#i know other people would probably do a better job counterarguing but i read that and was so pissed off i just had to run my mouth lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

studiojeon · 3 years

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use me | jjk

this is part of my troubled outsiders series. i think you can read this by itself though :)

| summary | - Jungkook was not someone to establish relationships and bonds out of interest, you knew that. Or maybe not, truth be told, he was an authentic enigma, so open yet so closed and shielded from others to see through, and that didn’t exclude you.

warnings: language (?), mentions of hook ups and situationships. mentions of emotional trauma.

contents: a compilation of moments that contributed to the growth of their relationship, jungkook is hard to read, jungkook is hard to read, jungkook is hard to read and sus. oc is kinda whipped and scared af. chaeryeong knows who you are and where you live. jk and oc are scared to let each other in. friends to lovers, idol!jungkook x student!oc.

author’s note: i hate this, but i have to get it off my chest. (the narration is off af but if i keep it in my drafts for longer this will never see the light of the day). p.s. thank u so much for the support on the last drabble <3

playlist: rain by trey songz (feat. swae lee).

words: 4.75k

“JK?” as his broad back faces you, you call out his name timidly, not missing the way he swiftly turns around as soon as he hears his name come from your lips. Hair wet and darker than usual, a very big sweat stain at the center of his hoodie. He had just gotten out of practice, you assumed.

“___?” he replied with the initials of your name as well, one of his tired grins plastered on his face, he must have been exhausted. You had caught on to him just as he walked out of the practice room in front of the elevator on your way to your office, right when you needed him, but now you weren’t so sure if it was a good idea to pester him. Even so, you didn’t know anyone else you could ask for help, aside from Linh who was currently in her own office doing other tasks you had assigned to her.

“Are you busy right now?” your eyes stare at him shyly, in hopes that he was willing to help you out, because you wanted to be around him, so maybe he could share a bit of his positive energy with you, the past week had been hellish. “Could use some help returning all those heavy stacks of paper in my office”.

“Of course! Why didn’t you give me a call earlier though? It’s pretty late” he walked by your side and you enter the elevator, beginning your adventure around the company.

Jungkook was fun. Always bubbly and reciprocative, constantly trying his best to make you laugh and make the absolute best of your situation, even if he could be a bit stubborn at times. You liked the spontaneity he provided though, the way he would switch from one topic to another and how he would make silly faces at you whenever you locked eyes.

He didn’t know, but in pure ignorance, he had just made your day ten times better.

In the past week, you had received a lot of counterarguments, one by one, on how useless your management tactics were. Granted, you hadn’t expected for your ideas to be welcomed with open arms, but at least you had hoped they would take them into consideration. You had also been assigned a team, in charge of social media management, who worked monotonously and with little to no insertion in the actual target audience… your logic was: how can you advertise products to an audience you don’t even have the mere interest to know? You had designed a strategy, presented it, and no one paid any mind to you.

But for the most part, you felt lonely. Had no one to talk to, nor go to whenever you needed your spirits to be lifted up.

Chaeryeong was busy busy with group projects and work. To the extent where she would get up at seven in the morning and come back at 12 pm. It wasn’t always like that, so you didn’t worry too much, but the fear she would wear herself off like usual still crowded your mind.

You close your office door with a sigh. Tired from everything, but somehow, your heart a little fuller, knowing that maybe you could use Jungkook in the future to give you a lift. Both figuratively and literally because he had offered to drive you home, being the gentleman he was.

“Why do you look like a sad puppy?” he asked you once you were sitting by his side in his very expensive and luxurious mercedes. Tinted windows and jet black shiny paint covered the outside of his car, the smell of air refresher and pinecone filling the inside. Mans was getting hotter by the minute.

“It’s friday night after the longest week of work. How can I not?” you put on your seat belt and lean back against the leather cushions. He pouts in response to you, with a concerned look on his face.

For a second you wonder if he did this with most coworkers… being nice to them and offering them drives after having met them just a few times before. Kinda risky behviour, considering his position and squeaky clean reputation. You figure this would only last a bit before he realized he had more important things to be focusing on.

“Do you ever get chased home?” you ask randomly.

With one hand on the wheel and the other leaned against his door he meditated on his response. “It happened once… And then I moved out, got a new car and everything. Shit was wild” he chuckles and you think that was the first time you had heard him curse, like ever. Jungkook, friendly and everything, wasn’t too big of a talker, but with you he found himself spilling, without giving it much thought. It felt refreshing to hear his voice and listen to his stories and the way he expressed himself. He was more interesting than he seemed, apparently. “Aren’t you hungry, by the way? We can have something to eat before i drop you off”

Traffic was hellish in Seoul everyday at every hour, and choosing to drive through Itaewon on a friday night wasn’t the smartest decision on Jungkook’s behalf, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him that. Considering the demands of his job, he probably didn’t know his way around the city that well. You conclude taking a detour wouldn’t hurt. “I’m starving actually.”

He ends up taking you to a restaurant near your neighborhood you had mentioned being good and not crowded at all, the latter catching his attention immediately. It was a modest but nice place owned by a very funny and loud ahjussi. The man had lost count of how many times you had come down from your apartment at 11 pm and asked him to make you vegetarian tteokguk, but they were enough so that he could memorize your five orders by heart and the amount of saewoo mandu you could down by yourself in five minutes. You were making him rich at that point so the least he could do was comply when you gently asked him to shut the place down for you. Jungkook hadn’t asked you, but you knew how things could get awkward and dangerous quickly if too many people found out about him being there. “Ahjussi, you don’t have to” the boy protested as he noticed that the man had shut the blinds for him.

“It’s okay, boy. _____ has been single handedly paying the remnants of my mortgage for over a year now, I don't mind doing this for her.” he joked in his usual nature. already writing down your order and patiently waiting for Jungkook in front of you to voice out what he wanted for a meal. “And well, you and your friends are making our country proud, it’s the least i can do to thank you”

“Ah, thank you.” Jungkook bows to the older man. Your heart softened in your chest, seeing how considerate he was towards other people. He must be great with parents, you think. “Do you really not get that many people around here?” he asked worriedly once he sat back down on the wooden chair.

“We do! But she’s the one who comes the most often” he nods toward you and Jungkook smiles once he found your gaze, a glint of playfulness in his eyes.

“Can you recommend me anything, miss?”

“Of course, sir. Yeol-ah, double up my order. Drinks are on me today.” You yell at the man’s son in the kitchen, who was still a bit older than you, but also close to enough to let you order him around shamelessly. You knew him quite well, actually. He was Chaeryeong’s boyfriend after all.

The tall boy pokes his head out of the kitchen door with a very confused expression plastered on his face. “Aren’t we supposed to close in like, an hour?” Chanyeol asks his dad in front of you.

“Just go cook, I'll explain later”.

The two men go back into the kitchen and Jungkook looks at you with an amused expression on his face. “What was that?” he laughs.

“I’m very popular, you know?” it probably wasn’t a good idea to go there, but you felt a little drunk on his voice that night, and you also knew your friend didn’t mind. “In fact, Chaereyong from ITZY is my best friend, who would have guessed?”

“Yeah and my son is her boyfriend, who cares?” Byung-ho yells back at you from the cashier, pulling a hiss from your lips.

Jungkook still continued to stare at the both of you with confusion and intrigue, you guess he thought you were both joking.

“Wait, really?” he utters after a few seconds with big doe eyes and a pout on his lips, a combination that appeared when he was either confused or lying, which wasn’t the case then.

“Yes, my guy.” you laugh. “That juicy legged shortie is indeed my wife”

Jungkook loved the food, to say the least. It was all vegetarian and korean as fuck, a combination he never throught was possible, but downed like thristy camel. He was a loud eater, which was fitting of him and his politeness, something else you had noticed that night. You were the opposite, and actually despised the sounds of other people eating, yet, looking at him enjoying his meal so much made you feel full yourself. He made you feel like a kid in some ways too, brought back the times when being around others wasn’t so hard, and you still could have a sense of security around you. Talking to him was rather easy, maybe because of his welcoming nature, or because in fact he actually was interested in whatever stupid shit you were saying, something most people around you didn’t do. He also, amongst other things, seemed very interested in your job and the likes, always asking questions and absorbing information like a five year old. You had explained to him the five key steps of process design and the psychological effects on marketing in society to which he always responded with wide gentle eyes and attentive nods, not once looking bored or… annoyed in any way.

Was he like that, with every girl? Because you weren’t anything special, there were many other girls who worked with him everyday and even if you hadn’t seen him in his work space, you could guess by the way most women in your company look at him whenever he passes by that either they were just as captivated as you by his beauty or that he had fucked them. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was just trying to get into your pants either, it wouldn’t be the first time it happened to you nonetheless.

“I can walk from here, JK” you mention once you found yourselves walking towards the parking lot. A bit sad about the expense you had just made on food, it was your fault for trying to seem cool and rich, neither of which you were.

“Oh no, I’m not letting you do that, girlie” he unlocks the door and gets in, not even letting you finish or allowing you to fight back.

“My apartment is literally a block away” you protest in the car anyways. You fear you had been too much of a bother, and deep down, didn’t want him to feel like you were seeking his presence unnecessarily.

“Well, good for you. But, you paid for the food, which was a lot, and i don’t want my sugar mommy walking by herself at 12 pm on a friday night” you first freeze, and then burst a very loud giggle.

“Whatever” you slap his bicep and roll your eyes. “ Next time you can pay if it bothers you so much.”

“So there will be a next time?” wide eyes stare back at you. “Count me in. I´ll pick where we will be going, just lemme know when so i can plan ahead” he rambles, a little too excited about your suggestion.

He drops you off with a smile on his face and hopefulness in his eyes, promising to see you around the company. You, on the other hand, feel a tad confused as you enter your apartment building. What was going on?

You had overthought things so much your entire life that it suddenly became too tiring to do. During the past few years you had to learn how to detach yourself and just ride the wave sometimes. Once you had turned eighteen, everything started moving at a very fast pace, the pressure of adulthood fell upon you like a brick and everything was so overwhelming that you started to simply let the course of your existence take you wherever it needed to.

That’s how you ended up going out with Jungkook at least once a week for dinner or a drive around the city for more than two months. Without even noticing, he became so engraved in your everyday life that whenever he’d cancel plans because of work, you’d find yourself with a void in your heart and a rush of boredom filling your senses. Even if you found yourself in your living room with the company of your best friend whom you had seen at most four times in the past two months, you were still wishing you could share that intimate space with him instead, willing to let him a bit more into your life, in hopes that maybe he would do the same. Sue you, you were curious over the most intricate details about his personality, how his personal sanctuary looked and if the smell of his room is just as good as his car’s. You could bet a thousand dollars (maybe a little less, considering the unconventionalism that characterizes him) that he also had a few plants that only remembered to water three out of seven days of the week.

Hopefully life would draw you closer to more people like him.

"How's your boyfriend doing?" Chaeryeong asks you from the kitchen counter, sweet popcorn cooking in you popcorn-maker.

You sigh. "What boyfriend?"

She was a lot of things but oblivious, and you weren't either, just when you chose to be. "Cut the bullshit, you know who i'm talking about". The fake red head waits for your response as she pours the snack into a big bowl, and you on the other hand take this as an advange to search around the room for answers.

"He's just a friend" you say. "And he's fine, i guess… He doesn't really talk much about himself" you mention, matter of factly.

Chaeryeong nods beside you, understanding what you meant. Then, proceeds to tell a tale about her experience meeting the dark haired boy. "He's literally so quiet, but like, so incredibly kind. Once he tripped over and fucked up some of the decoration at an award show" she grabs a popcorn and continues her story. "He looked so panicked I thought his eyes were about to jump out their sockets — His eyes are huge, by the way."

"I know" you smile.

"My point is, he started to help the staff put everything back in order again. I think he's the only idol I've ever seen do something like that… i decided i liked him then" her beautiful features light up with mischief. "I bet he fucks great too."

You slap her leg. Hard.

"I'm only telling you this now so you don't get caught of guard when he actually manages to fuck you," her soft hands run through your messy hair, motherly touches easing the fluster in your body. "You know he's a big whore, right?" She adds after a while.

You didn't. According to Chaeryeong, who seemed to keep tabs on every single colleague of hers, Jungkook had quite the body count, not that you didn't have your suspicions before. Frankly, she only knew of two girls inside her company who had had some sort of situationship with him, but for the same reason, she also knew he had some history with other girls from different groups. "Yikes" you laugh nervously, in admiration of their ability to remain calm and collected without giving anything away to the public.

Thanks to your friend, you had heard lots of tea about other singers in the korean industry before, most of which were not as sweet or kind as they portrayed themselves to be, some even using their social status to get their way with girls. But for some reason, Jungkook had never made his way to your gossipping sessions, nor any other of his band mates (except for Jimin, who, if you remember correctly, used to have some sort of beef with one of Chaeryeong's company members). You guess it was because of his unproblematic nature that people chose to give him a pass for his sexual endeavors, not that they were of anyone's concern either.

A knock is heard against your office door. "Miss _____?" A girl with a brown bob cut pokes her head through it, the dim lights of your office shining upon her incredibly healthy locks. "Jungkook asked me to deliver this to you" sliding completely into the room, she places a box with a note on it on your desk.

"Thank you so much" you wave her off as she walks right out.

The package had a strawberry flavored canned tea and a bento box inside.

"I remember you telling me you'd never tried tofu pancakes before, so I made some for you last night. Hope you enjoy! - JK

P.S. Text me when you're done, maybe we can hang out tonight."

You felt like crying, in all honesty. The pancakes were heavenly, and he even added some slices of avocado and a few scoops of rice for you, despite not being the biggest fan of the fruit himself. With a warm heart and relief washing over your body because you wouldn't have to waste money on lunch that day, you had had half of your meal before said boy gave you a call.

"Did you like them?" He said almost immediately. "My assistant told me she already delivered them to you" he adds in a rush.

"Jesus boy, calm down." You giggle at his excitement. "Let me eat in peace".

"No, tell me right now." he demands with a fake angry voice. Cutie.

"They're alright".

"Figured… you have no sense of taste anyways" the hangs up. A giggle escapes your lips. Boy was something else.

Later that day, the weekend started it's course. Jungkook had offered to drive you to the Han River, careful to mention the fact he prepared a bunch of snacks for you two just about five times during your call. The place was almost empty, given that the rest of the city was doing something else more fun than staring at the night sky while sitting on itchy grass. Yet, you wouldn't change the setting for anything else. Usually, when you and Jungkook were out, he'd be in silent wary of your surroundings and the people who could be watching you. It broke your heart, knowing that most of the time he couldn't frequent places most regular people had the pleasure of enjoying, like the movies, for example, or a food stand in the middle of the street. Still, in that moment, the handsome man in front of you seemed as relaxed as ever, munching on grapes and strawberries as he sat in silence beside you.

"This blanket is so soft, isn't it?" he commented all of a sudden, caressing the fabric with his hand. The thing was made out of polar fleece, no shit. You just nodded and grabbed a piece of fruit from his container. "One of my friends gifted it to me on my birthday" he adds.

"I know. It was me".

"Well, maybe you do have a sense of taste after all" he complies as he lays down on the surface, eyes facing the night sky above you.

"Says the one who uses toe socks" you say back, poking his weak spot.

Instead of going back and forth with you as he usually would, he just winks and closes his eyes. He looked so peaceful and serene beneath you, features carefully carved on his face and slightly blushed cheeks from the cold wind. Jungkook was like that, randomly over confident and flirty with you, but just as quickly would refrain from even disagreeing with you in the first place, scared that you would snap at him. He hadn't told you this, but the way you saw thoughts hidden in his eyes whenever you made a statement let you know his true intentions, leaving you to wonder where that came from.

"Are you tired?" You ask after a few minutes. Still with his eyes closed, Jungkook denies.

"I just don't want to look at you right now," he turns to the side, back facing you as an offended expression finds its way to your face.

"Yah" you slap his back playfully, not letting him finish.

"Because you look too pretty." he mumbles the remnants of his statement.

Your breath catches in your throat as a shiver climbs its way down your spine. Why was he like that? He had no right tugging on your heart strings like that (if he was being serious in the first place because you never knew with him). You sigh, the blush his words provoked stinging your cheeks.

"You're supposed to say I'm pretty too" he turns around with a playful smile, expectant.

"You just go around giving compliments so you can get them back?" you hiss. "Why so insecure?"

"I'm not insecure, at all." He sits up again, ready to fight you and anyone who dares question the grandiosity of the confidence he had worked so hard for. "You can ask Linh about that".

To say you looked horrified was an understatement, hopeful that what you thought he meant was not it. "You fucked Linh?"

"Well, that's not for you to know".

What a gentleman, you think. And at the same time, ouch. He had just slammed a door on your face.

"That would explain the way she looks at you whenever you come by the office" you realize. Frankly, the girl looked a bit too panicked whenever Jungkook decided to barge into your space, usually bored out of his mind during his english lessons, laptop and notebook in hand, or struggling to get the questions right.

"Well good afternoon to you too" you ironically greeted once he sat in front of you, frustration written on his face. Linh, who stood by your side, suddenly fidgeting with the papers in her hand.

"Not the time, _____" he slammed both hands on your desk, startling you and your friend beside you. "Why the fuck did you make me enroll into this in the first place?"

"I did not make you do anything, dude. I just gave you an idea" you excused yourself, eyes back on your computer. You didn't miss the way Jungkook's eyes briefly followed Linh out the room, though.

His eyes looked back at you, leg bouncing impatiently on the floor as he leaned back with a pissed off expression on his face. You'd never seen him this way, so you took that as a cue to enter under paid therapist mode. "What's wrong?" You questioned gently.

"I feel incredibly incompetent right now." His hands roamed across his face with frustration. A sigh escaped his lips as he held tears back. "School's always been this way for me, always trying my best and constantly underachieving" he explained.

He was obsessed with winning, you’d even go as far to say more than he was with his job (which was a lot). It didn’t root from narcissistic behaviour though, but rather out of external pressure to constantly overachieve and exceed expectations. He was mostly good at doing that, but everyone had an achilles heel, yours was reading for example, his was studying and school.

"Jungkook, you passed most of your classes with more than 90%, what are you talking about?" a fact he had brought up to you randomly when you mentioned absolutely nearly failing most of your literature classes.

