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ratrinisa · 11 months
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REASONS WHY PLAYING MOBILE GAMES IS A WAY OF LEARNING DIFFERENT SKILLS
by Annisa Nur Ratri Oktavianti
Nowadays, people are accessing the internet easily. They can access the internet from their home, shopping mall, workplaces, cafe, even from a remote area. Accessing the internet can be done if they have an internet connection or else they cannot access it. Many people use internet for all kinds of stuff such as working, shopping, communicating, entertainment purpose, etc. Because of that, internet users come from different range of age. From kids until elders, you can find many kinds of people through the internet. Not only humans that use it, you could also find animals on the internet. Obviously animals do not understand how to use internet, but their owner or keeper does.
Internet use today is very diverse and one of them is playing games. Oxford Dictionary described game as an activity that you do to have fun, often one that has rules and that you can win or lose; the equipment for a game. Many older generations don’t understand the purpose or the positive side about playing games. Many of them said that playing games is just a waste of time and do not have any important value in our lives. Well, I disagree with that opinion. Life are quite hard these days, for example my brother who is in a junior highschool are studying at least 8 hours at his school. He goes to school on 6 AM then goes home on 3 PM. After he got home you know what he do next? Yes, he’s playing games on his phone. He wanted to have fun and relax. Several studies had shown that playing games could help a person reduces stress. Barlett and Roheder (2009) conducted a study about video game. The study includes comparison of video games content. They found out that game, Conflict Desert Storm, which have a realistic and violent content increased heart rate. On the other hand, Hard Hitter Tennis, which do not have any sort of violent content, decreased heart rate. Other studies that are conducted by Panee and Ballard (2002); Anderson (2004); Bartlett et al. (2009); Hasan et al. (2013) shows that fighting or shooting games increased heart rates, blood pressure, respiration rate, and heart rate variability decrease while non-action games proven to do the opposite.
Now, when we are talking about games there are many kinds of games such as video games, mobile games, board games, and many more. Playing these games may seems easy at first but once you play it, it is kind of difficult especially if you are a person who rarely play games. Dunette (1976) said that skill is the required capacity to carry out several tasks which are the development of the results of training and experience gained. If you are a game player or lover like me, you already knew that we need certain skills and teamwork to play a game. The more skills that the player has and mastered, the more chance of winning. There are many skills that you will eventually learn when you are playing games such as startegic skill, communication skill, language skill, and many more.
Fistly, let’s dicuss about strategic skill. The example of games that required strategic or planning skill are board games and card games such as chess, UNO card, monopoly game, etc. The games that I mentioned earlier are avalaible online. Let’s specifically look at UNO card. UNO is worldwidely known card games with 2 players or more to play it. Every player has one turn and each of the players are given cards which are definetly different from one another. There will be a card to put in the middle of players and the players have to stack their cards above other cards, but they could only stack their cards if their cards have the same number and symbols or the same color as the previous one. They could also stack the plus cards (+2, +4). If the player do not have the correct card to stack, they have to take a new card. The player with the quickest one to have zero card have done or they could leave the game. UNO is the perfect example that needs strategic skill to play it because it requires a startegic skill. In UNO, players must be careful no to put the wrong card in the wrong time. If they put all plus cards in the early game, they might become the last player to finish the game. Why is that? All players have limited number of cards right? And not all of them might not get lucky with their card. So, if the player get good cards or jackpot, they should save them and use them in the right timing. The right timing might be different for every player, but for myself, the right time to use it are when you want to make a player pick another cards so that they would finish the game longer or use the jackpot cards if you only have that cards.
Second skill that you could is communication skill. According to Soewarno (1980) communication is a mutual process interact or have a mutual understanding relationship between human beings. Verbal communication is communication that only uses words orally or writing. Mobile Legends: Bang Bang also known as MLBB, is a mobile games that needs five people to work out for winning a single game. The five people usually given different roles like jungler, mid laner (mages), gold laner (marksmen), exp laner (fighter or assasin), and a roamer (supports and tanks) to help each lane. The jungler’s job is to make sure that he keeps the gold of their team is saved and mostly jungler gets the most kills. The marksmen needs to be on the gold lane becuse their equipment are expensive and they those equipment quickly. Next, fighter and assasin usually go for exp lane because they need to have their ults (3rd skill) ready as soon as possible. The reason is because ults deals massive damage. Lastly, roamers are free to go to any lanes that needs their help. From my experience, roamers usually help marksmen in early games because in early games, marksmen could not do massive damage and their HP is still low. The game have provided teams interactions in the game so they do not have to experience communication difficulty. There are two kinds of interaction that players could use, they are microphone and quick chat. If you want to focus more on the game and don’t want to press another button, then you can choose the option microphone. By using microphone, you can communicate by talking verbally to your teammates. But you must know that other people may be don’t have the courage to open their microphone too, so it’s like one way communication. Another option is the quick chat. If you do not enough courage to open your microphone you could use quick chat. In quick chat, reaction or instruction communication have been provided such as “Beware of ambush!”; “I’ll take the buff”; “Need assistant!”; and others. The problem if you are using quick chats, is that not all that you wanted to say to your teammates are available. If you want to say something specific to your teammates or enemies, you have to type it directly and that takes longer time. Now from the explanations above, we can conclude that if you play this game, you might eventually learn communications skills. Because they are five players in one team and each have different roles, then they need to have good communication. If a player died and there aren’t any teammates to defend that lane, the the dead player could send instruction to their teammates “Request to backup”. Another example is when you realize that the enemies are attacking the turtle or lord, you could send instruction to your teammates like “Enemy is taking the turtle” and “Enemy is taking the lord”. That way, our teammates know players can prevented the enemies from taking the turtle and lord.
The last skill that you could learn through playing games is language skill. Often, language barrier is one trouble if we play game in a worldwide server or if you join a worldwide tournament. An RPG game that is popular these days, Genshin Impact, is a good example of learning language skill. This game has different global servers such as Asia Server, Europe Server, America Server, and China Server. The game has two different mode, solo mode and co-op mode. In co-op mode, up to three players could join your world. They most likely to use English to communicate with player through chats. Another example of learning language skill in this game are the dub and the game language itself. There are four dubs available and they are English dub; Japanese Dub; Chinese Dub; and Korean Dub. If you play this game you will consciously or unconsciously learn those language because you hear it many times when playing quests and events.
Playing games is not always a bad thing. We can use mobile games as one of our learning media. Through mobile games, people will learn new skill such as strategic skills, communication skills, language skills, and many more. Learning through mobile games is convinient, accessible everywhere and anywhere, plus you could playgames any time you want. Strategic skills can be learned when playing games such as card games and board games. After that, the game example that could help you learning communication skill is Mobile Legends: Bang Bang or MLBB. Last but not least, you could learn language skill through playing an RPG game called Genshin Impact.
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Author's Note :
Hello guys, it's me again. You already know the drill yes? I'm posting again to complete my Journalism assignment. This is the third post so maybe I still need seven more posts to complete it. Heck yeah I know college life is pretty tough but that's what life is about right? We have to take the hard way first so we can enjoy the easy way later. By the way, I hope you are having a great day!
See ya!!
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millsyczhansson · 2 years
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Top-Paying-Surveys - Make Cash Taking Surveys Online
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weinreichbaker06 · 2 years
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Excel Password Protection - The Way To Password Protect A 2007/2010 Excel Register?
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bush61kruse · 2 years
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macgyvermedical · 3 years
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The Time My Mom Got in a High Speed Chase with a Transphobe in a 2011 Manual Subaru Forester on her Lunch Break
I think it is time for you to hear the tale of my mom’s crowning moment of awesome.
It’s been a couple years now, which I feel has put enough time between the thing and it coming out on the internet that she probably won’t be arrested for it.
First, I need you to picture my mom:
She is in her late 50s, a white suburban mother of 2 married to her husband of over 30 years. She is a social worker/ADRC specialist for the county. Short, kinda frumpy in the best way, totally unassuming, and the most liberal person in a mid-sized, half-rural, and very conservative county. She is also 100% down to fight whoever, whenever, as long as she can do it in a morally correct, legally defensible, or civilly disobedient way.
Which she can do, of course, because she is a white, straight, blond-haired, blue eyed, middle aged woman from the Ohio suburbs. And she knows it.
Anyway. She has spent the last 6.5 years as the leader of the only LGBTQ+ support group in the county. She’s used that position to spend nearly two years of that fighting the Catholic Diocese and Ohio Christian Alliance for a city ordinance for equal access to housing, employment, and public accommodations for transgender people. She’s won Ally awards from bigger cities for this. That’s a story in itself, but I’ll keep it to that for now because there’s a more exciting story here.
Naturally, these efforts have made her a lot of enemies, of which she is very proud.
On this particular day, my mom was at work when she noticed a woman gathering signatures out front. My mom, always a sucker for a good petition, went out to investigate. Clearly this woman did not know who my mom was, because she immediately launched into a spiel about how there was an ordinance in the city was going to allow men to enter women's restrooms and r*pe her children.
My mom listened as long as she could (I assume less than 3 minutes), and then got up in this woman’s face and said “and if even one kid dies because you think they shouldn’t be allow to access housing or employment, that they’re a second class citizen because of their gender identity because of your lies, that blood will be on your hands”.
The woman backed off, slightly.
But when my mom got in her car to drive home for her lunch break, guess who was sitting in the car next to hers? Why, Christian Alliance Lady with her clip board and everything, eating a sandwich. Well, my mom wasn’t going to stand for that. Instead of driving home, she decided a better use of her lunch break was to sit in her car and stare at this woman until she left.
After a few minutes of getting stared at by a possibly deranged ADRC Specialist with extensive civil disobedience training, this woman starts to get uncomfortable. She slowly backs out of her parking spot, parks in another spot, and continues eating. Well, my mom notices that there’s still a nice empty spot next to Christian Alliance Lady’s car’s new parking spot, and decides it’s only fair to continue the staring contest.
After an additional while of trying to ignore my mom’s extremely disapproving yet patient eyeballs, Christian Alliance Lady gets uncomfortable again. Her lunch break appears to be over anyway, so she gets out and goes back to the entrance of the county building, hoping maybe someone will notice her distress and tell my mom to bug off. My mom follows her, continuing to stare from about 10 feet away.
Everywhere Christian Alliance Lady goes, so does my mom. Staring. 
It’s her place of employment after all, on her lunch break. This lady, technically, is the one trespassing. My mom ends up following her up a hill behind the building, through the parking lot, and all the way back to her car. Eventually I guess she gets tired of being slowly followed by a 50-something persistence hunter, because she gets back in her car and pulls out of the parking lot.
Well my mom’s not just about to fall for that.
My mom drives over to the other entrance to the parking lot and waits for this woman to try to sneak back in. Which she of course tries to do. Seeing my mom too late to play it cool, she casually tries to drive past the entrance. My mom calls her bluff, pulls out, and begins to follow her. They drive slowly through a movie theater parking lot, and then a Target parking lot, and finally out to the main road. My mom keeps following. They drive through the town square, my mom keeping a plausibly deniable distance navigating one-way streets and parking lots she clearly knows a lot better than this woman does.
Finally, the woman apparently gives up, and heads for the highway.
My mom follows.
I should break here to point out that my mom both only drives manual vehicles that look like they absolutely and completely belong in suburbia, and also has never once broken 55mph on a highway.
Well, there’s a first time for everything, and my mom chases this lady, several cars back but still very obviously, at a still remarkably plausible 70+mph. When this lady changes lanes, so does my mom, for over 10 miles, until she hits the county line. At which time my mom decides her lunch break must almost be up, and returns to work.
Christian Alliance Lady is never seen again at the county building.
While she probably went somewhere else in the county to collect signatures, my mom is confident that she at least cost this lady a solid hour of petitioning, which may or may not have contributed to a slightly-too-low number of signatures to successfully revoke the ordinance in question.
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azucanela · 3 years
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chapter iv
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pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader
summary: the internet is enamored with the idea of y/n l/n and bakugou katsuki, two renowned pro heroes, dating. the first issue? the pair rarely interacts. the second issue? apparently, they hate each other, not that anyone knows about that bit. of course, after one night of many mistakes, the whole world knows.
warnings: mentions of blood. violence. injuries. cursing. 
word count: 2k
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[series masterlist] [wattpad] [ao3]
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THIS HAS TO BE A DREAM. Y/N really doesn’t want to be dealing with this right now, this is literally the last thing she wants to be dealing with right now. She has half the mind to just disappear into the shadows using Telen’s quirk, seeing as she hadn’t returned it yet. 
‘Returned’ probably isn’t the best way to put it, after all he can still use his quirk but… she’s never really had a different way to explain it. But, Y/N is capable of using his quirk until she’s returned it to him, meaning his pain is hers and so is his quirk for the time being. Not that it matters right now, because she’s currently staring down Bakugou, who looks just as shocked as she does. 
“What are you doing here?” She finally asks, scowling. 
In response, Bakugou is rolling his eyes, allowing the door to shut behind him. “You don’t own this café,” he grumbles out.
