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hannahssimblr · 5 months

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Chapter Twelve

I don’t eat very well for the next week, because everything makes me nauseous. It starts off with a plate of chicken strips at a restaurant on Sunday which for some reason repulses me so much upon taking a bite out of them that I’m sure I’m about to start heaving. I have the waiter box them up for me but they sit sadly in the fridge for days, and then eventually hidden behind the jars so that I don’t have to look at them. Claire eventually throws them in the bin, but it only gets worse from there. By Wednesday breakfast is off the table, even cereal proving too much for me, and as I’m eating it I have to stop, lips quivering with the spoon halfway to my mouth and push the bowl across the table.

“You have to calm down.” Claire says as I stand up from my seat and start pacing the kitchen with my hand grabbing fistfuls of the hair at the back of my head as I try to fight my gag reflex. “I’m not sure this is a typical reaction.”

“Oh really?” I say sarcastically. “I thought everyone threw up when they got anxious about really tiny, stupid things.”

“You haven’t thrown up yet.” She points out. “But if you really don’t want to see Jude I’ll just tell him you don’t want him there.”

“Don’t do that. I do want to see him.”

She eyes me cynically. “Yeah it really seems like it.”

“I’ll be fine when… when he arrives, it’s just the not-knowing part that’s stressing me out. What’s he going to be like?”

“Probably very normal, Evie.”

“God, this is so weird. I’ve never felt this anxious before.”

“Pet.” She says with sympathy. “You do not have to put yourself through something if it’s too upsetting. I hate to see you skipping meals like this. Your body has just gone into proper survival mode.”

“I just can’t eat anything, everything is repulsive at the moment. It’s like my body is putting all of its energy into creating stress hormones.” I put my hand on my chest where I can feel my heart thrumming in a rhythm that’s faster than it should be but it hasn’t slowed down much more than this in several days. “There’s something wrong with me.”

“You’re just afraid of what you don’t know, but you’re going to be alright.” She says as she picks up her phone and starts scrolling. We’ve had this exact exchange every day since last weekend and she’s used to it. I watch her pick up a slice of buttered toast and take a bite, and a fresh wave of nausea washes over me. I have to squeeze my eyes tight. “Get out of here.” She says with her mouth full. “Get fresh air, you’ll feel better on your walk to college.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” I say and I take my coat off the hanger before heading out onto the freezing streets. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yep. Come back cured.” She says over her shoulder.

The weather has been spectacularly bad this week. At the moment that our collective positivity had begun to rise, the dawn chorus began again and the flowers shot their way through the soil in announcement of spring, a freak weather event brought actual snow to Dublin. There is never snow in Dublin, but there is this week, the week where February becomes March and usually the temperature reaches a tropical thirteen degrees. It’s been sub zero and everything bar the trains have ground to a halt.

I watch the news from the airport carefully, keenly tuned in as they cancel flights one after another, a big part of me wishing that they’ll cease operations on Friday, but another part knowing I would probably despair a bit if they did. My mindset is so weird, it’s like I don’t know myself anymore. Usually it’s easy to look inwardly and discover what it is that I really want from a situation, but now I want two things in equal measure. There are competing desires within me, each matched in intensity with the other. Seeing him and not seeing him are equally devastating outcomes and it’s like I won’t win and I won’t be happy no matter which comes true, so my body has become some machine in overdrive, glitching out, overheating, unable to compute.

On Friday I hear definitively that they haven’t cancelled any flights, so I start dry heaving in my room.

On Saturday night I put on the dress that Claire bought for me, a tight, black number with one sleeve and a big peekaboo hole in the side of it. It clings to every part of me. I felt a lot better about it when I tried it on in the shop but now it looks wrong. I despair at the soft flesh of my upper arms, the dips where my hips meet my thighs, the little pooch at my lower stomach, all parts of me that used to be flat and tight when I was still keeping myself fit, but now are soft and pliable. I don’t feel as pretty when Claire’s not behind me in the mirror hyping me up. I pinch my face, looking drawn and pale with great big shadows under my eyes, hollows in my cheeks, nothing that makeup can’t fix, but my hands are shaking as I bring a brush to my face. I take a bottle of whiskey out of my bedside table and twist off the cap, taking a gulp from it to steady my nerves.

I had a dream last night that I was at a table across from Jude and he didn’t have a face, but this vast expanse of horrible smooth flesh. He didn’t move, just sat there looking at me without any eyes, and then features started to roll across his face like slot symbols in a casino, stopping only for a second to reveal these weird, incoherent faces, eyes and noses and lips like they’ve been cut from a magazine and taped in place, misshapen and mismatched and wrong. None of them are him, but I can’t conjure up what him is either. I wake up feeling disturbed and I don’t go back to sleep again after that.

Snow starts falling again as I finish my makeup and do something to my hair, and by the time it’s time to leave it’s already ankle-deep, so instead of suffering through a walk I order a taxi through an app. When I’m waiting I decide to have another shot of whiskey so I unscrew the lid and swallow a mouthful, feeling it burn all the way down to my empty stomach. I consider decanting some of it into an empty water bottle so I won’t have to spend any more money on alcohol tonight but the moment I have that thought my phone buzzes to let me know my taxi driver is outside. I shove it into the cupboard under the sink.

When I’m sitting in the car he goes on about the government and how they’re a shower of clowns and I stop humouring him eventually with “yeah”s and “mm”s and just stare out the window and imagine what course Claire and the others are having now. Maybe they’re only getting their main courses, which means they’ll be another half an hour at least. Unless they decide to get dessert. Or even coffee. I know that Claire always gets a cup of tea after her dinner. Maybe they’ll sit talking for a while?

“Here you are, love.” The driver says as he pulls up outside the bar. “Have a good night, yeah?”

“Thank you.” I say, handing him a tenner. The trip costs €9.70 but I wait for him to give me back the thirty cents in change anyway, which seems to perturb him, and he changes his tone then, giving me a very gruff “‘night” as he pulls away from the curb.

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#sims #sims 4 #ts4 #simlit #sims 4 story #sims story #writing #fiction #romance #sims 4 storytelling #sims4 storytelling #sims storytelling #lucky girl part 2

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chibinightowl · 5 years

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First Contact

Inspired by @tanekore‘s utterly amazing Jason Todd piece, Freedom Fighter. I meant to have this up last week, but life threw me a ton of lemons, so I had to deal with the influx first. The story is set a few years in the future of a JayDick piece I wrote last year, which can be read here (forewarned, it’s E). This story is most definitely not. ^_^

---

The quiet ping from Tim’s comm put him on instant alert. And what a time for it, right in the middle of a conference vid with Federation High Command. Thank the stars he was alone in his office on board the Titan because otherwise, someone would undoubtedly notice the quiet shift of his hands as he brought up a holoscreen beneath his desk.

Normally, he wouldn’t go through the effort during a meeting such as this, but the alert was one he’d been waiting, no, hoping for since he lost contact with the merchant vessel his ultimate trump card was carefully stashed away on. The AI was his greatest accomplishment, so the loss of the ship and his agent were devastating to his plans to regain control over the hijacked Unternet, the sub-particle web that connected all the planets and colonies in the system with Earth. Anything was possible on those data streams and the government needed to regain control before Ulysses Armstrong realized exactly what he now had access to.

Tim suspected Moneyspider was involved somehow and Oracle concurred. Between them, they knew just about everything worth knowing in the Earth Federation; their respective roles in the Intelligence Service giving them more power than that fool of a President could ever dream of. Unlike the Penguin, he and Barbara Gordon were determined to use this knowledge for the betterment of all.

There were plans in place to overthrow the current regime, plans that they’d been ready to implement at the start of the next election cycle. Plans that were now crashing around them because of Armstrong. The AI had been key and now, despite all the odds, it was signaling it was back online.

How was Tim’s main question as his fingers flew over the small screen while maintaining eye contact with Admiral Wayne and the other Commanders of the six fleets that made up Naval forces protecting the solar system. From what was always a favorite unvoiced question of his since most of their turmoil came from within rather than from beyond. Case in point, right here as Armstrong was one of theirs, a former Naval officer with a massive chip on his shoulder that was often directed right at him.

Humans and their drama, he’d heard a Kryptonian say with derision once where he wasn’t supposed to overhear. It wasn’t entirely wrong, especially since humanity seemed to carry with them eons of history that they behaved as though occurred yesterday. Always looking to the past, the Kryptonian had added before changing the topic.

Like they were ones to talk. There was a reason they were banned from this system. Or any other system with a yellow star.

Tim swiped at the small holoscreen, tapping in the codes to receive data from the AI. Where was it?

Streams of information flooded the screen, so fast his cybernetic-enhanced eyes could barely keep up. Dammit, this vid needed to end now. He could only listen to Ogilvy and Lark rehash the same stupid event for the third time. Neither of them came out of that looking great and both were determined to blame the other while trying to regain face with the Admiral.

Apparently, Admiral Wayne couldn’t stand to listen to it again either. “Alright, I think we’ve reached the end of the walk-ons,” he interrupted when Ogilvy paused for breath. “I expect to see all of you planet-side for the Naval graduation in three weeks. Until then, standard channels unless an emergency crops up.”

He didn’t give the others a chance to reply and disconnected the vid, ending the conference.

“Thank you,” Tim breathed, sending his holos to eye level with a flick of his wrist and expanding them. “TIM, load a chart of your current location.”

“Loading.”

A large blue orb appeared on a third holo above the other two.

Tim narrowed his eyes. “Neptune? How under the sun did you arrive there?”

The lost shuttle had been traveling between his base above Jupiter and Mars, using the interplanetary gates. Neptune’s current orbit could not be further away if it tried.

A new stream of data appeared, complex figures and symbols that only someone with cybernetics could understand. What Tim read made him grimace because Oracle’s suspicions were now confirmed. Armstrong had used the Unternet to interfere with the interplanetary gates.

This was not good. At all.

“Current status?”

“Power cells at 15%, no exterior damage, and my scans indicate no internal damage either. However, I am in the hands of a human male who claims to be one of the greatest hackers who ever lived and he’s on the verge of cracking my HUD.”

“Son of a bitch,” Tim swore, fingers flying across the screen as he attempted to narrow in his own satellites and scanners on the AI’s location. “Any chance to draw power from elsewhere?”

“I’ve got enough power for a self-destruct. Should I initiate?”

Good question. Tim frowned and glanced back at the screen showing Neptune.

“Get me a visual on your hacker.”

The image flickered and a face appeared, framed by untamed red hair and a grungy cap that should have seen the trash bin ages ago. He was human alright, and smart enough to wear protective goggles as he poked around at TIM’s HUD. There was something familiar about him, but with his eyes concealed, it was up to facial recognition to narrow the possibilities.

A list of possible names popped up, and Tim honed in on one immediately. Roy Harper, alias Arsenal. Member of the antigovernment group the Outlaws and listed as their resident munitions and technology expert. Hacker could probably fall under that category, although Tim suspected the man’s claims to be exaggerated unless things had drastically changed since the last time their paths crossed.

It was times like these that Tim missed the relative simplicity of his Academy days. Dick would not be happy if he were to learn about this.

Best not to tell him then.

“No need for self-destruct yet,” he instructed the AI. “The Outlaws aren’t as antiestablishment as they’d like the press to believe. In their own way, they’re trying to take the Penguin down too.”

Not that they were doing a good job of it. They needed a plan, structure. A leader who didn’t fly off the handle and blow things up at the drop of a hat.

“Standby then, sir?”

Tim watched as Harper leaned in closer. Another figure stood behind him, just over his shoulder, but wearing a full-face mask as opposed to Harper’s goggles. He zoomed in and stepped back in surprise.

It was an oni mask, grim and fearsome, and as red as the eyes of the man whose face it concealed. The thing was, he wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near this sector of space. In fact, if he remembered correctly, the file stated he was near Venus on the New Arkham penal colony, sentenced for a lifetime of hard labor in the mines for more murders than Tim had fingers and toes.

Jason Todd. The Red Hood.

What the hell was he doing here?

Tim’s nearly obsessive need for answers had him sitting back down in his chair, eyes locked on the vid. “Yes. Standby and observe.”

---

Ghost ships never failed to give Jason the creeps. Death and him were old friends, but it didn’t make it any easier when the people bumping into him in zero-g never had a chance. An interplanetary gateway malfunction, Roy had guessed when they came upon the ship hanging in Neptune’s gravity-well. The large shuttle definitely wasn’t the type to travel long distances, and there wasn’t much out this far unless a person was readying to leave the system altogether. They were lucky the Starfire was of Tamaranean design, otherwise there would be no oxygen slowly filtering in from the docking port. This shuttle wasn’t the biggest he’d ever seen, but it was large enough for a good fifty or so passengers.

Where had it come from?

Jason pushed another drifting body away from where Roy crouched on the floor, the magnetic pull of their gravity-boots allowing them to stand still. “Seriously, let’s get out of here already.”

“Someone afraid of a bunch of dead people?”

“I see dead people all the time. You’re next if you don’t move your ass.”

Roy ignored him, entranced with the new toy he’d found drifting amongst the other detritus. “You don’t get it, Jaybird. This is DI tech. Drake Industries. We’re talking top-of-the-line, best of the best, tech here. It’s so expensive I can’t even afford it in my dreams.”

“You can’t even afford a new hat.”

“Go poke through the engine room. If there’s any charge left to those ion batteries, we’ll be sittin’ pretty for a cycle or more.”

