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pamphletstoinspire · 3 years

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The New State Church Comes for You

Children as young as six are being taught “sex is assigned at birth.” They are being taught that boys and girls can be born into the wrong body, that boys can turn into girls and girls into boys. Children are being forced to use the “proper pronouns.” This is happening in the public school, where secularists believe religion was banned in 1962-63.

But none of these claims are based in science. There are no objective scientific criteria for being a new “gender,” for being non-binary, two-spirit, or even “feeling” you are the wrong sex. All of these propositions are based on faith, a new heretic-hunting faith that requires the imposition of its beliefs on younger and younger ages.

Consider forcing a boy to call another boy “she.” This is not only a monstrous lie; it is also forcing a boy to recite a religious dogma in direct violation of his own beliefs that God created them male and female.

Secularists insist that religion was banned in public schools with the school prayer decision of 1962. Secularists insist we live in a secular age. Nothing could be further from the truth. In my last column, I argued that we live in a deeply religious age, that those who claim “none” status are still profoundly religious. Even a certain percentage of atheists believe God is important to their lives. It is impossible to get away from some vision of the sacred.

In this column, I will argue not only that we live in a profoundly religious age, but that there is a new religion, perhaps a newly revived old religion, but more importantly, a newly established Church. This official state Church has been established through a series of Supreme Court decisions, beginning with the school prayer decision in 1962 and banning school-based Bible reading in 1963.

Understand, the banned school prayer was relatively anodyne:

Almighty God, we acknowledge our dependence upon Thee, and we beg Thy blessings upon us, our parents, our teachers and our country. Amen.

It was written by a committee of Protestant pastors, Catholic priests, and Jewish rabbis. Thirteen New York judges upheld the constitutionality of this prayer. Thirteen. It was banned only when it reached the Supreme Court. This began the process to effectively remove Christianity from the public schools, and it also cast a disapproving pall over Christianity. Somehow, Christianity was henceforth suspect, if not dangerous for schoolchildren to hear.

A year later, the Supreme Court banned Bible reading in public schools and said that the Constitution demands government must remain “neutral” in matters of religion and that this neutrality is achieved only if the government limits itself to “secular” purposes having primarily “secular” effects.

This decision was the Supreme Court putting its thumb on the scale in the culture wars. Before this moment, there was a healthy debate in this country from the founding onward about who we are as a people. On one side are those we may call the “providentialists” who see the hand of God in history and believe this must play a role in our public life and even be taught to our schoolchildren. On the other side are the seculars who believe religion can have no part in our public lives. Both sides were represented at the founding, and the debate between the two parties continued until 1963 with this court decision.

These decisions were the beginning of an established church. “Secular” may have had many meanings over time. Most people reading this are “secular” since they are not “religious,” that is, not in religious congregations or ordained. But in the modern age, “secular” has come to mean without God, without religion. Therefore, a purely secular government must also be without God. But we also know no man can be without the sacred of some kind. And into this supposedly bare secularity came a new faith and a new established church that was spelled out in subsequent decisions of the Supreme Court; on contraception, abortion, sodomy, and same-sex marriage.

This new established Church has been communicated down through the federal government, through the Justice Department, and the Department of Education, to the state and local governments, and down to the schoolhouse down the road.

Who are the priests in this new Church? Anyone who wears a robe; judges, academics, scientists, those who hand down the new encyclicals that the faithful accept without question. They say boys may be girls. This fanciful idea has no basis in science or even reason. It is a matter of pure faith. And the faithful accept it and then force it on others, including schoolchildren.

The Supreme Court decisions on school prayer and Bible reading were crucial because prayer and the Bible were part of the story that we told about ourselves, about who we were. In that way, there is no more important place to tell the story of who we are than what we tell little children. But we no longer tell little children that story about ourselves because it has been banned by the high priests of the Supreme Court and replaced with a new story.

Gender theory is not the only denomination in the new established Church. There is also pantheism, seeing the sacred in the environment. It is interesting to note that no less than Alexis de Tocqueville wrote in Democracy in America that Americans would have to choose between pantheism and Catholicism one day.

Yet another denomination in the new established Church is the sex-obsessed who see the sacred in the orgasm and their sexual pleasure. Those involved in things like bondage and domination speak openly about how their proclivities are deeply religious experiences.

All of these are one way or another being taught to little school children, and this has become the story we tell about ourselves in the 21st century.

At heart, it is a debate between what Professor Steven Smith calls the “Immanentists” and the “transcendents;” between those who place the sacred exclusively on the temporal plane and those who know the sacred may be present to us here and now but exists beyond our vision. This was the essential debate between the pagans in ancient Rome and the Christians. And now, the Immanentists have the whip hand, and they are using it.

Catholics and other Christians must understand that we are not merely up against a new faith but a new faith that is an established Church backed by the power of the federal, state, and local governments.

But I do not despair, and neither should you. On the contrary, as I write in my book—Under Siege: No Finer Time to be a Faithful Catholic—this is a time of rejoicing because God knows what He is about. He knew this degradation of society would be upon us. And what did He do? He sent the likes of us here, right now, to defend His creation. Things may seem very dark for us, but we must rest assured that future generations will look back with envy that they could not be here with us, when things look so very desperate, fighting against the new established Church.

BY: AUSTIN RUSE

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mercheswan · 4 years

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The Ring in the Closet - AO3 (MerCevans)

Stiles wasn’t spying on Theo’s things. He really wasn’t. He just wanted a tie, and he knew where Theo kept his, so he though that his boyfriend with whom he had been living with for year and a half, wouldn’t mind that he grabbed one.

Damn his curious nature, when Stiles touched something hard on the bottom of the drawer he took it. He didn’t even thought that it could be considered a violation of Theo’s privacy. He just took it and now he couldn’t unsee it.

It was a box. An engagement ring box. Stiles stood in the closet for minutes looking at the box as if it was going to talk or open a portal to a different dimension. Oh god. Theo bought a ring. Theo bought a ring. An engagement ring. For Stiles. For him. Theo wanted to get married. He wanted to get married with him.

Stiles’s mind was accelerated, remembering all the times in the past months in which Theo might have mentioned something about marriage. This was a surprise. They have been dating officially not even for two years, and they had a very rocky begining of the relationship. Stiles hated Theo years ago, and with reason, Theo did almost kill his best friend. Said best friend who would be his best man at the hypothetical wedding. Life surely was interesting.

Stiles called his office and asked for the day off. There was no way he was going to concentrate today. Stiles seated on the living room’s sofa. It was going to be a long day before he could confront Theo when he arrived from the Hospital.

Maybe there was some other reason why Theo wanted to get married. There are some legal benefits about a couple being married, like in case you die what happens to your heritage, or in medical terms if someone has an accident their spouse will get to decide about their treatment and things like that. Theo had always been very practical and previsional.

