#. code for i want to try getting a leadership position when it rolls around

[absentmoon]

im going to rise to the top and then graduate leaving them all desolate and leaderless

[justreadingfics]

It’s a Deal (Chapter 3)

Chapter Summary: You have a reason to celebrate and need a partner to do that.  

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 6.2k

Warnings:+18 only, smut, sex in a public place, boytoy!Bucky, casual sex, opened relationship, drinking, sorority.

A/N: Here’s one more filthy chapter for you guys. It won’t always be that way since the plot moves forward, but it will still be focused on smut for the next couple of chapters. Our reader deserves some fun before things get a bit more complicated, right? The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated. Tag list for this story is closed.  

Screen after screen pops in the air in front of you as you furiously type codes and formulas on them. You’re there, you’re almost there. You’ve been working on this project for months and now it finally seems like you’re getting somewhere.

“Coffee?”

You just nod as an answer to Camilla, your partner on that project. She gets up and walks out to go get the coffee. She already told you if it was up to her, you’ve already given up. But you know you’re getting there. You haven’t stopped working ever since early hours and you’re feeling inspired and focused as ever.

When you’re satisfied with the input you add to the system which is working on the calculations, you sit back. Eyes on the screen displayed in the air. Camilla comes back with your coffees and hands one to you, fixing her eyes on the screen, too as she stands beside you.

“Come on, come on,” you whisper.

Bringing the coffee to your lips you almost choke on it when the answer you were so desperately looking for gleams on the screen.

“Holy shitballs,” you shout and swiftly gets up, letting your cup drop to the floor, splashing the liquid around.

“Oh, fuck,” Camilla gasps and you two look at each other with paired up widened eyes before letting out a cheerful scream and holding each other, jumping around as you gain the attention of the other workers from the several small offices of the Avengers/Stark Technology Department.

A clear of throat takes you and your friend out of your reverie, catching your attention. When you see Sharon Carter on your door, with a smirk on her lips, you two cease the celebration, but keep the smiles on your faces.

“Hey, Sh- Director,” you quickly correct yourself, being friends with Natasha brought you close to Sharon, too. But now she’s Director of Shield, after Nick Fury became coordinator of the Avengers, therefore you should show some respect at least at workplaces, “Remember that Shield and Avengers’ joined project? The one where we were trying to build a device that would crack alien secret services codes?”

“Yeah, sure, our tech departments have been working for months to find an algorithm.” Sharon nods.

“Well, looks like we made it.” You point at the screen right in front of you.

“What the hell?” She shoots an eyebrow high and steps into the office, eyes analyzing the screen between you two.

“We doesn’t quite cut it, Director,” Camilla says, rolling her eyes, “She worked her ass off and got to it by herself. She’s been killing it these last few days.”

You huff, shaking your head. You’ve been really inspired, indeed. And you might relate it to a certain physical activity you’ve been engaging on recently and the outrageous amount of energizing orgasms you’ve been gifted with almost daily… not a topic to be brought out now, though.  

“Ooo, someone seems extra inspired…” Sharon narrows her eyes, but you try to not indulge any possible insinuation by just ignoring the comment with a smile, “Well, that’s amazing news,” she resumes, clapping her hands once, “and it kind of leads to the subject that brought me here, would you mind excuses for a second, Camilla?” She kindly asks.

“Of course, not. I’ll be in my office.” Camilla says, not holding back from hugging you and squirming in excitement one more time before walking out the room.

“This is huge, huh?” Sharon comments, pulling up the chair you pointed for her as you sit on yours.  

“It is, can you imagine what Natasha will be able to do with it?” You grin, brushing your hands together.

“Thanks to your badass brain,” she compliments before narrowing her eyes at you again, “You have a weird happy face.”

“Well, something amazing just happened…”

“Yeah, yeah…” Sharon brushes you off, “You’re killing it at your job and that’s amazing… but to be honest, I expected to still see you moping around about your break up.”

“I’m still sad about it, but work has been great, and-”

“Oh, cut the crap,” Sharon interrupts with a playful snap and you frown while she crosses her arms in front of her, holding back a laugh, “I’ve been texting with Natasha, I know about you and your boytoy.”

“What the hell?” Your eyes widen as you throw your arms to the air, already feeling your cheeks warming, “She’s on a mission and you two have been talking about my… sex life?” You lean over across the table and whisper the last part.

“We can multitask,” Sharon shrugs like it’s no big deal.

“Oh, wow…” you scoff, “That’s two of the greatest spies on earth right.”

“Alright,” She chuckles, unfolding her arms and leaning over the table, “As much as I want to know all about it, that’s not why I’m here.”

“Ok,” you quickly accept the change of subject for your own relief, “Why are you here for, then?”

“To tell you that Stark is a jerk,” she deadpans.

“Ok… cool,” you drag the words, side eyeing her, “And?”

“Long story short, I lost you in a chess match and now you’re the new leader of Avengers/Stark Tech Department.”

You don’t quite assimilate what she just said as you keep your questioning stare on her, not finding the link between her words and, most of all, did she just say you’ve been promoted?

“I’m sorry, what?” You shake your head shutting your eyes for a second, finally asking for clarification after what seemed like the longest staring contest ever.

“Well,” Sharon sighs, “You know how competitive Stark and I can be and when I decided to act by ethics and told him I was considering offering you the leadership position at Shield’s tech department he decided he would do the same and dared me to a chess match, where you would be the prize.” She shrugs, “I’m sure he had some help, right Friday,” she raises her voice staring up to the air but gains plain silence as a response from the A.I, “He won and got to keep you and I got  stuck with my second option which is your ex, as you might already know.”

“Wow,” you whisper, not really sure what to say or feel, trying to process all of what you just heard.

“You’re not offended by the chess match, are you?” Sharon checks, tilting her head.

“No… I’m kinda… flattered, I guess.” You frown and Sharon gives you a satisfied smile. “But… I’m confused… That’s Stark’s job.”

“It’s your job now if you should accept it.” She grins wider, “I guess he’s been thinking about it for a while now and saw my offering as an opportunity. I know Pepper has been on his ass for him to loosen up from some responsibilities, and who better than you to take over?” She points up at the screen with your recent achievement.

You let out a breathy laugh, reality finally dawning. Not in a million years you thought that would happen but now that it is, you’re not gonna be modest, you kick ass in your job and you fucking deserve it.

“He’s on a mission with Nat and Steve now, so he asked me to come talk to you, hang on…” Sharon holdsup a finger, before grabbing a small device from her pocket, which you recognize as one of your projects. “Stark,” she says.

In a second the image of a very battered Tony surfaces on the air as the camera captures his face from under the suit.  

“Hey, Carter,” he greets with a smirk as you hear the sounds of blasts, shots and explosions. The man is in the middle of a damn battle while casually answering a call.  

“Stark,” Sharon answers just as casually, “I have her here with me, just delivered the news,” she says, turning his image to you.

“Hey, boss,” you give him a shy wave.

“Hey, kid.” He scrunches up his face, shooting a series of blasts before you listen to something exploding. “I think you’re sort of my boss now.” He focuses on you again, smirking.

“No, I’m not,” you laugh.

“No, you’re not. But, tell me, what’s your answer?”

“I take it, of course.” You decide, why in the world, wouldn’t you.

“Great. Party to celebrate when we come back. Gotta go, these damn Kree are the worst. Will not invite them.” He turns off and his image disappears from before you.

“Well, congratulations.” Sharon places the device back on her pocket, “Our departments work a lot together, so I think I win either way.”

A mix of emotions fill up your chest. You’re excited and happy and scared. Mostly excited, though…  “Holy shit,” you curse, digging your hands into your hair as a grin seems to twist your lips permanently.

“You need to celebrate…” Sharon adds, offering you a cheeky grin.

Fuck yeah, you need to celebrate. And you know exactly what, or better, who you wanna do.

~~~

“How the hell are you wet already?”

The words are spoken against your neck through licks and sucks, after Bucky’s fingers glided under your underwear and sank between your slick folds. As soon as he walked into your living room, he jumped on you with kisses and grabs, discovering you in such a state without his previous help.

Well, sort of without his help, actually. The thing is, after you got out of work that afternoon, you didn’t even need to call him or text him to propose your little celebration as you found a series of texts from “Bucky Sweet Tongue Barnes”  waiting for you. In the first, he was asking if you had any plans that night, and the others… oh, the others… the fucker described all sorts of filthy things he wanted to do with you.

After a quick answer for him to come over and a long bath, all the dirty details he used on his texts refused to leave your mind and you couldn’t help but spending the rest of the time you had alone before he arrived teasing yourself with your fingers, having all those images and flashes from your last encounters in your memory to keep you going.

“I-“ you gasp as he sucks that sensitive spot in your neck and his fingers meet your clit, “Those texts you sent me…” You tilt your head to give his lips more room, your hands roaming around the hard pattern of muscles on his back, “I-I’ve been touching myself.” You confess with the lack of pudency you’re becoming familiar with when you’re around him.

In your arms, you feel when his body freezes for a second, before he sucks harder on your neck, “Fuck… did you come today already?” He gropes your ass under your dress with the hand that isn’t in your pussy. 

Your eyelids flutter and you reach down to the front of his pants to feel the growing bulge, “Yes…”

“Goddammit, that’s hot,” he grunts, and then it all happens in a blur as he lifts you by hooking his hands under your thighs and places you seated over the dinner table.

He positions himself between your opened legs as lifting up your short dress out of his way and, while you swiftly work on the buttons and zipper of his jeans, he takes a condom out of his pockets and, after ripping the plastic off with his teeth he hands it to you.

His eyes cast down to see your fingers rolling off the latex around his rock hard cock and, as soon as you’re done and wrap your hand around him to feel his thickness, he wastes no time and pushes you backwards until your back meets the cold wood of your table. 

Acting by the frenzy that is all over his eyes, he swiftly pulls the small fabric of your underwear to the side, exposing your cunt just enough before he holds his cock and pushes himself inside you, making you cry out and your body jerk backwards. You always knew spending an exorbitant amount of money on a good table would pay off someday and you hold yourself fisting each side of the table.

He pulls your thighs up wrapping his hands on your knees, giving you no time to adjust before starting to pound into you.

You love that he fucks you like that. Hard and raw, the sting of the stretching mixed with the pleasure brought by his expert thrusts fogging your mind and his thickness and expert moves hitting sweet spots of yours, kicking the air out of your lungs. You love that in the few times you’ve been doing it in the last week, he already seems to know what you can take and always somehow goes a little further, a little different… like he knows something about yourself that you don’t, yet. That it’s the first time that you two can’t be bothered to wait and take off clothes or get to the bedroom. You love it.

It is all new to you, yes. For you sex has always been attached to some kind of affection or romantic feelings and, while that is all good and wonderful, you’re enjoying so much finding out this other side, where the only goals are to share pleasure and have fun. 

“So fucking sexy,” he groans through clenched teeth.

Your core twists in response and your cunt clenches around his cock, causing him to let out a grunt and quicken his pace even more, making it extra difficult to breathe properly. Oh, he’s found out that praise kink of yours and now he’s been using it wisely, so wisely…

He reaches over to pull down the stripe of your dress and exposes one breast. A loud moan slips out of you when he roughly kneads the soft flesh. He keeps the metal hand around one of your knees while the leg he let go in favor to give your breast some attention curls around his hips, jerking along with the punishing pace of his thrusts.

“Yeah, sweetheart, so sexy… I’ve wanted to have you like this ever since I first saw that sweet ass of yours,” he confesses right before leaning over to wrap his mouth around your nipple.

You’ve been horny the whole day waiting for the moment you would have his cock inside you just like that and the praise, as tacky as it may be, joined with the warmth of his wet tongue around your breast and the stimulation against your clit that the new position brings prompt the blast of ecstasy inside your core.

With a trembling moan, you let go the edges of the table to hold his body pressed to yours as his mouth moves from your breast to attack your neck. You roll your hips, trying to prolong the pleasure unleashed as his pace falters.

The fingers of both his hands dig into your hair, making a mess of it as he pulls out his cock almost completely before shoving it deeply and harshly one more time, grunting out his own release.  

“Fuck,” it slips from under his heavy breath before he clasps his lips on yours. The kiss is wet and sloppy and lazy as you have your legs and arms curled around his body, keeping him inside you.

Still feeling a little numb from the orgasm he just gave you – a thousand times better than the one you had given yourself- you gasp and chuckle through the kiss as he straightens up and pulls you with him. You tighten the hold of your arms and legs, as he conveniently holds you by your ass until he finds the couch and sits down with you straddling his hips. He breaks the kiss and lets his head fall on the backrest, his chest moving up and down as he tries to catch his breath.

You move up to let his cock slide off but he tightens the hold on your ass, keeping you in place, “Just… let me stay in a bit more, it feels so good,” he says, eyes shut, still resting his head back on the sofa.

“Alright,” you chuckle, straddling his face with your arms as you place your hands on the backrest. You find the request a bit odd but also sexy as hell. There he is, always a step ahead on what you don’t even know you think it’s hot…   

After a few more seconds, when his breath – and yours- seems to come back to normal, he straightens his head and looks down at where you still have just one breast exposed. He ticks his tongue, “Let’s not make the other one feel left out.” He pulls your other strap, letting now both of your breasts bare to him before he dips in, grabbing the up till now covered one with his lips.

You shake your head, laughing at his antics, “You seem pretty fond of them, huh?”

He lets go of the mound with a pop, looking up at you with an almost shocked expression on his face, “How could I not?” he gasps, like you’ve just offended him, “I don’t know how you see them in the mirror everyday and don’t touch yourself…” he squints at you before continuing, “You do, don’t you?”

You laugh harder, letting your head fall back and he smiles at you before going back to give your tits some attention, kissing and sucking one, then the other. Noticing that his cock never really softens completely inside you, you let him enjoy himself a bit more before speaking again, “Did you mean that?”

“What?” He leans back, looking up at you.

“You said you wanted to fuck me ever since you met me… is that serious? I didn’t even know you remembered me before we… started this.”

“First of all, I’m always serious, I never lie,” he says, adding some gravity to his tone, “Second of all, remember that night a while ago, when I chatted with you and your boyfriend at a Stark’s party and then your sexy ass talked about your work with technology with such passion… you knew exactly what you were talking about and, fuck…” he licks his lips, ”I rubbed one out for you later that night,” he smirks, clasping his hands behind his head.

Your jaw drops at the reveal before your face scrunches up, “That’s…gross?” you say the first word that comes to mind.

“But it’s true,” he shrugs, looking pretty comfortable with the confession, “and ever since I’ve been thinking about tapping that smart ass of yours.” He emphasizes his point by slapping your ass once.

Despite that and his choice of words - which makes your cheeks heat up - and your previous statement of being grossed out by the revelation, you decide you take that as kind of a compliment, which leads you to give him the news.

“You know?” you say, “I was promoted today. You just fucked the new leader of the Avengers/Stark tech department,” you grin when his practically hard cock twitches inside you.

“Wow, congratulations.” His eyes widen and he grins back at you. 

“Never thought I would meet someone with a technology kink,” you comment, laughing at his first reaction to the news.

“More of a smart as fuck brain kink, sweetheart,” he reaches behind you to slap your ass for the second time that night, making you shriek and laugh a bit harder, “Ok, we need to celebrate,” he states.

“I am celebrating,” you aim a mischievous smile at him, rolling your hips for good measure.

“Damn,” he breathes, but holds your hips still, “No, I mean, you’ve been in a relationship for ten years, tell me…” he squints at you, “When was the last time you partied your ass off?”

“Ahm…” you think hard trying to remember when it was, “College, I guess?”

“Shit…” he lowers his head before swiftly getting up, making you lunge your arms on his shoulders so you wouldn’t fall back as he walks to your bedroom, “Come on, let’s freshen up. This is huge news… I’ll take you to a real party now and then we can continue our private one later,” he promises.

~~~

As soon as you walk in the rooftop bar Bucky has chosen, you already decide you did good in accepting his offer. The place is gorgeous, sporting a modern, yet cozy decoration with small tables, sofas and puffs for those who want to sit. Dazzling lights flash on the dance floor right by a huge bar and the view of the city is mesmerizing while the beat of the music reverberates through your body.

Bucky pulls you by the hand through the sea of bodies. Thank god you chose one of the fanciest dresses of your wardrobe or else you wouldn’t fit in among the beautiful people crowding the place. Every once in a while, Bucky waves and nods at someone or a group of people. You can tell he’s a regular.  

He waves more excitedly to a group of women hanging on a mezzanine, before pulling you to that direction, “Come on,” he tilts his head back towards you with a smile, “You’ll love them.”

As soon as you approach the group, he puts his arm around your shoulders and introduces you to everyone, telling you the names of each stunning woman before you, Amanda, Emma, Jada, Alice and Brianna. They all friendly greet him and you with smiles, excited hellos and hugs, welcoming you two to join them, which you do.

“You know, Y/N was promoted today,” Bucky gushes and you smile at him.

“Oh, wow,” Amanda says through the cheerful congratulating words from everyone else, “This calls for champagne.” She then whistles and makes a sign for a bartender, who in a matter of seconds sends two bottles of fancy champagne to the group. 

A few minutes after the toast, you’re drinking and chatting with those women like you’ve been best friends your whole life, especially with Amanda, who goes out of her way to make you feel included. You can see how close they all are to Bucky, like he’s one of the gang, talking about any kind of subject in front of him and vice versa. Bucky stays by your side, and only when you’re completely mingled with the group he excuses himself to go grab what he called “a real drink” at the bar.

“He’s incredible, isn’t he?” Amanda nudges you when Bucky is at a distance he can’t hear.

“Oh yeah,” you nod, “Bucky’s a great guy.”

“She means in bed, dear,” Brianna clarifies with a giggle.

You take a look around the group to see them all giving you mischievous and knowing stares. Oh…

“Oh, did all of you…?” you point your finger at them, but you don’t have to complete the question

“More like all of this rooftop,” Brianna laughs, followed shortly by the others.  

“So, he’s amazing isn’t he?” Amanda insists, wiggling her eyebrows.

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the fact that they all seem so friendly and open minded, but something makes you blurt out, “Amazing? He’s fucking fantastic.”

They all nod and verbalize their agreement, “I tell you all something,” Jada catches your attention, “That man drinks respect women juice daily and we owe him a toast. Here’s to Bucky,” she raises her glass.

“To Bucky.” You all mimic her through laughing and make a toast to the unsuspicious man at the bar.

As the conversation moves on and they all engage in different topics your gaze wanders to where he stands, holding a glass with some liquor that looks like whiskey in hands. But he’s not alone anymore. A statuesque blond is right beside him, laughing and touching his arm. You glimpse that flirting smile of him forming on his lips.

“You don’t mind do you?” Amanda’s voice makes you turn to her, spotting a questioning look on her face, “Because if you do… Girl, run away now, Bucky isn’t right for you.” There’s no malice on her voice, just a sincere warning tone.

You seize the moment to make an honest survey through your feelings. You’ve been warned by different people, Bucky included, and if there’s anything to worry about, Amanda is right, you should run now. As you keep your eyes on the two of them by the bar, you look and look and look inside, but find nothing that could be remotely taken as jealousy or something like that. If anything, it’s kind of liberating to know that you have so much fun with him and there’s no ugly, selfish feelings pulling you back. You feel like you could encourage the blonde on the flirting, because you know how damn incredible it can be…

Who would wonder that a class A womanizer like Bucky would be the source of such sheer sorority you’ve been experiencing that night…

“No,” you turn back to Amanda, shaking your head with a satisfied smile, “I don’t mind at all.”

The night goes on and Bucky comes and goes, chatting and drinking and laughing with you and your new little group of friends, taking you to dance, but also dancing with Amanda, Emma, Alice, Jada, Brianna and some others… A number of guys also approach you, take you to dance, buy you drinks and you end up with a few new phone numbers in your contact list. You party like you haven’t in a while and like you didn’t think women your age still did, which is stupid… You’ve been so caught up in the routine of your relationship with Eddie that you’ve forgotten there’s a whole world spinning out there.

An exciting and fun world.

“Hey,” the familiar voice reaches your ear and makes you smile as you’re on the dance floor with the girls. The metal hand curls around your belly and pulls you before your back brushes against his chest, “Having fun?” Bucky asks, lips on your ears.

“Yes, so much.” You tilt your head and place your hands over his while his hips sway with yours.

“Hummm,” he pulls you closer and runs the tip of his nose over the length of your neck, “I’m glad.”

“However…” you sigh, loving how his hips move in rhythm with yours, “I think I’m ready to continue our other party at home.”

“Funny,” he chuckles and his tongue darts out before he swiftly brushes it against your neck. It’s quick and very discreet, but enough to set your core into flames, “I was thinking the exact same thing.”