That was actually incorrect, Y/N had bought the set of buildings on this street to make sure that the café wouldn’t go out of business, she was sentimental in that manner Meaning she technically had authorization to kick him out, something Bakugou seems to catch onto as his eyes narrow at her, “of course you do.” 
Y/N scoffs, looking away from him, “only legally. I have too much respect for Rosalyn to tell her what to do with her business.” She waves him off, “they’re getting something from the back, you’ll have to wait.” Y/N finds that she’s wishing she had a little bit less respect for Rosalyn, because maybe then she would have the guts to kick Bakugou out.
Bakugou says nothing, simply eyeing Y/N as he moves to grab a bag of chips from the stand, awkwardly standing by the cash register he waited for them to return. Of course, Y/N had a feeling they wouldn’t be returning anytime soon at this point. She wouldn’t be shocked if Lily had done something to make this happen, all to torture Y/N.
Although Lorelai might consider this the perfect time to apologize, Y/N finds it her personal hell. And she’s fairly sure Bakugou has the same sentiments as she begins to tap her foot rhythmically against the floor. The space is silent aside from that, and Y/N almost wishes a stranger would come in and end her misery.
A sudden pain courses through her, and Y/N’s brows furrow as her mouth gapes open slightly, hand coming to her stomach, though her thoughts are interrupted as Bakugou snaps, “could you quit tapping your damn foot?”
And Y/N does stop, but not because he asked, instead to say, “you can always leave.” There’s a sarcastic smile on her face as she glances at him, preparing to continue tapping her foot despite the throbbing that had appeared in her leg as well. 
If Y/N had to guess, something had happened to Telen. But that wasn’t necessarily out of the ordinary in hero work, and given how high profile Hawks’ agency was, they had a healer on call. She had no doubt that whatever injury he’d somehow sustained, he would be fine. And yet, Y/N can’t help the frown that washes over her, a certain fear and anxiety that definitely doesn’t belong to her suddenly drowning her senses. 
Y/N is about to make a phone call when she hears Bakugou, “you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
She’s about to make some sort of witty comment in response, only to see that he’s looking outside, where the presence of paparazzi has become apparent. Though they hadn’t started their mobs yet, any trained Pro Hero was well aware when they were being followed. Despite attempts to hide, Y/N could easily see that there were several people hidden throughout the area, trying to catch pictures of the famed Y/N L/N and Bakugou Katsuki together.
They were probably hoping the pair would start arguing, maybe even get into a physical fight knowing Bakugou. Though, if that did happen, Y/N was fairly sure Lorelai would have her head. 
That and the fact that the shippers on Twitter were going to love this. But Y/N certainly wasn’t, scoffing as she came to a stand, “did they follow you here?” Her tone is accusatory, she knows that. But if Y/N is honest, she has no shame being upfront about her emotions with Bakugou, not anymore. 
He glares at her once more in response, placing his order down more roughly than necessary, “obviously not. If anything it was you they followed here.”
Y/N comes to a stand, inhaling deeply as she reminds herself that she and Bakugou are currently the stars of the show that is the media. Everyone who's anyone, and anybody that’s a nobody wants to bear witness to their interactions if it means advancing their career. And Y/N has no intent of further damaging her reputation, or giving the media the easy way out.
Though she wouldn’t mind putting an additional dent in Bakugou’s already horrid reputation, there were bigger things than that. And at the end of the day, they were stuck together for the time being, until things died down that is.
So, Y/N finds herself heading over to the counter with her items in hand– discarding them behind the register to make sure that Lily would hold onto them for her— before looking to Bakugou, “we need to leave, now.”
Bakugou is frowning, eyes falling on his order, but he simply nods as he returns his gaze to Y/N, “and how do you suppose we do that?”
While she’s grateful he elected not to argue— probably because he’s well-aware of his own dwindling reputation and wants to salvage whatever he can, like the selfish bastard he is— Y/N finds herself narrowing her eyes at him, simply turning around and gesturing for him to follow her, “come with me.”
“What, we can’t just go out the front door?” 
She’s not shocked by his proposition, though Y/N is also aware that Bakugou isn’t a fool. He may be impulsive at times, and extremely confrontational to a fault, but he was not an idiot. Even if he seemed to be just some annoying brute.
Y/N glances back at Bakugou, looking to him incredulously, “the moment we step outside, we will be bombarded with questions.” A bitter laugh escapes her, “and we both know how you’ll probably respond to that.”
“Oh so this is my fault?” He asks, taking a few steps closer. 
Bringing a hand to her temple, Y/N looks up to him, “we don’t have time for this.” Comes her response, “either you come with me, or I leave without you.”
With that, Y/N turns on her heel, hand shoved into her pocket as she pulls out a set of keys and begins to flip through them in search of the right one. She can feel Bakugou’s eyes on her as she finally finds the right key, the one that leads to the hallway behind the second staff door. Most people don't have access because if you take a wrong turn you’ll end up in the studio apartment of the owners. But, if you continue down the hallway, there’s an exit into the alleyway that Y/N intended to take.
Finally, she pushes the door open. Y/N doesn’t bother to look back as she steps inside the hallway, dimly lit, in fact some of the lights are even flickering. But she can see the bright red ‘EXIT’ sign not too far away. 
Y/N doesn’t hear the door click shut, and with a sigh she turns back to see Bakugou had planted his foot in the door, kicking it open while his hands remained shoved into his pockets. Wordlessly, he stepped inside, and Y/N simply returned her gaze to the exit.
Until another spike of pain coursed through her. Her steps falter, though Y/N manages to catch herself on the wall, hand planted firmly there as she inhales deeply. 
To be fair, the average person would’ve passed out from the pain by now, and Y/N didn’t have her hero suit to help cushion the blows of pain nor was she necessarily prepared for sudden pain— she wasn’t in battle. Though her pain tolerance is high enough that it's manageable.
Bakugou seems to notice, no— he definitely notices. Looking to her pensively as he pauses behind her, Y/N doesn’t want to meet his eyes as she huffs, pushing off the wall. “Let’s go.” 
He says nothing, and Y/N is grateful as they continue down the hall.
It’s a short walk to the actual exit, but Y/N’s head is pounding so she doesn’t really notice anything out of the ordinary until Bakugou’s arm comes to stop her. She bumps into it, frowning as she looks up to him ready to speak in protest, to yell at him for touching her— though there's no skin to skin contact so she doesn’t really have much to worry about yet. 
Until she realizes blood is coming from under the door. Evidently, she had a lot to worry about.
Y/N looks up to Bakugou, offering him a nod that he returns. A silent communication between the pair which brings Bakugou to press his separate hand against the door, brows drawing together before he rapidly pushes the door open and the pair steps out into the alley.
And there lies the body of Pro Hero Telen. Y/N recognizes him instantly, and it makes sense given how badly her body is throbbing with pain. 
Her mouth gapes open, but Y/N is no fool as her back meets Bakugou’s, each of them surveying the area for the hero’s attacker. 
But there’s no one to be found. 
Y/N looks back to Bakugou, who simply nods, prompting Y/N to drop to her knees despite the blood that begins to seep through her clothes. Eyes falling on Telen as a hand comes to his chest. Nobody has ever died while Y/N was using their power, and if Y/N had to guess, Telen was still alive. There was no need for her to check for a pulse, simple as that. 
“He’s alive. Call for backup.”
When Bakugou doesn’t reply, Y/N turns, and she can see the explosions sparking in his palms but there are no enemies nearby. But Y/N recognizes the look on his face, the frustration, the anger. But he’s not angry with anyone other than himself right now. 
“Bakugou.” She repeats, an attempt to pull him out of his thoughts. They don’t have time to be distracted right now. While the attacker clearly isn’t around right now, there was a possibility he’d return. Not that Y/N was too worried, if they had any sense of bloodlust, she’d notice them.
He inhales sharply, simply nodding stiffly once more before pulling out his phone. But all Bakugou can think about is the fact that the Stain Copycat was here, and they’d targeted a member of Hawks’ Agency. The Number 2 Hero. Which meant whoever it was, they were getting bolder, and even worse, two of the best upcoming Pro Heroes were just next door and they hadn’t even noticed.
Even if the new Hero Killer had failed to finish the job, it didn’t matter. This would be a sign to all. A bad one. A message even. It felt as though this copycat was mocking him with every move. 
The only thing that Y/N can think about, is how dark this alley is, how easy it should’ve been for Telen to escape from his attacker. Which can only mean one of two things, the perpetrator had done something to prevent Telen from escaping into the shadows. Or, it was someone he trusted enough that he hadn’t felt the need to. Not until it was too late, that is. 
This was a problem. A big problem.
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note: short but eventful chapter? and look at me go, updating on an actual schedule thats a first!
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nevermindirah · 4 years
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I've been drafting and redrafting this meta post for weeks now. It's about to be 5781 and my country that was founded on settler colonial genocide and slavery and a deeply flawed but fierce attachment to democracy might go full dictatorship in about 6 weeks and it's time for me to post this thing.
All our immortals are warriors, all have been traumatized by war. But only three of them died their first deaths as soldiers in imperial armies. This fandom has already produced gallons of meta on Nicky dealing with his shit, because Joe would not fuck with an unapologetic Crusader. But there's very rich stuff in Booker and Nile's experiences and the parallels and distinctions between them.
Nile was 11 when her dad was killed in action - that was 2005, meaning she and her dad both died in the same war that George W Bush started in very tenuous response to 9/11. Sure, Nile's dad could have died in either Iraq or Afghanistan, or in a training accident or in an off-the-books mission we won't know about for a hundred more years, but he died in the War on Terror all the same. I had to look it up to be sure because Obama "drew down" the Afghanistan war in his second term, but nope, we're still in this fucking thing that never should've happened in the first place. The US war in Afghanistan just turned 19 years old. A lot of real-life Americans have experiences like the Freemans, parents and children both dying in the same war we shouldn't be in.
I know a lot of people like Nile who join the US military not just because it's the only realistic way for them to pay for college or afford decent healthcare, but also because they have a family history of military service that's a genuine source of pride. Military service has been a way for Americans of color to be accepted by white Americans as "true Americans" - from today's Dreamers who Obama promised would earn protection from deportation by enlisting, to Filipino veterans of WW2 earning US citizenship that Congress then denied them for several decades, to slaves "earning" their freedom through service in the Union Army and in the Continental Army before it. As if freedom is a thing one should have to earn. Lots of Black Americans have the last name Freeman for lots of different escaping-slavery reasons, but it's possible that this specific reason is how Nile got her last name.
Dying in a war you know your country chose to instigate unnecessarily and that maybe you believe it shouldn't be waging is a very particular kind of trauma. It is a much deeper trauma when your military service, and your father's, and maybe generations of your ancestors', is a source of pride and access to resources for you but your sacrifice is nearly meaningless to the white supremacist system that deploys you. That kind of cognitive dissonance encourages a person to ignore their own feelings just so they can function. How do you wake up in the morning, how do you risk your life every day, how do you *kill other people* in a war that shouldn't be happening and that you shouldn't have to serve in just so that your country sees you as human?
We see Nile do her best to be a kind and well-mannered invader. Depending on your experience with US imperialism, Nile giving candy to kids and reminding her squad to be respectful is either heartwarming or very disturbing propaganda. We also see Nile clutching her cross necklace and praying. From the second Christianity arrived on this land it's been a tool of white supremacist assimilation and control, but like military service, it's a fucked-up but genuine source of pride and access to resources for many Americans whose pre-Columbian ancestors were not Christian, and it's a powerful source of comfort and resilience. This Jew who's had a lot of Spanish Inquisition nightmares would like to say for the record that it's not Jesus's fault that his big name fans are such shitty people.
Nile is a good person trying to do her best in a fucked-up world. "Her best" just radically changed. Her access to information on just how fucked up the world is has also just radically changed, because everything's so fucked up a person needs a lot of time to learn about it all and not only does she have centuries but she won't have to spend that time worrying about rent and healthcare and taxes, and because she now has Joe and Nicky and Andy's stories, and because she now has Copley's inside scoop on just what the fuck the CIA has been up to. Like, I want a fic where Copley tells Nile what was really behind the brass's decisions that led to her experiences on the ground in Afghanistan, that led to her father's death, but also I Do Not Want That.
Nile was 19 when Alicia Garza posted on Facebook that Black Lives Matter. She grew up in Chicago well before white people on Twitter were saying maybe police violence against Black people is a problem. She knows this is a deeply fucked up country, and she put on her Marine uniform and deployed with her team of mostly fellow women of color, and maybe she and Dizzy and Jay marched in the streets between deployments, maybe they texted each other when a white manarchist at a protest sneered at one of them for being a Marine. Nile's been busy surviving, and she knows some shit and she's seen some shit but she hasn't had much time to think about what it all means. Now she's got time. And Joe, Nicky, and Andy are willing to listen. (Is Copley willing to listen? I could see that going either way.)
