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mountphoenixrp · 3 years

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We have a returning citizen in Mount Phoenix:

Lucas Walker, who is known by no other name; a 30 year old son of Lei King. He is a fighter at The Pits and bartender at Visión / Ilusión.

FC NAME/GROUP: Christian Yu/DPR/Ex C-Clown CHARACTER NAME: Lucas Walker AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: September 6, 1990 | 30 PLACE OF BIRTH: Central, Hong Kong | Sydney, Australia OCCUPATION: Fighter at the Pits and Bartender at Vision HEIGHT: 5'10" | 176cm WEIGHT: 165lbs | 75kg DEFINING FEATURES: He has a large amount of tattoos, his most prominent being his full sleeve on his left arm that leads to a floral piece on his chest and shoulder blade. On the inside of his left bicep is the date 12.12.19 which is the birthdate of his daughter Jasmine. He has a few other small tattoos scattered on his body. His nose is pierced, on the left side and his septum is pierced along with doubles in both his ears.

PERSONALITY: Lucas was exposed to the worst things the world has to offer a child at a very young age. Leaving him a tough exterior and an injured idea of self-worth. He was forced to grow up very quickly and at a young age. Outside he portrays this “pissed at the world”, harsh, unpredictable, man but inside he’s just scarred and bruised from so many things that are always out of his control. His skin is tough but his heart is big, warm, and ready to love. The birth of his daughter kinda snapped him into reality and removed him from the land of self pity and dropped him right in the middle of acting like a responsible adult. He’s still getting the hang of this whole fatherhood thing, trying to act less reckless and uncaged so that he can be there for his daughter.

HISTORY: tw: death, loss, gang violence, gun violence, physical violence, torture, ptsd

Lucas was born in Hong Kong on September 6th, 1990. He was born to a very young woman who was barely 18 and couldn’t even afford to take care of herself let alone a baby. She left him outside of her local hospital after having him secretly at home. There was nothing the staff could do except take him in, take care of him and hand him over to the local orphanage. At six months old, he was adopted by a sweet couple from Sydney, Australia. He lived with them happily until he was eight years old when they were killed in a home invasion, the suspects left him there terrified at what he had witnessed. He was found by his aunt, his mother’s sister and the police left him in her care. Once everything was said and done, Lucas’ aunt was given custody of him and the perpetrators were still at large after almost a year of searching. After this, his aunt became his whole world, a young woman at only 24 now taking care of a nine year old boy full time. The two were each other’s rocks during the entire healing process.

Both sets of his grandparents tried suing for custody of him but, in the end his aunt won out as the best place for him. She didn’t live far from his parents so he didn’t have to change schools or make new friends. His aunt’s friends always questioned why she was willing to take in a primary school aged kid at such a young age but, the two were best friends even before his parent’s murder. She couldn’t imagine anyone else taking care of him or raising him.

As a child, Lucas was quiet and usually kept to himself. Not because he didn’t want to interact with other kids but, because he just enjoyed his alone time. He was quiet in school but insanely smart, yet when teachers tried putting him into more advanced classes he chose to stay with his same age classmates. His aunt Gabrielle tried to get him into sports, music, and the arts but no. He just liked to read on his own, spending time off in his own little world or playing outside in the woods behind their house by himself. Around his tenth birthday things began to go downhill for the dynamic duo. Gabrielle lost her job as the lead secretary of a law firm and she ended up stuck waiting tables at a local 24 hour diner - from 7pm to 4am.

Gabrielle did everything she could to give Lucas the life she felt he deserved after that, doing they best they could when they had to downsize into a small one bedroom apartment and her working more hours to keep food on the table. It was so bad, Gabrielle ended up having to take on a second job after her parents refused to help her saying “she got herself into his mess on her own, she had to get her and the kid out of this mess on her own.” Lucas felt awful watching his aunt struggle to make ends meet and he tried everything he could to help out at home. He kept the apartment clean, babysat their neighbor’s kids, walked dogs, mowed yards, sold newspapers, and just about anything he could as an eleven year old in the rough part of the city they lived in. The only thing he didn’t do was fall in with the gangs that promised to help him and his aunt if he joined up with them…

Eventually by the time was 13 almost 14, doing odd jobs just wasn’t cutting it anymore for him and his aunt wouldn’t let him get a “real job” because it was her responsibility has his guardian to provide for him or whatever. He didn’t understand the pride she held about the subject so he went around her. He started selling homework and test answers at school, stealing petty things and selling them to his classmates for inflated prices, and he even learned how to give stick n poke tattoos for a price. Lucas wasn’t a stupid kid, he just worked with the resources he had. This line of work he got himself into at school eventually lead to him making friends with a couple other kids that belonged to the gang that lived on his block.

Inevitably those friendships lead to him joining the ranks and getting him paid to do things that would probably lead to his aunt murdering him on sight for being an utter imbecile. He was smart though and knew how to get out of things that would get him in over his head. However, by the time he was 16 this group of “friends” are what caused him to discover one of his divine abilities. At first Lucas always just thought that his high pain tolerance was just a cool thing about him, he could get hit and keep going, stub his toe and not feel a thing, get shoulder checked and only stumble without wincing. It wasn’t until he got stabbed for the first time at 16 that he had a realization that what he could do wasn’t normal. He got stitched up and moved right along his day and the gang leader decided to use this to his advantage. Lucas was recruited to the fighting ring, when he got found out.

He didn’t want to do it but, he’d make good money at the underground fighting ring. So he fought, and he did a damn good job at it too. Especially once he found out he could make his opponents keel over in pain that wasn’t physical. Lucas had no idea how he did it or why he could do it but, at this point he was just doing whatever her could to win because if he won he got paid and if he lost he’d get killed. Since beating him up wasn’t an option. Gabrielle was already suspicious of him when he started getting piercings, dying his hair, then getting tattoos but the real cherry on top of her anger was him pulling up to their apartment complex on a second hand motorcycle her got from a fight bet. His aunt went off on him that night and he had no other choice but to come clean about everything. However, he wasn’t the only one with a bombshell to drop…

His aunt admitted that she found his original adoption records when he was younger after the transfer of guardianship was complete and she needed all his documents. Apparently his birth-mother never listed a father on his birth certificate but his birth-father did contact his parents after his adoption. Leaving a letter to give to him when he either turned 18 or “got in trouble”. She’d read it out of curiosity and refused to believe the contents. It sounded crazy to her that his father was some old Chinese god, she only assumed he was on drugs or something and was delusional. Until Lucas admitted to what he could do and even showed her… Those things are just not possible for anyone human.

There was a return address in the letter, somewhere he’d never heard of but he responded anyways. Hoping to get some more guidance or some closure perhaps. Surprisingly, Lucas didn’t freak out with the news. Perhaps in the back of his mind he always had an inkling that he wasn’t the same as everyone else… like he was inhuman. He never received another letter from Lei King but he did receive a map that had a hand drawn picture of an island off the coast of Korea circled. He put the map away and chose to come back to it later.

When he was 18 his world crumbled underneath his feet. The underground fighting ring he was now the star of got busted by the police. The silver lining was that he was found not guilty by the jury of his peers. His defense attorney did well at convincing them that he only did what he did to survive and that he was coerced at a young age by the gang leader. He and many other members of the gang that were manipulated as kids came forward against the leader, landing him in prison for the rest of his life. Lucas didn’t know what to do with this new found freedom other than finish school. Once he was fully graduated he tried to figure out what to do with his life, he didn’t have many skills outside of crime and he honestly hadn’t planned on either being alive by now or not in prison himself. His aunt tried to convince him to go to university but he didn’t want to do that, there wasn’t anything he wanted to get a degree in that he cared about.

Instead, he chose to leave. He left Sydney and went as far as he could, landing him in New York City. He had enough money put away to get him a small apartment there to set up as a “base camp” of sorts. From there he began traveling all over the world, picking up photography and a pursuit of knowledge. On his travels, he met an interesting group of people. Shady people that reminded him very much of his old gang. They were in Scotland when he met them, and they were nice enough so he traveled with them a bit. One night, the “leader” got a bit too drunk and began to spill some secrets, secrets that Lucas just couldn’t stomach.

You see, this group he stumbled upon were the same people that murdered his adopted parents right in from of his eyes as a child - and they were proud of it. When the cocky leader spilled the beans while intoxicated, Lucas steeled himself and held onto that information like a lifeline. He integrated himself with these people slowly, over a few weeks while back packing around Scotland with them. Eventually, Lucas found the perfect time to strike. One night when they were all camping together, Lucas waited until they were all asleep and started them all awake with a gunshot. Over the entirety of the night, Lucas tied up the group, beat them all with only his bare fists, and tortured all of them mentally until they admitted to remembering him as a child. When all was said and done, the group was left mentally broken, unable to properly function as people. He cleaned up his things, called for help, told the police of their crimes and got the hell out of there and out of the country.

After that he went back to New York, cleaned out his apartment and headed back to Sydney. The things he’d just done changed him inside, a dark spot on his soul seemed to only grow bigger. He never told his aunt what he did, or why he was so broken when he finally came home. He hadn’t been home in almost six years and now here he was showing up on her door step, a broken and traumatized man. While he was away his aunt got married to a beautiful and kind woman named Erica. Lucas apologized immensely for missing the wedding, he was in Mongolia at the time he got the invitation and couldn’t get out of the mountains until after the event passed. They were understanding and easily took him into their arms and comforted him.

Now, at 27 years old with no idea what else to do with his life. He started going to therapy but even he didn’t know where to begin to heal from everything that had been nonstop traumatizing in his life. He started working as a bartender to pass the time and make a bit of extra cash, working as a photographer, and doing legal fights here and there. He’s eased into a pretty calm time of his life where he’d finally started to heal. Then to top it all off, he fell in love. It was a passionate and all encompassing kind of love, the kind where they were actively planning their future together, ready to be in it for the long hall. Less than a year together and they were married, it was the happiest they had ever been in their lives. She was an old friend of his and they’d known each other their wholes lives practically. Once they got closer while working together and the bar they both bartended at, that was it. They were head over heels.

They were happily married for almost a year when his wife got pregnant with their little girl in 2018. It was a huge accomplishment for the two of them, going from being the worst examples of humanity as teens to happily married and starting a family together. They were beyond overjoyed and Luke was more than excited to become a father. However, nothing could have prepared them for the struggle his wife would go through while pregnant. Her health continued to decline as the pregnancy went on but, she refused to end it and save herself. Luke begged her to not go through with it, the doctor’s told her she probably wouldn’t survive but she decided to chose her baby over her own health. In the end, on December 12th, 2019 Jasmine Elaina Walker was born, perfectly healthy. As happy as Luke was to hold his baby girl in his arms, nothing prepared him for holding his wife’s hand as she slowly passed away…

It was hard. Hard to act like he wasn’t dying inside everyday because his wife was gone, all while taking care of a newborn and trying not to have a full on breakdown. His aunts were his backbone the first few months as he got back on his feet. His wife’s family was practically nonexistent, leaving him and his aunts alone to raise a baby on their own.

Luke has a very high pain tolerance but the pain of losing his wife was not something his divine abilities could help him with this time…

The first six months of Jasmine’s life was rough, Luke was dealing with both the grief of losing the love of his life while doing everything he could to be there for Jasmine. On the days he just didn’t want to get out of bed, when all he wanted to do was cry, Jasmine was there - always needing her father so he had no time to wallow in his misery. He had to get up, had to get dressed, had to shower, had to function. He had to go to work to keep her fed, to keep buying her diapers, to keep a roof over her head, and to keep her happy and healthy. Of course, his aunts helped out all they could and he couldn’t possibly explain how thankful he is for them. After Jasmine’s first birthday he was cleaning house and he found the map given to him by Lei King when he was a teenager, he did some research and found nothing until he one day got a letter from Hera who was supposedly on the City Council of this island he was skeptical even existed. She spoke to him and told him all about the city just for gods and other demigods like him.

Suddenly, Lucas go this overwhelming desire to go there. He needed to get away from Sydney, he needed to get them out of the house that he bought with his late wife. They needed a fresh start and this island seemed like a good place to give that a try. His aunts were worried about him leaving but, understood why he needed to go and why he needed to get away. They were worried about him obviously but, he got child care set up with Hera before he even moved. Having a barely one year old and becoming a full time single parent scared him but, he knew he could do it. By moving to this new city and finding new people to surround himself with, new places to explore, and new experiences to be had with his little girl. He was both terrified and excited to see what was in store with them on this fancy hidden island.

PANTHEON: Chinese CHILD OF: Lei King POWERS: He has extremely high pain tolerance and can induce psychogenic pain in others. He also has the ability to call upon the sound of thunder at will. STRENGTHS: Intelligent, Adventurous, Creative WEAKNESSES: Impulsive, Stubborn, Reckless

#kpop rp #krp #christian yu #dpr ian #dpr #mp; welcome

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idlnmclean · 4 years

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Abolish Colonial Law Enforcement

The Police are Not Required to Protect You

“To Protect and to Serve[1]” – the ubiquitous creed emblazoned across millions of police cars throughout Los Angeles and indeed the United States. This motto is consistent with the common belief that police officers as well as other law enforcement officers are here to protect us. After all, we are all taught to dial 9-1-1 when we need help. Subject to narrow exceptions[2], the United States Constitution does not require law enforcement officers to protect you from other people, according to the U.S. Supreme Court. This notion contradicts our engrained perceptions, but it’s still the law today.

In the 1989 landmark case of DeShaney v. Winnebago County Department of Social Services, the U.S. Supreme Court held that the failure by government workers to protect someone (even 4-year-old Joshua DeShaney) from physical violence or harm from another person (his father) did not breach any substantive constitutional duty.[3] In this case, Joshua’s mother sued the Winnebago County Department of Social Services, alleging it deprived Joshua of his “liberty interest in bodily integrity, in violation of his rights under the substantive component of the Fourteenth Amendment’s Due Process Clause, by failing to intervene to protect him against his father’s violence.”[4] While the Department took various steps to protect Joshua after receiving numerous complaints of the abuse, the Department took no actions to remove Joshua from his father’s custody.[5] Joshua became comatose and extremely retarded due to traumatic head injuries inflicted by his father who physically beat him over a long period of time.[6]

Nevertheless, the Court found that the government had no affirmative duty to protect any person, even a child, from harm by another person. “Nothing in the language of the Due Process Clause itself requires the State to protect the life, liberty, and property of its citizens against invasion by private actors,” stated Chief Justice Rehnquist for the majority, “even where such aid may be necessary to secure life, liberty, or property interests of which the government itself may not deprive the individual” without “due process of the law.”[7]

The DeShaney decision has been cited by many courts across the nation and reaffirmed by the U.S. Supreme Court. Namely—on June 27, 2005, in Castle Rock v. Gonzales, the U.S. Supreme Court again ruled that the police did not have a constitutional duty to protect a person from harm.[8] The decision overturned a federal appeals court ruling which permitted a lawsuit against the town of Castle Rock for the police’s failure to respond after Jessica Gonzales tried to get the police to arrest her estranged husband Simon Gonzales for kidnapping their three daughters (ages 7, 8, and 10) while they were playing outside, in violation of a court-issued protective order.[9] After Simon called to tell Jessica where they were at (in Denver at an amusement park), for hours she pleaded for the police to arrest Simon.[10] But, the police failed to act before Simon showed up at the police department and started shooting inside, and with the bodies of the 3 children in the trunk of his car.[11]

In her suit against the town, Jessica argued that the protective order stating “you shall arrest” or issue a warrant for arrest of a violator and that it gave her a “property interest” within the meaning of the 14th Amendment’s Due Process guarantees, which prohibits the deprivation of property without due process.[12] By framing their case as one of procedural Due Process and not of substance, Jessica and her lawyers had hoped to get around the 1989 DeShaney precedent. To no avail, the U.S. Supreme Court saw little difference between this case and the DeShaney case.[13] Justice Antonin Scalia, writing for the majority, stated that Ms. Gonzales did not have a “property interest” in enforcing the restraining order and that “such a right would not, of course, resemble any traditional conception of property.”[14] [15] The Court went on to reaffirm the DeShaney ruling that there is no affirmative right to aid by the government or the police found in the U.S. Constitution, and thus no legal recourse could be brought thereunder.[16] The “no duty to protect” rule remains unwavering and the law today.

Needless to say, the stories of Joshua DeShaney and Jessica Gonzales’ three daughters (and countless similar stories) are saddening, and the rulings seem to be at odds with our common and fundamental understanding that the police are here to ensure our safety and provide protection. One need only look to the door of a Los Angeles police cruiser to find those reassuring words. However, those words are misleading in light of these Supreme Court rulings.

Though alarming, we simply have no affirmative right to police aid, even when a person, including a helpless child, faces imminent danger. We are all responsible for our own personal safety, whether we like it or not.

— By Keobopha Keopong, Esq., Barnes Law

https://www.barneslawllp.com/blog/police-not-required-protect

Cops are statistically more likely to murder you, rape you, sexually assault you, steal from you, break your things, damage your property, destroy your communities, imprison you, traffick you, or torture you than just about any other criminal class.

People upon hearing “abolish police” often counter about who will deal with domestic abuse calls or rape or murders or some other heinous crime? 40% of cops are reported domestic abusers, and we can infer that the number is significantly higher than what is reported. Most human trafficking in the US is through prisons or through industries adjacent to law enforcement, prisons, or their organized criminal networks. A significant chunk of the serial rapists turn out to be cops, and they operate for decades because they are protected by other cops who basically routinely engage in obstruction of justice for their cop buddies and for their friends and families.

Almost no rapes that are reported are properly investigated from report to conviction.

You are more likely to die of a cop attacking you than of any terrorist attack including mass shootings by white supremacists. Cops are more likely to be white supremacists than the average person.

Cops are not required to know or even necessarily obey the law. The legal expectation is that you will somehow drag them before a court with a qualified lawyer, and you will argue the finer points of a legal case before a judge. Cops are defaulted to be assumed to be following the law until and unless someone can adequately document it to the satisfaction of the court system.

Cops generally have some form of qualified immunity.

Qualified immunity is a legal doctrine in United States federal law that shields government officials from being sued for discretionary actions performed within their official capacity, unless their actions violated "clearly established" federal law or constitutional rights.[1] It is intended to protect officials who "make reasonable but mistaken judgments about open legal questions",[2] extending to "all [officials] but the plainly incompetent or those who knowingly violate the law".[3] Qualified immunity applies only to government officials, and does not protect the government itself from suits arising from officials’ actions.[4]

The U.S. Supreme Court first introduced the qualified immunity doctrine in 1967, originally with the rationale of protecting law enforcement officials from frivolous lawsuits and financial liability in cases where they acted in good faith in unclear legal situations.[5][6] Starting around 2005, courts increasingly applied the doctrine to cases involving the use of excessive or deadly force by police, leading to widespread criticism that it, in the words of a 2020 Reuters report, "has become a nearly failsafe tool to let police brutality go unpunished and deny victims their constitutional rights".[6]

The courts generally favor the police and range from grossly corrupt to grossly incompetent.

