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theancientdarkbeauty · 6 months

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Update On This Bitch Ass MF

Alright, my brain is short circuiting, and I'm just screaming into the void rn so, update ahead, enter if you dare (update under cut cause it's a little liggity long)

So, you didn't know unless you were there during the "My computer didn't fucking work" era that started my big ol' hiatus, but I got a new computer (woo hoo! :D) and it was working perfectly. Emphasis on WAS. Turns out, living in the country, I'm too close to town to get to get rural wifi, which is fast as shit, and too far away to get town wifi, which is somehow even faster? Anyways, I knew of this problem when I moved into the house, but it's my family's homestead, I moved here when I was in highschool, yadiyadaya, no need for fast wifi just a couple years ago. HOWEVER! Now that I have a crazy good computer (I'm talking liquid cooled, built it myself, named it TheBeast) I need at least alright wifi, right? Well RECENTLY it's gotten WORSE! Somehow, it got worse than it already was! Which means, and keep in mind, I got petty enough to time it, but this delay in wifi has caused me to wait up to 14. WHOLE. MINUTES. Yes, you read that right: 1. 4. Obviously I'm not gonna just deal with that without, you know, being a little bitch. I have a new wifi provider that I'm going to be testing soon. Hopefully, cross your finger dear reader, I can stop waiting 14 minutes for my college work to load. Oh yeah, I got college stuff to do, specifically taking a creative class because I thought I was out of practice in writing. It's actually really helped! But, the topic, wifi, is that the new router should be here by Wednesday, and I should be able to test it out, maybe fix some errors and stuff that have been happening due to slow wifi.

So, wifi segment over. If you read this far, thanks. I really only made this because I'm frustrated af rn, so reading me type out my rage is something you didn't need to do, so thanks. BUT WAIT! THERE'S FUCKING MORE! (At least in the bad new segment, good news is at the very end, sorry!)

PAYDAY. 3. Hot topic right now, right? Well I had been tying to sign in for A FULL WEEK! SEVEN FUCKING DAYS! I did everything, like, legitimately everything, but caved at 4 days, and contacted the Nebula help line thing. Everyone was very nice, the costumer service was great, a tiny bit slow towards the end, but they had a good reason. I told them what was going on, they were very nice, accidently gave them the wrong Nebula Starbreeze account at first because I'm dyslexic as fuck, still very nice, much better than my conversation with like, the EA or Epic helplines (very long story), and eventually they got to the root of the problem. My problem was that it kept giving me a Nebula Data Configuration Error, every time I booted up the game. Tried everything, like I said earlier. They get to me 3 days after I told them all my special information and all the steps I took to try and troubleshoot on my own. You wanna know what they told me? Of course you do you've read this far. Let me preface this with the fact that I am just mad, and they were very polite about this, and the team is doing the best I can I'm absolutely sure, BUT THEY TOLD ME IT WAS SUCH A SPECIALIZED ERROR THEY NEEDED TO PATCH IT IN THE NEXT UPDATE! Now, I don't know if this was intentional, but they gave me the rough date for the update, but I don't know if it's the real big one everyone's waiting for, so I'm not going to tell you guys because I value their mysteriousness and don't want leak something that starbreeze was only telling me to let me know when to try and play the game again so that I can contact them if it didn't work. I don't know, it'd probably be super cool to be known as the user who knew when the update would come out, but it feels wrong to leak something like that if it is the correct date for the big update and stuff. So now I'm stuck, just listening to Gustavo Coutinho's fucking banner music for Payday 3 from youtube and not being able to watch the gameplay and stuff. And I heard there were cutscenes? CUTSCENES?! I am so excited to see those. WHEN I CAN PLAY THE GAME. (I feel like that one Fair Odd Parents meme omg)

Final update: Fun stuff!

Working on redesigning EVERY. SINGLE. CHARACTER. That has ever left the recesses of my mind for an upcoming comic I'm gonna try and make, once the whole wifi situation is fixed. Working on the new chapter of The Golden Tempest (I almost posted this with it's "inside name" hehe, too bad you'll never know what the files are called), and working on From the Eyes of the Payday Gang, or at least trying to. I'm thinking of doing a grocery store worker at the grocery store the Payday gang all has to take turns going to the store but whole store knows that they're all like a family or some shit because they are all idiots and all use the same car because it's not in the fucking budget to get another car, so they have the escape van and the "family car" and that's it. Holy shit that was a weird lore tangent, but anyways, comic maybe coming, Payday related content definitely coming, some more surprises and goodies in the works, so expect this account to be much more active. Today is the first day off I've in I don't know how long, but a long time, and so just expect some text stuff from me, since my computer can't apparently handle doing anything on CSP because of the wifi situation. Sorry for the long post, have a wonderful day!

Real quick: SHOUT OUT TO THE MUTUAL DECPACEETOES! I DO NOT THINK I SPELLED THAT RIGHT! ALWAYS GOT MY BACK MAN!

(Bonus, if I do anything that involves my person life, I'll add the tag "You're creature speakith", so if you wanna see more of this in the future, follow the tag. Don't like it, never want to see it again, block that shit, I totally understand either way. All my funny or creative prompts will have my signature turtle smile on them. You know, this guy: :} Which is perhaps an homage to the TMNT fandom, or perhaps my herpetology nerd shining through, you will never know, will you?)

#You're creature speakith

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spookieloop · 3 years

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WHAT THE DEAD MEN SAY

Chapter One:

Pairing: Ivarr Ragnarsson(AC Valhalla)/Female!Reader

Premise: You are an archeologist/linguist in the Victorian era, and your world is turned upside down when a certain Viking Warlord returns to life before your eyes.

Rating: Explicit(there is a bit of NSFT at the end, and there will be more in later chapters)

In truth, you hadn’t wanted to attend this party. The museum was...nice, but you were quite familiar with most of the exhibits. Your presence had been politely mandated by the foundation that pays your bills, if only on account of your relative fluency in a number of dead languages and scripts. Not that you were given the proper respect for your achievements. “Greatest Female Mind of the 19th Century,” to distinguish you from the men, who won far greater respect for far less work. You weren’t sure how many more questions about your ‘spinsterhood’ you could withstand; as though none of your accomplishments held weight without a ring on a finger or a child on your hip. The other scientists were the worst of course; they had seen you work, knew your intelligence, yet it served their egos to pretend as though you were lesser.

It is far too much frustration, with far too little alcohol. Perhaps wine, yes; a quick trip to the cellars to clear your head ought to do you some good. You excuse yourself, your colleagues all too willing to believe you some dithering lady with need to retire for a bit; as though they hadn’t seen you trek through hot sun and freezing rains.

You roll your eyes as you turn away, your heels tip tapping against the marble floors as you make your escape.

It is however, a large building, and the lower floors are beginning to feel more like a labyrinth than a basement. At this point, you are more interested in finding your way out than you are in seeking out more wine.

The further you go into the basement, the less light there is, fortunately, you come prepared. You rummage through your satchel for your candles and matches, shedding some light on your surroundings.

The breath is stolen from your lungs and you all but shriek at the sight before you, a wide skeletal grin seeming to stare down at you. You calm down quickly however, realizing that this must be where the museum keeps its new exhibits before they go on display. Holding the candle closer to the skeleton’s glass case, you see evidence of water damage, as though it had been found at the bottom of a lake after centuries of rest...you frown as your flame illuminates the brass plaque.

Ivarr Ragnarsson

Of course, this must be from the recent Viking Age find. You had been requested for this project, but you refused. Normally, you were a go-to for Viking cultural finds, but this...The Foundation had decided to dredge the lake in search of high-profile remains. You were sickened by the idea, it felt as though your colleagues were disturbing the extensive rituals of the honored dead. You loved history, but this...felt wrong.

Wrong could not even begin to cover what you were about to witness.

You watch in awe as the bone seems to rejuvenate from its formally eroded state; awe giving way to horror as blood and flesh materializes seemingly from nowhere, knitting together to reform the man from the inside out. His face wears a blank expression, not quite alive, as the scars tear across his flesh, ink bubbling up to the surface to reform his tattoos. Your fingertips ghost against the glass inquisitively, your fears all but forgotten as you marvel at his form. Until now, you could only guess at what the people of the distant past truly looked like; and now here he is, standing before you just as he was the day he died.

Suddenly his eyes open, and you recoil with renewed urgency, only barely keeping your grip on your candle. He hadn’t just regained his form, the man is alive. Your brain fires off quickly, desperately seeking some explanation for this...perhaps a gas leak? No, your candle would have had you up in flames.

His head tilts in confusion as he eyes you, blinking abscently as though he had woken from a long slumber. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but a look of animal panic flashes through his eyes when he realizes there is no air in this glass box.

You realize it too, instinctually rushing to his aid, moving to unlatch the glass box...too slowly. As you reach for his prison, he is already smashing his head through the glass like a battering ram, littering the floor with the glittering shards. In your surprise, you drop your candle; the light still glowing weakly against the marble floor.

Barely illuminated, the man-Ivarr, is a thing of terror; rage and confusion etched into his face. You scramble backward, pressing your back tightly to the wall as he fixes you with his murderous gaze.

“What, THE FUCK, is this?” he growls in thickly accented Old Norse.

You struggle a bit to understand him, you were much more accustomed to reading Old Norse than hearing it. His displeasure though, is obvious. He lets out a pained grunt as he steps down into the broken glass with his bare feet, quickly closing the distance between you.

“I don’t know!” You manage to stammer out in his own language, shrinking away from him as his nostrils flare with rage.

“I was in Valhalla,” he booms. “Fighting beside my family for endless days.” He looks around, even as he struggles to see in the darkness, he can tell how deeply unfamiliar this world is. “Now I am...where am I?” He growls, caging you against the wall with his hands on either side of your head.

You quake in your boots; even naked and unarmed, you know he could kill you-with ease if he wanted…and he certainly looks like he’s got murder on his mind.

“London,” you force yourself to answer.

He doesn’t let you elaborate before he resumes his barking, unsatisfied. “I have been to Lundon, they had nothing like this,” he says, gesturing to what little you can see of the modern furnishings.

“It is London,” you insist, earning a rough hand around your neck before you can finish your sentence.

“You lie,” he snarls, squeezing harder as you claw at his hand desperately.

“Please,” you urge, struggling to choke the words out. “You’ve been dead for a thousand years.”

You gasp deeply when he releases you, staring up at him as you scramble for breath. He looks confused, but not so shocked as he should be; you can only hope that he believes you.

“A thousand years?” He whispers, looking around abscently in consideration. He looks down at you as you sink against the wall. “What sort of magic calls me back to this world after so long?”

You shake your head, trying to regain your composure, eyes fixed firmly on his. “I’m as shocked as you; skeletons don’t exactly have a habit of coming back to life.”

He sighs deeply, shaking his head before he looks at you, much more calmly than he had a moment ago. “So I live again…” he runs a hand through his hair, eyes miles away before returning his gaze to you. “What happens now?”

Fear dissipating, you cautiously rise to your feet; he’s staring at you expectantly, as though somehow you are supposed to have an answer for him. “I-I don’t, wait,” you cut yourself short, pacing quickly to retrieve your fallen candle. He looks at you curiously as you return, holding the candle up between your faces. “This is an extraordinary opportunity!” You gasp, any lingering expression of your previous trepidation evaporating in the heat of your excitement.

He opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off, grinning wildly. “So much history from your time is lost to us, or tainted by cultural bias,” you explain with a fevered sort of enthusiasm. Your free hand slides along his bicep, getting a closer look at the intricate tattoo stylings. “My God, you are incredible. Think of what can be learned.”

He eyes you with a grin, clearly amused with your sudden zeal in contrast to just a moment ago, when he had you cowering against the wall. “You are an odd woman,” he says, lifting his arm so you can get a better look at his tattoos.

“What?” You look up at him, breaking your intense focus, if only for a moment. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

He shakes his head, looking down at you. Already your attention returns to his tattoos. A deep chuckle escapes his throat as you kneel to trace the runes etched into the skin of his abdomen; translating them in your head. He takes you by the chin, just a tad too roughly to be tender. He grins down at you, satisfied that he’s got your full attention.

“I said, you are an odd woman.”

There is a certain growl to his voice that sends a warmth through your spine; you feel yourself blush as you realize just how much of this man’s personal space you’ve invaded.

You rise quickly to your feet, turning away from him in a failed effort to hide your embarrassment. “Sweet Mercy,” you whisper in your own tongue. “I am so sorry.”

He laughs, deep and loud from the pit of his stomach. “Sorry?” He steps closer, into the light of your candle, on full display. “There is no shame in liking what you see.”

Your free hand covers your face in scandal. Your profession affords you much less prudery than your contemporaries, but it is difficult to shake the Victorian Sensibilities with which you were raised.

He grins playfully as he approaches, his hand brushing yours as he takes the candle from you. “Look at you,” he beams, thoroughly delighted by your obvious discomfort. “You shook less when I was going to kill you.” He snatches your hand from your face, leaning into your comfort zone, but awaiting your response.

You bite your lip, focused on the hunger in his eyes. That is part of what you love so much about history, is it not? The Passion. Rarely in these modern days do you see such an unashamed lust for life. This man lived and died in a culture of unrestrained freedoms, unabashed pleasures. You gaze back deeply into his eyes; perhaps you’d like some of that pleasure for yourself.

You lean into him, pressing your lips against his, and he pushes you up against the wall. His teeth scrape your bottom lip as he tries to push your skirts up, but he quickly becomes frustrated with the sheer amount of layers you’re wearing. He sets the candle aside.

“Too many fucking clothes,” he growls in your ear, his hands sliding up to rip your dress open.

You gasp, ready to protest the destruction of your most expensive dress, when you notice him eyeing your corset with a frustrated sneer.

“Fuck, are you wearing armor?”

You fail to hold back your laughter as he pouts, like a dog denied his treat. Your eyes widen when he grips your corset, however and you quickly snatch his hands.

“This one is my favorite, don’t you dare-”

You hardly get the words out before he’s grinning like a madman, and you know he took it as a challenge.

“Wait, I can take it off-” You shout, but not quickly enough.

You cringe at the sound of the busk popping open. You open your mouth to give him a piece of your mind, but a pleasured squeal forces it’s way out instead as his teeth sieze the sensitive bud of your breast.

“Fuck,” You moan, your arms draped lazily around his shoulders.

He releases your breast with an obscene pop, pressing firm kisses from your chest up to your neck, before biting down on your soft skin with a lustful growl. You gasp, digging your nails into his shoulders as pain meets pleasure. You feel him start to move away, as though he’s concerned that he hurt you, and you whine.

“Do it again,” you beg, pressing your body against his with urgency.

He grins, toothy and feral, before pushing you a bit more roughly against the wall, teeth biting down on your neck. He takes your hand, guiding it to his waist. You know what he wants, and you are happy to oblige; your fingers sliding down to wrap delicately around his length.

You make long languid strokes, savoring the weight of him in your hand. You desperately want to feel him inside of you.

He groans in protest as your hand leaves him, and you laugh softly, your hands working to undo your skirts.

Your attention is so utterly consumed by him, that you hardly notice the room flood with light, until Ivarr’s attention leaves you.

“Unhand her!”

You blush furiously, shifting to move between Ivarr and your bosses, the Board of the Foundation.

Taglist: @youre-my-boshaw-baby

#mypost #ac valhalla #assassins creed ivarr #ivarr ragnarsson #ivarr the boneless #ivarr/reader #ivarr x reader #ivarr the boneless x reader #ivarr ragnarsson x reader #ivarr ragnarsson/reader #nsft #fanfic

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awriterpretendingtowrite · 3 years

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TFATWS Spoilers

Don't keep reading if you haven't seen up to the latest ep of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (Ep 5).

First, I love Sam and Bucky’s dynamic, and I used to not ship them at all.

However, this frickin show. Wow, where to start.

First, the queerbaiting in Ep 2 with the couples therapy was blinding.

Then, they just keep fighting like an old married couple. If we kept the same shots, the same music, same tones of voice, but changed one of them to be female, this would be a romance.

Now for Ep 5:

First off, I LOVED that Sam is finally taking on the Captain America mantle and proving that he doesn’t need the serum to do it!!! Even after Isaiah Bradley shared his horrifying experiences, after it looked like Sam was giving up, he still decided to pick up the shield and train!

Speaking of the training scene... let’s talk about the queerbaiting. Whether it was intentional or not, there was a TON of queerbaiting in this episode. Here’s what I saw, but feel free to add on:

1. The way they fight together in the beginning isn’t their best work, at least in my opinion, but it’s still amazing, and it at least shows that they trust each other with their lives. That scene was more focused on Walker, but there was still that element of partnership that we used to see with Bucky and Steve, who were/are also heavily queer-coded. When Bucky saved Sam from Walker’s killing blow, it solidified that these two men matter a lot to each other and that they are partners, even if they don’t want to admit it.

2. Speaking of, their bickering is hilarious, but also undeniably old married couple behavior. It can also be seen as the classic romantic trope of “fake-fighting because neither of you have processed your feelings yet and you don’t want to ruin your friendship.” Most importantly, in between that bickering, they have real conversations, and although they can be stubborn with each other, it shows us that again, they really care about each other and that they are partners in fighting for their cause.

3. Skip to Sam being home, calling in favors, etc, fixing up his family’s boat. “How do we get it off the truck?” Cut to Bucky casually showing off to all of Sam’s friends with his strength and fixing the gas leak. AKA the romantic trope of showing off in front of your romantic interest and their friends.

4. Speaking of Bucky fixing the gas leak, they were way closer than they needed to be at first, and Bucky grabbing Sam’s arm, and the return of their old married couple bickering. I can’t, please, my little queer heart can’t take another major company using us for money.

5. Bucky continually showing his strength to Sam and being super helpful (also, the jeans/t-shirt combo? Deadly to my little bi heart).

6. “Well, Nicole, what about Sarah and Bucky?” That’s a valid point, truly. What about them? Honestly, I was looking for any romance between them to make sure I wasn’t just blindly ignoring it because I want the gay romance to happen so badly, but I saw nothing except Bucky going, “hEy. I’m Bucky.” And then they made it worse by having Sam say, “But don’t flirt with my sister.” Yes, that is a big brother thing to do, but again, if either of them were female, that’s a Jealous Crush move! There’s no denying it! “Don’t flirt with them” *internally* because you should flirt with ME.

7. Skip to Sam fixing the boat and Bucky knowing that he’d be down their fixing it and just helping him. Who was the only person Bucky ever just helped and took orders from like that? Steve. That was it. Again, queer-coded. (And more old couple bickering)

And finally...

8. The training scene. Oh gosh, the training scene. Their flawless chemistry. The way they trade off the shield. The way they remember each other’s struggles and the way Bucky tries to understand Sam’s struggles, even though he’s from a completely different era. The way they are vulnerable with each other. The way they look at each other my stars.

9. Sam asking Bucky if he still has his nightmares and Bucky, without hesitation, replying, “All the time.” It parallels the therapy that wasn’t doing Bucky any good at the beginning, but if you watch Bucky’s body language, the look in his eyes, it’s clear that Sam’s words help him more than anything else as so far. The way that Sam knows when to be tough with Bucky and when to be a caring friend who just listens. The way he looks at Bucky.

10. Bucky risking asking the Wakandans for another favor to replace Sam’s wings, because even though Sam walked away, Bucky knew that he would want them back eventually. He knows who Sam really, just like Sam really knows who Bucky is. He is so open with Sam, even more than he was with Steve. Again, the way he looks at Sam. Like he’s some sort of heaven-sent person, like Sam is his lifeline to his sanity. If Bucky were female, that would be immediately recognizable as a pining look. I have given my best friend that look and I was crushing on her, hard. That is not a look straight men give each other.

11. And at the end of their training, when they part ways, just as a little cherry on top, their “bro handshake” lasted wayyyy too long (and the way they look at each other... again). The awkward way they’re trying to put a label on their relationship and Sam automatically correcting partners to coworkers. That may seem like a straight guy thing to do, but as a queer woman, when I was first figuring out that I liked girls, and specifically my best friend at the time, I avoided and corrected, at all costs, any implications that she and I could possibly be involved, even in the sense that someone called us partners for something totally unrelated to romantic intentions.

12. Skip to Sarah and Sam talking and Sarah saying, “Who knew you were so sensitive?” Well, that’s a classic falling in love trope. “You’ve changed, for the better,” or pointing out something specific that has changed because of their partner, is so commonly said to people in romance stories, and if. Sam or Bucky. Were female. This. Would. Be. A. Romance.

My queer siblings, my rabid hellers, my tired LGBT folks who are desperate for scraps of representation--

Don’t settle for scraps, because if we settle for scraps, it’s all we’ll ever get. It was a start, sure, but we cannot continue to let big companies think it’s okay to queerbait us in increasingly obvious ways and make money off of us frantically grasping at straws. Look at Supernatural. They had a gay confession to draw the queers back in the for last two episodes, then never acknowledged it. In fact, they insulted us by killing any and all even slightly queer-coded characters.

It’s time to join together and let our voices be heard. Our sexualities, our gender identities, our struggles, will not be made into something that companies use to make money. If Marvel pulls the same BS that the C*W did, queerbaiting and then discarding, we need to let them know that that is no longer acceptable. It’s not okay; it never has been.

In the meantime, enjoy TFATWS, ship whoever you want, and be aware of what is happening and what Disney and Marvel are doing.

We won’t stand this mistreatment any longer, and when it comes down to it, we will make our voices heard.