Booker might also be willing to listen. The brilliant idea of cleaning up the rat Frenchman so that Nile can have millennia of emotional support and orgasms sent me down a Wikipedia rabbit hole, and holy shit do Booker and Nile have a lot of shared life experience as pawns of imperial wars. Obviously Booker is white and a man and that makes a very big difference. (Though G-d help me, Booker could be Jewish and France was knocking its Jews around like ping-pong balls in the 18th-19th centuries. Jewish Booker wouldn't make him any less white but it does add a shit ton of depth of common experience: military service as a way for your country to see you as a full member of society who matters, because who you are means that's not guaranteed.)
Booker was hanged for desertion from the army Napoleon sent to invade Russia as part of his quest to control all of Europe. We learn in the comics / this YouTube video that Booker was on his way to prison for forgery when he was offered military service instead of jail time. While we don't know how he felt about the choice beyond that he did choose soldier over inmate, it's unlikely he thought invading Russia was a great idea, given he tried to desert because Napoleon like a true imperialist dumbass didn't plan for how he was going to feed his army or keep them from freezing to death in fucking Russian winter.
I find it very interesting that the French Empire was at its largest right before invading Russia and fell apart completely within a few years. My country has been falling the fuck apart for a while now - see aforementioned War on Terror, growing extremes of economic stratification in the richest country in the world, abject refusal to meaningfully deal with climate change that US-based corporations hold the lion's share of blame for - but between Trump's abject refusal to meaningfully deal with the coronavirus and strong likelihood that he'll refuse to leave office even if a certain pathetic moderate I will hold my nose and vote for does manage to earn a majority of votes, ~y~i~k~e~s.
Our only immortals who have never known a world before modernity and nationalism happen to have been born of wars that were the beginning of the end for the imperialist democracies that raised them, and I think in the centuries to come that's going to give them some very interesting shit to talk about.
Nile's a Young Millennial, a digital native born in the United States after the collapse of the USSR left her country as the world's only superpower. She's used to a pace of technological change that human brains are not evolved to handle.
Napoleon trying to make all of Europe into the French Empire was a leading cause of the growth of European nationalism and the establishment of liberal democracies both in Europe and in many places that Europeans had colonized. Booker's first war produced the only geopolitical world order Nile has ever known and I just have so many feelings ok. Nile the art history nerd is probably not aware of this, and why would she be? This humble meta author is, like Nile, a product of US public schools, and all they taught me about world history was Ancient Greece/Rome/Egypt/Mesopotamia and then World War 2. Being raised in The World's Only Superpower is WEIRD.
Nile the Young Millennial is used to the devastating volume of bad news the internet makes possible. But she has absolutely no concept of a world where the United States of America is not The World's Only Superpower. In order to get up in the morning and put on her gear and point guns at civilians in Afghanistan, she can only let herself think so much about whether that American exceptionalism thing is a good idea.
She's about to spend many, many years where the only people who she can truly trust are people who are older than not only her country but the IDEA of countries.
She's got time, and she's got a lot of new information at her disposal. But there comes a point where my obsession with her friendship and eventual very hot sex life with Booker just isn't about sex at all. Nile needs someone to talk to about the United States who Gets It. Booker the rat Frenchman coerced into Napoleon's army, and Copley the Black dual citizen of the US and UK who's retired from a CIA career that he half understands as deeply problematic but half still believes in hence his mind-bogglingly stupid partnership with Merrick, are the only people on the planet Nile can talk to honestly about, and really be understood in, all the thoughts and feelings and fears and hopes of her experience as a US Marine.
And one more thing before I go get ready for Rosh Hashanah: Orientalism was a defining element of the Crusades and that legacy is painfully clear in current US-led Western military activity in Afghanistan, Syria, Israel/Palestine, you name it. Turns out memoirs by French veterans of the Napoleonic Wars are full of Orientalist language about Russia as well. I am maybe/definitely writing a fic where Booker spends his exile reading critical race theory and decolonial feminism and trauma studies monographs because he can't be honest with a therapist but maybe he can heal this way and become the team therapist his own damn self. I just really need him to read Edward Said and Gloria Anzaldúa and then go down on Nile, ok?
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xaphrin · 3 years
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Jason groaned as he sunk down on the floor, gasping for breath. “You have got to learn to be more gentle with my body. I’m a finely tuned machine, you can’t just go throwing me around on the mats.” 
Raven gave him a flat stare, pushing her sweaty hair out of her eyes. “A finely tuned machine? That runs on cigarettes, pop tarts, and booze?” She leaned over and started stretching, something he often ignored after their sparring sessions. 
Jason shrugged and stood up, walking outside the ring to grab their water bottles. “Fuel is fuel.” 
When he turned back, he caught an eyeful of her plump, round ass as she bent over to stretch her hamstrings. Biting back a curse, he glanced away and shook his head, trying to clear the images from his memory. Honestly, she was a temptation he couldn’t afford right now. But… he glanced back at her and she rolled her spine back to standing … there was no harm in just looking at her, right? 
“Mm. I am going to disagree with you there.” Raven grabbed her water from his hand and swallowed several mouthfuls, the water sliding over her chin, down her neck, and falling against her breasts. She wiped at her mouth and cocked her head to the side, watching him. “I don’t think there are enough calories in your day to even keep you alive, let alone actually function as a finely tuned machine.” She twisted her shoulders and lifted her eyes to the ceiling, thinking. “You need to eat real food.” 
He snorted. “And are you going to cook it for me? Resident water-burner?” 
“No.” She rolled her eyes. “You have access to the Wayne accounts. We order takeaway like normal adults who don’t cook.” 
He smirked and followed her out of the training room. Raven was in Gotham helping his family with a case, but tonight the manor was surprisingly empty - even Alfred was out for the night. That left Raven and Jason perusing websites on their cell phones, looking for the best takeaway they could get their hands on. 
“Thai?”
“No, we had that two days ago.” Raven sighed and glanced up at him. “Sushi?”
Jason made a face. “I hate the sushi place that delivers out here, and I’m not driving to the other one.” 
“Well, you better pick somewhere soon, because I’m getting hungry.” Raven stood up and turned to the electric kettle, putting water in it to boil. With a sigh, she turned back to Jason. “What are you doing here tonight anyway? Don’t you have some drug ring to bust?”
Jason shrugged. “B’s out of town, and sometimes I like to enjoy all the comforts of the manor, without having to deal with its residents.” He stood up and grabbed her favorite tea from the top shelf, handing it to her. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with wanting to lounge by the indoor pool and use fiber optic internet to watch porn.”
Raven rolled her eyes and grabbed the box of tea from him. “You do not watch porn by the pool. You watch Die Hard for the millionth time. I’ve seen your play history.”
“Hey!” Jason placed a hand on his chest, pretending to be indignant. “I’ll have you know that last week I watched Busty Broads Six - Vegas Temptations. The plot didn’t follow the first five, but the cinematography was en pointe.”
Raven tried to look annoyed, but she cracked a smile at the corner of her mouth and glanced up at him from beneath her lashes. A small, musical giggle escaped and she leaned back against the counter, her eyes searching his face. “Do you ever listen to yourself speak? Or do you let it rush out in a string of crass comments?” 
“Not listening to myself speak has saved me from a world of social embarrassment.” He grinned at her, and reached for his phone. “Pizza it is.”
Jason ordered dinner for them both, a little bit proud of himself that he remembered what toppings Raven liked on her pizza. She was pouring boiling water over a tea bag when he finally hung up, and she glanced over her shoulder at him. The light in the kitchen was always a stark white, but in this moment, Raven looked so soft and touchable. He could feel his fingers itch to reach out and brush a lock of hair from her eyes. 
“So…” Raven turned around to face him, a smirk playing on her lips. “Should we start Die Hard again, or would you rather watch Busty Broads Seven - Tits in Toronto?” 
Jason couldn’t stop the laughter if he tried, and he leaned back on his heels, watching her. Something in his chest twisted almost painfully and he found himself wanting to kiss her. He had always harbored somewhat of a crush towards her, but now he was beginning to understand how deep those feelings really ran. Raven was smart and funny, and she was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at her sometimes. She knew just how to push him to make him succeed, and when to back off and give him space. 
“You look lost in thought there, Jay.” She stepped forward and poked at his chest, looking up at him with another smirk. “Does it surprise you that I offered to watch porn with you?”
He shook his head free of his thoughts and forced a teasing grin on his lips, trying to hide where his mind had been. “Nah. I’d always figured you’d be kinda kinky like that. I’m more surprised you’re familiar with Busty Broads.” 
Raven laughed and stepped back, moving towards the kitchen door. She motioned for him to follow her. “Come on. If we’re gonna do this, then we should at least crack open some liquor. Now, remind me, where does Bruce keep the good stuff…”
Jason stumbled after her, his grin so wide it almost hurt. Oh, yeah. He was definitely in love with her. 
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nobodyfamousposts · 4 years
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Mominette AU: The Superhero Ban
TRIGGER WARNING!
TRIGGER WARNING!
TRIGGER WARNING!
___________________________________________
It was an indisputable fact that Paris had been the first city to institute the infamous “Supers Ban”. The Justice League knew it. Heroes knew it. Villains knew it. The whole world knew it.
What nobody knew was “why”.
Sure, there had been comments in political circles. Some minor news outlets had mentioned Paris as the latest place where the idea was being considered. But nobody had thought they were serious.
Not until it had been made into law and the Mayor of Paris held a press conference to announce it.
Those who didn’t take it seriously certainly did when Superman himself attempted to go to the Mayor to discuss the matter. And was promptly arrested the instant he set foot in the city.
Outrage was immediate. Cries of discrimination rang out across the world and even at the UN. Various politicians decried the act. Many celebrities admonished it. A good number of people threatened to boycott Paris (which turned out to be for the best as far as Andre and most of Paris was concerned, given that a decrease in tourism meant less people for Hawk Moth to target or the heroes to have to pull out of the fray due to gawking).
Yet a year passed and the ban remained. Even the League would not cross it. Eventually, it just became an accepted fact of the world. Everyone knew to stay out of Paris.
And yet it was still unknown as to why.
Well, people suspected, of course. There were other things happening around the time that seemed to be involved.
It possibly started with the 12 hour timeframe where all of Paris had been closed off. Its citizens had been forced to evacuate. All communication lines were down, and no one from outside of the city had been able to contact anyone from within it. It was news stations in nearby cities that picked up on the fighting and tried to report it, but only several hours after it had started and they seemed to play it off as some sort of freak lighting storm.
Afterwards, things had been strange, but also easily overlooked. The Ladyblogger had gone dark for a several day period. Similarly, the regular correspondent for Paris News, Nadja Chamack had taken a leave of absence. Resident hero Chat Noir had suddenly gotten involved in matters with City Hall, resulting in talk of the hero going into a career in politics. “Chat Noir for President” became a short-lived meme.
It all appeared to come down to a specific “incident”. An akuma fight worse than any other before it. But no one would speak of it. And no information about it was available.
Except for one thing.
There were reports of the existence of video footage of the fight. The Ladyblog had supposedly crashed during a livestream of the mess due to the number of people watching it. Plenty of news reports during that time referenced it. It was rumored to have been played before the city council, resulting in unanimous support of the ban. But what was on the video remained a mystery and any remnant of the video itself couldn’t be found.
Which shouldn’t be possible with the internet. Conspiracy theories abound on the matter—some saying there was no footage in the first place and others saying it was so horrible as to have been erased by time traveling aliens.
In truth, it was the work of a hacker. One of considerable skill to wipe out any trace of this video and not be discovered. There were people willing to pay millions just for a segment of the footage. Plenty of hackers across the world had tested their skills to find even a trace of the original video to no avail.
These other hackers were not Robin.
“I got the footage.” He announced as he held up the USB drive.
Superbly started in surprise, staring at the item in the Boy Wonder’s hand. “This is it?”
“Supposedly.” Robin replied with a shrug.
The Holy Grail of hidden data. A hacker’s ultimate prize. Every journalist and tabloid reporter’s wet dream.
“I haven’t watched it myself,” as he felt it wasn’t his right to intrude on this when it was an issue of his friend’s family, “so I don’t know what’s on there. But whatever’s in this, it’s safe to say it isn’t going to be pretty.”
That was putting it lightly. The video had been so deeply hidden that it was its own urban legend at this point. The incident it showed was bad enough to not only warrant it being hidden from the world, but to set off the “Paris Supers Ban” and arrest of Superman.
The death of a hero was always big news. Even if it’s only barely avoided.
The fact that anyone could HIDE it spoke volumes. Both in regards to the original censor’s ability as well as the importance of the data itself.
Conner nodded, resolute.
“I need to know.”
Robin handed over the device. He probably should have taken it to Batman…probably. But this was Conner’s case. His family. It was his right to decide what to do with the information.
Ladybug and Chat Noir were…accepting of Conner to say the least. They allowed him to enter Paris despite the ban. They let him help. They were kind and accommodating and quite frankly everything that Conner needed.
But…they weren’t exactly open. Not about certain things.
