#dark academia but the darkness is the active murder it's threatening me with

[bibxrbie]

Wanting to be an academic, but academia wants me dead.

#i haven't read anything but academic text in months #dark academia but the darkness is the active murder it's threatening me with #the editing!!! ya'll the editing is taking years of my life #university is a scam! i thought it would be like the books and movies and shows #i show up in my aesthetic clothes and artfully styled hair and thrive all while maintaining a relationship with an older sporty woman #academia #dark academia #classicist #ancient roman history #ancient greek

[xlovelybeanx]

✭ Sorry for not posting in a while, I’ve been having some trouble sleeping and keeping my emotions cool so it’s been kinda hard to stay focused on here - but I hope this small fic will cure your boredom while I finish up my other ones! (I actually got my inspiration from Yagami Yato’s sleep aids - which I use, btw - when Bakugou said “quit tickling me” in his sleep. I thought it was cute as hell.) (I’ve also been really sick. Lovely. >~<)

✭The art belongs to Calys_Artsy_Side on the My Hero Academia Amino - all credit goes to them!

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Title: “Sleepy.”

Pairing: Kiribaku + Midoryia.

Summary: Bakugou is tired, Kirishima just wants his friend to not fail, and Midoryia is trying to keep the situation under control. ..what a strange way to start off the morning.

Warnings: Other than swearing, none.

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“Oi, Bakugou.”

Bakugou looked up with a blank face - dark eye bags shadowed his eyes, and he really wasn’t looking so good. That being said, with the events of yesterday, of course he looked like that. Not only did he have to train at his agency, the people at U.A thought it was a good idea for him to take care of a class of kids, along with Icy Hot and a few bastards from Shiketsu. All he wanted was to go to sleep - but it was 10 am on a Monday morning, of course, and he couldn’t afford to get left behind by his classmates. But the more and more he thought about wanting to lie his head on his pillow and relax, the more it all seemed to be coming true.

Resting his head on his desk, the blonde closed his eyes, watching himself drift into a very peaceful sleep. His arms wrapped around themselves, giving him access to a make-shift sort of resting place - and just like that, he was off in his own little world. “Bakugo,” Kirishima whispered, leaning down to check if he was actually awake. Giving him two small pokes to his cheek, the red-head sighed softly. What was he going to do with him? He had a rough day, sure, but didn’t they all? It had messed up his sleeping schedule, to be fair, and it was immediately showing. “Oi, Bakugou.”

Kirishima couldn’t help but wonder why he was the only one to notice the angry loud blonde was finally quiet - it should surprise everyone, not just him. What to do, what to do, Kirishima thought as he pondered everything he could do to wake him up. Then it clicked. “Hey, Midoryia,” he whispered, watching the green haired boy turn his way. “Look.” He said, pointing to the knocked out boy on his desk. Midoryia immediately put a hand over his mouth, almost as if he was in shock - “I haven’t seen Kacchan sleep in class since he was a elementary schooler, more or less before he got his quirk. Was yesterday really that hard for him?”

Kirishima shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I need a way to wake him up-“

They were both surprised when Bakugou shifted to side, his light snores being drowned out by the random words that he was saying. ... Bakugou was a sleep-talker, they both realized and before they could say anymore, the words “quit tickling me” flew out of his mouth. No one knew why he had said it, then again, the only one who really heard it was Kirishima seeing as they were so close. “Midoryia...” he said, looking over with almost a sadistic grin. “Prepare the class for an explosion.”

“Eijirou, what are you doing-?! Wait!”

Before he could be stopped, Kirishima already had his hands under his arms, digging into the soft and sensitive flesh underneath. Bakugou immediately woke up, his eyes widened in surprise as he jerked harshly, falling off the chair. Red-faced and slightly in pain from the impact of falling out of the chair, he had no time to react when his best friend pounced on him, immediately trying to dig his hands into his sensitive skin. “S-STOP! K-KIRISHIMA, WHAT... A-ARE YOU DOING?!” Katsuki yelled as he grabbed both of his hands, trying to keep them from touching him.

“You’re the one who fell asleep! You’re always saying ‘I can’t afford to be left behind’. So don’t fall asleep! And I know just how to wake you up!” At this point, the whole class was watching in awe - and Aizawa wanted nothing to do with it, so like always, he creeped into his sleeping bag and used this time to get in a nap.

“THAT DOESN’T MEAN-!” Katsuki’s words left his mouth as Kirishima hardened his arms, watching the strength leave his body - because of being tired and because of his overwhelming power. When two sets of hands immediately dived in on his sides, he couldn’t hold back the uncontrollable laughter that was threatening to spill from the start.

“WAIHAHAHAT! KIHIHIHIRISHIMA! YOHOHOHU BIHIHIHITCH! IHIHIHLL KIHIHIHIHLL YOHOHOHOU!” All of that only fell on deaf ears - Kirishima knew he wasn’t going to kill him. In fact, he’d probably would forget about it. His laughter was very deep, and if he wasn’t a complete asshole, most of the class would agree that his laugh sounded very attractive. Desperately squirming underneath his friend, he tried his hardest to push him off. The only person who knew that he was ticklish other than his family was Midoryia from when they were younger, so Bakugou thought that he might have told him as a way to wake him up.

“Kirishima, you might want to stop...” Midoryia warned as he looked at his explosive friend’s hands, noticing that they were activating on their own. “...Kacchan can’t control his quirk when he’s getting tickled. He might accidentally blow up the room.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” Kirishima said as he shifted downwards, watching his hand brush against the blonde’s thigh. The squeak that left his mouth could only be described as unmanly and very high-pitched. The whole class stared at Bakugou, who was now bright red. “W-What?! Is there a p-probl- AHAHAHAHA WAIHIHIHIT! KIHIHIHIRISHIMA!”

“Awww, sweet little explosion boy getting taken down a peg by a few tickles~? How embarrassing~.” The last part was whispered in his ear, to not completely ruin his reputation. To Bakugou, this was just torture - undignified torture and he needed it to stop, or else he might just do what Midoryia said and blow up the entire room. “EIHIHIHIJIROU!! STAHAHAHAHAHAP!!” Katsuki blurted out, unaware that he said Kirishima’s first name. Hearing his name being called out like that made him stop his assault. There was nothing to it - he didn’t mind being called Eijirou - it’s just... it felt different when Bakugou said it. He couldn’t quite find a word for it. Katsuki took this time and kicked him off, as harshly as possible since he was still hardened, and stood up. The blonde was still shivering at the sensations, everyone noticed.

“Thank you,” Katsuki mumbled in his ear, still a bright red as he picked up his pencil and started writing again. Everyone seemed to go back to the lesson, and Aizawa had already gotten back up from his nap - it was still a surprise how he even napped through that. “You’re welcome,” Kirishima whispered back softly, watching his face turn into a pouty scowl. He could only chuckle at that. “Just you wait, I’ll get you back. When? You’ll never know.” The laugh that came out of Katsuki almost sounded sadistic, but he only scoffed.

“Try your best, Lord Explosion Murder.”

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#anime #anime tickling #fanfic #sfw tickles #tickling community #lee!bakugou #ler!kirishima #midoryia is here too #mha #mha tickle #bnha #bnha tickle

[therainroguefanfiction]

🤾 Tryhard; Atsuhiro “Mr. Compress” Sako (Sportember #017)

📑 Table of Contents | ⚾ Challenge Post

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1,902

Pairing: Quirkless Reader x Compress

World: Boku no Hero Academia

Prompt: “Why do you try so hard?”

Sport: Dodgeball

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Sako frowned as he watched you running through the park, just as you did every night at eight. You had no regard for your safety, out late at night as a quirkless, headphones in your ears as loud music blocked out the sounds around you. He thought you were utterly stupid, perhaps having a desire to be kidnapped or murdered. You were certainly making yourself an easy target and he had already intercepted several thugs in the past three months that he had been watching you.

Why did he feel the need to protect you when you had no desire to make things easy for him? For a brief moment, he considered the possibility that he had fallen in love with you, but he had never really been a man to believe in love at first sight. However, when he first met you in that coffee shop three months ago, he knew there was something special about you, something different.

In that time, he had gotten to know you as he watched you. Your name was Y/N and even though you didn’t have a quirk, you had gotten a scholarship at the Japanese Sports Academy, or JSA. The school specialized in creating professional athletes, but the school had never seen a quirkless graduate. Sure, the school had many quirkless students, but they either never graduated or simply dropped out because of the pressure.

Sports these days focus heavily on quirks and the amount of quirkless sports around today were less than eight percent. The number went down every year because people were no longer interested in quirkless people playing a sport. They preferred the thrill of quirks battling it out on the field, threatening to destroy each other in the name of sport.

You knew these facts well. He knows that you. So why are you trying so damn hard to keep up with people that you physically can’t stand beside? The world constantly tore you down, telling you how worthless you were, how impossible your dreams were, simply because you didn’t have a quirk. So why? It made no sense to him and it hurt to see you struggling so hard only to fail in the end.

You came to a stop in front of the vending machine outside the park, breathing heavily as you wiped the sweat from your brow. There was a stitch in your side from your run, lungs burning and legs throbbing from the effort. You felt so tired, but you still have twenty minutes left in your run. You were already so behind, you couldn’t afford not to stick to your training regimen.

You slid the coins into the machine, pressing the button for the sports drink and waiting for it to fall to the tray. Just as you reached for it, another hand darted out to take it from you. Your shoulders tensed as the hair on the back of your neck stood on end, your eyes locking with those of an older man. Two others stood close behind you.

Swallowing hard, you tugged one of the headphones from your ear, eyes narrowed at the man in front of you. “That’s my drink. Give it back.”

One of the men behind you snickered as he stepped closer, his hand on your shoulder. “Oh, looks like we got a feisty one, boys.”

You scowled, shrugging your shoulder as you tried to step away, but the three of them had you trapped against the machine. “If you want to keep your lives, I suggest you keep moving.” You may not have a quirk, but you had learned to fake it until you made it.

“Big talk coming from someone so small,” they snickered, exchanging amused looks.

“Why don’t you just hand over your wallet and we won’t have to hurt you.”

“Fat chance,” you scoffed, attempting to force yourself through them but the first man grabbed your arm. On reflex, you shot around and jabbed your foot into his crotch, watching him cry out as he fell to the ground.

“You bitch!”

“We’ll kill you!”

Their hands lit up as they activated their quirks – one seemed to be some form of electricity, the other sprouting green spikes. A squeak passed your lips when a spiked hand tried to grab at your face and you dodged just in time, the spike scratching the skin of your cheek. The man on the ground grabbed your ankle when you stepped back, causing your body to fall to the cement.

“Let go of me, you prick!” You scowled, using your other foot to kick at his hand, but his grip was like iron and wouldn’t let up.

“You’re gonna get it now!” They rushed at you and you squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the impact. The sound of screams filled your ears, the grip on your ankle disappearing and when you cracked an eye open, you found all three men a few feet away, unmoving on the ground.

You blinked, pushing yourself up. ‘What the…’

“Honestly, my dear, you really are trying to make things difficult for me.”

Your eyes snapped to the side, wide with surprise when you noticed the man standing beside you. He was quite tall, wearing a large yellow coat that covered his body like a tarp. His face was concealed behind a black and white mask, a top hat sitting on his head. You knew who he was, you had seen his picture on the TV along side the others that called themselves the League of Villains. But… this villain had just saved you, hadn’t he?

He turned toward you, extending a gloved hand toward you, the color of a ripe tomato. “Come along, now, before the cops arrive.”

You shook your head, sliding back away from him before scrambling to your feet. “You’re a villain.”