#tfatws #tfatws spoilers #sambucky #queerbaiting #again #will it ever end #marvel #stucky #captain america #john walker sucks btw #hellers unite #against queerbaiting #no more queerbaiting #queerbaiting cw #long post #i'm frothing at the mouth #i literally cannot take this anymore #stop using my sexuality as a way to make money #my post

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vulpiximisa · 3 years

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finished the 4th case

so like

so far, none of the cases we’ve had had been anything like the modern day cases that we are used to. i dont know if i blame that on the lack of technology or they just really wanted to do something different.

third case it was clear mcgilded had sus written all over him. i was wondering if we really were going to defend a guilty man or if i was just being judgemental but it was an interesting take on that. it did leave me unsatisfied but that was the point i guess.

tampering with the crime scene could only happen in this era, not only because it was a carriage you could cart into the court but because there would have been more security and they would have taken photos prior to wheeling it in.

i guess we are supposed to think that von zieks is the one that set the bus on fire? maybe he did, in the name of justice. maybe hes batman

case 4 was not terrible but once again it was just a series of unfortunate accidents and luckily nobody died so the defendant got off easy. (i had to look up who he was afterwards when they mentioned he wrote novels and i guess the culture was lost to me. i have heard of “wagahai wa neko deareu” only through a Burnout Syndromes song)

anyway I SWEAR TO GOD THAT THERE WAS A GAS LEAK in natsume’s house that i thought would be brought up at some point. which explained the cheap rent and how he thought the room was haunted and he was seeing things. but it never came up.

none of the cases ever feel triumphant. yes we Found The Truth, but a lot of the victory we get from ace attorney is Catching the Bad Guy and it just doesnt feel as accomplished if there is No Bad Guy.

sholmes sure is a guy

...

unfortunately

...

as the kids used to say

“id tap that”

///sorry horny on main

anyway there just keeps bringing up more questions and things dont feel like theyre going to be resolved in this one last case. which makes me wonder if the second game was planned already so game one was just set up. which, is RIP, for the japanese who had to wait the long wait for the next installment

#pixi plays great ace attorney #gaa spoilers

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krawalito · 4 years

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This post is not spoiler free. Its tagged but I don’t really give a shit anymore. I was spoiled and I am actually happy about it. my thoughts on Tros.

My fellow reylos. So here is my last post before I’ll come back tomorrow. I have another 6 hrs before I see the movie. But before I do I need to release some of my thoughts.

I think I will find some scenes in this movie i am going to enjoy. I am not going to hate all of it. In general I am a very positive person so I think it wont kill me.

BUT here comes the big BUT. What the hell is wrong with American scripts/movies/shows? (this has nothing to do with American people but with the American film industry. Don’t get me wrong). What is this subvert expectations? What is this bittersweet shit NO ONE really wants to see? Did they not learn from their mistakes? I used to say you cannot compare SW with GOT but I was wrong. The premise yes is different, but the outcome of storytelling is still the same.

I loved GOT with all my heart. It was cruel at most times but still I had some hope that in the end everything will come to conclusion and it will not leave me totally frustrated. I didn’t expect an HEA at all but something better than the last season. I was about buying merch, I was about buying all the seasons, but I ended up buying NOTHING. This show literally doesn’t exist for me anymore. I erased it completely bc they screwed it up. Let’s face it they did. And I was not the only one boycotting everything post season 8. HBO lost revenue. Every company selling merch lost revenue. They did. And still we see the same storytelling style yet again.

What’s wrong with happy endings? Why do all of these big Hollywood companies think we want this cruelty? I don’t. and from what I read, listen and see the majority of people don’t. especially women. I am so sick that they use us, tease us but in the end, they don’t give us what we deserve. I am sick of it. The point of diving into fantasy is to forget about the world around you. The world alone is tough enough and I don’t want to be haunted by that when I watch fiction. That’s the whole point of fiction.

SW is about HOPE, always was, always should have been. JJ obviously missed the point. HE DID!

NO ONE wanted Rey to end up where she started. NO ONE. NO ONE wanted the most popular character to die like this. if you kill him then c’mon bring him at least back as a force ghost, bc that leaves a door open and it gives people hope. What the hell is wrong with JJ? Reys ending is the most ridiculous end of all times. And don’t get me started with Leia. Leia never had any luck in her entire life. And this is how it all ends for her? Not reuniting with her son? nope with whatever rey is to her. I have no words for that. this is bad storytelling. Period. There is nothing to debate about. It leaves me without any emotion.

I loved the idea of rey being nobody (if the leaks are true and she is a palpatine). That would have been the most beautiful message to all the young girls (and boys) out there that no matter where you come from you can become whomever you want to, and you can end up being strong and loved. But nope. She falls in love, she never finds her belonging bc ben is gone and ends up where she started with a fucking droid, on a dead planet. What message is that? Girl whatever you do in your life you end up unhappy and alone and some dudes who are not related to you say goodbye in a sunset. Praise the lord.

Ben Solo dies. For love. Which is a grand gesture right there and it makes his redemption arc for the GA plausible. BUT not for SW fans. And the fanbase is huge. He was the last skywalker. He was a victim. He was abused. He was the hero after all. And they fucking kill him. If you kill him JJ, make him a fucking force ghost so he can be with his family. What message do they deliver here? That no matter what you do, no matter what happens in your life.. if you are a victim and you do something bad you have to sacrifice yourself in order to get redemption. WTF how am I supposed to tell my kids that the story is just plain dumb? I am (I posted that on my blog) a teenager of abuse and I could see so much of myself in Ben Solo. Its breaking my heart.

And what about the rest? NOT important. Finn? Who? Rose? Who? Poe? Who?

So, what is the conclusion of this story? That the Dark side always wins. Palpatine wins again. That’s it that the story. Anything that came before the Sequels is pointless now. Sorry to say that but it is actually. And the only reason is because they leave us without any hope. That’s the key to SW.

And please don’t tell me its fiction, calm down its not real. Yes, that is true, and my life goes on and I will survive it but its 42 years (for me a bit less) of a story that accompanied families and friends. Fiction has an impact on you whether you like it or not. I read books which I still think about because they touched me so deeply. Same applies to movies. MEDIA in general is important and has a huge impact on any of us. It influences young children and teenagers quite a lot actually.

So what do I learn from that disappointment? A lot. I will, and I am very serious about it, never invest so much energy on something that I do not know the end of ever again. I will not invest my money on anything SW unless its fan made. I want to know upfront if my expectations are met or not. I am 39, I grew up with Happy endings. I am not prepared for this new era of evil storytellers and I don’t want to ever get used to it.

I want us Anti or not anti, reysky or reyfinn, reypoe, stormpilot (whatever the shipnames are.. I lost track lol) to express our feelings and let them know that we are not happy with it bc if we don’t nothing is ever going to change. We have a voice and we should use it. Use twitter, use insta, use FB, use change.org to start a petition if you feel the need to. Don’t be afraid we all feel it too.

Last but not least… we Reylos were right all along. Reylo is canon. And that’s the tea. The last one until the movie comes out on dvd and I can see your beautiful gifs. This fandom brought so many talented people together like I have never seen before. Never forget without us there is no them. So use this power.

Before I forget. Rian Johnson is a genius. The TLJ is a beautiful movie.

This is my pre-watch Tros Post and I will make another afterwards but after all the spoilers now I am pretty much convinced that its all true. It won’t change my opinion on the story telling, that remains a shit show but it might change my view on the details.

#tros spoiler #relyo #tros leaks

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yogutt · 4 years

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Where Green Managers born.

You have generally heard about three types of managers according to management principles.

General managers- Who are responsible for the overall growth of the organisation.

Functional managers- They are responsible for a task, activity, or operation such as accounting, marketing, sales, R&D, production, information technology, or logistics

Frontline managers- Who found at a lower level of hierarchy, they are not the actual managers.

But have you heard about Green managers? Yes, they exist.

Green managers are those who work towards the betterment of enviourment, To make life more sustainable. Their soul aim is to protect enviornment as much as they can. It may be protection of forest land, forest resources or protection of wild and aquatic life.

In this modern Era it is mandatory for every single global business to think about a bit.

So what actually Green management is? And where you can find green managers?

It is an initiative aiming at continuous improvement of environmental management such as EMS (environmental management system), Development of responsibility towards environmental activities and conservation of biodiversity as well. You have surely heard about a man-made disaster like oil spilling which is the cause of no. of marine life deaths, Forest fire, Gas leaks, etc.

Man-made disasters are not predictable but they are preventable with just a little care, and here the work of green managers starts. They have gone through the number of research papers of such disasters, they know the causes, what mistakes had been done. Also, they know the techniques that how to prevent us from such events.

INIDAN INSTITUTE OF FOREST MANAGEMNET

This is the place where green managers born, in India. A 217acres campus surrounded by the greenery everywhere. Designed by Shree Anant Raje, you can see the architecture in the picture above. It's one of the biggest college in Asia which provides such a large number of green managers. you can get your masters degree from here in forestry and start your life as a green manager, there is some course like Sustainable management, Masters in philosophy, and Forest charted account provided by the institution.

Actually this is like you are studying at a hill station. IIFM is situated at one of the mountains near lakeside in Bhopal city. You can find a number of birds species mostly peacocks which are rare to find in any other college, The inside campus feel is always delightful and the most important part you will create a bunch of good memories for sure.

Green mamngers soon will be the main part of management because now everyone knows that protecting enviournment is important and..

“Green managers are good at it”.

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wherelibertydwells · 5 years

