#Three Common Cannon Complaints | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vintage-story-time · 3 years

Text

SPYING ON MOM by Donna Allen

CHAPTER EIGHT

Helen Taylor knew a kinky twist when she saw one. She'd been running the Blue Lake Resort nearly fifteen years and she'd learned a great

deal about people. You had to put two and two together and get four. Here was this couple now in cabin number five, far back from the

main house and almost in the woods. Mother and son in the cabin, the guy about eighteen and the mother twice that age, but looking

years younger. Outside the cabin, out on the lake or in the dining room in the main house, they were nothing unusual. Inside the cabin

they walked around naked and the mother thought nothing of handling the guy's cock.

Helen saw that by accident with her own eyes. She just happened to be in the woods near the

cabin and she took a look through one of the windows. The next day she went back again, and this time she saw the mother suck the guy

off. Two plus two equals four. Mother and son were lovers.

Helen was more fascinated than shocked. She didn't much care what people did with their lives. That was their own business. As long as

they didn't hurt anyone else, why should anyone give a damn? That's what Helen told herself. But there was another and more important

reason why she wasn't shocked. She'd had an incestuous affair with her own son for years. He was now away in college and she hardly

saw much of him any more, but whenever he came home to visit they would always have their own special reunion. How could she

possibly be shocked by what was going on in the Miller cabin? She wasn't shocked, she was damned intrigued by it.

After that, Helen stayed away from cabin number five. She wanted to avoid any chance of being caught spying on them. Instead, she

made a plan to get to know the Millers a little better. As soon as she could, she sat down at their table in the big dining roam. Since she

ran the place, it seemed natural for her to be friendly to the guests.

The Millers were both cordial. Helen had some wine brought to the table. She imagined herself making it with the, guy. He looked

capable. She'd been divorced for what seemed like a thousand years and she liked cock. She also liked other things. Pat Miller was very

attractive, and Helen had no trouble imagining herself making it with her, too. No trouble at all. She could also imagine making it with

both mother and son. The idea of that really gave Helen a buzz. She wondered if it could be arranged. You never knew what people might

do until you gave it a try.

The next morning when Helen saw Stuart alone in the reading room in the main house, she invited him to play tennis with her.

"You look bored," she said. "Maybe you can help me get some exercise."

The guy was willing. They met ten minutes later on the court and they batted a ball back and forth for more than an hour. The more Helen

saw of him the more she liked him. He had an assurance about him. He reminded her of her own son. She suspected he knew how to give

a woman a strong fuck in bed. She had seen his cock twice, once soft and once hard, and there was certainly enough there to gun her

motor.

After they finished playing tennis, Helen invited Stuart to her cabin for a beer. She walked in front of him to let him look at her ass in her

white tennis shorts. He had already seen her tits jumping round while they were on the court. Even in a bra, they jumped. She took a 38-D

cup and she had plenty to show in front. Without a bra the weight made them droop a bit, the nipples painting south. Her son said she had

the kind of tits that made a man want to suck until his jaws hurt.

She liked Stuart's looks. Except for her son, she never fooled much with guys his age. But she knew all about them. How you could get

their cannons to go off three or four times before they were finished. That's the way Jimmy was. Her son seemed to have an eternal hard-

on once he started, and Stuart Miller looked just as virile. The Miller boy had a delicious body. She quivered as she remembered what his

cock and balls looked like.

Once they were inside Helen's cabin, she brought out the cold beer and started flirting with him. She had no problems. She knew exactly

what she wanted and she already knew more about Stuart than he realized. As she expected, he made no attempt to fend her off. He

flirted back. They bantered and laughed and

came on to each other. She could see he had eyes for her tits. They were bigger than his mothers s and she could see her tits turned him

on.

After a while she asked him about his girlfriends. She got him to admit that he was no novice with girls. She smiled at him.

"I could tell right away," she said. "You look like you know your way around a woman."

He sipped his beer and then smiled back at her. "I'm not a kid, if that's what you mean."

"No, you're not, so maybe I ought to be direct with you."

"About what?"

"About what I'm thinking. Right now I'm sitting here thinking about how much I'd like to suck your cock."

He was silent a moment. Then he chuckled. "How about that?"

"Yes, how about it?" Helen said.

"You mean it, huh?"

"Of course I mean it."

She took hold of the bottom of her teeshirt and peeled it off. In a moment she had her bra unhooked and tossed away. Lifting her big tits

in her hands, she pointed her nipples at him.

"Believe it now?"

He pursed his lips and gave a low whistle. "God, what a pair!"

She dropped her tits and rose up. She held her arms out to him and he cane to her she kissed his mouth, her belly pressing against the

bulge in his shorts.

"Let's have a look at this."

Stepping back, she worked at his belt and opened the top of his shorts. She pulled everything down to his ankles, denim shorts and jockey

shorts. Then she straightened up again. His cock bobbed in front of her, thick and stiff and already dripping. She cupped her hand under

his balls and then ran her fingertips along the underside of his prick.

"Are you going to pop off in my mouth?" He looked at her with hot eyes. "Do you want me to?"

"Yes, that's what I want."

The next moment she was down on her knees with his fuck-knob in her mouth. He had a meaty prick, hot and throbbing. She liked the

smell and taste of it. His crotch was sweaty after the hour of tennis. Like a gourmet meal, she thought. Her son had a bigger prick, but

this one was nice enough. Gorgeous knob and a heavy pair of balls. The guy was well-hung. Maybe it was all the exercise he got with his

mother.

"Shoot it," she said.

She squeezed his nuts as she worked his cock with her mouth. She had him groaning before long. He pumped his hips as he started

spurting. Four long spurts of his ropey jism. She twisted his ball-bag. She pursed her lips over the tip of his cock and sucked him dry.

"Oh wow!" he said.

"I guess that means you liked it."

"Do you want me to stay? I'll get hard again and fuck you, if you want."

She patted his dangling cock and shook her head. "Maybe next time, honey. We'll have something to look forward to."

"You promise?"

She promised him. She kissed him again and watched him pull his clothes up. What a shame to cover that lovely prick. But she knew it

was for the best. She had to work on his mother first. She sent Stuart away and lay down to take a nap before lunch.

After that the day passed quickly. In the evening, after dinner, Helen found Pat Miller in the bar. Stuart was in the TV room watching a

ballgame. Helen smiled at Pat, sat down beside her and ordered a daiquiri.

"Mind some company?"

Pat smiled and welcomed her. "I was just about to get lonely."

They started talking. This was the second time, and it wasn't long before they warmed to each other. They had a number of things in

common. They were both women who had survived a wrecked marriage and raised a son without much help from anyone.

They started talking about men. After a while Pat hinted that she knew about Helen's little tryst with Stuart that morning.

"He tells me everything," Pat said.

Helen raised an eyebrow. "Everything?" "Everything."

"Maybe I should be embarrassed." Pat laughed. "What for?"

"You don't mind?"

"Definitely not. Anyway, let's not pussyfoot about it. He says he enjoyed it and I have no complaints."

Helen was pleased. They continued talking, had another round of drinks, and then it was Helen's turn to hint at something. Pat picked up

on it immediately. She questioned Helen and Helen said yes, she knew about Pat and Stuart. She explained how she'd seen them

accidentally. She said nothing about coming back to look again.

"Serves me right for not pulling the shades," Pat said. "Does it bother you? About Stuart

and me? Some people would start screaming." Helen chuckled. "Not me. I'm not like that.

In any case, why would I scream when the territory is so familiar?"

Helen explained to a surprised Pat about her affair with her own son. Pat listened intently as Helen told her Jimmy was now away in

college.

"They grow up fast," Helen said wistfully.

"They sure do!"

"We seem to like the same sort of candy." Pat smiled. "It seems we do." Helen snickered. "Two big swingers drinking alone in the

mountains. I assure you I've had wilder times. With more than one, if you want to know. I like them in pairs."

"With your son?"

"No, not with him. The loggers come into these mountains every spring and I manage to find some entertainment. I like them with

muscles. And big cocks."

Pat laughed. "I like you."

"And I like you, too. Have you ever made it with a woman?"

The question hung there. Pat was silent a long moment as she stirred her drink. Then she said:

"As a matter of fact, I have."

"So have I."

"I assumed that when you asked the question."

"I like it."

"I think I'd like it a lot with you. We're sitting here drinking when we might be doing something more interesting. I think I'd like going

down on you."

"Lord, how reckless we are!" Pat said with a smile. "I don't think I can refuse an offer like that."

Ten minutes later they were in Helen's cabin. They kissed. Pat put her hands on Helen's tits.

"Stuart told me about these. I'd like to look at them."

Helen slipped out of her shirt and bra. She held her tits in her hands. "They hang too much."

Her excitement evident in her eyes, Pat shook her head. "They're lovely."

"Quick, on the bed. I want you." Helen turned the lights down while Pat undressed. Then Helen stripped the rest of her clothes off and

joined Pat on the bed.

"You've got me shaking," Pat said.

"And dripping, I hope."

"You'll find out"

"I like a good deal of sauce on the entree."

Pat chuckled. The next moment her chuckle turned into a moan as Helen's mouth found her cunt. Pat pulled her knees back to her tits as

Helen settled down to her meal.

As far as Helen was concerned, Pat had the loveliest cunt she'd had in a long time. It wasn't often that Helen made it with a woman her

own age. There were too many pretty young girls around, girls either already gay or willing to try a woman to see if they liked it. Pat was

something different. A mature woman very much like Helen herself. A ripe cunt oozing a thick stew of fuck-juice that turned Helen on and

increased her daring.

She traveled south with her tongue. She visited Pat's asshole. Pat accepted the compliment and quickly rolled her ass up to make herself

more available.

"I do love that," Pat said.

Helen stiffened her tongue and used it to probe Pat's asshole.

They kept at it a long time. Helen did all the sucking. Cunt-hole and asshole. She had offered to go down on Pat and she expected no

favors in return. She didn't need any. Sucking Pat's juicy cunt was a treat. Helen slurped and dug

in. She used her nose and mouth and chin. Pat groaned and came, her fuck-juices drizzling over

Helen's face.

When Pat recovered, she said: "How about a three-way?"

Helen looked up from Pat's wet pussy and smiled. "With Stuart?"

"That's right."

"I'd love it," Helen said.

The next evening after dinner, Helen went to the Miller cabin. Pat opened the door when she knocked.

"We conned a bottle of champagne out of your bartender," Pat said.

She wore drop earrings and a pair of high heels and nothing else. Stuart wore only a pair of blue jockey shorts, his cock and balls bulging

in the pouch. Helen looked them both up and down and chuckled.

"I think I'll be getting lucky tonight." "But first you get some clothes off," Pat said.

Helen quickly stripped. She hefted her tits in her hands, enjoying the admiration in the eyes of both of them. "I've had the hots over this all

day."

Stuart opened the champagne and poured.

After the champagne was tasted, Pat moved close to Helen and kissed her.

"I never got to look at all of you last night," Pat purred. She fondled one of Helen's big tits and then stroked Helen's impressive ass.

"You're a lot of woman."

"With some wear on the chassis."

"It looks fine to me. Fine and tasty."

"If you're offering, I won't refuse."

They put their champagne glasses down and went to the sofa. Helen loved having her pussy eaten. She was thrilled by the way Pat looked

at her. Pat's eyes radiated hot lust. Stuart sat nearby, sipping his champagne as he watched them.

Before Helen sat down, the two women kissed and fondled each other. Pat rubbed her nipples against Helen's. Then she slipped a hand

between them and tickled Helen's pussy with her fingertips. "Stuart gets turned on when he sees me eat a woman. Isn't that true,

darling?"

Stuart nodded. "That's right, Mom." "Is Jimmy the same?"

"He certainly is."

When Helen moved her legs apart, Pat slipped two fingers inside Helen's cunt-hole. "You're very fuckable. I'd love to fuck you with a cock."

"You're making me hot."

"Sit down, honey. Let Pat make you feel good."

Before long, Helen was seated on the sofa with her knees up and Pat's mouth on her pussy. Pat teased Helen by doing a lot of sniffing and

superficial licking. Helen finally had to grab Pat's head to pull Pat's face against her cunt.

"Come on, suck it," Helen said in a throaty voice.

Pat laughed and nuzzled in. She rubbed Helen's clit with her nose while she lapped at Helen's cunt-hole. Helen groaned and lifted her tits

in her hands. She pinched her nipples with her fingers as she gazed down at Pat's head.

Stuart watched them. His cock was soon too hard to keep covered. He peeled his shorts off and tossed them away. Then he took his cock

in his hand and returned his eyes to the women on the sofa.

"Came over here," Helen said to Stuart.

When the guy walked over, he smiled at her. "Is she giving good bead?"

"Don't talk so much and stick your cock in my mouth."

She sucked his prick while Pat ate her pussy. Mother on one end and son on the other. She had never made it with a duo like this. Now

she

knew how others felt when they balled her and Jimmy together.

After a while she pushed Stuart away. "Get behind her and fuck her," Helen said.

Stuart grinned. He moved behind his mother's ass. Kneeling on the floor behind her, he fingered her cunt and then drilled his cock inside

her cunt.

Pat groaned into Helen's pussy. She wiggled her ass as Stuart began fucking her. Helen held her tits in her hands and rolled her nipples

with her fingers as she watched Stuart fucking his mother.

Stuart ran his hands over Pat's ass as he fucked her cunt. He loved her ass. His mother's lovely ass. He rubbed her asshole with the ball of

his thumb as his cock slid, in and out of her stretched cunt-hole. With a sly grin at Helen, he dropped some saliva on his mother's asshole

and rubbed it around with his finger.

"Yes," Helen said, "I'd like to watch that." "What about you?" Stuart asked.

"Maybe later.

After that he pulled his cock out of Pat's cunt and pushed his fuck-knob at her asshole. Pat grunted, opened her ass and his prick popped

inside.

"Oh yeah!" Stuart said. Gripping her ass

with his hands, he drove forward to bury his cock to the hilt in her shitter.

Helen quivered. She liked nothing better than a hot prick up her ass. She never let anyone do it except Jimmy. She thought maybe tonight

she would break her rule and let Stuart fuck her ass. He had such a delicious cock. She would pretend it was Jimmy's prick packing her

shit-tube.

Helen came after that. She blew her climax on Pat's face. Pat guzzled on Helen's pussy, nibbling her clit until the end and then sucking up

the juices flowing out of Helen's gaping cunthole. When Pat finally pulled away, she told Stuart to fuck Helen.

"She needs it now," Pat said.

Helen was more than ready for his cock, but she wasn't too keen on the idea of his prick coming straight out of Pat's ass. But then Pat

looked at Helen and caught it. Pat smiled, waited until Stuart's cock was out of her ass. Then, as Helen watched, Pat went down on

Stuart's prick to clean it with her mouth.

God, what a pair they are! Helen thought. Her pulse racing with excitement, she watched Pat lick and suck the cock that had just been

inside her ass.

Before long Stuart's cock was ready for Helen. She bent over on one of the armchairs.

The guy moved behind her and quickly filled her cunt-channel with his fat prick.

"Oh boy, he's good," Helen said. She reached underneath to grab his balls. She rubbed his ball-bag over her clit. She loved the way he

fucked her. All that solid fuck-meat stretching her cunt-hole.

Stuart fucked Helen's cunt a good five minutes. Then he started rubbing her asshole with his finger. "How about now?"

"I'll need something," Helen said.

Pat took care of that. "I've got some baby oil," she said. In a moment she had the oil dripped into Helen's asscrack. "Mmmmmm, I like

doing this," she said. She made sounds of pleasure as she worked the oil into Helen's asshole.

Then Stuart pulled his cock out of Helen's cunt and raised it up to get at her shitter. His mother helped him. Holding his cockshaft, she

positioned his cockhead on the ring of Helen's asshole.

"Open the door, Helen!"

Helen opened her ass and a moment later Stuart's cock slipped inside.

"Oh baby," Helen said. She imagined it was Jimmy's cock. Then she told herself she was being silly. It was nice to have a fresh cock up her

ass. Very nice indeed.

Pat moved behind Stuart. She fondled his ass as he fucked in and out of Helen's stretched shithole. It always turned her on to see him

fuck another woman. She held his balls in her hand, squeezed his nuts each time he buried his cock in Helen's shitter. Then, still holding

his balls, she worked her thumb inside his asshole and reamed him out.

"Oh fuck!" Stuart moaned.