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#abuse #police riot #2020

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solarflaresrp · 3 years

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Below the cute you will find overviews of each planet and settlement within Sol. These overviews by no means covers the entirety of each location’s lore, however, it will give enough information to start brewing those character ideas!

EARTH

There is no one alive that remembers Earth as the small blue marble floating through space.

Innovation came to a halt with the outbreak of World War III. In the wake of the third World War, most of North America, central Europe were left completely uninhabitable through nuclear warfare. Whatever damage the climate crisis had done, the war finished, leaving the rest of the world in a constant overcast and constant acid rains. Even after three centuries there are large swaths of Earth that are uninhabitable, leaving Terrans to live on top of one another in the Safe Zones.

When the last of Terran companies took their business off planet, Earth’s economy plummeted and created an even bigger wealth gap between the rich and poor. With conditions on Earth becoming even more dire, a mass migration to Luna and Mars took place. The price was high however, and those who could not afford it or work on the colonies were left behind.

Government systems, while they still exist, have dissolved and have very little power and influence over their people. Large cities, such as Cairo, Buenos Aires, and Seoul, have morphed into city states, their infrastructure nearly breaking under the weight of the population. Most people still on Earth are considered part of the working poor and will most likely never see space.

Because of this, Mars’ military is able to recruit Terrans heavily with the promise of Martian citizenship after their contract ends. While some are able to get it, most return to Earth, as their contracts did not meet the minimal conditions required by Mars’ government.

Terrans know they have been forgotten and left to rot by the other settlements, only useful to outlaws on the run from Luna or Mars. Those who claw their way off Earth are often looked down on by the rest of Sol. But Terrans are resourceful and hardened by their experiences on the planet that gave birth to humanity.

LUNA

Luna comprises six sectors, each one governed by a Luminary and represented by five Ataraxia on a federal level. They are very proud of their status as the oldest human settlement off Earth, though don’t mention how they only have Mars beat by a scant few months, you’ll get some nasty looks.

Their history is almost entirely uneventful, except for a year long, bloody revolt to gain their independence from the Terran governments just over a hundred years after the first settlement was established. Ultimately though, Earth’s weakening state allowed Lunites to establish their own government, their own laws, customs, and culture.

Due to the lack of atmosphere, Lunite cities are entirely domed. Though, several cities also span several miles under ground as well, especially as the population on Luna increased over the last couple centuries. Many of those who live in the underground portions of the domed cities have unfortunately been disproportionally those of a lower socioeconomic status, which as led to an uptick in crime over the last several decades.

In efforts to make ends meet, a red light district has dominated the largest underground neighborhood on Luna, drawing in visitors from all over Sol. Prostitution while not inherently illegal on Luna, is incredibly frowned upon and considered to be Terran-like.

All cities are found on the side of the moon that faces Earth, though that isn’t to say Lunites haven’t found uses for the dark side as well. Primarily the dark side of Luna is used for scientific research, military training, and for Light Races.

MARS

Of all the human settlements across the solar system, Mars is by far the wealthiest and most powerful. While Terran governments turned their attention and focused on settling Luna, the wealthiest Terran families with incredible influence and power turned their eyes on Mars. These families are known as the Founders, and to this day hold incredible power and influence over all Martians. Some revere them, others despise their existence, there is no in between.

The first settlements had two massive failures that lead to loss of life, but the Martians bounced back and their cities are among the most technologically advanced due to their desire to protect Martian lives.

About a hundred years after Mars stabilized the Martian government changed their focus to terraforming the planet, beginning with strengthening the atmosphere so it can withstand the solar winds that ripped it away and turned it into the dry, dusty landscape it is now. However, in the two hundred so odd years since scientists began this terraforming process, only a handful of cities across Mars are not entirely domed.

These cities reside in mostly the eastern provinces Valtameri, Aigean, and Tethys and require daily oxygen tablets in order to move around outside the domes for long periods of time. Many of the poorer working class Martians live in these dusty cities and are supplied the necessary tablets from the companies they are employed by. However, these tablets often lead to long term complications and lose their effectiveness over time. Many of these Dust Cities are also where many of the Terran’s the Martian military recruits are sent to live when they are not stationed on a fleet ship.

(The wealthy receive a cocktail mix of serums that allow their body to naturally produce more oxygen and process out the dust in the air without any side effects.)

UNITED STATIONS

What began as a collective agreement to mine the asteroids for resources that Earth could no longer provide has now turned into four massive stations that have become their own independent entity from Luna and Mars. Thanks to technological advances and Martian wealth, each station is capable of sustaining hundreds of thousands of citizens between them. It was a struggle to gain their independence, as Mars had incredible wealth and power poured into each station, but ultimately Stationers realized that they could bleed Martians dry by cutting off access to the mined resources.

(After all, Martians didn’t know how to navigate the complicated flight paths to avoid total destruction of a ship and its crew. And if Stationers gave them false flight plans, well, it only helped ensure their upper hand.)

After Mars relented officially and independence was won, the stations were faced with the choice to become four independent settlements or unite under one metaphorical flag. In the end, many stationers were in agreement that unifying was the only way to ensure Mars didn’t attempt to regain control in the future. With access to important resources in the asteroid belt, the United Stations brokered treaties and trade agreements with Mars, Luna, and even Earth firmly solidifying their position in the solar system.

While each station now does a little bit of everything, the United Stations kept the original purpose each ship was built for. However, ten years ago the fifth ship, Poseidon was lost in orbit and forced the United Stations to quickly refit the Hermes Station to accommodate Poseidon’s loss without losing profits.

The truth of Poseidon’s loss is whispered behind closed doors and those who had family members on the station hold a festering resentment for the cover up and every year on the date of Poseidon’s loss, many stationers travel to the capital city on Hermes to demand answers. As the years have gone by though, the amount of stationers that travel to Hermes has dimensioned greatly.

The Stations:

Demeter (Agriculture) — Produces most of the Stations food supply. Has the fewest “cities” within the station, instead many fields can be found with residents spread out on many of the levels. Most residents are considered “simple folk” as they are known for rarely traveling outside their station.

Hermes (Technology, Government, and recently: Shipbuilding) — Most of the solar system’s androids and synthetics are built on Hermes and they constantly push the technological boundaries to create new tech for themselves and other settlements. Due to having the largest city among the stations and its location among the other stations.

Apollo (Medical, includes manufacturing prosthetics) — While each station has several medical centers and hospitals of their own, Apollo is home to the best hospitals, clinics, and research opportunities for the medical profession. As a result of this, these residents tend to be the healthiest of all the stationers and as a result are among the wealthiest too.

Hera (Textiles such as clothing and cloth based goods) — The best fashion in all of Sol is created on Hera station, anyone who wants to be a household designer name comes to Hera to study under the best of the best. Of course, the grimy underside of that is the factories that pay among the worst wages outside Earth to worker who put the clothing together. Often referred to as the two faced station, residents are either among the well off or among the exploited.

Poseidon (Formerly: Shipbuilding) — The Lost Station. Before its loss a decade ago, most of Poseidon’s residents were made up of those who were criminals forced into labor to pay for their crimes or engineers that were constantly pushing the boundaries of what space traveling ships could accomplish. Similar to Hera, these two different worlds within the station were sharp contrasts of each other and often led to issues on the station. While everyone in Sol has been told an unfortunate accident occurred, the truth is a parasite wormed its way onto the staton via corner creepers and is turning those unfortunate enough to be exposed to this parasite to lose all sense of themselves, whittled down to the barest of human instincts, which often means once infected one turns into a violent hive minded zombie like being. Rovers have begun calling them “Hivers”.

EUROPA

Once it became clear that humanity was going to sustain permanent life off Earth, scientists on Luna and Mars eagerly awaited the moment they could send humans into the outer reaches of Sol and gather first hand scientific research rather than through robotic rovers. It took nearly three hundred years, but finally Europa was established as a scientific outpost by Luna. The journey to Europa was long and the original settlers spent weeks drilling through the huge ice sheets to establish the underwater domes.

Over the next hundred years, scientists and their families expanded and the prospect of a new life in a brand new settlement drew many from across Sol, especially Luna citizens who were desperate to get out of the underground cities. Despite the blue collar and white collar workers settling on Europa, the main occupation most Europans have falls within the sciences. Many study the organic lifeforms that have evolved in the massive ocean, in attempts to better understand how life on Earth perhaps began as well.

In the last thirty years, rising tension with Luna has shifted public opinion of the settlement that technically controls them. Europans pride themselves on their resilience and ability to push the scientific boundaries, many of them have zero interest in getting involved with the complicated political dynamic between the United Stations, Mars, and Luna.

ENCELADUS

Established as Mars’ response to Luna reaching into the stars for hands-on scientific research and for the first fifty years, remained purely a scientific outpost but now has become more about selling a destination vacation to Sol residents. Much like Europa, Enceladus is covered in snow and ice, though the moon’s surface isn’t as harsh as Europa’s allowing domed cities to be built above ground and utilize the planet’s seas and hydrothermal vents as a constant source of energy.

Due to the fact Encleadus is the smallest and most distant settlement in Sol, they are the slowest to get the latest and greatest technological advancements. Enceladites are viewed as rural and a bit “slow” though their reputation is still far, far better than Terrans. And many of them are quite content with this view and are happy to leave the tourists with their flashiness to take advantage of the snowy slopes while they go about their life. Many brilliant minds live on Enceladus and want to simply be left alone to do their research.

Unfortunately, over the last decade, Mars has begun to defund the research centers and shift their investments into the resorts that take advantage of the snowy landscape and slopes found in the south pole of the moon, where tourists can also witness the phenomenal views of Saturn. This has led to increased frustration among Enceladites who come from the original families of scientists, feeling as though all their hard work has been spat on.

#update #preview #solarflaresrp

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tanadrin · 4 years

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How /did/ things change after 2001? I was born in that year and everyone says it was different before, but I've never really gotten a sense of how.

It is difficult for me to emphasize just how different the world you see on the evening news is now, from what it was like before 2001, at least as I remember it. There’s a scene in Farscape, where after years of trying to get home, the astronaut protagonist John Crichton finally makes it back to Earth with his alien friends in tow, and when he’s reunited with his father, he’s shocked to discover his dad has gone from this optimistic, forward-looking, hopeful dreamer to a nervous, jingoistic conservative. His attitude is basically, “yes, there’s dangerous aliens out there who may or may not be trying to kill us--but the galaxy is a place full of wonders you’ve never dreamed of.” His father, in the meantime, has retreated from his hopes for a science-fiction future, and views his new alien friends with suspicion.

It’s not a subtle metaphor, but it’s true. The 90s--at least in the US, at least as I remember them--were a relentlessly optimistic period. Even if things were not yet at their ideal state, there was very much a sense they were heading there; politics was mostly down to what exact flavor of the neoliberal consensus you preferred, Clinton or Bush, and the international triumph of liberal democracy was either a fait accompli (cf. the erstwhile USSR), or just around the corner (cf. hopes for China’s liberalization in the wake of market reforms). Yes, in retrospect, this was kind of a dumb world view. If you actually lived in Russia in the 90s--to say nothing of the Balkans--it was a rough decade, and a lot of the relentless optimism of the period in the United States was down to the privileged position we viewed the world from.

The blunting of that optimism--the reminder that we were still embedded in history, and the final triumph of everything good and just was not foreordained--would not in itself have been a catastrophe. Terrorism was not a strange concept in the 90s, and even Al-Qaeda-style terrorism had its predecessors in attacks on American ships and embassies. 9/11 itself was confusing and chaotic and sad, but 9/11 wasn’t the catastrophe. The catastrophe came after, in how we responded.

I think something broke in America between 1945 and 1991. Something shifted, in a nasty way we didn't realize while we were occupied with communism and stagflation and the civil rights movement. I don't mean to say that America before 1945 was the Good Guys. But the American state and the American political class viewed the world with... humility? Like, sure, the can-do Yankee spirit before 1945 had its own special kind of arrogance (and greed, and hideous bigotry), but it still thought of the world in terms of obligations we owed other countries. By the time the Cold War ended, and the US was the sole remaining superpower, that wasn't how we viewed the world. It was still sort of how we told each other, and our children, what the world was like. We certainly talked a big game about democracy and human rights. But as soon as that principled stance was tested, we folded like a cheap suit. What we should have done after 9/11 was what we had done after every terrorist incident in or against the United States before then: treated it like the major crime it was, sent a civilian agency like the FBI in to investigate, and pursue the perpetrators diplomatically. What we did instead was treat it like the opening salvo of a war--in fact, invented a war to embed it within, to give ourselves narrative justification for that stance--and crank every element of paranoid jingoism instantly up to 11. It has never abated since.

Some of this is the little things. The TSA and the Department of Homeland Security--a name I thought was creepy Orwellian shit right from the get-go. The terror alert levels. (God! remember those?) The fact that airport security--despite being just as ineffective today as it was on September 12--is still routinely humiliating and invasive and just a total waste of everybody’s time. Some of it is the big things. The way security, and the need for security, trumps all other demands including the state’s obligation to protect civil rights. And the fact that this just isn’t even up for debate anymore. 9/11, as Chomsky presciently observed, was a boon for authoritarians everywhere. Suddenly, “counterterrorism” was the magic word that let you get away with anything, like “anti-communism” twenty years prior. At the most extreme end, this led to things like anti-atheism laws being promulgated in Saudi Arabia in the name of “counterterrorism,” but you don’t have to go that absurd to find ways in which the security state has fostered authoritarianism. In every aspect of our lives, this new, fearful outlook on the world justified a gradual ratcheting down of freedom, the gradual empowerment of petty tyrants everywhere, and the weak protests, fading into silence, of people who still believed in liberty as an important organizing principle for modern society. It wasn’t even that you’d get called a terrorist-sympathizer or anything that blatant. It just ceased to be regarded as important. It wasn’t that you were wrong, or misguided, or evil. You were just a non-serious person, someone whose opinion was clearly irrelevant, whose head was permanently in the clouds, if you thought that stuff still mattered. And that never went away.

And I think a big part of what changed between 1945 and 1991 was that the US started to believe its own jingoism. When did this start? Vietnam? Earlier? Korea? I don’t know. It’s hard to pinpoint, given that my understanding of the cultural zeitgeist of the decades before I was born mostly came from my dad’s old Doonesbury collections. I don’t know how to describe what we became--what we, hideously, revealed ourselves to be--except as a kind of machismo. A kind of ruthless, General Ripper-esque us-versus-them psychosis that gripped us where the Soviets were concerned, and never let up. And we still believe it. It still infects every atom of our political discourse. We don’t question the necessity of drone strikes, only who to drone strike and how much. We don’t really question the massive powers we’ve afforded the executive branch to wage war and conduct espionage--including kidnappings and torture--and we’ve kind of forgotten that we still have a prison camp in Cuba full of people who have never been convincted of any crime. In a way, we lost faith in law entirely: by God, we couldn’t try terrorists in American courts! (Why not? What’s wrong with American courts? Don’t we have faith in our own laws, at least?) No, justice wasn’t a matter for the law to decide anymore. Justice was a matter for the military only: justice came in the form of strength of arms. Ergo, shooting Bin Laden in the head and calling that justice; ergo, Jack Bauer; ergo, blowing up Yemeni weddings. Keep America Safe. I can’t begin to tell you how alienating and horrifying so much of the last 20 years has been, if the most consequential news stories of your childhood were the OJ Simpson murders and a discussion of the President’s cum stain.

In my opinion, the seminal text of the post-9/11 world was released in the year 2000. In the original Deus Ex video game, the year is 2150, and the world is a dark, depressing place. You, the game’s hero, work (initally) for a UN counterterrorism agency while a plague ravages the world. You hunt terrorists whose existence has provided the justification for an authoritarian crackdown on dissidents everywhere. You visit a Hong Kong firmly under the control of the CCP, you fight genetically engineered mutants created by huge businesses run amok, FEMA (no DHS then) controls the federal government, and, it turns out later in the game, the bombing of the Statue of Liberty that precipitated the creation of your organization was a false-flag attack used to justify its existence in the first place. Drones patrol the streets of NYC, and the whole thing is steeped in late-90s militia movement-style conspiracy theories about the Illuminati and the New World Order, that look weirdly out of place now that these things are more clearly aligned in the popular consciousness with right wing extremism, when back then they were just seen as kooky weirdos in Montana--but every year since then, we’ve been inching closer and closer to that world, and you know what? It wigs me out a little.

In 2000, Deus Ex was an absurdity, a fever dream of cyberpunk and early-internet conspiracism. It’s a shame that tonally speaking it’s been dead on for the two decades after. But honestly, I think the biggest thing that’s changed about the world since 2001 is our cultural capacity for optimism. I don’t mean in a sentimental way--although if you compare other texts heavily influenced by the post-2001 political milieu, you definitely see a sharp contrast with the optimism of cultural artifacts from earlier eras; science fiction was hit especially hard in this area (cf. RDM’s version of Battlestar Galactica). But I also mean this in a political/ideological sense. We cease to imagine that the world can be made better. We cease to imagine the possibilities that are afforded to us if we are willing to strive for our ideal society, even if we, personally, may never reach it. We make deals with the devil, we let the CIA violate the constitution and federal law six ways from Sunday, we don’t question the prevailing political-economic consensus even if it’s setting the planet on fire and pitching us headlong toward social disaster, because we forgot what it was to feel like those sunlit uplands we’ve been hoping for were just around the corner.

In the same way that my Catholic faith was eventually done in because the ethical principles I was taught were at odds with the manifest monstrosity of the organization that taught them to me and the metaphysics it espoused, my patriotism and my faith in America was done in because when I was a schoolkid, I really did believe that democracy and human rights and equality under the law were important. Some people probably had their illusions--if they ever had any--about the US government stripped away long ago, but I was a white kid from a reasonably prosperous part of town, so it took until the 2000s and my growing political awareness to realize just how flimsy these principles were when they were put to any kind of test. It made me angry; it still makes me angry. I was raised to believe there are some principles that are important enough that you don’t compromise them ever, no matter how scared or worried you are. Just as I was old enough to understand what was going on on the evening news, the United States betrayed everything I had been taught the United States stood for. And as a nation, we never turned back; we never apologized; we never repented. America, as an abstract entity, never was what I thought it was as a kid. But I think it could still become that, if it tried. Alas, very few people seem to believe such a thing is possible anymore. Most days, I’m not sure I do, either.

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champagnesuperhoeva · 4 years

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Seasonal depression is on its way back, so why not analyze another scene from Red Dead Depression 2???????

