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jq37 · 4 years

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The Royal Report– A Crown of Candy Ep 13 Family Ties

Regroup

Welcome back to Candia, y’all.

As the cast tries to get a handle on their giggles from whatever shenanigans happened off-screen between episodes, the PCs land back at the monastery of the Spinning Star. All the rescued civilians are grateful and the monks help to patch them up. The group is a little worried their enemies will follow them through the standing stones but only a high level Candian magic user would be able to do that so they’re probably fine. They also learn that all the weapons they stole are basically +1 to attack magical items--not useful to them but maybe for their allies.

Spearia tends to Joren (and we’re cursed with the phrase “wrist milk”) and then goes Full Mom Mode on Liam with a several minutes long hug. Theo joins the hug so he can ask Spearia if she knows any other Druids that could do that transportation (she doesn’t know of any in Buzzybrook but there could always be others she doesn’t know about) which turns into a discussion about the SPF. Ruby thinks the SPF is on their side but the others are more wary and Rina, as before, is specifically against her. She says the SPF gets her powers from the Bulb and the sharp division between the two is just a kind of distraction from the bigger issue. Ruby calls it a conspiracy theory (though Theo says Lazuli believed something similar) and stalks off. Amethar runs after her but, en route, stops to have a conversation with Joren.

He tells Joren that Rina is queen now and that he (as in both of them really) need to start doing the smart thing and not just the tough thing. Joren razzes him about the new attitude until Amethar says that Jet is dead which turns him sympathetic and basically gets him on board--it’s not the fight Liam was anticipating. He says that they’re gonna have to make a big show about recognizing Rina if this is gonna work and asks if they have any allies who can vouch. Amethar says the Dairy Islands are with them and they have a crazy plan that involves getting the Book of Leaves (St. Citrina’s Lasso of Truth book).

Theo runs to catch up with Joren and Amethar but, on the way there, catches Ruby and says they need to stick together. Then the three guys go and find Rina. They basically bend the knee to her and say they’re at her service. Rina is not as excited as you might think though. She accepts the endorsement while barely holding back tears, saying that she’s aware the support doesn’t come with enthusiasm but she appreciates it all the same. Then she goes with Gooey back to her contingent of followers to celebrate with them, not seeming like she’s in a celebratory mood at all.

Cumulus and Liam have gone to the library of the monastery to try and dig into the info they grabbed during the fight and Ruby goes to talk to Liam. She confides in him that she thinks this plan sucks because even if they are able to get Rina onto the throne, it still means they win on the terms of their enemies. They’re still working within the system and the people who killed Jet and killed Preston don’t pay for anything. Liam says he’s still super down for killing all of these people and he really doesn’t think the plan is gonna work. He thinks it’s going to end in war either way. They try to decipher the map but it’s hard and they recruit the monks to help work on it overnight.

Snicker-Snack talks to Cumulus and says--echoing his own thoughts--that Rina is crazy powerful and a possible heir to Lazuli’s title of Archmage. He wonders if they should swear themselves to her the way they were sworn to Lazuli. Cumulus thinks it might be a good idea and Snicker-Snack says that it’s Cumulus’s call since he’s the most senior monk.

Theo finds Rina again and asks if she thinks they’re in danger of getting ambushed by the SPF. Rina (after getting a head shake from Brennan) says no, not this night but she is worried that the SPF is working with the Bulb. She and her guys will be up all night keeping watch (and partying) so he can, “Go back to [his] family.”

Brain Food

In the morning, the monks have finished looking through all of the info the PCs stole last episode which means it’s time for a good old fashioned info dump. There’s a lot happening so I broke it into sections:

Military Movements

The south of Candia has been totally taken over by Calroy and his guys. He’s fully posted in Castle Candy and every state except for the Dairy Islands has recognized him as a legitimate ruler.

The only non-traitor Candian troops are basically all at the Great Stone Candy Mountains (bc they were on route to help Jawbreaker).

As in Ruby’s vision from Lazuli, the invasion of Castle Candy did fall apart due to discord. Specifically, it was a mix of Plumbeline’s troops and Bulbian troops and because the Pontifex held the position that there could be no Concord without all of the states of the OG Concord under the terms of the OG agreement (meaning including Candia) Plumbeline said, “Fine. If there’s no Concord, there’s no reason I have to help you,” and she withdrew her troops.

So, to be clear, Calroy did a coup. The Imperial soldiers that are there are not there to invade Candia. They’re there doing peacekeeping stuff. The non-Imperial bread soldiers are Ciabatta’s men--he went home post spy session with the girls and used the info he stole to assassinate all the obstacles between him and being dictator for life and then decided an invasion of Candia was a good way to keep the peoples’ approval. Candia was picked for no reason other than it was a sitting duck due to all the other insane stuff that’s going on (chief or which is loss of Concord protection). And the church is there cause...actually, let me start another heading for this because it’s a doozy.

The Bulbian Church

The Pontifex has decided that the Ramsian Doctrine is in full effect. The reason they’re in Candia is because they’ve called a crusade.

Kerradin has a fancy new title--Mace of the Faith--and is leading it.

She’s called open season on all Candians--not just soldiers, literally anybody. She’s calling for a full genocide. The church’s policy is, if you kill a Candian, your soul is saved. If you destroy Candian standing stones, your soul and your family’s souls are saved. It’s real chilling shit.

There’s been pushback from bishops and archbishops about the policy--obviously Candian ones but from other countries as well--saying that they can’t support this and please can she reconsider (they can’t really be more forceful than that without risking being killed themselves).

Calroy, sensing the way the wind is blowing, has sent out an official statement saying that he renounced his pagan ways and wants to be re-baptized into the Bulbian faith.

We learn that the reason the Pontifex is being difficult with Plumbeline about the technicalities of the Concord agreement and why it can’t just be back on is because she wants to stay in limbo for as long as possible so she has a chance to also call a crusade against the Meatlands--both for being so openly pagan and for the killing of Archbishop Raddica (mentioned in I think episode 3).

There was a lot of money that the crew ignored while looting last episode and that was money to be used to pay Meatlander mercenaries apparently.

Group Dynamics

So Calroy is kind of courting all three camps here. As I said before, he’s agreeing with the crusade and saying he wants to be baptized to court the church.

Cal is also saying to Ceresia that a crusade is needed to cleanse Candia and a new Concord could be formed if Ceresia were to conquer it and make it a part of Ceresia. Ciabatta in an intercepted letter says that Cal could possibly be governor of Candia as a province of Cersia--exactly what he wants.

Whenever Calroy talks about the new Concord, he mentions a Concordant *Empress* who could be anyone, which also gives Plumbeline what she wants. He’s basically like that Always Sunny clip about playing both sides so he always comes out on top.

Everyone is planning a meeting to talk about logistics and a new Concord and all that but Ciabatta doesn’t want to meet in Comida or Vegetania after the whole deal with his name being spoken and rejected by the Book of Leaves. Cal has opened Castle Candy as a meeting place.

The Pontifex is bringing Kerradin and guards to protect her and the Book of Leaves to make sure there’s no funny business happening (ie: Cal conspiring privately with Plumbeline or something).

And, to be clear, none of these people seem to like or trust each other. It’s all a matter of being able to use each other for mutual benefit. There’s lots of evidence of discord and resentment. [To that point, here is some very dope art.]

Misc.

The various baddies haven’t been able to figure out watersteel--it seems that Alfredi left something out of her notes and took the secret to her grave. They did figure out the bread constructs though as we saw last episode.

There are notes about the Sanctus Putris which is a church doctrine that runs counter to the Ramsian Doctrine and it says that to keep the Hungry One at bay, there has to be a certain level of rot in the world.

There is a letter between Onionpatch and the Sanctus Putris dudes saying that they have located the home of the SPF (the Ice Cream Temple) and will get there tomorrow (as in tmrw from their POV).

Finally, rumors of Rina are floating around and the policy is basically, “Who cares if she exists or if she’s legit or not? If you see her, kill her.” So Emily has gone from being a huge target to...being a huge target. That’s what happens when you play two heir apparents in a row.

And deep exhale. That was A Lot.

Gameplan

Joren thinks the best plan is to get all their armies together and publicly take the knee to Rina at Manylicks to help legitimize her. Ruby, again, is against this plan because it would mean, at least on paper, being on the same side as Ciabatta. Spearia gets where she’s coming from but says it’s just to get things settled and they can always leave the Concord again once they’re back in control.

Gooey brings up the meeting everyone is gonna be at and Liam suggests getting someone from the Meatlands there so they can force the Pontifex to say on the Book of Leaves that they’re her next target, winning them an ally. Rina pipes up that she has allies in the Meatlands so maybe she can help arrange that. Jawbreaker also wants to just spread the word that Rina exists to make things more politically complicated and give the Dairy Islands (and possibly the Meatlands) a legit reason to side with them/stop the Imperials since the Concord will be back on.

Rina, unprompted, says again that she doesn’t care about the throne, she’s just anti-Bulb and pro magic. Cara and Ruby kinda glance at each other while that is going on.

At this point, Jawbreaker is fully on board with her and toasts to her as queen. Liam warns her about the target on her back but she says she grew up abused by Bulbian nuns. She can handle herself. Cumulus also officially pledges the service of the Spinning Star monks to her. She’s just picking up allies left and right.

Anyway, Jawbreaker, Spearia, and the rescued townsfolk plan to go for Manylicks to rally the troops. Spearia asks for an escort so they send Jack and his sailors to protect them. Before they leave, Liam has a heart to heart with his dad about how war changes you and forcing yourself to be hard so others get to be soft in which Joren finally calls him the correct name.

Cumulus thinks that, if a crusade is happening, the monastery will be a big target so it makes sense for the monks to gather the artifacts and hang with Rina’s marauders for a bit. They also decide to disassemble the teleportation circle once they leave so they’re more secure.

Ruby and Amethar are up on the parapets of the monastery kinda doing that thing where you’re not fully talking but just being like, “*Huge Sigh*”/”Yeahhhhh” with someone you’re close to. Cara shows up and says she’s going with Jawbreaker and his people to Manylicks while the PCs go for the Ice Cream Temple. Ruby asks how long she’s known magic and Cara says Lazuli taught her. Ruby asks why she never taught them and Cara says she was going to when they matured but since they never did, she didn’t want to give them more tools to run away with. Ruby says maybe they wouldn’t have run away so much if she’d trusted them. Cara basically takes psychic damage from that and Rina, who is near enough that she can see what’s happening, catches her attention for some sympathetic eye contact because she knows what that feels like.

Amethar asks for a moment alone with Ruby and apologies for having been a bad dad. Ruby protests that he hasn’t been one but he insists that he has and says that he hasn’t known what to do to help her process Jet’s death. Ruby says it’s not his fault and there’s nothing he can do. The fact of the matter is she was never alone and now she’ll always be alone. Amethar says that’s not true. She won’t be alone because he’s there for her and Jet still is too, though in a different way. He can’t stand watching her push her friends away at every turn. He asks her to please, just be here with them. Ruby breaks down a little and says that she had to run away as the most important person in the world to her died and the only way she can even begin to live with that is by getting revenge. Oh don’t worry, Amethar says. They will be killing *all* of those people.

Sickly Sweet

The team to raid the Ice Cream Temple is comprised of the PCs plus Swifty, Jon Bon, and Gooey (who is having some mutually confusing dom/sub sexual tension with Theo which is a sentence I hate to type but posterity is the main goal here so I don’t have much of a choice now do I). They teleport as close as they can (the monks disassembling the teleportation mechanism once they get there) and then it’s still another 2-3 hours to get there. It’s very cold, like the Himalayas and everyone takes cold damage just by being there. Rina (Invisible) and Cumulus (tied to a rope held by Theo) are up front to try and keep everyone else from triggering traps as they walk up the steps.

They eventually come upon gates in front of an arch and a hallway with a huge locked doorway in front of it. And there is a symbol of a huge spoon in front of the door. Rina passes Winterscoop in front of it and it opens. They follow her down the hallway and Cumulus triggers a trap when he takes point but Rina, holding Winterscoop, learns that if she takes the lead, she auto-disarms the traps.

As they walk down the hall, Rina sees the eyes of the SPF and hears her voice in her head, “I can’t see you, but I know you’re here.” The SPF says the temple was made by those like her (Rina) but she (the SPF) is the only one who’s been there for quite some time and her pupils narrow to slits.

Amethar sees an image of Saphria who says, “Long way from home, brother,” before disappearing.

Because of how well lit the hallway is, Ruby currently has no shadow.

Liam, as they walk, smells a quick whiff of hot chocolate and cinnamon.

They get to the end of the hallway which branches off into three directions: there’s a staircase going up to a door (marked with the Sucrosi symbol for the SPF which Ruby recognizes because Laz shows up as a quick vision and tells her and Theo recognizes as having appeared in the sky before the battle that killed Laz--Rina also recognizes it and it is the SPF’s actual name, not one of her titles, so it seems possibly magically significant), to the right there’s some weird combo of illusion and conjuration magic which makes them think that there’s a combo of true things and tricks and like maybe some of the stuff they’ve been seeing out of the corners of their eyes as they’ve traveled would be there, and to the left there’s a locked door marked armory.

Ruby uses her thieves' tools and Mage Hand to get the armory door open and it turns out it’s actually a library (which everyone but Theo is disappointed about). Inside, they find a book in Bulbosi that’s filled with with ancient spirits of the other realms--the Jolly Giant, the Hamburger Helper, and (at Emily’s prompting) Wonder Bread. It’s basically a checklist of magical spirits from the other kingdoms that the church has destroyed and further proof that Candia isn’t more inherently magical than anyplace else. They’ve just fought to protect their magic.

On the last page, there’s again mention of the Dracoria Azucar with an inverted symbol of the SPF covered in spikes and surrounded by magic and then in the middle of the page a chocolate egg which Rina tells Liam is what they’re there for.

The book suddenly slams shut and flies away. Outside, they hear the door at the top of the stairs open. They get out and walk up the stairs into this chamber at the heart of the mountain. It's a massive room with huge icicles coming down, dim light, and a ton of mist. They're kind of on a platform suspended above a bunch of emptiness. In the middle, there's a tower of frozen ice cream scoops and at the center is a small opening. Surrounding it and floating around it are huge freezer burned ice cream cones and popsicles. At the top of the tower, frozen into it is a chocolate egg (a chocolate smear inside the ice indicating that it was incredibly hot).

The SPF appears in front of them in her cute glamour bearing the mended teacup, the note from Lapin, and the heartseed Liam left for Preston. She thanks them for coming and apologizes that she can’t bring Jet back but says now she can bring them to Jet. Ruby asks what that means and she suddenly sees figures in the mist--4 adult women with a younger adult woman along with a figure that looks like Amethar’s dad. There’s a brightly colored road made of illusory light going from where they are, down into the mist. The SPF says it’s a pure Candy-only place and she can take them there. The church means to burn everything sweet out of the world forever and this is the only way to keep them safe. She’s taken a lot of other spirits there already and everyone they’ve lost and love will be waiting for them and they’ll be together forever.

Amethar openly expresses suspicion at the SPF and the SPF says she’s only using the glamour to make them feel more comfortable. Rina says she’d like to see the SPF’s true form and the SPF says, “I bet you would,” seeming ticked off that she has Winterscoop. She compares Rina to Lazuli who wanted to take everything that made Candia special and let it get used and abused by the rabble (her opinion, not mine). Look how that turned out for the Jolly Giant and the Hamburger Helper.

Ruby, in Twinspeak, asks the misty figure of Jet, “Are you real?”

The Jet in the Mist (played by Emily who is on the spot drafted by Brennan to be Jet once again for this moment) says (with the knowledge to back it up), “It’s true, but I don’t know if it’s good.”

With that answer, Ruby gives the SPF a placid thanks but no. She’s grateful that she’s been protecting the magic of Candia but they need it now to keep Candia safe. The SPF says that that’s what she’s doing. If they go into the mist, they’ll be safe. No, says Ruby. If they go into the mist, they’ll be dead. The SPF doesn’t see a difference. Safe and dead? Safe and alive? To-may-to, To-mah-to.

“Are you mad at me?” the SPF asks, childlike.

“No,” Ruby says, evenly.

The SPF says she’s only ever tried to help. She sent Lapin to protect them even though she knew he’d die and they’d lose everything because she knew they wouldn’t come unless they lost everything.

Ruby pauses for a second that feels like ten minutes.

“Did you kill my sister?”

The SPF looks slightly sheepish. “Would you have come here if she was still alive?”

Ruby does the only thing she can do. She pulls her bow.

Looks like someone just jumped Ciabatta in her to-kill list everybody. See you next week!

Things I’m Concerned About

I mentioned this in an ask but I’m concerned Cara is about to pull a Cat’s in the Cradle--meaning, she keeps getting brushed off so I’m worried she’s gonna get really hurt and the PCs will suddenly care and it’ll be too late. This fear is based on nothing except what I would do to be mean to my players. I have a semi-similar fear about Rina but I’m gonna let that sit for a bit.

Ruby. Girl. I know what you’ve just been through but...girl. Please be smart here.

I never love a battle map you can fall off of. That always gives me anxiety--especially when your enemy can fly so it’s not equal footing so to speak.

I feel like “concerned” is a bit of a weak word to describe my feelings on a genocide but I named this section during episode 1 before I knew where things were going so yeah. Bad.

Everyone the group hates being in one place is hypothetically very good but also has the potential to be VERY bad depending on how it plays out.

I really wanna know what the Sanctus Putris is planning is to at the Temple. How aligned are they with the mainstream church? Their main tenant runs pretty counter to what they’re doing right now. Are they potential allies? Why would they be communicating with Onionpatch, known close confidant for the Pontifex? Were they trying to sway her with something there?

Five More Things

Woah! Oh man, that whole last scene with Ruby and the SPF? The music? The tension? The constant, calm No’s from Ruby until the SPF Said That and then the instant switch into Terminator mode? What a scene ender y’all! When I watched it again for this recap, I knew what was coming and it still bodied me. The immediacy with which Ruby/Siobhan grasped the, “This is death” thing was so impressive to me. I loved everything about that last 5 mins. So it seems like the SPF is the one who set up that letter. She might have been posing as Cara in that moment, or maybe it was a full illusion--that seems to be her school of magic. I knew this Fae was shady but man! Can you imagine the world where Lapin is still alive at this point? Would love to know his take on this.

