#i seriously think they should strike + unionize at this point

[killlerfang1]

There are very few times i say this but I hope to GOD that they delay Beyond the Spider-Verse by a SIGNIFICANT margin because this shit is not okay. I adore the Spider-Verse movies to bits but the workers and the conditions they have to go through is infinitely more important. I hope the movie gets all the time and money it needs because if not I am VERY worried about how the movie and workers will turn out in the end.

(vulture article shown in tweets)

#i seriously think they should strike + unionize at this point #like eveyone in the entertainment industry has to strike in order to stop horror stories like these from coming out #writers animators vfx makeup actors ALL OF THEM #across the Spiderverse #atsv #spiderverse #beyond the spiderverse #btsv #my post #also #why the FUCK would they anounce a release date if the movie hanst even STARTED

[mysticstarlightduck]

OC Interview Tag

Thank you so much for the tag, @kaylinalexanderbooks!!!! (here)

I'll go with Nimwen from Of Starlight and Beasts because I don't think I've done one of these for her yet!

Are you named after anyone?

"I was named after my paternal grandmother. My parents' marriage was severely looked down upon by my mother's side of the family, because Dad wasn't of noble birth. They decided to choose the name because it was a nice keeping my grandma's memory alive but also a little bit as a way to stick it to my maternal grandparents. Her relatives never really got over their union, and didn't rest until they got the King himself - who was apparently a family friend - to annul my parents' marriage. Her family then arranged for Mom to marry some random noble from a 'proper House' - despite her protests - and cast my father and I out of their social circle."

When was the last time you cried?

"Hmm. That's uh... quite the question, isn't it? Very personal all of the sudden, y'know (her hands squirm and she laughs awkwardly). Let's just say... I have nightmares, and some of them are more... severe than others and sometimes end up crying because of it. I had one recently. I won't go into detail about the dreams though - that's not for you to know. Only Scarlet knows, and even he doesn't know the extra gory details."

Do you have kids?

"Certainly not! I'm barely a grownup and I don't think I should be left in charge of anyone other than myself - Scarlet is always going on like (she mimics her adoptive brother's voice and tone) 'why don't you take care of yourself?' or 'didn't you think this through before doing it? Again, Nim?', so maybe I perhaps might not be the most responsible person to grace this earth. I know, shocking. (giggles). But in all seriousness, I have far too much going on in my life to even think about something like that in the coming years - unless you count my friend Syp as a kid, because he's the youngest of our bunch and is always following me like a little shadow."

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

"No, not really. I'm usually too nervous about hurting someone's feelings or being misunderstood in what I'm trying to say or causing a mess, to the point that I somehow end up just fumbling over my words and making a fool out of myself. Scarlet is the king of sarcasm though, he always knows what to say or how to come up with a sarcastic quip at the right timing. I'm not that lucky (laughs awkwardly). He says I'm fine the way I am and that I don't need to change to be like others, but I do wish I was more eloquent like him."

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

"If they're dangerous or could be a potential threat. I've learned the hard way not to trust too many strangers and still struggle with a lot of... ghosts from my past, per se, looking to strike me down so I've got to be on the lookout for anyone that looks like they could work for the King or the Royal Guard. I also notice their stance and if I can use the terrain around us to my advantage to escape if need be."

What’s your eye colour?

"Dark blue, like my Mom's! I've got Dad's long strawberry blond hair to remember him by though, so that's nice. It's like I've got a little bit of both of them with me at all times - which is comforting, and sad, and a little bit weird. But nice."

Scary movies or happy endings?

"Happy endings, happy endings all the way! I hate scary stories - there's enough terror, and gore and violence and hatred in our world, why should we be subjected to those things in the very fiction that is meant to let us escape it? I hate when the other kids in our bunch start telling horror stories when we're gathered around the campfire - it usually leaves me up all night thinking about it! I know this is probably very silly of me. But I still don't like scary stories one bit and I will keep not liking them until the end of time itself because I don't like being scared."

Any special talents?

"I'm very good at hiding - when you're the daughter of someone who was executed for treason he didn't commit, you learn to hide like your life depends on it, because it really does. Scarlet has also taught me how to shoot the bow and arrow, and I'm... average at it. If I really, really focus I can hit close to the target of my choice, or even hit the target itself if I'm lucky, but if I have to do so whilst moving that arrow is missing the target by a mile. I also know how to sew and embroider, as well as play the harp, which are things my father taught me when I was a child and I haven't really done in a while, so I wouldn't know whether or not I'm still any good at it."

Where were you born?

"I was born in the city of Sylla - which used to belong to another kingdom but was annexed by Tirawen around forty years ago. My Mom comes from a long line of Tirawenian nobles, who moved to Sylla when she was a child because they were given land - a lot of land - in the conquered terrioty by the royal family. My Dad came from a local family of much humbler standing, and he'd risen in the ranks of society by pursuing a career as dyplomat. It didn't end well, as you probably already realized."

Do you have any pets?

"Scarlet has a pet hawk called Arrow! I consider it my pet as well. My brother has trained Arrow to carry messages for us and to hunt. Sometimes he also sends it to scout terrain ahead to check if it's safe for us to pass. Arrow is the most adorable, cutest little bird of prey you'll ever hope to meet! He loves snacks and always chirps happily when you pet his feathers!"

What sort of sports do you play?

"Oh, many! The other kids in our little group of 'outlaws' are always coming up with new things to spend our time doing, so I'm never bored! If anything I'm the opposite. I'm also very good at running, climbing and jumping! And as I mentioned I have a passable knowledge of archery."

How tall are you?

"I would say average height, I never really put much thought into measuring my height, but I seem to be somewhere in the middle between tall and short. Scarlet is very, very tall, so I don't think he counts as a comparison, but my height is similar to that of most of our friends."

What was your favourite subject in school?

"... I uh, didn't really get to attend any of the schools and academies of the kingdom. With the whole 'my dad getting beheaded for treason' ordeal happened when I was really young so I didn't really get a chance. But I think I would've liked to attend the royal academies - I used to love books!!! I still do, but there aren't many opportunities to read when you're living in the forests as an outlaw."

What is your dream job?

"Okay, now, don't laugh, but when I was a little kid I used to dream of growing up to be a pirate - I loved reading tales about pirate adventures and the sort, and couldn't wait to see the ocean one day. I even got a cute little pirate costume for my sixth birthday! But I do realize now real life pirates probably aren't really that nice though. Nowadays I would say my dream job is to become something like a physician or an apothecary - I would love to help more people, especially those who don't have the means to afford healing, because the kingdom all too often tends to forget they exist."

Tagging (gently, no pressure):@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @inky-duchess @late-to-the-fandom @eccaiia, @willtheweaver @littleladymab @cabbojage @lassiesandiego @little-peril-stories @oh-no-another-idea @thepeculiarbird @rickie-the-storyteller @crowandmoonwriting @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @gummybugg @forthesanityofstorytellers @doublegoblin @aalinaaaaaa @starlit-hopes-and-dreams @elshells @clairelsonao3 @anyablackwood @tabswrites and OPEN TAG

#writers of tumblr #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writerblr #oc interview #writing #my wips #writers #character writing #my characters #my writing #wip of starlight and beasts

[fluffydavey]

defending them in their absence <3

soft gestures between friends turning lovers || prompts for @kellyscowboy too!! <33

Once he catches up with the rest of the newsies at the lodgings, he walks in on a heated debate. He stays behind, trying to figure out just what's got everyone's panties in a twist, when he finally hears Race clearer.

"And his brother's only what? Ten?"

"It's not their fault they both gotta work," Crutchie says, to the sounds of some of the other boys arguing back. "Look, all I'm saying is they're here for a reason. It ain't like we don't gotta work for nothing either."

"You saw what they did to that kid at The World, didn't you? What's to say he won't bring Les with him every time something new happens. And who's going to end up looking after the kid then?" Race asks, sounding genuinely frustrated.

"Hey!" he calls out, making his presence known in the room. Everyone quietens down, and he feels every single pair of eyes on him. "You talking about Davey and Les?"

"Davey, actually," Race tells him, although he doesn't sound as confident as before. "Look, the kids got brains. But do we really think he's gonna be any help if we do this strike?"

"He's the reason why we're going ahead with it," Jack points out. "Whether we like it or not, he's very much a part of this strike. You think any of us would have had the idea to strike? To start a union? One that might actually get us somewhere."

"You seriously think this will work, don' you?" Finch asks, and Jack thinks he can pick up the fear in the younger boy's voice.

"I know we will. I trust Davey, I trust that he knows what he's doing, and I have trust in us, and what we can do when we work together." This, Jack is confident of. He knows the odds are against them, but for all that he and his brothers have been through, he wouldn't doubt them for a second. He sits down in the middle of Crutchie and Jo Jo, and leans his head back against the wall behind him.

"So what is it about Davey that makes you so sure?" Crutchie asks, and Jack turns his head to watch his friend. "I mean, you began selling with him as soon as you met him. Clearly you saw something in him then too."

This makes Jack squirm in his seat, feeling uncomfortable under the watchful eyes of his friends. He remembers staring at those doe-eyed hazel eyes, which hardened once Jack had stared back. He was intrigued, he'd never seen a newbie stand up to Wiesel. Impressed, even, until Davey started talking back to him. Jack Kelly was not one to back down from a fight.

"I wasn't lying, selling with Les has been a breeze," he says, settling on an answer. "Plus the kid's got bite, it seems like there's a lot more to him than what we're seeing."

"You should know, you're the one bringing him to Medda's," Crutchie says, and Jack brushes the remark off, however he thinks of the Davey who watched his scenery with a sincere smile, telling him how good he thought it was, and how warm the words had made Jack feel.

He thinks of the Davey who let the excitement sweep him up and get as equally riled up and excited about the strike, who bravely walked into The World and still wouldn't back down. The Davey who bounced ideas off of Jack like his thoughts actually mattered in a moment that mattered so much.

He looks to see Crutchie smiling down at him, whose eyes drift towards the younger kids excitedly talking about their jobs tomorrow, and what they were going to say. Jack wishes he could capture this moment, show Davey just what's done to the kids who were relying on his every word for some sort of hope that things could finally go in their favour for once.

"If you're sure you trust him," Race says, reluctantly. Jack looks up at him, an uneasy look on his face as he plays with the deck of cards in his hands, shuffling the cards with his eyes drawn to Jack.

"I do," Jack says, firmly. "And for what it's worth, I think we all should too."

#ugh idk about this one #i hope it's coherent #my writing #javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs

[eliothochberg]

I don't think we take things seriously as much as we should

I was struck (no pun intended) by a post on Twitter publicizing which WGA strike locations have the best food trucks. Now, I'm not saying that this isn't worth knowing.

But I'm reading a book that goes over how the labor movement was going between WWI and WWII. Here are some things that happened:

Labor advocates stripped, whipped with leather straps with steel balls in them, then covered in tar and feathered, and forced to climb a wire fence and run out of town with no shoes through a field

Black workers lynched and burned alive and more/worse (if you can imagine) for either trying to unionize, or crossing picket lines

Labor advocates jailed for speaking for the cause of labor, some for more than 10 years, others tortured by the US federal and state governments

All to say that it was never a guarantee that unions would be a thing, have any respect. Many Americans in power fought tooth and nail agains unions and strikes; the media was largely against unions; they were seen as subversive and damaging; and even workers resisted them for fear of losing jobs, or out of a particular kind of patriotism common at the time.

For their part, union organizers and members were no less committed. They would destroy equipment, beat scabs (folks who cross picket lines), and where possible, fight back against the private armies that owners employed to "keep workers in line."

There is no excuse for any of the violence, however there were good reasons on the union side for the eventual violence they committed. Mostly in answer to all of the horrible things done to them. But then as violence escalated, people who weren't in the thick of it had reason to want the government to do something, especially when most newspapers at the time portrayed the actions of business and government as necessary and heroic (when they did report on what happened), while portraying union supporters as subversive and treacherous.

I think it's worth remembering all of that as workers today strike or try and unionize. This is serious business. People's livelihoods are at stake, and not just that. There are still working conditions in the US that lead to serious injury and death, and often in industries where you wouldn't expect it. For example, Amazon workers are pushed to their limits, and many just get all used up, can't do the work anymore, and find their bodies broken in such a way that it's hard for them to find any other work they can do without being in constant pain.

Thus, when the WGA strikers start talking about where the best food trucks are (food trucks are typically expensive, how can they afford it?), or which location has the best entertainment, it probably rings hollow with other unions in less creative fields.

Make no mistake: the WGA demands are reasonable, and every white collar worker, and even a lot of blue collar workers, should be paying attention. The main demand they have that can affect all workers is what happens with AI. They are demanding that AI not be given equal status to a human writer, and that any produced production must have at least one full time writer (my interpretation, apologies if that's not perfectly accurate). If they can get this concession, or something similar, this will have a HUGE impact on other union contracts, which will then pass into non-union agreements as well. If they fail, then anyone who uses words and their brain for a living will be more vulnerable than they could have been. And for those who use their bodies instead, there will be one less example to point to for how workers' rights can be protected.

Still, the WGA strike already appears to a lot of folks who don't work in the industry to be a lot of clean handed dilettantes asking for more money. Being compared to basketball players and such. It's mostly nowhere close to that, but deciding where you strike by the type of cuisine available isn't the best way to dispel that idea.

And one last thing: the whole point of a strike is to stop companies from being able to make money until a deal is reached. But not every worker is in the WGA, and not every worker is unionized. If successful, the strike will make it so that no money can be made for production studios. This means they won't be able to pay other workers. Which means that assistants, drivers, security guards, janitors, caterers, and any other non-union workers could be furloughed without pay without getting any direct benefit from the strike.

That's the cost of a strike, no doubt. But it wouldn't be surprising if those folks are upset that they have to be out of work just because the WGA wants a better deal. Their anger should be aimed at the producers and studios, since they are the ones who refused the very reasonable terms.

But...

It's a bad look when you're having a good time, and searching for the best food and entertainment while striking, while they are now facing possibly not making rent while not getting any direct benefit from the strike. Have a thought for them as you exercise your rights.

[fratboykate]

I can't believe the frankly evil comments Carol Lombardini has made, every time I read on twitter something that lady has said I get angry lol.

carol is vile vile vileeeee woman. im genuinely begging the union to make "writers are lucky to have term employment" into fundraising t-shirts because i don't think any would of us would not buy a shirt and wear it for the rest of time. in that one sentence she gave us enough fuel to power our pettiness for eternity. the moment i was like "YEAH FUCK ABSOLUTELY ALL OF THEM IM STRIKING UNTIL I STARVE AND THEN SOME" was after union leadership gave us that quote.

have you seen what she said at some point about animation writers (they have a separate union called tag)? i don't have the exact quote but it was basically something like "well if they want to get paid more/the same as wga writers then they should do the same quality of work". bitch GET FUCKED. im not a fan of animation but they do literally THE SAME AMOUNT OF WORK we do except they get paid EVEN LESS. imagine that. if we're struggling y'all have no fucking clue how bad tag writers have it. they get paid pennies to our pennies but unfortunately their union simply doesn't have the pull ours does so the studios never take their demands seriously.

#hollywood #wga strike #anonymous #answers

[mysterystarz]

the ceremony:

brides note: here is the ceremony in which you shall witness the shenanigans caused by stealing keijis shoes (it’s a part of my culture that i decided to integrate here!) and witness the vows shared between keiji and i! i want to thank my bridesmaids for providing me things they actually would say as well as admit that i got a bit emotional writing our vows. to whoever reads this, i hope this brings you as much joy as it brought me <3

warnings: absolute fluff and one innuendo that isn’t really explicit but still there

word count: 2.9k (i got a bit carried away but have no regrets)

The morning of Keiji and Nova’s wedding was absolutely gorgeous.

Above the garden estate that served as the venue, clear blue skies and soft white clouds accompanied a gentle breeze that filled the entire venue with a sense of tranquility. The very atmosphere itself was buzzing with anticipation, yet still had an air of serenity as the bride and groom prepared themselves to greet each other at the aisle.

Nova’s dressing room was a hubbub of emotion and excitement as she stared at herself in the mirror, her bridesmaids all surrounding her as she spun around in the dress they had all helped her pick out. It was truly surreal to her.

In an hour’s time, she’d be marrying the man she had loved for so long, the man who had guided her through her best and her worst moments, all while sharing the moment with the people she held so close to her heart.

The very thought made her smile with an accumulation of warm feelings pooling in her chest.

“Keiji is going to cry when he sees you.” Moon stated as they gestured to Nova, “You look beautiful.”

Nova giggled softly as she stared back at herself, “All good tears I hope.”

“No shit!” Natalia remarked, pointing to her dress. “You should see yourself! Hell, even I’m on the verge of tears! Keiji loves you the way you always are, but I bet he will be blown away when he sees you. No joke.”

She felt her smile widen even further as she turned to face her bridesmaids, dress swishing behind her. “I’m so glad to have all of you here today. Really.”

“I’m pretty sure that we’re all glad to be here,” Silla smiled, “I mean, none of us would ever dream of missing your special day. It was about time you two tied the knot.”

“No it really was.” Rach laughed, “Nova has been in love with Keiji for the longest time. She literally finds a way to relate everything back to him. If that’s not a sign to get married, I’m not sure what is!”

They all giggled and relished in the joyous atmosphere before Nova spoke again. “Alright, so how much money do we want to get out of them?”

“How much what?” Moon asked, raising an eyebrow, “Wait…what are we even getting money for?”

Inez chuckled at the side before walking to step near Nova, a black box in hand. “Here they are, as promised.”

“Are you two doing something illegal?” Natalia questioned promptly. “Nova, you know there are other ways to cure nerves!”

“Seriously Natalia,” Nova deadpanned before reverting back to her usual smile. “Anyways, this lovely black box here is Keiji’s shoes that we were able to acquire courtesy of Inez and her amazing stealthy skills. How did you manage to get them in the first place?”

“A magician never shares her secrets.” Inez shrugged, tracing a finger along the seam of the box. “To be completely honest, I expected this from Keiji.”

“So did I,” Nova chuckled as she tucked the shoes under a compartment in the dresser that she used to get ready. “So, I expect that any minute now, we’re going to have our plus ones at the door.”

“What’s the shoe stealing thing for?” Empress chimed in, “Like, what’s the reason for it?”

“It’s a fun wedding tradition we like to do to symbolize the groom’s promise to always take care of the bride and show the generosity of their heart.” Nova grinned mischievously, “Besides, now that we’ve got the shoes, the groomsmen need to come up with something to get it back.”

“Well they’re probably brainstorming,” Maia said. “I’m not sure what they’re thinking, but I think we’ll find out soon enough.”

MEANWHILE:

“So you’re telling me that your shoes are gone?!” Oikawa asked incredulously, “There is no way! I made sure to put them in a safe spot away from them!”

“Well, Inez came to retrieve them and she did,” Keiji chuckled, reminded of their earlier encounter. “She pointed a pistol at me and demanded shoes that I made sure I didn’t know the location of, yet here we are.”

A FEW MINUTES PRIOR:

“Keiji. Shoes or I’ll shoot.” Inez threatened, smiling innocently.

“But I don—“

“Shoes or shoot.”

PRESENT:

“There’s no way!” Atsumu remarked, “A pistol? Ya’ must be joking!”

“I wish.” Keiji smiled, “Nova planned this out better than I anticipated.”

“Akaashi. Your wife to-be and her bridesmaids just accomplished the ONE thing we tried to prevent, and you’re still smiling like a lovesick idiot. You are so whipped.” Kuroo rambled, pacing across the room.

“I am marrying her,” Keiji grinned, “I’ve been ‘whipped’ since we met.”

“You raise the standards for all of us Akaashi!” Oikawa pouted. “But in all seriousness, how do we get them back?”

“We’ll have to go and go to them and figure out where they hid them,” Kuroo explained, leaning on the wall casually. “Once we’ve done that, we have to strike up a deal with them. If it all goes well, we should be able to get Akaashi’s shoes without too much strain on our wallets.”

“Wallets?” Ushijima asked, stepping into the room. “Couldn’t we just politely ask for his shoes back? He’ll need them later.”

“It’s a wedding tradition on Nova’s side of the family,” Oikawa added, glaring at Ushijima. “Anyways, Kuroo, Kita, and Atsumu, come with me. Let’s see if we can try a diplomatic approach first.”

The four of them went to leave when Kuroo suddenly turned around, brandishing his cell-phone in the air. “Akaashi, I know you want to see her, but you’re staying on the phone. Got it?”

Keiji offered a subtle nod in response as the designated gang left the room, sprinting to the other side of the venue in the hopes of getting the groom’s shoes (and to see their plus ones looking hot).

Kuroo threw open the door of the dressing room, only to be greeted with the smug grin of Nova and her lovely bridesmaids.

“I ran as soon as I heard,” Iwaizumi suddenly said, pausing to look at the predicament they were in, “Damn, you all cleaned up nice.”

“You can do better than that Hajime,” Mai teased. “You still look handsome though.”

“Oi, stay on task!” Oikawa directed, surveying the room before looking at Nova. “Ahh, looking good Nova!”

A second later, he was met with Maia’s playful glare as he sputtered and backtracked, trying to defend his honor.

“Ladies,” Kita began, “You all look as dazzling as the stars themselves. However, we require Akaashi’s shoes so we can all witness the lovely union that is to occur soon. May we have a civil discussion about this?”

“How about no?” Rach grinned, turning to Natalia, “And YOU better not go betraying us because your boyfriend is here, you hear me?”

“I would never!” Natalia argued, turning her gaze to Kita, “My marshmallow, can help his team try and negotiate a good deal, but there’s no way I’m letting us get away without something.”

“Can we settle on twenty?” Atsumu began, stepping towards the door, “It’s a fair amount according to me.”

“More!” Moon yelled out, “You’ve got to give us more than that.”

“Yeah!” added Maia, “Let’s settle on five-hundred dollars, shall we?”

Nova high fived Maia and the rest of the bridesmaids as the boys stared at each other in horror.

Five-hundred dollars?! For shoes???

“Empress! Baby, please convince them to lower their rate!” Kuroo shouted in a way that was half-scared and half fond.

Empress merely smiled at this, waving a dismissing hand. “Nice try, but not happening. I say five-hundred sounds good.”

“Ladies,” Oikawa smiled disarmingly, “One hundred. It’s more than generous, and I think Keiji and the rest of us would be more than willing considering how gorgeous you all look.”

“Flattery gets you nowhere, Tooru,” Inez deadpanned, a laugh escaping her when she saw Oikawa’s crestfallen expression. “One hundred is starting to sound quite nice, but five-hundred sounds better. Isn’t that right guys?”

“You bet.” Tee smirked. “Where’s Omi? I’m sure he’d support our case.”

“I would,” Sakusa shrugged, joining the groomsmen at the doorway, “Lets just give them the money and get back. They’ll use it well anyways.”

“We would!” Angie yelled, glaring at the taller men, “Unload your wallets and you’ll have the shoes!

“Sakusa, you could help us, you know?” Kuroo sighed. “Wait, I’m calling Akaashi.”

Nova giggled at this declaration as the men all huddled in the doorframe, toe-tapping anxiously until Keiji picked up the call at last.

“How much are they asking?” Was the first thing that Keiji asked, a slight note of panic in his voice. “It’s not too outrageous,,,right?”

“How do ya’ feel about five-hundred dollars?!” Atsumu exclaimed, “I’m sure that falls into the outrageous category!”

“Five...hundred?” Keiji whispered, his tone rising in shock. “You’re serious?”

“Completely!” Natalia said into the phone, “I think it’s a fair price and—STOP SMILING LIKE A LOVESICK IDIOT NOVA!”

Sure enough, from the corner of the room, Nova was beaming brighter than she had before, a pure reaction to the sound of Keiji’s voice.

“Nova?” Keiji called out, “Are you over there?”

“Yup,” Nova whispered, stepping to the phone. “Hi Keiji.”

“As cute as this is, we’ve seriously got to get his shoes back.” Iwaizumi announced. “A hundred-twenty-five dollars? Can we all agree on this?”

“I think we can go a little further,” Silla added from the corner, a mischievous smile creeping up her face, “I mean, it is their wedding.”

“Hundred-fifty!” Kuroo yelled, “Please tell me that’s enough!”

“We can go mo–” Natalia had begun before Nova cut her off.

