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semisgroupie · 3 years

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Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend

Sugar Daddy!Nanami Kento X College Student!Female Reader

Warnings: age gap, dumbification, degredation, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap your willy), creampie, car sex, hints at a corruption kink, daddy kink, use of a vibrator, mean dom Nanami, dom/sub dynamics, public sex, light spit play, use of the word “cunny”, overstimulation

Word Count: 3.6k words

This is my contribution to the Ditzy n Diamonds collab check out everyone else’s amazing work!! A huge huge huge thank you to @aransangel for allowing me to participate. Enjoy!

Kento wasn’t a lonely man. He had his fair share of women in his life but they were always after his money. He would go into a relationship and they expect him to buy them the moon and the night sky after one date. Always wanting to go on shopping sprees and wanting to be spoiled. So he took himself out of the dating scene.

Until one day his friend offered a sugar daddy website to use. Kento had more money than he could keep track of, being the head of two Fortune 500 companies he had the cash rolling in. So he decided to just join it, not like he was going to find someone worth his time or money until he stumbled across your profile.

You weren’t like any of the other girls on the website. You looked so innocent, so soft and so pure. He messaged you immediately after going through your profile. You were so open about everything he asked you and you were able to keep a conversation.

You never thought you’d find yourself looking for a sugar daddy, you were in your second year of college and the little job you had was not enough to pay rent, tuition, buy food and buy textbooks. When telling your roommate you’d be late on paying your half of the rent for the third month in a row she recommended you’d look for a sugar daddy.

She helped set your profile up, putting the right pictures and making the bio perfect for older men looking to spoil a sweet girl like you. It was going well at first then you hit a snag, the men were too old or had too many rules or wanted too much for the first meeting. Then you received a message from Nanami Kento.

You looked through his profile and he was perfect, being in his late 40s, extremely attractive and his first message wasn’t anything creepy. He genuinely wanted to get to know you. So when he offered to set up your first meeting a week after getting to know each other you jumped at the chance.

It went amazing and when your allowance started flowing in it was even better. He got you your own penthouse apartment in one of the buildings he bought making it rent free for you. The first night you moved in he fucked you in every room and on every piece of furniture, making you scream and cream around his cock over and over again.

That was two years ago, that was when you first started the arrangement. A year in he asked to change the title of your relationship wanting you to be his and only his, not like you already weren’t. He still spoiled you senseless, keeping your allowance and when you were a good girl he gave you a little bonus.

Tonight you were his date to a masquerade ball that one of his friends were hosting. Kento was helping you into the corset that went with your dress. A dress he bought for you of course.

“You look so beautiful princess and you haven’t even put the dress on yet. Ready for me to tighten this corset?”

You nodded making Kento tsk.

“What does daddy say about using your words?”

“I’m sorry daddy, I am ready for you to tighten it daddy.”

“Good girl, now breathe in for me and let me know if it’s too tight or hurting you.”

“Yes daddy.”

You inhaled and he tightened the strings on the back of the corset, hugging your curves and making your tits pop out making Kento eye them hungrily. His hands moving up and down your waist and hips moving them back to grab at your ass.

“Daddy! We can’t do this now, the party will start at 8 and we can’t be late. You hate being late.”

He reached up squishing your face between his fingers bringing you face to face with him.

“Don’t tell daddy what he likes and don’t tell him what he can and can’t do silly little girl.”

“’m showwy daddy” you spoke with your cheeks still being squished.

“Good, now lets get this dress on you.”

You pouted because you’d have to redo your makeup. Kento slipping the dress up your body, zipping it and grabbing your tits from behind. You sat down in front of your vanity reapplying your makeup while Kento was fixing his tux. Once you were done you slipped on your heels and grabbed your purse while Kento grabbed your masks.

He escorted you arm in arm to his car, a black Bugatti Chiron Super Sport 300+ the leather interior, a dark cherry red, matching the dress you were wearing. He helped you inside the vehicle and went to the drivers side.

“Babygirl do me a favor and look in the glovebox for me?”

He would often get you gifts every time you went out, little surprises under your car seat or the trunk or in the glovebox. He watched you open the glovebox and pull out two boxes. One rectangular box and one small box. You opened the smaller box first, your eyes widened at its contents.

“Daddy what do you want me to do with this?”

In your hand was a small black egg vibrator.

“Are you that clueless my dumb baby? Open your legs and take that vibrator and put it inside you.”

“But daddy my dress.”

“The dress has a slit so use that to slip your hand to that sweet pussy and insert the vibrator inside you.”

You did as he told you, thankful he bought a dress with a slit high enough for you to do it. You turned to him for his next command but you got nothing, just as you were about to open your mouth the vibrations started.

“Daddy! H-how did you—ah—do that?”

“Is my little baby so stupid to realize I had the remote for it? Now we’re going to see how many orgasms can be pulled from you until we get there—if we get there.”

“D-daddy w-what do you mean?”

“I-if I don’t end up p-p-pulling over to f-f-fuck you. Now open the other box.”

His mocking would hurt any other girl but not you. You loved when he treated you like a brainless slut. You opened the rectangular box inside a beautiful ankle bracelet with his initials on it and covered in diamonds. He only bought you diamonds because they signified light and it was fitting for you since you’re the light of his life. He increased the vibrations to the highest setting knowing you would cum immediately.

“This is—fuck—so beautiful t-thank you dad—fuck I’m cumming daddy fuck fuck!”

He lowered the vibrations back to the lowest setting after your orgasm you leaned down and clasped the ankle bracelet on your left ankle. Kento started the car bringing the vibrations up again.

“Don’t mess up the leather in my car, I just bought this last week. You should remember that since you were beside me as I signed off on it. But you probably forgot since I fucked you brainless afterwards.”

You nodded dumbly not even listening to a word he said. About halfway to the party and many orgasms for you later Kento made a turn into a secluded parking lot.

“D-daddy what are—shit—what are you d-doing?”

“Use your brain princess.”

You stood silent completely forgetting about what he told you at the start of the ride. His laughter filled the car and he shut off the vibrator, a sigh of relief leaving your lips.

“My dumb little girl, I am going to fuck you now. Then I am going to take you to one of the hotels I have a share in and fuck you in the president’s suite. Got that?”

“But the party.”

“Fuck the party, with the amount of times you squirted and orgasmed around that toy you ruined the dress. Unless you want to go with soaked panties and your slick running down your legs.”

You shook your head no.

“Now go in the backseat so I could fuck you. Hearing your moans and pleas made me so fucking hard.”

Before moving to the backseat you took a quick look at the bulge he was palming over his pants. He followed you to the backseat and laid you down along the cushions. He scrunched the dress up to your hips and pulled your panties off you throwing it to the side.

“Fuck baby such a mess. What a dirty dirty girl.”

“Daddy stop, it’s embarrassing!”

You tried closing your legs to cover up but a quick pinch to your thigh made you open back up for him.

“Don’t tell me what to do and what not to do dumb slut” he grabs your face with one hand bringing it close to his, his breath fanning your face the smell of mint filling your senses, “and don’t fucking dare try to keep me away from what’s mine, got that?”

“Yesh daddy” you spoke with your cheeks still being squished a small tinge of pain beginning but it turned you on even more.

He let go of your face and you went back down, as he undid his belt and pants he just stared at your pussy. Your winking hole made his cock throb.

“Oh my dumb baby’s cunny is making such a mess. It’s going on my leather seats too” his condescending tone made you clench around nothing again, more of your juices leaking out. To say you loved when he baby talked you would be an understatement, “What did I fucking tell you about my leather seats?”

“I don’t remember daddy.”

“You’re that fucking dense? Too busy thinking about getting stuffed with daddy’s cock to think about anything else. How fucking selfish. Wow you’re selfish, stupid and a cockslut. How lucky am I?”

Before you could say anything back, apologize for making a mess on his expensive leather seats, he thrusted his length inside you. Your back arched and you felt yourself having another orgasm.

“I haven’t even started fucking you yet and you’re creaming around my cock. Dirty fucking whore, all you’re thinking about is my cock. Look at that facial expression so fucking lewd, you look like a pornstar. Is that what you are? My little pornstar?”

He lifted your legs and wrapped them around his waist as he started thrusting into your gummy walls with a newfound speed. You weren’t sure what was turning you on more whether if it was the fact the two of you were in public or the words leaving his mouth or maybe both.

“Fuck your cunny is so tight baby, I fuck you almost every day but you’re still so tight for me. Like your pussy is molded to my cock.”

“D-daddy feels—ngh—feels—ah fuck daddy!”

“Can’t even finish your fucking sentence, is there even a brain in your head or do you just think with your body? What am I even paying the college for? Obviously not your education, my sweet little dummy.”

“Daddy! Too m-mean!”

Tears were threatening to spill out from a mix of the degradation and how hard and fast he was fucking you. Just using you as his personal toy.

“Oh I’m t-t-too mean? Too fucking bad. Now open your mouth and stick your tongue out for me.”

You did as he told you and Kento leaned down his face hovering over yours as he collected the spit in his mouth to spit into your own. Once you felt it hit your tongue you clenched around him again.

“Fuck you’re gonna make me cum. I’m gonna fill you up baby.”

“Daddy please need your cum. Need it please please.”

You were babbling pleas as he gripped your hips and relentlessly pounded into you. His heavy balls clapping against your ass over and over, he looked down and the translucent white ring around his cock and it drove him mad. Someone as beautiful as a goddess letting a man like him be with you so intimately.

“Fuck baby I’m cumming—fuck!”

He held your hips close to his as ropes of his cum filled you. He leaned down and kissed you as you both let your bodies relax. He pulled out of you and shoved two of his fingers inside your pussy.

“Don’t want to let any of this leave you, want you to be nice and filled with this load until we get to the hotel. Get your rest because we have a long night ahead of us.”

“Mkay daddy.”

He pulled his fingers out of your pussy and tapped your cheek. You opened your mouth and he shoved his fingers inside feeling your warm tongue swirl around them collecting every drop of cum. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth and adjusted his pants.

He looked at you one last time before going back behind the steering wheel. You looked so fucked out and in bliss.

“Remember don’t fuck up my seats any more.”

The drive to the hotel was quick, well since Kento was going double the speed limit. You brought out this side of him that made him feel like a teenager again. He just wanted to fuck you everywhere and as much as he could.

“We’re here now. Let’s see if you listened to me again or if you were too fucked out to acknowledge what I said.”

He got out of the driver's seat and opened the door to the back of the car. He leaned in and looked at your pussy.

“Tch, messy little girl. I should make you clean this shit up. Yeah make you clean it up like the nasty cum slut you are.”

“Daddy I’m sorry, didn’t mean to make a mess.”

“Of course, now get out. We’re going to the president's suite and that pretty little anklet I got you is going to be jingling right next to my ear as I pound your sweet pussy.”

You nodded and made your way out of the car. You could barely walk from all the orgasms you had, your legs felt like noodles. Kento made his way next to you wrapping an arm around your waist as you both walked to the front desk.

“Hello Mr. Nanami, here are the room keys and the champagne is in the room on ice. Please enjoy your stay.”

As he took the keys your eyebrows furrowed trying to put everything together but your brain was like mush. As you two made it to the elevator you heard a deep chuckle from Kento.

“I can see the gears turning in your head. Maybe it’s a little more than your brain can comprehend but I planned this beforehand. Satoru throws parties like that all the time so we’ll have another night to party.”

You nodded and went inside the elevator with him. As you two went up the floors his hand on your waist traveled south until he reached the curve of your ass giving it a nice squeeze, leaving it there until you two reached your floor. He led you out the elevator and into the room.

Once the door shut he was on you, grabbing at the fabric of the dress pulling it down and off of you as he placed sloppy kisses along your lips, jaw and neck. Once your dress was off he untied the corset practically ripping it off your body.

“Oh looks like I forgot your panties in the car. Not like you needed them anyways.”

He took your bra off you and walked you to the king sized bed, gently pushing you on it while he undressed. Your hand roamed on its own down your body to your clit rubbing gentle circles until Kento reached down and pulled your hand away.

“Are you serious? Can’t wait for me to pull my fucking boxers down before touching that messy pussy? If you want pleasure so bad” he pulled your legs putting them on his shoulders as he kneeled on the bed. “I’ll give you all the pleasure you need.”

He lined up with your glistening entrance and thrusted inside you, his cum mixed with your slick acting as lube. He held the backs of your knees and thrusted into you, hitting even deeper than before. Your mewls and whines echoing throughout the room. Your mouth falling open, saliva spilling from the corners of your mouth and your eyes roll to the back of your head feeling his cock enter you over and over again.

“Fuck look at you. Like a desperate whore in heat. When I first met you, you were this cute little thing so innocent then once you got a taste of my cock you turned into a braindead slut. I wonder how your friends would react to you fucking a man that’s old enough to be your father. Your little cunny is leaking all over my cock, all my cum leaving you but don’t worry I’ll fill you up more.”

You closed your eyes and opened them again looking at Kento. Your gaze went to the ankle bracelet he got you, the small charm with his initials dangling and moving with each rough thrust. Your gaze turned back to Kento, his lip between his teeth, his normally perfectly styled hair falling out of place, strands of blonde and white hair sticking to his forehead.

Kento brought his thumb to your mouth and you wrapped your lips around it, your tongue swirling around it, getting it slick with your saliva. You let go of his thumb with a soft pop and he brought it down to your clit rubbing small circles on it giving the right amount of pressure.

“Daddy, daddy please gonna cum! Please please please.”

He gave a particularly hard thrust brushing against your g-spot sending you head first into an orgasm. Your back arching and a loud moan leaving your lips. He kept thrusting into you brushing against your g-spot over and over again your sensitive pussy couldn’t handle all the pleasure.

“Daddy p-please slow d-down, too much too much, too sen-sensitive!”

“Too bad, you’re gonna keep cumming on my cock until I fill you up. I don’t care how s-s-sensitive you are.”

His mocking made you clench around him again. His thrusts were keeping their roughness and speed. He pushed your legs further back and looked down to where you two were connected. The burn from the stretch adding to the pleasure he was giving you.

“Fuck baby this slutty little cunny is just swallowing my cock.”

He tapped at your clit a couple of times, the rough pads of his fingers mixed with the continuous brushing of his cock against your g-spot brought you to another orgasm. Your manicured nails running down his arms leaving red scratch marks in their wake. A moan of ‘daddy’ leaving you as the aftershocks of pleasure coursed through you.

“Let’s see if we could get you to one more orgasm before I fill you up.”

You nodded the only word you acknowledged being ‘orgasm’. He rode you through your orgasm his grip on your legs getting tighter likely going to leave marks. Kento leaned down and took one of your nipples into his mouth swirling his tongue around it, nipping and sucking then moving his head to show your other nipple the same attention.

His pelvis rubbing against your clit with each thrust, the roughness of his trimmed pubic hair sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. Your hands went through his hair scratching at his scalp.

“Gonna cum for me? I’m gonna cum too, cum for me baby and I’ll give you my cum.”

You weakly moved your hips gaining more friction and Kento kept his mouth on your nipples. Your back arched as you hit your peak again that night, the feeling should be familiar with how many you had that night but it just rippled through your body. Your pussy clenching around his cock and your nails running along his scalp sent Kento into his orgasm. He painted your walls white for the second time that night.

Heavy labored breaths filled the room, once Kento finished he pulled out of you some of his cum followed leaking out of you onto the sheets. He laid next to you and held you close to him both of your limbs intertwining with each other. He placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“I’m sorry about the seats daddy.”

“Don’t worry about the seats princess, I’ll send it to get cleaned tomorrow. Just remember while I say those mean things to you I don’t mean a word, you’re a smart, beautiful young lady and I love you.”

You lifted your head to look at his face, worry was spread across his face, his crows feet and small wrinkles on his face deepened as he looked at you.

“I know daddy! I love you too! Love you so much Kento.”

He leaned down, cupping your face with one of his hands as he placed a kiss to your lips. A small smile on his face as he pulled away.

“Good, now rest up baby we have quite a long weekend ahead of us. This hotel has a private pool and I want to fuck you there.”

“Daddy! I don’t even have a bathing suit and I doubt I’ll be able to move without being sore tomorrow.”

“We’ll worry about your soreness tomorrow and don’t worry about the bathing suit, we’ll go shopping for some and you’ll get whatever you desire, it’s not like you’ll need it anyways.”

Kento traced small shapes on your back as you fell asleep and soon fatigue hit him as he fell asleep right after you.

#ditzy 'n diamonds collab #kento nanami smut #jjk smut #nanami x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #tw unprotected sex #tw age gap #tw public sex #tw degradation #tw dumbification #tw corruption kink #this is my first ever collab piece and im so excited!!!#ditsy ‘n diamonds collab

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letterboxd · 4 years

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In Focus: The Mummy

Dominic Corry responds on behalf of Letterboxd to an impassioned plea to bump up the average rating of the 1999 version of The Mummy—and asks: where is the next great action adventure coming from?

We recently received the following email regarding the Stephen Sommers blockbuster The Mummy:

To whom it may concern,

I am writing to you on behalf of the nation, if not the entire globe, who frankly deserve better than this after months of suffering with the Covid pandemic.

I was recently made aware that the rating of The Mummy on your platform only stands at 3.3 stars out of five. … This, as I’m sure you’re aware, is simply unacceptable. The Mummy is, as a statement of fact, the greatest film ever made. It is simply fallacious that anyone should claim otherwise, or that the rating should fail to reflect this. This oversight cannot be allowed to stand.

I have my suspicions that this rating has been falsely allocated due to people with personal axes to grind against The Mummy, most likely other directors who are simply jealous that their own artistic oeuvres will never attain the zenith of perfection, nor indeed come close to approaching the quality or the cultural influence of The Mummy. There is, quite frankly, no other explanation. The Mummy is, objectively speaking, a five-star film (… I would argue that it in fact transcends the rating sytem used by us mere mortals). It would only be proper, as a matter of urgency, to remove all fake ratings (i.e. any ratings [below] five stars) and allow The Mummy’s rating to stand, as it should, at five stars, or perhaps to replace the rating altogether with a simple banner which reads “the greatest film of all time, objectively speaking”. I look forward to this grievous error being remedied.

Best, Anwen

Which of course: no, we would never do that. But the vigor Anwen expresses in her letter impressed us (we checked: she’s real, though is mostly a Letterboxd lurker due to a busy day-job in television production, “so finding time to watch anything that isn’t The Mummy is, frankly, impossible… not that there’s ever any need to watch anything else, of course.”).

So Letterboxd put me, Stephen Sommers fan, on the job of paying homage to the last great old-school action-adventure blockbuster, a film that straddles the end of one cinematic era and the beginning of the next one. And also to ask: where’s the next great action adventure coming from?

Brendan Fraser, Rachel Weisz and John Hannah in ‘The Mummy’ (1999).

When you delve into the Letterboxd reviews of The Mummy, it quickly becomes clear how widely beloved the film is, 3.3 average notwithstanding. Of more concern to the less youthful among us is how quaintly it is perceived, as if it harkens back to the dawn of cinema or something. “God, I miss good old-fashioned adventure movies,” bemoans Holly-Beth. “I have so many fond memories of watching this on TV with my family countless times growing up,” recalls Jess. “A childhood classic,” notes Simon.

As alarming as it is to see such wistful nostalgia for what was a cutting-edge, special-effects-laden contemporary popcorn hit, it has been twenty-one years since the film was released, so anyone currently in their early 30s would’ve encountered the film at just the right age for it to imprint deeply in their hearts. This has helped make it a Raiders of the Lost Ark for a specific Letterboxd demographic.

Sommers took plenty of inspiration from the Indiana Jones series for his take on The Mummy (the original 1932 film, also with a 3.3 average, is famously sedate), but for ten-year-olds in 1999, it may have been their only exposure to such pulpy derring-do. And when you consider that popcorn cinema would soon be taken over by interconnected on-screen universes populated by spandex-clad superheroes, the idea that The Mummy is an old-fashioned movie is easier to comprehend.

However, for all its throwbackiness, beholding The Mummy from the perspective of 2020 reveals it to have more to say about the future of cinema than the past. 1999 was a big year for movies, often considered one of the all-time best, but the legacy of The Mummy ties it most directly to two of that year’s other biggest hits: Star Wars: Episode One—The Phantom Menace and The Matrix. These three blockbusters represented a turning point for the biggest technological advancement to hit the cinematic art-form since the introduction of sound: computer-generated imagery, aka CGI. The technique had been widely used from 1989’s The Abyss onwards, and took significant leaps forward with movies such as Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991), Jurassic Park (1993) and Starship Troopers (1997), but the three 1999 films mentioned above signified a move into the era when blockbusters began to be defined by their CGI.

A year before The Mummy, Sommers had creatively utilised CGI in his criminally underrated sci-fi action thriller Deep Rising (another film that deserves a higher average Letterboxd rating, just sayin’), and he took this approach to the next level with The Mummy. While some of the CGI in The Mummy doesn’t hold up as well as the technopunk visuals presented in The Matrix, The Mummy showed how effective the technique could be in an historical setting—the expansiveness of ancient Egypt depicted in the movie is magnificent, and the iconic rendering of Imhotep’s face in the sand storm proved to be an enduringly creepy image. Not to mention those scuttling scarab beetles.