Jason sighed as he wandered away. This was what he was reduced to, sifting through wreckage of dead vessels and scavenging for goods that would put food in his stomach and recharge the fuel cells on Kory’s ship. The last attempt to gain a foothold in the Federation had crippled the Outlaws more than the government likely realized, and it wasn’t just because they’d captured him.

No, even after his rescue by the two most incredible people he’d ever known, it all boiled down to one thing.

Money.

Well, money and information. Neither of which were in great abundance at the moment.

So here they were, out in the back of beyond licking their wounds and biding their time. Another opportunity to take a stab at the Penguin would come again. It had to, because otherwise, what was the point? What had he given everything up for if not for that one chance to make things right, better for everyone in the Earth Federation?

Not for the first time, an image of Dick flashed before his eyes and Jason shoved the thought away with a grimace. Fuck memory lane and fuck Dick Grayson. The past was the past and he’d more than learned from the mistakes he’d made there.

The engine room proved to have nothing but inert batteries, the charge to them utterly neutralized by the energies of a malfunctioning gateway. Jason shoved the last tube back into its casing and scowled. There went any chance of a decent meal unless he wanted to sift through the luggage in the hold.

Why the fuck not? It wasn’t like he had anything better to do, not with Roy still poking and prodding at that piece of DI tech.

The cold, dark air in the storage compartments made Jason shiver as soon as he entered. With all the pods, it reminded him of a tomb. In a way it was, as everything down here wasn’t needed by the people floating up above. Chances were likely all the passengers died when the gateway created the wormhole that sent them out here, but there might have been a few stragglers who slowly suffocated as the air ran out.

He got to work, switching on a light-stick to see by, and sorted through the luggage pods. There were a few promising items. Earth gems always garnered some decent creds outside the system, so the jewelry he found was stashed away quick enough. A silken robe he set aside for Kory, and in the depths of one suitcase, he found a stash of physical cred chips.

Maybe there would be some beef to add to his broccoli after all.

“Hey, Jay!” Roy called from above. “You down here?”

“Yeah!” Jason returned to the stairs so he wouldn’t need to shout. “The engine room was a bust, but you might want to check it out, just in case. Got a few things in here that might be worth something if we head over to Vega for the exchange.”

Roy clomped down the stairs, the pull on his boots against the metal making it ring with each step. “You won’t believe what this is.” He held out the thick, circular disc he’d been messing around with earlier.

“Something we can trade for a shit ton of creds?”

“Technically, yes. However, I think we might want to keep it.”

Jason frowned, not sure what his best friend was getting at. “Why?”

“Because this isn’t just DI tech. This is Drake Industries AI tech.”

Well now. Even he’d heard rumors about the kind of artificial intelligence DI was involved with. All military grade stuff too, the kind that required the highest of clearances to even be in the same room with it.

And now, here they were with what could be one of the most cutting-edge AIs in the system.

He sighed, not looking forward to poking through the bodies upstairs to see who it might have belonged to. “What have you done to it?”

Roy laughed, eyes a little wild as he slipped his shades back on. It didn’t matter that it was darker than the murk that constantly surrounded New Gotham, the man could see perfectly with them. “Charged the battery a bit. It was almost dead.”

“Are we gonna die if we turn this thing on?”

“Probably not.” Roy handed the disc to him. “At least, I’m 60% sure.”

Jason had lived through worse odds, but because he had a reputation to maintain, he still gave his friend shit. “Gee, that’s reassuring. And since you’re just so goddamned skilled at putting me at ease, I’m covering my face. The last thing we need is the Federation on our asses right now.”

Roy shrugged and took a few steps back as Jason slid his oni mask on. It used the same lens technology as Roy’s shades. “Your funeral.”

“Yeah, it is.”

It wasn’t that Jason didn’t trust Roy. He knew in the coldest cockles of his heart that the man would never betray him. The problem was, his best friend was erratically brilliant and if what he said about this piece of tech was in anyway accurate, then they had a treasure trove of information and access into the inner workings of the Federation in their hands.

This was the edge the Outlaws needed to get back in the game.

If he wasn’t, then chances were likely they were about to get fucked because that was the way their luck had been of late.

“Here goes nothing.” Jason pressed lightly on the activation sensor.

The device illuminated and spun in his hand, glowing with a faint blue light as it hovered before them. A hologram appeared, about ten inches in height, of what appeared to be a human male. A rather attractive one at that, with fine features, sharp cheekbones, and an even sharper jaw.

Whoever made the AI, they were definitely projecting a fantasy because no man could be that good looking.

The hologram’s eyes narrowed. “I am TIM, designation 003-07-19. Who are you?”

Was that a bit of sass Jason’s ears detected? “Who do you think we are?” he asked instead, wanting to see what this thing could do.

A small HUD light up in front of TIM the AI. “Visual scans indicate Roy Harper, known as Arsenal, and Jason Todd, the Red Hood. Members of the antigovernment group the Outlaws.” Those eyes narrowed again. “Such an original name,” he muttered.

“Hey, who’re you to judge?” Jason shoved his mask up over his head because there was apparently no point in hiding behind it. With the light the AI was giving off, he could see just fine. “What kind of AI are you?”

“I am TIM,” the hologram replied. “Tactical Information Manager. Series 003-07-19.”

At least he answered direct questions. Why wasn’t he checking for clearance codes? Was this a private piece of tech rather than Navy? If so, whoever created this was a goddamned genius.

“Okay, TIM. Here’s the deal. We found you on board a ghost ship. There’s not a living soul out here except for me and Roy. You do what we tell you, we’ll bring you back to the inner ring.”

Eventually. Jason crossed his toes in his boots, a habit from childhood he never quite grew out of.

“My files indicate you are supposed to be on the New Arkham penal colony.”

Jason smirked. Looked like the government didn’t want to admit they’d fucked up and lost him. “Does it look like we’re on New Arkham? I don’t think so.”

“No, coordinates indicate we are orbiting Neptune.”

Looked like TIM’s data relays were connecting to the Starfire’s mainframe. Whether that was a good thing or not was for Roy to decide. Although, Kory would be pissed if they’d managed to fuck up her ship while she was undercover on the Titan. “Yeah, it’s a real gas.”

The humor was lost on the AI. “Did you escape then? Please tell me how so that I can update my files.”

“Don’t think so, Timmy. If the government wants to believe they still have me all safe and sound in that hellhole, let them. It’s their fault they couldn’t keep me there in the first place.” Not that he ever made it there, but the AI didn’t need to know that.

“My name is TIM, not Timmy.” The AI sounded almost prissy.

Jason leaned forward. “Your name is whatever I feel like calling ya.”

“Then that will make it hard to determine if you need my services or are speaking to the bots.”

“What the fuck kind of AI are you?”

“The best kind.”

--- Behind the HUD, the real Tim snickered as Todd’s posturing turned more and more into bewilderment the longer he bickered with TIM. Or maybe it was his makeshift uniform because who under the sun finds a man with an ice cream pin tacked onto his jacket intimidating? It even smiled.

Still, this was a unique opportunity and one that he wasn’t about to waste. The Outlaws were working toward a similar goal as he and Oracle, even if they approached it from a different angle. How did that old adage go? The enemy of my enemy is my friend?

Yes, he could make this work. Possibly even use these men to further his own goals and take out Armstrong. Wasn’t there a third person who was part of the main crew, a Tamaranean female? He’d have to check.

“The best kind,” Todd repeated, mocking while Harper snickered beside him. “Someone’s got a massively high opinion of himself.”

“Says the man who’s holding his life and jacket together with safety pins and duct tape,” Tim replied, and the AI repeated the words.

Todd’s face turned red and he pointed a gloved finger at TIM. “Listen here, TIM. I recognize DI tech when I see it. That shit’s top notch and so are you. And right now, you’re mine. So whatever backtalk you’ve got programmed into your behavioral patterns, forget it.”

“I’m afraid you’re sadly mistaken,” the AI stated on its own. “Part of my programming includes the ability to verbally spar. My maker designed me so.”

Yes, and he was rather proud of that little fact. TIM was an extension of himself after all, designed to go where he could not.

“They programmed you to annoy the fuck outta people?”

“You are not my maker and I am not being used for my intended purpose. As such, anything I can do to complete my mission, I will.”

Harper whistled, low and slow. “Wow. I had no idea AI technology was this advanced. Those are subversive behavior patterns, right there.”

But Todd grinned slowly and held TIM higher. This close, Tim found himself face to face with a pair of stunning teal eyes, not red at all like the file stated. Were they his real color? He mentally smacked himself. Now was not the time to fixate on a pair of attractive eyes.

“I wouldn’t worry about it, I think we’re gonna get along just fine.”

The sad thing was, Tim was highly inclined to agree with him.

#chibinightowl writes #Tim Drake #Jason Todd #preJayTim #space AU

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mohammedalazwani · 4 years

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ID: 115456

Date: Tuesday, April 14,2020

Mass_3114

World News:

1) Ghana:

World Bank report says Sub-Saharan Africa to face first recession in 25 years

April 11, 2020

The coronavirus outbreak would have a devastating impact in Sub-Saharan Africa and would lead to the region’s first recession in 25 years, according to World Bank’s report Africa Pulse released on Thursday.

Source: https://www.newsghana.com.gh/

2) Nigeria:

Nigeria’s military ‘destroyed’ villages in fight against Islamist insurgents

April 14, 2020

Nigeria’s military burned down villages and forcibly displaced hundreds of people in its fight against Islamist insurgents in the country’s northeast, rights group Amnesty International alleged on Friday. Nigeria’s military, which has frequently been accused of human rights abuses in its decade-long fight against Boko Haram and more recently Islamic State’s West African branch, did not respond to requests for comment.

Source: https://www.channelstv.com/

3) Sierra Leone:

Covid-19 in Sierra Leone: 10 positive, 1,363 quarantined

April 13, 2020.

According to Sierra Leone’s Ministry of Information and Communications in Freetown, on Monday 13th April 2020, positive confirmed cases of COVID-19 in Sierra Leone remain at 10. All 10 cases are in the designated treatment facility and are in stable condition.

Total cumulative number in quarantine is 1,363.

Current number of persons in quarantine is 614. Restrictions to limit movement between districts still remains in force except for the transporters of goods and essential services with authorized PASS issued by the EOC at National and DISEC/PROSEC at Regional or District levels.

Source: https://www. thepatrioticvanguard.com/

Community News:

1) Bahla:

The Youth Committee of Bahla Clup receives the award for the best youth committee at the level of the Interior and Central governorates for the second year in a row.

Source: @bahlayouthcomm (account on Twitter)

2) Izki:

The Media Committee of the Izki Youth Team organized a workshop in “Advertising Design” presented by the designer Said bin Nasser AlQassabi (@ Nasser AlQassabi). The workshop included the participants’ introduction to the basics of using Adobe Photoshop, and some skills in advertising design.

@ Nasser AlQassabi

Source: @shabab_izki (account on Twitter)

#jourApplication_20

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un-incredibleviolet · 4 years

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Data Deletion || Vi + Dash

Timeline: uhhh months ago like...March-ish?

@theincredibledash

tw: panic attack

DASH:

Okay. Okay. This was it. Dash had been given his mission by Ashlé B. Much like before with Ashley A and Mei, he was going to do it, even if he was having a few second thoughts about it. He needed to prove something. What it was, he wasn’t so sure, but he had to, okay?

It was easy enough to do. Vi left her laptop unguarded when he got up for a snack. The perfect window of opportunity for him to speed (quietly!) into her room and wreck her schoolwork. When he heard the soft footsteps of his sister fade to the kitchen, he was in her room before she could blink. His heart pounded loud in his ears as he clicked around for the right files. Violet was pretty organized, so it wasn’t too hard to find.

English paper? Gone. History notes? Bye bye. Math homework? Adiós! And of course, he had to clear all those files from the recycling bin. His stomach lurched a little. This was going to devastate her. As much as he didn’t care and wanted her to go up in academic flames, she was still his sister. He couldn’t delete everything.

Before permanent deletion, he put a few files back. But just a few of the newest ones. Barely started anyway. Not like they would have been hard to make again. Just as he thought he heard Violet’s footsteps returning, he was done, and speeding out of her room and back into his.

VIOLET:

With a yawn, Violet walked back into her room from grabbing a bottle of water and a snack and settled in to finish her homework and commit her history notes to memory. Only like a couple months of secondary, then hell was over. She almost preferred to be the freak with the dead best friend to whatever the hell this was.

Violet went to the file explorer and double clicked on My Documents to work on her English p-- Oh? It...was...gone? No, that can’t be right, she’d just gotten to the fifth page of it during lunch today, it was almost done! It can’t be gone!

How the hell—?

Did she save it to the wrong folder?

She looked under History Notes but- huh? They were all gone too? All of her sub folders of history notes by month, gone.

“No, no, no, no!” Violet said, her voice growing louder and more frantic with each ‘no’ as she clicked in and out of folders looking for files that she just knew were gone even though they’d been there not one moment earlier.

How. How, how, how?

Violet practically threw her laptop away from her as she felt her chest just squeeze, squeeze, squeeze itself tight and her lungs did not manage to get enough - if any - air. Time seemed to stop, only to come back as she sat hyperventilating and her eyes watered.