With that, you promptly let go of him and proceed to say goodbye to the girls. They all tell their farewells and wishes to see you again soon with knowing and excited looks.

~~~

“You were right, I had so much fun.” You wrap an arm around his elbow as you walk side by side through the streets of New York. The bar isn’t that far from your condo and when he suggested a walk back home you thought it was a good idea to check on the lively corners of the city, even with the heels. Also, he offered his leather jacket against the cold, which you promptly accepted.

“Oh, yeah, nightlife in New York nowadays is something we shouldn’t take for granted,” he smiles down at you, “And yeah, you had fun alright, I know there are a few extra numbers in your phone,” he winks.

You analyze his face and when you understand there’s nothing but playful teasing behind it, you answer, “Oh, yeah, oh my God,” you shake your head, “That was unexpected but fun. I might delete them all, though, things might get complicated and I’m not looking for any kind of complications right now.”

He smiles, seemingly satisfied for you taking him out of the complicated category. “You and the girls seemed to get along real fine, too,” he comments.   

“They’re really great,” you nod, getting cozier in his arm as a gust of wind hits you, “They all think very highly of you, by the way,” you let the smirk in your lips tell him what you mean.

“I work hard for that, sweetheart.” He chuckles and wiggles his eyebrows at you.

You let out a laugh, “That you do.” You look up at him from under your lashes, before whispering, “I can’t wait to see you working hard.”

He halts his pace, making you abruptly stop with him. You shoot him a questioning look, as he gazes down at you, his face lightening up like the best of ideas has just crossed his mind. Without further notice he unwraps his arm from yours and takes your hand instead, pulling you with him at a faster pace as he turns on the corner, changing the course that would lead to your home.

“Hey,” you call out, as you try not to trip on your heels as he pulls you, deflecting from the other patrons and leading the way, “What the hell are you doing?”

He looks back at you with that sinful smile of his, “Don’t wanna leave you waiting.”

Something flips inside your stomach in anticipation at his statement and, as he turns around a few corners, the streets seem to get less busy. When you reach a particular spot, he checks each side, like surveying the area before pulling you to a dark alleyway you haven’t even seen before.

As soon as you out of the street he pins you against the wall and crashes his lips on yours, shoving his leg between yours to keep you in place with the help of the firm grip of his metal hand on your hips.

Like a puppet on his strings you wrap your arms around his neck and respond to the inebriant kiss immediately even if you’re still astonished by it all and when he squeezes one of your tits through the fabric of your dress and his mouth leaves your mouth to drag kisses over your neck, you tilt your head to see the light peeking from the streets, so close to where you’re both standing. 

“Bucky…” a gasp swallows your words for a second as he presses his thigh harder against your pussy, “What the hell, someone can see us,” you remind him, knowing exactly where this will lead if you don’t stop him now. You can already feel the pool of heat in your lower body as he playfully nibbles on your lower lip before going back to your neck.

“Isn’t it exciting, to think someone can spot us while I have my dick inside you.” He licks a long stripe from your neck to behind your ear.

The mention of his dick makes you let out a wanton moan, but you’re not won over yet, “It’s a fucking dark alley in the middle of the night in New York City, Bucky. We will be murdered here.”

At this, all of his enticing movements pause, and he dips his head back with an offended glare at you, “Do I have to remind you who you’re literally fucking with?” he asks, outrage all over his voice, “The Winter Fucking Soldier, White Wolf and shit… the strongest Avenger,” he chant the names and you can’t help but chuckle a bit, “Don’t worry,” leans over to resume from where he stopped, “I can fuck you and protect you at the same time.”

You need no more convincing since that’s actually damn hot and you’re more than sold to the exciting game when he flips you over and kneels down behind you. Listening to your own erratic heartbeats prompted by the electrifying danger of it all, you sprawl your hands on the wall as he sinks his hands under your dress and pulls your underwear down your legs, placing it in his pocket once you step out of it.

He bunches your dress up high enough to give him room and you shudder and sucks in a breath as he props one kiss, then another on the back of each of your thighs, “Try to be quiet…” he says, but swiftly adds, “Not too quiet, though, I love to hear you.”

With that he spreads your legs a little farther and sinks his tongue into the apex of your thighs from behind.  Your jaw drops and your knees buckle as he holds your hips still against his face. While his tongue curls around your sensitive pussy your mind blanks and you whimper, trying to suppress a moan, not forgetting you’re right in the open air of New York. Your hips roll against his face, seeking for more friction to untie the knot forming inside you.

But too soon he ceases contact and stands up. You express your disappointment with a whine, face snapping to glare at him behind you.

He’s wearing a smirk on his face as he grabs another condom from his pocket. You wonder how many he has in stash, “You wanted to come on my mouth, didn’t you?” he teases, holding the package between his teeth as he unbuckles his pants.

“Of course,” you shamelessly admit under your breath.

“I know sweetheart… But my dick is aching for you, too,” letting his pants and boxes fall along his legs, he unleashes his hard cock and proceeds on putting on the condom, throwing the plastic package aside, “I was prepping you for it,” he continues, eyes fastened on yours as he speaks, “You want it, don’t you? You want my dick? Come all over it?”

You lick your lips and your gaze falls to look at his rock hard cock, feeling your wetness dripping down your inner thighs. Now that’s an offer you can’t refuse, “Yes, I wanna soak that fucking dick,” you groan, not caring how tacky all the dirty talk may be, since it all sounds sexy as fuck now, clouding all of your senses.

“Shit… take it then, sweetheart.” Guiding his cock with his hand, he pulls your hips and in one single shove he’s inside you.

You let out a silent cry and rest your cheek on your hand against the wall, as the other reaches down to your clit, to help ease down the sumptuous twists inside your core as he pounds into you.  

The sounds and lights of the cars passing by on the street right next to you reminds you how exposed you are and fuck if you’re not gonna come quicker than you ever did as Bucky holds your hips with both of his hands, moving them as fast as he pleases, thrusting them back against his cock. You can feel the fire reaching its peak inside you.

“So fucking wet,” he whispers, breathing hard as he fucks any remaining signs of better judgement out of you and you know it won’t be long for him, either.

You let out a loud moan and it prompts him to pull you pressed against his chest and cover your mouth with his hand, “Shhh.” His hot breath coats your ear and your head falls back on his shoulder as he keeps the delicious pounding of his cock inside you with no hint of mercy.

The damn alley spins around you and you wish you weren’t wearing his leather jacket now as the beads of sweat run down your forehead.

He must’ve heard something in advance because right at that moment a group of people walk by the sidewalk, chatting and laughing. All they have to do is to glance to the side and spot you two in that interesting situation. The danger, the fact that you’re so exposed while Bucky dicks you down against the wall out in the open triggers your orgasm and you let out a strangled sound, muffed by his hand, as the shocks of pleasure washes over your body and weakens your limbs.  

“Shit,” Bucky whispers against your cheeks and his cock pulses inside you, reacting to your cunt squeezing and soaking his cock as you reach your climax.

You wanna feel that again and acting under the influence of a rush of boldness, you reach behind between the two of you and gently massages his bouncing balls. You feel the pulsating of his cock between your walls again and that cheeky move of yours makes him come undone. You only wish that the group is far enough to not hear the reckless and loud moan that slips out of his lips against your ear, his whole body tensing against yours.

As you fight to catch your breath and his hand leaves your mouth to descend to one of your breasts, a long line of courses is recited in your ear before you can feel his body finally relaxing.

Your eyes flutter shut when you sense the brush of his lips on your neck. The next words he breathes against your heated skin makes you beam, loving that he says that while his cock is still buried deep into you, like a damn reward.  

“Congratulations on your promotion, sweetheart.”

~~~

Tag List for this story: CLOSED

Permanent Tag List: OPENED.

[hallothere]

I broke down and wrote the essay. No, I did not and will not proofread it. I don’t waaaannaaaa

There’s Only One Winner For Isengard

In a perfect world, in a world with no meta requirements that could bend to the will of the player, we would roll up to Isengard level-capped, no debuffs, with one quest-marker on hand: Ruin Saruman’s day. But this is a pre-written sequence of events in which we are only along for the ride. We, the player, and a Ranger are shipped off to Isengard with only one conceivable goal: survive. On a meta level we know what Saruman is capable of. At level 70 or 80-something at best, even we are aware that we are no match for a wizard with a canon fate. Not to mention our Ranger companion! The Grey Company has been through enough (though we don’t know the half of it yet) and we are reasonably distraught at the possibilities.

This is why we, the player character, will lose the game of Isengard.

Beyond the meta rules of the game, where quest objectives are whatever the devs wanted them to be (looking at you, Mordrambor) the player character can not defeat Saruman in any way that’s meaningful. And (again on a meta level) in order for us to get to experience the action at Helm’s Deep and Rohan at large, we have to get out of Isengard. We’d get bored of waiting for Theoden and Co. We’d hurl insults or slap fish at Saruman and realistically incur wrath. Honestly, with the set of circumstances presented to us, who could survive imprisonment in Nan Curunir?

Only one of the Company ever could: Lothrandir of Suri Kyla. 

To begin with, none of the Rangers we have any real information on could have done it. Anyone who’s spent time in Angmar is at a disadvantage due to the prevailing dread (game mechanic or otherwise) that can be manipulated by Saruman. Any Ranger that has a major traumatic past is at a disadvantage (sorry Mincham) because if nothing else, Saruman has proven to be a master of illusion. Even Halbarad for all his leadership ability has a pretty exploitable weakness: eventually Saruman can crack the code with a vision of Aragorn’s demise, the one end Halbarad must fear above all others. Or what bond could more easily be exploited than that of a leader and his men? Lheu Brenin’s in the gang now after all. All Saruman would have to do was send for a few more incentives. 

But Lothrandir comes built with a few key advantages that make him the only Grey Company Ranger qualified to come out of this battle of wills on top. His specific strengths, mindset, and personality traits combined with the circumstances that the game sets up going into Isengard make him the clear choice of Rangers- if a Ranger you must have- to stay behind in Nan Curunir. 

Lothrandir wins because he changes the game. From ‘go’ our co-prisoner does something that either puzzles the player character or sends them into an anxious fit. Lothrandir declares himself fearless and sprints recklessly into the ring. Any way you figure it, this seems like a poorly calculated move. He doesn’t stop to survey the enemy. He doesn’t gather intel. Heck, he doesn’t even bide his time to see if he’ll be killed before he even reaches the dungeons. Lothrandir sprints right in without so much as a thought or a plan. Saruman doesn’t know it yet, but from that moment on Lothrandir has him on the back foot. 

Consider for a moment Saruman’s MO. He’s a wizard, and he uses a great deal of magic, sure, but time and time again we are reminded of the power of his voice and his words. He calls down a storm on Caradhras (in the movies for darn sure), he via-Wormtongue whispers poison into the ears of King Theoden. He doesn’t lead with any kind of grandiose display when trying to sway Gandalf. No, he leads with a persuasive argument. Later on, he nearly talks Theoden back around, after failing to wipe out all of Rohan. After killing the man’s son for goodness sakes. He nearly talks himself out of that one!

But Lothrandir has already changed this from a game of wits to a game of wills. There will be no vying for favor, or biding time, or compliance, or even giving Saruman a chance to ‘talk it over friendly’ first. He’s already spitting on the shoes of everyone he sees. The accomplishment in this is twofold, and it makes a major impact on the rest of his time in Nan Curunir. 

Firstly, by establishing a new game, Lothrandir sets Saruman up for a whole lot of assumptions. He does not display any signs of diplomatic ability, wisdom, or even common sense. He very intentionally projects an attitude of reckless disobedience. In the player’s own eyes, it seems as if he ‘doesn’t know any better’. This gives Saruman a clear path to take regarding Lothrandir. He assumes you can’t reason the typical way with someone who has shown zero inclination for listening. The player character demonstrates that the Grey Company (or least their associates) are capable of compliance. For all intents and purposes, this Lothrandir doesn’t appear to be. He’s contrary, fool-hardy, and evidently dumb enough to dive in headfirst and get himself killed. You beat that kind of guy into submission… don’t you?

But Lothrandir has changed the rules of the game. Saruman is no longer fighting with his best weapon, but with a tool to be found in any old villain’s arsenal. When he took the approach of reasoning with the player character and disregarding Lothrandir, he set the victor’s foundation on our snow-pilgrim’s greatest strength. 

Secondly, by establishing a new game, Lothrandir makes this a battle of physical endurance. Unbeknownst to Saruman, this is the one thing that makes him stand out from the rest of the Grey Company. He has walked through the frozen north lands and the fiery south lands and come out unscathed. He has mastered the unarmed combat style of the Lossoth by joining in mid-winter wrestling matches in a place that took down many Elves, Angmarim, and notably one King of Arthedain! Lothrandir has conceivably spent his entire life training for this matchup. Any endurance he has built up, any fighting he can do without access to a weapon, all are assets to the kind of game he just made Saruman play. Lothrandir is uniquely built to survive any physical torment Isengard can throw at him, or at least, better equipped than any of the others. 

To say Lothrandir is the best choice, we also have to rule out the others. Corunir was thwarted by the Rammas Deluon and for all he learned from that, it’s a weak spot in his proverbial armor. Golodir too, resisted a fair degree of torture (palantiri based, even!) in Carn Dum, but it won’t be hard for Saruman to suss that one out and make our old man’s life a living nightmare. Even Radanir, serious and seemingly unattached to any social bonds now that his good pal Elweleth has gone sailing, would be a poor choice. He is too serious, (for lack of a better term) too genre-savvy, and even if he is spitting blood and delivering a witty one-liner, that’s Saruman’s foot in the door! ‘I’ll never betray my friends and kin, you kaleidoscope hack’? You’ve just told him your weakness, Radanir! No, he can’t keep his mouth shut to save his (or Saerdan’s) life. Radanir is the wrong choice too.

We don’t know a significant amount about the others (except Ranger death would move Calenglad to tears, we can’t put him through this) in order to pinpoint their fatal flaws in the Isengard encounter. But, the game puts us in the incredible position of having seen Lothrandir’s Achilles’ heel and letting us take that disadvantage away. 

Lothrandir of Suri Kyla is uniquely equipped to survive any physical encounter that Saruman throws his way. Now, who’s to say the wizard won’t change his tune and go back to his old tricks? In an incredible twist of fate, we are. The game sets us, the player, up to play Saruman’s game from the get-go. We keep our pixelated head down, try and fly below the radar, and express just enough concern over the fate of our fool-hardy pal to get Saruman to cement his estimation of Lothrandir as a pawn in the game in stone. By making ourselves the better target for the words of a wily wizard, Saruman decides that the best way to deal with the spare prisoner is by playing right into his hands. As we all know, the player character escapes. While that might seem bad for someone who Saruman has earmarked for corporal punishment only, it covers Lothrandir’s one weakness. 

Aside from being the only significant unarmed fighter, Lothrandir is also never painted as a loner. He spends his time in Suri Kyla, hanging out with the Lossoth and sharing their campfires. In the new questline in Forochel, he jumps at the chance to make a new Dunedain friend and takes to King Arvedui like a duck to water. They’re instant best pals. It’s minutes before Lothrandir is telling him Aragorn’s life story and pledging to go with him on a buddy adventure to seek peace for a regretful shade. And if that’s not enough canon for you, Lothrandir bears the brunt of the Falcon clan aggression on the way to Isengard. He does it for you, his friend and companion in suffering. It’s a bit meta, but we have to assume in the internal universe he knows you a little. You’ve run your merry adventures to a degree where, were this not a video game, Lothrandir would at least consider you an ally if not a friend outright. 

He exposes his weakness unwittingly to the Falcon clan, but he leaves it at the gates of Isengard in an extremely well-timed move. By sprinting through the gates without a care as to what’s going on with you or anyone else, Lothrandir establishes an emotional distance between you both in the eyes of any onlookers. Whatever affection you have for him, it doesn’t seem reciprocated. This isn’t a major weakness for Saruman to exploit, then. You’re not one of his kinsmen. If he did want to pursue that line, he could always send to Tur Morva for one, right?

This is where the game comes back in to shift the tide in Lothrandir’s favor. We escape. We play the game, we nearly lose the game, and had we not been given an out the power scaling makes it difficult to conceive of an outcome where we the player can win Isengard. Sure, we’ve been released from prisons before (Delossad to name one) but this is the climax of Dunland. We make a daring escape, and move south towards the Gap of Rohan and all sorts of bad times. 

Back in Nan Curunir, Lothrandir is getting the daylights beat out of him, and taking a victory lap. He’s cemented his position as ‘the prisoner we’ll break with violence’. The uruks have seen him insubordinate and disorderly. In the Lothrandir interlude, there’s not only the canon (stated outright!) reality of past and present torture. There’s also zero hesitation in Lothrandir taking that one on the chin. There are no other objectives on his mind than making the next few minutes as miserable as possible for everyone around. He has no other goals. And he doesn’t need them. Nobody is surprised that Lothrandir is signing his death warrant within nanoseconds of being presented an offer to comply. He spits on the offer. He tips over the slop bucket. He beats bloody any orc (and gameplay purposes aside there are very few that dare come forward) that actually tries to kill him for it outright. 

He’s built up a non-rapport with Gun Ain. She talks about killing him and he doesn’t say anything. They’re all playing his game and he’s winning. In the conversation with Saruman, we’re not given the opportunity to watch Lothrandir ‘resist’ in the same fashion the player character did. We don’t need to. Saruman has bigger and better things to worry about- killing a prince, wiping out a nation- than one Ranger who he’s just going to order well-flayed again. By setting himself up as the punching bag, Lothrandir has managed to fly beneath Saruman’s priority threshold. He’s been relegated to the responsibility of Gun Ain, and still with somewhat protected status because they haven’t wormed anything useful out of him yet.

All of these moves have culminated to an impasse. Saruman is not winning points in the game like he expected. One ‘meathead Ranger’ has managed to resist all the torments of Isengard, and he’s gained nothing from this. The other prisoner escaped, word had doubtless reached him that the Tur Morva Thirty-Odd are free and raring to be a thorn in his side again. He has no external leverage to apply on Lothrandir and it’s become increasingly obvious that our Ranger friend is not engaging like the player did. But still, Saruman has his pride. It’s his downfall in the end, and it’s his downfall in his fight against the one Ranger who’s already beating him. Lothrandir can’t be killed outright because Saruman hasn’t won yet. And with that guarantee of protection, Lothrandir can coast all the way to the conquest of Isengard. 

He can keep playing the game and stalling for time. It’s morbid, but what better way to waste someone’s time and energy than convincing them slow, drawn-out torture is the way to go? A little extreme, Lothrandir, but it’s still his game to lose. He wastes Saruman’s time. If he is eventually rescued, total victory. If he’s killed in the end, he definitely didn’t give the wizard the satisfaction, so a less resounding victory but one in the win column nonetheless. 

With a little help from our usually Ranger-cidal devs, Lothrandir reprograms Saruman’s game of chess to a boxing match. He takes out all his disadvantages, gets Isengard to attack from a point of... if not weakness then at least neutral ability, and then devotes his every waking breath to violent disobedience.

Sure, you could have taken any of the Grey Company with you to Isengard. Lheu Brenin could have swapped out for Braigar or Amlan or Mithrendan or Culang- but only one of these guys has the brute strength, commitment, and sheer audacity to pull it off. 

You take Lothrandir to Orthanc. There’s a different prisoner of Nan Curunir when he leaves.

[dreamiguess]

FWT Week Day 1: Winter Ball

@fundyfiles ‘s FundyWasTaken week except I start a day late and had to write in a Starbucks. editing provided by MicrosoftWord

Day One: Winter Ball Word Count: 1.5k On ao3

1. Winter ball - Its Harry Potter au

“Wha?”

Jack rolls his eyes and lowers his hand. Fundy has no clue how long he had been talking to him while he was zoned out.

“I was talking,” he says sharply, “about Yule. Can you help set up?”

Of course. Jack was probably tying to recruit everyone he could, and if he was asking Fundy, he’d run out of underclassmen to bother. No one wanted to sacrifice their time that they would be getting ready to enchanting decorations or moving furniture in the great hall. He falls back into the armchair, looking at him sideways.

“C’mon, you’re great at charms. You could cut the amount of time it’d take in half,” Jack goads. He looks ready to start pleading. Fundy sighs.

“Fine. But because you’re my friend,” he relents. A grin stretches across the Hufflepuff’s face, like if he smiled any more his face would crack, like he’d leap across the desk to hug him.

“Good man! Are you planning on going?”

“Haven’t secured a date yet,” He groans, dropping his quill and giving up on doing any homework for afternoon.

“Neither do I, but not what I asked. Are you planning on going?”

Fundy’s mind wanders to blonde hair and a lopsided smile. It’s been doing that a lot, recently.

“I’d certainly like to.” Jack smiles again, something secretive. He’s a good friend and a better organizer, and he deserved his student council position more than anyone. It’s a shame he always has to fight for it. He probably works twice as hard as anyone to make things, like the Yule Ball, happen, and happen well. Not to mention the fact that he probably holds half their year’s impulse control. Sharp as a tack as well, apparently.

Doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be a dick about Fundy’s crush, even if he didn’t know who it was.

“I’m thinking about asking George, just for the meme,” he replies, and maybe Fundy is safe from prodding or teasing. Maybe.

“You don’t think he’ll be going with Dream? Or Sapnap?” he considers for a moment, “Or Dream and Sapnap?” He hopes he sounds casual, but he’s treading carefully. The answer is going to be yes, of course it is. They’re too good friends to do anything else. There’s a spark of hope somewhere, though, and Jack would know more than himself. Or make a better guess, not being…Biased.

“I don’t know,” he answers, slowly. “Sapnap’s going with Karl. And Dream?” He pauses again, really selling the act, before looking Fundy straight in the eye. “I think Dream might want to go with someone else.”

Sharp as a tack, and too kind to tease. Just breathe gently on the spark, try to coax it into a flame.

 Ravenclaw and Slytherin have Astronomy: Planets, Orbits, and their place in the universe together. Fundy took it because it was so late he could fit it into his schedule. Dream took it because he loves space, had worked his way through all the courses before this one. It suited him. And maybe it suited Fundy too, to watch him with stars in his eyes. To study the worlds unattainable.

Soon enough the professor is ending class and students are packing up their telescopes, quiet with exhaustion, and filling towards the stairs. Personally, he hates waiting a slow moving line down stairs that would not stand up to muggle safety codes, so he takes his time packing up and making small talk with their teacher. Dream seems to be holding back too, nudging George and gesturing towards the stairs. Probably telling him to go ahead.

There’s a part of him he thinks, that’s always aware of Dream.

And then he does something unexpected and walks directly towards Fundy. He suppressed the urge to smooth out his robes or run a hand through his hair. In a mirror image to Dream earlier, he nudges Niki to go on without him.

“Do you have a sec?” he asks, telescope slung over his shoulder and textbook clutched to his chest. Fundy almost wishes he asked Niki to stay to make it less personal than a one-on-one.

“Yeah, what’s up?” It comes out slightly slurred and he cringes internally. He’s more tired than he thought, apparently.

“I know this is weird because we’re not in the same house or anything, and you can totally say know, but I was wondering if you could help me out with transfiguration? I think you took Inanimates last year.” He had, actually, taken Inanimates last year. Got an A* and everything, but its odd that Dream knows that. Maybe the professor had recommended him? She should have recommended within the house, though. The last person must have said no, then.

“Yeah, sure. Library?”

“Not right now, idiot.”

“Friday?”

“Friday is good. Couple hours before dinner?” Fundy nods, closing his eyes for a beat. Friday. It gives him time to prepare, and not just transfiguration notes.

“See you then.” Dream smiles at him, lopsided and honest, and encourages him through the door ahead of him. The descent is awkward in the way of going the same direction after saying goodbye, even if they hadn’t formally ended their conversation. To be honest with himself, Fundy was probably creating his own discomfort with the help of anxiety. They ofbviously knew they would have to follow each other. They obviously knew there was only one staircase. Yet here he is, anxious about how he steps down, how fast (slow?) he’s going, how his hair looks from behind. But the staircase ends, and so does his decline into madness. He can speed to Ravenclaw Tower to freak out on his own.

They pause at the end, regard each other for a moment.

“I’ll see you on Friday, then,” Fundy breathes out, forcing his hands to stay in his pockets.

“Thursday, actually, Potions,” Dream corrects with a smile at the corner of his mouth. He’d forgotten about that.

“Thursday.” Fundy turns to walk away, but Dream stops him.

“Can I walk you back?” he blurts out. “You look dead on your feet, I’d hate you to pass out in a corner somewhere before you make it to bed.”

Fundy prays he’s not blushing. Dream isn’t wrong, it’s been a long week. Every week is a long week these days, with a packed schedule and club leadership. It’s kind of him to notice.

“Sure, if you want. It’s kinda in the opposite direction from the dungeons though, so you really shouldn’t bother.”

He bothers.

He does more than bother. Takes his telescope right out of his hands and refuses to give it back and waits to make sure Fundy can solve his riddle. As the staircase slides open, all Fundy can do is wave shyly and listen to the other’s footfalls fade away.

 Friday rolls around fast. Too fast, maybe. Fundy gets to the library early, paces in front of the doors to expend some of his jittery energy. They hadn’t actually agreed on where in the library, so here he was, waiting and breathing into his unsettle stomach.

Apparently Dream wanted to be early as well because soon enough he’s fading into view, Sapnap in tow. He punches Dream in the arm when they finally catch sight of them, Dream shoving him away in turn. He nods at Fundy in greeting but keeps going, leaving the pair alone again. He must have been outside because his cheeks are stained in rose.

“Study room?”

“Nah, it looks gorgeous out. Let’s go to the lake.”

“Dude! It’s gotta be like, 7 degrees out there,” he protests. Dream stares at him.

“You could cast a warming charm in your sleep.”

Oh. Yeah. Dream doesn’t give him time to argue, grabbing his arm and dragging him towards the entrance hall. He barely has time to mumble an incantation before being caught in the whirlwind that is a delighted Dream on a mission.