George Lucas wanted to test the boundaries of the technique with his insanely anticipated new Star Wars film after dipping his toe in the digital water with the special editions of the original trilogy. Beyond set expansions and environments, a bunch of big creatures and cool spaceships, his biggest gambit was Jar Jar Binks, a major character rendered entirely through CGI. And we all know how that turned out.

A CGI-enhanced Arnold Vosloo as Imhotep.

Sommers arguably presented a much more effective CGI character in the slowly regenerating resurrected Imhotep. Jar Jar’s design was “bigger” than the actor playing him on set, Ahmed Best. Which is to say, Jar Jar took up more space on screen than Best. But with the zombie-ish Imhotep, Sommers (ably assisted by Industrial Light & Magic, who also worked on the Star Wars films) used CGI to create negative space, an effect impossible to achieve with practical make-up—large parts of the character were missing. It was an indelible visual concept that has been recreated many times since, but Sommers pioneered its usage here, and it contributed greatly to the popcorn horror threat posed by the character.

Sommers, generally an unfairly overlooked master of fun popcorn spectacle (G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra is good, guys), deserves more credit for how he creatively utilized CGI to elevate the storytelling in The Mummy. But CGI isn’t the main reason the film works—it’s a spry, light-on-its-feet adventure that presents an iconic horror property in an entertaining and adventurous new light. And it happens to feature a ridiculously attractive cast all captured just as their pulchritudinous powers were peaking.

Meme-worthy: “My sexual orientation is the cast of ‘The Mummy’ (1999).”

A rising star at the time, Brendan Fraser was mostly known for comedic performances, and although he’d proven himself very capable with his shirt off in George of the Jungle (1997), he wasn’t necessarily at the top of anyone’s list for action-hero roles. But he is superlatively charming as dashing American adventurer Rick O’Connell. His fizzy chemistry with Weisz, playing the brilliant-but-clumsy Egyptologist Evie Carnahan, makes the film a legitimate romantic caper. The role proved to be a breakout for Weisz, then perhaps best known for playing opposite Keanu Reeves in the trouble-plagued action flop Chain Reaction, or for her supporting role in the Liv Tyler vehicle Stealing Beauty.

“90s Brendan Fraser is what Chris Pratt wishes he was,” argues Holly-Beth. “Please come back to us, Brendaddy. We need you.” begs Joshhh. “I’d like to thank Rachel Weisz for playing an integral role in my sexual awakening,” offers Sree.

Then there’s Oded Fehr as Ardeth Bey, a member of the Medjai, a sect dedicated to preventing Imhotep’s tomb from being discovered, and Patricia Velásquez as Anck-su-namun, Imhotep’s cursed lover. Both stupidly good-looking. Heck, Imhotep himself (South African Arnold Vosloo, coming across as Billy Zane’s more rugged brother), is one of the hottest horror villains in the history of cinema.

“Remember when studio movies were sexy?” laments Colin McLaughlin. We do Colin, we do.

Sommers directed a somewhat bloated sequel, The Mummy Returns, in 2001, which featured the cinematic debut of one Dwayne Johnson. His character got a spin-off movie the following year (The Scorpion King), which generated a bunch of DTV sequels of its own, and is now the subject of a Johnson-produced reboot. Brendan Fraser came back for a third film in 2008, the Rob Cohen-directed The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor. Weisz declined to participate, and was replaced by Maria Bello.

Despite all the follow-ups, and the enduring love for the first Sommers film, there has been a sadly significant dearth of movies along these lines in the two decades since it was released. The less said about 2017 reboot The Mummy (which was supposed to kick-off a new Universal Monster shared cinematic universe, and took a contemporary, action-heavy approach to the property), the better.

The Rock in ‘The Mummy Returns’ (2001).

For a long time, adventure films were Hollywood’s bread and butter, but they’re surprisingly thin on the ground these days. So it makes a certain amount of sense that nostalgia for the 1999 The Mummy continues to grow. You could argue that many of the superhero films that dominate multiplexes count as adventure movies, but nobody really sees them that way—they are their own genre.

There are, however, a couple of films on the horizon that could help bring back old-school cinematic adventure. One is the long-planned—and finally actually shot—adaptation of the Uncharted video-game franchise, starring Tom Holland. The games borrow a lot from the Indiana Jones films, and it’ll be interesting to see how much that manifests in the adaptation.

Then there’s Letterboxd favorite David Lowery’s forever-upcoming medieval adventure drama The Green Knight, starring Dev Patel and Alicia Vikander (who herself recently rebooted another video-game icon, Lara Croft). Plus they are still threatening to make another Indiana Jones movie, even if it no longer looks like Steven Spielberg will direct it.

While these are all exciting projects—and notwithstanding the current crisis in the multiplexes—it can’t help but feel like we may never again get a movie quite like The Mummy, with its unlikely combination of eye-popping CGI, old-fashioned adventure tropes and a once-in-a-lifetime ensemble of overflowing hotness. Long may love for it reign on Letterboxd—let’s see if we can’t get that average rating up, the old fashioned way. For Anwen.

Related content

How I Letterboxd with The Mummy fan Eve (“The first film I went out and bought memorabilia for… it was a Mummy action figure that included canopic jars”)

The Mummy (Universal) Collection

Every film featuring the Mummy (not mummies in general)

Follow Dom on Letterboxd

#the mummy #brendan fraser #stephen sommers #action adventure #fantasy adventure #action adventure film #the green knight #david lowery #dominic corry #letterboxd

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slafkovskys · 4 years

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or so the story goes / c. york

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

my masterlist!

title from bad reputation by shawn mendes

before you read! with everything going on in the world, i would just like to put this out there. if you are not able to financially contribute to the black lives matter movement but would still like to help out, this post contains links to petitions that you can sign and some donation links as well. please take a look at it and do what you can. thank you and happy reading!

as usual, you heard them before you saw them.

you couldn’t help but sigh as you stood up from your bed and moved over to the window, lifting the blinds with your index finger to peer outside. because your room was above the garage, you were provided with a perfect view of the driveway. there was only one vehicle that didn’t belong there and you knew exactly who it belonged to.

the driver’s side door opens and he slips out, instantly looking up as if he’d sensed that you were there. he doesn’t smile or nod and neither do you, but his glance was enough. given your circumstances, it had to be. when he disappears into the garage, you let the blinds fall back into place and shield your room from the world. you hear the door open downstairs and the familiar shouts that always filled the house when jack’s friends were over and you shake your head.

you had planned to go outside and soak up the sun while you still could because michigan was due to turn cold soon, but of course jack’s friends had threatened to disrupt the plan. you ultimately decided that you weren’t going to let them, so you moved over to your dresser to grab a swimsuit from your bottom drawer.

you pull off your clothes and toss them into the basket, making a mental note to do your laundry later. you put on your swimsuit (a yellow number that you knew he loved) and grab your speaker along with your phone before slipping out of your bedroom, making sure that the door was closed behind you.

you descend the stairs and move into the kitchen, rolling your eyes when you see the four boys gathered there. you wordlessly walk past and set your things on the counter, feeling the eyes on you as their conversation quickly dies out. “really, y/n? you couldn’t have put some clothes on?”

“this is my house too, jack. am i supposed to change how i dress because you have some immature friends over who can’t control themselves?” you look at your younger brother (by eight minutes, he always made sure to throw in) with a pointed glance and he’s silent. you send a small smile towards cam who turns to the side and coughs, but you see his cheeks heat up. you know for a fact that jack saw you, but before he could say anything, you turn towards the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water and a snack. you lean over to pull the tub of pineapple from the bottom shelf and a bottle of water. you turn back around to face them again, “also jack, could you be a good brother for once and tell your boy to stop looking at my ass. it’s never going to happen.”

you grab a tupperware bowl to put your pineapple in and start picking out pieces with your fingers. trevor, admittedly not your favorite of jack’s friends, opens his mouth, “i wasn’t-”

“but zegras, i never said it was you. if the shoe fits i guess,” you send him a smirk as you pop the red lid on the bowl to protect the fruit from anything that might try and spoil it when you go outside and lick your fingers. cam, bless him, has to look down and scratch at his neck.

wow, you missed him.

“is that my speaker?” alex asks, pointing towards the black speaker that sat beside your phone. you look at it and back to the illinois native and nod. he raises an eyebrow, “i’ve been looking for that for days. why do you have it?”

“you broke mine before you left,” you shrug, gathering your things, “i figured we’d be even. goodbye boys. please don’t annoy me.”

you walk towards the back door, slipping on your sandals before walking outside. you pull one of the loungers away from the shade of the back porch and into the grass, sitting your stuff down beside it.

you turn on the speaker and press play on your favorite playlist before laying down on the chair. you close your eyes and let the heat of the sun radiate down on your body. your fingers tap against the arms of the chair along with the beat of the song, humming quietly.

you could hear the boys in the driveway playing basketball, so you turn your music up a little to try and drown them out. you get through a couple of songs before the sun seems to disappear which causes you to peek open an eye. unlike the cloud you were expecting, you find cam to be the culprit. you hold up one of your hands and he grabs it, taking a seat on the edge of the chair after you move your legs to make room, “you’re lucky that you’re cute. i almost went off on you for blocking my sun.”

“your sun?” his grin is shy as you sit up so that you can be closer to him. you keep your music playing because you knew that jack would probably get suspicious if cam disappeared and your music had stopped. the last thing that you wanted or needed was him on your ass. “the sun belongs to everyone, y/n. you have to share it.”

“unfortunately,” you sigh, feigning annoyance. he chuckles before leaning forward, boldly pressing his lips to yours in a soft, slow kiss. you let him get away with it for only a second before you pull back, resting your hand on his cheek. he leans into your hand and you rub his freckled cheek with your thumb, “i missed you cam.”

he turns his face to press a kiss to your palm before he responded, “i missed you too y/n. three weeks just wasn’t enough.”

you hum in agreement, thinking of the weeks where you were able to slip away and be in california with cam. it was as almost every moment in your relationship had been, stolen and secret.

you send him a sad look as you hear your brother shout at alex through the gate that separates the front from the backyard, “you should get back. you don’t want jack to come looking for you.”

“i know,” he sighs. he squeezes your hand before standing, leaning down to press a kiss to your hair. “i love you. i’ll call you later?”

“of course,” you smile, “now go.”

he shoves his hands in his pockets and knocks your chair with his foot, “you forgot something.”

you roll your eyes jokingly, “i love you too cam.”

unlike a lot of twins, you and jack had never been very close. all of your brothers had found a love for hockey when they were young which resulted in them being gone a lot. due to this, you never really had a chance to bond with jack. you loved him of course, just as much as you did quinn and luke, but he could be a real asshole sometimes.

moving to michigan only during your sophomore year wasn’t something that you had been happy about. of course, you wanted your brothers to succeed, but you felt that you could’ve stayed where you were. where your friends were. where your life was.

you and jack had always had your separate friend groups. while he was almost always with his teammates, you had always made it your mission to find people who weren’t the biggest fans of the sport your life basically revolved around.

the night that you and cam had officially met, you were at one of the only parties that the team had gone to that wasn’t thrown in your basement. you hadn’t even wanted to go because those were jack’s friends but your mother had pretty much pleaded with you to go. jack had made his displeasure very known at home, in the car, and even as you walked through the front door. you parted ways instantly and while he was surrounded, you found yourself against the wall nursing a cup filled with cheap alcohol and alone. people looked at you, stared, and gossiped but you had learned to tune it out.

you watched as he walked forward, hands stuffed nervously in his front pockets (a habit of his you would learn) as he stopped in front of you. he raised a red eyebrow, “why are you over here all alone?”

“because cam,” you sighed, looking out at the group who turned away from you as soon as you had caught them staring, “haven’t you heard? no one really likes me.”

“but i’ve seen guys looking at you since you walked in-”

“they just want to find out if it’s true, cam. that’s all they want,” you rolled your eyes, downing the rest of your drink. you held up your empty cup and gestured your head towards where other cups were, “if you’ll excuse me.”

“i don’t believe it, you know?” his words had stopped you in your tracks. you turned to look at him to find him watching you intently. “what they say about you, i mean. i don’t believe it at all.”

you sent him a sad smile and a shrug, “i think that you’re the only person that doesn’t cam, but thank you.”

you walked away towards the island and grabbed another cup. jack slid up beside you, “what did yorkie want?”

you looked at the redhead who had moved across the room talking to drew. he scratched the back of his neck before he looked up just in time to find you watching him. you turned back to your brother who looks none too pleased. you shook your head, “he just wanted to say ‘hi’ jack. chill out.”

“you know the rules, y/n. teammates are off-limits. don’t you know that by now?” he scoffed, grabbing a cup for himself. he didn’t wait for you to answer before he walked away.

tears threatened to spill out as you set the cup back down, no longer wanting what was inside. all you wanted to do was leave. you moved towards the door with your head down. you were slipping on your shoes when you heard someone walking up behind you, “leave me alone jack-”

you found cam standing there looking at you concerned. you shook your head and laced up your sneakers before opening the front door. he followed you outside, “let me take you home, please?”

“cam, i’m not gonna let you drive if you’ve been drinking-”

“i haven’t. watch,” he had put one foot front in front of the other to demonstrate that he could walk in a straight line without stumbling and you couldn’t help but to giggle. “you live, like, fifteen minutes away by car which is a hell of a lot longer if you were walking. i wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight if i let you walk home in the dark. hell, my mom would probably kill me if i let a girl walk home alone.”

“fine,” you sighed, crossing your arms across your chest. he grinned, gesturing you down the driveway. he led you to a truck and unlocked the door, helping you inside. he pushed your hair to the side before he shut the door, “watch your hair.”

you blushed as he walked around the front of the truck, cursing the alcohol pumping through your veins. he got in and put the key in the ignition. country immediately started to blast through the speakers and you jumped, “jesus cam! country is not that good.”

“i’m gonna act like you didn’t say that,” he mumbled, putting his arm behind your seat as he reversed from his spot. he pulled away from the house and started heading towards yours. as you get to a stoplight, he turned to look at you, “do you want something before i drop you off? some food or something?”

“you don’t have to,” you said, playing with a loose thread on your shirt. he reached over and grabbed your arm gently, causing you to look at him with wide eyes.

“i wouldn’t have offered if it was a problem, y/n,” he says. a green light illuminated the truck and he presses his foot on the gas. “speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“some french fries do sound really good right about now,” you admit and he smiled, pulling into the parking lot of mcdonald’s. there was a car in front of you so he slowed to a stop. you watch as he pulls out his wallet, “cam, you’re not-”

“yes i am,” he said, leaving no room for argument. he pulled forward, “now what do you want, pretty girl.”

butterflies erupted in your stomach at the nickname. you told him what you wanted and he repeated it, ordering himself a smoothie. “thank you.”

“anytime,” he sent you a smile as he slipped his card back in his wallet. “do you mind if i pull over while you eat? it’s hard for me to focus.”

“because i’m eating?”

“honestly, i don’t want to take you home yet. i want to spend more time with you,” he admitted, turning to grab your order from the window as it slid open. you smiled, looking down at your legs as he thanked the woman and pulled away.

he pulled into a spot in another parking lot across the street, facing the road so you could watch the cars speed past. you sat in that lot and talked for hours that night, about any and everything it seemed.

only when jack started to blow up your phone and even got quinn to call, did he actually bring you home. when you walked through the door, you had gone straight towards your room. jack poked his head out, obviously not sober, and asked where you were.

you just stared blankly before shutting the door behind you. after you showered and changed out of your clothes, you grabbed your phone to send cam a text to thank him again. he ended up calling you and you talked even more.

you hadn’t gone to sleep that night and when jack pestered you the next afternoon on who you were talking to, you lied.

you weren’t going to let him ruin this. not again.

you pull your car into the spot beside cam’s truck and kill the engine. you grab your phone, wallet, and keys before stepping out. cam’s already standing behind your car and when he sees you, he opens his arms for you to walk into. you wrap your arms around his waist and bury your face in his neck.

“happy one-year pretty girl,” he mumbled against your hair, squeezing you tightly. you pull back and press your lips to his, letting yourself melt into him.

“happy one-year cami,” you tease, squealing when he pinches your side through your hoodie. you try and get away, but he throws his arm over your shoulders and leads you towards the door instead.

you sigh as the warmth of the diner envelops you as you walk inside. you pick a booth and slide in on opposite sides before a waitress comes forward and places some utensils in front of you. “what can i get you two to drink?”

you both respond, placing your breakfast orders as well. she walks away and you raise a teasing eyebrow at your boyfriend, “gonna have to hit the gym extra hard after this, huh? because that is totally not in your diet.”

“are you gonna tell anyone?” he asks, tone equally as teasing as he reaches across the table to grab your hand. he tangles his fingers with yours, “besides, it’s a special day. we’ve lasted a whole year. i think that deserves a little splurge in my diet. also, we’ve also managed to keep this thing under wraps which is an accomplishment.”

“no one besides my mom and your parents,” you point a finger, taking a sip of your water. “it’s been the best year, cam, but please don’t jinx us.”

he raises his hands in surrender. his phone lights up and he looks down, expression suddenly changing. he gets quiet and you nudge his ankle with your foot.

“it’s nothing,” he tries to shake it off.

“your face just went completely blank cam, it’s obviously something,” you say leaning forward, “please tell me.”

“y/n,” you send him a look and he shakes his head, sighing. “there��s a group chat for my first period and one of the guys has been saying all this shit about you, about you know, and it’s just- he won’t stop.”

“who is it?” you ask, sending a smile towards the waitress as she sets your food in front of you. you thank her before focusing back on cam.

“taylor,” he said and you roll your eyes.

“i’ll handle it,” you say and he raises an eyebrow, about to question you, but you shake your head. you grab your fork, “today’s a special day and we aren’t talking about this anymore.”

thankfully, he dropped the topic and so did you, but the rest of your breakfast was off. after a kiss (or three) in the parking lot, you left first and cam a few minutes after so you wouldn’t get to school at the same time. you parked on separate ends of the parking lot and didn’t see each other until you strolled into his first period.

he’s confused, as are jack and patrick who are also in the class, as you move over towards the brunette who’s talking to his friends. he smirks when he sees you, “yes y/n?”

“taylor,” you faux pout, leaning against his desk, “i feel like you’ve been avoiding me lately.”

“it was just a summer fling y/n. didn’t i make that clear?” he rolls his eyes and his friends chuckle. you grin and he raises an eyebrow, “what are you-”

“summer, right?” you repeat and he nods. “when exactly did we hook up this summer? i just- i can’t seem to remember.”

he shrugs, “middle of july. what’s the point of this, y/n? you’re embarrassing yourself.”

“y/n,” you hear jack call from behind you, but you ignore him.

“oh taylor, not as much as i’m about to embarrass you,” you smirk, taking a seat across from him. “so you say that we got together in the middle of july, but i was in california then. so, do you mind explaining to me how i’m with you in michigan but in california at the same time? that doesn’t really make sense to me.”

“did i say july?” he tries to backtrack, but you know that you’ve got him where you want him, “i meant june.”

“i was in new hampshire in june,” you deadpan and he flushes, knowing that he’s been caught. you pat your hand on his desk before standing, “i believe that we have established that you’re lying and if you don’t believe me, i can show you pictures that prove i was where i said i was. this is the only time that i’m going to say it, stop fucking lying and spreading rumors about me. i don’t appreciate it and neither does my boyfriend.”

he opens his mouth to speak but the sound of the teacher walking in stops him. you turn to face her and she looks at you confused. “miss hughes, why are you here?”

“i just had to give taylor something. i’m leaving now,” you turn to look at taylor a final time and bend down to whisper, “don’t forget that i have more than one brother.”

you leave the room then, catching cam looking proud and jack looking annoyed. you walked down the hall to your first period with a smile on your face because, for the first time in two years, you’d actually stood up for yourself.

you just wish that someone had gotten a picture of taylor’s face.

before cam, you had never been to california. it was on your bucket list to visit, but you’d never had a reason to go. that was until you were sitting in a movie theater a few towns over with cam beside you.

it was a movie that he had been wanting to see since it was first announced and while it hadn’t particularly interested you, he was very keen to see it so you agreed to go with no complaints. the previews were playing and you were popping an m&m in your mouth when he brought it up, “i want you to meet my parents.”