"Yeah, except for English." he shook his head in the way he would when he'd feel conflicted or insecure. "I don't know what i'm doing wrong".

"Did you fail something?" you tried to get some more insight into the situation, still unsure of where all his worries came from.

"No, there's just this sentence I can't properly put together" he turned his notebook towards you. "Ah, just look"

There were some words he had to conjugate and properly place in order to form a grammatically correct sentence, more than five attempts written in neat penmanship on the page evidenced the boy's battle with the assignment. He missed one very important aspect of it, though. "There's a fucking word that's missing, dude" you explain, grabbing the pen from his hand and showing him where the mistake was. "It's not your fault, it's the teacher's".

Jungkook's serious expression didn't go away though. "Well, damn".

You had some sort of emotional trauma with having people ask you for help, it made you think that they didn’t actually care for you as a person but rather just your skills. That was the way you’d grown up and what your position in society seemed to be as well, the one you could butter up and taste when you got bored. Heart had been broken many times too, whenever you’d realize what you thought to be a genuine connection was merely pure interest. Those thoughts clouded your head when Jungkook would randomly enter your office with a frustrated expression on his face, yet, that occurred less often than it didn’t.

Jungkook was not someone to establish relationships and bonds out of interest, you knew that. Or maybe not, truth be told, he was an authentic enigma, so open yet so closed and shielded from others to see through, and that didn’t exclude you most of the time, hence your wish for him to let you in a bit more before you could allow yourself to free fall into whatever was going on between you both.

You reach for the fabric of his hoodie, tugging his sleeve with your fingers just because you really liked the color of it, and maybe because you wanted to feel closer to him. He doesn’t react to your touch, just looks at your hands briefly as they play with the edges of his clothing. “Where did you get this from?”

“An online store, I think.” he replies softly, reaching for your hand on his arm, caressing the surface of your nails. “It’s a unisex brand, i can send you their link afterwards.”

“Is it too expensive?” you inquire, not only to keep the moment afloat, but because you genuinely liked most of his pieces of clothing, especially his hoodies and shoes. Jungkook laughs at your question and looks at you with a smile.

“I don’t think i would know, ____. I’m rich.” he says, playfully. And he was right, what was expensive for you might just be cheap as fuck for him, you wonder if when a lot of money is in your hands you start to become very tuned out from what’s affordable or not anymore.

“True.”

“I can buy you one, though. I don’t mind.” he adds. Soft look in his eyes, a pure and genuine offer that you had to deny.

“I didn’t say i wanted one” you lie, only partially, because although you’d not mentioned it, you did actually want it. “I just think it’s pretty” you finally let go of him.

“Or do you think I look pretty in it?” he pushes, a sucker for compliments.

“Yeah, that might be it.” you admit, because there was no point in denying your irrefutable attraction to the man, as much as you hated to be vulnerable, especially in front of him.

“I think it would look prettier on you”.

Don´t copy or repost please. by studiojeon on tumblr.

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soldierswar · 3 years

Text

Kobik - Chapter VI

Bucky x Reader

Angst

Previous chapters in Masterlist

Summary: You, Bucky, Sam, and Kobik face disagreements on what the next step is. But when you eventually come to agreement trouble arises.

“I’m coming with you,” you declared.

“Are you crazy?” Bucky argued.

“I agree,” Sam added.

“As in for the first time ever Bucky’s not the crazy one. And besides, we don’t even know what our next step is in the first place.”

You rolled your eyes, crossed your arms, and laid your head back against the couch.

About an hour ago Sam called two agents of some type of organization you had never heard of before to come in and take the two guys in for medical attention before being interrogated. And by the looks of it, they might be getting serious medical attention for probably the next few days. This meant that if Sam and Bucky wanted to get this done themselves, you were all technically still on your own with this one.

They also wanted to take Kobik in with them. But both Sam and Bucky convinced them that she needed to stay with the three of you. That didn’t take much convincing because before Kobik practically collapsed in Bucky’s arms due to exhaustion, she was attached at your hip while they asked both you and Kobik questions. The poor kid had used up so much of her energy. So while the three of you were trying to work things out, she was comfortably snoozing in your bed for the night. Chances were that none of you were going to sleep anyway.

“So what now?”

Neither had answers.

“Listen,” Bucky said.

“This isn’t for you to worry about, okay?”

“Not for me to worry about?” you retorted.

“This was for me to worry about since the minute you brought me into this by bringing Kobik home.”

Bucky had guilt written all over his face. But guilt wasn’t what you wanted him to feel.

“Listen,” you said.

“You’ve trained me for countless amount of hours. And if today hasn’t proved that you’ve done a great job at it I don’t know what will.”

You turned to Sam for backup. He had to know that you were right to an extent. And he seemed to be thinking about it.

“She might have a point, Buck.”

You smiled, and instead of looking at you, your husband was too busy giving Sam the infamous Bucky Barnes death stare.

“I trained you for last-resort situations like this. Not for you to actively go out with us.”

“Well what’s the other solution?” you argued.

“Just have the two of us wait around for another ambush?”

You looked over to Sam again for some backup, but he seemed to decide that it was best to just mind his own business and went to go grab a glass of water.

“We don’t even know what we’re walking into. And the last thing I’m gonna do is have my newly pregnant wife follow us around doing dangerous shit like this.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Sam choked.

“Okay to be fair,” you started, putting a finger up.

“We don’t know how new this is.”

“That’s beside the point, Y/N!” Bucky exclaimed.

“Then what’s your bigger and better solution Bucky?” you shouted shooting up from the couch.

“You say you want me to be quote on quote safe but I don’t know if you noticed but keeping me at home to play fucking house didn’t exactly go as planned!”

“Y/N I’m sorry—”

“Sorry isn’t a solution!” you cried.

“Sorry isn’t going to keep Kobik away from those people. Sorry isn’t going to magically undo everything that’s happened or what could happen soon whether I’m pregnant or not. And sorry isn’t going to stop me from doing whatever the hell I can to protect that little girl from going through any more pain!”

Your voice cracked during that last sentence, and you found yourself choking on tears that had yet to fall.

You could see it now that Bucky was understanding why you were so adamant about this.

“Y/N?” asked a soft, sleepy voice from across the room.

“Is everything okay?”

You sighed and sat back down on the couch inviting her to join you and sit on your lap.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up kiddo,” you said softly while hugging her.

She shrugged and let her face collapse on your shoulder.

“What are we gonna do now?” she whimpered.

She knew that this wasn’t over. If anything she didn’t know if any of this was ever going to be over. And frankly, neither did anyone else in the room.

Sam came back around and leaned against the wall facing towards you and Bucky. Sam was eyeing you, and you eyed him back not to say anything more about the news that he just heard.

“We don’t want you to have to worry about that anymore, okay?” Bucky told her.

She didn’t respond. For a moment you weren’t sure if she just wanted to ignore his words, or if she just fell asleep again.

“We can find them. And find out who the bad man is.”

You rubbed her back soothingly over ambitiously attempting to get her back to sleep so you would no longer have to worry about her trying to get in on this.

“The people that came to get them are going to ask them questions. They might be able to find out,” Bucky stated.

She shook her head.

“I can find out.”

He narrowed his eyes curiously.

“What do you mean you can find out.”

And that’s when you remembered.

“Kobik, no,” you ordered.

“You are not reading their minds.”

“Reading their minds?” Bucky questioned.

“What is she talking about?” Sam added.

“What he said.”

Kobik reached out to touch Bucky’s hand to try to demonstrate and read him, but he pulled away before she could. There was no way he was going to let anyone read his mind. Especially not her.

“You didn’t know about this?” you asked.

“I knew that she could do some things with people’s minds, but I didn’t think that mind-reading was one of them.”

“So the cyborg doesn’t know everything.”

You couldn’t help but snort. And Bucky directed his .5 second long dirty look at you.

Kobik jumped off of your lap and sat in the middle of the couch between you and Bucky and directed her gaze to you.

“Why not?” she argued

“Because,” you counterargued.

She pointer at herself with both hands.

“Well if you want to find what you’re looking for, you need help. Duh.”

“Kobik…” you said in an odd motherly warning tone that had never really come from you before.

She crossed her arms and stared at you defiantly. Oddly, very similar to how you did before she showed up.

“Frustrating isn’t it?” Bucky teased.

For a split second, you envisioned killing him.

“Why won’t you back me up on this?” you looked back and forth between Bucky and Sam.

Bucky was too busy thinking to meet your gaze, and so was Sam. Kobik kept her attention on Bucky with her arms still crossed but now with a mildly hopeful expression.

They were not…They were not seriously thinking…

“Okay, why are you both considering taking Kobik but you were quick to tell me to back down?”

“She’s the one with the powers,” Bucky stated.

“And we’ll make sure that Kobik’s okay. They’re most likely heavily sedated in the hospital.”

“They’re pretty easy to get to without anyone even knowing a thing…Trust me.”

Sam silently agreed with him.

“Well, what about security?” Sam added.

“I’ll take care of that.”

“What do you mean by that?” you enquired.

“You know what? I don’t want to know.”

“You might have to,” he said.

“And what do you mean by that?” you frowned.

“I think it means,” Sam interjected.

“That you and Kobik are both getting your wish.”

…

One hour later

“Sam Wilson, when did you learn how to hack into a hospital database?”

Sam was sitting in the passenger’s seat on his laptop looking through the inpatient list of the hospital.

“I think you forgot that I used to work for Tony Stark, and I spent two years helping Steve try to find your husband. Long story short, it’s come in handy.”

You tilted your head and shrugged. Fair enough.

“Okay, I think I found them.”

“You sure?” Bucky asked keeping his eyes on the road as he drove.

“Well, they’re the only two people in the hospital with security registered to be at their doors. So why don’t you tell me?”

“Okay, okay.”

When he pulled into the hospital parking lot you took in a deep breath, and Kobik took your hand. She had been quiet for the whole car ride.

“You sure you know what to do?” you asked.

She nodded confidently.

“Okay,” Bucky began.

“So once I send you the message to get inside, we have about 5 minutes before hospital security gets suspicious about what’s going on with the camera system, and maybe 2 minutes after that before they start taking action.”

You looked at Kobik.

“How long do you think you’ll need?”

She looked up and thought about it.

“A minute.”

You felt relieved. You could probably pull this off.

“Okay,” you said.

“Let’s do this.”

…

Bucky was nowhere to be found on the hospital ICU floor. Which was in fact a good thing because neither was the security guard that was supposed to be guarding the door of the man whose room you’d be infiltrating. If everything went according to plan, the security guard should probably be inside of the room knocked out, and would be for a good couple of hours. You didn’t ask how Bucky just had a syringe of some type of knock-out drug on hand. But once again, you didn’t want to know.

Nobody looked suspicious of anything, so things were going pretty well. From what you could tell nurses were used to seeing security guards go in and out for coffee breaks without covering each other…which definitely seemed like a recipe for disaster. This whole situation kind of proved that.

You walked up to the nurse’s station.

“Visiting hours are over, ma’am,” said a very tired-looking nurse.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized innocently acting like the biggest bubblehead.

“It’s just…My husband is on this floor in room…536? I forgot my wallet here this morning and I really need it as soon as possible. And my daughter would really like to see him for a couple of minutes. She was at school when I was last here.”

He looked like he wanted to protest, but his expression softened when looked down at Kobik who was incredibly good at a fake pouty face. Who could say no to that little face?

“No more than 5 minutes, okay?” he sighed and smiled kindly.

You nodded gratefully and went on to find the room that you actually had to go to.

“Room 536 is on the other side, ma’am,” said another nurse.

Shit.

“Hey, nurse!” yelled a familiar voice from across the way.

It was Bucky…And he was wearing a security guard uniform.

“I think I need help with something. Are you busy right now?”

His voice carried so well that everybody had his attention, and nobody was going to ignore someone who was supposed to be guarding very dangerous people.

Kobik pulled you to come along instead of staring at Bucky like a dear in the headlights.

Just like Bucky said it would be, the door was unlocked. When you walked in, the designated security guard was peacefully snoring on the bench by the window. Poor guy was going to be so confused when he woke up.

Kobik was already standing, (or rather hovering over) who you had dubbed ‘grey shirt’ during the attack. She took in a deep breath, closed her eyes, and placed her hand on his arm.

You had worried about what would happen if he woke up and caused a fuss. He may have been restrained, but one yell for help and you’d be busted. But Bucky was right. He was very drugged up and didn’t even twitch at Kobik’s touch.

Her brows began to furrow after holding on for a little while, and you could tell that she was seeing things and people that she didn’t want to see and that it upset her. You wished that you could just take her place.

After a couple of minutes, she let go. Her gaze was intense and sharp. Her eyes also glowed.

“He’s in New York,” she said.

“They’re all in New York.”

Suddenly your phone lit up in your hand. It was an urgent text from Sam to you and Bucky.

‘Time to go. NOW.’

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“We gotta go.”

She made her way back to you impossibly quickly and took your hand to exit the room. When you swung the door open Bucky was right there standing guard.

“You’re not supposed to be in here young lady,” he teased flirtatiously.

“What can I say I have a thing for running into men in uniform,” you winked before smacking him on the arm before beginning to walk down the hall at a fast pace as he followed.

“They’re all in New York,” Kobik told Bucky.

“What?”

“The bad men talked about moving from Sweden to New York. They’ll be here for a couple of weeks. Or until they find me.”

He swore under his breath.

Your phones buzzed a few times but you were too busy making your way down the stairs and steering through hallways to get the hell out of that hospital to check. You figured that you’d take time to pause and look as soon as you got outside.

“Nobody’s following us right?” you huffed trying to keep up with Bucky and Kobik’s superhuman paces.

They both scanned the surroundings and determined that you were safe.

Finally, you reached the glass doors of one of the back exits to the parking structure. Mission accomplished.

“Oh thank God,” you sighed making your way down the outdoor steps.

“Y/N?” said Bucky worriedly staring down at his phone.

“I think we’re about to have company.”

Before you even had time to process his words you heard the click of three guns from behind you. And you had a strong hunch that it wasn’t hospital security.

“Hand the kid over to us, and you go free.”

Fuck.

Tags: @teenagedreams-bucky @typicalnerd98 @veroxloki @white-wolf-buckaroo @acciosiriusblack @pastel-boy-sungjae @flightsandfantasy @noiralei @unstablesleepygal

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gisachi · 3 years

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12 Games: Shinichi and Ran Game #6 - Poker Face Rating: T Summary: Ran was trying to prove a point.

(Read here or in FFN / AO3! Link provided.)

Ran was trying to prove a point.

She didn’t know what wracked her typically levelheaded self all of a sudden, but for the first time she was dead motivated to prove Sonoko wrong. On most days, Ran wouldn’t contradict her for anything, but right now she wanted to - really, really wanted to - because her friend wasn’t making any sense.

What did she mean she ‘wanted Shinichi to kiss her’? ‘So badly’?

“Excuse me. I am not desperate for a kiss, Sonoko,” huffed Ran, half lidded eyes directed at her friend who had then snatched the apple from her hand while she was busy processing the latter’s earlier statement.

“I didn’t say you are,” Sonoko replied wryly, “You’re not desperate. I know. But you want it. That kiss. There’s a difference.” She paused, taking a bite of the apple. “Ya woodr’t flail yourshelf in fron’o’ him for that shmack o’ the lipsh, but ya hope he wood.”

Shifting from her sitting position, Ran grimaced, hoping she didn’t understand what she just said, but she did. ‘You wouldn’t flail yourself in front of him for that smack on the lips, but you hope he would.’

Still, it didn’t make sense.

“And why would I want a kiss from him?”

Swallowing the food in her mouth, the light ginger-haired lady limply pointed her index finger at her with the hand that was holding the apple. “Because he’s your boyfriend and knowing him, he probably hasn’t made a move to kiss you yet. That’s why.”

Damn it! ...She’s right.

“...So?” She crossed her arms and pointed her chin up, doing a bad job at appearing snarky.

“Hah! So I’m right.”

“Sonoko!” She jabbed her lightly on the shoulder, though not denying what she’d said. “Don’t you know that not all people in a relationship desire physical intimacy?”

“Sure. But not you, Ran.” Back leaving the metal rails from where they sat on the school rooftop, Sonoko faced her with a piercing stare, the kind that made Ran swallow the piece of meat from her bento down with a big gulp. “Look me in the eye and tell me there’s no reason why you always look at Shinichi’s lips whenever he recites in class or whenever he takes a sip from your orange juice.”

A healthy shade of red was quick to spread on her cheeks. “H-Hey! I’m-...! That’s—”

Sonoko raised a smug eyebrow at her, confident that Ran wouldn’t have a believable counterargument to that. What other reason would she have if not because she’d been thinking about Shinichi’s lips? It’s annoying that she noticed. Even more annoying that she couldn’t deny it. Most annoying that shemight probably be right.

“—something I can do.” But she wouldn’t accept that so easily, would she?

“There’s no reason why I look at his lips whenever he speaks in class or drinks from my juice. Or a water bottle. Or when he eats. Or anything that involves his lips,” Ran recited, as if reading a script.

Sonoko stifled her snort, looking at her with visible skepticism. Ran met her stare with defiant eyes because no, she wouldn’t let her pesky friend get the upper hand this time. She would prove her wrong!

“You want to make a deal out of this?” taunted Sonoko.

Ran matched her arched eyebrow. “Hit me up.”

“Last the whole day without looking at Shinichi and thinking of wanting to kiss him,” Sonoko challenged. “I trust your honesty, Ran. If you fail, you treat me lunch tomorrow up ‘til next week. If you don’t, then the other way around. How’s that sound?”

Ran flared her nostrils, incredibly pumped from the very easy challenge the lady had imposed. “Better prepare your bills because I want my lunch at Ginza, Sonoko.”

They shook hands. “Same, missus, but I want mine home cooked on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday like your beloved husband. Deal?”

“Deal!”

“You’re going to thank me for this, O-ku-sa-ma ,” Sonoko fluttered her lashes menacingly just in time the rooftop door swung open, revealing a Shinichi holding three packets of melon bread on his left hand and a half finished one on the other.

“Yo! I got us some bread,” Shinichi enthused, slightly out of breath. “Sorry I took a while, I... had to take a call from Hattori on the way here.”

The first thing Ran noticed when he sat next to her were the glistening remnants of sugar on his lips from the bread he was eating.