“Two hundred from Keiji’s wallet and yours right now and you’ve got a deal,” Nova smirked. “Three seconds to accept or reject. Three….two….on–”

“IT’S A DEAL!” Oikawa hollered, throwing a twenty dollar bill on the table. “Akaashi, are you good?”

“I’ll sacrifice two-hundred if it means I get to see my wife.” Keiji sighed into the call, “Kuroo, you’ve got my wallet. Hand it to them.”

Kuroo hesitantly handed Natalia the wallet before he began rummaging in the drawers for the shoes. “Where did you guys hide the damn shoes?”

“Right here Kuroo,” Kita responded calmly, opening the compartment of the dresser. “It was in quite the basic spot.”

“Alright then,” Atsumu shrugged, “See ya’ soon ya’ hotties.”

With that, the groomsmen sprinted out of the room, brandishing the shoebox that they had fought so hard to get. The whole dressing room was filled with excitement and exhilaration as they stared back at the cash that greeted them.

“Now we can get ice cream.” Inez smiled, “We did good.” “As long as it’s not mint-chocolate chip.” Empress hastily added, “I’m not sure how anybody can tolerate that stuff.”

“I’m not having ice-cream discourse before my wedding!” Nova interjected, twirling around. “Oh my god….wedding. I have to....walk down an aisle...WHAT IF I TRIP?”

“Don’t trip...even though I’m sure Akaashi would appreciate the view of your ass.” Rach laughed.

Nova frowned playfully, although a slight red overtook her cheeks. “You are a gremlin.”

“Then I’m doing my job,” Rach shrugged.

“No, but you’re not going to trip.” Moon assured, “Oh my god, you’re growing so fast! You’re going to be married!”

“You’re not even that much older than me!” Nova argued, although her point was lost on the happy smile on Moon’s face.

“Don’t bite him when you kiss him.” Angie winked, pacing around the room.

“I think I’ll save the biting for later, don’t you think?” Nova replied, eliciting laughs from all her bridesmaids.

“NOVA, save it for the honeymoon.” Natalia scolded, jabbing Nova playfully in the shoulder. “I know you’re looking forward to that.”

“Shut up Natalia!”

They all shared a last laugh before they exited the dressing room, stepping into the lush gardens where in just a few minutes time, Nova and Keiji would unite eternally.

The surrounding gardens brought a certain liveliness to the aisle, with the multicolored flowers adorning the path where they’d finally meet. The skies above them were blue and clear as Keiji waited at the altar, Bokuto as his best man behind him.

They stood in silence as they marvelled at the sheer beauty of it all.

Nova and Keiji were getting married. It was really happening!

Keiji found himself worrying a slight bit, fingers twitching of their own accord as he attempted to calm his nerves. A million things soared through his head, but he knew that half of them was merely his brain panicking.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of Nova.

The wedding march played out into the venue, filling the space as her bridesmaids walked down the aisle with their plus-ones at their sides. They clutched their flowers beautifully, offering him congratulatory smiles, standing off to the side as he finally saw the person who had taken his breath away from the minute they had met eyes.

Nova beamed at him from the other side of the aisle as she clutched a bouquet of pastel flowers, smiling all the while as she accompanied her dad to the altar. She walked slowly, but he felt the elegance she had in every step of hers.

Keiji was the epitome of handsomeness from the way he looked standing there. In his tailored suit, he looked practically ethereal, illuminated by the sunlight that hit him at all the right angles. She felt the love for him pool in her chest as she took his hand, calloused and gentle as it always was as she gazed back at him, admiring him for everything that he was. Her vision grew a little blurry from the sheer happiness she felt, but she had never expected similar tears to fall from Keiji’s eyes.

He looked at her and saw radiance in its purest form. She had always been beautiful to him, an enigma of sorts, but nothing could ever rival the way she looked right then.

“You look beautiful,” Keiji whispered, placing a flower delicately behind her ear.

“I think that would be you,” Nova choked out, her smile widening at the small gesture, her hands still intertwined with his.

The officiant offered a pleasant nod to the couple as he began his speech. “We are gathered today to witness the union of Nova and Akaashi Keiji in this fateful union of two souls who love each other, and will promise to always love each other for as long as they breathe. If anyone has any objections, please speak now, or forever hold your peace!”

The guests all offered pure smiles of joy as the officiant nodded gleefully. “You may now begin your vows to each other.”

Nova blushed freely as she stared back at Keiji, full adoration in her gaze. “Keiji, from the minute we met eyes in the library, to where we stand here now, you have always had my heart. You have always been my anchor, supporting me through the toughest times of my life and bringing me through them, hand in hand as you’ve always done. You’ve always been my sunshine, bringing endless brightness upon our shared days, and making me fall even more in love with you as the minutes pass. I never knew life could be a dream until I met you. Today, with all of our loved ones, I chose you to be my husband. I promise to stand by you through everything, and give my everything to you. I vow to inspire you, support you, and cherish you for as long as we live. I promise to be at your side in sickness and health, for richer or poorer. I vow to love you with every inch of me forever, and always.”

Tears flowed freely down his cheeks as he regarded Nova with as much love as he could possibly muster in his gaze. “Nova, you’ve captured me, mind, body, and soul from the minute we met. You are my other half, completing me in ways I never knew before I met you. You bring me joy in every way possible, and a sense of peace that I only feel with you. You are my person, my inspiration, and I vow to love you till the end of time. Today, I take you as my wife, and I promise to love you through everything in life. I vow to express my love for you for as long as I breathe. I promise to be your support, and to support you. I promise to love you with every fiber of my being for as long as I live. I vow to treasure you, cherish you, stand by you, inspire you, and to adventure through life with my hand in yours. It is my promise to you, my darling, that my love outnumbers every star in the galaxy, and that I will always love you that way, now and for eternity.”

Nova was crying, the joyful tears streaming down her face as they shakily exchanged the rings on each other’s fingers, a physical manifestation of all they promised to share.

“You may now kiss the bride.” The officiant called out, clapping grandly when Nova and Keiji exchanged a passionate kiss, hugging each other tightly as the applause flooded the gardens,

“I introduce to you, the new Mr. and Mrs. Akaashi Keij!” The officiant added as everyone rose to applaud the new couple.

“Akaashi Nova,” Keiji whispered, placing another peck to his wife’s lips. “I quite like the sound of that.”

“You’ve got forever to hear it, Keiji,” Nova grinned as she placed a kiss on her husband’’s cheek. “We have forever together.”

“That we do,” he smiled, linking their pinkies. “We’ve got that and a whole lot more.”

©keinova wedding <3

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#keinova wedding 💍 #keinova ❣️

[florrickandassociates]

TGF Thoughts: 5x10-- And the violence spread.

So, that’s it for season five. I’m still trying to sort out how I feel about the season as a whole and Wackner’s arc. I’m hopeful that writing this will help me decide.

This episode has a Previously, and it’s rather conventional. I’m guessing it’s here to bookend the season, with conveying information being only a secondary objective.  

Did we see Rivi scream, “You’re done, Wacko, you’re done! Canceled! Canceled!” in the last episode or is that new to this previously? I feel like I absolutely would’ve had things to say about a) Wackner being called “Wacko,” which has been RIGHT THERE this whole time, and b) the use of “Canceled,” which is a thing Rivi would never say but is VERY thematic (you know, cancel culture and also Wackner having a TV show and also this being a TV show that’s wrapping up* Wackner’s arc).

* The way things end this episode, I’d say we’re done with Wackner. The Kings have said they aren’t sure about the plan for season six, so never say never, but I think that if we see Wackner again, it will be as part of a different arc.  

I went back to 5x09 and while we do see the same shots of Rivi screaming, whatever he’s saying in 5x09 is in Spanish. So either he was saying this in Spanish or the dialogue here is totally new.  

I’m a little sad that I knew in advance Robert King had directed this episode, because I want to know how long it would’ve taken me to guess. I’d like to think this first shot, of Diane flopping down on her bed in a very pretty floral print dress, then Kurt flopping down in the opposite direction, would’ve given it away. We usually don’t get shots that are both striking and kinda balanced unless RK’s directing.  

This also has some big season three opener vibes—the scene where Diane turns to Kurt and says, “I’m happy,” thus jinxing the entire season.  

Diane and Kurt are about to go on vacation, which means, of course, that Diane and Kurt are definitely not about to go on vacation. I’ve watched 12 seasons of this show; I know all the tricks!  

If I didn’t get it from the initial staging of the opening shot, the camera panning to Diane and Kurt’s suitcases and then back would’ve been another clue that RK directed. He ALWAYS has the camera in motion.  

I love that Diane’s travel outfit is a dress you could wear to a fancy party and a statement necklace. Of course it is.

And if I needed evidence that RK and MK wrote this episode (which I didn’t; it is a finale so I knew they wrote it), Diane quoting Waiting for Godot is a clue there.  

I really should read Waiting for Godot, shouldn’t I?  

“Wow. Educated and a good lay,” Kurt responds. I know that the political stuff between Diane and Kurt can get more than a little murky, but banter like this reminds me why they stay together and why politics never drive them apart. Also, it’s really nice to see Diane and Kurt have some fun banter that isn’t about politics.  

And Diane making kissing noises and asking Kurt to meet her halfway! This just feels like I’m spying on someone’s private life and I love it. Not in a voyeuristic way, since this is actually a little uncomfortably private, but in a, “ah, yes, these do feel like real people” way. This is the kind of “a little goes a long way” character moment I always want more of, and Kings episodes ALWAYS include stuff like this.

And there it is. The phone rings as Diane and Kurt are about to start out for the airport. Diane thinks the call must be for Kurt, but it’s for her. It’s a very flustered Liz, informing her that STR Laurie’s execs are on their way to the office for a surprise visit.

If the Diane/Kurt scene didn’t tell me that Robert King directed, I almost certainly would’ve gotten it from the sudden cut to Liz, walking through the hallways and doing a million things at once with a ton of background noise. No one loves chaos the way Robert King loves chaos.  

This episode STRONGLY reminds me of the Wife season five finale. It is equally chaotic and also spins a ton of plates. But, mostly, the similarity I see between the two episodes is that they are both extremely fun and captivating to watch because of how much momentum they have, but everything just feels slightly hollow and not exactly focused on the thing you want to see.  

(Shout out to my friend Ryan, who messaged me the 5x22 comparison before I could message it to him!)  

I decided I should rewatch the first few minutes of 5x22. I am now 15 minutes into 5x22 of Wife and 2 minutes into 5x10 of Fight. Oops.  

Apparently, STR Laurie planned a surprise visit because they heard RL was dysfunctional. You don’t say!  

I felt like 5x09 concluded with STR Laurie being won over by Allegra and the RL team, so this is a bit of a surprising place to start the episode. But, since Diane seems surprised too, I’ll allow it.  

Now Liz and Diane have 90 minutes to agree on a financial plan! Kurt’s on the phone with the airline before Diane even hangs up with Liz.  

Diane is determined not to lose out on her vacation and asks Kurt to change the flight to 8:00. “Kurt, we are going on this vacation if it kills me!” is a line I would worry was foreshadowing on basically any other show.

The RL/STRL PowerPoint template is pretty ugly. They want to call 2021 their best year yet, thanks to the deal between Rivi and Plum Meadow Farms we saw last week. Even though we saw champagne and signatures, the deal isn’t done yet because Plum Meadow can back out if Rivi goes to jail.

RK also loves close-ups more than any other director on the show; I do not love close-ups.  

The Plum Meadow deal is such a big deal that for the quarter, they go from $45 million to $5 million without it. They should just not say numbers. I can believe it’s big enough to take them from a modest profit to being behind projections or whatever, but I can’t believe that they have $5 million in other business and $40 million on this one deal.  

It seems that Rivi was arrested. I don’t think it is ever said in this episode why. I assume the arrest relates to his behavior in Wackner’s court, since there were police officers there, and I suppose that Rivi is a big enough deal the police would actually take him to real court, but are we not going to address the weirdness of Rivi being arrested in a fake court where his employees are being tried, then taken to a real court by the same people who just an episode ago were disillusioned with real court? This seems like a plot point.

Carmen on a frantic phone call in the backseat of a car feels very 7x22.  

Who is James that Carmen has in her contacts!? And why does everyone always put Liz in their contacts as “Elizabeth Reddick” when everyone calls her Liz?  

Carmen calls Marissa to go argue in Vinetta’s court since she’s on Rivi duty. Carmen doesn’t take Marissa’s job in Wackner’s court seriously and then notes that this instruction is coming straight from Liz, so Marissa falls in line.  

Wackner’s case of the week is about rural Illinois wanting to form its own state separate from Chicago. There’s a farmer who feels like his tax money is only going to the big city and he wants it to stay in his community.  

They’ve just now added stage lighting to the set of Wackner Rules, dunno why they wouldn’t have done that earlier!

I don’t know what standing you’d have to have to bring a case about wanting to divide the state in two to court, or if this is even something a court would or should decide, but, sure, Wackner and Cord, go for it. There are no rules!  

This map splitting Illinois into two new states that Cord is holding is a dumb prop because Galena, where this farmer is from, is in the same section as Chicago. Do I pause every reference to Chicago on this show and then google information to see if the writers bothered to look it up or pretend they’ve ever set foot in Chicago? You know I do.

“Secession!” the audience screams. Does the audience of Wackner Rules really want to see this?

A Good Fight Short! And it really is short: “Stop this obsession with secession and breaking up the Union. It’s boring and it’s dumb, end of song.” I feel like that’s the thesis statement for this episode, or one of them (that this episode seems to have about ten thesis statements is kind of my problem with this episode, tbh). This episode is very much about danger of things becoming too fractured—the COTW, the copycat courts, the firm drama—and I feel like the writers come around to just saying no, this is enough, we need structure and consistency.

But more on that later. MUCH more on that later.

Marissa is swearing more because “the world has required it.” She notes this to Wackner as she calls him out on the secession case. Cord barges in.

Take a look at the employee of the month poster on the back of the door at 5:39. Then at 5:40, look at what’s in the box just to the right of the center of the screen: it’s an employee of the month poster with Wackner on it! Cute easter egg. (Would Marissa definitely notice this and have questions? Yes. Is this here as a cute easter egg for eagle-eyed fans? Almost certainly.)  

“Insane is just one step away from reality if you get people to believe, and you know what makes people believe? TV.” Cord explains when Marissa asks how they can possibly be litigating this case. That’s thesis statements two and three, folks. The first is that if you get people to believe, then anything is possible, which sounds like a tagline for a Disney movie but is actually super dangerous; the second is that reality TV is a way to persuade people and change opinions.  

So we’ve got: (1) Factions are bad. (2) People are persuadable and the rules don’t actually matter. (3) Reality TV changes minds. Let’s see if there are more.

(Yes, these theses do kind of add up to a whole—The rules don’t matter, so if you persuade people, through reality tv, you get factions of people believing their own sets of rules and facts—but what I'm interested in tracking throughout this episode is how well the writers actually bring these theses together.)

(And this is setting aside that key themes in previous episodes, that I think many of us were looking for resolution on, included outlining the flaws with the extant “real” justice system and exploring the role of prison in the justice system. From this episode, I don’t think the writers ever intended to really tackle either of those issues. That’s fine—I'm not sure that TGF has something to say about prison abolition and I don’t want a thought experiment where the writers actually try to fix the legal system—but feels a bit disjointed. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, but 5x08 and 5x09 needed to do a better, clearer job of setting up this finale. The key themes of Wackner’s arc were always present, but they needed to slowly narrow the scope so the resolution felt inevitable and clear. Instead, we spent time on things like parking spaces (when we could’ve had a real plot about how Wackner’s court gains legitimacy through violence, incarceration, and playing on people’s frustration with the real systems) and Del’s focus groups (when we could’ve instead done a plot about Wackner gaining fans who wanted to use his methods to do ill). Everything I just mentioned in the parentheticals is in the show! It’s not subtext! We see it all! We see Cord use violence and prisons to enforce Wackner’s rulings; we see the cops turn to Wackner out of frustration; we see that the people drawn to Wackner Rules and to Wackner’s court are increasingly sounding more and more like right-wing populists! I can’t be too hard on this arc because, again, all these ideas are there. I’m not coming up with them on my own!)

I’m just saying: this ending would’ve been a lot clearer and a lot more interesting had the writers focused on what I mentioned above instead of the distractions of the last two episodes.  

Whew, that was a ramble. Hope you’re ready for more rambles.

On a similar note, I’d like to reiterate my problems with how the writers used Marissa after the private prison reveal. I don’t have much more to say than what I wrote last week, but it’s another example of the same problem. Marissa objecting to Wackner’s court because she notices what it’s becoming and how Cord plans to use it for political gain (two Illinoises (??) changes the Senate and the Electoral College...) always was going to be part of the endgame. Marissa only seriously objecting after the fourth or fifth line Wackner crosses feels bizarre.  

Cord does NOT like that there is another court, and wants to protect Wackner’s IP. Wackner, as we saw last episode, does not feel threatened by the other court. In fact, he seems to be excited by it.  

I love Liz questioning Diane’s outfit like it’s unprofessional. It’s a little low-cut and showy, but I don’t think unprofessional is the word I’d use for it.  

Now they have 45 minutes to decide The Future Of The Firm and Diane wants to be considered a name partner. Oh, that debate is still raging?! Every time I think it’s done it comes back, which should probably be a sign to Diane that her options are to leave and start something new, jettison Madeline and the others, or step down. Staying on as name partner and calling it a black firm is just not an option.  

“Diane, there is a split in the firm that...” Liz starts, before asking some associates to leave the room. Ha! The reveal Liz and Diane aren’t alone is a pretty fun touch.

“The Black equity partners don’t want to be in your work group,” Liz informs Diane. “Because they think they’ll be punished by this firm?” Diane asks. “No, that’s paranoia. We don’t punish here,” Liz responds. “Of course you do. My fracking client. My union client. The Black lawyers who work on those cases—they're considered traitors” Diane says. “Because those CEOs are racists,” Liz counters.

Lots going on here, and I’m not sure I understand it all. Why would the equity partners—who are partners—feel like they’re being punished by being in Diane’s work group? (And also what does a “work group” mean and why haven’t they talked about it in the past?) When Diane starts talking about the lawyers who staff her clients, she’s not talking about equity partners; she is talking about associates.

And people are giving associates shit for working on Diane’s clients whom they happen to be staffed on!? That’s sad, though believable.

“So what do we do? Only bring in clients who can pass the racial smell test?” Diane asks. I mean, actually, yes. IF the goal is to be a black firm and to have that designation mean something in moral terms rather than marketing terms, then yes.  

“It’s okay if you’re a drug kingpin like Rivi, but it’s not okay if you want me as lead attorney?” Diane says. Also, yes. Diane makes good points here.  

“Diane, this is not about you,” Liz counters. Um, sure, but it has to be about something, Liz. Unless you’re trying to build a firm you don’t control that makes 88% of its revenue from a drug dealer (40 million out of 45 million this quarter = 88%; I told you they shouldn’t give me numbers) but happens to have black people in charge, you have to grapple with this question. I don’t think anyone who’s fighting for the firm to be a black-led (not owned, bc STRL) business is the type of person who thinks that having a black-led firm that does all the same shit as any other firm is in itself a good thing, so you NEED to address your client list. Madeline is anti-Rivi, anti-Cord, anti-Wolfe-Coleman (the rapist guy), pro-social justice, and pro having a black led firm.  

“I mean, why... why do white people personalize this?” Liz asks. “Oh, now I’m just a white person?” Diane responds. I... don’t know what to do with this! Liz is right that Diane is taking this personally; Diane is right that Liz needs to deal with the rest of the client list. But no one is saying the things that REALLY need to be said: That all their decisions are meaningless in the shadow of STRL, and that deciding to be a black led firm isn’t the end of the discussion if they haven’t decided what types of clients they want to have.  

“What happened, Liz? Last year we were intent on an all-female-run law firm,” Diane starts. Oh, THIS AGAIN! Diane never learns, does she? She never seems to realize that no one she’s approached with this idea is NEARLY as in love with it as she is. She probably still wonders to herself why Alicia—who partnered with her at the end of season seven basically just because it was the easiest, most frictionless thing to do—didn't seem more committed to their firm.  

“Diane, there is history here that we are trying to...” Liz says, but Diane cuts in to note that women (women like Diane Lockhart!) have history too! In fact, she’s spent “35 years fighting gender discrimination to get to this position.” “And we have spent 400 years fighting racial discrimination to try and, you know...” Liz starts, before cutting herself off to get back to the ticking clock.

Sigh. Just talk about the actual thing instead of talking around the thing, guys. Diane is obviously deserving of A name partnership, in the abstract. This is an undeniable fact. And while Diane is definitely making this about herself rather than the big picture, I don’t think Liz trying to trump Diane’s 35 year career with the history of black people is going to win her any arguments? Like, just say what you mean and say it clearly. What Liz, I think, wants to express is that Diane’s individual accomplishments aren’t the issue here and everyone thinks she’s deserving (though Liz suggested Diane was not deserving a few episodes ago, which I didn’t understand then and don’t understand now). The problem is that Diane is trying to fight a battle that’s about something much larger than herself with, “but I'm a good lawyer!”  

And that’s KIND OF what Liz is saying here, if I add all her sentences up and read between the lines, but, again, why not just say it?  

“Alright, now we have 43 minutes to fix race relations, gender relations. STR Laurie’s gonna fire our asses, and you know it,” Liz says. I am curious what that would look like. Wouldn’t that just mean that STRL wouldn’t control them anymore? I’m sure being fired would be bad and all, but wouldn’t it free them from the contract they wanted out of last year?  

“Let’s split the firm down the middle. I hire half the lawyers, you hire the other half,” Diane suggests. What does this mean? Why are you hiring your employees? Huh?

“You hire the white associates, and I hire the black associates?” Liz confirms. This seems like a very bad idea that would make things a lot worse and open them up to lawsuits! I also still do not know what they’re even talking about. And I don’t know why Allegra isn’t a part of this conversation.

“I’m not saying it’s good. I’m just saying it’s what we’re left with. It's what we can agree on,” Diane says. I really wish I understood what “hire” meant in this context because I don’t understand why they have to split anything or why this has to be done now and I don’t understand why this would possibly be a good solution. Can you imagine the backlash when people realize all the white people report to Diane and all the black people to Liz and that people were taken off of the accounts they’ve worked on for years to accomplish this? And this must be something that the employees would know about eventually; otherwise they could just randomly assign half to Liz and half to Diane.  

I’m sad Madeline isn’t in this episode because I feel like we needed to see more of her POV as well as the associate POV. I don’t really understand the divides at play within the firm or what the staff and other partners are asking for, but I suspect it isn’t this.

Hallucination Jesus is back, and at least there’s actually a point to him this time (he shows up when Jay is in Vinetta’s court and reminds Jay that Vinetta will rule based on her religious beliefs). I still dislike the hallucinations.

Jay advises Marissa, who is Jewish, to talk a lot about Jesus in her defense.  

Charmaine Bingwa is really great as Carmen, and obviously she is not fluent in Spanish, but it’s so funny to me that the only time you can hear that she’s Australian is when she’s trying to say Oscar like she’s speaking Spanish.  

"I know you’re hiding something when you speak English,” Rivi says to Carmen. Heh.  

“Community court” is such a nice, unthreatening term for referring to Wackner and his copy cats. Thanks for that, Carmen!

It’s a smart plan to mention Jesus a lot, I guess, but Jay and Marissa both should’ve realized that Vinetta is too smart to tolerate obvious pandering. I’m a little surprised Jay doesn’t get up and argue since Marissa is, obviously, not familiar with the New Testament.  

Marissa wins this round with facts and logic.

Why is the judge who was handling Rivi’s previous charge now in bond court? Make it make sense.

I like that Carmen calls out the ASA for swearing hahaha  

Why... would this Matteo kid just casually mention he was holding a gun, omg.  

In Vinetta’s court, you can be charged with murder and tried because... you had a gun and also there were murders at other times. Coolcoolcool no problems here.

Community courts for civil cases? Sure. That’s basically arbitration. Community courts for criminal cases? Bad, bad, bad idea.  