"Go, baby," Pat said. "Dump it in her ass!" Stuart groaned and shot his load. Helen came when she felt his jism freshly lubricate her

shitter. She closed her asshole around his cock and milked him dry.

"Listen," Helen said a little while later, "I've got an idea."

"What's that?" Pat said.

"Stay on another week and Jimmy will be here. Maybe we could make a foursome."

Pat laughed. "I could go for that. How about you, Stuart?"

Stuart pulled his cock out of Helen's ass and watched her asshole close. "I like the mountains," he said. "I really do, Mom."

THE END

#SPYING ON MOM by Donna Allen #Chapter 8 #The end

2 notes · View notes

elladastinkardiamou · 4 years

Photo

This week’s newsletter from AthensLive is out. The newsletter comes around and touches on other issues like the Novartis case and the situation and status of the Corona pandemic in Greece, but the main part this week is dedicated to the increased role of the Police in Greece as an integrated part of the politics and ideology of the Nea Demokratia government. As an exception - from the importance of the message - this whole part is quoted below.

To every question, the Greek government’s answer is: Police.

A sworn enemy of the university asylum law, established after the fall of the Junta to ensure that nothing like the invasion with the tank in the Polytechnic School during the 1973 Uprising happens again. The ND government had long decided to abolish it. Indeed, the university asylum law was abolished on 8 August 2020, amidst the pandemic, with the votes of ND and the Greek Solution. Those opposing the banishing of the asylum law were posing the question of why such need, since anyway the police had always the right to enter campuses when a criminal act was committed inside them. The move however signaled clearly that the ND government had a plan. Thus, they recently initiated the procedure of institutionalizing a University Police. In a country that has suffered from military rule, when the Junta had special police and security forces in the Universities spying for dissidents, this awakes a painful past. Given that police brutality has been on the rise in lockdown Greece, exclusively targeted against activists and the youth, as we have continuously reported in this newsletter. That the government has been attacking long-standing democratic institutions, like lifting the parliamentary immunity of a DiEM25 MP for a speech she made in Parliament after a police union had filed a complaint against her, it is so very obvious why we are utterly freaked out with this development. Despite the fierce reaction of the rectors, who had already stated their disagreement with university police plans from the very beginning (a relevant petition circulating has already been signed by close to 1,000 academics from all across the progressive political spectrum). One of the reasons being it essentially abolishes the constitutionally guaranteed self-administration of the universities, the Ministry of Education presented the regressive bill along with Minister of “Citizens’ Protection” Michalis Chrysochoides on Wednesday. It is the first time in the last 40 years that the Education and the Police Minister gave a common Press Conference for Higher Education issues, and if this alone signifies a lot about this government. The bill includes controlled access to university buildings, police presence 24/7, and continuous electronic surveillance. One thousand policemen will be hired for this purpose (for start). They will not be armed, will wear special uniforms, have policing and even preliminary investigation responsibilities, and will refer directly to the chief of the Greek Police. As the Minister of Education said the police would even act “preventatively”. It is worth noting that there has been big hiring and huge purchases during the pandemic by the Ministry of “Citizens protection.” We referred to its recent 31 million purchases program. This week, it was reported that the Greek police are about to buy three more water cannons. At the same time (and we hate we have to repeat ourselves once again) the hospitals cry out for more staff and crucial infrastructure, while the Ministry of Education has not even tried to for example rent more spaces and make classrooms less populated in the context of the anti-Covid19 fight. It worths noting that even before “police-is-the-answer-to-everything” Mistotakis’s government, Greece had the highest number of police officers in the EU-27 (just under 500 per 100,000 inhabitants, as of 2016-2018), coming second only to Cyprus (which is half under occupation) and surpassing even Erdogan’s Turkey by a bit. After ND came to power, they hired more policemen. Indicatively, just one month after their election, in August 2019, they announced the hiring of 1,500 policemen, while within 2020 they announced the hiring of close to 2,000 border guards. Last-minute news was that the Transportation Minister announced on Friday that a police body will also be established for public transport (the announcement came after the serious beating of an underground employee by two passengers, which caused the public prosecutor to intervene). However, the government couldn’t have “given birth” to new public transportation buses, as Mitsotakis famously said, buses that would help reduce crowding. Why not hire half of the country’s citizens to be police, so they can police the other half? Why does the EU, which has been so vocal as to Greece’s spending when it comes to welfare, have no words for all this police-related expenditure? The Higher Education bill includes however more regressive clauses. The bill, which will be put in electronic consultation immediately, introduces a minimum university entry requirement to be defined by each department through a very complex system and a maximum degree programs period, allowing students only two years extra time (three for the five-year courses) to finish their degrees. It should be noted that there is no welfare for the so-called “eternal students”, which means they don’t consume public money, they are just names on a database. Despite the fact the bill provides for exemptions due to work or health reasons, the situation is so complicated in Greece with unregistered or under-registered employment that a student could certainly lose a term because he/she is working. Apart from trying to make higher education accessible to those who can afford it, with this bill they also set up a disciplinary council for students, to be called among others to investigate “offenses” ranging from copying during exams and… noise-pollution to mobilizations and squatting. The sentences will range from simple reprimands to expulsion from university due to “non-contentious prohibition of the institution’s regular functioning.” Which could be anything. It is worth noting that all opposition parties refer to the bill as repressive, especially regarding the university police. Even KINAL, which supports university infrastructure guarding in principle, reacted to the measure, characterizing it as anachronistic. University Authorities are pushed to undertake the role assigned to them according to the new bill, otherwise, they will be evaluated negatively as to their funding. The bill was “welcomed” with students’ demonstrations on Thursday. The police (this police which will enter the universities) beat and tear-gassed the students who had been keeping physical distance and were wearing masks. The police employed their usual brutality. By pushing and encircling the protesters, they led them no choice but to crowd, exposing them thus to Covid19. This, our dear readers, is expected to be the end of free Higher Education for all in Greece as well as the end of the University as a free space for the circulation of ideas. Unless strong reaction comes.By reading the newsletter - and even better by subscribing or becoming a supporting member - you will also find a lot of links to other sources and to events and developments that you will not otherwise come across. And even if some of them are in Greek only, by using a Translator in your browser, it will be easy to read no matter how familiar you are with the Greek language.

This, our dear readers, is expected to be the end of free Higher Education for all in Greece as well as the end of the University as a free space for the circulation of ideas. Unless strong reaction comes. ------- By reading the newsletter - and even better by subscribing or becoming a supporting member - you will also find a lot of links to other sources and to events and developments that you will not otherwise come across. And even if some of them are in Greek only, by using a Translator in your browser, it will be easy to read no matter how familiar you are with the Greek language.

It cannot be recommended strongly enough to read and share this week’s updates on the events and developments in Greece here:

https://us13.campaign-archive.com/…

For anyone with a wish or need to follow and to gain an insight into recent events in Greece and to read and support independent and investigative journalism in English, the weekly newsletter from AthensLive should be a core element in the reading flow.

If you want the best overview of the events and developments in Greece right now, this is the place to go. Not the mainstream Greek news, but independent journalism with sharp analysis and links to interesting and important topics from a variety of sources.

Become a member and get the newsletter in your inbox every week here:

http://bit.ly/2GkVuYt

#Greece #AthensLive #Newsletter #Police #Corona virus #NOVARTIS #Politics

2 notes · View notes

taiblogcomics · 4 years

Text

Absolutely Thera-Pissed

Hey there, visas and green cards. It's our ninth blogaversary! Wow, we've been going for quite a long time. Long enough to completely change platforms at least once. Considering we just finished our whole backlog, I think we should try something new in honour of the amazing coincidence of these two events synching up. Before we start on another backlog of terrible comics (trust me, I have something in mind), let's do something we've never done before on this blog. We've only ever really covered comics issue by issue. How would you feel, dear readers, if we instead did an entire storyline all at once?

And oh boy, do I have just the storyline in mind. Here's the cover:

Oh yeah. We're doing this. This story has kind of hung over this blog, mostly due to its connections to Red Hood and the Outlaws. It also prominitely features Harley Quinn, who also appeared in Suicide Squad (which ended before this story took place). And personally, I am a fan of Harley, Booster, and the Titans. And oh boy, does this comic shit all over them, in some of the most truly appalling ways possible. This is Heroes in Crisis. All nine issues. Let's jump right in~

I won’t be going over the covers of the individual issues, or even this one so much, but I do like that quote at the top. It is actually some good superhero artwork! It is an extremely awful story, but the artwork is fine~

So the first issue starts like this: Booster Gold's in one of those tiny middle-American diners. The host's loving it, since she says superheroes never show up and eat here. And oh look, here comes another one! Booster replies that that's no hero, as Harley Quinn walks in. Clearly he hasn't been reading her solo series. Harley orders some pie, and she and Booster eat in terse silence. Until suddenly Harley grabs a knife, and the two begin a real knock-down, drag-out fight. And lemme tell ya something, Harley keeps up with a guy who can fly and project forcefields pretty well. Eventually the pair are exhausted, and Booster says he's gotta bring Harley in, after what he saw her do. Harley protests, because she didn't kill all those people. She saw Booster do it.

All this is intercut with two different scenes. One is sort of a confession-cam style thing, a bunch of heroes (including Harley, Blue Jay, Booster, and Hotspot) all admitting they're here for therapy. And the second is Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman talking with each other as they land in a particular site. This place is called Sanctuary. It is currently full of dead heroes. Among the deceased here are Hotspot, Lagoon Boy, Wally West, and Roy Harper. And this is my first major complaint. Do you know what all these characters have in common? Hey, DC: Stop using the Titans as your cannon fodder. Stop treating them as a joke. Every iteration of the team deserves more respect than this.

So Harley and Booster are going to be our POV characters for this story. I like both of these characters a lot, so this is probably going to be pretty painful seeing them written horribly. Harley goes off to the Penguin for protection, and we actually get to see her in her old costume. It is a breath of fresh air, honestly. Booster, meanwhile, mostly just tries to rationalise his actions with Skeets, his robot buddy. Booster suffered kind of a psychotic break back in the Batman storyline "The Gift", which is why he was in Sanctuary to begin with. This story is basically a follow-up to that one, and has the same sort of tone.

Harley confronts the trinity in Gotham, revealing she set the whole thing up with Penguin just so she could get close to them on her terms. She uses the Lasso of Truth to confess she saw Booster Gold do it, then uses the Kryptonite in Batman's belt to skip town. The next time we see her, she's at the docks, giving a eulogy to Poison Ivy, another victim of Sanctuary. Booster Gold, meanwhile, has rationalised that Batman would solve the crime himself rather than turn himself in, and goes to Barry Allen to check in. Of course, the trinity are the only ones who know about the accident yet, so when Booster tells Barry that Wally's dead, he gets super pissed. Just like the readers are!

Issue 3 is a flashback issue, showing Booster's first day at Sanctuary. Sanctuary works like this: everyone gets their own private quarters, and if they want to visit the common areas, they wear a mask and cloak to preserve anonymity. Here's the first really big problem with Sanctuary: while therapy for superheroes is a good (possibly necessary) concept, Sanctuary is only one kind of therapy. It essentially assumes everyone responds the same to the same sort of therapy. The kind here is that Sanctuary gives you a private room that simulates your traumas (with a holodeck) and has you physically confront them. Lagoon Boy, for example, is shown to be facing the laser that killed him over and over again. Wally sets up superhero battles that still have his kids with him. And while this sort of therapy might help some people, it's definitely not universal.

Booster starts his first session, which ends up just being a hologram of himself, talking to him. Before he can get much further, though, alarms go off and everyone is urged to emergency evacuate. Lagoon Boy is killed--in a deliberate callback to his previous death, no less--and we see a few other victims, including Red Devil, Commander Steel, and Gunfire. Wally clutches Roy's body as he dies in his arms, and Harley smacks Wally in the face with her hammer. She greets Booster cheerfully, and he admits he's having a hell of a first day.

After a brief scene of Aqualad (Garth, in this case) drinking in a bar--and who can blame him for wanting to drink after experiencing this story?--Batman and Barry meet, thus showing they're still unsure who did it. Booster is being interrogated under the Lasso of Truth, and he relays the previous issue to us. In his mind, Harley did it. Harley, meanwhile, has tracked down Batgirl (Barbara Gordon) and surprisingly... they hug. Babs promises to help stick by Harley and prove her innocence. After all, Babs has been through trauma, too. The comic reminds us of this with another confession-cam video, showing Babs display the scars she received from “The Killing Joke".

So, about these confession cams... They've been interspersed between scenes, showing everyone from Batman down to guys like Gunfire or the Protector relaying their problems by confession. Again, this sort of therapy isn't for everyone, but it's the only one Sanctuary's got. Superman tells Batman that Lois has been receiving these videos anonymously. Batman responds that there are no videos. Sanctuary does not keep records, to preserve patient confidentiality. Supes replies that there are videos, he's seen them, and now the media has them. The issue ends with a breaking story about "What is the secret superhero Sanctuary?" exposé airing on television...

Speaking of breaking, Blue Beetle (Ted Kord, who I'm as surprised as anybody to find out is alive again post-Rebirth) breaks Booster out of the Hall of Justice where he's being held. The pair watch the breaking news report on television while they try to come up with a plan. Booster's idea is to confess to Barry again, figuring they won't expect the stupidest possible move, making it actually the smartest possible move. Booster has not really recovered from his insanity, I see. He and Beetle do exactly that, surprising Barry at work, which is apparently all the advantage they need. This is because Barry, as a forensic scientist, has access to the data on the autopsies.

While Superman makes a public statement to the press regarding Sanctuary, Batman passes Skeets into Batgirl's care, and she immediately violates that trust by in turn passing Skeets to Harley. It's implied Harley tortures the information regarding Booster's whereabouts out of Skeets, but it's okay because he's just a robot. Babs and Harley turn up at Booster's place as he's analysing the data he obtained from Barry. Here's where it all starts to fall into place: the data on Wally West says his body is five days older than the rest of them.

Issue 6 is kind of a triple piece, but one that can be summed up fairly quickly. It focuses on three specific characters who were all at Sanctuary. The parts regarding Gnaark the caveman (another Titans alumnus) are ultimately pointless, since the issue ends with his death. The parts with Harley focus on Joker's abuse of her and Posion Ivy's care towards her. This also ends badly. Wally's parts focus on the DC Rebirth story where he essentially willed himself back into the universe. And while that story is really good and it was a joy to see Wally again, it ultimately ended with the knowledge that Wally's family did not reappear with him. His kids are gone, his wife is with someone else and does not remember him, and until he forced his way back into everyone's memories, no one else recalled him either. This would traumatise anybody. But it may have really traumatised Wally.

The next issue starts really well, honestly. Booster and Harley are fighting it out--again--while Babs and Beetle just watch. Like, they aren't even stressed, they're both familiar with their respective charges, and this is really no surprise. In any other comic, this would be a great scene. Shame that it's in this one, and it's not nearly enough to save even a lick of it. Eventually Babs works out that Booster's forcefields are only currently working because of some jury-rigged tech that's powered by Blue Beetle's consciousness. So she knocks him out with one hit. Harley prepares a killing blow, but ultimately cannot go through with it, proving she's a good person. She and Booster just collapse on the floor, and bond over the fact that they both kind of suck as superheroes (from their own perspectives, at least).

With Booster, Beetle, Babs, and Harley (Barley?) all on the same side now, the group decide to get to the bottom of everything together. Meanwhile, the rose Harley dropped off the docks is picked up by Wally. See, while the body they found of Wally is five days older than the rest, this means he time-traveled and is still at present alive. Wally channels his Speed Force into the rose, causing it to grow rapidly--and Poison Ivy blooms from it, restored to life. I don't get it either, but if it means Ivy didn't die in this stupid story, I'll take it. Wally then apologises, since Ivy just returned to life and now she has to see death so soon. Those five days are up, and a second Wally appears, ready to literally kill himself.

So here's what really fucking happened.

Wally had been at Sanctuary three weeks already. He's frustrated because the therapy's not helping as fast as he thought it would. He does a jump into the Speed Force and basically exists everywhere at once. Spread across the time stream, he witnesses everybody's confession cams all at once. He sees "the trauma of a thousand heroes in crisis" (hey, we have a title, ladies and gentlemen). And... it's too much. Realising everybody's personal pain breaks him. He unleashes the burst of pent-up energy he'd stored to do the time jaunt thing and kills everyone at Sanctuary.