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How about a little background. I'm from the wrong side of the tracks. My siblings would have stolen railroad tracks and sold them for scrap. When we left the farm, we went to the trailer park. The trailer park was, naturally, on the wrong side of the tracks. I wore hand-me-downs and Goodwill clothing. I was a high school dropout who moved out at 15. So I'd seen the bad side of living in the US. I remember my dad sending me in to buy 10 cent candy with a $1 foodstamp so I could give him the change. We did that till he had enough gas in the car to take me to school and he could get to whatever job he had at the time. Or to buy booze. Whatever. So, I'd seen the bad part. It wasn't fun. I enlisted, and the Army was great. When you lived in a trailer with a leaky roof and shoddy electrical and drove a car that you epoxied the passenger door shut, and went to bed hungry on the four days before payday, well, the Army is the fucking life. I went to Europe. Assigned to West Germany. I liked it. Then the Wall fell. Now, West Germany was a modern nation. Luxuries everywhere. Plenty of food. In accordance to the independent streak I still had, I had moved out onto the economy as soon as S2 gave me permission. I wasn't a barracks rat. There were places to see and people to fist fight. When I went into East Germany, I saw East Germany through my own biases and colored by my personal experiences. And I was suddenly glad that I was born on the wrong side of the tracks in America. That girl I mentioned? I knew she was only fucking me to get access to the PX and maybe hoping I'd take her back to the US with me. (Hah, those titties may have been like POW! and that ass may have been like BLAM! but I ain't taking you home) I didn't care. Don't look down on her. Don't you fucking dare. She was East German. Her father had been taken away when she was a kid and she never saw him again. She had grown up, many times, without heat, without food, without decent fucking clothing. She sat on my couch in my little apartment looking at my photo album and asked me what my parents did that we were so rich. My family. She knew what it was like to not have heat in the winter, or have the roof leak, or be evicted from her home. Only it was different. We were evicted because booze was more important than rent. Her family was evicted for 'reasons' she didn't know. Just it was after her brother got arrested and vanished. Like father, like son. Touring East Germany was like touring one big trailer park. The factory parking lots full of rusting junk? Yeah, seen that. I asked what was being made. She just shrugged. They weren't allowed to know. She worked there. I met her neighbors. I listened to them. They told me things about living in Communist East Germany. Learned to hate the Stasi just like they did even though they had vanished into the dustbin of history. Well, were being swept away. I knew about police brutality and excess from being poor white trash. Nobody will kick your ass in the interrogation room like a cop who knows your family can't afford a lawyer. But they aren't allowed to kill you. Not so with the Stasi and the rest. The apartments made me sad. Her apartment made me sad. I had more room and better living conditions in a Cold War Era barracks on top of a frozen fucking mountain than she had grown up in. If I didn't pay my power bill, they turned off the power. Her power was turned off, apparently for shits and giggles. Just random fucking times. She told me, and her mother told me, that it was better now than it was before the Wall fell. The power was on more often than it wasn't. The architecture was brutal, simplistic, dehumanizing, and above all, trailer trash cheap. The concrete was crumbly, the windows had gaps, all of it was shit condition. The trailer I'd moved in to for $50/mo when I'd first left home was better than that block style apartment building. My high school dropout in and out of juvie white trash ass had it better than everyone in her building. Bags of potatoes at the Commisary were $2.50 a 50 lb bag. We're talking half of what I spent on a quad-151 and coke with 2 cherries for a 50 lb bag of fucking potatoes. Well, for her birthday I bought some groceries at the Commissary. Nothing major. I wanted to make corn beef and cabbage stew for her. I spent like $30 at the Commissary. Nothing major. I mean, that's like 1 night of drinking cheap well whiskey. (Yes, I used to measure my expenditures by how much booze I could swill down for the same price. Like father like son) The next internet commie who tells you that food was plentiful in the 1980's in Communist East Germany, feel free to beat with a sack of cheap potatoes. Maybe in the city, but I liked my girls from the country. And it was a small town built to support a factory that everyone was forcibly relocated there in the 1960's. Ever been embarrassed by someone's reaction to something you take for granted. See, in the US, corned beef, cabbage, potatoes, all of that is 'poor people food'. Shit you learn to make on the wrong side of the tracks because it makes a lot, cheaply, and keeps for a few days. THeir reactions still embarrass me to think about. I was a farm boy originally before we ended up in the trailer park. "It's just basic food..." went through my head at one point. I'm Irish descent. Potato, butter, and beer, and I'm good. Her grandmother accused me of trying to buy her. Yelled at me till I left. I sat on the curb, trying to figure out just what the fuck happened, when her mother came out, called me a good boy, and had me come back inside. Grandma apparently had a flashback to when political officers would bribe families with food like that and then take the daughters. And that was when things had gotten better and the Fabulous Stalin Rape Fest of 1945-1952 was over. But sitting there, looking around, smoking a cigarette, I saw that while it was just as bad as the trailer park, I mean, it WAS a factory town, the people did their best to make it into home. They hadn't given up. There was faded colors here and there on that shitty cement. The curtains were bright and decorative. Little flower gardens here and there. There were some kids kicking a ball. But it "felt" different. If you're from the bad side of the tracks, you'll understand this... Sitting there, in the sunlight, smoking a cigarette, the Wall is down, the USSR is losing its grip, there had been a riot that took out the Stasi headquarters in Dresden, but there's a certain feeling. It felt like it did in the trailer park when a half dozen cop cars pull in, blocking off the way in & the way out. That few seconds before the cops get out of the cars looking for a "person of interest". There was nothing to really cause it, not that day, but it was still there. And there was this "gray" feeling to things I guess, that went along with that subtle feeling of dread. I got it, sitting there. Knowing that you're powerless against the State. That the powerful can do whatever the fuck they want to you and nobody will care. Hell, they'll be glad it isn't them if they don't snitch to avoid being looked at too close. It was Communism that had pushed them this far. That had taken the German people, who only had 43 years of difference between their Western counterparts, and done that to them. No beer fests. No fests no pay phone on the corner, no corner butcher, no store full of food, none of that. It had all been robbed from them in the name of collectivism. All funneled toward Moscow and the powerful. No checks and balances. No "equal before the law" that the US at least gave lip service to when someone might be looking. The whole fucking country was the wrong side of the tracks. That's Communism. Dividing a country in half * turning half of it into a goddamn trailer park. Worse than a trailer park. Compared to them, I was lucky. And that makes me mad. /fin

https://twitter.com/TWillardAuthor/status/1074214723711889409

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ravenspacemaker · 5 years

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i researched the cast so u dont have to

Anthony Scaramucci

Former White House Director of Communications in the Trump administration. He only served in his post for 6 days after a phone call between himself and a journalist was leaked where he used explicit language to trash talk other Trump administration officials. Kinda became an iconic “wow he’s a hot mess” figure afterwards. Honestly I’m most excited for him because he is absolutely crazy and with live feeds who knows what he’ll accidentally leak.

Dina Lohan

Mother of Lindsay Lohan, and her manager during her early career. Very typical D-list celebrity, appearing on her own share of bad short-lived reality shows. One can assume someone’s upbringing could affect how they turn out as an adult, so you can probably see how good of a mother (and also a person) she is based on how Lindsay is now. Also a criminal with a DUI conviction so even more fitting for a D-list celebrity.

Joey Lawrence

Actor best known for his co-starring role in the 90s sitcom Blossom. After that, he got his own 90s sitcom Brotherly Love, but it did not last long. Hasn’t done much after that but was on season three of Dancing with the Stars and placed 3rd. Sort of a regular in the “D-list celebrity competition reality show” genre.

Jonathan Bennett

Actor whose really only claim to fame is playing Aaron Samuels in Mean Girls. He placed 9th on Dancing with the Stars and is now a host on the Food Network.

Kandi Burress

Singer and reality television personality who first became known for being in the girl group Xscape, who had a couple top ten singles in the early-90s. She also won a Grammy for co-writing TLC’s song “No Scrubs”. Now she’s a cast member on The Real Housewives of Atlanta.

Kato Kaelin

“Actor” who isn’t actually known for being an actor, just known for being a witness in the O.J. Simpson case back in the 90s. After that he also sued a newspaper who pretended like he was a suspect in the case which became a super influential lawsuit (I’m a law student and it was like a landmark case in libel law). He doesn’t really do anything except D-list (maybe not even D-list, more F-list) “celebrity” reality shows. Sometimes he doesn’t even compete on celebrity reality shows, just civilian game shows which is kinda embarrassing.

Lolo Jones

Olympic hurdler and (apparently) bobsledder who made herself well-known enough for reality TV but not well-known enough for actual fame. She’s actually never won a medal in the Olympics (not even like bronze) which makes me wonder why people care about her more than any other Olympic athlete, but she’s a regular on reality shows like this and even placed last (yes, last) on Dancing with the Stars.

Natalie Eva Marie

Former WWE wrestler under the ring name “Eva Marie” who has since left wrestling to become an actress. She now uses the name “Natalie Eva Marie”, probably to show people “hey my real name is actually Natalie and I never actually wanted to be a wrestler, but y’know Hollywood is rough” but also “hey don’t forget about me I was Eva Marie in WWE for like three years and it’s probably the only reason you know who I am”. She kinda had some controversy in WWE too. She would fake “unfortunate events” in order to avoid competing, and tested positive for Adderall when she didn’t report a prescription to WWE doctors. Her acting career has been ...quiet, but she’s just starting out so I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt.

Ricky Williams

Played for the NFL and I’m gonna be honest with you, I don’t like football and neither does my entire family (yes the straight men included), so I really don’t even know how to understand the information I’ve researched for him. He’s played for like five teams within the span of ten years and retired in 2011, so I guess now that the NFL money ran out he has to play the D-list celebrity reality show game.

Ryan Lochte

I rolled my eyes at the fact I even have to write about this guy. He’s an Olympic gold medalist swimmer, and he’s always been somewhat associated with the reality show industry (he had his own *coughterriblecough* reality show back in like 2013), and it’s honestly only because 1) he’s a gold medalist and 2) he’s really hot. But he became more famous during the 2016 Olympics in Brazil when him and some of his swimmer friends vandalized some poor Brazilian gas station and when security guards found them, they lied to the press and said that they were robbed by criminals dressed as cops. He kinda had to flee Brazil afterwards and was banned from competitive swimming for like a year and everyone hates him now, which is why I don’t know why people are still casting him in shit.

Tamar Braxton

I had this whole thing written out for her about how she was probably the most famous in the cast, but then I realized I was thinking of TONI Braxton, not Tamar. Basically she’s Toni’s younger sister and had her start in the early-90s in the sibling band The Braxtons. She hasn’t done much in music after the band broke up. Her 2013 album Love and War peaked at number-2, sold almost 500,000 copies, and got her some Grammy nominations, but none of her singles have really been too successful and none of her other albums have either. She’s done her fair share of reality television (notably Braxton Family Values) and television hosting, but music is what she’s primarily known for and that’s more because she’s Toni Braxton’s sister than anything else.

Tom Green

Actor and comedian from the 90s/2000s MTV era. He had his own show on MTV called The Tom Green Show which was kinda popular I guess, and he appeared in some popular teen movies from the era like Road Trip. He was also married to Drew Barrymore for a year (yes, a year), which is probably the biggest bit of relevancy he has.

#cbbus2 #this better get some notes cuz this was torture #for the record i knew scaramucci dina lohan jonathan bennett lolo jones eva marie and ryan lochte beforehand

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shade-without-color · 5 years

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The Thieving Magpie Chapter 2: Auction day

Note: So thank you for all for being super patient for this chapter update, well I am actually 90% done when I want to send it to my beta readers, since @highkingofhuckleberries was not too well during that process (You are still loved my darling) I want to thank @akazireael for helping me to step up to look over my chapter and suggest an extension as promised. Anyway please enjoy this little chapter and yes there will be some Meve/Gascon action!

“You’re on…” One of his men hissed in Gascon’s ears. Gascon brushed off the dust in his new suit. Slowly he entered to the entrance of the room, indeed it was held with such grace. He made all preparations to bypass whatever obstacles that came in the way.

Shit

Gascon glanced at the lanky man, and quickly slip on his ray-bans “You came for the auction…” He quietly passed the ticket to him “Yep…” He held his breath firmly “Nothing to hide, just checking if it will fit my collection.” as he slipped a coin unto his suit pocket. Reynard nodded slightly “Mhmm…” as he was escorted to the crowd of gallery visitors, admiring the collection of Reginald. He somehow averted his face to the dazzling works, dropping his shoulders slightly. Well he may live his life in his own art terms, but his collection, damn, he rival all his steals- bottles of wine and whisky shimmered amidst tungsten light, screens of courtesans and samurais patrolling the lonely streets, shimmering statues of gods and mortal in deep ecstasy. He even took himself to admire the rows of dummies dressed in the best suits (Though he thought it was a little dated in his times.) He observed silently how the patrons in the auctions mummer about the condition of the works. Quietly he glanced over that figure, no longer in her mourning gear, her heels clicked quietly as she gazed quietly at the artworks, with that lanky man by her side.

“I hope I do not get to keep all Reynard….”

The man (which Gascon knew by now, is Reynard) held his head up quietly “Do not worry madam, it will be displayed elsewhere, at most the money we earned from the auction will help to clear Reginald’s debt.” Reynard paused quietly, watching the crowd admiring the menagerie of items that Reginald collected over the years. He even hid a small smile “At most, it will do us good, and I hope we do not have any intrusions along the way."

“That I agreed, the stranger with the sunglasses, I will never forget that face…” Meve muttered under breath, as she watched Caldwell clearing his throat as he looked over the group of guards patrolling the drawing room. Caldwell held his breath slightly, watching calmly at the gazes of the family members and friends who gathered in this expansive space. Perhaps the only things that "We hope that Reginald rests well, given the expanding collection of art and memorabilia that is, perhaps all human comprehension, one of the greatest.”

The crowd watched with bated breath as men in gloves carried objects that dazzled the spirits of all. Wine bottles boasting a certain vintage, drawings of angels and Traders tenderly laid between tissue papers. Paintings that streaked back and forth splashes, watches that glimmer amidst tungsten light, jewels that dazzled the bewildering crowd “These things, he wrote in his will to be auctioned anywhere…” Meve is right about her husband’s impulsive buys.

