see that information was slightly changed, “The” gets inserted all over the place. Duplicates of the same same words are placed into the post, such as “same” that I did intentionally that time. Many small changes happen without my knowledge or consent. So far, I don‘t see any major changes in the archive, but, there are many there to look at for baby sitting. I cannot be expected to write the information necessary to save the whole world, and have to make sure that some asshole does not change it later on. If I change my access password, the keystroke recorder that is in the norton Life Lock product will just help the bastards know how I think when I choose passwords. When I access, I do not type in a password, and, I have never told the web browser to save my password for access of any of my accounts.They all open automatically, without password necessary, there is nothing I can do to change that from happening. It’s all wide open, no security of any kind, no privacy, no US national Guard.

That, and the sheriff broke my letter n on my keyboard when the broke down my door on June 15 to arrest me for stuff that did not happen, and a bunch of rock stars were killed inside the fucking jail with the weapons they were allowed to bring in there, to kill me with.

So, I am doing way more than should be required by any citizen, even in third world countries just to stay alive long enough to get a fucking message out in world filled with Smart Phones and communication technology. It’s all designed as counter productive, intentionally set up to prevent communication from occurring.

That, and I am a disabled man, with spinal injuries, and spinal fusion. I have a fucking metal plate that holds my head on, with four bolts, so, tell the terror bastards that I will just dull their swords, and they won’t be able to kill me.

I am Disabled American Citizen... you better be scared of me. punk.

=========================

1-17-2021: 12:16 am:

There are terror soldiers out by (my) cars in the front yard. It sounds like they are torturing an animal. It must be the Myers of Five-Six-Zero (560) Jackpine. That is how the Myers do terror, they come to the house, and kill something or someone as you watch, right there at the front porch after knocking, sometimes.

There might be a dead animal or person by my car when I go out there next time.

Juseph Myers

Kyle Myers

nora Lee Myers

Rita Myers’

Rena Myers

The scariest people on earth, hands down, there is no competition for that.

============

In case there are people fucking with my computer thinking that they are warning me about danger.... stop doing that. You are going to get me killed. just let me deal with it my way, without the distraction.

============================================

1-17-2021: 1:16 am:

A walk to the mail box was.... different.

It’s cold, foggy, I did not check the thermometer but guess that it’s about 32 degrees outside.

There were no dead animals or other bodies that could be seen on a walk to the mailbox in the dark.

There is someone from the Clyde Baum terror cell making signaling to others with owl calls. The “Whooo... whooo... whooo“ at Deitricks 601 or Taylors at 600 is a person, not an owl.

As I reached the mailboxes, where there is a communication device inside one or more of the mailboxes where terror soldiers have to stop to say who they are and why they are in the neighborhood, was used as a way to hear that I had reached the mailbox, as I closed mine, the sound alerted other terror soldiers who are behind my house and behind 520 right now. They are doing a terror scenario called “Hounds of the Baskerville’s”, a set of scary circumstance all roled out in effort to produce a victim in one way or another. The scenario includes that the sound of many coyotes could be heard yelling as they do. But, there are no coyotes in these parts of Oregon, so, the people who are able to make the coyote screams very well, are those who are from India, such as Nicole Sparacino is. I suspect the Sparacino’s are working with Clyde Baum, and someone from Dietricks to do the “Hounds of the Baskerville’s” terror murder scenario, however, Clyde does not seem to be staying at his own house lately. It seems as the terror cells have mostly all switched houses for the time being, as I mentioned last week or so. I suspect Clyde is staying at Dietricks 601.

Tonight the scenario includes a lot of set-up work at Monroe’s, where a whole bunch of three dimensional items are outside, arranged in a way the (that) tells a story about rakes and pitch forks, shovels, dead wood, all wielded by creepy ness. There is no one there at exactly where all of that stuff is arranged, but there was someone closer to the road in the Monroe yard, making croaking frog sounds, such as those made by a Female Grommet soldier. (read about that here in this account somewhere else).

It was very dark outside.

I brought a super duty flashlight tonight, I rarely use a flashlight in favor of a Bic Lighter, and keeping my hands free for fighting.