This was one of those things, and Conner had been wanting answers about the “Incident” that cut Paris off from the Superhero world. What made them finally say “enough”? He would ask, but nobody knew. The few who did know refused to speak of it.
Conner wanted to know why. What had they experienced that was so horrible?
Maybe it was a way of feeling closer to them?
Maybe it was a way to understand them better?
Maybe it was just wanting to see the harder things they had faced?
“We’ll be right here with you, Conner.” Wally reassured him when his hands started to shake.
“Remember, you’ll have full access of the gym and training grounds, but you won’t be allowed to leave the Mountain for 24 hours after this.” Kaldur gently stated. Partly to remind Conner of the agreement, lest he attempt to run off to Paris in anger or fear and risk an akuma. Partly to subtly prompt everyone else to ensure that Conner does not accomplish the former.
Still…the choice was already clear.
Conner put the drive into the computer and pressed play.
The video only lasted a few minutes.
A few minutes was more than enough.
_______________________
“Oh…oh my god.” Came the words of the person recording, her voice as shaky as her hands that held the camera.
The damage was…extensive. Rubble, broken glass, and downed buildings littered the background. There was a sad mix of gray and brown as far as the eye could see. Of the destroyed roads and pavement. Of steel beams littering the ground. Of rock and dirt and what may very well have been ash.
Amidst the ruined landscape, there was one spot of color. A bright red standing out amidst the muted neutral around her. Normally a source of bravery and inspiration, it took a few seconds for the camera to get her properly in focus, and a few more for it to register that there was significantly more red in the scene than there should have been.
Ladybug wasn’t standing so much as she was leaning backwards in a half-upright position. Forced to stay on her legs despite her clear lack of strength. The only thing holding her up were the very things responsible for her current state…three steel spikes that extended from the ground beneath her.
They were exiting her torso. One piercing the upper left part of her body, right close to her shoulder. One through her naval. And the third on the right side, for all purposes appearing to have hit a lung.
She was breathing, though it was clearly labored. She was constantly torn between some variation of taking a gasping breath in and crying it out. Her suit could protect her—it was supposed to protect her from anything, but even this was too much.
It was clear she couldn’t move. She had to remain there, impaled on steel. Both to limit her injuries as much as possible and just due to inability from the sheer pain she was in.
The camera was focused on her, though it was shaky at best. The person recording it could be heard muttering unintelligibly with some mention of a hospital and frequent repetition of “oh god” thrown in. Some noise could be heard in the background of someone sounding quite ill, which was understandable given the sight of their hero impaled and choking on her own blood.
Within a minute of the video starting, the crunching sound of boots running on glass and stones could be heard coming closer. The sound of panting grew louder as Chat Noir cleared a hill and entered into view, rushing and stumbling towards Ladybug while holding something in front of him.
The camera zoomed on him, bringing him into focus as he cleared the last hurdle.
“I’ve got it!” Chat exclaimed, racing back to her side with her yoyo in hand. “I’ve got it! It’s okay. It’s over. It’s over now. It’s finished. He’s done.”
“Sh…Ch…” Her head hung limply and her eyes were barely able to focus on him as he tried to get her to look at him without moving her too much.
“It—It’s okay! It’s going to be okay!” He whispered to her, so softly that the camera barely caught it. He was clearly panicked and trying desperately not to let it show. “We just need the Cure. If you cast the Cure, everything will be better, okay?”
She didn’t appear to be listening, though. And barely seemed aware of anything. “Ch-ck…Chaaa…”
The video zoomed in on them both. Ladybug dazed and bleeding out. Chat crying and trying not to break down completely.
“Please! I just need you to say the words! Say the words and you’ll be okay! Can you do that?”
“Huurrr…s…” She slurred, begging him without words for help.
“I know! I know! But you can fix it. C’mon, M’lady, please!”
“I…I cn…”
“Say the words. Just two words, okay?” He begged desperately, patting her cheek in an attempt to both soothe her and keep her attention on him. “Two words and then you can go to sleep, I promise.”
“Ch…a…”
“Just…just two words, that’s it! I’ll…I’ll even say them with you, okay?”
She winced. “Nn…”
She clearly wasn’t listening, but he was desperate and so started to try. “Miraculous—”
She sobbed.
“No, no. Listen to me, okay? Say it with me!” He ordered, forcing her to look at him. “Mi. Say it with me! Mi!”
“M…mi…”
“Racu!”
“ra…” Her gaze started to waver.
He shook her. “Cu!”
“…cu…lous…”
He gave a weak laugh. Even now she was ahead of him. “Ladybug.”
“La…laa-deee…”
He shook her again. “LADYBUG!”
“……b…u—gahck-ugh—" She was cut off by harsh coughing.
But it was enough.
Thank every god out there it was enough.
The Cure spilled out from the object she was holding, transforming into magical ladybugs that covered everything in their wake. Unfortunately, the casting of the Cure and incoming loveliness caused the person holding the camera to drop it, losing sight of the video and cutting the feed.
_______________________
The ringing of her phone got Marinette’s attention, drawing her away from the movie she was watching with Adrien and the Dolls.
“Hello?”
“Miss Ladybug.” Came the voice on the end. “This is Aqualad.”
She blinked in surprise. “Aqualad? Is everything okay?”
“Yes…just…” The sound of angry whispers could be heard on the other end. “Would you be able to come speak with Conner today?”
Marinette frowned at that. While she certainly enjoyed seeing Conner, that…didn’t sound like a good thing. If anything, it sounded like a plea. And the voices that sounded like an argument in the background only made it sound worse.
“Is everything okay?”
Adrien seemed to notice the concern in her voice as he had stopped paying attention to the movie to focus on her. In turn, Chaton was peeking over the couch at her, curious as to what was going on.
“No. We found a recording of something…personal to you. Conner saw it and now he’s rather upset. We think it might help if you were here.”
“WHAT?!” She exclaimed. This definitely got the attention of the other dolls, all of whom had abandoned the movie in favor of checking on their Mama.
Her eyes narrowed. Suddenly full Mom mode was on.
“Aqualad. Tell me right now what happened.”
And Kaldur caved immediately with only a small sigh.
“Robin found the video of the akumatized hero who attacked you and instigated the events leading to the Paris Ban.” He explained. “I apologize. We should have checked with you first, but at Conner’s request, we all watched it.”
Marinette sighed. “I thought that was buried.”
“We’re rather good at digging.” Robin’s voice could be heard on the other side of the line.
“Hang on. I’ll be right over.” She told them before hanging up.
“Marinette? What happened?” She turned to see Adrien standing before her, looking rather concerned. Picking up on her tension, he had stopped the movie. And sure enough, four little dolls stared up at her in worry.
She sighed. There was nothing else for it.
“Who wants to go on a trip?”
The Dolls perked up at that.
Adrien, however, noticed how tense she was.
“Mari?”
“They saw the tape.”
His eyes widened. “Oh.” He reached out to her, and without even thinking, she moved into his arms. He clutched her tightly, soothing her and himself. It was…not a pleasant thing to have to relive. That so-called “hero” had caused more damage than just that one day. And more than any of them had truly recovered from.
The dolls seemed to catch on to the atmosphere, because their excitement died down.
“It’ll be okay, Mari. Let’s just be there for him. And I’ll be here for you.”
She held him back just as tight.
“Together then?”
“Always.”
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orange-waterfalls · 4 years
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Just Dance for the Nintendo Wii
Yancy x gn!reader
ty anon for the request!
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A/N: Shit was so fun to write I swear. Just Dance was my childhood. I had a thing about memorizing all the dances in all the songs in all the games I got. I also didn’t actually look at the moves in the corner I just watched the dancer lmao. And when I found out other people didn’t do that I just ???it’s so much easier???? I might’ve projected onto Yancy a lil bit. It’s a fun fic! It is a fun and light-hearted fic, I promise. Couple curse words. TW mention of smoking and cigarettes. That’s about it. I think it could be seen as platonic or romantic. Reader does call him “babe” at one point but I call my friends darling and sweetie so I think it’s fine. Might be a few typos since I never read through my fics lmao. Enjoy!
Word Count: 2.9k
Lunch ended and you immediately shot up out of your chair, making your way down the hall. Your friends stared after you, slightly offended you didn’t even bother saying goodbye. You would have any other day, but this was important.
You stomped your way to the warden's office, pushing past the guards who mostly just gave you confused looks. You would have made your way around them, asking them to make some room, but this was important. 
You kicked the door open and stomped up to the desk. The warden jumped and put a hand over his heart. You were not an aggressive person. Really, you weren’t. But this. This was important. This was the most important thing you ever came up with.
“Jesus, child, you ever heard of knocking?” He breathed, exasperated. He looked like he was gonna keep talking, so you slammed your hands on his desk. A few months before, he probably would have had you thrown in solitary for even walking in there. But you’re a good person, and you behave for the most part. So he raised an eyebrow and waited for you to make whatever point you wanted to make.
“Wii,” you said, simply. He blinked a couple times.
“Beg pardon?” He laughed. You were on a bit of a power trip and wanted to respond with “then beg”, but the conversation probably would have ended there. You made it this far without breaking down, you couldn’t stop now.
“I want a Wii,” you said, slowly. The warden squinted at you before chuckling a little. You glared daggers at him. Laugh at you, will he?!
“Now, kiddo, that ain’t--”
“Shut up. I don’t care. I just need you to listen.” He gave you a look and leaned back in his chair. You quieted for a moment, thinking about exactly what you were gonna say. You honestly hadn’t thought you’d make it this far.
“Go ahead, I’m a busy man,” He shook you out of your thoughts. You squared your shoulders.
“Yancy likes to dance,” you stated. You stared at each other in silence for a moment as you prepared your words in your head. He waved his hand, telling you to keep going. You cleared your throat, “Yancy likes to dance… and we don’t have access to the internet.”
“And you’re not going to.” He warned.
“Yeah, yeah, I figured…” You sighed. “But that’s not what I’m here for.” He knitted his eyebrows together in intrigue.
“Alright…” He leaned forward, arms on his desk.
“Yancy can’t keep coming up with songs and dances when he gets bored. It takes a long time, and he’s getting burned out. I think that if we had another- if we had access to prepared dances and songs, it’d be better.” You stuttered. That’s okay. As long as he was listening. “I think if we had a… a game, a dancing game. Like Just Dance on the Wii or something, then we’d be better. Happier? I mean, we’re happy, but… more-more happy. There’s never… too much… happy…” You lost yourself towards the end there. You started shaking a little as the whole situation hit you like a train. What the hell were you doing? This is a PRISON, not a middle school. Why would they want you to be happy? Oh, this was a stupid idea… no. You made it this far. Sure this was stupid, but you were NOT going to back down. Not until you got a-
“Ok.”
“Huh?” You asked, dumbfounded. You stared at Mr. Murder-Slaughter, and he stared right back. “What’d you say?” He stood up from his desk and walked over to you. You fought the urge to book it and stood your ground. You puffed up your chest a little to look intimidating. From the smirk he got on his face, it wasn’t working.
“I said, ok.” Your shoulders dropped and you let out a shaky breath.
“Really? I mean… really?” 
“Sure, why not. Boosts morale, stops people from wanting to escape.” He shrugged. You stood there, mouth agape, probably looking like a moron.
“Thanks.” You murmured. He smiled at you, and you smiled right back. He took your shoulders and spun you around towards the door.
“Yeah, yeah, now get outta here! You’ve got dishes to do!” He pushed you out, and you gave him one last smile before running down to the kitchen. He watched you trip over your own feet and shook his head. You ran past a guard, who heard the noise and got confused.
“What the hell was all that?”
“Fuck around and find out!”
---
You startled awake to the sound of talking coming from outside your cell. You rubbed your eyes and looked around, not seeing your cellmate. You sighed and managed to lift yourself up out of the bed. You stretched and heard your back crack in several places. That sounded… worrying to say the least, but you had other things on your mind. For example: where was everyone?
You made your way through the prison, eventually ending up in the common room where everyone was talking over each other excitedly. 
“Sorry, forgot to set the alarm!” A guard apologized. You nodded at him. You turned and saw Tiny and slid over next to her.
“What’re we doing? Is it Thursday already?” You whispered.
“Nah, warden bought a game system,” she answered. You stared at her, mouth open slightly. “Keep staring at me we’re gonna fight.”
“Uh, sorry.” You blinked and looked forward, standing on the tips of your toes to try and get a better look. “What gaming system?”
“A Wii. Warden said we each get 30 minutes per week.” She explained. She then waited for you to respond. You didn’t.
“Dude, you alright?” She gently reached out and shook your arm.
“Hm? Oh, yeah, I’m good.” You mumbled. “He buy any games yet?”
“Uhhhhh Super Mario Bros, Kirby’s Epic Yarn, Animal Crossing, Smash…”
“Mm-hm, mm-hm, as he should.”
“I think those Wii Sports games…”
“Just Dance?”
“Don’t know. Said to talk to him if there’s a game you want.” You nodded and gave her a small fistbump before walking over to the warden, who stood away from the group. You leaned over and saw BamBam and Sparkles in a heated game of Smash Bros. You stood next to the warden and watched.