There’s a bit I didn’t mention in the recap when they get back initially and Brennan tries to have the NPCs overrule the PCs on the cuteness levels of the corn monster from last ep that is so funny. Nothing like ganging up on the literal god of the universe you’re playing in. Also funny is him going, “No Zac, this is good,” when he starts listing out the other house spirits/brand names. Gotta love having a captive audience for your carefully constructed nonsense.

OK, so question. What exactly is Calroy’s plan with the church, huh? Because, you can get baptized all you want, you’re still cake my dude. Is he hoping they’ll let him, what? Die of old age while slaughtering his people? Yikes.

When Swifty opened his mouth the first time I was like, “Absolutely not,” but now I kind of love him?

So we learn in this ep that all other spirits get their powers from the Bulb or the Hungry One ultimately which is interesting conceptually. “Power is neutral except for how you use it,” is cool and also generally correct imo. Rina mentions the SPF, “Working with the Bulb” at some point and do you think she means the Bulb or the church? Because the Bulb is mindless but she doesn’t necessarily know that. And if she means the church that would also be wild considering what we learned this ep.

#dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #a crown of candy #a crown of candy spoilers #the royal report

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lonelypond · 3 years

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Parent Trap, Ch. 5

NicoMaki, Love Live, 2.6K, 5/?

Summary: Nico's mom has an opinion on Dia's parenting.

Grandma?

Maki stood, shocked, as Dia slipped free of her grasp and rushed toward a woman who looked EXACTLY like Nico, but taller and with a much more reserved air.

“Maki and Dia, meet Nico’s mama; Mama, meet Maki and Dia, Nico’s two favorite girls.”

“Tsuki!” Dia pushed her rabbit forward.

Nico chuckled, “And meet Tsuki, Dia’s new best friend.”

Nico said everything so easily, gleaming and happy in this open, bright, adorable cottage.

Nico’s mom knelt down as Dia stepped forward with Tsuki, “Hello Dia and Tsuki. It’s nice to meet you.”

Nico was suddenly next to Maki, an arm around her waist and a quick kiss on the cheek, “See, Mama’s not scary.”

Over Dia’s head, Maki suddenly caught the glare of ruby lasers.

“HUG!”

“Dia, don’t yell.” Maki said automatically. “We ask politely for things we want.”

Dia held out both arms, “Hug, please. Pretty.”

Nico’s mom glanced at Maki who nodded. Nico pulled Maki closer, exuding happy, a thrilling sensation, but it made Maki more nervous.

“Auntie Hanayo bad.” Dia announced. She mimicked Hanayo pulling on Tsuki.

Nico’s mom was a sympathetic audience.

“Bad.” Dia continued. “Tsuki sad.”

“And how did you feel?”

“Scared.” Dia shivered and Maki wanted her daughter back in her own arms, but Mrs. Yazawa and Dia seemed to be having a private conversation.

“I’m sure you were very brave. Tsuki too.”

Dia nodded, hugging Tsuki tightly, as Mrs.Yazawa carried her to the couch.

“Why don’t you sit here, Dia and talk to your mother.” The ruby lasers flashed in Maki’s direction again. “I have to talk to my daughter.”

“Mama?” Nico’s hand left Maki’s waist and the nerves surged.

“Kitchen, Nico. Now.”

“All right, Mama.” Nico kissed Maki again, “Nico will be right back. Dia, don’t let your Mama run away.”

###

“Mama?” Dia poked Maki with Tsuki.

“Hi, Dia.” Maki smiled at a frowning Dia.

“Nico?” Dia glanced around.

“She had to talk to her mom.”

Dia started to pull on Maki’s hand, to drag her off the couch where she’d dropped down, legs shaky.

“No, Dia. We have to wait.”

“NICO!” Dia pointed in a random direction, whole face scrunched up with displeasure.

“Dia.” Maki stayed calm, but Dia knew that tone and stopped pulling. “You wouldn’t want anyone interrupting us when we’re having a talk, right?”

Dia shook her head.

“So let’s just wait for Nico. We’re not going to rush off, okay.” Maki patted the couch next to her, “Sit next to me.”

“Pretty.” looking around, Dia pulled herself up, and Maki hugged her.

“Yes, this house is pretty.”

“Nico!”

“Yes, Nico is pretty.”

“Pretty.” Dia hummed mostly to herself.

If Dia was just going to alternate Nico’s name and “pretty” and Mrs. Yazawa assumed that was all Maki had ever said about Nico, this was going to be an uncomfortable afternoon.

###

No wasted time, right to the rapid fire questions. “Is there something you want to tell me, Nico?”

“Maki and I are dating? But Cocoro already spilled that secret.”

“Is it a secret?”

“No, no, Mama.” Nico waved her hands frantically, confused by her mother’s disapproving demeanor. What had Cocoro said about Philadelphia? “It’s just Maki’s family is...conservative and Nico wants to keep the whole thing as much off TWIG as possible.” As far as Nico knew or Cocoro had found, no one had connected Nico’s sexy backstage Philly punk date with the elegant, only seen twice a year at charity balls Dr. Maki Nishikino of the Northshore Nishikinos.

“Is anything else a secret?

That was a very sharp question. Nico paused. Her mother had her backed into the counter.

“What are you talking about, Mama?”

Mrs. Yazawa drew herself up to her full height and Nico flashed back to using her mother’s credit card for an unapproved concert ticket and getting caught sneaking back after curfew. “If you were your brother, I’d think you were introducing me to my grandchild.”

“Huh..what did Cotaro do? He’s not even…”

“Not Cotaro, Nico. You.” Nico’s mother pointed at the door, dropping her voice, “That child acts just like you did at her age, Nico.”

Oh this, this was silly, Mama nagging Nico about grandchildren in a very weird way, “Oh, Nico is just rubbing off on her.”

“No.” Mrs. Yazawa tapped the counter, “I could show you baby pictures…” A sigh, “your father’s eyes were that color.”

Nico had a sudden flash of her Dad, bouncing her on his knee while they both laughed, his green eyes twinkling.

“Everybody...lots of people have…”

“Nico.”

“Mama, I just met Maki. That’s not a thing that could have happened. There’s no way…”

Nico paused, a worried Eli suddenly popping into her memory.

“Nico?”

Nico grinned, broad and fake, “Dia is cute enough to be Nico’s daughter, but Nico is an award winning singer and entertainment executive with barely any time to date.” Nico decided to go with big eyes and whining, “Mama…Nico can’t just....” a slightly crude gesture to put her mother off.

It worked. Mrs. Yazawa raised a hand, “All right. We don’t have to go there, Nico.”

“C’mon, Mama, Maki and Dia are probably hungry and you promised them food.”

“I did.” One more sharp glance, “Nico?”

Both hands raised, look of complete innocence while inside Nico was picturing Eli’s worried face, “Really, Mama. Nico just met Maki. Please don’t make it awkward.”

The huffy noise was no guarantee, but at least the questions had stopped. Until Nico got a minute to drag Eli off somewhere.

###

Mrs. Yazawa and Dia were getting along, Dia offering bits of food on a spoon, while Nico’s mom held Tsuki. Nico seemed to be distracted, watching Dia and her mom, occasionally catching Maki’s eye and smiling. The food was good, a stew with rustic bread, Dia even ate a few bites of bread dipped in stew, which she then placed on a spoon.

“So, Maki.” Nico’s mom’s attention turned to her, Maki stiffened, Nico squeezed her thigh, making the nervousness worse, and Dia spit out bread.

“Ick…” Dia contorted her face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Cold.”

Nico laughed, “We can warm the stew up, Dia.”

“No.”

“All right, then you can wait for dessert. Nico made cookies.”

“NO.”

Nico and Maki both stared at Dia, who was pouting.

“Dia? What’s wrong, bun?” Parenting mode on, dating nerves off.

“Mama!!!” Dia reached for Maki, hugging her hard.

“It’s all right, Dia. You’re fine.”

“Does she need a nap? We can put her on the couch? I’ll get a pillow and blanket” Nico offered, standing.

Mrs. Yazawa handed Tsuki to Dia, “Sounds like Tsuki and Dia had a tough day.”

Dia started to cry, clutching Tsuki. Maki didn’t appreciate Mrs. Yazawa’s commentary. Getting Dia to think about something other than the Tsuki related trauma earlier was the best solution.

“I’d better get her home. Where’s her coat, Nico?”

“On it.” Nico hustled. Maki had expected slightly more pushback, but Nico seemed almost eager to end their lunch. What had she and her mother talked about? Was it Maki? Had Mrs. Yazawa said something.

“Nico?” Maki hated how hesitant she sounded as Nico wrapped Dia’s coat around the subdued child.

“Don’t worry, Maki. Nico will see both her best girls later.” Nico made sure she had Dia’s attention, “Hey, Dia, you take care of your Mom and Nico will see you soon. Nico Nico Ni!” Quick hand to the temple, broad grin, Dia suddenly smiling. “See, Nico’s special magic.” Nico winked at Maki. “Text me later.”

“Okay. Thank you for lunch. It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Yazawa.”

Nico’s mom had a...thoughtful look. Her tone was brusque. “You’re welcome. Take good care of Dia.”

Of course, Maki was going to take good care of Dia. What did that mean? As the door closed behind them, Maki heard Nico’s agitated voice, “Mama, that was rude.”

“Nico, once you see this album...”

“MAMA!”

Maki realized she was standing on Nico’s doorstep, eavesdropping, with a one year old who was about to get restless. Time to go home. What album? Was something wrong with Nico’s business?

###

Nico and her mom were at opposite ends of the main room.

“I don’t want to talk about this, Mama.”

Nico’s mom was pacing, remembering past conversations, “This is what Eli does. You said Maki was probably a patient. And you banked some eggs with her, I remember you telling me.”

“Nico also specifically told Eli there weren’t going to be any anonymous little Nicos running around.” Nico sighed, and hugged her mother, “I trust Eli, Mama. We know her.”

“That’s my granddaughter. I can feel it.” Mrs. Yazawa broke the hug, her fingers digging into Nico’s shoulders, “Don’t you care, Nico?”

“Of course, Nico cares. But it didn’t happen.” Nico paused, her mother’s intensity demanding truth, “And even if it did, what can Nico do?”

“Talk to Eli. Talk to Maki.”

Nico whirled away, a blaze of motion, arms flying, “Nico just started dating Maki, who is amazing, but what is Nico supposed to say? What date conversation is that...We just...” Nico suddenly remembered she was talking to her mother, “It’s complicated, Mama. I don’t want to mess it up.”

“If she is your daughter, do you want her raised by a doctor with no time who probably leaves her with a nanny?”

“Maki’s a good mother, Mama. You don’t know her.”

“Neither do you. Not really.”

“Nico is not having this conversation, Mama.”

A pause, “I never thought you were a coward, Nico.”

Anger. “I’m not a coward. I just care about Maki. And Dia. And Nico.”

Longer pause. Nico’s mom sitting near the fireplace, eyes never leaving Nico. “What are you going to do?”

Nico leaned forward, head down, hands gripping the metal railing of the twisting staircase leading to the second floor. “Nico has to think.”

###

Busy day at the office. But Eli was on time and on track to be done early. Breakfast with Nico had been great, but she missed the twins and Nozomi. Family movie night tonight. Eli would bring home takeout from one of Nozomi’s favorite restaurants and they could talk instead of doing dishes after the twins went to bed. Eli was glad to see Nico relaxed in a relationship. Touring and building a career had been a lonely business for her. Maki was lonely too, so that worked out nicely. And Nico had always been great with the twins.

“ELI!!!” Nico’s voice cut through the office. Eli opened her door. Asta, her very competent, very implacable receptionist had been cowed by what looked like a furious Nico, vibrating, hands slammed into the counter.

“Nico? What’s wrong.”

“Cancel her patients,” Nico snapped, and shoved the little half door open to get to Eli.

“Dr. Ayase?”

“When’s the next patient due?”

“Twenty minutes, but they’re running late.”

“See if they want to reschedule. Otherwise, apologize and I’ll…”

“No.” Nico turned to Asta, “Eli won’t be available until Nico is done.”

The roughness of Nico’s shove surprised Eli.

“Nico, you just can’t invade my office. My patients have a lot of stresses.”

“So does Nico.” Nico slammed Eli’s office door. “Mama thinks Dia’s my daughter.”

Eli blinked, not sure she heard Nico right. “uh?”

“Mama met Dia, was rude to Maki, and then gave Nico a lecture on parental responsibiities. Mama thinks Dia is Nico’s daughter. Tell Nico it’s not true.”

“It’s not true….” Eli’s voice trailed off as she remembered Nozomi’s sketchiness.

“Eli?”

“Just let me think.”

Rough handling again, “Nico said no baby Nicos wandering around. It was my ONLY condition, Eli. You agreed, Eli. You promised.” Nico inhaled, the shout blasting Eli’s hair back, “THERE WAS PAPERWORK!!!”

“There was paperwork.” Eli sat at her desk, puzzled.

Nico slumped in the chair, “Eli?”

“You could just marry Maki.” Eli chuckled nervously.

The furious leap almost propelled Nico over Eli’s desk. Eli stared into angry red eyes, Nico’s mouth contorted with disapproval, Nico in a pushup position ready to launch at Eli. “Look something up.” Nico hissed.

“What?”

“Maki’s records maybe, former friend.”

“Nico, I can’t share Maki’s records with you. I can’t even confirm she was a patient. There’s laws.”

Nico sat up, legs pushing Eli’s chair back, Nico slipping in front of Eli’s computer, “Your password’s still the twins’ birthday, right. That’s another dumb thing.”

“Nico, get away from my computer.”

“It’s all numbers.”

“Of course, it’s all numbers, Nico.” Eli picked Nico up and shifted her to the right, “Anonymized. There’s three layers of security. Let me take a look. But I’m looking at your paperwork.”

Nico kicked Eli’s desk, then stomped to kick Eli’s door.

“Nico, stop that, your temper tantrums are worse than the twins.”

“We just started dating Eli. This will make it weird. And Mama won’t shut up. And…” Nico turned, tearing up, “Dia, Eli. How would you feel?”

Eli couldn’t imagine the gut punch of missing first words, first steps, first...or having no guarantee if she’d ever see the twins again…

Eli started typing and swiping faster, zooming in on the scanned in original pages from Nico’s donation. All the information had been digitally entered, but Eli always scanned paperwork before filing it.

“How did that...?” Eli stood, “Wait a minute. I’ll be right back.”

“Nico is going with you.”

Eli decided not to object.

Now Nico was stomping around Eli’s records room, while Eli crouched to get at the end of the alphabet. Folder in hand, Eli spread it across the counter, picking up one page and raising it to eye level. Then she ran a finger over it.

“I remember asking you if you double checked the paperwork and you saying…”

“No one makes a baby with Nico without Nico’s permission, right?”

“Yeah.” Eli was still running a finger over the side of the form, “I think someone erased your answer and filled in “anonymous donor.”

“YOU GAVE AWAY ALL NICO’S EGGS!!!!”

“No, Nico, that’s not how it works. You must have just matched up with the profile Maki made.”

“So Maki swiped right on Nico’s DNA?”

“Personality, physical characteristics. I remember she wanted an extrovert and someone who liked music. And healthy.”

Nico almost flexed with the cabinet, “Nico is a catch. But Nico wasn’t supposed to be on the market.”

“I know Nico, I know, I don’t know what happened.” Eli could hear her voice waver.

“But I bet you have the same idea that Nico does…”

“Nico, you can’t tell Maki.” Eli pulled Nico by the arm, “Let’s go back to my office.”

“I talked the Yeungs into postponing. That’s it for today.” Asta announced as they walked behind the main counter, pretty sure she only had 20 seconds to get Eli’s attention.

“Great. Thanks, Asta. Go home...oh, please call Noz…”

Nico growled.

“Never mind. See you tomorrow.”

And then Eli was behind a door again. She dropped Nico in her office chair and loomed, “You can’t tell Maki. The procedures aren’t technically illegal, but that’s just because no one links them up. What if she sues me?”

“What if Nico kills you?” Nico gritted out, fists clenched.

“At least Nozomi would get the insurance money.”

“Eli, what am I supposed to do?” Nico had hit a wall, Eli could see the stress and confusion on her face.

“I don’t know, Nico. But we’ll figure something out.”

Nico’s phone went off. Maki’s ringtone. Nico glanced at the message.

M: Your house is so cute. Sorry Dia had a rough day. Can I bring dinner by to make up for it?

“Can we figure it out soon, Eli? Please.”

Pleading Nico cut painfully into Eli. The only response that felt right was to pull Nico into a tight hug like she did when Teddy had a nightmare in the dark.

A/N: Howdy! There's a lot going on here and I'm frustrated by having so many stories ongoing, so I've decided to pick one to focus on finishing and then move to the next one(with a little MerMay fun on the side, because still me).

Also, if I were in Japan, it'd be my birthday, so say hi if you drop by!

#NicoMaki #NozoEli #baby Dia #Nishikino Maki vs. Nico's Mom #love live #nico nico nii #parent trap #Single Parent AU #angst

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starlightsearches · 4 years

Text

Office Romance: Ch. 17 Predictions

General Hux and Kylo Ren have found themselves competing for the affection of a lieutenant aboard the Finalizer.

Series Warnings: Language, some violence, near-death experiences.

Masterlist

AN: Sorry this is late! I've been dealing with a lot of doubt—about my writing, this story, and general fears of disappointing people. I'm not saying this because I want any kind of validation or praise, I'm just trying to be more honest with people because I hope you all know that it's okay to feel these things, too. It's okay if you are having a hard time. Be kind to yourselves!

This is a Hux-heavy chapter, so sorry about that for all the Ren fans. He will be back soon. Warnings for general horniness and some angst, I guess?

General Hux was beginning to understand why Irraide was a nocturnal society. The road through the capital city was a ghost town, the vendors along the side of the street shut tight, and there was no shade to be found anywhere as the two of you walked in search of your lodgings. The sun was unrepentant in its heat, beating down like it hated him in particular, and the feeling was mutual. If Hux had known that it was going to be this bad, he would have brought an umbrella.

“I think,” you said, stopping for a moment and fanning yourself with your hand,” the place we’re looking for is just up here on the right.” Your face was red and shiny with perspiration as you glared against the sun, trying to see into the distance, and Hux was sure he looked much worse. Maybe bringing you with him was a bad idea. You began moving again, determined to get out of the heat as quickly as possible.