Vinetta’s reasoning: “Those murders happened on our street, and the police haven’t convicted anyone because they don’t care. We care. This is self-defense. And how is it different from your court?” Aside from the whole imprisoning people in her basement thing, Vinetta’s not wrong. I almost brought this up last week but hesitated because I couldn’t remember the details enough to decide if I wanted to recommend it, but there’s a book I read a few years ago that seems relevant here: Ghettoside by Jill Leovy. Again, been a while so don’t take this as a wholehearted endorsement or anything, but from what I remember, the central issue at the heart of the book (it’s non-fiction) is that a poor black community (I think in LA?) doesn’t trust the police (in part) because the police don’t solve murders, and then with no way of getting justice through the court system, there’s more violence as a stand-in for justice. https://www.vox.com/2016/8/26/12631962/ghettoside-jill-leovy-black-crime

I’m not sure if that’s QUITE what Vinetta is saying but it seems similar, and it’s a decent point (though not a justification for her court). Why should she trust the system to improve her community when it’s ignored her community for years?

I like that the writers chose two very different, very understandable characters for their community courts. It’s easy to see why Wackner and Vinetta feel the need for alternative courts; it’s easy to see why others would trust them. This arc doesn’t really work unless there’s a legitimate frustration with existing systems...  

Marissa calls Wackner’s court a “joke,” which she should understand by now isn’t the case. (Marissa’s smart; she knew it wasn’t a joke the second she saw David Cord get involved.)  

Vinetta accuses Wackner of copying her court, which alarms Marissa. This isn’t addressed again, and I don’t know if it’s true! I could really go either way on this. On the one hand, I absolutely believe that Wackner saw/heard about it, liked it, and did it himself without thinking much of it—and if this is the case, then the ending where Vinetta gets in trouble for violating Wackner’s IP is a lot more of a gut punch. On the other hand, I don’t really feel like the seeds for this were planted. We see Wackner innovate a lot and try new things and he has an explanation for why he does everything—how much of that is Vinetta? And Vinetta clearly watches the show and likes it or she wouldn’t have recognized Marissa, so it’s a little hard for me to just believe her claim when literally all I know about her is she has a court that looks like Wackner’s and she is aware of and feels positively towards Wackner rules. Also, Wackner knows about Vinetta’s court (from Marissa) and sounded excited about it last episode. Sure, he didn’t necessarily know which one it was, exactly, but I assume if he’d copied the idea and then heard about a case involving people from the exact same community where he found the idea... his reaction would be different. So IDK. My reasons for doubting Vinetta’s claim are probably based a little too much in things I’m not meant to spend that much time paying attention to.  

“I fucked up. It’s in the same court, but now it’s a murder case,” Marissa tells Diane. I do like hearing characters admit when they fucked up!  

Diane hears that STRL is delayed, so she heads out to help Matteo. When she goes to change into her pantsuit, she finds that she’s grabbed Kurt’s bag by mistake. “Of course. That makes sense,” she reacts.  

Diane pushes her flight to the next day, also telling Kurt, “And yes, for some reason, I took your suit instead of mine, so fuck it.” I love it when the characters feel like real people.  

I am not sure why Kurt is getting to the office when Diane is leaving or why Kurt is there—to pick Diane up on the way to the airport, maybe?

Carter Schmidt walks into RL at the worst possible time, threating to blow up the Plum Meadow deal. Another 5x10 to Wife 5x22 similarity: he’s in both episodes.  

Liz heads out to help Carmen with Rivi, and then STRL arrives. Oops.  

Credits!

One thing about Wackner’s court that should definitely be a warning sign even though it seems noble: he ignores just about every warning sign, like this rowdy crowd screaming WE LOVE YOU WACKNER or the potential interests at play in a case about secession, because he thinks his fair judgement can overcome these obstacles. If the world worked that way, there’d be no need for his court in the first place.

Is anyone representing the State of Illinois in this trial? If not, then... how is it happening?  

Dr. Goat, some dude who claims to have some hidden historical document about how Illinois is actually two states, is clearly making stuff up and yet Wackner indulges him and Cord. I feel about this the same way as I feel about the Devil’s Advocate: That Wackner would not allow this to go on for more than five seconds before calling bullshit and therefore there is no reason I should have to sit through it.

Why is some guy screaming, “No taxation without representation” like dude you absolutely have representation. But of course, I’m expecting him to be logical, and the point is that he is not.

Dr. Goat’s Latin phrases—shock!-- don’t actually translate into anything like what he said. Even though this information is verifiable by a quick google search, the crowd starts screaming “Liar!!!!” at Marissa. If only I could say this felt unrealistic.

Wackner asks Dr. Goat to bring in the document.  

“You look like you’re heading to the beach,” Vinetta says to Diane, who looks like she’s heading somewhere but definitely not to the beach. Vinetta asks where Diane was headed on vacation. Diane says she’s headed to Lake Como, and unnecessarily clarifies that “It’s in Italy.” She assumes Vinetta doesn’t know that... but Vinetta does.

“So you’ve been there before?” Vinetta probes when Diane says it’s beautiful there. “Just once. We don’t get away often. We thought we’d splurge,” Diane says. Vinetta stares at her and smiles, and Diane hits her head on a basket that’s hanging in Vinetta’s kitchen. If I just write out the dialogue here, it sounds like a perfectly average conversation, but everything about this conversation is so charged: Diane is afraid to look like a wealthy white woman; Vinetta’s pleasantness is pretty clearly also a way of sizing up Diane.  

Vinetta shows Diane pictures of neighborhood children and young adults killed as a consequence of gang violence. You can see she’s not trying to do anything other than help her community, even if her methods are highly questionable.

Diane argues that Matteo should be given over to the police; Vinetta disagrees: “The police haven’t arrested anyone for those murders, any of these. Since the BLM movement, they’ve pulled back from our streets. No one’s coming to help. That’s why I started this court. It’s not a joke to us.” Wait I’m sorry did Vinetta just blame lack of good detective work in black communities on... the BLM movement?!?!?! Is there any foundation to this!? Why can’t it just be that the police weren’t actually doing a good job of policing/finding justice and were being antagonistic towards the community instead of being helpful and no one trusted them?? That explanation is literally right there.

Jay suggests the Jesus strategy, again.  

“It’s women! We could just move on, install men,” STRL guy says. I don’t know if he’s joking, but ugh. Also, what is RL if it has neither Diane nor Liz? A bunch of lawyers who will all promptly quit when they see their bosses get fired and a few opportunists?  

Kurt is watching golf in Diane’s office, and the STRL people love it. Of course Kurt accidentally makes friends with them.  

Court stuff happens. It’s not good for Rivi, and then Liz and Carmen come up with a theory: Plum Meadow is stalling the deal so they can find Rivi’s more stable second and make a deal with them instead.  

Wackner giving Dr. Goat a single point on his stupid little board, for any reason related to his obviously fake totally unverified document, is dangerous. Why would you signal to a crowd that’s clearly not interested in fact that they have a point? That’s basically egging them on.

I know Wackner’s judgment is obviously not 100% sound—need I remind you of the PRIVATE PRISONS?-- but I thought it was more sound than this.  

Wackner shows off his knowledge of paper and proves that Dr. Goat’s document is a fake. Why... did he just give Dr. Goat a point???  

Or is he moving the point from Dr. Goat to Marissa?  

Dr. Goat sounds like a fake name I would call a character in my recaps long past the point of anyone other than myself remembering the joke. (See: Mr. Elk)

“The truth is ugly. The only thing uglier is not pursuing it,” Wackner tells Marissa. How is taking on a case about very obvious falsehoods, funded by someone with a vested interest in the case, that gets people riled up, some noble pursuit of truth?  

STRL and Kurt are now drinking and discussing hunting, while Diane’s arguing for Matteo in Vinetta’s living room. Vinetta is—as was always obvious, sorry Jay—far too smart to fall for this patronizing bullshit. She screams at Diane and plays back a recording (on a baby monitor) of Diane coaching Matteo to lie about his faith.

Soooooo yeah no you can’t do that, that is bad, recording conversations between lawyers and their clients is not good even if it leads to you exposing their schemes...

Then Vinetta places Diane under arrest, which obviously isn’t going to end well for Vinetta.  

Liz and Carmen suggest a post-nup to Rivi to see if Isabel is planning on turning on him.

“I’m going to have to kill her,” Rivi says sadly. I don’t think Rivi will ever kill Isabel because we already did that with Bishop.  

I’m going to assume that Diane chooses to stay in basement prison instead of calling one of the many, MANY, MANY people she could call to get her out/take down Vinetta because she doesn’t want the situation to be publicized or further deteriorate. That said, it’s really not clear why Diane just accepts being sentenced to basement prison with a cell phone.  

Love the STRL man looking at that picture of Diane and HRC. They’ve gotten so much mileage out of that photo.  

Wackner’s court has no rules, but at least since it has no rules, I can’t complain about how its rules make no sense!  

What is this, debate practice?! Ugggghhhhh I can’t deal with this case for much longer.  

Marissa takes a breath, then decides to pursue a strategy she knows could blow everything up.

“Then why care what Judge Wackner decides? Why should you defer to him? Why defer to anyone?” Cord says that’s the point—the people have decided to trust Wackner. “So if you don’t like this court’s decision, you’ll just start a new one?” Marissa asks. “I guess,” Cord concedes.  

“So then why does this matter? This court?” “It matters only insofar as we continue to agree that it matters,” Cord says. “So if you don’t like Judge Wackner’s rulings, you can just ignore them and create a new court?”

Good point, Marissa. Good point. (Does this count as a thesis?)

“I’m guessing that I will like the way the judge decides,” Cord says. Well, that’s basically a threat.

Wackner takes a break and heads to chambers—without Marissa.  

Kurt goes to visit Diane in basement jail. He’s granted a conjugal visit, which means Matteo gets moved up to the bedroom so Diane and Kurt can have some alone time.

Diane is staring at an image of Lake Como in her cell. I thought it was odd she brought a printout of her vacation destination with her, so I LOVED the line where she explains that Vinetta printed it out for her. COLD. (You know who also would’ve done this if they’d for some reason had a basement prison? Bree Van de Kamp. You know what show DID do a basement prison arc I’d rather forget? Desperate Housewives!)  

I love how Diane responds to basement prison by making jokes non-stop.

“I thought the craziness would end with 2020,” Diane says. Nope.

Kurt brought alcohol; Diane brought pot gummies.  

I love that Kurt has never had pot before. I was going to say that I bet Diane’s had a few experiences with recreational drugs when I remembered we had a whole damn season of Diane microdosing.  

Christine and Gary’s acting and their chemistry really bring these basement prison scenes to life. The writing and directing are really sharp, but it’s the actors who make these scenes something special. You can tell Diane and Kurt love each other a lot. You can tell they’re disappointed about their vacation and exhausted by the chaos of the day. You can tell they’re in disbelief over this situation but also find it funny.  

Didn’t Rivi and Isabel have an adult daughter who died of COVID a few episodes ago? Weird she isn’t mentioned in this scene. Maybe from a different marriage/relationship?

Isabel called the SA’s office because she thinks Rivi’s a threat? I think this is a power play.

Heh, Carmen saying, “Shut a black woman up!?” in disbelief in court. Love it.  

Isabel instead flips her story and supports her husband and fights for his release. With no intervention from Plum Meadow, this gets the judge to free Rivi. I don’t really understand what’s happened here or why. I get the resolution, but I don’t get why Isabel called the SA or why this went away so quickly. I still don’t even get why Rivi’s been arrested.

Diane and Kurt put up Christmas lights for ambiance and talk about how they never go on vacation.

“I wanna see the pyramids on this coast!” drunk & high Kurt insists, hilariously. “I mean hemisphere. I like the Aztecs. They, they care about people.” I’m not going to transcribe the rest of the dialogue because it loses its magic when you’re not watching the scene.  

After some fun banter about travel and movies, Diane changes the topic. “I should quit, shouldn’t I? That judge upstairs? She looked at me like I was the most entitled white bitch on the planet. And that’s the way they look at me at work.”

Kurt tries to say that’s not true, but Diane knows it is: “Yes they do. I’m the top Karen. And why do I care? I mean, I... I could find another firm. I could quit. I can’t impose my will on people who don’t want me.”

YES. I see a lot of debate over what the “right” thing to do is here. But I think we are long past “right” and “wrong.” At a certain point, this stops being about absolute moral truths. If Diane doesn’t have the respect of her partners and employees, that is a very real problem for the firm and for Diane. How can she continue to impose her will on a firm that doesn’t want her, all the while claiming to be an ally? (The back half of that sentence is the most important part.) Forget whether or not Diane “should” have to step down. Forget what’s “fair.” If the non-Diane leadership of RL thinks the firm should be a black firm, and the employees of RL think so too, and Diane just doubles down on her white feminism, she’s creating an even bigger problem for herself and ruining her reputation in the process.  

Kurt stands up on the prison cot and warns Diane she might make a decision she’ll regret. This scene is so cute. Why can’t other shows do drug trips where the characters just act silly and have great chemistry? Why does it always have to be some profound meditation on death whenever characters get high?

“I think I like starting over. I like the chutes and ladders of life. I mean, I want the corner office, but then I wanna slip back to the beginning and fight for the corner office. I mean, I think maybe it’s better that I don’t get the top spot,” Diane says. LOVE to hear her admit this. I’m not sure I would’ve come to this conclusion on my own, and it sounds like it’s a bit more about how the writers like to write (you know, the “we love our characters to always be underdogs”) than Diane, but... you know what? I believe it. I fully believe it. Diane LOVES to fight, LOVES to feel like she’s in the right, LOVES power plays and to be making progress. She LOVES winning. The fact that she isn’t just choosing to retire right now, even though she’s past retirement age and has a great reputation, is in itself enough for me to believe that she would find it fun to repeatedly start over.

Plus, it’s a fun new direction for the show to take in season six, because they’ll get the same sense of conflict without the actual conflict. This season’s arc was firm drama and resulted in a firm name change... but it didn’t feel like a knock-off of Hitting the Fan. Diane trying to work her way back into power (I assume by becoming a better actual ally, otherwise doesn’t she just end up in the same exact situation?) should also provide conflict without being repetitive.

Hahahahahaha Kurt immediately reacting to this serious statement by being incredibly silly and horny and then Diane singing “I Touch Myself” to him, man, I love these two. I want to know the story behind this song choice.

Wackner emerges from his chambers. The score is tied. Wackner calls Cord corrupt and notes that they can’t just decide to call Downstate Illinois a new state based on his ruling. Now it’s thesis time!

“I was taken by Mr. Cord’s arguments of individualism. So much of our country has been built on people finding their own way, not being held back by bureaucracy. Yet, if we only follow individualism, that way lies chaos. And that was not the point of this court. Or at least not my point. Judgment for the defense. There will be no Downstate Illinois.”

“If we only follow individualism, that way lies chaos.” is probably the clearest of the many theses of this episode. To recap, we have:

(1) Factions are bad. (2) People are persuadable and the rules don’t actually matter. (3) Reality TV changes minds. (4) Institutions only exist when we collectively agree they exist (5) Individualism = chaos.  

But let’s put a pin in this for now and let the chaos of individualism play out.  

The crowd does not like Wackner’s decision, and decides that an appropriate way to express their displeasure is to make anti-Semitic remarks towards Marissa and then start throwing chairs. What nice people.  

As the crowd goes totally 1/6 on Wackner’s court (thanks for pointing this out to me, Ryan—I cannot believe I didn’t make the connection myself!), the door slamming into the desk finally pays off since Marissa and Wackner are able to use it to keep the crowd from reaching them.  

They immediately turn to the police, or they would, if they could get service. I’m sure it’s not a coincidence that as soon as things get bad, they want to involve the existing system.  

Wackner Rules is, somehow, still taping in the midst of all the chaos. I don’t know if I think they’d air this, but someone certainly would. (I wonder if any of the cameras we see in these scenes are actually the cameras filming the other angles of the riot.)  

Cord shakes his head and walks out, unharmed.  

“You think they’ll kill us?” “I think they might,” Marissa and Wackner fret.  

“My dad said the whole world would be a better place if everybody realized they were in the minority. ‘No matter where you are,’ he said, ‘Make sure you keep an eye on the exits, and make sure you’re closer to the exit than the Cossacks are to the entrance.’” Marissa says. Love Eli Gold coming through with thesis number 6 (and maybe thesis number 7).  

“Your dad sounds a little paranoid,” Wackner says, correctly. Remember how I mentioned I accidentally wound up watching 5x22? Eli calls Alicia and responds to her hello with, “DISASTER!!!!” I miss him.

“He was, but he wasn’t wrong. He said, ‘Stay away from parades. They’re cute until they’re not. And don’t trust any pope who was Hitler Youth.” “What’s that law called?” “Godwin’s Law. My dad said anybody who argued for Godwin’s Law has never been near an actual crowd. Crowds love you, they hug you. Then they grab a gun and try to kill you.”

“Why? Why do they do that?” “I don’t know. Hate is fun. It’s clear-cut.”  

I really like all of this. It is a little preachy, but it isn’t wrong and it’s self-aware. And, more importantly, it’s in character. I absolutely believe that Marissa would tell lots of stories about Eli in a moment of extreme stress. It’s nostalgic, probably comforting, and it also helps her feel like she’s on the right side with the right arguments. So, even backed into a corner, she’s still a winner: she has theory on her side.  

Wackner speaks a foreign language (I do not know what language but I wish I did) and says, “A guy could get killed doing this,” which makes him and Marissa laugh as things crash around them.

Idk about you all, but I couldn’t really get myself to actually worry about their safety during this scene. Maybe Wackner’s, just a little, but I got the sense we were supposed to focus more on the chaos and destruction and monologuing than on the actual danger. That’s not to say the stakes didn’t feel high, but rather to say that this didn’t feel like an action sequence where you don’t know what’s going to happen next. The point was to watch the court fall and think about why it fell, not to worry about if Marissa would live.  

Diane and Kurt are woken up by sirens and loud noises. The cops arrive and are shocked to find professionally dressed white people in a basement cell. They let Diane and Kurt out with compassion, but scream, “don’t you fucking move” to the people on the floor.

“It’s okay, they didn’t do anything,” Diane says. This is, as I theorized earlier, probably why Diane just sits there until her punishment blows over instead of escalating things.  

If the cops weren’t there to free Diane, why were they there? Why, because they like David Cord and David Cord has gotten Chicago PD officers to protect Wackner’s IP.  

If I had to say one thing in favor of Vinetta being the originator of the community court idea, it would be that it’s SUCH a gut punch to watch Diane and Kurt walk away from their bizarre little adventure as Vinetta gets arrested in the background, and it hits ten times as hard if Vinetta’s only being charged because some white guy is claiming IP that’s actually hers.

(I think Vinetta is probably, at this point, actually being arrested for imprisoning people illegally, but, still.)

“Pfft. Some judge,” one of the cops who adores Wackner says of Vinetta. Racist much?  

Marissa and Wackner emerge from the backroom. “I think I better get back to work,” she says, meaning her RL job. "Me too,” Wackner says, grabbing a Copy Coop apron. He’s an employee of ten years.  

I don’t think this lands as well as it’s meant to. I think the point is supposed to be that Wackner’s just some guy—not a billionaire, not an academic, not a judge, not a lawyer—with an idea. But it’s a little too neat. And it doesn’t explain how Wackner financed his court initially, nor does it explain why he has basically unlimited access to Copy Coop space and resources. I’d buy it if he were the OWNER of Copy Coop, but I have so many questions about him being an employee.  

Diane tells Liz she’s actually going on vacation this time, and they laugh about how Kurt bonded with STRL.

“I want you and Allegra to be name partners. I’ll be an equity partner,” Diane says. “Why?” Liz asks. “Five years ago, when I hit rock bottom, this firm took me in. So I don’t like the idea of splitting this firm in two. And I can’t lead if no one will follow.” “And your clients?” “We’ll manage them together.” YES! I love this. I don’t love it because I necessarily think it had to go this way, but because it’s so refreshing to see Diane say that she actually is willing to take a step back because she cares about the firm and the people there more than she cares about being a name partner. This isn’t something we usually see. When we hear “this firm took x in” it’s usually being said incredulously against someone who’s decided to leave and steal clients (cough, Hitting the Fan, cough).  

It’s been pretty clear for most of this arc that Diane and Liz like working together and they like their firm, but that no one (other than Diane, I guess) is willing to let RL lose its status as a black firm, and that the employees and equity partners weren’t going to be satisfied until Diane stepped down. Diane really had three options: Stay and piss everyone off and claim the whole firm for herself, quit and go somewhere else and totally abandon the good working dynamic she had, or step down and put her money where her mouth is.  

Also yeah the clients were never actually going to be an issue! They were only an issue because Diane intentionally went about informing them she was stepping down in a way she knew would make them worry!  

“I think I need to prove myself,” Diane says. I’m not sure that’s the key issue or that she can ever prove herself fully, but we’ll worry about that next year.

“I missed you,” Liz says. “I’m here,” Diane replies. “I know. Thank you,” Liz says.  

Diane decides she’s going to move downstairs so Allegra can have her office. I think there’s another office on this floor, since she, Adrian and Liz all had offices. This feels a little bit like Diane’s in love with the idea of making things difficult for herself and maybe hasn’t fully grasped the point, but, you know, I’ll take it.  

Diane tells Kurt her decision and he asks if it was the right thing to do. She says she doesn’t know—but she says it with a smile. Kurt notes he’s going hunting next month with the STRL folks and will put in a good word for her. Ah, yes, because STRL still controls all of this and all of this is moot! Thanks for the reminder Kurt! Diane says she wants in on the hunting trip. Of course.  

And the elevator doors close. Remember how closing elevator doors was a motif earlier this season??? It’s back!

Then we get a little coda with Wackner Rules airing a new episode that’s just violence and destruction. This sequence seems to straddle the line between being there for thematic reasons for the viewers and there to show what happened in the show’s universe, but I think it’s main purpose is theme, so I will not go on a full rant questioning why Del would want to air this.

A white blonde lady in an apron watches the destruction of Wackner Rules. She looks concerned. “That was violet,” she says with dismay. And then we see she’s holding a guy in a jail cell in her kitchen.  

And then we see other courts, as America the Beautiful plays. One’s in a garage debating kicking someone out of the neighborhood; another is across the street about the same case. There’s one in Oregon about secession. There’s one among Tiki Torch Nazis deciding only white people can own property. There’s (inexplicably) one about pronouns. There’s one with arm wrestling, one that happens while sky diving, and a bunch of others. It’s pretty ridiculous, and not necessarily in a good way. It feels at once like the natural extension of the Wackner Rules show and like an over the top parody you’d see on another show. Tiki Torch Nazis screaming “only white people can own property!” is the opposite of subtle writing. Tonally, this sequence feels more like the zany humor of Desperate Housewives or the insanity of BrainDead than anything TGF has done before (and TGF’s been plenty surreal), and it doesn’t quite work for me. It feels like it is trying to prove a point in the corniest, most on the nose way possible. It almost feels like it’s parodying its own plotlines.  

On my first watch, this ending for Wackner left me stumped. I knew the writers were making an argument against individualism (Wackner’s speech + the repeated references to The Apprentice) and cults of personality. But I couldn’t figure out a real life analogue to Wackner’s court, and since this ending was so obviously trying to be About Something, that bugged me. Sure, that last sequence could be an argument against people making community courts, but WERE people making community courts? I didn’t see the urgency.

And then I talked to @mimeparadox. And as soon as he said that it was about factions and people playing by their own sets of rules beyond the justice system, it clicked. I’d been looking for Wackner’s plot to be a commentary on the legal system. It is much broader than that. It’s a commentary on the weakening of democratic systems (the Big Lie, etc.), more broadly, and Wackner and his common-sense approach are just a way to get liberal viewers to go along for the ride.  

Now that I understand the point, or what I think is the point, I like this conclusion. Circumventing the system leads to chaos; that’s why we have institutions and bureaucracy, and I think the show is arguing that these institutions should still be respected despite their flaws. The many theses of this episode all come together to make this point (though the reality TV stuff is a little more tenuous and I'm a little shocked we got through all of this without any commentary on social media?): If we stop having a shared belief in institutions and instead follow individual leaders (whom we may learn about through reality TV), the rules will stop mattering and we’ll end up with a fractured country and widespread violence.  

But, and maybe this is just about me being upset I missed both the obvious 1/6 parallels AND the point of the arc the first time through this episode (my defensive side feels the need to also note I first watched this episode at like 5 am when I was barely awake), I don’t know that I actually think this episode does a great job of driving its point home. There are SO many moving pieces to the Wackner plot and SO many references. There are so many threads we never return to from earlier in the season, and there’s so much that strains credulity (like Wackner taking Dr. Goat seriously for more than a split second). It’s pretty clear what the themes are—even though I’m saying I missed the point my first time through, I've hit on all these themes separately in past recaps and posts—but, I dunno, something about this episode just feels scattered. Maybe it’s all the moving pieces, maybe it’s all the moments where it sounds like the characters are voicing related ideas that don’t quite snap together to form one coherent picture, or maybe it’s that Wackner’s plot gets two endings (the actual ending + the coda) and it’s up to the viewer to put together how they relate.