“So, you actually listened to my request?” You looked up at him in slight disbelief.
“Course I did. Why not? Like I said, boosts morale.” He smiled. You nodded and you both looked forward again.
“How much was it?” You inquired.
“$100 on eBay.”
“Deadass?!”
“Absolutely. Great condition, too. Been used before, but not necessarily broken.”
“Come with the games?” “Some. Had to tell the guy I was buying it for my foster kids for him to give them to me. Them along with the Wii is what made it $100.” He explained
“So, we’re your kids now?” You snickered.
He only answered with a hum. You looked at him, blinking rapidly. 
“What?” He said in a defensive tone.
“Nothing! Don’t worry about it!” You waved him off. He crossed his arms in a huff but dropped it.
“Buy Just Dance?”
“In the back. Saving it for when Yancy shows up.”
“Shows up? He’s not here?” “No. He went to the yard when everyone gathered here.” You hummed and looked down, thinking.
Why did Yancy leave? Did he not care about it? Did he not want to play? That would complicate things a little…
“Instead of speculating, why don’t you go ask him?” He scoffed. You looked at the warden, scandalized.
“You’re an easy person to read, child.” He set a hand on your shoulder. “He might be out in the yard.” You sighed and walked away from the cheering crowd as BamBam pumped his fists triumphantly and Sparkles fell to his knees.
---
You opened the door to the yard, peeking out to see if anyone was there. Lo and behold, there he was, Yancy, sitting on the grass having a smoke. You walked over to where he was and plopped down next to him. He jumped a little, but breathed harshly once he saw it was you.
“Whatcha doin’ out here?” You queried, softly.
“Hm.” He grunted in response.
“Everyone’s inside… having some fun…”
“Hm…”
“I think Jimmy might play Animal Crossing…”
“Hm.”
“Yancy, what’s wrong?” You sighed and turned your body towards him a little.
“Nothin’, nothin’s wrong.” He lied. “C’mon, man, we both know that’s a lie.” You tilted your head to look at him. He avoided your eyes.
“Yancy.” You said sternly. He faltered a little hearing your concern. He glanced at you. Your eyes softened. “What’s wrong?”
“Is just… I never really gots to play games when I was young… and… I dunno… don’t know… how to...” He mumbled. You nodded in understanding, shifting until your shoulders were touching his. You stared at the fence while Yancy kept smoking. You tried not to cough when he exhaled his smoke, but you couldn’t help it. He looked at you apologetically before putting the cigarette out on the grass. You both sat there for a little, enjoying each other’s company. 
“So…” you breathed out after a little while. He turned to you with an eyebrow raised. “You’re upset because you don’t know how to play the games?”
“‘N I’ll look stupid while playing ‘em, yeah.” He finished with a scoff. A smile grew on your face.
“I know a game that’ll be really easy for you…” you sang. He furrowed his eyebrows at you.
“...what is it?” He hesitated. You bit your lip to keep from giggling as he looked at you worriedly.
---
“Wait, so… the hell is Just Dance?” Yancy scratched his head as you led him back to the common room. It was late, and everybody else was back in their cells. You convinced a guard to let you out by pretending you were gonna cry.
“It’s a game where you dance,” You said in a condescending tone. “Come on, Yance, use deductive reasoning.”
“I’on even know what that means,” He argued playfully. You brought him to the small TV, handing him a remote as you turned it on.
“It just… There are songs with dances prepared, and you have to do the dances as you see them on screen. Got it?” You looked up at Yancy, who was busy staring at the glowing screen of the tv. It was on the Wii home menu, so there wasn’t much to see. However, to Yancy, it was one of the coolest things he’d ever seen.
“Whoa whoa whoa, wassat?” He pointed at the screen and jumped a bit when he saw the cursor move as he moved the remote. He shifted it over until it was on the Mii Channel.
“Uh… that’s the place where you can make a little avatar of yourself. It works on some of the games, but not Just Dance.” You explained. “...you wanna make a Mii?” He pouted and gave you puppy dog eyes. You rolled your eyes and stood up, bringing your Player One cursor on the screen and clicking the channel. 
You told Yancy the mechanics, how to change everything, and what to do once he was done. You made your own Mii, explaining everything along the way, and told him to make his once you were done. Yancy, being the creative boy he is, spent half an hour on his Mii, trying to get everything perfect. You just stood next to him, trying not to yawn. Like I said, it was late. Eventually, he finished and you both got to see your Mii’s next to each other, along with some other people’s. He kept dragging his over next to you, trying to force them to interact. He got very upset when you told him they couldn’t hug or anything. He let you exit out of the channel and go into Just Dance. 
“Any particular song?” You scrolled through the songs, letting them play for a couple seconds so he could know what each was like. 
“Stop!” He called. “Go back.” You scrolled back to the last song you let play.
“Britney Spears? Serious?” You teased. It was all in good fun, you loved her too. Who wouldn’t?
He grumbled a little to himself. It sounded a little like “not my fault her songs bop”. You breathed out a chuckle and clicked the song, whisper-singing the lyrics as you did.
“My loneliness is killin’ me… Blue, green, orange, or pink?” You asked. After not getting an answer, you looked at Yancy to see the problem. He was frowning at the screen. “Yance?”
“Why’re they all girls?”
“Because it’s a traditionally girl-ish song.”
“I’m not a girl.”
“I know you’re not. Just pick a color.”
“Why are they cheerleaders?”
“Because they can be. Yancy, pick a color.”
“But why-”
“Yancy I swear to God pick a fucking color.” He hummed and then picked blue. You picked green.
You got into the same stance as the girl on the screen, and Yancy copied you. The music started up, and you started dancing. Yancy seemed a bit startled as he hurried to copy you. He wheezed out a little laugh, flailing his arms a little, trying to figure out what move you were on. You bit your lip to not laugh at him. You both kept going, and Yancy eventually got into the rhythm. He stuck his tongue out in concentration and you stared for a moment, not believing how adorable he was. Then you remembered that there was a winner in this game so you shook your head and kept dancing. 
Eventually the song ended, and you both breathed a little harder than normal. You looked at your scores, and found that you'd won. You clapped your hands and cheered. Yancy crossed his arms.
"Whatever, this is my first time!" He scoffed. But you could see the smile on his face. You stretched your arms and yawned, turning the Wii off and leaving the remote.
"Welp, we should get back--" you turned to head towards your cell.
"No!" Yancy stood in front of you. You tried to go around him, but he kept blocking your way. He grabbed your shoulders and held you in place.
"I want a rematch."
"Yancy, it's late…" you whined.
"Just one more! Please?" He pleaded. He, again, gave you those puppy dog eyes you could never say no to. You sighed loudly, grabbing the remote again and turning the Wii back on.
"I don't understand why you can't do this yourself…" you mumbled, clicking on Just Dance again.
"I… like spending time with you," he said softly. You squinted at him.
"You'd feel awkward dancing alone, huh?"
"Yeah…"
"Fine."
"Ooh! Let's do--"
"Nah, nah, nah. You're keeping me up. I get to pick the song."
"...'This is Halloween'?"
"Bet your ass."
"But that--"
"Shut it, Yancy, I'll leave."
"Okay! Sorry… 
"..."
"...can I be the pumpkin?"
"Of course you can be the pumpkin, babe."
---
You woke up really tired in the morning. You didn't know when you got back to bed, but the guard that let you out was asleep by the door when you arrived. You didn't even consider escaping, you were so tired. You just entered the cell and shut the door behind you.
In the morning, you got up and dragged yourself into the common room again. Everyone was playing the Wii again. You rubbed your eyes and stood next to Tiny.
"Fuck happened to you?" She scoffed.
"Yancy happened…" you yawned
"Ah. Long night, huh?" She raised an eyebrow.
"Ye-no. Wait, what? No, gross. We played Just Dance."
"Oh, was it fun?"
"For the first couple. The rest I was way too tired to be happy about…"
"Aw, did wittle baby need theiw nap?" She teased.
"I'm not wi-little! I'm not-I'm not little! Shut up!" You complained as she laughed.
"Well, Jimmy played Wii tennis against a guard. Now he's playing the warden."
"Seriously? Oh my God."
"He's currently the reigning champion."
"Who's going against him next?" You hear a thud, like someone fell.
"Got-dang it!" Mr. Murder-Slaughter yelled.
“That’d be me,” She patted you on the back before walking up next to Jimmy. Mr. Murder-Slaughter passed her as she walked, limping. He stood by you.
“You seem to be having fun.” You teased.
“Ah, shut it…” He growled and rubbed his arm. “How’s Yancy?” 
“He’s good. He likes the game a lot.” You explained.
“I’d hope so, otherwise there was no reason to buy this thing.” He scoffed.
“Eh… I dunno about that…” You listened to Tiny laugh loudly from where she stood in front and smiled. You turned your head a little and saw Yancy leaning against the opposite wall. You caught each other’s eyes. He nodded his head to the Wii. You shrugged and walked up. He did the same. 
Once Tiny and Jimmy were done with their match, Jimmy keeping his title as champion, you and Yancy walked up to the wii, taking the remotes and clicking Just Dance. 
“What song should we do?” You scrolled through the list.
“Avril Lavigne!” Someone yelled from the back of the room. You had a sneaking suspicion of who it was, but kept it to yourself. 
“Girlfriend by Avril Lavigne it is!” You clicked the song.
“Uh… I don’t know this song, bud,” He whispered to you. You clapped a hand on his shoulder.
“Oh you’re gonna love it.”
“I’m not sure I like that look.”
“Calm down, it’ll be great.”
“Okay… can i be the punk girl?”
“I wanna be the punk girl…”
Cue the puppy eyes…
“...fine, you can be the punk girl.”
213 notes · View notes
anjalena123 · 3 years
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Profit Mate Review 2021.. Build an email list in 42 seconds
Profit Mate Review 2021 = Introduction If you're trapped in this extraordinary age, being quarantined or stagnant with social isolation, losing employment or getting tired of endless bills, it's time for you to think out of the box and start a versatile company. Of course, there's nothing more agile and productive than online business, the ideal option to start making money without leaving home. If you want to set up an online company, but you don't have any clients, and you don't know where to find those customers, then you've come to the right location. I truly appreciate the strain, and I'm trying to assist you with the launch of an awesome app to transform the conditions, which is Profit Mate. It is no wonder that Internet Marketing (IM) has brought some excellent advantages relative to other ways of earning profits. It helps you to work on a flexible basis (so that you can be with your wife and kids anytime you need to) and finish your job anywhere you choose (as long as your laptop has Internet access). Particularly now that the pandemic creates such chaotic results on Earth, you can easily create your own IM company while socialising and staying healthy.
Being mindful of these fantastic benefits, more and more consumers are entering the online market, making it much more lucrative than they were years before. But there's nothing to do with it, it's only a matter of time for the market to get crowded. The only thing that matters here is whether your company is strong enough to battle the highly competitive market, or whether it will quickly be out of date and removed from the competition.
To remain strong amid the rivalry and not to be omitted by all the other vendors, your company really needs this hidden tool that I've been investigating lately. This machine’s called Profit Mate. The name is quite self-explanatory as it will be your great friend to make easy commissions. I will show you more interesting information in the next parts of this review. Profit Mate Review 2021= OverView Creator
Brendan Mace
Product
Profit Mate
Launch Date
2021-Feb-24
Launch Time
09:00 EDT
Front-End Price
$16.93  
Bonus
Yes, Huge Bonus
Skill
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Guarantee
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Niche
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Support
Еffесtіvе Rеѕроnѕе
Recommend
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Or
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Connect to leads right away through social media sites or email campaigns
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Build email templates to contact the lead
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Imagine the same tech that produces huge passive income every day within 30 minutes of accessing the member's area. Profit Mate makes things possible for someone to get started with as little as 10 minutes from now, and you're not making something from scratch, you're immediately producing leads on demand, and delivering it to the "top offer."
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With the automation attached to it, you will waste too much time on something else and also collecting commissions from this wonderful computer.
You are collecting leads from the “Contact Us” pages on Google for any topic, which means you are just legally reaching out to people via contact data they have offered you, the app just automates it.
And the best part… this is 100% legal, and nobody can stop you from doing it over and over.
This technique has been embraced by several gurus for years and is now undergoing final review by beta users of the Profit Mate software. You don't have to think about whether the app will really work. A lot of people have made money out of it for such a long time. Profit Mate Review 2021= How to use Profit Mate ? Well, this is the crucial issue.
Not everybody is going to use Profit Mate in the same manner.
And if you're new to internet marketing...
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CPA     Marketing
Affiliate     Marketing
The most difficut part of Profit Mate is finding the right keywords.
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In other words, you are immediately bringing together a list of heavily selected future clients to deliver your preference. All in "seconds" from the GO news. See more info in the section below part of my article.                                    Profit Mate Review 2021= My Personal using experience It has been mentioned on a daily basis that data is the future of our planet. And thankfully, data is the biggest component of what you will get from Profit Mate. It's real that people pay a costly price to dig into the data field. That's why I'd deem Profit Mate to be the No.1 option for newbies. With Profit Mate, you just need to pay once for leads that are categorised into separate niches, which effectively ensures that you will run tailored campaigns so as not to spend time on something else.