“Well, at least you have some sense,” he teased. “Now if only you applied that sense to everyday life, as well.”

You scowled, resting your back against the stone behind you. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He tapped where his ear is beneath the black cloth. “Every single night you run around this neighborhood with music blaring into your ears. If you have a quirk, that would be one thing, but you do not. Have you any idea how many thugs I’ve had to take care of to keep you safe?”

“And why would you do something like that?” Your brow furrowed in confusion and he took a step closer to you.

“Hm, do I need a reason?”

“You’re a villain. You don’t save people unless you can use them.”

“Come now, Y/N. I’m not an animal,” he chided, finally closing the distance between the two of you. You should feel terrified by this man, but you didn’t. Instead, you felt… safe.

“You know my name.”

“I know many things about you, my dear. Now, won’t you come along? I will escort you home safe and sound.” His hand extended to you again and, for a moment, you just stared at it. You could hear sirens in the distance, steadily getting louder as they got closer to your position.

Your heart was thudding loudly within your chest, but you knew that if this man had the intention of hurting you or worse, killing you, that he would have done so. Better yet, he would have just allowed the thugs to do it for him. No, he was not intent on harming you, that much you were sure of.

Swallowing down the lump that had formed within your throat, you slid your hand into his, watching as his fingers curled around it. Your life changed that night.

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Sako rolled over in bed, his hand instinctively reaching out for you beside him, but the bed was empty, the sheets cold beneath his fingertips. His brown eyes squinted in the darkness, fumbling for his phone on the bedside table. Four in the morning. Where could you possibly be at four in the morning?

Throwing the covers back, he shifted until his bare feet rested against the soft brown carpet of the room. He checked the bathroom first, and then the living room, but the apartment was empty. With a sigh, he knew exactly where he would find you, so he quickly got changed and headed out.

Your breathing was heavy as you jogged on the treadmill, music blasting through your ears to try and motivate you to push yourself. You thought about the upcoming exams and you were determined to pass them, no matter the cost.

Sako stepped into the small gym that the apartment complex offered, his eyes scanning the empty room before settling on you. As usual, you were unaware of anything happening around you. With a sigh, he stepped up to you before tugging on the cord of your headphones, watching it fall from your ear.

Your head snapped to him in confusion before giving him a sheepish smile and turning off the machine, accepting the water bottle that he offered you. “Morning, Hiro…”

He hummed softly. “While I do appreciate that you’re no longer jogging at night, I would appreciate it if you actually slept sometimes.”

“I did sleep,” you pointed out. “We fell asleep together, remember?”

“For how long?” He quirked a brow, his hand resting upon his hip.

“Two hours.”

“That’s not something to be proud of, my love.”

You sighed, settling down onto one of the plastic chairs sitting under the window. “I know, it’s just… the exams are coming up soon. I have to train harder in order to keep up.”

He frowned as he squatted down in front of you, eyes scanning yours as he rested his hand upon your knee. “Why do you try so hard?” he mused softly. “The world will only hurt you.”

“Why?” You repeated with a smile, resting your hand over his. He was surprised by the warmth lingering within your eyes. “Maybe it will, but I won’t know that for sure until I try. This has been my dream since I was a child, the thing I based my whole life around. I know dodgeball isn’t the most popular sport, especially not for a quirkless like me, but… it’s a sport that I adore, that I grew up playing. If I don’t at least try and chase my dreams, then I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. I know you don’t understand, but…”

“You’re right, I don’t understand.” His free hand came to rest upon your cheek, thumb brushing against your skin. “However, I will support you in whatever you choose to do with your life. Forever and always, my love.”

You smiled, tugging him closer until his lips met yours, soft and warm, and full of love as he pushed himself against you, hand sliding to your jaw to pull you closer. Sako would probably never understand your feelings when it came to how hard you tried at sports, but he didn’t have to understand in order to support your dreams.

His forehead rested against yours as you brushed a hand through his short brown hair. “I love you so much. Never forget that.”

You chuckled in response, giving his hair a gentle tug. “How could I possibly forget when you tell me every day?”

“Don’t act as if you don’t enjoy it,” he teased, capturing your lips again.

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#sportemberwritings #sportember #mr compress #compress #sako atsuhiro #atsuhiro sako #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #anime #writing #creative writing #writeblr #scenario #scenarios #anime scenarios #anime scenario #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfics #anime fanfic #anime fanfics #reader insert #reader-insert #reader #one shot #fluff #sportember 20

[stillness-in-green]

Changeling: The League (1/3)

Being some errant nerdery combining two things I love very much into one thing that is exponentially more nerdy than either thing on its own: My Hero Academia villains as Changeling: the Lost characters!

This will(/should) be a series of three posts containing some mid-length write-ups on the League of Villains, the Metahuman Liberation Army, and some odds-and-ends on other characters/alternate takes.  

Some prelude: The most prominent question that kept coming up as I was brainstorming the write-ups below was, “Is this retelling the story of My Hero Academia using Changeling: The Lost’s mechanics and world, or is this exploring Changeling: The Lost’s themes using the My Hero Academia cast?”  Would these versions of the characters be NPC villains in Izuku’s story, opponents (or possibly eventual allies) in some grand, epic clash between Heroes and Villains as begun with All Might and All for One?  Would it be the story of a corrupt system, pulled down by the PC group that was Shigaraki and his motley?  I had ideas for both, but in the end, I decided that, rather than oblige myself to the MHA canon, I was ultimately more interested in just letting the implied “story” focus on the League and their histories of loss, trauma and recovery, so that’s the spirit in which these are written.  (Though things do get a bit plottier when their story intersects with the MLA’s.)

Lastly, these are, of course, completely AU, but if you don’t know who the Liberation Army is, you’re probably still going to trip over manga spoilers, so be mindful.  

First, let me lay down some backstory!  Specifically, the story of All for One, One for All, and the lives they drew into their story...

THE PROLOGUE

There is a realm in Faerie inhabited by a pair of binary-matched Fae, All for One and One for All, styling themselves as warring brothers.  They’ve been fighting for many long generations, each in their own fashion.  All for One has tended to keep his power mostly within himself, employing many underlings, but sharing his power with very few of them.  One for All, conversely, has shared most of himself with a succession of users, and in each generation, the pair clashes, with OFA not very "present" for the battles (and thus at less risk), while AFO is able to bring more of himself to the fights.  Before each battle, each user of OFA would be "freed" for a period to find and designate a successor (who would inevitably go missing a few weeks later), before returning for the battle.  They often did this with deeply tormented feelings, but saw little escape from the pattern.  Each one hoped that they might be the one strong enough to break the cycle, as OFA told them each time was a possibility--patterns grow stronger for being repeated, after all--but none of them was able to do so until recently.  Toshinori Yagi refused to designate a successor, and finally, for his stubbornness, was recalled to do battle without one--without having passed even a fragment of OFA's power on, he was finally able to defeat AFO.              

In his defeat, AFO was cast out from Faerie.  He had little memory of who and what he was, but retained a sense for fae matters and a limited grasp on his powers.  He spent the next several years setting up shop in the local freehold, dabbling with Spring and Autumn Court matters as his fancy took him, and racking up a fair amount of renown with the latter in particular when the former found him too ruthless, and not only with humans.  One day, though, he stumbled across what would eventually become his way home--a little boy who felt startlingly familiar, black-haired with a mole on his chin.  AFO struck up a friendship, and when he eventually met the boy's father, things began to click into place--he knew this family because he once fought their matriarch, and that connection was the key to his return.  As he was once defeated by this bloodline bearing his brother's power, for his rise, he had to defeat someone of the bloodline--but he couldn’t just do it straight out.  With his brother, there were pacts in play, old bargains and arrangements.  He couldn’t just waltz in and kill Shimura Kotaro.              

One of them needed to ask. 

THE LEAGUE

Here are the League roughly as we might find them when they’ve been out long enough to build a motley, solidify their bonds somewhat, and start taking on bigger, toothier problems.  All have 7 dots of Contracts except Shigaraki, who has a modest leader bump.  Just assume he’s been out doing some level-grinding the others haven’t.

Shigaraki Tomura

Quote: “There’s always a win condition.”

Type: Gameplayer Wizened.  A trophy/souvenir of AFO’s time on Earth, Tomura survived a durance filled with little but tests in the guise of games.  Survival, combat, endurance, manual dexterity, reaction time, strategy, academics, even odd trivia--he learned them all under his Keeper’s tutelage, in preparation for the next battle with his brother's champion (AFO having seen that his brother's way of doing things has its merits).  Tomura grew up believing himself responsible for his family's deaths (though he's blocked most of the specifics, he knows in his gut that he's responsible somehow) and watching the realm celebrate the champion who'd defeated Tomura’s Keeper, but who hadn't done a thorough enough job to prevent the cycle from resetting after all.

Toshinori, for his part, initially had no idea that AFO had returned with a child, a new champion.  But he did know that AFO had returned (the realms are connected enough that you can't really miss it), and so waited for the next battle with some impatience.  He thought that he, perhaps, just hadn't done well enough, that he'd be more careful, more thorough next time.  After all, patterns become stronger when they repeat.  He doesn't truly understand that All for One can't be killed--not in Faerie, at least--and so there will be no end to the cycle as it stands.  Eventually, he got tired of waiting and sought out AFO on his own--and was shocked to find a kid, just a kid, where he expected to find AFO.  AFO did not think Shigaraki was ready for this yet, and was not prepared to watch several years' worth of effort and his cute keepsake get slaughtered (and he probably would have been; Shigaraki could have all the lives he wanted in training, but an official battle against the sanctioned bearer of OFA would have been different), so he ejected Shigaraki from Faerie and fought the battle himself.  As to what happened afterwards, Shigaraki has no way to know, but the gradual return of various other servants of AFO may eventually begin to shed some light on the subject…

Shigaraki is, when his story truly begins, still figuring out his current game--outside of Arcadia, second chances are harder to come by--but he’s a sore loser and a quick learner, so he never stays down for long, and he’s already made a friend in Toga, who he met in his escape from the Hedge.  He still has very ambivalent feelings about his Keeper, which makes him something of an outlier amongst changelings, who typically feel only terror and loathing for the Others that upended their lives and scarred them in ways that will never--can never--fully heal.  No one, including Shigaraki, has quite realized his connection to the Emperor of Darkness who caused so much havoc in the freehold when he escaped back to Faerie five years ago.  Likewise, Tomura’s fetch, only ten years old, is still in a mental care unit in juvie for the murders of the Shimura family, but dealing with that mess will have to wait until Shigaraki can stomach the idea of even looking at that version of himself.  

Tomura looks much as he does in canon, thin and covered with scratching and scarring.  Behind his tousled white hair, though, his red eyes gleam and flicker as if they’re forever reflecting the dancing lights of a screen.  His masked form has black hair rather than white, and eyes the color of dark, old rust.

Court/Mantle: Autumn, the season of fear.  Shigaraki’s entire durance threatened him always with the fear of failure (and the fear of the consequences of failure), and he himself would rather intimidate than charm, but he also shares the Leaden Mirror’s inquisitiveness and discerning eye.  As such, even when he first emerged from the Hedge, it was with a strong Autumn mantle, and it’s only grown stronger over time.  He’s often trailed by dead, desiccated brown leaves, and Hedge foliage that’s in his presence for any length of time visibly begins to wither--but his mantle flares up even more when he’s being actively combative.  Chilly, dry bursts of air can wring involuntary chills from those on the receiving end of his wide grins and dire promises. When he’s feeling more playful, one can sometimes see small flickers of light in the shape of unknown words or hear odd little strains of music from unrecognizable (albeit somewhat tinny) instruments.