I really don’t know. At the end of the day, I think there was a little too much going on with Wackner and that the writers needed to use the episodes between the private prison reveal and the finale to narrow—not broaden—the scope of what they were trying to do with Wackner. But I also think that what they were doing with Wackner was really, really smart and original. I don’t think I can overstate how impressed I am that the writers took an idea that sounded, frankly, awful when I first heard about it and turned it into something captivating and insightful that I was happy to spend nine weeks watching.  

Overall, a few bad episodes aside, I thought season five was the strongest season of TGF yet. I haven’t seen this show be so focused in... well, maybe ever. Having two overarching plots that received consistent development and felt like they were happening in the same universe at the same time REALLY helps make season five feel like a coherent whole, and I can’t wait to rewatch it.  

#tgf thoughts #the good fight

[atomicblasphemy]

Blight Industries Board Meeting

I have some thoughts about that EE episode. Being myself I just couldn’t put them out in a sensible fashion, so I put on some crust in my headphones, amped everyone’s cynicism, and here’s the result.

                                                       O: Good evening everyone and welcome to the Blight Industries board meeting of number...            

Ed and Em shoot glances at each other as confused about how they ended up there as when it happened for the first time.            

Al looks longingly at his workshop door.            

Amity glares.            

Am: Mom, can we try to have dinner like a normal family which, according to Merriam-Webster at least, we technically are? For once at least?            

O: That can wait, Mittens. Anyway, I called you all here to announce I shall be making some changes to our company. Namely, I shall change the job titles of the three of you. I’m still CEO, Alador still development, research and, well, the assembly line I suppose. As for you, Emira, Edric, you’re now in charge of security. I don’t want to hear about company secrets leaking out, okay? Mittens, you’re our new marketing department.            

Am: Marketing?            

Em: Seriously, mom?            

Od: Dearests, this is a meeting please use our appropriate titles.            

Ed: No no no no. They have a point. Okay, let me see if I understand your thought process. So, you’re the head of a company, right?            

Od: I don’t like your tone, Edric. But okay, I’ll humor you. Yes I am, go on.            

Ed: And said company essentially sells only guns.            

Od: Mhmm, what’s your point?            

Ed: And you think that the best way to convey that is by using your local annoyed teenage lesbian that half the time looks like she would be rather doing literally anything else? Is that a correct assessment, ma’am?            

Od: Oh, and I suppose you have a better idea?            

Em: Yeah, we do. ANYONE ELSE. We *frantically and repeatedly points her finger from herself to Edric*  could do this, I mean we tried to leak our sister’s journal just a few weeks ago so we clearly know nothing about keeping secrets. You could do it. I mean, no offense, but putting up a show seems to be your only useful skill because if this your idea of how to run a company, we... aaaaand now I’m suddenly starting to realize where we get our decision making incompetence from. Anyway. This guy *points at Alador* could do it if you just made sure to remind him that that’s what’s funding his little research. Heck, you could hire Luz. She’s pretty charismatic and just took a shot at the Emperor himself. I’m sure having someone like that vouching for our products would do wonders for our business. See? That’s how you make a half-decent marketing strategy. Besides, I hear Luz could use the money and I’m sure Mittens would be happy to have her working here.            

Am: Yup, normally I’d have other reasons but honestly I’d just be happy someone else is doing this particular job.            

Al: *woop there goes gravity* Why? I told you this wasn’t the best idea. Besides, we agreed, twice at least, that I would take care of the abominations and you’d be in charge of everything else *leans in closer to whisper conspiratorially to Odalia* I don’t like dealing with them *points at their very loving children*.            

Ed, Em, and Am: HEY!            

Al: *sighs* Listen to your boss, children.            

The children huddle closer, they are the conspiratorial ones now.            

Am: We’re gonna end up broke and starving, aren’t we?            

Em: Yeah, isn’t it weird though? I mean, you’d think they’d have found someone better to... sponsor by now. Apparently that’s not the case. Moreover, why do they, our parents I mean, keeping putting so many resources into product development then? And it’s not even like we’re branching out into new markets, making some groundbreaking products. Nope, just shinier versions of the old stuff.            

Am: Hum... Can either of you teach me how to write a resume?            

Ed: I... uh... was going to ask you the same thing.            

--------------------------            

Later.            

Em: Okay, let’s recap the recent events, shall we?            

Odalia and Alador were sat side by side in flimsy wooden chair at the factory’s storage area. Their children loomed over them with stern faces.            

Am: First off, you decided to entirely restructure the company, you know, the one with our name in it. And you did so by making all possible wrong choices. Especially putting me as the face and head of marketing.            

Ed: Then, secondly, when you realized that wasn’t working due to Mittens, justifiably I might add, wanting to do pretty much anything else with her time. So you two in a strike of parenting brilliance decide that the best way to deal with all of that was not to, oh I don’t know, hire some specialist or anything like that for the position and let her, and us, be teenagers like any normal parent would do. No, instead you think: “Hey, I’ll double down and alienate the one of my children giving me a hard time from the only people she seems to like.”            

Al: In our defense...            

Em: AND THEN, when one of said people decide to actually do something about, and in a very diplomatic fashion given the circumstances, mind you, you go ahead and try to commit murder in front of a large audience of potential witnesses. Granted, not a particularly morally upstanding audience given the type of products they were trying to buy, but still. Do you have any idea how many people would want a piece of you if you actually hurt the human? You have three of them standing in front of you right now.            

Od: Well, Emira dearest, you can’t argue with the numbers. Tonight’s sale was an astounding success.            

Am: And she still has her poise despite all the failures... Look, the three of us, we’ve been talking. We somehow are also part of the board, right? Moreover, we are, despite all evidence on the contrary, still employs of this company. So we put things through a vote.            

Ed: First off, we’re unionizing. And your first demand is better working conditions...            

Od: I’m not putting apple blood fountains in the factory floors. That’s off the table. I already told this Edric. The abominations take a surprising liking to the stuff.            

Em: We can discuss the specifics later. We have other topics at hand.            

Al: Okay, like what?            

Em: You two are out. Actually just you mom. We still need dad for development of new products and stuff.            

Od: WHAT? You can’t do this.            

Am: Let me rephrase what Emira said: you’re not CEO anymore. She is.            

Al and Od: EMIRA?            

Ed: Yes, Emira. I’ll be in charge of supply and distribution as well as any other duties dad still had besides research and develop. Mom, you’re the new Mittens. I mean, marketing. You’re in charge of marketing now. Just marketing and literally nothing else. I’m sure we won’t regret giving you this much responsibility. And, by the way. One mistake and we’re hiring Luz for the job. AND we’re giving her enough shares to sit at the board.            

Od: *starts chuckling while reaching for a small book in her vest* I can’t say I’m not angry at the three of you, but it is indeed nice to see you trying to take a more active role in the company. But there’s a big flaw to your little coup. You see, according to article 15 of the Blight Industries statute, Alador’s vote, as well as mine...            

Al: I’m voting with them, Odalia.            

Everyone else turns to look at him, wide eyed.            

Al: Look, I’m not ecstatic about this or anything. But at the end of day if Edric is taking half the load off my shoulders then I’ll have the more time in my workshop. And away from them. Odalia, don’t look at me like that, I told you the other day I was wanting us to develop magic powered air fryers. Now I’ll have the time for that. We can tap onto more markets this way, more money.            

Od: ... You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.            

Al: *sighs* How about Mittens, what will she do now?            

Am: Librarian. That’ll be my new job title.            

Al: We have no use for a librarian, Amity. You know that, don’t you?            

Am: I know. I’m not working here anymore. Gary had been telling me for some time about this internship opening. I start Monday. But don’t go thinking I’ll leave the board. I’m keeping my shares and besides, Ed and Em agreed to keep me as an adviser.            

Od: Oh look at our daughter, Alador. Going all out on that daily grind, making the minimum wage. Are you sure you can handle it, Mittens my dear?            

Am: Well, you paid me in passive aggressive comments and threats so far. I consider minimum wage a raise if anything.            

Od: Whatever you say... In any case. I suppose I’ll now be some sort of glorified secretary then.            

Em: What do you mean, mom?            

Od: Oh, right. You weren’t there at the time. We struck a big contract, big enough so we won’t need to worry about marketing for the foreseeable future.            

Em: What? HOW?            

Al: That uhh... That kid, what’s his name again? The new head of the Emperor’s coven. He came in after the sales ended, said we should go around building Frankenstein mercenaries, and that the Emperor would be buying all of our Thanos thingies aaand on top of that the state would fund all our future research.            

Ed and Em: Oh... Oh... Ohh Titan... Didn’t he get ahold of Eda’s portal? Mittens, we have to tell Luz.            

Am: *chuckles* Yeah, good luck with that, Emperor.            

Ed: I... Are you okay? Shouldn’t you be worried?            

Am: Eh... I mean... First things first. Yeah, I know he’s building an army to invade the human realm and yeah, I know we’ll be supplying the weaponry and that I should probably give Luz a heads up. But, you know. That’s pretty stupid of him when you think about it.            

Ed: What?            

Am: I mean, think about it. He is getting a supplier that he knows, for a fact, has a positive connection to his enemies. Meaning it would be in our interest - especially mine, you know, the other Blight with Abomination know how and the one closest to the one human living in the Boiling Isles, as proven today - to put some back doors in all the tech we’ll be selling them. Moreover... Sure humans don’t have magic but they make up for it in other ways. Luz was telling me about her realm the other day and... Well... Let me put it this way: we are not humans, meaning we are not covered by the Geneva convention. Best case scenario once Bellos opens the portal we, not them, become a colony. And humans don’t make a habit of treating their colonies with any decency. So, you know... Anyway. Worst case scenario, they’ll just start pumping napalm, anthrax, mustard gas, and all sorts of fun stuff chemical and biological weapons through the portal. Meaning we’ll die. Painfully. Heck, they can even make good on their anti-nuclear proliferation treaties and just throw it all here and make it go boom. Trust me, that alone will be enough to finish sinking the Titan.            

All the other four Blights look at her wide eyed.            

Am: Eh... But you know, I’ll go and tell Luz and Eda. Fir witchkind’s sake or whatever. So... See you guys later.            

Od: *shaking the shock away from her head* Oh... Quite a hurry to go and see Luz, aren’t we Mittens? *a sly smile forming* I’m sorry... I meant YOUR Luz.            

Ed and Em: Oh yeah, I forgot about that. Damn, missed the joke.            

Al just nods in agreement.            

Am: What are you people talking about?            

Od: Oh, it’s nothing really Mittens, my dear child. It’s just that, you seem to be rather attached to her, aren’t you? In a very weird way, but still.            

Am: Weird? Weird how? You’re talking non-sense.            

Ed: No, Mittens, the lady has a point. I don’t get your thought process tonight either.            

Am: I have no idea what...            

Ed: No, seriously. I mean, no need to beat around the bush here: you have a gargantuan crush on her. That’s plenty obvious to everyone here.            

Am: *blushing* No comments.            

Ed: Whatever, I’ll take that to mean you do. So, you see your crush up on the stage. She’s fighting dad’s Thanos thingy. Which, might I add, was being controlled by him. Seriously, what the hell, dude? Is this a way to meet your potential daughter-in-law? Anyway. She’s potentially in mortal danger. And your first thought is: I’m gonna woo her.            

Am: That’s... not what I thought...            

Em: Yeah, Mittens. Sure. That’s why the first you did was to turn around and start climbing the ladders.            

Am: I... They were fighting up there, I wanted to get to close quarters.            

Em: Nope. Not buying it.            

Ed: We were watching it all unfold Mittens, you started climbing the ladders before, long before, they were up there.            

Am: But... the crowd.            

Ed: Dispersed pretty quickly, and knowing Abomination magic, as you do, you definitely knew Thanos would have that effect.            

Am: I... But... I wanted to fight close quarters... and I wanted... the higher ground.            

Em: So... You are up in the pipes, and by then Luz and Thanos are already back in ground level. So you position yourself in the spot with the best lighting and a means for you to quickly climb down - I swear, I’m certain I saw you double checking to make sure you were positioned just right. Then you take your sweet time pulling your hood back up. And finally, then and only then, you go to Luz’s rescue by using your magic. And you do that before you climb down, meaning your magic has enough range, as we’ve all always known, to be effective without the close  quarters or the higher.            

Ed: Come on, Mittens. Just admit it. You wanted to do a super-hero landing in front of your crush. Come on...            

Am: I... Do you think it worked?            

Everyone, expect for Amity, looks at Alador.            

Al: I dunno, why are you asking me?            

Ed: Because somehow out of all of us you’re the one most likely to pick up that sort of stuff.            

Al: Right, and I’m also the one least likely to care.            

Am: I’M YOUR DAUGHTER.            

Em: *taking a deep breath* Okay, lets pause for a second here. Ed, Mittens. Pat yourselves on the back. Come on, do it. Look, I’ll do it too. *begins  patting her own back in tandem with her siblings’ more tentative display*            

Am: Em... Why are we doing this?            

Em: For not succumbing to drugs and alcohol (shrewd ad campaigns on Twitter aside). *Edric and Amity begin patting their backs more enthusiastically, Emira turns to their parents* You know, you two. You should pat yourselves on the back as well. I mean, sure, we’ll need years of therapy to undo all the damage the emotional neglect the both of you show us has caused so far, but no one can say we don’t get plenty of variety.            

Al: Are you done being passive aggressive, Emira?            

Em: What can I say? I’ve learned from the best. *looks at Odalia, who just rolls her eyes*            

Al: *sighing* As for your previous question. The human seemed to be blushing as well. So my best guess is that Amity’s little... spectacle... did work.            

Od: See? And you dare say it was a bad idea to put her on marketing.            

Am: That’s because I had a reason to care when I was doing all that.            

Od: Ohh right, then what do you suggest I had done to make you care about our, emphasis on our, business.            

Am, Ed and Em in unison: Pay us for our labor.            

Am: I mean, seriously. You guys built a whole business model around Abominations: a.k.a. free labor. Sure you could afford to pay us, a.k.a. self aware creatures that are not (and I’ve checked this) Abominations, something.            

Ed: So... again to recap the day. Mom and dad lost their company, Bellos shot himself square in the foot. Hell, even this new coven head pretty much proved his lack of intelligence gathering competence by doing business with us. Today was a failure on every front. Even Luz when you think about it.            

Em: Luz?            

Ed: Yeah... She trusted... her *points at Odalia*.            

Em: Ohh...            

Od: HEY! I’m still your mother.            

Em: Nominally, maybe. Jury still out on that one. Anyway, that reminds me. I want all our financial books for the past five years i my desk, formerly yours, in two days.            

Am: I think my day was pretty successful. I have reason to believe my crush likes me back and I’ll know what a healthy professional and financial life looks like for the first in these 14 groolling and long years of existence. So things are looking up for me. Anyway... Are we done here?            

Am: I guess so, why?            

Am: Cool. Gonna head out.            

Em: Oh, going to let your Luz know of the Emperor’s plan and bask in her presence.            

Am: Emira, I swear in the Titan’s name that if you ever address her like that in front of her they will never find your body. But yes, that’s the gist of it.            

Em: Fine. Actually, wait up. Lilith is living there now isn’t she? I wanted to talk to her.            

Am: Lilith as in Lilith Clawthorne? Eda’s sister? Former head of the Emperor’s Coven? My former mentor? That Lilith?            

Em: Yup.            

Am: Why, pray tell, do you want to talk to her?            

Em: Wanted to hire her. We need a new accountant.            

Am: And you thought of her because...?            

Em: Lack of options?            

Am: I... You know what, fair enough.            

Ed: Hold up. I’m coming with. I don’t like being around them *points at Odalia and Alador*.            

Am: Sure.            

They leaving. Only Odalia and Alador are left in the room.            

Al: Wow.            

Od: I know.            

Al: Just... wow...            

Od: I know.            

Al: I don’t know how to process any of this. It happened all so fast.            

Od: I know.            

Al: Like... no sense of pacing at all.            

Od: I know, Alador. Titan do I know.            

Al: Almost as if everyone’s words were being written by an extra-dimentional entity that reaaally wanted to rant but didn’t want to put out their opinions in a more reasonable manner, and wasn’t even remotely concerned with making it sound like a normal conversation.            

Od: I know.            

Al: Anyway. We failed as people, didn’t we?            

Od: *sighing* I know.            

#THE OWL HOUSE #Edric Blight #Luz Noceda #amity blight #odalia blight #emira blight #Alador Blight

[fae-fucker]

Zenith: Chapter 72-75

Chapter 72

We’re in Nor’s POV. She’s moping around in her ruined palace. We find out she ordered the attack on Adhira on a whim after learning Valen was there. Cool.

This entire chapter is about how Nor is doubting herself and how she feels shitty even though this should be a triumph, and Zahn, her boytoy who’s literally described as being “too good” and “too pure” for her, telling that she’s a girlboss. Then they make out and “lust tumbles through her” and the chapter ends on them fucking.

Chapter 73

Last we left her, Andi had angsted herself out of the room after an argument with her dad. She walks the gardens for a bit, thinking about the creation myth of this world. It involves Light Bringers and Night Spirits, and two of them fall in love and from their union a black hole is born, but around it a galaxy forms, and it also creates the Godstars, which are described as “all-knowing beings with the power to give and take, the perfect mixture of darkness and light.”

So with all this wank about light and dark, you bet your ass Andi’s gonna start rambling about how dark and/or light her soul is, which she promptly does.

The creation myth is ... fine? In theory? But something light and something dark falling in love and creating the world is a bit trite, innit? Baby’s first creation myth.

Arcardius was the first planet inhabited by the Ancients hundreds of thousands of years ago, and many believed that the Godstars must have given the settlers this gift to welcome them to their new home. But whatever the reason, Andi was grateful for it. She didn’t want to be in the presence of darkness after everything that had happened. She needed to clear her mind of all that had been clogging it since the beginning of the rescue job.

I think “clogging” is a more apt description than Shinsay realized.

Andi angsts herself to a new place with a floating rock waterfall fountain thing, where Valen is, equipped with his painting gear. We get a description of how hot he is despite having been beaten and starved for two years, because of course.

His brown hair was cropped short and, skinny as he was, it made his strong jaw more pronounced. Everything about his once-soft face was now hard edges. No doubt, with some more meat on his bones, he would be striking.

The boy she remembered from years ago had now become a man.

Damaged as he must be on the inside, at least his physical wounds would heal. The awful things he had experienced at the hands of Xen Ptera would hopefully become a distant memory, as well, and more bearable with time.

The way the “hope he’ll heal emotionally as well, I guess” is tacked on right after “at least he’ll be hot” is wildly hilarious.

Valen asks if he can paint Andi. For some reason he immediately starts putting paint on canvas, because fuck sketching, he’s too fucking good for that. Also what’s the lighting situation like? He’s waxing poetic about the way the light hits Andi’s cheek plates and purple streaks (with red tips that reaches her mid-back), but seemingly doesn’t need any light on his canvas to see what the fuck he’s doing, in the middle of the night? Ok.

Later Valen, with a paint-stained face because Artiste, asks Andi if they can go somewhere else because he needs a break. They go somewhere with a view of the Magical Purple Pinterest Garden, and it’s very breathtaking and shit.

“We’ve been through darkness, Andi,” Valen said. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t still live in the light.”

He closed his eyes, and Andi was left to ponder how much his words echoed her own thoughts from earlier, about the balance between the light and the dark.

Thank you for pointing out the thematic connection from THREE PAGES AGO IN THE SAME CHAPTER, Shinsay. I couldn’t have figured it out myself if you hadn’t held my hand like the imbecile I am. Seriously, I can’t figure out whether this is supposed to be helpful, or if Shinsay really thought they were geniuses and just had to point it out so we wouldn’t miss how cool and deep their writing is.

Anyway, Valen asks Andi to the obligatory ball portion of the story, saying he’ll have to dance as the future ruler of the planet (???) and he wants to dance with a friend rather than a romantic interest.

A friend.

He said the word as if he really meant it. As if, somehow, despite what they’d been through, the horrors they’d shared, Valen had begun to think of Andi as a friend.

Wow ... When he said friend, he meant friend, as in friend? Amazing. What a shocker.

Also, yeah, they did go through some horrors together. Like that time Dex tossed him down a flight of stairs while Andi was somewhere else. Or that time Valen was tortured for two years and Andi wasn’t.

Truly, a friendship of the ages.

I guess this is supposed to be a misdirect, but given how blatantly unrealistic this is and how easily Andi falls for it, it just makes her look a bit like an idiot, doesn’t it?

Chapter 74

This chapter is just Andi heading back to bed but taking a detour to the library, discovering that Alfie has been destroyed while some servants throw his body in the garbage on the way.

Oh no! Not Alfie, who’s only the most annoying character! Anyone but Alfie!

We get this:

As she turned to leave, a small, shiny object on the floor caught her eye. Quickly, Andi reached down and palmed it while the maid wasn’t looking. She didn’t know much about AIs, but the object in her grasp looked like a memory chip.

[...]

It could be nothing, a useless memento, but her gut told her something different. She’d look into it later.

I-is this supposed to be foreshadowing? You literally already told us what it was, why would Andi’s “gut�� be telling her something she already suspects according to her narration?

Henlo? Editors? Anyone? Hello?

Hewwo? Mistew Pwesident?

Chapter 75

Dex has been following Andi around like a whole creep and watches her enter the library. He follows her inside and then we get the obligatory “shitty writer praises the magic of literature” bit.

“The general scoured the galaxy for this collection,” Andi said suddenly.

Dex turned. She stood near him in the dark room, softly lit by a beam of moonlight. The sadness in her eyes could almost be felt, like a tangible thing.

“You said Kalee was a reader,” Dex said. He laughed softly. “I didn’t know she was this much of a reader.”

“She loved exploring,” Andi said. “The general loved keeping her close. And so she turned to books for her adventures.”

“The sadness in her eyes was almost tangible.” There, I fixed it. Now shut the fuck up.

“What is it about memories,” Andi said suddenly, walking back toward him, “that gives them the ability to hurt us so badly?”

Dex shook his head. “The past is powerful. I think you and I both know that.”

She finally looked into his eyes. “I’m tired of letting the past control me, Dextro,” she whispered. “Aren’t you?”

I’m tired of letting this book control me, that’s for sure. What is this fucking dialogue? They keep talking in clichés without really saying anything, wasting our goddamn time instead of having an actual conversation.

Anyway, they finally get everything over with, apologize to each other, then make out but decide that uwu they can’t be together because they’re so hurt and damaged and whatnot. And honestly this wouldn’t be so cringeworthy if we didn’t know it’s all just a fucking ploy to drag out the will-they-won’t they subplot that I’m sure you’re all on the edge of your seats over.

The main reason this doesn’t work is that we don’t really get any sense of why this can’t work out? They just mutually agree, after having a hot makeout sesh, that they’re not meant to be for ... reasons? Even though they’re clearly attracted to each other, have no other attachments, romantic or otherwise, and have forgiven one another. Dex thinks they both “ruined” their future together in their own ways, but we don’t get any explanation for why they can’t just ... try to build a new one. Not even a “the memories hurt too much” or “I can’t afford the mental and emotional effort right now” or “there’s no time for it with the galaxy in chaos” or even a simple “I don’t want to.”

Instead it’s “I know we’re not meant to be because we both screwed the pooch last time we tried” and you’re just there like yes and? What’s stopping you from trying again? Give me a reason. IRL that would’ve been fine, but here it just feels like the authors are trying to convince US that they won’t get together, trust me, I promise, don’t even think about it and let it blow you away when they do.

I think, weirdly enough, the reason this doesn’t work for me is the perspective. Andi has actual valid reasons for rejecting Dex and seems like she’s still conflicted about her feelings for him, which would give her plenty of justification to not jump back into the relationship. But instead, we’re stuck with Dex, who’s been desperate to talk to Andi, be around Andi, who thinks about Andi constantly, but now, when a new beginning is within his reach, he decides without reason to not go for it because what, he feels like it’s not right and assumes it’s mutual? It doesn’t track with his previous behavior, which has been constantly focused on Andi up until this point. His sudden and inexplicable decision to not pursue this anymore goes against his behavior and motivations so far, which is why it strikes me as hollow and manipulative writing.