The lobby of the hotel was cool and dark—an immediate improvement—and almost as empty as the street outside. It was a nice space, filled with low couches and metallic lanterns, none of which were lit. Hux wouldn’t have cared if it were some kind of trash-filled hovel. He was finally out of the sun.

“Hello!” A voice called out from a desk near the door, and Hux made his approach towards the woman, who stood when you entered, flashing a forced smile. “You must be the Haws, welcome to Belarian, the crown jewel of Irraide,” she said as she shuffled through stacks of flimsi on the desk, searching for the correct documents, and handed the general a small key.

“You’ll find your lodgings on the highest floor. Lifts are down the hall and on your left. Festivities will begin tomorrow at moonrise. We hope you enjoy your stay!” She finished imparting the information and immediately sat back down, dropping the chipper persona. You looked to Hux, confusion written all over your face. She had only given you one key.

“I’m sorry but we had two rooms reserved,” you said gingerly, and the woman looked up again, annoyed.

“That’s impossible. There was only one room available when the reservation was made. You could try somewhere else.” She emphasized her disinterest by retrieving a data pad from the desk, raising it to a height that would block both of you from her view. You turned back to the general and shrugged your shoulders.

“I guess it’s fine,” you whispered, adjusting your bag and walking towards the lifts as the woman had directed. He may have been out of the sun, but General Hux was sweating once again. Now he really regretted bringing you with him; this whole situation was bound to be unprecedentedly awkward. The lift ride was quiet and short, and Hux had to stop himself from bouncing from foot to foot, full of nervous energy. You found your room without much trouble and, unable to avoid it any longer, Hux inserted the key and turned it in the lock, opening the door to the room you would be sharing.

“Huh,” you said as you entered, looking around the small space, “could be worse.” The room—like the lobby—was dark and cool, and fairly small. There was little in the way of furniture: a night stand with a lantern on it, and a small chest for clothing. Two doors sat on the other side of the room; he assumed one was for a closet and the other led to the refresher. Thick blue curtains covered what Hux guessed was a window, and matching fabric was draped over the bed. Singular. Shit.

“According to my data pad, moonrise should be happening in about seven hours, and we should probably rest,” you said, setting down your bag and finding a seat on the edge of the bed, “do you mind if I use the refresher first?” You looked up at him, apparently unphased by this turn of events, and Hux could only nod in response, his throat tight, and he waited as you walked through the door on the other end of the room, taking your bag with you before he dared to breathe again.

In an uncharacteristic display of anxiety, Hux found himself pacing across the small area of the room that was not taken up by the bed. He didn’t have many options, but he ran through each of them anyways, hoping to find a solution that wouldn’t end with him making a fool of himself. He could stay awake and let you rest. He’d gone without sleep for longer periods of time, but he couldn’t deny the exhaustion already sitting heavy on his shoulders. He had been tired before, certainly, but the heat had made it worse, and he needed to be at his best if he was going to eliminate the target as planned. He could try to find somewhere else, but it was unlikely anything would be available, and it would mean going back out into the hellish sunshine.

He’d sleep on the floor. That would be the best option; allow him to rest without forcing any kind of discomfort on himself or on you.

“All done,” the refresher door opened, and you walked back into the room, hair falling wet over one of the shoulders of the black shirt you had been given to sleep in. Your legs were covered as well, and probably for the best, although Hux was curious to see what other marks Ren and his Knights had left. Maybe the anger it would cause would wipe away some of his discomfort. “It’s all yours.”

Hux made his way to the refresher, trying to calm himself with some deep breathing. He shouldn’t be panicking this much. It was just a regular mission. You were just another subordinate. Except that it wasn’t. And you weren’t.

He turned on the sanisteam, leaving the water cold, and then stepped into the stream, letting it fall against his face and hoping it would wash away more than just the sweat and grime of travel. He wouldn’t think of you, sitting on the bed, stretched out over the covers, waiting for him. He wouldn’t think about that. He would think about something else. Literally anything else. Protocol droids. The plans for Starkiller Base. The exact steps he would take to assemble and disassemble his blaster rifle. None of it worked. You stayed on his mind.

After an unprecedentedly long time, Hux finally emerged from the refresher, finding you exactly as he had imagined you would look: stretched out on one side of the bed, scrolling absentmindedly through something on your data pad. You glanced at him quickly, before returning your eyes to the screen. He still couldn’t understand how none of this bothered you. Hux shuffled awkwardly to the edge of the bed and pulled a pillow off in a fist before dropping it on the ground.

“What are you doing?” you asked, looking up at him with curious eyes. Hux did not want to explain himself, but he knew he couldn’t avoid it.

“You can take the bed, Lieutenant,” he said, and you rolled your eyes, crawling across the mattress towards him. You moved into a sitting position, folding your legs over each other and supporting your head with one fist. Apparently Hux wasn’t going to get away with his plan without some kind of pushback.

“General, there’s plenty of room for two of us here, and I don’t mind sharing,” you began, “but if that would bother you, then I should be the one to sleep on the floor. Since you’ll be doing most of the work tomorrow.” There’s a stubborn set to your brow, and Hux paused, unsure how to respond. He wasn’t going to force you onto the floor for his sake, but he also didn’t want to argue with you about the pros and cons of sharing. You could see his resolve crumbling, and you moved back to the other side of the bed, patting it with one hand. An invitation.

“If you’re sure it’s not an issue,” he said, placing the pillow back on the mattress and laying down. The bed was large enough that he could rest comfortably without touching you, or even coming close, thankfully, but he’s not willing to relax just yet. Satisfied, you lay back on top of the blanket, closing your eyes. The room was warm enough still that you could sleep above the covers, and he’s glad because there’s already an acute sense of claustrophobia sharing a space like this.

Hux knew that he should rest, but he found himself looking at you instead. You were asleep, or at least it looked like you were—your face relaxed an untroubled, one arm resting across your abdomen, rising and falling with your slow deep breaths. Hux has never been able to fall asleep that easily, but he’s not surprised that you could; you had a right to be tired after everything you’d been dealing with. Seeing you this way allowed him to relax as well, and he's lost in thought, drifting in and out of consciousness.

Why was he so afraid of this? Not just this but being with you in any capacity. It’s not like there hadn’t been other women, although that had been a very long time ago, when he was younger—and those had been transactional, business-like experiences. He had never shared a bed with someone before.

For the first time, Hux was forced to confront his feelings for you head-on. Admiring you from afar was one thing, and working with you was another, but this, this was different. This was sacred. Hux had never been comfortable with the idea of love. It always felt . . . manipulative. Anyone who had showed any kind of care for him always wanted something from him. And now that he’s this close to something that could be love . . . what if he ruined it? What if he lost it? He had always known that it was possible that you didn’t feel the same way, but now he has to wonder what that rejection would do to him. How would he come back from it.

None of these thoughts were easy, but the discomfort was distant, blurred by the haze of sleep. These, Hux thought, were problems for another time. For now, he needed to rest.

As much as you hated it in the beginning, you had to admit that Irraide was beautiful, once the sun had gone down. You woke up just in time to watch the it set outside the window of your room, filling you with a glittering excitement, and then you and the general were off to participate in the festivities before carrying out your plan of attack.

The night was cool on your skin, and a breeze blew by, raising goosebumps on your arms as you exited the hotel. The dress that had been provided to you was long and loose, covering your arms and legs, but the material was thin and fluttered in the wind, pushing its way up against your skin and wrapping around your legs. All around you, the streets were filled with people, all looking as eager and excited as you felt. You and the general merged with the group, headed to the city’s main thoroughfare, where the real party was taking place.

The street was lined with lanterns that guided the way deeper into the city, and as you walked the buildings grew taller and more elaborate. You lifted your gaze skyward, staring at the structures as they reached towards the moon. The whole galaxy, all the stars in the system, were made invisible by its light, impossibly bright and bathing the everything below in a golden glow. You wanted this memory burned into your mind, and you drank in every detail, so focused that you lost your footing, stumbling over the uneven streets and knocking into the man ahead of you. You righted yourself, flashing an embarrassed look at the general, and he reached out to you, gingerly sneaking a hand around your waist.

“Don’t worry dear,” he said, “ I’ll watch where we're going.” You froze for a moment, before you remembered. You were engaged. Well, Valbry was engaged, and you were supposed to be her. Normally, you took pride in your acting abilities, but there was something about the way the general’s hand pressed into your side that made you feel too much like yourself—almost exposed somehow, and you could no longer focus on the beautiful sights around you, totally present.

Hux’s hand slipped gently away from you, and you looked up at him. He’s concerned, you could see, but you shook your head minutely, moving closer into the crook of his arm. You could do this. It was all an act. Part of a disguise, just another mission. So why was your heart racing?

You adjusted to the feeling of being Valbry, and the gentle pressure of the general’s body against yours, as you approached the center of the city. The walkway was lined with living statues, real people dripping in gold, grouped together on pedestals and depicting stories and people you had never heard of: Soz Granting the Final Wish, Kendra and Her Sword, The Attack of Gris and His Nine. Similarly painted people were moving through the crowd handing out small golden circlets to the guests.

“For you,” one said, as she approached, forcing a small golden band into your hand, “Soz honors all her daughters!” You admired the thin golden crown for a moment before placing it on your head, where it rested, surprisingly heavy.

“How do I look?” you asked, turning to the general with a flirtatious smile.

“Regal,” he responded, but you didn’t think he was acting. And the blush that spread over your face wasn’t an act either.

The festival was, in a word, dreamlike, like your feet barely touched the ground as you and the general wandered through the many streets. There were dancers, plays, street-performers and magicians everywhere you looked, each act more incredible than the last, and the food—you had never tasted anything like it. The meals on the Finalizer were fine, but now you were sure everything you ate from this point on would taste like dirt in comparison, and you sampled everything that you saw.

The night drew longer, and you began to feel the ache in your legs and your feet. Sensing your discomfort, Hux decided that you should split up, as he went in search of some fantastic smelling dessert you had seen another couple devouring, and you stayed in a little courtyard, resting your legs. It was a small area, about half the size of the hotel room you were staying in, and almost completely obscured from the main road by large, wild plants with leaves that rustled against each other despite the stillness of the air.

You adjusted your shoes, wincing as they rubbed against the blisters you were sure had already formed, when you heard the sound of footsteps enter the small space.

“That was fast,” you said, looking up, but it was not the general in front of you. The woman who had entered stayed silent, studying you with a small frown.

“Hello child,” she said as she approached. Her skin was tan and smooth, and dotted with freckles, but despite her youthful appearance, you got the feeling that she was much older than she looked. Her form was covered completely in a dress made of thick silver fabric that shrouded her shape, but the way she moved spoke to power and strength. These details you took in with only passing interest; her eyes were certainly the most striking feature. Each was decorated with a painted design, three prongs slashed over her skin like rays of light, the left in white, and the right in black, which mirrored her actual eyes. One was entirely dark, and the other milky. You weren’t sure if she could see out of either of them.

“May I sit?” she asked, staring at you unblinking, and you nodded before you considered her possible blindness. Apparently she could see, because she joined you on the bench, resting her hands behind her and leaning back.

“Who are you?” you asked, studying her as her gaze flitted around the courtyard. You tried to decide if she was a threat, but there was something about her that defied any attempt you might make to define her. It left you stunned.

“I am a priestess,” she responded with a voice like water, “for the goddess Soz. And I am here to impart on you a wish.” The prospect sounded exciting, but you hesitated. Could you trust her? You still couldn’t say, but you leaned in. It wouldn’t hurt to stay for a little longer.

“What can I wish for?” You wanted to hear her speak again, hoping she would look at you again with those strange eyes.

“You don’t wish for anything,” she replied, “I will give you what you need.”

“What I need?” As far as you knew, you didn’t really need anything in the moment, except for maybe better shoes.

“What we all need,” she said, raising one eyebrow for emphasis, the white lines of face paint stretching, and for a moment, they looked like scars.

“I don’t understand.” Annoyance flared up in your mind cutting through the fog of her power; she was purposefully speaking in circles, trying to confuse you.

“I am offering you knowledge,” she said, “as a gift. No payment.”

“I think I’m alright,” you said, moving to leave the courtyard. Talk of payment made you nervous, even if she said it wasn’t necessary “I don’t believe in fortune-tellers.”

“But you believe in the force?” she asked, and you froze, every alarm system in your body screaming. How did she know? “I can sense that you do. Come sit with me, and I will tell you something. You have an important decision to make.” You had no idea what she was talking about, but now you had to know. If you left, it would certainly drive you insane.

“What decision?” you asked, and she reached for your hand. Her skin was cold against your own, so cold that you tried to pull away but her grip was strong as she stared straight ahead, as if she could see something in the distance that you could not.

“I cannot tell you that, but you will know soon enough.” Her response had you irritated all over again, and you tried to stand but she held you in place.

“Here is what I can tell you,” she said, looking at you once again, and you could see yourself reflected in both her eyes, “there are more choices than you might think. It is not always one or the other. Do not act rashly.” Her grip loosened on your fingers, left bloodless and buzzing from the strength of her hold, and you shook your hand out, trying to restore some of the feeling. When you looked up, she was already gone.

The alcove was empty once again, but there’s a strange feeling sitting with you now, like the place had been tainted—like it’s unsafe to stay there. You stood from the bench, hurrying out of the space and back into the crowded street, breathing a sigh of relief, but the fear still clung to you like a virus. The feeling dissipated a little when you see Hux approaching.

“Hello again,” you said, taking one of his arms in yours. Part of it was for the act, but you’re grateful that you were together again. You didn’t want to be alone anymore after such a strange encounter. “Any luck?” He smiled gently, shrugging.

“Couldn’t find it anywhere, but that’s probably for the best,” he said, leading you back the way you had come, “I think it’s time for us to be headed home.” You had hardly noticed before, but the sun was once again rising, glimmers of bright light streaking up through the night sky. It was time.

Tags: @acunningstargazer, @itsa-pseudonym, @ddaeing, @dark-night-sky-99, @i-jus-wanna-writehappy, @fresa-luna, @leiadelreyy, @averillian, @sunbanna

#armitage hux x reader #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #armitage hux x you #armitage hux fanfiction #kylo ren fanfic #office romance #my writing

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a-queer-seminarian · 5 years

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I graduated from seminary this past May, and one of my biggest regrets was leaving before getting them to add signage to ALL the bathrooms making it clear that transphobia won’t be tolerated. Failed attempts + pushback the plan received left me feeling so unwelcome and embittered and cynical.....but just look!! The bathroom signs are up at last and I can’t begin to describe the healing I feel just knowing that other trans, nonbinary, gender nonconforming people on our campus will feel safer and more welcome than I did!! ...And it couldn’t have happened without the solidarity of some wonderful people who’ve restored my faith in cis allies.

My second year at the seminary, I composed a long proposal for the Gender & Ministry Committee to take to the Council. After several painful failed attempts over the course of two semesters, it finally passed!! ....but the old president vetoed the dang thing as one of his last actions in office.

The following year with some pushing the school did convert most of the single-stall bathrooms to neutral bathrooms, which was part of my proposal at least — but I hated the signage they picked & was not happy that that’s all they did. I had poured so much time and energy into the proposal & the meetings and it’s like no one even read what I wrote — about why this issue is so important, how statistically there are zero instances of a trans person using inclusive signage to harass anyone and to the contrary it’s trans people who are in danger in public bathrooms; about how this is a vital theological issue for a school that claims to follow a God with a special care for those our society pushes to the margins; about how “neutral” isn’t enough....

Few events have left me feeling so bitter and cynical towards cis people, including those I had believed were educated enough about trans issues to be good advocates of my proposal for me. “This proves that cis people will do nothing for us,” I thought over and over again; “that I as the one out trans person on campus have to do aaaaaall the damn work myself....and if I’m too exhausted to, it just won’t get done!” *cue bitter and slightly frenzied laugh*

But then...then. My classmate and then student-president Viisha proved she was in my corner. When I was too embittered and exhausted to do the work (and honestly just not savvy enough to know which school leaders to go to to make things happen), she stepped in. She went to staff members who could make the change and was persistent; she got them to look at my proposal and finally put into effect the signage that the Council had voted yes to over a year before. Each gendered bathroom now has the pictured sign, reading, “Gender diversity is welcome here. All are welcome to use the restroom that best fits their gender identity.” Because of Viisha’s help, anyone who is trans, nonbinary, gender nonconforming, etc. who visits our campus or calls the seminary home will find signage that promises them the seminary is on their side. They won’t have to choose a bathroom that causes them spiritual and emotional distress; they won’t have to worry so much about which bathroom they’re least likely to face harassment in. And any cis person who might have harassed them? will hopefully think twice, because this signage suggests that the school won’t take their side if they attack a trans person.

Thank you, Louisville Seminary, for finally doing what’s right. Thank you to my allies there who are doing the work of the God who breaks down every binary that humankind builds to divide and oppress. Through this signage, you’ve reminded me that it’s only by coming together in mutual dialogue that we can tear down walls and build bridges that connect us in all our God-blessed diversity.

#bathroom signs #seminary #faithfullylgbt #queer christians #trans christians #trans stuff #log #photo

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outofcontextarthur · 5 years

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I'm honestly no joke curious if seeing all the positive attention posts about gay mr ratburn got on here contributed to show decisions at all. They tried with postcards because they saw real families that needed to be represented. Now theres already some cartoons really pioneering repping queer characters and the fandom atleast on here seemed mostly stoked about the possibilities of Arthur characters when Marc Brown said he was open to it. I wonder if we helped even a little

it’s an interesting thought! :0 though i’m personally inclined to believe this blog has been existing in its own little bubble out here, away from where anyone of importance might see it hahah

to his credit, marc brown has always placed a lot of importance on creating stories in which children from all backgrounds can see themselves. he’s said before that he wants all children to be able to relate to any of the characters and he understands the importance of representation.

like, take this statement marc brown made during the postcards from buster controversy:

I am disappointed by PBS's decision not to distribute the 'Postcards From Buster' 'Sugartime!' episode to public television stations. What we are trying to do in the series is connect kids with other kids by reflecting their lives. In some episodes, as in the Vermont one, we are validating children who are seldom validated. We believe that 'Postcards From Buster' does this in a very natural way -- and, as always, from the point of view of children.