Stiles was going to have hell of a day waiting for Theo. And if Theo proposed, was he ready to say yes?

~~~~~~~~~~

“Stiles! Are you home?” Theo shouted entering their apartmet. Theo spotted his boyfriend in the kitchen. “Hey” Theo kissed Stiles on the cheek. “How was your day? W-why are you still in your pjs?”

“Are you dying? I’m not dying.” Stiled asked Theo turning around to face his boyfriend.

“W-what!? No... I’m not... why would you think that?! I’m glad that you’re... okay? What’s going on?” Theo questioned. He was used to Stiles being weird, it was one of the things he found more endearing about him, but this behaviour was abnormal, something happened that had unsettled the FBI Agent. “You didn’t go to work today? What happened?”

Stiles exhaled meeting Theo’s eyes. “Something did happen...”

“Did they fire you?” Theo asked

“No, it has nothing to do with work. It was actually me the one who called to have the day off” Stiles explained.

“Why?” Theo was starting to get nervous, Stiles was being very mysterious.

Stiles got up if the chair he was sitting and walked toward the living room. He grabbed something from the table. “I-I wasn’t, I didn’t m-mean to...” Stiles was struggling with his words which only made Theo’s worry increase. “I wasn’t spying on your things I swear, I trust you” Stiles claimed and turned around. Theo noticed what Stiles was holding and his hands and everything made sense.

“Oh” Theo whispered.

“I was looking for a tie...” Stiles explained

Theo huffed a laugh. “You never wear ties” Theo huffed again looking down. Stiles took a step toward his boyfriend, he didn’t want Theo to be sad. “Did I get the size right? The ring is very simple but I didn’t think you would appreciate a big rock in it” Theo allegued.

“I-I didn’t look inside... I mean, I’ve ruined the surprise, I didn’t want to... ruin everything...” Stiles said. “So it is a ring? A ring for me?”

“Yeah... what did you think it was inside? The codes for the nuclear misiles?” Theo responded.

“I thought maybe there was a pen drive inside with some kind of information or that someone asked you to guard it... maybe... millions of theories came to me since this morning” Stiles admitted.

Theo snorted. “I’m sorry I gave you such a headache, I’m sorry I-I made uncomfortable...” Theo said in a slightly sad tone reaching out to take the ring box from Stiles’s hands.

“Theo no! Come here” Stiles said grabbing his boyfriend’s arm and pulling him towards the sofa. “I’m not sad, I’m not mad. I’m-m...” Stiles looked at Theo’s eyes, how much had Theo’s eyes changed. They used to be cold and evil, although not so much towards him... Stiles had always been his weak point. But now they always showed Theo’s emotions. Stiles grabbed Theo’s head and pushed their lips together in a hungry and demanding kiss. Theo moaned into the kiss, surprised by Stiles’s action. “I love you Theo, I love you” Stiles assured his boyfriend who breathed out letting some of his nerves go. “It just caught me by surprise. I guess I should be thankful that I have a partner who always surprises me and it’s not predictable at all” Stiles teased.

“Well now you know what it feels like” Theo chuckled.

“This doesn’t change anything about us, I just... I didn’t even know what you thought about marriage” Stiles explained.

“I saw it and I felt the need to buy it. It was like some kind of instinct possessed me. The idea of you being publicly and legally mine was alluring. I guess I must be the wolf inside me. I’ve always known you are the love of my life” Stiles couldn’t help but feel a blush coming over him. “I guess I didn’t stop to think about the implications of it” Theo declared.

A comfortable silence fell between the couple. “When I found it, I-I had a turmoil of emotions. I panicked and insecure like omg a ring! He wants us to marry oh my god that’s a big step! But I also felt joy, I was incredibly happy too. Where you going to propose soon?” Stiles said

“I don’t know... I didn’t think of a date, I wanted to see when I felt right. I thought I would know when the right moment came” Theo responded.

“I’m sorry I ruined it...” Stiles apologised.

“Don’t be... it’s good we had this talk. We don’t need it Stiles. It’s just a paper, maybe someday we will feel it” Theo assured. Theo patted Stiles on the knee and got up of the sofa.

“Did you have like a speech already made?” Stiles asked teasing.

“Not really... I guess I thought about some things to say but...” Theo said

“Show it to me” Stiles dared

“What?” Theo snorted

Stiles grabbed the box and put it on Theo’s hand. “Humour me! Do it as you imagined it. Any day is good for you to declare your unconditional and eternal love for me” Stiles claimed.

Theo rolled his eyes with fondness. He was in love with that idiot. “All right” Theo said before getting to one knee.

“Oh, wow, oh, haha, okay!” Stiles laughed nervously.

“You want the real version, right?” Theo said.

“Y-yes, yes, proceed” Stiles agreed.

Theo took Stiles’s hand in his. “Mieczylaw Stilisnki” Theo proclaimed pronouncing his name perfectly. Stiles heart started beating uncontrollably, Theo’s tone was serious and solemn. “The prince of Mischief, the boy who stole my heart almost twenty years ago in a baseball pitch. During all this years that we have known each other there’s been a consistency in my life, I have always wanted to be with you. Whether as your friend, or as member of an evil chimera pack...” Stiles snorted eyes never leaving Theo’s. “I have always wanted you. I’ve never thought I would get the privilege to be with you like this, to be your partner, but I do love being your partner in crime. I want to be the person you come to when you have great news to share, I want to be the person you call when you need help, when you need someone to hug you. You need to know that I’ll always be there for you, to protect you, to fight beside you, no matter what” By this point Stiles’s eyes were full of tears and Theo’s were watering too. “You’re annoying, and noisy, too reckless...” “Hey! Hey! This is not the time to insult me, jerk! You’re supposed to say nice things!” Stiles laughed cleaning some of the tears of his eyes. “You’re loyal, and brave too, and smart, and caring... I’ll take it all, you’re no self preservation and you’re obsession to put yourself in danger, making me go crazy with worry, because it makes you you, and you’re too unique and special to change. You have a dark side too. It scares you. But I have one too and we get each other perfectly. You’re sexy, and naughty, and thanks to my supernatural powers I know that even when we are sixty years old I’m going to pinyou down to the bed and have my way with you” Stiles laughed out loud. “You need to know that I’ll always love you, forever. When we go to sleep at night, and we pull each other close, there’s a moment in which our hearts connect and beat at the same rhythm, there’s this connection we have that we can seem to fight, even tought we both have tried before. We are meant to be, I know it, and I know you know it too. I hurt you in the past but you know I’ll never do it again. I love you to hell and back. Will you marry m-” Theo confessed

“Yes! Yes! Theo, yes!” Stiles said falling to his knees to be at Theo’s level and kissing his boyfriend deep in the mouth. Theo chuckled, he also had tears in his eyes, he was emotional after opening his heart to Stiles. “The answer is yes” Stiles repeated.

Theo huffed a laugh. “You didn’t let me ask” Theo teased

“Then ask” Stiles said. Theo looked at Stiles with a confused expression. “I mean it, ask me” Stiles insisted

“Stiles... what....” Theo whispered

“You said that we will know when it will feel right. I feel it, I’m sure. Ask me” Stiles claimed caressing Theo’s left cheek with his hand.

Theo glared at Stiles, he wasn’t kidding, his face showed determination. Theo opened the box revealing the ring, a silver band, simple with an inscription “To my real heart”. Stiles exhaled and smiled brightly.

“Will you marry me?” Theo asked in a soft voice.

“Yes, a million times yes” Stikes said before kissing his boyfriend again. Theo put the ring in Stiles’s finger. “Perfect size” Stiles murmured. Stiles couldn’t stop looking at the ring in his finger. It felt unreal, it was weird but a good kinda weird, it made his stomach rumble with happiness and his heart beat fast. He was happy. “We’re engaged” Stiles declared

“Yeah, we are” Theo agreed. Single tears of happiness falling from his eyes. Stiles jumped on top of Theo making the later’s back touch the floor, and kissed him passionately.

“We’re engaged” Stiles repeated excitedly.

“Yes, I’m your fiancé” Theo proclaimed.

“Oh my god! You’re my fiancé! I have a fiancé! I’m your fiancé! This is crazy!” Stiles laughed uncontrollably pecking Theo all over his face while the Chimera smiled happily. “I have to call my dad! He is going to be so shocked! And what about the wedding!”

“No, no! Don’t think about the wedding! There’s no need to rush! We can have some time to enjoy the engagement” Theo claimed.

“Lydia is going to want to organise it” Stiles said.

Theo’s eyes filled with horror. “How about we elope?” Theo suggested and Stiles snorted.

“You’re right let’s not think about that now. Let’s celebrate. I was promised to be pinned down to the bed at least until we are sixty” Stiles said seductively.

Theo smirked. “I’ll grab a bottle of wine”.

Stiles fell in the bed and looking at the ceiling he couldn’t contain the smile of his face. Just this morning was unsure of this, he was a wreck of nerves, and now everything felt as it should. Theo entered the room with a bottle of wine and two glasses. They newly engaged couple clinked their glasses. For them. For their future. Together.

The next morning Stiles called his father, and much to the FBI Agent’s surprise his father was not shocked in the least about the news.

Two days later Stiles opened his email and saw a message from Lydia.

“I’m sending you some of the venues I looked into for the ceremony. Tell me what you think or I’ll choose the one I like the most...”

“THEO! THEO!!” Stiles shouted his fiancés name. Theo came running to where Stiles was and with one look at his love he knew what was the problem. “If we elope she will never forgive us” Stiles claimed. Theo signed.

This was only the beginning.

#steo #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #teen wolf #steo fic #steo au #stiles x theo #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf fic #engagement

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singledarkshade · 3 years

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Magical Mix Up

Chapter Eight (Chapter Seven can be found here) Gideon sat on the Waverider, the others had given up trying to fix the ship and were talking quietly. Closing her eyes, Gideon felt the connection to her ship and smiled happily.

“Now, my dear one,” she said through their link, “Where is our wayward Captain?”

Slightly bemused at the negative reply, she mused for a moment, “Show me when they brought him onboard.”

Again a negative reply came from the Waverider.

Completely confused, Gideon thought before asking, “Show me the man that was held within the cells before the crash.”

This time the information appeared, and Gideon stared at the man. True there was a very close resemblance but as someone who knew Rip Hunter better than anyone then it was without doubt that this was a different man. That explained why the Waverider hadn’t alerted her about Rip’s return because the Legends had picked up the wrong man.

And he was currently lost in the past.

Wonderful.

Sara frowned as Jax told her that he’d tried everything he knew to fix the engines and from all indicators the ship should be working again. Turning to where Gideon sat staring into space, Sara decided enough was enough.

“Alright, Gideon,” Sara marched over to her, making the other woman turn, “It’s time for you to stop acting out and help us fix the ship. This is completely childish.”

Gideon stood and moved to face Sara, without a word she clicked her fingers, and the ship sprang to life.

“Sara,” Jax called from behind her, “Everything is back up and at full capacity.” Turning to where Gideon was standing, Sara demanded, “How?”

“As you can see, Miss Lance,” Gideon replied, “I control the ship. Our next issue is locating the man you took hostage.”

“I already explained that we were holding Rip to protect him,” Sara sighed annoyed, “You know what happened the last time, I wasn’t giving anyone a chance to snatch him and make him our enemy again.”

Gideon folded her arms, “Firstly, there is no one after us at the moment. Secondly, in order to do anything like that they would need a scan of Captain Hunter’s mind which they are unlikely to have. Thirdly, there are a number of ways you could have spoken with him to help return memories however I will concede this wouldn’t have worked.”

Suspicious Sara asked, “Why is that?”

Bringing up the recording of Rip while in the cell, Gideon remained silent.

“What?” Sara demanded confused.

Gideon frowned, “That is not Rip Hunter.”

Jax and Zari joined Sara at this pronouncement and stared at her then the screen.

“We know what Rip looks like,” Sara stated sounding annoyed.

Gideon nodded, “I will admit this man resembles him but that is not Rip Hunter.”

Jax squinted at the screen, “He has no beard, and his hair is lighter but it’s Rip.”

“Then where is the scar above his right eyebrow that he received as a child?” Gideon asked, before continuing, “Why does he suddenly have a group of freckles below his ear that have never been there before?”

They stared in silence at her none of them able to dispute what Gideon was telling them because all of them were well aware that Gideon knew Rip much better that they did.

“Now, there is a man stranded out of time,” Gideon stated angrily, “Lost and alone with no reason to trust any of us who we need to find.”

Sara grimaced, “John went out to search for him.”

“And has he found anything?” Gideon demanded.

The others looked at one another guiltily before Jax said, “We haven’t heard from him since he left.”

The prison he was in had a dirt floor, and concave walls that went up to the hole in the ceiling and nothing else. John sighed in annoyance. He should have known this would happen, it was just the way the day had gone with the spell not working, the crash and Rip running from them.

Although he couldn’t blame Rip.

It must have been terrifying have a group of people claim to be your friend while keeping you hostage. John knew he had to get out of here and contact the others, because how much would ‘Rory the Nurse’ know about Ancient Rome?

His headache had thankfully begun to dissipate, which meant he should hopefully be able to perform a spell or two.

As soon as he found his way out of this place.

*********************************************

“And you’re sure you can get us in?” Rip asked as he and Rory marched through the streets.

Both were still in uniform, but Rory had taken back his own because he needed to feel comfortable to do this.

“Easily. I am Centurion Galeus Britannicus,” Rory stated before adding, “Although to family and friends, Rufus.”

Rip stared at him, “You’re serious.”

Nodding, Rory replied, “Travelling with the Doctor carries some risk.”

“Risks I get, but a whole new identity?” Rip asked, “With the knowledge you also have, means there is a much longer story.”

“There is,” Rory admitted, “But I’ll tell you after we’ve rescued your friend. For now, they’ll assume we’re twins which is a lucky omen, so all you need to do it stay quiet and glare. Quiet especially because not only is your Latin atrocious, your accent is even worse.”

Rip nodded, even though he wanted to ask more, instead noted, “Considering this is the night shift, how many guards do you think will have fallen asleep?”

“None, unfortunately,” Rory told him, before explaining, “There were severe penalties for guards that fell asleep on duty, usually stoning by the rest of their cohort, so whilst there will be fewer guards at night, they will be awake and vigilant. Which is why I’m hoping my title and our reason for visiting will give us some breathing space. Just make sure you do your part.”

Rip nodded again taking a deep breath as they reached the building. Rory had gone over the ways one single guard could defend the place, which was not making him feel any better, but they needed to rescue John. The other option was going to the Waverider and seeing if the team had managed to fix the ship enough for them to use the couriers. However, that could take too long, and the ship may need a lot more repairs taking up more time.

As insane as Rory’s plan was, it was currently their best one.

Rory walked to the guard standing to attention at the front of the building.

“Centurion Galeus Britannicus,” Rory stated, steel in his voice, “The prisoner brought in earlier violated the home and bedchamber of our sister. I have been sent by the Senator to speak with the prisoner before he is put on trial.”

The guard looked at two men, obviously confused by the fact they were identical before jumping when Rory barked.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” Rory continued to glare at him, feeling Rip standing completely still at his side keeping an ice-cold stare on the guard.

“No, sir,” the guard replied, he moved to open the gates before speaking quickly to the guard just inside. Wincing at whatever the other guard said before nervously turning back to Rory, “Do you have an official order, sir?”

Rory pulled out the psychic paper the Doctor had given him and held it out so the guard could read it. He had been told the information would show if he was confident.

The guard nodded and turned back to the other one, who opened the gate and led them inside.

Rory watched as the second guard took a rope ladder from where it was stored and tossed it down the hole containing the prisoner they were here to see. Moving to one side slightly he watched Constantine climb out, the grating was slid back on and the man was grabbed by the guards. As soon as Constantine was turned to face him, Rory punched him sending him into the wall.

“We’ll take it from here,” Rory told the guards, who both nodded and left them alone.

John rubbed his jaw as he tried to refocus after being punched. Unsteadily he stood to see Rip standing there, dressed in a soldier’s uniform, and staring coldly at him. It looked as though the spell had worked, there must have just been a slight delay.

“Did you have to punch me, Rip?” he demanded, staggering to his feet.

“Yes,” the other man stated coldly, “And as I’ve said many times before now, my name is not Rip.”

“But mine is,” a familiar voice came from behind him.

John slowly turned to where an almost identical man stood, dressed in the same outfit. He looked between them a few times before demanding, “What the bloody hell?”

“No time to explain,” the man, who was called Rory said, “We have one chance to get out of here, so shut up and do what I tell you.”

Glancing at Rip questioningly, John was stunned when his friend nodded, “Rory is in charge.”

“He’s a nurse,” John noted.

Rip shrugged, “With a few special skills.”

Drawing his sword, Rory turned to Rip, “Do it.”

With a slight smirk on his lips, Rip pulled out a small silver disc with a button in the centre and pushed it.

A few seconds later there was a pop then crash and Rory grabbed John’s shoulder pushing him forward.

“Run.”

Rip ran with Rory towards the two guards who had been dazed slightly by the gates being blown off the walls. John was pushed past them, but they managed to regain their senses as Rip and Rory started out. With their swords drawn, Rip defended himself stunned to see Rory just to one side fighting with ease as though the sword was an extension of his arm. There were very few he’d ever met who could fight with such fluidity.

As they managed to get past the two guards, Rip and Rory began to run after John. The other guards from the prison were chasing them.

“We’re not going to make it to the Waverider,” John called.

Rory grabbed John’s shoulder to making him turn the corner, “That’s not where we’re heading.”

Rip smiled to see the TARDIS sitting in front of them, Amy standing at the door waiting for them. The moment they reached the door, she moved out the way allowing the three of them to run in before she slammed the door shut. The Doctor threw the lever to move them out of the city.

John took several deep breaths of relief when they entered whatever the hell the blue box was. His head was full of questions and as he stood to find the massive room that could not have been inside the little box, more were added.

Turning he saw Rip standing with his arms folded and a grim frown on his face, while the doppelganger, Rory was kissing the redhead who had been at the door.

“What the bloody hell?” John demanded again.

“You,” the redhead suddenly turned and marched towards John, “Abducted my husband…”

“Amy,” Rory caught her arm and pulled her back, “It’s okay.”

The redhead turned to her husband and frowned, “It’s not, Rory. They could have got you killed. Again.”

Rory gently pushed her hair back from her face, “I’m fine. And we’re together again. He thought he was helping his friend.”

Amy turned to John and glared at him for a moment before telling him, “You’re on thin ice.”

From the glare he was receiving John was suddenly very sure if she wanted to kill him, the other three would be holding her coat.

“Okay,” the final occupant of the room, tall with floppy brown hairs and a tweed jacket walked over to them, “Mr Constantine, welcome to the TARDIS. Rory is being very understanding about being taken by you and your friends, on the other hand I’m not as forgiving.”

“Hold on,” John held up his hands, “The spell I did to locate Rip found Rory. We had no reason to believe he wasn’t Rip.”

“How about the fact he kept giving you a different name?” Amy snapped.

John turned to Rip who sighed.

“I explained the Phil situation to them.” Rip said, “But even then, why was he put in a cell?”

Wincing John replied, “Sara thought it was for the best. To keep you safe.”

Rip and Rory shared a quick look of annoyance, before Rip continued, “Which leads me to my next question, what did they do to Gideon?”