Had he maybe wanted to offer a new start but then Andi said something or he saw how unsure and hurt she still was and decided against it, then it would’ve made sense. Had we been in Andi’s POV and she just straight up rejected him, it would’ve made sense. But here, we get:

“We can’t... This won’t ever...”

“I know,” he said.

And in his heart, he knew that it was true. Their two worlds were never meant to become one. That even through the forgiveness, even with the unavoidable feelings that echoed between them, they could never share a future. They had already had their chance, long ago. They’d both ruined it in their own ways.

Andi doesn’t even give him a proper reason, he just assumes what she’s saying because apparently he’s been thinking the same thing? His “heart” just tells him it won’t work, when all this time, he’s seemingly done everything in his power to fix what he always knew wasn’t fixable? Huh???

I’m not saying this to say that Dex should’ve pestered Andi, he can very well accept her rejection but still pine for her silently. What I am saying is that this doesn’t track with his previous behavior, and just shows the authors’ hands in this as being a cop-out for the sake of melodrama and to keep the romance subplot going through cheap conflict.

Anyway, Dex asks Andi to the ball and she’s like “lmao too late” and then the chapter ends on this note:

When they parted ways, Dex couldn’t help but feel as if he were seeing Androma Racella for the very last time.

God, I wish that were me.

#eff reads: zenith

[besanii]

double happiness at your door

Extra 15: 姻缘树 (Marriage tree) ?! | previous parts here

The mortal realm has always been of interest to Wei Wuxian, whose curiosity and constantly wandering attention span means he often goes wandering around to all sorts of different places in search of amusement. And with how quickly time passes in the mortal realm, it’s always full of new and exciting things to see.

He’s wandering around the marketplace in one of the larger towns at the foot of a mountain in Yiling, a stick of candied hawthorn in hand, minding his own business, when he notices the people around him whispering and pointing towards something up ahead. Then two young maidens hurry past him in that same direction, giggling as they nudge each other along.

“No, you should ask first,” one girl cries, red-faced and shaking her head. “I’ll only do it if you go first.”

“What? No!” her friend complains. “I don’t want to go by myself! Come with me, we’ll ask together.”

Curious, he falls into step beside them and catches their attention by clearing his throat. They jump, startled, and eye him warily as he offers a deep bow and a friendly smile.

“Pardon me, Guniang,” he says in his most charming voice. “I was just wondering if you would know what is going on up ahead. Everyone seems terribly excited.”

The wariness in their eyes gives way to flustered giddiness as the girls blush and giggle at his smile. He smirks. Even the greatest of immortals are not completely resistant to the charms of the Fox Tribe, let alone two young, mortal women. One of them tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and peeks up at him shyly.

“Gongzi has not heard of the yinyuan tree?” she asks. Wei Wuxian shakes his head. “It’s a tree that magically sprouted from the ground one night on the north end of town and people say it’s been blessed by Yue Lao. It shows you your destined marriage partner!”

Wei Wuxian snorts quietly. A magical tree that shows your romantic destiny? Blessed by Yue Lao himself? Nie Huaisang’s management of his department must be getting lax if Yue Lao had enough free time to do something as frivolous as planting a magical tree in a random mortal city!

“Oh?” he asks, curious. “How do you know it’s blessed by Yue Lao? How does it show you your destined marriage partner?”

“The tree’s branches are all twisted!” the other girl exclaims in excitement. “It looks just like a tongxinjie! You just have to stand on one side and look through the gap in the centre of the knot and you’ll see your future partner!”

That sounds…unlikely, but Wei Wuxian has seen mortals who believe in stranger things. At least this sounds relatively harmless. Perhaps a random immortal who got bored and planted a random tree to prank gullible people in the mortal realm. He makes a show of nodding his head and tapping his chin thoughtfully.

“Thank you, Guniang, for your insight,” he says. He bows. “I wish you both the best of luck for a happy union!”

The girls giggle and return his bow quickly.

“All the best regards to you as well, Gongzi,” they reply.

Wei Wuxian follows them at a more sedate pace in the direction of the tree, nibbling at his candied hawthorn. He has to admit that the tree, when he sees it, really does look like a true lover’s knot. The branches are twisted around each other—definitely not natural, not with how symmetrical it looks—and in the centre of all those twisted branches is a single gap, just large enough for someone to peek inside.

A small crowd has already gathered around the tree by the time he gets close enough, and he watches as they approach it one-by-one. Some people walk away, disappointed; others jump back with a startled giggle; there are also those who remain silent, red-faced, and walk away without a word. But it’s clear that everyone seems to be seeing something in the tree.

When it’s his turn, Wei Wuxian polishes off the last of his candied hawthorn and skips up to the tree. He runs his hands over the trunk, the surface smoothed over by constant touching, and frowns. No sign of magic, or any sort of spiritual power. That’s odd.

His thoughts are interrupted by a loud cough from behind him.

“Are you going to look or not?” a man shouts. “Don’t hold up the line!”

He glances back over his shoulder at the disgruntled and impatient crowd, then back at the hole in the tree.

Well, here goes nothing, he thinks, and leans in to take a look.

The gap is only just wide enough to peek through, so it takes him a second to find an angle that isn’t obstructed by twigs and branches. When he finally gets a clear view, a familiar figure crosses his line of sight.

“AH!” His cry attracts the attention of everyone in the vicinity and they all stop and stare as he launches himself around the tree. “Xiao-xianshi!”

It’s the young cultivator who had attacked him on the mountain! Even if it had been ten, almost twenty years ago by now and his memory is not the best, there is no way Wei Wuxian could forget a face that handsome. And so his type, too! Amber eyes widen in surprise as they catch sight of him, so he takes it as an invitation and bounces over cheerfully.

“Fox Demon,” his young cultivator says stiffly. Wei Wuxian pouts.

“I’m not a fox demon!” he protests. “And I have a name!”

A tiny frown appears between perfectly sculpted brows.

“What are you doing here?” the young cultivator asks, ignoring his complaints. Then he notices the crowd staring. “What did you do?”

“Hey!” Wei Wuxian pouts. “I was just checking out this yinyuan tree!”

“Yinyuan tree?” He glances over at the tree, confused. “What is that?”

“It shows you your future marriage partner!” he chirps, cocking his head to one side with a sly grin. “Can you guess who it said I’m going to marry?”

He waggles his eyebrows suggestively and is delighted to see the young cultivator’s ears turn bright red. How cute!

“Say, Xianshi…” he says slowly, reaching out to walk his fingers up along one white-robed arm. “What are you doing here?”

The arm beneath his fingers tense and pull away.

“Hunting,” he replies. “There were reports of demons attacking people in the next village.”

Wei Wuxian gasps, his hands flying to his mouth with exaggerated shock.

“Oh no!” he says. “Did you pin them against a wall and attack them with your big sword as well? I thought I was the only one!”

He hears a few scandalised gasps from the crowd behind him, but he’s more interested in the way his young cultivator’s jaw clenches and his amber eyes darken. He looks furious. He is so Wei Wuxian’s type. How can he possibly resist?

“I’m heartbroken, Xianshi,” he cries dramatically, pressing a hand over his heart to illustrate his point to their captive audience. “I’ve been pining over you after our encounter for all this time! And now to find you’ve been dallying with others behind my back! How could you be so cruel?”

The crowd murmurs sympathetically and he catches a few older women shooting glares in the young cultivator’s direction, who is frozen in place in a state of shock and indignation. Wei Wuxian whips out a handkerchief from his sleeve and dabs at his eyes with a loud sniff.

“I was so happy when I saw you through the yinyuan tree,” he sighs forlornly. “I thought it must have been a sign that we were meant to be! Oh, I’m such a fool!”

“Don’t let him get away with it, Gongzi!” one woman shouts encouragingly. “Make him take responsibility!”

Her companions join in as well, sympathetic to his plight. He bows to them, still sniffling, and thanks them humbly for their support. He feels a thrum of spiritual energy from behind him and turns around to see the young cultivator, sword in hand, trembling with fury, and immediately drops his act.

“Hahaha, just kidding,” he laughs, backing away with his hands clasped behind his head. “Don’t take it so seriously, Xianshi! It was just a joke!”

“Wei Wuxian!”

“Oh you do remember my name! I’m flattered, really Xianshi, but I still don’t know yours—”

He yelps at the flash of blue light hurtling towards him, jumping back just in time to narrowly avoid it slashing him open from hip to shoulder. The crowd screams and backs away.

“Okay, okay, no more playing!” Wei Wuxian laughs, dancing out of reach of the next strike. “I’ll see you around again someday, Xianshi!”

He dodges another strike and makes a break for it, blowing him a kiss on the way.

Notes:

Guniang (姑娘) - miss, young lady

yinyuan (姻缘) - romantic/marriage fate (the fate that brings lovers together)

tongxinjie (同心结) - true lover’s knot, often made using red strings and is a token of love/affection

Yue Lao (月佬) - the immortal in charge of the romantic fates of mortals, also the one who ties the red string between lovers

// buy me a ko-fi //

Previous parts here

#mdzs #wangxian #double happiness verse #雙喜臨門 #fox prince!wwx #dragon!lwj #after their first meeting! #wwx is still a shit #nd he doesn't know that he's directly causing the birth of Smugji #once Smugji activates there is no hope for WWX #ANYWAY #trying this again for the THIRD TIME #because this stupid site is so buggy #when are they gonna fix this readmore bug #ffs #hey nonny nonny #asks

[op-peccatori]

Upon This Sword | MLQC Gavin

Fandom: Mr Love Queen’s Choice 

Pairing: Knight!Gavin/Queen!Reader

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: You’ve fought to keep Gavin by your side for a long time. When the time comes to let him go, will you find it in you to let him do the right thing?

Word Count: 6621

Warnings/Tags: fantasy au, royalty au, minor language, mentions of death, congrats you are a queen!!!, extreme cheesiness because I’m a block of cheese for these guys

a/n: yes, this is the result of reading chapter 22. I strongly debated posting this on here but honestly, I had so much fun with it I’ll probably do parts for the other boys too (~˘▾˘)~ this is an unholy union of all the fantasy shows and webtoons I’ve ever consumed.

With the early morning sun just barely making its appearance, the sounds of heavy footsteps thudding against the ground of the courtyard drown out all other sounds in the castle. 

“Keep your heads up, we’ve got a few more laps to go!” 

You’re aware of the eyes boring into your back, knowing there are some trying their best to stay averted, ones still glinting nervously. It hasn’t been long since you started joining the soldiers in their drills instead of working privately, but it seems not all have gotten used to your presence.

You keep your gaze fixed on the one leading the group.

Amber eyes glance back at you for the briefest of moments, a sharp brow cocked your way questioningly. A guileless smile is your only response; you pretend you hadn’t just been studying the way his shoulders flex under the thin layers of his clothing. He continues to run, unfaltering, drenched with sweat; his hair, gathered up tightly, sways with hypnotically, its edges brushing the top of his spine.

You follow, not much better off yourself, with your sleeveless tunic and leather armour clinging to you like second skin but you can’t deny the spring of motivation welling up with the presence of the others around you.

By the time the sun is high in the sky and the stone keep castle is buzzing with life, you’ve switched to sparring.

The clash of steel has heads turning, and the figures clashing keep them turned. The others have paired up, walking away as fast as possible after receiving their instructions, eager to get away from the two of you circling each other like a pair of eager, sweaty hawks. 

You see pursed lips twitch, so subtle if you were anybody else you would’ve missed it, and you’re just barely swift enough to dodge the jab to your side. 

Gavin narrows his eyes at you. 

“You really need to work on your tells,” you tell him seriously, before propelling yourself forward to strike him head-on. He blocks it with a grunt and a tiny roll of his eyes. 

“Not if you’re the only one who catches them,” he mutters, shifting his weight and you slip away, your longsword sliding off his, an impish grin blooming along your mouth.

“It’s only a matter of time before others catch up. Or are you saying you just let your guard down around me?” Your smile is saccharine as you swing your weapon in a high arc; he meets you with a strained laugh, swords meeting with a loud ring. 

“Around you? I’m no fool,” he says before you both stop horsing around and charge in with a flurry of attacks, striking hard and fast. You keep him in your line of sight, focused on every minute movement from him. From the slight bend in his knees to the glistening bead of sweat at the top edge of his upper lip, your senses deeply attuned to him.

29-30 is the current tally—in Gavin’s favour. It’s time to avenge your pride. 

‘I’ve got this.’

“Your majesty!” 

Your sword lands in the mud behind you, the tip of Gavin’s quickly pointed at your heaving chest. The both of you turn in stone-faced unison to see Minor standing behind the fence with his hands clamped over his lips. 

“That doesn’t count,” you say at once and Gavin grins at you, not budging an inch. 

“Shouldn't have gotten distracted. A loss is a loss. Say it.” 

Looking like you’ve eaten the most disgusting fruit in Loveland and trying to school your face into something more dignified, you sigh with no small measure of frustration. 

“I suppose. This victory is yours.” He backs off without another word, rolling his shoulders as he visibly basks in the glow of his unfair win. 

And then you turn to glare at Minor, who winces at the ire in your face. 

“I’m so sorry! It was Anna! I mean, she sent me to inform you that there’s a council meeting in an hour.” 

You see Gavin pause in your peripheral vision; there are a number of reasons why the small council would need to call a meeting, but with the recent tensions with a neighbouring kingdom, Sethia, you wonder if there’s more bad news coming your way. 

A grumble on your lips, you move to yank your sword out of the ground. “This is it for now.” 

You watch, unamused, as Gavin inclines his head deeply. He slicks sweat-slicked bangs back, leaving you momentarily distracted by the sight of his forehead. He smiles that quiet little smile, the one that leaves you smiling back helplessly. “Your Majesty.” 

“See you.” 

You reach up to feel your own damp, and maybe a little muddy hair. An hour. That’s barely enough time to clean up well enough for Anna’s standards and get some food in. 

“Minor, I’m going to need some help.” You could probably get some in if someone else wrestles your hair into compliance. 

“On it, boss. I’ll have someone send up a plate once you’re done cleaning up.” 

From your seat at the head of the table, fingers drumming on the wooden surface without missing a beat, you study each member of your council in grim silence. Not all of them are people appointed by you; some of them you wouldn’t trust with a treasured brick, even if they’ve sworn oaths to you. If it belongs to you, they’d find a way to use it. It makes you uncomfortable, but there’s not much you can do about them.

Sunlight pours in from the wide windows, bathing the room in a soft, bright glow. It would make you sleepy if not for the stress of what’s coming.

“We’ve received reports of increased activity by Sethian soldiers near the borders,” Anna informs you, jogging a stack of papers, face set evenly. She remains the picture of grace, the one guiding presence in your life after the passing of the previous ruler—your father.

You nod at Anna, leaning back in your ornate chair. 

Some council members you would trust with your life—have trusted with your life. She never loses her cool, not in front of you, and it allows you to hold onto the calm a little better.

“How many?” 

“Not big enough to worry, but it’s unusual.” 

“Knowing their king, I’d say it’s enough to worry,” you muse, a sour taste filling your mouth at the thought of the man. There had been an incident involving envoys from the other kingdom. In a suspicious case of misidentification, the small group had been killed. The soldiers involved, your own, had sworn to all the gods above that they had believed them to be enemy spies but could not give an account of who had given them that information, or why they had charged in and killed them without reporting them first.

It left everyone perplexed, but the biggest consequence of that was the Sethian king crying for blood. The soldiers had been stripped of their ranks and handed over for interrogation, but the muddled explanations were not satisfactory for the other ruler. While your kingdom wasn’t small by any means, you still wished to avoid warring with Sethia, what with all the other threats in the lands.

“Ahem.” You look over to see Leto frowning at you. “I agree, Your Majesty. Which makes me wonder if it’s wise to have certain council members here.” 

As one, all of them—except you—shoot speculative glances at the man to your right, seated opposite Anna. Gavin stares back at them unflinchingly, and you draw their attention back to you with a light cough; fighting to keep your hands relaxed, choosing instead to lean in and rest your chin against steepled fingers. 

He’s much older than you. Leto has been on this council since your father’s time, and you can admit he’s good at what he does. As the Minister of Laws, and thus the head of law enforcement he’s done a fantastic job of controlling crime within your lands, especially the capital.

But there has always been something about him that makes you want to recoil and keep him away. Whether it be the barely-hidden mockery in some of the things he says, the contempt clear in his gaze, or the hunger for power barely contained by his respect for the rules. There is also, of course, the biggest source of your aggravation when it comes to the man.

“You think it’s unwise to have our Lord Commander attend a council meeting, Lord Leto?” There’s a note of warning hidden in your silken voice, but the man doesn’t flinch. “One that involves reports of enemy soldiers?” 

“I merely wish to remind you of our Lord Commander’s origins. He is, after all-”

“The man who wins our battles for us and keeps us safe. That is all you should keep in mind when it comes to Lord Gavin.” Your tone had been sharper than intended. Not waiting for a reply, knowing there won’t be one worth listening to, you turn to Gavin. “What do you think?”

How he manages to remain level-headed even in the face of Leto’s ridiculous suspicion is beyond you, but it’s always been one of his more agreeable traits. “It could be a red herring, but we still need to keep an eye of them.”

“Send Eli to the borders, give him fifty men. More if you think it’s necessary. And have someone contact the Mage Tower.” 

“You think the mages will get into it?” Anna asks. “They’ve always remained neutral.”

“And I’d like to keep it that way. Has their head mage been located?” Your father taught you many things when it came to relations with different factions in all the lands. One of them had been to never, ever make an enemy of the mages. 

But if you do, make sure you have people of similar power on your side first. 

“No. His Excellency—Lord Lucien is still missing.” 

“Assign some men to help them, just make sure you pick the ones less likely to be freaked out by mages. Actually, tell Karyu he’s got the mission, but have him give you an accurate list of the men he recruits. Tell him to work with our spymaster.”

“I’ll have a word with her, we need more eyes in Sethia’s capital as well,” Gavin says, wincing at the thought of having to track down the elusive member of their council. She probably already knows what’s going on, but you should still have a word with her about showing up for these meetings.

 “Tell her to come find me.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” 

You cast an expectant gaze around the table, ignoring the pointed looks by the old crones you wish could be forced to retire. 

“Are we done, then?” 

“One more thing, ma’am,” Leto leans in with a tight-lipped smile, eyes drifting to the man on your right once more. The determined look in his eyes has your hackles rising at once. “I know you said not to bring it up, but I must, once again, impress upon you the importance of keeping peace with Sethia.” 

“What’s on your mind, Lord Leto?” you ask, trying your level best to keep your discomfort out of your voice. He looks at the members sitting around him before meeting your eyes, straightening his posture a little more. You don’t think it’s necessary; if the man stiffens up any more he might snap something. 

Oh, perhaps he should keep puffing up a little more.

“Keeping his origins in mind, I feel the need to ask if you think they could actually be of help to us.” Gavin seems to be listening intently, much to your secret dismay. “He was born in Sethia, regardless of his current position, and I wonder if, perhaps, we couldn’t arrange a diplomatic visit to arrange a treaty—one led by Lord Gavin, of course.”

‘Oh, you would just love to send him back into the jaws of the wolves, wouldn’t you?’ you think darkly. 

“As you said, my lord, Lord Gavin was born there,” you respond, keeping your tone neutral. “But he has lived here longer than anywhere else; he belongs to our kingdom. To answer your question, no, I do not think it would be wise to send him to treat with them. I doubt they would respond as peacefully as we hope they might.”

Leto looks far from pleased at your answer.

“Now, if there’s nothing else, I believe lunch is ready.” 

You shoot out of your seat, striding off before anybody can stop you, and the clanking of heavy armour tips you off to Gavin’s presence behind you. Closing the heavy door behind you, you grab him by the arm and pull him into an alcove near the door, behind the statue of one of your esteemed ancestors. He doesn’t even protest, long used and resigned to your antics.

With how often you’ve used it, you wonder if one of your predecessors created this space for the very same purpose. 

Gavin stands close behind you, enough that you could lean against him easily if you wished to do so. You very much do, but now is the time for some basic espionage, not acting on your often overwhelming emotions. 

His breath puffs warmly against the nape of your neck as he leans in, no doubt straining his ears. You remember the first time you had done this, a smile curling along your lips when you remember the aghast look on his face at your sneaky ways. 

You hear the door open, Leto’s calls of ‘Your Majesty!’ following. You both stay quiet as some of the other council members approach him. 

“It was a good plan, Lord Leto. But you know she would never agree to send him away.” 

“Hasn’t this gone on long enough? The late king took him in out of the kindness of his heart, treating him like one of our own, but their closeness is simply unacceptable,” Leto mutters, and you can imagine the great scowl on his face with ease. “How is any future husband of hers to accept it?” 

“He’s an important asset to the military. Surely, you cannot disregard his achievements,” one of his friends try to offer. 

“I’m not. I agree that he’s a gifted soldier, but that doesn’t change the fact that he is a foreigner. And yet, she still treats him like her beloved pet.” Their voices fade as they begin to walk down the hallway, but you stay in your little space, trying to breathe through the sudden rage that demands you find Leto and send him on a vacation to the dungeons. 

“It’s not like that,” you whisper, all the doubts you had never quite buried finding their way to the surface once more. Because how you see the two of you differs greatly from how others see you: a fledgeling queen and her foreign knight. 

“I know that. The people who matter know that,” he says into your hair. You exhale forcefully, nodding at his words. Sensing the calming waves of your mind, he continues.

“He’s an asshole, but his plan has some merit,” comes a murmur that threatens to send you hurtling back into a temper. You whirl around, looking at him in disbelief, advancing on him until he’s pressing back into the wall.

Much to your consternation, he remains infuriatingly calm even in the face of you nearly breathing fire at him. 

“Oh, he’s not wrong, you say? Why don’t we fix this, then? His other solution was to marry you off, maybe we should pursue that plan too?” you spit out through gritted teeth, a voice in your head telling you none of this will help but you can’t stop the rapid thrumming of your heart in your veins. Leto has a way of getting under your skin and you’re tired of letting him, but he just makes you so angry.

“It would’ve helped,” Gavin agrees, raising a hand to tuck a lock of your hair behind one ear. “But as I told him, I could never leave your side.”

His smile is softer than all the fabrics you’ve touched in your life and good god this man puts Peggy’s desserts to shame.

“You could.” Your shoulders slump as you recall the furious threats you had made against the councillors wanting to marry Gavin off. “I’d never force you to stay.” 

“No, I couldn’t,” he says firmly, and the anger leaves you in a rushed breath when armour-clad arms wind around your waist, pulling you in. You pretend you can hear the familiar, steady beat of his soft, martyr heart beneath the steel as he tucks your head under his chin. 

“I don’t own you, Gavin,” you repeat, for the umpteenth time. “We’re friends. We’ve known each other since we were ten. Short of committing a massacre, you know I would support whatever decision you make.” 

Friends.

A wary, subdued boy in plain clothes, standing at your father’s side when he returned from war. A ward, he’d declared, from Sethia. Be nice. You remember being baffled at his presence, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You had fallen into slumber near the window, and at the first sound of hooves thundering across the grounds you had sprinted to the hall. 

But who was this little boy looking like a baby bird displaced from its nest? Surely, his parents would come looking for him.

Years went by, and there was no attempt at contact from Gavin’s people. You used to pester him about it, asking if he’d like to send them a letter, but his response was always a little smile and a quick shake of his head. 

“They don’t want me back,” he told you once. “I like you much better anyway.”

That was the day you decided Gavin was one of you. If they wanted him back, they would have to fight you for him. It was risky, to allow him to join the military. It just wasn’t done. Wards were glorified hostages, a way to keep kingdoms in line. 

But Gavin is ours now. He won’t go back.

He still faces contempt from people who believed he was a spy, a man who could tear the country apart. But he remains steadfast at your side through it all, content to shield you and strengthen your soldiers. A warm, reliable presence. Somewhere along the way, he became a big part of what home means to you.

“I never asked you, did I?” you realize, all of a sudden, cheek smushed against unyielding plate, fingers tracing the symbols etched into the metal.

“Ask me what?”

“If you wanted to go back. To Sethia,” you clarify and your heart throbs madly as you wait for him to reply. 

He takes moment to think it through.