(source)

so even back in 2005, this was something marc brown was willing to speak up about and highlight the fact that children with gay parents don’t exactly see themselves adequately reflected in the media they consume.

and that also comes up in that one huffpo article, where it talks about how a student asked marc brown if francine is gay and he said “yeah of course she could be”. he doesn’t shy away from it or give a wishy-washy answer or get all “lol she’s a kid why r u sexualising children” or anything. he’s open to the possibility that she could be gay, and to me it seems like he understands why it’s important for people to read francine like that as well

also like... i mean, i don’t know how much influence marc brown has on the production of the cartoon itself these days but like arthur’s been pretty consistent with regards to upholding marc brown’s vision of creating stories and characters for all children so. whether or not marc brown is directly involved, the team behind arthur have done a great job of keeping the spirit of marc brown’s stories shining through

the arthur folks have addressed so many different issues with nuance and empathy and i can imagine that a story like this, having a gay character on the show, is something they’ve been pondering for a while. like, how to bring it up, is the timing right to air this episode, what’s the best way to address this story, etc etc. it seems like it’s something that a lot of thought goes into, and as much as we have fun on this blog, i don’t wanna be all like “lol yeah we came up w the idea ur welcome 😎” and undermine the amount of care and effort that goes into making episodes like this, y’know? like i can’t say for sure what went on behind the scenes but other cartoon creators have been pretty open about the pushback they recieved from execs when they tried to put gay couples in their shows, so. i’m sure it’s something the arthur team were aware of as well and may or may not have been pushing against for a while

like. I DUNNO it’s hard to say anything definitively. i get where you’re coming from though! it’s interesting to wonder if anything from this blog ever crossed paths with someone on the arthur team and helped sway a decision :0 for me personally though, i feel that a story like this has been in the pipeline in some form or another for a while. representation and inclusivity has always been important to marc brown and arthur in general, so it could have just been a matter of the team waiting until the time was right before they could really go for it

IT’S FUN TO CONSIDER if us goofing around on this blog had any say on things, but marc brown and the team behind arthur have worked consistently to create stories and characters that all kids can see themselves in and i don’t wanna undermine all the hard work that no doubt went on behind the scenes of this ep!

#good god it's 5am #THIS WAS A real longwinded way of saying 'idk lol who's 2 say'#aninimouse #and now a word from us kids

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akiwisfics · 4 years

Text

In Bloom Chapter 3

Notes: Cross-posted from AO3. If people get annoyed by this, please savior “kiwi crossposts” to save your eyes. Hey, if you’re a fan of KirarixSayaka, check our discord here .

Description: Mary accepts an invitation to watch from the president, and learns far more than she ever wanted.

Pairings: KirarixSayaka, MaryxRirika

Routine was its own madness.

The satisfaction that Kirari felt with it, surely, was misplaced. There was nothing in these turn of events to feel secured about, not with the mountain of actions and steps that awaited them by week's end. Predators would be waiting by the gates. She should be preparing for it-- preparing Sayaka to be the larger fish, be the shark she needed to be, that she knew she already was.

Instead, she was playing doting girlfriend and truthfully? Kirari couldn't be happier.

Her morning started out simple enough. She woke up in a cold sweat, eyes fluttering open with what few nightmares that she still recalled even as the sleep faded out to the waking world. Tightly clenched hands on sheets, chipped fingernail polish. That would be fixed later. Later, like every step.

Her suite was the best in the city in the best hotel that she could find and be offered. Room service every evening, fresh laundry, breakfast and dinner. Tea served just the way she wanted it first thing in the morning. The best stay money could buy in Tokyo, and yet, it still wasn't the most expensive way she'd avoided her sister before.

She hadn't bought the hotel yet.

By the time her feet touched the floor, there was one, firm knock. Breakfast-- displayed elegantly on an arrangement of porcelain and lace white table cloth. By her instruction, they never came in, so long as Kirari was there. She let the news play in the background as she arranged her breakfast and tea on the living room table, honey and sugar within arms reach to sweeten the pot. Notepad to her right as she watched-- ready to take notes on anything that needed to be addressed or arranged before the day was finished.

Eggs, bacon-- Western but comforting. Tea was an earl grey for her first, but now that Sayaka felt well enough to move around on her own, they would have green later.

It was better this way.

A shower came next, then the careful threading and braiding of silver tresses topped with black ribbon to complete the image that Kirari had for the last three years. Simple, predictable... routine.

From there, make up. The vanity outside the bathroom was perfect for it, circular and ornate. After so long, every layer was applied without though, automatic and graceful in one. Foundation, blender, mascara and eyeliner. Her fingers touched against flawless skin as she applied each brush stroke carefully, constructing her own mask of perfection for the rest of the day.

The finishing touches came next- the dashes of icy blue. Eye shadow applied with masterful strokes, not a brush out of place. Still, Kirari checked and triple checked. Lipstick was applied with just as much carefulness and she smiled at her reflection-- finding the detached air that welcomed her back satisfying.

Not like it was smeared before. Blue didn't suit Sayaka as well as she thought she would, not plastered haphazardly like it was she kept trying and trying to breathe life into her. Two hands interlocked with one another and pressing downward-- in, out, in, out.

"You're running out of time, President~"

She could not, would not--

Another firm knock at the door. "Checking in!"

She blinked and found her reflection once again staring back. "... One more hour!" she called out to room service and waited until she heard the careful wheeling of the metal cart, further down the hallway. Kirari breathed deeply, shuddering, unsteady.

And reached for the make up remover, wiping the slate clean.

"Two signatures on the first page, three on the last. Just follow the lines there."

Kirari hummed, warily looking the forms over in her hands. Sayaka tsked good naturedly and scooted closer, breath tickling her ear as she reached over her shoulder, taking the page by the corner. "We don't want to give them a reason to reject the proposal. Takamura-san won't care, but it has to get to his desk first. That's why they get their secretaries to read it first and deny it based on a missing signature or two."

"Humor the procedures, hm? How dreadfully analytical~."

"It's why you hired me isn't it?"

She smiled and tossed the papers to the floor, marveling at how aghast Sayaka looked at her callousness-- as if it'd been something far more precious and fragile. She pressed two fingers lightly against her secretary's collarbone, smile widening at the flush that came to her skin, starting from that point and extending outward. She took the directive with little pushback, only sparing a moment to scoot closer to the edge.

"I'm fine," she said as Kirari laid down in the open space beside her, "I could leave today. You know that."

Not yet. There was still too much to do and say-- things that Kirari wasn't ready to broach. It didn't mean they couldn't share good company with one another though. She stretched her arms over her head, as if settling down for a good nap. Instead, she turned to look, unsurprised to see how much Sayaka stiffened at the proximity. "Did you really want to know why?"

"... Why I was hired?"

"It wasn't your perfect record."

A frown tugged at her lips. Kirari couldn't help biting back a giggle as she reached out, cupping one cheek and pressing a thumb against the corner. Sayaka huffed, squirming away with what few inches were left in the bed. "You're teasing."

Kirari laughed in return.

"It couldn't have been what I said."

It was. She wasn't sure what all she could share in that moment, but Kirari still smiled-- felt the warmth against the younger's girl skin as she brushed a few hair strands back, thumb brushing over her brow in a comforting gesture. She hadn't been sure what exactly she wanted to convey in that, but to Kirari, it hardly mattered. She touched because she wanted to, and in the privacy of the hospital room, there wasn't anyone that could tell her no. No one that could see and say something.

No one to hurt her. To cripple her on her council floor- suffocating. Even now, her skin still didn't look right. Her hand traveled lower, brushing back over the jawline and stopping at Sayaka's chin.

"... President?"

She turned her face over left and right, cheek to cheek. No. The color still wasn't right, but it was coming back. She missed the way it had shimmered under the full moonlight. Bed of lillies.

What would've her body sounded like-- cracking against solid ground?

"President." Ah. That furrowed brow, scooting back closer. That was a more familiar look on her. "Something is on your mind, isn't it? Please, let me help you."

She wouldn't have liked it, though what would be the turning point? The morbid fascination, or the fear she suppressed in the pit of her stomach? The one that Kirari wasn't sure she wanted to recognize, to let the idea twist and consume her. Instead, she pressed soft lips against Sayaka's and enjoyed the way she melted against her.

On the bright side, Sayaka was surprisingly easy to distract. Even as she pulled away, even as her grin grew wide-- flashing whites, she hid the relief at seeing the worry melt away in her violet eyes. "Ririka did your interview."

Sayaka blinked.

"I don't remember what I was doing back then. Meeting your father, perhaps? He had been very concerned about my suggestions starting out. What would he do, I wonder, if he saw his daughter laying like this with me?" Not that he was any actual threat. Not like anyone was. "... In any case, Ririka told me what happened. Someone that saw right through a person so quickly. I had to see for myself."

"What?!"

The look on Sayaka's face was so striking. Kirari wasn't sure she had a proper name for it. Her eyes weren't as wide as she expected, but the sheer amount of horror that was reflected in her irises was--

Her cellphone buzzing on the desk cut her thoughts. Perhaps her twin had been summoned at the mere utterance of her name, or another hapless council member, calling to settle a petty dispute. A businessman or politician looking to strike a deal. Threatening voicemails from Terano? Perhaps she should deign whoever it was with a greeting.

Kirari spared one last glance at her startled patient before slipping out of the bed, taking dainty steps to her cell. She narrowed her eyes once she spotted the caller id on the screen. Nurse's station.

"Yes?" she greeted, already playing out a few scenarios in her mind. Blood work had come back with something unsuspected. Question about medical history. Someone from the academy had found them. Director was asking for money. Runa coming up to do her daily report on the election. Last one unlikely-- she usually just texted and met her in the lobby. If there had been a change though, beyond what wheels she had already put in motion--

"Totobami-san is here to see you," the nurse on the other end said, voice carefully stoic. "Would you like us to turn her away?"

A different sort of curse had taken root then. Kirari couldn't be surprised. "... No. Have her wait outside the door, please. I will let her in just a moment."

"Who is it?" Sayaka asked, just as Kirari hung up the phone.

She knew why Terano was here, but that presented a completely different problem. She still had her questions to ask. If it wasn't carefully structured, Terano could grow impatient, or Kirari would give away too much too quickly. She would need to get tea ready-- Chai was her favorite, wasn't it? A shame she didn't have coffee. That bitter stench suited the woman's soul far too well.

She turned her heel, ignoring Sayaka for the moment and instead reaching out for the privacy curtain. "Pretend to sleep?" Kirari asked half-way through extending it outward.

"Terano?"

She winked in response. "Wouldn't want to give her too much, would we?" She waited long enough to see Sayaka's assent, a slow nod and determination gleaned in her eyes. The swell of pride inside her was unsatiable. Kirari followed the metal track as she closed the curtain, stopping just shy of closing it completely for one last reminder. "Be my ears?"

"You don't even need to ask, President," and the smirk fitted her all too well, "Don't forget the chai?"

"Sleep well, Sayaka," and she smoothed the curtain as it closed. It wasn't long afterward that she heard Sayaka settle, shuffling whisper quiet like most things she did. Her sigh came out even, calmer than it should be. It was easy to straighten, shoulders broad and head high. She had left the blue at home today, but for Terano? She needed little.

Pausing only to boot up her laptop to some draft of the proposal left discarded on the floor, she swept up to the door gracefully and slid it open, welcoming Terano with a smile that she knew promised only danger to those that truly knew her.

And Terano looked even more sour than usual. My, her little guest was making quick work then. "You'll have to excuse me, Terano," she greeted as Yumi wheeled Terano in. Kirari closed the door behind them-- knowing full well this was a conversation best left in this room, "I would've had the tea ready if I knew you were coming."

"I'm always amazed about how often your hiding lacks even the briefest bit of subtlety."

"A bit early for the compliments, isn't it?" She turned to her electric kettle, balanced perhaps too dangerously on of the medical equipment carts and flipped the switch on. It would be much better with more traditional methods, but options were limited when confined to such a small room. Still, she turned to her desk next, ignoring the way Terano bore holes into her with every step, and dug through her mess to find the chai tea box. Loose tea leaves, naturally. A spoonful was only ever necessary. "I was surprised it took you this long to visit."

"Out of respect to Igarashi-san."

"I'll be sure to tell her when she wakes."

The intense study left her for a brief moment, only to trace Sayaka's silhouette along the curtain. Kirari pretended not to notice, not to wonder. Settling Terano first always was a priority, as that mind of hers so often thought and went beyond what she actually could do. She could admire her ambitions, her ruthlessness as she settled and resettled disputes. But it was that same sort of tact and shrewdness that left them at opposite ends of the desk, of the school, of the clan. One above, the other below.

Targeting Kirari directly wasn't Terano's style. She wondered if the change had been Miyo's idea, or perhaps, the plan had never come to her attention at all. She would find out soon enough. If it wasn't by a direct statement, Sayaka would pick up something between the lines. All she had to do was listen.

The tea kettle flipped to cool. She carefully dipped the tea leaves into a strainer and set it on a porcelain tea cup-- white with a gold trim. With careful hands, she poured the steaming water over the strainer, lifting the strainer off once the cup had been filled. The dark fluid inside looked like coffee if Kirari squinted perhaps.

Terano wheeled up to a clean spot at the desk, just as she set the tea down in front of her. There was never a thank you as Terano took the cup and tipped the tea in her mouth. She gave herself a moment to taste, savouring it, before finally swallowing-- her expression remaining mostly neutral except for the slightest angry twitch of her eyebrows.

"... You really suck at making tea," she remarked coldly.

Kirari only shrugged as she sat down behind her laptop, sparing a glance at the proposal form before shutting the lid close again to look at her cousin directly. "Is that so?"

"It's either the water's too hot, you burn the leaves, or you steep it too long. I've seen you screw up each step too many times to expect anything less."

"How polite of you to still accept it."

"Igarashi-san spoiled me, perhaps," Terano said and paused, as if a particular thought caught her interest. "The clan heads accepted your decision. I'm sure you're pleased the Inbami and Yobami integration went well without your help."

"It benefitted Miyo and Miri to make sure it did."

"They'll be back for you."

Kirari chuckled, "I'm sure." And it would go as this did, as it always did. Perhaps later down the road, they would realize the benefits that came with being one family again, or took it for granted as the sisters continued to plot and grab for more. They swam brilliantly in her aquarium, shined bright in her sea of blue.

Miyo was lucky she hadn't killed her.

Kirari brushed the thought aside and kept her hands from twitching, instead settling in her lap, legs crossed-- poised. "I'm certain you didn't come just to criticize my tea-making skills."

"You're right-- what the hell are you doing?"

She let her smile stretch, just a tad. "It was rather unkind of you not to invite them."

"Like you were involved with the vote buying at all," Terano rolled her eyes. "It took one week for Rei to be the talk of the school. The move's almost impressive if it benefitted you at all."

"But it doesn't benefit you even more, does it?"

Terano sighed. "You want me to admit to what happened? I had no involvement, Kirari."

She doubted that.

"To take something so precious from you? ... I'd rather do it with my own hands."

Kirari hadn't recoiled. She hadn't moved. The thought crossed her mind, like it had the card game years ago. Perhaps like her, she hadn't meant to shove her off the balcony like that. It was a thought and fascination that stuck to her, and it dug so deep that no amount of prying could remove it. She had wanted to see what a fall looked like. She had wanted to see what a body looked like, cracked and broken on the ground.

"It doesn't matter now, does it?" Kirari suggested, eyes picking up the garish paint of the voting chips-- of blues and reds and oranges. How far behind was she now, ignoring the world like she was? "Everyone loses a gamble sometime. It's the nature of things. You've always been a poor loser."

"At least try!" the snap had been unexpected.

Kirari's brows drew upward for just a second. Somehow, without even trying, she had managed to get under Terano's skin again. It should've been her that was angry. It's not like she wanted to be gone like this.

Terano breathed deep, eyes fluttering close just as Yumi came over, offering an uneasy smile to her. "You are the most infuriating person I've ever met, and I will absolutely make sure, when this is all done, you'll have nothing. Keep your shit tea, and be glad you can keep the one person that still tolerates you in any capacity another week."

"Tea on Friday then?"

She half expected Terano to throw the steaming cup at her with the way she leered back. "Let's go, Yumi."

Kirari didn't bother to open the door for them on their way out, deciding instead to count her blessings that the conversation hadn't included bodily injury and a possible tazer to her rival's neck. She wouldn't doubt Sayaka's reflexes if it came to it. Hopefully the rest of the day would be a bit more peaceful, a bit more--

She bit back a sigh as she spotted her twin's visage on the other side of the door in that brief moment between Yumi opening the door and closing it behind them.

Sometimes, it wasn't Sayaka suffocating. Those nightmares were the most vivid, but sometimes...

Sometimes she was waking in a field of lillies, moonlight and starlights shimmering above her and a tall, looming tower above them. Her heart would pound so loudly against her chest, exhilirated by a new experience. Like she could reach out with both hands and touch one of those stars, grasp it tightly in her palms like a lightning bug shyly ducking between her fingers.

And she would turn over and see glazed over eyes staring back, Sayaka's neck bent an odd angle and eyes wide in terror. Concern. Her body would be a shattered mess of broken bones and blood, and there would always be a chasm that Kirari would never, ever be able to cross.

She pulled the curtain back and over, nearly making Sayaka jump. Kirari quickly placed a finger over her lips, speaking so lowly that she had hoped Ririka wouldn't hear. "Ears closed."

Sayaka frowned, and she could already see the protest forming in her mind. She hoped she couldn't hear the roaring in her ears, how loud it seemed to be in her own. The way she looked at her was just so--

"I trust you, President."

Good girl. She kissed her forehead and waited long enough for her to settle before turning to meet her second guest for today. Despite it all, it would be hard not to just listen, wouldn't it? But Kirari still trusted her. She had nothing else to go on but that.

That wasn't shame, was it? The way her heart burned, seared so hotly and uncontrollable. She hated how badly her hands shook the longer she stared at them. She shouldn't have been angry. Ririka had come to her with... right intentions? They weren't the same as Terano's, but so easily it felt like something inside her was mocking her for her own decisions lately. She had been hiding. Had buried her head in a hole so deep, it worried her to pull it out.

Rei Batsubami bought her time, but it wasn't as an ally. When they came back, they would have to be--

Sayaka's steps were always quiet, far too hesitant after so long together, but she still heard them and she didn't flinch as one hand came up around her shoulder-- hesitant and tightly clenching. "We'll go back tomorrow," Sayaka said, as though it would soothe the burning. "We're attracting too much attention."

"I'll need you there."

"Of course, President."