I feel as though there is someone far away who is wanting some verification of events that took place many years ago, as is laid out in the Monroe three dimensional terror communication with use of rakes, pitchforks, shovels, shafts, stumps, wood rounds, a telescope, a camera on a log pointing at me, a large metal wagon wheel from historic wagon of some kind, a big dragon fly yard art, and a lot of other items all arranged so that I will tell about a time when my family and I fought against terror soldiers on horseback as the horses jumped the fence on attack by men with long horseman’s sabers. They had been attacking us daily, making us run to the house. One day, I prepared a defense, and we killed one horse and rider to my recollection. They stopped attacking by horseback, changed to a different attack plan after that.

So, if that is what is needed to know, then, yes, that is what happened so long ago with the men on horsback with long sabors, they may have been women, but I don’t remember and we did not do a pap smear to find out. The Monroe’s terror cell are getting the messages from somewhere far away, and arranging items in the yard, so that I will say something about it here. Each time I tell an anecdote, the story gets added to an existing data base of terror reporting and other personal information, all of which is used to hurt me and other people, is turned around backwards, and used to make me appear as a terrorist, while the terrorists take credit for the report, such as Clyde Baum has done with some intervention I did on at least two commercial airline flights, where my actions stopped a hijacking on board the plane... Clyde Baum gets the credit, the story got changed from the giant size of the truth, down to a much smaller, comparatively insignificant story about what happened on those airplane rides.

no one has ever spoken with me about any of that either.

One of the coyote’s sounded like Burt Dietrick. (WM, 45 y/o, 190 lbs. very full brown beard, short dark hair.)

The frog/Grommet soldier smelled like Theresa Sparacino. (India/w female, 18 y/o, long dark hair is dyed mostly in blonde streaks, 125 lbs.)

The Owl sounded like Clyde Baum. (WM, 60 y/o, short grey hair, 200 lbs, 5′9″)

The other coyote sounded like Nicole Sparacino. (India female, long black hair, predominant nose hook, may have vaginal/anal injury healed from sword fight long ago, deep voice, 5′10″ long skinny legs, 130 lbs)

I think Sean Sparacino is dead already but here is a description:

WM, 5′9″, 220 lbs, short butch hair cut most of the time, 42 y/o, has a hair lip, or cleft lip, or some other thing about his mouth, is fat, mass murderer, over 100,000 US citizens killed by Sean and Nicole Sparacino. Sean Sparacino may have a body alteration where he had his belly button removed, covered w/plastic surgery, presents himself to victims as “An alien being” points out that he has no belly button. Or, he uses make up for a the same effect.

===========================================

1-18-2021: 11:56 am: Additional:

Sparacino Belly Button Alien Terror:

I learned the (this) more than once. The latest time was around 2005-ish.

Use “Contemplating my naval” in place of “Belly Button“.

“Contemplating my naval” is a statement I have heard more than a few times. while on a phone call, and while in person.

Sean Sparacino uses a covered up, altered, plastic surgery belly button body enhancement to say the same thing, while pretending to be an alien from space.

My assessment is that there is at least one US Navy Serviceman “Partner”, “Companion”, “Side-Kick”, kidnapped victim of forced surgical alteration, somewhere nearby where I am. Most likely place closest is 507 (Five-Zero-Seven) Jackpine at Harold & Joan Phillips terror cell.

The subject matter is complex, dangerous, is scary, horrifying.

A “Partner” is often a victim who rides in a trunk of a car, or, is strapped to the bottom of a big-rig truck, or, strapped to the undercarriage of any vehicle... above the spare tire of a full size pick-up truck beneath the bed at the rear axle, is a place where “Partner’s” are put, attached to the vehicles. Their job is to use electronic blue-tooth communication device to stay always in contact with their captors who are driving the vehicles the “Partner’s” ride in and under. The captor’s do not speak English well enough to have a conversation, so, as an attack is happening, the Captor terror assassins need to engage in some kind of a set-up of a dialogue with an intended victim. The reason the dialogue is necessary is to ensure that the intended victim is not also a terror soldier, they are not uniformed, everyone looks like an intended victim, also, everyone looks like a terror soldier, so, the pre-attack dialogue is mandatory, and the “Partner” is the one who does the talking, from inside of a trunk of a car, or from beneath the undercarriage of a big rig or UPS, Fed-Ex, Bekins Moving truck, or while riding above the spare tire of a full size pick-up truck beneath the bed.

The point here is that anyone can be a “Partner”. They are surgically altered, amputated arms and legs, are small, fit in odd places, are strapped into odd places, and forced to communicate in English for their captors. If the “Partner” tries to make a cry for help, the captors will push the eject button while the vehicle is in motion. So, they are not likely to be doing anything other than exactly as they are told to do.