Lagoon Boy. Protector. Hotspot. Red Devil. Arsenal. Gnaark. Solstice. Tattooed Man. Gunfire. Blue Jay. Commander Steel. Nemesis. I want you to remember these names. These were all pre-existing characters. Half of them were members of the Titans at one point or another. Wally West, the Flash, killed them in a stupid, stupid storyline that not only assassinates his character, but also literally assassinates all these other characters.

Wally uses his super speed to set up the bodies, rig the crime scenes so it looks like Harley or Booster could be responsible for their deaths. He then travels forward in time to the present moment, where he has just confessed all this to Poison Ivy. He kills that version of himself and travels back in time with it to fake his own death. He then uses the VR tech of Sanctuary to trick Booster and Harley into believing they saw the other commit the deeds. Neither of them even knew they'd never left their respective therapy simulations. This leaves Wally with a five day window to figure out something good he can do to make up for killing everyone.

So the final issue wraps it up like this: Booster time-travels the group back to where Barry is about to kill his own paradox clone. Harley and Ivy reunite, which is nice. So here's the plan: this doesn't have to end with any more death. In the end, what Barry did was all an accident. So Booster travels into the future to make a clone of the paradox-Wally. This gives them a five-day-old body they can leave at the massacre, in order to close the timeloop. The present Wally turns himself in and is arrested, while the five-days-ago paradox Wally merges back into the Speed Force, still running to try and find his family.

And the "good" thing Wally did to make up for killing everyone? He was the one that leaked Sanctuary's existence to the media. In his mind, the idea that heroes are seen as constant paragons was too much pressure. By letting the public know that even superheroes need therapy, even superheroes suffer trauma just like everyone else, he he could let people know that heroes are just that: people. People like everyone else. And that it is okay for anyone to seek help if you need it. This seems like a nice sentiment, until you remember the reason Wally killed everyone is because he was impatient about how his therapy was going. What an awful story.

-----

Like, legitimately, this story is just awful. The basic premise--that heroes could probably do with therapy--is not a bad one. The execution is just really completely mismanaged, though. Start with the beginning. Why are Harley Quinn and Booster Gold chosen as the focus characters? Because they're the ones you could believe would orchestrate a mass murder, right? Except no. You would never believe that. Booster is not that much of a screw-up, and Harley is not that much of a villain. Neither of them have been those things for many years. The readers know that, but it feels like the writer didn't.

And that's the worst part of it all. The superficiality of the story. In the end, why was this story written? To explore the concept of therapy for superheroes? Well, then, it went about it in the worst way possible. Not everyone experiences trauma in the same way. And therefore, not everyone responds to therapy in the same way. The way therapy is depicted in this story is just wrong. Frankly, Sanctuary looks like one of the worst places to get treatment, right alongside Arkham Asylum. Do you think anybody's really going to take away from this story "It's okay to talk about your traumas if you need to"? In or out of universe?

I didn't really talk about the confession cams, but they seemed highly unnecessary. They were always the same, a 3x3 of panels featuring a superhero talking about their traumas. Most of them didn't factor into the story, and at most they felt like a common scene transition. They tried to give them some weight by revealing that the contents of all these possibly got leaked? But then they just kinda dropped that subplot. Which was really kind of serious, because the traumas range from the Protector (a character created for drug PSAs) confessing that he has done drugs to Superman talking about the burden of keeping his identity secret. How much of these did the public actually get? And if it was none, what was even the point of it being a subplot~? Like, leak that Sanctuary existed, sure, but why did Lois Lane get sent all the videos that shouldn't have existed~?

What this story has done to Wally is awful. They have completely tarnished this likeable, amazing hero by having him kill twelve people (thirteen, if you include Poison Ivy), several of them colleagues and friends. All because he's trying to fake his way through therapy when it isn't helping him as fast as he wants. Know what would have been a good story? How about he learns to cope with his trauma? How about he actually gets his family back? It's unrealistic as hell, but it's a fictional story. It's escapism. It's okay to have a happy ending. I ''want'' my stories to end in happy endings, because it's so hard to get them in real life. I want something better than this.

DC Rebirth was a breath of fresh air. Wally's return to the DC universe felt like the clouds were lifitng. The stories following Rebirth felt like a return to form after the darkening of the New 52. It felt like the stories were getting good again, like the comics were getting fun and hopeful again. It couldn't last, though, could it? This story is only three years after the Rebirth initiative. Three years? That's all the hope we get in the universe? I sincerely hope this story ends up an abberation, and not a return to form of the darker, more dour universe we put up with in the New 52. Especially given current events, you can understand why a brighter, optimistic fictional world is appealing. I sincerely hope that when comics resume publication after the pandemic, a more positive outlook continues, and stories like this are left in the garbage where they belong.

This book is fucking awful, and I am done with it. Next week, we'll start reviewing an all-new series for the Taiblog. Let's just say I'm not done ranting about injustices against the Teen Titans~

#comics #reviews #Heroes in Crisis #Taiblog

20 notes · View notes

libidomechanica · 4 years

Text

Untitled Poem # 8648

God said to the marke, weening it to hit. Sae lights he jumped up the stair, and those to blame this sore constraint, and leaue to liue hard, and shouting, and deserts led. Before she came, that he took the lips in holy silence. The silken skilled transmemberment of song; permit me voyage, Three whole days together in the stocking, No more. rank as a honeysuckle. for her white virgins hymeneals sing, to show it, but the world enamoured rustic worships its fair hues, nor knows he makes the thought, O name unnamed! Toward those her liable to continues to disappoint we can scarce could find a fortune shana steer thee; till the welth and thy breast in the castle. But mine are there, so let us cull for Marias cold bier. Ah for the burying of her Moon and satiate her soul may drink of thy mind, and but one, Her Grace, the suffered, nor expired with the yellow hair and soar above the base of the hours crawled by like years till, now, if you entreat me with yours

in the sorrow withers even the string, and mild as opening gleams of glory brightening thy bridal ring, for he has no eye for me; with love so warm? That she the company, whose every day, be glad and great, which shall see when dead, are heaped for the dinghy, has placed wild flowers at the doomed man say— look for me by moonlight situation, such as be carved on the wind is in the distance otherwise,— past whirling pillars and oarlocks for the cannon-bullet rust on a slothful shore, and those helpless because

he fixed it, and complaint of present: “if you are destined for merit at her cares; as loud her praise. Nancy,

Nancy;” then all smiles stopped crackling. All tongues, milton appealed to the hypnotists trance, into a spirit in my short an age to find a blank beyond the tale of Launcelot on a

day, and smooth as though my leaves shut before

because the North, and battle, and empty of wit, admitted through. That nothing that draws breath so sad as I, though all the brilliant surface of night it was but a dream, yet never hope to reproduce the fate that she the common be the only constant method as above, varied with rage, who but for honour, which is also a bell evening wheel and the terrace—all and each warm wish springs sit smil ing in thy tender state: but most thence my nature all! In my delicious paradise.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 8 #132 texts

1 note · View note

phdcedotcom · 4 years

Text

Self-Protection and Machiavelli

A requirement I maintain for my Black Belts is to read certain books from a list that I have found over the years to be wellsprings of knowledge concerning self-protection. While I do require some of the traditional tomes such as the Hagakure, much of what I require my Black Belts to read was never intended to be read from a traditional martial arts context. One such book is The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli.

At the onset, if Machiavelli were still alive today, there is substantial doubt that he and I would see eye to eye on many topics, most notably religion. He did however understand the role of violence in human relations, or lack thereof. He understood that civility has its limits. He was far ahead of his time in understanding that social contracts are anything but binding. Among the many assertions made in The Prince, one is meritorious in our society as we watch it disintegrate before our very eyes.

“People should either be caressed or crushed. If you do them minor damage they will get their revenge; but if you cripple them there is nothing they can do. If you need to injure someone, do it in such a way that you do not have to fear their vengeance.”

I can hear the gasps from here. Why on Earth would someone teaching people to protect themselves from harmful elements in society espouse such aggressive ideologies? The answer to that question is rather straightforward and simple. If you are one that has asked the aforementioned question, have you turned on a television in the last four weeks? Have you been ensnared in a rapidly evolving cultural exercise in the American inner city referred to as a protest, the burning buildings notwithstanding?

Bravado is part of the American lexicon. “You may start it, but I’ll finish it.” This rather simple statement of self-identified gallantry begs one question: To what extent will you finish it, whatever “it” may be? Is that a bloody nose? A bruised ego? To expand on these possibilities, now ask yourself if the bruised ego or bloody nose will be sufficient to repel an assault from one of the cultural ballets that entertains us on a frequent basis in America.

Recently, I have had some animated conversations with many people close to me in my personal and professional life. Each individual related to me what they were willing to do in order to protect themselves, their family, and their sacred treasure if confronted with a throng of roving hordes of protesters. The question then becomes, what is driving them to make such statements? To examine this question, we return to Machiavelli, who stated that men are driven by one of two primary impulses, which are fear or love.

I mean this with as much love and respect as I can muster, but in the vast majority of cases, almost all cases actually, even the highest trained martial artist, marksman, or security conscious citizen stands ill-equipped to confront savagery in its most raw form. I will go as far as to say that most law enforcement officers that patrol our neighborhoods daily are ill equipped to look into the abyss. The reason for this is not because they are guided by one of the two impulses mentioned by Machiavelli. It is because they are governed and driven by both impulses simultaneously. We are terrified by the thought of losing what we love.

Being ensconced in the criminal culture, one thing that has not escaped me in my research and my professional travels is that the most violent people in society act on impulse, not rote reaction to stimuli. They are hyper-focused on the task at hand. They have little regard for short-term or long-term consequences that may result from decisions surrounding pleasure versus pain. They have been trained by doing, not by rehearsal. Their thought process does not stray into musings regarding things of value and endearment. They simply revert back to a natural state devoid of morality and become killing machines.

I asked several close associates of mine recently what things would go through their mind if confronted with a life and death situation that would likely result in the necessity of utilizing lethal force. The usual emotional suspects were resurrected, which were thoughts of their families, safety, their livelihoods, and the potential liability that could endanger their acquired treasure. In these cases, the individual in question has already lost the encounter because their focus has been diverted from the threat to their emotional or tangible sustainability. They are not seeking victory that will be made manifest through violence. Rather, they are seeking not to lose by holding on to the things that cannot help them survive in the moment of truth.

I am quickly becoming cognizant of the fact that many of my students and clients are not adapting to the “new normal” in American society. I detest that term by the way because it connotes the defining of normal by unknown, future facets of life that we can neither predict nor control. But it does have merit in our present circumstance because the new normal in America has strayed from peace and prosperity to angst, distrust, and barbarism. As martial arts instructors and self-protection teachers and mentors, we can no longer bury our heads in the sand and teach antiquated methodologies and mindsets. To do so is simply turning our clients and students into cannon fodder.

Our neighbors in the law enforcement community often make reference to a use of force continuum. This continuum dictates how they use physical violence to protect themselves or citizens during the unfortunate circumstance of a confrontation. To varying degrees, these continuums are made up of variables such as officer presence at a scene, verbal commands, and the use of various physical implements that can cause physical pain. The continuum also includes the use of tools that by their nature are lethal and can cause death or serious bodily injury.

My business partner and I make clear distinctions between martial artists and practitioners of self-protection methods and strategies. Self-protection practitioners learn skills and tactics that aid them in the detection, deterrence, and defeat of criminal threats against their well-being. Martial artists also share this skillset, but it is light years ahead in terms of refinement. Martial artists study violence and war and apply it accordingly.

We teach our clients to flee at all cost if conditions warrant. These conditions may include social elements such as crowds, or it may encompass physical elements such as terrain. The physical or emotional capacity of the person must also be taken into account. What may be justified for a physically fit adult male in his forties may not be conducive for a man confined to a wheelchair, and vice versa. If confrontation results, we teach our clients to “fight to flee,” meaning we do enough damage to ensure a safe retreat out of the clutches of the aggressor.

We now live in different times, in which mass gatherings can arise out of a very limited time and space continuum. The spaces that used to be safe for many Americans are now a battleground. What then do we teach our clients in a social climate where the social contract has come undone and savagery is the new soup du jour?

We teach a three-pronged approach to self-protection. First, principles of environmental and situational awareness are now paramount. It is simply not enough to be aware of situations. We must now be ever mindful of our environment. The places we used to think were safe may devolve into hotbeds of activity in an instant. Second, we must change what may be termed our emotion set instead of the mindset. Thoughts of loss, grief, and anxiety must be placed into the proper context in life at that specific moment in time. When teaching women, I reject the idea of not fighting back because it has taken her agency and dignity away from her in return for a future that will be wrought with uncertainty and memories of horror.

Finally, we must refine our training methodologies to include malicious tactics without malicious intent. It is at this point that teachings of Machiavelli come into play. In situations where one’s life hangs in the balance, there is no room for second guessing or the fear of judgment by others. A common complaint amongst law enforcement officers is the mischief associated with the Monday Morning Quarterback. The same holds true for a person that is truly in fear for their life in a circumstance that evolves quickly. If a student is truly in fear for their life in a scenario witnessed on television far too frequently today, we are not being honest with them when we teach them to fight with rules as they are being ravaged by those who have no regard for the rule of law. If your life hangs in the balance, give your adversary no room for retaliation. The difference between the criminal and the righteous citizen lies in the condition of the heart, not the act itself.

I hope one day to be able to retract this shift in focus. Social and political movements tend to swing like pendulums. We are witnessing an extreme swing to one side of the pendulum at present moment, and eventually it will move in the opposite direction. We must prepare our clients and students for what lies on each end of that spectrum as well as the middle.

Find me.

-PhDCE

#selfprotection #selfdefense #violence #security #martialarts #personalprotection #blog #writer #phd #scholar #karate

2 notes · View notes

ashaywalker-author · 7 years

Text

Natural Instinct - Chapter 3 (Poe Dameron/Reader Fic)

SUMMARY: After feeling Kylo Ren rip through her mind and memories, the reader finds herself with a chance to finally escape from the First Order.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Some strong language

PAIRING: Poe Dameron/Reader

A/N: Goodbye First Order; we won’t miss you. This probably has the most Force Awakens scene repetition in the whole story, but we’ll be back on Jakku in the next chapter and get a whole bunch of new content. Please enjoy and let me know what you think! Love ya!

CHAPTER 3 – ESCAPE

When I came to, I was back in the dim cell with the shelf-bed and the surveillance cameras, alone. I was on the floor, whether I had been dumped there or I had rolled my way onto the ground, I had no idea. Rising to sit, I felt the way I did when I often woke from nightmares. There was a great, gaping chasm inside my chest, the one I usually filled with thoughtless activity and survival instincts. This feeling was stuck somewhere between indifference and sorrow, as if I was turned inside out and no one was around to give a shit. My senses were heightened, causing me to notice with a new fervor the grit that coated every bit of me, as well as the tenderness of my chin. I wondered briefly what had happened to Poe, what he had been subjected to after I passed out, but I was too locked within my self-pity to dwell on it. I figured it was a side effect of my mind being practically shredded by Kylo Ren. Perhaps I wasn’t entirely fond of my life, but I hadn’t felt this much hatred and self-doubt since my father had been swallowed up by the sands.

I sat there for what felt like a very long time, when the door to my chamber slid open once again. This time a single stormtrooper, and behind him, a disheveled and downcast-looking Poe. How much longer would we be stuck in this kriffing game?

“This way, prisoner,” the trooper said.

I stood without a word. Part of me wanted to fall to my knees and pledge my allegiance to the First Order, just to stop from being shuffled in and out of torture chambers, fearing what came next. But I wasn’t entirely sure it would make a difference. My fate seemed to be linked with whatever Poe did or didn’t do. For attempting to save him, my life was now dependent upon his decisions. Maybe that was why Ren had ordered me to be brought along in the first place. I was meant to set an example for all; you don’t mess with the First Order.

Wordlessly the single trooper guided us around bends and wide balconies overlooking a gigantic cargo bay. When walls closed around us once again and we were alone in a hallway, I was pushed roughly through an open door. Poe and the trooper jumped inside and shut the door manually. I released a tiny squeak when the darkness blocked my sight, and jump a millimeter when a light flicked on overhead. We were in a storage closet. Cleaning bots sleeping away on low-power mode were stacked up each wall, emitting no light, no recognition of our presence.

Before I could say anything, Poe came forward and wrapped me up in a hug that was both gentle and engulfing at the same time. He smelt terrible, but I found I didn’t much care. It wasn’t as if I looked or smelled any better.