 It starts snowing half an hour in, leaving wet spots on their parchment like tears. He’s itching for an I told you so but Dream launches himself off the ground before he gets a chance, escaping their tree’s limited shelter into the flurry. He tosses his head back and flings his arms wide, letting his eyes close and smile grow bright. He’s a vision. Black robes stand out again the grey winter scene, with snow slowly decorating his shoulders like stars. The green at his neck is like a spot of Spring when the flora has long since wilted and the trees are bare. When he turns back towards Fundy there are flakes stuck in his eyelashes. He aches.

“I know it’s just snow,” he explains, bashfulness unable to dull him, “but I never got it back home. I saw it for the first time at Hogwarts.” He raises his shoulders towards his ears, “back in first year.”

His mouth moves without his permission.

“Go to Yule Ball with me?”

Dream smiles impossibly wider, smiles with his whole face, his whole chest.

“Merlin yes.”

[bellamygateoldblog]

The 100 7x01: Discussion

My general takeaway from the episode can be summarised like this: Echo is spectacular. (I might’ve said “oh my god look at her!!!!!” and “ugh she is just The Best” too many times to count).

This is long-ish because I really just wanted to consolidate my thoughts in one place. Bitch it’s me i got a lot to say!!!!!

The Good Parts

— The farmhouse setting. While it’s existence is strange and “a sore thumb” and worked to further push Sanctum being the abomination born of clumsily mixing genres and time periods in terms of construction/costuming, making everything appear disconnected and obnoxious, it was still a nice change. It made me feel warmer and more comfortable as a ‘modern’ viewer. It’s a breath of fresh air from the constant dark element: dilapidated post-apoc buildings falling from their foundation, endless woods, and equally cold-feeling labs and skeleton dungeons.

— Echo. This was a damn good episode for Echo and every second reminded me of why she’s my favourite. She’s a badass. I always love to see her falling naturally into leadership of her little ragtag groups who accept it wholeheartedly. From the “testing a theory” moment where she went ‘when Gabriel doesn’t speak >>>’, to right at the end when she killed the solider about to “eliminate” Hope (hesitation is death...oh no he can’t hear us he’s got airpods in oh my god). It was Echo that got them through the whole sequence with the anomaly, Echo who figured shit out, Echo who quickly judged the situations and formed plans to overcome the obstacles. In other words: she did THAT.

Favourite scene: Echo coming face-to-face with the projection of her own insecurities in the form of Roan and Echo 1.0, and physically overcoming them (shooting them down), along with the trauma and pain that they both represent. The perserverence and getting the job done despite the emotional torture felt like a callback to the Psychosis episode of 6x02 when she was clever enough to sedate herself to silence the voices in her head. I also think the dialogue chosen was also foreshadowing that she would become a leader by the finale (commander?) and i love to see it!

— Clarke and Madi’s conversation. Oh Clarke, you just keep reinforcing and validating my perceptions of who you are as a person over and over again lol. In all her self-importance failing to remember that Madi, in fact, had and was raised by her biological parents for half of her life (and the new knowledge that she spent six years telling her little mind tales from the book of her life whilst apparently never taking the time to learn about Madi’s or acknowledge/honour her birth parents in any way) is “yeah that’s about right” to me. Sure you could say she was still reeling from the events of six and her death-almost death-almost death again. But I’ve always had this Thing about the relationship between Clarke and Madi. And i’ve seen some of the lighthearted humourous reception that scene got from fandom, “#where do you think the child CAME from?!” which only served to remind me of my own impression that Clarke views Madi as wholely ‘hers’, as if Madi’s existence was tied to Clarke, but i might elaborate in a seperate post.

This scene was a lovely display of self-awareness I’ve rarely seen on Clarke (never even got it when she electrocuted said child two seasons ago- however that absense of apology and acknowledgement of the sheer wrongness of that action also fits very nicely with my view of her lmao, still though, a weird choice for your ‘heroine’).

— Clarke’s “feels like a different world.” Felt romantically-coded. I think Gaia/Clarke might be the most convinient relationship to transform into romance at this point. However I’m sincerely hoping this road they could go down won’t reduce Gaia to a crutch/accessory for Clarke, and that she doesn’t become merely a love interest. I’ve seen talk already of Gaia being “Clarke’s happiness” etc.. which is already confirming my worst fears. Sigh.

This moment very much felt like found closure and the turning of a page. But i will say it was a very sharp turn from the three seasons of shoehorned-in mentions of Lexa, and last season’s emphasis on Clarke’s very-much intact emotional response to her memory- “it’s why you cry when you think about Lexa”- to her looking at an image of Lexa’s memory of her, reminicing but having no emotional response to it, and brushing it off while sharing a soft look with Gaia (and this is a few days since s6? I don’t know how this timeline is working but Tbh it’s not like these writers ever concerned themselves with ‘realistic time frames’ anyway lol). Yep, Jason’s seasons are individual “movies,” alright.

Other *nodding approvingly* moments

— Raven’s subtle “elevator eyes” on Clarke when she started giving her orders again. I see you, Miss Reyes, and I appreciate you.

— Raven + the foot in her mouth and the cute way she catches herself both times. I just love watching characters fail at existing LOL. She was feeling more human than stereotype or plot device this episode.

— "Mommy and Auntie O” and the implication that Hope is a child inside an aged-up body.

— This quote: “I know what it’s like to lose your family 100 years ago and yesterday at the same time.” It’s so literal but I like it a lot.

— Clarke being ‘leader’ again is, as usual, solely a matter of convinient (and familial/love) circumstances and it felt very true.

The Rest

— The Eligius Situation. So Clarke and her inner circle conquer and live in a nice home, and we’re specifically told Clarke takes the master suite (and the dog), and I was like ‘fair enough’ but then she orders prison labour. She tells them to build her a compound that they won’t actually get to be apart of, and to live in tents while they do so. They aren’t getting anything out of this (before they resist and set their own terms). This is slavery. Also, those aren’t her people to boss around, look down on, and use accordingly for her own gain (in fact they barely know her or why she’s gone from being that one unloyal woman who executed their men and got herself captured like an idiot, then couldn’t make up her mind about which side she wanted to kill- to one in the uppermost position of authority...like...they woke up yesterday) But, then again, that never stopped her.

— Too much and not enough at the same time. The pacing of the episode in general was awful. Too much happening in quick succession, no breathing room, too many factions (no, actually Raven, where is ALIE when you need her? smh). I blink, I miss an entire scene and a character is now beating someone else up. Amazingly, i was still bored 90% of the time.

— The Children of Gabriel calling themselves “The Children of Gabriel.” It was always goofy, even more so when a grown man is saying it.

— Murphy + his self loathing over Abby’s death. Did I miss the part where she was ever good to him? One of their final moments together was of her telling him he deserved to die over Clarke after she spent the entire series treating him like he was inferior and disposable. uhhhhhhhhhh.

— The picnic scene. Jackson’s sudden violent outburst was unearned (it wasn’t even set up???), and also disrespectful. Wrong place, wrong time, bro. He’s grieving? Okay. But when Abby’s daughter is sitting right in front of you, making this about you, ruining a perfectly good toast in her honour with your uncomfortable accusations loses you points you never even had to begin with. And this is a ‘me’ thing but I can’t be bothered to be sympathetic when this is about Abby Griffin.

Also, I have to say it. Eliza’s acting took me out of the scene every time I looked at Clarke. I couldn’t for the life of me work out what those expressions were supposed to be.

— Russell, his manpain, and a fury over the consiquences of his own actions  that could rival the grounders (”my brother died in your ring of fire [while he was trying to murder you all]” hmm sounds like a you problem). But the worst part is, I simply couldn’t tell where he stood or what he was feeling. He’s so one-dimensional. He’s an evil man (so much for ”grey morality”).

— Clarke + Jordan. A small point to make but all Clarke has done since Marper made her ‘Godmother’ of their son has blame him for everything bad happening lol. Marper loses a lot of my respect as time goes on for that choice. As much as I dislike Jordan’s presence in the show, still not a great pattern to have noticed.

— Raven seeking approval from Clarke (specifically) for the Prime idea was...weird and very bad. When has Raven ever cared for Clarke’s validation, especially in the last few seasons?

Was also taken aback by how Indra and Miller are both suddenly so protective of Clarke, like i can make sense of the Indra part even though it relies on me making things up that aren’t supported by what’s on screen, but Miller?

— (Bonus moment that was bad for me, but not for the same reason it was for the rest of you: the scene of Hope finding the message in her arm. When she was removing the blood-soaked bandage I freaked out because I thought she was peeling her skin off. You’re welcome for that visual.)

The Mixed/No Feelings

— Clarke’s full-dark-no-stars. How many times have they told me now she’s “the head”? LMAO. 

I have no actual formed opinion on it. Only disjointed thoughts. Like i might’ve just gone “good for her” if Clarke wasn’t the person she is, with the history she has.

I appreciate the idea, to have her spend the whole episode declaring she is, in fact, completely fine, to end it having her explode with the repressed pain.

I mean...i realise the cognition behind it, but it’s eye-roll inducing at this point. This- kicking Russell to death (giving him exactly what he wanted and set out to provoke), and burning down a palace she promised to keep intact, once again going against the group to do her own Thing that they all ultimately have the suffer the consiquences of and help clean up- is just a repeat of past patterns, and Monty’s “do better” mantra that she desperately clung to like she owned it last season is nowhere in sight.

(Also, I can’t be the only one who spotted her physically smacking that Sanctum girl as she walked onto the balcony? Not cool. Wasn’t cool when Murphy acted like a dick to one of them either this episode.)

The rushed switch did a number on me, too, like Jackson’s did. Literally five minutes before she was preaching about a peaceful life for Madi that doesn’t take revenge (I think I know what they were going for with that but it just left me feeling confused and frustrated).

Furthermore, I’ve seen talk that this was her “burning down of a symbol of oppression”, something she experienced first hand (not so unlike Blodreina and the bunker she desperately wanted to escape and deliver her people from), but there was no noble, calculated intention there. She burned the palace accidentally in her rage because she was in pain and disorientated. The moral stuff was just an after effect.

The speech was also very ‘Clarke’. Feeling entitled to and making decisions on who lives and dies right after declaring this wasn’t their kill to make. She wasn’t the only person hurt by the Primes (but we’ve also been given no reason to care about any of the other victims- the manipulated, enslaved population have been turned into a joke and a punching bag for the main characters which...isn’t great either). And the castle could’ve been used to shelter some of the “too many people” we had problems with through the episode (or used to harvest resources from). It really comes down to if i think the situation justifies the reaction and if i hold her wholely responsible...and this is the part where i reiterate that i have no intact opinion and don’t actually care to have one either ha.

[amenomiko]

Pic made in Picrew.

IkeSen MC is a Fighter and She's in Action

-Applying My OC MC here ❤❤❤. Please refer to "IkeSen MC is a Fighter" Fic or scroll down to read about her background in my page 🌸🌸🌸-

What if..

They went to the future and she have to go back to her old duty for a while (even though the Mafia Family knows her condition and approved to whatever she wanted to do, but at times they need her service since she is among the upper level of the family. Basically she is in action.)

Nobunaga

Casual shirt and pencil skirt is mmhhmm THAT thigh and black panty hose.

Will roll her eyes to his smirk. OBVIOUSLY he was CHECKING her out.

Before Hideyoshi could sense for the enemy, she already shield him from the bullet and fire the shooter back swiftly.

Which was very..... Cool--That serious face that didn't even wince despite having a grazed wound on her shoulder.

He was flabbergasted but that action itself enough to show her side that swoon his feet.

"You are really a queen, even in this era hm?"

"What? Isn't it enough for me to be your queen?" She giggled as they shared a kiss.

Hideyoshi

"I will handle this, Anata.".

"You always protected me. It's my turn to protect you when we are here." She winked at him.

His eyes followed when she scrapped her skirt to pull out another hidden gun that are strapped to her thigh.

She was so beautiful when she wield two guns in both of her hands, her eyes glint; showing her real face when she was aiming for her prey. Which didn't escape his lips,

"You are so beautiful."

It distracts her for a while and she nearly shoot her own companion and were nagged at later.

Masamune

"Oho?? A fight?? Aweso-"

Masamune's intention was nothing but to protect his wife, but he blinked in surprise when he realized his swords were not in reach.

She already wield it in her hands, standing in her fighting position. "I'm the Left Hand Woman of ____ Mafia Family, Ame Rie." She smiled with pride as she continued, "And I'm the wife of the One-Eyed Dragon, Date Masamune! Prepare yourself!!"

"She didn't say she is the Goddess of Death huh? That's a new introduction. Heh." One of her companions chuckled as another added, "Showing off that she is married to a legend huh?"

"Of course. One-Eyed Dragon is her idol afterall."

He flushed so red, muttering, "I didn't know about that--" While the others laugh and whispers, "Keep it a secret aye?"

Ieyasu

"Gather the wounded! Bring those who can fight to the front lines!" She immediately shred the hem of her shirt to apply torniquet on one of the underlings.

It was a first time Ieyasu saw her dominant side. Her leadership skill. Her serious look, her smile of confidence. Unlike the clumsy side she shown to him, the affectionate-motherly feature of hers.

"She really glows when she become like that, right?" Her boss smiled to Ieyasu. "Is it your first time?" As Ieyasu nodded, he nods as well. "I'm not surprised. Even though she is strong, she must be protected too. She become strong so her underlings won't be afraid of losing. So I would like to thank you for being there for her, spoiling her even." He chuckled.

"Of course. It's my responsibility as a husband." He smiled as both of their eyes met in the midst of the battle.

Mitsunari

He is ready to assist her in strategy of battle. But no, she have taken the lead herself.

Maps are not needed, she only define codes and positions, and they understand right away. Even though the underlings starts to decrease, she still protect the new ones and bring them to let them experience their battle tactics.

He admired her from afar, he find himself smiling ear to ear.

"Anata..! What's the matter? Are you injur- mmnn??"

He pulled her into his embrace, kissing her deeply, making the other companions bewildered and shocked. "No.. But don't injure yourself. I know you can do this but rely on me too alright? I wouldn't want my wife to be in danger when she is pregnant."

"Wh- Anata-- shhh don't!!"

"Hm? Why (ㆁᴗㆁ✿)?"

Then she was banned from involving into the battle after that.

Mitsuhide

*BANG!*

"5."

"Hooh. Not bad. But.."

*BANG!*

"That's 7 for me, little mouse."

"Wha?? Hey, that's unfair!"

Mitsuhide chuckled, as he turned to his pouting wife, pointing a gun at her head. "Sulking over the amount of enemies? Don't be childish, my dear wife."

She points her gun at his head as well. "People that are not from this time should just mind their own business than hogging all the enemies to himself."

*BANG!*

Both of them shoot the enemies that's about to attack from each other's spouse's back at the same time.

He grinned. "Heh. Not bad."

Before Mitsuhide could lean towards her, she pulled him down to kiss him first. "I win, Anata."

He smirked into the kiss.

Kenshin

She aim her blade to swing at her enemy, "Die, scu-"

*SLASH*

Kenshin did it first.

"Again?? Anata, can you not--"

"Don't disturb my fun, Rie. It's a rare occassion to be able to enjoy modern battle."

"Uhuh, I get it, but I told you to aim for short distance enemies only, right?"

"Hmh, boring."

"Sheesh! Our baby will wake up, that is why..!"

One of her underlings look at the pair of spouse with full of admiration and... weirdness. "Their baby are sleeping on the back of the husband and they can act as if it was nothing (　ﾟдﾟ).."

Shingen

"Shingen, get to a safe distance, this is the shooting area..! Shit..!" She turn around and shoot to one of the bushes, revealing a spy among it.

She cursed. He gulped to her change in tone.

"Damn it..! Not another bullet..! Anata, come here!"

"Huh- mmf!"

She shred her upper shirt, pulling out a small gun that were hidden in her breast pocket before pulling Shingen's head to bury his head in between of her chest, in order to shield him from the enemy.

Oh wow. The smell of her perfume is just-- woohoo. No, no, it's not the time to bleed his nose right now.

"Hmh. Try to aim for my husband? Not even 500 years could make it possible, trash..!" She spat. "You alright, Honey?" Her serious tone changed into those loving ones once more. "*Gasp* Anata..! Your nose is bleeding!!"

"That is.... So... Sexy." He smiled, nose dripping with blood all over.

Yukimura

"Anata..! Get behind me..!"

"Anata..! Look out!" *BANG! BANG!*

"It's okay I got thi-" She had pushed him to the side and flick a small dagger from the sleeve of her wrist and stabbed it through the enemy's chest.

"H-hey..! Just let me protect you okay- nnh!"

She pull away from the kiss, giving another peck on his lips before poking his nose. "Just take care of our baby okay, my dear wife?""WHA O//////O??" She run back to the battle before he could stop her.

Sasuke pat on his shoulder. "Hello "Wife.". Want to borrow a lipstick? You look pale."

"..Shut up Sasuke."

Sasuke

Hidden gun on her thigh. Check.

Mafia language, ORA ORA ORA check.

Mafia language 2, YANNOKA ORA check.

Black, silky panty hose, check.

Confident smug, check.

She was called as "Ane-san" by her underlings, check.

"Anata?"

He nod as he jot down, "Cuteness is still there when she call me, check."

"Anata, can you hear me? Looks like the enemies has stepped on your shurikens and some successfully bump on your wooden blocks.."

"Helped wife, check."

"Anata..!" She huffed,

"Where is ____?"

"Uhm.. Your boss volunteer to babysit?"

"..HE WHAT???"

(*˘︶˘*).｡.:*♡ ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

[xxsanshinexx]

Chapter Two: The Pack

Chapter 1| Jungle City | Chapter 3

Alpha and you ran, through crowded streets of manic pedestrians and through streets where not even the wind whispered. Yet the screams of the plaza were still there no matter how far you ran; the Mayor’s voice blaring through the speakers that covered the entirety of the city and through the announcement drones. It wasn’t until the pair of you made it to a district you had never set foot in before did Alpha slow down. Chain-link fences covered nearly every inch of the buildings, banners and graffiti covering everything else; but, yet the Jungle City flag still waved above it all.

“Just this way,” Alpha whispered, tugging you towards a cut in a fence, blocking off a dark building that looked like it had seen much better days. You followed him without hesitation, taking note of how weathered the fences were and how the door you stood before looked like it had been reconstructed several times.

“Where are we?” Your voice matched the scene, quiet and eerie, as you watched Alpha raise his fist to the door; knocking in a way too specific to be normal.

“This is district nine…. An abandoned district left for those in poverty or those who seek retribution.” He knocked loudly again, his regard for secrecy seemingly gone once he had pulled himself through the fence. You couldn’t lie, beyond the fence the world seemed different; lawless.

“Cub open the damn door!” He yelled, annoyance clear in his voice, “We’re gonna die out here if you don’t.”

“Oh shut the fuck up, Alpha.” A lazy voice drawled as the metal door swung open to reveal a pretty boy, with dark hair and a cat like glint in his gaze, “Cub’s out, went to salvage what he could from that shitfest to sell to The Raven.”

“Nice to see you too, Feline.” Alpha scoffed, hand tightening ever so slightly on your own but all you could do was be highly amused by the way the boys spoke to one another.

Feline rolled his eyes and opened the door wider for the two of you, “Oh just shut the hell up and get in here so you can stop using that stupid code name.”

Alpha stepped in before you and you went to follow suit, but a hand was slammed harshly into your shoulder. Feline raised his eyebrow at you, lips curling up in a sneer despite Alpha’s displeased sigh. “We don’t just let anyone in here.”

“They saved me from getting myself killed.” Alpha huffed, pushing Feline’s hand off of your shoulder with a tone akin to one in a leadership position. “They’re safe. Now let’s get off the street.”

Feline gave you one more harsh glare before fully removing his hand from you to shut the door, the room encased in darkness save for the few red lights. You had no idea how they could live in this, the complete darkness with only the steps illuminated; but it seemed it wasn’t their right to decide that. Darkness tended to accompany safety.

Alpha kept his hand on yours as he led you down the stairs. There was a faint radio playing from somewhere below, the only sound save for your clamoring footsteps on the cement stairs. Feline had disappeared somewhere into the dark abyss and you weren’t too keen on the idea of letting him out of your sight. The only thing keeping you from not trying to find him was the steady comfort that Alpha gave off, especially as your feet hit the bottom of the stairs; leading you into an open room much lighter than the stairwell you had been in. It was a meeting room of sorts, a large circular table with discarded chairs around it besides one where a boy sat, succumbed to the light of his laptop.

“What are you doing here?” Alpha asked, his footsteps louder than the news audio emitting from the laptop.

“Observing… quite the mess was made out their Ch-” the boy paused as he looked up, his once mellow demeanor replaced with a shocked one, “... Alpha.”

“They’re fine.” Alpha shook his head, running his free hand down his features. “Stopped my dumb ass from making a risky move.”

“Is that enough for them to join The Pack?” The boy at the laptop scoffed before he turned back to the screen, “You made me take like five tests.”

“That’s because you’re our only hacker.” Alpha sighed, pulling out a chair and gesturing you to take a seat which you gladly did so. The weight of the day was finally beginning to weigh down on your shoulders. “You needed to have all the best skills.”

The boy rolled his eyes and shook his head in your direction, “Anything is better than Felix and his computer skills, I suppose.”

“Do i get to know your names now?” You asked, your voice working for the first time since you had arrived, making both males turn their heads towards you. “Or do I still have to call you by those silly codenames?”

“See? What did I tell you Chan, they’re stupid!” Feline huffed as he stalked into the room from the shadows, his arms extended to the male who had taken you along with him. So his name was Chan? You looked over him once, taking in his amused expression once more, before nodding slightly. You liked Chan much better than Alpha.

“They’re safe. There’s a difference.”

“Not when your codename is fucking Feline.” He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest like a child.

The boy at the computer just scoffed at his antics, “Try being Beagle… God who let Jeongin pick the codenames again?”

“I think it’s cute,” you smirked, making sure Feline caught the amusement glinting in your eyes. “Kitty.”

“Even the newbie is taunting me.” He huffed, catching the way his friends lips quirked upwards at your remark. It was a nice thing to see after such a long day.

Chan reached out to touch your arm, bringing your full attention back to him. “What’s your name-”

“Oh what a fucking gentleman you are, Chan. Dragging them off without even knowing their name-”

“Shut it Kitty Cat,” Feline’s expression turned sour and Chan took that time to finally speak, his voice steady. “My name is Bang Chan, I did promise I’d tell you that. Now what’s yours?”

“Y/n.” You said, everything in you telling you not to say a single word but you couldn’t help it. Something about this place, with the dark red lighting and rooms in darkness, something about it felt right. “L/n, Y/n.”

“Well it’s nice to know the name of the person who saved my ass-”

“Because Chan has impulse problems, he sees something? Usually has to do it.” The boy at the laptop said with a grin, “He’s a great leader really just an idiot sometimes.”

“That is Seungmin, also known as Beagle; our hacker and resident smartass.” Chan rolled his eyes and drifted over to where Feline sulked against a pole. “Would you like to introduce yourself or are you going to sulk?”

He rolled his eyes and stood up, “My name is Minho. If you ever call me Kitty again I will shoot you.” With that he was off, gliding down the darkened hallways accompanied by Seungmin’s chuckling and Chan’s tired sigh.

“Minho’s very dramatic you’ll come to find.” Seungmin said as he continued to type away on his keyboard, but this time you noticed the way his laptop was connected to more cords than you had fingers; some of them running all the way up to the ceiling.