DASH:

Dash wanted to plug his ears when he heard the frantic clicking and eventual shouts from his sister. It turned his stomach in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. It reminded him of when Vi's friend had died. Right before the move. Her gasps and sputters for air he knew was a panic attack. He sat uncomfortably with the sound ringing in his ears before he couldn't take it anymore.

He popped off of his bed and sped to Violet's room, standing in the doorway silently for a moment. "Vi? Is everything okay?" he asked tentatively, his voice only a little louder than her gasps.

VIOLET:

Violet only barely registered her brother’s presence and that was only because he spoke up. She couldn’t quite form words or even coherent thoughts. If Violet could think coherent thoughts she maybe would have put two and two together because here’s the thing. Dash left no evidence behind but Violet knew about her brother’s powers-- obviously! -- and if the files were there not even three minutes ago and suddenly gone, and your brother has superspeed powers, it was the obvious assumption.

It was lucky for Dash that Violet’s brain was just a constant loop of ‘no, no, no, no.’

Is everything okay? He’d asked. What kind of question was that? Yes, of course, the panic attack means everything is great!

“No. no, I- D-Dash my w-work, m-m-m-my-” and she couldn’t get more words out, all she could do was point at her laptop as she cried and tried to remember how to breathe.

DASH:

Oh shit. Where were Mom and Dad when he wanted to get out of an uncomfortable situation like this? His stomach twisted into knot after knot after knot. What a killer blow he had dealt to his own sister. Why did he always let his hot head make all the decisions for him to pay for in stomach aches later? Ashlé B better appreciate this.

His face scrunched in concern and confusion. Had to play dumb of course. But not too dumb. “Your…. Your work? Your schoolwork?” He raised his brows with a feigned understanding. “Are you sure you didn’t accidentally delete it? Did you check the recycling bin?”

VIOLET:

Holding back a biting ‘of course I checked the recycling bin!!!’ was difficult but she did manage it. It wasn’t Dash’s fault after all that she’d been careless enough to- to- well, she didn’t know what, but it must be her fault. She must have hit some secret combination of keys to do this and it must be all her fault that the one thing she could reliably do right was now all fucked up.

“Y-yes! Yes, I ch-checked and it’s all g-gone, everything’s...,” Violet trailed off, sniffling. “My c-college application essays, the l-letters of recommendation people wrote me that I saved because they’re nice to read and pretend I’m not garbage sometimes, and-and-and -”

Violet couldn’t talk anymore, just sobbed harder. She had the older files backed up on flash drives but the most recent files she’d yet to transfer over. And the recent shit was what mattered.

DASH:

Dash was quiet. Frozen. He couldn’t help because he had made the destruction. This was all his fault and now he had to act like he could do something to change it. Eventually, he moved to hug Violet. It’s all he could do. Be a shoulder to cry on.

Why did this have to be so gut wrenching? Why did he have to care so much? It would be easier if his sister’s tears didn’t feel like they were searing holes into his chest. If he were cold and unfeeling, this would be easy.

“I wish I could- I don’t know what I can-” he started, not knowing how to navigate his sentence, finally just mumbling, “I-I’m sorry, Vi.”

VIOLET:

“Wh-what do you have to be sorry f-for?” Violet sniffled, burying her face in her little brother’s shoulder. Though, he’d been taller than her for ages now, she was the little one these days. “N-not like you’re the id-idiot who can’t keep their sh-shit together.”

“I d-don’t understand.”

How did this happen? She was so organized, she backed up and clearly labeled her files as if her life depended on it because in a way it did. Her family wasn’t Appalachian Mountain town poor, but they weren’t wealthy either. Violet knew that she was the highest achieving academically of her siblings and as such it was mostly up to her to score scholarships and make her college tuition cheaper, so her parents could contribute more out of pocket for her brothers.

It wasn’t just her future that rested on her shoulders and on those files, it was Dash’s and JJ’s, too! And she was somehow stupid enough to ruin it!

#dash

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collapsedsquid · 5 years

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The end of colonial empires in the 1960s and the end of Stalinist ("state socialist," "state capitalist," "bureaucratic collectivist") systems in the 1990s has triggered a process never encountered since the Mongolian invasions in the thirteenth century: a comprehensive and apparently irreversible collapse of established statehood as such. While the bien-pensant Western press daily bemoans perceived threats of dictatorship in far-away places, it usually ignores the reality behind the tough talk of powerless leaders, namely that nobody is prepared to obey them. The old, creaking, and unpopular nation-state—the only institution to date that had been able to grant civil rights, a modicum of social assistance, and some protection from the exactions of privateer gangs and rapacious, irresponsible business elites—ceased to exist or never even emerged in the majority of the poorest areas of the world. In most parts of sub-Saharan Africa and of the former Soviet Union not only the refugees, but the whole population could be considered stateless. The way back, after decades of demented industrialization (see the horrific story of the hydroelectric plants everywhere in the Third World and the former Eastern bloc), to a subsistence economy and "natural" barter exchanges in the midst of environmental devastation, where banditry seems to have become the only efficient method of social organization, leads exactly nowhere. People in Africa and ex-Soviet Eurasia are dying not by a surfeit of the state, but by the absence of it.

Traditionally, liberation struggles of any sort have been directed against entrenched privilege. Equality came at the expense of ruling groups: secularism reduced the power of the Princes of the Church, social legislation dented the profits of the "moneyed interest," universal franchise abolished the traditional political class of landed aristocracy and the noblesse de robe, the triumph of commercial pop culture smashed the ideological prerogatives of the progressive intelligentsia, horizontal mobility and suburban sprawl ended the rule of party politics on the local level, contraception and consumerist hedonism dissolved patriarchal rule in the family—something lost, something gained. Every step toward greater freedom curtailed somebody’s privileges (quite apart from the pain of change). It was conceivable to imagine the liberation of outlawed and downtrodden lower classes through economic, political, and moral crusades: there was, crudely speaking, somebody to take ill-gotten gains from. And those gains could be redistributed to more meritorious sections of the population, offering in exchange greater social concord, political tranquility, and safety to unpopular, privileged elites, thereby reducing class animosity. But let us not forget though that the social-democratic bargain has been struck as a result of centuries of conflict and painful renunciations by the traditional ruling strata. Such a liberation struggle, violent or peaceful, is not possible for the new wretched of the earth.

Nobody exploits them. There is no extra profit and surplus value to be appropriated. There is no social power to be monopolized. There is no culture to be dominated. The poor people of the new stateless societies—from the "homogeneous" viewpoint—are totally superfluous. They are not exploited, but neglected. There is no overtaxation, since there are no revenues. Privileges cannot be redistributed toward a greater equality since there are no privileges, except the temporary ones to be had, occasionally, at gunpoint.

Famished populations have no way out from their barely human condition but to leave. The so-called center, far from exploiting this periphery of the periphery, is merely trying to keep out the foreign and usually colored destitutes (the phenomenon is euphemistically called "demographic pressure") and set up awesome barriers at the frontiers of rich countries, while our international financial bureaucracy counsels further deregulation, liberalization, less state and less government to nations that do not have any, and are perishing in consequence. "Humanitarian wars" are fought in order to prevent masses of refugees from flowing in and cluttering up the Western welfare systems that are in decomposition anyway.

Citizenship in a functional nation-state is the one safe meal ticket in the contemporary world. But such citizenship is now a privilege of the very few. The Enlightenment assimilation of citizenship to the necessary and "natural" political condition of all human beings has been reversed. Citizenship was once upon a time a privilege within nations. It is now a privilege to most persons in some nations. Citizenship is today the very exceptional privilege of the inhabitants of flourishing capitalist nation-states, while the majority of the world’s population cannot even begin to aspire to the civic condition, and has also lost the relative security of pre-state (tribe, kinship) protection.

The scission of citizenship and sub-political humanity is now complete, the work of Enlightenment irretrievably lost. Post-fascism does not need to put non-citizens into freight trains to take them into death; instead, it need only prevent the new non-citizens from boarding any trains that might take them into the happy world of overflowing rubbish bins that could feed them. Post-fascist movements everywhere, but especially in Europe, are anti-immigration movements, grounded in the "homogeneous" world-view of productive usefulness. They are not simply protecting racial and class privileges within the nation-state (although they are doing that, too) but protecting universal citizenship within the rich nation-state against the virtual-universal citizenship of all human beings, regardless of geography, language, race, denomination, and habits. The current notion of "human rights" might defend people from the lawlessness of tyrants, but it is no defense against the lawlessness of no rule.

Currently interesting piece written in 2000.

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bolddeducktionneverfails · 5 years

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Launchpad’s Association With Della Duck: The End of The Runway?

Some time after the premiere of the DuckTales reboot, I came across speculation regarding Launchpad possibly being the father of the triplets; a claim that has probably followed the character since the debut of the original series. (A lot of us probably thought about it at least once when we were younger.) I wasn’t in favor of the idea, but I was still open to Launchpad having something else to do with Della. They’re pilots after all, so I figured some sorta connection could be made: Maybe Launchpad was a fan of hers or a flight school colleague. Were they best friends? Could Launchpad have been a friend of the triplets’ father? Maybe he was the one who brought the couple together.

As the show progressed, along with the Disney Duck media that followed it, Della's outfit changed colors. When “Dime Chase” aired, her Money Bin portrait depicted her without black gloves, tan shorts instead of a cream colored pair and her scarf was suddenly a shade of green as opposed to a peachy-looking color. In the previews for the IDW comics, her outfit pretty much fell in line with the newer painting, but I noticed how her scarf was now a shade of teal that was very close to Launchpad's hat. Then in "House of The Lucky Gander!", Launchpad showed competence and maturity when he went out on a dangerous mission to check on his old girlfriend. The release of IDW's second and third issues of DuckTales comics gave us an idea of what Della was like and she seemed like someone who could get along pretty well with Launchpad. And eventually, I realized that Ziyi may have gone missing...just like Della did.

This was getting all too interesting. From that point on, I decided to consider the theory and continued to find other notable occurrences that could indicate Launchpad and Della having a past. I became convinced and took another stab at connecting the dots:

First, I started off with the concept of Launchpad trying to figure out what happened to Della like Dewey and Webby were. Maybe he was hoping his job with Scrooge would help him get some answers. Webby stated in "Dime Chase" that bad things happen to those who speak of Della Duck, so maybe he was waiting for the best time to ask; gaining the family’s trust and perhaps doing his own secret investigation in the meantime. Then, after trying to figure out Launchpad’s odd behavior in “The Last Crash of The Sunchaser!” and “The Shadow War”, I began to think that maybe he already knew that Della got lost in Space after taking the Spear and that he’s been wanting to help Scrooge find her because it might be his fault in some way. Maybe applying for the chauffeur job was his way of making up for his involvement. I also wanted to believe that maybe he’s been playing dumb to an extent because he's afraid of everyone getting mad at him.

When the description for "Nothing Can Stop Della Duck!" was released, it was very vague about whether Della succeeded or not with rebuilding the Spear. I was stuck in the mindset that it would be too early for her to make it directly to her family. I thought that maybe she would at least make it to Earth, but there would still be another struggle for her to face in order for her to make it back to Duckburg. After "Golden Spear" aired, I wondered if there was a catch to the ending. The switch happened so fast and the sky looked really eerie...I thought it was a dream Della was having after she had crashed elsewhere. But once IGN posted a clip from “Nothing Can Stop Della Duck!” to assure us that Della really was coming home this early in the season, I began to anticipate a family reunion involving Launchpad and Della being on screen together; finally revealing their secret connection to everyone and…

They don’t know each other.

Their very first interaction on the show is Della yelling at Launchpad and angrily running out of Donald's Houseboat to confront Scrooge about replacing her.

This scene should have been a devastating blow that cancelled out all of Launchpad's eligibility and should have prevented any other way to work around it.

But instead...it caused me to look further and reroute my ideas.

When Della told Scrooge the original names she had in mind for Huey, Dewey and Louie, I could have yelled...if I wasn’t watching TV so early in the morning...“Jet” is Launchpad’s first name in the Italian Ducktales dub and “Turbo” is his name in the Dutch version. “Rebel”, as far as I know, has nothing to do with Launchpad. It’s probably included because it breaks the pattern...unless this is referring to the fact that Launchpad is an (very) unorthodox airplane pilot.

A ʟɪsᴛ ᴏғ Lᴀᴜɴᴄʜᴘᴀᴅ’s ɪɴᴛᴇʀɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ɴᴀᴍᴇs ғʀᴏᴍ ʜɪs I.N.D.U.C.K.S ᴘᴀɢᴇ

So...Della basically wanted to name her children after Launchpad in the same episode where they meet for the very first time? A lot of Disney research goes into this show, so it's really hard for me to believe the show runners would choose two names that just so happen to already belong to Launchpad. Even without intentionally thinking of his alternate names, the words "jet", "turbo" and "launchpad" all go hand-in-hand with each other.

Why is the foreground telling us that Della and Launchpad have nothing to do with each other when the background is giving us every reason to doubt this?

This lead me into thinking of something I would have never fathomed:

What if LP used to be the father...but an event changed him into who we currently know him as?

One character turning out to be another isn't a new thing in the DT fandom. When Season 1 was still premiering, there were theories going around about Della being Magica and Webby being a de-aged Della due to a magical incident. I'm usually against these theories because they tend to involve two well-known characters with established histories. Neither of them would be able to exist at the same time; a sacrifice would have to be made and that doesn't feel right. But with HDL's father, we know so little about him, that it would be easier to merge his history with someone else who shares enough similarities with him: Launchpad and the father are both accident prone ducks with red hair and possible military involvement. With Della being a pilot with an unknown lover, that makes this an even better fit.