“Some will be kept by the family... one of them, as dictated by the will, a Japanese sculpture dating back to the Meiji era…I suppose he wishes to keep it as a way to remember him even if his mortal body faded.” and soon the carriers clutched the object, which itself was a beauty. “Once a symbol of protection for the samurai in that era, it was indeed his most prized possession he ever collected in history, to the point, the access of the sculpture is only left to a certain few, including myself."

Meve gasped slightly on that sculpture, Reynard knew that his former boss treasured it well. It was indeed a fearsome object, coated with lacquer, a mythical creature made of fish and dragon. For that moment Meve swore that its eyes darted to her grieving state.

It must be astonishing craftsmanship.

He clenched his hand slightly, as one of the carriers nearly dropped that prized object. “He wrote in his will, that, whatever circumstances no one should or will do touch that sculpture. Those who are permitted, are spoken in private after the auction…” Caldwell quietly shuffled the papers back and forth, breaking away the mummers in the room. His eyes widened with shock but he hid it with marvellous grace. “And that sculpture is left to his wife Meve.” She clenched her knuckles slightly. Reynard’s mouth nearly gaped and the crowd grew wild with chatter.

“I think Reginald must think fondly of you…” Reynard simpered quietly “I only heard it by private conversations, but you holding this, you know how many will fight for this…”

Meve frowned darkly, as she watched the carriers lifting the object again and moving into the darkness “Afraid so…”

Gascon took that opportunity to slip by the back door. He heaved himself quietly to himself, slipping his fingers unto the breast pocket of his blazer. A cloud of sleeping gas came over the room. He quickly took his kerchief, covered his mouth and nose from the gas.

His heart seems to race as he left the cloud of smoke to an obscure corner of the house, apparently, if his memory served right, it used to be where Reginald will hold prizes that he wished to keep in secret, which conveniently turned into a security room. He quickly took out a woman’s hairpin and unlocked the door. Somehow the guard who was clutching a game console stared at him with horror. Quickly Gascon gave him a knock in the head and whispered under his breath “Good night sweet prince…” Before long, the guard was laid unconscious. He rolled his eyes as he lifted up the heavy body and placed him in the nearby locker.

His breath ragged from He quickly pressed his cufflink and soon a raspy voice came out “You’re in boss?”

“Yeah…” Gascon stuck his tongue quietly as he pressed the keyboards frantically, typing the password in the big screen “Got to deal with a hapless guard. You should have seen his face when I punched the living shit out of him….” He quickly glanced through the plans for the security cameras, showing the auction at play and of course from another angle- Gascon’s slippage to the room. “Hhmmm I wonder which one...” Continuously he flickered through the rooms until he found his prize. Indeed it was a scary looking object- but it would be his magnum opus. Gascon could imagine the flurry of comments when he reached for it. “Shit this thing is beautiful…”

“How are you going to reach this thing…” one of his men rasped frantically “It is a hell of a fort…” Gascon tuned himself out from his blabbering, as he took out his swiss knife, switching it to a thumb drive compartment. He quietly slipped it to the USB holder, and slowly the loading screen blinks back and forth. “Just wait and see…” And soon it reached 100 %, the rooms came to pitch blackness and screens flickered back and forth.

Meve’s eyes widened with horror “The hell is that..” She could glance faint sparks back and forth in the darkened room.

Reynard flexed his eyebrow, he muttered shit under his breath as he heard the commotion swirling at the auction. Alarms from the house blared louder than before. Caldwell’s breaths become uneven with the chaos swirling back and forth “We seems to encounter some technical difficulties, please bear with us. I think Reynard will investigate that…” Caldwell approached him quietly and whispered to Reynard pensively Meve stood in protest over the commotion. Amidst the darkness, Meve observed that the security cameras flicker back and forth. She looked at Caldwell’s expression, it seems strange that he seems unflustered by the heist. He even took the chance to grab bottled water, and sip it calmly

“What the hell is going on, some rat must infiltrate the auction…”

“I apologize Meve, I planned it to be tight-lipped somebody must leak information of the auction… There must be lapses on my part” Caldwell heaved exasperatedly as he took his kerchief and moped his sweat. He somehow fixed his gaze to discuss matters with a fellow security guard "i will do whenever I can to get him caught…"

Meve barked at Caldwell “You better tell come up with a better reason for this…”

“Yes madam, I will try to clear it as quickly as possible…” Somehow Meve felt a sinking feeling in her stomach that Caldwell did not convey her wishes. He seems to hold a calm smile and mumbling mm-hmms to his fellow men. “I suggest you ask Reynard to look into the people’s backgrounds. There would surely be a rotten egg among us…"

Gascon glanced over the hallways, now dressing as the security guard in the camera room. He quickly put on his sunglasses and covers his mouth with the handkerchief passing through security officers who fell like dominos at every step to the fog of sleeping gas. He heaved to himself when he got into the next room, which he took out the tag and the red light blinked. Gascon puffed his cheeks slightly, maybe he should have brought the hacker, to hack all locks. He quickly snuck through another compartment of his swiss knife again and pulled a screwdriver out. His eyes darted to the wires which vibrated slightly, and with bated breath, he took another compartment and snipped the brown wire with ease.

Slowly he opened the door and quickly locked it with a few tight screws and some wiring fix-ups. The sound of brogues echoed his ears, all search for the rat. He slipped his earbuds and examined the distant object. Security cameras looming over the coveted object, it must be a great deal to him. Gascon thought pensively. The one that rumours spoke of, and indeed it was a fearsome thing. He heaved his breath slightly as he quietly shakes the bottle and sprays the room. Lasers slowly loomed out like a maze and Gascon smiled. Gascon looked over the room clouded with many obstacles both great and small.

That should be a piece of cake

He flicked his music player to one of the tunes, Mozart’s Symphony 40 in G Minor. Soon he swayed himself from the beams of light, his eyes darting to that prize. At that moment, his cockiness started to rub on him as he slipped the lasers with ease. However, he glanced over another camera clicking his every movement. He quickly pressed a button to shut it down but it did not work. He looked over at a statue of Athena staring to the ceilings, a little clink covered haphazardly by some glue stood out to him. He quietly crept unto the statue, admiring its craftsmanship (he perhaps guess must be French Rococo sculpture by the softness of her expression). At that moment he could feel a sizzle in his skin as he reached the next part. Must be hidden lasers. Maybe his men did not account to all nooks and crannies, maybe an extra obstacle for him to overcome. Quickly he took out a small cologne bottle and slowly sprayed over the room. He quickly took off a handkerchief to prevent the fumes of the spray, and lines came out of the fog. And with a swift move-he broke off the arms of the statute, with a mumbling apology for its beauty.

Quickly he surveyed the room for any hidden areas, by quietly smashing every statute and vase (He guess it must be fake items, as it did not hold many rarities in his eyes).

He giggled slightly that, despite all of Reginald’s procedures to barricade that sacred room, there is no way that human error could slip away. That would have been the easiest break-in among the others. And soon he grew in awe of that fearsome creature trapped in a glass cage. Reflections of him bounced back and forth in the creature’s coat.

“Reynard…”

Reynard shouted furiously “Madam, you should leave it to Caldwell to investigate that matter, my men are looking for the suspect…” Meve held her breath slightly “I have a feeling that whoever cause this, is one of the auction guests…”

“We did background checks for all…”

“All, that is not enough…we need security footage, anything, I do not care…” Meve growled in protest “Whoever caused this commotion on this auction, will be punished greatly…”

“Mine, aren't you beautiful…” Gascon hummed slightly “You might scare rivals in the past but not under my watch…” Slowly he took a laser and traced a circle from its glass cage "You will be a pretty addition to my collection.." Quickly he knocked off the circle of glass and reached out for the object. “Well come to papa." His heart skipped slightly as he gripped the statute tightly. It is formidable in real-life as opposed which the creature prowled in its horrid cage. He is glad that he could free the creature from the gilded house. At that moment, a faint clink rung his ears. A red light flashed back and forth. Gascon’s eyes twitched back and forth, as he searched all over the area for a quick exit. At that moment he titled up his sunglasses, as he saw the guards rushing up and down with guns pointing in any direction. His heart raced slightly and suddenly he glanced at a coat of arms. His eyes darted to the open cage, if he ran over the lasers, it will hit again. Gascon mumbled slightly “Seems you have to stick with me, little fellow…” He quietly picked up his earphones, and press a button “Gentlemen you may have to wait for a while…Got myself into something sticky.” He peered at the guard tapping his pass card and opening the door. A cough is rattled at the distance. Probably the spray choked his lungs. Gascon quietly stashed the statute away in his satchel and took out a taser. And he quietly played a little piece as a lure to the guard.

The guard heard an operatic piece playing softly at the distance. He slowly looked over the row of armour which he knocked at them one by one. Until the last one, an impressive one, Spanish armour which he gave the final knock. It seems silent but he saw a pair of sunglasses shimmering at the distance. He knocked again and waited a few seconds. Without realizing, a clang came over him and he felt a buzz in the distance. Quickly he wrestled the armoured figure and before long, that figure seems to lose it, as he was clutching something.

Something precious.

The guard thought quietly. Then why is he…

Before he could gather his thoughts, his eyes grew wide with shock as he glanced at the void. It was the statute and the person holding it seems familiar. It was the guest in Meve’s wake that caused a ruckus. Quickly the slim man bolted out from the armour, spraying pepper spray to his eyes and knocking him down by an old sabre. Gascon gave a cheeky grin “Touche sir. Touche…." Quickly he disappeared without a trace.

Moments later, he woke up to see sprinklers dancing at the distance. His muscles somehow wobbling at the distance, he took a walkie talkie and pressed the button “Reynard, copy, the statute is stolen…someone burglarized us…. call Alpha, beta, Omega squad, find the man, he is wearing sunglasses….5 foot plus.. over…"

Reynard’s ears perked to that sound of alarms blaring at the distance. Soon a buzz came in his ears “Over…Meve and I will come over…”Meve’s eyes widened slightly, as it continues, he did his patrols between her husband’s room and the auction that he could recognize the man with the same sunglasses, was the one that Caldwell expelled him out. “That bastard! I want him down…”

“Sir…”

Reynard noticed his haggard breathing as he placed his hand on his chest. “The…the thief…it seems planned…"

Meve commanded slightly “Speak…Reynard pass the guard a cup of water now!”Reynard scampered him to a small table and quickly grabbed him a paper cup filled with water. Slowly the guard gained back to his senses. “I NEED TO KNOW WHERE THE HELL IS HE, WHY DID YOU LET HIM GO, IT IS IMPORTANT DAMNIT DAMNIT…”

Reynard clutched Meve tightly by her wrists, restraining her from wriggling along. with ire. Surely there is a lapse of human error on his side.

“…We could check the footage if it is not hacked…"

Reynard somehow swung by to the nearby computer and quickly typed a password. He scrubbed over the security footage. He swore that some parts are cut off, perhaps intentionally by the thief. He calmly observed a slim man sneaking out of the room, after Caldwell announced who will be the main benefactor of the statute. Meve frowned slightly at the anecdote, he seems strangely calm to leave the auction, not for the hurried measure but something more. And he looks familiar. “Seems we have found ourselves the thief..” Reynard simpered slightly “Did Caldwell put a warrant on him a while back….”