“How many of you are there?” You tentatively asked, eyes trailing from the cords on the ceiling to the plethora of chairs that littered around the table. There were seven you could count.

“Technically? Nine.” Chan started, his fingers beginning to absentmindedly bounce against the white wood. “We have two honoraries, they come and go as pleased. We can’t do too much about them though because their supplies are necessary to us. Ones that live here though, we have seven. The rest of them our probably out trying to… find and salvage what they can from the events of the plaza. Minho is the third in command and you know what Seungmin does. You’ll meet the others later.”

“So what are you guys?” You said, brows furrowed as you tried to take it all in, missing the way Chan stared at you curiously. “I get it, you’re some resistance or whatever. A small group of freedom fighters… so what are you and what are you trying to do.”

Chan couldn’t help but stare at you in that moment. No one ever asked what they were trying to do right away; what they were at their core. He could see you hadn’t had much experience with the resistance groups, but that didn’t matter to him. Woojin was their best man and he had started off clueless. Jeongin was innocent to the ways of war and politics and now he knew more than anyone in their crew. With the way your mind worked, the way you could spot things so easily and get to the point; they needed more of that.

“We’re trying to live.” Chan started slowly, capturing both you and Seungmin’s attention. “We’re trying to get the world out of the hands of people who aim to control it and into the hands of those who aim to make it grow… make it a place where we don’t fear one another… and where we live lives not of rebellion but of something more.”

You couldn’t help the small grin that began to take over you lips. You had waited half of your life to hear those words; the promise of something more than being scared to speak, to act, to live. Now it was being handed to you on a silver platter.

“So,” You said leaning back in your seat, looking at both of the boys who stared at you expectantly. “Do I have to get an invitation to join or do I just have to say yes?”

Chan laughed, a sound you wouldn’t have expected from someone you had just sprinted the entirety of the city with, and Seungmin just shook his head though you could see the glimmer of a smile on his lips. These bright boys weren’t who you thought would be apart of the rebels; not with the way they smiled or laughed despite the world around them. It only made you want to fight with them more.

“So, L/n, Y/n.” Chan said after a moment of laughter, eyes trailing up to meet your own in an intense gaze. One only needed for something that was in reality quite serious. “Do you want to join The Pack.”

You cocked your head to the side in thought, though your mind was entirely made up. “You’ll have to show me what you’re all about.”

“That’ll be easy.”

“And do I get a stupid codename, Alpha?”