Contracts: 

     Fleeting Autumn I.  He’s not so concerned with becoming some kind of symbol of fear that he’s pursued this Contract very much, but it never hurts to get an idea of what your opponent’s afraid of.

    Eternal Autumn I-III.  It takes time, glamour expenditure, and good dice rolls, but he can kill people this way, withering them down to nothing.  Conversely, he can also make plants bear fruit.  It’s occasionally useful.

    Hours I.  He’s figured out how to consciously botch the activation of this clause so as to decay the targeted object instead of restoring it.  It usually works, but sometimes randomly backlashes onto him instead, causing him injury--the bigger the object, the worse the damage.  The Wyrd doesn’t like being toyed with.

    Lucidity I-IV.  Clarity is a fluid, malleable thing for Shigaraki, which can make him extremely frightening--he can thank his Keeper’s lessons in control.  With this series of Contracts, Shigaraki can and does laugh off the kinds of deeds that would make other changelings quail back in fear of what their own minds would do to them in the aftermath.  He can also be shockingly perceptive for someone who by rights should have terrible trouble distinguishing the boundaries between Real and Unreal, Self and Other.  However, his use of these powers does make him somewhat mercurial and difficult to predict, even to his motley, as derangements come and go with the artificial inflation or drain of his Clarity.  It’s a downward slope, but one he’s taking more slowly than would otherwise be the case.

(Hypothetical Powered-Up Shigaraki: Adds two 5-dot Goblin Contracts, Blood-Binding and The Fatal Transformation.  Be it the power of glamour or the breath of life itself, if Shigaraki wants an enemy drained and is willing to pay his pound of flesh, Goblin magic will provide.  It’s a good thing he’s got friends to back him up, as both of these powers leave him in a pretty vulnerable state.) 

Toga Himiko

Quote: “I met someone cute today.  Don’t wait up!” 

Type: Mirrorskin/Leechfinger dual kith Darkling.  Toga served her durance in the chrome-tinted underbelly of a glass-and-brass dystopia full of mirrors, learning to steal life as easily as she stole food, and to slip from one form to another to keep ahead of everyone who’d chase her down for doing it.  More free than she’d been in her old life, to be sure, but still not free to truly do as she pleased, she dreamed of being able to hunt people down the way she’d been hunted down, with no one to answer to for it.  In time, she managed her escape and, on her path back through the Hedge, crossed paths with Tomura--distraught, lost, but still with plenty of fight left in him.  Each decided that the other was dangerous but sympathetic enough to be a better ally than an enemy, and they teamed up to find their way back to the real world.

Back in that real world, Toga is learning to put herself back together.  Getting back home only to find something waiting there wearing her face was a shock to her system, but after some agonizing (and a bloodbath in her parents’ kitchen), she’s decided it’s for the best.  If going back to being that girl means giving up the amazing psychic buffet the world now presents her, it’s not even a debate.  

Toga in her masked form is dark of hair and eye, a school girl with a wide smile and swift, excitable hands.  In her true form, everything bleeds paler--she’s china white, even her hair turning paler than flaxen fiber, most of her features seeming somehow insubstantial except for the long points of her teeth and the gas lamp yellow of her eyes.  

Court/Mantle: Spring, the season of desire.  Toga, more than anyone in the motley, has embraced the fact that she wants things now that she never would have before, that she has desires that no human would ever understand.  And why not?  She doesn’t kill people, after all; she just likes to taste.  The air around her is always infused with heady floral scents, and when she walks, phantom flowers trail up behind her.  Hemlock and cypress vine, spider lilies and nightshade--all lovely, to be sure, but the language of flowers does give her away.

Contracts: Everything about Toga’s Contracts heightens her skills as a predator, and she’s unquestionably the best in the group at it.

        Mirror I-II.  Allows her to shape her form with more specificity and finesse.

        Darkness I-II.  Makes her targets more suggestible.

        Fleeting Spring I-III.  Lets her pinpoint what her targets want so that she can shape those wants or her reflection of them as needed.

Bubaigawara Jin

Quote: “Nothing’s too much for my friends!”

Type: Truefriend Beast.  Jin’s human life didn’t differ much from his canonical backstory, minus the super power, but went drastically off course when he was hunted down--even on a motorcycle, hunted down!--by a monster on horseback and the various other monsters tumbling before it.  His changeling life consisted of one cage, one chase after another, and while most of the people around him were shaping themselves into being better vessels for coursing, baying, sharp-toothed menace, what Jin most wanted was the pack solidarity.  His Keeper thought this was funny but not a very useful trait in a hunting hound, so they started taking him to dog fights instead, hoping to scour the excess sweetness off of him.  Lacking a pack to stay for, he escaped, but the wanting for one never left him.  

Toga basically tripped over him his first night out, and her kindness then meant he was more than happy to follow her home.  He later made the acquaintance of Mr. Compress and Magne on a bar crawl and, wanting all of his friends to be friends together, introduced them to Shigaraki and Toga.  He’s also trying to make friends with his fetch, who is finding the whole experience of having a clone pop up at him at unexpected times to be unbelievably disorienting and nerve-wracking.  Which one of them is the real one, anyway…?

His mask looks much as Jin does in canon, though his scars are in different places.  In mien, he  always looks a bit rumpled, with short, sandy brown fur and bright, emotive eyes.  He’s dog-eared (literally), one alert, the other floppy, and his hands have stubby, darkened nails.  Unbelievably expressive and more overtly doggish body language--he didn’t keep a tail in his flight back through the Hedge, but people tend to remember him as having one anyway.

Court/Mantle: Courtless.  Jin’s too mixed up in his own emotions to pick just one to focus on.  He likes the idea of Spring, but he’s also skeptical that just wanting is enough to keep people safe, and that fear is rooted deep.  He’s also not without his old sorrows.  Of the High Court emotions, wrath is his rarest visitor.

Contracts:

        Fang & Talon (Dogs) I-III.  Jin’s got an undeniable rapport with dogs.  He loves them and they love him.  There’s practically no mutt he can’t get some words out of if he asks nice.  He’s also still got a hunting hound’s nose, when he needs it.  

        Hearth I-II.  Deeply dedicated to his friends, the Contracts of Hearth make advancing the goals of the motley (or hurting the chances of their enemies) even easier.

        Eternal Spring I.  Easier to be a people-pleaser when you know what pleases people!  Toga taught him this one.

        Moon I.  It’s good to know what people want, but it’s also good to know what kind of crazy people (fetches especially) might be sitting on.  This one also helps the group nail down where Shigaraki’s head is at on any given day.

Spinner

Quote: “What a mess.  Where are we even going with this?”

Type: Steepscrambler Beast.  Spinner spent, by his best reckoning, four years in a Faerie jungle.  It was always sweltering, sickbed heat with air so wet you could choke on it, and after a few close calls with the serpentine river dragons and over-large birds of prey that prowled the place, he’d all but given up trying to search for a way out--the sea of trees just went on forever anyway.  A long-tongued madman named Stain convinced him otherwise, with talk of hidden trods and clues found in the bellies of gutted fish.  When Stain went missing, Spinner resolved to try again, and though he can no longer remember the method of it, whatever he did seems to have worked.  He got back to his shitty hometown, but found it just as bad as ever, if not worse, with a fetch still cooped up in his old bedroom, spiralling ever further into depression.  And so, fed up with the state of his life and the apathy his fetch reflected back at him, he did something that very few changelings are capable of doing--he left home.  

Finding his way to the nearest big city with a proper freehold, Spinner gravitated to the Summer Court and got set up with an apartment in a small complex the freehold maintains for newbies to stay in while they get their feet under them.  Not too long after, Shigaraki and Toga wandered into a Summer recruitment drive, with Shigaraki immediately managing to get on Spinner’s nerves--which made it all the more exasperating when Spinner went home and found the both of them moving into the apartment next door to his!  Spinner’s still trying to figure out what he thinks of the mercurial and difficult Shigaraki, but they have been bonding over video games of late.

Spinner’s mask is a sun-darkened young man with a prominent nose and a thin, terse mouth.  He’s straight-backed but with a certain nerviness in his eyes, a stance that suggests he’s ready to throw the first punch.  He has a street punk look--pointy fingernails and pink hair--that people without the sight to know better assume is achieved with a nail file and hair dye.  His mask looks exactly like canon!Spinner with one exception--changeling!Spinner has ears.  They’re pointy, green and finely-scaled, but otherwise normal humanoid ears and they make his face look just a little wider and more humanoid than canon!Spinner’s lizard profile.  

Court/Mantle: Summer, the season of wrath.  Spinner’s angry about a lot of things--the state of the world, the injustices served to his motley and the wrongs of his life in particular--but he’s also wrestling with a lot of self-loathing.  It’s easy for him to slip into fatalistic thoughts and get mired down in apathy, and every time he thinks he’s gotten past it, someone or something comes along that throws him off, and then before he knows it he’s back on the ground wondering how he’s ever going to get past this.  Leaning into Summer’s hot anger helps keep him focused.  His mantle is relatively weak, tending to manifest as a warm, dry wind only when he’s particularly fired up or activating Court contracts.

Contracts: Spinner’s well-rounded, but that’s because he has a hard time settling on anything.  His ridiculous spread of Contracts illustrates this.

        Den I-II.  Not interested in leaning into his animal instincts and learning to talk to lizards, Spinner has instead leaned into possessive territorialism.  Unfortunately, he still feels like a small fish, so it’s hard to muster up the swagger that would allow him to progress this Contract further.  

        Fleeting Summer I.  Need to pick a fight and score some quick glamour?  This is the clause for you!  Just make sure Dabi’s not around; that guy’s angrier than the whole rest of the motley put together and it skews the readings.

        Eternal Summer I.  Makes Spinner a walking thermostat. Yes, sometimes Toga and Mr. Compress take advantage.

        Oath & Punishment I.  There’s a certain capital-R romance to this Contract that Spinner likes, but he’d need to find something (or someone) to whole-heartedly devote himself to first.  At least he can do sick parkour jumps in the meantime.  

        Artifice I.  Temporary repair magic.  Handy around the house and when you fight with cheap knives.  

        Dream I.  Useful facts about the local Hedge and he’s generally content to leave it at that--he doesn’t have a lot of use for dream-spinning, not when Magne’s so good at it.

Dabi

Quote: “You’re mad, huh?  So what are you gonna do about it?”

Type: Gravewight Darkling.  Once upon a time, there was a barren couple who wished desperately for children.  For many years, it was only a wish, until Todoroki Enji finally found someone who offered him a solution.  Nine months later, Todoroki Touya was born, to be followed by a string of children, each haler and heartier than the last.  Seven years later, the firstborn child was taken away in the night.  No fetch was left behind--after all, the Other was only claiming the price they’d been promised.  Fifteen years after that, a changeling calling himself Dabi dragged himself out of the Hedge, having spent most of his life lighting funeral pyres and digging graves in Faerie until he dug his way out.

Dabi fell in with the rest of the League motley after being found by Magne after a fight went sideways.  She patched him up and offered him a group to run around with for a while rather than doing the solo act.  He accepted, but his pledges with the rest of the group are a bit different--more paranoid, less supportive.  Dabi is distant from the motley, and only time will tell if he eventually lets them in or not.  

In mask, Dabi’s a beanpole, wild black hair and bright blue eyes with a caustic grin, skulking about in a succession of black coats and heavy, workmanlike boots.  In mien, he’s even taller, a too-thin gaunt with great swatches of skin burned away by restless soul-fires, which still cling and flicker blue around his hands.  His skin fits him a bit too loose, and he wears staples to keep it all in place.  