I’ve been meaning to do another screeching ramble about one of Red Dead Redemption 2′s many incredible scenes, but just couldn’t put my finger on which one. So I threw a rock and hit the Saint Denis bank robbery, that’s the story

strap in, motherfuckers, it’s time to regret the concept of empathy

It is such a missed opportunity that we weren’t able to chaperone the girls as they went about putting on their various bullshit personas to gather reconnaissance. I want to see Tilly reading a newspaper with glasses, a fake nose and a mustache

Something Red Dead Redemption 2 spoiled me on is just how much ROI they squeeze into every last line of dialogue. Not a single word feels generic or hamfisted. Every sentence, every twitch and blink, adds up to a greater whole. The more I watch, the more I unearth. There are several AAA titles that frequently get painted with the ‘Good Dialogue’ brush like Uncharted that don’t hold a candle to Rockstar’s work here.

Take Hosea grilling Dutch here, for example:

Dutch acquiescing to Hosea’s justified criticism is depressing in its hindsight. Sir Spam der Linde is an arrogant blowhard that could give Dr. Gregory House a run for his money...and yet he still mumbles and bows his head when being told he needs to get his shit together. Compare this to earlier in the game, when he was snipping at both Hosea and Arthur for all their doubts and questions. Double that for the camp interactions you can find where Dutch and Hosea argue about the Blackwater Heist.

Is reality finally sinking in a little for our manic pixie dream man? Does he just have a hard time bullying Hosea, who’s around 5,000 years old and doesn’t give a fuck? For every answer you get, you get another question...and I fucking love it. This character -- and the series at large -- toes the razor-thin line between transparent portrayals and thicc layers of intrigue. This kind of carefully sewn subtlety is sorely lacking in not just videogames, but mainstream media in general. Sometimes I still can’t believe I got to experience this game.

This little scene is just one of many ingredients to make you wonder that, if the bank job had turned out all right...if Dutch really would’ve started changing for the better.

Arthur clutching his belt buckle like he clutches my neck in my dreams

So the plan is made and the cowboys are off to Sand Penis, and I bet nobody in the history of the world has made that joke before

Just the build-up to the bank sends goosebumps up my arms.

Even with apprehension in the back of your mind, it’s hard not to get sucked into the whirlwind of adrenaline here. You have each member playing their part, from Abigail as the helpless damsel to Charles and Bill as crowd control. Great back-and-forth dialogue as characters anticipate what’s about to happen (with some delicious doubting from John). It’s like a group project, except you don’t want to slap your partners!!!*

*except micah ‘I Haven’t Scrubbed My Nailbeds In Fifty-Three Years’ bell

Fun fact: if Dutch hadn’t said ‘one last time’, the bank robbery would’ve been a success. Should’ve browsed TVTropes.

The direction of this game remains impeccable.

This is a simple shot of a few dudes riding their horse...and it’s made just that much grander by the camera angles, slung low to the ground to create a stronger sense of scale. With the tense drums in the backing track and the sudden quiet that’s befallen our beloved anti-heroes, this provides the perfect finishing touches to one of the most memorable and stressful parts of the game:

The runway.

We start off this display of cowboy couture with Dutch Fam Der Linde, well-known in the West for wearing crushed velvet while hiking the open trail. Dashingly long coattails make up the bulk of this iconic look, with a sexy pop of red to round it all out. A complimentary red bandana lined with a hint of gold brings out the buttons, chain and belt buckle. Very regal. Much fucky. Still want to slap him for future crimes, so 9/10

A surprising comeback from the man who invented skid marks. Lavender pinstripes add a splash of character on an otherwise minimalist black ensemble. Complimentary silver bow on the hat and dark bandana makes me uncomfortably wet, so 9.5/10, would leer again

A classic suit with just a touch of more. A wide velvet collar with matching velvet cuffs create a refined softness, contrasting the gold buttons and dramatic coattails. Shoes shiny. Skin moisturized. Even his everyday ponytail looks fancier than ever. 15/10, if Javier kicked over my sandcastle I’d thank him

What are those????????? I think Bill got pranked by Uncle while out shopping for robbery gear. That, or he confused one of Susan’s tablecloths for a three-piece. The topmost layer of dust is so thick it could be peeled off and donated to charity. 3/10, could probably still pass for a picnic table

Shameless. Unacceptable. Walking around like a bootleg Egoraptor with a crinkly suit that looks like that oil-stained pizza napkin you keep forgetting to toss. Why did I take a screencap that makes it look like Dutch is jacking him off. Micah’s even jutting his beer gut out in an ominous foreshadowing for the Guarma chapter. ThereIsn’tANumberLowEnough/10

Arthur strolling in with that slow, confident walk that gets me pregnant in both legs, someone please fetch the plan B

Dutch calls a Hosea an artist and is most certainly one himself. He speaks with the affect of a poet, even as he’s holding a pistol in people’s faces and making them shit themselves in slow-motion. This man redefines stage presence. Why would he want anything less than the best, when this is the final hurrah of his iconic, infamous career:

THE RUNWAY: PART TWO

Bill out here just confusing everyone’s laundry for low-level loot. 5/10, may or may not be susan’s granny panties

charles: “is my iron giant cosplay valid robbery wear”

dutch: “no, charles, iron giant cosplays are not valid robbery wear”

dutch: “gorons from legend of zelda aren’t valid either”

JAVIER IF I GIVE YOU A 10/10 WILL YOU LEAVE

Here’s a little detail I didn’t notice (even after several viewings of this scene): Charles over in the corner looking like a dweeb.

Notice how awkwardly he holds that rifle: two-handed and with his knees bent, suddenly looking like he’s never handled a weapon before. This is such an odd contrast from the unapologetic badass we know. Remember, this is the same man who can wield a sawed-off shotgun one-handed like it’s nothing. One of the most adept physical fighters in a gang full of cutthroat motherfuckers.

This detail on top of his dorky robbery gear? It’s actually a peek into just how out of his element he is.

Charles has been with the gang for less than a year at this point. Even then, he’s usually helping with tracking, hunting and scouting. Whenever he goes off with Arthur on a mission, he’s always the first to suggest a peaceful route. This is not someone who’s used to robbing people for a living and it shows in the most adorable way. What you see here is a man putting on a persona of what he hopes looks like a bloodthirsty robber.

This whole scene is a fucking blast. Herding the upper-class elite into the far rom, figuring out the combination key under codenames, listening to the banter of the squad in the background. It doesn’t help I’m a slut for baroque-styled architecture and half my attention was on the pastel decor. Yeah, yeah, I know we have three thousand dollars on the line, but look at that gold filigree

These outlaws move like a finely oiled machine, not a detail out of place...which makes the ensuing mess all the more tragic.

...and this post is getting too long, so I’m going to post the second part separately. Ain’t I a stinker?

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #RDR #RDR2 #arthur morgan #john marston #dutch van der linde #javier escuella #bill williamson #hosea matthews #micah bell #charles smith #shitpost #analysis #TEDTalk #meme #my post #I want to see javier preparing that outfit at the camp #just adding blush to his mask and making tilly double-take while eating her stew

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starkerisendgame · 5 years

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SIM!Tony x Photographer!Peter

Alright, you funky little noodles. This is the scrapped version of the Superior Iron Man x Photographer!Peter prompt. I felt that this didn’t really encompass what the Anon asked for, but I had also written so much of it that I didn’t want to just delete it.

So here you have it! I know its pretty shit, so please be gentle.

[Original Prompt & Fill | Moodboard]

TW: Choking | Severe Power Imbalance | Non-Con/Dub-Con | Age difference |

Peter could not remember a life wherein The Superior did not exist. He had been born after the war, long into the calm of his reign. Or...Would that it be called the calm. Calmer, he supposed, if the stories were correct. If the statues that lined the parks and the great Halls of Iron could be believed. If the paintings were true and the whispers were founded.

Peter believed them. Averting his eyes from every statue; sliding past every painting; he believed. The Superior was their God, and he had been Peter's God for all his life. A foreboding threat that Peter trembled at even now, when such a God was supposed to have tamed somewhat.

The Superior had once been Tony Stark. Or...He still was, but he was different. The Tony Stark from before had been charismatic, a little lacking in morals, but nothing so evil as The Superior. Not until he had been kidnapped, a brutal explosion of his own home gateway to a six month long disappearance. During which he had been seen only once; on a hacked newscast of the man trussed up and beaten, chest gaping and open, hooked to several chords and wires. That footage was a rare thing these days, but Peter had seen it, once.

Tony Stark had disappeared, and The Superior had returned in his place. Man had become God. The Stark Tower had been rebuilt, a monstrous and governing piece of architecture that glowed a pale, ghostly blue in the night. Peter stood looking at it now, a looming figure in the distance. Like all, he was curious about the fortress and what lay within, but not so stupid as to say or do anything about it. People went missing these days, taken for all manner of crimes. Peter was not keen to be another name on the list.

He had fret enough about his job, the risks that it came with. Everyone was monitored, watched. 'Under his gaze' was not just the customary greeting, but a constant reminder that they were forever observed. Thankfully, the majority of Peter's work so far had merely been photographing local areas and landscapes, people of interest or those involved in the article. Just last week he had photographed the Principle of his own school for an article on how they had received a general sum for the new science lab. It was relatively safe, and Peter had yet to disappear in the night, so he had no complaints.

Each image was a welcome boost to his bank account and, well. Fear did not provide food, nor pay the rent. He lifted his camera and turned it away from the Tower, to the hazy evening sundown that backdropped it. He enjoyed photography ad a passion and a hobby as well as a career, and often took to the streets at varying times to see what beauty he could capture. Tonight he had intent for the park, to see what landscape shots he could add to his online blog. He had panicked when setting it up, fingers trembling at the keys and unable to sleep that night, waiting for The Superior to take him away, even though it was nothing but a hobby blog, full of cheesy flower shots and aesthetic style imagery.

These days he fret less, but was still careful over every image he posted. He eyed the shot at he walked, zooming in on the red-gold hues. His favourite colour was red, and it featured in many of his non-work imagery. The park was illuminated when he reached it, and he headed straight for the water fountain. It was a thing of beauty, a horse with the tail of a fish rearing up, water cascading around it like a shot from The Little Mermaid.

He took several images, though he had photographed the monument a hundred times before. Each way you faced it, the fountain had a different backdrop. From the North, the eerie impostor of the Tower and the outskirts of the city. From the South, the flowerbeds and the walk of statues. To the East, the rose bushes and the tall, towering bushels of plants.

It was those Peter headed for next, stopping here and there to photograph the vibrant plants. They lasted longer than anywhere else in the city, but even these could not stand the misery of New York’s deep winters, and within the following months they would die back into ghostly, bony branches that snagged at you as you passed. People stayed away from the park in winter, the foreboding eyes of the statues that seemed to seek your soul.

Peter rounded the corner and came to a sudden halt, camera still raised. Seeing the figure made it occur to him for the first time since his arrival that the rest of the park had been remarkably empty. This figure stood alone, back to Peter but body angled slightly towards the towering rose bush he faced. Peter could see the brief snippet of a stubbled jaw, the rise of a sharp cheekbone.

The figure - a man - was dressed in a sleek, impeccably fitted suit. His left hand tucked into a pocket at his hip whilst the other was lifted, fingertips feather-light on the edge of the rose that he lifted for inspection. From a wedding, perhaps. Or a funeral. Peter knew he should back away, allow the man his privacy. But...

The scene was too beautiful to resist and he lifted the camera, snapping several shots. The man seemed oblivious, apparently lost in thought as he stared deep into the layers of the rose. He had inky black hair styled neatly, and for a moment Peter’s brain gave a hysterical what if that’s The Superior.

A handful more images and Peter turned, creeping away to finally allow the man some semblance of privacy. He steered clear of the walk of statues and after a pause to photograph a bee, went home. Aunt May had prepared a cheesy red-pesto spaghetti for supper, and he ate his fill before retreating to his room and plugging in his camera.

Most of the fountain shots he deletes. They’re largely not unlike anything he’s captured before, but they were good practise for angles and exposure. And then, swiping across, is the first image of the man. The beauty stole his breath away similarly to the way it had before, the calmness within the man, yet the commanding power of his posture. Despite the beauty of the surrounding flowers, it was the man that screamed look at me.

Nothing much but the angle and his chosen settings changes in the following images. The man is still a beautiful, dark contrast to the bright pink of the roses. The sunset still a fiery, bold background. Except...It took Peter a moment to notice it, but when he did, his heart begun to thunder in his chest. Eyes widening, he hit zoom several times.

On his very last shot; the one he snagged right as he was turning away, the man had tipped his head. Peter couldn’t see much of his face still, but there was the unmistakable lines of stubble, the hint of long, thick lashes. Peter couldn’t be sure, but it was almost as though the man was smirking. And his hand. The hand that held the rose aloft.

Flesh though it had been in the others, it was now gleaming, bright silver. Metal. The hand held the flower with no less delicacy, but was unmistakable in its properties. The low sunlight gleamed off the polished silver and at the wrist joint was a faint, thin strip of blue.

Peter heaved, hand flying to his mouth as he shot away from the computer, as though that hand would come out of the screen for his throat. It couldn’t be. There was no possible way.

Perhaps it was just one of The Order, a small body of people - men and women alike - chosen by The Superior to maintain the running. Rumour had it that they had been gifted technology much like Extremis upon their election. Even as he thought it, Peter knew the odds were slim. The facial hair, the gauntlet, the suit...

He tore the connecting cable from the computer, an acidic taste on his tongue. He had been right there. Mere feet away from Peter. Fuck, the park. It had been empty. Peter had invaded upon his privacy. It was no wonder the man had seemed to exude such easy command; it had been the fucking Superior he was photographing like some Instagram shot.

It was almost enough for him to vomit, pushing to his feet before he begun to pace the room. He ran shaking hands through his hair, chewed at his lower lip nervously until it bled. Fuck. He should tell May. Or he could go to the police, confess his crime, beg for His mercy. His fretting chased him into the early hours of the morning, and he sat heavily on the edge of his bed, resigned.

But The Superior did not come. Not even when he jolted awake from his alarm, having passed out from exhaustion and stress. Not when he sat blearily at the table, eyes red and dark from lack of sleep, crunching his way blandly through his cereal. May fussed, checking his temperature and reminding him that he could stay home if he felt unwell, but like many, he dared not to. Who knew if absence drew attention?

The Superior was not waiting for him outside, nor at the gates. In fact, by the time Peter fell into his seat for first period, it seemed that The Superior was not coming at all. Perhaps...Perhaps he wouldn’t. After-all, Peter hadn’t intruded so blatantly. And the photos were impressive if he was bold enough to think so. Flattering. He hadn’t shared them, hadn’t touched them. Maybe, just maybe...

The Superior came at third period.

Mr. Harrison was halfway through a conversation about The Great Gatsby, their summer reading, when an urgent knock at the door interrupted him. The glance he gave the door was brief, annoyed. Mr. Harrison was not a man that minded interruptions. Except he startled, turning visibly pale and trailing his words off into a whisper as he stared at the door with increasing horror.

Crane their necks though they might, nobody could see what lay beyond the door, and Mr. Harrison shifted, pulling at his tie as he looked back to the class. “Um..I...I will be a moment. Talk quietly amongst yourselves. About the topic” he managed, voice slightly rasped, before he bolted for the door, fidgeting with his sleeve cuffs as he went.

The moment the door snicked softly shut behind him, the class went into uproar. Students leaned across to talk to their friends, several pulled out their phones, many begun wild speculation.

“I’ll bet its someone here to take him away. He always gave me the creeps. I bet he’s looked at kiddy porn or something”.

“Hey, reckon its his ex-wife? He looked pretty horrified. Wasn’t his ex-wife supposed to be military before?”

“Well, I think its The Superior. I’ll bet he’s done something, or someone in this class has”.

Peter stiffened in his seat, blood suddenly turning to ice in his veins at the name. At the suggestion. The Superior wouldn’t make it a public execution, would he? There hadn’t been one of those for over five years. The last had been a sudden thing, without announcement or fanfare. The Superior, in all his glory, had shot a man down in the street. Treason, they had whispered, as the police came to take away the body. Bargaining with the outside world.

Was the accidental photographing of your God on par with treason?

Peter didn’t realise he was trembling, gripping at his pencil with ferocity until the girl in the row besides his reached over, nudging him. Her name was Liz, and she was a sweet girl. Smart, stylish. Her Dad worked at the local bank. “Hey, Parker. You okay? You look sick”. Her voice was laced with concern, but when he opened his mouth to reply the door to the classroom pushed open, and a sudden, deathly silence fell.

Peter squirmed. It suddenly seemed to grow colder, darker. When he glanced to the window, the sun had retreated behind a thick cloud, as though hiding from what awaited in the hallway. Peter shrank into his sweater, frowning nervously up at the doorway. For a short while, he forgot to even breathe.

The Superior stepped through.

Nobody dared to speak, but a harsh gasp did ripple through the students. In the second row, a girl actually fainted, going rigid before slumping against her desk with a heavy, dull thud.

Barring yesterday, Peter had never actually seen The Superior in person before. Only in statues, photographs, news casts. The man had eyes like blue fire, piercing in a way that Peter couldn’t stand to look at them for too long, even in imagery. His hair was always styled into a neat sweep, slightly parted at one temple, thick and inky and soft.

He was never shown in anything but suits of two kinds - Formal and metal. The fabric kind were always expensive, perfectly tailored, and always gave him the air of wealth, power. The Superior was often wearing sunshades, his most common a set of sky-blue, rather square styled frames.

But regardless of pose or outfit, one thing was undeniable even when looking at him through paper or a screen. The Superior was raw,solid power. He commanded your gaze, held a presence even if you were merely looking at him on a newspaper print. He exuded something...Forceful. It few you in, held you tight.

In person, he was terrifying. All of that and more. Where he had seemed almost gentle in the privacy of the rose garden, he now strode into the room, tall and stealing the breath from Peter’s lungs. The Superior was dressed in a suit like the one from yesterday, except the fabric took on a deep, red sheen whenever the light hit it a certain way. Ink black at other times.

Hiding those piercing eyes were a set of shades, deep and glossy. The colour of fresh, wet blood.

The Superior strode into the room with the prowling grace of a predator, fluid and silent as he turned to face them all, leaning back against the desk as though he was the Principle, popping in for a chat about the latest Mathletes quiz or something.

Behind Peter, at the back row, another student fainted. This one actually fell from their chair, and The Superior’s gaze followed, one plucked brow arching slowly, as though inconvenienced. He was looking to the opposite side of the room to Peter and the boy remembered to breathe then, sucking in a sharp, fast inhale and shrinking back against his seat, hunkering low.