I suspect there is at least one US Navy partner around where I live.

I just got him killed with this post.

There is No Way To Get Help.

Josephine County Judge Lindi Baker and her husband Buck Baker keep, use, house, traffic, kidnapp, and help to produce “Partner” “side-kick” victims. Honorable Judge Baker had a “Partner” in the trunk of her car the day she was killed in defense at the AM/PM Luke’s Arco on Terry Ln. a couple of years ago. I demanded that she open her trunk when I heard the victim in the trunk, and she did open the trunk, the “Partner” escaped, Lindi Baker was killed, and the entire AM/PM staff and the staff at Fred Meyer Gas Station all began an emergency hunt for the escaped “Partner” victim, who scurried away as I was fighting with Lindi Baker that day.

I don‘t think the “Partner” was able to find help. no one has questioned me about why the judge was killed at the AM/PM.

Harrison Ford is a carpenter. He built the “Partner” kennels that the Bakers used at one of their properties on Upper River Road. They have other property also at Lower River Road, and at a remote cabin on the Illinois River west of Selma Oregon.

Buck Baker is in charge of all of the trucking that happens around here, from Salem Oregon to the California border, if it’s in a big rig, Buck Baker made it happen. He is still producing “Partners” who are transformed at “The Pleasure Dome”, a subterranean secret terror experimental surgery center in Medford Oregon built by Bill Gates in the late 1980′s and early 1990′s. The place is beneath a neighbor hood of houses, is not visible, a multi billion dollar endeavor made possible by Bill Gates.

Study this account to learn more, including maps and details about the mustard gas that is used for keeping prying eyes away.

Let me try a more graphically offensive means to get some attention here:

Twitter news media might say this next bit is a “V-Shaped Recovery” if they can get in contact with the Dog Catcher in the area where the Partner escaped captivity and is running amok, out of control.

That Afghan Hound is close to some of the finished products of the Pleasure Dome. Peter Fonda’s “Partner” looks very similar to that dog. Peter Fonda’s Partner would be mistaken to be a dog, before anyone will consider that the dog is a human being.

Yes, I am dead serious about that.

Human, US Citizen Children go in one end of the machine, when they come out of the machine, they look like that dog, if that is what the SAG Card Holder specified on the custom order sheet, such as what Peter Fonda ordered.

I have spoken with Peter Fonda’s Partner person victim at the Bi-Mart in Grants Pass, where they have parties, many SAG Card Holders bring their partners, for watching them fight to the death and betting, or for a Partner Sex Party.

Weapons are taped to the Partners, they fight, or are killed for refusing.

===========================================

==========

Also at Monroe there seems to be some indication of “Clearwater”. There is a composting company called Clearwater, they are said to use sewage waste mixed with other organic waste, such as yard and brush, tree trimmings and such for making a soil amendment product. They are likely to be a source of “V-8″ or “Red Hydroseed” where human beings are but into a giant blender and mixed with water and seeds, to be sprayed onto the hillsides as ‘Erosion Abatement” for the Department of Transportation, done by state contractors for a profit at State tax payer expense.

Millions of US Citizens were put into the giant blenders alive, ground up into pulp at the Walmart parking lot during a fake construction project there in around 2001 or so. My brother was put into the blender, he was alive, I watched it happen, but that was in Arizona after I had been told to come to his funeral, he was not dead, until I arrived for the fucking funeral. There was nothing I could do to stop a enormous Christian terror army who are all bent on global domination in Biblical way.

Rendata is the force behind Clearwater.

There is another place called Jo-Grow, I suspect they are also in the V-8 Business. Those are all the same people who are building the Cascade Public Storage near the Club Northwest Gym. Jo-Grow is a Josephine county government company located at the former county land fill, is now a Transfer Station. Too dangerous to go anywhere near the old dump anymore.

So, information spelled out with rakes and pitchforks at Monroe’s seems to ask for “Clearwater”, and honestly I don’t know that Clearwater recycling is actually involved in the V-8, but, i suspect they are, and, it’s really not my job to do that kind of investigative work, I am an old disabled man with many spinal problems, and am poisoned by the people who seemingly are of a subject of interest, by people who are in contact with Monroe terror cell at 434 Jackpine. Have them go talk to the folks at Clearwater, or at Rendata of Merlin Oregon if you need investigating done at that level.