Court/Mantle: Summer, the season of wrath.  Could it ever be anything else?  Rather stronger than Spinner’s mantle, Dabi’s manifests as heat distortions in the air around him and, when he’s particularly riled up, blasts of hot air like you’d get opening up a hot oven.  He has some trouble advancing in the Court proper, though, as he prefers to only fight battles he knows he can win.  He feels, all the time, sick with rage, but until he proves willing to make stands even when the odds are against him, the Iron Spear’s time for him will be limited.  

Contracts: 

        Shade & Spirit I.  If he’s going to see ghosts around all the time anyway, he might as well be able to talk to them.  They’re only sporadically helpful, but as a skeleton in the closet himself, he has some fellow feeling for them.

        Elements (Fire) I-III.  He brought fire with him out of Faerie, but it’s a difficult thing for him to master, foreign to his seeming despite sometimes feeling as if it’s nestled in his very bones.  

        Fleeting Summer I-II.  Dabi’s much at home with wrath, and very willing to shape it to his own ends.  Whether or not he sticks around for them, he likes starting fights.  

        Punishing Summer I.  An odd branch of Summer magic, but one that he feels has some promise for him.  Compared to the more straightforwardly righteous Contract of Eternal Summer, this feels harsher, longer-burning, and that sings to him in ways he finds very appealing.

Mr. Compress

Quote: “If we’re going to break the law, why shouldn’t we do it in style?”

Type: Larcenist Fairest.  A simple stage magician of modest fame once upon a time, right up until he was offered a promising and lucrative gig by a stranger who thought he deserved a better stage for his talents.  The stage in this case turned out to be--well, you can guess.  His client (Keeper) wanted things stolen--they seemed to enjoy the taste of things ill-gotten--and there was always some new diamond or painting or antique.  Sako’s time in Faerie (which he came to share with Magne) was like a string of heist films: glamorous and bubbly and thrilling, but the underside was rife with lurid, impossible violence waiting on the slightest error, the stakes always seemed to be climbing, and of course you could never say no…  But one thing you can say for heist films is that they always allot a proper amount of time for planning, and so over time Sako and the others planned their last heist--the one to steal themselves into freedom.  If asked, Sako will tell a dozen different stories about how it went, but the truth is his memories are fuzzy, and the only thing he knows for sure is that he and Magne emerged from the Hedge alone.  

Sako’s a bit disjunctioned in time--many more years have passed in the real world than he spent in Faerie, and he spent a good many years in Faerie.  His fetch washed up in a nursing home in the meantime, riddled with palsy and Alzheimer’s, and though Sako is not by habit or preference a violent man, the sight of it filled him with a primal loathing.  And it’s so easy, in an overcrowded environment, to make a mistake with a dosage…  Sako still has a piece of the detritus left over, just to remind himself of how his story could have ended, and how determined he is to not let such a future come to pass.  

In his mask, Mr. Compress (well, he needed a new stage name) is a handsome, auburn-haired man in his forties who gestures constantly, frequently toying with a short white cane, and speaks in refined if somewhat dated language in a rich, theatrical voice.  He always dresses a bit more nicely than he needs to, preferring clothes with hidden pockets and long sleeves, and is rarely without a hat to flourish.  His mien mostly serves to heighten all of that--he becomes impossibly graceful and compelling, his voice catching the ear like a song, and his clothes are revealed to be Hedgespun, the feather in his hat belonging to no bird an ornithologist could name, the buttons on his coat and the stone accentuating his bolo tie shifting slowly in pattern and shade the longer you watch, and the cane almost certainly a low-level token of some kind.  The most eye-catching thing, though, is the mask--he wears a white mask that always seems to have a different pattern on it, though it never moves while you’re looking directly at it.  He doesn’t seem able to actually remove it all the way, though he can slide it around enough to eat or theatrically squint or blink his eyes (dark and bewitchingly expressive).  If it’s forcefully pulled off, it’s only to reveal another one beneath it--though he’ll complain that it stings and ask you to refrain.  

Court/Mantle: Autumn, the season of fear magic!  Mr. Compress didn’t come out of the Hedge with a particular Court affinity, but he was drawn towards Autumn like a compass needle finding true north.  He’s only a limited interest in fear (though his response to his fetch shows that he has his share of it), but he’s endlessly fascinated by the ins-and-outs of faerie magic.  Trinkets, tokens, pledge-craft--if it’s a clever trick, he’s interested.  His mantle shows as pops and starbursts of light, and frequently as a cool, trailing mist about his feet.  

Contracts: The only person in the group more focused than Toga.

        Separation I-IV.  Escape magic fit for Houdini himself.  If it looks like Compress is locked up or restrained, it’s almost only certainly because he’s allowing himself to be.  

        Forge I-III.  Sleight of hand is even more impressive when you’re using magic!  Extremely convenient for those times when he needs a passable ID or a house key he does not in fact own.

Magne

Quote: “Take it easy, honey.  I’ll handle it.”

Type: Metalflesh Elemental.  Magne was a criminal before she was a changeling, and it was in that capacity that she--like Mr. Compress--fell prey to an offer that should have been too good to be true.  The heist team needed a bit more muscle, is the thing; they were getting caught too often without a good combatant.  And so came Magne, given a sturdier body (that could, incidentally, meld through safe walls when necessary) through processes she only remembers in her nightmares.  An odd thing happened with her, though--what Magne felt the pull of in Faerie was less the element she became and more the stuff of Arcadia itself.  Where her Keeper expected her to become hard as steel, instead she embraced dream conjury; where she was instructed to protect the rest of her band, that protection took the form of healing as often as it did squaring up for a fight.  It’s hard to argue with the results, though--Magne is a fierce and stubborn defender of any group that wins her loyalty.  

Currently in a live-and-let live relationship with her fetch--she feels a bit sorry for the poor creature, and would rather see her find a way to break free of the image she was forged in and make her own path than kill her.  It’s painful to be around her, though, so while Magne’s willing to extend some help from a distance, she would rather the fetch keep her distance.  Time will tell if her fetch--who has her own desires and very much shares Magne’s willingness to bust some heads over them--is prepared to abide by this.  

Magne in mask looks much as she does in canon, though she can afford nicer clothes.  Her preference for butch presentation is unchanged, but the jeans are designer and the shirts elaborate silk prints.  She has a collection of fetching sunglasses for any occasion.  Her mien is a gleaming ochre bronze, flesh hard and smooth, her hair (a bit darker in color than the rest of her) always a bit stiff but, on the other hand, difficult to muss.  Her body is in all ways a more chiselled, more perfected version of the body she went into Arcadia with, which Magne has mixed but overall relieved feelings about.  The flesh-to-metal transition her Keeper forced on her was bad enough; whyever would she trust the Others with gender affirmation?

Court/Mantle: Spring, season of desire growth. Magne’s desire is to never be held down by any sort of repression or expectation forced on her by others (the Others in particular), and this pride drew her strongly to the Antler Crown.  While she doesn’t exhibit the flowing, graceful beauty so prized in women of the Emerald Court, her passion for self-expression and her unstinting support of those fumbling their way towards the same has certainly won her her share of admirers.  Magne’s mantle takes the form of fresh-scented air and pleasant breezes.  She doesn’t leave flowers where she walks, but you can sometimes find ivy where her hands have been.  

        Contracts: 

        Dream I-III.  By leaps and bounds the most talented dream-weaver in the motley, Magne’s oneiromancy is light-hearted and nonjudgmental while her oneiromachy is formidable.  Everyone in the motley can soothe one another’s nightmares, but Magne is the best at it.  She usually has at least one or two dream-task pledges active with mortals, too, so she rarely struggles to keep her glamour reserves--or her wallet--full.  

        Elements (Metal) I.  Magne’s retained only the minimum level of connection with the metal she was forged from; in truth, her body is less important to her than what she does with it.

        Eternal Spring I-III.  Easing fatigue, curing wounds, and even bringing in         a gentle rain--Magne’s deeply in touch with the rejuvenative aspects of her Court.

BONUS TIDBITS:

Shigaraki experienced more deaths in Faerie than any other member of his motley.  After all, you might know the cheat code for unlimited lives, but that doesn’t mean you never die.  And it did feel like death, every time.  Of course, sometimes failure just meant Sensei shaking his head and Being Disappointed.  That still felt a bit like dying too, though.

Over the course of her durance, Toga had more than one knife fight with a cyber hero adventurer hunting through the city’s underbelly looking for a power core.  Also, changeling!Toga is much less murderous than canon!Toga because if she were as murderous as canon!Toga, Clarity loss would rapidly render her unplayable.  

Spinner was pulled into the motley over a planned playdate heist to see how well Shigaraki and Toga could work as a unit with Mr. Compress and Magne.  Being very familiar with heist stories by that time, Sako and Magne decided the group needed one more guy to provide muscle, and as it happened, Shigaraki and Toga lived next door to just such a one.

I have not decided on whether the Todoroki family are a mundane equivalent of the way we see them in canon, all deeply damaged by Endeavor’s ceaseless drive to fulfill his goals by way of his children, or whether they’re actually pretty normal and well-adjusted with the exception of Enji’s one dark secret.  Either way, Natsuo is the only one who has any inkling that there was anything “off” about Touya’s death/disappearance.    He has no inkling of the truth, obviously, but he always felt that Enji didn't react quite the right way to Touya's death, or thought Enji was behaving suspiciously on the night Touya vanished.  

The League’s basic motley pact includes the dreaming pledge, so they frequently take mental voyages into one another’s dreamscapes to clear out the nightmares and indulge in silly, impossible-in-reality lucid dreaming adventures.  The exception is Dabi, who would rather have nightmares than people in his head.  

Mr. Compress doesn’t jokingly call himself an old man anymore because he’s too traumatized by finding out what he’d actually be like in old age.  

Shigaraki, while beginning the story in a fairly ambivalent, uncertain place, eventually finds his way towards a goal of helping to free loyalists--from their hopeless circumstances, from their learned helplessness, from their starstruck adoration.  He finds this goal over the course of his late-game encounters with Kurogiri, Gigantomachia, and Re-Destro, and it is through helping them that he’s finally able to begin to process his own feelings of attachment and affection towards his Keeper.  It may well be that the fetch of Shimura Tenko is Shigaraki’s final boss.

#bnha #shigaraki tomura #toga himiko #bubaigawara jin #iguchi shuuichi #dabi #sako atsuhiro #bnha magne #bnha spinner #mr. compress #league of villains #changeling: the league #changeling: the lost #my writing

[wonderfulchaos69-blog]

Fanfic Recs

I’ve been meaning to make one of these for a long, long while and so here it is! Amazing fics that I’ve read and enjoyed a lot =) I hope you’ll find something that you might enjoy, too, along the way. And feel free to share any fics you’ve read/written, I’d be more than happy to add to the list!

Artemis Fowl:

Why One Must Not Attempt to Analyze A Child Genius, fiercejinx - Complete, G. "Artemis Fowl had retired half a dozen counselors from St. Barleby's already this year." Here's how. Six chapters, one for each psychologist losin' it.

Blue Exorcist:

To Be Good, Kizmet - Complete, T. Yukio had always been the good twin, intelligent, studious, disciplined and, most importantly, not a demon. It was obvious that he only wanted what was best for Rin. Yukio's intentions were one thing Rin would never question, no matter what. After Father Fujimoto's death Yukio went quietly insane. No one noticed.

Danganronpa:

A Farewell to All Futures, Yukari - Complete, Not Rated, Oneshot. One of them in theory belonged to the chosen ones, but still wondered if his life had any meaning.

The other one had a chance to become the chosen one, but still wondered if his decision was right. Basically the first, very brief meeting of Komaeda and Hinata before the world went completely insane, because we probably won't get to see it in the anime.