“you want me- are you sure?” you had asked, turning your head to look at him. he nodded, suddenly looking nervous. you placed your candy in your lap and reached over to place a hand on his arm, “i’d love to meet your parents cam. we can facetime them after if you-”

“no, i mean in person. i want you to come to california and meet them this summer. if that’s okay of course,” he was quick to assure. you smiled and leaned forward to press your lips to his, giving him your answer.

you knew that before you could go, you would have to explain to your mother why. she wasn’t just going to let her seventeen-year-old daughter hop on a plane and fly halfway across the country with no reason. after a few days, you told her the truth. she was upset that you hadn’t told her sooner, but she helped you book your ticket that night.

she had even taken the responsibility of telling your father and brothers. while they hadn’t seen any problem with you going to visit one of your old friends from toronto for a few weeks, jack had immediately clocked you on it in his usual fashion and as usual, you ignored him and raced upstairs to tell cam the news.

it was almost a month and a half later when you were walking towards the exit of the airport rolling your suitcase beside you. cam had told you he was outside with his mom which made you nervous, but he promised you that she was nice and would love you.

you walked out of the sliding doors and heard a shout of your name. you whipped your head to the side and spotted the familiar redhead and a grin took over your face. you darted towards him, letting go of your suitcase so that you can wrap your arms around him. he pressed his lips to the side of your head as your fingers gripped onto the fabric of his shirt, finally able to see him in person and not through a screen with the volume turned down.

“c’mon pretty girl. momma wants to meet ya,” he grabbed your suitcase with one hand and grabbed onto yours with the other. he led you to a car that was parked to the side where his mother was standing. “mom, this is y/n. y/n,” he smiles at you, “this is my mom.”

“it’s nice to meet you, mrs. york,” you smile at her. she grins and pulls you into a hug.

“he talks about you all of the time,” she whispers in your ear and you blush. she pulled back and clapped her hands, “cam, put her bags in the car. have you eaten, y/n?”

“i had some pretzels on the plane and a couple of snacks, but nothing big,” you shrugged, sliding in the backseat when cam opened the door for you. he put your bags in the trunk and wasted no time getting in beside you.

after buckling his seatbelt, he grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips, “missed you so much.”

the three weeks had gone entirely too quickly.

you spent every second together. between cam showing you around where he had grown up, taking you to his favorite places (“i swear that you can’t get a burger like this in michigan y/n. believe me i’ve tried”), and even a few fishing trips with his family, the only time that you were apart was when it was time to sleep because you weren’t allowed to sleep in the same bed. there was an allotted time where cam wasn’t allowed to be in your room but every morning as soon as the clock struck eight, he was slipping into your bed to catch a few extra minutes of sleep with you cuddled beside him.

on your last full day, cam had told you that he was taking you to the beach. you were there for hours and when the sun started to set, you just sat there quietly and watched. both of you had been avoiding the inevitable all day, but you had decided to speak up.

you lifted your head to look at him, “hey cam?”

he hums, tightening his fingers around your hip as he looks at you. “what’s up?”

“thank you for inviting me to come here. i honestly think that this has been the best time of my life,” you say, which caused him to grin. he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours.

“i love you,” he mumbled and your breath hitched. he pulls back and looks away, “i’m sorry. it was a heat of the moment, i shouldn’t have-”

“shut up,” you huffed, grabbing his face with your hand and forcing him to look at you. you shook your head, “i love you too you goof. how could you think that i didn’t?”

he shrugged, leaning forward again.

“you shouldn’t have lied, cam,” you sigh as he walks into your bedroom. after pressing a kiss to your lips, he drops down on your bed. you stand in the door of your bathroom, watching as he makes himself comfortable.

“are you sure you wanna go?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “we could just stay here and watch movies all night.”

“you’re just asking to get your ass beat aren’t you?” you tease, walking over to grab your sneakers. you slip them on and place your foot on his knee. “the team’s going to be two floors below us and they’re liable to stumble in at some point. you know they’ll run down and tell jack if they saw us in here together.”

“i don’t see why it’s such a big deal, y/n. i don’t care about what jack thinks and you shouldn’t either,” he sighs as he ties your shoelace, patting the side of your leg to signal that he was ready for the other one.

you switch your legs and rest your hand on his shoulder, “cam, you don’t know him like i do. every little thing i do, he finds something to bitch about, to pick me apart and ruin it. you’re the best thing that i’ve ever had and if he, if he did something to ruin that i couldn’t-”

“hey, hey,” he says, pulling you down on his lap. you bury your face in his neck to slow your breathing and he tightens his arms around your waist. “i’m sorry, pretty girl. just take some deep breaths. i’m here. i’m not going anywhere.”

that was one of the things on the long list that you loved about cam. over time, he’d come to learn the ways that would calm you when you got too in your own head. he would run his fingers down your back, whisper his promises of never leaving, and assure you that he loved you. it surprised you because no one had really bothered to learn that before. to be gentle and give you time. cam did.

after a few minutes, you pull your head back to find cam looking at you intently. you shake your head, “i’m sorry.”

“i tell you every time, do not apologize for that,” he tucks some of your hair behind your ear and sends you a gentle smile, “are you okay now? you’re good?”

you nod, “love you.”

“love you too pretty girl. always,” he presses his lips to yours and then you both shuffle off the bed.

you grab your phone and shove it in your back pocket before you both head downstairs. you head towards the kitchen to say goodbye to your mother who was the only other person home. she smiles when she sees you, opening her arms, “be safe, y/n. don’t do anything stupid.”

“never,” you smile, hugging her. you move back and cam walks forward, throwing his arm around her neck. she rubs his back and you smile. you loved the little relationship that they’d built over the last year and a half.

she pulls back and points a finger at the taller boy, “you protect my daughter or you’re hockey career is over cameron. you can quote me on that.”

“i know mrs. hughes,” he smiles at the threat and then you make your exit. you take cam’s truck because it would surely be suspicious if it was in your driveway but he was nowhere to be seen.

the party you’d decided to go to was one being thrown by someone who you knew very loosely. she went to a different school and you’d only met her a couple of times, but it was an excuse to get out of your house and slip away with cam somewhere where you shouldn’t have to worry about it getting back to your brother.

by the time you got there, cars were already lining the driveway and the street. you walked in with cam’s arm thrown over your shoulder. instantly, kate’s walking towards you with a big grin on her face, “y/n! so glad you could come!”

“of course,” you smiled, leaning into her embrace. you turn and look at cam, “this is my boyfriend, cam.”

“cam,” she repeats, holding out her hand. “well, drinks are in the kitchen and bedrooms are off-limits. have the time of your lives!”

she walks away with her arms thrown in the air. cam chuckles behind you and closes the door. you lead him into the kitchen and grab two of the solo cups. you hop on the counter and cam slips between your legs. you rest one arm over his shoulder as you down some of the drink.

“so what made you want to come out tonight? parties aren’t your thing normally,” he asks, squeezing your thigh.

“when jack has his little parties, i make it my business to not be there. this just so happened to fall on the same night that i wanted to get my mind off of some things,” you shrugged, smiling down at him.

“do you want to talk about it?”

you shook your head, leaning down to press your lips to his, “i just want to have the time of my life.”

you were startled awake the next morning by the sound of your door hitting the wall. still half asleep, you sit up and watch as jack barges in, “what the hell-”

“that’s exactly what i’m thinking,” he says, tossing his phone onto your bed. his face is masked with anger and he’s practically shaking in his spot. he points at the phone, “what the fuck is that y/n?”

you run at your eyes and grab his phone, freezing at the picture. you let your eyes take it in. it was from last night at the party. someone had taken a picture of you and cam when you were in the kitchen. you look up at your brother, “jack-”

“what is wrong with you? didn’t you learn your lesson last time you got with one of my teammates? you-” something inside of you snaps at his words. you drop the phone on your bed and stand up, pointing a finger at him.

“shut the fuck up!” you shouted, forgetting that there were other people in the house. “this is why i didn’t tell you, jack! everything i do traces back to that in your eyes and that’s not me! it’s never been me! you don’t know shit about what happened with mike, so quit fucking acting like you do.”

it’s at that moment your parents walk into the room, looking between you two. luke hovers in the door, looking tired. your father held up a hand, “what’s going on?”

“she’s hooking up with cam!” jack is quick to reveal, eyes never leaving yours.

your mother cleared her throat, “why don’t we go downstairs and talk about this? it’s too early to be shouting like this.”

“you have this fucked up concept in your mind of who i am,” you ignore your mother as you cross your arms over your chest. jack raises an eyebrow and scoffs. “not once have you ever asked me, your fucking twin sister, for my side of the story. you just believed what everyone else had to say. so, since i finally have your attention, here’s the truth: it never fucking happened. he just went around and told people that shit because i told him no.”

jack’s face softened, “why didn’t you tell me that?”

“i fucking tried-” you squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head. “i’m- i’m done. i’m done trying to make you believe me. i’m done trying to fit into this mold that you’ve tried to force me into. i’m done.”

you push past him and barrel past luke. you rush down the stairs as your parents call after you. just before you walk out of the door, you hear luke ask, “you didn’t know? i thought everyone did and we just didn’t talk about it.”

you grab your keys and rush out to your car still barefoot. your parents burst from the door just as you're pulling out of the driveway. they watch as you pull away, not trying to stop you.

you don’t even remember making the decision, but you somehow wound up in the driveway of cam’s billet house. you hadn’t even thought to grab your phone as you rushed out of your room so you couldn’t even call and ask if it was okay if you came over.

you get out of your car and walk towards the front door, knocking timidly. among other things, you wished you would have grabbed a jacket. your shorts and oversized t-shirt weren’t protecting you from the michigan morning chill.

his billet mom opens the door, looking at you with a shocked face, “y/n? what’s- why don’t you have shoes on?”

“can i see cam please?” is all that you can manage to say. you knew that you weren’t far from breaking and you didn’t want to do so in front of her.

she nodded, ushering you inside. “he’s still asleep, but you go ahead. i’ll bring you up something to eat, yeah?”

you send her your best smile before you go towards his bedroom. you push open the door quietly, spotting him in the middle of his bed on his stomach. you pad over and slide in beside him. he grunts, “what’s-”

“cam,” you whisper, grabbing onto his hand as the tears begin to spill. “please wake up.”

he sits up quickly then, looking at you worriedly. he grabs onto your wrists and pulls you up, tucking your face into his neck, “hey, hey. what’s wrong?”

“i- jack knows,” you sobbed, gripping onto his bicep as his fingers rubbed at your back. “he, he-”

“take some deep breaths, pretty girl. there’s no rush. in and out. like that,” he encourages, helping you calm down. it took a few minutes before you were able to pull back and he sends you a soft smile as he wipes your wet cheeks, “just slow down. i’m listening.”

“he stormed into my room this morning,” you started, eyes focusing on the cross that rested on cam’s chest, “he looked pissed. i tried to ask what was going on, but he just threw his phone at me. there- someone took a picture of us last night and sent it to him, so he came and started yelling at me. i snapped and started yelling back and then i grabbed my keys and left. i’m sorry that i woke you up, i just didn’t know where else to go.”

“don’t apologize. i’m here for you. no matter what, you always have me,” he leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead. his fingers squeeze your hips as a knock sounds against his door.

you roll to the side as his billet mom peeks her head in, “y/n, your brother’s at the door. he says he wants to talk to you.”

#cam york #cam york imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #college hockey imagine #philadelphia flyers #michigan wolverines #my work

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hectabdr · 3 years

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Dragon Raja IV - Chapters 9 & 10 (Abridged)

Hi everyone, in today's update we start learning a little more about Johann's father and that vision that Luminous experienced.

Previous Chapters

Chapter 9

Luminous woke up in a white room. In front of him there was an old man in a white doctor's coat. He explained that once Luminous left the library, he fell and hit his head on the pavement, so his friends brought him to a hospital to check if he had a concussion. Behind the mirror, however, they were being watched by two psychiatrists, next to them, Nono and Finger observed as well. Luminous had to answer many questions, he answered as logically as he could. According to the lead doctor, this wasn't a good sign, a person who knows that they're suffering from some sort of mental disease will always make an extra effort to demonstrate their sanity and Luminous was definitely going the extra mile.

They actually brought him there after Finger threw a rock at his friend's head and knocked him out. Truth be told, they already suspected the doctor's diagnostic, their friend was schizophrenic. Luminous's tantrum didn't help his case either. The young S-Rank was yelling, then threatened the personnel to let him go and almost flipped the table. Minutes later, he was already constricted by a straitjacket, resting on a small hospital bed.

Trying to ignore the other patients with whom he shared a room, he slowly vanished under the effects of a sedative injection. As soon as his eyes closed, his body felt the cold sensation of heavy rain. He was in the number 0 highway all over again, trapped in that same vision, the one where Nono would die in minutes, yet the shadowy creatures were not trying to eat them alive, but frozen like statues, while a small figure walked among them. Carrying an oversized umbrella, the little devil greeted his brother and made an interesting contribution.

The dream that Luminous experienced was not simply a prediction, but a simulation of it, and as such, it could be experienced all over again. In fact, he could repeat the same scenario as many times as he needed to find the one where Nono would survive. It was like the "save" feature in a video game and there was no need to exchange a quarter of his life for this service.

-Odin, what is he?

-You could understand him as a dead soul, trapped in this Nibelungen. He possesses infinite power, yet for some reason, he couldn't leave this place for many years, until now.

Odin's restriction was about to end, after all, he managed to lock Nono with the Gungir lance and it was a matter of time before he could leave the Nibelungen to reach her. Once you're locked by the lance, you're doomed to die, however, it cannot be locked on the same target twice, since theoretically said target should be dead already. Therefore, the solution was simple, if Luminous managed to prevent the lance from hitting Nono, Odin wouldn't be able to try for a second time. According to Ming·Z, someone in the past already escaped the Gungir lance, he just didn't know how. Luminous would have multiple chances to find a way, with a clear objective in mind, he started the second round.

The scenario resumed and the creatures started moving towards them. The pair once again fought for their lives, with a big difference: Luminous performed exceptionally well. Being able to remember the behavior of the servitors allowed him to know exactly how and where to shoot them, leaving Nono speechless. She was particularly surprised when he blew up her car, since he forgot the part where they agreed to escape in the Maybach. Wasting time to explain his course of action, a servitor took advantage of their distraction and cut through Nono's neck with its hands, killing her in an instant.

He woke up in his hospital bed, extremely frustrated. Ming·Z·Lu left a phone in his bed with a message that invited him to try again. The only problem was that he couldn't fall asleep. Luminous threw tantrum after tantrum until the nurse came in and he requested another sedative injection, which surprised her. According to the doctors, these sedatives weren't addictive, so Luminous had little to no reason to want another one. He had to lie about his condition, saying that there were voices in his head yelling to one another. The nurse injected him again and he fell asleep, ready for his third attempt.

In the middle of the battle, he noticed that one of the servitors had a little number next to it, just like the stats in an RPG, and the creature was a "level 600 enemy". According to Ming·Z, a very strong regular human should have a combat level of 100, so this thing had six times the strength of a tai chi master. Enemies that strong should be avoided in close combat and shot from a distance instead. Odin's power level and other stats were displayed as a bunch of question marks. It was a sign of their abysmal difference in strength. When Luminous tried to analyze Ming·Z·Lu, his stats were hidden by question marks as well.

Chapter 10

Days later, Finger and Nono were drinking in Luminous's old bedroom, trying to figure out what to do next. They believed they understood the situation, their friend was mentally ill. He knew about this boy called Lu Mang, who died in an accident and he created an imaginary version of him. He projected most of his own accomplishments into this made up president of the Lionheart club and got two of his former classmates involved in his delusional quest.

Finger suggested giving Luminous back to the college, despite of the risk that it might represent to his safety. If they apologized for their actions and brought back the number one target of the secret party, they might have been able to get pardoned. Maybe Caesar could ensure his well being. Nono still insisted in analyzing the inconsistencies on everyone else's perspective on Luminous and Finger suggested that she just couldn't accept the truth of her sidekick's mental condition.

Finger's suggestion was tearing her apart on the inside, because she knew that she was supposed to be the one who suggested they give up on Luminous, then Finger would be offended and start defending his old roommate, this didn't make much sense, why was she the one who was hesitating? She expressed her disgust at his proposal and left Luminous's old house.

-Even if he's the disoriented puppy that you say he is, it's still mine! I'm the one who picked him up from the women's bathroom!

Meanwhile, Luminous just lost his 46th attempt at saving his former senior. After all of those attempts, he suffered 22 serious injuries, including 12 fractures, 7 deep wounds and 1 broken finger. His previous attempt was devastating, he managed to get in the car with Nono, but the death servitors lifted the car up in the air and they couldn't accelerate anymore. Nono was visibly terrified, while the creatures destroyed the vehicle, they sat down, waiting for their end to come.

Ming·Z tried to dissuade Luminous from pursuing Nono, or even saving her, but his brother refused. The little devil was confused about his brother's feelings and revealed that he had been writing a small webnovel inspired by the real life relationship between Luminous and Nono. His readers weren't particularly happy with her character and wanted her to be more clear about her intentions.

-I learned more about humans to understand the feelings that you have for your senior sister.

-Did you find your answer?

-Yes, your feelings are in all the wrong places.

-Nonsense!

Perhaps there was something he could do. Ming·Z couldn't stop the Gungir lance, but he would be able to kill Odin if Luminous was willing to trade his last quarter of life. As expected, Luminous refused, so he gave him another gift: he would provide him with any weapon he could ask for on his next attempts. Luminous asked for an apache helicopter but Ming·Z forced him to settle for something smaller, a bazooka.

The next round started and Nono freaked out when she saw Luminous's new rocket launcher, where did he get it from?

Back in the real world, Nono arrived at an abandoned building that belonged to the Media Asia Group. The boss of the Black Prince Group was an old acquaintance of hers, a devoted one at that, the same young man who lend her the red Ferrari: the young master Shao. His business card was enough to allow Nono to request information about an old employee: a man whose last name was Chu.

The middle aged man that guarded the old building was curious about this girl and her credentials. She went straight to the point and asked for the long deceased man, Mr. Chu. The guard recognized the surname immediately, his full name was Chu Tianjiao. Long ago they used to be colleagues and drank together from time to time.

Tianjiao was married to a dancer and had a young son, he wanted to earn more money, so he quit his job working as a driver for members of the taxation bureau and became the personal driver of a wealthy man, who owned the Maybach that Tianjiao drove every day.

Nono kept asking for more information, but there wasn't much to say, he loved spicy chicken wings and braised pork belly, he barely spoke unless it was to brag about simple things. But there was something more, Tianjiao lived in the factory, so she asked the man to take her to Tianjiao's room. In her way, she noticed a reflection in the window, powerful flames, but it only lasted a second.

Tianjiao's bedroom hadn't been opened for many years, but the air inside was surprisingly clean, just a little dusty. The furniture was simple, a double bed, a bedside table, a writing desk, a chair and a mini-refrigerator. Some strings in the corner of the room were used to dry his clothes and a jacket was hanged in them. This was everything that Chu Tianjiao had. Nono stepped in, asking to be left alone and she closed the door to allow her profiling ability to fill the missing details. She analyzed every aspect of the small place and came across a photograph. A family of three, a boy who was five at most, a woman with a bright smile and a man in a white shirt and woolen pants combing his hair, hugging his wife proudly. Was the boy Johann Chu? She couldn't recognize his face.

Nono sat down on the bed, closed her eyes and allowed her ability to put her in that man's shoes. She saw him, a man with no name arriving at the town for the first time, carrying nothing but a suitcase. He sat down at a food stand and ordered braised pork belly, but the vision was interrupted by the pain of heavy mental exhaustion.

Her skills were demanding and she found herself trapped in that state, feeling like the was sinking in deep water as she desperately tried to escape. The experience sent her back to the Three Gorges Dam, where she almost died, a monster came to her aid and yelled "Don't die! don't die! don't die!"

She wasn't completely sure about how she survived on that mission. Caesar and Luminous put a story together, in which Norton approached the diving bell and attacked her, the dragon then attacked the Monach, where Caesar skillfully slayed the monster. Luminous brought her back to the boat, where she woke up in her boyfriend's arms.

But there was more to it, a monster, one that ordered her not to die and saved her with powers that broke the rules of the world she knew. Was that an illusion?

Nono felt the whole place trembling and got out of the room, outside, the rainfall had flooded the building and the whole structure was sinking in the muddy ground in which it was built. Nono tried to make her way out, she was trained for this, swimming as fast as she could, she got trapped by the tons of stored garbage and slowly passed out from suffocation until someone finally grabbed her wrist.

She woke up in an ambulance, where she discovered the identity of her savior: the boring middle-aged man that guided her to Tianjiao's room was in fact an olympic swimmer who almost joined the national team! He even had an 8-pack and all, Nono wondered, when did that old man become so interesting?

Anyway, while everyone clapped and celebrated the local hero, she contemplated the ruins of the sinking building. Her last connection to Chu Tianjiao was now lost.

In a simulated combat situation, inside of his dreams, Luminous was now on his 62nd attempt to save Nono. His routine was well practiced, not a single bullet was wasted. He pushed Nono back into the Maybach and prepared to fire the Bazooka at the death servitors, but the projectile exploded inside of the cannon, killing them both in the resulting explosion. Ming·Z excused himself for the defective product, after all, Luminous already used dozens of them so at least one could be expected to have some sort of flaw.

77th load, by this point he already managed to make it out oof the servitor battle and they drive deep into the highway. He tried to pass through the toll booths but accidentally hit a concrete isolation block.