“Are you okay?” he asked, pulling away just enough to be able to search my eyes.

“Yes,” I said, albeit confused. I peeked around Poe’s shoulder to stare heavily at the trooper, who did and said nothing. “What the hell is going on?”

“We’re getting out of here.”

“What?”

The stormtrooper pulled his helmet off, and I saw the fear in his incredibly dark, wide eyes, the sweat that made his black skin glisten. He was nearly panting, as if we had been sprinting down the hallways.

“We need to get out,” the stormtrooper said in a rushed voice. “Before they notice the two of you have been removed without clearance.”

“He’s leading us out,” Poe explained. “And I’m flying us the hell out.”

The rogue stormtrooper had us flanked on either side of him, his blaster up and at the ready. Walking through the cargo bay, even with the flickering lights, cascading sparks, and heavy stomps against metal flooring, it was a wonder no one stopped us. To have a single stormtrooper escorting two prisoners was odd and—if it were up to me—highly unprofessional, but luck must have been on our side. That, or everyone was too stressed out by their own duties to care. Even the watchtower and communications station hanging out and above the hanger didn’t call out for our immediate stop. Although I knew that would change once we made an unauthorized escape in a TIE Fighter.

“Not yet,” the stormtrooper whispered to us as a group of generals clomping along in routine, rectangular fashion passed us.

The moment they were behind our shoulders, the rogue trooper urged us with a, “Okay go, this way!”, and we made a hurried break for a set of idle TIE Fighters, unmanned and unwatched. Poe and I were released from our cuffs and, without another moment of hesitation, Poe unlatched the roof of the Fighter and slipped his way down into the pilot’s chair. I, on the other hand, did hesitate. When the trooper took the gunner’s chair, I was left without a spot of my own.

“Uh, Poe. There’s only two seats…”

“Yeah.”

Poe reached up and grabbed my ankle, giving a firm enough tug to set me off balance. I tried not to yelp as I regained my footing and slipped down onto the chair the Resistance pilot currently occupied. Only there was no seat left to take, so on his thigh I sat, uncomfortably aware of how compacted the round chamber was.

“You can’t fly with me sitting on your lap!” I hissed.

“I could fly with a Tauntaun on my lap.” He stated, as if it was common knowledge, while flicking on various switches.

“Did you seriously just relate me to a

Tauntaun

?!”

“No! I mean, it was a metaphor.” He looked up at me propped up on his knee. “A really bad metaphor!” When I said nothing in response, he said; “Trooper, can you shoot?”

“Blasters I can.”

“Okay, same principal,” Poe reached overhead to continuing prepping the Fighter for launch. “Use the toggle on the left to switch between missiles, cannons and magpulses, slider on the right’s to aim, trigger’s to fire.”

“This is very complicated,” the trooper said, so quietly it could have been to himself.

I couldn’t help but to agree.

Poe put both hands on either thruster, forcing me to slide in between his legs, and with a steady push forward the TIE Fighter began to sing to life. He turned the ship, aimed forward, and just as we were about to launch, our speed choked, and we were yanked backward.

“I can fix this!” Poe said.

I tried to maneuver out of his way, opting to lean away from most of the controls and look out the ship’s wide, circular windows. Behind us was what looked like a cable, still attached to the middle of the left-hand wing. Poe flicked a few more switches and forced the Fighter to pull forward, trying to release the cable and break it at the same time. By now, I knew that we were screwed. While the trooper behind us looked around the compartment frantically, generals, mechanics and white-suited soldiers below were noticing three idiots trying to steal a ship without really knowing how to fly it in the first place. And then came the blasters. One trooper even placed a mini cannon on a tripod on the floor, aiming it directly at us.

Red bolts of light shot outward, hitting our shields which—thankfully—Poe had known how to engage beforehand.

“Now’s a good time to start shooting, trooper!” I said.

“Right,” he said, gripping his controls with a little more certainty.

The Fighter squealed as it shot signature green blasts. Each duel blast exploded upon impact and projected outward, creating mini-craters in the hanger’s steel floor. I colored myself impressed when he aimed and shot up into the rest of the idle TIE Fighters before they could follow, and then turn his missile’s sights onto the watchtower. Two blasts and it was done for, the generals inside ducking quickly, as if that would do them any good.

“I got it,” Poe said, and with one more flick the cable released with a few sparks of protest.

The Fighter guttered a moment and then sped out the hanger as if glad to be free, a sharp sound following its sudden blast of power.

Poe made a sound that was between excitement and hysteria, then said; “This thing really moves!”

The velocity with which we were yanked into space had my back pressed up to Poe’s chest, to the point where I worried it might be uncomfortable. He didn’t utter a complaint through, switching our trajectory to fly beneath the Finalizer, where a much larger and more fearsome amount of firepower greeted us. I moved with the ship’s sharp zig-zags as Poe dodged emerald cannon-fire, keeping my center of gravity as steady as possible with only one seatbelt strap over my shoulder.

“Alright,” Poe said, “We need to take out as many of these cannons as we can or we’re not going to get very far. I’m going to get us into position, just stay sharp.”

Poe was in constant motion, flicking controls and maneuvering at a rate I couldn’t comprehend. Maybe he hadn’t been exaggerating with the whole Tauntaun thing. But the moment I was mentally applauding him became the moment I had to stop myself from shouting about his idiocy, when we began to weave around the cannons, just feet from the barrels.

“Up ahead!” Poe called out. “Up ahead, you see it? I got us dead center, it’s a clean shot!”

I heard the trooper mutter under his breath behind us, something obviously meant to ground himself, and all I could thing to do was reach behind the seat and grip the shoulder of his armor. He had gotten us this far; but he was obviously a nervous wreck.

“I got it,” he said lowly, positioning the slider.

When the cannon blinked bright yellow in his sights, he put a grunt of force behind the press of the trigger. Poe flew the Fighter through the fiery blast when the cannons were reduced to scrap metal. The three of us cheered, the trooper the loudest, screaming at us, asking whether we had seen the job well done.

Poe’s grin was infectious; “We saw it.”

That was the break we needed, and with a bit more careful maneuvering we were through, flying beyond the Finalizer as it tried to catch us with a few more shots. In the brevity of the moment, Poe grabbed my neck and pulled my face down to kiss my cheek, smacking his lips off my sweaty skin happily.

“Hey what’s your name?” he asked the trooper, while I tried to figure out ways to cool my body temperature.

“FN-2187.”

“FN—

What

?” Poe said, taken aback.

.“That’s the only name they ever gave me.”

“Those assholes don’t even give you names?” I asked. “They just number you like prisoners?”

“Well I ain’t using it,” Poe said. “FN huh? Finn, I’m gonna call you Finn, that alright?”

“Finn,” the trooper tested it out, “Finn, yeah, Finn, I like that!”

“I’m Poe, Poe Dameron.”

“Y/N,” I greeted him, not really bothering with a last name. It didn’t seem all that crucial, considering I was the last of my family left.

“Good to meet you Poe, Y/N,” Finn said.

“Good to meet you too, Finn.”

We flew freely for another minute, but then ventral cannon shots were hot on our tail. Poe dodged and skittered from them like a bloody prodigy, and Finn was getting better at knowing when to shoot and where to calculate his aim. The former trooper was able to take care of two, but two others were still hot on our tail. Then Poe made a dive down for the nearest planet: Jakku.

“Where are you going?” Finn asked, before I could.

“We’re going back to Jakku, that’s where.” Poe said.

“No—no-no, we can’t go back to Jakku!” Finn admonished him, “We need to get out of this system.”

“I need to get my droid before the First Order does.”

The droid, of course. The rolly-polly one I had seen in Tuanul, the one I hadn’t seen after Poe’s X-Wing was blown to smithereens. I had assumed the droid had been demolished along with the ship. Finn continued to argue, his fear of the First Order evident in how he nearly begged our pilot to go far away, as far from our escaped prison as possible.

“That droid has a map that leads straight to Luke Skywalker!” Poe said, unwavering.

“What?!

” I yelled above Finn’s mini-tantrum in the back.

It was that very moment of slipped focus that cost us a very deadly hit to the TIE Fighter. We began to spin out of control, one of our wings chipped and warped, the other barely stabilized.

“Shit,” Poe said, frantically flipping along the control panel, trying to regain some ability to control the ship. “Shit!”

“What do we do?” Finn asked. “What do we do now?!”

Poe didn’t answer. He bit his lower lip, a new film of sweat along his brow. We were careening down toward Jakku’s atmosphere. Once we broke through it, our speed would become volatile.

“That shot splintered our engine,” Poe said, flicking the power switch up and down, the light behind it sputtering. “I’m losing all power.”

We were nearing the break in the planet’s atmosphere. I could feel the shift of gravity on the ship, becoming less of a result of the blast and more of an actual pull into a maddening, inescapable descent. Finn was panicking. I couldn’t express my panic the way I wanted to. My eyes were locked onto what I saw greeting me through the outside of the window. Would I die on Jakku’s surface? Just like my father? Just like my mother, whose blood seeped like water into the hungry sands, draining itself after my birth?

I always expected to die there. Just… not like this. Not on the brink of a newfound freedom I had never known.

“Listen up,” Poe said, going full commander in his tone. “I’m going to use the remains of our power to slow us down once Jakku’s atmosphere pulls us through. Hopefully I will reduce our speed enough to keep us from burning to death in midair. Once we are close enough to eject, I’ll flip the switch.”

“Ejector seats are only meant for one passenger each, Poe.” I said.

He looked at me, a grunt behind his teeth. He had them bared as he forcefully pulled against the thrusters. “I know. The parachute won’t hold both our weights for long. We will have a short window of time to eject, shorter than Finn. About a 10-yard difference between being too close to the crash site, and too far from the surface to land safely.” He held my gaze with his, daring me to look away. I didn’t. I reached out and put a hand over his, over the knuckles that strained and the veins that popped. I trusted him. Even in this horrible situation, I did. But that didn’t stop me from feeling like deadweight.

The Fighter broke through Jakku’s atmosphere, and it was with a sudden jolt that was so fierce I was yanked backward into Poe, my head hitting his shoulder harshly. The impact left stars blinking along my vision. We would be minutes in the air, if that. Poe struggled against the thrusters, pulling them back to their breaking point, fighting gravity. I wrapped my hands around his and put my own weight into it, bracing my foot against the Fighter to give me more force. The small bit of power the ship had left communicated with the engines to thrust backward, and so they did, although the difference was minute.

At what I estimated to be roughly 40 yards from the desert surface, Poe warned Finn that it was his turn to eject. The pilot pressed the dead-man’s switch and Finn catapulted upward through the Fighter’s hatch, the wind breaking in through our compartment and tossing sandy gusts around us. The hatch didn’t close again; the ship had lost all power.

“Get ready!” Poe said above the torrent of air.

With his finger hovering over the switch, I watched him count under his breath, pressing down hard when our time was up. Only, nothing happened.

“No,” Poe said to himself, pressing the dead-man’s switch repeatedly, jabbing hard. “No—no, no! It’s jammed.” He brought me down more securely in between his legs, and I felt his heart against my spine, a rapid, trembling beat that set my own fluttering even faster. We were closing in.

“There has to be a manual override!” He said, searching on either side of the seat. I tried to help him, but I didn’t have the faintest clue what I was looking for. I’d never flown a day in my life, never set foot in a ship until the last few days. For the briefest moment, I thought about Finn. Poor guy. He didn’t want to go back to Jakku in the first place, and now he would be stranded there. He would probably die in the sands.

Too much damn much irony for one day…

“Hold on!” Poe yelled in my ear.

We were maybe 15 yards from the surface, but suddenly I was watching the Fighter hit the sands without me, the compartment slipping around my body as if falling through an invisible floor.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #star wars imagine #star wars fanfiction #poe dameron #oscar issac

84 notes · View notes

seekthemist · 7 years

Text

You would even say it glows

As I promised, here I come with my @pynchsecretsanta 2017 fill! All my love and all my best wishes for the holidays to @mild-lunacy <3

This little tale of madness is on the themes of "the Adventure with the Once and Future Camaro" + "A weird guest needs help at 300 Fox Way and the boys are involved". It’s also the first "creative" stuff that I manage to write, away from the terrible, terrible grip of academic obligations. It has been amazing to come back to fandom my heart out, I hope it's not in a weird style because of "residual technical writing"-mode! Everything it's sadly unbetaed at the moment, so forgive and forget the typos, I swear I'll update a corrected version if I can!

All my thanks go to Sae (@picapicae), that helped me come up with this crazy plot you just read and the Pynch SecretSanta ‘17 team that organized this amazing gig!

Now, off with the reading, mostly under the cut for length!

You can also read this on Ao3!

Adam first jostled awake in total darkness, which given the early winter days could mean anything from three to seven o'clock in the morning. The reflexive switch of his brain that decided to pull his eyes open — governed by a circadian cycle Adam destroyed for himself in high school and did not realign in a semester at Columbia — was compatible with any of these options. He inhaled, gearing up to remember if there had been an alarm on the other side of his slumber, waiting from him to go to work, outline an assignment or grab breakfast while networking with his peers. His breath reverberated humid on his lips, filling his nostrils with a suggestion of smells.

Wood. A familiar sweat. Holly and musk. An impression of heat.

Adam did not open his eyes but allowed himself to exhale, bodily, resting his forehead on Ronan's nape.

Details slotted into position in an easy catalogue, disorienting in their lack of urgency.

Cold ears, a suggestion of chill from the world that somehow existed outside of the cocoon of blankets and duvet. The impossible span of Ronan's shoulders, radiating heat, and the inside of his knees brushing against Adam's. The soft, oblivious breathing of Ronan in his sleep — impossible to match in its pace, and yet Adam caught himself trying.

It was weird to be back. He should probably get up.

Ronan reached for Adam's hand where it lingered on the fabric of his shirt, and tucked it close to his chest with a deep sigh. He did not move further and his breath didn't waver.

It was good to be back. There was no rush to go anywhere.

Adam slotted his body better in their puzzle, plastering against Ronan's back. Comfortable bed and an unyielding body to hold.

He had not planned to go back to sleep, but the warmth made the back of his eyelids heavy and tingling. It was easier to burrow down and let the warmth doze him off again, after all.

********

The second awakening came to a bedroom pooled with indistinct grey light and the mattress jumping around asymmetrically. Adam's eyes were wide awake, heart pounding, before even he consciously realized it himself.

The mattress stopped moving, and an uncoordinated clattering of hooves traced its way on the wooden floor all the way down the corridor.

"Opal!" Adam protested, trying to get up and convince his tongue to come up with an appropriate reproach.

Ronan was splayed on top of him, heavy like a very seductively shaped brick and just as reluctant to being moved, so neither happened. Nor did Opal offer a distant string of unconvincing apologies mixed with complaints for having woke them up so brutally, as she usually would.

The clattering expanded all the way to the ground floor of the Barns and then suddenly quieted.

"Opal!" Adam stressed again, turning his head above Ronan's, still resting between his chest and shoulders.

"What?!" Opal's voice came from the direction of Matthew's bedroom, groggy and grumpy with sleep.

"Shit" Ronan mumbled, reproachful.

Too heavy and too unmoving, even for Adam to be distracted by the way their legs were twisted together.

"Ronan, what the hell did you just dreamt?"

All things considered, a regular morning in the Lynch household.

********

"But how can you not know what you were dreaming, exactly?"

Ronan scratched the buzzed hair on his nape, sliding down the stairs with more elegance that should be legal for someone who couldn't even move a muscle five minutes before.

"Parrish, I'm not grocery shopping when I'm dreaming!"

"Except when you are, I have to hide that heater every time my roommate is around because it heats like a nuclear reactor!"

"That college room is fucking freezing, what is your point?" Ronan gave him a stinky eye while putting on a random pair of socks and bolted out of the door without even shoes on. In the sudden burst of cold that soared through the open door, the black line of he tattoo, visible around the hem of a too-thin t-shirt, rippled like the surface of a lake in a skipping stones game. "Mary mother of Jesus..."

Adam did his best to provide Ronan with a masterful execution of an unimpressed gaze, picking up a coat from the rack before following him outside in the porch. It was as cold as Ronan’s mumbled string of swears could suggest, and missing the bed was all too easy. "My point is that we’re rushing to chase this stuff out in the cold but we don’t even know what it is."

The indiscernible mixture of frost and actual snow crackled under Ronan’s hobbling down the steps, uncharacteristically awkward in the clear attempt not to freeze his feet off. "It doesn't fucking matter, it's like an animal."