Bad Poetry of a Lopsided Heart, IcicleWieldingManaic - WIP, T. Komaeda likes to write letters that he never sends. However, one time Hinata accidentally receives one addressed to himself. He also feels a responsibility to watch over Komaeda after the events of the first trial. You know, just so nobody else gets killed.It's a good thing Hinata doesn't know who the letter's from, huh? Komaeda/Hinata, slow burn.

just looking at you i enjoy myself, suitablyskippy - Complete, Mature. “Hm?” says Komaeda, and looks down at the grip he’s still got, cold and clammy and squeezed uncomfortably tight. “Oh – that! Of course! You know, sometimes, Hinata-kun – sometimes I forget, when I’m touching you! Because it feels so natural. Like you and I are one, almost! Like we were always meant to be this close – do you know what I mean? Do you feel it?”

“You’re still holding my wrist,” says Hinata.

Komaeda lets him go, and then he touches his elbow, gently, as though in consolation. “With my luck the way it is,” he says, “no one’s gonna be able to kill me unless I let them.”

(Someone's got to die next, and Komaeda would really, really like it to be him!)

Long Road to North, Urponator - WIP, T. There’s nothing as hopeless as a life being a regular salesman at a regular office. And after waiting for years for his life to change, he can’t contain his excitement as he finds himself threatened by a knife, held by a brown-haired stranger on the run. Komaeda/Hinata, slow burn, AU.

Death Note:

A Forgotten Encounter, Alex Prosper - Complete, T. Light is faced with his first murder case at age nine after meeting a strange, hooded teenager in Harajuku. Dupin becomes the one special thing in his childhood, long forgotten. This is L and Light's true first meeting, but they will never know it.

Genius is a Curse, Bloodshot Eyes - WIP, T. If Light had never touched the Death Note, would he ever have found an escape from the depression and boredom that plagued him? Would he have had a future at all? Undertones of Light/L, dark themes.

Leave the Light On, Ne Quittez Pas - Complete, T. Light had dealt with admirers before, but nothing like this. Between an unknown stalker and a mass-murderer with a God complex, it's unlikely that Light will ever sleep again... unless an insomniac detective can help him put a stop to both. Light/L, dark themes.

Detective Conan:

It's Raining Men, Hallelujah, Asuka Kureru - Complete, Oneshot, T. Conan already has some kind of corpse magnet power, but when Heiji is in his orbit the corpses actively come to them. From above. Witness.

D. Grayman:

Fair Play, liketolaugh - WIP, T.  Cross hated his master. Really. Allen fucking Walker was the most infuriatingly mysterious human being on the planet - but even Cross couldn't say Allen had done a bad job looking after him. Oneshot series.

vertigo, hurryup - WIP, Mature. Los Angeles, 1951. Allen Walker, a private eye of cult celebrity status, has been running from his past for a long time. Howard Link, an LAPD cop rising quickly through the ranks, finds himself caught between that which is lawful and that which is right.

As Sunset Boulevard crackles with caged heat, the thread of their investigations meet. With them, corruption, obsession, and celebrity meet in a game of chess that holds the entire city as its hostage.

The descent into hell is easy. All it takes is a little push.

Durarara:

If We Ever Meet Again, Shitsuren69 - Complete, T. AU. Mikado thought that the biggest event in his life was when the love of his life ran off with his best friend. This was, of course, before Celty invited him to Ikebukuro. Eventual Shizuo/Mikado. Prequel to Operator.

Comments: I just really love the way this one was written. From Mikado getting along with Walker and Erika to the falling out in the beginning with Kida and Anri. It makes when they meet again all the more interesting! And there's this one scene that will always stay in my mind - Mikado jumping off the roof, fully expecting Shizuo to catch him. I know, I know, what is the likelihood of something like that happening in real life, right? Still, I got a kick out of reading Izaya's reactions in this story. In addition, this story gives me the same vibe as the series - it's about different forms of love.

Thirty-Two Steps, Nanimonaimono - Complete, Oneshot, T. He guesses it's time to make Anri fall in love with Mikado like she should've from the start. As he opened his mouth, Masaomi fought the ridiculous, overpowering urge to stop and shout that he's been in love too long for this. Kida/Mikado.

Final Fantasy 7:

Beloved, Sinnatious - Complete, Mature. It all starts when Cloud tries to leave during the middle of a Loveless performance. Genesis/Cloud. Tifa/Cloud.

Dishonorable Discharge, icynovas - Complete, T. Seeking a new career, infantryman Cloud Strife attempts to get fired from ShinRa.

Off the Line, esama - WIP, T.  In which Cloud gets a Virtual Reality Dream Console – ShinRa's latest in virtual reality technology. Aaand everything pretty much goes downhill from there. Vincent/Cloud.

The Fifth Act, Sinnatious - Complete, T. Cloud has an accident with a Time materia. There are people to save, and for that, some people need to die. 

Comments: This is a pretty well-known story in the FFVII fandom, and let me tell ya, it’s worth every second of the read. Even if you haven’t played the game, this sort of storytelling will drag you in and keep your attention. You’ll be left wanting more!

My Hero Academia:

but you gotta get up at least once more, simkjrs - WIP, T. Izuku’s never run into this problem before with anyone else, but it’s still not much of a problem. “Oh, that’s alright,” he says. “I don’t have a Quirk.”

Tsukauchi stares incredulously at him, and then looks at the iron bar that Izuku is currently straightening with his hands.

Midoriya Izuku does not let his lack of a Quirk prevent him from being strong.Also known as that one AU where Izuku follows the ridiculous training regimen of Saitama from One Punch Man and becomes stronger than anyone ever imagined he could be.

Persona 4:

Dare Disturb the Universe, jackdawq - Complete, T, Oneshot.  A creeping, nagging sense of repetition: rewind, replay. Yosuke/Souji, Naoto/Kanji.

Days Without Nights, Angevon - Complete, T. Years after the events of Persona 4, Yosuke Hanamura is married. Then his wife leaves him. Yosuke/Souji, slow burn.

First Impressions (Seventeen Variations), jackdawq - Complete, T, Oneshot.  It sucks to be the new transfer kid. Right?

Reversing Arcana, Sinnatious - Complete, T.  P3, P4. Six months after Souji leaves Inaba, he wakes up to his house on fire. The Investigation Team are the only ones who know he survived. But that's only the beginning of their troubles.

Ten Steps, chisotahn - Complete, T. Written for a prompt over at badbadbathhouse. "Souji never told anyone about being able to enter the TV. So, even though Chie and onward somehow ended up with Souji, Yosuke never wound up knowing about the shadow world. For months on end, Souji has been keeping his otherworldly adventures a secret from his predictably ignorant (yet suspicious) boy [best] friend (though he's still your Magician).

Preferably later in the game, Yosuke appears in a Junes-exclusive interview (bonus if the media was filming Junes without permission), and thus, dungeon time ensues." Only... well, slightly modified. ;) You'll see! Yosuke/Souji.

Psycho Pass:

Unconventional Normality, scorchedtrees - Complete, G. AU: In which Akane joins Division Four to work alongside Inspector Makishima.

Servamp:

Fragile Bonds, Atherin Ashura - WIP, T.  A silent walk home from school can change the outcome of so many paths. Fears arise, secrets that are closely guarded come to light and partnerships can crumble. But if one can survive through it, a brighter, more certain, tomorrow awaits. Kuro + Mahiru, sloth pair friendship.

Honest is Your Only Policy, faecakes - WIP, Explicit.  Being Ex-Lovers can be complicated, especially when your ex happens to be Tsurugi. Mikuni/Tsurugi.

Unmasked, stirlingphoenix - Complete, Explicit, Oneshot. "The smile falls from Mikuni’s lips and he dons a more pensive expression before reaching forward and taking a piece of the paper bag between his fingers.

'I want this gone,' he says casually, like it’s only a suggestion, and not the demand Jeje knows it is. Once again, he feels as if he’s being pinned down by Mikuni’s gaze, and he can hardly think." Jeje/Mikuni.

The World Ends With You:

Blindsided, R. Seldon - Complete, Oneshot, G. Neku has something to say that Joshua does not particularly want to hear. One-shot. Warnings: spoilers; mild, kinda-sorta one-sided Joshua/Neku. Or just Josh being, um, obsessive. Spoilers for endgame.

Dust, DarkRulerDominica - Complete, M. After surviving three weeks of the Reapers' Game, Neku demands that Joshua return him to the world of the living; Joshua agrees, but there's a catch to the deal…. Dark themes. 

Comments: As a thriller/horror story, this one is damn good. It answers one of the glaring questions from the game: what happens to the bodies of those who are playing the game?

Perfect, Infamousplot - Complete, Oneshot, T. One month. That was all the time he gave Kitanji: four weeks, 28 days- give or take a few. Well, now he's down to three weeks. A whole week wasted. Because SOMEBODY, though he won't name any names -Neku Sakuraba -, just won't freaking DIE! Now, he's sprinting through the RG with a gun, a psycho on his tail, and only one goal in mind: Kill the proxy. Now.

The Red Queen series, Kay (sincere) - Complete, T, unfolds in four parts.  In which someone who has been too long alone finally reaches out, building a bridge between his world and another's. It has been decades in coming, and it isn't easy, but the more difficult the ordeal, the greater the reward -- just like in any Game. 

Tokyo Ghoul:

mamihlapinatapai, sinshine - Complete, T, Oneshot. 

“Hey, babe,” he crooned into the phone. “I know you're thirsty but you can't keep calling me at work like this.”

“Hide.” Came the exasperated sigh and he couldn't help but smile at the sound. “You're not really at work, are you?”

“Nah, I'm just getting something to eat.” Hide took another bite out of the dismembered arm he held and licked a drip of blood up his wrist before it could hit his jacket. “What's up?”

Your Cross, I’ll Bear, PTchan - WIP, T. “You make him sound like the hero of a shonen manga or something,” he couldn’t help but comment.

“Who knows,” Koma replied just as Irimi stood to deliver the order. “Maybe he is,” he winked. “And you would be the sidekick right?”

Kaneki sweatdropped, but chuckled all the same. A story with Hide as the main character, huh… he thought, wringing his cloth in the sink before hanging it on the rail and picking up his notepad. Well, if it’s him… then it would surely be one filled with hope.(Or: that fic where Hide wakes up in the past just in time to prevent the Tragedy that was Kaneki Ken's life... by taking it on himself.

Of course, it doesn't have to be a Tragedy.)

Yuri on Ice:

a glide in your step, Yuu_chi - Complete, T, Oneshot.  Ah, Yuuri thinks as his skates touch down on the ice, and even as Yuuko watches him it’s the weight of Viktor’s eyes he feels on his shoulder blades, I’m not ready to let this go. Victor/Yuri.

fight for you, write for you, third - Complete, T, Oneshot.  The thing is, Yuuri had completely forgotten about his account on Figure Skating! until he sees the email in his inbox. He doesn’t know how he ends up awake at 3 AM defending Victor’s reputation from strangers on the internet. Victor/Yuri.

i see quiet nights poured over ice, ohhotlamb - WIP, T. He’s a despicable man, but what he offers is the truth. I’ll make you a winner, he says. And he knows -

This is one thing that Yuuri can’t refuse.

like your french girls, ebenroot - Complete, T. "Victor," Yuri begins, lowering the eighteenth sketch of the figure skater Victor drew this week, "you have a fucking problem." 

--in which Victor is an artist, Yuuri is his figure skating muse, and Yuri is so done hearing about their stupid love story through Instagram. Victor/Yuri.

stay young (go dancing), ryuuzaou - Complete, Explicit, Oneshot. Victor/Yuri.