Grimacing even more John held up his hands, “It wasn’t my fault.”

Rip’s expression become even more granite like than before, “What wasn’t your fault?”

Glancing around the room, John realised there was no help here and sighed, “I was using a protection spell on an idol from Thermiscrya and it somehow interacted with Gideon. Now she’s…”

“She’s what?” Rip demanded when John trailed off.

John sighed,” She’s human.”

Rip stared at him, turning to the other three to make sure he’d heard right, “What do you mean, she’s human?”

“Seriously, Rip there’s not many more ways I can say it,” John rolled his eyes.

“Gideon’s human?” Rip breathed in astonishment.

John nodded, “And she’s on the Waverider now.”

Rip caught the railing beside him and let out a slow breath, “Okay, I need to have a word with Sara anyway. Let’s head to the Waverider.”

“Doctor?” Rory said suddenly moving to the third man, “What’s wrong?”

“It looks as though your friends may have attracted the trouble we caused in the city,” the other man, the Doctor, replied.

Rip and John shared an annoyed look.

“Of course they have,” Rip sighed, “It appears I have another rescue mission on my hands.”

“That would be we,” Rory noted, “We have another rescue mission.”

Amy nodded her agreement before asking, “So, what’s the plan this time?”

#fic #crossover #legends of tomorrow #rip hunter #gideon #sara lance #jefferson 'jax' jackson #john constantine #doctor who #rory williams #amy pond

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hpsamantha · 3 years

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Rogue Avengers: Pt. 4

Adult Stuff

Word Count: 4925

Backstory: Y/N joined the 'New Avengers' as the superhero Tidal (OC) when she was 14 and a sophomore, she skipped a grade, joining Peter Parker at Midtown. Y/N was previously put under the guardianship of Fury after her parents died when she was 11 and is living with her "Uncle" Tiny (oops sorry she means Tony). Y/N is adopted by Stark and they live happily ever after, until a year later. Steve and his crew have been pardoned. Bucky who now goes by James, has been forgiven by Tony and now resents Steve for bringing him in this mess. He is annoyed about the pardon, Tony is not happy about it, Y/N is furious and Peter is scared of what his girlfriend will do to them. What will happen when they arrive? Read to find out!

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3

"OK." As Y/N turned to Scott, the door opened again and Rhodey stepped into the room, sliding into a seat gracefully.

He glanced quickly around the table, nodding to each of them in turn. "I apologize for being late," he said.

Y/N shrugged. "We were just getting to it," she said. Her attention returned to the group as a whole. "Look, a lot happened to get us all where we are right now, affecting several sovereign countries, the European Union, the UN, the United States, and individuals. There's no single entity that handles everything, and frankly there's pretty much no chance that everyone would agree regardless. If you're thinking that there's some kind of magical all-encompassing all-nations 'pardon', you're wrong, there is no such thing, and if you're looking for unicorns go watch My Little Pony. So what you're going to hear is going to be broken down into those different areas."

Romanoff leaned back a little in her chair, her mouth tightening further. She was starting to get it, though Hope doubted that she had any idea of the scale. There was a lot they didn't know.

"Just get to the grovelling already, L/N," Wilson pretended to examine his fingernails. "You have a schedule to keep, remember?"

Y/N gestured at Lang. "You. First, the sovereign nations and EU. Germany is very upset with you." She smiled thinly. "You are officially barred from entering Germany – or anywhere else in the European Union. Frankly, the fact that no one really knows who you are is the only thing currently saving your ass and keeping Germany from sending a retrieval squad after you, thanks to several billion dollars' worth of damage you personally caused at the Leipzig Airport. Fortunately for you, the insurance companies have decided that Pym Technologies makes a better target for their lawsuits. Even with that, you're facing charges in Germany of illegal entry, destruction of property, criminal endangerment, assault and battery, flight from prosecution and escaping prison. Tony left the part where you tried to kill him by disabling the suit during flight from his report. Still, Germany is willing to stay the charges except for the property damage. If you return to the US permanently, you won't be extradited – Germany has agreed to deal with you in absentee."

Lang looked as though he'd just been hit with a bat. The smile was gone and his face had gone dead white. Rhodes was staring at him murderously – apparently Tony hadn't mentioned Lang trying to kill him before now, and Rhodes seemed to be considering how to dismember him with the power of his brain. Hope added her own glare to his.

Lang muttered, "I wasn't trying to kill him!"

Y/N continued inexorably. "I just said he left that part out... The US has revoked your passport and has issued a warrant for your arrest for your parole violation. Since Pym Technologies is currently using the defense in the lawsuits that their technology was used without their knowledge or permission, the warrant includes additional charges of grand larceny."

"What... what about the Accords?" Lang swallowed hard, looking at Clint desperately.

"Scott..." Hope shook her head slowly and then gentled her tone. "Scott. The UN reviewed your information and the council does not feel that you're a suitable candidate for the Avengers. But they are willing to consider you if Y/N decides she wants you on the team."

"Lang held his own against Tony, War Machine, and Vision," Rogers glared. "How does that not make him a original candidate? If it's because of his past and the whole jail thing..."

"No," Rhodey interrupted. "He used stolen technology that he had nothing to do with creating and that does not require specialized skills to operate." He stopped abruptly and focused his gaze on Lang instead of Rogers. "Pardon me. You used stolen technology. You have no powers, and you have no other specialized skills that translate into qualifying for the Accords. If you want to try and become affiliated with a local group rather than the international one, then go for it. But without the suit – and Pym Technologies has disabled the one you had – I don't expect it to happen."

"You said... you said that we had options." Lang's eyes snapped back to Y/N's face pleadingly.

Y/N kept it brutally short. "You could stay on the run. But you should be aware that staying in Wakanda will be a lot more difficult than it was before. And if I can offer you some advice – if you take that option, stay the fuck away from Germany. And from anyone Germany talks to. But I am considering letting you on the team."

Lang buried his face in his hands.

"Stark is such an asshole," Wilson exploded. "None of this would have even happened if it weren't for him."

"Oh yeah?" The sudden rage in Y/N's voice caught Peter, and from the way they startled everyone else, by surprise. "Tony didn't call him. Tony didn't drag him out of state and force him to violate his parole. Tony didn't dress him in a suit that he didn't own, and Tony certainly didn't make him destroy more than a billion dollars' worth of Leipzig Airport. He wasn't an Avenger, and wasn't a candidate for the Accords. No one has ever even heard of him. Out of everyone around this table, he's the one who had no goddamned reason to even be there." She glared at Lang's bowed head. "Seriously, what the fuck were you thinking?"

Rogers's chin was lifted stubbornly. "We'll deal with this, Scott, don't worry."

"We will make sure she let's you on the team," Maximoff agreed, her voice dark.

Natasha and Clint just rubbed Scott's back reassuringly, not knowing why all of a sudden Rogers was defending him

Wilson crossed his arms over his chest. The 3 looked irritated.

Strange wanted to slap them all.

Lang just huddled tighter in on himself.

Y/N sighed and brought her temper back under control. "I have retained a lawyer on your behalf," Hope told Lang quietly. "A good one." Lang nodded once looking up at Hope for a couple of seconds and Y/N shifted to Romanoff.

"Aunt Nat."

She tensed visibly, meeting her eyes sadly.

"I get it, you know. Why you let them go. You told Tony – Steve wasn't going to stop." Vision saw Rogers flinch out of the corner of her eye. Y/N ignored it. "It's the same reason that some police forces won't participate in high speed chases anymore – because the risk to civilian life is too high to support pursuit."

"Yes," she said.

"I wish that you'd considered what it meant that you let them go, though. That it meant that both Rogers and Barnes have a world-wide shoot on sight – shoot to kill – order on them, for all US forces."

"What?" Wilson sat bolt upright.

"Yeah," Rhodes grinned sharply, all teeth. "Step outside, Rogers. I dare you."

"We could always work on getting that order rescinded later," Romanoff said smoothly. Even though she was mad at them, they've been friends for a while, "Wakanda, on the other hand, needed there King alive."

T'Challa looked mildly offended.

"You're all stupid," Peter muttered.

"And you pissed off General Ross... who is also Secretary of Defense Ross. Who is known for a lot of things, none of which is his forgiving nature. And he talks to the President every day." Y/N sighed again. "Ms Romanoff," Y/N said formally, having gotten rid of the aunt Nat already, "Your US citizenship has been revoked, and you are no longer welcome in the United States unless you make a choice. The UN Council is interested in having you rejoin the Avengers under the Accords, but since you were an original signatory and then aided in the escape of a fugitive, you would be facing punitive action under Section twenty-two point six. If you elected to work with the Avengers, you would be allowed to stay in the U.S. but that's your choice."

Romanoff blinked, the only indication of her surprise. Barton gasped in shock and the others reared back. "How were her actions at the airport treason?" Wilson demanded.

"SHIELD was an agency of the US government, under the Department of Defense. When you released all of SHIELD's files online, you committed treason against the US government," Vision explained quietly. "They haven't added in any charges yet related to the deaths that came from that decision, but if Ross ever actually reads the summary report that SHIELD prepared on the topic you likely will be."

"I testified before Congress about that," she said tightly. "There were no charges brought."

"There's no actual statute of limitations on treason," Rhodey said.

Y/N shrugged. "They seem to have collectively either remembered the nineties or gone and watched 'A Few Good Men', because your approach of 'you want me on that wall, you need me on that wall' isn't flying the way it used to. If you sign the Accords, the charge of treason will be stayed, but you'll still be allowed in the U.S."

She frowned. "If I don't sign?"

"If you don't, then you don't. You're facing charges under the Accords and in Germany for aiding the escape of a fugitive, but you have a solid defense with the civilian protection angle. Otherwise you're free and clear outside of the US. Well, as free and clear as you can be without citizenship anywhere, and avoiding countries with extradition agreements, but you're resourceful."

"This is bullshit," Rogers growled loudly. Barton was tempted to agree, but didn't want to make things worse since he hasn't done anything drastic and wants to keep it that way.

"I feel exactly the same way," Rhodes shot back. "The fact that we're here at all is a goddamned joke."

"Wanda," Rhodey said, and immediately all eyes were on him. "I... Hmm." He tapped his fingers against the tabletop for an instant. "I need to apologize to you." The shock on her face almost made Peter laugh, but Rhodey seemed oblivious to it. "I should have had Tony tell you that you needed to stay at the Compound because your US visa was in jeopardy. I should have told you that we were concerned that you could be attacked and that you might be forced to defend yourself, which would have resulted in more injured civilians and the end of your visa in the USA. I thought that you knew enough about what had happened to know why you should stay in for a while, but I didn't take the time to discuss it with you and I should have. I realize that lack of context contributed to your belief that you were imprisoned at the Compound. You didn't know what was going on, and you didn't know that it was temporary. I'm sorry."

Maximoff was speechless.

"None of that excuses your actions," Peter interjected. "Violence isn't actually one of your options outside of a sanctioned operation, you know that, right? Physically attacking someone who was trying to protect you is flat out wrong no matter what you did or didn't know. You attacked Vision physically when he had taken no actions at all against you, you did hundreds of thousands of dollars of damage to the Compound, and at Leipzig Airport you outright tried to kill Tony."

She flushed angrily.

"Seriously," Strange shook his finger at her, then at all of them including Vision and Rhodey. "You people need to learn to use your damned words." Y/N was not in the least surprised when his finger stopped on Rogers. "Punching something is not a first resort!"

"Ms Maximoff. You are barred from entry in Germany and are not welcome anywhere in the European Union," Strange told her evenly. "Should you attempt to enter the EU, you will be facing charges relating to the destruction of Leipzig Airport, illegal entry, attempted murder, and escaping custody." He took a deep breath. "The UN considers you a strong candidate for the Avengers, and should you elect to sign the Accords, Germany has agreed to drop the criminal charges against you as a gesture of good faith. Should you join the Avengers, you would still not be permitted to enter the EU. If you decide to sign the Accords, your US visa will be renewed.

"Further, since Sokovia has petitioned the European Union for membership, you also will not be able to return there. If you choose not to sign the Accords, then Germany will retain the criminal charges, and you will be subject to an international warrant and extradition."

The smirk fled. "I am not going to prison," Maximoff declared furiously. Her eyes glinted red.

"Then you should sign the Accords," Y/N told her calmly. She moved on to Wilson, apparently ignoring the way that Maximoff's hands glittered as they flexed against the tabletop. Rogers reached under the table to give her hand a supportive squeeze.

"Sam." Y/N's lips quirked into a tiny smile that Wilson didn't return. She seemed unfazed.

"Let me guess," Wilson said stolidly. "I'm not welcome in Germany."

"You have charges pending in Bucharest for obstruction of police, aiding a fugitive, destruction of property, reckless endangerment, escape from custody, and flight from prosecution. In Germany, you're facing destruction of property, flight from prosecution, grand larceny, and aiding terrorist activities, and in both countries illegal entry."

Wilson's eyes flicked to Rhodes. "Not attempted murder?"

Vision shifted in his seat, and Rhodes straightened his shoulders. Harley spoke up. "Wilson... What happened to Colonel Rhodes was not your fault."

"If I hadn't..."

"You moved to evade a shot," Rhodes said clearly. "That's what you should do when someone is shooting at you. It's not your fault that I was on the other side of you and got hit instead. It's not Vision's fault that I got hit either. It just is. Shit happens."

Wilson looked away, his eyes suspiciously shiny.

"No. The charges do not include attempted murder, nor should they." Y/N continued after a moment. "After reviewing your information, the Accords council considers you a good candidate for the Accords, since you have experience with the Falcon wings and since your previous service as an Avenger was satisfactory. Since you were only minimally involved in the destruction of Liepzig airport, the German government is willing to drop the charges relating to destruction of property if you're willing to sign the Accords."

Wilson nodded curtly. "So, signing the Accords makes all the European charges go away?"

Peter shook his head. "No. Your chance to have the Romanian charges dropped by signing the Accords was gone when Steve refused the deal in Bucharest. Of course, compounding the problem by leaving custody when the Winter Soldier broke out didn't help."

"It took a lot of discussion to convince Germany to bend on their charges," Rhodes contributed. "The subsequent jailbreak after your capture in Germany really pissed them off."

"Pissed them off?" Wilson banged his fist on the table. "How about how their illegal incarceration pissed us off?"

Strange shook his head and looked as if he was going to ignore the interruption, but Rhodes put his hand on his arm to forestall him. "Oh, I wanna hear this."

"Me too," Hope leaned back a little in her chair. "This should be fascinating. Tell us about your illegal incarceration, Mr Wilson."

Wilson narrowed his eyes at her but didn't entirely rise to the bait. "After we were grabbed at Leipzig, we were thrown in prison without a trial, without seeing a lawyer. We were in the process of being fucking disappeared when we broke out."

Rhodes laughed out loud, making everyone jump. "No you weren't," he said. "You were part of a group of enhanced people who destroyed an airport while aiding the escape of an internationally wanted terrorist, who had already broken out of a secure facility. Of course you were put in jail – a jail that could hope to hold enhanced individuals – prior to arraignment on your charges. And arraignment takes some time to get to. We were working on bringing over some lawyers experienced in international law." He laughed again. "You've actually seen TV, right? You do know that arrested people go to jail? They don't just read you your rights and then release you again because you're totally nice enough to come back for trial?"

"Bucky is not an international terrorist!" Rogers's hands clenched in front of him. His knuckles stood out starkly against the tanned skin of his fingers and Hope could almost hear the bones in his hands creak.

Rhode's jaw tightened and again he shook his head rather than reply.

"In other words, Mr Wilson, you weren't being 'disappeared', although since the Raft was built by SHIELD I suppose you can be forgiven for thinking otherwise."Hope set her clasped hands on the table in front of her.

"You didn't see..." Sam started hotly.

Y/N interrupted. "We're getting off track."

Lang leaned over. "What did you mean, when you said that Steve turned down the deal in Bucharest? What deal?"

Harley frowned.

Rhodes leaned back in his chair, lips tugging into a smirk. "Did Steve not tell you about that?"

"Uncle Rhodey," Y/N murmured quietly and Rhodes subsided. Vision turned to Lang. "In the interests of 'using my words'," he shot a sideways glance at Rhodes, who inclined his head in acknowledgement, "when Steve, Sam and Barnes were apprehended in Bucharest, there was an offer made to forgive all charges and provide mental health assistance for Barnes in exchange for signing the Accords. Steve refused the deal, they all escaped custody, and we reconvened at Leipzig airport."

"What?" Lang whispered, his face dead white. He turned to Wilson. "You guys had the option of being forgiven for Bucharest, and for getting Bucky help to recover from his time with Hydra, and you didn't take it?"

"They wanted to kill Bucky," Rogers replied in a tone that meant that he was barely holding on to his temper. "They sent a helicopter with a chain gun after him in Bucharest, and they didn't care who else they hit, either." He lifted his head and Peter felt a little burst of adrenaline at the fury in his eyes.

"I feel I must point out that it wasn't some nebulous 'them' that actually had Barnes in Bucharest when you refused the deal," Rhodes said calmly. "It was us."

"And you did a great job protecting him, didn't you?" Rogers gritted out. "Considering that he was triggered by the psychiatrist that you brought in to assess him."

"Off track," Y/N singsonged, rapping the table. She spoke to Lang, "yes, they had the option – before the Winter Soldier was triggered and escaped – and yes, they refused it."

Wilson was shaking his head. "To be fair," he said, "I wasn't offered anything and I didn't refuse anything."

Y/N turned to look at him, an arrested expression on her face. "That's true," she said slowly. "Tony spoke to Steve, not to you."

"I was considering it," Rogers added, "Until I learned that Wanda was... 'Confined' was Tony's word ... at the Compound."

"I would have liked the opportunity to consider it myself," Wilson said quietly. "You know I'm with you, Steve, whichever way you jump, but it should still have been brought to me too."

Lang was still shaking his head. "You could have resolved it all before you even called me. You didn't even have to call me."

"Hey, at least they did call us," Clint snapped after getting as angry as can be. "Unlike Stark, who figures we're beneath notice or something."

The tension in the room ratcheted up and Hope saw Rhodes tense.

"Is that what this has been about?" For the first time since she'd arrived, Y/N looked as though she was fully present. "Seriously? You're pissed because Tony didn't call you?" Her face was a mask of incredulity.

"Of course he didn't call me. I'm a washed up farmer and I didn't want to sign his precious Accords, right?" Barton's fists were tight, his voice bitter.