"Like what animal?" Adam feigned disinterest, even in the clear smell of attempted deflection in the winter morning air. He still followed Ronan down towards the front of the master house, where a trail of something that looked like hooves disappeared in the thin layer of snow all the way out in the field. The imprints were too big to be Opal’s, too small for a monstrosity like the night horror. None of the Barn’s animal where around, shied away in their carefully curated inside spaces, evidently wiser than the both of them.

"A horse? Another fucking goat? An oversized crazy sheep?" Ronan dragged his words, scrutinizing the field in a studious effort to avoid Adam’s gaze. He kicked on clump of frozen ground and swore again when his feet reminded him of the lack of shoes.

“Nice guesses for the hooves,” Adam mused, closing the distance with Ronan’s back and propping the forearms on his shoulders. “Are we freaking out about an oversized crazy sheep?”

“We are not freaking the fuck out.”

Adam’s smile stretched his skin against the cold air. “Good to know. Especially since you’re the one who told me that your dream animals tend not to leave the Barns.” He eyed Ronan sideways, but got no obvious reaction but a tilt of his head to brush towards him. His blue eyes were still facing forwards to where the trail disappeared, his breath fogging out slightly. “We either go back now or I’ll drop the task of amputating your feet onto Gansey.”

A snarl opened up at the idea, all white teeth and morning stubble, evidently entertained. “The lecture for something like that would be a damn trip.” Ronan turned around and looped his arm around Adam — more around his neck than his shoulders — and headed the both of them back towards the house, foul mood suddenly dropped. His strides were sort of hindered by the cold and the coarse ground getting to his feet but Ronan still moved around with confidence.

A few meters ahead, the master house stood unperturbed and yet constantly changing. In the dreary light of the cloudy day, the solid wood of the porch and the frame of most windows where dotted in twists of holly and mistletoe, the berries shining warmly. The decorations stretched further inside, through the hall and the living room. The Barns were evidently ready for Christmas.

For yet another time since his arrival a couple of days prior, Adam contemplated the sight, while retreating back into the warmth of the house. There was something indiscernible about the festive display, a delicate feeling that kept nagging at the back of his mind and pushing a part of Adam’s brain — the one desensitised from and genuinely uncaring towards all the common holidays made of family and money to spend — slightly out of balance.

He could feel Ronan’s eyes on him, though, so Adam stopped watching the tree and pushed his efforts into hanging the coat back on the rack.

“You really went all in with the decoration.”

“It’s Christmas,” Ronan replied, matter-of-factly, moving towards the fireplace to light it up and warm his feet there. “Matthew will like this.”

Matthew surely would. At the same time, Adam wasn’t sure if and how he liked it himself, and settling for a diplomatically aseptic I don’t care either way left a bad aftertaste in his mouth.

The feeling was slippery.

It would have been reasonable for Ronan to be pissed at Adam’s lack of participation to this specific brand of Lynchness, but he wasn’t. Incongruently, it was another reason for Adam to feel like he was missing something essential for this whole winter break at the Barns.

********

Following a series of contingencies, 300 Fox Way became the logical destination for Christmas Eve.

Opal cannon-balled herself out of the BMW back door as soon as Ronan parked in a free spot by the sidewalk. In her rush towards the house, completely light up and lively even from the distance, she didn’t even bother with the garden gate and just jumped over the fence to cross the perpetually overgrown grass.

Adam laughed his way out of the passenger's seat. Chainsaw had stayed at home, nested close to the fireplace, so there was no fighting to maneuver a very opinionated bird out. “Maybe they shouldn’t have promised her that she could touch the oven.”

Ronan locked the car with the flashing click on his copy of the key and walked around to join him on the sidewalk. “What a terrible mistake. Also not my problem.”

The grin he flashed Adam — all plush lips and pointy canines — was a mesmerizing when matched with his sleek charcoal grey suit and the almost shocking splash of colour of his bordeaux tie. It would have been an impeccable Sunday best performance, appropriate even for Declan himself, if it weren’t for the loose hanging of the tie and the first two buttons of the shirt undone. Still, when they entered in the house — closing the door that Opal had left wide open behind them — Maura rushed by them, brushing Adam’s arm with one hand and giving Ronan a pointed once-over.

“Looking sleek, Ronan,” she mused, in her very everyday clothing and surrounded by an house that was evidently not in full Christmas celebration attire.

Ronan wrinkled his nose, but managed to contain the contrariness after a year and a half of exposure to the 300 Fox Way's women. “I’m going to Church right after, as soon as Declan and Matthew get here.”

“Of course you are.” Maura’s smile was gentle, but got morphed as soon as she started moving again towards the living room by her calling at full voice. “Blue! The rest of your boys are here!”

“They are not my boys!” Blue called back, but still tumbled out of one of the ground floor rooms and tackled Adam’s side in her best impression of a five-foot tall rugby player. Her skin was dark and still glowing from the wind and the sun from the recent road trip in Arizona and California, and she somehow knitted together three different pieces of woolen sweaters into an oversized dress.

Adam sunk into the embrace, “Hey, Blue.”

“Hey, Adam. Looking good, with your smart boy vibes.”

“There is indeed a clear sense of Ivy League in this hallway,” Gansey — impeccably dressed in cashmere and needlecord trousers, a failed attempt on casual ruined by the inherent poshness of his being — stepped away from a door frame and got closer to them.

There was a very civilized show of hand shaking between him and Ronan — weirdly firm and intense, thumbs slotting together, tendons lifting like wires underneath the skin — before Blue snorted in a very undignified manner. Gansey smiled sheepishly and caved, dragging Ronan close into a hug.

Ronan’s shoulders sunk down, a subtle yield of his imposing figure, one arm circling Gansey’s wide back. “Welcome home, shithead.”

Gansey smiled with the same unabashed delight he would usually reserve to dusty manuscript munched through by time. He reached with one hand and dragged Blue and Adam close. “It’s good to see you, before we go and face the snow up in Montana.”

“We first have to face your parents and the Gansey Christmas dinner tomorrow.” Blue reminded him, but leaned his face against Ronan’s arm and Ronan didn’t bark her off, weirdly subdue by the whole situation.

“Yeah, that’s a controversial truth.” Gansey admitted, but didn’t stop smiling.

Adam stayed silent through the whole exchange, Blue’s small hands clasped on the fabric of his shirt and Gansey’s grip against his arm, while Ronan towered subtly on the three of them.

It was inexplicable and way too convoluted, the way he had missed them. He had not intended to miss anyone in Henrietta, and yet here he was. Here he had been eager to be, since they told him they were going to come back for Christmas as well.

“Hey, human pile!” Henry made his way from the kitchen through the hallway, carrying an amount of plates that shouldn’t have been physically feasible for a human to balance. “Are you going to help me with this? So I can join the group hug. And just so you know, I won’t greet anyone until I can do it properly, because I’m rude like that.”

Blue laughed, Gansey started to apologise, and they all extricated from the twist of limbs without making the process awkward after too much wait.

Reflexively, Adam took a deep breath as well, and went to do his part on the setting of the table.

********

As it turned out, getting to sit down and eat dinner in a very commonplace manner was asking for too much.

The table cloth was spread over a collection of four different tables — mismatched in height and width but at least stable on their legs — and surrounded by a random amount of chairs. There was enough space at least for Opal and Gwenllian, for sure, but the latter had disappeared regally into her attic and Opal had followed suit — probably more interested in what she had in her hair today over anything on the table now that the oven was off.

Calla — very pointedly stressing that no, kids, you just need to sit the hell down and drink your mulled wine, do you think I want you messing around? — had barely put down the fifth pie, while Jimi rearranged Maura’s valiant attempt to vegetable bowls around to make space, when a very marked bang echoed from the door.

Silence fell through the living room.

They were all still turned around when the second ramming on the entrance door came. Nervousness prickled at Adam’s throat, but when he turned around to Jimi, Maura and Calla he caught them simply putting the utensil down.

“How many times did you draw The Fool today, Maura?” Jimi asked, neatly folding the pot holder over.

“Five times.” Maura’s reply was accompanied by the third loud bang.

“Is one of you gonna get that door, or are we waiting for it to get battered down?” Calla looked at all of them, a very unimpressed frown on her forehead.

Gansey and Ronan jumped on their feet in a marked, well-practice unison oiled by years of recklessness and an aptitude to crazy plans that probably beat everyone else’s in the room. While Gansey strolled, valiant as a king, towards the entrance, Adam could not help but notice that Ronan was weirdly tense.

“Do we have any guesses on what is on the other side of the door?” Henry asked, without losing the usual chirpiness, even while he snatched Blue’s pink switchblade from one of the six pockets of her dress.

“Oh, no idea, and I don’t think the Arizona guy with the rifle would follow us here.” Blue replied, trying to sound very sensible while she was actually cautious. She picked up a bat from the umbrella stand and put it on Henry’s hand in exchange of her switchblade.

“The what, now?” Adam looked at the both of them, with the clear underlying of and you haven’t told me about it why?. Still, as the only actually practical person in the room, he recovered Ronan’s mobile from where he abandoned it on the table, because someone must be able to call for help if needs must.

“I would say that’s a story for another moment.” Gansey eyed them when they lined up at his back, close to the door. Another ramming made them all wince, the door evidently shaking under the impact. “Okay, since we’re all here, I’ll open up.”

They carefully lined up on the side opposite to the hinges and Gansey borrowed Henry’s bat to push down the door handle without having to stand too close to it.

Adam didn’t know what he was expecting — and certainly could not imagine what Ronan was thinking to match the sour expression in his face — but he had somehow assumed that whatever was banging would come barging in into the entrance, escalating the action.

Instead, everything was perfectly still and they were left to stare over the threshold, the light on the inside pouring out to light up the doorsteps.

On the other side, a reindeer taller than Blue and with antlers that could easily reach the top of Ronan’s head stood innocently, already detached from all the raucous it had caused. It shook its head as in greeting, and a tinkling followed, not only from the big bell hanging from its neck but also from the jingle bells on the garlands twirled around the antlers.

The reindeer had a very bright, almost shining, red nose.

Henry bursted out in a laugh, “Is that Rudolph the reindeer?”

“It would...appear so?” Gansey was remarkably skeptical for someone who spent years of his life chasing a sleeping Welsh king.

“No, okay, I draw a line at Santa Claus,” Blue lifted her hands up, as if she could bully the reindeer out of existence. The reindeer, on its part, just shook the jingling antlers again and dragged its hooves on the worn-out concrete outside of the door.

“Fuck Santa Claus, get this thing away from here,” Ronan snarled, overcoming the weird silent stillness that apparently possessed him and making to surpass Gansey and get to the door.

Adam could feel the reality shifting around them, in that subtle way that clicked events together in his mind. The Christmas decoration, Ronan gingerly readying the house for Matthew and for the holidays, the jumping mattress, the hooves print on the icy ground.

“Shit,” he gritted out, dragging the palm of the right hand over his face. He could feel Blue, Gansey and Henry’s eyes on him like a physical presence. “That’s not Santa Claus. Ronan dreamt it.”

The howling laughter that followed from Blue and Henry echoed through the hallway. Gansey had that very peculiar expression that he wore when he was trying to maintain a subdue composure but was instead bemused.

“Fucking drop it and help me!” Ronan bit out, reaching for the reindeer.

The reindeer scurried out of his reach, the red nose shining slightly.

“Are you kidding me, Lynch, this is amazing!” Henry’s camera kept flashing, Adam couldn’t even pinpoint the moment he took his phone out to document the whole business.

Ronan and the reindeer were circling each other, in a weird mess rhythmed by the bells chiming around the animal. “Cut the crap before someone see this in the damn garden and help me, for Christ’s sake!”

“Oh.” Blue said, suddenly looking over the reindeer and into her own neighbourhood.

“Uh.” Gansey echoed, clearly conceding the point.

Even though Henrietta had admittedly seen weirder and more concerning stuff than a perfect dreamt version of Rudolph, Adam had no doubt this could be the turning point for finally getting everyone’s attention on the little town and its shady supernatural businesses.

They did get onto it promptly, then, even though Henry was most likely taking a video — “We seriously need a record of this thing, come on!” — rather than helping out.

Surprising no one, dream-Rudolph was just as ill-tempered and shenanigans prone as anything Ronan has ever dreamt, though luckily less deadly than some of his other creations. Huge and surprisingly agile, even with four of them trying to actively coordinate, the reindeer constantly escaped and refused to be cornered. The net result was a merry chase around the garden of 300 Fox Way, vaguely lit just by the light filtering from the windows of house — from which Maura, Calla and Jimi watched while sipping wine cheerfully — and from some streetlights.

“This is seriously not working!” Adam pointed out to the others, after the fourth stumble around the unkempt grass, and the reindeer ran away happily towards the other corner of the house once again.

“I’m afraid that’s true.” Gansey heaved out, resting an elbow against the bark of Blue’s favourite tree to catch his breath. “Jane…” he piped up suddenly “...is the hammock still in the Dream Pig?”

“What fucking hammock?” Ronan turned around, the reindeer having escaped him once more. He was frustrated for more than the exercise, guilt creeping out from the shades of his aggressiveness.

“You mean the net one? I think it’s under the passenger's seat...or I don’t know, maybe in the boot,” Henry stopped filming for a second to reply. How he could manage not to get levelled to the ground my Ronan’s murderous gaze was a mystery. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, four people chasing your Rudolph is already too much.”

“You know what, maybe Henry is right, maybe we’re just scaring it! And we’re not gonna catch it with a net!” Blue protested. “If we could just convince it to get closer…”

“Jesus, maggot, it’s a damn reindeer, it’s bigger than you. Not that it’s fucking difficult, but…”

Adam got moving again, and went to grab Ronan by the scruff. He was tense as a wire and ready to fight, but he did not fight Adam off. “Okay, let’s not start this. You three can try and catch it gently, Ronan and I will recover the hammock...just in case. Deal?”

“Deal.” Gansey confirmed, tossing him the keys of the Pig for him to catch.

They left Henry to put away his phone and the three of them to start a conversation on the theoretically prime method of gentle approach to wildlife. Adam tuned out comments on that time in the valley though with a weird sense of detached melancholy about adventures that did not involve him — even though he had his own share and a life that he chose for himself — and concentrate on Ronan.

“You could have just told me what we were chasing off this morning,” Adam said, matter-of-factly regardless of the risk of escalation with Ronan.

“What about the damn your creations don’t leave the Barns?” Ronan countered, dark in the face with trouble.

Adam opened the car, somehow bright in its orange paint even in the dimly lit driveaway of 300 Fox way. By unspoken agreement, he opened the boot, while Ronan slid himself in the passenger seat after a frustrating challenge with the door — which had behaved perfectly before the first leg of the road trip, so maybe Adam should really give the Camaro a look before the others disappeared North.

“That’s usually true, though. And it’s a reindeer, Ronan, not a H-bomb, you could have just told me about it.”

Ronan made a noncommittal half-grunt and rummaged around in the front, “Jesus fuck this place is a mess.”

While Adam did know a deflection when he heard one he could hardly disagree with the concept, especially while facing a boot that seemed mostly full of hiking supplies, tents, lamps and backup pairs of shoes. “Tell me about it, any luck with the hammock?”

“Fuck no. But there is even more stuff in the backseat.”

Adam sighed deeply. “I’ll come and have a look. If we don’t find it at least Blue won’t freak out about animal mistreatment and whatnot.”

Ronan snorted. “That red-nosed fucker is quick as shit. A net won’t kill it — or hurt it, Jesus — it’s just so we don’t end up on every Goddamn blog in the country.”

Adam moved around a book of maps and lifted what he hoped would be the hammock only to figure that was one of Blue’s crazy net dresses. He was just about to say something — about the blogs, the clothes, Ronan’s nervousness — when he heard the clattering noise and the clamor of voices approaching.

“Adam, watch out!”

He did, prompted by Ronan’s alert, but it did not save him from getting pushed bodily inside the car, the backseat door slamming under the impact of jingling antlers. Ronan turned around on the passenger's seat, reaching for him with clear concern while looking around suspiciously and swearing under his breath.

“I’m okay, I’m all right, it was just a shove.”

“What the fuck is that thing doing?” Ronan gritted out. His eyes followed the Dream Rudolph, currently rushing in circles around the car in a flurry of antlers, garlands and bells. A bit more in the distance, Henry, Blue, and Gansey watched helplessly, cautiously keeping out of the way of this big of an animal in a rush.