“I did when I first came here. Everything was unfamiliar, I didn’t know anyone...it wasn’t home,” he admits, and you pull back slightly, scrutinizing his expression. You feel his breath on your skin, see his mouth so close; you force your eyes back up, grappling with the sudden surge of desire. His proximity flusters you more than he would ever know.

He shifts slightly, his own gaze drifting down your face before he looks up quickly. Feeling a bit too warm, you finish his train of thought in the way you’d hoped it would end.

“But...now everything is familiar and this is home?” You can’t hide the hope in your eyes, and he doesn’t reply for a moment, expression blank. You feel his hands struggling with something behind your back, but just as realisation dawns he’s pinching your cheek hard with a gloveless hand, a laugh shattering his poker face at your immediate disgruntlement. 

“Yes. This is home,” he assures you, warm tones and honeyed eyes leaving you feeling disconcertingly hot. You avert your gaze with haste, your stomach clenching with emotions that still give you sleepless nights, and Gavin releases you only brush his fingers along your jaw and cup your cheek. “Which is why I ask that you let me do whatever I can to help.”

The warmth leaves you in an instant. You slip out of his comforting hold and out of the alcove without another word. “No. Time for lunch!”

You stalk away, breath heavy and fists clenched, oblivious to the man standing at the end of the hallway. Gavin, who slips out behind you, watching you go with a hooded, wistful gaze, turns to look at him. 

“Lord Commander,” Lord Leto greets him, a tiny, knowing smile on his lips. “I believe we have some matters to discuss?”

You’ve already disappeared around the corner, and with a sigh, Gavin follows him.

You’ve loved Gavin for nearly half your life. 

You don’t know when it went from trying to make the quiet, moody boy smile, to the same boy’s smile making your entire day better. You don’t know when you fell in love. It’s carved into you so deeply you wouldn’t know who you’d be without it. You’ve gotten into all sorts of mischief together, but kept each other out of trouble and had each other’s backs no matter what. 

Gavin has devoted his life to protecting you, but you value his safety and happiness just as much. You’ve fought to keep him with you, to make your home his home, and you will continue to do so until your dying breath. It would be him and you, fighting at each other's backs, sneaking food from the kitchens late at night, learning how to sew because you did everything together. 

He was there when your father left you, standing at your back as you beat your sword, and your anguish, against a training dummy. He was there with his clear eyes and no judgment, coaxing you to eat something when it felt like your appetite had deserted you. He helped you breathe.

You had been there for each other after your first kills.

It’s not as if everyone suspects him. The men he fights with admire him deeply, looking to him for guidance and as a role-model. Most civilians have even set their prejudice aside, acknowledging his loyalty, won over by his charismatic demeanour, charming people everywhere he goes, often to your own frustration—mostly because you feel you’re not nearly as likeable, despite Gavin’s assurances. 

But he has a place here. 

“So why are you telling me you’re leaving?” you ask numbly, standing in your chambers, in your nightgown as Gavin tries to get you to put a robe on before giving up and wrapping it around your shoulders. 

It’s been a week since the council meeting, with more reports of Sethian sightings coming in. You had just awoken to Gavin’s knock at your door. He’s not in his armour, dressed comfortably for long travels instead and there’s a distinctly guilty look in his eyes, with a steely resolve sheltering it. There’s a scroll in his hands.

Your heart plummets at the sight.

“If I don’t at least try—it might work, ___,” he says, so earnest it might break you. “Eli will be taking over for me, they’re sending someone else to the borders.”

“Or it might not, and they’ll kill you. And then I’ll kill them.” He sighs, rushes to you, dropping the paper on a table before cradling your pale cheeks and forcing you to meet his gaze. You wonder if you could reach it before him and throw it in the still lit hearth, set it on fire before he can do anything. “No.” 

“Will you force me?” he asks, and a slap to the face would’ve hurt less. He notices how your face crumbles and looks slightly apologetic, but still so damn determined.

“You know I won’t.” He dips his head, pressing his forehead to yours, sweet syrup on his breath and he doesn’t get to do this, not when he’s leaving.

“I know. This is something I need to do. But, listen to me. I will come back to you.” 

“Is it because you want to leave? Did I do something?” you croak, thoughts on the verge of spinning out of your control, and he visibly holds himself back from leaning in. “You’re my family. You know that, don’t you? I don’t care if they’re of the same blood as you, I…” you can’t bring yourself to continue, keeping your eyes locked with his despite the tears springing in them. But he understands.

And so he steps back to unsheathe his sword, sinking to one knee. His sword—one of a pair, forged for the two of you when you both came of age. They’ve never been too far apart either. God, you had been so confident that he’d be with you forever. He holds it pointed down, the tip of it sinking into the thick carpet.

“Listen to me.” His tone is firm in that way he uses when he needs you to focus.

You attempt to quiet your mind, knowing full well your heart is a lost cause, feeling as if the floor is collapsing beneath you.

“ ___. I swear, upon this sword, I will come back to you. Alive.” You stare down at him in conflicted silence. “You’ve protected me for so long. Let me fix this for you. I couldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t try. And...” 

You clutch the silk of your nightgown anxiously.

“And if I didn’t feel the same way, I would never even think of going back there,” he tells you, a glow settling about him as the sun begins to peek at your parting.

“If they hurt you...” you warn, eyes darting to your own sword out of habit, where it rests near your bedside. He reaches for your hand, brushing his lips across the back of it and keeping them there for a moment. Even with the chaos swirling within your chest, the soft contact sends your nerves tingling.

“I know. It won’t come to that.” He looks up at you, soulful eyes pleading and chipping away at your resolve. “Will you sign the mission?” 

It’s true. You have protected Gavin, kept him close and within reach. This is a moment that will change your lives forever. You could choose to refuse, and not sign off on this. You could keep him safe.

Or you could trust him. 

You sign it in resigned silence.

You could never disrespect him, or do him the injustice of not believing in him when he’s done nothing but support you all this time.

‘You don’t know that they won't hurt you. And I know you know that,’ you think, watching him walk to the door, turning to smile at you one last time. ‘Other people aren’t like you. They’re not good.’

You wave back at him, trying to muster a smile, but the thought that this could be the last time you see him makes it near impossible. “Gavin?” 

He hovers at the threshold, hand resting on the mahogany door frame. Words unspoken hang in the air between you. They’re crawling up your throat, roaring to be let out, but you swallow them like you’ve done for years.

“When you return, there’s something I have to tell you. So...Don’t take too long. I’ll be waiting.” He hesitates, wanting to ask. He leaves with a small nod.

It’s not goodbye. But the pain you feel, a quiet helpless prickling, cannot be reasoned with.

Gavin had come to your home a boy with a chip on his shoulder, and a determination to prove himself. Before you knew it, he became the one man you knew you wanted to spend your life with. 

But even Anna had never been on board with that.

“You could do it. But it would make all our lives very, very difficult.” 

So you had never told him how you feel. You had gathered up your love and willed it to hide within you, but it always showed, threatening to burst at the seams at the most inconvenient times. It showed how you would seek him out the minute you had some free time. How you insisted on learning together, and snuck him sweet cakes whenever he felt low. In how you watched him do the most mundane things as if he was channelling the wind his ancestors were famous for. 

It became obvious when you reacted to his suitors with clear disdain, and sometimes your sword. It’s not something you have ever been able to contain, not completely. 

It’s been two months. Two numbing months without him, spent pacing restlessly, asking for reports obsessively, waiting for news from the docks. It’s a bitter, hopeful taste on your tongue, a rope wound tight in your chest. 

You have a few regrets. Maybe should’ve told him how you felt. Or begged him not to go. You could’ve met the king in neutral lands. 

You look back down at the report in your hands, something about the fae. But the words seem to keep dancing at the edges of your comprehension, and you feel frustration rise swiftly as it’s prone to do without Gavin here to temper you. It’s unfair to put the responsibility on him, but everything just keeps reminding you that he’s not here.

There’s a series of urgent knocks at the door to your study. 

“Come in,” you call out, placing the document down with no small measure of relief at the prospect of a distraction. Perhaps you should add this to the list of things you hate doing without him: read.

The door flies open to reveal Minor, panting heavily—but smiling widely. Hope blooms anew in your chest and you fight to control it.

“It’s him,” he breathes. “The ship docked nearly an hour ago. Lord Gavin’s back.”

There’s no hiding your anxiety as you watch the gates. 

You had been advised to wait in the throne room, where you accept other visitors, and you had seen fit to ignore that. This isn’t a visitor. 

For a brief second, you wonder if your attire is too casual, before dismissing it; it’s just Gavin. At least you’re in a dress—a plain peasant dress it may be—although Anna doesn’t seem to agree with that sentiment.

A few soldiers had been sent to escort them from the docks, Gavin’s personal horse taken along despite concerns that it could be seen as inappropriate. Why would it be? It’s his horse. 

And when he rides in through the gates, you nearly collapse at the sight of him unharmed. Relief fills you, pushing out every ounce of worry you’ve kept bottled up, and you can finally breathe again. His hair is shorter. He looks a little tired but that’s to be expected with the long journey. When he dismounts, the parting of his heavy cloak gives you a glimpse of his attire. Finely woven clothes—in Sethian colours. Your eyes fall on the foreign insignia stitched at the front of his cloak, that you had overlooked in your all-consuming joy. 

There are four unknown men with him. Soldiers, from the look of them.

You have a feeling, and you don’t know how you feel about it.

Gavin’s eyes fall on you and your heart flutters at the way they light up; he approaches you without hesitation. You can feel the gazes of the people around you, their confusion and unease, disquieted and unsure of what to make of this. 

He bows at the waist, before straightening back up and holding his hand out to you. “Your Majesty.” You notice the approving looks the strangers shoot each other.

You don’t think twice about placing your palm on his. Whatever’s going on, you have him back. “Welcome home.” 

He presses a kiss to the back of your hand, lips curling against your skin. 

Gavin doesn’t seem that different, but you know something has changed. It’s obvious he has something on his mind; he offers a crooked elbow to you and escorts you back in. It shows in how he stands, confident with a secret in his eyes, while you sink down onto your throne. 

“Well?” you demand, and he fights a smile. His entourage bristles slightly, but you hadn’t missed their curious, calculating looks when you had greeted them. 

“There is one thing I should probably begin with.” You wait, breath held against its will in your chest. “My family has accepted me back into their ranks.” 

You wonder if you misheard.

“Elaborate. Please.” 

“My revered father has reinstated me. As a Sethian,” Gavin explains and one of his escorts steps forward. 

“His Royal Highness, Prince Gavin of Sethia, to be precise. Your Majesty,” he added with haste, stepping back with a bow as you resist the urge to start tapping your nail against the gilded plates of your throne. Anna, Leto and Minor stand to one side; the council members look oddly pleased at the announcement, while Minor looks floored.

You had expected and hoped for many outcomes, but for his father to take him back just like that? Batting away the jealousy, frustratingly territorial in nature, you accept this result. Gavin would not look nearly as cheerful if something had gone wrong.

“That’s quite generous of him. It’s good to see the esteemed ruler of Sethia remains as kind as ever.” Very pointedly not rolling your eyes when you see two of the group looking pleased with the praise for their king. You look back at Gavin, silently demanding him to spit it out. He looks pleased as punch and you’re literally at the edge of your seat here.

“Yes, he’s quite benevolent. Unfortunately for me, he already has an heir. My brother has been raised to rule Sethia, despite being younger in age, so that is one position he couldn’t give back to me.” 

“And…” you prompt, leaning forward in your seat.

“And so he sends me with a proposal. An alliance, to keep peace, one contingent on two conditions.” The man to his right steps forward with a little smirk, holding out a document to Gavin but he waves it away. “The first is to join Sethia in the New World alliance.”

You glance at Anna, and only look back once she nods. The look on Leto’s face is, for once, unreadable. 

“And the second?” you ask, clutching the arms of your seat tighter.

“Marriage.”

For a moment, there’s complete silence in the hall, before it’s broken by Minor’s gasp and the sudden chatter that comes from behind the doors to the room. In the midst of the shocked reactions, your eyes remain fixed on Gavin’s smile.

“We’ll call a meeting,” Anna announces over the voices, when it looks like you’re unable to get a word out. “It’s good to see you, Prince Gavin. While we discuss your proposal, please allow Minor to escort your men to their assigned quarters. Would you prefer your old quarters or…?”

His eyes find you and you rise from your seat, descending from the raised platform with a sudden calm blanketing over you.

“Before that. Anna, I was wondering if I could ask Prince Gavin to accompany me? Just to the gardens, there are some concerns I’d like to discuss with him.”

You take his elbow before he can even offer it, pulling him along without another word. 

Your mind is oddly quiet, as if unable to produce a coherent thought, as you walk, your preferred gazebo soon within sight: the one surrounded by all your favourite flowers. Gavin’s quiet throughout as well, but the moment you’re alone and out of sight he slips his arm from your grip to curl his hand around yours, his skin just warm as you remember it, and something relaxes in your chest.

“Just to be clear, when you say marriage…” you trail off, turning to him when you step into the shade. 

“Well, Sethia found themselves with a prince to spare, and what better way to secure an alliance?” Gavin explains, holding onto your hand. “And, yes, that’s me.”

‘This is too good to be true’, you think and feel a bit faint when he sinks to a knee, no sign of nervousness in the smooth lines of his face. “Are you-?”

He takes a deep breath, reaching for your hand, and it’s just like when he was leaving, but this time he’s here to stay. 

“I should wait, shouldn’t I? To be honest, I don’t think I can. I’m sorry about that. But we’ve waited so long. And these two months apart have been ones I never wish to repeat in my lifetime. Even though I’ve known it for a long time, I don’t think us not being together is an option. It’s awful, it’s what I imagine foul magic is like.”

He smiles up at you, a little wobbly and so very soft. Your eyes feel wet and damn it, you had wanted to propose first.

“I love you, ___. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. And I know we’ve both known for a long time, but...there’s no longer anything that can separate us.*” He takes a deep breath, and another. “I came up with a lot of things I wanted to say but I can’t seem to recall what they were. And the ring is in my trunk. I’m sorry for springing this on you.” 

You study him, his quiet frustration at not being able to recall his no doubt carefully chosen words and the way his hand flexes around yours.

You sink to your knees, hands weaving through his hair and tugging him close to finally, without the need to hide, crush your mouth to his, nearly falling into him at the taste of him on your tongue. His arms wrap around you, holding you to him, his cheeks just as wet as yours. 

You kiss and kiss to your heart’s content, because even though the council will insist on discussing it— 

“Yes, I will marry you,” you whisper against his lips. A part of you worries your heart might burst with how desperately it’s pounding. It feels unreal, but you think kissing him will help. “I hated it without you too. I love you so much. And I agree, I suspect dark magic is quite similar in nature.” 

He listens to your rushed words carefully, nodding along. 

“We’ll ask the court mage, once the tower finally gives us one.”

Us. 

You grin at him, primal satisfaction rushing through you at his hazy eyes and swollen mouth. “I can’t believe we’re going to do this.”

He kisses you again, breathless with a giddy sort of joy. “I’m going to be your husband.” 

“I’m going to be your wife.” Your grin mirrors his, ridiculously wide and your knees are starting to hurt, but it feels like, in this one moment, everything is going right and you get to have the one thing you’ve wanted, properly. 

“Glad you let me go?” He sits back, crossing his legs and pulling you onto his lap. After aeons of very carefully just keeping yourself off him, you can’t get over how right this feels, of your bodies pressed close and hands touching freely. 

His smile looks a touch smug.

“...I suppose. This victory is yours.” You can’t feign displeasure over it when you can feel his lips on your hair, your forehead, and you can tilt your head back to let him slot his eager mouth over yours.

His response is a breathy laugh against your flushed skin.

“No, it’s ours.” 

It’s time to plan a wedding.

Welcome to the finish line! Thank you for reading ♡

(MLQC masterlist)

#mlqc #mlqc gavin #mr love queen's choice #mlqc fanfic #mlqc bai qi #love and producer #mr love gavin #I LOVE GAVIN #now i can go back to reading without feeling guilty...for 2 days

[pl-panda]

Damienette aranged marriage: part 3

Whoa... Two parts in one day. Sorry if this one is worse, but yet again I wrote this instead of sleeping. 

Warning: there will be some cursing from Jason, but can you really blame him? Credits: Miraculous Ladybug team for the elements I take from MLB show. DC for their characters, @ozmav for the AU, @maribat-archive for giving me access to so many different stories to have take inspirations from, @thyladyanput for idea for Chat Damian and me for the plot.

Part 1

Previous

Next

Damienette arranged marriage: Part 3

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“And why would you tell her everything?!” Jason screamed, still hidden behind Batman’s towering posture.

“Because she is my wife Todd!” Damian screamed. The silence in the room was thick enough that if the assassin swinged his sword, he would be able to cut it in half. Finally, Bruce was the one to break it.

“Fuck.”

This worked like detonating a bomb. Immediately, Red Hood, Red Robin and Nightwing pushed their way into the room and surrounded the two teens. 

“You were gone for less than forty-eight hours!” Dick

“How did you manage to get married!” Drake

“You are just fifteen demon spawn!” Todd

“And who is she!?” Drake again.

Talia watched this whole ordeal with no small amount of amusement. That is until Bruce suddenly appeared next to her. His frown was downright scary even for her. “Explain. Now!” The growl was low and emotionless, but it was enough to yet again put the room in dead silence.

“Beloved. It is good to see you too.” Talia smiled seductively.

“I am not in the mood. Now talk!”

“Fine.” She dropped all illusion of niceness. “I made peace with old enemy of the League. Or even a shaky alliance. But to seal the treaty, an assurance was required.”

“And that assurance was?” Jason asked confused, earning a facepalm from Dick.

“The Royal Marriage. An heir of the League and future leader of the Order.”

“And that leader would be… her?” Batman asked, not fully convinced.

Marinette was standing there the whole time, greatly uncomfortable with the attention Bat Family was giving her and Damian. She did read a bit on them, but it was always Alya who never shut up about heroes. For the most part, she preferred talk about Ladybug, but lately there was slowly forming a rift. The aspiring reporter was falling into Lila’s lies, posting unreliable videos on Ladyblog. Rossi had it for Ladybug and Alya, together with the rest of Marinette’s class, was falling for her machinations. They still hanged out with Marinette, but there was this distaste forming around her. She was no longer their to-go person with personal problems, being replaced by Lila who was awful at helping others unless it benefited her. But now Marinette had more pressing matter than a pity little liar. She looked at Batman, then at the bat-kids and finally at Damian. They were all looking at her expectantly.

“Oh right! Sorry. I did it again…” She gave them a sheepish smile. “I am Ladybug, hero of Paris and Great Guardian of the Miraculous.” She stated. Most of the heroes (bar Damian who knew a tidy bit about the Order of the Guardians) were confused.

“Paris doesn’t have heroes. There aren’t even any supervillains there.”

“Excuse me?! How does nobody knows what is going on in Paris!” Ladybug shouted. “Ugh! Seriously?!”

Batman narrowed his eyes. “Forgive me, Ladybug, but the Justice League would know if there was a threat in Paris. So who are you really.”

“Then ask Green Lantern. He was the one who laughed at my plea for help.” She scowled, but then her demeanor changed. She calmed down and gave a sheepish smile. “But guess I should thank him. I can only dread what would happen if Superman was akumatized. Or Flash. Or anyone really. I don’t think I could win.”

Batman frowned. He would have a talk with Hal once he dealt with this. If there was really a threat like that, ignoring it was not only stupid, but dangerous. And the girl was at best Damian’s age. She was dealing with this for how long? The way she spoke suggested that she was in charge. A child fighting in a war all alone. 

“For now beloved, it should be enough for you that the two of them are legally married.”

“Like hell!” Jason shouted at her, waving his gun. “They are fifteen. No court would accept this.”

“Actually,” Tim started, “under some laws they can be married. For example ‘The Personal Status Law of Muslims’ in Sudan sets the minimum age at ten.” He spoke like he was reading an encyclopedia.

“But we are somewhere between Nepal and China. I don’t think there are such laws here.” Dick said, but his confidence wavered.”

“Tt. First of why don’t anyone ask me or Marinette about our opinion?” Damian asked irritated.

“Shut up Demon Spawn. Adults are working here”

“If you don’t shut up, Todd, I will make you eat your dirty socks until you choke on the stench.” The young boy threatened. Marinette cringed at this, not really wanting to imaging such situation. 

“The marriage stays.” Talia stated coldly. “Otherwise, I will not be able to stop League from going to war against Order of the Guardians.”

“You are their leader.” Batman pointed out.

“That may be correct, beloved, but I am but a regent. Only after Damian finally assumes the leadership, his word will be law. I do try to reform the league, but there is little I can do in this situation.”

“Bullshit!” Jason cursed. “You are just manipulative bitch.”

“Jason!” Dick hit the back of Red Hood’s helmet, causing him to almost tumble. “Language. There are minors in the room.”

“Don’t worry Mousier.” Marinette noted that the whole debate shifted to English. She learned it years ago when she first got interested in fashion. Some of the greatest fashion critiques wrote only in English and she didn’t want to be left behind. And other foreign critiques and designers were always translated into English. “After today, cursing is the least of my worries.” During the talk, Marinette pulled her yo-yo to check the situation in Paris. The good news were that there was no Akuma attack since her confrontation with Hawkmoth. Bad news: she was gone for over forty hours already.

“What exactly is the deal?” Bruce sighted. He loved his boys, but he could practically feel his hair graying. At least the girls didn’t go around marrying total strangers. “I want the full story Talia. Don’t even try to deceive us.”

“As you wish Beloved.” She smiled and sat back at her chair. Jason was about to hop onto where Marinette sat, but Damian ‘accidentally’ tripped him. Ladybug detransformed and Tikki flew out. 

“What is this flying mouse?!” Dick screeched upon seeing a kwami.

“My name is Tikki. I am kwami, or if you prefer a small god, of creation and luck.” 

“Okay… I’ve totally seen weirder.” Jason shrugged and Tim was too busy trying to plug in his pocket kettle to make himself some coffee.

“Ekhm.” Bruce faux-coughted to get their attention. “Begin Talia.”

“Many centuries ago, magic jewels bestowing extraordinary powers were created. These were... the Miraculous. Throughout history, heroes have used these jewels for the good of the human race. Order of The Guardians was responsible for protecting and distributing the Miraculous for the good of all humanity. Some time in the past, League has learned about the existence of this artifacts, more powerful than even Lazarus Pit. A secret war began between two organizations. There was a constant stalemate until the Order was mysteriously destroyed without a trace. We believed all miraculous to be lost until two years ago heroes and villains using them appeared in Paris. Initially, we ignored them, long since abandoning this war. But then, some month ago a temple of the Guardians suddenly reappeared with the Order in chaos. The League attacked, but they were strong enough to withstand the initial strike and turn it into a siege. In time, we would have succeeded and wiped them once and for all. But instead, the Guardians understood their situation and reached to us with agreement. A truce and alliance, in exchange for sparing them.”

“Yeah right! Only an idiot would take such offer!” Red Hood kept arguing with the Assassin woman.

“Or a strategist. Either way, the League wins. They no longer need to worry about threat, but this way they also get an ally.” Batman remained expressionless, but he kept sending Damian and Marinette side-glares. He wanted to know how they are coping with this. The girl was a bit shaken, but that was to be expected. He would talk more with her later. What surprised him was that Damian seemed to show concern for her. The kind he usually reserved only for his brothers and father. 

“Yes. While our methods differ, the League and the Order have a common goal: prosperity for all humanity. But to ensure that neither side would go against the other, there needed to be a more tangible symbol of this union.”

“Marriage of the heirs. In the past such method was often used to symbolize an alliance. It symbolized equality of both partners and parties they represented.” Tim acted as an universal encyclopedia again, which Jason did exploit to tease him mercilessly while the others focused on the discussion.

“And let me guess” Dick frowned. “If they break the deal, it means war?”

“Yes.” Damian simply nodded. The memory of his mother’s threat hanging over the girl’s live was still fresh. Now that he got to know her better Damian was surprised that someone so brave and strong could at the same time be such emotionally unstable or open. It was almost refreshing. His family was awful with emotions and beyond that women only saw his last name. Many times he dealt with liars who tried to use him to get into the pockets of his father. But with Marinette he was sure that she was genuine with her feelings. He could not find any reason for her not to be at the moment, especially after she revealed her secret to him. 

“So what? We are just supposed to roll with it? What will press think? You will give Alfred a heart attack Damian.” Dick rambled. Youngest Wayne decided to ignore him and turn to his father. 