Nobody dared to move. Nobody dared to breathe too loudly. Peter realised that for all of them, this was the first time they were bearing witness to their God in the flesh. The lightheaded, sick feeling that had plagued him since last night returned with full force. His hands shook, but he didn’t dare set down his pencil for fear of the noise.

Through the deep, red shirt that he wore beneath the suit, Peter could see the arc reactor, a glowing blue disc at the dead centre of his chest. Not much was known about it, only rumours and whispers born from the medical team that had treated him of his wounds when he had returned. They were all dead now.

Someone to his right shuffled in their seats. The Superior did not seem fazed by the haunted reaction to his presence, lounging back against the wood like a carnivore resting from a kill. One leg bent slightly, resting his weight, and his palms were flat back against the desk. His observations latest a few seconds longer.

When he pushed to his feet, graceful in ways Peter could only imagine before now, a girl in the middle line begun to sob quietly. The Superior cast her a lingering gaze, icicle eyes hidden behind his glasses, before he begun to stalk the rows, slow and deliberate. Peter felt a second from passing out himself, thighs squeezing together and head ducked low.

He could feel the dread seeping through his bones, slow, like the way frost took over glass. With each step that echoed loudly in the deafening quiet, he could feel his hear tick up a notch. Surely he wasn’t going to be killed right here, in the middle of a classroom? Or would The Superior drag him off in front of everyone?

The Superior stopped in front of a girl with thick, blonde hair. She was shaking, her head bowed towards the desk and she let out a muffled sound when he stopped, hands gripping her desk tighter. She begun muttering, low and quick. It took Peter a moment to realise she was praying. Although proclaimed as a God, The Superior demanded no worship, no tributes. Only respect and compliance, but there were some who worshipped him as others worshipped Jesus and The Lord.

The Superior’s head tilted towards her, slowly. After a moment a smirk quirked the corner of his mouth upwards, a lazy and devastating thing, before he moved along, gaze dragging across students. Passing one boy he flipped a page, scanned a paragraph in silence before continuing. Each patrol took him closer and closer to Peter. He could smell the aftershave now, a rich, fresh scent on each inhale.

Glossy dress shoes came into view shortly after and Peter held his breath again, staring intently down at his half-written sentence. He could see tears forming a blurry line in the lower region of his vision, and he fought to keep them at bay as shoes were joined by slim, long legs clad in expensive silk-cotton blend. The material seemed to shimmer between colours, and stopped directly besides his desk.

The pencil snapped in his grip and he jolted, unaware that he’d been tensed that hard. He let the splintered remains fall from his grip, staring with wide eyes at the smears of charcoal on his fingers when from above came a deep, velvety chuckle. The sound vibrated down his spine, alighting his nerves. All things considered it was a pleasant sound, and a single tear escaped unbidden down his cheek.

One hand raised, pointer finger coming to rest under his chin with a delicate touch. Peter could see the ticking hand on the thick Rolex that adorned The Superior’s wrist. The touch gained the faintest of pressures and after sucking in a breath, he allowed his head to be tipped upwards, dragging his gaze reluctantly up, up.

The suit was impeccably tailored, cinched in at the waist and snug around broad shoulders. It emphasised the muscles of his arms, the meat of his thighs. The deep red brought out the lightness of his skin. There were no eyes for Peter to meet, but when he finally lifted his gaze to The Superior’s face, the man was smirking again. Soft, secretive. Peter almost swallowed his own tongue, trembling violently under the soft, gentle touch.

The Superior was devastatingly handsome. He had a sharp jaw, emphasised by stubble tamed to lines just as neat. Sloping cheekbones and plush, dark lips. The shades were tinted enough to hide his eyes, but Peter knew from memory they were the shade of Larimar. Except in certain lights they would seem to glow, icy and bright.

The Superior seemed to stare at him for a short while longer, before gently releasing his jaw, turning away. He did not bother with the remaining four students behind Peter, exiting with the same cool sweep that he had entered. The room remained silent for as long as they dared to presume he was still within earshot, before it erupted into hysterics and Mr. Harrison came running.

The classes were let out early after that. Apparently The Superior had visited several classrooms, and no students were in a fit state to continue. The teachers were seemingly just as un-nerved by his unannounced visit, and they were released with instruction to resume lessons as normal the following day. Peter, so disturbed by the encounter, found ed at the gates and went with him to the Leed’s house, too shaken to let Aunt May see him like this. Ned was unable to stop talking, suspicions and speculations flying until Peter felt queasy and had no choice but to return to his own home.

It was dusk, and he hurried through the streets, hunkering down within his hoodie and power-walking until his calves burned and his thighs ached. The apartment was quiet when he let himself in, and a pink post-it glared at him from the fridge.

Emergency in ICU. Food money UKW. Love you!

Peter frowned, but couldn’t help a sigh of relief. Word would travel fast, and no doubt Aunt May would know of The Superior's visit by the time she returned, but for now at least, he could mentally fragment in private. He didn’t feel like dealing with a delivery, so he ignored the food money and raided the cupboard and the fridge, making himself a generous helping of tomato pasta.

It was his comfort food, alright?

He was blowing on it when he finally approached his bedroom, intent on curling beneath the sheets to eat and then pass out immediately after establishing a food coma. As he stepped through his doorway, a pale, eerie blue glow fell over the edge of his bowl and he froze.

No.

He looked up slowly, cringing the entire way. Sat at his computer desk and lounging elegantly, as though he owned the place, was Tony Stark. Peter sucked in a gasp with an embarrassingly high-pitched noise, and would have dropped the bowl if a tendril of metal hadn’t leapt lazily from The Superior’s wrist, catching it even as he let go.

“Careful” The Superior purred, sultry and teasing. Peter was powerless against the full-body shiver that wracked him at the sound, The Superior’s voice syrupy and trickling over him. The trembling came back again with force, tears burning fierce at his eyes. This was cruel. And his Aunt. Oh, god. If May came back to his body.

Hands shaking, he brought them back up, gingerly grasping the edges of the bowl. He eyed the metal warily, but it merely retreated when it seemed certain he wasn’t about to stain his carpet with tomato sauce, and The Superior gave a soft hum, one leg crossed over the other as he reached up to tip his glasses down. Those ethereal eyes really did glow.

Peter’s computer screen lit up, flashing to one of the images that Peter had taken of The Superior and the rose. He wasn’t close enough to see which one it was, and he would rather lose all four limbs than risk getting closer. The Superior gestured idly to the screen, still watching him with a coy, amused expression. Like a cat with a cornered mouse.

“H-How...How...” Peter couldn’t force any other words out, voice weak and tripping over each letter as he gripped his pasta bowl, staring across at The Superior. The easy smirk only grew, a little sharper. The Superior tipped his head with a mock pout.

“How what, Little One? How did I know it was you? How did I get here? How is your Aunt miraculously attending an emergency?” The Superior spoke like he was both mocking Peter and coddling him, voice lilting here and there. It made Peter’s knees weak, although he didn’t trust that it was purely out of fear.

“You hurt someone?” He managed to whisper, horrified. A honey-thick chuckle was his only response, The Superior’s head tipping again in that mock-sympathy way. He had no doubt of it now; but also no real idea of what to do with that information. Not that he supposed he would be able to do anything. Especially if this was how he died.

“I could hurt you” The Superior drawled back, slow and sweet as he reached out, tapping the computer screen lightly. Peter managed enough of a staggered step to set his bowl down, appetite well and truly dead. Like him. Soon. He glanced at the screen and swallowed, nervously wringing the hem of his hoodie.

“I didn’t know it was you, Mr...The...I swear I didn’t” he replied earnestly, gaze dropping to The Superior’s legs. Nowhere felt like a safe space to look, but Peter didn’t think he could stand to look him in the eyes any longer. He suddenly felt very small, like a mouse. Trapped. Bowing under the weight of the presence before him.

“Oh, I know that you didn’t, Peter” The Superior remarked, sounding almost curious about that fact. Peter shuffled, twitching by default towards his bed and the familiar comfort of his sheets. “That and your pretty face are perhaps the only reasons I’m interested enough to have kept you alive”.

Ice creeps through his veins again, relentless and hostile. Though he was aware of it, the reality of such a person as The Superior never truly hits you. The reality of his actions and abilities is more like the awareness of horrors beyond your reach until they happen. Or until you come home to find The Superior sat at your desk.

“Then...What? You’re going to cut off my hands? Tailor my face?” He whispered, gaze burning into the carpet. As always, there were rumours. Though these held no proof, no men wandering around with stumped wrists or faces gnarled and broken beyond recognition. Just whispers. That velvety, sensational chuckle sounds again.

“Come to me, you insolent little brat” The Superior murmured, a hand in Peter’s vision lifting, one finger crooking beckoningly. Part of Peter treacherously itched to obey, to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness. For mercy against whatever punishment his crime was due.

His legs refused to work at first, shaking under his weight and denying his mind’s will to move. His first step is barely a step at all, but it gives way to a second, and in timid, faithless steps, he moved across his carpet, stopping a foot or so away from where The Superior sat splayed, presented. The aftershave is the same, a pleasant overwhelm of the senses.

His hand did not move, but metal coiled like snakes from his forearms, like lifted veins, moving slowly and slyly into the space around Peter. He twitched away, but there was nowhere to go as they curved around and behind him. It was the metal, or the man. Though...That was perhaps not entirely accurate. The metal was the man.

The tendrils coiled, touching the backs of his hips and the small of his spine. Cold. He couldn’t help jumping, hips jolting forwards and away from the touch, observed with a husky, dark chuckle. The press came again and he was forced to take a step forwards, then another, the press unrelenting.

The Superior shifted as he drew closer, lowering his leg and splaying his thighs, wide enough that Peter had space enough to shuffle between them carefully, twitchy and cautious. The metal withdrew slowly, somehow as sinister as its advance. The Superior was gazing at him now, and Peter had nowhere to comfortably look. He felt rude staring at the disk of blue at his chest, too scared staring at his face, and frankly uncomfortable staring at the exposed area between his thighs.

A hand encased in sleek, reflective metal reached up, fingers grasping his jaw firmly, almost bruisingly and bringing his head up in a move barely reminiscent of the classroom, earlier that day. Except it was not half as tender, the man forcing his head to tilt back, meeting their gazes. Peter immediately found himself drowning in the glowing rings of blue, inescapable, ensnaring.

“I intend to do many things with your pretty face, sweet thing. None of which will ruin it”. The word much lingered in the empty space between the words and the slow, predatory curl of his lips. Peter shuddered, a tiny jolt of an attempt at pulling away, but the grip only tightened, pulling him closer.

“You should know that it would only please me more if you tried to run” The Superior murmured, amused and sweet and hungry in a way that almost had Peter’s eyes rolling back in fear, pulling again at the harsh grip, but now suddenly without the desire to actually break it.

“Do you think me a God, Peter? Do you think I walk alleviated amongst men?” The Superior whispered, thumb stroking a slow, soft trail across the line of his thumb. Peter tipped his head into it, frowning. Was this a trick question? Some way to test his devotion? Did he truly think The Superior a God amongst mortals?

“Yes” he whispered back after a beat. The Superior smiled at that, another slow and sly quirk of his mouth that gave nothing away but his amusement at the situation. Peter shuffled restlessly, mindful not to bump into the legs that kept him bracketed close. He felt as though at any second he might keel over, but he remained upright, spine straight.

“Then get on your knees and worship” The Superior said decisively, letting go of Peter’s jaw with a stroking touch and reclining further as though to draw attention to how he sat played. Peter flailed, mouth dropping open and eyes widening.Kneeling now would put him...But worse, that it what The Superior implied.

“But! I...I’ve never...And you can’t...” The words stuck in his throat at the way The Superior lifted a brow as though to say can’t I? He could. He very well could, and they both knew it. And who was Peter to dictate what The Superior, his own God, could and could not do?

“Do I strike you as a patient man, Little One?” The Superior asked, raising a hand to inspect his nails idly. Peter forced himself to swallow, shifting restlessly and considering if he would make it to the window before The Superior caught him. Slowly, as though it physically pained him to move, he took just enough of a step back so as not to chin himself on The Superior’s thighs, and sank down.

He kept his hands firmly at his own thighs, gaze cast down as tears begun to drip down his cheeks like rainfall. The realisation of the scenario was like running face-first and top speed into a brick wall. It wasn’t that Peter was opposed to liking men - he was gay - or that he was opposed to sucking someone off. Nor was it that The Superior was unattractive (he was, in fact, the single most attractive man Peter had ever looked at).

“See? You can be a good boy. Just as I knew you could” The Superior remarked, breaking off that trail of thought as he drove his fingers into Peter’s hair, carding through the soft curls with a gentleness to his touch. Peter leaned into it with a soft sigh, thankful to no longer be inflicted with pain. “Move quickly, or I shall make you” he added softly, with another light stroke.

His hands were shaking when he lifted them, reaching reluctantly for The Superior’s belt buckle. His hands hovered for a few seconds as he tried to bolster his courage, blinking rapidly at the sting of tears. They blurred his vision and he fumbled blindly when he finally grasped the buttery, soft leather, working at the buckle with increasing desperation.

He finally pulled it free, gasping for breath as he pinched delicately at the zipper. The Superior remained silent above him, watching with a cool expression as he tugged it down, over the soft slope of what lay beneath. He realised he was sobbing as he shuffled on his knees, hesitating as much as he dared before he reached towards the open spread of the suit pants.

“Nnnph” was all he could manage as he grasped thick, hard skin, pulling gently. It never seemed to end, miles and miles of it until The Superior’s cock slipped free, thicker and longer than any Peter had seen in person. His body ached just at the sight of it, and h sucked in a sharp breath, fingertips sliding shakily over the soft, warm skin. The worst thing of it all, was beneath the fear, beneath the horror and the guilt....

Peter wanted.

He leaned forwards before he could stop himself, inching closer to the flushed tip, the elegant, slight curve of it. Heavy even in his hand. It was the chuckle from above, velvety and amused that brought him back to himself, blinking away tears to look up. The Superior quirked a brow and leaned back a little, making a continue gesture. Humiliated, Peter slid his gaze away, sinking to his haunches as he took several deep breaths.

Tears begun to fall freely down his cheeks as he parted his lips, then closed them again. Opened his mouth a second time on a soft, quiet sob. A hand buried itself in his hair, fingers twisting and carding through the sot locks in the way one might pet a cat, and Peter almost missed to cold trickle down his jaw, the odd sensation of something solid moving fluidly down his skin.

It constricted quite suddenly, tightening around his throat and freezing the breath in his lungs. His body jolted as his breathing hitched, and his mouth opened on a soundless cry as he shifted, still holding onto the hard, waiting cock before him. The metal pulled tighter, and then merely pulled, dragging him down and arching his spine until his parted lips slid lightly over the smooth, silky tip, pre-cum smearing like lip-gloss.

“Mr. - Please” he managed in a pathetic rasp, lashes fluttering as the world begun to turn white at the edges, stars dancing across his vision. The metal that had wound its way across his throat like a collar slackened just a little, just enough that he could suck in air, lips closing over the tip as he slumped. He let his eyes close as he breathed through his nose, lips pursed on the smooth, soft tip. When he let the tip of his tongue stroke slowly over his bottom lip and the skin below, the thick cum there was pearly, just a little salty.

He knew better than to test the man’s patience, and so begun to suckle softly, letting his tongue lap at the heavy tip here and there in a bid to buy himself time, time to steel his nerves. Regardless of his hesitance, the man seemed pleased, continuing the soft petting and the gentle touches as he shifted, cock sliding along Peter’s mouth and leaving a streak of cum from centre to corner.

“Such a sweet, soft little mouth. If I didn’t already know the answer, I’d ask if you’ve ever used it on anyone else” The Superior murmured lowly, fingers tightening in Peter’s hair with an iron grip, metal snaking from between the drape of his jacket to coil around the base of his own cock, re-aligning it with the centre of Peter’s mouth. He shuffled on his knees with a short whimper, hands bracing on The Superior’s thighs. “Quickly now, Little One. Daddy does so hate being kept waiting” he added, thumb tracing the curve of his jaw.

Daddy. A spike of arousal, hot and sharp and betraying coiled low in his gut, tinting his cheeks pink as he whimpered again, head tipping forwards to lave his tongue over the soft, wet tip. He didn’t need to hold the length steady, so he focused only on his mouth, taking a shuddering inhale before he ducked his head down, lips sliding slow and wide over the velvety skin until he sucked the head into his mouth like a lollipop, heavy on his tongue and already forcing his jaw open.

The sharp inhale from above encouraged him and he sucked lightly, letting his tongue stroke and explore as he tried to get used to it. Hands shaking where they lay at his sides, he took another fortifying breath and let his tongue flatten, sucking the cock further into his mouth with a soft whine. He loved it as much as he hated it, cheeks hollowing as his mouth was filled, eyes rolling as a firm suck cause The Superior’s hips to nudge up, pressing his cock deeper.

His metal collar shifted slightly, going a fraction tighter as he begun to suck with intent. He begun slow, just firm sucks an the odd stroke of his tongue, swallowing around the cock in his mouth here and there to take it deeper, until the thick tip pressed heavy and solid against the back of his throat and he pulled off a little, gasping for breath as a sliver of drool trickled from the corner of his mouth.

“Such a good, pretty little thing, hm? Choking yourself on my cock. So sweet for Daddy” The Superior praised, leaning forwards and cupping his cheeks, thumbs stroking across the rise of his cheekbones as Peter breathed, looking up at him with wide, wet eyes, lips still pursed around the thick, heavy cock on his tongue.

“Yes, Daddy” he mumbled thickly, gaze dropping to hide his shame, and the treacherous way that his own little dick grew stiffer between his legs. He let the cock slide over his tongue again, filling his mouth once more to avoid talking, cheeks hollowing as he begun to suck as hard as he could, inching his head up and down experimentally. He was rewarded with fingers twisting in his hair, hips jumping until the soft head knocked the very back of his tongue.

He couldn’t breathe like this, not impaled on a thick cock, throat stuffed full, but he held it as long as he could, eyes closed as he sucked and swallowed, throat flexing and constricting around the thick length. The lack of air made his head feel like it was stuffed full of cotton, his world shrinking until it was nothing but the way his throat was forced open around dick, the slight hint of cum on the back of his mouth.

After a brief pause for breath he shifted, sliding his hands along The Superior’s thighs slowly, bringing them in until his fingertips slid over the warm metal that coiled around the base of his cock, holding steady and stroking with his thumb as he begun to lift and drop his head, unable to stop a weak moan from bubbling in his throat as fingers twisted in his hair, coaxing him to swallow more, suck harder. Above him fell soft sounds, the odd pant of breath.