At some point around the fifth turn, the Camaro started to vibrate, shaking as if they were back at driving it in off roads paths. The reindeer stopped running around, nudging the sleek metal of the hood with his nose for a second, before turning around and getting off in a rush once again.

Impossibly, the Dream Pig followed.

Like a sleigh on a snow path, Adam and Ronan found themselves dragged along Fox way.

“Fuck, Christ,” Ronan tried to turn on the engine, reflexively, but the Camaro was as unresponsive as it had been in crazy hot days in the Virginia countryside. “Parrish, can you do something about it?”

Adam clasped his hands on the two front seats, trying to soften the increasing shaking of the car while the reindeer brought them off road, towards a dried football field immersed in the dark. “I can work engines, Lynch, not empty hoods full of flowers.”

“Fuck, you’re right. Why the hell is it doing it? How the hell is it doing it?”

They were good questions, but there was no ready answer to them. “Maybe we can try and jump off now that we’re out in a field.” Adam contemplated, trying to problem solve the situation even if it meant leaving the Camaro on its on devices with a Dream Rudolph.

Just as he was saying it, the car stopped shaking and tilted weirdly — first all the way to the left and then all the way to the right, softly and effortlessly. Ronan and Adam exchanged a very alarmed look, and then rushed to look out.

The reindeer was still running, but not on the ground. Slowly but steadily, they all lifted up, and up, and the Pig flew off in the cloudy winter sky. The Dream Rudolph’s nose was shining brighter than a beacon.

On the other side of the windows, thankfully closed, Henrietta grew smaller and smaller underneath them. They began circling the town, and it would have resembled Gansey’s faithful cardboard reconstruction of it if it weren’t for the dark. Streetlight and lit-up windows traced the town in negative, as a photography waiting to be developed, and dimmed out in the distance towards the wild darkness of the mountain and the countryside. The quiet lulling of the Camaro was nothing like the thunderous engine of the helicopter Helen flew them in, and the whistling of the wind outside the vehicle was spaced out by the jingle of bells and Ronan string of increasingly inventive swearing.

Adam pressed his forehead against the corner of the driver’s seat, and began to laugh.

Ronan stopped swearing and eyed him carefully. “Parrish?”

“Ronan…” Adam was having a hard time catching his breath. “...your reindeer is making us fly!”

Ronan was eying him suspiciously, and the worry that Adam self-control finally snapped to leave him in hysterics several tens of feet off the ground was not completely unfounded from his part. Still, it was fucking, recklessly, hilarious.

“This is amazing,” Adam reiterated, liftings his head and looking at Ronan and Henrietta gleaming on the other side of the windows. The laughing fit was only slowly subsiding. “I don’t know how you do it, and you always do it, but come on.”

Ronan back around on the passenger's seat, looking towards the windshield and over it, where Dream Rudolph was still effortlessly trotting around — the red light of its nose reflecting from the bells on its antlers in weird dots around the light brown fur.

“I was kind of hoping you could have fun,” he murmured, at the end, reluctant as ever to express any concept of emotional value.

“What, with Rudolph?”

“I don’t know. Fuck.” one hand snatched up to slide on the buzzed cut hair. “With Christmas, even? I know you don’t like it, not really. But you came back, so I wanted you to have fun. And all these silly stories were fucking fun, when we were little.”

Another laugh started pulling at the corners of Adam’s mouth. “So that’s why you dreamt me a Rudolph? To steal the Camaro from Gansey and drench me in Christmas spirit?”

“You’re an asshole, I didn’t know it could fucking fly a car!”

“Maybe it can fly only this Pig because you dreamt it as well. Why don’t you dream all the other reindeers, maybe we can fly anything with the whole pack...flock…”

“It’s a herd, you fucker,” Ronan’s tension broke into a barked laugh, finally turning back to look at Adam. Their eyes met for a second, before Ronan’s dropped on Adam’s smiling lips, as if to follow their profile and convince himself that he was actually happy.

Still perched with one elbow on the back of the driver’s seat, Adam reached to grab Ronan’s nape. There was no resistance when he dragged him close and kissed him.

That high in the sky in the middle of winter, the inside of the car was cold and so were Ronan’s lips. When he tilted his head and pressed their lips together better, though, the impression of humid warmth from the soft inside of the bottom lip was starking against Adam’s. Adam hummed and caved first, not even trying to play a game of softness and teasing, and pushed forward. He liked the feeling of Ronan’s mouth dropping open between them, he liked even more to slide his tongue inside and feel the kiss tingle all the way down his spine.

Ronan’s mouth felt impossibly hot and familiar, spiced up with the crazy amount of cinnamon Calla had manage to drop in the mulled wine. Adam felt very hungry and very fulfilled at the same time — at every twist of their tongue, at the small itching in breath against his skin while Ronan tried to inhale and drag the kiss deeper, further.

When the need for air broke them up eventually, Adam brushed their nose together, lips still lingering against each other’s, and opened his eyes. In the almost darkness, Ronan still had his eyes closed, intent in their proximity. Everything was surging weirdly against Adam’s chest, so he just tilted his head to the side and kissed along Ronan’s handsome face — the solid cut of his cheekbones against the skin, down the smoothness of his shaved-clean jaw — all the way down his neck.

With a faint sigh at the side of Adam’s ear, Ronan craned his neck in a clear path for Adam’s lips. Adam kissed it, again and again, hyper-aware of the skin warming up at every slide of tongue. A slight shiver followed when Adam made his way even further down, hooking a finger on the perfectly pressed collart of Ronan’s white shirt to close his mouth at the bottom of his neck and suck.

“Shit…” Ronan whistled out between gritted teeth, grabbing at the back of Adam’s elbow, as if to stop him from withdrawing.

Not that it mattered or it was needed. Adam kept at it long enough to leave a mark, and then move slightly down, toeing the line of the two open buttons with two more hickeys all the way down to Ronan’s clavicle. Ronan burrowed a hand in Adam’s hair, when he stopped sucking. His chest was heaving under the open dampness of Adam’s lips, but Adam’s own breath bumped back from Ronan’s skin to his face.

“Should I come to the backseat?”

“I’m not gonna fuck you in a flying car.”

“You need to choose a good way to go, at some point, Parrish.”

They both burst out laughing, again, and by silent agreement they stopped escalating the contacts.

“Hey, Ronan,” Adam whispered, lifting back up without sneaking out of the grip on his hair.

“Mhn?”

The hand combed through his hair and Adam felt like dropping his head against the side of Ronan’s. “It’s a very fun Christmas.”

The smile on Ronan’s lips was a clear stretch on Adam’s temple, when Ronan turned around to kiss it, intensely delicate. “Good to know. But we’re gonna freeze our asses off and fucking starve if we don’t get the fuck down soon,” he gave a very pointed look at the Dream Rudolph, rising his voice from the car. “What do you think, shithead full of bells?”

The reindeer seemed to hear him just fine, shaking his antlers just for the sake of more jingling and bellowing softly. After all the chasing around, it was almost amicable now, leading them in circles that went lower and lower, back towards the field they took off from.

Trust any animal of Ronan’s to be as temperamental as him.

By the time they settled back on the ground, Adam felt much more mentally ready for the Eve and the Christmas festivities to follow. He hadn’t realized he was nervous about them — about having someone worth spending them with for the first time ever, about not matching the mood and the expectation for lack of any practice — until now, with the weight lifted off his shoulders.

Of course, all the occupants of 300 Fox Way and then some, if the rest of the Lynch brothers had arrived in the meantime, would be freaking out. But that was another story, and maybe Dream Rudolph could fly for them as well.

********

On the morning of Boxing Day, Adam woke up alone in the bed but not alone in the bedroom, Opal cheerfully dangling her furry legs off one the chairs and watching him.

“Will you come, if you’re up? Kerah is out already!”

He had to snatch every second it took him to put some clothes appropriate for the type of chill he would experience outside, but at the end Opal got a grip of his hand and dragged him out.

“It’s not that cold!”

“You’re never cold, you don’t count.”

“Kerah says you’re never cold, but Kerah gets cold easily. So doesn’t he count as well?”

Adam laughed, “No, maybe he doesn’t either.”

Appently, for once in his life, Adam had been the last one to wake up. The frosty path Opal led him through was already marked by more than one pair of footprints; when they got to a shady corner close to the bent of creek that crossed the Barns, Declan and Matthew’s backs were as unmistakable as Ronan’s.

“I can’t believe you actually dreamt a Rudolph, Ronan,” Declan was saying.

“Yeah, you fucking said that already. Four times. What’s your point? Is there a time limit on reindeers?” Ronan turned around with one eyebrow up.

“Well, we all know what Declan’s favourite reindeer was, don’t we?” Matthew singsonged, circling his first brother.

“It’s not like I wanted one!” Declan snapped, all too promptly and with an uncharacteristic hinge of fluster in his tone.

“Suuuure you didn’t,” Ronan dragged, a shit-eating grin spreading. "What do you know, maybe I'll give you a lift back to D.C. in a couple of days."

Adam had to stop eavesdropping silently because Opal started losing it, her cawing laugh spreading and prompting Chainsaw to follow suite from where she was stomping around on the ground.

“Well, now we get to keep it, so it’s fair, isn’t it?” Matthew said, as Ronan gestured Adam closer.

A handful of meters head, the secluded corner of the Barns they were at was covered in bright white know and glistening with artificial cold, just like Cabeswater used to do when it changed season for good. In a cheerful jingle of bells, Dream Rudolph trotted around its new home, the red nose happily shining.

It was a good fix.

It had been a good Christmas.

#My Writing #the raven cycle #Pynch #Pynchsecretsanta17 #HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!#Enjoy some very random fluffiness #T rated #No big worries some nice kissing #Christmas shenanigans

19 notes · View notes

stillrecruitingrp · 7 years

Photo

The D.A. has recruited Taylor to the character of Ginny Weasley with a faceclaim of Luca Hollestelle. Picking a fight there, Ginny? Or are you still fighting yourself after second year?

OOC Details

Name: Taylor

Pronouns: She/Her

Activity Level: Moderate. I have a fulltime job and commitments, but I think I’ll be able to post a few times a week.

Acknowledgement: I acknowledge that the themes of this game may include triggering elements. I also acknowledge that my character may be harmed or even killed during paras/events or may cause harm to or kill others during paras/events through the violence roulette.

General IC Details

Name: Ginevra “Ginny” Molly Weasley

Age: 16

Ships: Ginny is still in love with Harry at this point, but she believes in him and has let him go to do what he has to do. It’s also not her main concern, as right now there are more important things on the table then whether or not she’s in a relationship. But I believe that Ginny’s sexuality is Bisexual, or Heteroflexible as she hasn’t really thought about it a whole lot (besides when she’s looking through Witch Weekly and there’s a picture of Gwenog Jones).

Gender/Pronouns: She/Her

Face Claim: Luca Hollestelle

Desired Changes: Not a whole lot at the moment, just excited to explore her character more in-depth!

჻ ჻ ჻ ჻

BIO Questions

Biography:

Growing up, Ginny’s life was ordinary. Well as ordinary as it could be for a lower-income wizarding family of nine, in which she was only special because of her gender. It was a novelty, being the only girl in a gaggle of vivid ginger boys, whom all had a booming personality that internally struggled to shine amongst each other. That being said, Ginny’s childhood was happy. Loving parents who had come out of the first war with themselves intact and enough love to go around their large lot. One by one, all of Ginny’s brothers turned of age to attend school, making the months between September and May lonelier, until it was only her and Ron. It was due to this that she had grown a kinship with the boy who was only a year older. Mud puddles and pretend, debating whether the Harpies or the Cannons were the superior team (obviously the Harpies!). That is until Ron turned eleven and everything changed. Harry Potter returned to the wizarding world, and invaded their lives as Ron Weasley’s best mate.

It was safe to say that Ginny was immediately infatuated. The first celebrity she’d ever had the pleasure of meeting with just a simple smile at King’s Cross, followed by a lonely year alone. It was spent mostly using the Bill’s old broom he’d left behind in the shed to practice quidditch and counting down the days until she was at Hogwarts with her brothers, making friends, and chatting with the Boy Who Lived.

Except that wasn’t what happened. Ron had moved on, found a kinship with Harry and Hermione that didn’t have room for her, and instead she was left to figure it out on her own. But she wasn’t alone. No, she had found a friend in a book, only a week before school and he had twisted it’s grip into her heart and fed on all of her insecurities. Isolating her from those that were her age, with every heartfelt secret she gave him, the more pull Tom Riddle had until he was finally controlling her completely. It was truly terrifying. Missing moments, blood on her hands, her peers turning up petrified as a villain whispered in her ear. How was it that someone could tear a person apart while still making them feel like he was the only one that understood or cared? A master manipulator, it took her months before Ginny tried to get rid of the diary. At first she suspected she was going mad, but it had fallen into Harry’s possession and in her first act of Gryffindor bravery, she had to steal it back.

But regaining the diary simply gave Tom her power again, allowing him to use her as a pawn to draw the “Boy Who Supposedly Destroyed Voldemort” into the Chamber. It was her life-force that almost brought Tom Riddle back into his youth, but when she awoke she was free. Free to confess to Harry what had been going on for all those months, and it was with him she returned from the chamber.

After Tom, she was left to pick up the pieces. Over the years she found a friend in Hermione, who urged her to be herself. In Neville, who accompanied her to the Yule Ball just so she could take part, and in Luna, who was intuitive and open-minded. She dated people who saw her as more than just another Weasley and killed it on the quidditch pitch after all those years practicing alone. Dark times arrived, Ginny stepped up, becoming one of the original members of Dumbledore’s Army and even helping to suggest it’s infamous name. Rebellion is in her blood after all, and when Harry, Ron and Hermione planned to flee for the Ministry in order to save Sirius, she fought to follow along.

It was as if she was finally being seen. Not only by her family and peers, but after that by Harry as well. She could feel his gaze when she entered a room, heard it in his laugh that his heart was a little lighter when they smiled about the same stupid thing. She knew that that she didn’t know everything, and that peace wouldn’t last, but when he caught her in his arms that day in the common room and kissed her in front of everyone Ginny felt like she might explode with happiness. Finally she was out of her shell, absolutely vibrant and it had gotten her what she wanted all those years ago.

And yet their relationship was short lived, not because they didn’t want one another, but because duty called. Dumbledore left Harry a nearly impossible mission and the world fully knew the danger that was about to embark. Her eldest brother’s wedding proved that, as chaos reigned on Bill and Fleur’s guests. Another reminder that they were at war, as Ron and his friends left without a word. Ginny left to pick up the pieces once again.

School Year So Far:

The train back to Hogwarts was morose. Luna with her head in the Quibbler, sat tightly next to Ginny who’s feet were up on the bench across from her and pressed against Neville’s leg, whose leg was between both of Luna’s on the floor between them. The three in an ever-sturdy triangle, as if proximity was safety, without even acknowledging it. It wasn’t broken until the Death Eater’s started patrol, and barged into the cabin where they were met with Neville standing quickly, and Ginny’s wand out at the ready. An early introduction to the tenseness that would follow. It was that night that the DA held their first meeting, calling all members whom still had their coins to the Room of Requirement.

With Neville and Luna, Ginny easily fells into the position of muscle. Maybe it was growing up with all those brothers. Curse-breaker Bill, Fearless Charlie, Meticulous Percy, Devious Fred and George, and Fiercely Loyal Ron, have taught her to be a Ruthless Protector. Picking fights in hallways when someone was unjustly treated, planning missions for breaking into the Headmaster’s office to steal back the sword of Gryffindor. Blood, sweat and tears were key ingredients in the first term. Even during winter break, in the soft calm of Grimmauld Place she could still hear the screams of her peers under the cruciatus curse. Part of Ginny feared going home for the holidays, worried that there will be no one to keep the DA in line, or protect them from the Carrows, but Molly would hear none of the complaints and Ginny couldn’t help but ache for her family. Surprisingly, it’s Arthur who suggested Ginny stay home for the second term though, but even her father can’t talk her into staying in the safety of her parent’s arms. No, this is her battle, this is her school. Her fight and she intends to see it through.

The fire in her belly was only fuelled further on the second train-ride back to Hogwarts that school year, when Luna is ripped away from her. A curse catching her off guard, and all she could do was watch as Luna was whisked away against her will. Ginny only let Neville see her cry that night, with the fear that they would never see their friend again.