"How long have you loved Mary?"

Her sister had looked surprised then. Was it how steady her heart seemed? Was it the tears? She hadn't even realized they were cascading down much later, not until she was back in the hotel room, the trails on her cheeks stark in her reflection in the vanity. It wasn't like Ririka to push, and she-- it almost made her proud to see how far she had grown then. To see how she stood at her two feet and looked at her with such fire that she didn't see herself looking back. She saw someone new, someone that was distinctly Ririka.

But it wasn't for very long. The bashfulness had returned with the question, hand retreating back to curl uncertainly close to herself-- as if to hide herself away and shrink into her seat. It had been far too late to though.

"I... I don't know what you mean by that."

"It's healthy to have a crush, Ririka."

"She just..."

Perhaps it shouldn't surprise her that things developed like this. She couldn't say if Mary was the sort to extend her hand out. Her heart had been right for what Kirari wanted, one that she had tried to carefully, rightfully guard from the wrongs of the world. Something about her own sister's kindness had touched hers perhaps.

She hoped none of the family would notice. Growing up had been spent watching over her twin too often, and she had been left wondering many times if there wasn't a better way. The mask had been a crutch for them both-- both to hide and both to duck around questions they didn't want to answer. Kirari supposed it had been natural that their first real conversation with one another only came after the mask had been removed from the equation.

The first thing she'd do when she returned home is shatter it.

"She'll win this election. I don't know what that'll mean for me, but... forgive me?"

"Be safe, Ririka."

Maybe it wasn't shame, but jealousy. The thought had crossed her mind a few times. No one could know. Sayaka couldn't know. So many of those predators gazes would turn from her, from the prize fish in the pool-- to her. The wall could only hold so much against a tide like that.

The safest thing to do would be to tell Sayaka to run. All the same, Kirari kept quiet, and hoped against hope she would come to the decision herself.

In the mean time, she would keep those lighter terms to herself. Of love and relationships, and hoped what she did show in those times together proved to be enough.

"Sister?"

Kirari looked up, eyes focusing on the familiar image as Ririka stood from her seat, uncertain and watching-- as if expecting to see the answers in her eyes instead. Kirari smiled good-naturedly, and hoped Ririka realized she meant it. "Go on. I'll see you tomorrow," she said with a dismissive wave. "If you run into Runa in the lobby, just tell her to come up. I'm very behind on paperwork at this point, and I would hate to wake Sayaka over a few drab signatures."

"What do you want out of this election?"

She really, really needed to leave. Her sister wasn't this socially dense.

"It just seems..."

"It doesn't hurt to have a bit of fun, isn't it?"

"But it--"

"Please be safe getting home, Ririka."

She never wanted her sister's pity again.

Rei called her that evening, long after she had settled down in her hotel room, after she had packed everything for after school, when she could slowly move her things back into the mansion. The distraction had been a nice reprieve, but the longer this restless and burning stayed, the more she realized Sayaka was right-- it couldn't be put off any longer.

"I hope Terano didn't give you any trouble," she said over speaker phone as she stacked paperwork together, remembering what order Sayaka had suggested it and liked. It was more about subject than alphabetical, wasn't it? Or was it more based on which business it was intended for? No doubt there would be an overflow of gambling invitations as well, something Kirari would insist they meticulously went through together this time. It had everything to do with debating Midari over semantics than the shock of--

"A few motivational letters, nothing more."

She chuckled and debated just torching the papers in front of her instead. She always preferred one-on-one meetings anyway. "She was always very good at that," this was going to be a very boring conversation if they stayed on the subject though. "I certainly hope you're not offering to align yourself with me, are you?"

She could practically hear their scowl bearing down on the receiver. "Hardly. When are you coming back?"

"Tomorrow. Why?"

"Your invitation is on your chair. I was going to leave it at your mailbox, but it--"

"That will be addressed, Rei. Thank you."

"Most of those votes are mine now anyway. Should make it short work for you."

It didn't surprise her, and she welcomed the challenge that would await her once she returned. Finally, someone was providing actual entertainment. She had almost forgotten why the election had started in the first place. Watching had its benefits, but she needed something. Something that wasn't just--

"I don't want a solo game."

She paused. "... Do you have a partner yet, Rei?"

"Yourself?"

"I suppose I could have a word with Sayaka on the matter." No doubt the girl would panic at the mere suggestion given to her. She had seen her stage plenty of slanted games at this point, paying cash for voting chips-- even admired the air of superiority and callousness that she carried as she executed her actions. But unlike Terano, she had always been a graceful loser.

Fully and completely herself, lending herself to her own logic and rationality when all else failed her. Yes. She would be a good partner for this crucial time.

"From what I understood, she never gambled before this."

She debated bringing up the Tower of Doors, but if the tale hadn't reached them yet, it was perhaps with good reason that it hadn't. "No real stakes, no, but against you, Rei, I don't think she'll disappoint."

"I'll find someone suitable then."

Always agreeable, even as their world collapsed around them. It was one of many reasons why she liked Rei personally, and many of those reasons why they despised her. Kirari never held those grudges personally, except for when she did-- now she guessed, those grudges weren't the healthiest to keep. She had an election to win after all. Perhaps she would invite Miyo and Miri for a private conversation when they returned. Remind them of what it meant to be under one family again.

"Do you think people see you as a person, Momobami-san?"

She considered everything from the last week or so, to the months before that-- to now, staring at discarded paperwork. "I suppose you would be familiar with the feeling."

"It's okay to say no."

"I would if I thought that was the actual question," she filed the papers away and ignored the way her stomach rumbled for now. Room service would just have to be late today it seemed. Again. "Your isolation had very different intentions from mine. You had no choice in yours."

The silence that followed on the other end was more thoughtful than she wanted. Rei had better things to do with their time than try to cut her into some tragic figure when there wasn't one. No large looming shadow over her head. No deep emotional scars that she couldn't recover from. It was all hers, and she took that in-- for the most part-- as proud as she always did.

"Was it really your choice though?"

It wasn't anyone else's.

"I didn't, personally. Not until you called me," Rei elaborated, voice still holding something wistful inside of it. It only left a better taste in Kirari's mouth. "For you to call someone that hates your guts this much. For help, even."

"You're part of the family. It wasn't fair that you weren't invited."

Rei laughed. "Like you really believe that. I'm not blind to the timing here."

True. She hadn't believed it. Rei's role in the family had never bothered her personally. A name and identity that had never crossed her mind for years. She didn't hate Rei so much as they didn't know them personally. But to them? To anyone in the outs with the family? She'd always be the prime target. The very thing members thought of as they wallowed in their misfortune. What was it to Kirari though? It wasn't as if she had been ignorant to the processes growing up, to now. If anything, there was a sort of pleasure that twisted inside her when she saw the sheer terror on Miyo's face the other day, realizing that it wasn't death that awaited them.

And now? Her plan seemed to be going nicely. The voting pool had been dried up, courtesy of the very same person she spoke with now. She hadn't even needed to direct them to do it.

"How much are we betting when I get back?"

So long as she kept her focus on the goal, it didn't matter.

The uniform looked almost alien on her now. It hadn't surprised her that Sayaka was ready by the time Kirari's driver pulled to the hospital to pick her up, but she couldn't help being slightly taken aback by how... normal they both seemed now. How many times had she watched her like this? Legs crossed, prim and proper-- nary a thread out of places. The stack of paperwork in her lap kept balance through every bump and curve as they made their way back to Hyakkaou. At some point, they'd been ordered to whatever way her secretary had needed it from the haphazard packing Kirari did last night. Light fingers thumbed through the pages, a light subconscious hum filling the silence between them.

Aside from a little paleness? Normal. The poison and games seemed but a distant memory in that small span of time. And yet...

"President, if I may?"

What an odd phrase. She'd heard hundreds of times now, but it pulled Kirari's attention easily, even as Sayaka looked as still as ever. Like she hadn't been there at all. "What's on your mind?"

"Do you want to go back?" Reflexively, her expression tightened, and all too quickly, the fear washed over Sayaka's face-- suddenly again the startled deer of a middle schooler. "I'm sorry-- that isn't--"

"No. I do..." Parsing her words was her best and perhaps worst talent. It was easier when there wasn't something in her mind already, and she supposed now, it couldn't be put off any longer. She held a finger just a moment before tapping on the driver window. Aged, indistinct eyes stared back wordlessly. "Long way, please."

Sayaka looked horrified at the suggestion. "You have a meeting with Runa first thing."

"She can wait. This... You're important." Sayaka only stared wordlessly back, but the flush against her cheeks was unmistakable. "I need you to promise me to never do that again."

"President--"

She held a hand up, and immediately, the voice quieted, but she could still see the fire in Sayaka's eyes. "Promise me. It's going to happen again-- someone's going to come and risk my life. Let it be mine."

"You can't expect me to agree to that!"

"You will." Because it was enough to dream of it. It was enough to imagine it and wonder. How many more people would know that she had something to lose now? "I need you as a partner. Gambling with me. Risking everything with me." A shield, safety net. If people saw the same of her, they wouldn't think of before. She ignored the way the words twisted inside her as she reached forward, fingers lightly brushing Sayaka's knee as she forced the younger girl to look at her. She needed to see that strength inside-- needed to pull it out, not just for herself but for Kirari as well. "You are my second. Do you understand? Promise me."

The squeeze did it, she thought. Her eyes flickered just briefly to the contact before meeting her own-- still brewing darkly. She could see the way her mind ticked and strategized. Thought. Sometimes it'd been better when she didn't see how it all worked.

"... I promise," Sayaka lied.

It hurt even more to let Sayaka believe she got away with it.

"You're running out of time, President~."

Midari had said that, didn't she? When did they start having their own voices? It was easier to pretend those ambitions were never there-- only to punish them when they came out to the open. Mayuda had been stupid, and Midari even worse.

But at least they had tried before.

The tower found her first. Sayaka had looked almost heartbroken when she was dismissed for the day, but the sooner they returned to normalcy, the better. Kirari had been grateful the looks weren't as severe as she had expected, and for now, people had let her be. The mail sorted through, meetings adjourned, paperwork completed and submitted. She had forgotten how monotonous the whole process was. She had forgotten the way her skin itched at the mere sight, and all too quickly, she was looking for anything as a reprieve.

The invitation in her hands had proven fascinating enough. The wax seal had been placed perfectly in the middle, nary a drip in sight, and yet the Batsubami kanji was clearly handmade. The mark at the edge of the circle, bearing the creator's signature was missing, and the kanji was just ever so slightly off center from the actual circle. Now? Assuredly broken, but the invitation itself had the most beautiful calligraphy. A careful, practiced hand.

Rei. What sort of gambler had they become?

The excitement that tingled her finger tips had a new sort of anxiety mixed in with it-- an ugly masterpiece that if looked under the right light, had its own, particular humane beauty to it. She hated it.

Maybe that's what drew her there. To the field of lillies, not as luminascent in the bright sun, but a shining contrast to the dull concrete pathways that cut into it, still a romantic addition to the metallic tower that loomed above them as its creeking shadow. Sayaka had acted exactly as she had imagined it, shone even brighter than the sun or moon. Eclipsed everything and everyone.

She held the invitation up to the sun, noting idly that the paper was also a cheaper quality than ones usually sent by the Bami clan. The chips were kept closely guarded then. Kirari had wondered if Rei wouldn't at least sell off one or two-- enough to secure themselves in the event that things did go sour as it should. It would've been the safer bet, and yet, Kirari couldn't say she was disappointed.

If they had, they could've afforded better envelopes.

"Oh, President!"

Kirari smiled, and brought the envelope back down as she turned her heel to greet her visitor. "Yumeko," she regarded, "I hope you haven't issued a challenge yet. I'm afraid my schedule is quite tied up today."

"I can see that." Still, her rival stood beside her, admiring the scenery before them. The silence that fell was comfortable, even as Kirari knew that this wasn't just a stop for idle chit chat.

Yumeko was safe though. She never needed to worry about anything beyond when the next gamble would be offered, and how it would transpire. They were, after all, creatures of habit. And even as much as Kirari hid, she would always find herself waiting for the next game, the next draw, the next bet.

Sayaka would be drawn into that madness, and there was nothing Kirari could do to stop that.

"A shame this election can't run forever," Yumeko sighed wistfully, drawing her away from her thoughts.

Kirari chuckled in return. "I will have to come up with something better for next time, won't I?"

"You're willing to give up everything, aren't you?"

No. Never. Especially not now. "Of course."

"Then I will have to start drafting that invitation~" As cheery and airy her voice was, Kirari found it difficult to know if that had been genuine or not. The excitement of a new gamble would always be for Yumeko, but whether she would believe such sweet venom, so much like her own? Perhaps it was better never knowing. "Give Batsubami-san my regards, will you? Oh! Igarashi-san too."

"I'm sure she'll be thrilled."

Again, an airy giggle, though she doubted the sarcasm was left unnoticed by Yumeko. Kirari slid the invitation back into the pocket of her blazer and turned toward the rest of the path. She still had homework to pick up from teachers before the game started, and Yuriko... Yuriko wanted something, didn't she? Maybe it was just an arrangement of club finances. She was always so concerned about one week to--

"President?" She glanced back to Yumeko, and felt how heated those red eyes were. "I hope it's all worth it for you. It most certainly will be for me."

At this point?

At this point, Kirari wasn't sure.

#kiwi crossposts #kakegurui #fanfiction #multichapter fics #kirasaya #kirarixsayaka #kirari x sayaka #maryxririka #mary x ririka

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realityhelixcreates · 5 years

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Lasabrjotr Chapter 35: Planecdote

Chapters: 35/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: None Relationships: Loki x Reader (Someday) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Reader, Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Reader Has Some Insight, Loki Tries To Explain Himself, But May Still Be An Unreliable Narrator Summary: In which Loki explains exactly what he was up to during the New York Attack. It's up to you whether you believe him or not .

It was nice that you had made some friends, Loki thought, slightly annoyed at the continued presence of your little group of human followers. They had followed you around all day while you explained-surprisingly patiently-the abridged version of what had happened to you. They were fascinated by your potential with magic, by Asgard, and, much to his surprise, by him. He had tailed you, of course, in multiple human guises. He had to make sure you were safe, but he understood the need to be on your own. He didn't like it, but he understood.

They wanted to know everything, and for the most part, you didn't have any problems telling them. When some of the questions got a little sensitive, you just laughed softly and told them it was a 'political secret'-no matter what the subject was. They seemed to appreciate the joke.

“But what about when he attacked us?” One piped up. “Is that a political secret too?”

“No,” You sighed. “It's no secret, it's just something I don't know. We haven't exactly discussed it.”

Of course. The crux of every matter involving him, at least from the Earth's standpoint. It would always come up, in every conversation about him. He lounged against a wall, not so far away, only gaining notice because of the impeccably dressed and handsome shape he had taken. Otherwise, none of your little squad was paying him any attention, and he could eavesdrop with ease.

“I can tell you though, that it wasn't exactly his idea.” You said conspiratorially. “He was under someone else's control.”

Oh damn. You were talking about it. Well, he hadn't asked you not to, but it wasn't a subject he wanted to dwell on.

“Someone else was pulling the strings? Who?”

“His name was Thanos, and he was some kinda alien or something. But it's okay, he's dead now. Can't cause any more trouble.”

“Okay, but did he just tell you that? Do you have any proof he wasn't just making it up?”

“Thor corroborated.” You said. “In fact, Thor was the one who told me in the first place. I don't think Loki would have even mentioned it.”

“Why not?” A young man asked. “You'd think that would be the first thing he brought up. Get the blame off of him.”

It's shame.” You said so quietly that he barely heard you. “You gotta understand, Loki is royalty, and not just any royalty; his planet used to rule lots of other planets. He's a prince of whole worlds. He's a god. Like, actually a god, of the old kind that were way more like people, but still gods. For him to have been used like that, to be brought low like that...he'd probably rather we all think he's just evil, rather than have us entertain the possibility for one second that he might have ever been weak enough to allow anyone else to control his actions.”

Loki was boiling inside, but it wasn't with anger. The stew of emotions stuck in his throat like bile. One would think you'd been given Heimdalls eyes, to see through him so. Unsettled, Loki dug his fingers into the wall beside him.

“He actually takes his job really seriously.” You continued. “And his people seem to like him a lot, so he must be good at it. I mean, even the maids speak highly of him, and if he's nice to the servants, he must be pretty decent overall. And so far, he has been really good to me.”

“Are you dating?”

You had Loki's full attention.

You twiddled your fingers nervously. “Is this about all those so-called 'news' articles? We're friends. I think. I'm pretty sure. But I've only known him for a little while, you know?”

“Girl, it's been the whole summer! The sun's just weird here.”

“Wow, has it really been that long? I've just had so much on my plate, and I haven't thought about dating anyone in a long time now. Besides, he's an immortal god-prince, and I'm...I don't know what I am really anymore. Like, I'm working class, but I've been promoted? I dunno, I'm not royalty, so it's probably not even allowed.”

It was. Women in Asgard tended to marry 'up', so to speak. He could marry a peasant if he wanted to. Not without pushback from every noble who wanted to put forth their own daughters, and there weren't many strengthening family alliances that could be made with the lower classes. Not to mention, he simply didn't know many individual peasants, probably for those very reasons. But theoretically, it wasn't forbidden.

But it was something he shouldn't be contemplating right now. He had no time. No inclination. And there was no one of interest to him. No one...

“And anyway, I've got a lot going on, you know?” You were saying. “Gotta learn magic, Asgardian history, and language, and culture, court manners. You know, all that stuff. I can't think about romance right now. Maybe not ever again.”

Your new posse was quick to coo, and protest, and reassure you that that wasn't so, that you'd find someone. Loki wanted to agree. It wasn't as if he wanted you to remain celibate or anything, it was just that he didn't think you had many options. There weren't many humans for you to interact with, and fewer Asgardians who could be considered worthy of you. He supposed that was his fault. Appointing you as his personal seidkona had shot you up through social ranks in a way he didn't think you understood just yet. There were very few people on your level.

“It's not so bad though.” You continued. “I've got more than enough to occupy my time, and if I haven't run him off, Loki is almost always there. I'm not lonely or anything, so I don't necessarily need romance. Don't worry about it. I'm not.”

“Um, sir? Are you aware that you are damaging the wall?” A passerby asked quietly. Loki drew his hands away from where he'd been digging his fingers in, only then realizing that he had left dents in the plaster.