He woke up again at the hospital and asked the nurse for another sedative. He had been sleeping for five or six consecutive days with the help of those injections, only waking up to eat and occasionally chat with his fellow patients. The nurse was growing suspicious of him but he faked a mental episode and the nurse ran away to ask for the doctor's instructions.

Finger showed up to visit him and brought some apples, he also reassured him about Nono's trust in him, informing Luminous of Chen's quest to find more clues about Johann's dad. They also found more about Chu's mother, who probably developed her psychological pregnancy after the death of her real son.

To lighten up the mood after the arrival of the nurses, Finger turned the TV on and they watched the news together. Apparently the airport was closed due to the incessant rains, and they were showing the departure of the last plane right before the lockdown, but something startled Luminous.

Odin's flames were reflecting in the water, the god swung his lance and the wind and water were quickly turned into a blade that cut through the airplane like butter. The airport was covered in flames and some of the passengers were injured.

Luminous tried to warn everyone in the hospital and begged them to call the police, but his apparent prediction meant nothing to them, after all, the footage shown in the news was a repetition from days before. They pushed him back into his bed and sedated him immediately.

Odin was indeed too much for regular humans, and he was about to start tormenting the city, just waiting to get out.

#Dragon Raja #Dragon Raja Novel #Luminous #Nono #Ming Z Lu #Johann Chu

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365days365movies · 3 years

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January 4, 2021: First Blood (1982) (Part II)

Quick Recap before we go on. Oh, and SPOILERS right up top!

John Rambo (Sylvester Stallone) is a Vietnam vet wandering through Washington State, until coming upon the town of Hope, run by the Sheriff Will Teasle (Brian Dennehy).

Sheriff Will Teasle is an absolute dick who arrests Rambo for no real reason; just for being a “drifter.” His police force, which includes the sadistic Galt (Jack Starrett) and sympathetic Mitch (David Caruso, AKA Horatio Caine from CSI: Miami), beats John Rambo, and post-2020 me is UNCOMFORTABLE!!!!!!!

Rambo has Vietnam flashbacks (like you do) and escapes the prison, pursued by the obsessive and dickish Sheriff and his equally dickish men (except for Horatio, maybe).

Galt tries to shoot Rambo, and karma bitch-slaps him RIGHT in the face, holy shit. He dies, and Rambo is blamed and shot at, escaping into the forest.

OK?

OK. On with the recap!

At this point, all of Rambo’s actions are in self-defense. In truth, it’s been self-defense since the beginning. However, he does kill two dogs, so...yeah, can’t really justify that. That sucks. The dog’s handler gets shot by Rambo, who now has a gun, and we also see that Galt’s certified sociopathy has leaked into everybody else but Horatio upon his death, including the dog guy, who tells his dogs to straight up kill Rambo. But, as previously stated...that’s not what happens.

At this point, I should introduce the amemedala.

The amemedala is a portion of the mesencephalon (or midbrain) discovered in the brains of millennials and younger individuals, recently discovered, named, and made up by yours truly. This area, attached to the thalamus, acts as a relay center between the cerebrum and the various sensory receptors of the body, similar to the function of the thalamus. However, while the thalamus governs the broad relay of senses to the appropriate areas of the brain for analysis, the amemedala relays appropriate sensory signals to the frontal lobes, where catalogs of shared sociological trends, or memes, are housed. This relay and association generates connections between extrenal stimuli, and entries in the meme catalog of the frontal lobes. While this is technically an autonomic process, it can be suppressed with enough willpower.

Why am I ringing this up in the middle of First Blood? Because EVERY. SINGLE. CELL of my brain is working to suppress the amemedala right now. Why? BECAUSE OF THE LORAX, AND FOR WHOM HE SPEAKS.

Is it an outdated meme? Very much so. BUT I CANNOT GET IT OUT OF MY GODDAMN HEAD AS I WATCH THIS MOVIE.

OK. That is now out of my system. Anyway, Rambo continues to speak for the trees, which is understandably starting to spook the smalltown cops. This leads to the VERY surprising moment where a camouflaged Rambo appears OUT OF NOWHERE and stabs Horatio in the goddamn leg! Like, wow, he was invisible! I had to rewind the film to see where he was. This is tense...and awesome, not gonna lie. This is awesome.

And then, he gets another cop by JUMPING FROM A TREE. Well, a tree stump, BUT STILL. After he takes him out, he stands in plain sight in front of an approaching cop. That cop, subscribing once again to the shoot-first-ask-questions-later policy, fires. And I SWEAR, Rambo is FASTER THAN THOSE SPEEDING BULLETS, as he dodges out of the way, and the bullets HIT THE COP HE JUST TOOK OUT!

And then, when I didn’t think this could get any more intense, that cop triggers a booby trap, and A STICK WITH WOODEN SPIKES GOES THROUGH THIS MAN’S LEGS, AND HE’S SPEARED LIKE A KEBAB OH MY GOD

The asshole sheriff runs to the NEW set of panicked screams, and his compatriot is just Batman-ed away by Rambo. It’s just the sheriff, now. The storm is building, and the forest is getting darker. The sheriff frees leg-spike cop, and goes to find the other cop, who’s been PINNED TO A TREE LIKE A BUTTERFLY IN A DISPLAY CASE. See, look!

HOLY SHIT IT’S RAMBO WITH A KNIFE IN THE FOREST. He pins the sheriff up to a tree, then with some legitimately badass lines, threatens with the sheriff with “a war [he] wouldn’t believe,” and telling him to make like Elsa and…

I love this sequence. It is the most intense, crazy, holy shit sequence I’ve seen so far this month. Wow. I understand why people talk about this movie. Man, that was a hell of a ride! Good movie, though. All right, so, time for the final sco-

Oh. Oh, my God. I’m only HALFWAY INTO THE MOVIE?

...Wow. OK, then.

We now meet Colonel Sam Trautman, Rambo’s commander in the Green Berets. He’s come to “get his boy.” He says that he came to rescue the Sheriff’s dumb ass from Rambo, rather than the other way around. And the Sheriff is...an idiot. He’s an ass, he’s a maniac, and he’s a stubborn idiot. Even after learning that Rambo is the best, he’s unwilling to back down, the dummkopf.

Rambo kills a wild boar in the woods, which makes no sense for Washington State, but whatever, sure. Anyway, they try to get the colonel to lure Rambo out, even though that’s obviously gonna make his PTSD, just...SO much worse. Especially as he starts using Vietnam parlance in contacting him. Not gonna end well, guys. But it’s then that we learn that Rambo is now the last surviving member of his unit, contributing to his trauma. Rambo’s also been trying to get in contact with the Colonel, winding up here because he has no place to go. He says that there are no friendly civilians, and the trouble’s been caused by that “king-shit” cop. I will be using this term from now on.

Wow. Damn. Hell of a reason for that title. And I think I love this movie. Seriously, I’m having a good time.

King-Shit Cop keeps going ahead with his absolute idiocy, despite all warnings to the contrary. So, a bunch of troops now converge upon Rambo’s place, but he naturally opens fire on them, without killing a single person. In fact, he hasn’t killed anyone this whole movie, and they make a point of saying that he’s been holding back the whole time. So, they decide to use the next, most logical course of action. They FIRE A ROCKET AT HIM.

Afterwards, the Colonel and King Shit Cop catch up at a bar, where the latter exposes his full sociopathy, commenting that he just wanted to kill Rambo. This is opposed to the Colonel, who doesn’t really know what he’d do if Rambo survived.

Which, of course, he did. C’mon, you think a little military-grade propelled explosive is gonna kill John Rambo? Nah. He’s the best there ever was, and he’s gonna prove it now. He jumps into a military vehicle holding an M-60, and hijacks it. Doesn’t take long for the news to break that Rambo’s still kicking, and he’s quickly intercepted by King Shit Cop, who JUST. DOESN’T. KNOW. WHEN. TO QUIT. And I’d admire his tenacity if he wasn’t SUCH AN ASSHOLE.

The cops try to run Rambo and the truck of the road, and he plays the UNO Reverse Card on them instead. And I’m pretty sure at this point…

...that old Johnny boy’s just killed some cops. So, yeah, now there’s a bigger problem. He powers through the State Police blockade like it was a banner blocking a football team, stops at a gas station, grabs the gun from the car, and LIGHTS ALL OF THAT SHIT ON FIRE! Destroying the livelihood of an individual who had nothing to do with this.

Yeah, Rambo’s starting to turn from innocent acting in self-defense to public menace REAL quick. And yeah, it’s King Shit Cop’s fault entirely...but, yeah, Johnny needs some help, because he’s losing the train at this point. But, not to be outdone, King Shit Cop is also beginning to lose it, and it’s definitely beginning to seem like only one of them is going to come out of this alive. And the Colonel tries to give him an out, but King Shit Cop’s prepared to go down with the ship that he blew a hole in in the first place. Like an asshole.

But here we go, the finale. John Rambo vs. King Shit Cop (whose name, by the way, is Will Teasle. I just like Rambo’s name for him better). KSC’s on the roof, Rambo’s on the street. Rambo causes more property damage, possibly because banks also give him PTSD (I joke, but PTSD is no laughing matter, John clearly needs help), and then finds his way to a store that has just all of the ammo a psychologically-damaged Vietnam War veteran on a revenge quest could ever need.

And then he BLOWS. THAT. SHIT. UP.

And he does this...ALL of this...just to lure KSC out of hiding. This man DESTROYS A TOWN because this idiot, sociopathic, unhinged, King Shit Cop, won’t just STAND. THE FUCK. DOWN ALREADY.

Rambo enters the police station, where KSC is on the roof. And, like the Colonel and the rest of us guessed, KSC gets shot in the process. And as Rambo stands over KSC, the Colonel finally shows up and does what literally everybody else should have done.

Talk. He just...talks to Rambo. He talks to this mentally ill man, and that mentally ill man responds, espousing his pure anger at the war, the public, protesters, work, the country, the town, himself...everyone. And goddamn, is that shit palpable.

youtube

This man can no longer fit in the world that he was forced to leave, and forced to return to. This poor, poor, poor man. It hurts. And it sucks. And he pours his heart out to the Colonel, and to us, and...you feel it. You feel his trauma, you feel his pain. You feel the aftermath of war. And it’s been seven years at this point for the Colonel, but no time for John. Not Rambo. John. And it’s just...never over.

Damn. Goddamn.

This...this is one hell of a good movie. And not just a good action movie, either. A damn good movie.

And that’s it. That’s First Blood.

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always-and-forever-a-killjoy · 4 years

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Coming Home Chapter 2

Hello fuckers I know I promised this chapter yesterday but then I fell asleep because I was incredibly exhausted. So I'm posting it today because I deserve it Also, the song for the last chapter was Revolution Radio by Green Day, which no one guessed! I'll give you a hint for this chapter- it's very far off from Green Day or My Chemical Romance.

Title: Coming, Coming Home

Chapter Title: Cause I’m with you this time

Chapter Wordcount: 3333

Chapter Summary:

Cherri Cola settles into living with Dr. Death Defying and White Lily, figures out that someone actually cares about him, and makes some reckless decisions.

Warnings: implied/referenced past abuse, referenced past misgendering, light panic/anxiety attack, non-graphic/canon-typical violence and injury, uhhh i *think* that's it? (If you want to know what parts to skip, go to the end notes on AO3- I also put a brief summary of any important info in those parts. Stay safe!)

Taglist: @wishiwasthemoon-tonight @sleevesareforlosers @stressed-depressed-emo-mess @tasteofamnesia @dagger-queen @no-braincells-here @piratecherricola (message me, send an ask, or reblog/reply to one of my posts if you want to be added or removed)

AO3 Link

Chapter 1 AO3 Link

Chapter 1 Tumblr Post

(Actual fic under the cut)

It took a few months for Cherri to really settle in to living with the other two. He was younger than them, and lacked the shared experience of fighting in the Helium Wars. But all three of them had the shared understanding of having grown up too fast, the pain and weariness in the other’s eyes mirroring his exactly. Not to mention that running a pirate radio station and attempting to spark a rebellion did tend to bond people. Having each others’ backs in firefights, fixing the radio equipment together, and eating their meals as a group only aided that process.

So 109 WKIL slowly got off the ground, heading into the sky just as promised. Their transmitter was fairly decent, and so their range was large even if few listeners were tuning in right now. But the rebellion grew daily, neutrals and Battery City folk abandoning a more peaceful life under the hand of Better Living Industries for the wild world of a killjoy. White Lily spoke over the radio at least weekly, encouraging them to fight, to not let themselves be squashed under bli’s heel.

“Power is not given, but taken. If you hate oppression, you better be ready to fight against the oppressor and give it everything you’ve got.”

Cherri was sitting in his usual spot under the broadcast desk, making sure that all the equipment was running smoothly as White Lily spoke above him. Her voice didn’t have the deep, gravelly weight of D’s, but the fire in it was inspiring. There had always been something about White Lily that made people want to follow her, D had told him. Some spark in her spirit that kindled fires in others, bringing them together under her leadership.

“Better Living may have bombs, and gas, and more ray guns than we can dream of getting our grubby little killjoy paws on. But we have something they can never replace: spirit. You can’t make a fiery heart with pills and white walls. They can take our bodies, shoot us full of plasma and throw us to the wolves. But they can never touch our spirit. Never. We will rise again, as many times as they try to throw us down.

"The spirit of the desert is something they can’t kill with any amount of laser beams. Any size of bomb, any number of exterminators. None of it will squash our spirit, and that’s what makes us invincible. As long as a single killjoy rises to fight, Better Living Industries cannot win. So get out there, crash queens! Get your vehicles, motorbabies. Angel kissers, grab your med kits, and kerosene saints, your matches. We’ve got a corporation to overthrow, and we’re not stopping at just nipping at their heels. Killjoys, it’s time to make some noise!”

She clicked off the radio. “How was that?”

“Good,” Cherri told her. “Inspiring. Makes you want to fistfight an exterminator.”

“Oh good, that’s what I was hoping for.” Lily paused. “No fistfighting exterminators though, that’s a bad idea.”

“You can’t stop me.”

“Oh yes I can,” Lily laughed. She was still grinning as she reached to help Cherri out from under the desk, a grin both achingly close and achingly far to one he remembered. There were days when she looked so much like his sister it hurt, not in her features but in the way she laughed and her teasing grin as she and D bantered back and forth.

Cherri tried not to think about it as he pulled himself to his feet. “And how do you plan on stopping me?”

“Hmm…I think I shall tackle you.”

“Then what?”

“Make D lecture you nonstop until you fall asleep.”

Cherri laughed as they headed back into the house. "Good luck with that."

So far, they hadn’t had to move the van from its position in front of their home in Zone Four, but all of them knew it was only a matter of time before bli would be breathing down their necks.

“We have some time,” D said that evening. “Our signal will be hard to track, and we don’t have a wide enough reach to be a threat to Better Living Industries yet.”

“We’re getting there, though,” Lily commented, digging around for the last bit of power pup in her can.

“True, we’ve got a lot more listeners now than we did before.” Cherri was already finished with his, playing with his dented spoon and reflecting the sunlight across the room idly. “It’s going to be hard to stay hidden for long, not when the other killjoys whisper about our station and spread the word between themselves.”

“The more people who know, the easier it is for Better Living to find us,” D agreed. “Of course, we need people to know so they’ll tune in, but we’ll have to be careful as we get larger.”

“Careful, careful, you’re always careful.” Lily leaned back in her chair, setting down her spoon. “I’m not saying we abandon all caution, but there’s going to be risks running a rebellion. A lot of the time, we’ll just have to decide if they’re worth taking.”

Cherri nodded, still examining the spoon. “And a lot of the time they will be.”

“Didn’t know you were such a daredevil, Cher.” He made to glare at Lily, but she went on. “You’re right though. Everything’s a risk, and we’re going to have to take a lot of them.”

“I don’t like that,” D put in.

“None of us do, except maybe Cherri the daredevil over here. But we’re doing it.”

“We’re doing it,” D agreed tiredly.

“I’m not a fucking daredevil,” Cherri muttered. That was….mostly true. Risk for the sake of risk wasn’t exactly his thing, but risk for any other sake was. As long as only his life was at risk, it was a risk worth taking. He figured, at least.

“You’re pretty fucking daring, Cher.”

“Only risks that are worth it, though.” He pretended not to see the two older ‘joys exchange glances.

True to their predictions, the rebellion grew. Their radio was a contributing factor, Cherri hoped. It certainly seemed to have grown in popularity as more killjoys entered the desert and more neutrals lay down their peaceful ways and took up arms alongside the killjoys. WKIL was something whispered about in killjoy circles, told to the newbies, the undergrads of the desert.

Cherri knew because he was the one who went and talked with them, the lesser-known face. Everyone recognized at very least the voices of D and Lily by now, the two radio speakers who rallied the rebels, but Cherri Cola was not a name whispered in legend yet. He was just a sixteen year old with a shitty ray gun and a bad haircut, which had advantages and disadvantages.

One of the advantages was the ability to go talk to random people and be seen as relatively harmless, just a teen with a bright pink mask. There was nothing about him to suggest that he was an incredible shot with a ray gun or a dangerous fighter, not in the slightest. He wore oversized clothes and perpetually looked disheveled, so he had been told. And if you didn’t look too closely at his eyes, you wouldn’t even see the fire in them.

So Cherri used that hidden advantage, appearing perfectly harmless to anyone who didn’t know him well. It was helpful for White Lily and Dr. Death Defying, since neither of them could go anywhere where there were a lot of rebels without being recognized.

And the rebellion grew and grew. Their voices were growing louder, their colors brighter even as Better Living Industries tried to squash them down. The spirit of the desert truly was rising, and a faint sense of hope had started to permeate the air. White Lily never promised that they would win. But she promised that Better Living Industries wouldn’t, so long as a single killjoy stood, and that was enough for most of the desert.

They were teenagers, mainly. The bulk of the force that was forming the current rebellion was either teenagers, running from their pasts in Battery City, or twenty-something former soldiers of the Helium Wars, running from what they had done or trying to put it right. They were young and invincible, so it seemed. The reality that they could easily die doing this hadn’t sunk in for most of the younger population of the desert, intoxicated on freedom and the thrill of the desert.

D and Lily knew that reality all too well, Cherri knew. He knew they knew what all of them were up against, had watched death in their own right in the Helium Wars, had wrought it with their own hands.

He knew what the consequences were too, a memory of bli employees in clean white suits coming to respectfully ‘recruit’ the person he loved most hovering behind a door in his mind. That door would remain closed, Cherri had decided. The past was the past- but he fought because of it anyways, knowing the horrors Better Living Industries had done.

Cherri might have been young, but he was no fool. He knew quite well that he could die, and he couldn’t be bothered to give a fuck, as Lily would put it. There were things more important than living to some grand old age, and this rebellion was one of them.

He would be lying to himself if he said that some part of him wasn’t in this for revenge, maybe a larger part than he was willing to admit.

“If you take away someone’s world, they might just burn yours down,” Cherri muttered to himself, aiming his shitty old ray gun at the empty cans Lily had set up that day. Despite how long he had already been out here, they still hadn’t managed to locate him a better weapon. That was fine, he thought, he was deadly enough even without one, but D and Lily both insisted that it would be a lot easier for him with something that wasn’t outdated by at least three years.

“What?” Cherri jumped as D came to stand next to him, aiming his own black and blue ray gun at the cans. “Did you say something, Cherri?”

“Oh, uh. Nothing.”

D shrugged, tilting his head to take aim. “You don’t have to tell me, I just figured I’d ask in case you were trying to tell me something.”

Cherri lowered his ray gun, glancing down. “I said if you take away someone’s world, they might just burn yours down.”

“Ah. True, and insightful.” Cherri didn’t have to glance over at D to know his face would be gently concerned. “Somewhat dark though, you could say.”

“Guess so.”

They were silent for a moment, apart from the zap of ray guns.

“Pasts are something to be forgotten here,” D said finally. “But if you need someone to talk to about yours, Lily and I will support you.”

“Thanks.”

“I mean it, you know.”

Cherri fiddled with his ray gun. “Yeah.”

“Just putting that out there.” D turned back to their target practice.

Despite D’s words, there was a silent agreement amongst the three of them that pasts were not to be spoken of or asked about. Occasionally, D or Lily would tell a few stories, mainly from their childhood. They rarely talked about the Helium Wars, only occasionally with each other. And Cherri said nothing about his past. Instead, he pretended not to notice the days when the other two flinched at any loud sound, and they pretended not to hear him cry out in the night, when everything was silent and there was no buffer against the memories. It was a courtesy more than anything, a way to keep each other from having to speak about their darkest times. Usually, Cherri appreciated that, finding it easier to deal with any hurt alone than worry about burdening the others.

Tonight, however, was different. No matter how much he tried to calm himself down, his breath kept coming too quickly and he couldn’t drown out the voices of his past. Worthless, never going to amount to anything…should be more like Samantha…your grades are slipping again…never going to be a boy…

Cherri shivered violently, even though the blanket was tucked safely over him, and climbed off the window seat he had been using as a sort of bed, picking up said blanket. It was cold in the desert at night, no use leaving it behind.