I do know quite a lot about Clearwire, a cellular company that was hijacked by Sprint in a fake merger, I was heavily invested in Clearwire and lost a lot of money when the shit did not work out the way the contract said it was supposed work

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whatdoyouexpectthistime · 8 years ago

Text

Out of Office Drama: A Picture Tells a Thousand Tales

With a stuttering lurch, Miho threw herself to her knees and began to gather the pictures.

“You don’t need to see this,” she hissed, scrambling to make a pile, but Issei took both her wrists, and leaning forward with his weight, pinned her hands to the floor amidst the carnage.

“I guess this is how you knew he wasn’t wired that way,” he grated in a low voice overflowing with loathing. “And you’re going to marry my brother, while fucking Subaru like a whore?!”

“That’s…” she inhaled painfully, trying to recoil though he held her tightly.

“Issei!” Seiji barked, striding through the door and in behind his beleaguered fiancée. “Let her go.”

“You’re okay with this?” Issei snapped, balefire glared now up at Seiji as he threw Miho’s hands away from him. “Or maybe you didn’t even know.”

Toward Seiji, Issei thrust a particularly graphic image, Miho and Subaru’s expressions both the epitome of powerful orgasm.

“What I do and don’t know is a matter between she and I, no one else,” Seiji states, still hovering at Miho’s quivering back. “I’ll be taking these photos now.”

For a second Issei’s lips seemed poised to argue, but when Seiji crouched beside Miho and began to collect the lewd portfolio of images, he rocked back to his feet. He flicked the photo in his hand like a ninja star and it landed in Miho’s lap, face up, but her focus was on his face.

Such an intense expression of betrayal, but given what little she knew of him, she thought it had less to do with his brother and more their conversation from last night.

“I… have a few things I’d like to say to your family about this,” Miho said as she also rose, and immediately Issei began toward his door, halted only when Seiji caught his arm.

“Give her the chance to speak,” he instructed sternly. “This isn’t her doing.”

“That’s not her then?” Issei spat, shaking himself free.

“It’s me,” Miho frowned, desperately trying to pull herself together. “But what I did before committing to Seiji is no sin, and I don’t deserve your scorn.”

Issei huffed out an incredulous grunt before leaving the room, and for a moment Miho and Seiji just stood there in silence, he with the stack of photographs in his left hand.

“Are you all right?” he asked finally, wincing because he didn’t know what else to say.

“I am so far from all right,” she muttered, swallowed, clenched her fists.

Couldn’t decide whether to lose herself to rage that someone would do this, or lament.

“Let’s just…”

She didn’t finish her sentence, but nodded her head and began her way back out to the lounge, where the rest of the family sat at the table in silence.

Before joining them, Seiji took the Subaru pictures and stowed them out of sight with the others. Miho was already speaking before he positioned himself at her side.

“I won’t apologise for my past,” she said slowly, forcing herself to make eye contact though it was painful to all concerned.

Issei simply refused.

“Who I have and haven’t been with prior to my relationship with Seiji, all of which these were, should be of no concern to anyone other than myself, and those people,” Miho continued carefully.

But she was proud, and she had no reason not to be – all depicted encounters had been consensual after all.

“I will, however,” she exhaled, “apologise that you had to see these images. They were taken without my consent, without my…”

Her voice faltered, and though Seiji meant the placement of his hand over hers as a gesture of a support, Miho struggled to keep herself together even more.

“… without my knowledge, and the person who has sent them here, addressed them specifically to you, has done so as an act of malice and spite and…”

“You know who did this?” Shinichi questioned, his voice quiet and cautious – Miho could not yet tell if his first instinct was to condemn also.

“Miho received flowers from an anonymous individual early this week,” Seiji responded in her stead, “and was then confronted by a masked man outside her work building. It seems highly likely this is connected. I’ll see if any fingerprints can be lifted from the photos, but I’ll need yours to eliminate them.”

“I’m not giving you my fingerprints,” Issei dropped flatly – no sympathy, no mercy.

“That’s fine,” Miho assented, directing her gaze into his face. “I just… this is my private life in its barest form, captured in places I thought were safe and now…”

Her eyes shifted to Haruka.

“… it will be impossible for you to see me the same way.”

She stood, dragging her hand out from under Seiji’s. Not bowing, she didn’t owe anyone humility for this, she was the victim.

“I think I need some air,” she declared, calling the ‘conversation’ to a close without leaving room for opinions.

When she moved in the direction of the front door, however, Seiji stopped her.

“You can’t go out,” he told her under his breath. “Whoever did this knows enough about my family and our plans, to send those pictures while you’re here. It doesn’t take much to figure they want you to distance yourself from us, from me.”