He didn’t expect the metal to tighten at the base of his throat, to sneak up and press at his pulse, dragging him down until the tip of The Superior’s cock was forced past his throat, forcing him to open up, shoving his throat open and wet around him. Peter twisted in his grip with a gurgled whine, writhing as his body hitched on a gag, hands flying to his thighs to grip pleadingly. He shifted, body dropping so he could tip his head back, looking up at The Superior with begging eyes, tears clinging to his lashes.

“Look at you, Little One” The Superior purred, the metal going tighter, pressing his throat closed around the thick intrusion. “You look so pretty when you cry. So breathtaking, drooling over my cock like a pretty little whore. I can’t wait to split you open over it. See what you look like, bouncing on my dick, all cum-stupid and needy” he breathed out, thumb pressing against the corner of Peter’s mouth, forcing him wider until his thumb slipped in, resting against the line of his own cock. Peter could only cry in response, body beginning to shake as he ran completely out of breath.

The Superior seemed to take pity on him, pulling him off his cock in one smooth movement and holding him there as he sobbed and gasped for breath, drool dripping from his mouth and only the carpet. Between his thighs, his cock strained eagerly against his clothes, pre-cum making his boxers sticky and wet. It was only when he no longer felt like he was dying that he shifted, diving back down without prompting. The vibrations of The Superior’s dark, amused chuckle tingled through his throat as he sucked, laving over the thick cock like it was his last meal.

“That’s right, sweet thing. Make Daddy cum” The Superior coaxed, tightening around his throat again. Peter was helpless to do anything but moan and suck, hips stuttering in the air as The Superior gripped at his hair and his throat, stuffing him full and reducing his world to nothing but the two of them. A short, low groan above was his only warning, and he only had time to pull back an inch before cum begun to flood his mouth, thick and warm. He tried to swallow but it was no good, throat closed and stuffed too full of cock. The Superior kept him there as he gurgled and choked, body trembling as cum begun to drip from the corners of his mouth.

“Clean up the mess you made, Little One” The Superior instructed lowly when his high was fading, letting go of Peter and reclining, back into that artful lounge he seemed to have perfected, jaw resting on his knuckles as he watched Peter pull back, struggling to breathe and to swallow through the thick flood of cum. With a few hitching movements he managed to swallow what coated his mouth, gasping for air as he looked down. The Superior’s cock still stood tall and hard, completely slick and wet with a mixture of cum and drool that trickled down slowly towards his balls.

Peter hesitated, one hand reaching down to press at his own begging length, before he ducked down, slowly and carefully lapping up each droplet, tongue stroking slowly over warm skin and warm metal. When the man was as clean as he would get, he sat back, still heaving for breath, tears still itchy and wet on his cheeks. He didn’t dare to lift his gaze, not until fingers curled around his jaw, lifting his head by the chin.

“Don’t forget your manners, sweet thing” The Superior chastised, and Peter hesitated, brows pulling in confusion as The Superior let him go, metal uncoiling from everywhere to tuck himself back into his suit pants and draw up the zipper.

Oh.

“T-Thank you. Daddy” he managed, surprised at how wrecked and wet his voice sounded, at the harsh way it scraped along his throat as he formed the words. The Superior gave a slow, pleased smirk and leaned forwards, stroking his knuckles down his cheek lightly.

“Look at you, Little One. Mouth all swollen and red. Lashes wet with tears. Your little cock all hard between your thighs” he purred, voice sweet but cruel. Peter’s cheeks flushed and his cock twitched, but he didn’t dare reply, blinking slowly. He wasn’t even sure what he would say. The Superior let him go, gazing down at him like one might observe a broken toy, or a misbehaved dog.

“Mm, yes. I think its about time I had a new toy, Little One” he murmured, leg shifting until the red soles of his Louis Vuitton’s pressed down hard against Peter’s cock. His body folded over itself as he came with a wounded cry, arms cradling his middle and eyes squeezing shut. When he managed to look up, trembling and gasping for breath, The Superior was smirking at him, eyes glowing brightly as metal tendrils begun to sneak through the air towards him.

300 notes · View notes

bakudekuficlibrary · 5 years

Note

Hey, do you have any fics where Deku calms Bakugo down from a panic attack or some sort of anger episode? Or vise versa?

I payed more attention to fics that focused solely on the requested idea or had multiple scenes of it. (and boy was there a decent amount!) If you know of longer fics that include this idea (even if it’s your own XD) feel free to reblog or reply with them so people can find them in the notes c:

-Jay

30 Works.

Dark Side of the Sun by Synnie( T | 51,597 | 20/20 )

Staying up too late playing video games, Kirishima wasn’t expecting to get an urgent call begging for help. Next thing he knew, he was letting his classmate Izuku Midoriya take refuge in his apartment - without consulting his always angry roommate.

SeriesPart 1 of Dark Side of Space

[Graphic Depictions of Violence | Past Abuse | Self-Harm]

Can We Not? by vulcanhighblood( T | 32,740+ | 17/? )

Journalist Midoriya Izuku stumbles across Ground Zero brutalizing a vending machine. Unfortunately, he can’t just walk away from a Pro Hero in dire need of caffeine. So when a hero on the brink shakes him down for coffee, only to offer a coffee date in return…? Well, he doesn’t refuse. (He does, however, get said hero’s number, and ends up spending a lot more time with him than could have been predicted based on that first encounter.)

Grief Counseling by Merrywetherweather( E | 48,279 | 19/19 )

Katsuki remembered the first time he had failed to save someone, watched helplessly in horror as an elderly man had been crushed beneath the girth of a thrown car. He had already propelled himself forward to grab a small boy when he noticed, too late, the car fly by overhead. Two other heroes had been on the scene at the time and had assured him.

There was nothing that could have been done.

Most of class 1-A had already gone through a similar experience. The only one left with a clean track record in the rescue department had been Deku.

Well, except for today.

A slowburn fic where Kacchan tries to convince Deku to take advantage of the grief counseling provided for free to heroes experiencing their first failed rescues. Lots of flirting. Healing their relationship comes first. The romantic bit where they fall helplessly and stupidly in love comes after.

[PSTD | Panic Attacks]

Dream Sweet in Sea Major by showtiime ( M | 122,562 | 22/22 )

The day of the Hero Incident ends much more horribly than anyone could’ve imagined, but only Izuku knows that. He thinks as long as he forces himself to push through it that he can get over it, but of course, that’s not how things go. His mom, friends, teachers, and even his childhood friend-turned-rival take note of his odd behavior and try to help, but he refuses to talk about what really happened. How long and how thin will Bakugou’s patience go until Izuku finally confides and accepts the help he needs?

(in this fic, Shigaraki takes more from Izuku than he should’ve, Katsuki comes with the class that day at the mall, and there are still finals to be taken. Plenty can happen in only five to six weeks.)

(playlist)

Paper Moons and Glass Stars by Soundsoftherain( M | 82,948 | 18/18 )

The last time Katsuki had seen that mess of green hair had been during the summer after their first year of middle school, a boy sculpted from the purest sunlight sadly waving goodbye as he moved away.

That had been seven years ago.

Now that mop of wild curls was straddling his lap while scantily clad in black, leaving little to the imagination. The shy boy he once knew was now the star of Paper Moon, a strip club he’d been unwillingly dragged to by his friends. But through the muffled music one thought overwhelmed the raging whirlpool of his mind.

…What the actual fuck?

SeriesPart 1 of Glass Stars

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Panic Attacks | Stalking]

be loved by bonnia( T | 5,403 | 1/1 )

They sit there, in the darkness of the common room, about a few centimeters between them, but miles apart. Somehow, the quiet is companionable. More than it has been in many years. Katsuki knows he’s responsible for the rift between them, and he knows even more that it can’t only be Deku who attempts to mend it.

“Hey,” he says, after a while, and Deku turns to him in question, but Katsuki refuses to look his way. “Touch me again.”

(or: the kidnapping incident leaves bakugou traumatised about being touched on the back of his neck, and midoriya decides to take matters into his own hands)

[Panic Attacks | PTSD]

2,645 Miles by mynameis152( E | 131,839 | 38/38 )

Izuku wants so badly to get to the other side of the country without his parents realizing he’s missing. He just wants to find out who he is.

Katsuki is desperate to make it to Los Angeles without being caught by the police, desperate to fix his mistakes.

Neither know what to expect, but on a roadtrip across the U.S. involving four fugitives, two oblivious runaways, a high risk crime ring, and a police taskforce, the two will discover that there’s more in store for them than what they originally thought.

SeriesPart 1 of Guide Me Home To You

[Graphic Depictions of Violence | Panic Attacks | Attempted Sexual Assault]

As One by semiautomatichearts( G | 2,508 | 1/1 )

Katsuki knows Izuku as he knows himself, as he knows the worn pages of a treasured book, the creases within his own hand.

He sees when something is wrong, and reaches across abyssal expanses, past the maw of his own pride, and he heals.

[Panic Attacks]

What’s up danger by The_Crafty_Cracker( M | 2,220 | 1/1 )

Because apparently,The fic where Deku punches a bigoted entailed asshole Alpha in the face wasn’t an appropriate title.

Poor Katsuki has his handful with his mate nearly getting arrested, again!

P.S there is also a joke about a quiche.

Super Mario Maker by Pop_Rocks (v_love)( E | 3,734 | 1/1 )

Midoriya is smart, and a nerd, meaning that when the entire class decided to take on the aspect of buying Super Mario Maker for the collection of games in the common area that he became sort of a living legend when it came to designing the levels.

Some were just joyous well designed little prank-type levels, others were difficult — but not impossible — and the rest? Well, those were impossible.

For all but one.

His Kacchan.

————

In which Bakugou rages.

SeriesPart 4 of Kacchan and Deku’s Shenanigans

Out Of Darkness by Arrival_Of_Dawn ( M | 78,364+ | 18/? )

Izuku Midoriya is legally dead for forty two minutes at the hands of a new villain, Nightmare. They are the longest forty two minutes as Izuku finds himself trapped in his own personal hell. He may have come back from nightmare induced death, but that does not mean the nightmares are gone. They haunt him at any given moment and neither he nor anyone else knows how to save him.

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Panic Attacks]

Twenty-Four by SharkbaitSekki( T | 15,874 | 1/1 )

Izuku gets himself kidnapped, and Katsuki is dragged into it with him as they face villains with particularly terrifying illusion Quirks.

It ends up being a living nightmare, but Katsuki can’t bring himself to regret following Izuku into it all. Because between the pain and the terror, between the lies and the illusions, between life and death, at least they can always hang onto one another. Even if everything else is fake, they know that they will always be real.

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence]

Chapter 26 of an entire month for the broccoli boy and the shouty boy by Kasplode( T | 23,200 | 30/30 )

Acute fear pollutes his body, concentration increasing exponentially with each shallow inhale he breathes.

Deku, standing just in front of him, knocks at the familiar door to Midoriya Inko’s apartment.

They’re having dinner with her tonight. Introducing Katsuki as Deku’s boyfriend.

[Panic Attacks]

Someone to Stay by Maru_Chan( M | 5,462 | 1/1 )

He hears Izuku’s jeering laughter again and even when he can’t see him any longer, his last words ring loud on Katsuki’s ears, heavy and final like a sentence.

“Goodbye Kacchan, maybe you can try again in your next life”

And then everything is dark again.

It’s dark, he’s cold, he’s numb and he’s alone.

And it’s everything he deserves.

[Panic Attacks | PTSD]

saltwater fears & saltwater tears by writedeku( T | 4,540 | 1/1 )

It’s not that Katsuki hasn’t hurt people before, but this is the first time he’s seen something so irrevocable. So tangible. Izuku will look back, ten, twenty years from now, and he’d still see the scar in the mirror, and still be a scared little boy in pain all over again, crying in the hallways.

(The middle is a time that makes Katsuki feel proud and ashamed, all at once.)

SeriesPart 3 of the saltwater saga

[Bullying | Past Abuse | Panic Attacks]

What’s Mine But Only You Can Have? by masteremeraldholder

( T | 9,480 | 1/1 )

“What’s mine… but only you can have?”

Deku’s face softens, his eyes wide, mouth a little ‘o’. Baku’s stomach turns, maybe he shouldn’t have said it, maybe he should’ve listened to the quirk-stealers and kept his fucking mouth shut, but he knows that he couldn’t have even if he tried.

He’ll never get tired of Deku and his annoying antics, his patient nature, his shit ton of freckles, and if that’s what it means to love someone, then he’s gladly in it with Deku.

SeriesPart 2 of Schizophrenic Bakugou

[Panic Attacks | Self-Harm | Ableism]

Words to Never Say by InkspillsNotebook( T | 2,586 | 1/1 )

Regardless of how much time has passed, Izuku is still unable to hear those words without fearing that he’s lost the most important person in his life.

SeriesPart 7 of Drabble Expansion Pack

[Panic Attacks]

[Abandoned] Chapter 4 of Angry Kids by MrJokerBoy( T | 9,251 | 12/? )

Deku has a nervous breakdown and here comes Kacchan to the rescue

[Panic Attacks]

Chapter 1 of Things You Said: Bakugou/Midoriya by AutisticWriter( T | 3,100 | 2/2 )

A collection of one shots written for a prompt list.

[Self-Harm | Ableism | Transphobia]

{Curator’s Note: This chapter depicts Bakugou assisting Midoriya through a meltdown, not an anger episode or panic attack.}

A Classical Storm by oceanswrath( T | 1,400 | 1/1 )

In that moment only the two of them existed, a force to be reckoned with greater than the storm raging outside.

[Panic Attacks]

The Bonds that bind by EloFromMars( E | 2,818 | 1/1 )

Izuku is excited, tonight is their anniversary. He had planned everything. Or so he thought.

[PTSD | Panic Attacks]

Only Us by yoichipines( T | 3,105 | 1/1 )

“What if it’s you, and what if it’s me and what if that’s all that we needed to be and the rest of the world falls away…what do you say?”

A Katsudeku fanfic very much inspired by ‘Only Us’ by Laura Dreyfuss and Ben Platt? Sign me tf up!

[Panic Attacks]

No Matter What by Empress Explosion Murder (LdyFcknNoir)( M | 4,393 | 1/1 )

BNHA Angst Week Day Seven: Roses/Time

-or-

“I-I’ve failed you… He escaped.” Katsuki rasped out.

Any remaining strength in Izuku’s body fled, and he melted to the ground on legs that were no longer able to hold him up. His body began to tremble violently, his teeth cracking together with the force of his shaking. Black edged around his vision as he couldn’t pull any oxygen into his lungs, air rent from his lungs completely with just five words.

SeriesPart 7 of BNHA Angst Week

[Past Rape/Non-con | Panic Attacks]

Yeah I’ve Got Issues by Abitginger( T | 2,782 | 1/1 )

One-shot written for BakuDeku month of wonder, day 2:festival/apology. A little late but such is life ~

Izuku and Katsuki go on an undercover mission at a festival.

[Panic Attacks]

to be made of flesh and steel by bluntforcedrama, gutsdumpster( T | 635 | 1/1 )

Bakugou learns his triggers, his tics. He’s kind of psychic actually since he tends to know when something is about to happen. Or maybe it’s Izuku’s fault for making it so glaringly obvious: he gets nervous, hands twitching more than usual as his eyes follow any sudden movement around him. Sometimes his breathing becomes labored and he swallows down more inhales than exhales and Bakugou will have to thread his fingers with Izuku’s, as if to say calm down, I’m here.

Or: Izuku is an ex-soldier struggling with the mental and physical repercussions of such heavy combat, and although Bakugou doesn’t know exactly what it’s like, he’ll still do everything he can to help.

[Panic Attacks | PTSD | Implied/Referenced Homophobia]

I know you wanna (slip under my armor) by Herbalmint( T | 3,528 | 1/1 )

Life just keeps developing new ways of beating Bakugo down. (Katsuki has a panic attack)

[Panic Attacks | Dissociation]

In Your Arms by EmbretheWorld( T | 3,771 | 2/2 )

Bakugo’s freaking out, and no one really knows what to do, but Yagi and Aizawa are really grateful that Midoriya is there. And Aizawa is really good at comforting people too.

SeriesPart 3 of You Melt My Heart

[Panic Attacks]

Chapter 2 & Chapter 7 of Standing Together (Pride Month) by EmbretheWorld( M | 17,972 | 29/29 )

This book will be filled with multiple ships that I will write and post on a daily for Pride Month. Each chapter will be based on a prompt. Hope you enjoy!

I ended this book early because I couldn’t find any motivation to write in it anymore.

SeriesPart 6 of You Melt My Heart

[Panic Attacks]

Anxiety by MistyBlueJay( T | 3,530 | 1/1 )

Izuku and Katsuki go to the mall, the Bakusquad joins them in a mini shopping trip. It’s a crowded day and Izuku falls behind, panic ensues.

[Panic Attacks]

In Weakness there is Strength by DarcyIncarnate( Not Rated | 3,011 | 1/1 )

Five times Izuku breaks and Katsuki picks up the peices, and one time Katsuki isn’t there to help.

[Panic Attacks]

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kyndaris · 3 years

Text

A Solid Beginning

My journey when it came to the Legend of Heroes series began with Rean Schwarzer and his merry band of misfit classmates that comprised Class 7 in Trails of Cold Steel. I can’t say what prompted me to purchase the title on my PlayStation Vita, but purchase it I did and was subsequently taken on a grand adventure throughout the Erebonian Empire before I was mildly displeased at the sudden appearance of an ancient mech. In all my anime-watching, I’ve always hated fictional worlds with huge mechanical suits. They’re much too cliche for my tastes and frankly, the less they appear in the media I consume, the better.

While I did purchase Trails of Cold Steel 3 and fully intend to play it in the near future, forums I scoured recommended playing the Trails in the Sky series beforehand. Why? Well, how better to understand what Olivert Reise Arnor was doing prior to the events of Giliath Osborne trying to take over the world? And what of the sudden appearance of a certain Lloyd Bannings in Trails of Cold Steel 2?

So, after slowing purchasing the games from GoG (Good Old Games), I began Trails in the Sky just before the impending releases of a hundred thousand different games that would be coming out in November.

Trails in the Sky begins with a mysterious boy being delivered to a bright-eyed Estelle Bright by her very own father. Shenanigans occur and it is not long before there’s a time skip and we rejoin Estelle and her adopted brother, Joshua, when they turn sixteen and decide to take on a test that would allow them to become junior bracers at their local guild in Rolent.

When her father takes on an important mission, both Estelle and Joshua are left behind. Eager to prove their worth, they assist the townsfolk by completing odd jobs. It is not long, however, that they rise to the role of detectives, solving the theft of a valuable orbment necklace that was meant to be delivered to the Queen of Liberl for her birthday celebration. Estelle, never one to pick up on subtle clues, is shocked to discover it is Josette - a girl she assumed was a student at a prestigious academy in the Kingdom - a sky pirate. They duke it out before Josette is rescued by her brother, fleeing towards Bose.