It took him more rests of leaning against the wall and trying frantically to draw a single breath than he wanted to admit before he was down the hall to the room D and Lily had claimed. Their door was cracked open, but Cherri pushed it open a little bit further to see both of them seemingly sleeping peacefully as he stood in the doorway.

“Cher?” That was White Lily, lifting her head a bit from the mattress. “Everything okay?”

He managed to shake his head, and she gestured for him to come sit.

“What’s going on, friendo?”

“Bad dream,” Cherri whispered.

“Ah. Those are no fun. Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

Lily nodded as if to say that didn’t surprise her, and she looked dreadfully like someone he used to know in that moment. “Come on then, lay on down. D won’t mind if you elbow him, he gets up at ass o’clock in the morning anyways.”

Cherri was quite certain D would, in fact, mind, but he did as she asked anyways, settling down on the creaky mattress. Lily put her arm out in what was clearly an offer, but didn’t touch him until he rolled over towards her. When he did, she wrapped her arm around him fully, pulling him closer, and Cherri felt like he could breathe for the first time since waking up.

Lily didn’t say ‘I love you’ or anything of the sort, but she did ruffle his hair and give him a quiet “Goodnight, Cher.”

And Cherri didn’t say ‘I love you’ either, but he leaned into her embrace. “Goodnight, Lily.”

True to Lily’s words, it was, in fact, what Cherri would qualify as ‘ass o’clock in the morning’ when D woke up and proceeded to wake the other two up while getting out of bed.

“Is it even light out?” Cherri questioned as Lily gave a massive yawn.

“No, which is why D’s being an asshole.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you up, Lil. Or you, Cherri.” He didn’t question why Cherri was there, much to Cherri’s relief.

“You did anyways,” Lily grumbled, but she released Cherri and sat up. “I guess it would be time to get up soon anyways.”

“Exactly,” D huffed.

Lily just yawn-laughed as she got up, and Cherri reluctantly followed the others downstairs. They had quick breakfast in the predawn light, followed by a bit of fussing around as they got ready for D’s morning broadcast, organizing all the news and things that had come in yesterday. Killjoys had started to send them news of the desert, to the point where they got almost as much from what people sent in/dropped off/radioed to them as what Cherri found out on his almost daily runs. It was starting to pass what he could find out on daily runs, really. But he went anyways because they still needed his info, and they needed to eat.

“Bye, Lily, D!”

“See you, Cherri,” Lily hollered back. “Be careful!”

“I will!”

The three of them split the tasks that living in the desert and running a radio station required. Today, D and Lily were taking the radio station van to drive around and talk to people, encourage them to join the cause. Cherri was taking the motorcycle to get any news and see if he couldn’t grab some power pup from a supply truck.

He sped down the road, getting in position to raid the supply truck. A one-killjoy raid was a dumb idea, for sure, but Better Living Industries hadn’t started to arm their trucks very heavily yet, and Cherri was confident enough in his ability to think he could pull it off. This was a small one, anyways. The initial raid went off without a hitch- the driver and few accompanying dracs were dead before they had time to see the teenage killjoy who hurried down from the dune to pull out as much of the contents of the truck as would fit in the sidecar of the motorbike. It was afterwards that became the problem, as a full two cars of bli employees came rushing towards the site.

“Fuck,” Cherri hissed under his breath. He quickly assessed his odds. One teenager with a shitty ray gun and a motorcycle against what must be at least one scarecrow and probably at least eight dracs was not good odds, but he doubted running away would be any better. They would chase him down, and then he wouldn’t even have the advantage of his higher vantage point. Hiding wasn’t an option either, given that dracs would search the entire area, so Cherri crouched behind the motorcycle and got ready to fire.

When the first person hopped out of the car, Cherri almost swore out loud. Not a scarecrow. An exterminator. He was so fucked.

Cherri’s hands shook slightly as he lifted the ray gun and aimed. He had to take down that exterminator as soon as possible, or he was dead. The shakiness proved his undoing, as the shot whistled past the exterminator, missing by barely half an inch and causing the Better Living operative to turn.

Fuck it. Cherri got out from behind the motorcycle and ran directly towards them, firing off shots indiscriminately. His best shot now was to overwhelm and confuse them. It seemed to be working, given that one thing they did not expect was a teenager in a bright pink mask to come running directly at them. In fact, most of the dracs froze, enough that he was able to get in a few good shots before they realized what was happening. One shot even hit the exterminator in the shoulder, but unfortunately not their shooting arm, leaving them perfectly capable of raising their gun to retaliate.

Retaliate they did, and Cherri screamed as a shot hit him in the side. “Fuck! Fuck you!” He was shaking too hard to shoot back as the exterminator held up a hand, quite calmly.

All the dracs stopped, and the exterminator strolled casually towards Cherri. “Greetings, rebel.”

Cherri spit at their feet.

“Rather rude of you, wasn’t that? I’m tempted to kill you here, you ill-mannered rebel scum.” They reached out and tilted Cherri’s chin up to look them in the eye, letting him see the cold fire that lingered there.

“Get fucked,” Cherri spat out as they took his ray gun from a shaking hand and tossed it over their shoulder.

“I do appreciate the suggestion, but I suggest you keep your mouth shut if you want to live.”

Their ray gun was positioned at his neck, and Cherri knew he had a low chance of surviving even a stun shot to that spot at such a close distance.

“I would kill you now, ill-mannered rebel, but I think I’ll let you live for one reason and one reason only- I want you to go to that ‘Doctor D’ and his friend White Lily, and tell them they will not win. We will find the radio station you killjoys speak of, we know your precious leader is hiding out in Zone Four. So go, tell them. And pray you survive that shot.”

They shoved Cherri, and he stumbled away, ignoring the pain in his side as he climbed onto the motorcycle. He revved the engine, throwing it into action and barely caring if some of the supplies fell out of the sidecar.

The exterminator watched him go with a cruel smile.

#cherri cola #dr. death defying #ttlofk #coming coming home tag #auri writes #ask to tag #white lily #killjoy oc #sometimes a family is a 21 y/o rebellion leader her tired best friend and the feral 16 y/o they picked up along the way

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pcfunlab · 3 years

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Top 10 Contributions of Pythagoras.

01.Mathematics

Pythagoras started the idea of a numerical system, and therefore the beginning of mathematics. To the Pythagoreans, genuine numbers were the most vital thing, and numbers make up the world.

02.Pythagoras’ Theorem

Pythagoras is most famous for his ideas in geometry. He was the first to propose that the square of the hypotenuse (the side of the triangle opposite to the right angle) is equivalent to the sum of the squares of the opposite two sides.Even though this hypothesis was first put forward by the Babylonians, Pythagoras was first to demonstrate it. It is additionally thought that he invented the tetractys, a triangular figure consisting of 10 points arranged in four rows, with one, two, three, and four points in each row. Pythagoras believed that 10 was the ideal number.

03.Pythagoras’ Philosophy

Pythagoras established the mysterious society of the Pythagoreans in southern Italy. The Pythagoreans put forward a hypothesis that stated that everything known to humankind could be clarified with numbers, explicitly entire numbers. This rationale made perfect sense to them, and it is easy to see why. Even today, we use numbers for everything from working out wind speeds in a storm to calculating the speed of a vehicle.

04.Conclusion

Pythagoras made huge contributions in the fields of astronomy, mathematics, philosophy, music and many other areas. He is considered the “father of philosophy,” and this can be seen through his teachings, his theories, and his philosophies. His impact on later philosophers such as Plato cannot be underestimated, and his influence was significant to the point that he could be seen as the most persuasive intellectual of all time.

05.Early Christianity

The historian Eusebius compares Pythagoras to Moses, while Augustine of Hippo (354–430 AD), the early Christian theologian and philosopher, dismissed Pythagoras’ theory of metempsychosis without actually naming him, yet generally communicated profound respect for him. In On the Trinity, Augustine discusses Pythagoras’ modesty in referring to himself as an “admirer of insight” rather than a “sage.”

At around a similar time, Neopythagoreanism started to become more prominent, and the first century Neopythagorean logician Moderatus of Gades was instrumental in developing Pythagorean number philosophy and categorizing the spirit as a “sort of numerical harmony.”

06.Greek Reasoning

Aristotle states that Plato’s reasoning was heavily reliant on the lessons of the Pythagoreans. Plato may also have obtained the idea that mathematical and dynamic ideas are behind logic, science, and morality from Pythagoras. Plato and Pythagoras shared a magical way to deal with the spirit and its place in the material world, and it is likely that both were impacted by Orphism, a set of religious beliefs and practices originating in the ancient Greek world.

07. Religious Lessons

Pythagoras’ religious lessons were based on the principle of metempsychosis, which states that the spirit never dies and is bound to a cycle of reincarnation until it can free itself from this through virtue.

A soul was believed to exist in both animal and vegetable life, even though there is no proof to indicate that Pythagoras thought the spirit could be contained in a plant. It could, however, be contained in the body of a creature, and Pythagoras professed to have heard the voice of a dead companion in the wail of a dog being beaten.

08. Cosmology

Pythagoras was the first person to suggest that the earth was a sphere, but it is not clear what led him to that conclusion. It is possibly connected to his belief that circles were the strongest shape.

His experience of the universe was most likely exceptionally basic: at that time, the earth was still thought to be the focal point of the universe with everything revolving around it. The Pythagorean view of the universe was pretty straightforward and did not take into account any observation of the movements of the planets. They held the belief that the planets all moved in giant circles, and that when they brushed against one another, they made a sound. They believed that these sounds were melodic harmonies, and this music has come to be known as the Music of the Spheres. This music was not audible because it was a constant background noise.

The Pythagoreans also held the belief that the earth, planets, and stars all circled a central flame, and night and day was caused because of this movement. They believed that a “counter earth” existed on the other side of the flame. Since they felt that fire was more important than earth, the focal point of the universe must be fire.

Pythagoras was the first to perceive that Venus at night and Venus toward the beginning of the day were the same planet.

09.Music and Lifestyle

The pursuit of music may have been associated with the love of Apollo. The Pythagoreans believed that music was a purification for the spirit and had a similar effect to that which medicine produced on the body. One of Pythagoras’ stories reports that when he witnessed some inebriated youths attempting to break into a lady’s home, he sang to them, and the young men’s “furious persistence” was silenced.

Pythagoras was the first person to recommend music as a prescription. He connected music to craftsmanship, design, government, raising a family, fellowship, and self-improvement. He thought it was possible to align the souls to their perfect nature, and through music he performed what he called “soul adjustments.” Pythagoras also associated arithmetic with music and believed that music should not be seen as a diversion alone. He believed that music was an outflow of harmonia, the divine rule seeking to banish confusion and conflict in the cosmos. Along these lines, music was seen to have a double function as, like science, it empowered people to see into the structures of nature.

The Pythagoreans also set great store by physical exercise and recommended daily morning walks and sporting activities. Periods of self-examination at the beginning and end of every day were likewise advised.

10.The Public Way of Life

Both Plato and the ancient orator Isocrates suggest that Pythagoras was an advocate for a new way of life. The school, or organization, that Pythagoras established at Croton operated much like a monastery, and its members shared their assets in much the same way. They were also committed to one another to the exclusion of outsiders. One Pythagorean saying was koinà tà phílōn which meant “All things in like manner among friends.”

There were two groups within Pythagoreanism: the mathematikoi (students) and the akousmatikoi (listeners). The akousmatikoi were generally regarded as “old masters” in enchantment, numerology, and religious teachings, while the mathematikoi were recognized as an innovative group which was more progressive, pragmatic, and scientific.

#Pythagoras #mathematics #creative man #top 10 #The philosopher #ancient time

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xmagicxshopx · 4 years

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Love Bytes - Prologue

Genre: Fantasy, Adventure, Romance, Mild Angst, Slice of Life Rating: PG-13 (M for future smut) Warnings: none for the prologue Pairing: Jungkook x reader, Taehyung x oc (Ebony) Notes: vampire!bts. Not idol!bts. Other groups might appear. Single quote marks ‘ ‘ are for thoughts and double “ “ are for talking. Additional Notes: to get an understanding of the boys, you might want to click on the link below that says meet the clan~

Tagging: @grxnadxs

Summary: They say if it’s too good to be true, it usually isn’t. You and your roommate Ebony are struggling. But that may soon be over with the help of seven men that call themselves Bangtan. But there’s always a catch, right? Being two maids to seven men can’t be all that bad, though.

MASTERLIST || MEET THE CLAN

In an abandoned location somewhere in South Korea, seven young men who also just happened to be vampires, found themselves staring on with pride as they took in the sight of their new home.

“Not too shabby if I do say so myself.”

“You? What did you do besides make a better paperweight?”

“Hey----It’s called delegating. It’s an important job, thank you very much.”

Namjoon found himself subconsciously scratching at his head as he side glanced his older brother Jin. The two were watching the pair of fellow vampires as they bickered back and forth. Yoongi, who had been called the paperweight, was insisting that he contributed to the reconstruction of the abandoned mansion while Taehyung felt otherwise. Of course it was all in good fun. Everyone truly had put in their fair share of effort into bringing the old structure back to it’s former glory.

It was perfect for them, really.

It fit their old fashioned taste and yet they were able to revamp where it was needed. Jin insisted that the kitchen be completely upgraded with stainless steel modern appliances but Jungkook wanted to keep some of the character it held. The common room was modernized with a huge flat screen smart TV to make it look more like an every day living room. Not to mention there was at least three different gaming consoles for family nights.

After assessing all the original rooms in the place, they were able to knock out some walls here and reconstruct walls there and once it was all said and done, each vampire had his own bedroom with an en suite bathroom. Jungkook, being the resident laundry fairy, got dibs on deciding where the laundry room would be. The others gave him whatever he wanted because one, they appreciated him doing the laundry. And two, he was their baby boy who got everything he wanted.

Since some of the boys enjoyed swimming laps as a form of exercise, it was decided that they would have not only an indoor pool, but an outdoor pool as well for in the summertime. Because believe it or not, the Bangtan Clan was a different breed of vampires. But we’ll get to that later.

Namjoon, with his love for all things nature, took it upon himself to rid the estate of all the overgrown weeds and other trash that had floated cross country into their territory. In its place, he had planted various flowers and shrubs along with various fruit trees. Again, not your typical run-of-the-mill vampires. Ever heard of a fruit bat???

“Welp. Now that all of that is done, who’s gonna be the designated house maid that keeps this place spic ‘n span?”

With a bright, boxy smile and hands on his hips, Taehyung turned to the rest of his clan and gave them an expectant look. They all gave him about the same blank look in return as some of them even blinked slowly in thought. Clearing his throat, Jin took a step forward with a hand over his chest as he said casually,

“I’m the cook so don’t look at me.”

“And I’m already doing laundry for everyone so count me out.”

“And I’m allergic to cleaning supplies.”

Everyone gave Yoongi a deadpanned look as he just shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets before proceeding to take a walk inside their new home. It would seem the Bangtan clan was at a standstill. Sure, they had put in tons of money and time and hard work into restoring the mansion, but did the world really expect 7 bachelors to maintain the place and keep it clean and tidy??? Naaaah.

“We could always just hire some people to help around the house and keep it clean. It’s not like we don’t have the money. The Bullet phones are a huge hit with our latest release of updates.”

Jhope was right, they weren’t exactly low on cash flow. You see, Bangtan has been around for a long long time. Dating back from centuries when gentleman with manners were the real men of the world. But over time, the world changed and Bangtan had to try and keep up with those changes. However, they always stayed true to themselves. Boys will be boys but they could and would remain as gentlemen with manners and be humble.

With the world changing and some of the most popular material items being these things called cell phones, the boys knew they had to do something or else they were going to fall behind and fall victim to their own old fashioned ways. So after several years of schooling in computer science and business management, the seven young men were able to join together and create what the modern world now knows as the Bullet phone. A cell phone ahead of it’s time. Hence why they aren’t hurt for money.

“Good point. Perhaps it’s something we should look into.”

And so that’s how the group of men agreed that for now, they’d do their best to try and keep the place as tidy and clean as they could till they could find some hired help willing to put up with seven young men.

As the others began to trickle back inside to get settled into their new home, Taehyung walked up beside the youngest of the clan and gently put him in a headlock. Which of course he knew was stupid because despite being the youngest, Jungkook was also the strongest.

“Wanna go grab some pizza for the guys so that Jin hyung doesn’t have to cook on our first night settled in?”

Easily overpowering his older brother, Jungkook swiftly managed to put Taehyung in a headlock as if he had done so a million times before while he replied with a cocky smirk,

“Yeah sure. Considering as how we have no food in the first place and Namjoonie hyung has only just now planted the fruit trees.”

After the two were done rough housing around with each other, they quickly went inside to inform their older brothers that they were going to grab some pizzas and other snacks from town. Immediately the older men relayed their own special requests which left Jungkook playing the Golden Secretary as he jotted it all down on his phone.

“Alright. We’ll be back shortly.”

Not really having a need for a vehicle but deciding it would be best to look normal and blend in with society, they decided to hop in Jungkook’s car and head to town. Vampire or not, with their popular status of being the young geniuses behind the Bullet phones, it was still going to be difficult to blend in with society. But they’d do their best as they parked their expensive car on the street.

“Okay so Jin hyung specifically asked for------”

Taehyung was just about to ask his little brother if he was okay before he too suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. It was evening and the middle of the workweek so not many people were walking the streets but something, or rather someone, had caught the two boys attention.

But......it just didn’t seem possible. For years it had went on like this without a trace and now suddenly......it’s happening. The legends that their Namjoon hyung had talked about when they were just fledglings was real. Before it was just a bedtime story but now......it was suddenly very real.

“What does yours smell like, Kook?”

“Bananas. I think I’m salivating. Oh god. What about yours, hyung?”

“Fresh cut strawberries.”

Both males took one look at each other before starting to follow the scent of their favorite fruit. This was crazy. Just absolutely crazy. It was supposed to be a myth. Just a fairy tale told to young vampires of their kind to help them have good dreams at night. However, it didn’t seem like such a fairy tale now that they were walking like they were two men on a mission to find the holy grail.

“Mine went this way. You text me, maknae!”

“I will, hyung! Good luck!”

“You too, kid!”

Taehyung used his amazing sense of smell to help him track down where the strong scent of strawberries was coming from. In all his years of consuming the juicy red fruits, he had never smelled any quite like this. It was like someone had took the freshest strawberries ever to be grown and shoved them under his nose. It nearly knocked him out when he had first gotten out of the car.

By now, he had wandered several blocks away from their vehicle and was on a much quieter part of town. Then again, it was getting late. The sun was still out but dusk was quickly approaching. That worked for him. The sun wasn’t painful but it tended to give him a dull headache if he stood out in direct light for too long.

The scent was getting stronger and it only made the handsome young male walk faster. Soon enough, he found himself staring at the storefront of what appeared to be an old antique bookstore that someone tried to remodel and revamp but had little success. This was it. He could smell the scent rolling from under the door in waves.

His mate was through this door.

Jungkook lost all sense of direction and time as he simply kept following the scent. Gosh it was so strong he could taste it! It tasted like the best carton of banana milk he had ever had in his life! Trying not to choke on his own drool, he sped up in pace when he could tell the scent was getting stronger and stronger. It’d be real fun to try and find his car later. But that was the least of his worries right now.

What felt like hours but was really only about 20 or 25 minutes, the young male halted in his tracks as he came across what appeared to be a modest looking diner. The neon lights had just turned on as the sun was continuing to set. Subconsciously licking his lips, Jungkook slowly approached the door to the diner and opened it; hearing the little bell chime of his arrival.

“Good evening! Will it be for here or to go?”

“Bloody hell.”

It was you. With your bright smile turning into a confused one as you heard the two words he mumbled under his breath. God you were beautiful. Your hair all tied up to keep it out of customers’ food and that cute frilly apron that made you fit the cookie cutter diner waitress role to a T. You were perfect.

And you were his. All his.

“Hello. Welcome to Shin’s Bookstore. Is there anything I can help you find?”

Taehyung stood there at the front register where she sat. Her. The girl who smelled like fresh cut strawberries. She was just sitting there with her laptop but to the male, she was like a goddess sitting on her pedestal of perfection. He knew his mouth was hanging open but there was nothing he could do about it. So captured by her beauty he was that it left him completely immobile.

The guys weren’t going to be getting their pizza any time soon tonight.

#bts #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #vampire!bts #vampire!bangtan #vampire bts #vampire!jungkook #vampire!V #vampire!taehyung #jungkook x reader #taehyung x oc #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts imagine #kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic

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deniscollins · 3 years

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‘Is Exxon a Survivor?’ The Oil Giant Is at a Crossroads.

Exxon, for decades one of the most profitable and valuable American businesses, lost $2.4 billion in the first nine months of the year, and its share price is down about 35 percent this year. In August, Exxon was tossed out of the Dow Jones industrial average, replaced by Salesforce, a software company. If you were an Exxon executive, would you spend (1) more, (2) the same, or (3) less on oil exploration and production? Why? What are the ethics underlying your decision?

Over the last 135 years, Exxon Mobil has survived hostile governments, ill-fated investments and the catastrophic Exxon Valdez oil spill. Through it all, the oil company made bundles of money.