“It doesn’t bother you? At all?” she questioned, louder than him, loud enough for the others to hear though that hadn’t been her intention.

Seiji looked completely conflicted.

“I’m sorry,” Miho sighed. “That was out of line.”

“It’s fine,” he smiled thinly, but his eyes were soft and full of sympathy. “Let’s go for another walk.”

The day had been so cheerful, but now when they stepped out of the house into the twilight, the dim seemed so fitting. Miho was glad for it, as she didn’t know how much longer she could hold herself together.

And it wasn’t just that her fiancé’s family had seen her naked, with various partners, in the most intimate of circumstances; it wasn’t just that any ground she had made with Issei was well and truly lost; there were consequences reaching far beyond the immediate. She needed to contact Takao for legal advice – what would the ramifications be for MJS? The three individuals she had been pictured with would need to be notified – would they sue? The woman pictured, had already left Japan to be married to her partner, and returned to live happily, but to not tell was simply not an option.

Even if it wasn’t her fault, or MJS’, Miho also felt guilty that whatever personal mission her enemy was on, it could negatively impact her colleagues, her friends. Would they also be targeted?

“Hey,” Seiji prompted at her side, taking her hand, sliding his fingers in between hers. “Stop the wheels turning for just a minute.”

“No time,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “Those clients could be in danger and…”

“You are the focus of threat,” he interrupted. “You’re the only one I care about right now.”

God, if you’re too kind…

“Knowing doing that was a part of my job, and seeing…” she began again, her words grinding out through clenched teeth – because if she allowed her lips to part too much, the giant sob gathering in her chest might escape. “… I didn’t want… for you to see…”

“You said it yourself, that was before we were us,” he pointed out.

He could feel she wanted to pull away, to isolate, insulate, even if only to try in some way to protect him – though the damage was already done. Seeing her with, of all people Subaru, seeing the pleasure in her face, the intimacy and the passion, had been at best jarring. He had told himself, over and over, she was no different from any other woman, or man, with previous partners that had nothing to do with her love for him now.

But she was right; knowing and seeing was different.

It made him feel sick that someone else had made her feel like that, someone else had touched her in places he felt belonged to him, but more than anything it made him so incredibly angry someone would attack the woman he loved like that.

“You know,” he said slowly, “I’ve thought at length about your job, all parts of it…”

Her fingers slackened even more.

“Mhm,” he murmured, frowning, fishing around for the right words. “Subaru said he proposed to you too, before me…”

“He wasn’t being serious,” Miho chuckled mirthlessly.

“He’d have been the better option,” Seiji pointed out. “His family has prestige; his education was Ivy League…”

“I don’t care about societal gain,” she choked out, losing the battle, and Seiji stopped walking, turned her to face him, and slid his hands to either side of her face.

“Right,” he smiled affectionately. “You care about me, the person, the man. The man who chose you not based on education or family background or your history. Just the you, you have been with me.”

Tears ribboned down her cheeks and settled beneath his thumbs.

“You’re right, I never wanted to see that, but don’t you dare entertain the thought I will think any less of you for trying your utmost to find love for your clients, even back then.”

That was Miho’s limit. She buried her face against his chest and cried with his arms wrapped around her.

“My family will not hold this against you,” he reassured her. “And we’ll find out who is doing this, stop them, and bring them to justice. I promise.”

For some time they remained that way, and Miho allowed the cracked mask of her composure to leak out her angst. She didn’t feel guilty for MJS. She didn’t feel guilty for any of the sexual encounters she had had in her past. She didn’t feel responsible for what was happening now.

But it was impossible for her not to feel angry and embarrassed and frightened, even with Seiji so close and his reassurances in her ear.

Seiji, meanwhile, seethed quietly, sharp eyes tracking a car with tinted windows rolling slowly past, scrutinising a couple walking in the deepening dark on the other side of the road, and standing ready to act should something lash out from shadows.

“I’m okay,” Miho sighed finally, aware her face must have been an ugly mess of smeared makeup and bleary eyes. “I… we should head back to Tokyo right away. I don’t want your family to feel awkward with me in the house.”

“We’d have to hire a car,” he pointed out, gently wiping beneath her eyes. “And like I said, it’ll be fine.”

Just as he said that, a familiar motorcycle flew past, familiar to Seiji’s practiced eye anyway.