And somehow he switched over another computer and saw him destroying every priceless object surrounding the room. Him spraying the area, in search of secret lasers. He paused and pressed the zoom button to see his face. And it all clicked.

Suddenly a voice perked up at the distance “And yes he did Meve….” and the face matched to the footage that they could reel in.

His hands up in playful surrender with handcuffs. Gascon combed his hair with fingers with bemusement as he glanced at the guards following him to the end. “I suppose you are looking for this…” as he dangled it playfully, causing her to tick. “Caldwell's boys are clever to catch me, at the worst of places…”

Quickly Meve took out a pistol and pointed it at her face.

“Do not test me….”

Gascon chuckled slightly, as he playfully plonked the statue back on the table. “Yes fine, fine I got my prize, after all, it is a worthless piece of shit…” He swallowed calmly and proceed to snatch a pen and slip it on his pocket “That itself is beautiful…I cannot wait to see Caldwell’s reaction…" he teased her as he laid the statue back in his satchel “I robbed the rarest of all, oh, by the way, do you know that your friend Caldwell has owned himself…” somehow his eyes looked over that door. He knew something seems amiss.

“Enough…”

Gascon watched Meve heaved a deep sigh. He noticed her knuckles grew red from the clenching. “The statue….” Meve growled, “Put it back now….”

Somehow a familiar voice came over “….It is not yours madam….” Caldwell walked up quietly, hands clutching to the papers, and his sons standing by. Her eyes darted to Villiem. He seems poised and calm. Anesis took the pleasure to tap at his late father’s desk. “No that cannot be…” Meve gaped in horror as she was walked over Caldwell, and her sons all calm. Gascon looked over at them. “Seems we got new friends to witness my act. Name is Gascon if you do not mind madam."That moment the thief took the opportunity to disappear into thin air. Meve cursed under her breath that he got away. She would clear her name no matter what. Caldwell smirked coldly “You better build yourself a good case madam…” and soon some of the guards held her wrists. “There seems some amendments of your husband’s will and, according to Villeim….” as he laid down the paperwork. “You holding infinitely as the main carrier of this item, but there are issues. And what more, you let a thief slip into your hands. Until we can settle its provenance and reliability... All of your husband’s property and assets will be under Villeim and I….”

Meve’s face went pale with horror “No that is not valid, you said in the auction it is all under me…” Her heart raced with fear, there is no proof or backing off that claim. “I even witnessed it when he wrote it...It is not true... it’s not true... it’s not true… and that bloody Gascon. I do not even employ his services…” Slowly all of the guards left her, except for Reynard who went pale in horror “That I could vouch for Meve...Caldwell… you are making a mistake….she would not do such a thing”

“I beg your pardon, Reynard, you went off and screw with Meve. She clouded your mind with her husband’s fortune…" Caldwell throttled coldly “Unless you can vouch that you worked for your owner…”

“Yes…and I can say that she did not bring a fool to break into the house like Gascon…"

However, the protests seem to fell into deaf ears as he heard the pitter-patters of steps climbing up and down. “With all lamentations…” Caldwell could hear the clicking of the flashes and cameras glaring at him “Perhaps you must state your cause to the public since they will be disappointed that his filial wife has traded fortunes for something..horrendous…” He quietly nodded at her and left the room quietly. Villem nodded slightly “Father will be disappointed with you… my mother….”

“This is bullshit…” Meve’s body trembled with anger and despair, but, she could only do is to bite her lip as a flood of reporters swarmed her with questions and Reynard scrambling for his glasses to shield her from the glaring public. Shame burned in her body, however, anger gave way as she answered the questions with poise. Someday she will get him.

“I might be damned…”

“What boss…” One of his men, Grant muttered slightly as he examined the statute “That mysterious client seems awful generous to you…” as he glanced at his smirking “What did you do to bribe him…”

Gascon pondered slightly on the numbers given to him“I could only recall the last time we met, he said that he wanted a certain painting back…stole it from a gallery opening that night. You should see their faces when I stole that thing. In fact priceless…” Gascon smirked to read the numbers, that is even more what he earned when he liquidated the first edition book of a certain topic, In fact, he is willing to reduce charges for me for that heist, if I can help to bring a certain family’s fall…”

“Did he or she reveal anything other than that purpose…”

“Dunno seems he wanted to meet me up to thank him for stealing the statue…”Gascon plonked the statute to the table “Pity as I have a great fondness for that thing... alas I must meet conditions…"

“Do not let your guard down..remember with that..”

Gascon rolled his eyes slightly “Yes I know I know I know….” as he started to quickly texted him “Well he did not pull out of me, you, the boys and I in immunity with the client…Imagine every force from the world, unable to track our steps...what could go wrong…” He yawned slightly as he sauntered himself to the bathroom “Make sure you check the conditions of the statute, I think he wanted it to be in the condition when I stole it…” The man nodded slightly, as he looked over at the rooftops, a small black cat sauntered up and down the snaking mazes. “After we wanted his protection right…" It stared at the statute just monetarily and went back to its venue, searching over for a lover. Of course, he quietly brings it to his workshop. Maybe there is a secret that the statute held for many generations.

It is going to be a long night.

Tag List (DM if you wanted to be tagged)

@witcherislovewitcherislife

@tcustodis

@etaedraws

@akazireael

@highkingofhuckleberries

@dukeofqueers

@dukeofdogs

@this-is-a-job-for-vesemir

@riviae

#writing #writers on tumblr #spilled ink #S: The Thieving Magpie #Thronebreaker #The witcher #Queen Meve #Reynard Odo #Gascon Brossard #fanfic #fanfiction #creative writing #modern AU #please feel free to reblog

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swhurtcomfort · 7 years

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Hi there! I love the idea of this blog :D Thanks for doing this! If you're still taking prompts, what about some h/c with Obi-Wan and padawan Anakin? I don't feel like there's a lot in that era, or else I don't know of it. How about a mission gone awry where Obi-Wan does something stupid and sacrificial to help his padawan or something like that? Or anything you want :3

Anakin hadn’t seen the blaster fire coming, but Obi-Wan had.

The worn-down oldspacer was a death trap—in dangerous disrepair and leaking noxious gas—but theyneeded the data chip from its internal computer. Obi-Wan, Siri and theirpadawans deduced that the best way to enter was a tiny hatch at the top, and asboth the smallest and the most mechanically inclined, Anakin seemed the obviouschoice for the job. His face had lit upwith pride when Obi-Wan agreed. He was thirteen and a half now, and feltwonderful to have an important job to do.

Anakin had skillfully clambered up to the top of the ship’shull, then paused to adjust his rebreather before scurrying down the hatch andinto the monstrous craft. That’s when Obi-Wan had spotted cloaked figure appearon top of the ship and slip down after him.

Something primal and desperate in Obi-Wan set his legs inmotion.

Without a lick of hesitation or even a glance towards his companions, Obi-Wan charged towards the ship, igniting his saber to deflect the bolts coming at him. Siri and Ferus were forced to betray their position to cover him, and began to take out the attackers while Obi-Wan deployed his cable launcher to haul himself up.

Anakin was intent on his mission, hunched over a dataprocessor and completely focused. He wasn’t sparing much attention on hissurroundings. He never knew the bolt was coming, but Obi-Wan’s blurry visionsaw the flash of blue.

Anakin felt his master’s hand yank him backwards by the hoodof his robe. Then he saw the bolt ricochet of the wall, heard a scream andfound himself on the ground once again as Obi-Wan sunk to his knees. Anakinignited his saber, but the attacker disappeared into another chamber of theship and Anakin did not pursue.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan rasped. He was kneeling against the dataprocessor and laboring hard to breathe. “Tell me you’re not hit.”

“I’m not,” said Anakin through the rebreather. “Well,” heshowed Obi-Wan the small, pink burn above his elbow. The bolt hadn’t even trulygrazed him; it was the burning fabric of his sleeve that had left the mark.“Are you okay, Master? We should get out of here.”

“Fine,” said Obi-Wan distractedly as he inspected Anakin’sburn. Anakin doubted that he could really see it; he was squinting as tears streameddown his face from the fumes.

“Come on,” Anakin took Obi-Wan’s hand and tried to encouragehim to stand. That’s when he noticed the blood soaking Obi-Wan’s thigh.

“Oh,” said Anakin, stunned by a sudden sense of panic. It surprisedhim how dark the stain was. “W-we really gotta leave, Master, just stand u—”

Obi-Wan swayed and collapsed back onto his calves. Anakin pulledoff his rebreather and pressed it over Obi-Wan’s face. A stinging, burning sensationin Anakin’s eyes and inside his nose erupted instantly, but at least Obi-Wanseemed to catch his breath.

Anakin was vaguely aware of the sound of lightsabers comingfrom above, but his eyes were glued to his master. Even with the rebreather,Obi-Wan was flirting with unconsciousness, and the pain from the chemical exposurewas growing too much for Anakin to bear.

“You idiot,” came MasterSiri’s scathing voice, muffled by a rebreather.

“He’s hurt,” Anakin yelled over his shoulder.

Siri hissed when she saw the wound, which made Anakin’s stomachplummet. Master Siri was one of the bravest people he knew, but she was clearlyscared now. She knelt beside Obi-Wan and lifted him onto her back.

“Come on, Anakin,” she barked. Anakin didn’t need to be toldtwice.

Once they got outside, Ferus laid out a blanket from one of thesurvival packs and Siri set Obi-Wan down. She didn’t waste time examining the wound,but set to work using gauze pads to apply pressure to Obi-Wan’s thigh.

“One of you take the rebreather off him,” Siri instructed. Anakindid so, and Obi-Wan gulped gratefully at the fresh air.

“That was stupid, Kenobi,” Siri huffed. “Utterly and completelystupid.”

“Sorry,” groaned Obi-Wan, each syllable painfully slow. He sniffedat the blood dribbling from his nose.

“You will be sorry, when you find yourself in a bacta tank,”Siri teased.

Obi-Wan ignored her. He had noticed Anakin hovering by hisshoulder. “Alright?” he asked the padawan.

“Yeah,” said Anakin.

Obi-Wan’s face split into a relieved smile, and he began tochuckle to himself. Anakin looked up at Siri, clearly perplexed by this behavior.

“He’s in shock, Anakin,” said Siri quietly. “If you want tohelp, you can try to keep him distracted.”

With Anakin safely occupied, Siri beckoned Ferus to her sideand had him lift Obi-Wan’s knee so that she could wrap a compression bandagearound the bacta-gauze. Obi-Wan grew paler and cried out pitifully at themovement, and although Anakin was clearly distressed to see his master in sucha state, he did not waver in his task of patting Obi-Wan’s arm and reassuringhim. He was growing up fast. Both padawans were.

Obi-Wan passed out at some point during the procedure. Thatwas just as well, it would make the next step less awful for him. Siridouble-checked the bandage and took Obi-Wan’s pulse just to make sure he was ingood shape to move. Then Siri took up one side of the blanket and the boys eachheld a corner, and they carried him back to camp. It was too dark to travelsafely on this planet, so they resolved to stay hunkered down until morning.

Anakin’s face was pressed into a serious frown as he helpedSiri get Obi-Wan situated on his sleeping mat.

“He is not in danger, Anakin. Everything is going to bealright.”