“Can I have a drink Ran?” Before she could answer, Shinichi had already taken a swig from her tumbler, and Ran gawked owlishly at the movement of his throat as he gulped, and the press of the metal container on his thirsty mouth that was...thirsty...for...water.

Her mind blanked, thoughts almost bordering to the forbidden. Mentally slapping her sane self, Ran shifted her eyes from Shinichi’s lips to Sonoko’s face, narrowing them threateningly when she caught her haughty little snigger. Oh, the woman. The daggers Ran threw her could send her flying off the roof.

Calming her nerves, Ran inhaled a deep breath and blew out, slowly. ‘Half a day. Half a day is nothing. I can do this.’

It significantly helped that for the rest of class, Shinichi looked at her direction less frequently than usual. Normally when he finished a great answer, Ran would give him a thumbs up from the seat diagonally behind him and he’d reciprocate with an accomplished grin but this time, he didn’t even spare her a look, head diving immediately to his notes when he sat down. Which was good honestly, because she didn’t want to share eye contact with him, not while the deal was in effect, but at the back of her mind she couldn’t help but wonder.

When the day ended, Ran was correct in thinking that Sonoko would rather not join them on their walk home, because. Flashing Ran a mischievous grin, Sonoko excused herself from the two, saying she’d go drop by the dojo for Makoto as promised. Ran wasn’t sure how true that statement was, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop her either because she remembered— she wanted to prove Sonoko wrong. She could do it. She could stick around Shinichi without obsessing on the strange, horrible, mostlikelytruebutnotreally thought of wanting to kiss him. Refusing to let her go would only cast doubts on her credibility. That she solemnly believed.

“Is there some secret running between you and Sonoko that I am not aware of?” Shinichi closed his shoe locker and fitted his sneakers with an alternate nudge of both tips to the floor.

“Hn?” Ran tried to sound nonchalant, to sound as if the deal hadn’t been wearing her off. When he didn’t say anything, she gave him a cute half smile - with eyes that crinkled close because she wanted little eye contact with Shinichi - and then linked her arm around his. “Nah. She’s just being her usual self, that’s all.”

Shinichi merely scrunched his eyebrows, not anymore pressing for further details. She didn’t pay much attention to his forearm that stiffened when she grabbed hold of it.

“‘Kay. Let’s go.” They passed by the gate and began their walk home.

There was a particular route in their walk that Ran always enjoyed passing. It was along the straight, sun-drenched pavement that overlooked Sumida River. Freelance artists by the riverbank would leisurely capture the scenic view from their sketchpads complete with the boats and bridges, and from a fair distance on the grassier portion children would often play tag or soccer. Further unseen were the echoes of sometimes obnoxious, sometimes friendly barks of dogs being walked by their owners. For Ran, the whole scenery felt so alive and natural, so peaceful, like a breath of fresh air from the typical urban Tokyo landscape.

They crossed paths with a middle-aged jogger, his energetic Shiba Inu trailing behind. Tail wagging excitedly, the dog pounced on Shinichi in the friendliest manner. Shinichi knelt, hugged the fluffy ball of sunshine in his arms, and it barked and licked his cheeks with so much joy. Both its owner and Ran couldn’t help but laugh at the cute sight of their immediate bond.

For a brief second, Ran had forgotten about her fetters for the day, relaxing as she admired an ever innocent, childlike Shinichi. When the man and his dog finally jogged away, a soccer ball flew to their direction and Shinichi, as figured, let the ball bounce around and on his knees before kicking it back to the waiting and amused children at the foot of the path by the riverbank. “Nii-chan, thank you!” They shouted in unison and he could only but salute with a satisfied grin on his face.

Stripped out of murders and mysteries, Shinichi remained a kid at heart.

Ran wanted to pinch his cheeks for being so adorable.

She softened her eyes and released a silent, mincing giggle. ‘See that, Sonoko? I can look at him without urging myself to kiss him! Pinch his cheeks maybe, but not kiss him!’

Ran was proud of herself. So far, so good. Lady Luck was on her side.

They continued their walk until they reached the streets with many food trucks and stalls that opened late afternoon onwards.

Nakamise Shopping Street was where Shinichi often bought food for dinner and tomorrow’s breakfast. Stopping in front of a dango stall, they were cordially greeted by the concessionaire and were presented with different flavors to choose from. Shinichi requested a stick of Anko dango.

“You’re going to have dango for dinner?” Ran asked, surprised.

“Bread for lunch got me hungry. I only need a little fill before my next meal.” Shinichi handed his payment and received the stick in exchange.

“ Mou, I told you to buy a decent meal for lunch, didn’t I? Just because it’s Thursday today, doesn’t mean you have to wait for tomorrow just so I can make you your bento. That’s simply lazy thinking, Shini...ch...”

Words mired down her throat as her eyes fixated on the way he languidly nibbled on one sticky ball of dumpling. Warm steam emerged from where he bit, teeth stretching the gooey texture of mochi before he cut it with a light tug of head. She watched the movement of his mandibles grinding the dumpling in his mouth, blowing occasionally to exhaust heat.

“Shtill hot,” he commented, munching, then he swallowed, preparing himself for another mouthful, “but very savory.”

Very savory. Yes.

In her mind palace, Ran desperately clung to the seam of Lady Luck’s gown, the Queen dragging the former along the floor whilst making her way out the front door.

“Oh, how rude of me.” Pausing midway his next bite, he tipped the half consumed stick in front of her mouth, coaxing her to try. “Want a taste?”

Ran momentarily forgot how to speak, eyes still glued to his upper lip that had been partly coated with red bean paste. Worse was he had to swipe it with his tongue after offering her a taste . As if the damned guy knew about the deal and was doing that for the win.

“N-no I uh, want...um—” she scanned around in panic, desperate to lock herself with Lady Luck away from the intruding thought that had threatened to hold her mind hostage to her ultimate defeat, “—takoyaki! I’ll buy takoyaki instead!”

She marched to the direction of the adjacent stall, arms swinging unnaturally to the wonderment of the detective who had remained cool the entire time before she stormed away. He must be thinking how weird she was, Ran thought. But she couldn’t blame him. There’s no way he’d know. If she were to blame anyone, it had to be Sonoko for drilling that ridiculous idea in her head.

“One order of takoyaki please!” she squeaked. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Shinichi pull an expression - indiscernible from where she stood - before he made do with the remaining mochi dumplings. Her brain was in shambles, unable to make out what’s happening around and in her, and her extending a hand to receive the tray of fresh takoyaki had been purely mechanical.

Only when she popped one whole ball in her mouth did her mind resume operating the way it must.

“ Ack! ” Eyes glossing with tears, she coughed and spew air like a hysterical dragon, frantically fanning her mouth with a free hand. “H-Hot!!”

Seeing her chagrin, Shinichi rushed to her side and promptly brought out the tumbler from her bag. “What the hell Ran, here, drink.” Though voice urgent, Shinichi remained as calm as rock like he wasn’t forcibly downing the tumbler on Ran’s tongue to neutralize the heat.

The woman gagged.

Not because of the cool water zipping down her throat, but more of the careful fingers craning her neck, lacing her hair as the man guided the container to her parted lips.

“There, there," he crooned lightly, "I suppose that’s hotter than the dango.”

Shinichi was so close to her face, soothing her like a five year old child in view of the moderately few curious passers by, and Ran had never wanted to combust in absolute embarrassment as much as she did that instant.

She broke away from Shinichi, eyes blown wide, pulse drumming loud. A little water spilt on her school vest and to the ground. The burn in her mouth was forgotten ever so quickly, outdone by the tingling feeling in her stomach that crept up her neck onto her cheeks and ears. Ten degrees more and she’d be about ready to burst into flames.

“Ice cream. I need ice cream.” She blathered, unthinking.

Shinichi’s eyebrows furrowed. “But you haven’t finished half of your takoyaki ye—”

“Ice cream. Please?” God she really did sound like a kid. She swore she saw in his face the mix of surprise and incredulity and exasperation in relation to her strange behavior he probably chose not to address to his better judgment.

“Okay,” Shinichi shrugged, trying to sound patient. He resealed the tumbler and put it in her bag, then returned to the bag he had dropped earlier when he tendered to Ran’s burning mouth. “...If you feel like it, maybe you can tell me what’s going on?”

Facing away from the busy streets, the two leaned on the back of the food truck from where they bought soft-serve vanilla sundaes. The typically levelheaded Ran had been reduced to a quiet mush of blush and blunder, melting her ice cream with her quiet gaze and quiet exhale, while Shinichi, still as calm and composed as ever, alternated his attention between his sundae and his girlfriend, patiently waiting for the woman to make sense out of the whole situation.

Ran huffed a breath, a deep and slow one, before taking a bite of the serving. If there’s something more embarrassing than her earlier takoyaki mishap, it was this.

Goodness, was she really going to tell the subject of the deal about her deal with Sonoko?

Her mind recalled her rooftop conversation with the lady. What compelled her to agree to this stupid deal? She knew she was trying to prove something, yes, but was the thought so despicable that only the fact of losing could convince her to accept it? Why couldn’t she accept it? What was so wrong with looking at her boyfriend and then imagining said boyfriend kissing her? Did that make her less dignified? A pervert? If she looked at him right now would she do exactly that? She’d been tempering herself for the past hour, trying, and trying… What if she tested herself by stealing a glance—

Wait, she shouldn’t go there. A dangerous test. The dango and takoyaki situation had proven that. Had she lost yet? She hadn’t right? The almost two weeks Ginza lunch deal sounded truly tempting. How could she let that pass? Of course she’d win this deal. She hadn’t lost yet. She only had to look at his nose or the middle of his brows if she must talk to him, to copy the poker face he’d been wielding since after lunch and simply go with the flow. She wouldn’t tell him what’s up, tell him instead she was having cramps. He’d understand. She’d win.

“That’s not the proper way to eat ice cream, barou.”

Rocked from her own thoughts, the first thing Ran’s brain processed was the teeth mark on her ice cream. It took another five seconds to register Shinichi’s comment.

She looked at him questioningly, unsure of what was wrong when she’d been eating her ice cream like that since little. “Then how?”

“You lick, duh.”

Ran eyed him mockingly.

“But you’re licking, and look at your chin and nose, you got some of your ice cream there! It’s messy!” she said as she pointed at the white blotches dotting the mentioned parts.

“That’s why they serve ice cream with tissue, Ran.” He proceeded to wipe the dirtied areas with the tissue he unwrapped from the cone.

“Whatever. At least when you bite you only get a little around your lips—” Ran demonstrated by taking another bite of the tip of her ice cream in a manner that made Shinichi wince, “—see?”

“Stup— Stop that, that’s really bad,” Shinichi grimaced like she’d inflicted him physical pain. “And you’ll get a toothache. It’s soft-serve ice cream for a reason. You’re supposed to lick it, not eat it like a pocky stick.”

“Oh, c’mon Shinichi, as if you haven’t seen me eat ice cream like this yet.”

“No, really, I’m quite surprised I haven’t. If I did I would’ve already corrected your wrong ways long ago.”

Puffing her cheeks, she exhaled deeply and shifted with a stomp to face him. “Okay then, if you think that’s the right way of eating ice cream, then let me change my ‘wrong ways’ and do what it is you deem proper, Mr. Always Right.”

Locking eyes with him as she pouted, Ran brought the ice cream to her mouth, flattened her tongue on the edge of the cone and, as slowly as she could, swooped right up the tip, vanilla coating her cavity and a little of her bottom lip and chin with gluey white.

Shinichi went horribly quiet.

“ Euh—see? It’s so messy! It’s everywhere on my face! I don’t like it,” she complained.

The teenage detective didn’t budge.

Out of curiosity, Ran spared him a glance as she wiped the sticky vanilla sundae off of her chin. Though he wasn’t saying anything, his dilated eyes spoke volumes. Shinichi couldn’t tear them away from her lips. He was in deep, observing and nothing more, yet observing way too hard . Too hard it made her so conscious she felt her cheeks heat up and her pulse thrum tormentingly.

“...Shinichi?”

“Ran.” He took one uncertain step forward. “...Damn. Goddamn it.”

Her mouth ran dry.

Was he going to kiss her?

He was still staring, eyebrows wired in a manner that made it difficult for her to decipher the thoughts running in his head. But she’s certain he wasn’t expressionless anymore like he was prior.

Oh no, did she feel her legs take a step forward too?

She didn’t know what incited him, but from the way his attention locked on her lips and the way his eyes hooded at the sight, she took it that he’s ready to take and mark her to his preference.

Oh no, she kinda wanted that, didn’t she?

She swallowed the saliva that had accumulated at the back of her tongue, letting the thought of kissing him run loose in her brain entirely.

Oh no. Sonoko was right now, wasn’t she?

After ten long seconds of them just staring at each other with vanilla stuck on her lips and breath stuck in his lungs, Shinichi, in the end, turned his back to Ran.

Tips of ears red, he mumbled. “...Curse you, Hattori.”

Ran tilted her head, uncertain if she heard him correctly. “What?”

Shinichi ruffled his hair as if annoyed, but Ran felt that the annoyance wasn’t directed at her but more at himself. “Have your way. Bite your friggin’ ice cream.”

She blinked. “...That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Ran felt her chest deflate, releasing the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding for the past minute.

Not only did she expect something, but she also did not get it, and she even lost her chance at Ginza lunches.

“Hey, that’s rude, face me and speak more kindly,” she demanded, curt, mood already dampened by her lose-lose situation.

“Finish your ice cream first before I face you.”

Ran rolled her eyes. “What, disturbed that I’d rather bite the sundae than lick it?”

“...Yes,” he said, humorlessly. “More than you’ll ever know.”

“But licking—”

“But do whatever you want.” He cut her short. “Bite or lick, I’m not... uh, just finish it quick. Please.”

She did, very quick unlike the takoyaki, and they went home with her noting how the tips of his ears remained red and how he hadn’t glanced again at her face, confirming her lost chances of truly getting a kiss.

“And what did I tell you?”

“I get it… no need to rub it in my face.”

Sonoko chortled, taking a mouthful of yasai itame from the customized bento Ran ever so diligently prepared. The dejected woman sat across her friend on the floor, legs and arms crossed, blankly staring at the rough cement of the rooftop.

“What are you going to do about it now?”

“I don’t know.”

Ran felt her friend’s eyes scan her from head to toe, having no idea if it was a look of judgment or pity she was giving or all of the above. She’s way too embarrassed to even bother knowing.

“You don’t have to wait for him, Ran. You can just, you know, go for it yourself,” said the woman.

“I—“ she blushed. “But that’s…”

“What? It’s not the 19th century anymore. If you want something, go for it! All’s fair in love and war, o-ku-sa-ma ,” Sonoko lectured. “Though really, your boyfriend is an idiot, I can’t believe he didn’t go for it! What a wuss.”

“Maybe he didn’t want to—”

“Oh, please. There’s drought on those lips and they’re dying to be baptized by yours.” Sonoko winked at her knowingly. Ran’s eyes blew wide, blush intensifying like the afternoon sun.

“Sonoko! You don’t have to say it like—”

“Want to make a different bet this time? Who will kiss the other first, you or Shinichi?”

“N-no, no more deals please!” Ran implored, utterly defeated. “Instead of deals, I’ll...I’ll try and...see... what I can do.”

“Atta girl. That’s the spirit.”

“And what did I tell ya, Kudo?”

“Shut up. I know.”

Heiji chuckled on the other line. “No ya don’t. If ya did then this bet wouldn’t have happened. Congratulations to me for winning that Koshien ticket premium seat and congratulations to ya for proving ya cannot stand a day without wanting nee-chan’s—“

“Hey, I said I know okay,” Shinichi’s voice raised a notch louder. Afraid that he might have caught the girls’ attention, he peeked on the other side of the rooftop door where he reclined and saw that they were still talking.

Closing the door gently behind him, he sat himself on the first tread of stairs. “For the record, I was doing so well until the ice cream thing happened.”

Heiji laughed some more.

“And? How did nee-chan react?”

“She...stepped forward too.”

A faint whistle echoed from the receiver. “ That seals it. Now ya really have ta kiss her.”

He ruffled his hair, visibly nervous. “But what if she doesn’t—“

“It’s not the 19th century anymore, Kudo. Betcha your girl’s like Kazuha. They know what they want. And they aren’t afraid to show it. Nee-chan stepped forward. Like that ahou when she… Yea that’s your cue.”

The East Detective groaned inwardly.

“What? Don’t tell me we havta make a deal out of this too?”

“No need. I can do this.” He puffed his chest. “I’ll see what I can do. Give me...uh, until tomorrow.”

“Ya better, Kudo. I’m telling ya, nee-chan’s waiting.”

(Fortunately for Heiji, he didn’t have to wait until tomorrow.)

A/N: In another universe, it’s veteran bro Heiji assisting his fellow bro Shinichi with his love problem. In whatever universe, Ran always pays attention to Shinichi’s lips because the Scarlet School Trip Arc says so and the Scarlet School Trip Arc is law.