“We can leave early tomorrow,” he told her when the bike had disappeared. “I want to get those photographs to the lab, and we need to report this to the officers who responded to MJS Monday.”

“This is a pretty sensitive affair,” she exhaled. “I don’t want just anyone leafing through the ‘evidence’ when I promised clients their confidentiality.”

“I’ll make sure it’ll be handled with discretion,” he assured.

“Mm, I don’t know that you should be too involved with this,” she murmured, looking into his face properly. “This isn’t a Public Safety matter.”

“Be that as it may, I’m hardly going to stand by while…”

“It’s fine,” she interrupted. “I know some people in MPD – I’ll call markers in.”

He could have said something sordid about how exactly she was owed so many favours, and maybe, probably, it bothered him to think it was because her clients, despite having paid for her services, enjoyed their time with her – but he didn’t want to make things worse. Nor did he think he had any right to do so, no matter how jealous he felt.

“It’s going to be difficult to keep out of this,” he pointed out, stroking her hair.

“I know,” she smiled, and actually felt it. “You want to don your armour, mount your warhorse and charge into battle to defend my honour, but this will need to be handled much more quietly than that.”

“I know, I get it,” he grumbled. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it. You should stay at my place full time for now,” he went on – didn’t tell her she would be, but pointed out she should. “And I don’t think we should discount the possibility this could be about me, and that you’re just collateral damage.”

“I guess I didn’t think about that,” she nodded, emptying her lungs again and slipping her arm in under his jacket. “But most of your work is done undercover isn’t it? For someone to target me to get to you, your cover would have to have been blown.”

There was a new kind of fear, and Seiji saw it blossom in her eyes – not for herself, but for him.

“I don’t think that’s the case,” he told her, sliding his arm around her shoulder and turning her back in the direction of his parents’ house. “But I’ll look into it anyway, just to be sure.”

He wasn’t going to leave anything to chance.

When they reached the house, Haruka was not her normal, chirpy self, but not just because seeing Miho brought up some very interesting images in her mind.

“He’s gone isn’t he,” Seiji sighed, even before his mother could explain.

“Hmm?” Miho frowned.

“Issei,” Haruka clarified, avoiding Miho’s eyes, not that Miho could blame her. “He was very upset. I couldn’t stop him from leaving so, he’s gone back to his dorm.”

“At this time?” Seiji huffed, then his shoulders slumped a little. “I’ll follow up with him when we get back to Tokyo. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

“Unless,” Miho began, resisting the urge to bite her lip, “you would prefer I leave tonight.”

Haruka’s head tilted a little, and she looked over at where her husband was watching television before back at her son and his fiancée – and finally met Miho’s gaze.

“Of course not,” she smiled sadly, then held her hands out to Miho… who immediately teared up again. “Poor thing,” Haruka soothed, hugging Miho though she was considerably shorter. “Whoever did this, Seiji will catch them. Don’t let anything get in the way of your happiness.”

Monday morning arrived. Goto (of the Seiji variety – I’m just way too embarrassed to call him by his first name any more –blush-) had helped Miho collect additional necessities from her apartment and arranged for Shinonome himself to take a look at her apartment for hidden cameras and other devices. Promising she would go nowhere without a ‘buddy’, Miho returned to work, and convened a staff meeting to convey updates.

She stood at the head of the table, at which also sat all three other girls and Izumi, Takao had managed to make it, and even Baba showed up. Kyobashi arrived late, and blamed his boss. After drawing in a really deep breath she explained the situation, what had happened, and the potential ramifications as she saw it.

Typically, Takao blushed – the idea of such graphic images of Miho in the hands of her soon to be in-laws (let’s face it, the idea of Miho nude at all) was a bit too much for him to cope with, until his brain clicked into lawyer mode. Kyobashi, who Miho had already spoken to briefly, indicated he wouldn’t be able to look into it in an official capacity as it wasn’t something that would normally fall under Second Unit’s purview, but Miho headed that off with news she’d already called one of his superiors and arranged, somehow, for Kyobashi to receive a special assignment.

“Seriously?” Kyobashi commented. “Dare I ask how you managed to swing that?”

Though she didn’t feel much like smiling or laughing, Miho shot a glance at Jazz and fashioned a small smirk.

“Something about a singles’ event, tequila and…” Miho began, but Jazz headed her off.

“They don’t need to know the gorey details,” she muttered.

“Yeah we do,” Baba piped up, but Miho shook her head, and even managed a short chuckle.