Anakin nodded and tucked Obi-Wan’s blanket around him.

“How are you holding up?” Siri asked, turning Anakin’s chintowards her. His eyes were bloodshot, though not as badly as Obi-Wan’s were.

“’m fine. My head hurts. And my throat kind of.”

Siri clucked her tongue sympathetically. “You inhaled somenasty chemicals. That was very brave of you, Anakin.”

“Why did come after me?” Anakin asked. He’d thought Obi-Wantrusted him enough to handle it alone. Well, they hadn’t retrieved the datachip, so maybe that trust had been misplaced after all.

“He shouldn’t have. It was reckless,” Siri explained. “Hesaw the man with the blaster follow you. He was frightened.”

“He was?” Anakin’s eyes widened.

Siri nodded. “Frightened that something might happen to you.”

Anakin swallowed guiltily. “He should have at least grabbeda rebreather.”

“Yes, he should have. But we masters are silly like thatsometimes. Our most important job is to keep you boys safe.”

Anakin looked back at Obi-Wan, who was still out cold. “MasterTachi, can I move my sleeping mat over here for tonight?”

“There’s no need to worry, Anakin. We’ll get him to a medfacility at first light, and soon he’ll be good as new.” Anakin continued tostare at her. Siri sighed. “Yes, alright.”

#darthplodder #whump fic #obi-wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #star wars #hurt/comfort #siri tachi #ferus olin #jedi quest era #padawan anakin #blaster wounds #MPost

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raspberryjones · 4 years

Text

Legacies 1: RBG & #GrowingUpOrlov

Hours before news of Ruth Bader Ginsberg’s passing had come in, #GrowingUpOrlov was in her room playing and listening to her favorite podcast at the moment. Good Night Stories For Rebel Girls is made up of 20-minute biographies of “extraordinary women who inspire us.” It’s based on a series of books which presaged the podcast, and which #GrowingUpOrlov’s also been reading, so occasionally at dinnertime, Mrs. Jones and I are on the receiving end of a lecture about heroic figures like Olympic gold-medal winner Wilma Rudolph, or Boudica, the Roman-era Celtic Queen. Hearing this little person we’ve nurtured from a pea, recite a story she’s just learned, one that’s important to her and informed by her maturing worldview, is truly one of the few unreserved pleasures in my life right now. By sheer coincidence, the episode that she was listening to on Friday afternoon was about an associate justice of the Supreme Court of the United States, a figurine of whom stands atop her bookshelf. I went in to check on her around 3p. “Dad, do you know that Ruth Bader Ginsberg is Jewish and from Brooklyn?” she asked. When at the end of dinner I glanced at my phone and, heartbroken, shared the news that was lighting up my feed, #GrowingUpOrlov burst into uncontrollable tears, and ran back into her room.

I can’t say if it’s a good thing that a nine year-old crying at the death of a highly politicized public figure — or attending enough street demonstrations to correctly finish the chant “No Justice, No Peace...” — should become normal. That “become” of course indicates ours as a position of social and emotional privilege. For many, this kind of care and engagement is a “continued” normal, one often coupled with just-as-normal persecution, either direct, violent and crisp, or constitutional, like a slow gas-leak that pollutes the air and becomes a permanent part of the atmosphere. I’m an immigrant, a political refugee with clear, first-hand memories of living in a literal (not existential) fear. #GrowingUpOrlov’s upbringing has been far more manicured, which makes her sympathies and reactions developed choices. Yes, her civic sensitivity was born in the Fall of 2016. Before she would learn about the White House’s current occupant, she heard that a woman had never been president and felt that it was only fair (probably the most indispensable word in her civic vocabulary) that we get one then. When this did not occur of course, there was an advancing recognition: of an increased agitation at surrounding social circumstances, of heated conversations, and of changes in relationships (including the discarding of family members - for which I take full responsibility). There was also disbelief at what new presidential leadership looked and sounded like. Her questions and opinions followed somewhat naturally, and a kind of feminist perspective took root.

“Each generation must discover its mission, fulfill it or betray it, in relative opacity,” wrote Frantz Fanon in 1961, and in many ways, those words remain correct. For members of #GrowingUpOrlov’s generation though, the discovery appears to have arrived early, an outline of its mission — the social justice, environmental crisis and economic inequality concerns anyway — clearly sketeched, and the line of demarcation between those on their side and those in opposition increasingly apparent. Excuses of accidental ignorance have been revealed as blind entitlement, and the desire to prolong the innocence of childhood that helicopter parents from MAGA country to liberal ivory towers preach, exposed as systemic complicity. Watching a nine year-old at once engage such ideas, and struggle to comprehend the world she was born into, has been sobering. One can listen to parents of young daughters who’ve come of age during the last four years proclaim the future is female and has many capable hands to guide it (a notion I generally subscribe to), yet still regard it an indictment of myself and my generation. Explicable though they may be, the burning piles of our alibis and blind-spots are global toxins, unrecyclable and unimportant, not unlike many of the products we’ve spent our own lives creating, hoarding and marketing to one another.

Maybe this premature mission creep is a blessing for #GrowingUpOrlov and her friends. After Friday’s tears dried up a little, with Mrs. Jones and I trying to keep our collective freak-out at bay, we decided that the best way to honor RBG’s memory that night was to sit down and watch Julie Cohen and Betsy West’s 2018 documentary on her life for the first time. One thing that stood out in the film is that Ruth too had an early understanding she was being called into action with a long-game ahead of her — her mother prepared her for it, and America’s patriarchy essentially rubbed her face in it. That recognition seems to be a shared characteristic of numerous actual 20th century American heroes, be it Ginsberg or John Lewis or the Rev. Joseph Lowery. Each acknowledged life’s inequities at a young age, and not only fostered the desire for change but was instilled with a belief that change was possible, and then spent their youth formulating the strategies to make it happen.

The other thing I found funny/sad while watching RBG, is the names we give to all these role models: rebels, dissenters, makers of “good trouble.” The contrary aspects of their legacies is why we celebrate them and praise the battles they fought agains the society they were born into. What that says about the world we keep populating and the things we teach our children about the nature of humanity speaks volumes.

#ruth bader ginsburg #rip #legacy #essay #GrowingUpOrlov

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astoundingbeyondbelief · 7 years

Photo

A while back, I came up with an idea for a sequel to Godzilla (2014) centering around an offbeat take on Mothra. Some of you might remember me carrying on about it in group chats. Well, I was never able to set aside the time to hammer out a complete script, but I hope this 3,000-word outline proves entertaining. I started working on it before Kong: Skull Island came out, then reworked it into something that would align with that movie in a couple of marathon writing sessions.

GODZILLA WORKS IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS

It’s a Monday morning in 2014. Specifically, the morning after San Francisco was demolished by three prehistoric monsters and nearly vaporized by an American nuclear missile. Godzilla wakes up and drags himself back into the ocean. An intern at a local TV station loses her job for the headline that accompanies his departure: “King of the Monsters, Savior of Our City?” Few care. Seven billion people are busy contemplating a world where they are no longer the dominant species, and what they can do to survive it.

It’s Tuesday. A massive anti-nuclear protest around the former Yucca Mountain Nuclear Waste Repository in Nevada turns violent. Similar gatherings around the country follow suit. Drs. Ishiro Serizawa and Vivienne Graham attend a meeting called by Monarch’s new director, U.S. lieutenant general Antonio Connor. He states that there’s only one way for the organization to quell the unrest its decades of secrecy have led to: find a way to kill Godzilla.

It’s Wednesday. WikiLeaks publishes scores of Monarch documents and videos, their source a total mystery. The papers contain information on the Castle Bravo strike, the Skull Island fiasco, the Janjira cover-up, and a series of cave paintings from around the world depicting Godzilla and creatures Monarch has named Rodan, Mothra, and Ghidorah. Translated at furious speed by amateurs and professionals alike, the documents are read all around the Earth – and beyond it. Two women onboard an alien vessel reel back in horror when they see the painting of Godzilla confronting Ghidorah.

It’s Thursday. The two women (they look like twins, actually) materialize in Oakland. Their presence goes unnoticed, coming as it does in the middle of a massive brawl between demonstrators and police. The former TV intern is among them, using her “King of the Monsters: Savior of Our City” sign as a blunt instrument. The twins dive right in, grabbing abandoned cans of spray paint and marking the nearest wall with an intricate symbol that resembles a cross inside a circle.

It’s Friday. Godzilla surfaces near the Senkaku Islands, earning him a Chinese H-bomb to the head. The weapon is remarkably similar to the high-yield device the U.S. thought would deal a killing blow against the King of the Monsters and his two opponents just a few days ago. It does nothing to Godzilla, but quite a lot to international tensions. Meanwhile, the U.S. invades Skull Island in a desperate face-saving measure, capturing a Skullcrawler for experimentation and driving Kong underground.

Five years later, Admiral Stenz’s carrier group is chasing Godzilla once again. This time, it’s on the attack, using unmanned surface vehicles to spray him with a newly developed (and newly legal) nerve gas called Hedrium. He responds by coughing a little and launching one of the boats a thousand feet into the air with a flick of his tail. The mood aboard the USS Saratoga is grim but resigned. No one expected this to work, least of all Serizawa and Graham, who are struggling to hide their vindication.

The boats abruptly return to the carrier group, not because they’re out of Hedrium but because Godzilla has entered Tokyo Bay. His destination: Haneda Airport, where the JSDF is engaging a giant reptile called Varan. Their battle is brutal but short: Godzilla breaks off one of the spines on his enemy’s back and slices his throat. After a triumphant roar, he returns to the sea.

In the post-action Monarch meeting, Director Connor spins the Hedrium operation as an unparalleled triumph – it is, after all, the first time humanity has managed to cause Godzilla any sort of harm. He’s confident that the nearly-finished Rods from God, a system which launches tungsten rods from a satellite at around Mach 10, will be even more successful. If that fails, well, even Godzilla won’t be able to resist a gravitational singularity. To the awe of most of the attendees, he unveils plans for the “Dimension Tide,” a cannon theoretically capable of firing a miniature black hole.

Serizawa and Graham are the only dissenters, and their objections quickly turn into a shouting match, the basics of which their colleagues have clearly heard many times before. After Connor threatens their jobs, the two scientists confer after the meeting and decide to leak the existence of the Dimension Tide project to the media; it’s a ludicrous waste of taxpayer money at best and a bringer of the apocalypse at worse. This will be no easy task, since they’ve never talked to the media in their lives.

From a San Francisco apartment covered in newspaper clippings and paintings of Godzilla, one of the media’s least reputable figures is putting her own spin on his latest appearance. To former TV intern Yukiko Saegusa, this is just the latest example of Godzilla doing a better job of protecting humanity than the organization formed specifically to fight monsters. The real wrongdoing, she asserts, is the U.S. deployment of a mysterious chemical weapon off the coast of Japan. As she shifts awkwardly into a rant about the second Pacific Rim sequel, her cameraman Mateo’s ringtone sounds. She rebukes him, but only for his song choice. Her apartment is supposed to be a Cosmos-free zone.