"He didn't call you because you were out, you dumb fuck!" Y/N exploded out of her seat, raking her hands through her hair. Peter looked like he wanted to stop her but he didn't. She paced a couple of steps before rounding back on Barton. "You really don't get it, do you? You had it! The brass ring was in your hands! You spent most of your life in a dangerous job, you faced a goddamned alien invasion and killer robots, and at the end of a glorious career you actually managed to retire and get to go home to your family! There was nothing on this earth that could have made him call you. He called a fucking fifteen-year old kid before he called you! Tony would have called me before he would have called you!" That wasn't true. Tony didn't even know about her then but that doesn't matter. She slumped back into his seat and stared into Barton's astonished face intently. "You have three little kids, Clint. Stark would die before he'd take their father from them like mine was taken from me. My parents died because a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent didn't care that it was a high risk mission and that they probably wouldn't come back. So when Fury got a phone call from that agent, he had to tell a 11 year old girl, that her parents died because no one cared that they had a child.

"But hey – you got called, and you answered, and I don't blame you for that," Y/N continued remorselessly. "But when you did that – when you showed up and took Wanda out of the Compound, when you hurt Vision and you went to Leipzig and you helped an internationally wanted terrorist escape custody, you took that life of service, that legacy and you destroyed it. You're a smart man, and you knew that it was all illegal, and you went and you did it anyway, and that's why you're where you are. You took your kids' father from them. And you're pissed at Tony because he didn't call you? I think that you should be fucking livid at them that they did."

Barton just stared at her silently.

Y/N took a seat and Peter put an arm around her.

"So, Mr Barton." Hope said carefully, mindful of the tension in the room and trying to get back to a calmer footing. "After review of your actions at Leipzig airport, Germany has elected to vacate the charges against you for property damage, since your contribution was minor compared to that of Scarlet Witch and Ant Man. You still face charges of assisting the escape of a fugitive, flight from prosecution, escape from custody, assault and illegal entry from your time there, and you are no longer permitted within the EU. The Accords council has not chosen to respect your wish to retire and does currently consider you a candidate for the Accords. If you serve 2 years as a Avenger, you can go back to your family. Germany has indicated that if you return to the US they will not pursue extradition, as long as you never attempt to enter the EU. If you choose to return to the US, you will be facing charges of domestic terrorism and property damage for the bomb you set off at the Compound, and assault for the attack on Vision."

"Vision is willing to request that the charges of assault be dropped," Rhodes said quietly, "if that helps you see your family." Vision nodded.

Barton covered his eyes with his hand.

Wilson took a deep breath. "So, if the Romanian charges are still in place for me, what does that mean?"

"No more Europe for you," Harley told him. "They're waiving extradition if you sign the Accords and return to the US, but trying you in absentee is as far as they're willing to go. If you choose not to sign the Accords, then there's no going home."

Wilson asked, "But if we have to, we can return to Wakanda, right?"

Strange shook his head no.

"Ok, Mrs. L/N, this has gone far enough." Rogers pushed his chair away from the table and stood. Y/N just tilted her head politely. "I understand that you wanted to make a point here, and that you wanted us to feel like you're doing us a favor by bringing us home, but threatening the King of Wakanda to not let us back in there? We know that you're here because the world needs us back. We know that you'll do whatever you have to do to get us back. All of this? This is just a show. Can you get to the real offers now?"

"Please, Steve, sit down," Peter gestured gracefully. Grudgingly Rogers complied. "Y/N did not say that he was threatened. We have, however, been informed of a new threat, one that has proven many of the things that I believed to be true a lie. One of those beliefs was that Wakanda was unassailable; it is not."

"A new threat! So you do need us." Maximoff smiled triumphantly.

T'Challa stepped out of the corner, unknown to anyone.

"I'm afraid not," T'Challa said. "But I do believe it is fair to say that we all desire to have any distractions out of the way. I do understand you hadn't intended to broach this subject today, Mrs. L/N, but perhaps we should do so nonetheless."

"It's Y/N, T'Challa, I am so much younger then you." Y/N said laughing. "Ok, fine. Wanda, you remember that image you showed Tony back in the Hydra base in Sokovia? Would you be able to share that with everyone?"

Hope frowned and saw it echoed on the other faces around her. Only Y/N remained serene.

"No," Maximoff said sweetly.

"Allow me." The voice, male with a clipped British accent, took them by surprise and they jumped; all but Y/N. They turned in unison to face the corner of the room where a bald, older man sat comfortably in a wheelchair with a calming smile on his face. "I am Doctor Charles Xavier, though you may call me Professor, and I apologize for startling you. I arrived late and chose not to interrupt the proceedings. I hope you don't mind." Hope felt her irritation wane and his smile widened as they all relaxed and no one objected, although Maximoff continued to eye him suspiciously. "Now," he turned the smile on Y/N. "I believe that you wanted everyone to be shown something?"

Y/N visibly steeled herself. "Good to see you Professor, thank you again for coming. I have prepared after watching the vision, and I am ready. So you can do it."

An instant later, Hope was awash in terror. Her stomach lurched and it was all she could do not to scream with it. Her gorge rose and she almost vomited. Her mind gibbered at her in a base panic. She could just barely make out Y/N's voice over the horror in her brain.

"Jesus, Charles, dial it back a little."

The fear subsided.

She was in space, staring at a vast armada of ships. Thousands upon thousands of ships, as far as her eye could make sense of. There were Leviathan-class Chitauri assault ships moving towards her gracefully, their pinpoint size providing a gauge for the stupendous size of the ships following them. An eye-searing flash of light flared within the nearest... carrier? She wasn't sure what nomenclature to use for them. She closed her eyes against the light, suddenly overcome with vertigo. She couldn't... she couldn't catch her breath. Why couldn't she breathe? She forced her eyes back open to see the remainder of that massive fleet; a single ship loss nothing against those incalculable numbers...

She took a deep whoop of air, suddenly back in the conference room, hearing the others cough and gasp as well. Y/N was wagging an admonishing finger at Professor Xavier, who looked completely unrepentant. "You asked for me to share Dr. Stark's experience in the Hydra bunker," he said, "At least I stopped with the wormhole."

The others were still heaving, and Hope saw with private glee that Lang was still swallowing hard, clearly fighting nausea. "Was that really necessary?" Rogers bit out.

"It was Tony's memory." Charles lifted an eyebrow at the growl he got in return. "And I did mute the emotions before passing them on. To be fair, his original experience was significantly worse."

Good God. That had been muted? And he'd had to relive it in that Hydra bunker? Hope found herself glaring at Maximoff, whose face was hidden by her hair.

Y/N gestured silently, and abruptly an image of that terrifying fleet of ships popped into existence above the table. They all leaned back from it as one, except T'Challa who craned his neck for a better look. "Fascinating," he said. "You are achieving this effect without technology."

"Indeed I am," was all that Professor Xavier said.

"This is what Tony saw through the wormhole," Y/N said, waving at the image. "This is what he's been working towards preparing for since the day the Chitauri attacked us. This is what led him to consider a solution like Ultron. And this, it turns out, is only a small part of the problem." She nodded at Professor Xavier, and the image changed to show an even greater fleet, with the uncountable Chitauri ships a mere fraction of the total. "This is what we currently have heading for Earth."

"Oh my God," Barton whispered. The others echoed him, horror etched on every face.

#marvel #fanfiction #rogueavengersreturn #peter parker #peter parker x reader #the avengers #tony stank #tony stark #steve rogers #wehatesteverogers #bashing #teamcap #teamcapbashing #bucky barnes

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mostlysignssomeportents · 4 years

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Pluralistic: 03 Mar 2020 (School surveillance self-defense, copyright for authors, Facebook's potemkin data-downloader, Oregon GOP's sabotage, and more!)

Today's links

EFF's Surveillance Self-Defense guide for students: Privacy is a team sport.

Oregon's Dems have a supermajority, but the GOP won't show up for work: White nationalism is how plutes get turkeys to vote for Christmas.

A Lever Without a Fulcrum Is Just a Stick: How to design a copyright to protect artists, not corporations.

Facebook neutered "Download Your Data": "Your data" doesn't include a list of ad-tech companies that also hold your data.

The EU's new copyright filters violate the GDPR: We told you so.

Recycling spy agencies' malware for fun and profit: NOBUS is, and always has been, an idiotic idea.

Japanese condiment company releases "sliced mayo": Comes in four flavors!

Department of the Interior climate docs include junk science: Trump's man on the inside, sabotaging our future.

This day in history: 2005, 2010, 2015, 2019

Colophon: Recent publications, current writing projects, upcoming appearances, current reading

EFF's Surveillance Self-Defense guide for students (permalink)

EFF just launched its Surveillance Self-Defense guide for students: it's a soup-to-nuts guide for kids and parents disturbed about social media monitoring, campus facial recognition systems, and "aggression detection" mics in classrooms

https://ssd.eff.org/en/module/privacy-students

It unpacks technical concepts from stalkerware to man-in-the-middle SSL certificates, and includes guides to having difficult privacy conversations with friends, family and officials, and technical guidance for protecting your privacy.

As the press-release notes, "School discipline disproportionately targets students of color, and it's reasonable to think that additional, and more comprehensive scrutiny of their lives will only add to that injustice." These systems also disproportionately affect queer kids, "who tend to look for support online as they explore their gender identities, and find they're under so much surveillance that they learn not to look. They learn not to trust online public spaces."

https://www.eff.org/press/releases/schools-are-spying-students-students-can-fight-back

Oregon's Dems have a supermajority, but the GOP won't show up for work (permalink)

In Oregon, Democrats have a supermajority in the House and Senate, because the vast majority of Orgeonians support Democratic policies. But when Oregon drafted its constitution in 1857, it copied the Indiana constitution's provision that sets quorum at 2/3 of lawmakers.

Theoretically, this has meant that if a small handful of opposition lawmakers refused to show up for work, the state legislature would shut down. Practically, neither party has ever done this…until now. The Oregon GOP, acting on behalf of a small number of rural, white, reactionary voters, has refused to enter the statehouse when the majority was calling votes on "guns, forestry, health care, budgeting" and now, the climate crisis.

https://www.vox.com/energy-and-environment/2020/2/29/21157246/oregon-republicans-walk-out-climate-change-cap-trade-democracy

They've killed a small tax raise to fully fund state public schools, modest gun restrictions, and mandatory vaccinations for kids. Then they signed a memo promising not to pull that stunt again, so the legislature could pursue a cap-and-trade bill.

They fucking lied.

GOP Senators went into hiding, and threatened to murder any police officers sent to get them.

Cap and trade is back before the legislature, and the GOP cowards are in hiding again, refusing to show up and do the job the taxpayers are paying them to do. House Republicans have joined their Senate co-conspirators.

A ballot initiative might force them back into their seats, though:

https://www.opb.org/news/article/oregon-union-leaders-initiative-stopping-legislative-walkouts/

The Oregon GOP has fielded a truckload of bullshit to defend their tantrum. They claim the measure has had insufficient "process" to proceed. It's had more process than any other bill in Oregon history.

https://twitter.com/karin_power/status/1232720734813732865?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw

"Democrats have bent over backward to accommodate GOP objections, layering on more process, making more concessions, but it hasn't changed Republican rhetoric or behavior a whit. GOP objections aren't to the bill's contents or process, but to its existence."

Oregon has some of the nation's loosest money-in-politics laws and the state GOP is awash in money from polluting industries hoping to render the planet unfit for habitation ("first in the country in per-capita corporate donations to politicians")

https://projects.oregonlive.com/polluted-by-money/part-1

"The Republicans who keep walking out on their jobs get 65 percent of their donations from corporations, in particular corporations like Koch Industries with assets that stand to be affected by cap-and-trade."

Democrats have walked out of legislatures, too: decades ago, and over gerrymandering attempts that would have guaranteed eternal minority rule by rendering the majority of state votes irrelevant. When the GOP stages rallies to support its actions, it is supported by 3 Percenters and other violent white nationalist terrorist elements. White supremacy is how the GOP gets turkeys to vote for Christmas.

But Oregon Dems are too timid to call white nationalism out when they see it. They won't run on the issue of the GOP doing corporate bidding with backing from white nationalists.

A Lever Without a Fulcrum Is Just a Stick (permalink)

My latest Locus column explores what copyright expert Rebecca Giblin calls "The New Copyright Bargain" – a copyright system designed around enriching authors above all, rather rather than treating authors' incomes as an incidental output of enriching entertainment or tech corporations. The column is called "A Lever Without a Fulcrum is Just a Stick." Copyright is billed as giving creators leverage over the corporations we contract with, but levers need fulcrums.

https://locusmag.com/2020/03/cory-doctorow-a-lever-without-a-fulcrum-is-just-a-stick/

In an increasingly concentrated marketplace, any exclusive rights that are given to creators are simply appropriated by corporations as a non-negotiable condition of the standard contract. Think of how samples could originally be used without permission (in the Paul's Boutique/It Takes a Nation of Millions era), enriching old R&B artists who'd been burned by one-sided contracts.

(Image from Kembrew Macleod's "Creative License" https://www.dukeupress.edu/creative-license)

Those artists experienced a temporary enrichment when paying for samples became the norm, but today, all contracts simply require signing away your sampling rights. The fight to require licenses for samples merely gave the labels yet another right to demand of their artists. Which means that anyone hoping to sample must sign to a label and pay for a license either to that label or one of the other three. Giving new rights to artists in a monopolized market is like giving your bullied kid more lunch money. It doesn't buy the kid lunch, it just gives the bullies the opportunity to take more money from your kid.

After the "Blurred Lines" suit, labels have begun to fret about being sued over artists' copying the "vibe" of another artist. It's easy to feel smug about copyright maximalists being hoist on their own petards. But the end-game is easy to see: just make selling your "vibe" rights a condition of signing a record deal, and you transfer ownership of whole genres to the Big 4 labels.

What would a copyright look like that protected artists, rather than practicing the Magic Underpants Gnome method of:

Enrich entertainment corporations;

?????

Artists get more money

Any new bargain in copyright centered on artists needs to take account of the concentration in tech and entertainment, and create rights for artists that aren't just creator's monopolies to be scooped up through non-negotiable contracts. Measures like reversion (which lets artists in the USA claim back rights they signed away 35 years ago), blanket licenses (designed to pay artists regardless of whether they're "rightsholders"), and restoring unionization rights are the key to paying artists.

Merely expanding the "author's monopoly" does no good in a world of industrial monopolies: it just gives those monopolists more ammo to use in the fight to shift revenues onto their own balance sheets, at the expense of working creators.

Facebook neutered "Download Your Data" (permalink)

Facebook recently unveiled a feature called "download your data," partly to comply with Europe's GDPR. But as Privacy International reveals, there's a very important omission in the data that Facebook will release to you.

https://privacyinternational.org/long-read/3372/no-facebooks-not-telling-you-everything

Missing from "your data" is the list of advertisers whose targeted you by uploading some of your personal information (through the "Custom Audience" tool) – that is, the list of other companies that the GDPR lets you send data-requests to. This omission means that you can't use FB as a jumping-off point to discover all the data being held on you by all the advertisers, data-brokers, etc. It's not an accident, either: Facebook replicates this in their new "Off-Facebook" product.

Facebook is under increasing pressure to allow competition through interoperability, but argues that it can't possible protect your privacy if they are forced to allow companies that you trust to manage your Facebook experience for you. In other words, Facebook argues that it can't be a wise, benevolet steward of your privacy if you insist on allowing competitors to interfere with it. But that argument only works if you trust Facebook — and who the hell trusts Facebook?

(And why on Earth would you?)

The EU's new copyright filters violate the GDPR (permalink)

The EU's Copyright Directive effectively forces all online platforms to implement upload filters that scan everything you try to post and refuses anything that matches a database of works that anyone, anywhere has claimed to be "copyrighted." This a terrible idea in an era of rampant copyfraud. The Directive has no penalties for people who falsely claim copyright even when it's to rip off, blackmail or censor artists, and platforms still have to accept their copyright claims even after they're caught at it.

But it's also a massive violation of Article 22 of the GDPR, which promises users the right "not to be subject to a decision based solely on automated processing which produces legal effects concerning them or significantly affects them."

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/02/upload-filters-are-odds-gdpr

That is to say, you aren't allowed to do the kind of filtering that Article 17 of the Copyright Directive mandates. Billions of pieces of "personal information" (under the GDPR's definition) will be processed by copyright bots every day, and that's illegal.

None of the GDPR's exemptions apply, either. For example, the Copyright Directive doesn't "authorise" the filtering, because its authors explicitly deleted all mentions of filters in order to get the Directive passed, and publicly disclaimed any filtering mandate.

Nor is filtering "necessary" for the use of the service under the GDPR – the services run today without filtering, so the GDPR's narrow, rigorous definition of "necessity" does not apply.

The GDPR does allow this kind of processing with "consent" but not the kind where you click a terms-of-service "OK" button. Consent under GDPR has to include the ability to say no and still use the service.

What's more, the Copyright Directive includes new EU-wide copyright exceptions for parody and criticism, and while it's impossible to imagine a filter being able to tell the difference between parody/criticism and other kinds of speech, any attempt will be a privacy disaster. Identifying parody/criticism requires understanding of context – and that means that a filter trying to discern these concepts will have to consider huge amounts of personal information to make its determination. And the Copyright Directive itself does not allow any system that fails to respect these "fundamental rights" of internet users, which means that you can't use a filter unless it can grasp these distinctions.

Literally all of this was obvious from the start, and boosters of upload filters hand-waved them away, insisting they were mere technicalities that could be solved by asking tech companies to NERD HARDER. Now, the whole thing is likely to fall apart.

Recycling spy agencies' malware for fun and profit permalink)

The NSA has a doctrine called "NOBUS," which stands for "No One But Us" — as in, "It's OK if we keep these bugs we discovered a secret because no one but us is smart enough to find or exploit them." But as ex-NSA hacker Patrick Wardle's RSA presentation, "Repurposed Malware: A Dark Side of Recycling" shows, foreign spy agencies – and criminals – love NOBUS because it means they get to steal NSA cyberweapons and use them for themselves.

https://www.rsaconference.com/usa/agenda/repurposed-malware-a-dark-side-of-recycling

Once you discover a snippet of malicious code in the wild (either something used by a spy agency and then blown, or something stolen from the agency), it's really easy to remix it to deliver your own malware.