In comparison, this Profit Mate is working on an autopilot. No additional activities will be involved in designing, customising, or "secret" pages. You have removed all the hard work and are free to spend more time with loved ones. I’ve tried this software as a tester recently. I’m going to instruct you how to use this amazingly handy machine and make the most honest review for you.
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Let’s see the price in the next part of this review!
Profit Mate Review 2021= Price and Evaluation You just need to pay $16.93 to get access to this exclusive software that turns "Searches" into "Email Lists" on request. This discount offer is only available in a very short period, and this is your precious opportunity to hop on!
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Comes with UNLIMITED EVERYTHING as well as way more features.
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Blogger Profit Mate Review 2021= Pros and Cons of Profit Mate
Pros Cloud-Based App – nothing to install or download, access from any device
Fully-fledged, online business solution!
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Turning those leads into sales
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Perfect to start your business
It can pretty much guarantee you’re as excited as we are right now… 
Setup is fast and can be in as little as 10 minutes
You don’t need ARs, websites, other softwares, etc
You are “shortcutting” lead generation
This is 100% legal and safe
Cons Right now , There is no cons Profit Mate Review 2021= Conclusion
Profit Mate is, without a doubt, a perfect tool for you right now. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to leap straight into this gold mine and raise some money on the contributions of others from their traffic to their goods when you don't have to do any hard work at all! I highly recommend this product and you never have to think twice about purchasing it. REMEMBER! If you purchase through my link, you will be supported 24/7; That means you can contact me ANYTIME when you get trouble in using or can not contact with the authors/ product supporters. I will help you RIGHT AWAY!
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-DISCLOSURE- I am affiliated, but not sponsored by any product featured in this article. The links in the article are my affiliate links which means if you click on one of them and buy the product I’ll receive a small commission. Not being sponsored allows me to keep my own opinions and provide product reviews without bias. From the millions of products, I pick the ones I personally have tested and have been highly impressed which I’ll then recommend. This is how I feed my family by making honest and useful reviews so that you can make informed buying decisions. I appreciate your support.
38 notes · View notes
Note
Dick and Jason are Robins at the same time
(titans ‘verse. au after 1.06)
(tagging @superohclair and @cautiousamber!)
-
1.
dick has to admit that it’s not the worst arrangement: jason continues to be robin in gotham, and dick travels across the country with his little family while running from a homicidal cult, wearing the costume every now and then when he has no choice but to fight. this way batman is covered, dick still has access to some advanced gear and weaponry now that he needs it, and internet sleuths are kept on their toes when robin shows up in different ends of the country on the same day.
so what if reading news coverage of batman and robin in gotham feels like being punched in the chest, or hearing jason’s stories about learning new things from bruce everyday makes dick want to scream into a pillow? he is fine with this.
he. is. fine--
(kory knows he’s fraying at the edges. she watches, and she says nothing.)
2.
the fight to help rachel and defeat trigon is long and hard, and involves painstakingly unravelling kory’s memories. they manage to find her spaceship, and it becomes their base for a good long while. they stay there long enough that dick loses some of the tension that’s had him on edge for... well. the better part of the last five years, to be honest.
dick begins training rachel and gar in earnest. kory is able to coax some memories of tamaranean cuisine and culture out, and dick is reminded more and more of the team that he lost everyday. despite his best efforts he’s invested now. he cooks and dances with kory (good thing he’s so flexible because the tamaranean version of a waltz is like a particularly sadistic game of twister), teaches rachel algebra and does yoga with gar. he even manages to forget about bruce for a bit.
jason shows up quite often when he figures out where they’re based, and after some initial tension, he becomes an unofficial member of their team (though at this stage dick is still reluctant to use that word). dick and jason patrol in the nearby city some nights, then go for ice cream later. dick’s even starting to see the strategic (and frankly comedic) potential of two robins on the same patrol. 
time and familiarity softens how dick perceives jason: less reckless asshole and more bright young kid full of curiosity and a need to prove himself. he continues to tend towards gratuitous violence, but dick learns his triggers and helps jason recognise them as well. he soaks up the info on alien cultures and battles on kory’s ship faster than dick himself could hope to, and there is a terrible sort of tenderness to how he talks to the people he saves while on patrol. terrible, dick thinks, because he doesn’t know if he comes across like that now at all: soft and empathetic instead of aloof and shaking, too caught up in his own neuroses.
here’s the thing, the crux of it, the faultline that’s always threatening to break dick apart: he’s so afraid that he’s taken robin, his legacy, the ideals and persona that he modelled as a tribute to his parents, and made it into something so dark and broken that only batman could pass it on. jason showing up as his replacement one day only seemed to affirm that fear. but now, swinging through the skies with this kid who’s taken robin as an opportunity to learn and grow and be better, dick’s reminded of the best of his early days in the costume. 
for the first time in what feels like forever, dick feels good about putting on the robin costume again.
3.
(are you asking if dick tried to call home? of course he did. he chickens out and cuts the call to bruce after only a few rings, and feels a sad sort of vindication in noticing how bruce never attempts to call him back.
alfred picks up his call on the second ring, and dick feels like the smallest person in the world when he hears the genuine warmth, joy and relief in alfred’s voice as he greets him. there’s no excuse for dick refusing to talk to the man that practically raised him after his parents died and he knows it. 
they talk for an hours while skirting around anything to do with bruce, which is an impressive feat all in itself. they finally talk about jason, and there’s a wistful sort of fondness in alfred’s voice as he says, “you’ve been a good influence on master jason.”
dick laughs. “he’s been a good influence on me.” it’s the first time he’s said it loud, but it feels true.
“you mustn’t underestimate the ways in which you change people, master dick,” alfred says. “you have been a light in our lives for so long.”
dick’s jaw clenches. all his memories of batman smudge together in never-ending shadow; when he thinks of bruce, he can only remember that remote expression on his face, that expression dick can project all his disgust and loathing and disappointment onto. maybe people should start considering how they influence me, dick wants to say. sometimes i can’t recognise who i’m seeing in the mirror every day and other times i hate him so much i want to--
“i miss you, alf,” he says instead, softly.
“my dear boy,” alfred starts, but he sounds choked. it’s ok. dick understands.)
4.
things get worse, quickly. their enemies find and destroy their spaceship base, and they’re not nearly ready to take on trigon yet. they’re on the run again, alternating between motel rooms and empty warehouses. 
the cult finally catches up to them; they are kidnapped and tortured for days in an abandoned asylum. they eventually escape, the building and the organisation in flames behind them, but the scars from the experience are deep: rachel is anxious and tearful almost all the time, gar’s usual cheer is replaced by a quiet, simmering self-loathing, kory refuses to talk about her experience but flinches at every touch, and dick... he feels like he’s been flayed, his mind and body laid raw and bleeding until nothing recognisable, nothing human is left. he can’t think, he can barely feel. half the time it feels like he’s observing what’s happening to him like it’s happening to somebody else entirely.
they’re a mess. he can’t do this, not when he feels like--like this. he resists calling anybody for help, but one night he breaks down and calls donna. he doesn’t remember what he says on the call, but wakes up the next morning, eyes raw, tear tracks on his face, and a text from donna that says: i’ll be there in a day. stay put, bw,
“wow you’re a mess,” jason says from a corner of the room. any other time, dick would be on his feet, demanding to know how jason found them. now though, he’s feeling out of his body again, and so he says, “i kind of am, aren’t i?” and watches the words float, parting the air above him.
jason sighs.
being with donna helps get his head on straight, even though at first her appearance threatened to bring back even more traumatic memories. she’s a soothing, sobering presence not just for him, but for the others as well. they continue to motel-hop as they prepare for their big final battle against trigon.
jason continues to find them, somehow. (dick wouldn’t put installing a tracker on one of them beyond him, but he’s much too tired to feel angry about that.) he chats with dick and sometimes they bond by watching a movie together or swinging from buildings in the chill, crisp night air, jason’s cackling laugh echoing in dick’s ears. 
jason always leaves as quickly as he appears, but dick is grateful for his presence.
5.
they defeat trigon, and there’s a party. even hank and dawn show up. jason is conspicuous in his absence.
after several unanswered texts and calls, dick bites the bullet and calls alfred. “hey alf,” he says when the man picks up, “is jason there?”
there’s a long pause at the other end of the line. then: “did master bruce not tell you?” his voice sounds uncharacteristically hoarse.
dick’s stomach starts to sink. he steps away from the others and into a quiet room. “tell me what?”
“master jason...” alfred sighs. “he--he was killed by the joker two months ago. the funeral was last week.”
dick stumbles back to sit on the bed. the phone threatens to fall from his numb fingers even while his heart thunders against his ribs. “that’s impossible,” he manages. “i saw him five days ago. we saw--” there’s a hysterical laugh building in his chest, howling like a thunderstorm, “fuck we saw moulin rogue together. he told me how much he fucking loves musicals, i--”
alfred’s voice is suddenly distant and tinny. dick looks down to see his phone on the floor. he’s suddenly very, very aware of the dryness of his palms, the hot flush at the tips of his ears, the tears that are starting to slide down his cheeks, the way his lungs are burning with shock and grief and rage--
“hey, dickie,” jason says, smiling at him. “glad you finally caught up.”
-
( send me an au and i’ll give you 5+ headcanons! )
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anastasiaskarsgard · 3 years
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A part 4 to the cheating office fic, reader leaves Roman for 4 months and one day she stops by his job cause she’s friends with the receptionist And Roman sees her and begs her infront of everybody to take him back which she does.
So this little nugget came from this one:
https://anastasiaskarsgard.tumblr.com/post/635373957656297472/i-suddenly-remember-your-piece-about-romans-long
Which was a continuation of this:
https://anastasiaskarsgard.tumblr.com/post/184745815831/you-catch-roman-fucking-a-girl-in-his-office-and
So now that we are all caught up... on with the show!
We cannot skip the escape!!! Part 4 is the same day as part 3. It opens with Roman in his office, ordering the head of IT to report to his office.
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“Mr Godfrey, I was told you had an urgent concern. What is happening exactly?” Christopher Chan, Head of the Godfrey corporation Network security.
“Just the man I wanted to see. I’ve come to the decision to trust my girlfriend, and take her off of 24/7 surveillance.”
Chris looked uneasy, knitting his eyebrows together as he considered how to respond to the sudden change of heart. After the amount of time, money and effort that went into gaining access to all her accounts, digital devices and installing hidden cameras throughout their home and in her vehicles, it seemed rash. But there really was no way to say so, without offending Roman, so it really wasn’t his concern how the brat blew his money. “Effective immediately sir? Do you wish to keep any of the surveillance of your home going for security reasons or revert back to the systems in place before all the additions to monitor your girlfriend.”
“Seriously? I just fucking said I trust my girlfriend, so obviously disarm anything put in to watch her. There was already security in place before I even knew her and it worked well enough so go back to that. Now get the fuck out and make sure nothing is discoverable and can come back to me.”
“Yes sir.” With that, Chris turned and hurried out of the office cursing under his breath. Taking shit from that asshole that practically failed public highschool and barely graduated, when he had a masters from MIT and graduated top of his class, was a hard pill to swallow. Sure he was paid handsomely for his discretion and abilities, but it didn’t make the thought of that prick being put in his place any less appealing.
Making his way down to his floor and grabbing a coffee on the way to his office, he decided he’d get some actual work done that was important to the company, before shutting down Romans little pet project. Just as he took a seat, there was a knock at his door.
Rolling his eyes at never having more than 2 minutes without someone bothering him he told whoever it was to enter.
“Chris. You might want to check on The scarlet raven.” One of the IT guys assigned to monitoring the girlfriend stated with an amused look on his face.
“No need. The scarlet Raven is officially no more. Mr Godfrey trusts her.” Chris replied as he booted up his computer and pulled up his designs.
“Well um.... I think you should take a look anyways cuz he may be jumping the gun. She’s packing suitcases and she’s called her sister, old best friend, purchased a plane ticket and had made 2 large transfers from her personal allowance account.”
That got his attention. “I will look into it. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Go ahead and start the network analysis, I’ll worry about the scarlet raven until further notice.”
Chris watched as the young man closed the door behind him, and immediately turned to his computer to take a look. Popping up in a window, a clear view of the woman in question, loading her car with several large suitcases came into view. With the tap of a few keys he was able to pull up her phone history and internet browsing as well as her email accounts and financial transactions. It was very clear, she was finally making a run for it, and he couldn’t help but smile at the thought.
He had never felt great about spying on the girl, and always dreaded the day, he’d have to tattle on her to her possessive punk ass boyfriend, but now he couldn’t have wished for any better timing.
Turning his attention back to the screen, he was concerned to see she was crying in the closet. It was like a train wreck, he couldn’t look away and he started to worry that maybe she was having second thoughts.