But suddenly Exxon is slipping badly, its long latent vulnerabilities exposed by the coronavirus pandemic and technological shifts that promise to transform the energy world because of growing concerns about climate change.

The company, for decades one of the most profitable and valuable American businesses, lost $2.4 billion in the first nine months of the year, and its share price is down about 35 percent this year. In August, Exxon was tossed out of the Dow Jones industrial average, replaced by Salesforce, a software company. The change symbolized the passing of the baton from Big Oil to an increasingly dominant technology industry.

“Is Exxon a survivor?” asked Jennifer Rowland, an energy analyst at Edward Jones. “Of course they are, with great global assets, great people, great technical know-how. But the question really is, can they thrive? There is a lot of skepticism about that right now.”

Exxon is under growing pressure from investors. D.E. Shaw, a longtime shareholder that recently increased its stake in Exxon, is demanding that the company cut costs and improve its environmental record, according to a person briefed on the matter. Another activist investor, Engine No. 1, is pushing for similar changes in an effort backed by the California State Teachers Retirement System and the Church of England. And on Wednesday, the New York State comptroller, Thomas P. DiNapoli, said the state’s $226 billion pension fund would sell shares in oil and gas companies that did not move fast enough to reduce emissions.

Of course, every oil company is struggling with the collapse in energy demand this year and as world leaders, including President-elect Joseph R. Biden Jr., pledge to address climate change. In addition, many utilities, automakers and other businesses have pledged to greatly reduce or eliminate the use of fossil fuels, the biggest source of greenhouse gas emissions, and have embraced wind and solar power and electric vehicles.

European companies like Royal Dutch Shell and BP have already begun to pivot away from fossil fuels. But Exxon, like most American oil companies, has doubled down on its commitment to oil and gas and is making relatively small investments in technologies that could help slow down climate change.

As recently as last month, Exxon reaffirmed it plans to increase fossil fuel production, though at a slower pace. The company is investing billions of dollars to produce oil and gas in the Permian Basin, which straddles Texas and New Mexico, and in offshore fields in Guyana, Brazil and Mozambique.

Exxon committed to its strategy even as it acknowledged that one of its previous big bets did not go well. Exxon said it would write down the value of its natural gas assets, most of which it bought around 2010, by up to $20 billion. The company is also laying off about 14,000 workers, or 15 percent of its total, over the next year or so as it seeks to cut costs and protect a dividend that it had increased every year for nearly four decades until this year.

But if this crisis is an existential threat, there has been no acknowledgment from Exxon’s executive suite, still known in the company as the “God Pod.”

“Despite the current volatility and near-term uncertainty, the long-term fundamentals that drive our business remain strong and unchanged,” Darren W. Woods, the company’s chairman and chief executive since 2017, said at a recent shareholders meeting.

Exxon is known in the oil world as an insular company with a rigid culture that slows adoptive, pivotal change. It has been that way since John D. Rockefeller founded the company in the late 19th century as Standard Oil, a monopoly later broken up by the government.

An accountant by training, Rockefeller instilled a deep commitment to number crunching that remains in the company’s DNA. Exxon is primarily run by engineers who generally work their way up to senior roles. Its executives project determination in their ability to navigate every imaginable hurdle like OPEC oil embargoes, war and sanctions. Such confidence is perhaps necessary to run a company that does business in dangerous or inhospitable places.

As a trained electrical engineer and 28-year company veteran, Mr. Woods speaks with the same cool self-assurance as his more famous predecessors. But he has kept a lower profile than Lee R. Raymond, who dismissed concerns about climate change in the 1990s and early 2000s, and Rex W. Tillerson, whose international wheeling and dealing between 2006 and 2016 helped him become President Trump’s first secretary of state.

While Mr. Raymond and Mr. Tillerson were dominant figures in the industry, they left Mr. Woods with many problems that were at least partly obscured by higher oil and gas prices.

Mr. Raymond’s public skepticism of climate change damaged the company’s reputation. Mr. Tillerson was slow to take advantage of shale drilling, which lifted the American oil industry. His foray into the former Soviet Union and Iraq proved to be expensive failures. When he bought XTO a decade ago for over $30 billion to acquire fracking expertise and prized natural gas fields, gas prices were at their peak. As the commodity price declined in the years since, the company lost money and wrote off much of the investment last month.

“Darren Woods has inherited a company that has made huge bets in recent years that were not successful,” said Fadel Gheit, a retired Wall Street analyst who was an engineer in research and development at Mobil before its merger with Exxon in 1999.

“Exxon Mobil is like a big cruise ship,” he added. “You can’t change course overnight. They can weather the storm but not go far. They will have to transform to stay relevant.”

Mr. Raymond declined to comment. Mr. Tillerson did not respond to a request for comment. Exxon responded to questions mainly by referring to previous public statements by Mr. Woods and the company.

Casey Norton, a company spokesman, said the acquisition of XTO had “brought people and technology in addition to potential resources” that helped the company be successful in shale fields in the Permian Basin.

In the first few years on the job, Mr. Woods followed the broad strategy set by Mr. Tillerson by borrowing and investing heavily to expand production. The pandemic forced Mr. Woods to change direction. The company now plans to spend one-third less on exploration and production through 2025 than it had originally planned.

Yet the changes Exxon is making, while big in absolute terms, seem like tinkering compared with what European oil companies are doing. BP has announced that it will increase investments in low-emission businesses tenfold over the next decade, to $5 billion a year, while shrinking oil and gas production by 40 percent. Royal Dutch Shell, Total of France and other European companies are making similar moves at varying speeds.

The only major American oil company that comes close to setting European-style targets is Occidental Petroleum. It recently pledged to reach net zero carbon emissions from its operations by 2040 and from the use of its fuel by 2050. It is building a plant in Texas to capture carbon dioxide from the air and use it to push crude oil out of the ground while leaving the greenhouse gas underground for perpetuity.

“We’ve moved from the shale era to the energy transition era, so there is a greater divergence of strategies among the companies, the widest it’s ever been in modern times,” said Daniel Yergin, an energy historian and the author of “The New Map: Energy, Climate, and the Clash of Nations.” “Now the big debate is will oil peak in the 2020s or the 2030s or the 2050s?”

Exxon executives have said they recognize an energy transition is underway and necessary. But they have also asserted that it wouldn’t make sense for the company to get into the solar or wind energy business. Instead, the company is investing in breakthrough technologies. One such project involves using algae to produce fuel for trucks and airplanes. Exxon has been talking about that project for years but has yet to begin commercial production.

Exxon refineries might also someday become major producers of hydrogen, which many experts believe could play an important role in reducing emissions. The company is betting on carbon capture and sequestration. One project involves directing carbon emitted from industrial operations into a fuel cell that can generate power, reducing emissions while producing more power.

“Breakthroughs in these areas are critical to reducing emissions and would make a meaningful contribution to achieving the goals of the Paris agreement, which we support,” Mr. Woods said in a message to employees in October, referring to the 2016 global climate accord.

Energy experts said it was possible that Exxon could come up with new uses for carbon dioxide like strengthening concrete or making carbon fiber, which could replace steel and other materials.

“If Exxon and other major oil industry players crack those nuts, the entire discussion about hydrocarbons changes,” said Kenneth B. Medlock III, a senior director at the Center for Energy Studies at Rice University. “That kind of change is slow until it’s not. Think about wind and solar, which were slow until they weren’t.”

A big increase in oil and gas prices could also allay some of the concerns about the company, at least temporarily. In recent weeks, as oil prices have climbed on optimism about a coronavirus vaccine, so has Exxon’s stock.

Vijay Swarup, Exxon’s vice president for research and development, said in a recent interview that the company understood it needed to lower emissions and was developing better fuels, lubricants and plastics.

“As we are developing that pathway to get there, we can’t stop providing affordable, scalable energy,” Mr. Swarup said.

But John Browne, a former BP chief executive, said it was not clear that Exxon and the other big American companies would transform their businesses adequately for a low-carbon future.

“They may decide just to carry on and harvest and say, ‘Let’s see what happens in the long run,’” he said. “That’s quite a risky strategy nowadays.”

#Exxon #Climate Change

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puddygeeks · 4 years

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𝔅𝔞𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔪𝔭𝔞𝔫𝔶 - 𝔖𝔲𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔞𝔩 𝔇𝔢𝔞𝔫/𝔒ℭ - ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 1: ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔈𝔫𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰

Masterlist

Rating: Mature

Summary: Following the footsteps of several generations of Creed hunters, Faye’s upbringing revolved around training to continue the family legacy. Since her parents death, she has been content to work alone until a chance encounter with the Winchester’s shatters everything she believed. Despite her complicated past and initial reservations about the boys, she finds herself crossing paths with the troublemakers at regular intervals. Faye discovers more in common with Dean than she could ever have anticipated and leaning on each other becomes a habit they can’t quit.

A/N: I needed a project to give me a creative break from We Come Running, so thought I’d delve into Supernatural. This will not have a posting schedule, as I don’t need another thing to stress over! But I’ll update whenever I need to write outside of The 100 Universe. I don’t have a huge plan for this fic, but I can say that it will not be a full rewrite of the show that includes every episode like my other works. It will dip in and out of the Supernatural storylines whenever I feel she has something to contribute. I hope you enjoy this new style of writing that I’m trying <3

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: OC x Dean Winchester

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

Warnings: Mature content. Language, alcohol abuse, violence, character death.

Chapter One

I stared back at my reflection in the cheap motel mirror with a strong feeling of unease. A deep sigh escaped my lips as I adjusted the blonde wig into place so that none of my natural hair was visible and checked that my makeup adequately covered the small holes that remained in my face once my piercings were removed. The black suit jacket slid easily over my shoulders and I stepped into my neat black court shoes with a wobble. I seized the worn holdall containing my ordinary clothes with attitude and stomped out to the car. The blaring sound of my trusty playlist filled the clunky old jeep and I felt myself gradually relaxing over the course of my journey to the local police station.

This part of hunting had always grated on me. Over the years, I’d learned to embrace the lifestyle of living on the outskirts of society and enjoyed the simple pleasures of expressing myself however I wished. I wasn’t limited by the same restrictions as everyone else, I didn’t have to conform to office dress codes or feel the social pressure to dress my age. It was only when I needed to pass as law enforcement to gather information that I had to force myself into a characterless uniform and stiff appearance. Everytime that this was necessary, I felt like I stripped away all of the benefits of the hunter lifestyle and instead was left feeling like an outsider as I tried to fit into the regular world.

I parked around the corner from the station and made one last check of my appearance to ensure that nothing suspiciously unprofessional was on show. Before stepping out of the vehicle, I took a deep breath and forced myself into the facade that always gained me access to anything that I wanted. I strutted into the station with an unnecessary sway to my hips that I knew were well displayed in the pencil skirt that I wore and felt my stomach churn at the sickening manner in which the officers in the room watched me pass. It was worryingly simple to flirt my way past the first officer at the desk and into the captain's office. I didn’t even show my badge, all it took was a charming smile over the top of my horn rimmed glasses and a lingering sweep of hair behind my ear.

The Captain was a middle aged man who at least remembered to ask me for ID before he eagerly spilled the details of the strange case. He roughly commented that I seemed very young to be working alone, FBI agent or not and I smiled through my discomfort as I grilled him for the information that I sorely needed.

I was smoothly exiting the office in a determined march for my car and sorely needed change of clothes, when the Captain called out to announce the arrival of another couple of agents. My stomach flipped with nerves as I rolled my eyes and made an offhand comment about poor organisation at the bureau. It wasn’t the first time that I’d bumped into actual feds on a job. As a matter of fact, I’d learned early on that it was one of the many risks of investigation, but every time that I had to improvise my way out of their scrutiny left me feeling drained.

I allowed the Captain to lead me outside the front of the station with a forced air of calm whilst I mentally rehearsed the lines that I had prepared for this situation. I hoped that I wouldn’t have to call in another favour; every time that I needed to give a number for real investigators to call to confirm my identity cost me another night of stroking a hunter colleagues ego.

My nerves dissolved into amusement as we neared two obnoxiously tall men in black suits that I recognised immediately. One of them had shoulder length, chestnut brown hair and kind eyes that twinkled as he fixed me with a warm smile. He was clearly younger than me and there was something in his posture that indicated a calm nature that was beyond his years. The other smoothly slid off his sunglasses with a brow cocked in interest as his gaze roamed my figure before landing on my face. He had shorter brunette hair and mischievous eyes that seemed to challenge me as they met mine. He had chiseled, handsome features and broad shoulders that hinted at a muscular physique hidden away beneath the suit jacket. There was no doubting that they were both attractive, but were absolutely not federal agents and everything about them screamed trouble. The Captain asked whether a little lady like me would need help arguing with two such large men over jurisdiction, but I convinced him to leave us with a polite smile and a falsely flattered giggle.

“Good to meet you. I’m Agent Stark, this is Agent Banner. We’re from the Atlanta Bureau. Could you bring us up to speed on any case details that you’ve been given?” The flirtatious man that I had easily recognised to be Dean Winchester spoke first, introducing the two of them as they both briefly held up their fake ID’s and I peeked between them with my brows raised. I’d heard descriptions of these men more times than I could count but they didn’t do justice to the hulking reality that stood before me. It wasn’t unusual for men to tower over me; at 5’4 I wasn’t exactly tall. However, I was surprised to find that the impending attitude they were often characterised as displaying seemed to be absent and I wasn’t remotely intimidated by them.

“Stark and Banner?” I repeated as I surveyed Dean with amusement and he furrowed his brows together in confusion. I wondered if they’d ever been doubted before from the obvious shock in their body language and couldn’t help sensing an opportunity to seize the upper hand with the infamous hunters. “That’s really what you’re going with?” I drawled as I smiled smugly at them and noticed that they subtly glanced between them with concern. “I thought the Winchester’s would be better at this.” I teased as they visibly stiffened and stared at each other in alarm. I revelled in the knowledge that I’d caught them off guard as I crossed my arms and waited for them to formulate a response.

“You’re a hunter?” Sam breathed in a tone that was more of a statement than a question. He scanned me in an analytical manner and I quickly understood that he was the more logical of the two. I stretched out the silence as I prepared my answer and enjoyed watching Dean squirm nervously as he considered that Sam might have made an error in judgement.

“Yes I am.” I confirmed firmly and caught sight of a slight sag in Dean’s shoulders. It occurred to me that he was the protector of the two and I stored this information in the back of my mind for future use. “And this is my job. I’ll handle this case from here, so you two can feel free to move on.” I revealed with a disinterested shrug as I held my ground. Confusion flitted across both of their faces at almost the exact same time and I was struck with the impression that they weren’t used to hearing women say no very often.

“Well, hold on a second. We’re all here, we might as well help you out.” Dean suggested in a manner that tried to be helpful but mostly sounded condescending and I cocked a brow at him. Sam studied me closely as my face grew stern but Dean seemed to be completely unaware of his effect on me.

“I can handle myself just fine, thank you. Besides, witches tend to fight much harder against men anyway, you’ll only spur them on.” I crooned as I started to wander toward my car in an effort to end the undesirable conversation and rolled my eyes when they followed with a shared look of concern. “Not every girl is a damsel in distress you know. I’m sure there’s plenty of other jobs you could pursue with girls who will be awaiting your rescue. I work better alone.” I clarified with an annoyed expression as I increased my pace to suggest that I wanted to be left alone. Dean caught my wrist to pause me in place and I whipped around on the spot to view him with suspicion.

“Hey, I don’t know what your problem is but we’re offering to make your job easier.” He remarked with a confident attitude and I scoffed. “Look, you don’t want our help, that’s fine but don’t just take off. You seem to know exactly who we are and we don’t even know your name. Give me something here.” He drawled with a keen expression and I chuckled under my breath.

“There’s not a hunter around who doesn’t know Sam and Dean Winchester.” I commented as I removed myself from his grasp and stepped out of his space with a look of disapproval. “And you don’t need to know my name. You can call me Agent Brooke if they ask any questions about who’s taking the case.” I clarified before I turned on my heel and strode to my car without a backwards glance.

I stopped back at the motel to change out of my feminine agent disguise with a tense feeling of stress. I had known that I was likely to run into the Winchester’s at some point or another, but it didn’t make the experience any less jarring. I’d been anticipating it for almost ten years whilst I worked jobs all over the country and although I’d met numerous hunters along the way, I’d somehow managed to avoid them. They were exactly how I’d expected, full of over-confidence in both their ability and charm. Enough years had gone since I ran away from my past that there was only a hint of bitterness remaining for them and I’d found that toying with them was more for my own amusement than as a result of envy. I’d grown accustomed to pushing people away and working alone so sharp, deflective humour was more of habit than anything personal.

I shook out my shoulder length purple hair and ran my fingers through it to relieve the soreness from the wig. I took a shower to clean off the taint of the act that I’d been forced to perform as an agent and changed into an old band t-shirt, black ripped jeans and a pair of black doc martin boots. I returned my black studs into the two piercings under my lips and the silver ring into my left nostril. It took some time to replace all of the ear jewellery but once I had, I started to feel like myself again. I quickly applied some black eyeliner and dark eyeshadow for my own satisfaction as a small act of rebellion against my earlier self presentation.

I settled on the edge of the bed with my laptop to pour over the new intel that I’d received and set aside time to form a plan of action. I couldn’t concentrate properly on my task as the memory of the boys’ clueless expressions floated through my mind and after a while of battling it, I threw the laptop aside in frustration. There was a common coping mechanism amongst hunters of burying your feelings instead of dealing with them and I had depended on this unhealthy strategy for more years than I cared to acknowledge. The act of finally matching faces to the all too familiar Winchester names had stirred up memories that I’d long been repressing and I struggled to contain the feelings that came with them.

I felt a pang of guilt as Bobby’s voice rang in my mind, scolding me for not accepting their help. He’d always recommended teaming up where possible; he considered it a good chance to learn from other hunters' experiences and to make contacts that you could utilise in future. Fortunately for me I didn’t have to do anything Bobby’s way any more. I was an adult now, if I wanted to drink myself into a stupor and pass out in my motel room, there was no one here to scold me for doing so. It was a weak justification but as I slipped into a whisky fuelled coma, I felt relieved that I had been able to drown out the criticism.

The next few days were spent in town interviewing people close to the mysterious deaths and was pleased not to hear any mention of the boys. It seemed that they hadn’t processed their investigation any further and I convinced myself that I had successfully managed to scare them from town. This assertion allowed me to focus on preparing for the upcoming confrontation. I discovered that I was dealing with a duo of witches and planned carefully to ensure that I couldn’t be overwhelmed by them. I packed a plentiful supply of weapons and visited the home of one of the previous victims to set traps. I knew that I could lure them to revisit the scene of the crime with a few simple social arrangements to inspire jealousy and used this to ensure that the fight took place somewhere that I could control.

I waited in my car, parked in the dark street for hours for any sign of the witches' arrival and was pleased to find that they were exactly as predictable as I expected. The back door allowed me to creep into the home and I could hear them frantically searching the rooms for the next victim that I’d led them to believe would be here. I carefully approached the living room where I’d planted traps with baited breath and as I neared the door, I was startled by the loud crash of a boobytrap springing into action. My stomach lurched at the unexpected sound of a mape crying out and tiptoed closer to peek inside.

“Sam!” I recognised the panicked voice of Dean from the next room as I reached the door and was able to view Sam tangled in my trap.

Dean burst through the entrance hall in a rage as Sam struggled with one of the witches who was somewhat thrilled by the containment of her new captive. I growled under my breath as they trampled over my carefully laid plans and tried to quickly analyse the best way to take control of the rapidly escalating situation. Dean charged toward his choking brother in a manic attack before the second witch revealed herself and launched him across the room with merely a flick of her wrist. It was evident from their reactions that they had only expected one enemy and I rolled my eyes at their chaotic behaviour.

“Dean! Let him go!” Sam wheezed between pants as Dean was crushed against the wall by magic so forceful that it cracked the plaster around him. I fidgeted nervously on the spot as I realised that Sam was turning blue from oxygen deprivation and I fell into the room in a moment of impulse. The two witches had their backs to the door that I rushed through and were paying little attention to each other as they individually toyed with the boys. I entangled my fingers into the back of the tangled hair of the woman who was choking Sam and yanked her backwards toward the circle that I’d prepared earlier. The moment that Sam stumbled out of my trap, I caught his attention with a wide eyed stare.

“Pull the rug!” I ordered with a firm authority before lapsing into well memorised incantations under my breath to activate the containment. He crouched to rip the rug out from under my captive’s feet without question, revealing a freshly white painted circle on the ground. Now that the shock of my assault had passed, the witch easily fought out of my grasp and whipped around to face me with an expression of absolute outrage. I jumped back to remove myself from her reach and now that the circle was active, she was unable to cast or escape. Sam leapt to the side in a frantic bid to reach a sword on the ground and the moment that he gripped it, he rushed toward Dean with a fiery determination. The witch in the circle released an agonising scream that warned the other of his approach and I flinched as I instinctively covered my ears. Dean slammed to the ground in a wheezing heap as his assailant turned to lift Sam instead and he dropped the sword with a clatter as he scraped against the wall.