Who are the Cosmos? Why, only the world’s most popular pop duo, signed by Clark Nelson of Rolisican Records after a ballad they sang in an Oakland jail cell went viral. Their lyrics are enigmatic, written in a language that somewhat resembles Malay, but their vocal abilities and stagecraft border on the supernatural. They close their latest concert in New York the same way they always do: with a prayer for Mothra to defeat Godzilla, as she has so many other monsters in the past, and usher in a new era of peace. Their audience roars in approval. Fame, however, has brought them no joy. Only their most obsessive fans believe their devotion to the “Queen of the Monsters” is genuine; to everyone else, it’s just a charming gimmick. But they’ve come up with a way for Mothra to prove her benevolence beyond a shadow of a doubt before confronting Godzilla. (They would have sent her against Varan, but slept through the whole incident.) Ignoring Nelson’s protests – she’s a lunatic, a subversive, doesn’t even have a million subscribers – they call Yukiko to request an appearance on the next episode of her show. It takes her about two seconds to say yes.

The Cosmos smile politely at Yukiko’s apartment-wide Godzilla shrine as the interview begins. Well, it starts as an interview, then veers dramatically off course when the Cosmos start going on about how Ghidorah attacked their civilization thousands of years ago, leaving themselves and Mothra as the only survivors; their affection for Earth, which they first visited for the monsters but kept returning to for the people; their conviction that Godzilla, being powerful enough to slay Ghidorah, will inevitably threaten the world; etcetera. Yukiko is bored to tears, thinking it’s an expansion of their act. What she’s curious about is how a moth could beat a fire-breathing dinosaur who has literally eaten nukes for breakfast. Her guests propose a demonstration, one that will prove Mothra’s moral superiority to Yukiko’s hero. Every American can agree that slavery was wrong, so why is the most famous building constructed by slaves still standing?

The Cosmos’ signature metal armbands glow and they begin to sing. As they do, Mothra enters Washington, D.C. airspace, hovering above the White House. The mansion is evacuated as SAM batteries around the capitol open fire, but every missile explodes just before it reaches her. Mothra ignores them and circles the White House, forming a ring of energy. A ray shoots down from its center, obliterating 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

Yukiko and Mateo watch slack-jawed as the first confused reports of Mothra’s activities pour in. The Cosmos, as serene as when they first walked into the room, ask if they find the demonstration convincing. Neither gets to answer, because Monarch agents burst into the apartment and tranquilize the four of them.

Now, Monarch is no stranger to abducting people who know too much, but never anyone as famous as the Cosmos, and it shows. Though the singers did not publicize their trip to San Francisco, and Yukiko was planning the video as a surprise, enough people figured out their whereabouts to make a secret raid impossible. Nelson whips the Cosmos’ 80 million Twitter followers into a frenzy. Protests break out in front of Monarch headquarters in Seattle. Unfortunately for Monarch, that’s where the Cosmos are headed. Director Connor wants to speak with them personally, and events are moving too quickly to bring them anywhere else.

The Cosmos refuse to answer any of Connor’s questions – he’s especially interested in what they know about Ghidorah and how they’ve managed to live for so long. In another room, Yukiko and Mateo frantically deny any collusion with their quite terrifying interviewees. Connor changes tactics, telling the Cosmos that the U.S. military killed Mothra with newly-developed atomic heat ray guns outside of Richmond. Their bracelets glow, then they spit in his face for such blasphemous lies. Realizing the significance of their jewelry, Connor orders it destroyed. The twins just scoff, speaking in unison for the first time: “She already knows where we are.”

As it happens, Godzilla knows where Mothra is too. The two monsters make a beeline for Seattle.

Meanwhile, Serizawa and Graham take advantage of the chaos to make copies of the Dimension Tide plans. A guard nearly catches them, but they are saved by the intervention of Mason Weaver, now a veteran Monarch agent. She lets slip afterwards that she was the one who went to WikiLeaks in 2014. When she found out about the plans to invade Skull Island and use Kong for target practice, there was nothing else to do.

Most of Monarch’s employees flee as Mothra casts a massive shadow on their headquarters, but Connor remains. He believes she can’t do anything but threaten them without hurting the Cosmos. He’s quite wrong. Mothra waits until the top floors of the building are empty, tears them off, and webs him to a wall. The Cosmos ascend on one of her legs as the fans outside scream themselves hoarse in celebration. They’re still partying a few hours later when a familiar roar pierces the air and everything goes to hell.

Godzilla, perhaps sensing the caliber of foe he’s facing, readies his atomic breath immediately. Mothra sets the Cosmos down and releases a golden pollen from her wings; his ray ignites it on contact and envelops him in a massive explosion. The match goes poorly for him after that. Weaving between skyscrapers and raining down slashes and laser beams, Mothra seems like she’s going to be able to do what two MUTOs could not. Thousands die as the fight rages on. Neither monster seems to notice.

At the behest of the Cosmos, their fans storm Monarch headquarters, liberating Yukiko and Mateo – as well as Graham and Serizawa, who got stuck in an elevator when Mothra’s arrival triggered a lockdown. They emerge just in time to see the conclusion of the monsters’ battle. With a seemingly erratic shot of his atomic breath, Godzilla decapitates the Space Needle, which falls directly onto Mothra. This time, he has no victory cry to offer; visible exhausted, he makes his way through Seattle, heading east.

Their faces ashen, the Cosmos announce that Mothra still lives. Until she recovers, they have a new mission: to document Godzilla’s path of destruction. For most of their fans, chasing the King of the Monsters is a bridge too far, but a few eccentrics sign on. Serizawa, Graham, Yukiko, and Mateo are among them, sensing a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to study their obsession up close. Serizawa and Graham let the group into the Monarch garage, where they assemble a truly impressive caravan.

The scientists soon figure out the purpose behind Godzilla’s strange behavior. Using his atomic breath is a serious drain on his energy. When he used it against the MUTOs (collapsing afterwards), he had a handy source of radiation to absorb in the form of the nuclear missile that exploded offshore. Now he’s actively seeking out radioactive materials, and since there are no nuclear power plants left in North America… well, the situation is not good. It is, in fact, about as bad as it can get.

Godzilla’s destination is the ICBM sites around Malmstrom Air Force Base in Montana. He’ll arrive in less than a day. If the missiles there don’t satisfy him, he’ll move on to the silos in North Dakota or Wyoming.

Thus begins a road trip like no other. The Cosmos, of course, oversee the livestream. It proves as popular as they hoped; never mind the viewers online, all the major networks are showing little else. Their fans are as worshipful as ever and help them sharpen their critique of Godzilla. It’s now clear that his existence is a threat to the delicate balance of nuclear power which has kept a third world war from breaking out. When this is over, he’s unlikely to stroll into Russia and devour some of their warheads to even things out.

All is not well with the twins, however. They’ve never had their connection with Mothra severed before, and the ferocity she displayed against Godzilla in Seattle disturbs them. If that’s what she’s like when left to her own devices, why should anyone on Earth trust her? And why doesn’t anyone besides their fans seem to appreciate her razing that old building in D.C.?

Serizawa and Graham are having the time of their lives, but pose as abductees, well aware that Monarch is listening and watching them through the others’ phones. It’s all they can do to keep prying eyes aware from the Dimension Tide plans, although with everything Godzilla and Mothra have just done, it remains to be seen if anyone will care when they’re published.

Yukiko and Mateo are hilariously out of their depth. Oh, they were from the moment the Cosmos called, but now that things have calmed down, it’s really setting in. Unable to offer alternative programming (their own phones are either in San Francisco or Seattle), they gravitate towards Serizawa and Graham. With paper and pens, the four make a chronicle of Godzilla’s trek across America. The taunts from the Cosmos and their fans are plentiful, but they do their best to ignore them.

There’s plenty to chronicle, even as the King of the Monsters proceeds without military opposition. While he shows little regard for any buildings unfortunate enough to stand in his path, he starts to walk around gas stations after the first one explodes underfoot. Likewise, he’s mindful of cars, people, and even deer. An attack from a militia group almost seems to make him smile. At night, he pauses to watch some shooting stars and growls at them. The members of the caravan debate endlessly over whether his periodic glances in their direction are acknowledgments or just a general scanning of his surroundings.

During this interlude, Monarch and the U.S. government make preparations on multiple fronts. Yukiko’s interview with the Cosmos is released to the public, albeit with all mentions of Ghidorah removed. The Rods from God are launched, with the stationary Mothra intended as their first target. (Connor has a nightmare where the rods bounce off her like a fistful of plastic straws.) Crews scramble to dismantle the ICBMs at Malmstrom, but it’s clear that Godzilla will have quite the selection to choose from when he arrives. Special forces and drones tail the caravan, waiting for the order to move in.

After Godzilla tears apart the first missile silo, the meal clearly giving him a shot in the arm, the President orders the remaining Malmstrom missiles to be launched into space. The Rods from God prepare to rain metal down on Mothra, but she chooses the moment before their launch to burst out of the Space Needle rubble and dart towards Godzilla. Their rematch is an ugly, face-to-face affair – no nuclear fire or eye lasers, just teeth and claws.

As the ground trembles, the folder with the Dimension Tide plans flies open, and Monarch takes notice. The special forces move in. Our heroes use their vehicles’ various anti-kaiju weapons to fight back, but their lack of combat experience makes the outcome inevitable. Surrounded, they prepare for the end. Instead they get Mothra, who picks up the remaining vehicles and blows away the soldiers with a single beat of her wings. Godzilla watches her set them back down with interest.

Then a curious thing happens. As Mothra reengages Godzilla, he hurls her away from him, seconds before getting speared by a dozen tungsten rods. It’s a devastating blow; his scream of pain shatters every window in the caravan still intact. Mothra hesitates before charging in again – to carefully help Godzilla remove each of the rods and seal his wounds with her webbing. The two start to converse, with the Cosmos helpfully translating Mothra’s end (and chiding her for her language). She persuades him to return to the Pacific, offering to bring him a docked nuclear submarine or two if he needs a boost before then. As he departs, she flies into space and returns with the Cosmos’ ship. The ramp automatically lowers and the Cosmos beckon their fellow monster-chasers inside.

Well, what would you do?

Months later, Yukiko is the face of the first pirate TV station filmed in space, with Mateo still behind the camera and the Cosmos, Serizawa, and Graham as science correspondents. After the latest episode wraps, the Cosmos present her with an invention of theirs: a kaiju communicator for humans. It’s not nearly as elegant as their bracelets, sort of resembling a psychotic dentist’s chair. (And they insist the tiara-like headpiece is essential.) Just before they turn it on, they inform Yukiko that she won’t be talking to Mothra, as she assumed, but Godzilla.

The credits roll before we hear what he says.

Dream Cast:

Yukiko Saegusa – Lyrica Okano

The Cosmos – Auli'i Cravalho (through Orphan Black-style trickery)

Dr. Ishiro Serizawa – Ken Watanabe

Dr. Vivienne Graham – Sally Hawkins

Mateo – Tyler Posey

Director Antonio Connor – Glenn Morshower

Clark Nelson – Steve Buscemi

Mason Weaver – Bette Midler

Admiral William Stenz – David Strathairn

Obligatory Post Credits-Scene: A scaled-down version of the Dimension Tide is tested at a Monarch black site. Though Serizawa and Graham’s exposé was successful in shuttering the project, Connor has cooked Monarch’s books just enough to fund this proof-of-concept device. Since no one has observed a black hole in person before, they think the trio of high-pitched cackles emanating from it are a little weird, but nothing to be worried about.

#godzilla works in mysterious ways #godzilla #mothra #writing

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