Steeling his resolve, he downloaded a texting app and got a temporary number.
Unknown: you deserve so much better than what you are getting staying with that dick. He still cheats on you, does drugs and neglects you. He has his IT guys spy on you, and loop his video feed when he needs you to think he’s not out cheating. Run! Run as fast as you can...
There. He could possibly sleep well, knowing he at least tried to save her. It was up to her what she did with that info.
Meanwhile at the mansion, the young woman stared down at her phone in pure rage. She could not believe Roman had been playing her for a fool even now. There was no reason to doubt this random person that she guessed was most likely one of the IT guys that felt bad for her.
Looking around, she tried to find the cameras or bugs but unlike the movies, nothing looked too obvious. Just as she’d given up and was making her way to the door, her phone rang. Peeking at the caller ID, her stomach dropped at the sight of Romans name.
Panic ripped through her, as she contemplated just ignoring the call. Sighing heavily she accepted the call, knowing that if she didn’t, he may very well come find her and she wasn’t gone yet.
“Hey babe! How is work?”
“Much better now that I get to talk to you. I love you.”
She had to stop herself from scoffing and telling him off, but she gritted her teeth and smiled as big as she was able, hoping it’d sound nicer as she replied “not as much as I love you.”
“You’re the best. I don’t deserve you.” He purred into the phone. “Tonight I’m going to take you out to a nice dinner. Be all ready at 6 and I’ll pick you up ok?”
Too bad I won’t even be in the same state she mused to herself. “Okay will do. I can’t wait till you get here. Love you.”
“Love you more.”
She hung up the phone and shuddered.
Walking out the front door and not even turning around for a last look, she made her way to the airport, elated to begin her new life without a certain asshole disrespecting her at every turn.
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Text
Chapter 1. The Case Against Fairytales
'his eyes across a room tangled up in her imagination they had spent a lifetime together by the time he said hello' atticus
My brother died the same way he came into the world: silent, eyes closed, changing my life as I knew it. 
We spent our whole lives trying to convince anyone we could that we were as regular as they were, but here's the first fundamentally different thing when you are royal: the meaning of the word ‘everyone’. 
In our case, we usually mean anyone in the country, most of the international media, and at least a sizeable majority of the world's population. It's not that everyone knew us... it's just that enough people did. Enough for it to be easier to call them 'everyone'. 
When my brother Louis was born, mom had been rushed to the hospital in the middle of a Sunday afternoon. The press was notified, they promptly set up camp at the hospital entrance, and the people started prayer campaigns to the safe arrival of their new prince and heir. Everyone rejoiced at his arrival. I remember, I was there. 
At three years-old, it felt like everyone was every single person in the planet. It was mostly just the people in our country; to everyone else, his birth was a quick, short line of announcement, maybe some notice to the fact that the newborn baby boy was taking his older sister's place as heir, and not much else. 
When he died, everyone was every single person in the planet. The second thing fundamentally different when you are a royal: from a very early age you must learn that tragedy sells more than joy. And in any constitutional monarchy country, a royal family is merely another commodity.
A few people talked about my early graduation from University. A lot more people talked about my boyfriend breaking up with me. There were a few articles about my little sister's victory at the ice-skating junior final. When she fell on her face in front of the cameras while attempting a risky move, she went viral. When my brother came into our lives, a few people took notice. 
When he left us, everyone did.
---- ---- ---- ----
I, too, am a victim of culture appropriation. Since the dawn of time, from the moment humankind developed communication skills, there has been storytelling. And for the past few thousands of years most stories that parents tell their young as they tuck them into their blankets every night, have been about my culture. As far as that goes, it is not the most damaging kind of culture appropriation. But I have a duty today, and I will not shy away from it. I am sorry to say I must, and will, shatter the beautiful image of fairytales that kids have been fed for so many years now. 
I know what you are thinking – oh, boo-hoo, the poor little princess girl; is life too difficult in your beautiful palace with all the money a person could ever need? And yes, I know. I am not a victim. The same colonialism that placed my ancestors, and therefore, me, in the position of privilege and power I am in today has created many more actual victims around the world. But that is also why I must tell this story the way it was always meant to be told: truthfully. With all the weird, awkward, awful, bits and pieces that fairytales tend to skip. 
Fairytales would, for instance, skip straight to the grand, majestic welcome ceremony between the Queen of the United Kingdom and the King of Savoy in a sun floored courtyard with guards on tall, furry black hats strutting around, standing in a red-carpeted dais, with a handsome prince making eyes at me. But in my story, we will start with the train. 
That’s right, in modern fairytales you don’t take a lovely carriage ride to a neighboring kingdom. You take a train there – a commercial train, if you can, because modern times beg for demonstrating to the masses that the Monarch isn’t throwing money around. We were trying to highlight the easy routes of access to our neighbors to the northeast, and so we took the ferry across the Celtic Sea to Hugh Town Island and from there, Eurostar number 2 train that made a quick stop in Penzance, UK, and then went straight to London. 
The train ride isn’t comfortable – even if you have a first class private car. It’s bumpy and crowded and a terrible place to spend three straight hours. On that particular morning, I was in our car with my father, his household secretary Auguste, my private aide, Cadie, and a few other staff members. 
In fairytale world, when a princess does not look the part, there is usually the appearance of a fairy godmother who sings a nice song and magically transforms her into a Proper Princess™. There is no fairy godmothers when you are a real princess- real ones, sure, but they are not magical-, but you do learn from an early age what a Proper Princess™ should look like, act like, and sound like, and god forbid you don't. 
In the train that day, I heard all that was keeping me from being Proper™ from Auguste, who was in many ways the exact opposite of a fairy godmother. He had all the menacing authority of one, with none of the charm. He also didn’t have wings or a sparkly wand; he had greying short hair, and thin, small, reading glasses that he always pushed down to the tip of his nose to look above, which made me wonder what was the point of the glasses at all.
Before our arrival, I had to change my lipstick, which was too dark, my dress, which was too short at the daring height of above my knees, my shoes, which were open toed and therefore wrong, and finally, make sure to brush my hair once more.
My parents never subscribed to the idea that we were forbidden to do anything. They were raised on stern rules and heavily traditional costumes and wanted their kids to live more freely. So, growing up, they revolutionarily told us that we were free to be whoever we wanted to be – in private. In public, we had an obligation to be Proper™. After all, as I heard repeatedly growing up: royals don’t make mistakes, we make history; and history remembers.
So, yes. I, a grown, 25 years-old, law-school graduate, bar-approved acquisitions lawyer, changed out of my dress into a more proper one because my dad asked. Because as a princess, you’re never just yourself; you’re the country. And if your country comes from a Roman Catholic tradition, your hemlines must reflect that, no matter what century it is.
The country in question was just to the south of the United Kingdom, west of France, a large island named Savoie. The English call it Savoy, which is how it was pronounced anyway. It was originally populated by the Irish, but over the years it was conquered by the English, the Spanish, and the Portuguese until finally, in the 13th Century, it was conquered by France. It was bigger than Ireland, but smaller than England, and one of the biggest GDPs in the world, with a population of 49 million. Under the reign of Louis XV, however, France lost most of its possessions after its defeat in the Seven Years' War, and to secure Savoy, the king sent part of the court to live there and to reign in his stead as his emissaries. Louis XV's reign grew weak, including his ill-advised financial, political and military decisions, which discredited the monarchy and arguably led to the French Revolution 15 years after his death. France dealt with its dissatisfaction by revolting, Savoy however, secluded away at sea, decided to declare independence before the Revolution had even taken steam. The political leaders of the Island reached an agreement with the king's emissary, Prince Louis, the highest ranking monarch on the island; in exchange for support for the severance of all connection to France, he was then made King Louis I of Savoy. The Royal House of Savoy grew steady and strong by protecting its people and assuring them a freer, better life than the one they'd known under French reign.
A few years later, I sat on that train in front of the current King of Savoy. My father. 
“You look beautiful, Maggie.”
“Thank you.” 
“The other dress was beautiful as well. Just not for today.”
“Mm-hm.”
A moment of silence went by. I picked up my phone and checked my emails. There was one from Sophie with the subject ‘urgent!’ so I clicked in it feeling my heart race.
It read,
‘Marie, I’m sorry to bother you on your days off, but the depositions got moved up to Monday and we can’t find the notes on the manager deposition, you were the one who did them. Is there any chance you have a copy and if so can you send them to me? Enjoy England! XO Soph’
Sighing, I put down my phone and quickly found my laptop on my suitcase. I turned it on as I replied to Sophie’s email to tell her to expect my deposition notes shortly. 
“You know if we could I’d let you wear whatever you wanted.” Dad added as I logged into my computer.
“I do.”
I moved quickly through my folders realizing the most recent update on my notes hadn’t been uploaded to the cloud. Sighing, I logged on to the train WiFi and checked the storage service online. It didn’t connect.
“Honestly, darling, you look even prettier with this dress.”
I looked up, mentally wondering if the previous versions of the notes would be useful.
“This isn’t about the dress.”
I realized, then, that it wouldn’t matter anyway because I wouldn’t be able to send them to Sophie without internet. I looked out the window, realizing perhaps too late that we were in the tunnel, underwater. Of course there wasn’t internet.
“Well, what is it about?” Dad asked, putting his book marker back inside the page he was on and laying down the book to give me his full attention.
“Work, papa. I have a job.”
“Yes, and it’s your day off. Maybe you should try and turn off from work for the next few days?”
I smiled down to my computer, “maybe this is a conversation for another time.”
Dad adjusted his posture, looking a little taller, and looked around the room to Cadie and Auguste sitting in a booth nearby with our private hair and make-up artist, and dad’s footman, and personal aide.
“Excuse me, everyone, would you be so kind as to give us the room? Or, uh, the car? There is a little lounge outside, isn’t there?”
“Of course, sir.” Auguste said, jumping up immediately with the aide, and Cadie and Cass, the make-up artist, followed.
After they had left and closed the door behind them, I looked at my father. He lurched back in his seat and smiled at me. 
“Go on,” he said. “If you don’t scream I don’t think they’ll hear us.”
“Why would I scream?”
“I don’t know, Maggie. But I don’t know why you would be so passive aggressive, either. Can you tell me?”
“What do you want, dad?” 
In truth, I added the ‘dad’ at the end of the sentence to make it sound less aggressive, but as he stared at me, I felt uncomfortable not explaining myself.
“I’m here, aren’t I?”, I asked, tiredly. “I’m here, wearing a proper, long, not-slutty dress-“
“No one here used that word-“
“My toes will be perfectly hidden away when we arrive, I have hidden my ugly, evil legs under some stockings-“
“Really, Maggie, no one said your legs were-“
“My make-up is light and my hair is simple and non-threatening. I know not to smile too much or too little and to let the adults lead the conversation”, I said, the word ‘adults’ dangling bitterly from me lips. “And not to walk ahead of you, but always behind, taking your lead.”
“You make it sound so stiff and calculated.”
“And I have taken time off of work to be here.” I said. “All other Junior Associates are working overtime and through weekends to cash in as many billable hours as possible to be promoted to Full-time Associates, and instead I took off four days to travel with my dad.”
“Work, for work!”
“So, again, what do you want? How else am I not meeting your expectations?”
I spoke calmly, gently, and as low a volume as I could just to confront his joke not a minute before about how if I didn’t scream the others wouldn’t hear us. I made sure to be as poised and contained as I could. He heaved a sigh.
“I’m sorry you had to take time off work.” 
I waited, as he stared in his usual lovingly, patient way. I smiled, more as a peace offering than genuinely. 
“You know very well they won’t fire you.”
Still, I was quiet, smiling as sincerely as I could. 
“And I know that isn’t fair, but there’s nothing I can do about it. So tell me something I can do and I will.”
“Okay.” I said, nodding. “I want your honesty. Don’t treat me like a child you need to protect, don’t patronize me. All I want is an honest answer.”
He adjusted himself in his seat and cleared his throat. “Alright. Go on.”
“Why am I here, papa?”
He blinked, seemingly confused. I could tell he expected a harder question.
“Your- Because your mother sprained her ankle?” he answered, still unsure. “What- do you mean philosophically? Why are any of us here, really? I don’t understand.”
I tried not to smile. “I mean I have a life. I am not your heir. Louis is your heir, it is his job to help you when mom has emergencies.”
He sighed deeply, finally arriving at the same page where I was.
“Your brother is in school.” He said. “And you are our oldest child. So, I’m sorry if it disrupts your life, Maggie. But you are needed.”
“And after school?” I asked “His graduation is in 6 months. Are you telling me that after he graduates university and moves back home, when he is starting his career, maybe moving to the capital, when you and mom have an emergency, you will call him up instead of me?”
He gave the table a sad smile. “If that is your wish, yes.”
“So that’s all, then?” I confirmed, suspiciously. “He moves back after graduation and you will give me the space I need?”
He smiled. “Is that what you want, then?” it wasn’t a confirmation. It was a tone of accomplishment. Of finally realizing what was it that I wanted, as if this entire conversation that’s what he had been trying to find out.