“Do you do this with every pretty boy that serves you champagne?” Yuuri asks, finally a touch of humor in his tone.

“I’ll admit, I’m the flirty type,” Viktor says, “but I haven’t asked to kiss any.” Oh, fuck it. Yuuri throws caution to the wind and says, “You won’t have to.”

aka: the one where yu-topia onsen caters a celebration party for viktor nikiforov's fifth world championship win, and viktor takes interest in the super hot waiter.

#fanfic recs #ficrecdays #to update soon #just a few that i wanted to ensure got recced #before i forget #woefully incomplete atm #artemis fowl #blue exorcist #danganronpa #death note #detective conan #d.grayman #durarara #ffvii #my hero academia #persona 4 #psycho pass #servamp #twewy #tokyo ghoul #yuri on ice

[thewebofslime]

After probing his deep-state background and Illuminati connections, I was hoping to be rid of the Jeffrey Epstein file but here we are spinning another round in this Part IV of a saga of sexual perversion and financial crime that refuses to go away. It's a cold day in hell for me to find any agreement with The Daily Beast, which means the Netherworld must now be sufficiently frozen to toss a few snowballs at child-porn producer Nicholas Negroponte and his acolyte Joi Ito. As founder of the MIT Media Lab and his pedophilia sex-fiend buddies with American diplomats and major corporations, including Boeing, all in with the George W. Bush team, Negroponte was involved in systematic rape and video production of kiddie porn at a Phnom Penh orphanage, that was busted by "the Father's group" of anti-pedophile activists, which included Wayne Madsen, the late Gerald Thorns and me. Those tiny victims, mostly boys ranged from six to 14 years of age, along with a few subteen girls for some hetero action, until their expulsion on orders of Queen Monica of Cambodia. These crimes of underage porn produced at the MIT Media Lab later culminated in that coven's role in the murder of reddit editor and anti-pedophile activist Aaron Swartz in January 2013. To give credit where's it's due, the Beast exposed Epstein's secretive funneling of investment funds through Nick Negroponte's MIT Media Lab as a conduit to tech "start-ups" involved in next-gen sexual perversion to amuse the mind-raped heirs of elite families when they get a bit older with their own bio-synthesized AI-capable sex androids, presumably modeled after young kids from your neighborhood. Jeffrey Epstein, who had a personal preference for teenage girls, was their angel investor, providing an estimated one million dollars or more to the Lab's bag-man Joichi "Joi" Ito, whose background check discloses zero academic or engineering qualifications for being in charge of anything except the janitorial service at MIT, indicative again of the intellectual level of the baboons with the Bush crime mob and their queer pals in the Obama regime, who managed to subvert academia. Further on, this essay will examine the occult Shabbatean roots of the Greek Jewish Negroponte family from Calchika, the Venetian fortress of Negroponte on the Aegean island of Euboea (Evvia) where their pimping Khazarian Jew ancestors flourished in the service of the Doge of Venice and the Ottoman court, as continued into our present era in Ambassador John Negroponte's relishing of the perverse sadistic torture at Abu Graibh Prison in military-occupied Iraq. The elite's sex crimes against defenseless children are legacy operations of cults that operate in secret like vampire covens in Eastern Europe and Turkey as depicted in the "Underworld" series and the Dracula movies. Nick and John, you diabolical scum, walk quickly on dark nights though you've tired with age, because it's never too late for the ghosts of your victims to insert and squeeze the castration tongs when you least expect it. Ventriloquist's puppet The stand-in for Nick Negroponte as current lab director, Joi Ito, has just apologized for his secret meetings inside Epstein's posh homes to collect "gifts and funds" to MIT along with an undisclosed amount for Ito's private investment company. Under pressure of media coverage, MIT disclosed that Jeffrey Epstein donated $800,000 to Joi Ito and Seth Lloyd, the latter involved in quantum computing theory, without providing further details as to the specifics of project allocation. Ito claimed the MIT Media Lab received $200,000 of that sum and admitted that Epstein also channeled an undisclosed amount into one of Ito's private investment fund. This funneling of large sums of money, of unknown origin (when Epstein's prime business client Les Wexner is now complaining about grand larceny due to misappropriation from his fortune) is a financial crime implicating Ito and possibly other individuals with the governing board at the Media Lab and MIT administration. To assume Negroponte had no insider knowledge is absurd considering his crime biography. Instead of launching a credible investigation into the MIT-Epstein nexus, the university administration has quietly encouraged a "non-official" petition by Media Lab faculty, fellows, staffers and students in support of bag-man Ito to retain his position as crook-in-chief, even though he has, this late in the game, failed to disclose any specifics about the amounts, recipient research projects and individuals involved, and the purposes of Epstein's funding. Due discipline at major universities, including MIT, requires legal contracts for major donations, which Ito and his board have failed to produce for public inspection. His admission of a secret financial relationship with Epstein came long after the media expose of the donor's sexual misconduct with underage girls. The complicity of DARPA and the National Science Foundation in this campaign of misdirection under a blanket cover-up is yet to be exposed. This level of financial fraud demands FBI action and Massachusetts state attorney general's probe into the MIT Media Lab, including its role in the Cambodian pedophile-child porn project and the murder of Aaron Swartz. The nexus of evil must be dismantled in a court of law and the culprits assigned long prison terms. Education Secretary Betsy DeVos needs to step into this quagmire, which threatens to suck down MIT and Harvard into a swamp of distrust. Minority Report Contrary to the ethically stunted majority of MIT Media labbers, two of its professionals resigned in protest of the hidden relationship between Ito and Epstein, and undoubted its shadow director Negroponte. As reported in CBS News: "Ethan Zuckerman, director of the lab's Center for Civic Media, said that director Joi Ito had failed to disclose the deceased financier's funding of the MIT incubator as well as investments Epstein made in Ito's personal venture capital fund. "Visiting scholar Nathan Matias, who works on the social impact of online platforms, said in a blog post that he, too, was severing ties with the Media Lab over business relations that occurred after Epstein's 'appalling crimes were already known.'" Well done, gentlemen, for setting an ethical example. Two honest individuals versus 100 ethically impaired careerists who signed the support letter, plus several cowards who remain anonymous, in favor of Ito's continuing as director. This is a scandal of academic complicity in criminal activities and ethical lapses at one of the nation's most respected institutions of higher learning, setting a disgraceful example for America's system of higher education. That said, who and what is Joi Ito? Houseboy in Charge Due to the moral influence of my father from a samurai clan who went off to war in the U.S. Army's 442nd Regiment against the Nazi-led forces in Europe (yes, there is such a thing as real men among wimpy Asian Americans), I get uncomfortable whenever having to discuss our subservient immigrant phenomena of "houseboys" like actor James Shigeta, Lt. Sulu aka George Takei and this creepy Joichi Ito, and various mango smoothies named Cary or Grant. Orientalism, with its sexual exoticism, is a powerful undercurrent in Western societies that have neocolonial commercial interests in Asia, with Ito's suspect role as a purveyor to pedophiles of Japanese child porn being a case in point. Joichi Ito's academic biography is noteworthy for its lack of mention of graduation from any university, not even with a bachelor's degree, having been a dropout from Tufts and the University of Chicago. One of his disappointed teachers said that Joi believed himself to be too "creative" but actually was too lazy and undisciplined to attend class. His curriculum vita is otherwise packed with honorary mentions and highfalutin titles, obviously exchanged for generous donations by this fraudster. Institutional bribery bought his ticket to ride. PSY op Tokyo His "big start" in tech came with development of the PSY network in Tokyo, thanks to a little help from Cable and Wireless PLC, a private-sector telecom that fronted for the British CGHQ spy agency (equivalent to the NSA) operating out of Hong Kong and Australia. The Brit intel connection also links the Negroponte brothers to UK Princes Charles and Philip, those descendants of the King of Greece, a Brit-installed puppet during the Greek independence struggle against the Ottoman Turks in which Lord Byron figured so publicly. Is the MIT Media Lab actually a British intelligence outpost in the Ivy League? What else can explain Joi Ito' mercurial rise based on nothing but hot air? Anyway in the early 1990s, Japan's early Internet system was being developed by a coalition of computer departments at leading universities, which called itself TWICS. In that early phase, my Japan Times Weekly webpage was the runaway leading website in Japan, but was forced to shut down under the threat of an advertising boycott made against the parent newspaper by Dentsu, then the world's largest ad agency, which boldly told our executives about its plan to control the top 5 websites in Japan for online advertising purposes. My replacement website was titled "Archipelago", a description for insular Japan borrowed from Alexander Solzenitsyn's novel "The Gulag Archipelago". At that moment, Joichi Ito was a bit player, virtually unknown who made his first fortune quietly from the British imperial spy apparatus. The GCHQ, for those who have not kept up with the Brit spooks, has more recently been directly implicated in the Russiagate scandal against Donald Trump, the rise of Huawei out of colonial-era Hong Kong, and John Podesta's excursion to New Zealand for the false-flag staged at ISIS mosques in Christchurch, plus a player in Ghislaine Maxwell's relationship with Jeffrey Epstein, and the hidden hand behind the Negroponte neocon brothers and the MIT Media Lab. Therefore, this logical thread suggests that the British top queers aka the Rothschild-Goldsmith cabal were ultimately behind the murder of Aaron Swartz and before that the arson that killed banker Edmond Safra, patron of the Aleppo biblical and Torah scholars opposed to the Illuminati State of Israel. The Illuminati fingerprints are all over the Epstein-Wexner-Maxwell affair. Absurdity always accompanies evil, that is provided by Joi's sister Mimi, a cultural anthropologist at UC Irvine who "studies" geek "culture", for instance, computer gaming without her having any clue of how cheats and points are traded for money by these ethically stunted young criminals spending all their hours in game parlors (to avoided being tracked down by cybersleuths). Then again, she's probably spent a lot of geeky hours in the dark web trolling for virtual goods to sell to sexually bent gamers. It's hard to believe that top universities are permitting pseudo-academic "researchers", but then again whenever I meet intellectually devoid professors I start to believe in the improbable. Brit Fags Now what does British-Australian intelligence have to do with child porn during Joi Ito's early Internet days in Tokyo? I can recall one of my sub-editors who was married to staffer at the Australian Embassy expressing her dismay at embassy cocktail parties, where the male staffers (to the disgust of their wives) boasting about their outrageous sexual exploits against little brown boys and girls, in a game of one-upsmanship between cringeworthy pedophiles. That was in the same time frame that several European diplomats were arrested at their home-country airports for possession of child porn. One Spanish offender, who was second secretary at the Tokyo embassy, was caught bringing in a couple of suitcases full of Japanese child-sex videos, which included Caucasian men raping sub-teens and even infants. The Japanese yakuza-owned studios were the world's leading producer of child rape and S&M videos, available in uncensored format only for export. The underground trade and file-sharing over the Internet at his PSY operation (TWICS would have detected massive online porn) should explain how Joi Ito endeared himself to the high-end pedophile studio known as the MIT Media Lab. In that early era of the Internet, videos were too large for file-transfer and so shipments by TNT overnight air-express (the American founder of TNT was a serial rapist of underage Filipina girls). Ah, yes, those golden days of underage rape across Asia from Japan to Thailand. Pressure from the Interpol forced the Japanese pedophile video industry to go underground. Many outsiders have wondered what accounts for the grotesque genres of Japan's porn industry including elaborate knot-tying bondage, dripping candle infliction of pain, student gang-rape of teachers, 100-to-1 ratios of men to lone woman in the semen coverage rituals called bukkake, scatalogical poop fests, golden showers, female ejaculation, "new-half" trannydom and other demented rites with a rear-religious quality akin to Satanism? Partly because of racism payback whenever the more bizarre sex acts are staged by the ethnic Korean mafia out to humiliate the Japanese, much like how the Jewish cabaret owners in Weimar Berlin took out their race hatred against German Christians though deviant performances like the dog leash walk, scat-eating coprophilia acts (still enjoyed by Eric Schmidt and his Google technology freaks from Stanford), transvestism, leather and rubber fetishes, lesbian shows, and so on. Underdogs can be rabid vicious mutts that need to be put down before their affronts to public decency bring on another race war by the majority against the criminalized minority. Koreans like the Jews indulge in complaints against discrimination while failing to address the question of provocation, as seen among many newer minorities in the USA with their Antifa posturing and nudity at gay-lesbian marches. If one was to be accepted, learn to live with others instead of assaulting their sense of decency. CV of a Faker Back to the Joi boy, the socially approved innocent who was appointed at Harvard Law as a "professor at Practice" (whatever that means): "Ito is chairman of the board of PureTech Health and serves on several other boards, including The New York Times Company, the MacArthur Foundation and the Knight Foundation. He is also the former chairman and CEO of Creative Commons, and a former board member of ICANN, The Open Source Initiative, and The Mozilla Foundation. Ito is a serial entrepreneur who helped start and run numerous companies including one of the first web companies in Japan, Digital Garage, and the first commercial Internet service provider in Japan, PSINet Japan/IIKK. He has been an early-stage investor in many companies, including Formlabs, Flickr, Kickstarter, littleBits, and Twitter. He has received a lifetime achievement award from Oxford Internet Institute" Impressive for a college dropout." Blah-blah-blah. Show us the credentials. Joi Ito is one of those tech con artists, spewing optimistic predictions to gain the naive trust of gullible investors and foundation grant-makers, not an educator or researcher, which is exactly what's wrong with the over-leveraged, absurdly hyped tech sector and the Ivy League, where inventiveness is mainly focused on ridiculous e-commerce scams, redundant apps and counterfeit digital currencies. The bust of tech shares is looming, promising to wipe-out bigger than the dot.com bust. Sayonara, Elon and Zuck! Last and least mentionable: "Ito has been awarded honorary doctorates from The New School and Tufts University and is a member of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences. Ito is a visiting professor of practice at the Harvard Law School." So he failed attend classes in his freshman year at Tufts and now Ito has a doctorate from that same prestigious institution of higher learning. What a disgrace for Tufts! Pull your kids out of that fraudulent diploma mill. Because on Christmas I hope to give the university president a silver beggar's cup to piss in. Another point that hasn't been raised is: Japan does not permit dual citizenship with the USA making his appointment at MIT an even bigger stretch. (Whereas dual citizen status is granted to Japanese descendants born in Peru and Brazil, based on those nations' fascist alliance with Imperial Japan in the run-up to World War II; meaning the USA is still considered an enemy state.) As a Japanese citizen, Joi Ito cannot hold U.S. citizenship. A non-citizen with no college degree with prestigious Ivy League postings? How is this possible without payoffs? Why not appoint John Gotti's grandson to the Wharton School? Another mongrel from the Jewish kennel Joi Ito's obscure origins involved a father who immigrated from Kyoto to work as researcher for the Detroit auto industry. Somehow his mother became particularly close to Stanford Ovshinsky, a battery designer and solid-state "inventor" (who never studied electrical engineering), who "treated Joichi Ito almost like a son." Hmmm. This so reminds me of that other Polish Jew named Bernard Krisher, the Tokyo correspondent for the Moonies' UPI, who gained notoriety as a pedophile during the Cambodian orphanage affair. Ovshinsky's father was from Minsk, then Lituania but now Belarus, in that same border regions dominated by the Frankist-Shabbetean sex cult, discussed in my earlier articles on the Epstein-Wexner family origins. To those familiar with Operation Paperclip-Overcast, Ovshinsky's "inventions" in solid-state electronics are not impressive works of a creative genius, given the fact that most of those "inventions" were developed in wartime Germany and hijacked (without an iota of concern for copyright). During World War