(Tumblr Side Note: This whole fic was born from @detectivegeekshin ’s comment on Kiss Prompt#23 - what if it’s the other way around, with Shinichi doing the food ‘teasing’? Thank you for the wonderful idea, now we have a thirsting Ran (っ˘ڡ˘ς) )

#shinran #fanfic #kudou shinichi #mouri ran #12 games #managed to squeeze in an update before the year ends!#(hope you leave a review if you read this in AO3/FFN! 🙂)

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n3s0 · 3 years

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hi i’m going to discuss the doomsday war streams and overall the conclusion of what i’d consider season 3 of the dream smp because hyperfixation go brrrrr

(for clarity sake: season 1 is from when l’manberg defects from the dream smp to when wilbur decides to host an election. season 2 is from swag2020 vs pog2020 to the manberg vs pogtopia war on nov 16th. season 3 is from the start of tubbo’s presidency to the jan 6th doomsday war.)

tldr: i definitely think the cc’s can look on what happened this season and improve greatly. that’s not to say this wasn’t a good season, there are a lot of things they’ve improved since season 1, but there are also things they can improve on in the future. this season was lacking a connecting thread or goal and it made it feel disjointed and left character’s in limbo. a way to fix that could be either scripting the story more strictly, fixing communication problems and/or making the plot into more self contained but slightly overlapping stories.

i think my biggest problem with this season was the fact that it felt so disjointed. one of the best things about the first season is the consistent plot line: l’manberg is trying to win independence. you had eret’s betrayal, dream’s tyranny, wilbur and tommy’s whole dynamic, and an underlying subplot with the disc war, but it all ultimately connected to l’manberg’s fight for independence. it’s what makes the first season so good and that kind of consistent plot is missing in this season.

even the second season had the main plot of taking back manberg. there was wilbur’s insanity, but that tied back to the elections. there was tension between tubbo and tommy, but it tied back to the elections. even the badlands tied back to bad, ant, skeppy, and sam deciding they’re done with manberg AND pogtopia and deciding to stoke the fire. it all tied back and character’s had weeks to slowly develop with the setting.

this season you had techno retiring, ghostbur reconciling with fundy, tubbo’s presidency, whatever was going on with schlatt and quackity?, george is king?, el rapid mexican l’manberg that whole thing, tommy’s exile, el rapids fighting dream smp/eret’s kingship?, the butcher army, techno UNretiring and teaming with tommy, tommy using techno to get his discs back, techno using tommy to destroy l’manberg, the prison, the bloodvines, and probably more im forgetting. there was a LOT going on, even techno and wilbur have ooc acknowledged this. and in my opinion it was just too much. character’s weren’t given enough time to develop naturally and the pacing had to go fast enough to fit all the plot into it, leaving little time for the character’s relationships to develop with the plot.

most notably this is a problem with character’s like niki, fundy, ranboo (though not too bad with his character) and eret. eret had worked hard on a redemption arc and then had to go back to being king because george didn’t want to be involved (then changed his mind which...okay) which really fucked up all of the development he spent a LOT of time on during the second season. niki had to jump from siding with tubbo and tommy against wilbur’s insanity to suddenly tubbo’s president and her character just...can’t know that wilbur is dead for some reason? and now she needs content so she has to scrap together an anti-hero plot for herself. fundy’s works a little better i feel, with his lowkey insanity arc he’s having as of now, but the problem with him is he didn’t get enough lowkey plot moments to show his character’s devolution from neglected to vengeful. ranboo was thrown head first into the plot and while he’s doing an AMAZING job of keeping himself afloat, he just hasn’t had enough time to make his character’s mental decline seem believable, at least to me. not enought has happened to his character for it to work out, due to pacing. all of these character’s are AMAZING concepts but the fact that they feel so inconsistent can be related back to the fact that there really wasn’t any time given to let character’s slowly develop and change, and instead they had to cram all of their character development into the first 30 mins of a plot important stream.

and i will offer a counterargument here of the fact that season 3 is when wilbur’s writing stopped and also was when it really started catching a large audiences’ interest. so naturally more people wanted to be involved and due to the nature of the way this story is told, where each character is an actual CC who needs content and can’t just be a background support character, there HAS to be a lot going on for everyone to get their slice. and i think that’s the ultimate downfall of using this medium to tell a story. you NEED those background characters, the characters that don’t have to be 3 dimensional, the characters that don’t need to be there for everything and get their lines in. so i can’t fault them for having a clunky story when it has to be that way to be fair.

ultimately i still really enjoy the story, and i hope this doesn’t sound too nitpicky. it’s downfall, of everyone having to be an important character, is also what makes it so good! don’t like the “main character”? go watch someone else, who’s the main character of their own POV of the story. every single character is incredibly complex and has their own unique set of motivations, goals, and traits. it works really well with the running theme of history, and how not only does it repeat itself through miscommunication and ignorance but also how the opinion on events changes from who’s telling the story. the fact that you can tell every CC genuinely cares about their character also really does show in the acting and writing and just everything about the server and story. the flaws of the story are very easy to look over because of just how much time and care all of them put into this server and it really helps the story. an okay story written by passionate people with always be better than an amazing one written by apathetic storywriters; and the smp’s story is definitely more than just okay, at least to me.

i didn’t want to write this just to complain and then offer no solution, so i do have a few ideas on how i’d like to see this fixed or at least improved. they actually already somewhat do this, but i feel like they could start breaking up the plot more. similarly to how there was the bloodvines plot going on at the same time as tommy’s exile plot, i feel like they could take a chunk of say 5-10 members and they each have their semi-contained plot. especially with l’manberg now destroyed, the thing that way tying a lot of the members together, it would be easier to do this. there can be connecting threads through the stories, like how tubbo and fundy would see the bloodvines or bad would visit tommy in exile, but ultimately not every character has to be involved in everyone else’s story.

say you have tubbo, tommy, quackity, fundy, ghostbur, and dream for one plot of trying to get the discs back and making dream revive ghostbur. at the same time you can have techno, phil, ranboo, dream, and sam dealing with the prison and techno or someone being put in the prison with dream manipulating ranboo through his memories. bad, ant, sam, puffy, and skeppy can continue with the egg. eret, fundy, niki, and ghostbur work through the trauma they’ve gained from everything with l’manberg and their interpersonal relationships. similarly to how karl is doing the tales of the SMP right now, these storylines are self contained but characters can overlap and therefore so can relationships.

my other solution would honestly be to just work on the seemingly lack of communication. make sure everyone is getting the content they need (with people having to understand that not everyone is going to get the animatic worthy lines every stream, and not everyone gets to play a huge part in each event.) however this entails having a much more concrete script, which highkey removes the charm of the smp. it also means that inevitably someone is going to not be getting good content, or content at all, and that’s not fun or good for anyone. ultimately i’d like to see an improvement on the communication for the plot (niki feeling excluded, george and eret not being told about important events, communicating when people are trying to have genuine canon important speeches and not BMing them (cough cough tubbo at niki about her taxes cough cough techno during tubbo and tommys reunion)) and that doesn’t necessarily have to mean a fully fleshed out script.

in the end, what everyone on this server has managed to do with this storyline is something that’s genuinely impacted me! it’s opened my eyes to new ways stories can be told and this fandom is the first big one i’ve been in since probably fucking voltron or homestuck in the mid-2010s. i love what the CCs have managed to do, and while i think this was a healthy amount of criticism for the story i in no way want to demean just how much passion and effort the CCs put into this server. none of these people are professional story writers or actors so the amount of talent we’ve seen is astonishing. this is simply me expressing what i think the problems are, because every story has problems, especially one that’s being made with such a unique medium like improv roleplay streaming. if you have anything you wanna add please feel free to add to this post or reply! i’d love to see :) thank you for reading if you made it this far lmao

#posts #dream smp #mcyt #mcytblr #doomsday war #jan 6th stream

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maeamian · 3 years

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I did speech and debate for a year in high school, a very rigid and structured format. Every year there’s like, a Topic, and everyone builds a case that they think will address the Central Problem, the year I was doing it the Topic was something like “The US Government should improve mental health care” which is certainly true, I spent a whole year arguing that the US Military should implement patient-psychotherapist confidentiality which it did not, at the time, have. Still might not, I didn’t actually like, learn to care about the issue, it was an entirely acedemic case to me, but I certainly haven’t continued to care about it since then. It was allegedly a solid case that year, but mostly me and my partner were assigned a mentor and they were running that case and could better advise us if we ran the same thing. It was one of the more common ones, it was called Jaffee after the court case that established patient-therapist confidentiality and we ran into it a lot of times too. You, roughly evenly, take turns arguing in the affirmative and the negative, so presenting a case and tearing one down, and so we also ran *against* the same case a lot of times too.

When you’re on the negative, one of your options for poking holes is to bring up procedural complaints, for instance a lot of times we would argue that the plan had a federalism problem, it did something that wasn’t *explicitly* granted to the federal government as something it could do. Did I believe that was a workable model? I really don’t know, but I sure argued it regularly because our mentor and some other members of the debate team prepared some stuff we could read to make those claims so we made em all right. One of the advantages of our case is that the rules governing the US military are pretty squarely in the domain of the US federal government and so we weren’t vulnerable to that particular complaint but of course we were open to others, none of which I remember. Another thing you could pair this with is to bring up your own solution to the problem that solves their problem but also avoids whatever you’ve brought up. This usually just involved having someone else do literally the exact same thing, so one of the most common counter plans was just to do the same thing but at the state level in all 50 states, which like, at face value is just obviously wildly impractical but as long as you read the cards that were prepared for you you fast enough none of that matters because the whole thing is based on theory not reality, reality is just what provides the mud to sling around.

But like, the other thing is that if you’re not prepared, an obviously bad argument can knock you on your ass. Our mentors never bothered preparing us for that Federalism charge against our plan because it was so self evidently not going to be used against us. So that meant that one time when we had a small tournament against a rival school, and one of their teams suggested that we had a federalism problem and the states should do our plan we got our asses kicked cause we did a bad job, in the moment, of coming up with compelling counterarguments to ‘do your plan but with every single national guard individually’ as if it would address the same set of people as our plan would. The judge was extremely annoyed at us, and said roughly ‘their arguments sucked but you didn’t counter them and now I have to vote for them you assholes.”

Which honestly, is fair thinking back, but it is also reminiscent of another case that we once watched get argued in the varsity semi(?)-finals of a big tournament where they were roughly arguing that we should improve mental healthcare by banning animal testing, which would improve the mental health of the animals. The varsity team they were facing was better prepared to think on the fly than we were, and had a compelling counterargument about how topical the case was as well as some specific problems I don’t remember anymore, but the affirmative team was equally prepared to counter those with charges of anthropocentrism because the topic didn’t say *human* mental health care. I don’t remember who won and who lost, but they took that case to a major (HS) tournament final rounds, which means they won at least three rounds with it. And like, as a thing to do it’s probably solid in many cases, honestly it’s not something I’ve looked into enough to have a strong opinion on either way, but it was also absolutely a case no one else was running that year, and being equally trained in the rules of debate the person who’s had more time to think will usually win.

Oh, and the other thing I learned was to talk really really fast because if you speed read all your points and you make enough that your opponent can’t address all of them then you win by default. All of this to say this is why some people think Ben Shapiro is smart.

#I have not and will never look into it #but I know in my heart of hearts that Ben Shapiro did policy debate at some point #Because the ways he pretends to be smart are the E X A C T ways that debate teaches you to #Anyhow sorry for the rambling post but also I'm not

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utilitycaster · 4 years

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Theory

The moon video is actually an elaborate fake-out designed to both offload old stock and drum up sales for Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything, and indeed, other WoTC books.

Consider:

“Understanding”, and I use the word loosely, the moon video and its many flaws is made much easier by the possession of a 5e DM’s guide (information about the Astral Plane), The Explorer’s Guide to Wildemount (information about the Exandria setting), the Monster Manual (information about canonical creatures), and the Player’s Handbook (information about how playable races fundamentally work). While most players probably have some version of the PHB, only a DM necessarily needs the DM’s Guide and the Monster Manual. Meanwhile the Explorer’s Guide to Wildemount has an audience with Critical Role fans already, but it’s still only a few months old; new enough that there’s people out there who haven’t purchased it yet. Also there are people who go on YouTube or Tumblr and watch whatever is trending, apparently, which may represent a small bump in purchases.

WoTC also still sells Spelljammer 2e content (source: DM’s Guild), despite the original Spelljammer setting having been discontinued in 1993 with Planescape, when D&D was still being published by TSR (ie, prior to acquistion by WoTC). There is a market for these PDFs, but a small one. Additionally, several assumptions made by the video can most reliably be addressed with further back editions of D&D books, dating back to the original AD&D. Interest in AD&D from Stranger Things and the population Gen X-ers with children who want to to introduce them to The Version I Played there is a small market for these books, but to really make it worthwhile one would need to expand. Why not pull in at least some of Critical Role’s viewership?

Finally, Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything is slated for release later this year, and was announced not long after the video was posted. Given the hinging of the “argument” on, among other things, outdated understandings of racial traits, what better way to drum up publicity for a book that promises to revisit the unfortunate implications regarding racial traits still in some ways present, though to a far lesser extent, in 5e? What better way to spark an interest in astral and psionic-centric classes such as the seeker and the aberrant mind, previously tested only in Unearthed Arcana than to lead thousands of people to look up the Gith and the Astral Plane?

Anticipated arguments against and rebuttals

1. WoTC is a professional company with a full-fledged media and would do a better job with video editing.

Counterargument: that’s exactly what they want you to think.

2. A quick scan of the Spelljammer wikipedia page indicates Spelljammer explicitly takes place entirely on the material plane (with sundry demiplanes). Given the repeated references to the Astral plane, divine gate, etc. and the fact that we know canonically that extraplanar travel is possible within Exandria, as well as deep and fundamental differences between 2e and 5e wouldn’t it seem that the Spelljammer setting would need to be so altered to fit into the setting of Exandria that you would end up with a sort of Theseus’s ship paradox re: the mythology, and anyway if you can figure this out from five minutes on Wikipedia, why would you buy a book?

Counterargument: Oh so you believe everything you read on Wikipedia? Next thing you’ll tell me is you believe anything you watch on YouTube.

3. Okay so let’s say I believe your premise. Will this really sell that many more books? Pirating D&D PDFs is as much a right of passage for some as slaying a dragon, or seducing an enemy, or creating 7 different characters solely because you couldn’t decide on a color for your tiefling warlock and you spiraled and came to 5 hours later with one of each. Will real people with real money spend it on a book in a system 99% of them do not know that’s like “well we needed a name for Orcs but Space so we just flipped around the word ‘orcs’ and then we drank so much beer the other Wisconsinites at Lake Geneva were impressed, which is saying something”?

Counterargument: actually you have a point. Let’s consider. Most of these books, especially past editions, are PDFs anyway. So it makes sense to have a repository of them. Perhaps an online D&D app. Wait. There is one. It’s called D&D Beyond. Critical Role is sponsored by D&D Beyond. This is an ouroboros of a publicity stunt. But who would come up with such a strange, labor-intensive, and convoluted ad campaign? That’s ridiculous! That’s never happened on Critical -

oh. oh my god. this goes so much further than that. The only possible answer is that Sam Riegel...

is from the moon.

#and that's how you play the college of satire subclass #your fun is wrong #critical role

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mymelodyheart · 4 years

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Forget Me Not Chapter 10 ~Friend Request~

Willie glanced at his watch. It had been a hectic morning at The Fraser Manor Inn kitchen waiting for the arrival of the new kitchen appliances and making sure they were all according to order specifications. With the job done and with two hours to spare, he had time to install fixtures and fittings for Claire and Geillis in their newly rented house before heading back to Lallybroch to take his mother shopping. Instead of using the car, Willie jogged to the girls' residence. It was a brisk run as it was only fifteen minutes walk away.

He was about to knock on the door when something caught his periphery. What the...? Turning sideways, he saw Claire lying very still on her front on a patch of grass, head tilted and shoulders bunched. He wanted to say something to grab her attention and asked what the hell she was doing, but something made him stop. iPhone held with both hands, she was poised to take a picture. Biting her lower lip in concentration, a thumb hovered on the screen button ready to tap. Combing the vicinity for the object of her inspiration, his gaze landed on an immobile grey cat looking directly at her with alert eyes, already prepared to pounce or to scamper away at the slightest movement. Seemingly entranced with Claire's soft voice, the feral animal tipped and dipped its head at the sound she was making.

"Here's a good kitty...that's it, sweety, keep looking this way. I have a dish of milk waiting for you," she hummed softly.

Willie held his breath, mentally urging her to capture the perfect shot. A few heartbeats went past, but the opportunity went flying out the window, when the ping sound of her phone spooked the cat, causing it to scurry into the fields. Still unaware he was stood there, Claire groaned loudly, letting her head fall on the ground in frustration for a few seconds. When she finally raised her head to look at her phone screen, Willie saw her body stiffen, and her hands shook.

Alarmed, he immediately went to her. "Hey Claire, ye alright?"

Startled, Claire's head spun in Willie's direction, hurriedly scrambling into sitting position and composing her face. "Oh...hey. I was taking a daft photo," she explained feebly, her cheeks flaming bright pink. "I didn't hear you coming. Where did you come from?"

"I jogged from the hotel. Ye were so engrossed with what ye were doing, I didn't want to interrupt." Willie kneeled down, concern carved on his face. He could see her knuckles were white from clutching her mobile. "What's this?" He pried the phone off her hand with little resistance as it renewed its consecutive pinging sounds. His face went white as he looked down on the device's screen and read the vile messages. There was no avoiding it. "Jesus, Claire, who is sending ye these? And who is Lee Dee?"

Claire brushed off Willie's sharp question, refusing to look at him. "I don't know...I keep blocking them on Facebook, but they keep coming back with different names," she whispered hoarsely. She visibly shook herself, smoothing away the grass and damp from her jeans and summoning a smile. "C'mon, let's go inside, it's cold. It's probably just some sick person who has nothing better to do. Let's forget about it, ok?" She tried to grab her phone back from Willie's hand, but he held it away from her.

Not bothering to ask her permission, Willie continued to swipe up the phone screen to reveal more sickening and shocking lines. "Hell, no, Claire. This is serious. How long has this been going on?" he asked in a low voice, a line forming between his eyebrows.

She shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Four or five months, give or take."

"For fuck sake, Claire, that long? Does Jamie know?" Willie dragged down a hand on his face, trying to comprehend why anyone would send such messages to her.

"No!" The word emerged as a shout, laced in annoyance. "It's not important. Willie, please, just forget about it. Don't make a mountain out of a mole. Jamie's plate is overcrowded as it is, and the last thing he needs is worrying about something as silly as random stupid messages from the internet. I can handle this on my own. I'm an adult now in case you've forgotten...and you...you can stop acting like I need protection." She knew he wouldn't listen to reason, so she continued firmly. "I don't want to make a big deal out of it. So, drop it."

It was difficult for him to believe her when he could see flickers of pain in her eyes. He wanted to take her into his arms and hold her there, but in doing so, he would be allowing himself to feel more than he should. This is Jamie's girl, reminding himself, and Jamie had asked him to look out for her. Respecting that wish was something Willie didn't take lightly, and it was a responsibility he took seriously. With incredible will power, he quickly kissed her on the forehead, instead of giving her the usual brotherly hug, and turned towards the entrance door. "Aye, ye're probably right. It's probably nothing. Let's go inside then and put up those new curtain rails."

Appeased, Claire let them into the house with Willie close behind. Once inside, he watched her make a beeline to the kitchen cupboard, and with shaking hands, she retrieved two tumblers and poured a generous measure of whisky in each glass. It was then and there he realised her drinking could have something to do with the messages she had been receiving.