“I went to school for years. I interned for a year. I studied hard for the bar exams in America and Savoy. Yes, dad, I want to use the degree I worked hard for.”
“Okay, then. We will give you space.” He said. “Space from us, to be who you want to be. To be normal.”
I rolled my eyes, smiling, slightly amused at his dramatics. “That is not what I meant.”
“But it is accurate.”
“Papa...” I sighed.
“I’m just saying, sweetheart, I understand.” He insisted. “It’s why you went to America for University, it’s why you are based on the capital now. As long as you’re too close to us, you can’t live a normal life.”
“I can never live a normal life. We are not normal.”
“But you wish to try.”
I chuckled. “How?! You said it yourself, they will never fire me. My firm, I mean. Wherever I am, I am never just me and my degree and my career. People look at me and see you, as if I am you. I am their King. I am the Royal Family of Savoy. They’ll never take me seriously or afford me the same opportunities as everyone, because I am not everyone.”
He nodded, slowly, then sighed. “Yikes. You’re right. That sounds tough.”
“And I’m the passive aggressive one?”
“Job security and the attention of your bosses. That sounds awful.”
“Papa...”
“You want the space to dedicate yourself to your career without us pulling you away for royal work. Is that it? Okay. You got it. As soon as your brother is back from University, I will make sure you’re only needed for official events, and only if you’re not working.” 
He sounded serious now. Sincere as when he delivered the End of Year address every Christmas, which was meaningful. Getting dad to afford me the same seriousness he afforded his subjects was as much seriousness as I could get from him. Still, there was no mistaking the sadness in his eyes. 
“Even before his affirmation ceremony?” I asked, trying to sniff around for a trick.
The affirmation ceremony was meant to make clear to the country that an heir to throne had the seal of approval of the Monarch, and it usually happened when the heir was 21 years of age, to signify the Monarch believed in the event of a tragedy, the heir was ready to rule.  In modern times, it meant an heir was ready to start working as a full-time royal. Though my brother was 22, the family had decided to wait until he had graduated university to do his ceremony. 
Dad took longer than I wished, but finally, he nodded. “Yes. I promise.”
If you’re paying attention, then you might have noticed the math doesn’t add up. How come my 22 years-old brother is the heir when I said I am 25, the oldest child? Well, as with most fairytales, as well as with most of life, the problem is the patriarchy. For the thing is, though I was older than Louis by three years, because I was born a girl, he became the heir when he was born. So, at three, I went from future-Queen to lower ranking older sister. 
It wasn’t unusual, my father himself had two older sisters who were lower than him and his brothers in the line of succession. As a result we had older cousins who we outranked. I cared about all this at 25 the same as when I was 3: not at all. 
Absolute primogeniture law was passed in Savoy when I was 5, propelled by my birth and the new times. It was, however, not retroactive. This meant the law was changed for future births, not past ones, so all girls born after the law came into effect would be heirs in their own right, no matter how many brothers they got after, and all girls born before would go into history as having missed it by ‘just a bit’.
Louis and I, though, didn’t sit around having long discussions about who would be a better ruler. There has never been an instance in which we were arguing and I yelled something like, “first you stole my throne and now you stole my cookies! I hate you!”. For us this was just a little footnote in the family tree. A little fun fact to tell our future kids one day. And although I couldn’t remember what it felt like, I always knew it was much better not having to be the Crown Princess of Savoy.
---- ---- ---- ----
When we finally reached Penzance, the small town in the tip of the isle of England where sat the second Eurostar station, I was able to finally connect to the internet. My father left our train car to walk about with his security because he wanted to witness the new English policy of installing a check-point at the entry due to the immigrant crisis – a huge part of why we were there. While he did that, I sent Sophie my notes on the deposition, and answered some messages.
There was one from Louis, my aforementioned brother:
‘are you close?’
And one from our baby sister, Lourdes:
‘what do you think??!!!!!!!!’, with an attachment of two videos.
And, lastly, one from my mother, Her Majesty Queen Amelie-Elyse, back home with a sprained ankle.
‘Hope all is well! Let me know when you’re with your brother. Don’t forget to let your hair down before leaving the train!’
She didn’t mean it in a philosophical, have fun kind of way. She literally meant let my hair down, apparently it softened my features. 
I replied to her with a selfie, with my hair properly brushed and down, in preparation for the arrival in London, which was close now. Let Louis know we were almost there. And sent a quick, uncommitted ‘woah!’ to my sister, without opening her attachments. They were always the same: videos of her practicing. There was only so much ice skating I could watch in a lifetime.
My mom answered my text with, “why did you change your dress?!”
I sighed, getting ready to justify this decision as well, already anticipating she would argue that the fascinator wouldn’t go with this one dress, so I told her I already had another fascinator standing by. 
Growing up with fairytales they don’t tell you about the little annoying details. Characters who are annoying usually are the villains, the ones the Princess escapes from, usually saved by the prince. They don’t tell you sometimes, actually a lot of the times, the people you love can be equally as annoying. 
---- ---- ---- ----
When we arrived at the station in London, I was already wearing my disc fascinator in a light shade of blue matching both my lace dress, this time reaching all the way to my ankles, and eyes. We were quickly greeted by the Savoyen Ambassador to England in front of the press, and escorted into government cars towards Whitehall. 
The large parade ground was a traditional courtyard in central London that usually housed ceremonies related to the military and the royal family. When we arrived, the day finally was washed in a feeling of ceremony. 
The place was lined neatly with military guards, security barricades and the Scotland Yard Police kept watchers and paparazzi at bay, the press lined up inside to have the best view of all involved. As we arrived, the traditional 41 gun salute was already sounding on. A military band was playing. People waved and yelled hello as we drove inside. I suddenly knew what to do, as if my body had the gene for it. This was one thing that was definitely genetic.
I stepped out of the car delicately, smoothly, knees together like a proper lady, polite smile on my lips in thanks to the guard who saluted as I left. My father greeted a handler who escorted us to the front of all the lined guards, where three structures had been set up: one large one in the middle, with a red-carpeted stage and a large roof, the British Royal Coat of Arms in the center with the British flag to its right and the Savoy flag to its left. Decorative flowers and elegant plants here and there. Two smaller, simpler structures to both of its sides. Inside all of them, men and women in formal suits and ties and knee-length, appropriate dresses and hats. 
We walked the grovel path to the larger structure as the band played and the press, lined up in front of this platform, took their photographs. My father climbed the steps first, quickly being received by the small, elder, lady in a lavender overcoat and matching hat, impressive set of pearls dangling from her neck. She smiled as he lowered himself down to kiss both her cheeks warmly. 
The queen then looked at me and I approached, just as our handler told Her Majesty:
“And may I present, Her Royal Highness, Princess Marie-Margueritte of Savoy.”
I lowered myself in a curtsy, and as she extended her hands to hold mine, I also kissed her cheeks, trying to avoid knocking her hat with mine. 
“Welcome.” She smiled. “I hope the ride was forgiving.”
“Very comfortable.” My father told her. “Always surprising how fast it is.”
“Yes. You’ll remember, I’m sure, the Prince of Wales.” She said, walking us to the center of the platform where another two men awaited.
My father and the Prince of Wales greeted each other warmly, they were more used to running in the same circles – royal weddings here and there, international summits and meetings, or whatever it is they do. 
“We’re so glad to have you.” He told my father. 
“I don’t know if you’ve met my daughter, Princess Marie-Margueritte.”
Smiling, I curtsied to the Prince of Wales as he held my hand, before kissing my cheeks. 
“You brighten this day, Your Royal Highness.” He told me, before stepping closer to add, in a whisper. “Sorry you have been dragged to this.”
I giggled, “I’m happy to be here, sir.”
Straightening up, he noticed my father was already greeting the man behind him. “Hopefully we won’t bore you too much. I have tried to bring someone else closer to your age. Have you met my son?”
The handler didn’t know it, but there were no introductions necessary. And yet, all I could do was smile politely as we were introduced to:
“His Royal Highness, Prince Harry of Wales.”
I wondered, for a moment, if he would acknowledge that we already knew each other. 
“It’s a pleasure, Your Royal Highness.” Holding my hand in his, he brought my knuckles to his lips. 
The answer was, obviously, no. So I lowered myself again in a curtsy as an excuse to avert my eyes from his.
I couldn’t understand why, but I had been unprepared for him. With all of Auguste’s preparation, all the briefings, with all the preachings about my appearance, no one had prepared me for him. I don’t know if it was that, like me, he was one of the youngest there, or how absurdly, almost ridiculously tall he was, or maybe how the blue in his eyes contrasted with the red of his hair, but he just… stunned me. When he kissed my hand, his eyes traveled down my legs all the way back to pierce mine, igniting a wave of electricity down my spine I was unable to control. 
He leaned back, and there we stood, hand in hand, wordlessly. 
“You can follow the King, ma’am.” Auguste whispered behind me, his voice making me jump slightly, as I quickly pulled my hand from Harry’s, not before realizing he had something scribbled on his palm.
My father and the Queen were deep in conversation, with Charles besides them, as they reached the center of the platform to watch the guards. The Queen in the middle, my father to her right, and the Prince of Wales to her left, I walked forward to stand beside my father, while Prince Harry walked to his. 
We waited just a moment, and then the band started playing the Savoy National Anthem, and the British Anthem after it. A few words said, more ceremony here and there, and the Prince Wales formally invited my father to inspect the Guards, so they left together, accompanied by one of the military leaders to walk among the rolls of guards,  as the three of us stood behind to watch.
“I was sorry to hear about your mother, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” I said, looking regretful, walking towards her, closing the gap left behind by the others. “She was sorry she couldn’t be here.”
“I hope it’s nothing serious.” Prince Harry interjected.
“A sprained ankle.” I explained, looking ahead. 
“Harry is also here after a small hiccup with the Duchess of Cornwall, my daughter-in-law.” His grandmother told me. “An illness in her family, nothing serious.”
“Hopefully I’ll have time to meet her before we leave.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” She nodded. “How did you mother hurt herself?”
“Horse fall. She was never very fond of Polo, I’m afraid this will drive her further away from it.”
“Oh, that is regretful.” The Queen said. 
Harry looked at me. “Do you play?” 
“I do, sir.” 
“Harry is very good,” his grandmother told me, “he will be the one playing with you in the charity match in the coming days.”
“I look forward to-“, I started, but Harry had started the exact same sentence. We locked eyes, and chuckled.
“You first.” I said.
“Please, I insist.” He responded, cheeks reddening.
His grandmother looked between us, and then back to the uniformed men in front. She then said, in a low tone, something I would spend a large part of the upcoming months thinking obsessively about:
“Be careful with him... He will charm you, but he is a heartbreaker.”
The words astonished me so much I looked at her, unsure she had actually said them. But she had, clearly, because Harry was also looking at her, quite shocked.
“Granny!” he complained, in such a whiny tone I broke into laughter.
“Do I lie?” She asked him, grinning. It only made him look more shocked. 
“Don’t ruin my reputation in front of foreign royals!” he said, in a low tone, before looking at me. “Specially such pretty ones.”
My giggle froze in my throat under his intense glare, and I could feel my cheeks reddening.
The Queen looked at me. “Oh, you’re blushing. It’s too late, I see.”
It was.
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Margueritte’s outfit
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[A/N: Attention: by continuing to read you are accepting that some sad stuff is coming. You been warned. Thanks for checking this out! Let me know your thoughts?? thanks!!!!]
[A/N2: Hey! Nat here. I wanted to talk a little more about the story we are about to go on together.
In the upcoming chapters you will be introduced to the Royal Family of Savoy, a fictitious European country right below the UK, to left of France. When I first posted a fanfiction, FIUYMI, I made the main character latina, since that’s what I am, and I had previously felt that I couldn’t relate to other characters I had read. In this one, however, I decided I wanted to write about a fictitious monarchy, and I knew I wanted to make it as realistic as possible. 
As much as I wanted at many points in the story to make the character look more like me, the idea felt like cheating: Margueritte is a blood royal, born to a life of specific privileges and hardships, and pretending she could look like the type of people who don’t have white privilege would be trying to ignore a very real issue: all monarchies - past and present - existed, lasted and gathered riches on the back of people of color. Most of their descendants still carry white and wealth privilege because these royal families, however many years ago, supported and perpetuated colonialism and white supremacy that left countless countries and their populations still recovering today.
That is a legacy Margueritte didn’t chose, and which she also doesn’t have to face, but in this story she will chose too. As you’ll see, she finds herself in a much more influential position she thought she would have, and as such she realizes she has two options: she can stick to the message her family - and other royal families - have perpetuated for generations and keep her head high, mouth and ears shut, so their legacy can survive; or she can chose to be a modern Queen who will make the institution relevant again. I want to write about this because this issue is important for the times we live in, particularly after the way the Duchess of Sussex was treated in the United Kingdom.
What that will look like will depend on who Margueritte is as a person and whose advice she takes, and that is a journey I hope you’ll take with us =) ]
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