“The point is, your superior should be giving you the case at some point today,” Miho declared. “Seiji will have lab results from the photos forwarded directly to you.”

“How’d you get Lieutenant Goto to stay out of this?” Rose questioned.

Though she didn’t know him very well, what she did know was largely base off her observation of his interactions with Miho in the office.

“He knows he can’t mix his personal and work life,” Miho replied. “And this really is way out of Public Safety’s jurisdiction. Luckily that isn’t the case for our in-house detective.”

“Those pictures were taken somehow from inside a private residence and two different hotel locations,” Miho then frowned. “So there is some serious premeditation going on that I don’t want to chance is restricted to just myself. Despite what I just said, one of Seiji has suggested he might be able to get one of his colleagues and his students to sweep our homes and the office for things like listening devices and hidden cameras as a part of a learning exercise; that’ll keep this actual incident away from unnecessary eyes, but help give us a bit more piece of mind.”

“What about Mr. Ichiyanagi’s home?” Takao queried, and Miho’s shoulders slumped a little.

“Seiji and I are going to visit him together – after all, he’s going to be best man… maybe.”

Jazz, who had already had several run ins with Subaru over wedding planning, pursed her lips.

“I’m sure he’s not going to be happy about any of this, but I swear, if he wants to take it out on the two of you personally after the megalomaniacal tantrums he’s thrown over cakes and wedding favours, I’m…”

This allowed Miho to draw herself up again. She’d been the fierce friend, and now Jazz reciprocated. In truth, all the people in the room were supportive, not just of her, but also of one another, and it made her feel warm.

“I don’t think it’ll come to that,” Miho said. “Especially not with Seiji there – it’ll just be… really awkward. It’ll be fine.”

She kept saying that.

“Anyway, I’m calling for the suspension of date scenarios until we can do a proper review and upgrade of security, including our personal spaces, meeting places, legals, and even medicals – across the board.”

“If you don’t mind delegating, I can work on that?” H offered, and Miho smiled again. “Unless Jazz wants to do it – and I know she doesn’t – sure. Review current procedure and policy, and draw up a proposal. Takao?”

“I’ll definitely help,” he agreed without the need for further prompting.

“And I just want everyone to be safe,” Miho sighed, sitting though she continued. “We’ve had overly grateful clients before, but this is next level and so far we’ve no idea who is behind it.”

“Client does top the list,” Kyobashi put in. “Not that I’m going to make assumptions.”

“You know, I got this really weird vibe at Seasonelle when I was there the other day,” Rose frowned, casting her mind back.

“Well Kyobashi can access our client list, we’re talking at least a couple of months back for the first photographs,” Miho added. “And I don’t want to discount clients that weren’t mine either.”

“I’ll be thorough,” Kyobashi sniffed, and Miho sent him an apologetic look.

“Okay well… that’s it for me, so unless there is any other business presently, just be safe and report anything unusual immediately.”

Some lingered in the conference room, H and Takao and Rose and Kyobashi, while Baba made a quick getaway.

Jazz, however, followed Miho to her office, and watched from the door as the other woman collected her handbag.

“Where you going?” Jazz asked in a sing-song tone – the tone that conveyed Miho knew she shouldn’t be going out alone.

“Relax,” Miho responded, poking out her tongue as she straightened. “Seiji’s picking me up. We’re going to tell Subaru – I want this done.”

“And Goto’s really okay with being there?” Jazz asked, a little more carefully.

“I think he’d be less okay with not being there to be honest,” Miho chortled, but it didn’t touch her tired eyes. “Understandable seeing as he now can very clearly envisage what Subaru and I got up to.”

Jazz tried not to cringe, but if Kuni was to see pictures like that of her with one of her former clients? Yeah that’d suck.

“I’ll survive,” she assured, giving Jazz a quick hug. “At the very least, MJS won’t leave me.”

The closer it got to the time for Subaru to arrive at Goto’s apartment, the more nervous Miho became. It’s not like they were planning to blindside him exactly, though it’s not like he could possibly see their news coming.

When the intercom buzzed, her stomach was a twist of dread, but she knew Goto had to be feeling something similar. After all, he and Subaru had been friends and colleagues for long before Miho was even in Japan, and though they bickered, they were clearly best friends.

“Okay, I’ve got this,” she exhaled at the front door.

“We’ve got this,” Goto said at her side, his hand giving hers a squeeze.

When she opened the door, Subaru looked at them with an unimpressed expression.