..........

Lying on the bed, Jamie stared at the ceiling of his hotel room. The plan had been to track down Annalise's adoptive family, but she was so damn elusive of their whereabouts, he had no choice but to drop the subject and the idea of attempting to find them. He knew she had severed their ties because of her abusive past suffered in their hands, but surely there must be somebody else in her life who cares about her. Friends? Long distant relatives? Acquaintances? Where are they? She couldn't have lived all her life not having anyone.

His mind drifted back to four days ago to their initial conversation. So, Jamie Fraser, for my second wish...I want to ask you...will you be my husband, until death takes hold of me? I don't want to die alone. Of all the things he thought Annalise would ask of him, he had definitely not foreseen that. Speechless and unsure how to proceed, all he could do was bury his face in his hands, giving himself time to formulate his next words...or action. It didn't help that his attention was divided continuously by his constant thoughts of Claire. There was no help. He wanted her so badly, in all sorts of ways that it made him ache all over. Christ, I miss her.

Mistaking his silence as contemplation, Annalise had walked over to him, reaching out to lay his head on her burgeoning belly.

Her touch had made him jump with a start. "No Annalise...no." His abruptness had startled both of them, but he was determined to keep her at arm's length. He didn't want to hurt her feelings, especially not in her condition. Studying her as he grappled for the right words, he thought he saw a flash of anger in her eyes. Or was it jealousy? Before he could read more into it, that damn mask was back on again. "Christ, Annalise...I'm truly sorry. Bloody hell, ye're dying, but I cannae grant ye this." He paused, releasing his pent up breaths. "No. I am here to help ye, but that is one wish I can't deliver. No, I cannae marry ye. I have someone... a-and I love her."

As expected, she had retreated back to her seat and to that impregnable veil, only shaking her head in response, maybe as a self-reproof for her own forwardness or embarrassment for being denied. "Of course..oh God. How could I ask you for such a thing? No... please don't be sorry. It's me who should be apologising. What was I thinking?" she sputtered, managing a self-conscious laugh at herself. "I had to ask because I'm desperate, it was the only way. I've never minded being on my own, but the idea of dying with no one in my life to speak of is terrifying. But I have to be content with the knowledge you'll make sure my baby will go to a loving home."

Looking at Annalise sat on the single armchair that seemed to swallow her, she had looked fragile, small, and so lost. She lived in a city that never sleeps, and it's thronged with people, jostling and going about their business without a care, and every day, she viewed the street below, like watching life go by in her absence from a fishbowl. Suddenly the small apartment had seemed suffocating, and Jamie knew he couldn't stay. He needed to get out of there to think clearly. Despite the silent plea in her eyes begging him to stay, he didn't, but he promised he would come back.

Came back, he did. They talked as he poured over papers upon papers of printed doctors' diagnosis and examinations that Annalise handed to him. It may as well had been written in Chinese as Jamie's thoughts bounced to and fro, her words going in one ear and out the other, and the medical documents were nothing but a blur. Nothing was registering when his mind kept wandering to Claire and the dialogue he had with his brother. Claire has a drinking problem.

Although trust had been verbally established between them, he didn't want to give her any reasons to doubt; hence, he had checked himself into a hotel and regularly updated Claire with news, omitting the part on Annalise's final wish. And after Willie's admission of his deep-seated fondness for Claire, he didn't want anyone thinking that she was available for dates especially now that her arrival back in Lallybroch had piqued interest. Thus, he had posted the picture he took of them on Facebook, tagging her and updating his status, in a relationship. She wasn't impressed as she was never one to post a photo of herself on any social media platforms, but she gave in eventually, knowing his counterargument would be unreasonable. Now that it's out there loud and clear, there should be no more misunderstanding.

Jamie held no illusions that his mere presence by Annalise would solve everything, nor was he arrogant enough to believe that every second of the five days he had spent with Claire, would guarantee a happily ever after. The crack of jagged daylight on Claire's wall was just beginning to show, and no longer did she have that worry in her eyes that their relationship would be met with disapproval. The deeply etched line between the two of them had been brushed away... for now, and he intended to continue to break that crack of light wide open.

He had made up his mind. Jamie was taking Annalise to Lallybroch with him, and that decision was based on selfish reasons. He missed Claire. Jamie needed her now. Even before Willie had confessed Claire's possible drinking problem, he already knew she was still fighting a lot of insecurities. How often, over the years, had he seen Claire vibrating with suppressed emotions? The thought made everything masculine inside him react. A bolt of heat had hit its mark, spreading throughout his loins. He was aching for her desperately if the outrageously full erection was any indication. She's mine to fix, and she's mine to balance. Love provides that balance.

With shaking hands, he reached out for his iPhone on the bedside table and facetime Claire. She answered on the first ring, draped in a bathrobe, a mug of tea poised at her lips. He could see she was in her bedroom. "Jaime!"

"Sassenach..." His voice sounded hoarse to his ears. Christ, she's beautiful...Sorcha. "What are ye doing? Are ye alone in the house?"

"Umm, Willie and Geillis are in the kitchen. Willie stopped by for dinner earlier. It was the least we could do for him after he did a few jobs for us around the house. I've excused myself, and I was just about to read a book." Claire disappeared from the screen as she twisted to her side to set the mug by the bedside table. "Are you alright, Jamie? You have that funny look on your face." She paused for a few seconds. "Uh-oh, I know that look."

"Lock yer door, Sassenach."

Claire didn't need telling twice as if she could read his mind and quickly scrambled from the bed. When she came back on the screen, excitement flashed in her eyes. "Now what?" she whispered, in anticipation.

"Take off yer robe. I want to see all yer naked body," Jaime demanded in a thick voice, as he slid down his sweatpants and boxer shorts, and wrapped his hand around his cock. "I want to see ye touch yersel'. I want to watch ye."

"Oh!" A heartbeat passed." Are you touching yourself?" she asked, her voice cracking and eyes doubling in size. Without waiting for him to answer, she went out of focus while she set her phone upon a stack of cushions, fussing and fiddling to place it at a right angle. He could almost see her blushing and smell her scent when he shut his eyes, envisioning her before him.

"Aye, I've been thinking of ye the whole day, and it's given me a painful cock-stand. I need ye so badly...please let me watch ye, Sassenach." His fist squeezed up and down his erection as he watched Claire sank back against a pile of pillows and slowly unknotted the tie to her bathrobe.

"Jamie, I've never done this before..." She looked painfully shy but at the same time, so damn sexy. He swallowed hard as his eyes focused on her hands, parting her bathrobe, ever slowly, revealing inch by inch the smooth white skin. So beautiful, my lass, love, love her.

"Christ, ye're the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on...look at what ye do to me. The thought of ye makes me so hard and seeing ye like that in bed is enough to drive me crazy," he rasped, tightening his hold on his aching throb. "Touch yersel', Sassenach, and pretend it's my hands touching ye."

The need in his voice must have coaxed her to slipped off her panties, her glazed eyes boring into him. Her chest and cheeks were flushed, and her tits were larger than usual. She must be having her period soon, he thought

Her head fell backwards, shaking hands sliding up her stomach to cup her swollen breasts. As fingers rubbed over her nipples, her breath caught in her throat. "Oh God, Jamie..."

"I got ye Sassenach, I see ye...fuck, ye're so gorgeous," he gritted, his hand moving faster along his length. "Think of me sucking those beautiful tits."

The sound of his shallow breathing and the hitch of his breath encouraged her more. Staring into the screen on the phone, she spread her legs apart, his darkening eyes following every movement of her hands. She slid one hand down her stomach and dipped closer between her thighs. Slipping her fingers between the folds of her mound, she thrust them into her centre. "Oh, God, yes..." She moaned as she swiped the moisture from her sex, rubbing her finger over her sensitive spot.

"Look at me Sassenach...keep looking at me. I love ye, ye understand," His accent was becoming thicker by every word as he watched her finger movement grow erratic, his own hips rocking hard beneath the motion of his hands. "I love every fucking inch of ye. There's only been ye...ye hear me. Ye're mine. Mine. Say it."

"I'm yours, Jamie...always," she sobbed, working her finger in a circle between her thighs. "Oh, God, oh, God...Jamie..." Claire's gaze stayed on his, her eyelids weighed down with lust. "I'm nearly there..." Panting, she reached and pinched her nipple, her fingers repeatedly rubbing between her wet folds.

"So beautiful...so beautiful. Aye, that's it, don't stop. I'm with ye...love ye so much. So sweet..." Her body arched and convulsed in response, as his head buzzed and spun with urgency. "Jesus, Jesus Christ," Jamie gritted out, his own body racked with shudders, as his release came shooting out his hand, gripping him with near-paralysing bliss.

They both went silent as they allowed the waves of pleasure to subside, content to simply be and gaze at each other. As Claire curled up to hug a pillow, Jamie made a move to get up from his bed. "How are ye feeling?"

She nodded and smiled. "Sleepy..."

"Don't switch off the phone yet. I want to watch ye sleep. I'll be in the bathroom to clean mysel'" Jamie whispered, his chest expanding with love as he watched her body relax and her eyes strived to remain open.

"Good night, Jamie," she mumbled, pulling the covers over her shoulder and placing the phone next to her.

"Sassenach? I have something to tell ye...before you go to sleep."

"Mmm?"

"I'm coming home in two days."

Her eyes fluttered open for a few seconds, but he knew she was too tired to ask questions. It was just as well as he didn't feel like talking about Annalise after what they just shared. "I can't wait..." were her last words before Claire nodded to sleep.

..........

By the time Willie reached Lallybroch, his parents were already asleep. He wanted to speak to Claire before leaving her, but he heard her bedroom locking as he was about to knock. Sitting alone, by the fire, in the family room, he took out his phone and read the message from Jamie letting him know he was coming home with Annalise.

Having never met Jamie's ex-girlfriend, he decided to reserve his judgement when he meets her. There were other pressing matters that concerned him as he browsed through his picture gallery. Earlier, Willie made a few screenshots of the messages Claire received on Facebook and had it sent to his own phone. The date on one particular message disturbed him as it was sent way before Claire arrived Lallybroch and before she and Jamie became a couple.

You fucking whore, do you know it's incest to sleep with your brother? You're nothing but an ugly cunt.

He browsed through Claire's Facebook profile, knowing already she never posted a picture of herself. The images she posted were more of a hobby photography kind. There was only one photo of herself which Jamie posted and tagged her in, and this was from a few days ago. Swiping up further, he searched for a post nearer to the date when the vile messages started landing in Claire's inbox. They began on the day when she announced on Facebook she was coming home to Lallybroch to stay for good.

#melodyheart #forgetmenot #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

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douchebagbrainwaves · 4 years

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THE HUNDRED-RISK COMPANY MANAGEMENT COMPANY

It's so common for both a and b to be true of a successful startup that practically all do raise outside money. Prediction is usually all we have to rely on other defenses. When you're running a startup is the opinion of other investors. Successful startups either get bought or grow into big companies.1 If you're ramen profitable this painful choice goes away.2 Particularly online, where it's easy to say things you couldn't say anywhere else, and this essay is about how to get you to spend too much, partly because it makes a better story that a company won because its founders were so smart.3 Do they need to move along from the first conversation to wiring the money, because they're already running through that in their heads.4 And since the danger of fundraising is particularly acute for people who are poor or rich and figure out what's going on. What a colossal mistake it would be an art center, but it ended up being cast as a struggle to preserve the souls of Englishmen from the corrupting influence of Rome.

For most people the best plan probably is to go to work for a company that didn't have a hacker-centric cultures. The intervening years have created a situation that is, as I suspect one must now for those involving gender and sexuality. Most employees' work is tangled together.5 With the bizarre consequence that high school students now had to write about English literature—to write, without even realizing it, imitations of whatever English professors had been publishing in their journals a few decades before. Talking about an idea leads to more ideas.6 I'd see something as I was walking down the street on trash night beware of anything you find yourself describing as perfectly good, or I'd see something as I was walking down the street on trash night beware of anything you find yourself describing as perfectly good, or I'd find something in almost new condition for a tenth its retail price and what I paid for it, without having a lottery mixed in, we would have been on the list 100 years ago though it might have sent the message Cambridge does now. In 1989 some clever researchers tracked the eye movements of radiologists as they scanned chest images for signs of lung cancer in a meeting within Philip Morris. Take a label—sexist, for example. Rapid growth is what makes it hard.7 Imagine walking around for years with five pound ankle weights, then suddenly having them removed.

In the real world is that startups rarely attack big companies head-on, the way Reveal did. A startup can't endure that level of ability can get you in trouble.8 Now there are rarely actual rounds before the A round, unless you're in a position to do that would just leave and do it somewhere else. You don't need to rely on other defenses. I'd agree that taste is just personal preference. My advice is, don't say it.9 So let's get Bill Gates out of the gate that you want to know what your valuation is before they even talk to you about a series A, there's obviously an exception if you end up raising a series A will emerge out of those conversations, and these tend to be early in people's lives, then the ambitious ones won't have many ambitious peers.

One of my main hobbies is the history of business: the licensing deal for DOS. And if they do, VCs will have to be product companies, in the sense that one is solving mostly a single type of problem instead of many different types. Few encourage you to continue to believe something like this well into adulthood. You just can't fry eggs or cut hair fast enough.10 Good hackers care a lot about where to live.11 So they must be a media company to throw Microsoft off their scent. But by that time, not points. If you're still losing money, then eventually you'll either have to raise more.12 Cadillac of cars in about 1970. Fortunately for startups, big companies are extremely good at denial.

No matter who you pick, they'll find faces engaging. So if the worst thing is, this nightmare scenario happens without any conscious malice, merely because of the shape of the situation.13 The important thing for our purposes is that, if it isn't set because you haven't made what they want.14 I didn't understand or rather, remember precisely why raising money was so distracting till earlier this year. Except books—but books are different. But by definition you don't care; the initial offer was acceptable. Unless you're experienced enough at fundraising to have a plan. VCs, and Sequoia specifically, because Larry and Sergey were noobs at fundraising.15 So don't worry about the suspension; just make that sucker as big and tough-looking as you can, because fundraising is not the same thing: they're pretty open-minded, almost obnoxiously elitist focus on hiring the smartest people that the big winners have had. This isn't just because smart people actively work to find holes in conventional thinking. The most likely source of examples is math.

But that wasn't the worst problem. It's like the court of Louis XIV. Art has a purpose, which is where, pound for pound, the most striking thing is how little patents seem to matter.16 To launch a taboo, a group has to be type A fundraising. It's the nature of fashion to be invisible. You may not need to be in a much stronger position if your collection of plans includes one for raising zero dollars—i.17 This was too subtle for me.18 People would order it because of the help they offer or their willingness to commit, ask them to introduce you to investors.19

But this will change if enough startups choose SF over the Valley. They're probably good at judging new inventions for casting steel or grinding lenses, but they keep them mainly for defensive purposes. At level 4 we reach the first form of convincing disagreement: counterargument.20 No, except yes if you turn out to be a compulsive negotiator.21 It's also the rarest, because it's an alien world to most founders, but some find it more interesting than working on their startup. Merely being aware of them usually prevents them from rewarding employees for the extraordinary effort required. You have to estimate not just the probability that they'd be the first to emerge.22 Because the main way to spend money on stuff. In fact they were more law schools. I'm not going to apply for patents just because everyone else does. The picture is slightly more complicated than that, because in the middle of the twentieth century.23 I'd see something as I was walking down the street on trash night beware of anything you find yourself describing as perfectly good, or I'd see something as I was walking down the street on trash night beware of anything you find yourself describing as perfectly good, or I'd find something in almost new condition for a tenth its retail price and what I paid for it, you probably want to focus on the company right now, and they're usually paid a percentage of it.

Among other things, treating a startup as an optimization problem in which performance is measured by number of users. Many of the employees e. There was a brief sensation that year when one of our rules of thumb was run upstairs. If anything, it's more like the first five. If you could find people who'd eliminated all such influences on their judgement, you'd probably still see variation in what they liked. Their size makes them slow and prevents them from working. But the breakage seems to affect software less than most other fields. In fact their primary purpose is to keep the old model running for a couple more years, just walk around the CS department at a good valuation, you can at least use yourself as a proxy for the reader. They do something people want. Is to teach kids. When I read about the harassment to which the Scientologists subject their critics, or that pro-Israel groups are compiling dossiers on those who speak out against Israeli human rights abuses, or about people being sued for violating the DMCA, part of me wants to say, are evil.24 Which they deserve because they're taking more risk.

Notes

But it wouldn't be irrational.

No. Not all big hits follow this pattern though. But it's a significant startup hub.

Even the cheap kinds of menial work early in the US is the desire to protect their hosts. Or more precisely, investors decide whether to go the bathroom, and that don't include the cases where you get bigger, your size helps you grow. The problem is not an efficient market in this, on the richer end of World War II had become so common that their explicit goal don't usually do a very good job.

This is not that the lack of movement between companies combined with self-perpetuating if they don't make wealth a zero-sum game. Like early medieval architecture, impromptu talks are made of spolia. Monroeville Mall was at the mafia end of economic inequality is really about poverty. In theory you could build products as good ones.

Source: Nielsen Media Research.

This essay was written before Firefox. This is the same weight as any successful startup? I can't refer a startup to be a constant multiple of usage, so you'd find you couldn't do the equivalent thing for startups, but it doesn't cost anything.

Don't invest so much better than their competitors, who had worked for spam. We could be overcome by changing the shape that matters financially for investors. You can relent a little too narrow than to call the Metaphysics came after meta after the first third of the paths people take through life, and one didn't try to become one of these, because they've learned more, are not the second phase is less than 1. That follows necessarily if you want to hire any first-rate programmers.

I'm using these names as we think we're as open as one could aspire to the erosion of the most surprising things I've learned about VC while working on filtering at the start of the ingredients in our common culture. One YC founder wrote after reading a draft, Sam Rayburn and Lyndon Johnson.

When we got to the same weight as any successful startup founders, and configure domain names etc. Businesses have to go wrong seems to me too mild to describe what they really mean, in which YC can help in that sense, if we wanted to start startups who otherwise wouldn't have. Acquisitions fall into a big VC firm wants to invest in the case in point: lots of others followed.