Chan scoffed over Seungmin’s chuckles, nearly regretting the thought of bringing another sarcastic shit into the family. “Only if Jeongin likes you.”

~~~~

@kwanismsworld @uwu-yifan

[whirlybirbs]

PLEASE, GIVE US YRI'S BACK STORY. IS SHE GUNNA STEAL LOKI'S HEART?

◎ ┄ MAGNIFICENT BASTARDS !

one. we learn how you befriended your merry band of thieves. thor & loki anticipate their father’s scorn while you and the boys inspect draupnir and the apparent fact it’s protection money. a moral dilemma arises.paring: pre-everything!loki x rogue!reader, set pre-thor 1.listen to: pirate shanties, probably, it’s a bar brawl!a/n: i full anticipate creating my own story world, okay? 

previous chapter ┅ pinterest ┅ ko-fi

Ow.

The tavern table rocks on impact and the lithe frame of an Asgardian is suddenly doused in the warm froth of a hoppy mead as she reels from the kick to the chest. Around her, the bar’s patrons shout with raucous laughter as she rolls away from the gilded, armored hands scrambling for her. She falls from the table with a sturdy oof, before crawling underfoot, trying to duck and dodge the towering, golden royal guards hurtling Old Norse curses her way.

For the full-house of the Wulfshead Tavern, this wasn’t different from any other night. The tavern is on the outskirts of the realm’s capital, and if Odin’s personal hounds weren’t here wetting their appetites, then they were here serving warrants.

Tonight, you’re the unlucky one they’re trying to arrest.

You’re on the run; but, from the looks of it, you’re not getting very far.

You are quick, though, hiking yourself up on top of the tables and bounding around pints of ale and plates of meals as you spot a clearing by the stairs. You bolt, apologies flying from your lips as you balance on your toes and jump, landing a solid footing on the face of an unsuspecting guard in an inopportune place – behind you, the mad scramble has poured over and you yelp, bounding off the guards face up the banister of the stairs.

“Sorry!”

You can hear the commotion of a fall behind you; sure enough, the guards are struggling over their fallen compatriot with a boot shaped dent in his helmet.

It gives you time, though barely enough to slip into the crowd on the upper mezzanine.

Tugging your hood up high and ducking behind a group of Elven mercenaries, the you settle into slouching over a warm pint of abandoned mead and listening in on the trio of bards perched atop the tables in the center of the balcony.

They’re singing, though not well, and the sonnet is struck to the off-tune beat of a lute. The instrument looks incredibly small in the grip of the tattooed Qunari strumming it – his horns tower upwards, knocking the chandelier as he side-steps his Elven counterpart. The sandy-haired elf seems content on being the center of attention, as a cluster of maidens have opted to staring.

You watch as the elf tosses a wink, and the Dwarf beside him tosses back a pint.

The sight is so… odd that you nearly miss the royal guards that have begun to comb through the tavern’s mezzanine.

(It’s rare to see an Qunari, let alone an elf and a dwarf, on the outskirt of the realm’s capital. Odin was a staunch critic of the mingling of blood – he preferred Asgardians, through and through, and didn’t show any shame in his blatant disregard for the other races who’d come to call this realm home.)

It’s the Qunari that begins the crooning tune that gains the patrons’ attention, leaving you to attempt to shift unnoticed by the guards moving ever closer to your position. You needed to get out of here.

“Oh, dear barkeep,” the slate colored giant begins, voice dipping low into a cheerful bellow, “Bossum a plenty!”

“What’s y’name? Jenny?” the Dwarf slurs, shooting the bartender in question a sly look, only to walloped upside the head by the blonde elf beside him. The action raises laughter across the mezzanine, and the guards seem to be distracted for the time being. 

You can see a scowl of disgust fleet across the Guard Captain’s face.

“Nevermind her name, you idiot –” the Elf hisses, voice flying into a smooth crescendo, “We come from afar, you see, to sing for your bar! I, your elf-in-waiting –

“– and I, a gentle soul lute-ing–”

“They’re both mighty frustraaaaating.”

The Dwarf is served a look which he easily shrugs off. You smother an amused grin, eyes caught on the trio as the rest of the tavern seems just as equally enraptured. It’s hard not to stare at the comedic timing playing out on the center of the balcony.

“They call us the bastards three!”

“Gods, I have to pee –”

“Oi!”

The lute’s last note is a shrill breakage of a chord at the shout of the royal guard; the Qunari freezes, eyes widening at the sight of the golden armored men encroaching on the performers’ circle. There’s a moment of silence.

And, then, the elf clears his throat.

“Good day, sir,” a gentile bow, “How may we help you?”

“Bastards three, eh?” the guard’s voice echoes in his helmet, “Sounds awfully familiar – sure you’re not them Maleficent Bastards, then?”

“Who? Us? Those… Those… thieves? Psh. No –”

“– It’s actually The Magnificent Bastards, officer.”

The horrified look on the Qunari’s face gives it all away, and the Dwarf is walloped upside the head again by the elf. The red-bearded drunk stumbles, plastered, and falls from the table with a heavy fwop.

The group of guards breaks into cheerful laughter. “Look at that boys! Two warrants served in one night… Lady Sif will be most pleased.”

“Two… warrants?” the elf questions, wringing his hands.

“We’re looking for a woman. This tall,” the guard captain motions with his hands as he turns to address the crowd. His voice bellows across the tavern, “She’s wanted by the crown, one of Gamli’s daughters –”

You freeze, halfway to the stairs.

The name alone raises murmurs across the tavern, and yet no one moves, a bit too enthralled with their gossip and struck up on the code of no snitching. That name, Gamli, is notorious among the rag-tag sort out here. Your chest swells in pride for a moment at the mention of your father and the wide-eyed looks that follow.

After a moment of morally-aforementioned-agreed silence, the captain digs into his pack and musters a small coin purse. Eyes beneath the golden helmet scan the crowd, fist raised. The coin purse jingles.

“There’s a reward for her capture!”

The pride is gone and you’re cursing your father in his grave.

You are so quickly shoved to the front of the circle you nearly topple over – your eyes are wide under the glare of the Captain you’d not-so-kindly kicked in the face. Dirt is smeared across his jaw, brows set in anger. His helmet is dented, scuffed from the impact of her boot.

He scoffs, grabbing you by the upper arm roughly.

“Not so quick now, huh, girl?” he motions behind him, “Gather the three. They’ve got quite the bounty on their heads.”

There’s a beat of a moment then, when, the Bastards Three decide… not today.

The Qunari gives you a look, and before you can even question what he’s doing, you’re being tossed a lute. You wrangle from the grip of the captain, blinking down at the instrument in your grip before you swing hard with two hands, clocking the captain upside the jaw and shattering the instrument.

The tavern is fast to scatter into a massive brawl.

In the midst of it all, you’re ducking and dodging and leaping over tables to try and get out of the fray. You make a break for the stairwell, only to skid to a stop as the roaring Qunari throttles a punch into the face of a guard, knocking him back over the banister and down into the tables below the balcony.

The guard lands flat in the middle of a table, groaning as the tavern erupts into jeers of excitement as two men knock tankards over him.

The Qunari is quick to pluck his Dwarven friend from the clutches of a gaggle of scared working ladies. “Time to go, Taegan!”

You spin, spying the elf making a close on their spot by the stairs; before you can protest, you’re quickly dragged down the flight by the huge hand of the Qunari as guards shout over the fight, trying to grab the quartet.

“Come on!” he shouts, muscling you towards the back exit of the tavern, “Us bastards gotta stick together!”

And that’s how you became so suddenly inducted into the traveling troupe of thieves who called themselves the Magnificent Bastards.

They were an interesting bunch; the Qunari, Jarak, was more of a gentle giant than anything, really. He had a penchant for the lute and story-telling and he very much loved his friends – he got along swimmingly with you, excited to have a more feminine touch around camp. His tent was the biggest, as the Tal-Vosoth’s horns mimicked that of a bull. They were chipped in places, but never failed to make doorways difficult and intimidation easy.

Taegan Cormyth, the resident high-elf, was a bit of an ass. But, you guess it was to be expected from a disgraced noble trying to make his own way. The blonde archer was… a child, really. Aside from being womanizing and stubborn and self-absorbed, the elf had muscled his way into a faux-leadership position which typically led to more trouble than it was worth.

Ogras Dragonbow, the wise (and usually drunk) Dwarf, made it his job to give Taegan a hard time which usually made for a good amount of laughs around the campfire. You liked the Dwarf – and though he hinted at a darker past than the others, you never asked when brought him to this little traveling troupe in the first place.

The whole Wulfshead-Tavern-Incident was a year and a half ago.

Currently, you’re hunched over a single ring of gold as Jarak stokes the fire. To your sides, Ogras and Taegan watch as you plant your hands on your hips and tut.

“S’magic, innit?”

“It is,” Taegan says, eyes never leaving the ring, “Y’think it’s cursed?”

“I doubt it,” you hum, squatting and prodding at it with a stick. You’d previously been wearing it, until the ring suddenly flared up with such a biting sort of heat you’d screeched and leapt from your horse, chucking the ring from your hand and into the undergrowth on the way back to camp.

You’d all then spent an hour combing the bushes to find it, much to everyone’s dismay.

You poke it again.

Nothing.

“Maybe it’s not meant to be worn,” Jarak offers politely, settling in by the fire and beginning to skin the rabbit he’d caught earlier for dinner, “Maybe it’s just for show.”

“Odin commissioned a trophy ring?”

Jarak waves his hand (in turn, waving the filleted rabbit carcass), “I dunno, he’s a king. Isn’t that, like, a king thing?”

“Trophy rings?” Taegan’s face morphs into confusion.

He looks to you for guidance. You simply shrug.

It’s Ogras’ turn to squat and inspect now, and the Dwarf makes a small ‘ah-hah!’ sound after a moment.

“S’got Dwarven runes onnit, i’does,” he croons, moving to muscle one single monocle from the travel pack below his broad, gold cuirasse. It’s comically small in his meaty hands. He holds it up to his eye, laying flat on the ground and eyeing the ring closely, “Says ‘ere it’s name is draupnir.”

By the fire, Jarak lets out a low rumble. “Who names a ring?”

Taegan scoffs. “Kings, apparently.”

“It’s a magic ring,” you remind gently, “Of course it’s got a name.”

“Says ‘smithed by Brokkr & Eitri, a gift to the glorious and all powerful Odin as repayment for your gracious protection to our village and mines. We thank you’.”

Your jaw falls.

Jarak makes a surprised sound. “Woah, woah, woah. Did we steal someone’s protection money?”

“Oof.”

Ogras mimics Taegan’s oof.

“Magic protection money,” you mutter, hands on your hips again.

“Shit.”

“I say we lie.”

Loki watches as his brother drops his head into his hands as they begin to near on the capital’s walls – a top his horse, the God of Mischief spares his brother a side-eye, dark brow quirked as the amble on. The blonde, it seems, is in the midst of a moral dilemma.

Loki’s thankful his threshold is high for those.

Thor is lost in thought and it’s awfully painful to watch – Loki can practically hear the gears in his head turning. Not to say Thor is dim-witted… but, he’s never been the thinker of the family.

“We can’t lie!” Thor finally bellows, tossing a hand as his other grips the reins, “Father will know.”

“Then we tell the truth,” a shrug, “We were robbed along the trail –”

“We can’t do that either!” the blonde cries, giving Loki a pained look from his perch upon his steed, “And since when have you ever been a proponent of telling the truth, Loki?”

Loki presses his hand to his chest, matching Thor’s canter. “Well, it wouldn’t be the whole truth, of course –”

“Father sent us to Svartalfheim to retrieve Brokkr and Eitri’s payment for a reason,” Thor begins, “He wants to trust us, wants to see that we can carry out duties of the crown – And those mean bastards stole draupnir. They stole it.”

“Magnificence Bastards.”

“Whatever.”

Loki’s face falls as the rant continues. He rolls his eyes. “Brother – you are completely neglecting the fact we have the fake. We simply tell father it is the real one. Problem solved.”

Thor pouts.

“Everything will be fine,” Loki breathes, “Just leave it to me.”

It’s not a good idea, but what else could they do?

[dent-de-leon]

what do you honestly think about keith's character development on the show?

This sounds like you’re expecting something a little different, so let me preface this with: I love him and I think he has some of the most interesting and well executed arcs in the show. Now, I think of Keith’s character development in terms of different criteria that makes the most sense to me. They are as follows:

His backstory

His ties to the Galra

His uniquely intimate relationship with Shiro

The relationships he works so hard to forge with the rest of the team

His leadership arc

If we’re going to discuss character development, it makes sense to begin at the beginning. And man, I’ve always loved Keith, but throughout season 1, he was stagnant. He gets the least development out of anyone on the team. It was even confirmed by the showrunners themselves that he has the least lines out of all of Team Voltron this season, including Allura and Coran. We’re talking about someone who spoke the least, gave the least insight to his backstory, and was for all intents and purposes a blank slate. The appeal to season 1 Keith is that he’s an intriguing character shrouded in mystery.

But really, we know nothing about him. When season 2 rolled around, people started complaining that he got too much spotlight. But he was the one who sorely needed any and all development at that time. Finally, we had something to go by–he’s galra, he’s struggling with his identity, he had a father that he lost, he’s afraid of losing Shiro more than anything, he wants so badly to be good–season 2 gives him his chance to shine.

And throughout the series, we are continually rewarded with more and more glimpses into Keith’s past and potential future–how he thinks of Shiro reaching out to him before they fall into the abyss, the innovative use of time-space mechanics to allow Keith to relive his history and properly reflect on it rather than having Krolia just tell him, the heartbreaking use of Shiro’s dreams to illustrate how much he and Keith truly mean to one another. All these elements of Keith’s backstory are incredibly compelling, and on that front, I think he honestly recieves some of the most history and background out of anyone.

Now, let’s talk about his Galran blood. Keith goes through many phases over the course of coming to accept himself for who he is. Initially, he views his heritage as something innately shameful and malevolent–haunted by nightmares, he tries to hide it. The princess in particular has a grudge against him for things completely out of his control, and he passively accepts her judgement. He never once challenges her, and instead lets her come to terms with the situation at her own pace and rebuild that bridge when she’s ready.

He’s incredibly considerate of her feelings and insists she need not apologize.  Keith’s own sense of self worth has been dismal for most of season 2 though. It’s Shiro who witnesses his trial and Shiro who immediately shows his unwavering love and support right after. Many fans were upset that we didn’t see more characters really reacting to Keith beyond Hunk also learning to change his views, but the show runners clarified that the dichotomy between Allura’s resentment and Shiro’s total acceptance despite both being victims of the Galra was the focal point of this arc:

So we know how Allura and Shiro reacted to Keith’s galra reveal. What about the other paladins?

Lauren: “I think the rest knew Keith well enough to know it’s not a big issue. And they don’t know much about galra–do you grow purple fur at some point? But Allura has that history, so…”Joaquim: “And with Shiro, we have that history. But he loves Keith, so he sees the good in him.” (source).

They’re the ones who have been directly affected by the Galra, and so it’s their opinions on Keith that are ultimately the most telling. But throughout this time, Keith’s worth is continually weighed by both himself and some of his teammates. It’s very much a time of upheavel for him, of continual developments and change–and this only carries over into later seasons. When we return to Keith’s BOM arc, it’s after he’s been put under immense stress and has been forced into a position he feels he cannot handle. His earlier time with the BOM was about finding out his history. This time, he’s trying to figure out his place in the present when he feels he has none. Being Voltron’s leader just doesn’t feel right, especially with Shiro back at his side.

Especially when Shiro is also challenging his calls at every turn. The episode title here is Code of Honor, and it really reflects what was racing through Keith’s mind at the time. Honor means everything to Keith, and he’s not willing to compromise his own sense of morals–even for the sake of the team. He can’t stand sitting still and wasting time, putting on acts–when Lotor is out there somewhere, and still very much at large. When the BOM are on the verge of discovering a new strain of quintessence, when there’s just so much more good he feels he could be doing with the order.

But, even then, Keith is forced to confront his own beliefs and feels torn between personal loyalties and duty. Time and again, Kolivan tries to drill it into him that the BOM are not Voltron, that they must make sacrifices, that Keith must be willing to put the mission and self-preservation first. He would never leave someone behind, and that’s a danger to Kolivan’s entire operation. Keith is someone very passionate who acts on his heart, and Kolivan tries again and again to impress on him the importance of distancing himself from those emotional attachments– “You cannt allow your feelings to cloud your judgement.” “I wouldn’t–” “You have in the past.”

There’s more to the BOM than just Knowledge or death–the premise of his indoctrination and initial time with the BOM. It’s also a matter of acknowledging the risks, of realizing when something is a lost cause. “In Voltron, we would have gone back to save Regris.” “This isn’t Voltron.” “The mission is more important than the individual.” “You didn’t consider something might’ve happened to you. That would make me down two men instead of one.” “No, Shiro and Lotor are up there!” “Then you’ll die with them.”

Victory or Death, Knowledge or Death, stay with Voltron at all costs, leave in search of answers, the predicament of leadership and whether or not the mission is worth the individual–it’s a lot. I can’t think of many other characters who go through such a long and arduous journey of balancing different life creeds and weighing the moral ramifications of each, nevermind anyone that goes as in depth with it as Keith. His entire relationship with the Galra is a learning process that continually challenges his once stagnant world views, forcing him to confront the potential flaws in his own moral code and come to terms with what really matters most.

And you know what? The Keith we have now is presented as someone who remains steadfast in their morals, who always strives to do good and protect what matters most. He opens others’ eyes to the possibility of what a world with Galra like him could do, to a better future. He inspires them–“He’s our leader, plus he’s half Galra, so I think he’s like, the future.” “With Lotor gone, it was clear there was a power vacuum in the Galra Empire. Zethrid and Ezor wanted to exploit that for their own gain…but I knew I had to find my own path. And it led me to you.”

This is so far removed from the boy who was terrified of his own blood, who lived in waking nightmare that he was a monster. He’s self-assured and accepted in a way he never was before. Keith represents a potential new era of peace and prosperity for the Galra Empire, one where there were always be a place for people like him. This is an especially crucial change for the people within the Empire as well as the rest of the universe seeking out any sort of Intergalactic Alliance, because we know how the Empire looked down on those with mixed heritage.

How Lotor had to fight for every ounce of respect. There’s even hints at it like the mere mention of the term “Blood-Emperor,” which Lotor comments is antiquated but still seems to be highly valued by members of the Empire, “No one has used the term ‘Blood-Emperor’ since before we were a star-faring race.” Keith and those that are inspired by his code of honor–like Acxa–could very well be the ones that hold the key to a future where half-Galra are no longer regarded as lesser for their blood.

I’m gonna skip over Shiro for the moment, since his bond with Keith is one of the main overarching themes of the story that pervades and informs nearly every other aspect of Keith’s character development. So, let’s talk about the rest of the team–from the start, Keith is not a “team player.” He is, however, agressively Team Voltron, and more than willing to fight others if they ever threaten to leave the team. He sees abandoning the Lions as abandoning one’s duty, and his strict–originally much more black and white–code of honor prevents him from doing so.

He also seemingly easily weighs the decision for Pidge, and makes it clear that she’s expected to make sacrifices for some abstract “greater good.” “You’re putting the lives of two people in front of everyone in the entire galaxy!” “Keith, that’s not how a team works. People have to want to be part of it. They can’t be forced.” Again, we see that Keith starts off at someplace very different from where he ends up. Throughout the series, he’ll soon become the person risking the mission for the sake of the individual–and he’ll become disenchanted enough that he won’t see Voltron as the an infallible means to every end.

Allura even tells him, “But our mission is bigger than any one individual,” when he refuses to move on from Shiro. And later, when he tries to take a different path, she says, “Marmora can go on without you. They have for thousands of years. Voltron cannot.” What we’re seeing here is a ripple effect. At the beginning, Keith fundamentally misunderstood what it really means to be a team. Pidge’s character arc taught him that. And as with everything he learns, he internalizes it, and carries it with him for the rest of the series. He grows and develops into this very multi-faceted, dynamic character, with an idealogy and sense of ethics very much shaped by his interrelationships and experiences.

He latched onto Voltron like a crutch at first. The Blue Lion was all that kept him afloat during his self imposed exile into the desert. The Lion was there for him when he had no one else. And later, Team Voltron becomes the family he’s always wanted. His position on Voltron also presents him with the unique opportunity to feel truly fulfiled in the same way that becoming a pilot at the Garrison did. After getting kicked out, he felt “lost.” Discovering that strange energy and the carvings of the Blue Lion gave him a sense of purpose–Voltron gave him a purpose. And he desperately wants to believe in it. For once, instead of being looked down on or dismissed as a discipline a case, he can be the good person he’s always wanted to be. A hero even.

But his disillusionment with Voltron is very much necessary for his continued growth and development. Keith is never one to obey orders, and his willingness to question anything that doesn’t feel right and retaliate against it is very much one of his persistent, defining characteristics. It’s not so much instinct as intution, and Keith has always been good at reading others’ intentions. Not to mention the whole quintessence sensitivity thing. Either way, it eventually becomes apparent to Keith that he can’t stay with the team any longer, and he must first go on his own quest for the sake of what he believes is right. What’s right for the team–Shiro as the Black Paladin–as well as what’s right for the universe. He also desperately needs to do some deep introspection before he’s ready to fully accept the mantle of leadership that’s been demanded of him.

And the writers give us that–they give Keith time. Time to grow, time to heal. The Quantum Abyss is a blessing in disguise, a balm for a troubled soul. Keith is someplace safe, quiet, and has the company of his mother for the first time in years. She is able to allay all his fears of abandonment that have plagued him for so long, and the two are able to learn a lot from one another. Essentially, Keith gets to live out the picture of a happy childhood he never had. He gets to make up for lost time with his mom, and even raise a dog. Regaining some of that lost youth actually has a profound effect on his ability to mature and move on.

He can finally start to heal and move forward, breaking away from his past with the promise of a brighter future. When Shiro is brainwashed and lashes out at Keith, dredging up some truly awful things that would have once caused Keith immense pain, we see that’s he’s self assured in himself enough to not back down. He knows he’s loved, he knows his parents wanted him–he knows Shiro would never abandon him. And he’s able to admit his love for others in turn. Telling Shiro “I love you,” was huge. As was reaching a point where he was able to admit he loves Krolia. Words have power, and there’s a reason Shiro doesn’t react to the brother line but Keith’s admission of love stops him dead. Seasons ago, years ago, Keith would never be able to admit this.

Joaquim: “The one exception Keith allowed in his life in terms of expressing himself was probably with Shiro, because he felt the closest to him. And that situation was an extreme series of events. I think he was pleading with him. I think he was letting him know exactly where he stood, and why this shouldn’t be happening. And why he knew that there was still good in there…If you look at Keith going back to the original episode, where he comes out of the shack, and greets Shiro, that’s a very different Keith than the way he acted with all the rest of the Paladins. So I think with Shiro, in particular, his guard is down a bit and he’s able to express himself.”

Lauren: “But don’t expect him to go telling anyone else he loves them.”

Joaquim: “That’s right. He’s not handing out hugs and love hearts to everybody.” (source)

For a long time, Keith remained at a careful distance from the rest of the team. For reference, let’s look at his relationship with Hunk. At the end of season 1, Hunk is completely thrown that Keith would leave Allura behind. And what does he say? “What if it was one of us? What if it was me? You wouldn’t leave me, would you? Would you?” Keith has nothing to say in his defense, and Hunk is so clearly hurt by that. So, where does this distance stem from? Why is it Keith is so anxious about straying too close to others?

Well, we already know–it’s do to early childhood trauma and abandonment issues. Things we’re clearly shown, and that Keith outright later states in his vlog. “I don’t know why I’m that way…maybe, I’m naturally untrusting because my mom left me? And so, instead of accepting people into my life, I push them away before they reject me. I guess I have some walls up…”

We also know he feels further alienated by his Galran heritage, “It’s just, being Galra is a big deal. Maybe that’s why…I was never good at connecting with people.” And really, for the longest time, Shiro was pretty much the only support he had. And that meant everything. “Shiro is the one person who never gave up on me. I won’t give up on him.” So, the fact that Keith learns to take that leap of faith and reach out to others, just seeing him go from where he and Hunk were at in season 1 to a place where he was able to say, “I never told you this, but out of all the Paladins, you’re the one I’m most impressed by”–that’s huge.

He reaches a place where he’s able to comfort Hunk on such a deeply personal level at the time when he needed it most, and these aren’t just important team building skills, they’re the markings of great leadership. He’s taking care of his team. He learns to not only open up to others, but build enough of a bridge where his team trusts him completely. Where they’re able to open up and reach back out to him in turn. Lance learns to put aside his childish one-sided rivalry, and we even see moments where he goes to Keith for help and opens up about his insecurities. Keith comforts Allura after the alternate reality trip and reassures her when she’s vulnerable. This stuff doesn’t come easy to Keith, but he takes the time to learn and reach out because of how much he cares for his team.

I know there are many people who feel Keith’s arc as the Black Paladin was more so an homage to the original and had no place here, that it was ill fitting or Shiro was more suited to the position–personally, I was really hoping for a return of Black Paladin Shiro myself. But Keith has undeniably made great strides since day one, and he’s not the inexperienced, untamed fire he once was. For reference here, I remember many fans prior to season 2 citing Keith’s stunt on the hoverbike as one of the many reasons why he was a poor leader. “If Shiro wasn’t unconscious for this, he’d never let Keith have the job!” Stuff like that. And it was so incredibly rewarding to me to see that Shiro taught him that, that they were always sort of cut from the same cloth, that they had learned so much from each other.

Now, here’s just some quick excerpts from my other meta on why Keith was so opposed to flying the Black Lion at first–because, as per usual, Shiro’s presence in his life informs a lot of his behavior and feelings:

Looking back at all this in hindsight [given Shiro’s chronic illness] it’s incredibly telling, because it indicates that, when Keith was pushing back againt Shiro training him to be his successor, he knew what was really going on. Keith knows it’s not just the Galra that Shiro’s worrying about, that he sees himself as living off borrowed time. Keith’s rejection of the Black Lion is him rejecting the notion that losing Shiro is inevitable. He’s been terrified of this for years now, and it’s a possiblity he refuses to come to terms with.

He makes promises like, he’ll save Shiro “as many times as it takes,” even knowing there are some things he can’t strike down with his blade. And he’s always believed Shiro would still make it.

Keith adamantly refuses to pilot Black at first because of how much he cares for Shiro. And later, it’s out of respect for Shiro’s will that he reluctantly agrees to lead. And when he leaves the team? Again, he says it’s in part for Shiro’s sake–“It was always meant to be yours.” When Shiro vanishes, we feel that loss entirely through Keith, the one deep in mourning and unable to move on. He mourns Shiro with a grief that’s intimately personal on a level none of the others–save Allura–understand. He lashes out in grief-ladden outbursts and pushes the team away at every turn, instead seeking out the comfort of the Black Lion, clinging onto whatever remnants of Shiro he can. It’s unbelievable that, even when so overwhelmed by heartbreak, his soul still innately seeks out Shiro’s. To reiterate:

Keith can subconsciously sense Shiro’s presence. Throughout Shiro’s time in the Astral Plane–that time when his soul was interwoven with the Black Lion–Keith never acknowledges the Black Lion as her own seperate entity. He only refers to her as either Shiro himself or an extension of him: “Shiro’s the Black Lion.” “I know this is what you wanted for me, Shiro. But I’m not you. I can’t lead them like you.” “Please, no.” “This one’s for you, Shiro.”

Eventually, Shiro passes on the Black Lion to Keith, because he’s the person Shiro trusts most. And Keith is able to properly accept his new role, because for once, he feels secure and self-assured. Shiro is at his side and Keith has his blessing to pilot. Shiro is right there and isn’t going anywhere, he’s back, he’s safe, and he’s able to recover and heal. In the meantime, Keith has matured into quite a leader in the Quantum Abyss, and he’s become a man whose team will readily follow. They all look up to him in a way they never have before. Even Lance. And Shiro isn’t left behind either–becoming the Captain of the Atlas allows him to continue being the team leader he was always meant to be, as well as offering the opportunity for co-leadership sheith that has been foreshadowed for nearly the entire series.

Lastly, in terms of relationships, I think it’s no secret that I’ve mentioned quite a bit the noticeable parallels between Adam’s past relationship with Shiro and Keith in the present. Adam’s “but I won’t go through this again,” compared to Keith’s “You can’t do this to me again,” Adam walking out on Shiro and then immediately cutting to Keith determined to wait by his side, ect.

A Little Adventure also ends on the note that Shiro has come to see him in a new light–something evident since the Quantum Abyss. Again, here’s just some things from past meta real quick–because, if we’re talking about character development here, I know a lot of people have said–where could they go from here? I’ve heard people insist that the relationship was too stagnant, that it was boring or uninteresting because they never changed. But it’s obvious there is a clear shift in the relationship on both ends. So, for consideration, just some things I’ve noticed:

When Shiro’s soul is adrift, displaced from his body, he dreams of Keith. Given the emphasis on mystical bonds in this series, I think it’s no coincidence that Keith was also the one calling out to Shiro all this time. And when Keith begs Shiro not to leave him again, to return to him, by some miracle…Shiro is brought back from the brink of death. His soul, which had been all but lost, was tethered to Keith’s. That love anchored him back to this plane: “Shiro, please. Fight! You can’t do this to me again…” “I was dreaming…Keith, you saved me.” “We saved each other.”