“While this might be a bit inconvenient, I believe it is the best course of action for now.” Damian spoke with cold and calculative voice.

“And what about you?” Batman turned to the girl, who for the most part lately was busy discussing something with the kwami in French. Bruce was proficient, but he was too focused on Talia and Damian.

“I… I accepted that my duty as Great Guardian comes with certain responsibilities. If this is what it takes to preserve peace, then I guess… I guess I will roll with it.” She smiled at Dick, almost daringly. Damian smiled too. Anyone who teased his brothers like that earned some points in his book. “But I can’t just leave Paris. For now it’s peaceful, but I don’t know how long it will last. And there are my parents… Oh Kwami! What will I tell my parents! Or my friends! Or my class! What if they reject me for this and I will be kicked from home, then I will not become a professional designer and I will never fulfill my dream and I will be forever lonely…” She unintentionally rambled in mixture of English and French while walking in circle and waving her hands. Damian grabbed her by her wrists to stop her before she accidentally knocked someone out and then cupped her hands with his. She was still talking random stuff, which made absolutely zero sense. Damn. She is cute when she is rambling. What!? He shut down the intrusive thoughts and focused on the girl… his wife.

“Calm down. Take deep breaths. You will not be alone.” He hoped it would work, but she barely slowed down. He sighted. Damian looked her deep in her bluebell eyes and she saw the two whirlpools of jade green he had. They were more prominent that Adrien’s. “Listen to my voice. All is going to be fine. We will not leave you.” This time, it did work and she calmed down. 

Rest of the Batfam watched in shock how Damian has acted. It was most unusual for him to initiate physical contact at all, much less act this gentle. They looked at Talia, but she shrugged.

“I didn’t do anything if that’s what you think.” She smirked. “But I don’t think I needed.” Two newly-wed were just standing there, starring in each other’s eyes.

“Robin!” Batman finally got him to break out of this. “We gotta go. We will figure out exactly what to do later.”

“Fine. But we are taking Marinette with us.” Damian stubbornly stated.

“Yes. She should not stay here. And I have more questions for her.”

The flight to Paris was surprisingly fast. They traveled in perfect silence, but she felt rather uncomfortable with how everyone (bar Damian) sent her a suspicious glares. Finally, they landed around 8 PM on the rooftop of local Wayne Enterprises headquarter. She walked out first, happy to finally get back onto her home turf.

“Now there are some questions that needs to be answered.” Batman spoke.

“Uhm… Okay?”

“Stop intimidating her Father.” Damian scowled. 

Bruce reluctantly nodded. “Maybe it would be the best to discuss it in private of my office.” He pressed some buttons on his glove and the bat-plane camouflage. Well, it was probably more of Bat-cargo plane since it could fit six people comfortably and still have much space free. 

They got into the office, where Bruce had a total of five armchairs set around the coffee table. Immediately, Damian and Dick took two of them, leaving the head one for Bruce and one in between the two Waynes for Marinette. Tim didn’t bother trying to fight with Jason over who gets the last place, instead opting to just jump onto computer chair at the desk and activating a holo-screen. He quickly connected to Batcomputer and started to pull various files (mostly on Marinette and her close ones, but she didn’t see it). 

“So tell me. What is our young couple planning to do now?” Dick teased them.

Jason was standing next to the alcohol bar, pouring several glasses of whiskey. Before Bruce could protest, he brought five and placed them on the table. His reaction to disapproving glare from the other adults was to just shrug. “What? They are married. I think underage drinking would be the least of the problems. Oh! That reminds me.” Jason grinned maliciously and pulled his wallet. He tossed something square and silver at Damian. “I don’t want any demon spawns junior running around soon.”

Once Marinette realized what was that and what was he implying she turned redder than Tim’s outfit. Damian scowled. “I have a sword on me Todd, so watch what you are saying. I might not have chosen her to be my bride, but I will not let you embarrass her just for your fun.”

Jason saw an opportunity and he would be damned if he didn’t take it. “Which sword are you talking about?”

Damian hissed like an angry cat and drawn his sword, lunging at his brother. Todd initially wanted to block the attack with his gun, but fine steel cut right through it. Seeing murder in Damian’s face he did the only plausible thing: started to run.

Marinette was inventing new shades of red with her blushing. Bruce gave her an apologetic look. “Please, don’t take his comments to heart. Jason is…” before batman could find a right word there was a sound of something crashing, followed by a painful yelp. In just a moment, Damian returned happy, his sword a bit bloody.

“Please tell me you didn’t kill him…” Dick begged. Marinette was not sure whether this was a joke or not, but the longer she stayed with the batfam, the less sane they appeared.

“Nah. But he didn’t look where he was running and toppled the stack of boxes and I ended up stabbing him in his left calf. He will live.” Damian assured them. And true to his words, a limping Jason appeared in the doors. He grabbed a fresh bottle of whiskey on his way to the armchair and slumped resigned. “Demon spawn!”

“Idiot!”

“Enough!” Bruce wanted to pull his hair out. “We came here to discuss a certain situation not stab each other. Marinette?”

“Yes monsieur Wayne?” She asked, still stunned with what happened. She had to admit Damian acter chiviliarus protecting her honor, even if his way was pretty violent. 

“I was trying to ask you, what do you plan on doing now?”

“I… I don’t know. This all happened so fast…”

“It’s okay. I don’t think anyone would have a plan for such situation.” Dick reassured her

“Bruce does. It’s inside the safe in the batcave in folder labeled ‘Talia never gives up’.” Tim chimed in before returning to his research. 

“Well, no one sane has such plans.” Dick tried to cheer her up. It did work even if just a bit. “But ask yourself what do you want.”

“Well… I would wish to finish my education and I always dreamed about becoming a professional fashion designer.” 

“And how is this plan working so far?” Bruce inquired.

“Well, I do run a small internet boutique, where I take commissions and uncle Jagged refuses to wear anything that wasn’t personally designed by me.” She said casually.

“Wait a moment… Uncle Jagged as in Jagged Stone, the world-class rock musician?!” Tim suddenly shouted.

“Uh… yes?” She got confused

“But his only designer is the mysterious MDC! That would mean you are MDC!”

“Uh… yes?” Marinette had no idea why Tim acted like that.

“Oh god! Oh god! I got to meet MDC! Can I get your authograph?” He was suddenly next to her, holding a copy of the her first album cover she made for Jagged.

“Sure.” She signed it and handed it back. It read: ‘Good luck TD, MDC’.

Tim Fainted.

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Taglist (sorry if I missed you)

@pheonixashtree @sassakitty @unabashedbookworm @vixen-uchiha @maggiecc12 @actualdisasterwoman @tired-butterfly @shizukiryuu @floralfi @imanerddealwith @northernbluetongue @krispydefendorpolice @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @bluesoulblueheart @theatreandcomicfreak @disneyfoxuniverse @mindfulmagics @alwaysnumberonetruth @nyaabinch @jardimazul @lenamau @rosep16 @dramatic-squirrel @sonif50 @daminett4life @lulutheawkwardess @weird-pale-blonde-person @mooshoon @jeminiikrystal @mochegato @moonlightstar64 

#fanfic #fanfiction #crossover #marinette x damian #order of the guardians #guardian!marinette #maridami #maribat #damienette #maribat au #league of assassins #arranged marriage au #batman

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness Chapter 81

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

"Where were you?" Ruby asked me.

"In town. Down in Mantle. There's this bar I went to a lot when I was a criminal. It's run by this union group," I answered. I shifted slightly in the corner of Team RWBY's room. I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms.

"We don't like it when you just disappear. Anything could have happened," Ruby went on.

"And I heard you were involved with some plot in tandem with the strikes. That was where our people picked you up. In the middle of a crime scene. You're not giving us the full story," Weiss followed her up.

"I worked with the leader of this terrorist group, Dyne, while I was a criminal. His wife died and he went mad from grief. He had this little girl, Marigold. He was talking about killing her. So I showed up and did my job as a huntsman."

"You were working with those terrorists though. Weren't you. When you were a criminal," Yang perceived.

"I was working with a different group of terrorists. But effectively yes. It was my responsibility to clean things up. And they had information I needed. Or could have had information I needed. About my sisters or Cinder. I had to follow up."

"Why didn't you tell us? We would have gone with you!" Ruby exclaimed.

"I know you would've. This wasn't about that. It was about cleaning up my own mess. Ironwood's orders to take the day off be damned."

"He is technically your superior officer," Blake said.

"Maybe. But he needed this kind of thing cleaned up, too."

"But people died," Ruby mumbled.

"People always die," I shot back. "What matters now is that it's over and done with."

"This kind of terrorism is never over and done with," Blake fired at me.

I had to concede the point to her. She would know better than me.

"What should I do next time? Get you four involved in something I can take care of?"

"We're not little girls," Weiss said with some venom. "We deserve to be in the loop."

"I never said you were. I handled it. And when I find my sisters or Cinder I'll let you know just like I let you know back at the hotel that I found out she was in town. But you don't need to be involved in every little errand I run."

"People died and that's an errand to you?" Blake asked.

"Yeah. That's about right. I didn't kill them. I even went out of my way to try and spare them, too. People are just fragile."

"I don't like this. No more secret errands," Weiss told me.

"Fine," I agreed. "I promise to let you know first next time."

"I want you to not do it," Weiss returned. Some heat in her voice. If I wasn't careful this would turn into our first lover's spat. It might be already too late for that.

"I needed to do it. It had to be done. I needed some information that the guy I was with had."

"And what information was that?" Weiss demanded.

"When I sunk your father's ship one of my charges went off prematurely. I needed to know why and who my saboteur was."

"You sunk that ship?" Weiss asked. "Any other terrorist acts you're not telling us?"

"I also caused that mine collapse."

"You're responsible for all the strikes down in Mantle!" Weiss exclaimed. "I can't believe this. And let me guess, you forgot to tell us."

"It hasn't come up! And yeah. I probably am responsible. I was buying future information from Avalanche and Aurum. My criminal contacts in this city. I was building my network. I did far worse than sink a ship and cause a dust mine collapse. I killed people and burned down a building, too. But you already knew that."

"Why'd you burn down that building, Cloud?" Ruby asked.

"It was full of drugs. Aurum's competitors. It was a favor."

"Cloud!" Weiss shouted.

"I'm not a perfect person! I'm not even a good one! You already knew that!"

"What else have you been up to in this city?!" Weiss demanded.

"I think that's about it."

"You think so?"

"Damn, Weiss, I can't remember everything at once and my mind plays tricks on me. I don't remember. Some prisoner break out, too, for that guy, Aurum. But you knew about that too. I didn't even kill anyone with that."

"And you think that makes it better?!" Weiss asked.

"It doesn't make it any worse!"

Her nostrils flared up at me. "I'm tired of you not telling me things. Of you trying to hide things. Like when you wanted to not tell Ruby about your seizures. You don't get to decide what's best for us."

"I didn't even know today would be a problem. They just said they had something they couldn't discuss over the phone. I'm literally telling you all everything. As it comes up. You want my life story? Well, me too."

She glared at me for a moment more. "Fine. But no more tip toeing around the line. You come clean with us. Before. Not after." The 'or else' was implied. I got the memo.

"Did you find out who sabotaged you?" Blake asked.

"The Happy Huntresses. You heard of them? Robyn Hill wanted to shut me down. Adam Taurus was there. When my bomb went off early he thought I was cutting the mission off at the knees and he attacked me. That was when he nearly killed me. Any more questions?"

"What information were you looking for?" Weiss asked.

"Just more dirt on Cinder, Merlot, and my sisters. I've been trying to learn all I can but so far 'nothing much' has pretty much been the word."

"But you know that Cinder is in town. From who?" Weiss questioned me further.

"Aurum. He's a drug lord. He runs The Den where you ambushed me that night. Anybody else?"

They were silent.

"What are we going to do for the rest of the night?" Ruby asked.

"Grill me," I deadpanned.

"You brought this on yourself," Weiss shot back. "If you would have at least told us where you were going that would have been something."

"You would have wanted to come."

"Which ought to tell you something."

"Guys…" Ruby bemoaned. We both shut up.

I sighed after a moment of silence. "Look Weiss. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about it. I'll do more next time."

She rubbed her thighs where she sat with her palms and wouldn't meet my eye. "You had better." I figured that was as close to an 'it's okay' as I was going to get. I took it as such. We weren't ruined over this. It was just a fight. We'd be back to where we were later.

"So seriously what are we going to do for the rest of the night?" Ruby asked again.

"I was going to go get my bike out of impound."

"You bought a bike?" Yang asked.

"Just some wheels to get Neo and I around. Any of you are welcome to come with. It'll probably be boring as hell."

"I'll go with. Can I drive it?" Ruby wondered.

"I don't see why not. I also don't see why." I gave her a teasing grin. She 'pffted' her hair out of her face up at me but she gave me a small smile.

Weiss sighed. "Does it have room for three?"

"Probably if we don't mind getting touchy-feely with one another," I answered.

"We're going dancing again. You mentioned The Den. Is it any good?"

"I never clubbed there. Well not really. About the only thing special about it is all the hard drugs."

"You didn't…" Weiss trailed, slightly threateningly.

"I tried some. I figured it couldn't make things worse." Open honesty being the policy…

"So that's how you know what hyper is like," Weiss sighed. She leaned a hand on her forehead like she had a headache.  

"Is it any good? I always wondered, too. Ow. Don't hit, Blake," Yang muttered.

"I could honestly take it or leave it."

"Leave it," Weiss growled like she was talking to a dog. Which, I mean, fair enough.

"You could give it a try. Tell them Cloud sent you. Get you a bit of a discount," I went on like I hadn't heard her. "It's a bit intense. Bit of a rush. But you can get the same thing with, like, good sex."

"Interesting…" Yang said. "Blake. I said no hitting. You're abusive."

"You'll find out just how abusive I can be," Blake shot back. "No drug use."

"Cloud is there any good weed in this town?" Yang wondered. "I tried some back home. I could use it to open this girl up. Loosen up, Blake."

"Some. Same place. Same people. Got your hook up. I could really use a hit right now, too."

"Tough shit for you, Jau-Cloud. Learn to live without," Weiss grumbled, slipping up on my new name.

"I'm trying but it's not easy."

"Did it really help that much?" Ruby asked.

"Ruby!" Weiss hissed.

"What? If it helped him then… then I want it for him."

"It's a hard maybe, Rubes. Let's keep trying what the doctors have me on for now. But I'm not sure I can take a few more months of this."

"Is it that bad?" Ruby wondered.

"It's not great," I returned with a sigh.

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I got my bike out of impound and was riding it down an empty highway. Our seating order went me, Weiss, then Ruby in the back. They clung to each other then to me super close. It was actually kinda nice. Especially Weiss clinging to my torso after our fight.

It let me at least pretend I was in part forgiven. Even more so when I'd take a turn and feel her arms tighten around my chest. Her fingers trailing across my abdomen and her palms drifting across me.

I checked my rear view mirror. Two other bikes were coming up on me. I slowed down to let them pass, I wasn't in any rush. Then they caught up to me and started to match my speed.

I truly wasn't that suspicious until one of them pulled a sword with two blades. The other whipped out a gauntlet with sharp points on the end. One of the riders, a girl, hovered close to me on her bike. A helmet obscuring her features. Blonde hair breezing through the air behind her.

"Cloud!" Ruby called, her voice barely making it above the wind. "It's them! From Argus!"

I flinched. I drew my sword around Weiss's body and drove with one hand.

I turned my bike sideways and abruptly slowed down in an attempt to lose them. Another girl on a bike rode up on me right then from behind, boxing me in. She yanked up on her bike and front-flipped right over us, bike and all. She pulled her pistol from her waist and pointed it right at my head as she did. Then she fired and the punch from her gun rocked my head back.

I'd gotten a good look at her through her helmet as she did her trick though.

"Saphron?!" I asked. I shouted over the breeze. "You're real?" The one with the gauntlet pulled up on me. I recognized her immediately. "Lavender? You too?"

"Poor big brother. Can't tell reality from fiction." Lavender let out a laugh. Her narrower jaw made her stand out from my memory of my sisters. My head suddenly pounded and I touched it with my sword hand. My sisters…

"Come with us, big brother," another voice said. I recognized it right away. Violet pulled up on my other side with her double blade. Her darker eyes and shapely nose pointed her out. Our swords clashed for a moment. I could feel Ruby and Weiss readying their weapons on the bike behind me as I drove.

Violet tried to catch my weapon with a twist of hers and disarm me. I held fast to my enormous weapon regardless. I slashed at her and she blocked while I drove.

"Come see Mother with us. She'd be happy to see you," Violet giggled. Like it was some private joke. I didn't laugh. I didn't get it.

Lavender punched at me with her gauntlet and I drove the bike to the side on the empty highway and I sliced at her too.

Saphron was pulling up in front of me. She turned around in the seat on her bike and shot me with her pistol again. It was a decent calibre round because it stung.

My head pounded. It hurt like it had when I'd last talked to, "...Mother?" I wondered aloud.

"Come with us, Jaune," Lavender beckoned. "We'll take you to see her." Her voice pierced over the wind as we drove down the empty highway.

"Cloud!" Ruby called. "Stay focused!"

"Cloud?!" Violet laughed. My sword met hers again. The long blade served to keep her double one away. "Is that what they think your name is?"

"I'm…" I flinched like I'd touched a hot stove but with my brain. "I'm Cloud now."

Saphron shot at me twice again. One hit me in the chest, the other pinged off of my bike.  

"Is that what you're calling yourself?" Saphron asked. A note of laughter on her voice. "You'll always be our Jaune."

Ruby stood up on the back of my bike and took a shot at Saphron. It struck asphalt and tore it up. I drove over where she had just shot and the bike went badump .

She fired another shot and hit Saphron in the back. Saphron twisted on her bike so she was driving backwards and took three more shots at us. I heard Ruby cry out in pain. She'd just made herself a bigger target when she stood up.

Lavender came up on me again. She seemed to hesitate. I knew that stance. It was like she was charging something. She was storing a little time away. She punched down at my bike and I swerved to avoid her gauntlet. She swerved down and struck the asphalt and tore a huge chunk of it out in a flash of purple light. Then she threw it at us.

Weiss caught it with her pseudo-telekinesis. A dull black glyph came to life. Then she tossed it over us and at Violet who had to swerve to avoid it.

"Big brother!" Saphron sung out. "Don't you want a family reunion? Everyone can be there. Especially if it's for you."

"Come be with us! Ditch these girls. You don't need them." Lavender called. I clashed with her gauntlet again. Myrtenaster poked out from beside me and met the double blade of Violet.

Saphron shot back at me twice again. She hit me both times with preternatural accuracy.

"Come be with us," Violet purred. Ruby opened fire from her stance on the back of the bike and hit Saphron again. Saphron spun back around to drive straight once more.

My head hurt so bad. It was like talking to Mother again. It pounded with memories. With memory .

"Cloud? Are you alright?" Weiss asked.

"I'm fine," I bit out.

My head whipped back again as Saphron shot me in the skull one more time. Then my blade met Violet's beside me. I shoved her back.

Lavender was driving focused and unmoving. Like she was storing more time away for another devastating attack. Ruby took three shots at her to disrupt her concentration. The first hit her. And the next two hit her bike and caused her to swerve slightly.

Ruby shifted her weapon into its full mode out of just the gun state and took a swipe at Violet while I had her blade engaged.

Saphron shot me three more times. They came at me high impact and hit like .50 caliber bullets. I was pretty sure they were. She tossed an empty clip behind her and reloaded. She then whipped around and threw a knife at me. It buried in my aura up to the hilt and the tip nicked my face, leaving a cut behind before it bounced down into the street.

I flinched to the side. I swerved slightly to the right but that just led me closer to Lavender. I tried to block her purple flaring punch with the wide side of Crocea Mors but the force of it was enough to lift up my whole bike, three passengers and all. It nearly slammed us into Violet. Who in turn took a long slash at the bike that would have crippled us if Weiss hadn't caught us with a glyph and blocked her cut with Myrtenaster.

Saphron shot me in the head again and there was a whoosh of air as I got Limit.

I had had enough. I stabbed Crocea Mors into the asphalt and picked us up off the ground. I swung the bike around without losing momentum and reversed us completely so that we were driving the wrong way. Then I crossed over to the other side of the interstate over one of those entry ways for police. I left my sisters behind, they were driving straight where I'd completely turned around.

"Cloud?" I put my sword away and raised a hand to my head.

“Jaune…”

"...Mother?" I murmured.

"Cloud, snap out of it!" Weiss ordered.

I shook my head. I was trying but my head hurt. And not just from being shot there a couple times.

Behind my eyes pulsed and I shuddered. Weiss wrapped her arms around me tightly.

"It's okay, Cloud. We're here."

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I stumbled off my bike at the garage in Atlas Academy. I fell to my knees. The grimy pavement in the garage mattered little. I felt grimy in my head and in my very soul.

“Come to me…my son… my precious son…”

"Cloud, you recognized them, didn't you." It was Ruby's voice.

"Saphron, Violet, and Lavender," I muttered. "They're real. My sisters are real." I sort of knew that they had been, I could feel it. Like I could feel Mother. But seeing it was a whole next level.

"Cloud? Are you alright?"

"My head hurts. And I hear Mother's voice," I bemoaned. I rubbed my face with the whole of a hand. I got a phantom pain across my entire tongue from when I'd bitten through it.

“Reunion… a family reunion… Just for you.”

"Mother?" I called out.

"He's delirious," it was Weiss's voice. I felt her arms wrap under mine. "Gods he's heavy. Help me, Ruby."

“Everyone will be there…”

"Everyone will be there. At the reunion," I murmured. "All my sisters. And Mother."

"What are your other sisters' names?" Ruby asked.

“Iris, Kolumbine, Juniper, Lily…”

"Iris, Kolumbine, Juniper, and Lily," I repeated Mother's voice outloud for Ruby.

"Someone has a flower fetish," Weiss grumbled.

"Step-father must have thought he was being funny. They're… they're all like different models. Different makes. Like cars."

"What's his name?" Ruby wondered. Trying to keep me focused.

"I don't… I don't know." I picked myself up and out of their arms. I took two steps and almost fell again. I pitched and swayed on my feet. I rubbed my face. My head ached.

"How many times were you shot?" Weiss asked. "You've got a nasty cut."

"A couple. She really kept bouncing them off my skull." She had rung my bell with those bullets. Then with that knife.

"Are you going to be alright?" Ruby asked.

"If I…"

“Go to the reunion…”  

"...no…" I murmured. I cut that thought off.

"No?" Ruby asked, concerned.

"Yes?" I realized I was having a conversation with myself. "As alright as I ever am."

"That doesn't sound promising," Weiss murmured.

"They knew your old name," Ruby followed her up, speaking softly.

"Mother must have told them."

"Salem," Weiss softly corrected.

"No… yes…" I breathed. "Salem. My sisters are real. I… I don't know if I can face them. I don't think I'm strong enough. There's seven of them. And I'm just the bad batch."

"Don't think like that," Ruby whispered. "You're not alone, either."

"Let's get him inside. Put him to bed."

"No. Please. Anything but that. She gets me when I sleep," I pleaded. "I'm not strong enough. Not for this. I don't know if I can resist the urge to go to the reunion."

"What's the reunion, Cloud?" Ruby asked.

"My summoning. She calls out to me from so far away." I realized I made no sense to anyone but myself. "Don't you see? She calls to me." Distantly I realized I sounded a lot like Dyne.

"He's going mad." Weiss murmured.

"What do we do?" Ruby whispered back sounding desperate.

"What can we do?" Weiss wondered back.

"How can I save my sisters when I can't even save myself?" I laughed. "Salem has them. She has them. She'll get me too."

"Cloud, listen to us. Can you hear us?" It was Ruby's voice. I heard it so I nodded. "That is not going to happen to you," she went on. "We'll keep you from losing yourself."

"Cloud if you ever feel like you're going to lose yourself we'll be there for you. And we'll help you save your sisters, too. You need to sleep though. We'll be right there for you when you wake up," Weiss reassured.

"How can you know that?"

"Which part?" Weiss asked.

"Any of it," I shot back.

Ruby came up to me and took both my hands in hers. "Because I believe it. We're going to save you."

I choked back a sob. But I nodded. "Don't let me go to the reunion," I begged.

"We won't," Weiss promised.

"Whatever I say and do… And don't let me kill myself."