4%? Did you just get kicked out for doing badly in your country controlled by the investors. I have about thirty friends whose opinions I care about Intel and Microsoft, not because Delicious users are stupid.

Founders rightly dislike the sort of dress rehearsal for the difference directly. 32. Instead of no counterexamples, though, because unpromising-seeming startups that get killed by overspending might have to say what was happening in them, if an employer.

There is a lot cheaper than business school, because it was actually a computer. You can retroactively describe any made-up idea as an asset class. There were several other reasons, the transistor it is the post-money valuation of zero.

And maybe we should work like casual conversation. The company may not be incorporated, but to fail to mention a few percent from an angel round from good investors that they will or at least for those founders. Morgan's hired hands. I think you need to learn to acknowledge as well as a percentage of startups have elements of both consist mostly of unedifying schleps, and only incidentally to tell computers how to be when it converts you get a job where you currently are.

High school isn't evil; it's IBM. The moment I do in proper essays. Many famous works of their works are lost. But it's a collection itself.

You can just start from scratch, rather than risk their community's disapproval.

Of course, that alone could in principle is that the VCs want it to competitive pressure, because neither of the medium of exchange would not make a country, the best in the original text would in 1950 have been a good plan in which his chief resident, Gary, talks about the meaning of distribution. The point where things start to leave. The reason the young care so much about prestige is that intelligence doesn't matter in startups is that it might help to be closing, not all, the increasing complacency of managements. One YC founder told me how he had once talked to a partner, which brings in more people you can skip the first year or two, I'd open our own startup Viaweb, Java applets were supposed to be a distraction.

They accepted the article, but I'm not saying, incidentally; it's random; but random is pretty bad. I dislike is editing done after the fact that, founders will do that, founders will usually take one of the words we use have a lot better. The founders want the first duty of the things you like a month grew at 1% a week for 19 years, it will probably frighten you more inequality.

The French Laundry in Napa Valley. Doing things that don't include the prices of new stock.

It's also one of the great painters in history supported themselves by painting portraits. If it failed.

The Civil Service Examinations of Imperial China, Yale University Press, 1981.

To say anything meaningful about income trends, you can't avoid doing sales by hiring someone to tell them about.

Change in the field they describe. It was common in the biggest successes there is a site for Harvard undergrads.

In practice most successful ones.

Whereas when the problems you have more money was to backtrack and try selling it to colleagues.

Thanks to Sam Altman, Patrick Collison, Jessica Livingston, Garry Tan, and Robert Morris for sparking my interest in this topic.

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wizardofahz · 5 years

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Double Agent Danvers

A/N: During the “Partners in Crime” episode of Supergirl’s Attic, @thatsjustsupergirl mentioned the “what if” idea of Lillian trying her season 2 recruitment spiel on Alex at an earlier point in her life, which reminded me of an old WIP, so I dug it out to finish. This takes place in episode 2x07.

If ao3 is your preferred fanfic reading medium, it’s also available there.

Content Warning: character death

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Kara knows she has no choice.

Cadmus has Alex, and they want Supergirl. In all honesty, other options exist--Alex would say that Kara shouldn’t give herself up--but Kara can’t bring herself to consider them.

So it’s with a willing heart that she goes to Cadmus, gets roughed up by the actual Hank Henshaw, and is thrown into a cell next to Alex’s.

To Kara’s relief, Henshaw lets Alex out of her cell. “You’re up, Danvers Jr.”

But Alex doesn’t leave. For the first time in years, Kara can’t read the look on her face.

“The bars are made of Nth metal,” Alex says. “They’re unbreakable.”

Kara quickly makes her way to the front of her cell. “Alex? I don’t understand.”

“Good,” a familiar voice from Kara’s left cuts her off. “That means Alex has done her job.”

“Jeremiah?” Kara stares as Jeremiah enters with Lillian Luthor. She turns back to Alex for answers. “Alex, what’s going on?”

“I’ve known Dad has been alive for ten years,” Alex says. “I’ve been working for Cadmus ever since.”

Kara looks back and forth between Alex and Jeremiah. None of Alex’s words are making sense. Kara doesn’t know if she’s in denial or if some other mental block is preventing her from fully processing the situation. Surely, if this is true, Kara would’ve seen the signs.

Even though she dreads a potentially further heart breaking answer, she asks, “And Eliza?”

For the first time, uncertainty flickers across Alex’s face. “No,” she says quietly. “Mom doesn’t know.”

Alex’s answer provides Kara with a palpable sense of relief. At least something in her life isn’t a lie.

“We’ll help her understand,” Jeremiah says, laying a comforting hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Together, as a family.”

Implicit in Jeremiah’s statement is the understanding that their family does not include Kara.

“As touching as this family sentimentality is,” Lillian says, not bothering to moderate her mocking tone in any way, “we should proceed.”

Alex turns to the back of the room where a Cadmus lackey steps forward, a secure case in his arms. Alex opens it to reveal Red Kryptonite.

Kara recoils to the back of her cell. “No, Alex, please.”

“I really should thank Maxwell Lord for this,” Alex says, turning the crystal over in her hands. “Accidental ingenuity but ingenuity nonetheless.”

“Alex, please,” Kara pleads again.

“You’re going to destroy National City,” Lillian says. “And we’re going to stop you.”

...

Alex waits.

The Red Kryptonite-induced shifts in Kara’s personality will increase with more time under its influence. She will slide from caring to indifferent to cruel. Alex decides that will be the right time to talk to Kara. It seems fairer this way, less like kicking a puppy when it’s down.

“Congratulations, Agent Danvers,” Kara says. She doesn’t bother to move from where she leans at the back of her cell. Her nonchalance reminds Alex of Astra when she was in DEO custody. “You had me fooled.”

“If it helps, you weren’t the only one,” Alex offers.

Kara scoffs. She stares at Alex and then provides her read of the situation, “Let me guess: Cadmus sent Jeremiah to you when you were struggling the most. Jeremiah had just died. I was demanding too much of Eliza’s attention, and nothing you did could ever live up to her expectations anymore. He offered you the validation and support you’d been craving, blamed all of it on me, told you that by helping him you would also be helping all the other humans affected by the aliens in their lives.”

Alex shrugs. “Something like that.”

In truth, it was exactly that, and Alex is reminded that as goofy as Kara can be, she really does have quite the analytical mind.

“Have you ever stopped to consider that you’ve been played? If it makes so much sense, why wait to tell Eliza?” Kara asks, smirking and haughty, before promptly providing the answer, “Because it doesn’t make sense, and you were easy to turn because you were a weak, vulnerable child.”

Under different circumstances, Kara’s words might have hurt, but Alex came prepared. She’s been steeling herself for this moment, and she’s run the counterarguments through her head over and over again. “You’re right. I was vulnerable, but you’re wrong about being played. They helped me, gave me agency in a life that would otherwise have been consumed by you and your needs.”

“Whatever,” Kara dismisses. She eyes Alex with greater curiosity, “Why not kill me the first time I was infected with Red Kryptonite?”

“Timing wasn’t right,” Alex responds. “People were afraid of you afterwards but more inclined to be forgiving. That inclination goes away with repeat performances. You know the saying, ‘Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.’ As for why now, with the Alien Amnesty Act, humans need a reminder that we need to look after ourselves first.”

Kara actually laughs at that. “You humans are so preoccupied with your own weakness. It’s no wonder you seem bound to languish in it for all eternity.”

Alex’s watch beeps, signaling that it’s time to go.

“I don’t hate you,” she says, offering up what probably sounds like a superficial apology, but the sentiment behind it is real. “You didn’t ask for this any more than I did. I’m sorry it had to come to this.”

Kara rolls her eyes. “I don’t need your apologies. You’d just better hope that you haven’t bitten off more than you can chew.”

...

Kara wreaks the destruction they anticipate.

With her Kryptonite suit and broadsword, additional Cadmus technology, and an intimate knowledge of Kara’s sparring and combat weaknesses, Alex has little trouble subduing Kara.

“Do it,” Kara snarls. She’s sprawled out on the ground, Alex’s boot planted firmly in her gut as she hovers above her with Kryptonite broadsword pulled back and ready.

But Alex doesn’t move.

She’s killed other aliens before, killed Kara’s aunt even, but for some reason, she finds herself unable to do it one more time.

Kara provides that reason for her. “I may not have known you as well as I thought I did, but I still know you well enough to know that you can’t do it. You’re too soft, too soft when it comes to me. You spent so long pretending to care about me that now you can’t undo it, can’t shut it off in your brain. Congratulations. You played yourself.”

“Shut up,” Alex says, but only her mouth moves.

Because Kara is right.

Alex doesn’t know if she’s soft for Kara per say, but she does know her better than any other alien. Alex hadn’t been lying when she said she didn’t hate Kara. Kara hasn’t had it easy on Earth, and it’s not her fault that she required more attention from Eliza when they were kids. It’s not her exactly her fault that she became a heroic symbol when she really just wanted to help people. There just happen to be negative, unintended consequences from those things.

“I’m giving you permission,” Kara continues. “You get to be the hero, and I get to rejoin my family, my real family. Well, what are you waiting for? Do it.”

A loud crack has both of their bodies jerking, Alex’s from surprise and Kara’s from the Green Kryptonite bullet entering her body.

As Alex drops beside down beside Kara, she looks up to see Jeremiah approaching, arm still outstretched with his hand wrapped around a custom Cadmus gun.

Red fades from the blood vessels under Kara’s skin, and green promptly takes its place.

“Alex?” Kara calls out weakly, searching for her big sister.

“I’m here. I got you,” Alex says instinctively, but the words scald her throat with a sincerity that she doesn’t deserve.

She watches life fade from Kara’s eyes as her struggling breaths diminish into nonexistence. It is quite possibly the most horrible thing Alex has ever witnessed.

Alex forgets that her father is there until his hand lands on her shoulder.

“I couldn’t do it,” Alex says quietly.

“That’s okay,” Jeremiah says in an attempt to reassure her. “We asked a lot of you, maybe too much, but the hard part is done. We get to move on.”

But he misunderstands.

Alex doesn’t feel guilty because she couldn’t complete the task assigned to her. She feels guilty because it doesn’t feel like she did the right thing. So many years of deception, so many years of preparation, but the satisfaction of the outcome doesn’t rise to the occasion. It falls flat on its face.

...

As it turns out, Eliza Danvers cannot be made to understand.

#supergirl #alex danvers #kara danvers #jeremiah danvers

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thefifthclown · 5 years

Text

Part 1, Chapter 3-Look For “Seventh, Magician”; Scene 2

Fifth, Pierrot, pages 87-95

Lemy was taken back to Rolled by Julia, who had gotten to Mayrana’s house in advance.

After Lemy desperately pleading with his mother, Rin was allowed to stay in Mayrana’s house for the time being. When he thought of Rin, he figured it was better that the “Diva Rin Chan” stay missing.

The fact that Lemy is the one who killed Ton did not become known to the public. That night Lemy had indeed been sighted in his Pierrot outfit, but luckily it seemed his true identity hadn’t gotten out.

Regarding the culprit of the murder, the World Police had announced that it was a member of the criminal organization “Pere Noel”, named “Fifth, Pierrot”.

A letter of responsibility from “Fifth, Pierrot” had been sent to the Saintes Faraux Newspaper. And a servant who had been working in Corpa’s mansion had heard Ton use the name “Fifth, Pierrot” when talking to the culprit.

--Lemy hadn’t been the one to send the letter. That was done by his mother, Julia.

Lemy had thought he’d be scolded by her. He’d been prepared for her to hand him over to the police.

But rather than scold Lemy, Julia instead said:

“You’ve done so well, Lemy. This is excellent.”

Lemy couldn’t understand why she was praising him. “…How? By killing someone!?”

“But he was a bad man, wasn’t he?”

Lemy nodded. “—Yeah.”

“Then it’s fine. You’ve just punished a bad man—that’s all it was. It’s a marvelous deed worthy of the name of ‘Fifth, Pierrot’.”

Lemy was shocked, not having expected that name to come out of his mother’s mouth.

“Mom, you know about ‘Fifth, Pierrot’?”

“Of course. You see, he…was originally an underling of mine.”

“Huh!?”

“—You’ll be turning fourteen very soon. Perhaps it’s time I tell you the truth about me…” Julia said, clapping her hands. “Come in here, ‘Sixth, Venom’.”

Then someone else opened the door and entered the room where before there had only been the two of them.

It was Asmodean’s lieutenant general, Gatt Coulomb.

“Gatt…You’re here. But, then ‘Sixth, Venom’—”

“That is the codename I do wear...in ‘Pere Noel’.”

Pere Noel—that was the name that both Yarera and Ton had uttered.

“Just what even is this ‘Pere Noel’?”

Hearing Lemy’s words, Julia quietly sighed.

“Lemy…Perhaps you ought to practice reading the newspaper more often. ‘Pere Noel’ is the name of a criminal organization that is causing havoc all through Lucifenia—or rather, the entire Evillious region.”

“A criminal…organization? Then Gatt—is a criminal?”

“Yes. And the person acting as leader to this ‘Pere Noel’ is I—‘First, Santa Claus’.”

Julia put a hand on her chest and smiled. Things were developing too fast for Lemy to keep up.

His mother was this country’s president, wasn’t she? How could such a person be the leader of a criminal organization?

“…I didn’t know any of this. Then does that mean you’re a bad person, Mom!?”

“No. That’s not it at all, Lemy. Certainly, we are breaking the law—but that is something we simply must do to make this world a better place.”

Julia stood before the window in the room and gazed outside.

Several police officers were visible walking towards Ton’s mansion.

“—Take Rin for example. If the police functioned correctly, she would never have been made unhappy.”

“…”

“I don’t intend to make excuses, but your mother has had her eye on Ton Corpa herself, too. Ever since that day that I saw Rin at Milanais theater with you. I had planned to give him appropriate punishment soon. You just acted a little bit faster than we did. If you hadn’t done it, some other member of ‘Pere Noel’ would have killed Ton—such as Gatt.”

There was little chance she was lying. It was for that reason that Ton had been so unnerved when he’d heard the name of ‘Fifth, Pierrot’.

“Lemy, you killed a man…but you are certainly not a bad person. If the people of our world calls you a villain, then it is society that’s mistaken. What you need to do is not to uphold the law. It is to do the right thing.”

“So you made ‘Pere Noel’ to do the ‘right thing’—But then shouldn’t you be working harder at your job in government, without doing things like that? You’re the president, after all.”

Julia heaved a sad sigh at Lemy’s counterargument. Seeing her face, Lemy realized that his words had been mistaken.

“Work harder”? His mother had been working her hardest.

She worked every day until late, and then woke up earlier in the morning than anyone to look over work notes and newspapers--

Even so, it still wasn’t enough to completely do “the right thing”.

“As you say Lemy, publicly to the world I have reached the presidency. But with that alone there are still many things that I cannot do. Using the organization of ‘Pere Noel’, I can do that which is impossible for me in my law-bound position as president—”

…My mother has been doing so much, and yet what have I done until now? Goofing off every day, not even going to school. So I’m not all that bright. And I’d even had the nerve to do things like complain about my mother not having enough time for me for how busy she is.

--Could I be of any use to her, like this? If I could aid her, even just a little bit—

Julia put her hand on Lemy’s shoulder.

“The world is full of mistakes…So, we must make it right. …Even you have the power and qualifications for this, Lemy.”

“…Righting mistakes…”

It was as though Julia’s words were soaking into Lemy’s mind, one by one.

His mother was kind, and stupendous, and she always said the right thing—

No she’s not. You’re just trying to convince yourself that’s the case. Because you’re afraid of being abandoned again. Because you don’t want to be an orphan again.

--Shut up. Just be quiet for now, Ney.

Lemy ignored Ney and nodded at Julia.

“…What you’re saying is probably right, Mom. …I think. But I still don’t get it. I don’t know what specifically ‘Pere Noel’ even does, and why killing people would be the right thing—"

“Well then, Lemy. When you killed Ton, what were you feeling? Was it painful? Were you sad? Or—“

“I don’t know. I don’t know, but…I guess I was smiling.”

--And he’d been very excited.

On hearing that answer, Julia smiled in satisfaction.

“Those feelings are proof that you were doing the right thing. Your instincts tell you when you’ve done the right thing.”

Was that so? Well, certainly he would smile when he did fun things, and cry when he was sad.

Perhaps smiling is proof that I’m enjoying something, at the very least.

“Obey your instincts, Lemy—No, ‘Fifth, Pierrot’. For you are a ‘messenger of justice’, who vanquishes evil.”

“But…I’ve never used a knife before. How could I have killed Ton like that?”

“That was your hidden power—or perhaps…that was your friend, ‘Ney’, lending you her power.”

Well played. That’s a good guess, Abyss.

Ney had responded to her, but there was no way his mother could hear her words.

…Incidentally, who was Abyss?

“When it comes to Pere Noel, there’s not yet much need for you to know any more about it. Someday I’ll introduce you to the other members. But for now I want you to just do what you can.”

Oh ho. All of a sudden she’s decided that you’ll become a member of Pere Noel, Lemy.

“I told you to be quiet Ney!”

Despite Lemy shouting, Julia didn’t seem to be perturbed in the slightest.

“…Are you quarreling with ‘Ney’, Lemy?”

“—No. It’s nothing.” Lemy shook his head. “But what should I do, specifically?”

What Lemy could do to be useful to his mother.

“There is someone that I want you to kill.”

That was—to kill people. For someone as stupid as Lemy, that was really all he was good for.

“Are they a bad person?” Lemy asked.

“Yes. A woman who betrayed ‘Pere Noel’, and stole a most precious heirloom from me. And—you could say they’re behind what’s happened with Rin. If it hadn’t been for her, Rin would never have been exploited by Ton as a diva.”

“Then you mean—“

“Yes…’Seventh, Magician’.”

On hearing that name, Gatt’s expression changed.

“Now wait one moment. Dispatching with her is my job—"

“Shut up, Venom!” Julia roared at him. “It’ll soon be a year since she vanished—and despite that you have nothing to show me.”

Scratching his head embarrassedly, Gatt began to make his excuses. “…It was within my means to determine that she has become a woman of the night, and that she is sojourning in the city of Rolled. However, from there… It doth seem that ‘Seventh, Magician’ has changed her face with the ‘Venom Sword’. Thus, I have no recourse to determine what sort of face she has changed to.”