There’s a reason why all his worst nightmares are Shiro leaving him behind–Shiro’s the one person who never gave up on him. I think it’s pretty realistic that Keith would feel so intensely for him, even at such a young age. I think Keith was always sort of carrying a torch for Shiro, I think that’s just who he is. And I think that, after years and tons of growth and change and character development, having all these memories be Shiro’s dreams, have the narrative compare Keith to his ex and then hear Shiro say, “You saved me”–it’s a pretty brilliant way of showing how Shiro’s come to have feelings for the man Keith became in turn.

See also:

But here’s the thing, Shiro isn’t weak in [his fight with Sendak], the matchup with Sendak is pretty even right up until the end there. He just needed a little help. And you know what? That’s a huge part of Shiro’s overarching character arc–how he has to learn it’s okay to lean on others and he doesn’t have to exist as a solemn statue behind stone walls.

If you look back at the flashbacks in A Little Adventure, he tells Adam, “You don’t have to protect me.” All his life, he’s wanted to prove he wasn’t weak. But at some point, he started to misconstrue that as, I have to be strong enough to never rely on anyone else, I can’t ever be vulnerable. The lesson he eventually learns that I think goes over a lot of fans’ heads here is that there’s nothing wrong with being protected.

And Keith’s way of saving Shiro is in so much more than daring rescues. It’s how he’s always been the one to believe in Shiro. It’s how he’s the one who always tells Shiro to keep fighting. It’s how he always insisted Shiro was the best leader among them. It’s how he begs Shiro to keep going no matter what, that it’s okay, don’t worry, “you’re gonna make it.”

In short, Keith became Shiro’s support in the same way that Shiro’s always been there for him. They anchor one another. And lastly, this note on how Keith and Shiro’s relationship has grown into a place where it seems meant to last:

Lauren: “And that’s something that, where Adam might be able to walk away from a relationship, because he doesn’t feel that respect, that relationship is something that Keith would hold on to his whole life, and probably never be able to walk away from.” (source)

So, suffice to say–Keith goes through a lot of character development, and honestly, so much of it is really solid with a wonderful foundation to build off and grow.

[fancybois]

So a few weeks ago Sophie ( @buzzfeedworthit​) and I came up with this AU based off of the In Control With Kelsey Worth It episodes and she complied it. It’s not a fleshed out fic at all but the idea is there and it would be a dope long length fic 

Vampire!andrew’s outfit from the sims

He’s a vampire gang boss (?) who runs an underground gambling ring/casino behind a restaurant

Casino is v fabulous and opulent

Steven is a rookie detective who is trying to take down the upper crusts

Upper crusts are an organization involved in bribery/financial corruption in local politics posing as a food club

Steven asks around and is referred to andrew

Steven goes to the underground casino trying not to reek of cop to meet andrew

He is v intimidated but andrew is such a character who loves cats and immediately takes to steven “yeah i do crime but what r u gonna do abt it if u need my help” dynamic

Steven begrudgingly moves forward w getting andrew’s help and andrew makes him part of the crew so he can go undercover

TENSION everyone else can feel too

Andrew’s underlings just roll their eyes every time andrew tries to flirt w steven but steven just thinks that is how andrew is

He gets flustered anyway

Underlings @ andrew: ur getting awful close to him, boss… whats ur game here

Andrew wants to drinks stevens blood too but in a sexy way

Eventually they infiltrate upper crusts

Steven starts a thing w sophia to get close to the mom (leader) for info

Andrew is salty

Steven confronts andrew about why he is so pissy and tension keeps mission from really making any progress bc of petty things andrew does bc he is jealous

Steven: andrew, this is my case i gotta do this tf

Andrew sabotages every interaction w sophia

Jealous? Logical next step? Kill the competition (andrew considers)

Conveniently, andrew finds out sophias treachery and that she has found out abt steven and andrew’s true intentions w upper crusts and esp her mother

S and A find out theyve been compromised and andrew offers to “take care of her”

Steven is like wtf no?!

Steven: ANDREW NO

Andrew: ANDREW YES

Andrew: trust me

But steven is adamant that andrew cant kill her so he turns her which forces her to switch allegiance to s and a and join A’s coven

So steven sees vampire!andrew in action and THATS how he finds out A is a vampire and  is like i didnt sign up for this shit

Andrew is like im pretty sure u approached me sweetie

Turning someone into a vampire looks to be a sensual thing w sharing blood

With loyalty from sophia they get the info they need on her mom but it also makes steven jealous that she is now in andrew’s coven (involves doing vampire rituals together and just more time spent together doing vampire shit)

Prompts steven to reevaluate his feelings and deal w shock of finding out andrews… condition (and realises that andrew spending time w sophia bothers him but not because he is into sophia….hmmm)

Im jealous of my ex fake gf???

Eventually comes to terms w it but is convinced andrew is not into him bc he has read all their interactions as andrew being flirty w everyone is just his personality

Also how could be possibly be w a vampire--one who already has a lady vampire conveniently in his coven

Steven decides he needs distance

Ignores andrew

Angst ensues

Decides he has enough info and it is time to get the boss of upper crusts and take her down

Problem is andrew is his only ally but steven is not thinking clearly and goes after her by himself

Gets into dangerous situation

PLOT TWIST: dangerous situation is that clara has control over bernard and she commands Bernard to possess steven

Compels steven (bernard as steven) to do bad shit

Then he is made out to be bad guy after getting caught doing crime

Gets arrested and cops think he has been feeding info to baddies or is even a baddie boss himself (of upper crusts which effectively stops cops being interested in them bc they think they caught the boss)

Ryan and shane are cops and they have to arrest steven even tho theyre friends and it is sad “how could u steven”

Andrew knows something is wrong, this isnt steven and he confronts clara willing to do anything to get bernard out of steven

He confronts clara in mysterious and tense and elegant meeting at jazz bar

Andrew: cut the shit clara what did u do

Clara sippin that martini “shame about your lover but bernard is so enjoying himself”

Andrew is like wtf so hes possessed???

Clara: u have something of mine

Andrew: ur daughter isnt a possession?? (andrew and sophia have bonded and are homies by this time)

Becomes apparent clara doesnt give a shit abt her daughter and just thinks it would be beneficial to have a vampire for upper crusts’ dynamic

Andrew goes to sophia and tells her what happened

Sophia knows he loves steven so she agrees saying it will be ok and a good chance to re-infiltrate

Bernard leaves steven and then she waits til the right moment and BLEEDS HER MOM DRY

Clara: go get ur man, andrew

Steven is locked up and andrew seeks out ryan and shane and tells them everything

But hes a criminal and as a consequence of approaching the PD he gets taken in

Steven is disoriented when bernard leaves his body (violent exit, body wracking, vomiting) and he is suddenly like What am i doing here what is happening??

Andrew has explained but nobody believes possession (cops r like yeah wow that was quite the stomach flu steven had)

So andrew is like: fine… and bc he needs to redeem steven he owns up to everything and says he was controlling steven

So steven gets let out as andrew is booked

They tell steven he was being “controlled” but the term means different things to the police and to steven (bc he knows he was at least blacked out)

Leaving steven heartbroken that he was manipulated (the tale andrew told to save steven)

Steven goes to confront andrew

Why, if any of their tension was real

Andrew responds by speaking in code that yes it was real and that he lied to get steve out so that he can finish the mission (and bc he loves steven)

Steven is confused but goes to sophia who tells him what the code means and helps plan to break andrew out

Steven is ready to do illegal shit and break laws to get andrew out bc love

Steven could confess to his undercover work and tell everyone that andrew was helping

What andrew was booked for no longer valid bc govt sanctioned task to help them bring down actual culprits

Andrew knows that steven doing illegal shit would change steven and he doesnt want steven to do that and convinces him otherwise and do do (above) rather than jailbreak and run away together

Suddenly Steven and andrew told theyre good to go and steven is like how? (he was in middle of planning how to explain but doesnt have means to prove it bc it was super under cover and involves supernatural)

Suddenly rie (police boss) comes out as the one who assigned steven the task and backs him up (thus why they were let free)

Upper crusts taken down w info provided by sophia- paper trail bc clara is gone leaving everyone in gang in disarray

Someone had tried to step up and strongman it by ordering a hit on another group to strengthen their position but it goes awry bc they suck at crime and leadership

BUT dun dun hit is on andrew and steven

Could one of them die???

Upper crusts set up a hit and then sophia tells S and A bc she had stayed on and so they set up a trap

BUT audience doesn’t know that sophia has told them and helped them so threat of ch death hangs

Lets hit go thru and then it is explained that they knew and baddie is like WTF man

Sophia had to let it go until last minute in order to catch rest of crusts and involve PD

Case ends and epilogue is S and A in hawaii (classic) one brings the other a drink and they kiss before being like u ready?? And steven is like u bet babe (bc they’re actually there for a mission as crime fighting duo)

THE END <3

[stahvie]

I’ll keep you warm pt. 4

Masterlist     First     Previous     Next

Pairing: Kylo x reader

Word Count: 2336

Summary: Your assessment didn’t go so well and now you’re left with questions.

It had not been a good last few days.

You’d failed your assessment, been removed from Theta Squad, were dismissed as a TIE pilot altogether, and probably worst of all, the memories of your recovery were hazy due to a mixture of the heat and bacta, but you had the terrible feeling that the Supreme Leader may have seen you in your underwear.

The only bright side seemed to be that you weren’t being kicked out of the First Order, but it had also become clear as you were escorted through the halls of the Supremacy, that you weren’t headed for the trooper barracks. It made sense, your blaster skills were what you scored the lowest on during your assessment, so with your lacking skill there was no chance you were being reassigned as a trooper. The officer that guided you was being less than helpful and you’d given up questioning her about what was happening.

The officer left you once you arrived at a vacant private room. She informed you that these were your new quarters but failed to leave you with any instructions or answer any of the many questions that plagued your mind.

The room was large. It was smaller than your last living quarters but then, you’d shared it with your squadmates, and this was your own personal space. You’d never had privacy before, you’d always lived with your peers and teammates and excitement sunk in. You were going to decorate the shit out of this room… you just needed to get some personal items to do it.

You threw your bag onto your own personal table, took a quick tour of your own personal refresher, finger-gunned at yourself in your own personal mirror, and once you were done exploring your room, you collapsed onto your own personal bed. Your old bed had a spring that poked into your thigh as you slept but your new bed was soft and comfortable. You’d believe anyone if they told you it had never once been slept in.

As you let your head get enveloped by the marshmallowy pillow, the questions came back. What the kriff was your job now? It had to be pretty cushy to get you such a nice living area. How could it be, though? No TIE pilot could live like this… maybe those in command, but you’d been kicked from the Elite TIE pilot program completely. You didn’t have any training in leadership either so you weren’t going to become an officer. Nothing added up. Not to mention you weren’t even sure if someone was going to come around and give you instructions on what was happening next. Were you just supposed to wait here?

Screw that. You rolled lazily off the comfy bed and made a bee line for the door. You couldn’t be expected to wait for an undetermined amount of time, so it wouldn’t be your fault if someone finally delivered the details of your new situation and you were off exploring.

Exploring was probably the wrong word for what you were doing since you already knew the ship pretty well, but you weren’t as familiar with this area. The facilities in this area of the Supremacy were frequented by officers so you’d rarely find yourself in these halls unless you were just wandering around aimlessly to clear your head.

You visited the gym, mess hall, and cantina closest to your new room and they all had one thing in common; the people in each facility outranked you. There were no troopers keeping in shape in the gym. The mess hall was nicer and didn’t seem to be constantly on the brink of a food fight. The bar was free of TIE pilots gloating about their latest flight. It was obvious everyone here was of a higher rank, you didn’t belong here and it was alienating. You decided to head back to your room.

Turning the final corner to the hall your new room was in, you saw him. For a brief moment panic took over you, like you were a kid again seeing your crush unexpectedly, and you hid behind the corner before he could see you. Ren was probably just there to let you know what was going on. Why him though? It didn’t matter, he was there. You regained your bravery, put your big girl pants back on, and turned the corner.

The black figure disappeared around another corner and out of site. Shit. You rushed from your corner to his, trying to not seem too suspicious in front of a pair of officers giving you the stink eye. Ren was faster than you’d anticipated, sure you’d catch up if you moved quickly enough, but the longer this went on the weirder it would be when you finally reached him. Maybe it would be better to call out to him.

“Sir?”

No response.

“…Sir?”

Nothing.

Ren kept up his pace as he seemed to be unable to hear you, but he was nearing another corner and you didn’t want to lose him. Then it hit you. You weren’t supposed to be calling him that now that you were back. How could you let yourself forget that? You half-jogged towards the corner and tried again.

“…Supreme Leader Ren?”

Ren finally stopped which took you by surprise making you stop in your tracks instead of continuing to close the gap. He turned to face you and you were stumped. What now? As he stood and stared in your direction, it hit you just how intimidating he was. It definitely didn’t feel like it did back on that icy planet. You moved towards him meekly hoping you’d find the words you needed or at least something acceptable to say, however, once you reached him your mind was still blank.

“Has no one been to tell you about your new position?” His eyes scanned you and he seemed mildly surprised to find you still in your pilot uniform.

“Oh.” You took in a deep and let your mouth try to pluck something from your brain. “Maybe. I dunno. Someone mighta… they coulda… See, the thing is, the officer that brought me here from my old room didn’t exactly talk much. She kinda just walked. The only thing she said to me was ‘this is your new quarters’ and then she just left. The entire time we walked she just ignored whatever I said and I dunno if she was just being rude… or if I was being rude for asking…”

There was a brief pause as you sucked in air.

“So then when she left I was just alone and I wasn’t sure what to do or how long I was supposed to wait so I tried my bed out… which is so much softer than my old one by the way… and my brain was just all over the place wondering what I’m supposed to be doing now that I’m not a pilot anymore… which is stupid because I know I’m a great pilot! I mean, yeah, on that mission things didn’t go so great but normally I’m really good… but anyway, I wasn’t sure how long it would be before someone came and got me again or if someone was even going to stop by at all so I thought I’d have a little look around just to check things out and I was shocked that there’s just officers around and it makes me have even less of an idea of what’s going on so I was hoping…”

Your eyes caught sight of two officers that had stopped in their tracks to stare at you. It was clear what was going through their heads. One looked on with disgust because of how informally you were talking toward the Supreme Leader, the other one stood in fear expecting the Supreme Leader to strike you down with his saber.

“…So, I was hoping that maybe you knew what I’m supposed to be doing, Supreme Leader Ren, Sir…” The pace of your words had slowed considerably and you now took your cue to shut up.

“Right.” Ren ushered the onlookers away while keeping his eyes on you. “Follow me.”

He was away and you did a small skip to stick behind him and tried to keep up with his fast strides. Leading you further and further away from your new room you marked your route on a mental map to make sure you found your way back in case you had to make the return trip on your own.

“Need repairs again, Supreme Leader Ren?” A squeaky voice called out from the room Ren had just entered.

“Not this time. I’ve brought along RN-1799 for her fitting.” He replied.

You joined the two of them in the room and stood behind Ren but far out enough so you could see who he was talking to.

“Oh! I expected you sooner!” Said the plump woman with rosy cheeks. She pulled you out from your hiding spot behind Ren and whipped a measuring tape from what seemed like nowhere. “I think you’re going to like the design we settled on. Practical and durable but still stylish, if I do say so myself. Three different sets of armour, your regular set, you’ll get a few of those, then some cold and hot weather sets.”

She led you behind a partition and gestured for you to undress.

“That reminds me.” The tailor continued. “Supreme Leader Ren, the offer still stands. I’m more than happy to make you some warm weather armour. It must be hotter than Mustafar in that set up you’ve got… by the way, sweetheart,” She said turning back to you. “Are you alright with the Supreme Leader here or would you prefer if this was a girls only event?”

You were unexpectedly pulled back into the conversation. Your eyes darted back and forth between the tailor, the partition, and Ren. Ren’s eyes parted from you, he found a seat near the door and busied himself by picking at the armrest.

“It’s okay.” You told her quietly. At most, he’d be able to see down to your shoulders, which if your suspicions were correct, paled in comparison to what he’d already seen of you. As much as it had already embarrassed you to think about, this was the first time he was present while you tried to figure out if your foggy memories of your recovery were real. It felt much worse. Heat bubbled under the skin of your chest, up your neck and across your cheeks.

Once the measurements had been taken, the tailor informed you that your new wardrobe would be ready the next day. Your armour was given top priority. Ren guided you around the ship taking you further and further away from your quarters. In the armoury you received a blaster that was coded to your fingerprint and a few spares that weren’t. Turning back in the opposite direction and passing your quarters, the Supreme Leader stopped at a large window that overlooked one of the hangers.

“See those?” He asked, a gloved finger pressed against the transparisteel. Almost a quarter of the large hanger was taken up by the construction of what looked to be five TIE silencers. “When they’re done you can have first pick.”

The day had started in confusion and it looked like it was going to end the same way. Sure, you felt like you were being led to an answer but you were going as slow as a sarlacc’s digestive system. As much as you enjoyed being in the presence of the Supreme Leader, if you didn’t get answers by the end of the day you felt like you were going to explode.

“What the hell is going on?” You blurted out, losing control of your mouth. Your head snapped forward and you stared ahead afraid to acknowledge your small outburst. That had to be overstepping a line.

“This way.” Ren said. Without looking at you, his hand landed on your shoulder and trailed down your arm until his hand engulfed yours. He was off again and you had no choice but to keep close as he stormed through the halls. You could feel your heart throbbing against your sternum and cursed whoever it was that invented gloves. Their invention had created an unwanted barrier between your skin and his.

The Supreme Leader’s hand dropped yours as you reached a corner. Without being led by hand you still managed to keep up. A small group of lieutenants paused their conversation as the two of you passed them. Most avoided eye contact though a pale one with dark hair seemed like he was too scared to look away.

Moving around another corner and out of sight of the lieutenants, Ren reached his hand back toward you. There was no way he was offering it for you to hold, right? His gloved fingers grabbed at the air, motioning for something to be placed in them. Your pockets were empty, you had nothing else to give but your hand. You sped up so you were close enough and tenderly touched your fingers to his. Without hesitation his hand wrapped around yours again.

Ren’s pace quickened again and you assumed that he just wanted your hand to make sure you kept up with him. Him dropping your hand before was probably just to avoid those lieutenants from gossiping. The Supreme Leader couldn’t get involved with an ex-Elite TIE pilot. Still, there was no harm in you imagining the two of you together. His hand squeezed yours a little tighter, no doubt to make sure he wasn’t losing his grip, and all your focus went to trying to force the corners of your mouth from curling upward.

“You wanted answers?” Ren asked, dropping your hand, as you came to a stop at the door of a conference room. His mouth twitched upward ever so briefly as your eyes met his. “This is where you’ll get them.”

 Tags: @marvelanimelover @sophiatomlinson23 @secretlygrantaire (sorry if I’ve missed anyone, I definitely need to keep a better record of people who have asked)

[stone-man-warrior]

April 15, 2021: 12:33 pm:

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

Pfizer CEO is Trending on Twitter.

That can‘t be good, today is “Death & Taxes Day”, an annual event in USA.

https://twitter.com/search?q=%22Pfizer%20CEO%22&src=trend_click&vertical=trends

I have been trying to find some kind of connecting dots to the existence of vaccines for which there is no ailment necessary to cure, such as is the case of the so called COVID Vaccines, a strangely promoted competition of commercial brands for inoculation purposes, the likes of which have been necessary in the past, but never with so much emphasis on brand preference or product loyalty for the choice of which manufacturer of a drug an individual person may prefer,

So far:

Astra Xenica = Heroin

Johnson & Johnson = Cocaine

Remdesvir = A whore, brothel, call to kidnap women for use as sex slaves,

Sputnik = A trap, strong poison, a lie, lure, bait designed to lead investigative persons into dangerous conditions, bottlenecks, “Klein Bottle”. Sputnik is :”The Russian Whore”, is “the woman who lured Jesus to the crucifix and worked for Markus, is ‘Jesus Ol’ Lady’, only because she fooled him in league with Markus”

Moderna = A French Gibson Flying V Guitar, is not the real thing. is a French Ax ... a Guillotine.

So. now Pfizer is Trending.

I have inside information that may prove to apply to the Pfizer Vaccine set of terror commands, as follows:

There is a woman by the name of Paula Pfiefer. I  believe she resides in Medford Oregon. I know that Paula Pfieifer is a SAGClubMed High Command General of the SDA terror army, Ms. Pfieifer has two important job descriptions.

She is a Lead Management Person at Medford Medical Clinic (as of 2014 last known date of association there).

Ms. Pfeifer is also a Lead Management Person of the Kaspersky Internet Security Software Products. The Kaspersky was part of the bundled software included with Sony Vaio Computers and other Sony products, and also was included standard on other computers of different manufacturers. The significance of the Sony Vaio is important, as the Vaio is one of only a few computers a person can buy that comes with a factory installed STEREO sound card. Macintosh and Sony Vaio are the only two computer manufacturers that I am aware of that offer a factory installed stereo sound card. You can buy and install aftermarket stereo sound cards, but to purchase a new computer that comes from the factory with stereo recording capabilities is very limited for choice, you can buy a Sony, or a Mac, those are the choices, and the Kaspersky comes with the Sony, and Paula Pfiefer comes with the Kaspersky, and Medford Medical Clinic (is now an Asante Health facility) also comes with the Kaspersky and Paula Pfeifer.

If you want to speak with Ms. Pfiefer, you need to pronounce her name in a coded way that only the insiders know of, you need to say: Pffffffiefer, and lay into the “Pfff” sound as you speak her name, otherwise, she will just fool you. Insiders say: “Ms. Pffffffffiefer” when they need to speak with the General.

I suspect the Pfizer Vaccine is going to be associated with SAGClubMed, the MedDems terror cells, Asante Health, and by extension to the “Pleasure Dome” in Medford (a secret, hidden underground experimental surgery center where kidnapped victims are made subject to horribly cruel surgical changes that render them unrecognizable as Human Beings after the procedures are complete, typical procedure time takes five years to complete, with multiple plastic surgery, amputations, and reattachment of limbs in places where they don’t belong. The “Partner Productions” are done at the “Pleasure Dome” by custom order of SAG members who want to order a custom built per pet person, made to their specifications.

That is what I think the Pfizer Vaccine is going to be connected to in some way, and to Paula Pfeifer, Sony Computer, and Kaspersky Internet Security Products.

Pfizer = a victim who has been selected, marked, as “Specimen”, to be captured, and taken to “The Pleasure Dome”.

The “Partner Specimens” need to be some of the strongest, healthiest people there are. The procedures they are subject to are absolutely brutal, and for that reason, only the very strongest of people survive the procedures. US Military personnel are said to be some of the most desirable “specimens” after they attend the boot camp, and some military training because of their ability to withstand the brutality of the procedures done at “The Pleasure Dome”.

The experimental procedures are such that arm length, leg length, and placement are changed on the victims. Other special considerations are custom ordered by the SAG members who want one, such as number of breasts, and where on the victims the breasts are attached surgically.

These sickening procedures are done as experiments to see what will work, and what will not work when the terror army is successful at achieving the goal of Global Domination. When they are successful, there will be “The Master Race” of SAG members and British House of Lords members. Those people are limited to about 500,000 world wide. Everyone else will attend “British Still” education and be subject to the horrible surgical procedures that render the victim to appear as they are not Human Beings, so, the victims will begin to undergo the surgeries from birth, and be changed, into a base of slave population to serve “The Master Race”. The procedures are designed to make ergonomically crafted humans, while the “British Still” education will teach them from birth that they are not Humans, but are a sub species put on earth to serve the “Master Race”

I have seen many “Partners” in my lifetime. The first one was in around 1984 in Thousand Oaks California, a young woman who said she had been kidnapped from a music concert, and was surgically changed, she looked more like an Afghan Hound than a Human being, and was kept in an attic of a residential house.

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

2:48 pm:

Trending on Twitter terror high command:

https://twitter.com/i/events/1382675724260102144

The way I see it, everything you need to know about “Russia” can be described as a “Master set of lies, stacked, layered, established as truth, accepted as fact, indeed are lies”

There is no Russia.

The place we are told is Russia, is an imaginary place. If you wanted to go there, to Russia, you could conceivably get  a commercial flight to “Russia”, however, when your plane lands, and then leaves, there you will be, in Mongolia. You may ask the locals “Which way to get to the Kremlin?” and they will laugh, and tell you “India” is where the Kremlin is at, this is Mongolia.”

It’s a one-way trip.

There are no Russians in Mongolia.

This is some practical information about “Russia” that can be used to solve problems if there are people who are in the business of protecting USA from terror takeover, and by extension, protect all of the world from slavery, and preserve freedom. I don‘t think such persons exist anymore.

Here is a link to a simple Bing Search that can help to get interested persons a starting point to learn more.

The character “ Volodymyr Oleksandrovych Zelensky, or Vladimir Aleksandrovich Zelenskiy,   officially Zelenskyy” is a movie actor/producer.

That is really all you need to get started, he came to power recently, in 2019 just ahead of the Corona Virus Global Attack Roll Out.

Take that easy to find information and combine it with information that is more difficult to obtain, specially that Pharmaceuticals are among the top exports of Ukraine. Ukraine is a global leader of Pharmaceutical manufacture.

Zelensky is a movie actor/producer, and SAG members are movie actor/producers. Do math, and you can see the potential for a relationship between Hollywood DC, and Ukraine.

The relationship is a drug based one. While US DEA are busy looking at Columbia and Peru as drug sources, the real global suppliers are on the other side of the world, in Ukraine Hollywood.

Russia is a layered, stacked, established set of lies, one lie requires ten more lies to cover up the first one, and each of those require ten more lies for them to make sense, so, the Russian Mother of All Hoaxes is born of a series of lies, beginning with the day that Jesus was nailed to the cross, set up by his Ol’ Lady, and Markus. 2000 years of lies, all piled one over the other, an orgy of lies, is what Russia is.

The Russian Mother of all Hoaxes is laid out and controlled as a set of terms, phrases, points in history, locations and events by the British House of Lords leadership, and most likely is categorized by GCHQ of SIS, which is also Reuters news, and Google is a component of that MI6 SIS GCHQ, but with a Vatican centered stance. Amazon and Tesla also sit in the same position as does Google. The Russian Mother Hoax serves the British Global Domination advance as a set of command shell language that can be spoken in mainstream news, be accepted as truth, and advance an army at the same time, while maintaining credibility by fact checkers. 2000 years of lies, all kept track of, organized and searchable on the internet.

There is truth, however, in Mongolia, and Ukraine.

https://www.bing.com/search?form=MOZTSB&pc=MOZI&q=Ukraine+Zelinsky

I don‘t know where to begin to decode what the “SolarWinds” story may be truly about, so, let’s explore, starting with very simple details:

There was a computer hack: = Digital; Binary; On/Off; One/Two (in the terror comm, where there are “two”. lies an invisible “third”, so, “two = three” by default because of “Father, Son; Holy Spirit” rules to the terrorism. the “Holy Spirit” stays out of view but is ever present)

Solar = Sun; Ray; Heat; Life; Light...

Wind = The activity of movement when air moves from high pressure conditions due to expansion of the air from exposure to heat, to low pressure conditions.

Assessment:

There is some kind of on-line pressure driving Mr. Biden to make a move from a high pressure condition, to a more comfortable low pressure condition.

That is basically what is happening in the Biden camp.

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

3:41 pm:

This outfit here, Constant Contact. is somehow associated to recent terror events. I see a connection to the Biden White House and Constant Contact advertising agency. The Constant Contact presence was first shown to me to be a major part in the terror with my last visit to Walmart, the connection extends to Walmart. I don’t want to say more at this time, as innocent people may be in danger if I elaborate about how I made the connection to Biden. Walmart, and advertising agency Constant Contact, so, you can do research on your own, or not, that is up to you. I will continue to look for specifics as to why, or how Constant Contact serves Walmart and the Biden White House, for now, specifics are a mystery but the connection is not a mystery.

The Walmart/White House/Constant Contact association I made was presented to me in email from music industry promotions, so, the music advertisers are also in the loop, that is very important for learning why the relationship exists between the groups mentioned.

https://www.constantcontact.com/?cc=MSN-115517&gclid=18af3de7bbfc1b2f96d05d9f7b54dbd6&gclsrc=3p.ds&msclkid=18af3de7bbfc1b2f96d05d9f7b54dbd6&pn=search&utm_campaign=PPC_BRAND_EMM_PERF_PROSP_PROSPECT_BRAND&utm_content=Brand&utm_medium=cpc&utm_source=bing&utm_term=constant%20contact

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

4:21 pm:

More about the attempts to check my mail yesterday:

As I reported, I mentioned possibility that the woman who was at the Monroe Offensive Surveillance Travel Trailer with two young men may have been Kate Brown.