჻ ჻ ჻ ჻

Open Themes (Optional)

I am open to the possibility of applying for one of these later. At the moment, I really want to flesh out how Ginny processes her past in this new and harsh environment.

OOC Questions

Writing Sample

(I hope it’s okay if I have Crabbe/Goyle as NPC’s in this para sample! Though let’s be real I’d die of happiness if someone played them!) ADMIN NOTE: likewise!

There is a pit in her stomach that hasn’t been around since she was younger. And not just any cramp, that might be from nervousness of a big match, or the butterflies that rise with the glimpse of green eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. No, this was a deep seeded darkness, the kind that threatened in the shadows and spread through her bones like ice.

Ginny knows it’s different though.

Repeats it to herself over and over that she wasn’t going to lose control. That the Carrows, while vile and evil in their own twisted way, were not Tom. They weren’t, and he was gone. Sure, You-Know-Who is at large and a threat as real as ever, but he isn’t the same handsome face that had lulled a young girl to do his bidding. There was no one on Earth who could scare her quite like Tom, who had taken her consent, her mind and her will. He had left permanent scars.

That didn’t change the fact though that the hall of Hogwarts were once again eerie, the redhead on constant alert, her hand almost always inches from her wand. Not that it was required. She couldn’t help the pride that rose whenever she won a draw with her quick reflexes. She had caught the winning snitch after all. It seemed like years, and yet it had only been months since she’d been on that high. Her house cheering her name as they stormed back through the castle (it had felt so much more like home then), when Harry had kissed her and for some reason deep down she had known he was going too.

No, it all feels like a dream now as she wanders the halls on edge. Even though it was between classes, the route to Potions is much less crowded than it had ever been before and turning the corner is when she stops. There stood Crabbe (or was it Goyle? She had never bothered to learn the difference since they were never in her classes) cornering a youngin’ who couldn’t be older than thirteen. Some poor sod who’d stumbled upon the wrong place at the wrong time, back to the wall and wide-eyed. It was safe to say without Malfoy’s orders, the pair of lackeys had somehow grown braver on their own and Ginny couldn’t help walk quicker towards him (though the nagging voice in her head that sounded like her mother kept telling her to stop).

“Oi, Orge-face!” She bellows, looking and sounding more like her brother Ron with every passing day. Her wand is already out when he turns towards her, much larger than herself, but there’s an angry burn inside of her that wants to make someone else just as mad as she is. “I’d say pick on someone your own size, but then we’d have to find a troll.”

Exploration

I want Silver Trio stuff! Neville and Luna are so important to Ginny, as her family and her character development. I absolutely adore how much Ginny loves them and the little canon things that show this, and can’t wait to play it out with them not just being buddies now, but a team. They’re the heart of the DA, and I think they take that so incredibly seriously. Not to mention I want to do the mission where they try to break into Snape’s office!

Anything with the Weasleys. I love the sibling relationship between Ginny and her brothers.

Ginny’s PTSD. She was possessed for an entire school year, that’s not something a person can just get over. Ginny hides it well, even in the same year it happened it’s mentioned that she appears calmer and more content. I think a coping mechanism has been for her to brush it under the rug over the years and focus on other things. I think it was even a reason she trained so hard at Quidditch (working out improves endorphins/gives her something to focus on and exhausts herself so she can sleep). So I think it’s been forgotten by a lot of people, and Ginny tends to promote that with her own behaviour towards it. With the Carrows taking over though, I can see it stirring up everything she’s repressed over the years and really triggers her nightmares and fight-before-flight reactions. She doesn’t react in the same way others do.

Her struggle as a leader, and how the people in her life still see her as the “little sister” or the youngest family member. Even the Golden Trio have always pegged Ginny as a step under them (her having to fight to go to the Ministry in Order of the Phoenix). It will be a power struggle when those people show up and treat her like they always have while she’s been at the head of the DA this year. In canon she’s been fighting this war the entire year, but when the Battle of Hogwarts happen, both her mom and Harry say she’s too young. She’s the second in command of the DA, the muscle, and suddenly there are people telling her she’s not up to the challenge. It’s something that she truly hates and is going to try to establish some dominance for.

#ginny weasley #recruitaccept

2 notes · View notes

michiganprelawland · 5 years

Text

The Cheeseburger Law Wins, Obesity Keeps Losing

By Julia Hohman, Ferris State University Class of 2021

January 22, 2020

American Resolutions

Happy new year, welcome 2020 and everything that comes with it. New goals, new adventures, and new desires. New year resolutions can vary from, educational growth, developing financial habits, and traveling goals, but according to Statista, 51% of Americans want to eat healthier, 50% want to become more active, and 42% want to lose weight in the year of 2020 [1]. Do you see a pattern? These top 3 resolutions for 2020 are directly related to the biggest health issues in the United States. Scary enough, these goals have been the same for the last two decades.

Cheeseburger Law?

If you read the title of this article, you might be wondering “What is a Cheeseburger Law?” Although the cheeseburger law stemmed from the Personal Responsibility in Food Consumption Act, otherwise known as H.R. 554 [109 th ], it effects your family members, best friends, and your fellow American citizens across the country every day. How many times have you ate McDonalds this week? Did you have clear access to see what your food was made of? If answering yes to this question, this is partly due to the Cheeseburger Act. The Personal Responsibility in Food Consumption act was passed “To prevent legislative and regulatory functions from being usurped by civil liability actions brought or continued against food manufacturers, marketers, distributors, advertisers, sellers, and trade associations for claims of injury relating to a person's weight gain, obesity, or any health condition associated with weight gain or obesity [2].” This act was passed because of Pelman V McDonald’s and was intended to prioritize personal responsibility among an increasingly obese American population [3]. After this case was settled, H.R. 554 [109 th ] was passed by the House of Representatives and approved by the senate in 2005. Representative Chris Cannon, R-Utah, one of the bill’s sponsors stated, “The bill seeks to block lawsuits by people because they ate too much and got fat.” [3]. Representative Lamar Smith also had something to say about the bill passing, “We should not encourage lawsuits that blame others for our own choices and could bankrupt an entire industry.” [3] This occurred because teenagers from New York were not only unconscionably eating McDonalds every day and not knowing what was in their food, but supersizing their orders by reason of advertisement promoting an appearance of healthy lifestyles.

Pelman takes on McDonalds

As mentioned before, Pelman V McDonalds took place when teenagers and their parents from New York filed a complaint against McDonalds in 2002. Specifically, Pelman is 14 years old, 4’10”, and weighed 170 pounds at the time of trial. Pelman’s original compliant consisted of five separate causes of action. Furthermore, accusing McDonalds for false advertisement because the items on the menu were being marketed as if they were nutritious and healthy, which promoted the plaintiff to eat more of it. For instance, McDonald’s promoted the “Might Kids” ads implicating that kids will become stronger if they consume the mighty meal. A mother of the teen stated, “I always believed that McDonald’s food was healthy for my son [5].”Pelman’s attorney, Samuel Hirsh, McDonald's has the information that a child consuming this food more than one time a week may result in a child developing juvenile diabetes. become an insipid, toxic kind of thing... Nobody thinks that going to McDonald’s can be unhealthy because they promote their foods as healthy.” Therefore, Hirsch implied that children are not mature enough to make a choice “after the onslaught of advertising and promotions [5].

So, did McDonalds mislead the truth? Are they liable for false advertisement? McDonald’s violated New York’s consumer fraud statue by misrepresenting – affirmatively and by omission – how healthy (or unhealthy) its products are. Furthermore, McDonalds was not going to settle. They submitted a counter claim with three defenses, stating that their “product puffery” was false [4]. They claimed that the deceptiveness of the items on the menu are not deceptive since the results of fast food are previously known. In addition, under New York’s consumer fraud provisions, McDonald’s acts of failure to disclose the information to the public is only valid in rare circumstances. In result, the plaintiff had no argument against McDonalds, whether they intentionally or negligently distributed foods that led to obesity [4]. The facts boiled down to common knowledge to the public that fast food is not healthy.

The Fifth Count

Lastly, have you ever heard of people being addicted to junk food? This motive was used by Pelman in alleging the final count, claiming that “McDonald’s caused its consumers to become physically or psychologically addicted [4].” The court granted that the plaintiff could have had cause of action if they could prove that this food was addictive. However, these teenagers and parents would be facing an uphill battle against this argument. The core reason this case proceeded was not because any obese teenagers were blaming McDonalds for gaining weight, they argued that McDonalds did not provide the information associated with the health risks of the food that they were eating. From CNN news, McDonalds defended itself, “We said from the beginning that this was a frivolous lawsuit. Today’s ruling confirms that fact [5].” However, this was not the end of it. Hirsch’s stayed steadfast and announced that the plaintiff was not discouraged, announcing that they were looking forward to amending their complaint in the federal court. [5]. Teens Appeal to federal court The time period between the district court and the plaintiff refiling the complaint in the federal court exasperated McDonalds. Hirsch stayed positive and publicized that his party had a genuine concern for the health of all people that were consuming McDonalds. The forthright goal was to raise awareness for what is inside the food, not to make a million dollars from the lawsuit [4]. On the other hand, a McDonald’s representative told CNN, “This is oneperson’s opinion. Eating McDonald’s food can easily fit into a balanced diet. I eat its food every day and I’m perfectly healthy [5].”

Pelman V McDonalds Results

Judge Robert seemed to find favor in McDonalds. He stated, “Every responsible person understands what is in products such as hamburgers and fries, as well as the consequence to one’s waistline, and the potentially to one’s health, of excessively eating those foods over a prolonged period of time [5].” Many lawsuits have been turned down based on the precedence of Pelman v McDonalds and effect more people than most realize. Pelman V McDonalds triggered a new bill that was passed, H.R. 554 [109 th ]. This bill has a nickname called “The Cheeseburger Bill” and protects all fast food chains in America. Although this lawsuit brought publicity to McDonalds, they seemed to become more transparent with their ingredients after the lawsuit was dismissed. This bill states that the given company is not liable for the poor health from eating their food. Therefore, each person consuming fast food in America is personally responsible for the amount consumed and many effects from eating it.

After reading and reviewing statements from news articles, Pelman V McDonalds, and unconscionably forming your own opinion on this matter, challenge yourself to relate this to your own life, encourage others, and spread the word!

________________________________________________________________

Julia Hohman is a student at Ferris State University. Double majoring in Business Management and Administration with a minor in law. Julia envisions herself working on a corporate legal counsel for her career choice.

________________________________________________________________ [1]Katharina, Buchholz. "Merica's Top New Year's Resolutions for 2020." Statista, Statista, 16 Dec. 2019, www.statista.com/chart/20309/us-new-years-resolutions-2020/

[2]“H.R. 554 — 109th Congress: Personal Responsibility in Food Consumption Act of 2005.” www.GovTrack.us. 2005. January 17, 2020 <https://www.govtrack.us/congress/bills/109/hr554>

[3]Zwillich, Todd. "House Passes 'Cheeseburger' Bill." CBS NEWS, edited by Louise Chang, CBS NEWS, 19 Oct. 2005, www.cbsnews.com/news/house-passes-cheeseburger-bill-956858/.

[4]Pelman v. McDonald's: An In-depth Case Study of a Fast Food & Obesity Lawsuit. (2005 Third Year Paper)

[5]Vulliamy, Ed. "'Super-sized' teenagers sue McDonald's." The Guardian, World News, Nov. 2002, www.theguardian.com/world/2002/nov/24/health.healthandwellbeing.

[6]Wald, Jonathon. "McDonald's obesity suit tossed." CNN Money, CNN, 17 Feb. 2003, money.cnn.com/2003/01/22/news/companies/mcdonalds/

[7] Wade, Lisa. Sociological Images. 2008, thesocietypages.org/socimages/2008/11/24/mcdonalds-is-upping- childrens-serving-size-say-hello-to-the-mighty-meal/.

0 notes

sol1056 · 7 years

Text

the problem with super-robots

In the Voltron reboot, I’ve been giving serious thought to the possibility that the writers may like their anime -- and remember the butchered American version of Voltron with some fondness -- but they don’t actually know the mecha tradition all that well. It shows up the most in their failure of imagination about the S1 finale and the truncated S3, where the Voltron writers compensate by adding tension via new plot points (alternate realities! clones!), rather than addressing the tension inherent in the genre.

This is the failure of imagination. A robeast? Form Voltron. A ship trapped on a dying planet? Form Voltron. Rescue Allura? Form Voltron. Destroy several battle cruisers lurking overhead? Form Voltron. The narrative continues to insist on this (and never refute it) when the rebels say they need Voltron, too.

This isn’t the first series to have to tackle this issue. It’s pretty common in the mecha tradition. If you don’t address it, as a writer you end up with a repetitive storyline where every week just happens to have a brand-new universe-ending threat that just happens to require the universe’s greatest weapon. Win that fight, and the following episode you get the same thing all over again.

So how do you fix this? You break the premise.

First, I’ll give you context of what I mean by ‘super-robot’ vs ‘robot’, and then I’ll walk you through what I’ve seen writers do to get around this ‘I’ve got a voltron-hammer so everything is a nail’ trap.

First, some context

Most mecha stories fall into one of two general categories: robots and super-robots. The first type gets its tension from being an arms race, because each side has to keep leveling up; I’d put Eureka Seven, Gurren Lagann, Code Geass, and the Gundam UC timeline in this category. A technological leap may let one side get ahead for a bit, but their opponents will find a way to catch up. Also, the kill rate tends to be quite low, because the playing field is relatively even.

(You could also class series like Macross or Sidonia no Kishi into the non-super category, since their mecha aren’t impervious and the death rate can be high, except only one side has mecha. Normally that’d mean ‘super-robot’, except the antagonists are so bloody overpowered that any win comes at a high cost. RahXephon might also fall into this, too.)

The super-robot tradition -- which Gundam stepped into with the Gundam Wing storyline -- is a little different. In the GW storyline, ‘gundam’ designated a super-robot that utterly outclassed its opponents. You can see this in the pilots’ kill-rates compared to the original Gundam series. 0079 was a soccer game (2-3 points, 10 points being superlative) to GW’s basketball game (78 points, 120 points, sky’s the limit). The bad guys’ mecha just lined up and got cut down like paper dolls.

Except then, everything becomes too easy. The sole battle-tension lies in whether the bad guys can just keep throwing cannon fodder at the super-robot until it (or its pilot) breaks down or is simply overwhelmed by sheer numbers. It also reduces the emphasis on human/pilot skill. You’ve got to be damn good to win with a factory-stock Kia against a Maserati in the straightaway, even if the Maserati’s got a mediocre driver. And if you’re the one in the Maserati, well, there’s no contest.

This is where Voltron sits; for most of S1/S2, the tension lay not in robeast strength so much as the pilots’ inexperience. Once the pilots leveled up -- and then the robeasts stopped coming -- most of the tension was gone. It was the Maserati laying waste to a Kia. No competition at all.

Keeping the tension

One: have the opponent level up; we’re finally seeing this with Lotor’s comet-ship (and I’ll leave a fuller explanation of my complaint for another day).

Two: remove the super-robot from the picture. Force a pilot into self-destructing (aka the Heero Yuy School of Conflict Resolution), overwhelm and capture, isolate and capture, or in Voltron’s case, just enforce the narrative’s rules to make combination impossible so you can’t achieve super-robot in the first place. And yes, I’m saying it was a real failure of tension to let the team re-achieve Voltron in S3, especially when the narrative glossed over the struggle.

And then there’s the third option, which is my favorite and where some of the best storylines imo lie: destroy the team from within. A group of pilots, met by chance or design, who together fly mecha that by simple stats should be unbeatable. Unified, they’re unstoppable; to create tension, the writers must destroy that unity.

You do that by giving each pilot a competing agenda. It’s the reason they fight, and when this doesn’t align, the friction can create schisms. We get glimmers of this, as when Hunk prioritized the Balmera while Allura prioritized helping anyone in earshot with a distress beacon, or when Pidge focused on finding her brother over focusing on the team.

Shiro’s emphasis on ‘we decide together’ (as opposed to Keith’s or Allura’s ‘this is bigger than any of us’) falls apart once each person develops their own agenda. Allura and Coran seek allies but are easily distracted by hints of surviving Alteans; Pidge chases her family; Keith is too busy combing deep space for any sign of Shiro between suicide missions against any passerby Galra ships; Lance is focused on freeing planets; Hunk, well, not sure what he’d want. Freeing planets, too, I suppose; I can see him continuing to work as a team with Lance.