In his demo, Wardle showed how he replaced a small section of the pioneering fileless Macos malware AppleJeus.c and created his own, virus-scanner-resistant strain.

https://arstechnica.com/information-technology/2020/02/why-write-your-own-mac-malware-when-you-can-rip-off-a-competitors-a-how-to/

"With a single modification to the binary, (and building a light-weight C&C server), we now have access to an advanced nation-state loader that will perform to our bidding …without having to write any (client-side) code!"

NOBUS is, and always has been, a dead letter – equivalent to stockpiling superbugs to use as bioweapons, in hopes that no one else will discover or steal them, rather than developing a vaccine for them. It's the height of irresponsibility, and your tax-dollars pay for it.

Japanese condiment company releases "sliced mayo" (permalink)

The Japanese condiment company Bourbon just released a "sliced mayonnaise" product similar to American cheese singles. It'll come in flavors like "spicy tuna" and "cod roe."

https://www.atpress.ne.jp/news/205437

It's an addition to the company's existing sliced condiment products, like "sliced chocolate."

https://soranews24.com/2020/02/21/sliced-mayonnaise-and-white-chocolate-now-exist-in-japan-bringing-sandwiches-to-glorious-new-era/

The sliced mayo is ¥200-250, and comes in packets of four. Honestly, I'm fine with this except for the plastic – if it came in an edible wrapper, it'd make for an excellent picnic/school lunch supply.

https://www.foodandwine.com/news/mayonnaise-slices-japan

Department of the Interior climate docs include junk science (permalink)

When Trump took office, he promoted Indur M Goklany, a climate denier, to the office of the deputy secretary "with responsibility for reviewing the agency's climate policies."

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/03/02/climate/goks-uncertainty-language-interior.html

Ever since, Goklany has been inserting debunked climate-denial talking points into US government science, including the myth that "increased carbon dioxide in the atmosphere is beneficial." Longtime agency staffers exchange private, grim jokes about being forced to insert "Goks uncertainty language" into their communications about the climate crisis, howlers like the idea that rising CO2 "may increase plant water use efficiency."

"The Interior Department declined to make Mr. Goklany available for an interview, and he did not return requests seeking comment."

This day in history (permalink)

#15yrsago Free Software Foundation tears MPAA a new one in Grokster brief http://moglen.law.columbia.edu/publications/grokster-amicus.pdf

#10yrsago Blind gamer speedruns Zelda with help of 100,000+ keystroke script https://boingboing.net/2010/03/03/blind-gamer-speedrun.html

#5yrsago Ed Snowden says he'll face trial in the US https://news.yahoo.com/edward-snowden-ready-return-states-144245040.html

#5yrsago Razorhurst: blood-drenched gang warfare and ghosts in Gilded Age Sydney https://boingboing.net/2015/03/03/razorhurst-blood-drenched-gan.html

#1yrago The FAIR Act will end forced arbitration for employment, consumer, antitrust and civil rights disputes https://thinkprogress.org/lawmakers-declare-war-on-the-biggest-civil-rights-problem-youve-probably-never-heard-of-eaf3b5459034/

#1yrago Google says it won't remove Saudi government app that lets men track and monitor their wives and domestic employees https://www.businessinsider.com/absher-google-refuses-to-remove-saudi-govt-app-that-tracks-women-2019-3

#1yrago Record label censors copyright lawyers' site by falsely claiming it infringes copyright https://spicyip.com/2019/02/saregama-pa-rdon-me-you-have-the-wrong-address-on-the-perils-and-pitfalls-of-notice-and-takedown.html

#1yrago German data privacy commissioner says Article 13 inevitably leads to filters, which inevitably lead to internet "oligopoly" http://www.fosspatents.com/2019/02/germanys-federal-data-protection.html#translation

Colophon (permalink)

Today's top sources: Waxy (https://waxy.org/), Four Short Links (https://www.oreilly.com/feed/four-short-links), Slashdot (https://slashdot.org), Kottke (https://kottke.org).

Hugo nominators! My story "Unauthorized Bread" is eligible in the Novella category and you can read it free on Ars Technica: https://arstechnica.com/gaming/2020/01/unauthorized-bread-a-near-future-tale-of-refugees-and-sinister-iot-appliances/

Upcoming appearances:

Canada Reads Kelowna: March 5, 6PM, Kelowna Library, 1380 Ellis Street, with CBC's Sarah Penton https://www.eventbrite.ca/e/cbc-radio-presents-in-conversation-with-cory-doctorow-tickets-96154415445

Currently writing: I just finished a short story, "The Canadian Miracle," for MIT Tech Review. It's a story set in the world of my next novel, "The Lost Cause," a post-GND novel about truth and reconciliation. I'm getting geared up to start work on the novel now, though the timing is going to depend on another pending commission (I've been solicited by an NGO) to write a short story set in the world's prehistory.

Currently reading: Just started Lauren Beukes's forthcoming Afterland: it's Y the Last Man plus plus, and two chapters in, it's amazeballs. Last month, I finished Andrea Bernstein's "American Oligarchs"; it's a magnificent history of the Kushner and Trump families, showing how they cheated, stole and lied their way into power. I'm getting really into Anna Weiner's memoir about tech, "Uncanny Valley." I just loaded Matt Stoller's "Goliath" onto my underwater MP3 player and I'm listening to it as I swim laps.

Latest podcast: Disasters Don't Have to End in Dystopias: https://craphound.com/podcast/2020/03/01/disasters-dont-have-to-end-in-dystopias/

Upcoming books: "Poesy the Monster Slayer" (Jul 2020), a picture book about monsters, bedtime, gender, and kicking ass. Pre-order here: https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781626723627?utm_source=socialmedia&utm_medium=socialpost&utm_term=na-poesycorypreorder&utm_content=na-preorder-buynow&utm_campaign=9781626723627

(we're having a launch for it in Burbank on July 11 at Dark Delicacies and you can get me AND Poesy to sign it and Dark Del will ship it to the monster kids in your life in time for the release date).

"Attack Surface": The third Little Brother book, Oct 20, 2020.

"Little Brother/Homeland": A reissue omnibus edition with a very special, s00per s33kr1t intro.

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colorofmymindposts · 4 years

Text

Heart Skips A Beat

Chapter One

Fandom: Schitt’s Creek Pairing: Patrick Brewer/David Rose Characters: David Rose, Patrick Brewer Rating: Teen and Up Status: Incomplete, Next Chapter To Be Posted Next Week Word Count: 2652 Summary: Stevie doesn't give into David's demands to let him stay at her place when Alexis has lice. So Patrick offered. Patrick Brewer with the straight leg denim. Patrick Brewer with the awful taste in decor and who loves poking fun at David. Patrick Brewer with all the help and business advice David needs to not run this store into the ground before it even starts. Patrick, who David is starting to warm up to despite his best intentions not to. Tags: Alternative Universe - Canon Divergence, Season 3 AU, Fluff, Flirting Notes: Hi everyone, I hope you liked the first chapter of this story! It's going to be a two-chapter story, and the next one will be posted next week. This is my first time officially writing for the characters and the show, so please feel free to offer any constructive criticism! The title comes from Lenka's song "Heart Skips A Beat". This can also be read on ao3.

Story:

The anxiety welling up in his gut almost makes him want to stay back at the motel. Almost. But then David is reminded of the fact that Alexis has lice, and he is not stepping a foot back into that room until the hazmat team arrives to quarantine her. Which, given the extremely limited resources of this town, is unlikely to happen.

The alternative is not that great. Stevie refused to let him stay over despite saying she missed his company, which makes no sense! So Patrick offered. Patrick Brewer with the straight leg denim. Patrick Brewer with the awful taste in decor and who loves poking fun at David. Patrick Brewer with all the help and business advice David needs to not run this store into the ground before it even starts. Patrick, who David is starting to warm up to despite his best intentions not to.

He’s just being a nice business partner, offering up his home for the night to be nice. After all, Patrick said earlier that he didn’t want anything in the store contaminated. So it’s all for practical reasons.

It’s around 5 p.m. when they both agree that they’ve done enough work on setting up the store today. David can tell some part of Patrick wants to stay longer, probably it has something to do with the grant forms or money, but drastic measures will have to be taken if he doesn’t eat in the next hour.

“So uhh thanks for the help today,” David says to Patrick’s back as the man locks the front door. “I guess, I’ll just...swing by your place later?”

Patrick turns on his heel, appearing confused.

“Do you have to be somewhere? I thought you didn’t want to go back to the motel?”

“Right! I do not have any intention of going back there…right now. I just,” David stumbles over words that his brain hasn’t come up with and flails his hands instinctively. “I was thinking of getting food at the cafe? And then I am definitely going to take you up on your very generous offer to stay at your place for the night.”

“You know, when you put that way, it sounds like you don’t actually want to take me up on my generous offer,” Patrick replies with a satisfied smirk.

God, what is this guy’s deal? David chuckles nervously, fingers tugging at the collar of his black suede sweater from Valentino’s fashion collection.

“For your information, I do not have anything else lined up, so I would very much appreciate it if you kept your offer open or I will be sleeping on the street tonight.”

“We wouldn’t want that. I don't need to tell you all the things that run around this town at night,” Patrick warns in a tone where David can’t tell whether he’s joking or not so he just nods repeatedly.

“No, you really don’t, thanks.”

It’s a split-second reaction, but David sees the features in Patrick’s face immediately soften. “David, I’m just messing with you. I would never turn you away.”

There’s such a sincerity in his voice that doesn’t belong, it shouldn’t be there so it can’t actually be there. David throws his walls up. “Well, the government did three years ago, so I never know who to believe.”

If Patrick’s face could send a more pitying look, it does in that moment.

“Look, how about I get you dinner at the cafe? Then I can drive us over to my apartment, seeing as you’ve already packed,” Patrick proposes with a glance down to David’s hand holding his overnight bag, which may or may not actually belong to his mother.

“It’s fine, I’m really not that hungry.”

He’s lying, but the idea of dining out with just Patrick doesn’t sit well with him for some reason. What would they talk about? The store? Patrick’s love of blue and David’s specially curated interest in stylistically relevant monochrome colors? Maybe if Stevie was there, she could say something funny that they could all laugh at. After all, she and Patrick hit it off as soon as they met.

“If you’re sure,” Patrick responds in a way David knows is unconvinced.

David follows Patrick silently down the street, not really sure of where they’re going or why, but they pass the Cafe Tropical much to the pain of David’s stomach. There’s a loud beep, and David flinches without meaning to.

“It’s okay, it’s just my car,” Patrick reassures him, and there’s a laugh hidden in his smile. He’s grinning but not outright. Ugh, why is he so hard to figure out?

He finally takes in Patrick’s car, which is nice. At least, it’s a lot better looking than his family’s shared Lincoln.

David slides into the passenger’s seat, clutching his bag to his chest after buckling in. Patrick pulls out of his parking spot and onto the road. It’s quiet in the car with no music playing and no one talking. If he were with his family right now, he’d be more than happy with that arrangement, but something about it feels off with Patrick.

“I like your car,” he’s able to manage. “It’s sleek, and I’m not able to say that about a lot of things in this town.”

That earns him a small chuckle from Patrick at least.

“Yeah, I just finished paying it off too. That’s why I have a space at Ray’s and not my own,” he explains as he drives. “You might want to reconsider who you’re getting into business with.”

There’s something in his tone, something he can’t name, that makes David consider his words before speaking. “I think I’ll take my chances.”

The smile that was on Patrick’s face splits into a grin, and it takes a very concerted effort for David not to join him.

It doesn’t take long after that to arrive at Ray’s. They pass Ray’s and Patrick’s office spaces as they move through the front room, avoiding the abandoned photoshoot materials as they make their way to the staircase.

“So, Ray works and lives here too?”

“Yeah,” Patrick answers as he goes for a door on the right side of the hallway.

“So, is he just out a lot? Doing his...projects or work or whatever?”

“Sometimes? He’s here a lot in the mornings.” Patrick pauses, as though he’s thinking something over. “I should warn you, he’s really bad about privacy. Like, has no idea what it means to knock before you come in.”

“Please, the door between my parents’ room and mine doesn’t even lock, so I have become very familiar with violations of privacy in the last few years,” David counters earnestly.

The door opens up to a one-bedroom living situation, and the aesthetic (or lack thereof) just screams...whatever the opposite of Patrick is. The wallpaper is a cheap pink floral print, and it’s practically barren save for a closet, bed, nightstand and some framed picture of a sportball player hanging on one of the walls. He does have the luxury of a Queen sized mattress, something David is more than slightly envious of.

“It’s organized,” he concedes.

“I’ll take what I can get,” Patrick says, almost as though he’s relieved. Does David’s opinion really matter that much to him?

“You can put your things wherever you like. And the bathroom is just down the hall to your left. I’m going to start on dinner. Do you like pasta?”

“Yes, I love pasta,” David replies emphatically as he’s literally starving right now. He hopes Patrick’s a better cook than the ones at the cafe. “What kind are you making?”

“I think I’ll keep it a surprise.” Patrick’s voice is teasing and elusive as he walks backward toward the door, his thumbs hooked in his jean pockets.

David feels that he has to be informative about his preferences before Patrick leaves though. “Okay, well just so you know I’m very selective about my noodles. Like elbow macaroni is not an acceptable option.”

“Actually, I think all we have is elbow macaroni, so…” Patrick trails off, entirely unsympathetic.

“Why didn’t you let me know that before we left the store?!” he calls after the man already heading down the stairs.

He huffs in irritation, mostly to himself, as his eyes scan the now empty bedroom. There’s only one bed. Which of course makes sense. Only Patrick lives in this room. It just leaves the very pressing question of where he’ll sleep tonight completely up in the air. If Patrick intends on David taking the floor, he would have rather just followed Stevie home and slept on the carpeted hallway in front of her apartment door.

If nothing else, he can busy himself unpacking his toiletries and clothes. Patrick would have had to have known when he invited David over that he was not going to live out of his overnight bag, thank you very much.

It’s just when he’s satisfied with how he has sorted his eye creams on the bathroom sink when a delicious smell wafts up from the kitchen. The pasta’s got to be ready. His stomach, not his brain, is what propels him down a flight and a half of steps and into the kitchen. He just resists whining as he sees Patrick standing over two pots on the stovetop, clearly still cooking.

“Hey, you finally made it down here. I thought you maybe got lost up there.”

“Hmm, very funny,” David acknowledges with anything but a smile. “Actually I was figuring out where to put all my things you know with all of yours and Ray’s things.”

Patrick smirks to himself but says nothing. David nods as he does when he feels awkward and takes a seat at the table in the kitchen, rapping his fingers against the wood. It’s then that he realizes the table hasn’t been set. Yes, he is a guest here at Patrick’s place and normally wouldn’t feel inclined to do anything, but he’s recently become very invested in shaking off the freeloader label he acquired in the past. Especially with Patrick, who makes fun of him all the time for that kind of stuff.

“Where do you and Ray keep the plates?”

“Hmm?”

“I just thought I could set the table,” David says. Patrick’s face is one of disbelief, and David is quick to add, “I know even I find that level of generosity uncharacteristic for me.”

Patrick huffs a small laugh, stirring the sauce in the pot as he does so.

“No, that’s not it. I guess I didn’t expect that you wanted to organize anything else but the displays at the store. The plates are on the third shelf in the second cabinet, and the glasses are just above that. Silverware’s in that drawer over there.”

He gets to work then, pulling ceramics and glasses out and setting them out. It’s sad that he has to admit this, but it’s actually some of the finer dishware he’s going to be eating off of in nearly three years.

“Here we are,” Patrick announces as he brings out the dish, which looks positively scrumptious. The pasta and sauce have been transferred to one nice bowl, and it looks like some kind of cream-based sauce. “So we lucked out, David. I did happen to find fettuccine noodles, which are store-bought, but the alfredo sauce is actually my mother’s recipe.”

“Oh, I—um,” David stutters, speechless for one of the first times in his life.

“Right, I forgot the wine,” Patrick mutters under his breath, scolding himself. He goes over to the fridge. “Based on how much you order for the store, I assume you like red?”

It’s inexplicable, but the question makes him think back to his and Stevie’s conversation years ago about wine and...preferences. But Patrick isn’t Stevie and can’t know about that conversation, so David’s reading too much into things. As per usual.

“As you mentioned to me several times, we have to take into account the demographics of the town when we cultivate our stock. Since more old people live here and old people tend to prefer darker wines, it just makes sense for profits’ sake,” David rattles off, smirking as he does so. “But yes, as personal tastes go, I also prefer red wine over white. Not that I won’t try any others.”

Patrick is staring at him, dumbstruck. David likes that look on him. Just as he’s thinking that his tongue darts out over his lips, and he’s quick to school his features. He can almost swear Patrick follows the movement. But this is Patrick he's talking about, the straight-laced probably straight business partner. Right.

“Anyways, this looks very nice, so I’m just gonna—” David cuts himself off as he reaches for the kitchen-instrument-he-doesn’t-know-the-name-of to put the pasta on his plate.

Patrick screws the cork out of the wine bottle and serves them both their first glasses.

“I am glad that you paid attention to my ideas about stock,” he finally replies, seeming to recover use of his voice.

“Like I’ve said before, you’re the numbers and everything, and I am just the vision and overqualified artistic developer of the store. So...you’re important to listen to,” David confesses shyly as he twirls the pasta onto his fork.

“Aww David, can I get that in writing? We could frame it and put it in the store,” Patrick teases.

“As long as you don’t pick the frame, then maybe I’ll consider it,” he gripes right back.

His ire doesn’t last long though as he takes a bite of dinner, which is everything it promised to be. It’s easily the best food he’s had since he got to Schitt’s Creek, and he can’t suppress the audible moan in his mouth as he swallows it down. He’s startled when there’s an ominous knock against the table, and Patrick’s nursing a probably bruised knee.

“Oh my god, are you okay?!”

“Yeah, I—you know, I’ve always hated how tiny Ray’s table is. It’s very easy to just...hurt yourself. He should really get a new one.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, this pasta is delicious. I’m glad we did not stop at the cafe. I am going to have to suggest business partner dinners more often if this is how they’re going to be.”

Patrick looks at him wide-eyed, and that’s when David knows he fucked up. No one wants to be around him more than absolutely necessary. This is so nice that he keeps on forgetting Patrick only invited him over because his place is infested with lice. It’s a burden for him to see David outside of work hours.

His anxiety has him spiraling. “I mean, not that we have to, I was just—”

“No, David. I would really like that actually,” Patrick replies very quietly, with a warmness in his eyes that melts away the panic immediately. “Your sister having lice wasn’t exactly the way I imagined this coming together I’ll admit, but I’ve been wanting to get to know you better outside of the business.”

There’s a fluttering in his stomach now that has nothing to do with the food.

“I mean, sure. Sure,” David agrees, bobbing his head up and down like an idiot. “Are you sure though? Because being friends with this is a lot. Stevie has probably already told you that.”

“I was under the impression we were already friends,” Patrick counters, still projecting his dazzling smile at him. “I wouldn’t just invite any old business partner to stay over and cook them what I’m glad is a good dinner.”

David mouths an “O” but can’t audibly verbalize it, finally understanding.

The tension he’s been feeling these past few months around Patrick, the tension he’s been denying to everyone and himself, has a very possible explanation.