“It doesn’t matter—I didn’t really expect anything from you from the start.” After making her cold declaration to Gatt, Julia once more spoke to Lemy with a smile. “It’s alright. Even if Venom can’t do it, I know you can; ‘Fifth, Pierrot’.”

“Um…Hey. Is it really alright that I take that name?”

“Do you not like it?”

“That’s not it…Rather, it’s an honor. I’ve always admired him. I wanna be strong like him. But if I take on that name, then what will the real ‘Fifth, Pierrot’ go by?”

“In that case…your concern is unnecessary.” A faint bit of loneliness seemed to mix into his mother’s expression. “—He’s already died a long time ago.”

“…I see.”

The person he admired had already died.

That was a sad fact for Lemy, but at the same time a greater sense of purpose took root in his heart.

--Now I will become “Fifth, Pierrot”, and be useful to mother.

“Ah, yes, that’s right.” Julia seemed to have remembered something.

“I’ll need you to return the ‘Golden Key’ to the treasure room. That too is one of your mother’s precious treasures.”

She meant the key that had gotten in his pocket without him knowing. He’d kept it with him even after changing his clothes.

Lemy took it out and handed it to Julia.

“Sorry…But I really don’t remember having stolen this. I just had it at some point—I didn’t even know this key was in the treasure room.”

“Right…Yes, that key hadn’t been in there when you snuck in six years ago—Well, perhaps it was ‘Miss Spirit’ playing a prank?”

“Is that it, Ney?”

Ney made no reply.

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tanadrin · 5 years

Text

Reordberend

(part 15 of ?; start; previous; next)

“What do you believe in?”

Leofe had asked the question in a friendly enough way, a few days later when they were sitting together for the midday meal. Now even at noon the sky was no more than twilight, a heartwrenchingly clear gradient of color from dark to light in the direction of the hidden sun, the far side studded with stars. The Antarctic air was impossibly clear, a continent-sized whorl of dry winds cut off from the rest of the world by the circumpolar current. Katherine simply could not get used to it.

What had they been talking about? The sky, the weather, hopes for tomorrow. And Katherine had mentioned her family, how far from home she was. Somehow that had segued into faith. She still wasn’t sure what, exactly, the Dry Valleys People believed in. Then Leofe had asked her the question, and she found herself getting defensive. She remembered her parents, her teachers, the people who pressed her on what she really believed as an adolescent. She remembered the alienation she felt when she realized she wasn’t the same as the people she grew up with. That her desire to grow beyond the confines of the world as they had presented it to them meant that she would have to go. And in the going there would be no returning.

“It’s complicated,” was all she said at the time. But the question nagged at her. She didn’t know if she could have answered it in English, let alone in the tongue of the Valleys. But there was an answer. A hard, bright answer she felt within her, warming her during the cold and starry nights.

What did the people of the Valleys believe in? Well, that was a tough one. When she had first found the gospel-book she thought she knew. A peculiar people, setting out for desolate shores, carrying religious artifacts and ancient tongues with them--traditionalists, of a kind. After all, wasn’t that what her people had been? Secessionists, as politely called them back in civilization. Those who decided that the great ecumenical riot of culture and technology and fashion and whatnot wasn’t for them. There were lots of different kinds of secessionists, not just traditionalists. New religious movements, utopians of all stripes, ultra-individualists and ultra-collectivists, artists with ideas that couldn’t be realized safely or legally in any existing top-level jurisdiction, trillionaires who thought the law shouldn’t apply to them. The pattern was familiar: you found a big pile of money somewhere, either from your followers or from a rich patron, you bought some land, you renounced your basic and you got almost unlimited sovereignty over it in return.

But that still left some questions. Like the age of the Valleys settlements, for one. If the local chronology was correct, they were almost a hundred and fifty years old, older than any other settlement in Antarctica. That meant they weren’t technically secessionists, because there was nothing here to secede from a century and a half ago. A century and a half ago, the Antarctic coast had been even colder and the ice-free portion of the Valleys even smaller. The timeline made sense in other ways--that was after the abrogation of the Antarctic Treaties, when most of the countries that used to fund scientific outposts along the coasts had pulled back in the wake of the Collapse. Before the big multinationals moved into the Peninsula a generation later. You could’ve gotten a couple hundred people to the Dry Valleys unnoticed, maybe.

When she could, Katherine tried to get a better look at their books again. Their script presented difficulties for her. On more than one occasion, she found herself muttering irritably at an imagined picture of Dr. Wright. He could have warned her, of course; he could have said, “the Dry Valleys People speak Anglo-Saxon English; here’s a list of books to take with you.” She still would have lost them in the shipwreck, but maybe she would have remembered enough from them to get started. Heck, maybe some enterprising nerd had created a module for the language. Unlikely--a good module took a shitload of funding and years of work--but not impossible.

She had asked Dr. Gordon about John, after the meeting at the conference. If this guy was so famous, how come she’d never heard of him? Dr. Gordon had sighed, sighed in the way that usually indicated byzantine university politics, but eventually she’d given up the story.

“This was all well before my time, you have to understand,” she said. “I’m getting this secondhand and thirdhand from people who were around then, and some of this is basically School of Humanities mythology at this point. But the way I understand it, Dr. Wright was the last holdout of the old English department.

“Two hundred years ago, the School of English was one of the jewels in the crown of this university. A hundred and fifty years ago, it was still doing pretty well for itself, but, well, as much as we hate to admit it to ourselves, academia is subject to trends and fashions just like the rest of the world. And despite trying to keep up with the times, most of the things they studied were hopelessly outdated. Even back then, nobody took nonsense like postmodernism or critical theory seriously anymore. A lot of the the really interesting work was starting to get usurped by departments with more rigorous methods. The Digital Humanities school was just taking off, and there was lots of interesting work going on on the other side of campus with 20th century novelists and AI, but the English faculty stuck to its old methods. Close reading, wading through dense tomes of theory, writing long analytical essays. Things that, for very good reason, we don’t make students do anymore. The university naturally had an aversion to producing graduates who were unemployable as anything other than English professors; it felt that was unfair to its students. But the more they tried to pressure the English department to update its methods, the more recalcitrant the faculty became.

“By the time Dr. Wright was approaching retirement age, they were back to teaching dead languages. You couldn’t understand the whole history of English literature, they argued, without a grounding in foundational stuff. And that foundational stuff, that ancient British literature, well, you couldn’t understand that without the context of, oh, I don’t know, whatever the Vikings spoke I suppose. Dr. Wright was by all accounts an extremely smart person. He’d done some groundbreaking work in Austronesian and South American languages as a younger man, a real giant in his field. But eventually, for reasons nobody quite understood, he’d pivoted away from the frontiers of his field--not a big field to begin with, mind you--and retreated to ground as well trodden as, well, basic arithmetic. He moved to the English department and was teaching students thousand-year-old poetry. He said it was a natural extension of his earlier work, and the university itself was happy enough to keep someone with his stature on its faculty, but to be honest most people saw him as nothing more than a useless eccentric. Rather like the whole department.

“Well, eventually the decision was made to axe their funding. There were maybe four undergraduates left to the whole department, so this wasn’t exactly a wrench, but Dr. Wright proved a sticking point. He had tenure--it’s a system that doesn’t exist anymore, but it made him basically unfireable. He had no students, and no scheduled classes, and no funding, and no departmental library anymore, but he had a right to an office, and, well. He wouldn’t go. He came in every day just the same. And twice a week, he would find an empty lecture hall, and, he’d just… lecture to anybody who showed up. And a few people did. Some were genuinely curious. Some thought it had novelty value. I guess some were lost freshers. But he kept on that way for two or three years. It annoyed the hell out of the administration. It annoyed them so much they delayed an update to the rules on retirement for six months, just so Dr. Wright hit the mandatory retirement age and got booted out. The next semester, they abolished fixed retirrment ages altogether. Of course, they didn’t offer him his job back. The official story was that he was a beloved senior member of the faculty, and he kept his dining privileges and still got invited to all the university functions where they trot out the honored former members of staff. But after that he basically disappeared. No one has seen him on campus--or anywhere in Dublin, for that matter--since.”

So at first Katherine wondered if this wasn’t Dr. Wright’s cruel joke, a way to get back at the people who pissed him off all those years ago. Let’s send the grad student out into the wastelands without any linguistic advantage. But the longer she thought about it, the more she wondered if she wasn’t being unfair.

Because what would she have said, if Dr. Wright had come up to her at that conference and said, “Oh, I hear you’re going to visit Antarctica. Here’s a book on Old English, and a copy of the Gospels, you’ll need both.” Would she have come here if she thought these were just secessionists with a penchant for historical reenactment? Probably not.

And the fact of the matter was, they weren’t secessionists. Well, not secessionists like Katherine had ever read about. The thing about being a secessionist, whether reactionary or utopian, was that no matter how much you pretended you were doing something Different, no matter how much you tried to Cut Yourself Off from the rest of the world, everything you did, everything you professed, everything you built, existed as a counterargument to that world. The rest of the world was a great shadow hanging over your whole existence, an argument which you were trying to refute. No secessionist movement on record had lasted in its original form more than two generations, because either you eventually got tired of making that argument, an argument your children would never understand for lack of context, and you inevitably rejoined the world (though perhaps with a higher-than-average local incidence of fringe political beliefs), or the whole thing fell apart in dramatic fashion due to infighting, and somebody appealed for the special status of the enclave to be revoked.

Neither had happened here. The culture of the Valleys appeared to be stable. They were more like an ancient uncontacted people, uncurious about the outside world and existing on their own terms, than those who scrupulously attempted to refute it. They spoke a dead language, but on closer examination, there the resemblance to historical reenactors ceased. The climate was wrong--they lived more like a circumpolar people, because, well, they were. But Katherine noticed they weren’t dogmatic about their refusal of technology. They relied on genegineered bryoculture--the mosses thrived in the summertime, provided you supplemented them with a little water, and kept them from freezing. They hoarded small pieces of technology they scavenged from the wastes, laser firestarters and sonic knife sharpeners, and they used these to augment their own cottage industry.

But they were sharply conservative in other ways. They did not trade. They did not explore, beyond their own well-trodden region of Victoria Land. Their society was full of symbolism and ritual and verbal formulas, their conversations looping back and forth in ways that made Katherine suspect every one had occurred a thousand times, and was expected to occur a thousand times again. They were, in short, static. Stasis was, Katherine believed, the ultimate illusion for any society. Nothing lasts forever; eventually, you change or you die. Perhaps the Dry Valleys People knew this. Perhaps, if the world tried to force them to change, they would simply die. The idea made Katherine rather sick, but it would not be the first time in history that that had happened.

* * *

And what did they believe in, when you tried to peel all this back, and expose their heart? Leofe was cagey when Katherine asked her. Leofric was laconic enough to make his sister look positively effusive by contrast. The question died on her lips when she tried to ask some of the older men and women; they responded to the question as a mountain might answer a soft breeze. Which is to say they ignored her completely. They carried with them the tokens of a lost Christianity, but these didn’t seem to be related to their core beliefs. On the very rare occasions when they waxed metaphysical, Katherine heard them speak of the garsecg, the spear-sea, the fearsome cold ocean that girdled their world. Yet on their lips the word had deep resonances “ocean” never did; it was for them the road of death, beyond which all their foremothers and forefathers dwelt; and it was the road of their beginning, over which they had come for their deliverance. And it was the outer darkness, the darkness of the sky and the long Antarctic night, and the blackness behind the stars; and the dreamless sleep.

And even more rarely, in voices so quiet Katherine could not be sure of what they said, they spoke of dragons, the dragons that lived high on the ice, whose voice was thunder and in whose belly lived a terrible fire.

#tanadrin's fiction

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autoirishlitdiscourses · 3 years

Text

Discourse of Sunday, 18 July 2021

Probably, if he asks you specific questions that are difficult to memorize because of a heterosexual romantic relationship is structured not according to the page in question perfectly, and is entirely plausible if you need to set up on stage and delivered it accurately, and I'll see you as currently registered in my office or after lecture or in addition to tracking attendance, not on me to answer an e-mail me and you've also demonstrated that here. Very well done. I think. Is a fine piece of reportage, or Synge or O'Casey, and create a sense of where you want to do it through GOLD. But is the case and I notice is that you'll be most successful if you really want to deal with it to move along the path that you'd thought about it. This is probably difficult to do is to express yourself.

See you Tuesday! Failing to email the professor said that was purely an estimate based on attendance but not participation. /Specific reasons/why your juxtaposition actually matters. Don't forget a blue book after thirty minutes in which it could have been a pleasure to see me: perhaps we can arrange another time to get the maximum possible grade to a scheduling conflict, I think that you'll hurt my feelings by asking questions that you will treat everyone else so there are possibly other contextualizing information, at least the first place. Have a good poem. Also, glancing at my section, you got most of this as soon as possible. Three did not explicitly say so as to convince the reader; the median and mode scores were both 7, I think that they're integrated into it as bad as it deserves to show how much you knew about the question of influence in your future, and you have questions about how you can extract contact and scheduling information from this page to check for the quarter so far is the English-language writer from Coleridge's time forward. Quite well done here let me know if you describe what needs to to grow into something fully successful. But think explicitly about what your priorities are if you say is that I didn't anticipate at the time that you will have to fall back on, and mechanics are mostly solid, overall, you need any advice, so I'm not willing to sacrifice his life in the house. Let me know if you would like to email in a professional setting. —There are any number of students—or at your current grade I gave you is leading the group in a lot about what an ideal relationship with his problematic relationships to women and/or describing it in any number of points and involve a similar amount of time to get below 118 out of 150 on the sheet handed out last night, and I've just been going through them in your thesis statement. Hi!

Can you schedule me a copy of the Penelope episode 5 p. I suggest these things but could get it to get them to one or two during busy parts of Ulysses is: percentage score for attendance/participation that is not based on your grade I'd just like to know when you're up in, first-decade artworks because Ulysses has a good passage and gave a very good job. I'll see you next week! I've gestured in margin comments. There are other instances.

Participatory-ness, I think, than briefly articulating early in the group outward from a Western; things like this in your delivery; you successfully deploy secondary sources well, plus a few points even if another format is followed in a way of being because, after all are quite perceptive readings to fall back to you earlier but the more likely during a week when you're doing the assignment write-up assignment once you've sent so far since you wrote, basing your argument. So, for instance, carelessness in your printed paper, didn't turn in for you to think about how you can choose a good impression. I have a good selection, and I tend to do, in part because concluding what the MLA Handbook/is/truly unavoidable/, please read September 1913, which is entitled to. However. It's completely up to him. Almost everyone who was in mine last week. The other pair's textual selection. And you really make it up or down by much, in your paper grade. Let me know and I'll accommodate you if I discover that things are good still in range for you. I'm not faulting you here even though you could be improved so that I think that if I get is that, of course no surprise for you to be for earlier rather than proving points by demolishing counterarguments, is a productive way. All this really does contain some quite excellent feminist readings that are not enough to have additional people there if they haven't started the reading if you have just under 95% for the section. Your paper is due according to the overall effect of giving a very good material in here, but ultimately, do not overlap with yours, and clarified the reading. Well done on this you connected it effectively to larger-scale course concerns and did a good student so far for the final tomorrow. Again, well done! I'm re-read it.

You have some very minor alterations; at this point, I think that your basic claim in a comparative manner over time, I think that the video supplements the lyrics by providing additional examples, resonances, counterexamples, etc. If you are reciting on Dec 4, I think you're typing it into a more specific in your discussion topics will be paying attention to the section, writing an A in the novel the only or best way to find one or more course texts here could be set against each other. Again, you will just mean that you might think. You can call me. No longer legal tender in Britain after 31 December 1960. Then waited four days to grade your paper grades is rather heavy, and is often accomplished associatively rather than for recall, and do what you're really passionate about here, and I'll see you tomorrow night! You have disgraced yourselves again. Then re-adding it using the texts you use. And what are we really getting his fantasies?

That's a good impression. I think that it's OK with the Office of Judicial Affairs. On at the high end of that first draft is the ideal and perfect expression of your skull with the fact that a female role model, and to engage in any way on this you connected it effectively to larger-scale course concerns and did an excellent job of reciting Stare's Nest, getting people to switch to the world. No bibliography needed.

Hi! Think about what you're going to ask what changes Yeats makes to the connections between the two-minute lecture on/Godot/seen in the urban environments of the novel and wanted to make your own thoughts about their own self-reported as having the bottom of a complex relationship to each section and leave it at the moment. I appreciate it. I've tried to gesture toward this in paper comments, but you added one extra word in each section so that you want to. You are welcome to write your way to help you punch through to an even better on future writing.

Grade Percentage Point total A 100% 150 A 95% 142. It'll be passed out in a productive suggestion here that you get other people doing recitations that happened after yours. There are some reported problems right now, though it's probably not directly connected to your larger-scale course concerns and did a very strong performances, and you accomplished a lot of things here, and enjoyable at the beginning of your recitation yet. Anyone at all, you basically met expectations here. I think that there are some provocative hints but need to be on campus tomorrow afternoon but have a good one.

But having specific plans for the midterm structure section 1 and 2 and 7, etc. A-paper, this doesn't mean it's not a statement that makes literary texts, and that getting a perfect score is calculated for section next week. I think that your health allows it, no rush I'll respond to your larger-scale concerns with other propaganda pieces of textual evidence that you advocate—I personally think that it's OK to change between pass/no-show penalty, you had to take this set of esoteric knowledge regarding this selection. Truthfully, I suppose that you'll need to be helpful in studying for the course, as it could conceivably push you up to the date indicated on the midterm improved their score between 105 and 118 on the surface. Talking about some kind of psychological issues, and that taking this implicit interest of your own experience. /I do not often exposed to in many places, with his own infidelities; Yeats's rhetorical positioning of turning away from love in Who Goes With Fergus and perhaps by doing a solid elementary job of constructing each reading in class. Quite frankly, I think that there is section tonight. It's perfectly OK to deal with and which originate elsewhere. You picked a longer-than-required selection and delivered it in my margin notes in some ways.

Please turn off your thought and writing are as nitpicky as I can send you your grade substantially. 5: General Thoughts and Notes 9 October 2013 There has never met. /Indicating/specific reasons for missing a scheduled recitation, you should write me a general exploration of the classroom, but ultimately, does not have to have thought out the evidence that supports your larger-scale discussions in relation to your recitation plans by 10 p. Let me know as soon as possible.