Fʀᴏᴍ ᴀ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴅᴇsᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ᴘᴀɢᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏʟᴅᴇʀ DᴜᴄᴋTᴀʟᴇs ᴄᴏᴍɪᴄs

If Launchpad went through a change, then what type of crazy event could have caused him to become unrecognizable? The first thing that comes to my mind is the cosmic storm.

Issue 18 of IDW's DuckTales comics provided us with a story called "Money Grubbing Hooligans From The Deep!" . It's about a submarine pilot, who shares many similarities with Della, traveling a great distance to save Launchpad after someone mislead her into believing he was kidnapped and enslaved.

Her rescue mission caused such an unusual amount of seismic activity, that a tsunami warning had to be issued out across Duckburg. So basically, a pilot had secret intentions of helping a loved one, that involved traveling through strange weather patterns.

While the comics are not necessarily set as canon, they will sometimes loosely parallel certain events from the show. Like how the first two issues revolved around Donald looking for a job and how that element was present in the pilot episode. “Happy Happy Valley!” seems to be inspired by “The Town Where Everyone Was Nice!”. The plot for “The Incredible Shrinking Webby!” sounds similar to “The Most Dangerous Game…Night!” where Gyro’s shrink ray got out of hand.

"Money Grubbing Hooligans From The Deep!" seems to be partially inspired by “The Depths of Cousin Fethry!”. In that episode, Huey and Dewey answer Fethry's call about a discovery at the Mid-Atlantic ridge and trick Launchpad into stealing Scrooge's submarine in order to meet him. Dewey claimed that Scrooge wanted them to go on this "Totally non-suspicious trip to 'test the equipment.'" He also rips out the sub's radio, causing them to lose contact with Scrooge. When they reach their destination, Launchpad gets side-tracked by the call of a mermaid he previously dated.

Later on, Fethry realized that the monster they were trying to escape from, was actually a previous member of his krill team. He didn't recognize her at first because her body was altered by the chemicals in the hydrothermal vents. As he tried to jog her memory, he brought up a moment where they had shared a rib-eye together; it sounded very reminiscent of a date.

Then afterwards, Launchpad returns to the lighthouse after possibly helping his ex out of a situation. He wore an Aquaman-esque outfit, basically held a golden spear in his hand, and had color-coded creatures attached to him that matched the triplets in color and personality traits.

So, in short, a vehicle was stolen under a false claim when the real intention involved a family member and a previous lover.

Back in February, PhatMojo showcased their upcoming DuckTales merchandise for the New York Toy Fair. People weren’t able to take pictures of the new additions at the event, but Phatmojo added pictures of a different display full of mock-ups and prototypes to their website; possibly from a section of their office. In the first row of the posable figure area, a mock-up package of Launchpad, dressed in the Chinese armor he wore at the end of “Gander”, was placed next to a mock-up package of Della’s Post-Spear design.

(Sᴏᴜʀᴄᴇ)

For some reason, they’re the only ones with the blue sky background and gold label, opposed to the sunset background and teal label a lot of the Wave 2 toys have. This could just be an indication that these are story elements from Season 1 or maybe sunset and teal was decided after these mock-ups were put together and the final products will convert to it, but at the moment...this really makes the two pilots stand out…Below the figures were a couple of boxes with talking plush toys. One of which, had a Launchpad plush leaning on a toy of the Spear.

The placement of the items shown might not be completely random: Lunaris is placed under Della and he definitely has something to do with her this season. Donald is placed in between him and a figure pack that looks a lot like the triplets in space suits. And the figure packs containing Gizmoduck, Della Duck and Darkwing Duck are grouped together when they have a connection to the Moon. While Della and Darkwing are self-explanatory, Gizmoduck was involved with the Moon Level in the classic DuckTales video game. Perhaps this was hinting towards their involvement in Donald’s rescue or the invasion in general.

PM could certainly be hinting something with Launchpad and Della too, LP’s outfit comes directly from the case of a missing loved one and the toy company is well-aware of what will happen in the future of the show. If LP has nothing to do with Della, wouldn’t there be some temptation to place Donald next to her instead? They’re twins, it’s a much better fit and the row would have been full of the original adventuring trio.

If the packaging of Launchpad and Della’s figures were done as an indication between seasons, it’s kinda odd to have Macaw!LP in a group of Season 2 focused toys and especially being something that’s seen as a small running gag. It’s like, why not make a figure out of Launchpad’s look from “Depths”? It’s a similar situation, but more recent. The fact that this version of the character is getting a toy really seems to suggest that this subject will be brought up again with something significant attached.

Another interesting thing about the picture of the display is the time that it was released: It was added to PhatMojo’s website during the time the Toy Fair was happening; February 16th to the 19th. A day later, Issue 18 was released on the 20th, when it’s original date was planned for the 13th, closer to Valentine’s Day. Two days later, a clip from “Whatever Happened to Della Duck?!” was posted to Disney Channel’s YouTube account and the following day, a promo begin to air...two weeks before the episode premiered.

This was the episode to break up a long hiatus, so it was probably being promoted this early to generate hype, but like...a photo of a display with Launchpad and Della next to each other, a toy of Launchpad leaning against the Spear in that same photo, a story about a female submarine pilot wanting to save Launchpad and details about Della’s mysterious journey, all getting released in such a short period of time? This is looking a bit pre-planned...

Before “Whatever Happened” aired, I remember seeing some speculation about Della possibly being affected by the cosmic storm in some way. Huey asks her about this in “Nothing Can”, but it's left unanswered, similarly to Huey's question about Zeus controlling all storms in “The Spear of Selene!”. Could this be implying that Zeus was probably the one who created the cosmic storm? And if Della wasn't affected...couldn’t that leave the possibility that someone else may have been?

I didn’t catch this the first time I heard it, but Launchpad’s “a little lightning never killed anyone” quote from “Selene” sounds a lot like he was struck by lightning before. He said a similar thing in the latter half of "Woo-oo!' after he got a pile of snakes dropped on him. He's probably been bitten by snakes many other times and knew that the venom wouldn't be able to kill him.

Launchpad made joke in the DT joke book about getting struck by lightning and Zeus was mentioned along with it...LP has yet to be on screen at the same time as Zeus, or any other Greek deity for that matter. (A similar thing usually happens whenever the Duck Cousins are focused on. He's been on screen with Donald before, but they hardly ever interact.) Both the joke and the quote could have been referring to a past encounter. And judging by LP's avoidance, it could have been a negative one. He seemed a bit nervous about leaving the plane when it crashed on Ithaquack. We've seen Donald get directly struck by Zeus' lighting in “Golden Spear” and nothing special happened to him, but combined with the radiation of the cosmic storm? It's bound to do something to somebody.

Iɴ "Tʜᴇ Sᴘᴇᴀʀ ᴏғ Sᴇʟᴇɴᴇ", Wᴇʙʙʏ ᴛʜᴇᴏʀɪᴢᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ Dᴇʟʟᴀ sᴛᴏʟᴇ ᴛʜᴇ Sᴘᴇᴀʀ, sʜᴇ ᴀɴɢᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴏᴅs ᴀɴᴅ ʙʀᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴡʀᴀᴛʜ ᴜᴘᴏɴ ʜᴇʀ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ. Tʜɪs ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏɴ Dᴇʟʟᴀ's ᴇɴᴅ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴡᴇ sᴇᴇ ʜᴇʀ ʜᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴏғғ ɪɴᴛᴏ Sᴘᴀᴄᴇ. Sᴏ, ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛʜɪs ᴘᴏʀᴛɪᴏɴ ʙᴇ ғᴏʀᴇsʜᴀᴅᴏᴡɪɴɢ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴍᴀʏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴅᴏɴᴇ?

Tʜᴇʀᴇ ᴍᴀʏ ʙᴇ ᴀ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛs ᴏғ "Gᴀᴍᴇ Nɪɢʜᴛ" ᴀɴᴅ Sᴘᴀᴄᴇ: Gʏʀᴏ ᴡᴀs ᴛɪᴛʟᴇᴅ ᴀs ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ-ᴋɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ᴢᴀᴘᴘᴇᴅ Lᴀᴜɴᴄʜᴘᴀᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪs sʜʀɪɴᴋ ʀᴀʏ. Aғᴛᴇʀᴡᴀʀᴅs, Lᴀᴜɴᴄʜᴘᴀᴅ ᴅᴇsᴄʀɪʙᴇᴅ ʜɪs sɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀs ʙᴇɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴀ "Gɪᴀɴᴛ Wᴏʀʟᴅ ᴏғ Nɪɢʜᴛᴍᴀʀᴇ Hᴏʀʀᴏʀs". Pᴇɴᴜᴍʙʀᴀ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ ᴅᴇsᴄʀɪʙᴇs Eᴀʀᴛʜ ɪɴ ᴀ sɪᴍɪʟᴀʀ ᴡᴀʏ.

Issue 18 made me wonder if Launchpad could have been abducted by aliens. His character has a history of space travel and he’s been abducted by aliens before in the original Darkwing Duck series. Launchpad’s behavior in “Terror” really seemed to indicate that he may have gone through a situation where a shape-shifting creature, perhaps after turning into someone he trusted, attacked him and the mole monster movie was bringing that memory back. While he was talking about how anyone could be a mole monster, he stands in front of an alien poster. The poster for the mole movie is right next to it.

In “Moorshire”, Launchpad got taken away by the kelpies, creatures that are known to shape-shift, in the remains of the golf cart he was driving. Huey noticed he was gone and went to save him before it was too late. Maybe Launchpad’s past self used to be an astronaut pilot and the aliens attacked him in his ship.

If Launchpad was somewhere in the area where the cosmic storm was, that would explain why Della pressed forward instead of turning around. Scrooge told her to turn back, implying she could, right? If not, I suppose the poor connection delayed his warning. Scrooge talking to Della at that moment may have been the first time he was able to contact her since taking the rocket. The way Della reacted to the video connection cutting in and out seemed like she may have struggled with it earlier. But if she could have turned back to dodge the storm completely and if it was simply a test-run like Scrooge had claimed, there was no need for her to deliberately go through the storm without a purpose. There had to have been something she was trying to get to in the direction of it and she felt like passing through was the best option.

Lᴀᴜɴᴄʜᴘᴀᴅ ʟᴏᴏsɪɴɢ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀᴄᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ Lᴏᴜɪᴇ ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ʜɪs ᴘʜᴏɴᴇ ᴄᴀʟʟ ɪɴ "Gᴀᴍᴇ Nɪɢʜᴛ", ɪs sɪᴍɪʟᴀʀ ᴛᴏ ʜᴏᴡ Dᴇʟʟᴀ ʟᴏsᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀᴄᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ Sᴄʀᴏᴏɢᴇ ɪɴ "Lᴀsᴛ Cʀᴀsʜ". Tʜᴇʏ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ʙᴏᴛʜ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ, ʙᴜᴛ sᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴇᴅ.

There could be a parallel between Della's departure from Earth and her departure from the Moon:

Donald didn't want her and the family to go into Space because it was too dangerous with HDL on the way. Penumbra didn't want Della to bring the Moonlanders to Earth because she thought it was too dangerous and didn't like the idea of Della's planet being better than hers.

Della promised to take the Moonlanders to Earth, similarly to how she wanted her family to go to Space, but the emergency launch being activated caused her to break it. This might be hinting that something sudden and urgent caused her take the Spear as soon as she did.

In "Dime Chase", Webby questioned if Della betrayed Scrooge and the Moonlanders felt betrayed when Della ended up leaving without them.

Della's urgency for leaving the Moon was so she could finally get back to her family. Based on the fact that she placed the family photo on the dashboard of the Spear when she first entered Space, family could have been a driving force in that situation too.

I find it extremely interesting that Scrooge compared the Sunchaser situation in “Last Crash” to the Spear incident while Dewey was desperately trying to resolve the mystery about his mother. As Dewey tried to find answers in “The Spear of Selene!”, Selene talks about how much Della loved a good mystery and also how much she loved her family.

Because of these things and the fact that Dewey is so similar to Della, this could be an indication why the whole Spear thing got started: she too could have been making a great risk to solve a mystery.

The dialogue during the scene where Dewey is outside of the plane may have been hinting this:

Webby and Louie try to talk him out of chasing the missing piece.

"Dewey, this is crazy! The mystery's not worth it!"

"I--I get it, but you can't give up the rest of us to find the one person we lost!"

Launchpad comes up to the window after this is said. The glass creates a divide between him and the rest of the group as he makes a statement that comes off as completely irrelevant. Huey takes the walkie-talkie from him.

"Dewey, our family is amazing! We're enough, let it go!"

Then, Dewey angrily chucks his walkie-talkie; losing connection with his brother.

So, maybe this is what could have happened: Aliens or something else could have caused the father to go missing for a long period of time. After realizing he disappeared, Della may have started an investigation that turned into a plan for a family rescue. Somewhere in this, she could have gone to Selene for help with the mystery. Maybe Della named the Spear after her friend to express gratitude.