I snatched the sword in a desperate movement and dove from the room before either of them could plan to attack me. The boys were manically yelling behind me as I rushed through the house to my bag that I’d stowed at the back door. My shaking hands grabbed a pot of salt and a flare before I sprinted back to the door that I’d entered the room through originally. I dumped a shaky line of salt in the doorway before I sparked the flare and lobbed it into the room to draw attention away from Sam.

Whilst the fighting descended into chaos, I scrambled to the entrance hall and past Dean’s crumpled form at the other end of the room. The remaining attacker was still distracted by the flare which allowed me to stalk up to her from behind and I swung the sword with as much force as I could muster. The blade neatly removed her head in a clean cut and it flew across the room with a satisfying thud. The witch in the circle howled in anguish and when I brought my attention to her, I realised that her eyes had turned completely black. I didn’t hesitate for a single moment as I grabbed the flare from the ground and tossed it into the circle. It set alight the fuel that I’d doused it in earlier and I rushed through the blessing to dispel the demon.

I leaned forward with my hands on my knees as I panted from the exertion and listened to the sounds of the witch sizzling to nothing. After a few moments of recovery, I heard Sam and Dean struggle to their feet and their heavy footprints alerted me to their approach. I straightened up to fix them with a disapproving look.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” I spat in an accusing tone and they shifted awkwardly as they viewed me. I couldn’t believe that they had ignored my direct request to leave and as I stared at their guilty faces, I felt frustration building in my chest.

“We thought you might need help.” Sam muttered in a poor excuse and I crossed my arms in annoyance as I scoffed.

“Oh yeah, thank god you guys were here to save me. I’d never have managed without you.” I drawled with a heavy sarcasm and I noticed that Dean rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. “You two are supposed to be the best hunters around and you just almost got all three of us killed!” I scolded in a raised voice and although Sam squirmed at my words, Dean only seemed to get defensive.

“Look, we messed up, alright. But what the hell kind of a hunter sets up contraptions like that?” Dean argued as he indicated to the trap that Sam had found himself tangled in. It was a method I’d used regularly for years now to ensure that I always had a back up plan if I found myself outnumbered or cornered. It was difficult to hunt without anyone to watch your back and I’d adapted to the challenge.

“The kind of hunter that works alone, not all of us charge in without a plan. I thought you’d be smarter than that with all the training you’ve had.” I confirmed as I surveyed him with dismay and immediately kicked myself for hinting how much I knew about their upbringing. I dropped my gaze to the ground to avoid his expression but from my peripheral vision I could see that he raised his brows at me whilst Sam observed us in silent interest.

“You’ve got a lot of assumptions about us for someone who claims they don’t give a shit...Faye Creed.” Dean drawled as his words tore my eyes back to his face. He smiled smugly at me as he paused to emphasise my name and I felt a lump form in my throat. My back stiffened involuntarily and I rolled my eyes at them both.

“So, you finally thought to consult Bobby. Guess you aren’t as dumb as you seem.” I sneered as I ran a hand through my hair and tried to present as unphased by their research into me. I knew that it had been foolish to hope that they would allow me to walk away without any interest but I didn’t expect to see them again once they had found the information. “Only a matter of time, took you longer than I expected though. How’d you get him to narrow it down? I don’t use his aliases any more.” I enquired with a controlled interest as I wondered what it was that had given me away. I had been careful about my choice of words in our first meeting and I expected my disguise to protect me from them as much as it did the police. The thought crossed my mind that Bobby may still be keeping tabs on me if he was aware of my FBI presentation and I pushed it away to deal with later.

“Not that many hunters with a British accent around.” Sam commented from the side with a charming smile and I shrugged in defeat. There was little I could do to hide that and it was an ongoing identifier that I wished I could remove.

“Took me longer than I want to admit to figure out that alias too, Agent Brooks.” Dean remarked and his voice drew my attention back to his intrigued smile. “Eric Brooks, Blade. That’s a pretty obscure reference, even for a comic nerd. No wonder those ID’s tipped you off.” He detailed with an obvious admiration in his tone and I felt a genuine smile escape my cool expression.

“So, what did your Nick Fury tell you about me to make you so convinced that I needed your help?” I grilled as I raised a brow at Dean with a more flirtatious interest than I intended. I couldn’t contain the playfulness that he encouraged from me despite my determination to keep them at a distance.

“Nothing. Just a name and a warning that you were bad news.” Dean confirmed with a mischievous delight in his eyes and I chuckled under my breath.

“Actually, he was remarkably tight lipped about it all. Maybe you could fill us in on how you know each other?” Sam interrogated, a warm smile attempting to cover his curiosity. I waved my arms in front of me as I stepped back slightly in defence.

“Oh I’m no snitch. That’s the old man's story to share, if he even wants to.” I deflected as I gathered my things to leave and increased the distance between us subconsciously. “Seeing as I saved your asses from your own idiocy tonight, I’ll leave you two clean-up duty.” I declared as I indicated to the remains of the witches that were spread across the room and they glanced at each other regretfully. “It’s been fun, see you around.” I crooned with an exaggerated solute as I wandered from the room.

The disgruntled complaints of them gathering the pieces of our enemies was clear even from the back of the house as I grabbed my duffel bag and I reached out to touch the door handle before I paused in place. A thoughtful sigh escaped my lips and my heartstrings pulled me back to the room they were in. I leaned carefully on the doorframe as I peered inside and cleared my throat to gain their attention.

“Could you...could you boys pass Bobby a message for me?” I asked nervously and they glanced at each other uncertainly before Sam shrugged in response. “Just tell him that I’m sorry. He’ll know what for.” I relayed and quickly turned on my heel to stomp out before they could ask any questions.

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confrontingbabble-on · 5 years

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“Money, money money...must be funny...in a religious, hypocritical, devoid of the power of god, world...”

A female religious relative asked me the other day...”Having left the church some time ago, why do you still care what the church does? The only thing that makes any sense to me, is that you are making money from this. Are you?”

I was struck by the insane hypocrisy and willful blindness...and the intellectual dishonesty...of that religious person’s insane question. A blind believer is too pathetic to ask their own religious leaders just how much money they take from religion...god’s “free” gift..., or ask for a full list of all the associated benefits they get from being a religious leader...or accuse them that they must only be into god for the money...!

Fleecing the religious flock goes right back to the very point the religious had, to form and farm a religious flock...and was the first thing that Paul did, when he converted bible Jesus’ god personal empowerment, personal activism, personal sacrifice and martyrdom message...into churchianity...followers attending pointless meetings, sitting on their ass, fleecing others and being fleeced...and being lulled to sleep as they get the same selected bedtime stories read to them...again and again and again...

Paul had glibly boasted to his fellow churchians...”And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus...” Phil 4:19...and then, instead, made it a central part of his ministry...to collect cash from his church followers...for some unobservable pupose, a long way away from the donators*...

...fleecing, he claimed, he was prepared to die for**...

We can reconstruct Paul’s cash collection religious evolution as follows:

Paul’s tent making work was hard and tedious work

so he started churches, gatherings of sheep to fleece

and immediately hit up his followers for cash

to spend on things they could not observe or verify

because he did not spend the cash collected among the poor where the money was collected, (where it could easily be verified that it was spent for that purpose, in total)...but rather, hundreds of miles away, where no one could investigate the discrepancy between what was collected, and what was spent on the poor...!

Using the cash business formula...$X collected...minus travel expenses... meals with friends... alcohol...ships and other vehicles/donkeys etc...donkey upkeep...accommodation along the way...gifts for various lady companions along the way...a rest-up at a resort...a convention or two...new footware...new clothing...hiring people to count the cash...cash protection services along the way...property acquisition - for new churches...putting aside money for a rainy day = $Y (a couple of bucks left over for some distant “poor”/relatives/friends etc)

Consider...

“...the practice of collecting money at Christian worship services is almost as old as Christianity itself. Within a few decades of Jesus' death, the apostle Paul initiated a collection of money from communities he visited to support “impoverished Christians” in Jerusalem...!

Paul attached great significance to this project; so important was the collection to him that he even risked alienating those churches that he had founded in order to complete it...!

But, considering how vital the project was for Paul, it is remarkable that he mentions the collection directly in only a few places, primarily in the Corinthian correspondence (1 Cor 16:1–4; 2 Cor 8:1–9:15; cf. Gal 2:10; Rom 15:25–31).

Furthermore, the book of Acts nowhere unambiguously refers to it, although a few passages may point to it indirectly (Acts 11:27–30; 24:17)1.

Thus, due to the paucity of evidence provided by the New Testament, a detailed picture of the collection is beyond our grasp (no audit trail...!).

We can, however, sketch the broad outlines of the project with some confidence. The beginnings of the collection go back to a meeting held between Paul, Barnabas, and the leaders of the Jerusalem church. The meeting took place in Jerusalem in the mid–first century (ca. 48 CE). Prior to the meeting, Paul and Barnabas had been working in the area of Antioch and they journeyed to Jerusalem as representatives of the Antiochene church. Accounts appear in Gal 2:1–10 and Acts 15:1–29. Since the two accounts do not match precisely...

The meeting in Jerusalem occurred due to a debate over the status of non–Jews in the Antioch church. Some believed that non–Jews1 should be welcomed into the church only if they converted to Judaism; others, however, were content to allow them to be incorporated into the community as non–Jews. In order to settle the matter, Paul and Barnabas traveled to Jerusalem to consult with the leaders of that church. Those leaders, described by Paul with the honorific title "Pillars" (Gal 2:9), consisted of Peter, a disciple of Jesus; James, Jesus's brother; and John, probably John, the son of Zebedee, another of Jesus's followers.

According to Paul's account of the meeting, the Pillars essentially agreed with Paul that non–Jews could remain as such when they joined the church; in Paul's words, the Jerusalem leaders "added nothing" to his gospel message (Gal 2:6). ...In effect, the problem of Torah–observant Jews and non–Jews in the same movement was solved by splitting the community of believers into two camps, one Jewish and the other not. The second condition is expressed in the final verse describing the meeting: "[The Pillars] asked only one thing, that we remember the poor (pay off the Jerusalem church, to buy the gentile franchise...!), which was actually what I was eager to do" (Gal 2:10). It is broadly agreed that Paul's phrase "remember the poor" refers to a one–time collection of money raised among the believers in Antioch to be given to "the poor" in Jerusalem3. ...it has been suggested that the label "poor" may have been an honorific title for the members of the church in Jerusalem...!

After Paul's confrontation with Peter, the latter likely viewed him as a liability, an uncontrolled and uncontrollable renegade who could not be trusted to put the interests of the gospel before his own.

While the demise of the Jerusalem agreement likely signaled the end of the collection at least from the standpoint of the Jerusalem church, Paul's collection efforts did not come to an end8. Evidence from his letters–in particular, the Corinthian correspondence—suggests that after he left Antioch, the collection took on more significance in his eyes. But the collection project also changed9. For Paul, the effort no longer represented the simple transfer of money from the Antioch community to Jerusalem. Instead, Paul attempted to involve all of the non–Jewish churches that he founded in the effort10. He believed that non–Jewish believers in those churches owed the Jews a debt of gratitude. In his words: "Indeed [the non–Jews] owe it to [the members of the Jewish church in Jerusalem]; for if the Gentiles have come to share in their spiritual blessings, they ought also to be of service to them in material things" (Rom 15:27).

Unfortunately the progress of the collection in Paul's churches prior to the Corinthian correspondence is unclear. Paul makes no mention of it in 1 Thessalonians, his earliest extent letter, although in other letters he tells of a collection in Macedonia–a collection that no doubt included the Thessalonian church (2 Cor 8:1–5; 2 Cor 9:2; Rom 15:16, 26). We do know that Paul's efforts in Macedonia were ultimately successful and, as he tells us in 2 Corinthians, they exceeded his expectations (2 Cor 8:5).

Curiously, Paul makes no mention of a collection among the Galatian churches in his letter to them, despite his reference to the collection's origin at the Jerusalem meeting earlier in that same letter (Gal 2:10). He does mention in 1 Corinthians that he had given instructions for a Galatian collection (1 Cor 16:1), but those instructions appeared either in a letter that no longer exists or they were delivered orally. While we cannot be sure of the results of Paul's efforts to collect money in Galatia, it is probable that the Galatians ultimately failed to contribute11. In all likelihood, the Judaizing conflict in Galatia took its toll on Paul's relationship with those churches and consequently those communities withdrew their support for the project12.

We learn about the start of the collection effort in another of Paul's communities, in Corinth, at the end of 1 Corinthians (1 Cor 16:1–4). There Paul instructs the community–most of whom must have had little money to spare—to set aside for the project whatever money they could afford on a weekly basis. In this way, they would be able to raise more money than by relying on a one–time collection, an option rejected by the apostle (1 Cor 16:2).

Further information about the collection in Corinth appears in several places in 2 Corinthians. That document attests to the difficulty that Paul had in his collection efforts. We learn, for example, that the Corinthian collection proceeded by fits and starts; at one point, it seems to have been put on hold13. Unfortunately, discerning the progress of the Corinthian collection is complicated by the likelihood that 2 Corinthians is made up of more than one letter14.However, one thing that seems clear in 2 Corinthians is that the collection effort in Corinth raised doubts about Paul's integrity among some members of that community.

In several places, we see evidence that a number of Corinthians believed that the apostle was using the collection as a pretext to steal their hard–earned cash.

We see such in Paul's insistence that he was not a "peddler of God's word" (2 Cor 2:17); in his denial that he practiced "cunning" (2 Cor 4:2); in his claim in one place that he "did not defraud anyone" (2 Cor 7:2); and in another that neither he nor those that he sent to Corinth were intent on swindling the community (2 Cor 12:16–18)15.

Although it is difficult to understand precisely the ins and outs of the controversy in Corinth, we can nevertheless be confident that the problems were eventually worked out and that the Corinthian collection was completed. We know this because, in his letter to the Romans, Paul tell us that he was about to travel to Jerusalem with the money that had been collected in Achaia, the province whose major city was Corinth (Rom 15:25–26). But in that same letter, Paul exhibits anxiety that the collection (Gentile franchise!) money from Achaia (and Macedonia, the province of Thessaloniki and Philippi) might not be accepted (enough !) upon its arrival in Jerusalem. He therefore asks the Roman church to pray that his "ministry to Jerusalem may be acceptable to the saints"(Rom 15:31).

Unfortunately, no ancient source provides us with a reliable account of Paul's encounter with the Jerusalem leadership when he arrived with the collection. Consequently, scholars are divided in their opinions. Some think that the collection money was not accepted by the Jerusalem leadership; others think that it was; still others suggest that a compromise was worked out.

The book of Acts claims that when Paul reached Jerusalem, he was persuaded to pay for the release of four Jews from their vows. As Acts tells the story, Paul's payment was intended to prove to the members of the Jerusalem church that Paul still respected the Law of Moses (Acts 21:21–26). Although Acts says nothing about the collection here, some scholars see a compromise over its fate lurking behind this story, a compromise that would have enabled Paul to save face while, at the same time, relieving the Jerusalem leadership of the burden of deciding whether or not to accept money from Paul. While the possibility that such a compromise actually occurred should not be ruled out, it is also conceivable that the author of Acts created this narrative to cover up an ugly event involving those who had by his time become the heroes of the early Church.

Keith Nickle suggests that an allusion to charges against Paul also exists in 20:33, where Paul tells the elders from Ephesus, "I coveted no one's silver or gold or clothing"

The suggestion that some in Corinth suspected Paul of fraud does not always come across in the English translations. Nevertheless, the Greek verb pleonekteō, which appears in 7:2; 12:17; 12:18, typically means to "defraud" or "cheat." “

From...https://global.oup.com/obso/focus/focus_on_paul_collection/

* “The cash collection for the Jerusalem church occupies significant portions of the Pauline epistles (1 Cor 16:1–4; 2 Cor 8:1–9:15; Rom 15:14–32)”... Further, “Paul was engaged in at least two (cash collections) for Jerusalem—one from the Antioch church and later one from his Gentile churches...” even though...” the Book of Acts nowhere mentions the (cash) collection.” However...” to retrace the history of the (cash) collection is to “be reminded that the seemingly mundane task of fundraising was for Paul a deeply theological endeavor, one which demanded his total commitment and perseverance through intense struggle” (pp. 71–72)... http://themelios.thegospelcoalition.org/review/the-offering-of-the-gentiles-pauls-collection-for-jerusalem-in-its-chronolo

** collecting cash from the gullible “spanned the course of years of Paul’s ministry, and was something that Paul claimed he was prepared even to die for (Rom 15:30–31) http://themelios.thegospelcoalition.org/review/the-offering-of-the-gentiles-pauls-collection-for-jerusalem-in-its-chronolo

#nonreligious #atheist #agnostic #secular humanist #skeptic #Religion #Christianity #religious insanity

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bloodline-rpg · 4 years

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Congratulations, Angela! We have accepted your application for your OC Willow Layton (FC: Zoey Deutch) Please create a blog for your character and send us the link via ask box as soon as you can. Welcome to Bloodline!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name/Alias: Angela

Age: ageless

Preferred pronouns: she/her

Timezone: CST, however, I work overnights (6pm-6am) so I keep very strange hours.

Level of activity (don’t give your activity a number value, please describe how active you will be as best as possible): It’s been a minute since I’ve been in a Tumblr RP, however, I tend to get VERY invested. I’m typically online at least once a day and get very excited about replies. It can be difficult to write replies on days I work because it all depends on how busy we are, but on days I’m off I should definitely be able to get replies out.

CHARACTER DETAILS

Character’s Name: Willow Layton

Desired FC: Kat McNamara - unless she’s reserved still for future plots, in that case Zoey Deutch? or I’m open to suggestions :)

Character’s Age: 24

Character’s Species: Original witch

Character’s Sexuality: bi-sexual

CHARACTER BIOGRAPHY

The Leytons had always been a family more concerned with peace than with power. Their magic was tied to the earth itself, they fed each other. Their coven was more of a commune, viewed by outsiders as a little bit strange but harmless. They’d take the food they grew to farmers’ markets and when people asked what made their produce thrive so well, Willow’s father would always wink, smile, and whisper magic. The locals found him quirky yet charming, but it was the truth. Compassion was paramount in Willow’s formative years. Her family would help the community and she was taught to respect hard work, no matter what form it came in. Holistic witches were welcomed in their coven, their magic didn’t seem that far off from the Leyton’s own. Perhaps they had to take a few more steps to achieve the same result, but the earth fed their magic just like hers.

The key was balance. They drew their power from the earth and as a result, it was their responsibility to take care of her. Sometimes that meant letting things die so new life could sprout. They’d cut trees to plant fields, but in return, they’d plant new trees elsewhere. Bees were kept for honey, but flowers were planted to sustain them. They were made to live in symbiotic harmony with the earth around them, a challenge that grew harder the more the world advanced.

Homeschooled by her mother, Willow spent most of her time with her many siblings, cousins, and the other witches in her coven. It was a peaceful, idyllic childhood, if somewhat sheltered. A tree was planted for each child born into the family and fed by their magic, Willow’s mother said that was how she knew she could always watch out for her children no matter how far they roamed away from her. As long as the tree thrived, so did they. As a teenager, the restrictions her family followed chaffed a bit. Willow left their home with her sister Holly and spent time traveling, seeing other places, other covens, other ways of life. Holly was happier in the city but Willow felt stifled by the sounds and overwhelmed by the crowds. She missed being barefoot in the field, helping care for the plants and the bees. Her wanderlust at an end, Willow left Holly in the city with the promise to write and call often and returned home.

When the attacks came, her parents told her that, yes, they needed to be careful but that there was no real cause for worry. Even when a letter came from another family of witches down in Georgia they stayed put. After all, a tree firmly planted and deeply rooted need not fear the storm.

And then Ash’s tree was struck by lightning and fell.

Willow was shocked. She didn’t understand why anyone would want to hurt her family, but the proof was there in her oldest brother’s tree. It didn’t make sense. They weren’t a threat, they’d never harmed anyone. In fact, more often than not they used their magic to help the farms in their area. Her family would spend hours blessing the land, encouraging crops to take root and flourish. Their magic could cause harm as well, any magic could, but they didn’t. Not at first. Holly’s fell next and Willow knew real fear for the first time in her life. Laurel went missing right from the farmer’s market in town. Though her tree still stood, within the week branches were falling. Her mother grew thin, pale and worried. Her father harder and angrier.

They couldn’t stay. The decision was made to split up for safety. The family that was so close-knit her entire life scattered like seeds thrown into the wind. Willow’s father took her brother Linden and sister Magnolia, hoping to connect with another coven with more powerful offensive magic on the way to Carden. Willow went with her mother, Ivy, aunt, and her aunt’s young son, headed straight for Carden. Only two days into the journey they were separated. Hunters found them at a small gas station, capturing Ivy and forcing her aunt to flee in their vehicle in order to protect her child. Willow was left behind, unnoticed. She made her way to Carden by hitchhiking and walking, hoping to reunite with the rest of her family there. Thus far, she’s the only one to arrive but she holds out hope that her family is not far behind her.