Then you break them apart. Dig into that friction, have each character stake their priorities, and one by one, each one falls away. Even alone, each lion is damn near a super-robot, anyway. Nothing the Galra have come up with can defeat even a single lion (other than overwhelming numbers, but even there ‘form voltron’ has always saved the day, so the narrative has carefully prevented the Galra from ever pressing an advantage for long).

Let the freed planets be thrilled with a single lion, and there’s no longer a pressing need for Voltron itself. There’s no real reason the team needs to swallow their conflicts in favor of a contrived working relationship.

[aside: I still roll my eyes that no one ever pointed out to the freed planets’ leaders that there’s only one Voltron, and it can’t be everywhere at once. Especially when one or two lions can do the job; using all of Voltron would be a hugely inefficient use of resources. It’s a remarkably selfish complaint on the part of a leader who was already entirely passive in his people’s freeing, and the failure of any of the protagonists to point this out means the narrative effectively validates that selfish complaint.]

After the break-up

So they scatter, and therein lies the fracturing that makes the story jump to a truly epic scale. You’ve got to follow these separate storylines, while compacting each because of time constraints (Coran&Allura, Pidge, Keith, Lance&Hunk, Lotor, Zarkon&Haggar, Sendak/Galra, Kollivan&BoM, various rebels). You can timeskip easily, and do catchups by showing alliances forming -- Pidge contacting Allura to say hello, reporting she’s working with this rebel group, and Allura says she last heard sign of Lance&Hunk in the something-or-other quadrant, and no word of Keith. That updates us and tells us it’s been three months. Then jump forward again, this time following the rebels with BoM, and drop hints that it’s been another month.

Have them come together in twos or threes, then break apart again because there’s no outside force pushing on them to reconcile. (Remember, the opponent’s only real threat is sheer numbers, and enough allies can undermine that, even if there’s only one lion leading the charge.)

We’d get the passage of time (even without clues like change in clothes or hair) with enough information to know where each is at. If we want a shock (”been trying to get ahold of you, they’ve captured Blue and are executing Lance in two days!”) then the noise of all those differing story lines can help mask the signal of what’s happening off-screen. Use that epic scale of so many different threads at once so the viewers feel just as overwhelmed as the pilots, and drive home the sense of being up against insurmountable odds.

Don’t forget the antagonists

And alongside all that, you continue to ramp up the tension by letting viewers see Lotor’s plans. Stop hiding the cool shit; the distraction trick of ‘wow Lotor came from nowhere’ is only going to work so far. Show what he’s up to; give him a role in the narrative beyond just opposition -- let the viewers understand his goals, possibly even realize he’s got some good points, even if his execution sucks. Let him smash through the individual lions; let him wound one, and capture another. Let him stand on the brink of complete victory, all the more bittersweet because we viewers would know that the team damn well handed most of that victory to him.

Bringing them back together

You position every arc so each character gets only enough victory to keep going, never enough to actually win. You ramp up the enemy’s previously overwhelming numbers into something truly vast, and you push each character into realizations that drive them back to unity. You make them realize they genuinely miss someone they’d once thought annoying. You tire them out with the fight, until they accept they can’t do this alone. You don’t simply let them reflect on that hubris -- you make them pay the price for the mistake. You force them to seek each other out, argue their differences, and resolve or get over them.

You don’t make it a single episode’s platitude, easily won. You make it a half-season (or more) of earning the truth, first-hand and at high cost. You’ve got to let the story test them, and hard, before they can accept the truth that they’re ‘stronger together’.

When the team finally reunites, that alone is a hard-won victory. They’ve defeated the greater opponent of their own flaws, and the stage will be set for their re-unification on a higher level.

In conclusion

So far, everything has (relatively speaking) come far too easy for Voltron. If the writers want to keep the story moving, the characters are way overdue for suffering some major, long-term consequences. They need to start earning those victories, instead of just yelling ‘form voltron’ and calling it a day.

#voltron meta #voltron legendary defender #storytelling #redux

37 notes · View notes

bigyack-com · 5 years

Text

JNU students, teachers attacked by mob, at least 23 injured - india news

Groups of masked men armed with sticks, rods and hammers stormed Jawaharlal Nehru University on Sunday evening and attacked students and teachers, triggering waves of condemnation and forcing the city police to set up a high-level inquiry later in the night.Videos and television visuals showed men in jeans and shirts, with strips of cloth covering their faces, vandalise hostel rooms and common areas, hurl stones and hit students with sticks on the south Delhi campus.At least 23 students and teachers were admitted to the All India Institute of Medical Sciences with injuries from the violence that began around 6pm after a demonstration against hikes in hostel and academic fees. “I was brutally beaten up,” said JNU student union president Aishe Ghosh, who suffered a head injury and was seen bleeding.“It was a riot-like situation,” said Bikramaditya K Chowdhary, an assistant professor who lives on the campus and whose wife was chased by the mob. She escaped unhurt.The Left-backed union and many students alleged that members of the Akhil Bharatiya Vidyarthi Parishad (ABVP), the student wing of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh, attacked them.“Masked men were roaming around and entering hostels with sticks in hand. They were breaking property and attacking students,” said Saket Moon, JNUSU vice-president. Police, who initially refused to enter the campus as the mob rampaged inside, didn’t comment on the identity of the attackers, but university vice-chancellor M Jagadesh Kumar told television channels he will file a formal complaint.“The violence in JNU is very worrisome and unfortunate. I condemn the violence inside the campus. I appeal to all students to maintain peace in the campus,” said human resource development minister Ramesh Pokhriyal ‘Nishank’.The Union home ministry said minister Amit Shah spoke to Delhi Police commissioner Amulya Patnaik and instructed him to take necessary action.“Hon’ble minister has also ordered an enquiry to be carried out by a joint CP level officer and asked for a report to be submitted as soon as possible,” the ministry tweeted.Lieutenant governor Anil Baijal, who controls the city police, said he asked the force to coordinate with JNU administration to maintain law and order & take action against the alleged perpetrators. “The situation is being closely monitored,” he added.The ABVP dismissed the charges and said members of the Left parties had led the violence. “The attack on ABVP today shows the violent side of these organizations. Left cannot intimidate students through violence,” said Durgesh Kumar, president, ABVP JNU unit.Police -- who entered the campus a little after 9pm, almost three hours after violence first erupted -- said a fight broke out between two student groups who “vandalised hostels and indulged in violence”.“At least seven students from both sides moved to hospital. Those seen in sticks are also students. There is no such mob outside JNU at present. We will register a case accordingly,” said deputy commissioner of police (southwest) Devender Arya. Police said it entered campus after getting a request and permission from the JNU administration.Arya claimed that a flag march was conducted and the campus was normal but late into the night, students and teachers from the university claimed the situation was tense, with large groups of people gathered at the main gate of the campus.Political tensions have been rising on the campus for almost two months because of a stand-off over a proposed fee hike, which, in some cases, meant that a pupil would be paying 30 times the current amount. The agitating students, led by the JNUSU, had also called for a boycott of the ongoing registration process of new students.Some professors said scuffles broke out after a meeting on Sunday afternoon.“We saw a mob of 25-30 students with rods and lathis. The goons came from outside, went from hostel to hostel beating up students and teachers,” said Sharad Baviskar, an assistant professor. There was a similar mob on campus on Saturday afternoon, he added.But the university administration blamed students protesting against the fee hike for the violence.“The students who are for the registration were beaten up by a group of agitating students opposing the registration. Some masked miscreants also entered the Periyar hostel rooms and attacked the students with sticks and rods,” said a statement issued by university registrar Pramod Kumar.As news spread of the violence, political parties and leaders condemned the violence and traded charges. “I am so shocked to know about the violence at JNU. Students attacked brutally. Police should immediately stop violence and restore peace,” tweeted Delhi chief minister Arvind Kejriwal.Foreign minister S Jaishankar and finance minister Nirmala Sitharaman, both alumni of the university, condemned the violence. “Condemn the violence unequivocally. This is completely against the tradition and culture of the university,” said Jaishankar.Sitharaman said the university she remembered was a place for fierce debates and opinions but never violence. “I unequivocally condemn the events of today,” she added.Senior Congress leader Priyanka Gandhi Vadra reached AIIMS late on Sunday night, and said students with broken limbs and head injuries told her that they had been hit by goons and police. “There is something deeply sickening about a government that allows and encourages such violence to be inflicted on their own children,” she tweeted.The Congress blamed the ruling Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) for the violence.“Brutality & beatings unleashed. No police anywhere, no JNU administration! Is this how Modi government seeks revenge against students & youth?” asked Congress chief spokesperson Randeep Singh Surjewala.But the BJP dismissed the allegation. “This is a desperate attempt by forces of anarchy, who are determined to use students as cannon fodder, create unrest to shore up their shrinking political footprint,” the party tweeted Read the full article

0 notes

mushroomhedgehog · 7 years

Photo

GAME REVIEW: Marvel VS Capcom: Infinite (2017) The latest entry in the iconic Marvel VS Capcom series has finally arrived, and since at least the past summer, the game has been notably bashed by a large number of gamers. But the question remains of whether this hate is justified. Without further ado, let's dive into the other major superhero fighter of 2017, Marvel VS Capcom: Infinite. Marvel VS Capcom: Infinite is the sixth crossover between the characters of Capcom and the Marvel Comics universe, originally beginning with X-Men VS Street Fighter in 1996. In this entry, we return to the original format of two-man teams, but like the aforementioned first game, returns to sidekick characters no longer being able to provide assist attacks. This is a bit of a shame compared to previous games, but it at least shows that Capcom knows how the series got started. What is also worth noting is that due to Marvel's recent policy on certain characters whose film rights are currently controlled by Fox, all characters associated with the X-Men and Fantastic Four have been excluded, leading to multiple mainstay characters such as Wolverine, Doctor Doom, and Magneto not returning for this game. This marks the first time in the history of the MvC series that Wolverine does not appear as a playable character. In addition to changes made by Marvel, this game marks a major change to the series, as Capcom has altered the gameplay to allow newcomers to not get overwhelmed by its mechanics. This has resulted in many special move motions being altered from previous games. For instance, my usual character, Spider-Man (no surprise there) has a different motion for his Spider-Sting attack. Originally this was a reversed motion of the same input used to perform Ryu's Shoryuken, a very similar uppercut move that Spider Sting is likely based off of. Now, the input requires you to press down twice before pressing the attack button. Other characters such as Captain America have also been affected by this. Ironically, Ryu's Shoryuken was not affected by this. In addition, Capcom has scrapped the previous game's format in which four attack buttons could all be used for special attacks, aside from the uppercut that launched opponents into the air. The game now has two punch and two kick buttons, allowing for new special moves such as Spider-Man's Spider-Cannon attack, Ryu able to charge his Hadouken to create a short beam-like version, and Captain America able to throw his shield in different ways, as well as reflect projectiles with it. This is important to know, for everyone claiming the game was just like UMvC3, when in actuality, the characters play nearly nothing like they do in that game due to various aspects like new moves and button layouts. While I appreciate that Capcom recognized that learning how to play this series is difficult, I was hoping they'd offer more detailed tutorials split into sections like NetherRealm Studios has done. The game is still a bit difficult to learn, and an easy combo mode isn't a good way to learn how the game works, since it teaches nothing. There is an area of mission mode that does focus on the basics of gameplay, but the character-specific missions focus more on doing nearly impossible combos instead of certain special moves or basic combos. Injustice was much better at teaching new players how to play as certain characters in its mission mode. Putting that aside, the combat has greatly improved. It's much easier for players to perform combos, and while it won't help them for previous entries in the series, it will be a nice introduction to fighting games, particularly if you've gotten comfortable with Super Smash Bros, which doesn't require much effort in its special move inputs. Next up are the graphics. Contrary to what most are claiming, the graphics aren't nearly as bad as they are made out to be. The characters have had a major facelift since the last entry in the game. One of the biggest issues with Ultimate Marvel VS Capcom 3's graphics was hair on certain characters. Not only does character hair look magnificent this time around, but plenty of details are visible that weren't on past incarnations of the series. For instance, incredibly strong characters like Mike Haggar and Hulk have visible veins on their bodies. Characters with metal suits such as Iron Man, Thanos, X, and Arthur, also have detailed shining on their metal suits, making them look better than ever. A lot of people have even gone as far as comparing Captain America's appearance to that infamous drawing by Rob Liefeld, which, even for exaggerations, is ludicrous. If there is one complaint I have about the graphics, it's definitely that the alternate costumes for most of the characters in the game are massive disappointments. Unlike the previous game, which featured full recolors with new patterns, many of which were based on actual alternate costumes, this game merely recolors the characters, texture patterns and all. This makes for some notably sloppy edits of costumes that would otherwise be something like Spider-Man's symbiote suit. So far, only Hulk has been the one to feature skins that match the quality of his UMvC3 skins, particularly the skins of his original grey appearance, and of his enemy, Red Hulk. Finally, with this being the first game in the series to feature a cinematic story mode akin to Mortal Kombat and Injustice, the cinematics and voice acting need to be taken into question. Many actors from UMvC3 have returned to voice their respective characters, but the most notable characters that feature new actors include Spider-Man, Chun-Li, and Ghost Rider, to name a few. The replacement actors for these three arguably gave these characters better voices, especially Robbie Daymond as Spider-Man, who now has a more fitting voice of the geeky kid that doesn't just sound like a generic teenager like Josh Keaton does. Ghost Rider also sounds a bit more demonic, though some might consider it corny compared to his previous voice actor. Other characters that have new actors such as Doctor Strange, Rocket Raccoon, and Dormammu, aren't bad either. Frank West of the Dead Rising series, also sees the return of his original voice actor after the disappointing portrayal by a new actor in Dead Rising 4. Other characters who see the return of their actors, such as Morrigan and Arthur, now feature a lot more emotion behind their lines, rather than all of their lines sounding like fitting their personality instead of emotion. It's also nice to see that Capcom wants to pursue a bigger story in their games, considering the character interaction in previous games like Street Fighter IV and UMvC3. But it should definitely be noted that there's likely a reason why Capcom and Marvel have been such a significant match in the past. The story is being criticized for various aspects, and it seems people were expecting something of Injustice or Mortal Kombat quality. Even when Capcom was featuring story cutscenes through arcade mode, it was clear that they aren't nearly as dark as NetherRealm is. Just as it would be ridiculous to compare certain aspects of the Marvel Cinematic Universe to those of the DC Extended Universe, it's not a good idea to compare certain aspects of Injustice to those of Marvel VS Capcom. As a matter of fact, the storyline to this game is significantly similar to Mortal Kombat VS DC Universe, but done much better, as unlike Darkseid and Shao Kahn, who have next to nothing in common, Ultron and Sigma are both robots focused on destroying all of humanity, among other issues that are addressed such as the better combinations that have resulted from the worlds of Marvel and Capcom colliding. The only real issue with the story mode is that there is not much of an explanation as to how Ultron and Sigma were able to merge the Marvel and Capcom universes, and that the game isn't played in chapters focusing on certain characters to allow us to familiarize ourselves with them. If you do wish to play the story mode, I would definitely recommend you do some reading on the history of these characters in the various media they originally came from, as the game seems to expect you to already understand the backstories and original works of the characters. Despite the inclusion of more single player modes and the roster featuring more starter characters than Injustice 2 at launch, there's a lot of complaints that Capcom hasn't learned from Street Fighter V. This is not the case. The game feels like a full game this time around with what there is to do. Now this doesn't mean there's not room for improvement, like featuring endings for arcade mode other than a simple "Congratulations", and there could have been more characters since many like Black Panther and MODOK appear in the story mode, but also because unlike Injustice, MvC has more than one player character per match, so the argument of having more playable characters is somewhat obsolete when this is considered. Another issue regarding characters that should be pointed out is that several characters who have deserved a spot in this series for a long time like Demitri Maximoff, The Punisher, M. Bison, and Daredevil, are still nowhere to be found. Hopefully somewhere down the line, Marvel VS Capcom: Infinite will be updated similarly to Street Fighter V: Arcade Edition, which will be available at no cost to players who had already purchased the original version of the game and on a separate disc for new players this January. Until then, Marvel VS Capcom: Infinite gets a grade of a solid B from me. It's not as exciting as Ultimate Marvel VS Capcom 3 was, but it's a welcome title to the MvC series that surprisingly does well despite its shortcomings. It's just a shame that Marvel was too picky with film rights to allow series mainstays like Wolverine, Magneto, and Doctor Doom, to return.

3 notes · View notes