It’s very possible that she had intentions of bringing her family together and letting the father know about their children, but after Donald voiced his negative opinion of the trip and refused to let her take the boys, her plans were disrupted. Somehow, she found out about the Spear and could have started reworking around this. Perhaps the father was trying to come home at this point and eventually got caught in the cosmic storm. He could have sent out a mayday but lost his connection. Maybe Della received his distress call or was given an idea of where he was and took off to help him.

Since Launchpad has been very secretive about his love-life and Della’s hasn't been directly mentioned anywhere, I feel like she may have not told Scrooge and Donald about the father for some reason or anything about him being the underlying reason for wanting to explore Space. For a while, I've been headcanoning that the couple was mainly nervous about what Donald would think of their relationship and decided to hold off on the introduction until they felt ready. (Aside from giving Della room to grow as a parent, perhaps one of the reasons why Donald was sent to Space was because he would have interfered with Della discovering who Launchpad really is.)

Maybe she kept getting interrupted or ignored every time she wanted to talk about the father to her family. That tends to happen to Launchpad when he has something interesting to say. There could be a running gag playing off of the popular version of Don Rosa's Duck Family tree where the father's face and first name are "censored". What if she purposely left the father out of her explanation because she thought she would be more likely be to discouraged? To be told that the three of them were enough, like Huey said to Dewey?

I ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀ ɪғ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏғ Dᴇʟʟᴀ's ᴘᴏssɪʙʟᴇ ʀᴇsᴄᴜᴇ ᴡᴀs ғᴜᴇʟᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴀᴛᴇ ᴏғ ʜᴇʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛs. Mᴀʏʙᴇ sʜᴇ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀɪᴘʟᴇᴛs ᴛᴏ ɢʀᴏᴡ ᴜᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛs ʟɪᴋᴇ sʜᴇ ᴅɪᴅ.

Donald probably didn’t give Della a chance to explain everything when she brought up her ideas of Space travel during such a crucial point in time. Donald was quick to call Della reckless and brainless in "Last Christmas". There was even a parallel being made between that situation and the one surrounding the Spear: There was an underlying motive, she made a big deal, wanted to spend time with her family, packed a bunch of supplies and Donald was opposed to the adventure. She was also searching for someone to make another part of her family happy. When Della shared her plans about the rocket, he could have shot her down by insulting her and caused her to lose her point as they argued.

ᴀs sᴇᴇɴ ɪɴ "Lᴀsᴛ Cʜʀɪsᴛᴍᴀs" ᴀɴᴅ "Sᴋʏ Pɪʀᴀᴛᴇs", ʙᴏᴛʜ Dᴇʟʟᴀ ᴀɴᴅ Dᴇᴡᴇʏ sᴇᴇᴍ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴘʀᴏʙʟᴇᴍ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴄᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ɴᴇᴇᴅs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄʟᴇᴀʀʟʏ.

After "Whatever Happened" premiered, I wanted to believe Della succeeded in her rescue mission, but got caught in the storm on the way back. That would explain why she was laser-focused on her boys, because she had already did what she needed to do. I had also thought her regret over the situation when she said "I will NOT fail them again!" mainly lied on the promise she made to her boys about finding a way back home. But what if she failed completely? What if she regrets ever stepping foot into the Spear because in the end, all it did was make her miss out on motherhood and did nothing to help the father? When it comes to the letter Della left behind, a lot of fans have been wondering why she wrote "I’m sorry" instead of "thank you". I first thought it was “sorry” as in “Sorry for ruining the surprise!”, but it could be “Sorry, but need to go on this mission!”, “Sorry, but I'm running out of time!”, “I'm sorry for whatever may happen after I do this!”. The letter sounds a lot like she had to do something against Scrooge's wishes that couldn’t wait. If this was just a test run, she could have definitely waited for certain conditions to be right.

After discovering that the moon mite was a mother, General Lunaris makes a statement that resonates deeply with Della.

"She put herself in danger, faced unknown threats, scoured this entire planet for any scrap of metal."

"...Because a mother would do anything for the sake of her kids."

The moon mite’s actions reflected Della’s. It wouldn't be as fitting if Della's decision was fueled by selfishness, therefore, she put herself in danger for something in relation to her kids.

Pᴇɴᴜᴍʙʀᴀ ғɪʀɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ʟᴀsᴇʀ ɢᴜɴ ᴀs Dᴇʟʟᴀ ᴄʜᴀʀɢᴇᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴏɴ ᴍɪᴛᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴠᴇʀʏ ʀᴇᴍɪɴɪsᴄᴇɴᴛ ᴏғ ʜᴏᴡ sʜᴇ ᴘᴜsʜᴇᴅ ғᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏsᴍɪᴄ sᴛᴏʀᴍ.

Scrooge's flashback made it look like Della cared more about adventure than her family, but then in Season 2, we see her doing everything she can to come back home and see her express her desire to be a good mother. She loves her family too much to suddenly cast them aside. Della is flawed; she impulsive, but at this point in the series, it's hard for me to think of her messing up this badly without a bigger reason being attached to it.

Ok, ok, so, that could explain why Della didn’t recognize Launchpad's physical appearance and a possible reason to why Della took the Spear, but why doesn't he recognize her? And why does Della not remember his name? After his meeting with Della in "Nothing Can", I looked back and realized that Launchpad may have been showing signs of amnesia.

In "Beware of the B.U.D.D.Y System!", he can't remember if he has a pilot's license or not and makes the most bewildered face as he tries to think about this.

I thought that was extremely odd...I mean, either you have your license or you don't. How do you just forget something significant like that? Being a pilot is his passion. In the joke book , he claimed pilot's licenses don't exist. Huey confronts him about how wrong he is and asks if Launchpad has one. He doesn't answer.

Launchpad isn't good at remembering the lyrics to songs. In "Last Christmas!" he didn't know a majority of the words to "The Twelve Days of Christmas" and had to improvise; mostly repeating the same phrase and forgetting the ninth day. In the description for the Theme Song Takeover video, the description highlights his forgetfulness. In "Moorshire", Launchpad is very confused about what golf is and constantly mixes it up with other sports. And in "Last Crash", he... doesn't seem to know what a parachute is…? In spite of all the piloting he does?

After Scrooge tells the kids not to tell Donald about their trip to Atlantis in "Woo-oo!", Launchpad quickly asks "Who is that?". I had wondered if maybe Scrooge referring to him as Uncle Donald was the part that threw Launchpad off. He was right there as Scrooge and Donald argued in front of the gate; saying each other's names. Maybe LP thought HDL were Donald's sons or the sons of a cousin. But seriously...Launchpad has been just about everywhere. So has Scrooge, Donald and Della. How can he know who Scrooge, the Richest Duck in The World, is without knowing who’s been accompanying him for many years? The family is so famous, he should have known about Donald and Della’s existence prior to working for Scrooge.

Wᴇ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ LP’s ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɪᴅs ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ’ʀᴇ ᴊᴜᴍᴘɪɴɢ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀʀ. Mᴀʏʙᴇ ʜᴇ ᴅɪᴅ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ Dᴏɴᴀʟᴅ ᴡᴀs ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴀs sᴜʀᴘʀɪsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ғɪɴᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀs ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴜɴᴄʟᴇ ɪɴsᴛᴇᴀᴅ.

Webby describes Donald as one of the greatest adventurers of all time. Stepping out of the spotlight for a decade to raise the boys isn't long enough for him to be forgotten. Launchpad Is around the twins' age, so it's not like he was too young to remember hearing about their adventures.

Aside from forgetting about important items and significant people, Launchpad could be suffering from a loss of self-identity as well.

I had earlier speculations about LP being a spy since he briefly worked as one in the old DuckTales episode "Double O Duck" and joked around with the idea that he was only disguising himself as a bumbling pilot to retrieve more information about Della. Now, I think he would make a terrible spy since it's hard for him to lie...on purpose, but he still seems to have this double-life thing going on: he has two jobs with Scrooge. One he was hired for, the other one being more voluntary. He has a different outfit to go with each one instead of having a consistent set of clothes like everyone else. It's evident enough that he was going to wear his chauffeur look no matter what he was doing, but was later changed during production. Maybe this decision was done to illustrate how there is more than one side of him.

Tᴏᴘ, Lᴇғᴛ ᴛᴏ Rɪɢʜᴛ: Fʀᴏᴍ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏғ 2ᴠᴇɪɴᴛᴇ’s ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏs, ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏғ Cᴏᴠᴇʀ B ғᴏʀ Issᴜᴇ #4, ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏғ Cᴏᴠᴇʀ B ғᴏʀ Issᴜᴇ #5.

Bᴏᴛᴛᴏᴍ, Lᴇғᴛ ᴛᴏ Rɪɢʜᴛ: A sᴄʀᴇᴇɴsʜᴏᴛ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ Dᴜᴄᴋʙᴜʀɢ Qᴜᴇsᴛ ᴍᴏʙɪʟᴇ ɢᴀᴍᴇ, ғʀᴏᴍ ᴀɴ ᴇᴀʀʟʏ ᴘɪᴇᴄᴇ ᴏғ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴏ ᴀʀᴛ.

There was a long period of time where the IDW comics only featured LP in his chauffeur outfit on the cover, but depicted his piloting outfit on the inside. This went on until Issue 18. They probably had to revise all of his drawings to put him in that outfit, but it's interesting how they didn't go all the way.

Launchpad finds it extremely difficult to pretend to be someone else without acknowledging himself. In “B.U.D.D.Y”, when he asks Gyro for help, he splits himself into Not Launchpad and Launchpad to speak hypothetically but ends up confusing the two with each other. When he was pretending to be Donald in “Castle”, he quickly forgot he was supposed to be in disguise. He catches himself and tries to go back to being Donald, but he keeps reverting back to Launchpad. Fergus noted his "nephew's" drastic change in appearance and could sense he was confused.

Scrooge's confusion over Launchpad being a pilot in "Woo-oo!" may have had a double meaning. His ignorance towards Launchpad's mentions led him into being surprised, but combined with the fact that he can't recall getting his pilot's license, this could have been hinting that he was never a real pilot. Or at least, never an airplane pilot.

Like I had mentioned before, he could actually be an astronaut pilot. One of the requirements for being an astronaut selection candidate is having a certain amount of hours of flying a jet aircraft. This option is geared more towards candidates that start out from the military and as an old character description for Launchpad states, he may have had military involvement as a test pilot.

Prior flying experience isn't needed to be a test pilot and a pilot's license isn't required to be an astronaut, but there is a six-week training process you have to go through to fly a military jet. Being another kind of pilot would explain why Launchpad has the basics of flying a plane and possibly why he can operate a sub exceptionally well without prior experience.

If "Launchpad" isn't his real name, maybe it's something he remembered from his astronaut background. Was it a nickname he was given? An alter-ego he had previously made for himself? And after the amnesia confused him, it became something he fused with himself?

Amnesia or not, one thing that's for certain is that LP has sustained a bunch of injuries; some of which were head injuries: He crashed into a wall in “Toth-Ra” while trying to catch Scrooge, he got hit with a golf club in “Moorshire”, he was rubbing his head after the Jeep hit the interior of the Sunchaser in “Last Crash”, and Scrooge caused him to hit the limo’s hood a few times in “Game Night”.

I suggested in my first Association post that Launchpad may have had a severe injury that kept him sidelined and one in relation to the head is looking very likely. The father was originally hospitalized for having a firecracker put under his chair and the show could be using that as a base. Amnesia could have occurred due to the whole Space incident being too stressful for him to remember or an outward force, like magic, could also be an explanation. Getting struck by lightning can also result in memory loss (as well as...many other problems).

If Launchpad truly is amnesic, his awareness isn't in full like I had previously thought it was, it's partially hidden in his subconscious. He'll do or say certain things and maybe he's not exactly sure why, but there’s a deeper meaning connected to who he used to be. He can't remember who Della is as a person but he remembers things about her and probably bits and pieces of the incident. This could be why Launchpad's been dating around so much; he doesn't realize it, but he's been trying to make his way back to Della. Most of his relationships may have not been very long lasting. From what we’ve been let in on so far, they seem to be at this weird status where they still have feelings but continue to stay apart. Perhaps every time he tried to develop a serious relationship, something came up and got in the way. One of those things could have been his subconscious telling him that this wasn’t who he used to be with. Constantly trying to figure this out could have been what eventually led him to working for Scrooge in Duckburg.

Something was definitely happening in Launchpad’s mind during the events of "Last Crash" and "Shadow War". After Scrooge accidentally refers to Della, we aren't able to see Launchpad's immediate reaction; the camera is very quick to focus on Beakley, but when Scrooge asks LP to hand him another parachute, the pilot instead hesitates and gives a look of concern.

When the investigation crate breaks open and Mrs. B takes the Spear's blueprints from Webby's pocket, Launchpad is left out of these shots; preventing us from seeing his reaction. But when the missing piece flies up to the front of the plane, we see that he's in a tense pose with his arms drawn close to his chest.

Launchpad completely disappeared at the end of "Last Crash" when everyone was leaving the mansion and likely didn't check on Scrooge until three days later. As Mrs. B guilt trips the boys into reuniting with Scrooge, Launchpad blinks excessively, sadly looks off into the distance and has a couple of outbursts.

When Della is mentioned by name, the focus is on Louie with Launchpad's clenched fist next to him.

He's having all these feelings about something he supposedly has nothing to do with and he doesn't understand why. Mrs. B could sense something was wrong with him based on how surprised she was over his hesitation and the "why are you overreacting?" look she gave him when he responded loudly to her sarcasm. I'm convinced that the show-runners wanted to catch our attention without having to reveal anything yet.