Who ever would have guessed he’d want to fuck someone in straight leg denim?

#david x patrick #david rose #patrick brewer #schitt's creek #my writing #fanfiction

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queen-swagzilla · 4 years

Text

Ruthlessly Alive - Chapter 10

Rated: M

Summary: Everything is going wrong. Clarke is at her wits end and so is her co-leader, Nathan Miller. The two of them and their mini-council—Wells, Raven, Finn, Monty, Jasper, and Syl—keep trying to find solutions, but nothing is helping them stay alive. When the dropship carrying her mother crashes, they come to a decision. They have to surrender, and ask for help.It just so happens that the price for help is Unity. But it means something much different on the ground than on the Ark.

Chapter summary: Raven's got some misplaced anger. Bellamy's got a stab wound. Clarke's got paper and charcoal. Syl's got grounder braids. Miller has very little patience for bullshit.

Like the story? Consider buying me a coffee!

Don’t know what’s going on? Read it all on Ao3!

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Bellamy remained under Clarke and Diggs' watchful eyes for two days. After he’d woken up, Irene had pulled Clarke aside and tied the red ribbon around her wrist.

“But I didn’t finish the ritual.” Clarke objected.

“Didn’t you?” She asked. “At the very least, you’ve proven that you have the ability to care for him. The rest of your people, however, I am beginning to distrust.”

Clarke looked away. She couldn’t exactly fault her for that. She had trouble imagining Finn poisoning a knife, especially since peace was a real possibility. Unfortunately, she didn’t really see who else it could be.

They’d searched the Art Supply Store, to no avail. It was devoid of any poisons or suspicious substances. Finn had come back the next day saying he’d gone exploring, and they’d no reason to hold him prisoner except for their collective suspicion. That simply wasn’t enough.

“Raven?” Clarke had asked, flanked by Miller and Syl. Raven narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t exactly pleased that Finn had been detained upon his return. It felt too much like the first time he’d been arrested. “I need a favor.”

“Yes, your majesty?”

Clarke winced but plowed forward. “Look, I’m not sure if Finn did anything. I can’t find anything to indicate that he did, but he’s the most vocal opponent to the terms of our alliance. We need this, and you know it. I need you to keep an eye on him and tell someone—not necessarily me—if he starts to act suspiciously. If it was him and he does it again, he won’t just be imprisoned, he’ll get all of us killed.”

It left a bitter taste in Raven’s mouth to know that Clarke was right. That she was just doing her best with the information she had. Why couldn’t she be wrong and unreasonable so that Raven could resent her for just a minute? “Fine. Is that all?”

Clarke looked saddened (and it killed Raven that it bothered her) but nodded and turned, leaving the tent with Syl in tow. Miller stayed behind. “She is going to be queen, you know. That means making tough decisions and giving orders that we'll have to follow.”

“Do you have a point?”

“You can’t hold it against her like that. She hates the idea already. She doesn’t want any of this to be happening, and you know it. Sure, she’s pretty into her fiancé, but the idea of being queen gets to her. Don’t make it worse by throwing it in her face when she makes a decision you don’t like. We’re under a monarchy now. There are always going to be decisions we don’t like. What matters is that we trust our leaders to ultimately make a decision that benefits us, and that’s all she’s been doing since we landed. She made the right call, and you know it.”

Raven glared at Miller. “My relationship with Clarke is none of your business. I agreed to watch him, didn’t I?”

“That’s not the point, and you know it.” He snapped. “She needs you, Raven. Stop taking your frustration out on her and refocus it on the person who actually deserves it.”

He didn’t wait for her to reply, pushing out of the tent to go looking for Clarke. Raven tamped down the urge to go after him and blow up in his face. Because god damn it, he had a point. Unfortunately, she didn’t really have the time to sit and think. Today was the day they’d begin taking the Dropship to scrap.

Without power tools.

Anyone who wasn’t working with Raven and Monty on the Dropship or in Medical with Clarke fixing their inevitable injuries was directed to Octavia and Lincoln for training. Syl had found herself directly under Octavia’s thumb, struggling through seemingly endless pushups.

While everyone seemed to be occupied, Murphy stood guard over Bellamy in his tent. He’d complained for hours when both Clarke and Diggs had insisted he remain on bed rest and outright whined when Octavia had demanded that he be guarded until he was up and about. Now, though, he found himself grateful for the quiet. A drawback of being King was that he was constantly swarmed—truly quiet moments were few and far between.

“Have you sent word to the Commander yet?” Murphy asked.

Bellamy shot him an annoyed look. “Of course I have.” He grunted.

“Has she said anything back? She could refuse to acknowledge it, couldn’t she? Turn us out of the coalition?”

Bellamy grimaced. “She could, but she won’t. She’d risk losing her hold on Trigedakru.” He replied, wincing. “Turning us out means putting them at risk of fighting a war on our border for territory. Sure, the rest of the coalition could come to their aid, but Azgeda would opt to sit it out. Emboldened by Azgeda’s refusal, the rest would refuse to put their warriors at risk for a border dispute, and the coalition would unravel. She won’t risk that.”

Murphy eyed him thoughtfully. “How long have you had that figured out?”

“Since Sterling first told us about their situation.” He admitted. “I knew this was a possibility. I wasn’t going to take this on without considering the risks.”

Murphy smiled wryly. “Yet you had no qualms about letting a stranger stab and poison you. Look where that got you.”

“I was in good hands.” He defended both himself and Clarke. “It could have been much worse.”

“Yes, it’s a good thing she likes you.” Murphy teased. “Or she’d have let you die.” There was a note of caution in Murphy’s voice. Bellamy frowned at him.

“Not with her people at risk, and definitely not with you and Octavia watching over her shoulder.”

Murphy raised an eyebrow. “If she thought it was right, Clarke would slit your throat without even blinking. Apparently she was seen doing the same for one of her people caught in the Fog.”

“Then it would have been out of mercy.”

“You think that calculated ability to kill doesn’t extend to her sense of justice? To her need to protect her people? Don’t be naive, Bellamy. She’s a good person, but you can smell it on her. The moment she needs to be, she’ll be ruthless. You had better hope that she’ll be on your side when that day comes, too.”

Bellamy barely even blinked. “She will be. I won’t give her a reason not to be. You know I don’t do things by halves, Murph. Her people and my people will be the same.”

“And what are you going to do when they discover who actually poisoned you?” He demanded.

Bellamy paused. His instinct, of course, was to have them executed. Not only for treason but also for violating a sacred rite and the grounds of a peace treaty. That, however, would not be in her people’s best interest. There were so few of them, and she’d feel each loss keenly. “I would leave their punishment to her.” He decided. “Our treaty is still in its fledgling stages, and they aren’t required to follow our laws. It’s encouraged, but they’re still separate. Until they officially join Trishanakru, we’ll allow them to govern themselves.”

“They poisoned you. The offense was against you, so your laws should govern the punishment.”

“Not if we want them to trust us.”

“They won’t trust us if you allow them to flout our laws without punishment. They’ll just do it again. There has to be some form of punishment from us. Maybe you can negotiate the punishment with Clarke and her advisors. Find a punishment that you’ll both deliver.”

Bellamy had to admit, that did sound better. “I can do that.” He agreed. He laid back docilely, and Murphy regarded him with a healthy amount of suspicion.

“That felt too easy.”

“Maybe you’re paranoid.”

Murphy snorted. “Yeah, maybe."

Things seemed to settle into a busy but peaceful rhythm. For three whole days, they took the Dropship apart, got drilled by Octavia and Lincoln, and started workshopping ideas with Wells, Monty, and Syl. Bellamy was recovering under Diggs’ (and sometimes Clarke’s) watch, and Clarke had taken over all diplomatic duties with Murphy whispering instructions in her ear at Bellamy’s request. So far, they had been visited by a representative from Yujledakru and Louwoda Kliron Kru, who were both staying in camps just outside the gate. She’d accepted their gifts—tokens to celebrate their impending marriage—and fed them. Then, she’d introduced them to the camp’s leaders and asked if they had concerns.

So far, the trust she seemed to have fostered in Bellamy, Octavia, and Murphy was enough to keep them calm. She was immensely grateful for that.

Syl seemed to be taking to Grounder culture like gas to a fire. Someone had clearly been teaching her the language because even with Murphy translating, she seemed to be getting the gist of each conversation.

Someone had done her hair, too. Every morning, Syl arrived at their status meeting with intricate braids that pulled her hair back from her face to unveil her sharp cheekbones and glittering black eyes. Clarke was a little jealous.

Raven, on the other hand, seemed to be shrinking from it. On that end, Clarke was concerned. At first, Raven had been more than ready to learn and grow into Grounder culture, but since the ritual, her enthusiasm seemed to have petered off. Not to mention, she was sour at Clarke, furious that she’d implicated Finn without hard evidence.

“What’s eating you, Princess?” Syl asked, sliding up to Clarke with Miller in tow.

“Nothing.”

Miller rolled his eyes. “So you’re glaring at Mbege for no reason?”

She realized that she had, indeed, been glaring at Mbege, who now looked extremely skittish—eyes darting from the task before him to Clarke and back in rapid succession. She offered him a sheepish smile and he seemed to deflate with relief. “Oops.”

“So? What’s the matter?” Syl prodded. She was fiddling with something—a bullet, Clarke realized—as she spoke.

“I’m so jammed up with meeting people and being a good host that I’m not learning anything.” She muttered. “I want to learn the language, you know? I just don’t really have the time.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to learn the language after all this diplomatic crap is over.” Miller replied soothingly.

“I know.” She sighed. “It just feels like everything is moving so fast. We only have three weeks left to get everything ready, and finish the courtship rituals. I haven’t even had time to get started on my gift for Bellamy.”

Syl gave her a once over. “Well, what are you doing right now?”

“Right now?” Clarke asked, frowning. “Nothing. Basically just waiting for someone to hurt themselves.”

“Well,” she drawled. “Why don’t you get started on it now?” Clarke flushed. Octavia had gotten her paper and charcoal the same day she’d asked for it, and Lincoln had offered to show her how to bind a book when she was ready.

“I can do that.” She admitted. Syl chuckled, taking her by the arm and guiding her back to her tent, Miller trailing behind him.

“You need to stop waiting for bad things to happen. Trust me, if they’re happening, they’ll find you. You gotta live in the meantime.” Syl insisted. Miller grunted his agreement. “We’re at peace. Your only duties right now are diplomacy and medical. If you’re not being sought out, you can take time to make your extra-special engagement gift, or train, or learn the language.”

“I need to make sure—“

“Then we’ll give you status reports, Clarke.” Miller interrupted her, successfully predicting her train of thought. “Syl’s right. You don’t need to be everywhere at once. Focus on what you need to get done or want to learn. Whatever. We’ll step up. I am your co-leader, remember? At least for the time being, I can keep the ship running while you plan out your engagement and wedding crap. And hey, learning the language is important for diplomacy right? You have a good reason to makethat a priority. You can get Grounder Jr. here to help you out.”

Clarke blinked at him. It might have been the most Miller had said at one time in ten years. “Are…you frustrated with me?” She demanded. He raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I’m pretty sure one of the conditions for me being okay with this alliance was that you’d take care of yourself. Trying to manage everything in camp and your own marriage is not taking care of yourself, it’s burning yourself out.” He scolded. She never thought she’d see the day when Miller scolded her.

“I’m just trying to make sure this goes smoothly! Survival is the very foundation of my self-care!”

“No, Clarkey. You’re trying to micromanage a hundred juvenile delinquents even though your survival is guaranteed as long as you stick to the terms of the alliance. And you have at least six people who are willing to lend you a hand.” Syl reminded her, a little exasperated but mostly amused. “I promise we’ll come to get you if there’s an emergency, but we’re more than capable of handling the nitty-gritty. That’s what we’re here for.”

“Yeah, didn’t you say we were your advisors or something? Isn’t that what our literal jobs are now?” Miller grunted. “Your job is to keep it together and lead us. Our job is to help you do that. Let us help you and take a fucking chill pill, Griffin."

They were in Clarke’s tent now and away from prying eyes, she allowed herself overflow a little. The affection and gratitude she felt couldn’t really be contained, but she doubted Miller would forgive her for going soft on him in public. So here, in the tent, she threw her arms around his neck in a nearly vicious hug.

“You guys are adorable.” Clarke dropped Miller immediately and whirled to face whoever had just entered the tent. It was just Wells and Monty (it was Wells who’d spoken, but Monty was snickering), but Miller flushed anyways.

“Did something happen?” Clarke asked, immediately on alert despite the conversation they’d just had. Syl flicked her on the forehead.

Wells eyed them oddly, noting the disciplinary action but taking it in stride. “No. We just wanted to let you know that the Dropship interior is completely stripped. We’re going to work on cataloging and packing it before we start working on the actual structure.”

“We got together with Octavia and agreed that the core group of scientists should hold off on training until the dropship is done. That way they’ll have the energy to actually do the work.” Monty added.

“The hunting party is back, too. They’ve got three deer and pulled in a bunch of rabbits and squirrels from snares. They think it’s a good idea to dry and store two of the deer and use the rest fresh over the next couple of days. They wanted your opinion, though. Well, they wanted Murphy’s opinion, but they’re kinda afraid of him, so they want Syl to ask him.”

Miller gave her a smug smirk, and she rolled her eyes. “See?”

“Fine. Okay? Fine! You were right. I’ll ‘chill out’.”

Syl snorted. “Yeah, unlikely. Just…don't preemptively panic. Do what you gotta do, and trust us to keep you in the loop. We’ve got this, Princess.”

They left Clarke in the tent, pulling out the piles of paper and charcoal she’d been given along with the copy of the Iliad that Octavia had gotten for her. She assumed it was Bellamy’s copy, so she handled it like it was made of glass.

Before she knew it, she was completely lost in her task—relaxing into the lines and shading as she brought the ancient story back to life. The last time she’d had uninterrupted time to draw was when she was in the Sky Box, and it was relaxing then, too. It took her mind off the endless vacuum of space. Here, it took her mind all of the things that could go wrong, and she was grateful for the time to decompress.

Soon, her hands were covered in coal and her body was completely unclenched. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, just that she had a tidy stack of perfect drawings and it was getting dark inside the tent. “Clarke? You coming for dinner?” Jasper poked his head through the tent flap. “Syl wanted to get you for lunch, but Miller and Wells didn’t want to break your stride if you actually managed to chill out enough to stay put.”

She blinked up at him, only now realizing how late it was and how long she’d been sitting in one place. “I’ve been in here all day. I’ve been in here all day?! I need to check on Bellamy! Were there any injuries in camp?”

“Hey! Hey, relax. You can check on Bellamy after dinner. He’s been sleeping all day, and Diggs has been taking care of him, along with all the other minor scrapes that have come in. We need to learn to trust them, right? It’s good that we’ve been having our people go to him. It’s actually kinda important.” Jasper reminded her, alarmed at how quickly she’d panicked. “We didn’t just let you have the day. If we’d needed you, we’d have gotten you.”

“Right. Right, sorry. I’m just…”

“Not used to being fine? I know the feeling. Spear, remember?” He chuckled. “C’mon. Come have dinner with us then go check on your boooooyyyfriend.” He teased. She threw the charcoal stub at him, and it smacked him in the cheek.

“You’re terrible.” She muttered. “I’ll join you in a minute, I just need to go wash my hands.”

“Roger that, boss. We’ll save you some stew.” He grinned, saluting her jauntily.

As she walked through the camp, she was pleased with how little disarray there was. If she’d left camp for a whole day when they’d first landed, there would be broken fingers and collapsed structures in every direction. Now there were some murmurs as friends prodded each other’s blisters or scrapes, but it looked like everything was running smoothly.

Probably because they had a collective goal with a big fat scary deadline.

But hey, no matter the reason, as long as no one was dying or pissing off Grounder diplomats, she wasn’t going to complain.

Miller and Wells had come to him that morning to tell him that Clarke would be out of medical on other projects all day, and he couldn’t lie—he was disappointed. If he was bedridden, he was at least hoping for company other than Murphy (who hated talking, even to people he liked) and Diggs (who always had some gross new observation about the human body to share).

There were a few other delinquents who stopped by for their own cuts and bruises, and they talked while Diggs patched them up. He was quite fond of Harper, who talked his ear off about how limited his appreciation for classic literature was if he was stuck in ancient Greek epics. “Maybe someday,” she said wistfully. “We’ll find a way to reconnect to the Ark mainframe and be able to download the library.” He quite liked the sound of that.

Miller came to keep him company for a while and asked about politics and war on the ground. He seemed pleased that Bellamy was fascinated by history and therefore could give detailed accounts of the clan wars that had taken place before the coalition, as well as the skirmishes that had taken place since.

Other than that, he’d been bored. His philosophy had always been “if there’s nothing to do today, sleep while you have the time”, so he’d essentially napped his way through the entire day and felt lethargic as hell when he woke.

Murphy shoved a bowl at him when he opened his eyes. “Eat.” He grunted.

“Everything going alright out there?” He asked as he complied.

“Everything’s fine.” Murphy dismissed him. “Actually, without you and Clarke breathing down our necks, I think this has been their most productive day yet.” He continued, unsheathing his knife to clean under his fingernails.

“I heard that.” Clarke declared, sliding into the dropship with her hands on her hips. “And that is yet to be determined. I’m getting status reports after I check on Bellamy.” She paused. “Wow. They really did strip it bare.”

Anything that they didn’t need for immediate medical procedures had been disassembled and stacked in a corner—seating and seatbelts, wiring, and the video components had all been scrapped.

“I think we were both hoping it would take longer so that Bellamy would have someone to talk to all day.” Murphy drawled.

Clarke frowned. “Weren’t you here all day?”

Bellamy snorted. “Yes, ten hours with the surliest bastard south of Azgeda.” He shot Murphy a fond smile. “I slept most of the day.”

She chuckled. “Well, I hope it was restful.” She was leaning over him now, unwinding his bandage to examine his stab wound. She was pleased that it wasn’t infected and already seemed to be knitting together. “How are you feeling?

“Hmm. Like I was poisoned by someone other than my wife and put on bed rest.” He replied. “But better than I felt during the ceremony. I’ll feel better once I can get up and move.”

“Well, I’d feel more comfortable if you relaxed for a couple more days, but we treated you quickly and you do seem okay aside from the stab wound. Just don’t push it. Besides, we don’t know who poisoned the knife, so even if you’re not on bed rest I’d feel better if you had Murphy or Octavia with you.”

He groaned.

“See? Clarke agrees with us. Now you have to listen.” Murphy cried. “He doesn’t think he needs protection once he’s healed enough to move around.”

She frowned at him. “I know you’re an impressive fighter, but there’s no harm in having a second set of eyes. You’re being targeted. There’s no need to tempt fate. Besides, you’re a king. What would happen to your people if you just let yourself get assassinated?” She prodded him in the chest. “Be responsible, Bellamy.”

“Our people have a line of succession. We’d prefer not to use it, but still. It's your people you should worry about. There’s no guarantee a new alliance could be reached if Bellamy died.” Murphy reminded her.