CHARACTER PERSONALITY

Willow believes strongly in finding harmony in oneself, with the earth, and with each other. Balance is important. She prefers to pause and think things through rather than acting rashly and can take a while to make decisions. A bit naive and sheltered, she tends to try and see the good in people for as long as she can. The war and the potential loss of her family has left her feeling adrift and vulnerable. She’s trying to do what she thinks her family would want, to promote togetherness and steadiness, to plant new roots. Whenever possible, Willow is barefoot and outside. She likes to feel the grass or dirt beneath her feet, she finds working in the garden and spending time literally talking to the plants and encouraging growth relaxing. Plants tend to be less judgemental than people.

PLOTS AND POLITICS

Connection: Ericka Holloway – The Holloway’s are related to the Leytons, though they are a somewhat distant branch on the family tree. They share a great Grandfather - his second marriage after his first wife died was to a human woman, the bloodline diluting through the generations to Ericka’s holistic coven. When the girls were young, their families had more interaction, the Holloways would come by their little community to exchange rituals and stories, but the way their families viewed the growing threats to magic were starkly different. The Leytons isolated themselves in their commune to live in peace, while Ericka’s side of the family retreated to the bayou for survival. Their magic may be related, but their worldviews have always been different.

Willow is hoping to see her family again, hoping that they’ll show up at the manor any day now, but also fearing they never will. She’s vaguely familiar with wolves, one of her uncles was bonded, but she’s never been around this many before. She’s not afraid, having no negative interactions with wolves, but is curious.

One of the few things she managed to bring with her are seeds - their family intended to bring an offering to the Blacks for opening their home, but transporting living plants would be complicated even for them. Willow’s duffle bag has one pocket entirely dedicated to seeds from their farm, mostly plants useful in spellwork or food, but if allowed she’d love to expand the garden and contribute to the benefit of the household

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opiatemasses · 4 years

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Racism on the rise? An insight into racism of 21st century football

A lot has changed in football since the 20th century. Stadiums and facilities have drastically improved. Equipment and sport science has improved. We have seen radical change in financial play. We’ve seen a players being sold in excess of £100m, but what hasn’t changed? Racism. If anything- It is getting worse.

Can you guess how many racist incidents were reported during the 2018/19 season?

A. 36

B. 183

C. 274

Shockingly, if you guessed C you are correct. This figure remains the most common form of discrimination, making up 65% of all reports in professional and grassroots football- a 43% RISE from 2017/18. And according to Kick It Out; footballs equality and inclusion organisation, it continues to increase.

With these harrowing figures we see that 184 of reports came from the professional game, which raises a question… How? In todays diverse and heavily multicultural game, where the sport is watched by more people than ever with the premier league breaking records of 3.2bn global viewers for 2018/19. how is this still an ever-present issue in today game?

Could this also be a factor in why racism is seen throughout grassroots football too?

It can be argued that such a display of abuse on a globally viewed level creates a sense of acceptance through the lower levels; and essentially the future stars of football. With racial abuse contributing to 89% of all reports through Kick It Out, it shows that the game is tarnished from the lowest of levels all the way to a global scale.

youtube

Racism within the sport

youtube

This video suggests just how little the governing bodies (UEFA) care about such an important issue. A £10,000 fine for fans producing racist chants is a beyond miniscule amount for a club who produced record earnings of £18.4m in 2019. To put in to perspective, that is less than 1.3% of their highest paid players annual earnings. This is during a season where teams are being fined £50,000 for breaching advertisement regulations. Actions speak louder than words.

Racism in traditional Media

Could the traditional media be facilitating or even participating in racial abuse? There is an argument for it. In recent times it has been brought to light that the media; specifically, news sources display black athletes in a negative light.

Raheem Sterling through recent controversy has been at the forefront of the movement against the media, criticising its coverage of black players.

He has been the subject of many tabloid newspaper stories surrounding his actions outside of football. Most notably being targeted through a tattoo of a gun on his leg.

Through a forced explanation, saying that the tattoo is in memory of his father, who was a victim of gun violence. Sky Sports later apologised to Sterling, however it sparked a debate on the topic of black athletes media representation. This encouraged future posts about representation months later, where Sterling shared some passionate words on the topic, which has further been praised by other footballers such as Danny Rose, a black British athlete who has since been quoted that he ‘cannot wait for retirement’ due to racism in the sport.

You have two young players starting out their careers both play for the same team, both have done the right thing. Which is buy a new house for their mothers who have put in a lot of time and love into helping them get where they are but look how the newspapers get their message across for the young black player and then for the young white payer. I think this in unacceptable both innocent, have not done a thing wrong but just by the way it has been worded. (Raheem Sterling)

Can you spot the difference in the two articles?

The fans and social media

In recent years, social media has been weaponised and online racist abuse is at its peak. With players strongly supporting the idea that it facilitates this behaviour. There have been countless reports of racism through social media in recent years how ever a significant example can be found with Watford striker Troy Deeney, who although in an interview states he reported the abuse, nothing was done even after 6 months. Does the sport not care? Deeney later goes on to express his thoughts on why it is accepted.

“Brexit has brought racism to the surface,” he says. “But look back in history. For some people’s parents and grandparents, racism was normal. And they’re going to teach their children that it’s acceptable.” - Troy Deeney

This stronger defends Gary Neville’s comments on the sport accepting racism by reflecting wider society and current events.

Brandwatch; the digital consumer intelligence agency, provided an upsetting set of statistics through researching online abuse between 2018 and 2019. They found that abuse aimed at football teams on social media platforms including Twitter, Instagram and Facebook had seen an increase of 600-900%. This provided another angle that these players can be abused from. Not just while on the pitch, but from the comfort of their own home.

Fan culture racism

Most notably racism continues to plague stadiums around the world. 2019 alone was a calendar full of abusive incidents during games. From verbal abuse- Antonio Rudiger receiving monkey chants, to physical- Aubameyang Having a banana thrown at him, how are fans in one of the most diverse cities in the world producing such behaviour in today’s game?

A study which discussed whether English fans has had experienced racism and also if they thought that current anti-racist agendas were working concluded that; vven though British football has undergone huge transformations since the 1990s (both on and off the field), 83 per cent of the participants stated that racism remains culturally embedded.

Research

into lower level football suggests that although racism within fan culture is commonly seen only within people who stand outside the decent morality of reasonable people, in many incidents the simple conclusion is that since it is an issue caused by such an extremist minority it will never change its ways, ‘the best strategy is to simply ignore it’ (Müller, van Zoonen and de Roode, 2007).

What is in place, what more needs to be done?

No Football Association can force people to accept or appreciate differences in ethnicity… but efforts can certainly be made to encourage and foster respect for others. - Royal Dutch Football Association

Besides organisations such as Kick It Out and the ‘No to racism’ campaigns paving the way for a better future in the sport, movements has previously been made boycott social media with the #Enough campaign. This type of crusade only produces exposure for the cause, where as physical punishments such as the fines previously discussed are in essence, pointless to such wealthy clubs. In some cases, players have been removed and banned from stadiums; but this can only go so far, can we pin point these racists in a crowd of 30,000 EVERY time?

So, what else can be done?

It is a debate with equal sides for the idea that the players should unite in walking off the pitch if racist abuse is shown. one hand it is argued that as racism in football provides a vehicle for fascist movements to spread their message, this kind of act would only encourage the behaviour more. However it has become a more and more discussed tactic within British media and punditry which I agree with. Why should fans who cannot respect the players providing entertainment be allowed to watch the beautiful game, but what do you think? Does one person actions mean a stadium full of true supporters should be punished?

N0742905

#blacklivesmatter #football #kick it out #notoracism

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jkl-fff · 5 years

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Scooby-Doo “Gritty” Reboot Idea (part 1)

“Gritty” because it’d acknowledge some dark realities (like physical and emotional abuse especially of children, drugs and drug addiction, sex work, violence and death) and would deal with some darker lore. But all while still having goofy and slapstick overtones (a la Season 2 of “Gravity Falls”).

THE CHARACTERS:

Daphne African-American redhead, freckled, tall, slender, conventionally gorgeous.

She’s the only child from a wealthy family … but one that is, unfortunately, very christian-conservative and obsessed with their reputation as respectable; she’s always been pressured to conform to traditionally “feminine” and “christian” standards of behavior and appearance. As a result, she has flawless fashion sense and makeup skills, is an excellent dancer, singer, and pianist, and can navigate high society with ease … But also as a consequence, her “unfeminine” or “unchristian” inclinations (being assertive, liking combat sports, a fascination with the macabre, and not being 100% straight in both her sexuality and her identity) have been disparaged and discouraged, making her reticent about her true feelings and interests—she closes herself off from others and doesn’t share those parts of herself easily.

Her initial associations to the others were limited, since their families didn’t walk in the same social circles at all. However, she and Velma have some AP classes together, and often talk about paranormal and occult things.

Velma Latina-American, near-sighted, wavy haired, petite, chubby, cute as a particularly cute button.

Her parents are both lower income, always working to provide for her and her 5 siblings (she’s #3), so she’s grown up with a homelife that’s very loud, cramped, and … well, not *negligent* per se, because her parents do the best they can with the time they aren’t working … but let’s just say it’s a homelife without a lot of parental presence (they never have a lot of free time, plus she’s the middle child). Teachers became a kind of surrogate parent figure for her, which reinforces a pre-existing tendency to retreat into a world of books and school activities in order to have some personal space. On the plus side, this means she’s extremely intelligent and independent, and already a fantastic researcher. However, on the negative side, she’s an extreme perfectionist and somewhat desperate for approval from others, especially from authority figures (which leads to anxiety). Being shy, she doesn’t have the best social skills, and thus doesn’t have a lot of friends … thus hasn’t realized yet she’s bi/pan, and also demi.

Besides knowing Daphne from AP classes, she knows Fred because their dads work together and would drag the family to work-family functions. They both showed up to one with a book about supernatural stuff to read off in a quiet corner somewhere, and hit it off; they hang out every time they go to one of those functions, but aren’t in any of the same classes.

Fred European-American, blond and sorta-plain-sorta-cute, strong and burly, not particularly tall or thin.

Fred is the only son of a low-income widower, so he’s had to assist his father’s mechanical work from a young age. As a result, he’s now a pretty good mechanic in his own right. They’re close, but his father’s very much a “my way or highway” person; plus, since his father has some close-minded ideas about gender, Fred’s been pressured into stereotypical “masculinity” from a young age (camping, hunting, sports like football/baseball then wrestling and boxing when it was clear his physique was better suited to those, never showing “weak” feelings, etc.) with “girly” stuff that interested Fred (like fashion and acting, magic, the supernatural … and bi/pan attraction) being belittled to the point that he’s developed some self-loathing for even wanting to engage with them. He keeps doing so in secret, of course, he just also feels ashamed of it.

Besides knowing Velma, he’s lived on the same street as Shaggy and been in some of the same classes since they were 12 or so. They aren’t exactly friends, but they do more-or-less know each other.

Shaggy Asian-American, a lanky beanpole with a runner’s physique, handsome in an angular/bony way people either really like or don’t.

Because his parents died when he was 12, he’s being raised by his aunt and her “roommate” (lesbians in a smallish town gotta keep it on the DL). Both are extremely loving and supportive, which is good because the incident that killed his parents left him with some major issues: PTSD, panic attacks, depression and the like. They bought him a therapy dog, which has helped a lot in treating the more acute symptoms. They’ve taught him to try to talk about it, but sometimes the overwhelming pain of it makes him go mute; when he tries to express it artistically like they encourage him to do, the stuff he produces sometimes scares the heck out of him (he hates it, thus he hates the paranormal). His preferred coping methods are cooking then eating, or running; both have developed, actually, with him becoming an amazing cook … and being first in regional competitions for cross country and hurdles. While he’s not public about being attracted to boys as well as girls (because, again, smallish town), he has told his aunts, who are extremely loving and supportive about that, too (because they rock).

He sorta knows Fred because they’ve been neighbors and gone to the same school for years. His best friend is Scooby, his therapy dog.

Scooby A loveable but clumsy lummox of a Great Dane mix.

Shaggy’s therapy dog, he has an uncanny sense for when his boy needs him; on occasion, he has jumped the house’s fence and loped to the nearby school when his boy had a sudden panic attack. However, the aunts joke that the mixed part of his breed is with a Scaredy Cat, because he startles almost as easily as his boy does, is wary around strangers … and doesn’t seem to realize how huge he is (he will frequently try to climb into people’s laps, like a cat).

He is utterly devoted to Shaggy (and vice versa), but is otherwise just an ordinary dog … Or is he?

Their Roles in Mystery Inc.

Daphne: the Financier (pays for hotels and food) and later the Fighter (gets good at kicking ass), good at schmoozing witnesses, sometimes feels insecure like she only really contributes money

Velma: the Brains (researches, documents cases) and later the Bruja (experiments with magic and develops some skill), mostly an optimistic ray of sunshine, sometimes feels insecure like she’s always helpless

Fred: the Mechanic (owns the van and takes care of it) and the Muscle (stronk boi), good at pep talks, sometimes feels insecure like he only really contributes is their vehicle

Shaggy (with Scooby): the Medium (interact deeply with the spirit world, albeit unwillingly) and the Muse (the heart of the group—everyone luvs and proteccs), good at cooking and comedy, usually feels insecure all the time like he’s just useless in general and a coward

#scooby doo #alternate universe #gritty reboot #shaggy #scooby gang #fred jones #velma dinkley #fred scooby doo #velma scooby doo #daphne blake #daphne scooby doo #ghosts #ghost stories #supernatural #paranormal #occult #Magic #mystery inc #submission

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southeastasianists · 5 years

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The time has come where Philippine Rodrigo Duterte is no longer one of a kind. Last October, Brazil elected its very own populist, misogynist strongman in the form of Jair Bolsanaro.

The similarities could not be more pronounced. Both men ran on the promise of law and order, emerging from contexts plagued by crime and corruption. Both men are practicing penal or “criminal” populism. They are offering simplistic solutions to complex problems of development but what they have undertaken does not solve the issues of poverty, inequality, and corruption within their own countries.

The Philippines’ transition to democracy has left much to be desired. After the overthrow of President Ferdinand Marcos and the creation of a new constitution in 1987, the Filipino people hoped for a government that was free of corruption. However, the resultant People Power Government was ineffective and mired in scandal. As it stands, the Philippines has the highest level of poverty amongst ASEAN countries as well as the highest level of income inequality between the rich and the poor. This is attributed to widespread political corruption in the Philippines, which is suffocating the most marginalised communities. Before Duterte’s election, the Philippines saw an increase of 300% in serious crime from 2012–2014. In addition, the autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao is known for high levels of violent crime, murder, kidnapping and internal conflict. Duterte and other politicians have lobbied on the public’s fear of crime and drugs spreading across the country and into their communities.

Brazil’s transition to democracy has also been rocky. There has been tremendous growth in terms of wealth, but widespread poverty and inequality still plague the country. Brazil has one of the highest levels of urban poverty in Latin America and carries the same of having the highest levels of income inequality in the region. This is also attributed to corruption in government and business, which amount to an elite class of “Brazilianaires”. The well documented “Lavo Jato” anti-corruption campaign shed light on billions of reals in money laundering lining the pockets of politicians. Additionally, a record high 62,000 Brazilians died because of violent crime last year, including well known politician Marielle Franco. Seventeen of Brazil’s major cities are among the most dangerous in the world for violent crime. Undoubtedly, Brazil is becoming more dangerous and past administrations have failed to counter it.

There is no denying that the economic and safety issues of both countries contributed to the rise of these two populist strongmen. Duterte and Bolsonaro harnessed the frustration and fears of their citizens and rode on a wave of criminal populism. Their tough talk and rhetoric resonated with an electorate that was desperate for change.

Born into a political family, Duterte became the mayor of Davao City in 1988. Human rights groups claim his association to the Davao death squad, which targeted drug dealers, petty criminals, and even his political opponents leading to the death of over 1,400 people. Upon his nomination for president in 2015, Duterte emerged as a front runner because of his reputation for being tough on crime. He promised to kill over 100,000 criminals and dump their bodies in Manila Bay. He promised to rid the Philippine government of corruption in 3 months, by any means.

Despite or because of his inflammatory comments, he won the election in a landslide victory. Since Duterte’s election in 2016, over 4,200 people have been killed in anti-drug operations, with an additional 23,000 homicides under investigation. Human rights groups have condemned his actions and believe that the real numbers are much higher. Duterte has compared his war on drugs to Hitler, stating “he massacred 3 million Jews, there are 3 million drug dealers, I’d be happy to kill them.” Duterte extends no sympathy for whomever he labels as “criminal”, seemingly taking pride in their extinction. He now faces an inquiry for crimes against humanity from the international criminal court.

Jair Bolsonaro shares many similarities with Duterte. Bolsonaro has been a politician for over 27 years. He built a reputation as a controversial leader with his tough talk and provocative rhetoric. “A dead son is better than a gay one,” he once said.

As corruption scandals came to light and levels of violence reached new highs, Bolsonaro’s far right approach to these problems distinguished him from other politicians. He quickly became a front runner in the Brazilian election. Brazilians were tired of the scandal plagued Workers Party (PT). When Bolsonaro was pitted against the relatively unknown Fernando Haddad of PT in the presidential run-off, the contest became uncompetitive. Despite his ultra-conservative stances and controversial language, Brazilians were eager for someone to quell years of political instability.

Bolsonaro ran his campaign like Duterte’s. He focused on eliminating the country of corruption and crime. He promised to use the military to eradicate criminals. He wants to loosen gun regulations to allow people to defend themselves. Since his election, videos have emerged of police in Rio piling dead bodies into the back of vehicles. Politicians from Bolsonaro’s party praised the efforts to clean up the streets. He promises to fight violence, with violence.

Bolsonaro and Duterte have similar approaches of “cleaning up” their countries. They promise to do so with an iron fist. Nothing will stand in their way, not even the democratic traditions, norms, or constitutions of their states. They have degraded or threatened to purge their countries of the very institutions that make them a democracy. They are practicing creeping authoritarianism in their grasps of power, reminiscent of the dark days of authoritarian rule in both countries.

Duterte has attacked the press, even going so far as charging and arresting journalists critical of his government. He supports extra-judicial killings. He has declared martial law in parts of his country. He has ordered Congress to impeach a Supreme Court justice for having ideological differences. He has established a political climate of fear and faces limited opposition in congress. Duterte has all but eliminated the checks and balances established in the Philippine constitution. As it stands, there is very little to stop him or to oppose his mandate, and most people are too scared to speak out.

Bolsonaro has done or proposes to do similar things. He has attacked journalists and spewed the rhetoric of fake news. He has promised to relinquish control of the police and military, granting them less government oversight in their war on crime. He has appointed military figures to high government posts, including his vice president Antonio Hamilton Mourao, who admits that a “military coup could be a possibility” if crime continues to increase. Bolsonaro has stated that he has no trust in the Brazilian Congress or political system, threatening to shut it down or overthrow it. He has threatened his political rivals with jail. He opposes human rights and is pro-torture. He aligns more closely with military rule than to democratic order.

These two men rose to power as the world undergoes its own political transition. Donald Trump has praised Duterte and overlooks the criticism stemming from human rights organisations around the world. Bolsonaro also has a close relationship with Donald Trump, receiving the ultimate praise; a congratulatory phone call and tweet after his election. These three men have a strongman connection, empowering and emboldening one another’s dismantling of democratic order.

Ultimately, if the United States refuses to speak out against the erosion of democracy in these two countries and the extreme use of force against their own citizens, who will? And will anyone listen?

The main difference between Bolsonaro and Duterte involves the citizens of Brazil. The primary issue facing Bolsonaro, that Duterte does not have, is a large countermovement against him. The country was heavily divided in this election, and it is likely that his polling will look more like Donald Trump’s (40%) than to Duterte (upwards of 80%). He has yet to win over a large part of the country, and with his abrasive rhetoric, he most likely won’t.

This appeal of these strongmen is a part of the growing pains of these young democracies. It is a recognition of the failures of previous governments and demonstrates a need for change.

These men are practicing criminal populism. What they have undertaken does not solve the problems of poverty, inequality, and corruption within their own countries. They are simply lining their streets and favelas with dead bodies. They are fuelling a sense of fear and suppressing their people. Their campaigns hurt their most marginalised and disenfranchised citizens. Crime rates may drop, but extrajudicial murders and homicides will increase, and already have in the Philippines. The favelas may empty, but they will fill again unless the governments tackle the complex problems facing their societies.

Citizens must not turn a blind eye to authoritarians consolidating their power as days go by. Citizens deserve better. Killing is easy, especially if the targets are the marginalised, the poor—those whose lives are often taken for granted by societies willing to turn a blind eye. Many innocent people are suffering and will continue to suffer long after these strongman’s reigns are over.

#Southeast Asia #Philippines #Rodrigo Duterte #Latin America #Jair Bolsonaro #Authoritarianism #Populism #Politics #Democracy

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