This post is getting really long, so I'm gonna break it off into another part talking more about the amnesia theory with a case we've already seen, what kinds of special abilities Launchpad may have and some reoccurring themes that may be leading back to "Whatever Happened to Della Duck?!"

...Are you up for more reading? Continue here.

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girdleskate08 · 2 years

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anoriginalderivative · 3 years

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i’m like very close to falling all kinds of apart.

i miss placed a file on my computer a while ago after lending my computer to someone. but it wasn’t in the recycle bin so i figured it was just moved.

well i just spent a couple hours combing through all the folders on my laptop and it would seem that every essay, short story, and poem i wrote between 2015 and two months ago is gone.

some of it was bad, but there was a sub folder titled “ready to publish” that had almost enough poetry to publish and it’s just not there anymore. and i guess it’s kinda my fault for not backing it up anywhere else but wow i’m positively devastated.

i’ve been working on two stories in particular that i want to turn into books. there was five years of work on both of those stories that is gone now.

this is just too much and is simply not computing right now. like i can’t even cry about it. i just can’t believe this happened.

#there is a folder full of school work and essays from high school but that’s it

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essaytagger357 · 4 years

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Terrorism And The International Court Of Justice Essays - Terrorism

Psychological warfare and the International Court of Justice Michelle Rose Gowka 04/26/01 PL SC 14H S. Bremer Psychological warfare and the International Court of Justice I.History of International Terrorism II.State Sponsored Terrorism A.Iran B.Sudan III.Benefits Derived From Terrorism A.Inexpensive and capacity to propel belief systems B.Fear C.Publicity D.Minimal hazard E.Lack of open destruction IV.Aspects of Terrorism A.Technological propels B.Weapons of mass decimation C.Cyber fear based oppression D.Suicide bombarding V.Islamic Terrorist Organizations A.Islamic Jihad B.Al-Gama'a ai-Islamiyyah C.Hamas D.Hizballah E.Usamah Bin-Laden 1.Status of Bin-Laden 2.Applicability of International Law 3.International Court of Justice Ruling 4.Discussion of Ruling VI.United States' Terrorism Policy A.Make no arrangements B.Must be considered responsible in an official courtroom C.Isolate and apply strain to states that support fear based oppression VII.Conclusion Psychological warfare, as characterized by Title 22 of the United States code, segment 2656f(d), is the pre-ruminated, politically spurred viciousness executed against noncombatant focuses by sub-national gatherings or undercover specialists, normally planned to impact and crowd. Islamic fear based oppression is a difficult issue for the United States as a result of the danger to national security, guiltless regular people, and the establishments of fair social orders all through the world (1997 Global Terrorism: NP). Worldwide fear mongering has changed in structure and plan throughout the hundreds of years. Jewish devotees led crusades against the Romans in the primary century AD, and the Hashshashin, a Shi'ah Muslim gathering who gave us the word professional killer, methodicallly killed those in positions and authority during the nineteenth century (CSIS, July 1999). The advanced period of fear mongering started in the 1960's. Global fear mongering in its present structure started in 1968. As the 1970's cruised by, the blast of radical gatherings and related episodes started another attention to the threats of fear based oppression. In the 1980's, Canada was the survivor of a few psychological militant assaults did by Armenian and Sikh fanatics, including a bombarding of an Air India flight beginning in Toronto, which detonated off the shoreline of Ireland, murdering 329 individuals (CSIS, July 1999). The 1995 Sarin gas assault by the Aum Shinrikyo Cult in a Tokyo metro denoted another limit in universal psychological oppression. Just because, individuals started to understand that comparable gatherings could utilize weapons of mass devastation or plan assaults to cause greatest setbacks. The drawn out impacts of introduction are yet to be resolved, yet fundamental trial of eighteen casualties led in January 1998 indicated that their feeling of parity was influenced by the nerve gas (ACOEM, January 1998). A large portion of the Islamic world view the West, particularly the United States, as the premier defiling effect on the Islamic present reality. The Hizballah, an Iranian fear based oppressor gathering, have named the United States as the Great Satan (Sinha. Pakistan-The Chief Patron-Promoter of Islamic Militancy and Terrorism: NP). This developing enmity that Islamic countries feel toward the Western world has been persistently exhibited by the expansion in global fear based oppression. Nonetheless, Muslims see their activities as demonstrations of self-protection and strict obligation and not as fear mongering. The Islamic radical developments principle achievement has been their capacity to pick up authenticity from the overall population (Paz 1998: NP). During the previous two decades, they have had colossal accomplishment with their capacity to introduce themselves to the Arab and Muslim world as the genuine bearers of Islam. They bid to the lower class because of the mutual hatred of well off westerners while the white collar class and educated people are drawn toward these extreme gatherings so as to remove imported philosophies and types of government (State Department. Hostile to US Attacks 1997: NP). Radical Islamic associations have announced a sacred war, Jihad, so as to unite the Arab world and have their spot as a politically influential nation. So as to achieve these objectives, Islamic radicals have principally utilized fear based oppression as their fundamental instrument of influence. The biggest and most dynamic fear based oppressor associations are those which are state subsidized. These associations go about as both an obvious and incognito method of spreading the support nations philosophies. The U.S. Secretary of State has assigned seven governments as state supporters of fear based oppression: Cuba, Iran, Iraq, Libya, North Korea, Sudan, and Syria (State Department. Over of State-Sponsored Terrrorism 1997: NP). These legislatures bolster universal fear based oppression either by taking part in psychological oppressor action themselves or by giving arms, preparing, place of refuge, discretionary offices, money related support, strategic and additionally backing to fear based oppressors (Over of State-Sponsored Terrorism 1997: NP). Iran is one of the most dynamic state patrons of psychological oppression, including themselves in the arranging and execution of fear based oppressor acts by its own operators and by proxies, for example, the Hizballah.

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gizkasparadise · 7 years

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Kdrama review: Goblin

Master Kdrama rec list.

Series: Goblin (also known as Guardian: The Great and Lonely God) Episodes: 16 (~1hr15min each) Genres: Romance, Supernatural/Fantasy, Mythology/Folklore, Historical/Sageuk, Comedy, Drama Spoilers in the Review: For the first episode! If You Like, You’ll Like: Being Human (US & UK), Chicago Typewriter, Kate Daniels, stories about folklore/mythology, anything urban fantasy / reincarnation Rank: 10/10

“I will come as the rain. I will come as the first snowfall. I will beg the heavens, to let me do just that.”

Premise (spoilers for the first episode).

900 years ago, a Goryeo-era general named Kim Shin was sent to the battlefield by his young king with the order to die on them. When he returned victorious, the king sentenced him to commit suicide. Kim Shin refused, and instead stormed the palace with the intent on reaching the king. The king sentenced Kim Shin’s family members and servants, including his younger sister (the current queen), to die.

After seeing his sister executed, Kim Shin is killed by having a sword pushed through his chest. His rage and anger at the deity results in him becoming a goblin or dokkaebi, a mythical being with supernatural powers. He is cursed to live an immortal life, one where he always feels the pain from the sword.

Kim Shin can only be killed by “The Goblin’s Bride,” a woman who can see the sword and pull it out from his chest, “returning him to ashes.” Kim Shin has spent the last 900 years looking for this woman, so he can die peacefully.

In the modern day, he meets Ji Eun Tak, a human girl who can see ghosts-- ghosts who have told her she’s the aforementioned “Goblin’s Bride.”

Characters.

The goblin / Kim Shin.

Expectation: Grizzled, angry general Hell Bent On Revenge and Worn By The Sands of Time.

Reality: Petty but Adorable Art-Nerd, Cooking Enthusiast, and Wearer of Amazing Coats who loves taking selfies and will buy you as many toothbrushes as your heart desires. a little Worn By The Sands of Time but that doesn’t stop him from endorsing infomercials.

The titular character, Kim Shin is a total goober with a hidden badass side. He has mystical powers, my favorite of which is creating bars of gold while drunk and letting everyone know they can’t have them. The weather responds to his feelings, and the show follows him as he is torn between finally getting to end his life and finding love.

The Goblin’s Bride / Ji Eun Tak.

19 at the start of the show, she’s had A SHIT LIFE. a SHIT LIFE!!! but is still optimistic and cheerful. she has the ability to see and talk to ghosts, who have told her she’s meant to be Goblin’s Bride.

Eun Tak spends her time studying extremely hard to make her late mother proud, helping ghosts with their problems so they can move on to the afterlife, and working part-time in a chicken restaurant. she’s fabulous i love her she’s the best give her $5000

The Grim Reaper. Like it says on the tin, the Grim Reaper is…well, a Grim Reaper. In this mythos, Grim Reapers are former humans who committed grave sins during their life, the memories of which are erased after they become Grim Reapers. Initially on the job to find a “missing soul,” the Grim Reaper ends up leasing a room in the Goblin’s home. The two have a petty, antagonistic relationship that gives me complete life.

Certified Mom Friend, does not know how to use a phone, goes to Subway to grimly reflect on existence while enjoying that classic 6″, decides to name himself Kim Woo Bin to impress a girl.

“Sunny.”

Said girl. Eun Tak’s boss at the chicken restaurant. S A S S queen. She immediately takes on a role of older sister/awesome friend to Eun Tak, and is a love interest for the Grim Reaper. While she seems to be a fairly straightforward character there’s soon More To Be Revealed ™.

Dreamweaver plays every time she flips her hair. Day drinks. Night drinks. Morning drinks. Another wearer of Really Fabulous Coats. Tells God at one point to fuck off (no really).

Yu Deok Hwa.

MY PRECIOUS PRINCE. Certified Rich Kid of Instagram and trying to embody all the Rich Heir Tropes (amnesia, fancy cars, hitting on ancient goddesses-), Deok Hwa is the newest heir to a family that has been serving Kim Shin over the centuries. Ridiculously rich with fabulous hair + outfits, he’s a great source of comic relief over the course of the show or is he. The great love of his life is credit cards. Gives people pictures of himself as presents.

Review.

this is my favorite kdrama of all time okay.

Drawbacks.

a few eps feel like extremely engaging commercials aka holy product placement, batman. subway continues to own an impressive amount of stock in TVN. as does baskin robbins. iloom. whatever company made those cell phones and cameras. BUT. im okay with the amount of product placement because THE PRODUCTION VALUE is seriously off the charts in terms of special effects and cinematography. I WILL TAKE BEAUTIFUL PANSHOTS WITH A 6″ SUB . JUST LOOK AT THIS GIF SET

age gap. at the start of the story/when they first meet, eun tak is a teenager (19). while the actress is 25, and the show has a time jump, it’s something to take into consideration since the romance does start at that age

character-driven. for a good chunk of the show, the plot takes a backseat. eps 6-11ish in particular are more about the interactions than moving action forward. i’m normally a hardcore plot > person, but i didn’t mind the pacing tbh because the characters are all extremely likeable and engaging

Reasons to Watch.

AESTHETICS. i know this is a weird one to start the list off with, but the visuals and cinematography are ridiculously good for a tv drama. each episode feels like a tiny, self-contained movie because the production quality is THAT GOOD. no cheesey CGI, the “magic” elements are super visually appealing, the color palettes are amazing and convey mood, and im just super into the overall #Look of this show

in line with this, the show has a perfect amount of #extra. goblin knows it’s tropes and executes them perfectly

this moment? extra. as. fuck. and i love it.

OST. this is the best OST i’ve heard for any show, ever. it even beats out my beloved battlestar galactica. listen to “stay with me” and try to tell me there’s no feels. every track is a gentle gutpunch. the music is timed perfectly and elevates the show-- like Chicago Typewriter and Star Wars. It’s perfect.

you’re rooting for everybody. seriously. you’re going to love all the main characters & they all love each other (eventually). perfect if you want that #FoundFamily vibe.

laugh out loud moments perfectly matched with HEARTBREAK. this show has such a great balance with tone. there’s fluff, there’s drama, there’s comedy, there’s total devastation. it’s fabulous

the love stories. there’s two main ones (kim shin/eun tak & grim reaper/sunny) and they’re both super well-done.

Final Thoughts.

LOOK JUST WATCH IT

#kdrama #goblin #gizka does kdrama #gizkarec #!my post #thank you to the original gif makers!!!!

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ixvyupdates · 6 years

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One in ten girls in sub-Saharan Africa miss school during their period

In countries around the world, menstrual hygiene and inadequate sanitation facilities are causing girls to miss classes. Across Africa, a 2016 study by Human Rights Watch estimated that one in ten African girls missed school during menstruation. Yet many countries in the region are still not doing enough to address the issue, with a distinct lack of effort towards providing single-sex toilets. With late enrolment, many girls reach the end of primary school well into their puberty. Yet, our latest Gender Review found that only 9 of 44 countries with data had single-sex facilities provided in over 75% of primary schools. In Benin and the Comoros, only 4% of schools provided access to single-sex toilets.

In some cases, the story hits the news, with devastating stories of children falling into pit latrines in South Africa, schools being closed altogether due to poor hygiene in Uganda or students being shamed by their teachers for menstruating in India.