She glared at him. “Yes, obviously, I know that. I just figured that was obvious. It’s obvious, right? We’re screwed without you. Besides, I’m getting pretty attached to you. I’d be very upset if you died because you decided to throw logic out the window."

He grumbled, but his pout told her that she’d won the argument. Sensing that Bellamy’s sulking wasn’t going to be short-lived, Murphy decided to sweeten the pot. “Maybe if you spent…half the day in here tomorrow keeping him company, he’d be a little more ready to follow your instructions.” He suggested.

Clarke couldn’t find anything wrong with that plan, so she agreed. “Maybe while we’re in here you can teach me some Trigedasleng.” She smiled, sitting by the cot and taking his hand. “Syl’s a natural. I need to keep up or she’ll never let me live it down.”

“Miller and Wells are, too.” Murphy supplied, unhelpfully. “They just don’t talk as much, so you haven’t noticed.”

“See?” She whined, tugging his fingers petulantly. “They’ll tease me forever if I don’t learn faster.”

He smiled at her mischievously. “Can’t say I blame them. I have a feeling I’ll have fun riling you up in the future.”

“Only if there is a future.” She scolded. “So for the love of God, please don’t get murdered.”

“Alright, princess.” He chuckled. “I’ll be careful.”

Raven was waiting for her in her tent when she returned and immediately she was on edge. Then she was sad that she was on edge because it was Raven. “I’m sorry, did you need something? I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

“Oh, no,” Raven assured her, standing. “I uh…well. I finished a few radios. I know you’re working on your gift for Bellamy, so I made enough for you, me, Wells, and Miller. I’ll have a couple more soon, but this way you can get status reports without having to run around.” She explained, holding out Clarke’s radio to her.

“Thanks, Raven.” She smiled, taking the scrappy tech. Raven didn’t really have a poker face, and she was grateful for that. Right now, her tone was soft and sincere, and her body language was open—if a little skittish. “Really, I appreciate it. I know you were going to make them anyway, but it’ll be nice to know what’s going on without having to drop what I’m doing.”

“I wasn’t going to make them yet.” She admitted. “I made a few when Monty told me what you were up to today. I realized you hadn’t started yet because you didn’t want to miss anything. This way you won’t have to.” She rubbed at the back of her neck. “Look, I’m not happy about the Finn thing.”

Clarke sighed, shoulders drooping. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s hard to imagine it’s him, and I don’t know if I think it is, but we have to—“

“Be sure. I know. You’re doing the right thing here. I don’t like it, but I can’t really deny that it’s what needs to happen. Besides, blaming you isn’t going to get us anywhere, you didn’t poison Bellamy, and it’s not like you’re locking him up before you’ve proved him guilty.” She admitted. “It just stings. He’s always been the person I trusted the most, and now he’s taking stances I don’t agree with and there are people I trust more than him. It’s all new.”

Clarke stayed quiet. She couldn’t imagine how Raven felt, so there was nothing she could really say to make it better. She could listen, though. She was good at that.

“I know what happened between you two before I landed. I don’t blame you, so don’t even.” She held up a hand when Clarke (predictably) opened her mouth to apologize. “He seems to feel like he has a hand in your decisions just because you’ve slept together, and that’s really stupid, but I don’t know if it’s the kind of stupid that would lead to him poisoning a warlord during a sacred engagement ceremony. That seems beyond him. I don’t think it would even occur to him. So while I’m not ruling it out, I am begging you to keep an open mind on this. He’s more likely to ruin this by opening his fat mouth to the wrong people.”

Clarke had to admit, she had a point there. “You’re probably right.” She agreed. Raven looked a little startled by the admission, but her eyes focused in like a laser. “At the time, he was the only person that we noticed was missing, and he’s been the most vocal opponent to the terms of the alliance. That’s why I wanted to look at him first, not because I thought that he’d definitely done it. I just wanted to be sure.”

“And the verdict?”

She grimaced. “Still not sure, but it’s not xi. That’s why I wanted you to watch him. No one would know if he’s acting out of character better than you.” She shrugged. “Aside from that, I would rather focus on keeping Bellamy safe than watching potential suspects. I don’t want it to be one of us. Granted, I don’t know who else it could be, but it would be a nightmare if it was one of us.”

Raven nodded but looked horribly guilty. “I’m really sorry.” She said quietly. “About how I’ve been acting for the past few days? I get tunnel vision when it comes to Finn, sometimes. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I know you’re just trying to do what’s best.”

“Hey, it’s fine. I’m new to this leading thing. You wouldn’t be one of my advisors if you weren’t comfortable pointing out where I’m going wrong.” Clarke assured her.

“That’s my point. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just let my emotions get in the way.” Raven insisted. “And I can’t promise I won’t do it again, so if I’m going to be one of your advisors, you need to tell me when I’m lacking perspective. This is all hard enough, we don’t need to make it worse by not communicating. That means you can’t just take it on the chin. We’re putting a lot on your shoulders here, so if you want us to count on you, you can’t set yourself on fire just to keep us warm.”

Clarke smiled self-deprecatingly. “That’s not the first time I’ve gotten that lecture today.”

“Good. Because I’m apologizing here, but this is also a serious teachable moment. You totally let me slam you with that ‘your majesty’ comment earlier. I know you’re not super into a monarchy, but damn Clarke, you’re about to be a queen. The correct response to my statement would have been ‘if you don’t want to follow my orders, find a new fucking clan.’ I would have been pissy for a few more hours, but it’s not like I’m gonna leave. Jesus.”

Clarke raised her eyebrows. “I would literally never say that.”

“Then I’ll have to follow you around and say it for you.” She snarked. “Because those puppy-dog eyes were lame. We’re a warrior nation now, not a warm-fuzzy cuddle puddle.” She stepped up to give Clarke a quick hug before heading for the tent flap. “Now go to bed! Your eye-bags look like they could hold ten days’ rations.”

Her jaw dropped, affronted. “They do not! You take that back!"

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cnrothtrek · 5 years

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The Misrepresentation of Mental Disability in Star Trek: Discovery

Season two of Star Trek: Discovery has teased us for half a season with Spock having vague mental health issues and Starfleet being a big dick about his experience. In episode 8, “If Memory Serves,” we finally get an explanation for Spock’s strange behavior and see what happened when he escaped the psychiatric hospital. It is... infuriating.

The set up was bad enough, with its dangerous mentally ill person and he can’t really be mentally ill because he’s a nice person, with the gross violations of Spock’s rights and Amanda’s dreadful comment about how “‘emotional disturbance’ is code for ‘psychosis.’” It’s honestly a clusterfuck of misused terminology and harmful tropes. With episode 8 we’ve added the mental illness fake-out and when modern medicine fails try magic (telepathy), as well as another iteration of the INCREDIBLY DANGEROUS myth that psychiatric hospitals are scary places that might lock you up against your will and threaten your safety.

I can’t help but think back to the season one arc of the the only major character who had a psychiatric diagnosis last season... who also turned out to be a mental illness fake-out and was insta-cured by sci-fi magic. Looking back at this parallel, we see that the dreadful bait-and-switch representation of mental illness in season two was also used in season one, indicating that Star Trek: Discovery is not quite as progressive and inclusive as it purports itself to be.

So let’s talk about Tyler’s PTSD.

The misrepresentation of Tyler’s symptoms

According to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, fifth edition (DSM-5), in order to receive a diagnosis of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder a person must experience a traumatic event that meets specific criteria (such as a life-threatening event or witnessing violence). Then, for AT LEAST A MONTH after the event, someone must experience symptoms from ALL FOUR of the following categories:

Intrusion (e.g. flashbacks or nightmares)

Avoidance (staying away from things that remind the person of the event, avoiding thoughts or feelings related to event)

Arousal and reactivity (hyper aware of surroundings, exaggerated startle response, explosive unprovoked outbursts of anger, feeling on edge, sleep disturbance)

Mood and cognition (e.g. beliefs that the trauma was one’s own fault or that they’ll never be safe again, memory disruption, loss of interest in activities or ability to feel pleasure).

Although it’s clear Tyler and Voq experienced multiple traumatic events, and we see Tyler having intrusive flashbacks and nightmares—although they were mostly used as a plot device to conveniently convey backstory and foreshadow a major plot twist—we didn’t see clear examples of all four symptom groupings. Moreover, the timeline for his symptoms isn’t clear, but if we start the clock at his escape from the prison ship, I have doubts that it was a month. (Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.)

Now, I realize that no one directly gave Tyler the diagnosis of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It was Admiral Cornwell who recognized his symptoms as trauma-based and said she had experience treating PTSD from her former medical practice, and she used her training to help talk Tyler through his reaction to seeing L’Rell. Still, viewers were expected to buy into this explanation so that the reveal of Tyler as Voq would be a surprise.

In short, they indicated that Tyler had Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but they didn’t seem to do much research into what the symptoms or criteria for that disorder are. They misused terminology and exploited Tyler’s suffering for the sake of the plot. Then, they used a bait-and-switch tactic to reveal that he didn’t actually have a real-world psychiatric disorder after all, but just some fantastical sleeper agent side effects. They sold viewers on an inaccurate but compassionate representation of mental illness, then ripped that representation away from us and laughed about it all the way to the bank.

The problematic way Starfleet (and the show) handles officers with mental disorders

Tyler is suffering in season one. Clearly, he wants help, but he’s afraid that if he talks to a doctor he’ll be relieved of duty. He confides somewhat in Michael, but swears to her that he’ll get help if it becomes too much for him to handle. We later follow him on a mission to retrieve a data core with a worker bee, where seeing Klingon bodies triggers a flashback and he almost blows the mission. We, the audience, are supposed to take this as a sign that something is very wrong with Tyler and he isn’t fit for duty.

But here’s the thing: The way this story is told is discriminatory and harmful. If Starfleet were as compassionate and utopian as we’re supposed to believe, then they wouldn’t take away the thing that helps Tyler cope and stay active. Working is good for him; taking him off duty—particularly on a ship that for some stupid reason doesn’t have even one mental health professional on staff—would mean... what? What would he do to fill his time? When someone is suffering from trauma symptoms, too much spare time can be counterproductive. It can in fact be very triggering, opening up mental space for the trauma symptoms to fill. It would likely also add to Tyler’s sense of being an outsider on Discovery. His comrades are all working, but he is not.

Tyler doesn’t need to be relieved of duty. What he needs is for his commanding officer to accommodate his disability.

Out of universe, this is important because PTSD is very stigmatized in the US military, and many people fear losing security clearances or even being discharged because of such a diagnosis. The truth is that the stigma of diagnosis is much more dangerous than the diagnosis itself. Avoiding help can lead to worsening of symptoms and unexplained behaviors (such as snapping at a at a superior or avoiding certain triggering situations) that could have been excused and perhaps accommodated by having a diagnosis on record. Tyler’s situation has real world implications, and the way the show undercuts him over and over is downright harmful to real people living with this condition.

Let’s look at his mission to retrieve the data core. Now, there was really no good in-universe reason for him to be on that worker bee. He was a security officer, not a technician. Why send him instead of, say, Owosekun? The answer is that the plot demanded it. The mission was an excuse for Tyler to have another flashback, and the viewers were supposed to believe that he was messed up and unfit for duty.

But let’s say he was the ideal person for that mission. If Tyler had been receiving treatment, his doctor could write up a list of special needs he has and some accommodations Lorca could make to help him. Lorca would be legally required to fulfill those accommodations as best he could. It is not Tyler’s responsibility to bear all the weight and consequences of his disability; as the ones with more power and privilege, it is Starfleet’s job to accommodate him. So, maybe one of those accommodations could be that he doesn’t go on missions alone. If something triggers him, another officer is there to provide support.

How hard would that be to do? Answer: it’s not. Not at all. Accommodations are usually not hard to provide, but refusing to make accommodations is ableist. Unfortunately, Starfleet—the beacon of hope and progressiveness in science fiction—is unwilling to make accommodations for Ash Tyler and other personnel suffering from PTSD. They’d rather pull them from duty and put them out of sight so they won’t inconvenience anyone.

Instead of giving viewers an example of how the crew came together to support Tyler as a person suffering from trauma-based symptoms, the writers chose to put the burden of Tyler’s suffering squarely on his shoulders. With this choice, they heavily implied that people with PTSD are not capable of contributing to Starfleet and must be set aside until they’re “better.” THIS IS HARMFUL REPRESENTATION.

As someone who has personally experienced multiple mental disabilities, two of which are chronic and a third of which is trauma-based, it makes me wonder... would I have a place in Starfleet? Based on what I’ve seen in Star Trek: Discovery, my answer is no. I am not welcome to contribute to their so-called utopia.

Not at all.

If you want to support positive representations of mental disability in Star Trek, please tell them. Share this blog post on Twitter and tag their official accounts, or just tweet them your own thoughts about how their portrayals of psychiatric symptoms and healthcare are hurtful to you or your loved ones. If enough fans give them constructive feedback about this issue, they’ll listen. Thank you. Good health and stay safe.

#star trek discovery #dsc spoilers #mental illness #mental health stigma #representation matters #mental health #mental health in media #ash tyler #voq #spock

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lilacmoon83 · 5 years

Text

Dreaming Out Loud

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 119: We've Always Shared One Heart, Pt. 1

Snow sighed, as she held her baby girl for a few quiet moments. They were just minutes away from the emergency meeting getting underway and she took a few minutes of solace in her babies.

"You're making the right decision, you know," Serafina offered her daughter-in-law. Snow nodded.

"I know...I think I will just feel better when we manage to arrest Ravenna and Frollo," she responded.

"Yeah...I don't much like not knowing what they're doing out there unchecked," David agreed, as he sat with Alexander on his knee.

"You both are wonderful rulers...truly. What you're doing will avoid a war and more suffering," Ruth agreed.

"I'm afraid it's time...everyone is here," Eli informed them, as he came into the nursery and gently placed a kiss on his granddaughter's head.

"Okay...go see grandpa sweetheart," she cooed, as she kissed Iris' little head. Eli took the baby, while Robert lifted his grandson up.

"Okay big guy...come here," he said, as David kissed his head and then the baby's, before offering his arm to his wife. Snow hooked her hand on his elbow, as they made their way toward the meeting arena. Eli kissed Iris' head again, before handing her over to Ruth. As their roles as Queen Mother to James' Kingdom and retired King of Snow's, they would be watching above in the gallery of the meeting room, as Snow and David prepared to crown Nikolai as the new King of the Southern Isles, while simultaneously issuing an official warrant for Ravenna and Frollo's arrest.

"Do you have a way to contain Frollo?" David asked, as Hades arrived beside them.

"I took one of those cuffs we confiscated years ago when we arrested Circe and her minions. I modified it and strengthened it with the most powerful binding potion that I know of. If it doesn't work...I'm not sure what will," Hades replied.

"We have to hope it will," Snow responded, as they arrived in the meeting chamber.

"There's more. Just before all of this...Neal and Emma arrested Percival and an old witch from Dunbroch," Hades told them.

"Percival? One of the Knights of the Roundtable?" David questioned. Hades nodded.

"What were they doing?" Snow asked.

"Nothing good and I'm afraid it's time to confront Arthur with what we know about his past. But we can deal with him after we deal with naming Nikolai as King. I just hope he does better than his predecessors," Hades replied.

"He will if he's smart. He knows how closely we'll be watching," David said, as they took their seats and the meeting was brought to order.

~*~

As they passed the Welcome to Storybrooke sign, Annie could hardly believe it. They were really here. She had penned some of the most extraordinary times in the magical history of the people that lived here. But seeing it all before her was almost overwhelming. She sucked in a breath, as they parked right on Main Street and were prodded out of the vehicle. She almost felt like crying in joy at being here, but then the reason why they were here was painfully clear.

"Now Author...you'll help me by releasing my daughter," Mushu stated.

"I'm not helping you do anything of the sort. I will not violate my role as the author," Annie argued. He sighed.

"Do we really need to go over what will happen if you refuse again?" he warned, as she saw them holding weapons to her brother. She pursed her lips and then opened the book to make an entry. But they were interrupted.

"So this is the author?" Greg asked, as he and Landon approached.

"How do you know about the author?" the Dragon asked suspiciously.

"Tamara used to talk about the author. I never put too much stalk in it, untiI I saw all this," he said.

"And what could you want with the author?" Mushu questioned.

"We just heard back from the FBI finally. After three years...they finally identified the remains we sent them as my father. They want to conduct an investigation and I need her to get them into this town," Greg stated. Annie exchanged a glance with Adrian and chose that moment to use the pen.

"And while these idiots argued about how to bring about destruction to Storybrooke and the United Realms, the author and her brother escaped to warn Snow White and Prince Charming," she wrote the words and punctuated her sentence with a period.

"No!" Mushu cried, as the two disappeared in a wink of light and he growled in frustration.

"You might have just ruined everything!" he cried, as he grabbed Greg by the collar.

"Don't you just need a magical object to get past the barrier?" Landon questioned and they looked at him, realizing he was right.

"He's right...there is another book and the boy has it," Greg answered.

"You have just taken away my chance to free my daughter! You two aren't going anywhere," the Dragon growled, as his followers pointed their weapons at the two men.

"Wait...we all want the same thing and that is to expose this place! We can still have all of that!" Greg argued.

"With the Feds coming in here...they'll be so distracted with trying to explain castles and magic away that you'll be able to almost move freely," he continued.

"It would allow us the distractions we need to plant all the magic absorbing devices around town," one of Mushu's subordinates interjected. The Dragon took a sobering breath.

"It's a start...but we still need the author. Only she can write us all new stories," he said, as they made an agreement to work together toward a common goal and that was the destruction of everything the heroes held dear.

~*~

"Thank you all for gathering on such short notice," Persephone said, as she called the meeting to order.

"As many of you know by now, we very nearly avoided a civil war in the Southern Isles," she continued.

"It wouldn't have come to that if your daughter and son-in-law hadn't interfered. My army could have easily quelled the uproar made by the people," Midas interjected.

"Slaughtering the people who have legitimate concerns is not the answer," Snow refuted.

"She's right...Ravenna's neglect and mishandling of her duties as Queen can no longer be ignored. That is why we are issuing a formal warrant for her arrest, as well as Claude Frollo's," Persephone announced, causing commotion in the chamber.

"Who will succeed Ravenna?" Elsa asked with great interest.