now, I am more prepared to further say with increased confidence that indeed that was Kate Brown. The woman I saw, burst of nitrous oxide ignition when her internally holstered nitrous tank ruptured due to ignition of the gas. One of the two young men threw-up after he saw the woman’s guts come out of her belly. The woman sat in wicker chair that is near the trailer, after launching a short distance from the porch of the trailer. That all happened as the Nissan Quest van stopped momentarily in front of the Monroe residence. I was going to get my mail if my foot was feeling good enough to make the walk, and was on a trail in my woods in front of my house at the time. I saw the van stop at the mailboxes, then heard some people yelling from the Monroe trailer, saw the woman fly about fifty feet and land where the wicker chair is, she stood up. her guts were on the ground, so she picked them up and sat in that chair, that is when one of the young men ran to where there is a picnic table, and he threw-up there having been sickened by what he saw. “He must  be new” I said out-loud as I saw the young man throw-up. At the time, I did not realize what was happening, as there was quite a lot going on around me, all of it was part of a plot to kill me, and there was a lot of poison gas in the air. I remember now seeing that woman pick her intestines up off of the ground, then sit down, then her intestines came out more. I have some low power binoculars, and used those to see that the woman looked like Kate Brown, and I heard Kate Brown‘s name mentioned at that time.

There was an attack inside my home that I did not report about two nights ago, as I was unable to see the person, who was wearing a “Pixel Suit” and struck my injured leg as I was having dinner, the intruder came in while I was cooking some food. That person was suspected of being Dan Brown, Kate’s husband. I don‘t recall fighting him. I do recall that my leg hurt, and I used some neo-sporin against my better judgment. The pain I was feeling may have been result of being hit in the wound area by Dan Brown that night.

There is so much nitrous oxide mixed with medazolam gas released around here, that I am amazed I can remember my own name. Fortunately, the memory of events does return later on after exposure a little bit if I try real hard to remember what happened.

Kate & Dan Brown came to kill me, that is what happened.

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

5:07 pm:

https://twitter.com/search?q=%22Pat%20Robertson%22&src=trend_click&vertical=trends

With an abundance of caution, a strong will to survive, and a lot of experience, I am going to say that the above Tweeted Trend is a command order from “On-High” to have Dereck Chauvan sent to Josephine County, to check in with local terror actors from Hollywood who run the Josephine County Jail and sheriff’s office, where he and some accomplices will be given keys to my house to come to kill me and take this Tumblr account down.

There are tunnels beneath the sheriff office and jail.

It’s happened many times before. Remember Eddie Galagher? He and his wife, and others came to kill me, they attacked me at the Walgreen‘s, it’s all documented here on this account. Eddie was killed in defense, I think his wife was the only one of the group who was not killed or injured badly. That was the same day when Megan Markle was also there as an observer, was inside of a big cardboard box on wheels, and put in a place where she could see what was going to happen there at the Walgreen‘s. It was the day after Harry Windsor attacked me at the Walmart with a sword, and I took the sword from him, and turned it around, Harry stumbled into the place where the video games are at in the front of the Walmart, and was treated with first aid right there while I walked passed and out of the store with my groceries paid for and bagged.

So, based on that, and other similar times when Twitter was used as a command post for sending assassins to my house, I am going to say that Dereck Chauvin is likely to come to Grants Pass by the end of April, for a hit ordered by US Government, and commanded on Twitter, with a news story from Pat Robertson.

Most of the Donald Trump Former Cabinet also came to kill me with the same kind of commands posted on Twitter. That is why so many of the Donald Trump cabinet became the “Former Cabinet”. They all failed. Kirstjen neilsen, Director of Department of Homeland Security was one of them, she followed me to the Walmart, then to the Burger King, where she drove up in an old black Ford truck, came into the restaurant, and stabbed me in the mouth with some kind of sharp needle, and my face was infected for a month after that, I defended though, and her wounds were lethal.

Real terrorism is not the kind that you can learn about from news media. Real terror comes from the US shill government, and the shill government officials are commanded by the news media as assassins. That is part of why the terror is so successful, they have it arranged where the celebrities are the murderers, and that is why no one believes what they can see for themselves, terror commanded from the six o’clock news.

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

5:43 pm:

Reminder:

I asked Joe Biden for help to stop the terrorism in Oregon, and throughout USA.

He sent this response from the White House, the request for help was received. acknowledged, and replied to.

You can see the request for help on my February 13 entry.

There is nothing fake about any of it.

no help has come. There are no signs of helpful people anywhere.

I sent to request for help when I overheard plans by the local terror cells that they were going to use horses to “Draw & Quarter” me. Maybe, had I not already seen people being drawn & quartered with horses, I would not have been so alarmed as to contact the president of USA to ask for help; but I have seen people drawn & quartered with horses, in fact, it happened in my front yard, on my property.

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

6:20 pm:

Yesterday and the day before I was doing some decoding of the “Cup of Joe” as I wound up referring to it, where the “Pause” of the Johnson & Johnson so called “COVID Vaccine” seemed to somehow Co-inside with the news of the delayed withdrawal of US Troops from Afghanistan, the delay being from May 1, to September 11, in memory celebration, from the terror perspective, of the WTC attack.

I mentioned that presidential terror comm has three messages built into one set of comm language, and that I could see there were two messages, the third being illusive.

The two messages are too complicated to repeat here, you can read the lengthy information on yesterday’s entry and the previous day’s entry.

One of the terror coded messages simply was “Johnson & Johnson Vaccine = Cocaine” however, there is a lot more to it than a simple identifying announcement. I am optimistic that others who are better equipped will continue with exploring what I started with for those decodes.

I have the third, illusive part to the presidential terror comm about the J & J and the Afghanistan news story, as follows:

There was a “pause”.

There was a “Paw’s”.

There were “Father’s”, they are “The Paw’s”.

With that, add the cocaine, and you have “Sugar Daddy’s”.

We could take that into the realm of sex and a place where a “comfort person” could find a place to stay, and money to survive, the regular street definition of Sugar Daddy is someone who will pay the living costs for a personal friend in exchange for sexual favors.

I see that there could be more to it than that.

Third Amendment.

Perhaps, the “Sugar Daddy Cocaine Johnson & Johnson presidential Afghan Pause” is about finding places for terror soldiers to stay, and, finding new ways to fund those terror soldiers in a world were the usual ways to fund them have been exposed.

That is what I see as the third illusive part to the “Cup of Joe” that I started with a couple of days ago. Quarters and funding needed for Joe’s terror soldiers in a particular geographic region, or, in a more emergent generalized way, where the current system for housing and funding the vast Canadian terror army may have been exposed at the JP Morgan Chase Bank level. and the Too Big To Fail funding method done with digital money moving magic and falsified store inventories, could have been exposed to people who won‘t tolerate that, and perhaps, have power and authority to shut down the funding of the terror army that has been done that way since 2008, when George W. Bush stole the contents of the US Treasury and the Federal Reserve, AKA: “The Alpha Breasts”.

That would be good.

It could be start to restoring Freedom and preserving the existence of USA.

To those people who may have authority and power, and won‘t tolerate terror funding by the US President or Congress, I warn you again, Twitter must be taken offline, or your efforts are likely to fail.

That would be bad.

Please consider caution, and take the command vehicle offline, Twitter is that vehicle.

===========

7:01 pm:

https://twitter.com/DailyMailUK/status/1382830864329936897

https://twitter.com/DailyMailUK/status/1382828602593529857

https://twitter.com/DailyMailUK/status/1382826104092815362

https://twitter.com/DailyMailUK/status/1382826103677550595

https://twitter.com/DailyMailUK/status/1382824825660530693

https://twitter.com/DailyMailUK/status/1382823577880305667

The linked Tweets above can be associated to John Wayne International Airport.

That is all I have on that.

I chose not to include any more screen shots than is necessary to say why the airport could be important.

FYI: The Range Rover Defender 90 (not shown) came new from the factory with three different tops. One is a hard top, one is a soft-top full enclosure, and the third is a Bikini-Top.

Alpha Breasts are in the Tweeted coded news today, so is the Range Rover Defender 130, modified to a Hearst. (130 is bad luck in terror comm)

John Wayne = “Diminished Patronage”, something to consider.

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

7:16 pm:

This thing is trending on Twitter terror command HQ:

https://twitter.com/surface/status/1382695206542270465

Please understand that there is a “Covfefe” happening here.

The “Covfefe” includes that there will be two opposing ideas where pressure towards the center in between them is applied, as a terror attack strategy. The people who are lured into the place between are marked, and become targets, downrange from two perspectives.

That “surface” thing is super whimpy, while that Range Rover Hearst is super stout. Those are only two of the opposing situations I am seeing today, they are easy to identify and explain, there are other, more complex “Covfefe” today that is too difficult to show, so, see the contrast being demonstrated in various places today in order to see the existence of the “Covfefe” attack conditions that are forming in the tweeted terror comm today.

Please search this account for “Covfefe” if you are not familiar with the way “Irony” is done as an attack plan, where the Screen Actor Guild is the command entity, and the “Irony” is what happens when victims are placed between the two masks of SAG, “Comedy & Tragedy”. Basically, that is what the “Covfefe” attack scenarios are made of.

Something to consider:

People who have lived in modern times have grown up and lived their lives in the shadow of televised programing, where before there was television, the reality was simple, reality consisted of what was actually happening around where people were at.

So, in the past, before TV, when a war broke out, the reality was known by the existence of an invading enemy within view in the neighborhood.

now, we have per-concieved ideas about what constitutes war. Most everyone I ever knew, including myself, always thought that war included men in uniform, with attack that includes bombs and machine guns, and everything is blown up real fast ... and that is war the way modern people have been programmed to see it, on a TV.

Reality these days, is that the Screen Actor Guild is the offensive party, and, they are also the people who made sure that the people they are going to attack don‘t know what modern war is made of, they programed us to see only that war happens when the men are in uniform, and the shit is exploding everywhere.

Modern war, has a Covfefe built into it, it has a story, a plot, it has an introduction, character development happens ahead of the attack, so we get to know the people who are killing us. We end up worshiping the attacking army. Modern war has no uniform, it has a costume, it has props, is choreographed, and includes an intermission so that victims can be taken at the concessions stands.

Modern war is slow, it’s scripted, written out to great detail such that the attacking army has very little chance of being hurt, because there were numerous dress rehearsals, where every conceivable situation could be anticipated, and a counter measure applied, roled out from a parallel screen play, on the fly, in such a way as to only increase the dramatic quality of the attack, and keep the victims entertained ahead of the slaughter.

The “Covfefe” includes that an attack will entertain as the killing progresses, and while the objective is reached, while no one is aware that there is a war. The victims are replaced with impostors before the body cools off, and no one knows that any victims ever needed any help.

Comedy on one side of the victim, tragedy on the other. The victim runs towards the comedy in order to escape the tragedy, then, the plot thickens, and the comedy turns to tragedy, as the victims is seeking some help.

That is Covfefe. We were programmed for it with sitcoms, drama’s and horror films.

=====

10:07 pm:

This Kroger news has been trending on Twitter terror high command all day.

I’ll go ahead and do a quick “what can be said about this” approach to it, but I am hurting so bad at this time that I am not thinking clearly and the poisons I was injected with is coming out of my eyes, it drains out like tears, is ice cold, makes blurry vision and is otherwise painful along with my leg, which is also hurting bad after a short walk outside that produced nothing to speak of.

https://twitter.com/i/events/1382462465330528256

First thing to say is that today’s Kroger Foods is the legacy of the very first terror retail takeover that I am aware of, when the Ralph’s Markets on Topanga Canyon Blvd and the one across from Taft high school in the San Fernando Valley California were hijacked in around 1972. Ralph’s became a Kroger Brand since then, now, all of the Kroger Family of Brands are terror controlled and have been that way in Oregon for as long as I have lived in Oregon, more than 24 years.

The next thing to say, is that at minimum, the Grants Pass Fred Meyer store was hijacked again, taken from the first terror controlling entity by an opposing terror controlling entity in around 2002 or so. One terror army was overpowered by a different terror army at the Grants Pass Fred Meyer store, and I suspect that others including the Brookings Oregon Fred Meyer were also taken over by that same opposing terror army, The original controlling terror army before 2002 was a mostly quiet sort of group of Seventh Day Adventist Cannibals who did not draw much attention to themselves as the store provided a continuous supply of victims for their Cannibal culture. The new controlling terror army is also SDA Cannibal, however they are far more aggressive than the other group. The new SDA at the Grants Pass Fred Meyer store include a lot of people of German heritage, are more aggressive than the others were.

Then, it says “Robots” are going to possibly be deployed. Let’s explore “Robots”:

Things to consider: Robe’s are worn by Judges and people associated with Social Fraternal Orders.

Robe + Ot’s = Robots

Ot’s = Odd’s = asymmetrical = people who are “inclined” one way or another way. Joe Biden shows us an example of “Odd’s” when he speaks, and leans to one side momentarily, in that way, he is “Asymmetrical” and has a “List”, is “Inclined”, is “Lopsided” for a moment during his speeches.

===

(additional thoughts: 4-16-2021: 12:30 pm: The “Ot’s” may better be viewed as “ought’s” witch are “zero’s”. Abrasives are measured with use of “ought” rather than “zero’s”, is a strange concept, where “100″ grit sandpaper means there are 100 grains of sand-like grit per square inch of sandpaper, while on the other side of “zero” where the sandpaper is increasingly fine, it is measured with use of “ought” where “Three ought” or “triple ought” is less abrasive than is “Two ought” or “Double ought”. With “double ought”, there are too many grain particles to count, and with “Triple Ought” there are yet more abrasive particles per square inch of sand paper material. Where does the “other side of zero” begin? I have seen 600 grit, and even 800 grit, but beyond that somewhere as the abrasive is increasingly finer, the measure changes to “ought”, “double ought” and “triple ought” as the sand paper gets finer, less gritty, is useful to buff and polish rather than remove material in effort to smooth or remove unsightly scratches.

Also, I mentioned somewhere something about Joe Biden‘s edited video clip about US troop withdrawal from Afghanistan, where Joe leaned to the right of the screen, it was edited to occur at the 0:06 mark of a 1:10 minute video. So, I did a Bing search for the word “trillion“ just now, and was reminded that a “trillion“ is a real number that is equal to a one followed by twelve zero’s to express the value numerically in long hand. I did that because the amount of money we are seeing reported as being spent by the White House, for special circumstances that are beyond the usual US Budget amounts, is astronomical. and it’s become commonplace for such amounts of money spending to be measured in the trillions of dollars. Most people are oblivious to what is happening with those numbers, that amount of money, why it’s said to be necessary, but I know that the Canadian terror army is funded by the US government, with money stashed away from the Too Big To Fail of 2008. In event that investigative persons who have power and authority were to identify and seize that Too Big To Fail cash of terror funding, then, the government treasonous shills would need to find alternative ways to fund that terror army, about 20 million men & women is my conservative estimate, all of them need food, housing, and transportation paid for by the SAG leadership, AKA: the US Shill Government. So, that 0:06 mark where Joe leans to the right of the screen starts to look a lot like an “OK” statement, where he says: “I can do half a trillion” and is stated with body language. Vague, not a lot of substance to my read on that with what I have to support saying it, but there is so much more information that I don’t include, all of it is also driving my desire to decode what I see, in effort to get some help to come to Oregon where that terror army lives for free, all expenses are paid for, and they already have killed and replaced the entire Oregon population, I am the last remaining US citizen in Oregon.)

(Creativity to produce a stream of cash flow that will reach the terror army at their roots, in the actual “terror family cell” where the money trail needs to show as sustenance of a family in a way that is no different than any family uses income to support their needs. The house payment, car payment, insurance, food, all of the normal expenses that “terror family citizens” must pay to survive all need to have a paper trail, (True Grit) the same a the US citizens that the terror army is systematically killing in order to keep from being caught, or identified as a enormous terror army.

Yesterday I saw a very offensive Tweet. The information presented in the Tweet (from a major news network) was about “victims of Corona Virus who died”. The information says that the surviving family members are eligible to apply for a special “COVID Funeral Expense”, where those who apply are granted $9,000 per deceased family member who died due to COVID.

The amount of $9,000 for a funeral expense paid out by the federal government is ludicrous. The cost of a standard cremation is about $300 anywhere in USA. I don‘t know what a fair amount would be, however, to date, not one single victim world wide had died of anything that can be deemed as “Corona Virus” or “COVID”. The truth about how that $9,000 is handed out, is that is money that will be paid to a terror army soldier who murdered a US Citizen, and then claimed that the citizen was a family member. Think about people who are confined to Extended Care Facilities here, the old people, the terror bastards kill them off, and then apply for $9,000. I can see something like that is very possible. I saw the information in a Tweet, and I can see that the Biden WH is being some what crafty for excuses to hand out large amounts of money,

Something to think about: “where does the terror army get it’s sustenance from?

The idea of a $9,000 funeral expense payout from federal government to cover costs of COVID death has a problem that is not consistent with the usual terror murder scenarios. So far, for fifty years, the Canadian terror army has been murdering one single US Citizen, in effort to gain one Vote for a SAG government shill. They kill the citizen, there is no death report, and no one is aware that a citizen died. The terror army grows in size with each murder, as SAG “casts” a “look-a-like” terror soldier from Canada to replace and carry on while portraying that dead citizens life. The live in the victims home, drive the victims car, use the victims name, and hunt the victims extended family, and, the terror army replacement votes for the candidates on the ballots as SAG Leaders [Nancy Sinatra] instruct them to vote. The vote is all pre-arranged that way, SAG knows which candidates will prevail because they instruct the voter base about what particular candidate they are to vote for, for all of the contested positions on the ballots.

So, one murder, no death certificate, no body, no crime ... is the basis of the terror take over of USA.

That $9,000 dollar pay out changes that. With that plan implimented, the terror army MUST produce a body, a name, and then be paid for the death of the victim, so, the way it looks to me, is that the priority changed, from “we need Votes”, to “We need more money”. It goes from “Murder to elect” to “Murder for Pay”. Therein lies the problem associated to the $9,000 death payout.

They cannot have both the vote they do the murders for, and, the money they need to sustain the army. They can have either the Vote, or the money, not both,

Maybe that is what the Honduran Caravans are for, a constant supply of $9,000 bodies waiting to happen at the refugee camps.

With the Honduran Plan, the Canadian SAG army would need approximately one dead Honduran in order to sustain a terror family cell for two months, or, six murdered Honduran Caravan Refugee’s annually to survive at a rate of $9,000 per each “family member who died of COVID or Corona Virus”, So the question is, “what propaganda is being fed to the Hondurans to get them to keep coming to USA?)

(Other “Ought” oriented info, not necessarily associated to any other thing I wrote about above: “Ought” is one of those words that is wielded as a tool used more for secret communication than face value speech by persons associated with Social Fraternal Orders. The word literally is a “zero”, it also has a “nothing” sort of use, but it has mystery associated with it’s use. For instance, if I say; “My car is dirty, I ought to wash the car”. Many people use the word “Ought” like that, as a sort of “Maybe” statement, “maybe I should wash the car”. The historical use of “Ought” is far different. It was really used for saying “Don‘t do that” and in that way, is a “zero”. “When in doubt, leave it out” is “Ought” at it’s real value. Think: There is a mean dog on the front porch at the neighbors house, and two young people are walking by, one says to the other: “I think you ought to go over there and pull that dog’s tail”, inevitably, the one that the statement was directed at, will go over there and pull the dog’s tail, and get bit in the process. That same young person, with his father who see’s the mean dog on the porch, is told: “I think you ought to pull the dogs tail” and a hundred years ago, that meant: “don‘t fuck with that dog Son”. “Ought”, is complicated that way.

Another Social Fraternal Order thing that I learned from a Grand Master, has to do with buying some time to think. Sometimes, people are asked some tough questions that require a good response immediately. and, sometimes the correct response could be an embarrassing one, so, at times like that, the Fraternal Orders practice with use of the word: “why” for starting a sentence in answer to a potentially embarrassing question when under pressure. For instance: Someone asks: “Were you at the park last night?” ... the answer seems simple, yes or no, but, there could be some reason not to answer, while a response is really made to be important by the person asking the tough questions. So, in response, to buy a half second of extra time to think while under pressure, the response is something like: “whyyyyyy...... no, I didn‘t go to a park last night” That stretched out “whyyyyyyyy....” is an easily overlooked tool used by people who are feeling pressure around the waistband of their fraternal robe. You have heard that “whyyyy... a thousand times, and probably never thought twice about why, people say “why” when they begin to speak. It’s used to make a purchase of a tiny bit of time, and, it also identifies the speaker of “whyyyyy....” as a Fraternal Club Member, just in case there are other secret society members around, who can help. If so, they may say something about “The widows, and the orphans at the park” in order to identify themselves secretly back to the one who said “Whyyyy....”.)

===

The tweeted information says: “Dishwasher Size Robots”. Ok. The thing that comes to mind is that the SDA are a group of people who really have harnessed all that can be done in a Petri Dish. They love to invent poisons that can be reproduced with nasty, creepy, fungus, mold, mildew, spores, anything that is “mold”, and they are famous locally for all having a dishwasher in the kitchen that is only used for keeping enough water inside of it that it will grow the mold they use for making such poisons with. There is a poison they call “Sewer Gas”, it makes a person feel the same symptoms as sea sickness, with addition of vertigo symptoms. That stuff is made with the kind of mold & mildew that can be grown in a kitchen dish washer is the way I understand it.

It says “Automated Warehouse”. That can‘t be good. Sounds like Kroger Foods has a list of addresses to automatically go to for Corona Attack.

There is mention of a desire to “Catch Up”. That can‘t be good, and the statement comes on the heels of other news about a national shortage of Ketchup Packets at fast food restaurants. I see a Cannabal theme happening with the Catch Up statement, and, there was also recent mention from Jen Psaki (hard core SDA General) about “Deadliest Catch” the other day. The news about the “Catch Up” is the worst part of the Kroger story. It also would include the “V-8“ and “Red Hydroseed” that I don‘t want to explain right now.

I cannot see. I have to stop for now. Maybe I can continue when my eyes are done leaking out this poison.

===

11:47 pm:

The only thing left that I can see for now in the Tweeted Trend description is there is a vague reference to a sort competition the seems to exist at Kroger, avd what I am reading in the statements makes sense to me, but probably won‘t make sense to many others. The part where it says: “ ... a gigantic mistake or solidifying ...” is nod to Ann Wilson vs a nod to Donald Trump. Wilson being lead Amp Guru at Vatican Choir high command, and, also is General of SDA Cannibals world wide, gigantic that way, where the “solidifying” part is where things get more “tangible” in the Twitter terror comm, they turn “tangerine” right there, and even Donald Trump would say he is an Orange, and definitely not an Apple.

That’s all I have on that.

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

11:38 pm:

This just in:

https://twitter.com/i/events/1382906192217792515

I was saying the John Wayne international airport was of interest today according to Daily Mail UK, however, I did not take into consideration that you have to turn everything around backwards when the news crosses the Atlantic.

My bad.

John Wayne turned the other way, is “Indians”. John is the “Cowboy”.

Even so, that should demonstrate the urgency needed to take Twitter offline as soon as possible, as Twitter is the terror high command HQ vehicle for delivering marching orders to Canadian terror soldiers in the field.

=====

11:55 pm:

I’ll wager dollars to doughnuts that the recent news on Twitter presented by a number of “trusted” news networks about something that was happening in South Dakota is also associate to the planning and the carry out of whatever occurred at the Indianapolis international airport, and I’ll suggest the they all are in league with the Daily Mail UK.

I also saw at least one Tweet somewhere at a news network Twitter feed that mention a American Indian tribe. If I were to go scour Twitter for native American references right now, i don’t think I would come away empty handed.

(4-17-2021: 3:11 pm: An example of a prize that I might obtain by hunting around in the Twitter major news media stories for “Indian”, or, “native American” references, is a scalp. So, my question right now is: “If Boris Johnson goes to a barber to get a haircut as the very first thing he does as Corona Lockdown is lifted, does that constitute a scalp?”)

Twitter is THE terror command vehicle, is a Google product, and Google is the same as Vatican. Those who are in the business of protecting USA from terror attack should have learned that years ago, and shut down Twitter, and taken custody of all of the Google holdings, and arrested any and all of it’s employees and corporate officers.

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

4-16-2021: 4:47 pm: miscellaneous unnecessary surplus terror comm presentation on Twitter terror high command HQ:

https://twitter.com/CBSEveningNews/status/1383193057819041793

This above is a juvenile, armature attempt by CBS news Twitter account, to say simply: “There is someone on the internet talking about details of the hijack of USA”,

They tried to bury the hi-jack in a word craft.

Everyone already knows that orbisculate is a revolution in distress.

Did anyone notice that Castro did not last a month in absence of Philip Mountbatten?

[stephicness]

A long rant in case you want to read, because I quit my job today! C:

So I think some of you guys may have known this before, but I had started this job in around July. Applied, got recommended by a worker there who had gone to high school with me, and boom, the job was mine as soon as I met the boss. It’s not a particularly hard job, to be honest. We get the overstocked/returned items from Costco, process and check them to see if they’re quality enough to resell, and then sell it online or at our store base. Simple enough!

Upon being hired, I was promised some pretty basic things as apart of the job: $10/hr fulltime, a really good raise and a manager position as I worked with the company, my own office space, and at the most basic of it all, respect for being a college graduate and a great worker. It was simple demands, 

I specialized in inventory oversight and listings for online products for sale on Amazon and Ebay, but I was hired mostly to just help out the manager and assistant manager at the time. Grunt work like picking inventory to help with shipping, cleaning and folding clothing, and eventually listing products for online sales. It was an easy job to do, and fun at first.

But then little things added that just made it worse as momentum picked up.

First off, despite being promised fulltime hours, I was docked immediately to parttime. Not by much, as instead of 8-5, I’d work 8-4. But when I eventually lose 50$ a week, which I could be dedicating to my student loans, it definitely adds up as time passes. So she compromised with me for 8-4:30, but nothing over 40 hours. If I work any more, I’d get in trouble. If I work any less, I’d also get in trouble. So to compensate, it was hour-long lunches to remedy my lack of break at this job.

So then time rolls around, and within the three months that I worked there, a grand total of five people were fired or left the business. One because of differences in management, one because of better opportunities (and a dispute over her time to spend with her newborn child), one because she was stealing from the business, one because of work ethic being shoddy, and another because she received no benefits after two years of working there (and because college was a more important calling. Good for her!). Already that seemed to be alot of warning signs. One person in a few months is understandable. But five? And one of them being fired the day I got hired? Well then!

So then amongst the five people, the assistant manager and manager left/got fired, leaving me and my co-worker of a month less than me, to take on the duties of managing the inventory, listing products, doing online customer service, shipping assistantship, and alot more. I figured because the manager was gone and my boss was often busy that maybe I could help a bit more. Check-in with people during the morning to see what needs to be done, what I need to get done, and if anyone needed help throughout the day. General things that a good worker would do, I hope?

But no. Instead, I gave off the vibe that I was trying to become the boss in place of my boss. For showing leadership traits and for wanting to know what my co-workers needed in the warehouse. Instead, that came off as too boss and as if I was superior than everyone else. And I’ll admit that I’m slightly guilty of it because I know for a fact that I work hard and do my best to be an optimal worker. Take it into perspective too VIA these scenarios:

1) In the time it takes me to take inventory out of our system for shipping -- through three - five aisles (depending on help that day) and a hundred products -- it takes my co-worker that same time to get through one aisle picking the same things.

2) I can list up to 300 products (AKA 15-20 boxes worth of products) in a day with the right focus. This includes having helped with shipping and tending to other tasks for the day. My co-workers before could only do somewhere between 5-10 boxes a day.