“If you’re just going to act all lovey-dovey, I’m leaving,” he huffed, but his face sobered up when he saw they didn’t react as usual. “Okaaaay.”

“Come in,” Miho smiled thinly, and they moved out of his way.

He off his shoes and took great care to ensure they were lined up, before following them into the lounge.

Miho swallowed, but at least they hadn’t gone to Subaru’s place.

There, she would have had to see his kitchen and that bench, face the wall where she’d been pressed, and know his bedroom was just a small way down one corridor.

Never before had she felt guilty about undertaking a date scenario with a client, until now.

Never before had she felt so uncomfortable in his or her presence, until now.

“You’re not going to like this,” Miho began slowly, seated beside Goto with Subaru opposite.

She explained it all again, including why they obviously weren’t meeting at his place in case it was still compromised.

He remained calm, looking between her and Goto – he did not blush, and he did not make jokes.

“Are you okay?” was the first thing he asked, and Miho bit her lip and nodded, because if she opened her mouth, she was absolutely going to cry.

She had been prepared for him to lose his shit, but he proved his worth as a friend instead.

“She’s coping,” Goto filled in. “But your place… how the hell was someone able to get images like that from inside?”

Subaru scowled fiercely, his eyes focused elsewhere as he thought back.

“There hasn’t been anyone in there at all except me in ages, well before we… um… then, not even member of the team,” he said finally.

“No signs of break-in?” Goto prompted.

“If there had been, it’d have been the first thing I’d say,” Subaru grunted. “Jesus, I’m going to have to pull everything apart.”

“I’ll send Shinonome you’re way when he’s done at Miho’s,” Goto nodded. “And so you know, the prints are in a closed loop. One tech I trust at the lab, then directly into the hands of the detective on the case – a friend.”

Subaru inclined his head, but his grimace persisted as he looked back at Miho who had fallen silent.

“You’re going to be all right,” he affirmed, smoothing his face over with a confident grin. “Think this idiot would let anyone near you?”

“This idiot has a job to do,” Miho pointed out, and Goto inclined his head.

“A new investigation begins tomorrow, so I have a favour to ask,” he said seriously, and Subaru was paying attention. “Could you, stay here, with her for the next few nights?”

He’d been fretting about it, Miho knew. On top of everything else, the idea that he would be away from home and unable to keep an eye on her was distressing – still, she hadn’t guessed he’d ask Subaru to be her babysitter, especially given what he’d seen in those photographs.

“That depends,” Subaru answered easily, “on whether she’s a better cook than you.”

“There is nothing wrong with my cooking,” Goto defended, and for the first time since he arrived, things felt somewhat normal.

“Has he even cooked for you yet? You may want to reconsider your engagement,” Subaru smirked, and Goto glared.

“Don’t go putting stupid ideas in her head,” he growled.

“I’ll show you what good cooking is,” Subaru grinned boldly, totally ignoring Goto now.

“If you mention dessert I’m going to hurt you,” Goto added.

“I make a mean…” Subaru challenged, and Goto got to his feet.

“Time for you to go,” Goto prompted.

Finally, Miho laughed, and both men looked to her and smiled.

“Thanks Subaru,” she exhaled, also getting up when Subaru joined Goto standing.

“I’ll get my schedule from Katsuragi and get back to you, Pajamas,” Subaru snickered, heading for the door. “Let me know if there is anything else I can do.”

When Subaru was gone, a quiet settled, and Miho and Goto returned to the couch.

“Nothing will happen with Subaru around,” Goto declared, but it sounded to Miho more like he was trying to convince himself, not her. “He’s a bodyguard after all.”

She very nearly told him there was only one person she wanted to guard her body, but she didn’t want him to feel guilty about doing his job.

“I know,” she said instead, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Do you have to go back to work?”

“Nope,” Goto replied, turning his head and kissing her hair. “What should we do?”

“Hmm, I wonder,” Miho mused, sounding thoughtful, before she looked into his face. “I’ve got it, why don’t you cook me lunch… you know… so I don’t reconsider my engagement?”

“Damnit Subaru,” Goto muttered under his breath, but he pulled himself to his feet and headed for the kitchen.

@hifftn @smutmylifeup @smile-smile-ichthys @nitelotus @belxsar

#voltage drama #voltage fanfic #her life in the force drama #seiji goto #mjs #mjs marriage matchmaking and wedding planning agency #Miho fujiwara #rose Hiraoka #H #Issei goto #subaru ichiyanagi

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