Thus ends the prologue after several hours of gameplay and dialogue.

Within days of uncovering the crime, Estelle and Joshua learn that the ship their father was on has gone missing. Worried, they enlist the aid of Scherazard and head to Bose (not knowing, yet, that the sky pirates and the disappearance of the Linde are connected). It is not long before they are swept into another mystery, which they solve within days of arriving in the new city, and begin travelling around the Kingdom of Liberl to learn more about its denizens.

Throughout their journey, they make new friends and impress each local branch of the Bracers guild while solving major problems plaguing the cities that they visit. It is the fourth city, Zeiss, however, when the plot starts to pick up and the characters begin to sense something darker and more sinister is at play. It was also here that I started paying more attention, having nearly fallen asleep at the proverbial wheel with the glacial pacing of the narrative.

After carrying around a MacGuffin black orbment, several questions were answered even as the game set about laying out the seeds for a grand conspiracy plot. But as with always the case of protagonists, they plod through most of the subtext, oblivious until the villain of the piece declares his master plan. Without the means of airships, Estelle and Joshua set out for Grancel via foot and finally arrive just as the Intelligence Division begins its coup d’etat.

While the rescue missions were fun and served to propel the plot forward, the final boss was a bit of a letdown. In many stories from the Japanese role playing genre, I find the human to human struggle much more engaging than having to fight an archaic machine Alas, that was the case here.

Worse, was the fact that Reverie was hardly what I might have called challenging. Instead, the machine proved annoying with his high defence and health stats. Equipped with two magic users and having Estelle and Joshua dish out the occasional hurt with physical attacks, the battle was soon over and the kingdom saved.

Trails in the Sky plays like the first arc of a major story. Were it the sole game in the series, it would have felt incomplete. Knowing that there were two other games waiting in the wings, I was able to stifle much of my disappointment. Even though I would have liked for most of the loose ends to have been tied off. A stand alone title, Trails in the Sky is most assuredly not. Whether that was uncovering Olivier Lenheim’s true identity and purpose in Liberl, to whatever was Ouroborous and the mysterious Weissmann.

The combat is turn-based and felt much simpler than the mechanics employed in Trails of Cold Steel. I can’t rightly say why but I will chalk it up to the fact that there were no bonuses to experience points being earned through certain victory conditions. Just like in Trails of Cold Steel, characters place quartz into spare slots - triggering certain spells and stat boosting abilities.

Being familiar with the system, it was easy for me to pick up the mechanics again and trounce my foes. Most bosses gave me hardly any trouble - except of course, Lorence.

As for the characters themselves, my favourites were Joshua and Kloe, the disguised princess of Liberl. Tita and Agate were also enjoyable. But as the credits rolled, I regretted not getting to know them a little better. After completing each major city, the other characters left and it was back to my two-man party of Estelle and Joshua.

Overall, Trails in the Sky was a good introduction to the complex world created by Nihon Falcom. It provides some much needed background and introduced players to certain key characters that would later play important roles in later titles. The world building in The Legend of Heroes is top notch. As a writer, it was interesting to see the multiple and opposing views shared by heroes, villains and the general public. For that, the developers and story writers ought to be applauded. But while the story to Trails in the Sky FC was fairly simplistic, I am eager to see how the characters fit into the larger narrative and what the sequels have in store for this new fan to the franchise.

As a side note, I hate the fact that several side missions are missable, have a limited time frame or are hidden. Of course, having played through Trails of Cold Steel, I knew this beforehand and played through the game with a trusty walkthrough to guide me.

#video games #trails in the sky fc #estelle x joshua

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krreader · 5 years

Text

partners in crime.

pairing: kim taehyung x reader fandom: bts warnings: non idol!au ; thieves!au ; language genre: crime ; crack ; hints of smut

summary: you had planned this perfectly, down to every detail.. the only thing you hadn’t expected was to find him there.

a/n: so I didn’t go full-on smut, but I still hope you like it angel ♥

You used to go to museums for fun as a kid. With family members, with friends and then sometimes with your class – even though school trips weren't nearly as nice as going there privately.

You remembered looking at these relics from the past with awe and also a bit of fear that you might ruin something.

Funny how things changed, you thought as you looked at the painting you desired. Well, not you, but your buyer did. And you wanted the money he was willing to give you if you stole it for him.

Sometimes it was almost sad how things had changed for you. You were sure becoming a thief wasn't what your parents had hoped for you.

But honestly, you were good at it and it paid off in the end. You were living in a nice penthouse apartment, could buy whatever the hell you wanted to buy and didn't need to worry about a thing because you knew you were too good to get caught.

You always hid your traces, you never messed up.

That's why this buyer had chosen you.

And that meant a lot, because he was one of the big ones in the world of illegal trade, if not the biggest. For him to approach you out of all the people to steal this for him meant a lot, because it showed you that your hard work finally paid off. You were now considered one of the best in the business and you had sacrificed a lot for that.

As always before a heist like the one you had planned tonight, you were standing in front of the desired painting and made sure to memorize every small detail.

How big the picture was, how heavy it probably was, where the security cameras were, which way the guards were walking, which exit would be the best to take, how to steal the picture without alerting anyone..-

It was a lot.

However you didn't suddenly stop noticing your surroundings. You'd be a bad thief if you did.

So when the guy to your right did not avert his eyes and kept staring at you, you finally turned your head to look at him.

He was undoubtedly beautiful, so much that you immediately smiled.

His hair was blonde, his eyes dark, so dark, that you could drown in them if you stared into them for long.

But you were too good to let something as mundane as sexual attraction distract you from why you were here, so even though he smiled as well and seemed as interested in you as you were in him, you turned your head back around.

Deep down in a part of you that you would love to destroy forever, you wished he would approach you and talk to you, maybe even ask you out. But that naive part never won.

And because it didn't, you weren't disappointed when you turned your head to look at him again a few minutes later and found him gone.

Odd..

..you hadn't even realized he left.

Which was weird, because you always noticed.. everything.

Maybe you were more attracted to him than you had thought.

You had chosen the perfect day for stealing that painting.

They had to shut down the security system for an hour to reboot it and one hour was more than enough to get that painting out of that museum.

You were waiting on the roof, ready to slip through a window that you had opened with your tools beforehand.

According to your research the security guard of this area would pass through in fifteen seconds. Then you'd have approximately eight minutes before the next one would come.

You checked the rope that was secured at your hip one last time and took a deep breath when you could see the nightwatchman pass the hallway.

“Nice and easy, (Y/N),” you told yourself to calm your nerves, “As always.”

And as soon as the guy was gone, you let yourself down, careful and slowly.

You weren't in any of the halls with artifacts, simply a hallway, but you had carefully studied the halls of this museum long enough to know the fastest route to where you needed to go.

And as soon as your feet touched the ground you unhooked the rope and watched it snatch back up to the window you came out of, then you ran through one, then the next hallway, pressing yourself against a wall when a security guard passed by, before you continued on.

Your plan was perfect.

Down to every detail.

You knew that you would be able to steal the painting without any major issues, you had planned it all out to the smallest possible inconvenience.

But just when you had arrived in the right hall and wanted to run and get the picture, you noticed someone else standing in front of it.

Your heartbeat immediately picked up, you wanted to panic, but then you noticed the clothes.

No security guard and not someone who cleaned here. Because disguising yourself as one of these had been one of your other plans.

No, this person was dressed a lot like you, only that he wore a hood except for a cap.

You licked your lips and contemplated what to do next, but before you could decide the next step of action, the other person took that decision out of your hands.

“You smell just as good as you have earlier,” the voice said.

You furrowed your eyebrows and straightened up a little.

“Is that so?” your voices weren't loud enough to be heard, but you had to be careful about the echo, so you approached him. Just enough so that you could talk without screaming.

He didn't turn around, he only took off the hood and even in the dim light that only the moonlight provided you could see blonde hair.

And there was only one person with blonde hair who had been close enough to smell your perfume today.

“You've got to be fucking kidding me.”

The man turned around and indeed, it was the same guy as before. However this time he wasn't smiling at you. He almost looked.. angry.

“I assume we're here to steal the same painting then?”

“Listen honey,-”

“Taehyung,” he interrupted.

“Taehyung,” you repeated and finally took the last four steps to be right in front of him, “I don't know who hired you to steal this painting, but my boss offered me the sum of my life, so I won't go without it.”

“Same here. And you don't return empty handed to Hans Stevenson. Everyone knows that.”

You had looked at the painting beforehand, but the second the name fell from his lips you turned your head to look at him with slightly parted lips.

“Hans Stevenson? Swedish, but operating in Korea?”

“That's how I know him. How do you?” Taehyung furrowed his eyebrows.

This son of a bitch had ordered two thieves to steal the same fucking painting for him. Was he afraid that one would fail? Did he really have that little faith in you? And what about the fucking money?! And what if Taehyung had come here before you and you would have had to return – like he said – empty handed? That guy would have killed you for sure!

“Looks like we were ordered to steal the same painting.”

Taehyung was quiet for a moment, but before he could even open his mouth to respond the lights went back on and you could both see that the security cameras were beginning to turn themselves on again.

“Shit! They weren't supposed to be finished with that reboot..-”

“For another thirty minutes, I know,” Taehyung finished the sentence and immediately walked up to the painting, “Help me with this. We don't have much time.”

On one hand you were so fucking pissed that you just wanted to leave and tell Stevenson to suck his own dick. But you knew that failing him would be a horrible mistake.

“Fine,” you sighed angrily and did what he asked you to do.

To your own surprise you worked together rather well.

So well that you didn't even have to talk to the other person, you just kind of both knew what to do and when to do it and while you were usually very fast on your own, you were twice as fast with him helping you.

And well, if he hadn't been here, you would have been fucked.

But with his help you two managed to get out of this museum before the cameras got turned on again and without anyone spotting you.

He was.. good.

Better than you would have expected.

It was only when you were far enough away from the museum that you talked again, the painting in his hand, “You never told me your name.”

“(Y/N),” you pointed at the painting, “How do you want to handle that?”

“Honestly? I would like to burn it in front of Stevenson to say fuck you, but I doubt that would end good for us. So.. let's just hand it over together.”

“And where's the catch?” you furrowed your eyebrows, “When are you going to stab me in the back to get all the money for yourself?”

That was the first time that Taehyung smiled again. And it took your breath away just like the last time, “I would never do that to your pretty.. back,” his eyes darted to your hips, so you knew he meant your ass.

You just snorted and shook your head, but began smiling as well.

“Fine. Let's hand it over together.”

“Ah, there are my best thieves,” Stevenson got up from his huge ass office chair and clapped once, a huge smile on his face, “I see you met each other.”

“Why did you order two to steal that painting? One would have been enough!” Taehyung argued.

“He's right. This was unnecessary.”

“I don't know why you're complaining, angel,” when Stevenson wanted to touch your cheek you immediately slapped his hand away and shoved the painting against his chest, “You'll thank me for this one day.”

“I doubt that.”

Especially because that stupid piece of shit let you two split the original amount that you had agreed on, so you only got half, Taehyung the other.

However, later that night you and Taehyung were sitting on the hood of his car at the Han river, both of you with a bottle of Soju in your hands and staring at the water.

“We were a good team,” you whispered, “I never worked with anyone before but.. you helped a lot.”

Taehyung took a sip from the bottle and then nodded with a small smile, before looking at you, “I agree.”

“Maybe we should do it more often..”

“Is that a proposal?” he pushed himself off the car and put the bottle down on the ground.

You watched his every move with hawk eyes and smirked a little when you realized what he wanted to do. But you didn't push him away when he suddenly stood between your legs with that seductive look in his eyes that he had the first time you and him met in that museum.

“It could be..”

“Hm, I think you need to convince me,” he looked down to your legs and let his fingertips run over your thighs with a grin, “You think you'll manage that?”

You licked your lips and looked down as well, only that you were staring at his crotch area. You wrapped your arms and legs around him and pulled him closer with a grin, leaning to his ear to whisper: “I think I already have, honey.”

But just to be one hundred percent clear, you and him did it in the back of his car anyways.

And then it was like a contract.

And even though you hated that Stevenson guy with all your heart.. you couldn't help but thank him like he had said.

Because without him you never would have found your partner in crime and later, life.

#bts imagine #bts x reader #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung x reader #v x reader #kim taehyung imagine #taehyung imagine #v imagine #bts #bangtan boys #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan #kim taehyung #taehyung #v #reader #requests

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awesomedaniloa · 5 years

Text

Elting had created "irreparable"

asus bring the energy back to pcs and hardware For a really useful breakdown of social media usage by demographics follow this link.. Now focused on some of the most energetic processes in the universe, for short periods of time a supernova can generate enough visible light to outshine entire galaxies made up of billions of stars.USA TODAYWhy a NY businessman (and his mom) are still attacking Delaware and Joe BidenChancery Court Chancellor Andre Bouchard ruled that infighting between the company founders and ex fiances Phil Shawe and Liz Elting had created "irreparable" harm to TransPerfect employees and clients. And some sort of controversy has dogged Ronaldo practically every time that he's won.. But at the same cheap yeezy shoes time, this inexpensive food is coming to us at a high cost. Cut out the middleman and offer customers lower prices than that of retailers. Such a situation already exists among internet service provider companies, which have essentially colluded to carve up the United States different regions so that they can exploit and profit each with maximum efficiency while avoiding investing in infrastructure except at a bare minimum. About UsNeed to freshen up your look, fellas? The Basico boutique has your back. However that has changed with fashionistas like Kangana Ranaut and Shraddha Kapoor sporting entirely neutral looks. As difficult as it may be to accept, it is a fact that not everyone has the body to wear a dress with a shiny fabric and sequins. In today world in which children are practically born with a smartphone in their hands, the odds are automatically stacked against brands competing with world wide superstars.. It sucks worse when you have to maneuver your way past muscle bound blocks of aggression waiting in line for the weights or slink into the back of a cardio class to avoid group humiliation (who knew triathletes could side eye so well?). Many still think more asphalt or public transport will help us out. Problem with final walkthrough Anything you discover that was not detected during the home inspection is likely going to be on you. The cord, in other words, is counterfeit almost certainly meaning inferior materials and/or design using the CSA sticker to masquerade as the real thing.That would make it one of countless counterfeit products from car parts to sneakers to pharmaceuticals plaguing the marketplace."It's a big issue and it's happening rapidly in this country," says Wayne Edwards, chair of the Canadian Anti Counterfeiting Network (CACN) and vice president of Electrical Safety with the Electro Federation fake yeezys for kidsCanada, a national association of electrical, electronics and telecommunications companies.Counterfeit goods, says Edwards, are part of a $500 billion business worldwide. The store will celebrate its opening with a very fashionable fete two nights earlier, on Wednesday, Aug. Adidas shares, which soared to an all time high last week when it released strong headline quarterly figures and raised its 2016 outlook, were up 0.9 percent at 0724 GMT, compared with a slightly weaker German blue chip index. But this ignores the fans on the margins, the ones who turn the NFL from the most popular sport in America to the most popular thing in America. Alongside the free broadband offer for its landline subscribers, BSNL on Friday announced "free voice calling" within India for its existing landline, broadband, and mobile subscribers. What if you plugged, say, a slow cooker into it and went for a walk? "Maybe it would burn your house down. They fought often, and bitterly, sometimes ending in Bodo getting kicked out of the house for short stints. His mortgage payment, including taxes and insurance, ends up costing him $1,600 per month. I've seen people be required to tear down half, or all, of their house because of permitting issues. Like, what about a 32 ounce bottle of human scent killer? You know people will be food, right? Just go start the countdown, you amateur.Napoleon Bonaparte allegedly wrote his mistress to arrange a love tryst, saying, "I'm coming home please don't wash." The magic word behind lust is pheromones, those elusive, odorless chemicals given off in response to sexual stimulation or even romantic fantasy. Body scanners and software are being be used to make more precise standard measurements that are then assembled in a largely automated process.. "The nice thing, in this neighborhood, is that in the 15 years that we've opened this center, there has been a 55% decrease in crime in the Amani neighborhood," said Schneider. As well as selling clothing, the company also owns hair salons and music labels which all help to compliment the brand. IKEA and The Socializers have esentially created their own version of the BI software, with emphasis on E Commerce and Market Intelligence, it would be interesting to see developments in mobile technology data extraction, Cheap Fake Yeezys as the industry matures.. Her superb support of the management team and temporary teaching staff during the incredibly busy Business Management English Presessional programme last summer obtained considerable praise. But, actually that not correct the ISP can only see the domain part the rest (everything after that first slash) is actually encrypted and the ISP cannot see it (see picture).. Though the app is available for all models, the Nike watch also has a colorful wristband sporting holes to help sweat dry. After one of Sam's mega size sandwiches ($11.99 for pastrami or corned beef, $.99 more for lean; $12.99 for brisket), diners could use the walk.Carb cravers, head to Little Havana.

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tmae3114 · 5 years

Text

Diath & the Waterdeep Underground

Okay!! So!! It’s high time that I actually got around to cross-posting this over here!! I can’t believe it’s taken me so long!!

This is a theory that I’d been working on since *wobbly hand motion* mid- to late Season Three? I polished it up enough to post about two months ago but only ever got around to doing so on the DCA subreddit (bc that’s where there was more activity at the time) and always intended to get it over here as well and then just. never did.

So! Here’s the theory, as originally presented two months ago. I intend to add an edit/update at some point with all the new evidence from Episodes 116 and 117 but I haven’t had the time or energy to do so yet.

So! Without further ado! My “Diath’s got a history with Waterdeep’s criminal underground” theory!

(Note: due to the recent complications re: Tumblr And Links and the fact that I want this post to show up in the tag, all the timestamps which were linked in the subreddit version have been changed to URLs in this one. It’s a bit clunky to read but it’s the best I can do rn *shrug*)

I think Diath has a history with some part of the criminal underground in Waterdeep. Specifically, that he was part of it.

Diath’s past is something about which we know very, very little. He very rarely talks about it and usually in the broadest possible terms when he does; Episode 73 is the exception to this, with the stories he shares there being the most detail he has shared about events in his past. There is, however, one consistency which can be identified on the occasions when he does talk about it – he only ever talks about his time on the streets as a part of his childhood. This is not a solely in-universe thing either – Jared and Chris both do the same. (I believe so, at least. If I’m incorrect, please let me know and maybe provide me a timestamp/link to when whatever they say is said, if you can! It’d be useful information to have on hand for future theorising in this regard) Diath very much seems to be a precision oriented person by nature. His wording of things is often very deliberate. Therefore, with his time begging on the streets being specifically referred to as a part of his childhood, along with the meta-aspect of this additionally being consistent out of universe, we can surmise that he was no longer in the position of begging on the streets after his childhood.