3) I am one of the only people who knows how to navigate the new system products and locate them under their skews and tags. I am also one of the only people (sans the boss) to recognize a product’s look with you just telling me the name of it.

4) When receiving inventory and inspecting it for listing, a palette containing 40-50 apple boxes can be processed by me in just a single day -- if it’s a good day. On average, it takes the rest of our team two days to do such if I’m not helping.

It’s little things in the warehouse, but all tasks that you can be good at if you’re efficient at your job and you work hard.

But instead, it felt like the work that I put in was only demeaned each day. Mundane issues were blown out of proportion, and I wouldn’t even have been there to make the mistake. But alas, it was often blamed on me. It was the whole ‘You’re not the manager, but you should assume more responsibilities like one.’

All while my co-worker, the one whom worked less time than me, was revered as the one who could do no wrong. Given tasks and radiating an air of superiority because his tasks were ‘harder’ in comparison to me. Work is gauged differently, and his work was no less hard or easier than mine. And yet, it felt as if he could tell me what to do when I couldn’t. As if he could brag about his successes in the warehouse and be praised, as I state mine and be told that I could do better.

Perhaps the sad tragedy of showing too much work ethic and being expected to show more than that.

But what really irked me wasn’t that I was forced into a position without benefits of cushion time, or that I was scolded for trying to be a good worker and leader -- it was the lack of respect that I got as not only just a worker, but a human being as well.

The least a person can do is keep their promises once they made them. But she took away my hours, she denied me any opportunity for this ‘management’ position that she eagerly encouraged, she took away my office because she viewed my isolation as something that made it harder for her to peek over and see what I’m doing (micromanaging, but she just calls it ‘being in the loop’). And worst of all, if I try to object to it and voice my concerns of the matter, I’m seen as ungrateful. Someone with attitude. 

Oh, I’m not even going to deny that I have an atrocious attitude. When you see my in real life and I’m having a bad day, boy howdy do you know I’m having a bad day. But when you wake up every morning and go to a job that you know doesn’t treat you well, that doesn’t pay you enough, that causes you so much mental exhaustion to where you can’t even bring yourself to smile anymore -- even the kindest or fakest of people can’t keep that facade up for long. The flat-out favoritism of my co-worker over me is exasperating, the petty things I get in trouble for, the potential of ‘doing better’ even though you’re trying to hardest. It really wears you down. Especially when you consider that your boss only views you as a slave, unwilling to help you if you need help, and hell -- unwilling to pay their employees on a national holiday out of courtesy.

Not to mention, as my added little salt, I worked there for almost six months now. Out of those six months, I only requested one day off. One. Unpaid time off on a Friday after completing the rest of my tasks for the week and helping my co-worker set-up for his workday in my absence. And during that single day off, according to another co-worker who tells me the juicy gossip, I was...

Accused of wrongly listing products on purpose.

Accused of doing my job wrong, again, on purpose.

Accused of misplacing items that should have been found VIA the new system with ease.

Complained about for not being there a total of 5 times throughout the day.

Dissed for having such an easy job at listing products with UPC codes over my co-worker, who specializes with products without one.

And then the days coming back, I was then complained to for not being there a total of 3 more times and then accused of ‘not asking for the day off properly,’ after having given my boss a week and a half-worth’s notice before ultimately taking the day off.

And this is one day out of the five months there. In comparison to my co-worker, whom has taken at least two every month.

Perhaps it’s petty of me to complain about a bad boss, because ultimately, it’s not the last job I’ll ever have. But it’s nice to be able to get it off my chest and finally quit this job. Now it’ll let me find a new job in a field that I hopefully can do well in. If not that, perhaps I can focus back on my artwork and make a profit from that once more. Because one thing I noticed while working for this company is that I lost my creative drive... Have you noticed it too? I don’t make as much content, I’m so unmotivated and unhappy that I just can’t bring myself to write, or draw, or make graphics -- and it’s detrimental to a person who strove to make a career out of being able to do all of this.

But now, I’m free from this job and able to get my footing once again and focus on finding a job that I will enjoy and pursue my intended career goals for the future. Who knows? Perhaps now I can focus on my commissions and working on those stories/games once more!

I have high hopes for the future ahead now. But one step at a time until then, right?

[dcnativegal]

Does the Federal Government act in its citizens’ best interest?  Discuss.

(written in January 2018)

Tomorrow is the State of the Union. Roads all around the Capitol building will be lined with police and traffic around there will be gridlocked. My friend Farrar, who is the Curator of the House of Representatives (and the least pretentious person you’d ever meet) will be sitting at the base of the podium as she must. The Awful Man who is our president by electoral but not popular vote, will lie and distort. What he says will be dissected by the left and praised by the right. Two years ago, I would have written, The Wonderful Man who is our president by electoral and popular vote will tell us things. What he says will be dissected by the right and praised by the left.

I also know that Obama deported more immigrants than previous presidents and stepped up the murder of other nations’ people by using drones. I’m having trouble finding something to praise about The Donald, just to be fair … um, most of my clients in Christmas Valley love him? (There must have been ONE thing he’s done that is beneficial and good. I’ll have to dig…)

Meanwhile, I’ve been reading articles about the relationship between the Oregon Ranchers and the federal government in articles like this one from the NYTimes.com:

Fear of the Federal Government in the Ranchlands of Oregon (https://nyti.ms/2Deywit), and this one from the other side of the aisle as it were: Fractured West: In Oregon and elsewhere, rural residents increasingly balk at Democrats’ progressive governance (https://www.city-journal.org/html/fractured-west-15611.html).   

I will say upfront and for the record that I do not understand the whole rancher/ timber/ spotted owl/ Bundy tangle for a single second. I will keep trying. Around here, the closing of mills wrought economic devastation decades ago. Was it the ending of logging thanks to that endangered owl, or was logging waning as an industry anyway? Coal is waning and there was no owl or canary to blame. I hope that healthy economies and wise environmental policy go hand in hand. Okay, call me a tree hugger.

What I do want to express is my own point of view on the goodness, the stupidity, and also the evil of the federal government, based on my life in the Capital City, the District of Columbia. As a social worker for the past 30 years I give thanks for the Older Americans’ Act, Social Security and other federal programs.  I also have many friends who have worked for the government. I think the federal government is all three things: good, stupid, and evil.

I will be learning for a very long time the particulars about how my understanding of government intersects with the understanding of the conservative people amongst whom I live, move, and have my being. Their experience is very different, although their reliance on the safety net is the same as urban folks’.

Valerie told me a story. One of the longtime rancher families have been using a gravel road through federal property right next to the Forest Service compound in Paisley. About once a year, this family rolls a big dump truck along the road to another part of their property to pick up several loads of gravel. Some whippersnapper, yes from D.C., figured this out and told them they couldn’t anymore: they were trespassing on federal property without legal right of way. The family stood up against this silliness and the regional manager stepped in. He has some age and wisdom on him and he told the young whippersnapper that the best way to get along with the ‘locals’ is not to be a rigid, bureaucratic dumbass. Either give them the right of way legally, or just leave the whole situation alone. Locals 1, D.C. Dumbass 0.

**

Top of the list of governmental evil is the work of “The Agency”, known to non-agency people as the Central Intelligence Agency, where my own dear father worked most of his adult life.  The CIA did the following:

·      Used LSD on government workers and soldiers. (Watch Wormwood on Netflix for a positively chilling multi-part documentary on how callously the CIA threw one of their own under the bus after giving him LSD. In fact, they murdered him, and covered it up for decades.)

·      Hatched plots that failed, like trying to overthrow Castro with exploding cigars.

·      The CIA also masterminded seven coups, each of which toppled  democratically-elected governments like that of Salvadore Allende in Chile and Patrice Lumumba in Congo. (Here is the map: http://foreignpolicy.com/2013/08/20/mapped-the-7-governments-the-u-s-has-overthrown/.  

We are learning that the Russians interfered far more than we could even imagine in the election process of 2016 and before. Ha, we are collecting karma. Our outrage should be tempered with the knowledge that we did the same stuff, more violently, and pre-Internet.  

**

I have said more than once that the key, that is, the entire solution to the swamp of lobbyists writing the bills and pulling the puppet strings of our congresspersons and senators (thank you NRA, Big Pharma, Northrup Grumman….) is campaign finance reform. If the American public was willing to pay a tax, a progressive tax so that richer paid more, to help candidates get elected, the swamp could return to a protected area of wetlands, and our congress could follow the will of constituents instead of corporations and organizations like the National Rifle Association.

In the absence of campaign finance reform, we have competing interests which establish public policy, and thus we get… the stupid and the evil.

Let us for a moment consider the good. ­­­­­ My friend Bonnie Milstein helped to establish the Americans with Disabilities Act. Her friend Sara Pratt enforced the Fair Housing Act which made a big difference in pushing against racism in rental housing. The Family Medical Leave Act allows people to take time to be caregivers or get extensive treatments without losing their jobs.

The Supreme Court finally allowed same sex couples to wed and therefore benefit from the more than 1,000 federal benefits that previously only accrued to straight people.

As a social worker, I am grateful that every jurisdiction in the United States has an agency dedicated to the welfare of people 60 and over. (Go to www.eldercare.gov and type in your zip code to find out which one is yours.) That the government, or ‘the state’ becomes the guardian of people 60 and over or younger than 18 who are not cared for properly by family. That there is a safety net, however shredded and stigmatized by wealthier people who think all who ask for help are malingerers.

Another act of good government was the Voting Rights Act of 1965. When my kids, their dad and I were visiting South Africa some 15 years ago, Jonah did some math in his head. He knew that the Voting Rights Act finally allowed black folks to vote, since the right to vote had been hogtied by rules that only applied to black folks following the passage of the 15th Amendment in 1870. Jonah also knew that apartheid ended in 1994. We visited in 2004. He says, so Black South Africans have been allowed to vote for 10 years (by then), and Black Americans for 40, right?

Right.

Eventually, the federal government corrects injustices. I wonder when reparations for slavery will come about.

There is much that is good in federal law and policy.

Then there’s the stupid. Like enacting Medicare Part D without limiting how long Big Pharmaceutical companies can keep their new drugs as patented, and making the American taxpayer pick up all drug costs once a recipient hits the other edge of the donut hole. If that flew over your head, just know that Medicare Part D covered medications but ultimately was a huge giveaway of bazillions to pharmaceutical companies, much of which was footed by the American taxpayer. Thank you, President Bush. Funny how it is such a sin for a person on food stamps to be supported by the taxpayer, and totally fine to support big corporations that already make huge profits.

I think that the area of stupid government policies and regulations are a big catchall for complaints of my neighbors, especially ranchers, former loggers, and the unemployed. I don’t understand how, yet. Valerie says that places like Lake County tends to get the young and the clueless federal workers and thus, the regulations handed down did not fit at all. I will keep listening.

The evil is distressing and much of it is ignored by the conservative capital P Patriots.  There’s the internment of Japanese citizens during World War 2—an exhibit and documentary just came through Paisley last week. There’s the turning away of ships filled with desperate Jews. There’s the entire Vietnam War. The murder of the Black Panthers’ leadership by the FBI. Did you know that the Panthers acted as a crucial social service provider in its day? They even used my old church to give out food.

I do agree with the capital P Patriots that federally waged war in Waco against the Branch Davidians (1993) was nuts. As was the killing of the black movement called MOVE in Philadelphia in 1985, which was less important to the capital P Patriots because, who cares about Black people. But it was the same government impetus: these particular folks are wrong and therefore it’s better to just kill them.

Let me say one more thing about the goodness of government that is important for not only the federal government but all democratically elected and appointed civil servants. It is designed to be fair. You are hired on the basis of talent and not who you know or how you voted. The current president thinks that bringing business practices to government will some how make it more efficient. What business practices introduce is cronyism and corruption. Every time Trump asks someone in the government whether they are loyal to him or not, he tears at the very basis of fair government.

I think that the reds and the blues can agree on so many things, and I believe we all want good government, not stupid or evil government.

I’m going to contemplate some more on bridge building, since I have to do that here in Lake County Oregon. I have no choice. It is not optional.

Meanwhile, my definition of patriotism remains the same as James Baldwin’s: "I love America more than any other country in this world, and, exactly for this reason, I insist on the right to criticize her perpetually."

[spinach-productions]

Overwatch: do u want 2 join Talon?

The goal here was to a.) take the idea of Reaper being terrifying and pitch it out the window, and b.) take characters who don’t interact and put them together to see what happens.  I really enjoyed this.

Might continue if I get more ideas.  No promises.

Wordcount: 2019

Summary: Hanzo has no interest in joining Talon.  No, really.  Reaper, stop asking.

A small hand mirror (extracted from a circular hand compact because its round edges are pleasing to nervous fingers) reflects Dorado’s center square, its string lights illuminating the messy space and showing it to still be empty.  Hanzo tucks the mirror into his pocket.  His communicator reads quarter-to-eleven.  He turns the display off and folds his arms.  Someone is wasting his time, and if there’s one thing Hanzo can’t abide, it’s someone who wastes his time.

He begins to dial Overwatch HQ’s main line.

“I said don’t call anyone.”

By the time the speaker his finished, Hanzo is already on the adjacent rooftop, arrow nocked and aimed into the smoky, billowing mass coiling up over the gutters of his original vantage point.

“You’re late,” he says, bow still at the ready.

“You’re not where we agreed to meet.”

“You didn’t really expect me to stand in the middle of the square.”

The mass begins to fold in on itself, trading volume for density as it builds up into a human shape.   “I don’t care what you think I expect.  I’m here to make an offer.  Put that down.”

“I will not,” Hanzo says.  “What is your offer.”

“You’ve just watched me turn into mist and ooze up the side of a building.  Do you honestly believe that sharpened stick is any kind of dissuasion?”

“If it’s no dissuasion, then you won’t mind if don’t put it away.”

The particles coalesce into a figure, roughly six feet tall by Hanzo’s estimate.  A man, if the voice isn’t modulated.  He’s wearing a hooded coat, under which is a mask that is shaped either like a skull or a barn owl.  The ensemble is black with fasteners that seem to be made of ammunition holders.  His gauntlets are large, his shoulder pads are huge, and his boots are the most enormous of all.  The entire thing, Hanzo decides, is utterly tacky.

“Fine,” Reaper says, folding his arms, “If it makes you feel better.  Did you come to hear my offer, or would you rather trade barbs over your toothpick all night?”

“I’m listening.”

“I represent an organization called Talon—”

Hanzo has already released the tension in his bowstring.  “No.”

“You don’t know what I was going to say.”

“I’m well aware of your organization,” he says, storing the arrow back in its quiver, “You believe that humanity is strengthened through conflict.  To this end, you stir up chaos wherever you go, although why you wish to force growth on humanity is a mystery to me.”  Hanzo swings himself off the roof to a drainpipe, “I do not share your ideology, I do not care for the means through which you pursue your goals, and I am not interested in aiding or joining your cause.”

Reaper watches him.  The mask doesn’t articulate emotions, but he has an air of inhuman patience about him.  “I have ways of making you change your mind.”

“I will not,” Hanzo says as he scales down the building’s façade.

“You will,” Reaper calls from the roof.

“I will not!”  Hanzo rebuts as he exits the square.

As he selects Overwatch, Gibraltar from his list of contacts, he hears a faint noise through the cracks in Dorado’s historic architecture, like a man-sized pile of autumn leaves burning to ash and scattering across the ground.  The wind carries a faint whisper that sounds eerily like You will.

Hanzo allows himself an eye roll as he keys in his location for extraction.

-

“There’s no need to debase yourself,” Winston says when Hanzo’s report strays into reassurances about his allegiance, “I had full confidence in you.  If there were doubts about your loyalty, I wouldn’t have invited you to Overwatch.”

“Thank you,” Hanzo replies.  He clears his throat to cover the gratitude that must show in his voice.  “Do you believe Talon’s interest was based on my abilities, or my place in the organization?”

Winston skims the last of Hanzo’s written files before uploading them into one of Athena’s many databases.  “Both make you a prime target.  I’m grounding you for a few days to see if I can find where they the intel.  Most likely they caught you during their surveillance of Overwatch, but I want to be sure they haven’t breached our security.  I’d like your eyes on it after I’ve done the first sweep.”

“Of course,” Hanzo says.

Winston sends him off with two days off and strict instructions to schedule a full physical sometime during them.  Hanzo makes a reluctant appointment with Doctor Ziegler for the next morning.  Having completed his return-to-base duties, he showers off the post-mission stink and settles at his desk with a cup of tea and the latest piece of Helix security coding queued up on his tablet.

He’s just begun testing for standard weaknesses (which Helix usually covers beautifully, but it’s always good to try the basics first) when there’s a knock at the door.

“One moment,” he calls, saving his progress and locking the tablet before he opens the door.

“I want you to reconsider— now stop that.”

Hanzo, who has already grabbed his bow and quiver and thrown himself out the window, rolls to his feet at the edge of the cliff and slams the red Intruder Alert button on his communicator.  The base’s windows turn red as the lights switch to emergency mode, and a klaxon begins sounding the alarm that means a hostile agent has breached Overwatch’s defenses.  Hanzo slings the quiver over his shoulder and sprints along the path leading towards the control room in hope of getting some part of the base on lockdown.

The ground ahead of him begins to crackle and smoke, and Reaper rises up out of the grass with his arms crossed like this encounter isn’t meeting his expectations.

“You’re not listening to me,” he says.  

Hanzo dodges around him, desperately trying to remember if there are any shortcuts to the main hall that connects with Winston’s meeting room.  If not, he’ll have to run the full perimeter and scale the barriers that have surely descended around the front door by now, which isn’t impossible but will slow him down considerably.

“Who threw the alarm?”  Someone barks into the main communications channel.

“I did,” Hanzo replies, “Gabriel Reyes just knocked on my door.”

“What?  Are you sure?”

“Unless someone here has taken to wearing black cloaks with an owl mask.  Then it would be a problem of taste rather than security,” Hanzo deadpans.  He recognizes this as his tendency to shut down his emotions in the face of danger.

The ground ahead regurgitates Reaper again.  “My taste is impeccable.”

Hanzo fire off an arrow.  It passes through Reaper’s wraith form and soars into the distance.

The smoky human shape slithers through the air and places itself directly on the path, cutting off Hanzo’s only escape route.  Reaper materializes and has the gall to look annoyed.  “I said stop that.”

Hanzo lets loose a volley of arrows.  Each finds its mark in Reaper’s torso, knees, head, and each continues through until the ground is peppered with failed homicide attempts.

“Stop shooting me,” Reaper snaps, “I want to make another offer.”

“There is nothing you can offer me,” Hanzo snarls, bow drawn as he tries to edge between Reaper and the building.

Reaper matches his movements.  “The Shimada Clan is in shambles.  Talon could pull them together under your leadership.”

“I will do no such thing,” Hanzo spits.  Over the communication chatter coming from his wrist, he can hear the intruder alarm spilling out of an open window behind him and halfway up the wall.

Reaper holds his ground.  “You could rebuild it, better, strong.  In your own image instead of your father’s.”

Hanzo stashes Stormbow on his back and scales the wall, vaulting back into the cacophonous base without answering.  Reaper’s sigh carries on the wind again as Hanzo pings his location and runs for the control room.

-

It takes several hours for the various members stations at Gibraltar to turn the base upside-down.  Unsurprisingly, they find nothing.  Hanzo gives his second report of the night.  With little doubt that Reaper’s second visit means there will be a third, Winston creates a buddy-system schedule to ensure Hanzo’s safety while on base.

“This is humiliating,” he tells Orisa as she finishes sweeping his room.

“It is logical,” she disagrees, carefully pushing his chair back under the desk.  “The hour is late; a human guard would be affected if they were to guard you at this hour, but I am able to recharge at any time.”

“I meant it’s humiliating that Winston thinks I need a guard at all,” he snaps.

“That is also logical.  If there are two people, no one can be taken unaware.”

“I have trained since childhood to prepare for an assassin’s life.  There is no need for anyone to babysit me,” Hanzo snarls.

Orisa pauses.  Hanzo has seen this behavior when she is researching vocabulary.  “I do not believe Winston believes you incapable,” she says a moment later.

The pause has given him a moment to collect himself, and for that, he is grateful.  Hanzo takes a slow breath and mirrors her calm.  “You are probably correct,” he says in a smoothed-out voice, “It would be foolish to leave a target unguarded, no matter what their skill level.  There is no reason to sacrifice safety for my pride.”

“Your pride is important, but in this case, there are other things to be considered,” Orisa says agreeably.  “I will take up a position outside to ensure the hallway is clear.  Please summon me if you have any need.”

Hanzo thanks her and bids her goodnight.  His ego stings, but Orisa has given him space to see the necessity behind Winston’s plan.

He sighs, toeing off his shoes and opening the closet to retrieve a robe.

“Don’t shoot me this time.”

Hanzo slams the door shut.

“Rude,” Reaper says from the other side.

He leaves one shaky hand planted against the closet door.  It will do little good if Reaper decides to ooze between the cracks in the frame, but it makes Hanzo feel better.  “Why are you in my room?”

“Well I came to make an offer, but I guess what I really wanted was to sit in your clothes hamper and chat through a door all night.”

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t call the OR-15 unit standing outside.”

“Because you haven’t been able to catch me so far and you want to gather intelligence.  It’s what you do in the face of uncertainty.”

He isn’t wrong.  Hanzo glares at the door.  “Alright.  What is your offer?”

Something makes a noise like someone moving several coat hangers to one side and then shifting to lean against a wall.  “Your clan, your power, and your family.  All of it, up to and including the latest research in human genetic regeneration for your brother.”

“Is that what happened to you?  Regeneration?”

“Don’t interrupt, but yes, something like that.  The technology has advanced since I… happened, and there have been multiple cases where over 70% of the body was restored.  So what I’m really offering is redemption.  You like redemption, don’t you?”

“You’re absurd,” Hanzo mutters.

“And you murdered your brother.  Wouldn’t it be nice to make up for that?”

“You don’t know anything,” Hanzo hisses.

“Of course, what would I know about death?  Aside from that fact that it turns up in the least expected places and doesn’t appreciate the smell of lilac detergent.”

“I did not choose the soap--”  Hanzo uses his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.  “I am going to call the guard in a moment.  Please leave by whatever means you entered.”

“Think about the offer,” Reaper says, followed by the same burning/scattering noise from Dorado.

Hanzo wrenches open the door to find his closet predictably empty.  He stomps to the door, informs Orisa of his visitor, and allows himself to be relocated to an empty set of quarters while his room is systematically taken apart because someone decided to make a house call.

[kitten1618x]

Why as a Jonsa shipper I'm not threatened by Targcest and you shouldn't be either.

So last night in the wee hours of morn, my GoT soul sistah @everythingjonsa and I were fangirling and flailing -you know, the shipping norm. Somewhere between all that, we had some serious discussion. Some of it has been already been proposed, but with a possible Targbowl on the very near horizon, let's recap anyway.

Let me start by saying this isn't an anti-Dany post. I happen to LOVE The Mother of Dragons with the burning heat of a thousand suns! She started at rock bottom -literally as nothing more than chattel -a piece of property to be sold by her own brother for personal gain, to a man that started out as her rapist (because while I love Khal Drogo -facts are facts, my babies -and yes, rape can exist in a marriage). But before I delve too deep into that, let me rewind a bit.

This is going to be long and convoluted (because that's how me and my scattered thoughts roll), so if you've got the patience for my rambling, read on!

So, a lot of people have their own theories and interpretations of what the song of ice and fire is to them. From season one, we've seemed to have been following along the parallel journey of two heroes. Both underdogs (and who doesn't root for the underdogs???), both making mistakes and learning hard life lessons along the way, both whom never seem to be able to grasp onto any modicum of happiness for very long, and both losing their first loves tragically. Yet, we've watched them both grow stronger and more self-aware. Seems like TPTB (the powers that be) are purposely paralleling these two characters for a reason.

One of ice. One of fire.

They seem destined to meet up eventually - This "song" of ice and fire. And here's where this ship was born.

So before we fast forward, let's hit the rewind button a bit more, and head back to season 1 Dany, and her evolution from bullied baby sis, to "the next time you raise a hand at me will be the last time you have hands." Her time among the Dothraki have made her more confident, and the love she's sewn with Drogo has fledged her out into a full blown Khaleesi. And when Visereys meets his miserable end, it seems pretty damn justifiable. In fact, any time that one of Dany's foes meets a horrible end (especially in the earlier seasons) -it almost always does seem deserved, as they have usually revealed themselves to be miserable shits. Her brother, Mirri Maz Durr (the witch responsible for Drogo's death and who cursed Dany), the King of Qarth and Doreah (the whore), the Master of the Unsullied, etc. There may be some I'm leaving out, but you get the point.

It wasn't until later seasons that we see a cold cruelness begin to emerge from her -a sort of enjoyment in killing people -like the Master she had her Dragons burn alive in the crypts (and seemed to enjoy toying with the others watching while it happened), and the Khals in the temple. The Master she burned alive may have been innocent, but Dany didn't care, she played judge, jury and executioner right on the spot -just as when she had other Masters crucified (even ones who spoke out about crucifying children, as Hizdahr zo Loraq pointed out). The killing of the Khals I can place in a more ambiguous light, because they were kind of dicks, although they didn't start insulting/threatening her until she disrespected them and said they weren't fit to lead the Dothraki and that she would take them for herself.

But here's thing -if you were actually paying attention -go back to the beginning and rewatch ANY of the times someone has died at the hands of or indirectly by Dany, she has this crazed satisfied look on her face. It's almost as if she enjoys killing people. 

I'm not negating the good things she's done or tried to do. Her inherent need to abolish slavery isn't wrong -it's her methods of achieving it that I take issue with. And God forbid if you disagree with her methods? No one can argue that disagreeing with what the Dragon Queen perceives as wrong, usually puts you at the top of her flaming hit list. Sounds quite tyrannical, no?

Despite everything I've just said, I really do think that Dany constantly struggles to do the right thing -because she wants to be a good and just ruler, but it's that damn dragon temper that gets in her way sometimes. Luckily, she's always had level-headed advisers around her -Jorah, Ser Barristan and now Tyrion, and she does usually listen to them. But, what would've happened if they weren't around?

On the other hand, we have Ser Ice himself, the honorable Jon Snow, who lives by the same code as the man who raised him, Ned Stark. And without making this meta impossibly longer (because I could drone on about Jon's faults and wonderful qualities forever), two very stark (har dee har har, pun intended) differences I see between Dany and Jon are: while Jon has done plenty of his own killing in the series, he certainly doesn't enjoy it. Even when he was executing the men who had murdered him - you could see by the look on his face vs. hers (burning the Khals).

He who passed the sentence, swung the sword, but this was painful for him -and prior to cutting the rope, he even let Ser Alistair have his last words. Jon is just and fair. Jon doesn't want to be a leader, but he just keeps getting thrust into the position. Yes, he makes mistakes, but he does this whole leadership thing pretty well (aside from not listening to Sansa when he should). ;)

On the other hand .... we have Dany threatening to take back what’s hers with blood and fire. What makes it hers?

Baby girl ....you is the usurper, now!

So, the (hopelessly longwinded) point I'm actually trying to make is that I think they purposefully walked the line on this darker side of Dany, while always putting her in am ambiguous light because they WANTED us to root for her right alongside of Jon. They wanted us to think they were the song of ice and fire together, until ....They finally revealed to us that R+L=J

So if Jon's the son of Rhaegar Targaryen (fire) and Lyanna Stark (ice) then Jon, and Jon alone is the song.

Dany is only fire. So where does she fit in? Despite all my rambling, I'm not necessarily sure that Dany will be the villain here. I certainly think she'll be switching to an antagonist POV, though. Clearly, her and her Dragons have an important role to play in the war against the WW. I personally think she will have a huge part in saving Westeros at the cost of her own life.

Despite Jon having Targ blood, Jon is and always will be a STARK at heart. It's who he is at his core -honorable and just, exactly like Ned.

So that's what we came up with -maybe the huge twist is that Dany isn't the hero we've all been following along and rooting for since season 1. Or maybe she is -just not in the way a lot of people are expecting. GRRM certainly loved to blur the lines between good and bad. Maybe she's both?

So the point to all this? It's why I don't ship them. It's why whether or not boatbang or Targcest (or whatever any of you want to call it) actually proves to be true and happens --it doesn't threaten our ship in the slightest. So everyone take a collective chill and Jonsa on, mmmkay?