A simple obvious change could involve providing free menstrual hygiene products as New York is planning to do. This idea is also being rolled out by the AAP government in New Delhi and the ShePad scheme in Kerala, covering 300 schools. Since 2011, the Kenyan government has also been budgeting about $3 million per year to distribute free sanitary pads in schools in low-income communities. In the United Kingdom, protests about “period poverty” started at the end of last year when reports emerged of girls in Leeds missing school because they couldn’t afford menstrual hygiene products.

Some forms of accountability can help make sure adequate sanitation facilities are provided as well. For example, regulations requiring separate toilet facilities for boys and girls can help. Yet an analysis of regulations in 71 education systems by the 2017/8 GEM Report showed that only 61% of them required sex-separate facilities in public schools and 66% in private schools. Much more must be done to advance equality to grant girls the dignity they deserve.

Yet, even regulations alone are not sufficient to ensure facilities are available. Although separate sanitation facilities are written into laws in Bangladesh, a survey found that 41% of girls aged between 11 and 17 were missing three days of school every month because of a lack of adequate sanitary care, including a lack of waste bins, soap and water. Meanwhile, Human Rights Watch also found that girls in Haiti were going home to change the materials they used to manage their menstruation, resulting in them missing school.

School inspections can help make sure that schools adhere to regulations. However, inspections do not always consider gender issues as was the case in Bangladesh, for example, where sex-separate sanitation facilities are only occasionally evaluated.

We considered waiting until May 28th to launch this blog, which is Menstrual Hygiene Day. But periods come once a month, not once a year. The blind eye being paid to menstruation is what is enabling it to continue being a barrier to girls’ rights, including to education.

One in ten girls in sub-Saharan Africa miss school during their period syndicated from https://sapsnkraguide.wordpress.com

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thekillerblogofkillers · 7 years

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Charles Cullen (1960-?)

Charles Cullen is an American serial killer who confessed that he had killed up to 40 of his patients during a 16-year nursing career, psychiatrists later came to believe it was many more, with experts estimating that Cullen may be responsible for up to 400 deaths. If this is true, it would make him the most prolific serial killer in American history.

Charles Edmund Cullen was born in West Orange, New Jersey, in 1960. He was the youngest of 8. His father was a bus driver and died when Cullen was just 7 months old. Cullen has described his early years as miserable, and at the age of 9 attempted suicide for the first time by drinking chemicals that came in a chemistry set. This was just the first of many suicide attempts throughout his life, even fantasising about stealing drugs from the hospital where he worked as a nurse and using them to end his life. In December 1977 Cullen’s mother died in a car accident – his sister was the driver. 4 months later, and devastated by his mother’s dead, Cullen dropped out of school and joined the Navy. He was assigned to the submarine service, serving aboard ballistic missile submarine USS Woodrow Wilson. Cullen was promoted to petty officer 3rd class and was part of the team that operated the sub’s Poseidon missiles. It was at this point that Cullen started showing signs of mental instability and he was quickly transferred to the supply ship USS Canopus. Cullen tried to kill himself a further 7 times over the next few years, eventually receiving a medical discharge from the Navy on March 30, 1984. The same month he enrolled at the Mountainside Hospital School of Nursing in Montclair, New Jersey – he was the only male student. He was later elected president of his nursing class and graduated in 1987 before taking a job at the burn unit of St. Barnabas Medical Center in Livingston, New Jersey.

The first murders that Cullen would later confess to occurred while he was working at St. Barnabas. On June 11 1988 he gave Judge John W. Yengo, Sr. a lethal overdose of IV medication. Cullen also admitted to killing several other patients at St. Barnabas, including a patient with AIDS who died after being given a lethal dose of insulin. He left St. Barnabas in early 1992 after hospital authorities discovered he may have contaminated IV bags. An internal investigation at St. Barnabas determined it was more than likely that Cullen was responsible for this, resulting in dozens of patient deaths. He was not arrested for these crimes. A month after leaving St. Barnabas, Cullen began working at Warren Hospital in Phillipsburg, New Jersey, where he murdered 3 elderly women at the hospital by giving them overdoses of digoxin (a heart medication). His final victim told family members that a “sneaky male nurse” had injected her in her sleep, but they and healthcare providers dismissed these comments as there was no evidence. A year later, Cullen moved into a basement apartment on Shaffer Avenue in Phillipsburg after an acrimonious divorce from his wife – they shared custody of their daughters. He later claimed that he wanted to leave nursing in 1993 but the court-ordered child support payments forced him to continue working there.

In March of 1993, Cullen broke into the home of a co-worker while she and her young son were asleep, but left without disturbing them. He began to stalk the woman, who filed a police report against him. He subsequently pled guilty to trespassing and was given 1 year’s probation. The day after he was arrested, Cullen tried to commit suicide again. He took 2 months off work and was treated for depression in 2 different psychiatric facilities. He attempted suicide twice more before the end of 1993 before quitting his job at Warren Hospital. He then began a 3 year residency in the intensive care/cardiac care unit of Hunterdon Medical Center in Flemington. He later claimed not to have harmed anyone during the first 2 years, but conveniently, the hospital records for that time had been destroyed by the time of his arrest in 2003. He admitted to murdering 5 patients between January and September 1996, using overdoses of digoxin. Cullen then began working at Morristown Memorial Hospital in Morristown, New Jersey. He was fired for poor performance. Throughout the 2nd half of 1997, Cullen was unemployed and stopped making his child support payments. He sought treatment for depression in the Warren Hospital emergency room and ended up admitted to a psychiatric facility. He left a short time later. In February of 1988, Cullen began working at the Liberty Nursing and Rehabilitation Center in Allentown, Pennsylvania where he was head of a ward of respirator-dependent patients. Whilst there, Cullen was accused of meddling with the patients drug schedules and was fired after being seen entering a patients room with syringes in his hands. The patient ended up with a broken arm but managed not to receive any injections. Cullen caused the death of a patient while working at Liberty but it was blamed on another nurse. After leaving Liberty Nursing and Rehab Center he worked at Easton Hospital in Easton, Pennsylvania between November 1998 to March 1999. On December 30, 1998 he murdered another patient using digoxin. A coroner’s inquest detected digoxin in the blood in lethal amounts but an internal investigation was inconclusive and nothing pointed to Cullen as the murderer.

Despite his history of mental instability and the amount of deaths that occurred during his shifts at various hospitals, Cullen continually managed to find work as a nurse due to a national shortage. At the time, no reporting procedures or systems existed to identify nurses with mental health issues or employment problems. Cullen began working in the burn unit of Lehigh Valley Hospital in Allentown, Pennsylvania in March 1999. During his time there he murdered 1 patients and attempted to kill another. In April of the same year Cullen voluntarily resigned before beginning to work at St. Luke’s Hospital in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania in the cardiac care unit. Within the next 3 years Cullen is known to have killed at least 5 patients and to have attempted to murder 2 more. On January 11, 2000, Cullen attempted suicide yet again by putting a charcoal grill in his bathtub, lighting it, and hoping the carbon monoxide fumes would kill him. However, Cullen’s neighbours smelled the smoke and called the fire department and the police. Cullen was taken to a hospital and a psychiatric facility but was released the following day. Nobody suspected that Cullen was killing patients at St. Luke’s Hospital until a co-worker found vials of medication (some used, some not) in a disposal bin. The drugs were not worth any money outside the hospital and weren’t used by drug addicts so the theft seemed strange. An investigation ensued and showed that Cullen had taken the medication. He was offered a deal by the medical facility – resign and be given a neutral recommendation or be fired. He resigned and was escorted out of the building in June 2002. 7 of his co-workers at St. Luke’s later met up with the Lehigh County district attorney to alert authorities to their suspicions that Cullen had been using the drugs to kill patients. Investigators didn’t look into Cullen’s past and the case ended up being dropped 9 months later due to lack of evidence.

In September 2002 Cullen began working at the Somerset Medical Center in Somerville, New Jersey in the critical care unit. Around this time Cullen began dating a local woman, but his depression got worse, leading him to kill 8 patients and attempt at least 1 other murder by June 2003. His drugs of choice were digoxin, epinephrine and insulin. On June 18, 2003, Cullen tried to murder Philip Gregor, a patient at Somerset Medical Center but Gregor survived and was discharged before dying of natural causes 6 months later. Not long after this event, Somerset Medical Center began to notice things that indicated Cullen’s activities. The computer system showed that Cullen had been looking at the records of patients that weren’t his, co-workers began seeing him in the rooms of patients that his, and the hospital’s computerised drug-dispensing cabinets showed that Cullen was requesting medications that his patients didn’t need and had not been prescribed. His drug requests were odd, many orders were immediately cancelled and many repeat requests were made within minutes of each other. In July 2003 the executive director of the New Jersey Poison Information and Education System warned Somerset Medical Center officials that at least 4 suspicious overdoses meant that an employee was killing patients. The hospital did not contact authorities until October 2003 and by then Cullen had killed at least 5 more patients and attempted to kill another. When a patient in Somerset died due to low blood sugar in October 2003 the medical center finally alerted state authorities. That patient was Cullen’s last victim. State officials severely reprimanded the hospital for failure to report a nonfatal insulin overdose, administered by Cullen, in August. An investigation into his history revealed past suspicions about his involvement with prior deaths. Somerset Medical Center fired him on October 31, 2003, using the fact he had lied on his job application. Colleague and fellow nurse Amy Loughren called the police after becoming concerned about Cullen’s records of accessing drugs and his links to patient deaths. Police put him under surveillance for several weeks until their investigation had concluded.

Charles Cullen was arrested at a restaurant on December 12, 2003. He was charged with 1 count of murder and 1 count of attempted murder. 2 days later Cullen told detectives Dan Baldwin and Tim Braun about the murder of Rev. Florian Gall and the attempted murder of Jin Kyung Han (both patients at Somerset). Cullen also admitted killing as many as 40 patients over his 16 years as a nurse. In April 2004 Cullen pleaded guilty to killing 13 patients and attempting to kill 2 others by lethal injection while working at Somerset. As part of his plea agreement he agreed to cooperate with authorities if they took the death penalty off the table. 1 month later, he pleaded guilty to the murder of 3 more patients in New Jersey. In November 2004, Cullen pleaded guilty in an Allentown, Pennsylvania court to killing 6 patients and trying to kill 3 others. In July 2005 Cullen was in the Somerset County Jail in New Jersey as authorities continued to investigate the possibility of his involvement in other deaths.

Cullen is currently serving a sentence of life without parole for over 100 years to be served consecutively with his other sentences in Pennsylvania. On March 2, 2006, Cullen was sentenced to 18 consecutive life sentences in New Jersey and is not eligible for parole until 2403. He is currently held at New Jersey State Prison in Trenton, New Jersey. On March 10, 2006, Cullen was brought into the courtroom of Lehigh County President Judge William H. Platt for a sentencing hearing. Cullen kept repeating “Your honour, you need to step down” for 30 minutes until Platt ordered Cullen to be gagged with cloth and duct tape. Even after being gagged Cullen continued to try and repeat the phrase. He was given another 6 life sentences. As part of a plea agreement Cullen was working with law enforcement officials to identify additional victims. Cullen originally told authorities about 40 patients he specifically remembered killing during his career. In August 2006, Cullen donated a kidney to the brother of a former girlfriend.

#charles #cullen #pennsylvania #new jersey #nurse #angel of death #digoxin #insulin #epinephrine #murder #serial killer #life sentence

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storyunrelated · 7 years

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Cold Hard Hugs #15_We Have A Doorbell?

So, so much of this story is just semi-romantic/squishy wheel-spinning. Or what amounts to it, given my inability to impart human warmth into the story.

However! This bit does end on a cliffhanger of sorts, as the doorbell does ring!

WHO COULD IT BE?!

Later, we did go back to my room.

Compared to Tillie’s it was perhaps a touch shabby. Hers was the very model of order and tidiness when it came to what mattered and then the epitome of cosiness when it came to her corner o’ blankets. Mine was just a mess. I had stuff, and that stuff tended to spread out and occupy far more space than it deserved or needed.

I also had not made my bed, so things looked even worse. This horrible pit of a duvet and mess of pillows, ugh. As Tillie and I stood in the doorway gazing over the devastation I reflected on my decision to not subtly slip ahead and maybe just tidy up even a tiny bit. Oh well, too late now.

“And this is my horrible, horrible room,” I said.

“It’s very...lived in,” she said, with obvious care and tact.

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to see it.”

“I like it! It’s very you!”

“Very me, very lived in. I suppose there are worse things. Would you like to actually go inside?”

“Oh, right, sorry,” she said, and then went in. I followed. We seemed to do a lot of that recently; going into places and me always following behind. Just one of those things you notice, I guess. She moved through the debris and detritus with the same remarkable grace and ease she demonstrated anytime she moved anywhere. Seriously, I struggled not to knock anything over and I have legs, how she manages with a tail is a mystery I doubt I will ever get to the bottom of.

She headed for the bed and so I did as well, though while she slithered her way onto it I paused to move some of the bottles sat beside it into the bin. Why they hadn’t been there in the first place I can put down entirely to me thinking I’d get round to it later. That later was now.

“Do you drink in bed?” Tillie asked, testing the bed for quality at the same time. In my estimation the bed was okay, but I was the sort of person who’d try (and fail, but still) to sleep on a floor out of choice so I’m clearly not the sort of person fit to pass judgement.

“When I’m thirsty,” I said, then sitting down on the bed next to her.

“Seems comfy,” she said, her tests concluded.