“I see.” He answered, just as quietly. “Thank you for informing me.”

The person moved on swiftly, a concerned expression on their face.

“There's always Thor.” Someone suggested. “We know for sure he's into humans, even if Loki isn't.”

Suddenly Loki was boiling again.

You laughed. “No way! He's not my type. Don't get me wrong, he's great, but just not my kind of guy.”

The bubbling inferno subsided to be replaced by a strange nervy, buoyant feeling. He'd never before heard a woman be so dismissive of the possibility of his brother's affections. From Midgard to Vanaheim, Thor was considered the pinnacle of masculine perfection, everyone knew that. To hear you so quickly declare him to be uninteresting to you was deeply satisfying.

He wanted to wade in among this little group of humans, to scatter them, and take you away. Yes, you needed interaction with other people, but this was all time you could be spending with him. Without any duties, without any danger, just being. You could be exploring the museums, or watching the great whale behemoths swim and blow water into the air, or sampling delicious dishes, which you so loved to do, or just walking the town, holding hands...

No wait, he wasn't doing that anymore. He was going to be more professional, more magisterial. More royal.

You stayed there talking until evening, when hunger presumably overtook you, and your new friends saw you back to your hotel in a tight, protective little group. Loki, of course, managed to get back into your shared room before you, and composed himself as if he had just been waiting for your to return.

“Pleasant afternoon?” He asked innocently.

“Yeah, actually.” You said. “Lotta good conversation, and I think I convinced them that I was fine. They might even hate you a bit less now too.”

“I am not concerned with their opinions.” Loki scoffed. You called that good conversation? Inane questions and senseless suggestions? You were better than that.

“Well, maybe I am. Loki, nobody knows anything about you except for what you did five years ago. Why haven't you done anything to defend yourself? If you just told people what really happened-”

“Would that make it better?” Loki interjected. “Would that gain me forgiveness? Would they even believe me, were I to apologize?”

Well...some would. Especially if you didn't do any other bad things, or did good things instead. Like the nature reserves...”

Loki stepped close and took your hands in his. He would stop tomorrow.

“_____ you know it wouldn't go that smoothly. There is a limit on what I can say. If I told people I was being influenced, they would want to know by whom. And if I spoke about Thanos, they would want to know more about him, his goals, and especially his methods. They would start looking for more answers, and we don't want that. Someone would stumble across information about the Stones, and go looking for them, and it would all start over again. I am pleased that you care about my reputation, but if I want to keep the universe safe, there is little I can do to clear my name.”

You hung your head, refusing to meet his gaze. “ I just thought maybe you could get people to like you, and then you wouldn't have so many enemies.”

Loki laughed. “I'm royalty; I'll always have enemies. I welcome them. They help keep me sharp. Now I need your help with a very important matter.”

“Yes?” You asked, looking back up.

“Where shall we go for dinner?”

*****

You ended up in an old, wooden building with a quaint, timber-framed interior, that was far too casual for the effort he had put into his impeccable suit and clean ponytail. He'd thought that you might appreciate seeing him in fine human style, after your day among your own kind, and indeed, it seemed to affect you. In fact, you'd had a hard time taking your eyes off him.

It was pleasant, noticing others staring at you in your beautiful Asgardian dress, and seeing that you were only looking at him. Perhaps he was a finer specimen than he had given himself credit for. But you both stuck out like jewels in a goat's ear, in this tavern-like establishment.

You had insisted though, as soon as you found out they served American food. It seemed your nostalgia was high.

“Pizza, Loki.” You had said. “I haven't had pizza in like, four months, and I just gotta have a pizza!”

So he had caved in, and brought you to this rustic restaurant, where you had ordered a pizza and a soda, and exclaimed about how it had been so long, and laughed at him when he tried to eat his slice of the messy Midgardian concoction with a fork, as was clearly proper. Somehow, you were balancing a floppy slice of the mess in one hand, and just eating it like that. Loki sighed and shook his head. Someday he would cure you of those peasant manners.

“Say, Loki...” You said between bites. “Am I allowed to ask you kinda personal questions?”

When have you ever held back? “To be honest, as my seidkona, you are not only allowed, but expected to question me. Just be mindful of the context, and the situation, and the nature of the question itself. I, on the other hand, need not answer if I do not wish to.”

You nodded slowly. “I want to ask you about the dream we shared.”

“Which one?” They were both unpleasant.

“The more recent one.”

“Ah. Well, if you will but indulge me...” He made a flourishing gesture, and the sound of the wait staff and the other patrons dulled and slowed. “We will go unheard now. It is as safe to ask as it can be.”

Your eyes flicked around the restaurant, taking in the altered noise. “Wow...That's really handy!”

“Your question?” He prompted.

“Oh right. Um. Were you really going to let them kill three and a half billion people?”

Yes that would be an important question to you. There was a fifty percent chance you would have been one of them.

“No.” He said frankly. “There's a reason that was a nightmare. That was the worst case scenario; what was likely to happen if all my planning went awry.”

“I mean, you could have died.”

“Unlikely. But it was something I included in my plans. That was the second worst case scenario.”

“Wait, wait. There was a scenario where winning was worse than death?”

“Yes, of course. Conquering your realm, but remaining under Thanos' boot would mean that all of my plans had failed, and I would never be free.”

“What exactly was the plan, anyway?”

“It's moot now.” He shrugged. “But a lot of it came down to control of the Mind Stone. It was caged within my scepter, and was what I used to control the Chitauri troops, as well as the handful of people I touched with it. I...was also being controlled, as Thanos exerted his influence over me through the stone. I was, on some level, aware of it, and everything I did on your realm was part of my plot to flout him. Defeat was acceptable to me, death was acceptable, but ideally, I would triumph.

I would have taken the realm with as little damage as possible. It was important to keep as much as I could intact, especially your weapons, your warriors, your resources. If everything had gone absolutely flawlessly, I would have defeated your Avengers, and added them to my army with the power of the Stone. With their power, their minds, their funds, I would have built defenses for the Earth, especially enhancing you space travel capabilities. I would have pulled hundreds of thousands of Chitauri troops in, and then cut them off from their mothership, leaving them solely under my control.

The Chitauri would then go into space, to patrol. This is when we would have begun building bases on your moon, and mining operations across your planetary system. All humans who were capable of it would be given basic military training, as everyone would have to be mobilized against outside threats, especially from Thanos. And he would have tried. Three of the Stones were here on Earth at that time; there is no way he would have let up.

Of course, I would have also gathered up all magically talented individuals for training, once I realized they existed. So I would have found you either way, my dear, even without this binding rune. And while I was raising your planet out of the galactic mud, I would have sent my brother to Asgard to take his place as king. Once enthroned, he would have allied Asgard, and the rest of the realms to Midgard, and under my banner, we would have purged the universe of Thanos, and all his allies. After that, I would have ruled your planet as a benevolent god. I would not have tolerated defiance, but I would have rewarded those who deserved it. No divisions by race or religion, or culture, or wealth. Merit would be all that mattered.

Ah, but that would have interfered with your precious 'freedoms', so it could not be allowed.” He sighed. “You throw celebrations for a royal wedding in a country you don't even live in, but you hate the idea of kings. Hypocritical nonsense. And more, you weren't even allowed to make your own decision about it. Some man in an underground bunker decided I could not be king, and so war was declared against me before I could even present my case.”

“You did murder a bunch of guys.” You pointed out.

“I did murder a bunch of guys.” Loki admitted. “Almost entirely combatants.”

“Almost?”

“The museum curator in Stuttgart was not technically a combatant. He was working for my enemies however so he was fair game.”

“Okay, gotta admit, you are sounding distressingly villainous right now.” You said it almost jokingly, but your soda glass shook a little in your hand.

“I did tell you I still had it in me, did I not? And you did ask. This is all just hypothetical of course, In reality, my neutral plan is the one that panned out. I was defeated, but not killed, and eventually, Thanos was overcome. And you and I met anyway, just a little later we might have, so perhaps the Norns interwove our strings in all their tapestries. We were always going to meet. So I will try to be less villainous, as I already was, but you will have to confront the fact that I have been truly nefarious, especially if you ask me about the times when I was.”

He cupped your shaking hand as you put your drink down.

“Yeah I guess if I'm gonna pry, I'd better be ready for what I find, huh? So you believe in fate, Loki?”

“The Norns weave the threads of each life into a vast work that forms the universe, and we can travel those threads in whatever way we see fit. But some knots they tie very tight, and those are hard to wiggle around. Most people can't, and even those who can, cannot escape them all. Some things simply must happen. I suppose that's...as close to a religion as Asgardians get.”

“Do the Norns really exist?” You asked. “Like, are they people you could meet? I mean, we used to think gods weren't real, solid people that you could meet, and yet, here you are.” You brushed your knuckles against his palm, sending little jolts of electric warmth down his spine. “Very solid.”

Loki cleared his throat. He wasn't supposed to be holding your hand. He would stop tomorrow.

“Uh, well, I've never seen them, but that does not mean they don't exist. As you've learned, a great deal of things that weren't supposed to exist actually do. Just as there is a great, wide universe beyond your Earth, There may be even more outside of that which is beyond even we Aesir.”

“Wow. Something beyond even you? I never thought you would admit such a thing!” Your voice was laced with sarcasm.

“I am clearly among the greatest men you have ever been privileged to meet, but yes. There are forces greater even than I.” Perhaps he was laying it on a bit thick, but it was better that you snorted at the pretentiousness, and turned your interest to the mysteries of the universe, rather than the things he had done. Or rather, would have done.

What would he have done, if things had gone entirely his way? Would he have found you after all? Certainly, once he'd found out there were humans that could use magic, he'd have had them all rounded up for training. But if there were very many, would he have noticed you?

Probably. You had such a knack for getting yourself in trouble. For curiosity. For poking at the core of him. Oh, he would have hated it. For he would have seen that you were a valuable asset and would not have brought you to harm, but you would have frustrated him greatly. You weren't disobedient exactly, just...mouthy.

It was a trait he simultaneously valued as a person, but despised as a ruler. He had liked it in his mother, he had liked it in Sif, he had even liked it in Jane Foster, and he...he liked it in you.

Yes, he likely would have kept you very close. Perhaps he would have made it his personal responsibility to correct you.

Oh, but he should definitely not be allowing his thoughts to wander down such a path.

He would stop tomorrow.

#loki x reader #loki (marvel)#marvel fanfiction

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mostlysignssomeportents · 5 years

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#5yrsago Greenwald's "No Place to Hide": a compelling, vital narrative about official criminality

Cory Doctorow reviews Glenn Greenwald's long-awaited No Place to Hide: Edward Snowden, the NSA, and the U.S. Surveillance State. More than a summary of the Snowden leaks, it's a compelling narrative that puts the most explosive revelations about official criminality into vital context.

Glenn Greenwald's long-awaited No Place to Hide: Edward Snowden, the NSA, and the U.S. Surveillance State is more than a summary of the Snowden leaks: it's a compelling narrative that puts the most explosive revelations about official criminality into vital context.

No Place has something for everyone. It opens like a spy-thriller as Greenwald takes us through his adventures establishing contact with Snowden and flying out to meet him -- thanks to the technological savvy and tireless efforts of Laura Poitras, and those opening chapters are real you-are-there nailbiters as we get the inside story on the play between Poitras and Greenwald, Snowden, the Guardian, Bart Gellman and the Washington Post.

Greenwald offers us some insight into Snowden's character, which has been something of a cipher until now, as the spy sought to keep the spotlight on the story instead of the person. This turns out to have been a very canny move, as it has made it difficult for NSA apologists to muddy the waters with personal smears about Snowden and his life. But the character Greenwald introduces us to isn't a lurking embarrassment -- rather, he's a quick-witted, well-spoken, technologically masterful idealist. Exactly the kind of person you'd hope he'd be, more or less: someone with principles and smarts, and the ability to articulate a coherent and ultimately unassailable argument about surveillance and privacy. The world Snowden wants isn't one that's totally free of spying: it's one of well-defined laws, backed by an effective set of checks and balances ensure that spies are servants to democracy, and not the other way around. The spies have acted as if the law allows them to do just about anything to anyone. Snowden insists that if they want that law, they have to ask for it -- announce their intentions, get Congress on side, get a law passed and follow it. Making it up as you go along and lying to Congress and the public doesn't make freedom safe, because freedom starts with the state and its agents following their own rules.

From here, Greenwald shifts gears, diving into the substance of the leaks. There have been other leakers and whistleblowers before Snowden, but no story about leaks has stayed alive in the public's imagination and on the front page for as long as the Snowden files; in part that's thanks to a canny release strategy that has put out stories that follow a dramatic arc. Sometimes, the press will publish a leak just in time to reveal that the last round of NSA and government denials were lies. Sometimes, they'll be a you-ain't-seen-nothing-yet topper for the last round of stories. Whether deliberate or accidental, the order of publication has finally managed to give the mass-spying story that's been around since Mark Klein's 2005 bombshell.

But for all that, the leaks haven't been coherent. Even if you follow them closely -- as I do -- it's sometimes hard to figure out what, exactly, we have learned about the NSA. In part, that's because so much of the NSA's "collect-it-all" strategy involves overlapping ways of getting the same data (often for the purposes of a plausibly deniable parallel construction) so you hear about a new leak and can't figure out how it differs from the last one.

No Place's middle act is a very welcome and well-executed framing of all the leaks to date (some new ones were revealed in the book), putting them in a logical, rather than dramatic or chronological, order. If you can't figure out what the deal is with NSA spying, this section will put you straight, with brief, clear, non-technical explanations that anyone can follow.

The final third is where Greenwald really puts himself back into the story -- specifically, he discusses how the establishment press reacted to his reporting of the story. He characterizes himself as a long-time thorn in the journalistic establishment's side, a gadfly who relentlessly picked at the press's cowardice and laziness. So when famous journalists started dismissing his work as mere "blogging" and called for him to be arrested for reporting on the Snowden story, he wasn't surprised.

But what could have been an unseemly score-settling rebuttal to his critics quickly becomes something more significant: a comprehensive critique of the press's financialization as media empires swelled to the size of defense contractors or oil companies. Once these companies became the establishment, and their star journalists likewise became millionaire plutocrats whose children went to the same private schools as the politicians they were meant to be holding to account, they became tame handmaidens to the state and its worst excesses.

The Klein NSA surveillance story broke in 2005 and quickly sank, having made a ripple not much larger than that of Janet Jackson's wardrobe malfunction or the business of Obama's birth certificate. For nearly a decade, the evidence of breathtaking, lawless, endless surveillance has mounted, without any real pushback from the press. There has been no urgency to this story, despite its obvious gravity, no banner headlines that read ONE YEAR IN, THE CRIMES GO ON. The story -- the government spies on your merest social interaction in a way that would freak you the fuck out if you thought about it for ten seconds -- has become wonkish and complicated, buried in silly arguments about whether "metadata collection" is spying, about the fine parsing of Keith Alexander's denials, and, always, in Soviet-style scaremongering about the terrorists lurking within.

Greenwald doesn't blame the press for creating this situation, but he does place responsibility for allowing it square in their laps. He may linger a little over the personal sleights he's received at the hands of establishment journalists, but it's hard to fault him for wanting to point out that calling yourself a journalist and then asking to have another journalist put in prison for reporting on a massive criminal conspiracy undertaken at the highest level of government makes you a colossal asshole.

The book ends with a beautiful, barn-burning coda in which Greenwald sets out his case for a free society as being free from surveillance. It reads like the transcript of a particularly memorable speech -- an "I have a dream" speech; a "Blood, sweat, toil and tears" speech. It's the kind of speech I could have imagined a young senator named Barack Obama delivering in 2006, back when he had a colorable claim to being someone with a shred of respect for the Constitution and the rule of law. It's a speech I hope to hear Greenwald deliver himself someday.

No Place to Hide: Edward Snowden, the NSA, and the U.S. Surveillance State

https://boingboing.net/2014/05/28/greenwalds-no-place-to-hid.html

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scriptlgbt · 6 years

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This question was submitted due to length, and the answer I gave was much longer. So it’s going under a readmore!

Submitted by Tay [no url given].

Content includes these topics/ideas:

- sex/sexuality (including cultural perceptions of it re: the LGBT+ community - now and in more recent history) - marriage as a marker of when sex is ok (and talk about how this attitude has interacted with the community)

- concepts of virginity

Asked:

“Hi, there. I’m going to start off by saying that I am bi myself however I am ousted from every LGBT community I know in real life because I believe in sex after marriage, or if the couple is making plans for marriage. Where I am, over half of the straight community is the same way.

However, every LGBT community here I know in real life, well, most aren’t virgins, and those that were soon weren’t. Also pretty much all of them mention multiple sex partners as well. Therefore I’m pretty much on the outside of the community because they can’t even believe I could consider myself bi until after I experiment.

Therefore I figured I could write a story about the kind of experience I have had. But since I don’t truly know the community well, especially only local communities, I’m not sure if I really understand them.

Also, from reading things from LGBT communities online, I find that a lot of them say no one has to experiment to know your orientation, which is a complete 180 than what I’ve experienced locally. Perhaps I didn’t meet enough people in my community, but I am sure annoyed by the fact they insist that experimenting is required.

I have asked many of them if they had even been in a straight relationship, and when some of them say no, I respond with how do you know? They say they just do. The others who have said yes, realized something was wrong, and only later after experiencing with the same sex realized they were gay. As for the ones who are bi, like I am, all thought they were either straight or gay because they had already been having sexual relationships and then found out they were bi after experimenting with the other gender.

So therefore, I am looking for information that address this issue, preferably worldwide and people from all ages as well as to how prevalent, non existing, or hush hush this is.

Also, I’d like to mention that observing straight people and their attitudes to sex before marriage is sometimes because of religion. However, religion seems to have no effect on LGBT people, the attitudes towards sex before marriage is the same no matter how religious or non religious they are or even which religion.”

Answer:

First I want to say that it sucks that people have discounted your identity based on what you decide regarding your own body. What you’re describing is very much biphobia (or bimisia) and you shouldn’t be made to feel like you have to ‘prove’ who you are to anyone. Yourself knowing who you are, that’s enough. You are bi and nobody can take that from you. As for the community, I know what you are describing. Maybe it might help to tell you that you are part of the community no matter who you associate with or don’t associate with. Lots of folks feel like they don’t belong with folks who share their identities. That’s okay and totally normal. You aren’t obligated to be the same as the next bi person either. You’re still you, you’re still bi.