If we’re to assume that childhood is including his teenage years (which seems a reasonable assumption, with how often Diath is teased about being a child post-Youth Potion) then Diath was, presumably, off the streets either at or around the age of eighteen/nineteen.

In Episode 73, when telling the story of how he met Strix, Diath states that he “was just trying [his] hand at being an adventurer” (https://youtu.be/6SuM1qebiXM?t=19m29s), indicating that they met relatively early into his adventuring career, which we can use to make a rough estimate of what age he began adventuring, admittedly with a lot of guesstimating.

We know that he was twenty eight at the beginning of the show. As of Episode 1, the Wafflecrew had been together for a “short while”, which we know was long enough to have been on a few adventures together but short enough that they were still figuring out group dynamics and the like – I would place this period of time as somewhere between two months and a year. We also know that he and Strix had known each other for “a few years” before they met Evelyn and Paultin – a period of time which I would place as being roughly three or four years, as five or more feels too many to be accurately described as “a few”.

Therefore, working with the largest numbers estimated above, it’s possible that Diath began adventuring somewhere in the range of five years prior to Episode 1, at age twenty three.

With the previous conclusion of Diath having no longer been begging at eighteen/nineteen and this new conclusion of him having not started adventuring until twenty three, this gives us a four/five year window in which to wonder ‘what exactly was he doing?’

But why think that he may have been involved in crime during that potential period? I have a few reasons, which are as follows:

Firstly, it has been alluded to on multiple occasions throughout the show that Diath has been in trouble with the law in Waterdeep either a significant number of times or one very memorable and impactful time. While I haven’t gone through the whole show to track down every reference to this, mostly because I don’t remember which episodes they’re all in and I don’t have the time (or, admittedly, patience) to go searching for them, I have got a very early one – in Episode 7, when he’s being arrested by the guards in Vallaki, Jared remarks that this is “not [Diath’s] first time [being arrested]” (https://youtu.be/STnBV8C61vM?t=19m52s). Additionally, Jared mentioned in an Idle Champions interview that Diath “technically […] has a criminal record.” (https://www.twitch.tv/videos/292683322?t=38m03s) While that could be a reference to the times that Diath (and the rest of the Wafflecrew) have got into trouble over the course of the show, the use of the phrase “criminal record” implies, to me, that that is a circumstance that is rather more official than most of the trouble the ‘crew have been in. Additionally, when he triggers the trap door in Castle Ravenloft and gets dropped into a dungeon cell in Episode 30, Diath’s response of being sad is explicitly noted to be because “[he] never wanted to be behind bars again.” (https://youtu.be/Y03julVmXNE?t=40m27s) This could quite likely be linked to Diath’s issues with cages (as displayed in Ironslag (https://youtu.be/dS_QMZOO5Og?t=1h4m33s)) but, again, the wording leads me to think there’s other possible connections – that phrase is usually used to refer to being in a jail cell or in prison, after all. Diath’s response to being in the cell is also quite markedly different to his reaction to being in the cage – frustration and sadness, as opposed to a borderline panic attack. The two are not necessarily mutually exclusive, though; Diath’s dislike of ending up in that cell could be related both to past trouble with the law and to whatever his trauma regarding cages is.

Secondly, in Episode 53, it’s revealed that Diath was sold by his family when he was young enough that he barely remembers them (https://youtu.be/jZrd26ImgyU?t=56m49s). A human brain generally starts laying down retrievable memories at roughly the age of three, so the presence of any memories of them at all means that Diath must have been at least that old when those events transpired. We also know from later reveals that he remembers at least enough to know his father’s name – Ashton – though this was clearly a later recollection as he did not recognise the name at all when first confronted with it when given Gutter by the dworc in Citadel Adbar. With that information, I would estimate that Diath was between the ages of three and six when he was sold. Additionally, as far as we know, he came from a working class family with an adventurer father.

Why is this significant information to this theory in particular? Simple.

Diath can read and write.

There is no point in his backstory that we currently know of where he could’ve learned or been taught those skills. Even had his birth family had access to the skills or resources to teach him, he wasn’t with them, and spent a large portion of his childhood begging on the streets. Diath having either of those skills, let alone both, is odd. And in addition to reading and writing, he’s also got a fairly refined speech pattern and even knows some words that Evelyn, a noble-born child primarily raised in a temple, doesn’t (see: the stationary exchange in episode 94) which is, again, pretty unusual for someone who seemingly went straight from beggar to adventurer. It’s possible that Diath is self-taught but it’s just as possible, if not more likely, that there’s some unknown period in his past where there was someone who taught him. The questions left to us in that scenario, then, are who and why? Knowing Diath and how things generally go for him, it’s unlikely it was someone performing an act of altruism. In concert with the other possible pieces of evidence for this theory, it doesn’t seem too out there to speculate that he was, perhaps, taught because it could be a useful skill for him to have for whoever he was working for. This could also explain his speech pattern, as it could account for him being around a person, or people, who spoke like that enough to start doing it himself, something which would be much more unlikely on the streets.

Thirdly, it seems to have been implied that, in certain parts of Waterdeep at least, Diath has a reputation that paints him as a thief, or someone with the potential to be one. In Episode 73, when talking about how he and Strix met the rest of the Wafflecrew, Diath is very, very certain that the hostility and accusation from the innkeeper was because of and directed at him (https://youtu.be/6SuM1qebiXM?t=25m16s). The only elaboration that he gives on being so sure that the innkeeper was accusing him specifically and not targeting him and Strix because of Strix being a tiefling is stating that "when you stay in Waterdeep long enough, doing the things you do, you do develop a sort of... reputation, either by- either through truth or not.” (https://youtu.be/6SuM1qebiXM?t=23m59s). He doesn’t actually tell us what that reputation is or give any hints as to how it may have come about. While stereotypes could arguably be at play, given that the Rusty Pommel was apparently fairly seedy and in a seedy part of town, it seems unlikely that Diath was the only former street kid or the only rogue in the establishment. His certainty implies it was something about him specifically that caused that incident, especially with the comment about reputations. In Episode 90, Evelyn of Shar’s use of the fear spell reveals to us that one of Diath’s worst fears is Awful!Diath, his mirrored self. Specifically "He hates seeing that that is what everyone else sees him as, and that's what he could have been, that he tries to fight every day to not be." (https://youtu.be/PDG4KidCIXU?t=1h28m48s) This fear is likely linked to the aforementioned implied reputation. What is of particular interest to this theory, however, is the latter part of that sentence – “that’s what he could have been, that he tries to fight every day not to be.” While this could simply refer to how Diath could have taken a different path growing up, it could also mean that it was a path he had already started down, and turned back from. With that possibility in mind, it’s also entirely possible that the reputation he seemingly has that caused the conflict in the Rusty Pommel is not, as would seem the first interpretation of his statement from what we know of Diath, an untruthful reputation of being a thief, but rather a truthfully earned one of being a criminal – after all, everyday people who don’t know Diath would have no way of knowing about his personal moral code against stealing. If he had a reputation as a criminal, there would be no reason for people not to assume that this would include thievery. The ambiguity of his wording, “doing the things you do”, could also lend credence to this possibility. Diath is very good at keeping secrets and using an ambiguous phrase to not technically lie is something he could very easily have been doing with that statement.

My final reasoning is that, since the return to Waterdeep but particularly in Episode 102, we have been shown that Diath has a pretty wide network of contacts – referred to by Chris as his “society of confederates” – to the point that with their help he was able to rally the city guard to catch the Xanathar Guild members who stole Waffles within hours of returning to Waterdeep. Combined with the potential evidence for this theory, this is interesting, since it could point to what degree he was involved, but it isn’t strictly evidence for this theory on its own.

None of these things alone necessarily point to Diath having been involved with some aspect of the criminal underworld in Waterdeep but I feel like they make for a compelling case when looked at together. What do you think?

#dice camera action #dca #diath woodrow #it's!! been way too long!!! since I posted theory content on this blog!!!#waitwaitwait hang on what was my theorising tag theme #I HAD A THEME #WHAT WAS IT #OH RIGHT I REMEMBER #Tmae overanalyses DCA #THERE WE GO. KEEPING WITH THE THEME.#also I can't wait to add all the stuff from 117 because there was SO MUCH FUEL FOR THE FIRE

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ctheist · 6 years

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( *✧ damon j. gillespie, bisexual, cis male ) — have you seen MICHAEL GABLE, the 17 year old STUDENT that's INTELLIGENT, but also RADICAL? in another life, he was known as MELCHIOR GABOR from SPRING AWAKENING.

TW : suicide , not fully consensual sex , drugs , abortion. ... i think that's it. let me know if it's not !

STATS

AGE: seventeen SEX: male GENDER: cis male SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual , he’s experimented. HEIGHT: 5'8" BUILD: seems skinny , though does have some muscle. COMPLEXION: dark with just a touch of fairness. HAIR: chocolate brown EYES: hazel STATUS: high class , though sometimes he acts like middle class. LANGUAGES: english , german , latin EDUCATION-LEVEL: college level , if he tries. he’s currently in high school , but could easily skip if he wanted to. RELIGION: atheist PHYSICAL CONDITIONS: n/a DISORDERS: n/a DISPOSITION: blunt , curious , radical , revolutionary , advanced. he’s very verbal with his opinions.

BIOGRAPHY

IN ANOTHER LIFE…

♦ michael gable melchior gabor was born in a provincial german town , to a doting mother & a mentally absent father. ♦ childhood in germany seemed to be like any other. staying outside , spending time with his friends – playing pirates. every spring & summer. ♦ still , melchior’s father ( along with every other in the neighborhood ) made sure to instill a sense of pride for education in his child , for religion. of course , the love for literature & natural curiosity for the world came from his mother. the woman allowed the boy to dream , & gave him every tool needed to succeed in school. books upon books , the mama quickly learned that her boy had a knack for learning. he actually enjoyed every bit of new information being transferred into his brain. perhaps that was the initial mistake. encouraging him to explore on his own. & yet the mother could not possibly take the wonder from him. no , she would allow him to do as he pleased. ♦ school had never been a problem for melchior – if he’d attempted. he was the smartest in his class , & each year proved to be no different. of course , his intelligence came from his own research. & soon enough the curiosity led to a disbelief in god , in questioning the adults around him , in caring more about science than religion , history was the core of the world. ♦ despite his lack of religious beliefs , his teachers knew that melchior gabor would go far. he was never the issue – his best friend was. moritz stiefel. always the problem child & never being good enough for their expectations, melchior would always protect him. from punishment , from the lessons , from everything. hell , moritz spent time at his home enough to practically call melchior’s mother his own. a dear friend among a sea of cruel adults. ♦ imagine the surprise when his best friend comes to him , talking about dreams involving women. sexual. well , what can an atheist best friend do ? except write a ten page essay about intercourse. per moritz’s request. the kama sutra got nothing on this essay. needless to say , moritz learned a lot. ♦ the late teenage years are interesting , to say the least. not only had he written the essay , but an old friend appeared once again in his life. wendla bergmann. they begin spending time together , their emotions escalating with each conversation. o the first time they talk , imagining what would happen if things became – physically intimate. the conversation is short-lived & soon enough they part ways. o the second time wendla makes an – odd request. she wants him to hit her with a switch , to make her feel something. the girl has never felt anything. or so she claims. initially horrified , the boy reluctantly agrees. the actions begin gently , but quickly heighten. she can’t feel it. there’s a hidden anger within the boy , frustration about to be taken out on the girl. he stops himself. for a moment he’s afraid of himself. all he can do is leave her there , crying. he’s left his notebook. o the third time is in the hayloft. there’s a storm & she finds him there. to return the notebook. the boy asks her to leave , though she does not. they share a kiss. melchior , knowing how wonderful it is to engage in intercourse , urges wendla to have sex with him. she hesitates , as she is unsure of what they’re doing. the pair have sex. the intimacy ends & they part ways. ♦ things begin to spiral. melchior’s best friend has killed himself. shot himself to escape his family , the school. the stress. he’s at the funeral. ♦ moritz has ended his life due to stressors , yet melchior is being blamed. the ten page essay about intercourse ? they’ve found it. used it to sentence him. he admits to his crime – if it can truly be called that. he’s expelled. ♦ he’s sent to reformatory school , despite his mother’s complaints. she inevitably agrees with his father who made the decision. ♦ letters are exchanged while he’s there between wendla & himself. the last one is holds big news , the idiots he’s living with takes it. they read it & berate him. touching themselves to the letter. SHE’S PREGNANT. ♦ he escapes. a letter is given to a mutual friend , begging that she make sure that wendla gets it. it says to meet him at the cemetery at midnight. arriving within a few days he awaits her. ♦ during this time , melchior mourns over the death of his friend. he swears to be a loving , open , understanding father. yet , he still waits. soon enough he finds HER grave. died of anemia , a botched abortion. ♦ with his best friend , his love & his child gone – melchior has nothing to live for. a razor is drawn , determined to end his life as his best friend has. he had the right idea. “ they'll scatter a little earth, & thank their god ! “ ♦ the spirits of both moritz & wendla appeared to him , stopping him from ending his life to join them. despite missing his friends , he knew they wanted him to live on to change how things are done.

& NOW…

♦ born in germany ,michael gable is the only child of mr. & mrs. gable. the only son of a german mother & an american father , life brought his adventurous life through many different countries & states. eventually , they ended up in new york. ♦ the gables are rather well off. mom stays home & father owns his own company. father worked a very full-time job , keeping most of his time away from his family. the mrs. was the one that spent all her time with her son. raising him practically on her own. & through homeschooling , & a general curiosity , she realized just how much her son’s mind could hold. of course , by the time he COULD go to school , he was already ahead of his class. ♦ every lesson was more boring than the last , so studies continued at home. on his own. no , the mother wanted him to go to school to make FRIENDS. something that she could not provide. social skills were a necessity. ♦ michael succeeded , just like in anything else. he made friends – few , but he did make them. they were close. ♦ as he grew up , michael began to learn more about religion. the only thing his parents seemed to agree on. at least father had sundays off to go to church. oh , but the boy discovered through science just how USELESS religion was. god could not be proven scientifically. he became an ATHEIST. ♦ for a few weeks his father couldn’t even look at him. he was never home anyway. his mother – tolerated , his decision. ♦ growing up michael was taught to express his opinion , no matter what others thought. to have a mind of his own. which is precisely what he does. It gets him into trouble more often than not. ironically , his father would prefer him to keep his opinions to himself. ♦ he has always been protective of his friends. & always will be. michael has a “fight me” attitude when it comes to others picking on those he cares about. ♦ if he tries his best , he’s top of his class. there are distractions in high school , but for the most part he keeps his throne at the top. ♦ while he is rich , the boy looks for ways to make money. generally things that involve school. tutoring & helping others cheat. father dearest thinks he needs therapy for “having too many opinions” , so the medications he gets , he sells at school. no use for them anyway. ♦ despite his mind focusing on science , he does have some interest in music. he doesn’t plan to pursue anything , but he has had professional training ( rich parents ). he plans on majoring in philosophy & is currently taking ADVANCE PLACEMENT classes. ♦ he could be going to college , he could’ve started going long before his senior year. instead , he opted into staying in high school with his friends. college can wait. ♦ his favorite book is faust , which he has read in english , german & latin. all languages his mother has taught him. ♦ he can have a rather cynical view on life , but for the most part he tries to smile & be friendly. ♦ don’t get into a battle of wits with him. you won’t win. ♦ sex & physical affection has never been taboo for him. he’s learned all there is to know about it through reading , research & personal experience. ♦ there is a hidden anger within the boy. stress that is bottled up , it doesn’t come out often. but when it does , it comes in the form of parties , fights & a LARGER michael – as in , every little problematic trait is intensified.

EXTRA

FRIENDS

♦ maurice stewart ( best friend ) ♦ pauline kaufman ( close friend ) ♦ willow edwards ( old friend )

PARTNERS

♦ pauline kaufman ( casual )

CLIENTS

♦ TBD

OTHER

♦ TBD

( these are subject to change as we go. let me know if you’d like to be part of any of these , or if your character knows michael in some other capacity. )

#musical;intro #〘 headcanon. 〙 ⋆ show me but one obscenity.#this is super late !#i'm sorry this got SUPER LONG !#but it's all the info on melchi's tab on my theme :)#i also added a before section #for anyone who hasn't seen spring awakening #it's mainly melchi's shit but still XD

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the-desolated-quill · 6 years

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Time Heist - Doctor Who blog

(SPOILER WARNING: The following is an in-depth critical analysis. If you haven’t seen this episode yet, you may want to before reading this review)

Oh God, Stephen Thompson is writing this. No. Worse. Stephen Thompson and Steven Moffat are writing this! Heaven preserve us!

Well everyone can relax. Time Heist isn’t as bad as The Curse Of The Black Spot or Journey To The Centre Of The TARDIS. In fact Time Heist is actually surprisingly good. Well... it’s good up to a point, but we’ll come to that.

It’s a great premise. The Doctor and Clara are joined by augmented human Psi and shapeshifter Saibra to rob the bank of Karabraxos. The most secure bank in the galaxy. It’s a brilliant opening with some proper sci-fi in it. (I particularly like the little detail of using your breath to open code locked doors). And then there’s of course the Teller. LOVE it! It’s a great design for one thing and its powers are incredibly scary. It can sense your guilt and turn your brain into soup. Very creepy, although sadly undermined by the image of those people with their heads flattened. Ms Delphox puts them on display as a warning, but all it did was just make me snigger. Come on, you have to admit they do look just a little bit silly.

I also really like Ms Delphox, played by Keeley Hawes. While she does unfortunately get saddled with Moffat’s dominatrix dialogue and persona just like all of Moffat’s other female characters do, Hawes does such a good job in the role and really makes the part her own. She has such an authoritative presence on screen and is clearly having a lot of fun in the role. I particularly like how Delphox isn’t just evil for the sake of being evil. Due to the bank’s ultra strict security system and protocols, if Delphox fails to catch the robbers, she will be incinerated by her boss. It’s something different, which is nice.