"Well we especially won't do that," Weiss went on, she smiled slightly. She reached up and touched my face. I almost couldn't look down into her ice blue eyes.

"My head just hurts," I complained as they started to walk me to my room. "It hurts like I'd talked to her again."

"Does it always cause you pain?"

"It did last time. And she made me bite my tongue off. Almost completely."

"You didn't tell us that," Ruby murmured.

"I thought I was going to die from the pain," I confessed. "My head is full of these… these memories. I don't know if they're real. What does it mean for a memory to be real anyways? How can you tell? I have so many memories of living and playing with my sisters. They can't be real though."

I remembered when my sisters braided my hair in Shion. I remembered walking in the rain alone with Kolumbine when we were both just little kids. Just flashes of spending time with the short haired Iris before school one morning. I even knew that I'd fought this boy who pulled on Lily's pigtails. It came to fists over it. Little Lily… my little Lily. I could recall Saphron and I eating my Mother's cookies in the kitchen once. My little sister, a little shortstack. Absolutely adorable with big blue eyes and shoulder length golden hair.

I was going to be sick to my stomach.

And my Mother, she'd been a beautiful blonde woman in a flowing white dress with pale wispy blue eyes like crystal.

But I couldn't recall my father's face or anything about him. That's how I knew it was fake. It was glaring and obvious but only once I knew where to look.

And my Mother… she was always wearing that same dress. White and drifting in every little breeze with golden trimmings to match her pale straw colored locks. That same dress… Burned into my mind. Roaring across my skull. It had been planted there by her. By my Mother. It was all fake. It had to be. I didn't have a childhood.

She was always wearing that same white and golden dress. Always.

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-WG

#rwby #ff7 #ffvii #motion sickness #ruby rose x jaune arc x weiss schnee #cloud strife #cloud!jaune arc #sephiroth!jaune arc #war of the roses #lancaster #white rose #whiterose #whiteknight #white knight #saphron arc

[crstapor]

Terror White

“You’re either with us or against us.” - George W. Bush


1.

On January 6th, 2021, domestic terrorists invaded the Capital Building in an act of political insurrection. Their intent was to overthrow the will of the people by preventing certification of a free and fair democratic election. They did so at the behest of their political leader (who was impeached a second time for inciting this gross transgression of his oath of office), other voices in their party - the so-called GOP - and talking head agitators inhabiting the far-right media echo chamber. Nearly to a man, a woman, a they, each of these terrorists were white.

Images of ‘good old boys’ traipsing down the halls of the people’s house waving confederate battle flags, kicking feet up on the Speaker’s desk, walking off with public property or smearing their shit on the floors pervaded the internet. These images provided by the villains themselves, posted shamelessly to social media profiles.

As a result of this treasonous, insulting, juvenile, despicable, and ultimately futile effort five people died. Even still, hours after the fact, a majority of members of the so-called GOP voted in accordance with the will of these terrorists. They voted to overturn the results of a free and fair election in the world’s oldest modern democracy. They did so because they believed there were serious ‘concerns’ (‘concerns’, let’s be clear, that started with them and like the Ouroboros, ended up with the confusing, if unhygienic, phenomenon of not knowing where their mouths or assholes ended or began) with the 2020 presidential election. After over 60 court cases arguing that point only one was ruled in their favor. None of the 50 States comprising our union found any evidence of wide-spread fraud. Indeed, a federal agency tasked with monitoring election security stated unequivocally that the presidential election of 2020 was one of the most secure in a generation.

And yet? There they were. Spouting conspiracy theories, assaulting police officers (those stalwart stewards of the ‘law & order’ they otherwise claim to love), brandishing spears and bearskins, stealing mail, leaving death threats to the Vice President, fundamentally acting the fool. A bunch of bullies let out of detention with rage and rebellion on their minds.

Let me be clear: each and every one of these terrorists should be hunted down by law enforcement and charged to the fullest extent of the law. They should then be prosecuted and the judges in each and every case should show or allow no mercy. These barbarians must never be allowed to storm the gates again.

Fine.

But that’s not the really interesting question here. The far-right has been producing assholes forever (one of the few things the ‘right’ is truly consistent at). What’s actually interesting is how these insurrectionists arrived at the conclusions they did. Which is to say; how did their ‘thinking’ bring them to this point.

2.

While it might be tempting for some on the left to see that last sentence as a joke, let’s remember we’re sitting at the adult table. These terrorists, being human, sharing our genetic code, are people - real, live, eating, shitting, fucking, anxious, sleeping, scared, afraid, terrified people - just like you and me. As much as it would be easier if we could see them as Uruk-hai instead of our brothers and sisters, sadly? That’s what they are. Family. Part of the Human Condition.

Though humans that are clearly very, very, very sick. My diagnosis? Mind Cancer. Let me explain, under the assumption my readers understand the difference between mind and brain. As such, I am not asserting that the terrorists are physically sick. From their pics and videos it’s clear many are - obesity, hypertension, anal retention - though that isn’t the point. It’s their mental programming, their minds, that have been infected. Infected with what?

Put simply? A disjointed ontological phenomenology obscured, obfuscated, and accelerated by persistently chaotic epistemological aberrations. Said plainly? Their ability to process reality has been impaired.

Why? Racial resentment, poor economic opportunities, an aversion to books and learning? Yes. All that. Plus? The internet, which has created a new Dark Ages.

Paradoxically, one built on light.

3.

Look. Self-interested demagogues intent on self-aggrandizement are nothing new. Nor are their ability to rally or rile a downtrodden populace. Sadly, demonizing the ‘other’ is also pretty par for the course in these scenarios. An old story, all told. What’s new this time is how it happens.

In a single second - count it out! One Mississippi - a beam, or photon of light moves 186,000 miles. Roughly seven times the circumference of the Earth. The new speed of hate. The internet, that modern marvel ushering in Humanity’s first truly post-scarcity resource, is built on light. Philosophers have for millennia wed knowledge with light. And now we all (well, those of us in the post-industrial world) carry a terminal connected to this internet in our pockets. A stunning marvel of human ingenuity. One would imagine that access to such a wellspring of knowledge and information would have a truly edifying affect on the Human Condition. Perhaps, in aggregate, or retrospect, it will. At the moment?

Yeah ...

At the moment it seems that the more access to information humans have the more they double down on tribal identities, wish fulfillment, instant gratification (read: porn), perceived slights, fantasy lands, Rick Astley videos, or the jibbering incoherent rantings of simple capitalists fomenting the fragile emotional states of low information individuals who feel they have no place in this world. This is a fundamentally devastating epistemological conundrum. Why? For centuries the barrier to the future was the amount of information, knowledge, you could access or process. Yet here and now? Here and now there might be too much access. Too much information. More so, the striking fact that our ability, as a species, writ large, to process or parse this information has not kept pace with the information at hand. A sad equation that inevitably leads to moments like 01/06/21.

4.

The Trump Terrorists of January 6th, 2021, weaponized the internet to facilitate their attempted coup. As did their ‘dear leader’ throughout his humiliating single term in office. In fact, it was the geometrical acceleration of connectivity and interconnectedness enabled via the web and its insanely capitalist platforms that allowed for their ‘movement’ to incubate and evolve. While it is true that neo-liberal policies advocating globalist economics and monetary policy are at the current root cause of most ills genuinely affecting rural, or poor, or uneducated MAGA-heads, it’s also true that apart from an Independent from Vermont no one in the political economy of the last couple decades gave much of a shit about these poor and dispossessed inheritors of old racial mythemes and toxic narratives of self-reliance. No one that is, other than their ‘dear leader’. Never mind he didn’t intend to ease their suffering in any material, or structural way. He talked about it. He tweeted about it. And then he gave them a little song and dance at the rallies. Breathtaking stuff.

However, it wasn’t just the performative act of playing ‘authoritarian’ that got them hot and bothered. No, it was at the same time the eternal need to belong to a group, the legitimate feeling of economic obsolescence, coupled with these new tools of information transmission. Tools that at once gave them powers unheralded and seemingly ensconced them in a protective shell, a perpetually larval manifestation of all their baser inclinations. A reactionary ‘safe space’ from which they could launch a thousand ships of intolerance and hate. What good is truth if you can’t weaponize it? What good are facts if you share them with everyone else?

And so we find ourselves revising Plato. There isn’t just one cave in which we are chained, kept from reality. There are multiple tunnels, alcoves, deeper caverns in which we might dwell. Furthermore, if lucky, there are different days, vistas, egresses in which we can escape from the confines of ignorance. Much like the lucky Mormons, it would seem the far-right believes there are plenty of planets in which ‘Truth’ can dwell. Never mind that multiplying ‘Truth’ in such a way doesn’t actually produce more truth.

In fact, it reduces ‘Truth’. Impoverishes it. Hollows it out.

Which is sad, really. For the major harm caused by these rebels isn’t to our democratic institutions, nor our mythological vision of our nature, nor that ever-loving economy - but to the very fabric that binds the social contract on which all the preceding rely.

That fabric being, specifically, a shared objective reality.

5.

How can we survive if we can’t agree on basic facts? Can a multi-racial, multi-cultural, representative democracy exist when a large percentage of the comprising citizens don’t believe in, or even acknowledge, that that’s actually what’s happening? Is White Supremacy so fundamentally a part of our nation’s DNA that the country can’t exist without it? If so, for those of us who vehemently oppose White Supremacy, the question might then be: is the country worth saving?

Most versions of Western Ethics indicate that violence is not the cure. Nor do I advocate such a position. At the same time I’m deeply troubled, because due their illness these actors are neither rational or coherent. Ergo, we can’t reason with them either. So what next?

To corral the revolutionary, if inchoate, spirit of these sick, fringe minds diseased as they are by hate, grievance, and digital oubliettes would any policy proposals be acceptable? Perhaps as fantastic an idea as the images from 01/06/21, what if the Federal Government decided to halt its obsequious sycophantry to corporate America and ‘elites’ and instead actually, seriously, emphatically reinvested in the heartland, in Main Street, in the working class? Wouldn’t it be ironic if a little more socialism was truly the cure these hatemongers require?

6.

Maybe we should step back and listen to the wisdom of George W. Bush.

Confronting what was at the time the most disheartening terror attack on the homeland, Bush made clear not all who could otherwise be lumped in with the terrorists were terrorists. In the same way that, yes, not all Trump voters are Trump Terrorists.

Even so. Bush made it clear you needed to pick a side.

With us - toward a diverse future in which the promise of the Founders is emboldened and expanded for all who live between our shores. Or against us - back to your stunted hovels and holes with all the other low information troglodytes you like to cosplay revolution with.  

Choose.

It’s your call. But choose quickly, because history is watching, and only one path moves toward the future.

C. R. Stapor Longmont, CO 01/16/21

#January 6th #terrorism #domestic terrorism #the internet #social media #revolution #insurrection #01/06/21 #low information #mind cancer #George W Bush #Trump #GOP #epistemology #white #essay #philosophers on tumblr

[anarcho-smarmyism]

I love your post but I also love how people can only name 3 or major bad things that still happen if Hillary won instead of the 20-25 major bad things that happened with trump. I don't even fuck with the Democrats but the "anarchists" saying they're the same is so sick

ok so first off, just because i was trying to make a larger and more nuanced point than “hillary clinton bad, voting bad” and didn’t spend a lot of time talking about Hillary Clinton or Joe Biden’s failures as politicians, doesn’t mean there’s “only 3 or 4″ major bad things that will still happen under the leadership of any presidential candidate that the DNC allows to run. in actuality, most of the issues i take with our government -both in terms of domestic and foreign issues- will be entirely untouched and ignored by Democrats for as long as they possibly can, especially if all most of their voterbase does is automatically vote Blue every four years regardless of who is elected, or what Democratic elected officials do when they do take office.

choosing to focus on one example to make a point, not because there’s only one that i can think of: no Democrat is going to abolish police and replace it with, or even support the kind of historical reform that most liberals who support Black Lives Matter and “defund the police” are asking for, for example; at least, not on their own. it was only direct action -specifically violent direct action, including fighting back against the police and burning down precincts- that got immediate concessions for demands to hold police responsible for the murder of George Floyd, and the other black men, women, and children whose extralegal murders at the hand of American police are regularly ignored completely. Democrats only pay lip service to Black America and anyone else who seriously challenges the police in America, because the police protect the same institutions by which Democratic party members gain their money and power. 

the same principle applies to military spending, the entire U.S.’s reactionary position to anti-fascist action, to strikes and unions negotiating for the same labor rights that are common in similarly developed nations, to calls for a more progressive tax, calls for truly socialized medicine, calls for a universal basic income, calls for abolishing ICE, calls for prison abolition or police abolition, calls for socialized college, calls for reparations to Black Americans or to First Nations people, calls to radically change our economy and society in order to preserve the Earth’s ability to sustain human life beyond the next generation...you see where I’m getting at here. electoral politics can be used to push our government and the Overton window toward these goals, but the most potent power in the people’s hands is not the ballot alone. politicans, including liberal ones, will only move leftward when the risk to their career for staying “moderate” and toeing the party line, is greater than the risk to their career for supporting policies that even other Democrats decry as being “too radical” or “socialist”.

which brings me to my other point: when you buy into this “vote blue no matter who” bullshit, what you are essentially doing is giving up all your negotiating power as a voter. Why should any political power change to accommodate its voterbase, when said voterbase is going to fall in line regardless of if they listen or not? What is Joe Biden’s incentive to listen to the people instead of other wealthy and powerful Democrats, if the people have already promised him the only thing he needs from us -our vote- for doing fuckall besides “not being Trump”? 

Edit: Also, this complaint of mine is equally on leftists as liberals, but why are “electoral politics” and “direct action” so often referred to by the entire Left as though they’re mutually exclusive? In the words of Sun Tzu, “The skillful tactician may be likened to the shuai-jan. Now the shuai-jan is a snake that is found in the Ch'ang mountains. Strike at its head, and you will be attacked by its tail; strike at its tail, and you will be attacked by its head; strike at its middle, and you will be attacked by head and tail both.” Call me a crazy anarchist antifa terrorist or a hypocritical yuppie liberal as you please, but I think our political strategies need to be at least as sophisticated and multi-faceted as the shuai-jan.

TL;DR: political power doesn’t begin and end with voting for the President. it doesn’t begin and end with voting for any publicly elected official, or even with letter writing and phone call campaigns, picketing their offices or homes, canvassing neighborhoods for votes, showing up to city council meetings, or any other participation in the electoral process (although these are still worthwhile and sometimes effective strategies for some issues!). our society needs radical changes if we are to defeat 21st century American fascism and preserve our status as a representative democracy in any form, much less to solve the underlying issues that led to today’s pressing issues (police brutality, institutionalized racism, mass incarceration, terrible healthcare system, unsustainable energy and food production, oh and of course THE RISE OF AMERICAN FASCISM), and not even Bernie Sanders or AOC becoming President somehow would result in the needed radical change. we don’t have to wait for politicians to generously give us the small concessions we need to continue to believe we have some say in what is happening to our nation. we can enact radical change in our own communities without their permission, and until we do, Democrats will continue to ignore us.

#direct action #joe biden #socialist #anarchist #asks #anonymous

[sorathemasterofmasters]

If you could say one thing to your friends after all these years, what would it be?

How bold of you to assume he was only going to say one thing.

The following related excerpt is from the Master Reports Fic which I think I’ll just post bits and pieces that apply to Kingstagram posts.

“So he was recently in Daybreak Town Clocktower, we know that at least, where else could he go?” Asked Riku aloud as the group ascended the stairs of Yen Sid’s Tower. “The guy is thousands of years old he could be anywhere, he's probably on the other end of the galaxy sipping mojitos on a tropical island and laughing at us” Lea snarked as he opened the door to Yen Sid’s office. "Or I could be right where fate dictates I should be." The voice came suddenly out of nowhere, lounged carelessly on Yen Sid’s own seat idly flipping through an old book with his black booted feet propped nonchalantly on the desk. The Master of Masters familiar spiky brown hair peeking out of the hood, grinned shamelessly one eye closed over an empty socket the right eye blue slit and gazing over the group in amusement. Lea lunged forward before he could think keyblade drawn, yet the Master of Masters merely rolled his remain eye and sighed disappointedly “Haa, attacking me with the keyblade I forged? Sooo stupid.” “What!” Lea exclaimed as his keyblade dispelled mid-strike into sparkles then grunted as he was slammed backward into the wall with stunning force by an invisible wave. Powerful magic bore down on everyone in the room preventing any movement. “Now now” Sora- no- the Master of Masters, tutted with a sunny smile in a condescending tone momentarily taking his single eye off the page he was reading. "I'll get to you in a moment" he went back to reading one of Yen Sid’s books Riku noted, totally disregarding their presence as if they weren't a threat, how strong was this version of Sora? The Master of Masters sighed tiredly evidently having found what he was looking for. Nonchalantly taking his feet off the desk and placing the book open on the table before him, his single blue slit eye trailed over the group. "I'll admit, I hadn't intended for us to meet quite like this, but I suppose sentiment was stronger than destiny in this case." “Sora?” Riku breathed shock at seeing this older version of his friend in the flesh pinning him in place and at a complete loss as to what to say. Ventus on the other hand had plenty to say or rather shout “Why are you acting like this?!” For a moment the Master of Masters looked puzzled “Like what, Oh Wait! Are you talking about all those Kingstagram Entries I forgot to delete?” The Master of Masters coughed, embarrassed and scratched the back of his head in a familiar Sora-esque mannerism “Yeah.. my bad. I’ve been using it as a diary for the last few thousand years as you know by now. Forgetting to turn off its network capabilities is probably the first mistake I’ve made in hundreds of years, to be honest!” The older Sora’s laughter was almost the same his voice different, almost manic. Riku spoke up cautiously looking with his eyes and his heart for any trace of his friend “Do you hold a grudge against us or something? We didn't know we were hurting you Sora. And once we did we’ve been trying to fix things-” The Master of Masters waved Riku off with a gesture mid apology “I know, and it's nice and all but this really has nothing to do with that or you, In fact, if I hadn't messed up then we’d have never met and I could have spared you the heartache I know you’re feeling” The expression on the Master of Master's face was inscrutable his thoughts hidden in that instance. Mickey wasn't so sure though and in his heart doubted this version of Sora had let go of something so fundamental “Surely something remains in your heart!” The Master of Master's gaze rested on Mickey a reassuring smile out of place on this version of their friend inadvertently sending shivers down the spines of Guardians of Light. “Oh Mickey, I have nothing but respect for you, unfortunately those bound by fate must follow it regardless of personal feelings. So how is the other me? Actually happy? Less suicidal ideation disguised as self-sacrifice?” The Master of Masters nodded to himself “I can see it in your expressions, that's good I suppose his death is no longer necessary so we can skip that bit of teenage drama” The Master of Masters tilted his head childishly examining the group in front of him “well I can't say I don't like this change to the Guardian of Light roster!” The Master of Master's gaze trailed over the group.

“Kairi, The only Princess of Heart capable of wielding a keyblade.

Riku, Wielder of both Light and Darkness in equal measure.

Ventus formerly of Aced’s Ursa Union the least bloodthirsty one in fact, the one I hand-picked to help Ephemer lead the Dandelions exodus to escape the shattering of the Realm of Light and ensure the Keyblade wielders did not go extinct.

King Mickey Mouse, Wielder of the Kingdom Key D that I dropped in the Realm of Darkness during my escape from the shattering.

Aqua, left to languish in the Realm of Darkness for ten years, an amazing feat of survival.

The absent wielders, Roxas, the Nobody that developed his own heart out of sheer stubbornness.

Xion, a replica puppet that also developed her own heart by the strength of her own memories and the bonds she herself formed.

Lauriam the wielder who’s actions alerted me to the intruder in the Dandelions Sanctuary, slain by Maleficent as she inadvertently damaged the dataworld and forced them to evacuate before the worlds were safe to traverse.

Elrena, perished in the evacuation but possessing such a strong heart that she re-manifested in real world. My younger self who can connect with hearts on a level unheard of in recorded history.”

The Master of Masters paused his eye resting contemplatively on Lea “..and then there's you” a brief silence engulfed the room. “Honestly” The Master of Masters sighed “bequeathing, a last resort for when none are worthy of the actual honor.” “You take that back” Lea growled the other Guardians also raising their hackles at the Master of Masters insinuation. “Hmmm? No I don't think I will.” The Master of Masters spoke measuredly and shrugged “I designed every keyblade to exist, they were made to be very choosy when it comes to their wielders, not be passed down to the unworthy like trinkets on a whim.” the word trinkets spat like an expletive full of scorn enough to make the room flinch. “Where's Master Yen Sid?” asked Mickey warily keeping an eye on the intimidating Lost Master before them. The Master of Masters tilted his head as if confused “Hmm? Oh that old coot? He's around.” The Master gave a half-hearted gesture with an off-hand a grin slowly creeping along his face “I had a lot of fun stripping him of his mastery through” The Master of Masters grinned like a cat and Mickey yelped as his own hastily summoned Keyblade vanished against his will in a blaze of light. The Master of Masters tutted once again waggling a finger. “Come on now, You seriously didn't think The Master of Master title was an empty one did you? Right now? None of you are a match for me as you are, you can't even stand without shaking!” The shaking, a sign of the group trying to escape their confinement and failing miserably. “What do you want?” shouted Riku irritated beyond belief despite himself, the Master of Masters smiled oddly for a second then gave a barking laugh taking them all aback wiping an imaginary tear from his eye “I’ll admit I honestly forgot you had such an angry base expression. Well, what I want? I want a lot of things, some transitory and some more permanent. All things I can get without your input, permission or interference. I mean I could put you down for the duration, but, where would be the fun in that?” The group flinched as the Master of Masters sunny tone and how at odds it was with the very real dark threat in his gaze. “So anyway...” The Master of Masters snapped his fingers once causing everyone in the room to stagger still paralyzed under his magical might as a strange sensation tingled throughout their bodies. “I'll settle for delaying you a little bit” “What did you do to us?!” grunted Ven peculiar weakness running through his limbs. “Hmm, oh nothing that hasn't been done before to one of your numbers, you’re going to have to earn those Keyblade’s this time just like he did, just like I did. I'll even throw in a power boost if you do it the right way. Won't that surprise the Norts?” The Master of Masters laughed at their furious gazes. “Are you on his side?” Asked Kairi warily. The Master of Masters snorted “Xehanort? Not in this life or any other and don't worry he won't come after you for a long while yet, which should give you plenty of time to get stronger.” The Master of Masters perked up abruptly, whiplashing between moods fast enough to give the group a headache “Soooo.. anyway if you want to retrieve those keyblades of yours then you should probably find those replacement Darknesses Xehanort was harping on and on and on about.” “Why are you helping us!” demanded Aqua “I doubt it's from the goodness of your heart.” The Master of Masters chuckled “Nope, You’d be right there but you see, cornered rats can cause a lot of damage and Xehanort? He’s just lost how many of his Darknesses now?” That made the group pause as the Master of Masters continued to point out something they hadn't considered yet “He'll be anxious to replace them and Xehanort never functioned well when it comes to improvisation. He might inadvertently cause a lot of damage to the worlds and I do kinda need them more or less intact” The Master of Masters shrugged considering and amending his statement ominously “Well, the people at least.” The Master of Masters got up from Yen Sid’s seat and stretched walking past the paralyzed group before pausing snapping the air as though in realization "By the way that book on the desk? Your gonna want to read it before Yen Sid gets back, just saying." With that parting bit of advice, the Master of Masters darted leisurely out the door. It was five minutes before the lingering power of the Master of Masters dissipated enough for anyone to move, signaling his exit from the world. Silence reigned in the tower for a long time after that.

This little bit of MoM!Sora insanity came to me in the middle of the night in a dream, I think I got MoM!Sora’s character about right and I now think the best strategy for writing this lovable lunatic is to throw a dart at a D&D alignment chart and write him like that for that chapter. ... Is it working? I think its working. Also sorry about any bad spelling or grammar.

Anyway, everyone else not present at The Mysterious Tower panicked at the new Kingstagram post but couldn't do anything as MoM!Sora posted it after this confrontation.

This Post is also in part a answer to another post that asked for a star wars style confrontation, Unfortunately that post went missing due to Tumblr UI being the burning glitch of a trashfire baby we all know and loathe. So, Sorry whoever asked that.

#AskMoM!Sora #MoM!Sora #Sora As the Master of Masters #sora!master of masters #master of masters #TheMasterReportsAU #sora kh #kingdom hearts