I know it feels alienating, and I know that this might not feel all that positive to hear. But part of what makes our community empowering to so many (ideally anyway - obviously this isn’t a universal thing) is that it is diverse as heck and in the best of cases (I’m not trying to say this actually happens even most of the time), we have each other’s backs. If you don’t want to have sex you’re still you.

With that said, I think you might want to know, a lot of (I’d argue most maybe, depending where you go) other people in the community don’t feel comfortable using the term “virgin” because it implies that someone is a different person somehow before and/or after sex. And that it’s something that can be taken, like someone is more of a person when they don’t have sex, or like they carry some kind of burden or something they want to get rid of. Neither of those ideas are really comfortable to have projected onto you without your consent. No matter who’s using it, the term usually carries some kind of good/bad judgement of someone else. But the fact of the matter is that everyone should feel empowered to make their own decisions with their bodies and sex lives. You aren’t more or less of a person, no matter what decision you make. (Also, I’m not going to get into this more, but there are survivors of some really horrible things who are triggered by this phrasing.)

This isn’t a judgement on you - I know it’s a big topic and not covered all that well by many people anymore. I could be wrong, or it might be who I hang around, but it feels like there was a lot of conversation on this around 2010 or so and it fizzled out in 2 years because people assumed everyone who was going to get it, already got it. (Which is ridiculous, especially because how diverse our ages, backgrounds are - you’d think we would want to be more welcoming for folks just entering the community to understand this stuff.)

And to be super clear, you’re totally welcome to self refer this way if you want! It is your body, it’s your identity, it’s your call. But there’s a lot of baggage with this term, so you might want to check with other people on how they feel before using that term. Some people might feel either more pressured to have sex (because of wanting to get rid of the term) or more pressured to avoid sex that they do want for fear of judgement.

Neither of those really inspires healthy consent practices.

To get back to the questions, I think what you’ve heard from people online (that experimenting is not required) is probably what’s believed by most community members who are actively at the forefront of these kinds of discussions, on a wider scale. Local communities vary a lot, and things like internet, language, community access, geography, culture, etc, will all make how people feel locally different. Some communities have had their traditional teachings about sex taken away and replaced with other teachings. There’s a lot of variety. Some communities have been forced to move forward or backward on some issues and differently on others.

The idea that experimenting is necessary is usually something people say only to people who are LGBT+, not people who are straight and cis. It’s because straight and cis are seen as the default. If you don’t need to prove that, then you shouldn’t need to prove that you’re different either. I think that this is pretty common sentiment, but I think the views of folks in the community are generally more skewed towards this in cities than rural, and it depends on the cities as well. (I’m also talking about my own perspective as a former rural person who moved to a city as an adult.) And what’s said online is a lot more in sync with what people in cities believe because there are more people to immediately jump in and say something than there is if you’re walking around a small hometown with friends who haven’t either had access to or desire to connect with folks with differing opinions.

There’s a kind of isolation and ruralism that divides communities in ways I think a lot of people don’t pick up on, even when it might seem obvious once you think about it.

Other stuff to look into, I think, would be how the AIDS crisis, marriage equality, and currently in the west; how representation in children’s cartoons and similar affected and currently affects discussions around these topics.

Marriage equality was always an issue (when/where it was an issue) but it was never the core of it. Throughout history, it’s more been about feeling normal as your whole self. Marriage equality was one aspect of that, but the biggest reason that movement really picked up more steam (in the west, during the 70s-10s) was because during the AIDS crisis, visitation rights for people on their deathbeds was far too often reserved for people legally considered to be family. This meant people who were married. A lot of people died alone.

The whole marital vs non-marital sex thing has kind of been a moot point in most places where marriage was illegal anyway.

I know there’s more to be said about how marriage equality has been just as much an issue of racial equality as economic class, and LGBT+ equality. Miscegenation laws, costs associated with marriage certificates and things like hiring someone like a notary(?) to ratify it legally is also a thing.

There’s also how things like ‘common law marriage’ recognition make marriage a bit more subjective in definition too, along with civil unions and other legally recognized partnerships.

During the AIDS crisis, and in desperation, there became this push by some for palatability to cis, straight lawmakers to validate marriage equality so that people could be with their partners when they died. There were people throwing each other under the bus this way and that, and a lot of pushback from people in the community about how they didn’t want to sacrifice who they were, who/how they loved, in order to be respected.

Somewhat relevant is this quote someone shared around the time George Michael died.

In 1998, [George] Michael released “Outside,” which flicked at his arrest six months earlier in a public bathroom and prompted his coming out. The video cheekily features him dressed as an LAPD officer. In 2005 he addressed his inclination to shine a light on uncomfortable issues, telling The Guardian, “Gay people in the media are doing what makes straight people comfortable, and automatically my response to that is to say I’m a dirty filthy f—er and if you can’t deal with it, you can’t deal with it.”

Source

Heteronormativity, and the forceful nature of it, pushed us to feel the need to divide each other by our sex lives. To divert blame and accountability for oppression inward to our own community. It was/is victim blaming.

In all that, there’s been a lot of polarization. It feels like it’s hard to find someone with a neutral view on sex on the whole in our communities because we’re constantly being put on the spot and expected to have a ~hot take~ and be constantly defending whatever we do or don’t do (or do for atypical reasons) with our bodies.

I don’t want to act like I’m better than anyone for feeling differently, and I completely understand where everyone is coming from and the reasons we succumb to the constant battles we’re being placed in against our true interests.

The reality of the matter, is that everybody has a different relationship with sexuality. Everyone has a different experience, or lack thereof (and that’s okay). Some are more similar or different amongst each other than others. There’s no universal “sex is healthy” or “sex is unhealthy” because it’s like everything else out there. There’s cases where it is either, neither, or both even just in one act. It’s okay to feel whatever you feel about it. We need more nuanced discussions about this stuff that actually accounts for the diversity of it all.

And if whatever you’re doing or not doing feels wrong to you somehow, I hope you feel empowered to work through what’s going on. But it’s not a problem to be really into sex or repulsed, or whatever you feel at a given moment. Every variation of this is healthy for somebody. As long as everybody is consenting, that’s what matters.

I know I’m not alone in feeling this way, but I definitely wouldn’t say that’s a universal sentiment, especially judging by the sheer mass of horrible and ignorant things people have said to me/about me as an asexual person who has a lot of sex. But that’s a tangent.

I’m not sure if this explicitly answers your questions, but I hope it helps provide some general things to consider within your writing. There’s pretty much never a full consensus within the LGBT+ community about anything. At most there’s common sentiment.

- mod nat

#mod nat #sexuality #marriage equality #AIDS crisis #sexualization #desexualization #common law marriage #biphobia #bimisia

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anonthenullifier · 6 years

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First I love all your stories, they are amazing! Second can you write something post iw? They won, everyone is back except vision and Wanda isn't doing great (nightmares and grief) so tony and Shuri decide to bring him back somehow and yeah, happy ending, pretty please?

Thank you :D

Sure thing! I hope this fulfills your request and meets your idea of how this could happen. Also, it ended up much longer than planned, so I hope that’s okay.

AO3 Link

All is Right Once More

Wanda swore to the Avengers she would never touch their minds again, without permission anyway, and she has held to that promise as best she can, but sometimes their thoughts are too loud. Which is one of the numerous downfalls to having telepathic powers–incidentally picking up on thoughts and emotions, typically ones that are either particularly strong or directed towards her (sometimes both). If only her teammates understood how easily their misguided concern and silent judgment of her behavior morphed into an invasive species, overtaking her own mind, and crowding out all other avenues of escape. Currently every single mind in the compound is focused on her and it is overwhelming, her fingers cramping as she grips the pillow, folding the soft object around her head to muffle the sound of their cognitions.

The nexus of their concern is easily discernible, she had another nightmare, the same one as the night before, and the one before that, and really it has been recurring since she came back, since her body was forced from the welcome relief of death and thrust back into the bleakness of living. How can they expect her to be grateful, to accept this, to not scream at night at the memories of Vision’s face, at his gentle reassurances, at the feel of decimating the love of her life, and then at watching him be brought back and killed? The residue of his existence is stitched into her palms, itching incessantly, flaring up at every memory, every memento, every whispered mention of him. It has been so bad Wanda can’t even sleep in her room, his smell somehow clinging to every surface, her eyes always drawn to the walls, anticipation building at his head popping through, his face concerned and embarrassed when she reminds him to knock. But he won’t be coming through the wall, the soft lilt of his voice as he says her name forever silenced, his I love you haunting her because she was never able to return it.

The ripples of her teammates’ conversations lap in and out of her awareness We need to talk to her , She needs help , What if she breaks? They are clearly concerned, perhaps they should be. Stark once called her a weapon, a source of terrifying power and destruction, one strong enough to hold off Thanos and destroy an infinity stone simultaneously. Everyone in the movies knows how dangerous it is to cross wires, make a wrong move while in the presence of a ticking bomb, and she can feel the power stirring in her, the barely contained fury writhing just under her skin. They are worried if they say something wrong, if they aren’t gentle enough she might explode. I think we need to tell her about him. Wanda freezes at the thought, eyes shuttering as she concentrates on the source, pinpointing the hesitant suggestion to one of the labs. An equally tentative response reaches her, Yeah but what if it doesn’t work?

Wanda sits up in her borrowed bed, her scarlet tinged hands brushing the sweat-dampened strands from her face. Slowly she places her feet on the ground, mind honed in to the lab, desperately seeking any other information without prying and breaking her promise. When nothing transmits beyond a slight flutter of what might be hope or could be terror, she stands, arms crossing over her chest as she grips herself, her feet carrying her along the hallways until she reaches the dimly lit research quarter of the compound. There is one light on, the same one that has been on since they all returned after Thanos was thoroughly destroyed. Wanda swallows down her panic, cinches her arms tighter to tamper the tremble forming in her body as she inches forward, mind preparing to see the gray, lifeless color of Vision’s skin, his body kept in a temperature controlled cradle, the team never reaching a decision on what, precisely, to do with his corpse. After at least a dozen failed simulations of how to bring him back, Wanda offered the suggestion of a proper burial, desiring and needing closure, yet there was strong pushback from the sciency types, reassurance that they shouldn’t be too hasty, just in case.

“What are you doing?” Wanda’s hands lift, scarlet erupting around her knuckles as she takes in Tony and Shuri standing near Vision.

Stark turns towards her first, his mouth morphing into a cocky grin, one that is expected but hollow, the dark bags under his eyes betraying his own lack of sleep, though his is a combination of nightmares, guilt, and the newborn baby that refuses to sleep. Wanda still isn’t sure why fate allowed Stark to procreate, but that is beyond the scope of her current situation. “Wanda, fancy seeing you here.”

She raises her hands a bit higher, spreading them out as the power grows between them. “What are you doing?”

“We,” Shuri nods towards Tony, a quick reassuring smile flashing across her face, begging Wanda to lower her hands, “think we figured out how to bring Vision back.”

The information shouldn’t be a surprise, it has been their goal, an impossible task the team clings to as a means of rectifying the losses they all accrued, yet it still shocks her, the admission freezes her blood, turns her stomach over, hope a nauseating enemy after all they’ve been through. “Will you ever let me just move on?”

Her words seem to impact Tony the most, his facade of fashionable indifference tumbling into a deep, sorrowful frown, his hands wringing anxiously as he stares directly at the scarlet still protruding from Wanda’s hands. “If we fail this time, then you can bury him.” His tone is laced with grave sincerity one that continues to permeate the silence as they wait for her to either acquiesce or deny their request.

Wanda pushes between them, stopping once her toes meet the resistance of the cradle and her hand can descend onto the clear glass, a harsh mimicry of the first time she was in Vision’s presence, when his mind and body were brimming with life and possibilities, while now there is nothing to sense with her powers no matter how hard she tries to reach him. “How?”

“I’ve been analyzing the neurological data from,” Shuri pauses, the same pause all of them (except for Drax, before the Guardians left) use when referring to the pre-snap time, “Wakanda. I believe there is enough there to help me map the majority of his neural networks and Helen has offered to reconstruct both his frontal lobe and forehead.”

“Plus we have the Mindstone,” Tony adds the information though it is unnecessary given it rests in a guarded and locked safe in the compound.

Shuri steps up next to Wanda, studying Vision’s still face before placing her hand on Wanda’s shoulder, “I’ll need you too.”

This tactic is new, the plans for the reconstruction of Vision long germinating, but never before did they approach her or imply that she might be useful in bringing him back. “I don’t know anything about this stuff.”

“Nope,” the woman smiles and it’s surprisingly playful, gentle yet also resolute, a victory forming in her eyes, telling Wanda that there is an endgame and Shuri knows exactly what it is. “But you know his mind better than anyone, you can help us fill in any gaps.”

For a brief, fleeting millisecond, Wanda allows some hope to blossom in her chest, and it is just long enough to utter an, “Okay.”

It’s been ten days, each one Wanda has spent sitting in a chair against the wall of the lab, the balls of her feet flat on the seat while her arms clutch her knees. Her eyes rarely leave the table where they’ve laid Vision’s body, the discoloration of his skin causing him to blend in with the metal slab, but with each passing session the concave profile of his forehead is built up, a process punctuated by sparks from the soldering of the synthetic axons and the inevitable cussing, both in English and Wakandan, as Shuri shoos Tony away every time something seemingly goes wrong. It’s when Helen joins them, squeezing Wanda in a heartfelt hug upon entering the lab, that a jitteriness develops in Wanda’s limbs, one that makes her incapable of continuing her silent vigil against the wall. She observes with interest as Helen passes the newly improved portable cradle back and forth over Vision’s forehead, his skin reforming into a patch of crimson, one that looks so out of place against the rest of his body that it pricks at Wanda’s eyes, the normalcy of seeing his true skintone almost too much to handle.

Once the synthesizing stops and the Mindstone is returned to him, Wanda finds her arm moving on its own, her hand running along the new patch of skin, savoring the unique, familiar texture against her fingertips. “Wanda,” her name is whispered, as if anything louder would somehow trigger a switch and eradicate the world. “It’s your turn.”

Unlike the rest of the process, there is no well-defined protocol or order of operations for Wanda’s portion, just a hypothesis that Wanda will know what she’s looking for once she is inside his brain. Wanda nods while removing her hand from his skin, leaving it to hover just over the Mindstone. Scarlet cascades from her fingers, pouring into his forehead as her eyes close and her head tilts to the side. “There’s,” she searches deeper, eyelids tightening as desperation builds in her chest, her lungs beginning to spasm at the sheer emptiness of his mind. Aggravation and anger replaces the desperation, her fingers clamping shut as she turns her ire towards the others in the room, “there’s nothing there.”

“I- um,” Tony’s confidence wavers, choosing a fine time to be flummoxed and stuttering for the first time in his existence, “I- Shuri?”

The young royal’s response is far more measured, an impressive stillness of her aura as she concentrates on solving the problem. “When you touched his mind in the cradle,” a story she kindly asked Wanda to tell her multiple times in great detail, “there was an outside power source, correct?”

“Yes, he was in the cradle.”

Shuri grins, a snap of her fingers kickstarting her body as she hooks the cradle back up to the lab generator (they had removed it so they could channel the electricity to their other tools). “We can’t expect the same results without replicating the original experiment.” The woman stares at them expectedly, eyes wide and a grin on her face as she waits for them. “We need to put him,” Shuri gesticulates while she talks, an interpretive dance informing them of what she’s asking them to do, “back in there.”

Together they move Vision from the table into the cradle, Wanda’s powers would be more than enough to complete the task but she allows the others to feel like they are helping. Her heart almost stops beating when they close the door, the shroud of glass closing him in his casket once more. Shuri walks around the cradle, flipping switches and pushing buttons, and then there is a beep, followed by another and then another and for the first time since Wanda returned from being dust, there is actual data streaming from Vision’s body instead of the grim, dark screen of an inactive monitor. “Try now.”

Wanda inhales as she approaches the cradle, elbows bent and hands placed on the glass. The first time she felt this there was a sense of wonderment, a surreal awe at being the first to touch a mind, now there is a similar flutter in her chest though not one due to connecting with a brand new consciousness, but with feeling him again, the soothing, golden, gorgeous waves of Vision. “I can feel him.”

“Okay,” the word vibrates with enthusiasm as Shuri activates the kimoyo bead at her wrist, pulling up a hologram of Vision’s mind, “tell me if anything feels off.”

A first scan reveals nothing alarming, but Wanda isn’t willing to reach conclusions based on one sweep and so she explores his mind, each time going just a bit deeper. “Here,” on the hologram there is a blotch of red where Wanda is concentrating her powers, “it needs to go to the left.”

“Got it,” Shuri inserts her finger into the image, pinching and then expanding her fingers to zoom in until she sees what Wanda has found, and then she inches the neuron just a bit to the left and Wanda nods.

“That’s better.” Twenty three more sweeps reveal only three other areas of concern, though the last is more than simply an askew neuron. “There’s,” Wanda inserts her powers deeper, head cocking right and then left as she searches the area,”there’s a whole section that’s,” it’s not missing nor slightly off, it’s as if his neurons are mangled and unrecognizable. They exist but not in any pattern Wanda has felt before, “Off.”

Wanda turns towards Shuri and watches as the image zooms in to the location of her powers. “It’s part of what Thanos destroyed, in the frontal lobe. I-,” for the first time in the process Shuri seems uncertain of what to do next, and Wanda’s body reacts immediately, her heart racing and the hairs on her arm standing on end, unwilling to get this close just to fail again. “I didn’t have the data for it so we simply had to put something there.”

“What does this area do?”

Stark has been oddly silent during the entire thing, his fingers usually gleefully dipping into every project without asking but for this he’s simply been watching, which is why his voice causes Wanda to flinch. “Lots of things, problem solving, logic, personality, language, motor functions, sex drive,” when Wanda glares at him he gives her a half hearted shrug, “hey, that’s an important function too.”

Everything in the list seems vital to bringing Vision back as himself, which is incredible, that such a small portion could affect so much. If it was any other situation, Wanda would allow herself to be amazed at the intricacies of the human body, currently, however, she can feel a seething despair consuming her mind. “If it stays like this?”

The response is slow, evenly paced and the words are chosen very diplomatically as Shuri watches Wanda through the golden hologram. “He could be quite different.”