Time Heist has a really good pace, Everything zips along very nicely and I was glued to the screen for the most part. I also really liked the characterisation. Top of the class is of course Peter Capaldi. He’s absolutely brilliant in this episode, capturing the Doctor at his very essence. Despite the fact Psi and Saibra know absolutely nothing about him and have no reason to trust him or take orders from him, the Doctor is able to take charge using the sheer force of his intellect and personality. Peter Capaldi is the Doctor. I also loved the scene where he rebukes Psi for accusing him of being cold and emotionless about Saibra’s ‘death.’ The Doctor has always been one to prioritise the job at hand over mourning the loss of someone, but this Doctor really doesn’t wish to be bogged down in sentimentality. Nine and Ten often express their grief with a brief sorry before moving on, whereas Twelve seems to prefer to keep it all to himself and just get on with things. He may seem uncaring, but his face when he’s walking away from Psi speaks volumes. He does care very deeply. He just doesn’t want to express it. The other characters are good as well. Out of the two I think I like Psi more. Johnathan Bailey does a really good job in the role and I like his motive for breaking into the bank. Wanting to reclaim the lost memories of his friends and family. And the scene where he sacrifices himself to save Clara was very effective. Saibra was good too and Pippa Bennett-Warner gives a good performance, but her motivation is a bit weak. Okay, I get the whole thing about shapeshifting every time she touches someone, but what’s the deal with this line:

“How could you trust someone who looked back at you out of your own eyes?”

Wha... What does that mean exactly? It sounds like typical pretentious Moffat bullshit to me.

Also Clara is pointless. Seriously, why is she even here? What role does she play? The Doctor is clearly the leader (and secretly the Architect). Psi is the hacker. Saibra is the shapeshifter. What’s Clara’s role? She’s not even the Doctor’s moral compass like in Into The Dalek. She’s basically just tagging along for the ride. If there was ever an episode that perfectly demonstrated how utterly useless and one dimensional Clara really is, it’s this one.

Yeah, I suppose I can’t put this off any longer. While there are large portions of Time Heist I did enjoy, a lot of the episode is sadly hampered by Moffat and Thompson’s usual sloppiness. Since we’ve just been talking about the characters, let’s talk about the ‘exit strategy.’ Presumably a way for the characters to painlessly kill themselves should the Teller discover them. A very dark idea, but also a completely ineffectual one thanks to its execution. If you’ve seen any sci-fi ever, you’ll know what a teleport looks like, and the fact that the effect we see when Saibra and Psi use the shredders look suspiciously like teleports does negatively impact the tragedy of their ‘death’ scenes because, in the back of your head, you’re wondering where they’ve gone off too and when they’ll be coming back. But even if you didn’t pick up on that, it still doesn’t work because their surprise return effectively undermines their sad and touching deaths in order for Moffat to pull a ‘gotcha’ moment.

Then there’s the Architect. Who here honestly thought he wasn’t the Doctor? It’s such a painfully obvious twist. He’s a time traveller, like the Doctor. He has access to memory worms, like the Doctor. They even chuck in a massive clunker of a clue by having the Doctor outright state he hates the Architect. Since when has the Doctor ever said that about anyone? He can’t even admit he hates the Daleks for fuck sake. The only possible person he could be referring to is himself, at which point you soon realise that this episode isn’t about a bank heist at all. It’s yet another episode that’s all about the Doctor, this time about his self loathing and manipulative tendencies. And it actually reduces the stories of Psi, Saibra and the Teller because you realise that the only purpose they serve is to shine a light on the Doctor. Loneliness bad, companionship good. This is the fifth story in a row that has focused exclusively on the Doctor. Anymore and the show is seriously at risk of disappearing up its own vortex. Why can’t the episode have just been about the Doctor breaking into a bank and saving Mr and Mrs Teller? I like that idea. It’s something different and it’s a very Doctorly motivation for breaking into a bank. Why does everything have to be so inwardly focused nowadays? I don’t mind the odd episode that explores the Doctor’s character (provided it’s done well), but this is taking the piss.

And then there’s all the plot contrivances. For the most secure bank in the galaxy, its security is unbelievably shit. Putting aside the almost comically oversized vents that anyone can comfortably crawl through, how come the guards seem to be searching for the intruders everywhere but near the fucking Vault where the valuables are kept? You’d think Delphox would post a couple at the door or something just in case. And what about the scene where the Doctor and Clara are captured? Before Delphox set the Teller on a random person that was just guilty for a crime he was about to commit. But with the Doctor and Clara, Delphox decides to take the Teller away for a little nap and let the guards deal with them instead. Why? But what really spoils Time Heist completely are the two gaping plot holes at the centre of the narrative.

The first is the solar storm. This is the only time the bank is vulnerable, but it’s also the only time the TARDIS can’t land. Well... why don’t you just land the TARDIS at a time when there isn’t a solar storm? The Doctor said it himself at the beginning. Robbing a bank is easy if you’ve got a TARDIS. In fact I’m assuming that was how he planted all the briefcases. If he could do that, why not just materialise the TARDIS right inside the Private Vault, grab Mr and Mrs Teller and go? You wouldn’t even need to bother with the memory worms. The second plot hole is Madame Karabraxos (also played by Keeley Hawes). So what sets all of this in motion is a dying Karabraxos from the future phoning the Doctor and begging him to save the Tellers. The entire plot hinges on the Doctor giving her his phone number and then just hoping she’ll miraculously grow a conscience and realise what a horrible, selfish bitch she was when she has no reason to. (yes i know there’s the whole self loathing thing with the clones, but that’s really not good enough. It also doesn’t make any sense. if you hate yourself so much, why would you create clones of yourself in the first place?) It’s also completely reliant on Karabraxos not losing the phone number, except why in God’s name would she keep it? At this moment in time, she has no reason to take the Doctor seriously yet and clearly has no interest in redemption just yet, so why hang on to the phone number? It’s absolute nonsense.

Like I said, there are a few things about Time Heist I liked and I did enjoy it to a point, but what ultimately holds it back from greatness is Thompson’s usual ineptness when it comes to basic storytelling as well as Moffat once again putting more effort into trying to outsmart the audience and prove how clever he is rather than writing something that’s actually satisfying and worthwhile. Overall, good idea, but sloppy execution.

#time heist #stephen thompson #steven moffat #doctor who #twelfth doctor #peter capaldi #clara oswald #jenna coleman #bbc #review #spoilers

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serenitykrp · 6 years

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—WARNING : suspect may be armed and dangerous! LEE JONGSUK, code named URSA MAJOR, is a CREW MEMBER on an unidentified firefly-class ship, traveling through the ‘Verse under the radar. They are known for being kind, self sacrificing, compassionate, easy-going, and brilliant, but beneath the surface, they have proven to be guilt-ridden, secretive, stubborn, and self-righteous. Although their origin lies somewhere on their home planet ARIEL, they have been caught by stardust and lost to the great expanse.

YOU ARE YOUR OWN EXPLOSION, BRING US YOUR VERY BEST VIOLENCE.

Jongsuk is compassionate and it is both his greatest strength and his greatest weakness. In his desire to help, to do good, he has found himself being manipulated over and over again - blind to the machinations of others.

Yet, despite his own failures, Jongsuk still searches for the silver lining in any situation. He’s come to learn that things can’t be all that bad if he can still find a reason to smile at the end of his shift. It’s one of the reasons he’s taken to carrying lollipops in his pockets - he’s found that it’s the small things in life that people come to appreciate, especially when they’re stuck on an infirmary bed.

He’s been accused more than once of having bleeding heart tendencies and although he tends to wave off that accusation with a laugh, there’s no denying that his work and his past weigh heavily on him. He tries to hide the guilt he feels with a toothy grin, but that guilt has begun to eat at him more and more.

It’s why he such a workaholic even taking on cases when the ship makes berth for supplies.

He knows he can’t make amends for everything that he helped cause but that won’t stop him from trying.

THERE IS NO NEWS, THERE IS ONLY THE TRUTH OF THE SIGNAL.

Do no harm.

No other words had ever impacted Lee Jongsuk as much as those.

It was a promise. A mantra. A sacred vow.

And the one thing that he had failed to uphold.

Even before he’d drawn his first breath, Jongsuk was destined to become a doctor. Born on Ariel, he was the first born son in a line of doctors - all of which had contributed greatly to the advancement of the medical field.

And Jongsuk, whose entire life had already been planned out for him, would be no exception.

Not that he actually minded his fate.

To Jongsuk, life was a miracle. For as delicate as the human body was, for as improbable as our continued existence was -especially as more and more new, uninhabitable planets were terraformed along the outer rim, humanity continued to flourish. But even more amazing still was how humans adapted. Thousands of years ago, scientists had thought that it’d be impossible for humanity to live among the stars but here they were - thriving despite the odds.

It was that fascination, that genuine curiosity to understand how the human body could withstand as much as it did, that kept him motivated despite his family’s overwhelming demands and led to him graduating at the top of his class at the Medical Academy.

Yet it was then, when Jongsuk was poised to accept his guaranteed position at the most prestigious hospital in Ariel, that he took the first step that would change his life completely. Because Jongsuk wasn’t interested in the monotony of hospital shifts - especially on a planet like Ariel where the worst he’d be confronted with was runny noses and hovering parents.

No, Jongsuk wanted to be of real use. He wanted to put his skills and knowledge to the test and help those whose lives truly needed saving.

What he wanted was a challenge.

Which is why he volunteered to take part in a relief aid program sending doctors and nurses out to the rim planets in the hopes of establishing medical centers on the most destitute planets. It was the kind of challenge that he’d dreamt of his whole life which is how he knew that his parents would be completely opposed to the idea.

What he hadn’t expected was the appraising look his father had given him when he broke the news to them, scrutinizing him like a butterfly pinned to a board as Jongsuk made his case - cutting him off with a ‘this will make for invaluable research’ opportunity before dismissing him.

Any other time Jongsuk would have questioned his father’s easy acquiescence. Because even though part of his duties would in fact be documenting the different types of ailments found on these newly terraformed planets and the response to the treatment provided to them, Jongsuk knew it wouldn’t be groundbreaking work. But in his excitement, he dismissed that niggling thought - more than ready to begin his journey.

He wouldn’t realize how much that dismissal would cost him until it was too late.

For a whole year and a half, Jongsuk threw himself wholeheartedly into his work not caring that he was trading in the refined comforts of his home for whatever he and the rest of the team could scrounge up on each planet. His new life was filled with moments that challenged him - pulling off seemingly impossible miracles as he saved actual lives. It was moments like those that Jongsuk felt like he had the best, most important job in the ‘verse.

Yet that all changed once he reached a planet that was still only known by its numerical assignation. Originally they’d been sent to investigate a skin condition that had been plaguing the settlers but soon after their arrival, more and more settlers began to fall sick. Except this time they were displaying symptoms similar to an infectious respiratory disease Jongsuk remembered dealing with six months prior and not the easily treatable rash they’d originally come for.

He went straight to his commander, immediately expressing his concerns that they had been the ones that brought the fatal disease to the planet.

Jongsuk still remembers the way the man’s laughter sent a cold thrill running down his spine.

“Of course we did,” his commander said, sending Jongsuk a disparaging look, “we needed more data before we could move on to the next clinical phase of this project.”

What Jongsuk hadn’t realized and what his father hadn’t warned him about was that the Jongsuk’s little endeavor had been sponsored entirely sponsored by a pharmaceutical branch of the Blue Sun Corporation. A branch, whose main endeavor was to get ahead of the Alliance sanctioned biochemical firms in the production of pharmaceuticals.

But all Jongsuk heard was that all this time, when he thought he’d been saving lives all over the verse, he had been participating in human experimentation.

Unknowingly or not, that was something that Jongsuk could not condone yet soon enough he found out that he was the only one onboard that felt that way.

And that made him a liability.

It was only by the skin of his teeth that he managed to escape off that planet - especially once the others found out about his failed attempt to expose them. But Jongsuk hadn’t taken into account just how powerful the Blue Sun Corporation truly was. It’s how Jongsuk found himself on the run, stealing as much data as he could to hopefully one day be able to stop them despite now being branded a criminal himself for crimes he had unknowingly committed.

#sy: follow #lee jongsuk

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evolutiontale-au · 6 years

Text

Humans: A Brief History Of The Ascendancy

Behold; it is the inner ring of the Crystal Province, one of the seven capitol cities of Humanity.

As you follow the maglev highway into the city, shimmering skyscrapers seem to grow around you, the reinforced glass upon them reflecting and refracting the light of dusk in a brilliant display of color. In the daytime, these same buildings light up with a variety of colors based upon their designated purposes and the events that go on within; organized minds working together to keep the city running seamlessly.

Down on the ground below these skyscrapers, there is the hustle and bustle of beings moving quickly about their day to stay on schedule, people clad in colorful clothing nearly as bright as the skyline itself. We work reliably for that which we want and converse regardless of what we are doing, exchanging both pleasantries and information in equal measures as they go about their days. When one isn't working, there are often trips taken to the parks nearby and the community centers and the game lounges, as recreational activities and sufficient amounts of rest are proven to be important for one's mental and physical health. It is a safe and secure life to live, one which many citizens consider themselves lucky to possess.

Of course, things were not always this way.

Our evolutionary level began low, as all must, with primal desires slowly being replaced by self control. Over time we became smarter, less instinctual and more analytical, yet less happy and more cynical. Danger lurked around every corner; horrible things were done to each other in every dark alley; terrible crimes were committed in broad daylight with no protest. Everyone was an enemy, someone to be wary of, and as our technology level grew, we began to destroy ourselves.

Bombs capable of decimating the entire planet were created. The first detonation wasn't an accident; it was deliberately done so others would die and one group of belief could be proven the most powerful of us all. Yet not all of us were evil. Not everything was bleak. There were those of us who had come to see that the current state was no state to be in, and wanted to do something about it. So they did; they stole the remaining bombs against all odds, and disposed of them so thoroughly that we still don't know where they went to this day.

Technology afterwards advanced rapidly yet sloppily, and those who desired such unreasonable destruction were brought to justice. Our race had finally united together, forgetting our troubles with each other, and we worked towards the goal of common advancement. The one who had led the revolution and inspired the people to unite together was delegated the leader of all, and he laid out the framework for society to advance beyond his doings.

As the dust settled and peace began to reign throughout the land, our first Ascendant declared an heir to his position; the last official statement he made before dying. His best friend's great-grandson became the leader of all Humans, and decreed that with his leadership would come a time for the betterment of our species.

The Caste System was developed during this time. What had previously been a mere framework for progress became the stepping stones for Human society today, as the citizens of various talents and skills were organized into classes based upon what they could do best. The second Ascendant, at the very top of our societal hierarchy, gave us the organization we needed to better ourselves, living up to his promise:

The First Caste consists of only one person, given leadership above all. This is the Ascendant, responsible for all of Humanity, leading as is their duty. They can be removed from power at any time, should they ACT threateningly towards the peace that has been established, by the Advisors and the People below them. Otherwise, an Ascendant will remain in leadership until they step down or die.

The Second Caste is made of the Advisors. These people are much like the Dukes and Duchesses of ancient medieval history, providing valuable council to their current Ascendant, while keeping the wishes of the people in mind. As the closest to the top, being past Ascendants, they rule over multiple estates as a regional charge, and are in charge of the military forces together. A contract made at the end of their individual leaderships declares their loyalty to the Ascendants that take their place, and should they disagree with this contract, they are free to leave their position to become a member of a lower caste. Advisors are a part of the Tri-Caste Council beneath the Ascendant, representing themselves and the deceased members of their Caste.

The Third Caste consists of the Scions, land-owning lords of the Ascendancy, looking over large estates beneath the Advisors. These are the scientists making progress towards the improvement of Humanity as a whole, be it through psychological comfort, physical improvement, or otherwise. They are the ones who travel the most throughout society, interacting with the people of all castes in order to make sure that everyone is relatively happy and healthy, and most commonly work alongside Spans, Artisans, and Tributes alike. Scions are a part of the Tri-Caste Council beneath the Ascendant, representing themselves, the Artisans, and the Tributes.

The Fourth Caste is known to host the Spans. Much like the knights of old, these people act as the mercenaries, guards, police, and military for the Ascendancy, making sure that the laws are enforced and the citizens are safe. Like the Advisors, those of this caste are under contract that declares their loyalty to the Ascendant in power, and they are also free to leave their positions at any time if they so desire. Not everyone is cut out for violence, after all.

The Fifth Caste contains the vast array of Artisans, those most skilled with the arts of all visual and auditory manners. They lead the people in the way of media, and are considered the idols and celebrities of Human society. Everyone has their favorites, of course, but seeing one on the street is always a perk up to the day. These Class A citizens are are allowed to go anywhere inside and outside the cities, but are not allowed within The Ascendant's Tower or the research facilities without proper authorization.

The Sixth Caste consists of the Proletarians; the working class of society. Proletarians possess the largest population of all other castes, followed by the Hangs and the Spans, and perform a variety of jobs throughout the city. These Class B citizens are free to to anywhere inside and outside the cities, but are not allowed to enter the inner ring (which holds the Ascendant's Tower, the research facilities, and the homes of the Advisors, Scions, and Artisans) without proper authorization. Proletarians are a part of the Tri-Caste Council beneath the Ascendant, representing themselves, the Spans, and the Hangs.

The Seventh Caste hosts the Hangs, citizens that don't have jobs for various reasons. Most commonly, the Hangs are children, disabled, and elderly- people who are physically unable to work- although there have been exceptions to this. A lack of jobs in one field of work may cause a few citizens to become Hangs until they prove their ability to work in other fields, at which point they are no longer considered Hangs. As Class C citizens, their travel is limited to within the cities, unless they have the necessary skills or authorization to go out into the wilds.

The Eighth Caste is made of the Tributes, people who have willingly given themselves up to a higher Caste for various purposes. This may be because they wanted to repay a debt they felt couldn't be paid any other way, or because they wanted the chance to be subjects of the Scions' experiments and score some cool stuff, or because they wanted to learn things they otherwise wouldn't be able to in their previous Caste. Citizens of the Ascendancy are incapable of becoming a Tribute unless they or a guardian prove their understanding of all this entails, and if a Tribute was signed on as a child, they are officially given the chance to rejoin normal society upon reaching the age of adulthood.

With the creation of the Caste System, we let our society continue to grow, and set forth on our journey of evolution.

Scientifically, our greatest step forward at this point has to be the development of genetic engineering software. We created machines that could decipher individual DNA sequences, and studied hard to identify the traits that was within each separate part. With such an advancement, we could- and did- make our immune systems stronger, our kids taller, and gave them unique features like violet hair and neon orange eyes and other appealing traits.

When these kids grew up, they took over the process and improved upon it; adding health and intelligence and beauty. As more DNA sequences were identified, we became much more versatile, our adaptability increasing. We grew stronger, faster; able to bring ourselves to a satisfactory physical condition with little effort. No more diets and no more concern over obesity!

Our stories and legends told of people who could become one with nature; of people who could run freely across a city skyline with the utmost faith in their own ability to stay safe doing so; of people who could wrestle dangerous animals and come out on top with a smile. With genetic engineering, we could do all of that, and more... We are fulfilling the fantasies of our ancestors one by one.

Aren't you proud of how far we've come?

#EvolutionTale-AU #EvolutionTale-Info #Humans #The Ascendancy #Crystal Province #Caste System

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