II, Ovshinsky worked at the Goodyear plant in Litchfield, Arizona, where he modified lathes to produce artillery shells, and in the postwar period worked for the defense contractor Hupp Corporation, an assembly plant for Army vehicles. While maintaining the pretense of being an "inventor", Ovshinsky was one of dozens of contracted managers with the Defense Department procurement program, transferring captured German technology to the private sector. Ovshinsky later established an electronics parts company in Nara, Japan, presumably with Mrs. Ito as his translator and guide-companion. Therefore with the connections to Operation Paperclip, which morphed into DARPA, Joi Ito grew up as one of the Pentagon brats just like Jeff Bezos, the favorite boy of his maternal grandfather Lawrence Preston Gise, a founder of NASA and DARPA, as disclosed in one of my earlier articles for rense.com. It's called nepotism, folks, based on "family secrets" reinforced by incest. These hand-me-down "geniuses" are mere managers and secret-protectors, not bright lights. Another one of these Jewish family heirlooms is Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez, the NASA-awarded "science genius" with a thick Yiddish accent, whose "uncle" with the Kirshenbaum clan at Mount Sinai hospital's research center facilitated her research on a microscopic worm. Inside Plato's Cave Joi Ito is surrounded by a crew of likewise dodgy characters. The petition is online, but The Daily Beast's Taylor Hatmaker has done a great job of condensing it: "Some of the prominent signers of the petition to keep Ito include former presidential candidate Lawrence Lessig, Whole Earth Catalog creator and tech icon Stewart Brand, managing partner of MIT Media Lab's venture fund Habib Haddad, MIT Media Lab founder Nicholas Negroponte, LittleBits founder and CEO Ayah Bdeir, and Harvard genetics professor George Church. Church previously apologized for his own connections to Epstein, chalking the relationship up to 'nerd tunnel vision.'" Tunnel Vision? There is actually light at the end of a tunnel. These benighted ignoramuses are more like those blind believers inside Plato's cave. So now that George Church is outed as an Epstein researcher, we're right back to "transhumanism", which is not a transition for humanity but a genocide-in-planning that can more accurately be called the Post-Human Future, the roboticization of our simiian species to function like "intelligent" machines, albeit with less efficiency. Among that list of MIT Media Lab notables one can detect a Turing machine logic that reduces human cognition to electro-mechanical imaging, processing and patterning programs as opposed to our mammalian intuitive natural perceptions and surreal leaps of logic. The Media Lab promotes interdisciplinary attempts to render thought into algorithms, essentially in denial of the human propensity to a higher calling as well as our negation capability to hold out for a more demanding solution than what's on offer, or as Nancy Reagan put it: "Just say no." And that is exactly why the managerial class prefers mechanics over human intelligence. At a macro level, the post-human agenda is to turn a maddeningly complex human society into an ant colony. George Church, molecular biologist specializing in genetic editing, CRISPR, was co-initiator of the BRAIN project launched by President Barack Obama, which is (face it, folks) a continuation of MK-ULTRA, using plug-in chips to fine-tune cognition after the initial experiments by those pioneering Doctors Sydney Gottlieb with LSD studies and Ewan Cameron through electro-shock therapy produced such excellent results in the assignments for Mark David Chapman and Whitey Bulger. An innovator of chip-DNA synthesis, Professor Church has been the director of research projects at the Department of Energy (DOE), National Institutes of Health (NIH, genomics) and the Wyss Institute of Synthetic Biology. For those who recall my Pizzagate series, Hansjorg Weiss is the Swiss philanthropist who ran Synthes, a producer of prosthetics, implants and biomaterials, which was hit with medical malpractice suits for illegal experiments that killed several patients. Wyss was a friend and associate of John Podesta until he was scared off by the risk of blackmail following sexual performances at private showings. Herr Doktor Victor Frankenstein, where are you now that we need you? To simplify the difference between the mechanistic post-human approach to science and a humanitarian philosophy of existence, one can look at MIT Lab researcher Aya Bdair's "little bits" concept, which represents proteins and other long molecules with manipulable magnetic blocks, something like Lego pieces without holes and pegs. Linking her twisting pieces gets the player to falsely assume that biology is mechanical and that its biochemical configurations can be represented through mathematical modeling. In opposition to this constructionist viewpoint, life is energy, electromagnetic and biochemical via synapses and cytokines, moving with ever-changeable fluidity and reactivity to the point of being uncontrollable by external intervention, being both dancer and the dance, and at the quantum level ultimately inter-dimensional. A computer cannot begin to model those levels of complexity and therefore replicating even the simpler life-forms is beyond the grasp of the futurists. Jeffrey Epstein's sex life reflected that mechanistic outlook, with insertion of an organ in to another organ (as put in the Robert Burns poem that influenced "The Catcher in the Rye", "when a body meets a body passing through the rye") with casual sex as a mere physical function, devoid of the energy dimensions of hormones, nerves pulses, emotional longing, psychological imaginings and mammalian affection. His research quest for synthetic biology spawning of sex cyborgs reflected his mental isolation from the immense range of expectations, perceptions, reactions, emotions and communication that arises spontaneously in the love between a man and a woman. A cyborg made of "beyond meat" protein and methyl cellulose controlled by artificial intelligence algorithms is not in anyway equal to the human it is modeled after. After all the experiments with sex cyborgs are done, one fact will remain: the Post-Human Future is a dead end. Negroponte's inhuman past in Cambodia Can you recall Colonel Kurtz, with Marlon Brando in that role? "The horror, the horror!" Like that PT boat crew sent to terminate the madman gone native, I was one of troopers who stumbled on Nick Negroponte's encampment inside a sprawling Cambodian orphanage. The path to it, however, with dirty cops pointing guns to my head. Media Lab founder Nicholas Negroponte was our Col. Kurtz, a core organizer of a pre-puberty predator ring in charge of kiddie porn sent by encrypted files from his computer lab at a Cambodian orphanage on the outskirts of Phnom Penh. At the time over several years after 2002, I was a member of an unofficial "The Fathers' Group" of anti-pedophile activists who defied bribed-off Cambodian police and sex fiends at the U.S. Embassy to crack a child-sex ring run by Bernard Krisher, former UPI chief based in Tokyo who was a Moonie, and Nicholas Negroponte, who set up an Apple computer-learning center with video equipment and an outdoors transmission tower in the schoolyard, to transmit rape clips of boys as young as 6 years old. Shutting down his child-sex coven was a brutal challenge involving murders, assaults and threats, eventually resolved only through the intervention of Her Highness Queen Monica (the Cambodian orphanage affair is recapped at the end of this essay). This notorious affair, which was sanitized over but never punished by the State Department, CIA or FBI, served up proof of Nick Negroponte's role as a purveyor of child-rape porn to elite government officials and their corporate supporters. Without an ounce of official support, our team used night-vision videocams to provide the honest Cambodian cops with the identities of sex predators entering and leaving bordellos pimping sub-teen children. Later, the investigative journalist Wayne Madsen traveled with me to the orphanage where teachers informed us of "weekend parties" for visiting American diplomats and corporate executives in 5-star hotels in Phnom Penh. Dozens of children were sexually violated, with a core group of compliant victims of both sexes of "average age 10 years old." Jeffrey Epstein is a statutory rapist, Negroponte's group are by comparison monsters, who compounded their criminal spree by arranging the murder of Aaron Swartz, the heroic Reddit editor who broke into an internal link on the MIT campus to hack the wire feed of child-sex videos prior to encryption. The corrupt New York police, of course, attributed his hanging by the neck in his apartment, even though the belt was several sizes larger than his waistline. Another assault from the Krisher-Negroponte lackeys in Phnom Penh resulted in a roadway ambush outside of Sihanoukville on a New Zealand collegue in the father's group, who had met with Madsen and also knew an informer inside the Krisher child-care NGO network in Phnom Penh. In the middle of night, he was beaten by the paid-off cops until blood poured out of his ears and all 10 fingers were bent back out of their sockets in the hands. He eventually died a few years later due to the long-term effects of those injuries. The pedophile coven were disappointed that he had survived the attack. The paid-for hit was in retaliation for one of their own volunteers at a pre-school nursery who had visited him to disclose the sexual abuses by the Krisher ring, which included the boss's son and daughter-in-law. That informant was soon thereafter executed and they tried to assign the blame to our member. The coven suspected our Kiwi friend of bribery, never considering that one of theirs might have pangs of moral conscience about organized rape sanctioned by the highest officials in the U.S. government and its intelligence operations in Southeast Asia. The existence of Cambodian child-sex tapes was detected by reddit editor Aaron Swartz who pursued the clues from San Francisco to New York and onto Cambridge, Mass., to the MIT campus sprawled along the dirty water of the River Charles. As I have pointed out in the past, he was then working on research grant for the Edmond Safra foundation, under the cover of open access to academic research but his personal passion was to expose the politically connected pedophile. The late tycoon Safra gets a lot of bad press from Illuminati-controlled publishers, but in reality he was one of few traditional Jews to resist their perversion of the Jewish community and the Hebraic tradition. Although I've been vocal on this issue, it really is the moral responsibility of faithful Jews to launch action against the perverse and criminal heresy. The Original Blackfriar's Bridge Negroponte is an Italian surname that translates as the Black Bridge, named for the wooden passage over the dark waters of the channel between the Greek mainland near Athens and Euboea Island in Aegean. The Venetian fortress in Chalkida, Euboea or Evvia, is therefore called Negroponte castle. The eponymous Greek Jewish family of Nick and John were perhaps servants of the Venetian lords. The charismatic "messiah" Sabbatai Zevi was born in Smyrna, a port on the Turkish mainland, but his family were originally from Greece, and possibly served as spies for Venice following the fall of Euboea to the Turks in 1490. In contemporary history, the Negroponte family's most prominent members are the brother Nicholas with the MIT Media Lab and John, the former neoconservative UN Ambassador for George W. Bush. By no coincidence, the Podesta family, headed by John and Tony of Pizzagate fame are also long ago Venetian Jews, whose surname derives from "pedestal", the corrupt concierges in charge of audiences with the Doge (ruler) of Venice. That city, being allied with the Eastern Roman Empire rather than Rome, was a center of barbaric sorcery and witchcraft, as implied by the custom of wearing masks to disguise one's going to places of illicit activity, run by the Khazarian Jews, a black tradition kept up by the Negroponte brothers. A large population of Khazar Jews emigrated from the region between the Caspian Sea and Georgia to flee the rival Turks (both tribes have origins in what is now Xinjiang, western China). A stream of Khazar Jewish refugees moved through Venetian Euboea northward to the Black Sea to form large communities in greater Poland and Lithuania, the homelands of the Epstein and Wexner families respectively. Others like the Negropontes remained behind, living under Turkish rule, when in the early 18th century the self-proclaimed "messiah" Sabbatai Zevi recruited much of Greek Jewry to convert to Islam as the "Donmeh" or hidden Jews, first disclosed in recent years by Wayne Madsen in his field reporting in Turkey. The Shabbetean cult was, as discussed in my earlier articles on the Epstein-Wexner affair a promoter of pedophilia, group orgies and homosexuality, introducing these to the Hapsburg court and to the Frankfurt-Hesse region of Germany, the center of financial power for the Rothschild house of usury. This deep history of a vicious warped cult explains my description of them as a coven. Global Population Reduction Bill Gates has been a guest, at least on one flight, aboard Epstein's Lolita Express Boeing 727. Their secretive encounter goes a long way toward understanding the hidden agenda behind transhumanism, which is the planned genocide of the major of the human population, which will eliminate more lives than all previous genocidal events in past history. Never mind Himmler's drop in the bucket compared to the Gates-Epstein plan for mass destruction. The very tact that androids are going to be needed as workers and personal assistants indicated at least 7 billion people are being targeted in the soon-coming clean sweep. The biowarfare labs certainly have sufficient deadly pathogens to accomplish the task while the elites will be in Earth orbit or on moon bases. "Transhumanism" has genocidal implications of technology-enable savagery at its most extreme, which is why I prefer the more accurate term of the post-human order. In this regard it is quite fitting for Joi Ito being a Japanese citizen to be running the project much like the"modernization campaign" at Nanking achieved by eliminating its native population in 1937-38. It may seem financially inefficient to spend many millions of dollars on technology-enhanced sexuality when humans are willing to that task for free or, nowadays, the price of dinner and hotel room with a Tinder date. Investment in human-resembling cyborgs makes more sense in terms of the population-reduction agenda of the Gates and Rockefeller foundations. Jeffrey Epstein served on the board of trustees for the Rockefeller University, one of the original brain trusts for eugenics and population control of lesser subtypes. From the perspective of reducing the total number of births worldwide, this anti-humanistic agenda has been advanced through investment in promoting sexual identity movements, since homosexuality and transgender options result in birth-rate reduction without surgical intervention. Partner androids, far more advanced that present-technology sex dolls, will be the means to maintain the illusion of normative coupled relationships while precluding the potential for breeding offspring. Due to religion-based belief systems, sex-partner cyborgs will not reduce population growth in Muslim and Catholic developing economies, which oppose popular use of condoms and birth-control pills. By logical deduction, human-resembling sex androids are being develop for after the great kill-off of 7 billion people. Sex cyborbs are, therefore, part of post-genocide social engineering for the planned survivor group, to prevent another wave of human population expansion, in other words, a steady-state demographic system. Given the time-factor of development of "near-real" substitute spouses, say within 20 years, you my reader are scheduled to die in the soon-arriving genocide. So eat, drink and be merry, or join the resistance. Anyone with children or grandchildren had better choose the latter, due to your moral obligation for family preservation and social responsibility. While the festering genocide is still in preparation, one must activate a counter-strategy and prepare for war. My father, as I mentioned, was in the American military unit that broken up the gates of Dachau, which in fact are not as bad as things to come in our brief moment of time. Remember this is a battle for the human future against insanely evil forces, so none can be spared for the crime of consenting to the agenda. The world has recently seen the deliberate release of cloned mosquitoes that transmit ovary-destroying toxins into the human bloodstream during the Zika scare in Brazil and the ongoing vaccine-induced ebola "epidemic" in West Africa and now the Congo region. Under the cover of modern medicine and vaccination, the Rockefellers, Gates and Epstein's convoy of tech companies, are preparing catastrophic campaigns of sneak mass murder. The coming struggle is on two fronts: Against criminal science and also in strong opposition to Muslim and Catholic ideological propaganda against birth control in the developing countries, along with the "escape valve" of migration to the developed economies. Population-exporting nations, regardless of their natural wealth, need to be quarantined by sealing borders, so that the rising populations threaten their own national leaders and religious fraudsters who promote a high birth rate. Until those false values are squelched and realistic policies, there will be no peace or sustained development and therefore compromise is futile. Be very clear that a new world war is shaping up, and planning and preemptive action needs to be taken against the two extremes: the advocates of population growth and the supports of genocidal population reduction. The global population will have to decline, but this should come about by consent and social policy, not by either terrorism or genocide. Jeffrey Epstein left behind time bombs that must be defused and junked. There are hundreds of thousands of madmen like him among us, and they must be rooted out from positions of power and influence, or there will be hell to pay in days and hours to come.