Wanda’s mouth settles into a serious scowl at the words, all tiredness leaving her body as she stares through the glass separating her from Vision. Bringing him back is only worth doing if she can have Vision, not some other person who happens to have his body. “I guess we need to sort this out then.”

A broad, determined toothy grin forms on Shuri’s face, “I’ve got no other plans.”

Being in the lab means time has no meaning, the only windows lead to hallways which also aren’t connected to the outside world. It may have only been an hour since they started the process or it could have been two days, two weeks even, the only marker of passing time is Stark leaving and coming back, muttering about poopy diapers and spit up (though he smiles as he complains, fatherhood suiting him surprisingly better than anyone thought, not great, three pairs of his designer glasses already broken, but well nonetheless). Painstakingly Wanda and Shuri sort through the bundle of connections deep within Vision’s synthetic gray matter, crossing some neurons while disconnecting others and redirecting them. Eventually it feels familiar, the puzzle of Vision’s mind finally complete. Even though he hasn’t done much, it’s Stark that declares the victory, drawing a thick, black line through Wanda’s name on the list they’d compiled at the onset of their experiment, “So we get Thor now?”

Ideally they need to recreate the entire process of Vision’s original creation, but they’ve already diverged from it, among other things there was no Ultron, no Pietro, Shuri did more work than Tony, and Wanda has been far more involved in manipulating Vision’s mind. “I think,” Wanda concludes all of these novel additions means it’s fine to keep changing things, “I can do it.”

“Last I checked you’re not a thunder god.”

Shuri rolls her eyes at Tony’s asinine observation, “No shit, Sherlock.”

Wanda ignores them both, her stare never leaving Vision’s face while her fingers brush over the cradle, palms recalling the way it felt to take his life and longing to give it back to him. “I can do it, the Mindstone knows me.”

The only argument to her decision is a flailed hand from Tony, one that says Fine, do whatever you want. It seems he’s actually learned enough to not always verbalize his disagreements and so he steps back, pulling Shuri with him. Wanda collects her powers, pooling the scarlet from her limbs so that it congregates in her chest, from there she splits it, one half traveling down her right arm and the other her left. In her mind she can hear him whisper, You can never hurt me Wanda , and she sends the first two tendrils through the glass, hooking them around the Mindstone as an anchor for the rest of her powers. It’s alright . A low groan escapes her lips as she shoves her palms forward, scarlet streaming in thick, crackling waves into the Mindstone, It’s alright . There’s little change as she pushes herself harder, directing every ounce of power into the Mindstone, tears tumbling down her cheeks at how tired she is, not having slept in days, possibly even a week, but she can’t stop, somehow finds another reservoir of energy and pushes harder. I love you . Another pulse of power and there is a shift, infinitesimal and almost imperceptible but she focuses on it, sends another thread of scarlet to the active area in the stone and grimaces as she feels her knees beginning to give out, but then there is a subtle glow, the Mindstone awakening and Wanda shoves the final tide of power at Vision, thrusting the last of her strength, short circuiting the machinery and lights in the lab, and then collapses against the glass.

Her eyes crack open, the flickering lights work in tandem with her tears to discombobulate her senses. It may be a hallucination, it might even be a dream, maybe she finally fell asleep, but she thinks the patch of crimson on his forehead has spread, that it continues to spread as the Mindstone flickers like an ember. Suddenly a hand rams into the glass, causing Wanda to yell and fall back, another thud and Tony rushes to the cradle, calling out to Shuri to help him open the door. Wanda can’t see what’s happening, her view blocked by the two bodies at the cradle.

“Wanda?” This has to be a nightmare, she reasons, because that voice hasn’t existed in reality in what feels like an eon. “Where’s Wanda?”

It’s only when she hears Stark’s voice, takes in the surprise and unbridled joy of his, “Vision!” that she realizes what’s happening, that even if this is somehow a dream, it is at least not a nightmare. Her hands and feet frantically work to help her stand and it’s then that she sees him, his torso and head sticking straight up out of the cradle, his movements uncharacteristically wild until his cerulean eyes lock on to her and she can count the slow whirling of his irises.

“Wanda.” The intonation of her name, the rounded w and well-enunciated d have been seared into her memory for so long it allows her to confirm instantly it is him, yet she still reaches for his mind, rediscovers its vibrancy and elegance, though she also feels the confusion and anxiety billowing up from the depths of his brain.

Wanda hopes to quell his nerves, “Vizh.” Saying his name is difficult, the syllables of his identity having been silent on her tongue since she yelled out to him, yet once she says it, it sloughs the weight of sorrow from her shoulders, frees her to feel a wavering, hesitant joy. “Vision!” Her feet carry her towards him, eyes locked on his body phasing from the cradle, his uniform still singed but its color returning with each passing second, and when they meet her arms cling to his waist and his engulf her, pulling her to his chest while he kisses her head. Wanda eases her hold on him, backing up enough to tilt her head up, stare into his swirling eyes, memorizes and gets lost in the adoring smile that curves his lips up. “Vision,” she lifts onto the tips of her toes, giddy at how he responds, bending at the waist as he brings his face closer to hers, death unable to remove the deeply ingrained, automatic way their bodies move together. “Vizh.”

A tingle forms along her scalp as his fingers run through her hair, “Wanda.”

“I love you, too.” The smile on his face broadens, irises twisting faster before his eyelids close and he presses his lips to hers, and all, finally, is right with the world once more.

#scarlet vision #wanda maximoff #vision #tony stark #shuri #helen cho #mine #ao3 #mcu #marvel #ask anon #I don't know if this is actually how it would ever go or if it all makes sense #but dammit #Vision is coming back and I love the idea of Wanda helping #Also the Tony baby part is based on rumors i've seen #also I hope Shuri is okay #never written her before #thanks for the ask #hope you enjoy!

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bjones21 · 3 years

Text

Even as a lowly office grunt, you can do a lot to improve workplace diversity

Welcome to The Broadside, a careers newsletter. Here’s what to expect in this issue.

Broadside writer Kristine Gill offers advice from experts on how you can improve workplace diversity, even if you’re not high up. Then, scroll on for job opportunities from Lowe’s, Trader Joe’s, Waymo and more.

Black Lives Matter protests are changing things. Big brands have been updating the names of their products, banning confederate flags, and unearthing and punishing racist comments. Companies are making ambitious pledges to tackle diversity with renewed vigor.

If you’re low on the totem pole at your workplace, though, you may feel like you’re cheering from the sidelines instead of helping the charge. But there’s plenty to do in the office, especially for white allies, even if you aren’t in charge of hiring decisions or diversity task forces—a good thing, perhaps, considering they don’t really work.

“This is about personal accountability,” says Risha Grant, a diversity, inclusion and bias expert based in Tulsa, Okla. “Whether companies do anything at all—and don’t get me wrong, they should—you have to be personally responsible for the things you do and the things you put out there.”

Here’s how experts say you can effect change at your job and within your industry, no matter where you fall in the ranks.

“Say, ‘So and so had a great idea earlier.‘”

As women, we’re frequently interrupted during meetings and even in one-on-one conversations. It happens even more to Black women.

Nonblack women: If you witness it, interject on their behalf.

UK-based author and anti-racism activist Sophie Williams talks about this and other issues only Black women face in the office in her upcoming book Millennial Black. Due out spring 2021, it is geared toward white allies. Her other title, Anti-Racist Ally will address similar issues when it’s published this fall.

“We talk a lot about amplifying voices online, but you also have to amplify in your day-to-day life,” she says. “So if someone gets cut off, you can say, ‘I don’t think Sophie was quite finished with that.’”

You can also make room for your Black colleagues at these meetings by giving them the floor.

“Maybe earlier that day you had an exchange with someone and they had a great idea. You can say, ‘So and so had a great idea earlier,’ and allow that person to finish their thought,” Grant also says. “It’s truly important that their voices are heard around the table.”

And be sure to use your voice when it’s perhaps most critical: standing up to racist comments.

“You can let someone know, ‘I do not stand with you,’” Grant says. “And we don’t do that. We’re really passive about it and we let it go.”

“Start this informal network.”

If your office is lacking diversity, don’t give up hope. There are plenty of ways to network with fellow industry professionals as a Black employee or nonblack ally.

Try starting a happy hour or conference meet-up with employees of other companies in your industry. Or, plan something more formal. Williams points to Pocc, a group in London that originally started as a WhatsApp chat for people of color to vent about what they were experiencing as minorities working in media and the arts. It eventually grew to become a community of talent working to further each other’s careers for the benefit of their industries.

“That sort of validated their experiences. It showed that they weren’t in wrong; they were being gaslit,” Williams said. “And then they were able to start this informal network, which is now a place where brands are coming to [in order] to hire people, where people are coming to [in order] to find like-minded people.”

You don’t have to feel stuck in a silo. There are good groups out there doing the work, and, if you do have to leave your workplace, good companies out there happy to have you.

“Strike up a friendship.”

When Dee Poku Spalding, a New York-based entrepreneur and women’s advocate, started her first job, she was the only woman of color in her office. At times, that fact caused anxiety. Having a friend would have eased the burden.

“Certainly you’re not going to go over and say, ‘Hey, I recognize you’re a minority.’ That’s awful,” she says. “But you can strike up a friendship the way you would any other friendship and go from there. It’s not about weird overtures for people, but about recognizing that they’re alone and being there for them.”

Then, take it a step further. Even if you aren’t in charge of hiring, Spalding says to suggest friends of color for positions at your company when they’re a good fit.

“It’s going to be easier for them to rise to the top of the pile if they’ve come from an internal connection,” she says.

Put simply, Grant adds: “You can be human. No one is insignificant in this movement.”

“Be open about pay.”

Williams says one of the biggest ways Black women suffer in the workplace comes down to their paychecks. Black women are paid 39% less than white men and 21% less than white women, according to the Institute for Women’s Policy Research.

“The way that we find out about disparity is by talking to people who are different from us. So if you’re not a marginalized person, being open about [pay] can allow other people to see sort of those gaps,” she says. “That can show what the playing field is.”

Armed with that information, Black women can leverage for better pay when it comes to annual review or future hiring negotiations. (It’s worth noting, though, that Black women do ask for promotions and raises at about the same rate as white women, but still get worse results.)

“Seek out a mentee.”

This goes for everyone—men and women of all colors, says Poku. If there’s a young person of color in your office who is new to the field or the gig, offer to meet up for coffee to talk about their career. Make it casual if you’re unsure the offer will be well-received, but offer to network on their behalf if it is.

“That sort of mentorship is incredible,” she says. “I definitely had white men who were sort of informal mentors to me and I found that incredibly valuable. There wasn’t anyone inside my company but outside my company. And we didn’t talk about race ever, but they certainly opened doors, [and] just gave me another perspective on things that I found really helpful.”

Since the Black Lives Matter movement heated up, Poku Spalding has heard from several colleagues offering to mentor Black women in their fields, and she’s been making those connections.

“It’s very well-received for a mentor to seek out a mentee,” Poku Spalding says. “I think they’d love an offer, so they don’t have to be the one to ask. When it’s the other way around, you sometimes feel that you’re imposing. When a mentor seeks you out, there’s something really empowering about that.”

“Start a sort of internal pressure group.”

Those task forces and initiatives can be empty gestures that don’t effect much change.

Instead, Grant suggests employee-led initiatives with supervisor buy-in. Called employee resource groups or business resource groups, they’re typically broken down into different minority groups: Black women, LGBTQ groups, Latina women, etc.

If you start a sort of program within your workplace, try to get approval from the top dogs.

“If the top-level leadership is not engaged, it’s hard to go anywhere. I don’t care what your initiative is, it typically stalls with mid-level managers because they’re not trained to deal with it and they have so much going on,” Grant says. “You have to empower them and it has to come from the top. People need to know this is how our CEO feels.”

In fact, Williams suggests a more disruptive approach.

“You can start a sort of internal pressure group. You’re joining forces and you’re saying, ‘The ways you’ve tried to dismiss me aren’t going to work,’” she says. “Troublemakers are great. Troublemakers make change.”

Facing pushback? Companies still working at diversity and inclusion need to be reminded that they too benefit when minority employees are able to perform their best.

“If I’m at work all day in a toxic environment, I cannot give you the best that I have,” Grant says. “So how does our workplace culture need to change so that I’m safe, I’m comfortable, I can authentically show up as who I am every day?”

— Kristine Gill

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livinglikearoyal · 7 years

Text

BTS Drabble/Imagine: Apprehension

Member: Jimin

Prompt(s): Angst/Fluff (Drabble Challenge)

58) You’re never this quiet, what’s wrong?

and

80) Nothing bad is going to happen, baby, I promise.

Requested by: skylions-den

Summary: Jimin and Y/N decide that is time to make their relationship public. Or is it?

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Room service!”

Your boyfriend gives you a small smile as he rolls out of bed, making his way to the door. Before opening the door, he goes through his usual process: peering through the peephole in the door, checking behind him to make sure you’re out of sight, unlocking each of the locks, and the opening the door just wide enough so he can fit through it. Seeing that you have rolled to his side of the bed so you can’t be seen, he opens the door and receives the cart of food the two of you had ordered a short while before.

You are traveling with the boys as they complete the final leg of their latest world tour. You have been in a relationship with Jimin for over a year. It is wonderful to be traveling the world with your boyfriend, except for the fact that he couldn’t be your boyfriend in public. Whenever the two of you wanted to go out, you had to go with at least one more person as a diversion for anyone that might see or say anything and you went along under the guise of the group’s photographer. This means you’ll always have a camera around your neck or up to your face, but luckily you could decently work a camera so the photographs you took could be used to back up your ruse. If you were not acting as the photographer, you cannot be seen. That is the rule. The only rule. Until Jimin and you decide that it is time to go public, that is.

BigHit is very supportive of your relationship with Jimin and you haven’t received any unnecessary criticism or pushback from the company since the relationship began. The boys treat you like family. You have a job that has some flexibility so that you can travel to or with Jimin during certain times of year and he finds ways to get to you as much as possible during the other times. If you can’t be together in person, technology is your best friend.

Your phone now sits charging on the bedside table, where it has been since you plugged it in last night. You haven’t needed to use it nearly as often since you stepped off the plane, into the black suburban, and found yourself in Jimin’s arms a few weeks ago. It has been so nice being able to talk in person with your boyfriend and share physical contact that you have both sorely been lacking.

Jimin is setting out the food on the bed. The two of you really ordered too much. You start dishing food onto your plate once he is finished and begin eating. He sits down next to you and does the same.

Two days after you met up with the boys on this trip, you and Jimin had a conversation about going public. It was prompted by a frustrating evening where the two of you had wanted to go sightseeing but you couldn’t find a decoy and PD wouldn’t let you go otherwise. After an evening of tense conversation, thanks to the topic and the frustration you both were already feeling, the two of you decided that the best way would be to introduce you to the ARMY through a VLive. You approached PD and the other heads at BigHit to run your plan past them and they all agreed it was a good one. So, why are you so nervous?

“Y/N?” Jimin nudges your shoulder as you take a bite of your bread, “You’re never this quiet, what’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

Setting his bowl down, he turns to you. His hands come up to your forehead to smooth away the worry showing between your eyebrows. “You’ve been in your own world for the past 10 minutes. I’ve asked you a few questions but you haven’t said anything. What’s wrong?”

Placing your plate on the table beside you, you turn so the two of you are facing each other. “Is this the right time?”

“I don’t follow…?”

“Is this the right time to go public? Will the ARMY welcome me or hate me? Will the media invade my privacy? Will they think less of you because you are with me?” There is no way to stop your babbling now. “I’m not a celebrity, Jimin. I’m not exciting. I’m not like the girls that so many of your fans ship you with.” Your eyes progressively get larger while you voice gets smaller. “I’m an unknown. I’m normal. Will I disappoint everyone? Will BigHit still support us when the public dislike that we are together? Are we doing this too soon?” You take a huge breath and finally look up into Jimin’s eyes.

“Y/N, I love you.”

“I love you too, Jimin.”

“That alone is what I need. I don’t care if we go public.” He holds his arm out to you, urging you to move closer. You shift so that your back is to his chest as he leans against the headboard. He plays with your hands as he speaks.

“We’ve talked about this before Y/N and I stand by it. We thought through all of the scenarios. We took our idea to BigHit for approval. Believe me, if they saw a potential problem we missed, they would’ve said something. I do think this is the right time.”

“Is it the right way though? Won’t it be too sudden for the fans?”

“Sweetheart, they’ve seen you around for a year. You aren’t a complete stranger to them. This won’t be too sudden. Yes, there will be some fans that get upset at first, but they’ll come around when they get to know you. We chose a VLive for that reason, remember? We thought about how announcing it at an award show or interview would be too presumptuous and would provide the opening for immediate criticism from everyone. We talked about how just going out on our own would start rumors and could cause more harm than good. So, going on VLive and just telling the truth, our truth, is our best option. It will give the fans time to get used to us and see you in as natural of a setting as we can plan before media gets ahold of the story. ARMY are good people. Trust them.”

Jimin places his chin on your shoulder once he feels you fully relax into his touch.

“I’m tired of hiding us. You’re tired of hiding us.You are anything but normal. You are my everything. You aren’t a celebrity, but who cares? You are amazing. You are gorgeous. I’m ready to show you off to the world. I will protect you. The boys will protect you. BigHit will protect you. ARMY will protect you. We will have each other. We’ve gone over every possible outcome and we can handle it. Nothing bad is going to happen, baby, I promise.” He presses a kiss to your neck. You turn so you are kneeling on the bed between his spread legs. You take his face in your hands.

“Thank you,” you kiss his cheek, “thank you, thank you.” You kiss his cheek and forehead. “Thank you for talking me through that. I know we had discussed all of that before, but I was making up scenarios in my head. I will be here to protect you too, in any way that I can. I will be here when you need a sounding board. I will be here when you need an escape. I’ll be here as your biggest cheerleader. We’re in this together and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” You lean forward, touching your lips to his in a kiss that expresses the confidence, passion, and support the two of you have for one another.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, Jimin.”

“You clean up and I’ll get the camera and VLive ready?” He asks. You nod in response.

As he is opening up his laptop, he grins, “Hey, what do you think our ship name will be?”

Needless to say, he isn’t quite quick enough to dodge the pillow that heads his way.

A/N: The Y/N character in this one is so like me. I make a decision then I doubt it because I overthink things and doubt my own reasoning at times. Thank you skylions-den for requesting this one!

Ask ● Master List

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