“It has its moments. So is this living up to your expectations?” I asked, fully aware that the answer was probably going to be no. Then again, what on earth could she possibly have expected? She looked around again, in case anything had changed from when the door had opened to now. Nothing had.

“I think I prefer my room,” she said, again full of grace and tact.

“And with good reason. Ah, I do need to tidy up I’m just...lazy,” I said. Honesty is the best policy.

“But it just seems fair that I should see your room, you know?” She asked.

“Oh, definitely. Though, to be really fair, we’d have to actually get into the bed,” I said.

“We would?” This did not seem something that had occurred to her. It had occurred to me immediately!

“We got into that nice little nest thing of yours. Was super cosy. I think we nodded off,” I said.

“We did…”

So much ‘we’ happening up in here.

“We should....probably - you know, to be fair - probably get into your bed too. I guess?” She asked, running a hand across the duvet as though checking for traps. Really should have made the bed.

“For the sake of fairness, yes. It’s demanded of us.”

Both of us then waited for the other to make the first move. The longer we waited, the harder it was for me to keep a straight face. I could tell she was about to go as well; something in the flicker of her lights and the focus of her lenses. I wasn’t going to let her beat me! I would never live it down! For a day at least. That would be unbearable.

It happened anyway. Mere seconds after I’d sworn to myself that I wouldn’t allow myself to lose I did just that, cracking up and starting to giggle. That this set Tillie off almost immediately didn’t help, because I’d still technically lost. Not even that funny, again; it seemed to have bypassed my defences entirely!

Through our giggles we reached mutual, unspoken agreement that we should actually get under the duvet at this point, and so we did. It being a bed and not a deliciously cosy nest this wasn’t as easy as it had previously been, but we were adults and we did a fairly good job of it. After some initial tangling and nonsense we both ended up beside one another, duvet on top. An optimal configuration!

With her back to me I put my arms around her and felt that same low-level warmth and that same gentle vibration. I’d missed them both, I realised, even though it really hadn’t been that long at all. Being under the duvet helped with the warmth but there really was something innately comforting in them. Or at least I thought so. Would I have felt the same way had it nothing to do with Tillie? I don’t know, but it’s a moot point. It does, it does and so it does. That clears that up.

We basked in this for a little while, and nothing else was required. I, personally, considered myself extremely lucky to still be in her good graces at all and even in the merest way. To be cuddling again - and so soon! - was just about beyond my comprehension, but I wasn’t going to question it too much in case my doubt somehow ruptured this moment.

“You know what we haven’t done in a while?” I asked eventually, giving her a squeeze and feeling her wriggle back into me. I was mainly asking to quieten the needling voices in the sub-parts of my brain that were telling me bad things. It worked pretty well.

“What?” Tillie asked, and something in her tone suggested sleepiness. No bad thing.

“Watched a film. Feels like it’s been ages,” I said.

“Really? It hadn’t been that long. It’s only been…” Tillie could not remember how long it had been. Neither could I. Probably could have done if I’d put some effort in, but this would not serve my purposes - my dark designs! That it just felt like a long time was enough.

“Huh. It has been ages, hasn’t it?” Tillie concluded eventually, craning her neck to try and look back at me.

“It has. Feels wrong somehow,” I said.

“It does…”

Tillie moving her head had caused the hood of the, uh, hoody (which she still had on! In defiance of...nothing in particular) to fall into my face. I was ill-equipped to deal with this, but with only low-level awkward reaching around was I able to fix it.

What with the hood and the room being mine there was an overwhelming smell of me, which did rather remind me of the way that Tillie didn’t really smell of anything, which further reminded me of the way Michelle had. This memory did not make me happy, so I trod on it in my head until it went away and focused instead on who I was cuddling, namely my girlfriend. That was another thing I’d forgotten about - our limp-wristed attempt at this being official. Should probably try harder at thinking about it that way. Mea culpa.

“I have a plan,” I said, again speaking to drive the thoughts back into the darker, quieter parts of my head.

“Hmm?”

“I get a film, I bring it here, I put on that laptop of mine over there and we watch it in this position or a position very much like it.”

“That sounds nice,” Tillie said, yawning.

“Are you yawning?”

“I didn’t sleep well,” she said and it took me a second or so to twig why. That made me feel bad, but I rolled with it.

“You mean you didn’t standby well?”

She elbowed me again.

“Shush. Go do your plan. Pick something good,” she said.

“Like I’ve ever picked anything bad…” I said, beginning the complicated process of disentangling myself. This involved a lot of careful, considered movement so as not to fling the duvet to the floor or get myself wrapped up in it and fall over. I did an alright job, actually, and lifted myself up and over Tillie and was set to finish it flawlessly when she grabbed my hand as I moved off, very nearly pulling me off my feet. Ever, like, got a sleeve stuck on a door handle? It was like that. I looked down at her, all nestled and nuzzled in my bed and felt the strangest lurch in my chest.

“We’re okay, aren’t we?” She asked. This seemed a bit out of left field, as I wasn’t entirely sure what she was asking about. Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?

“Okay?” I asked, dumbly.

“Like...us...together. We’re okay, right?” She asked. No, really, shouldn’t I be the one asking that given I’d been the cause of such ruckus? Weird. Maybe I missed something. I tried to put on my most reassuring smile (whatever that actually looked like), knelt down and brought her hand up to kiss it. Never done that before. Felt like the right time. Seemed to work.

“Better than okay. Fantastic. Why would we be anything else?”

“With what happened...I worry about doing something wrong and messing it all up. I don’t want to mess it up, I like this…” She said, taking my hand in both of hers and pulling it in towards her chest.

“So do I. And don’t worry, okay? You haven’t messed anything up and you won’t mess anything up. We’ll be okay, alright? Okay?”

“Okay,” she said, very quietly. I leaned in and gave her a peck on the headplate, which managed to draw a particular cute, wordless sound of her. So cute in fact I did it again just to hear it again. Just as good the second time!

“You might have to let go of my hand,” I said, resting my forehead on her headplate. Is it actually called a headplate? That’s just what I’ve been thinking of it as. What if I’m wrong? What if I’m offensively wrong? Well, I haven’t said it outloud so I’m safe. Unless someone has access to my thoughts, somehow.

What a terrifying thought…

.Tillie released my hand and curled deeper beneath the covers as I dashed off to find something pleasantly watchable. This proved trickier than I would have initially suspected. Back in the old, gloriously platonic days I would have probably not given it much thought, but now I felt it was owed thought and so I was for a moment utterly paralysed.

Brainless action pap? No, that wouldn’t do, not even if it was high-quality. It just didn’t suit the environment, you know? The lying down, the cuddling; it would take something out of watching a man fry another man’s face only to then find out the man in question is (gasp!) a police officer. Or would it? Maybe it would add to it. Or maybe it was a non-issue.

This was complicated.

Something slower, perhaps? Something with a rich and involving storyline? Hmm, perhaps not. That would need far too much concentration and would preclude meaningless conversation - an often important part of cuddles. So no, not like that.

Ugh. This is taking too long.

How about that film with the dragons? And the girl is a dragon but doesn’t look like it until she does? And there’s, like, an old guy in a stone box? That was alright. Not too clever, not too dumb, the girl had cool red hair? Yeah, that’ll work. I fumbled through the collection, grabbed the film in question without looking at it long enough to read and remember the title and then stumbled my way back up the stairs.

“You were ages,” Tillie said on my return, a barely visible cluster of lenses lurking in the darkness beneath the duvet. I faffed with the laptop.

“I was overwhelmed by choice,” I said, and this was true. Through my faffing I got the laptop open and on and the disc in place. My laptop is a horribly beaten up, slow machine of indeterminate make that once slashed my finger open. But it’s mine, and it plays DVD’s, so hell. Once certain that the film would play I clambered back into bed and wrapped myself around Tillie again. For her part she seemed to appreciate this.

The film was much as I remembered it. It was a big, mulchy pile of fluff with dragons attached but it was at least a consistent pile and one that abided by the rules it set for itself and whose characters were not overtly stupid. And someone got cut in half, which was pretty cool. I mean, you didn’t really see it - the BBFC frown on that sort of thing and people making films like low ratings - but it’s implied well, artfully done you know?

By the time the film concluded Tillie had dozed off, and fair play to her. She had after all had a poor night, by her own admission and by my own doing, so I wasn’t going to disturb her. Given how we were wrapped around each other (her rather more literally than me; tail and all) me leaving wasn’t an option, but I was pretty comfy anyway so why would I even want to? I tugged the duvet up a little more and settled in deeper. Bed is good. Resting my eyes is good.

That I also nodded off was inevitable, and I was not in the least bit surprised when I opened my eyes up again and found everything to be much darker. Checking the time was impossible in my position, as indeed were a lot of things. It felt like half of my body was still asleep and at this point I had fewer reservations about waking TIlie, so made a clumsy effort at slipping away. She remained out of it as I staggered upright, one leg refusing to obey my commands and one arm feeling like it belonged to someone else. I needed a pee.

I was also monstrously hungry. I dealt with the peeing first before heading downstairs. I hadn’t actually eaten anything since...well, for a while. Being around Tillie, mealtimes lost some of their regularity and I’d apparently found myself forgetting about them. To be fair, I never liked eating much in the first place, but my body has ideas all its own and my stomach wouldn’t stop grumbling. So food it was. I had cereal. It was deeply underwhelming.

While I was in the midst of cleaning up I heard the characteristic thump-thumping of Tillie descending the stairs and, indeed, mere moments later she came into the kitchen. Her ability to be so bright and bushy after a nap which had left me a numb husk was unreal and unnatural. Then again, she might have gone through the groggy phase upstairs away from my prying eyes. There were many factors of which I was unaware and should therefore not jump to conclusions. Life lesson, that one.

“Goooood evening!” She said as she came up and hugged me, putting obvious relish into stretching out her words. I stood and took the hug like a champ, only wincing a little bit as she pulled away again. Oddly, she then just stood there, not-so-subtly making a big show of glancing at me and then away again, one hand on the doorframe the other unable to pick a good place to settle.

I had the distinct impression I was supposed to notice something. Squinting something tugged at the very corners of my brain. The hoody was gone, for one, which meant I was actually looking at her the way I was used to looking at her. But still, something nagged.

“You look…different…” I said. There was something, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Tillie remained coy, cocking her head, clasping her hands behind her and letting the end of her tail flick around the way she always did.

“Do I?” She asked, putting as much innocence into her words as was possible with such small ones. There was a considerable amount of innocence. I squinted a bit more. What was it? There was something, and it was obvious, but it was so obvious it was slipping right past me. Little details nagged at the corner of my eyes and I looked down at her and it finally hit me. She looked different, because she looked different.

“Are you…a different shape?” I asked, not sure if the words leaving my mouth made sense. She cocked her head to the other side.

“Maybe…” she said. I looked harder. She definitely was. It was hard to describe what she’d been like before exactly – sort of softly rounded, but stretched, and not too much (helpful, I know) – but it was clear she wasn’t quite like that anymore. She was starting to come in a bit at the waist, narrowing off at the shoulders ever so slightly and bulging just a touch around the torso. That’s when I started putting things together.

“You can do that?” I asked, swallowing.

“Maybe…” she said, trying and failing to conceal her glee at this point “I mean, I’d heard about it happening but I didn’t think it would happen to me!”

“What is it?” I asked, hopefully not tactlessly.

There followed a breathlessly quick explanation from Tillie. At first it covered some old ground: her growth, how she’d started small and got big and soon - something I still didn’t fully understand to be honest - and then segueing into environmental factors and their contribution to further growth and change. I understood maybe one word in ten (and that word was usually ‘the’) but nodded along all the same. The conclusion I drew from all of it once she’d finished was that the two of us being together in the way we were had somehow led to this. I still didn’t understand, but as always I didn’t really need to. It had happened, and me being dense wasn’t going to make it have happened any less.

“Wow,” I said with full sincerity.

“I know, right?” Tillie squealed, giving another turn on the spot.

The new shape was actually quite nice. In an aesthetic sense. Fewer hard edges. My bruised parts would appreciate that, I expected. Now I’d noticed the change, it was very hard not to notice, and harder still to look away. I could have just been afraid to look her in the face.

“My eyes are up here,” she said, which made my gaze snap up immediately.

“How long have you been waiting to say that?” I asked. Her light flickered as she tried to remain impassive and failed.

“Hours. Hours!” She mock-wailed, throwing her hands up. This at least made me smile.

“You...you do like it, don’t you? I was sort of nervous about it when I noticed it but...it’s okay, right?” She asked.

“I like you,” I said, which made her lights go a particularly rosy shade of red.

“I know that. I mean, do you like this?” She asked, holding her arms up and giving a slight twist to the side. She then added: “I like you too, by the way.”

“Good to know. And of course I do, why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about these things. People are weird and react weirdly.”

“This is true. But no, I like you, I like this, I like all of this. Everything is great.”

Everything was pretty great, though I had difficulty concocting a timeline in my head of when exactly Tillie had undergone this change. Surely it couldn’t have happened during the nap? Or just last night? Was this a gradual thing I had failed to see until now? Who knew. I should probably start paying more attention to these things, given, you know, girlfriend.

The doorbell then rang. This was news to me on several levels as I wasn’t expecting anyone for one thing, but that wasn’t my primary source of astonishment.

“We have a doorbell?” I asked, amazed.

#Writing #Amwriting #Writblr #Writers on tumblr #Cold Hard Hugs

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