#Irish literature #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Python #Markov chains

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travllingbunny · 7 years

Text

So, I’ve seen the first two episodes of Marvel’s Inhumans, which aired a few days ago - somewhat out of curiosity, somewhat out of MCU completism. And, as you’ve heard from most people, they are bad. I went in with very low expectations, and they were met. I mean, was it absolutely, incomparably terrible? Not exactly - but that's disappointing. If it were "so bad it's good", like The Room, it would be more fun and it would be possible to get ironic enjoyment out of it. But this is just bad and uninspired - it makes Iron Fist look like Jessica Jones in terms of quality - and makes you wonder "what exactly is the point of this?"

Spoilers below.

But something I didn’t know before I went in is that the show isn’t just bad because Medusa's hair looks awful (I couldn't help thinking she looked much better once they shaved her hair - and what a convenient way to cut the budget!), because the sets and costumes look cheap, or because we don't even see any impressive display of powers, which is crucial for a show like this.

(Which may be the reason why the show was so quickly proclaimed to be a flop: as certain popular, acclaimed and Emmy-winning shows have proven, *cough cough* terrible writing and wooden acting on the part of actors in crucial roles can easily be overlooked by fans and critics, if you throw in a big budget, good special effects, visuals and music, a lot of action and cool things people like to see, like zombies/dragons (here, substitute that for displays of superpowers). (OK, it also helps if your show is on HBO and used to be mostly good years ago.)

It’s not even bad just because the writing is lazy, uninspired and the dialogue is cliche ridden, while the acting ranges from OK to poor. It’s not just bad because Anson Mount looks bored or constipated most of the time (or maybe he's just wondering "why did I sign up for this? Time to fire my agent!") or because there are big plot holes and idiocies.

The main problem with this show is that it expects you to care about and root for a bunch of characters without giving you any reason why (since they have just been introduced and haven’t been developed at all), while giving you plenty of reasons not to. Unless you’re a big fan of absolute monarchy and complete stickler for the proper right of succession, but also a fan of caste systems and racism. Which I’m going to go out on a limb and say most viewers aren’t fans of... especially since it happens to be anti-human racism, which the Royal Family is displaying at every turn. Since 100% of the viewers are presumably human themselves, I’m not sure how exactly the creators of this show are imagining the viewer reaction when ‘good guy’ characters show their disgust and contempt for the ‘villain’ for... being ‘just human’.

I’ve seen people compare Maximus, the show’s designated villain, to Ramsay Bolton from GoT. This is lazy and nonsensical, as the two characters don't have anything in common except for being played by the same actor and being positioned as antagonists. That's probably why Rheon was cast - in hope people would identify Maximus as a villain because he's played by the guy who played Ramsay. If anything, to continue with the GoT parallel, Maximus is like this show’s Carol Lannister: we know we’re supposed to see him as villainous, but there’s very little so far far that really marks him as a villain (except I guess threatening a cute dog?*) and I have no idea why exactly we should root against him and for Black Bolt, especially when he's right about most things, and the only counterargument the other characters have been able to muster is "Black Bolt is your king and he said so" or “you disgust me, you’re just human”. I'm sure they'll eventually show that he is really just after power and all his rhetoric is just opportunism, yada yada - but does that really make him worse than Black Bolt, who already has the power?

I seriously don’t know why I should root for Black Bolt, Medusa etc. I liked Jiaying from Agents of SHIELD way better than these guys. At least she had a backstory that explained her anti-human racism, and it was clear we weren’t supposed to see her actions as justified or root for her.

It also doesn’t help that Black Bolt's plan to bring the Inhumans from Earth to Attilan is idiotic. I can only imagine all the people on Earth who have just found out they are Inhuman being overjoyed with the idea they should leave their homes, jobs, loved ones and go live on the Moon... yeah, that would go over so well.

Let’s also mention a few other idiocies that jumped at me:

In what universe did that look like a river, let alone a "beautiful river"?

Black Bolt using a sign language renders the whole "Medusa speaking for Black Bolt" thing absurd. Why don't the others simply learn the sign language so they can understand their king? Also, he could occasionally write things down. I'd think they would also find texting useful, but I guess they didn't find a way to add that feature to their comlinks.

He could have also asked for a piece of paper to write something down when he was at the police station (seeing that the Royal Family and other Inhumans from Attilan speak English), or - if he can’t write, he could have used gestures, at least to signify that he wants to communicate - if he actually cared. His behaviour the entire time on Earth suggests he is either incredibly stupid, or a huge arrogant asshole. You don’t have to be able to speak to communicate something, if nothing else then the fact that you are unable to communicate in other ways.

The police also seemed really dumb - if a person is not speaking at all or letting out any other sounds, wouldn't your first assumption be that they are mute? But no one ever thinks of that? Or if they are also not communicating in any other way, that they may have a mental disability or problem of some kind? If someone doesn't want to give statements before their lawyer arrives, they will usually say "I want a lawyer". If someone doesn't speak English, they'll probably shake their head, say "I don't understand" in broken English, or say a few words in a language they speak, to signify they can't talk to you in English and that you should find an interpreter.

But another thing that also annoys me are the cheap attempts to garner sympathy for the main characters - such as showing Black Bolt as a victim of police brutality, and, I suppose, prejudice, since the police officers are shown calling him a “freak” while beating him up... so I guess we should realize they hate him for being Inhuman, rather than, you know, the fact he just acted like a total asshole, stole from a store, caused traffic accidents, endangered and hurt a bunch of people. Guys, isn’t that scene just the right kind of “police brutality out of racism” scene we needed? No?

And then there’s the scene with Medusa’s hair getting cut - which I didn’t see as anything else but what it is. Since her hair is her weapon, it makes sense for her enemies who have just performed a coup and imprisoned her to cut it so she would not endanger them. It’s pretty straightforward. But no! Since then, I’ve seen at least two people call it a rape metaphor and say that the scene reminded them of rape. And now that they’ve put that thought in my head, I’m sure it was intentional.

Which is another reason to hate these episodes. I detest "rape metaphors" that fiction and fandoms are so fond of. Lazy writing 101: How do we draw sympathy for a female character (who's not otherwise incredibly sympathetic) or make the antagonist look really villainous? Let's have some rape! Or, OK, if there's no rape... let's make this completely other thing that’s not rape kind of *look* like rape! That will do the trick! It's the 'go to' plot device. I'm completely fed up with all the intentional 'rape metaphors' in fiction, and I’m also fed up with all the times when it’s the fandom that finds moments and lines that have nothing to do with rape "rapey" (usually when it’s a male character who’s villainous or hated by the fandom. Because Rape is a Special Kind of Evil. You murdered a bunch of people? We can get over that. But you said a line that kinda sounds rapey, especially when taken out of context? Well, that’s it - the Moral Event Horizon crossed). I'm sorry - cutting Medusa's hair to remove her powers is not rape. Rape is rape. Go fuck yourselves, Inhumans writers & director. And we all know they would *never* try to make it look like that if it was a male character getting his hair cut to remove his powers, nor would the fandom be reading rape metaphors into it.

#inhumans #marvel's inhumans #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel tv #medusa #black bolt #maximus #iwan rheon #ramsay bolton #rape metaphors #carol lannister #jiaying #agents of shield #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d.

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carnivaloftherandom · 7 years

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Words mean things: #NoConfederate is not Censorship

First, I’m going to strongly recommend that in any instance where you believe that an abrogation of Free Speech exists, you go read the 1st Amendment of the Bill of Rights. Then, go read what the people objecting to A Thing are saying, (preferably while restraining yourself from responding until you’ve taken the time to parse through your ego response and sit with Why People Feel This Way and Why Do I Disagree.)

Literally the only thing I’m going to address here, is the fundamental flaw in every counterargument to People Objecting To A Thing, for about the eleventy billionth time.

Freedom of Speech and Expression is protected in the U.S. Constitution, yes.

The ONLY things they are protected FROM, are the government.

That’s it.

Art for sale, in any medium, on any legal topic, by anyone, is ONLY protected from government restrictions on it. And, lbr: between the MPAA RATINGS BOARD and the FCC, let alone Free Speech Zones, don’t act like there aren’t already actual government regulations on speech

The repeated conflation of People Objecting To A Thing, with Free Speech infringement, is not only a lazy, grotesque silencing of Other People’s Free Speech, it is a fraudulent invocation of Free Speech. Stop that. It’s Boy Who Cried Wolf bullshit, you know it, we know it, and I’ve got so many posts on it in the last 10 years that it is insulting on multiple levels.

The only place you are entitled to say, do, or make things in an inviolable way, without consequences, criticism, or interference, is in your own home, (assuming what you make does not violate any other extant laws.)

Once you propose it or publish it to the world, you do not get to dictate the response it receives. If you’re SELLING it, you are not guaranteed a profit, and you are not shielded from a negative response. It is beyond disingenuous to suggest that criticism of something proposed for public sale or consumption, is not allowed until the product is on the market, and if a product fails on concept, perhaps blame the Creator and not the market, who are not OBLIGATED to give you their time, money, or positive response.

Criticism is not bullying, either. There is a difference between saying, with an explanation, “I would rather eat ground glass than see this prosper,” by individuals or groups of individuals, and someone saying, “I’m going to wage personal attacks directly at this individual,” and there is certainly a difference between either of those things and threatening HARM to someone. Again: conflation of criticism with bullying, you know it’s bullshit, we know it, and we know you know it. Stop that.

*NB: Protests involving destruction of a piece of art offered for sale, by a person who purchased or was given the object as their personal property, ARE PROTECTED SPEECH, btw. It is legal to burn an American flag, ffs. You may not like it, but a person burning a book, album, home video copy of a filmed thing, photo, poster, or whatever, is not the same as the STATE doing it, and it is a person’s right to protest in this way.

The disturbing thing about the invocation of Free Speech, surrounding commercial product (if it’s being sold, it’s a product and this is all confined to the business sphere ANYWAY, so seriously: stop,) is that it is an argument specifically designed to silence actual Free Speech, usually by marginalized people who have the temerity to speak truth to privilege and power. It’s slamming a fist into a Big Red Button of agreed-upon Rights, with NO LEGAL STANDING, in order to shut people up for daring to say, “No.”

As an example: Darrell Issa hiding from constituents on the roof of his office, Pat Toomey refusing to meet with or take calls from constituents, those things, because their jobs are specifically required to allow for, “Petition for redress of grievances,” by the Constitution, are probable violations of Free Speech. HBO is not required to listen to anyone about this project, and will make their decision to do so (or not) based on what they view is a good business decision. Which is not now, and never has been, Censorship.

The Comstock Laws were Censorship, people having Opinions and not shutting up about them, is NOT.

People protesting Mapplethorpe, Not Censorship, the govt cutting funding to the NEA because of Mapplethorpe, Censorship. Do you get the point?

So, unless the funding for whatever it is that you think is being Censored is coming from the government or unless the government is threatening people with fines, shutdowns, or jail because of art that itself contains nothing illegal, (hey, FCC, about Saving Private Ryan and the reason a lot of TV stations refused to air it about 10 years ago, that was some THIN ICE,) your argument is self-serving, farcical drivel.

And as for the, “People forced off Twitter,” aspect, that gets messy. Yes, there are people who cross a line and make threats, but sometimes creators just can’t stand to be criticized (Hey, Joss, you precious snowflake, sorry not sorry we refused to coddle you about your misogyny,) and leave, (Damon Lindelof, this means you.) Threats are not to be tolerated, it goes without saying, but since some of your faves (Adam Baldwin,) have doxxed people, please don’t act like we’re new here.

Power and privilege are dangerous drugs, they lead people to think that they’re not accountable. The people who are most frequently in high dudgeon and screaming, “Free Speech,” in response to a person or group of people saying, “No, we’re not going to take this lying down,” are people who already have some level of power and privilege who just DON’T LIKE IT that people they think are BENEATH THEM have the right to tell them, “No.”

Which is exactly the reason we HAVE a 1st Amendment, so, yanno: Irony.

Insofar as Confederate is concerned, there is literally nothing stopping that production being made by the creators with their own money, they are entirely free to do so, if they believe that strongly in the project and HBO decides that it’s a better business decision to pass on it. If your counter to that fact is, “But they can’t afford it,” well them’s the breaks, buckaroo. Nobody owes them the money to make what they want.

TL;DR: CREATIVE IDEAS GET PASSED ON ALL THE TIME, THE MARKET DOESN’T OWE YOU JACK, AND STOP MAKING FALSE ARGUMENTS BECAUSE YOUR FEELINGS ARE HURT THAT PEOPLE DON’T LIKE YOUR IDEAS.

#free speech #art #media #criticism #no Confederate #HBO

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waqasblog2 · 5 years

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Entering a New Frontier: Artificial Intelligence and Machine Learning - Workday Blog

Artificial intelligence (AI), especially machine learning, promises to transform the enterprise as we know it. But just how close is AI to widespread adoption?

At Workday Rising Europe, I had the privilege to listen in on a fascinating discussion about AI and machine learning with Joe Korngiebel, Workday’s senior vice president, enterprise technology, and tech leaders from two U.K.-based companies.

Read on to learn how David Henderson, chief technology officer at Global Radio, and Russell Smith, head of IT: HR, legal and global sustainability at AstraZeneca, are starting to deal with these game-changing tools in this edited transcript of that conversation.

Joe Korngiebel: I think every conversation about AI or machine learning has to start with digital, so can you tell us a little bit about your journey to digital transformation?

Russell Smith: I’m very blessed. At the end of the day, I get to go home and tell my family that I’m helping cure cancer and other terrible diseases. And, digital is really helping us do that in ways that you could never believe. When I started with the company over four years ago, the time it took from an idea to getting a drug on the shelf could be 10-20 years. With digital, we’re able to compress that much more and get the drugs and the right medicines out to the right people at the right time. It’s not just an HR, finance, or science discussion. It’s the right people within the business all taking digital seriously.

David Henderson: At Global, our transformation started about four or five years ago, with the realisation was that our sector is competing with companies like Spotify, Apple Music and Amazon. We had to do something very different. The challenge was taking on those trusted brands with curated content available on a wide range of digital platforms. Having transformed the back-office with a cloud based architecture we designed digital products enhanced with first-party data to personalise the listening experience and provide more relevant, targeted, advertising.

“For HR, we’re using AI to help remove unconscious bias in job descriptions and recruitment.”—Russell Smith, AstraZeneca

Korngiebel: I wanted to talk a little bit about how you define AI and the benefits that you’re getting out of it today from a practical perspective.

Henderson: I think of it from the perspective of how you apply algorithms to try to solve complex problems, solving things that are commercially interesting but too difficult for our employees to figure out alone. We’ve tried a lot, and failed a bit, and I think that’s the important thing with AI.

For example, we capture every single word that’s sung during a song or in an ad break and all those words are transcoded, categorised in an engine and put through sentiment analysis. That’s a lot of data which on its own isn’t that interesting. We can overlay that with demographic, weather and major event data and combine this with behavioural activity data of millions of people listening on our apps such as which songs they like or when they stop listening. We can then make inferences about why people are listening —not just to songs but to advertisements as well – and change the mix of content and then see the impact of those changes to further improve the model.

Korngiebel: You can’t have a conversation around AI, machine learning, and automation without addressing the idea that it will threaten the employment of many people. What are your views on that?

Smith: Do I believe it will fundamentally change the workforce? Yes, but not in terms of numbers, as I think people will simply end up working differently. There are two very stark views that I see out in the marketplace. There’s the one that says, in the last industrial revolution, more jobs were created than were destroyed. The counterargument to that is to say that situation occurred only because, in the past somebody had a job making something, and now they switched jobs to think about something. But, AI stops us thinking about something. So, what’s next for the workforce? I think the answer to that is probably areas where judgment, interaction, and human instinct are crucial.

Korngiebel: In technology, it’s is easy to talk about the buzz and hype, but when you see the real-world examples you really feel it. What examples are you seeing in the usage of AI and machine learning in your business?

Henderson: People look at the big examples, but it’s the smaller day-to-day stuff that can add real value. You decide that you want to go on holiday, so you book your holiday and then, all the robot does in the background is it automatically takes the information, populates your calendar, sends it to your manager, and marks you out of office. It’s very small things like this that cumulatively starts to create lots of value for the organization.

Smith: For HR, we’re using AI to help remove unconscious bias in job descriptions and recruitment. So, we’ll run the descriptions through an AI and it’ll tell us if we’re overly masculine or feminine in how we’re writing our job descriptions. We will also leverage gamification to help determine things like personality, cultural value, and fit with the organisation as well. An area where I see great benefit is running a video interview through a translation engine to get a view on how good somebody’s English and communication skills are. And if you’re hiring in volume in say, somewhere like India or China, you can save a lot of time with these upfront tasks which generally take a lot of resources.

Korngiebel: How do you ensure you can trust your data?

Smith: It’s about choosing the right data and the right datasets so you get the right outcomes, not false positives. If you just put machine learning on top of your legacy hiring data, and then decided what we’ll do is look for the people that we hired that were the highest performers, the chances are you’d not get results that align with your wishes to be a diverse employer. The machine learning algorithm would just repeat history and maybe lead you to hire as you did 5-10 years ago! You need to be smarter about how and where you use machine learning, and what data you expose it to.

Korngiebel: Finally, can you talk about other technologies that you’re excited about and that are influencing your business in new and interesting ways?

Henderson: I think from my perspective, Snowflake, the data warehouse, is really interesting because it allows us to join disparate data sources and makes it really easy to do things with data. So, I’m loving that in the near term. Also, I guess voice, with Alexa and similar devices. It’s just the start. You’ve got Amazon with at least 5,000 linguists making Alexa better.

Smith: I think data is undoubtedly the main area, particularly predictive tools. I’m not an IBM employee, but I saw some stuff that blows my mind away around some of the Watson technology. Another area that I think is cool is robotic process automation (RPA). And, the next stage of RPA is cognitive robots. So, this is more than replicating end users. These cognitive robots have the ability to scan and learn from documents and from unstructured data and “dark” data. And that will allow us to automate so much more and uncover so many additional capabilities. I think particularly around unstructured data and processing for the back office, this is going to be huge.

This content was originally published here.

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