#TheWebOfSlime

[wionews]

Ryan murder case: We all have blood on our hands

What is more chilling: To know that a 7-years old has been murdered or to be told that a 16-years old could have been the killer. 

As a parent, I don't want to be put in a situation where I would not know if I would shed tears for the dead or the accused.

My deepest regret is that we have failed both these kids collectively.

Not only have the school administration failed to protect one of its pupils, in shielding the perpetrator, they are exposing other kids of the school to a very dangerous environment.

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We failed to provide a safe environment for Pradyuman - a kid who was too young, too weak, too vulnerable to protect himself. I still don't know for certain whether, as the CBI has been pointing out since this morning, Dr Augustine Francis Pinto, Chairman of Ryan International Group of Institutions and other members of the Board of Trustees, was indeed involved in a cover-up.

If that allegation proves to be true, it is treachery of the highest order. Not only have the school administration failed to protect one of its pupils, in shielding the perpetrator, they are exposing other kids of the school to a very dangerous environment.

Teachers may have their favourite pupil but they are not supposed to discriminate between students. As a teacher, I had my favourites, however, I did not let that dictate my professional life. I can still recall, the quiet, bright boy sitting at the corner of the classroom or the argumentative, energetic girl sitting at the front desk. I liked few of them more than the others. But I was not allowed to privilege one over the other. If this more benign form of favouritism is a taboo in academia, can you imagine how heinous it is to cover up the death of a murdered student because the school administration is close to the parents of the accused?

Speculation, based on circumstantial evidence, is already rife that the Pintos had been trying to hide facts because the parents of the accused were members of the Board of Trustees.

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What could be the reason behind Ryan management's attempt for a cover-up? Speculation, based on circumstantial evidence, is already rife that the Pintos had been trying to hide facts because the parents of the accused were members of the Board of Trustees. The CBI did point out that the Gurgaon police did plant the knife on the co-accused who happens to be the school bus conductor.

Framing a less-privileged member of the working class for a crime they have not committed is not happening for the first time in India. It most possibly happened with the security guard Dhananjay Chatterjee who was hanged on charges of raping and murdering a 13-year old Hetal Parekh.

Our punishment doesn't end with knowing, reading and writing about these horrifying crimes. As if the brutality of these acts were not enough. We are pushed to the nadir of our civilised existence on knowing that people very much like us were complicit in these acts. Not monsters but very common people like us. The banality of evil did not die with holocaust perpetrators, such as Eichmann. This kind of people very much lives amidst us.   There is no doubt that we have failed to protect Pradyuman, Hetal, Arushi and many others. But have we done our duty towards the accused either?

We may give a vent to our anger and frustration with Pradyuman's death by making the accused look like a monster. Yes, he has committed a monstrous act if we believe in what CBI is telling us. But we have to stop and ask ourselves what caused the boy to act that day. At 16, he is of an age when he will play football and not plan a murder. What was he so scared of that murdering someone looked less scary to him?

We all want spectacular success for our kids which is not an illegal thought but if that pressure of expectation is pushing our kids into life-threatening in activities, there must be something terribly wrong with our dreams.

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As per the CBI, the 16 years old wanted to postpone an exam. Having sat for all kinds of exams -- nursery admission test to PhD defense-I know for sure that no exam is worth giving or taking a life. But this knowledge was drilled into me by my father, my school principal, and my teachers. Sister Cyril, the famous principal of Loreto Day School who later won Padma Shri for her educational efforts, did not believe in exams nor in the ranking system. She never allowed her students to compete with others. Her words, I still remember, emphasised on the need of improving one's own self.

I strongly feel that we are not adhering to this life motto anymore. We all want spectacular success for our kids, which by itself is not an illegal thought but if that pressure of expectation is pushing our kids into life-threatening activities, there must be something terribly wrong with our dreams.

Let all of our kids prosper. Let them live a life of milk and honey. But as parents, as teachers, as members of the civil society, we have to make sure that we act as their lifeguards. Rather than seek escape routes in the dark alleys of crime, they have to reach out to us if they feel insecure. 

We shouldn't fail our children. If we do, then the blood they spill is in our hands too.

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