"Prince Nikolai is next in line for the Throne to the Southern Isles. He has been firmly informed that this will be family's final chance to prove they can justly rule their Kingdom and no more infractions from their family will be tolerated," Hades responded, as Nikolai stepped forward.

"And I will take this opportunity to try and repair my family's image with my people, as well as with the other Kingdoms," he pledged.

"See that you do, King Nickolai," Persephone declared.

"Well, if this meeting is concluded, then we'll be going," Midas said.

"I'm afraid that is not all we're here to discuss," Hades interjected, as he motioned to Emma and Neal.

"He's right. Today, we arrested Sir Percival and a witch from Dunbroch," she announced and Hades watched Arthur, as he suddenly looked extremely nervous.

"The witch was attempting to barter these items to the Knight and we can only assume this Knight was there on behalf of his King," Neal added, as he presented the items.

"That's my father's helm!" Merida exclaimed, as she came out of her seat.

"We gathered that, but we're still in the dark on what this stuff is," Emma said.

"Care to explain, Your Majesty?" Hades questioned, as all attention turned to Arthur.

"I...I assure you that is not for anything nefarious," the King offered.

"Oh, you better have a better explanation than that, dearie...because this is one secret I'm almost dying to unearth for you," Rumple interjected.

"Rumple...what do you know?" Belle questioned.

"The whole story, as usual...but we decided to let bygones be bygones as long as the esteemed King Arthur didn't make a power grab," he responded.

"With a helm and a vial of dust?" David asked, not quite making the connection.

"Oh, but this is no ordinary helm," the witch said, as she entered the chamber, escorted by the dwarves.

"Oh so now you've loosened your tongue?" Neal questioned.

"Neither of you said the right things...but when Lord Hades himself promised to expose King Arthur's treachery without consequence to me, it was an offer I could not refuse," she responded.

"This is an ambush!" Arthur cried in protest.

"The last time I saw my father with that helm...he was killed! Why do you want it?" Merida demanded to know.

"Because he killed your father for it and had it for a time...but when the wicked witch employed her time spell, certain things were undone and the helm returned to me when we were brought to this land. I created it at King Fergus' behest, after all," the witch informed them.

"What in blazes does this have to do with anything?" Midas bellowed, but no one paid him any mind.

"You commissioned it? My father would never come to you for anything," Merida refuted.

"Oh, but he did, my dear...for you," the witch informed.

"For me?" Merida asked.

"Yes...this helm is enchanted and the wearer can inspire the masses to follow," the witch revealed, causing more commotion.

"Lies!" Merida exclaimed.

"My father didn't need an enchanted helm to inspire the clans to follow him!" she added.

"Oh, you are correct. He commissioned the helm as a test for you and as a way to ensure the longevity of his Kingdom and when he realized it would be in capable hands...he returned the helm to me," the witch claimed.

"Then the one he was wearing that day…" she uttered.

"Wasn't the enchanted helm, which is why his killer was unsatisfied with his acquisition," she revealed, as all eyes were cast to Arthur.

"You...you're the Knight that killed my father?!" she exclaimed, as she grabbed her bow and aimed an arrow at him. But Persephone raised her hand, even as Arthur attempted to look for a way out. But all the exits were blocked and there was no escape.

"You don't understand...I needed that helm to ensure the survival of my Kingdom!" he claimed.

"So you're go to was murder?" David questioned.

"You of all people should understand what it's like!" Arthur shouted.

"Why me?" David asked.

"Because you came from nothing like me! You weren't born royal and neither was I! But we proved our worthiness to rule!" he answered.

"My husband has more than proved himself, but I'd say there is little to be compared between the two of you," Snow interjected.

"And before you tout your worthiness, why don't you show us that proof. Show us Excalibur in its full glory," Persephone said in a measured tone. Arthur's fury quickly dissipated and he shrank back.

"I'm afraid...I cannot do that," he refused. Snow and David exchanged a curious look. But Merida was furious and stormed out of her seat and toward his.

"You murdered my father and it's time you answer for it!" she demanded, but unfortunately, before anyone could do anything else, the chamber doors burst open in flames, thanks to the Chernabog and Ravenna, who strode into the chamber, while her monster ally perched himself upon a rafter in the vaulted ceiling of the chamber.

"Hmmm...sorry, I'm late," she mused.

"You weren't invited and you are no longer Queen," Snow said, as she stood up.

"She's right...you're under arrest. You and him," David warned, as he drew his sword and made his way down from his seat and toward her. Emma and Neal flanked him for back up, ready with cuffs for her and the special binder they had constructed for the Chernabog.

"Oh...I don't think so, Your Majesty," Ravenna growled, as she opened her palm and revealed a glowing flame; the first time she had ever dared to reveal her secret weapon.

"What the hell is that?" Emma demanded to know.

"It can't be…" Persephone uttered.

"Where the hell did you get that?" Hades demanded to know and she smirked.

"A little messenger gave it to me," Ravenna mused.

"You mean a worm…" Hades hissed, as he looked around.

"Hermes...show yourself, you gutless snake!" he demanded, as the shifty messenger God finally appeared.

"You gave her the Promethean flame?!" he raged, as he barreled toward him and grabbed him by his collar.

"I promised that I'd make you both pay for treating me like a nothing and a peon," Hermes said smugly.

"What is the Promethean flame?" Snow asked, as she stepped down from her Throne and Ravenna knew this was her moment.

"It is the sacred flame that Prometheus gifted to mortals and the very gift that Zeus punished him for. It's very powerful...it forged Excalibur and any weapon that it touches immediately is reforged into a powerful, legendary weapon...if the wielder is deemed worthy," Persephone explained.

"Yes...it forged Excalibur, because Merlin was deemed worthy of such power and when he put it in the stone for Arthur, he was also worthy...at the time," Hades added.

"Oh, but that's not all it does," Ravenna interjected, as she whispered to the flame.

"Chernabog...you will attack now," she said, as the flame glowed and it obeyed. Their eyes widened.

"She's controlling it?" Emma exclaimed, as his fire rained down in the chamber.

"Everyone out!" David called, as he shielded Snow from the falling embers. But all the exits were blocked and the dignitaries from various Kingdoms were forced to take cover where they could. They could only watch the incredible events unfold below. Elsa stepped forward and started using her powers to squelch the flames with her ice. This angered the Chernabog and he blasted her balcony, sending her, Anna, and Kristoff tumbling from above. Thankfully, Elsa used her ice to create a slide, allowing them to slide safely to the ground level, where they quickly found cover.

Snow, David, Emma, and Neal stepped forward with their bow and swords ready, while Rumple, Hades, and Persephone joined them, hands ready with magic. Unfortunately, this was exactly what Ravenna wanted, knowing that this was her chance.

"All this time...there's been a way to control the Chernabog," Hades growled.

"I suppose you have to give him credit. Hermes had to play a really long game to keep that ace up his sleeve," Persephone quipped, as the monster charged them. Persephone leaped up first and struck him with a lightning bolt. The creature cried out in pain and breathed fire down upon them. Hades conjured a shield over all of them to protect from his fire, while Snow fired arrows at the Chernabog as fast as she could. Ravenna lurked nearby and approached her and from the balcony, Eli felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"Snow…" he uttered, as he fled the balcony and hurried down the stairs.

Snow turned to find the woman there before her and pointed an arrow at her.

"Oh Snow...I so wish we could end this ugliness between us," Ravenna pleaded. Snow looked at her skeptically.

"If you really want that...then you'll call off this monster!" she pleaded in return.

"A call for peace? Is that really what you want?" Ravenna asked.

"Yes...of course," Snow replied, as she heard a noise behind her. She turned to point her arrow, but found Hermes' behind her and he caught her arrow, before snapping it in half and tossing it away. She smacked him away with her bow and then found herself face to face with Ravenna again.

"I told you that I'd destroy you if it was the last thing I do...and now I finally can," she hissed.

"SNOW!" Eli cried, as he came running toward her, as the Queen revealed the vial of greenish/yellow poison in her palm.

"Ravenna...no!" Persephone cried.

"SNOW!" David called, as he rushed toward her, but the Queen thrust the potion into her former step-daughter's chest without warning. Snow stumbled back and held a hand to her heart, as she felt the poison invade her body. She looked at Ravenna in anguish, before she collapsed, though David made it in time to catch her before she hit the floor.

"Snow!" he cried, as she looked up at him with glassy green eyes.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?!" he screamed in anguish and the Queen cackled in victory, as Frollo landed next to her, taking his human form once again.

"I poisoned her heart...she has mere moments left and she will soon take her final breath," Ravenna celebrated.

"No...no...no…" Persephone cried, as tears escaped her eyes and she tried to heal her daughter. But found it to be impossible.

"Where did you get this poison?!" she raged at the woman. Ravenna smirked.

"Oh I think you know...and nothing, not even the all powerful magic of Persephone, can save her from this! She finally dies today…" Ravenna boasted.

"Tell me she's lying...please tell me she's lying!" David screamed in anguish, as he cradled his fading wife. Persephone broke down in uncontrollable tears, as she cried over her beloved daughter.

"She's not...this poison came from Gothel. It was created from Gaia herself...there's nothing I can do! There's nothing anyone can do!" she screamed in unimaginable grief.

"No...no!" Emma cried, as she crashed beside her father and he put his arm around her.

"Mom!" the blonde cried helplessly, as she cried with her father.

"Finally...justice has been served," Hermes said smugly and Hades, his face twisted by grief and rage jumped up and blasted the other God with magic, surprising him, as he was turned into exactly what he was; a worm. Eli savagely stepped on the slithering creature, effectively ending the messenger God for this grievous offense.

"There has to be something...there has to be…" David pleaded, as they all gathered around to grieve the loss.

"Charming…" Snow uttered softly, as she reached up with what little strength she had left and caressed his face.

"It's okay…" she promised, but he shook his head.

"I can't lose you, my darling...I can't…" he sobbed.

"I love you...so much. And our babies…" Snow said weakly, as she looked at Emma.

"Mom…" Emma sobbed. But Snow's eyes rolled back in her head and her body went limp, causing the most anguished cry of agony from David that anyone had ever heard.

"No...please Snow...please! I need you...I need you…" he pleaded, as he cradled her lifeless body in his arms and kissed her forehead.

"You're my heart…" he cried and then he sobered at that, realizing what he had just said. Hades, Eli, and Persephone were too distraught to think clearly though, so his eyes rested on Rumple.

"My heart…" he uttered, as he looked his friend dead in the eyes.

"We've always shared one heart…" he said. The Dark One looked a tad skeptical.

"I don't know if that will work," he warned.

"Yes it will...if it will for anyone, it would be us," he argued. Rumple was weary, but did what he wanted. His hand went into Snow's chest, as he pulled out her poisoned heart, which crumbled to dust.

"What...what are you doing?" Eli questioned in horror, as he cried over his little girl. But he didn't answer and Emma gasped, as his hand then went into her father's chest and pulled out his healthy, glowing heart. He looked back at David and his friend, the first friend he had ever really had, nodded. Belle watched in tearful amazement, as her husband split David's heart in half, before putting half of it back in his chest and half of it in Snow's chest.

"What are you doing?!" Ravenna screamed, as she advanced, but Hades blasted her back, as Frollo transformed back into the Chernabog and he and Persephone resumed fighting him to keep him at bay.

The others watched Snow with bated breath and the more seconds that passed where she didn't open her eyes, the more hope dwindled. David started to cry again, when Snow took a starved breath of air and her emerald eyes snapped open. His grief instantly turned to joy, as she looked up at him in surprise and wonder. The color returned to her face and he almost crushed her against his chest in a hug.

"Charming…" she uttered, as she looked at him in disbelief.

"It's okay...you're okay…" he said, relief in his voice, as his tears were now that of joy.

"Mom…" Emma cried, as she hugged her too.

"But how?" she asked, as she looked at them both.

"Gold...he split my heart. You have half and I have half," he explained simply, as he held her close. Her eyes glistened with tears and then their lips crashed together with unrelenting passion.

"No...no!" Ravenna snarled, as she started toward them, but Emma's hands became alive with magic.

"Give me a reason, bitch," she goaded, as she stood protectively in front of her parents.

"I killed her! I finally did it and even then, it wasn't enough!" Ravenna cried in rage, as she let out a terrible howl.

"She's losing her mind…" Rumple warned, as David slowly helped Snow to her feet and then held her protectively, as Ravenna had a complete meltdown.

"You were finally dead! I finally did it...why won't you just die?!" Ravenna screamed at the top of her lungs, her eyes crazed beyond anything they had ever seen.

"Chernabog...kill them all!" she demanded. David guarded Snow, as he positioned his sword for battle and the monster swooped down on them, as the raging battle resumed…

~*~

"This is it…" Annie said, as they finally arrived at the gates to the palace of Queen Snow White and King David. At that moment though, she felt her hand tingling and retrieved her pen from her pocket.

"Something's happening…" she said, as she opened the book and the pen glowed, as words and illustrations began to appear on the next blank page.

"Oh my God...she did it. Ravenna killed Snow White…" he uttered. Annie frowned.

"No...no that can't be!" she exclaimed, as the pen kept guiding her hand and they watched the events unfold in the pages as they were happening. Neither of them realized the breath they had been holding, as they witnessed Snow's miraculous resurrection.

"A heart split...that's a twist I didn't see coming," he mentioned. Annie smiled.

"Come on...we need to warn them of the danger the Dragon poses," she said, as they hurried to the gate.

"Halt!" one of the guards bellowed.

"Please...it's imperative that we see Queen Snow and King David," she pleaded.

"Impossible," the guard refuted.

"Please...we have information about danger to all the realms," Adrian begged.

"Sir Lancelot will decide if your threat is credible and if you can have an audience with them," the guard decided, as they were led inside. They only hoped that Lancelot found their tale plausible.

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Charming family #Swanfire #Rumbelle #AU #HadesXPersephone #Greek Mythology meets fairy tales #The United Realms #romance #adventure #family #dreaming out loud

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curlicuecal · 6 years

Note

This is kind of a self-indulgent question, but how do you deal with people who VERY BADLY want to be your internet friend, and they'd be Crushed if you stopped talking to them, but you just don't have the energy for it/are beginning to resent them for it? (And for other reasons you can't bring up because whiffs of criticism squeeze their "I'm a terrible person" reflex)

Oh, gosh. As someone who has been on BOTH sides of this experience, this speaks to me right where I live.

If you’re at all like me, this stuff is difficult from several angles:

Firstly, I like people to be happy and not unhappy. If I can do things to make people happy, I tend to want to do them. Other people’s (un)happiness often feels like it weighs more strongly than my own (un)happiness.

Secondly, I am extremely rejection-sensitive myself, so this ups my perception of the harm to the other person. It also makes the whole topic feel extremely charged, b/c if *I* secretly don’t like this person for no reason they can control then maybe other people secretly don’t like me for reasons I can’t control. Maybe all my friends secretly hate me! (They don’t. I’ve checked.)

Thirdly, if I’m honest, I would like to be able to reject someone in a way that somehow causes zero change in their opinion of me, see previous All People Must Like Me At All Times Or I’ve Failed As A Human Being. (Also not true. I’ve checked on that one, too.)

Soooo yeah. This is one of those easier-as-a-bystander things, but here’s some things that have helped me.

-Untangle what you do control from what you don’t

You are in charge of your feelings and your actions. You CAN’T control (or even 100% predict) how the other person will react to them, so stop assigning yourself the task of being feelings!forecaster and emotions!wrangler.

Sometimes things in life (like you not manifesting the correct feelings) will make people feel bad in ways you can’t actually prevent or control. Give yourself permission to not try. Break ups hurt, and the idea that there is a Magical Correct Perfect way that will cause no hard feelings is, sadly, not a real thing. Pull off the band-aid fast or slow or however the heck you prefer. It’s gonna come off.

-Try not to project

Worth emphasizing: If they haven’t said it out loud, you don’t actually know what they’re thinking or feeling. Mind reading is a cognitive distortion, so try to spot when you’re falling into it. Ditto for fortune-telling (you don’t know how they’re going to react) or catastrophizing.

-Practice enthusiastic consent in relationships

Seriously. Do this *today.* Every time you find yourself in a position where you need decide to skype/message/reply/hang out with/otherwise spend emotional energy on this person" check in on your consent. Do you enthusiastically want to?

If not: don’t.

It is amazing how often this idea feels revolutionary. But you don’t owe strangers (or your friends) make-outs or sex just because it would make them happy, and similarly you don’t owe them a deep, emotional feelings jam. Or even a relationship. Neutrality towards someone is not harm.

Guilt is a toxic as fuck relationship dynamic, Do Not Do.

-Sometimes people don’t click

It’s not a referendum on someone’s character if you just don’t feel it the same way. You don’t need to be someone’s friend because they are nice. You don’t need to be someone’s friend just because you don’t have a compelling reason not to be. You don’t actually need a reason to not want to be someone’s friend. There are several billion perfectly nice people in the world you will not have time to be in either a platonic or romantic relationship with.

Also, having incompatible relationship needs doesn’t necessarily mean EITHER of you need to change as a person. It just means you have incompatible needs.

If you feel bad for not being able to be the Nice Thing in this person’s life, go leave a comment on someone’s fanwork. There, you’ve brightened someone’s day.

-It’s not rude to not answer someone on the internet

This one’s hard for me! But seriously. Especially the less well you know someone, the less you owe them dropping everything to craft a response of any flavor on demand. Try not to frame it as “ignoring someone speaking to your face” and look at it more as “ignoring someone shouting vaguely in your direction across a crowded room.” I’m bad at small talk, so my rule of thumb is if I don’t have anything in particular to add to a conversation, I just…. don’t. “I liked ur post” does not mandate any particular response.

-Therapists get paid

Therapy is hard, emotionally-draining work aand that is why therapists get paid to do it, and why they only do it in a very specific, limited context. When you engage in therapy as a friend, it should be as part of mutually beneficial relationship. Does this mean that 2 friends always get the same benefits out of a relationship or that 2 friends will always have the same amount of spoons to spend on a relationship at any given time? No. But over the span of years it should probably feel like it evens out.

In my personal experience, starting as someone’s free therapist doesn’t usually work out well in terms of friendship. It feels nice to be helpful, but it’s a weird power imbalance, and best case scenario you’re both eventually going to have to work out new ways to relate to each other. Worst case scenario, one or both people’s spoons drastically change and suddenly you CAN’T continue the current dynamic and nobody’s got a safety net interaction-style to fall back on.

-You can understand and empathize with a reaction without having to prioritize it

You mentioned a “terrible person reflex”. And god, I feel that. But this is one of those areas where both of you have GOT to be aware of who is in charge of handling that reflex. (Hint: it is not you). It’s very similar to struggles with jealousy or any other cognitive distortion– they are real, painful emotions, but as distortions they are not based in reality. People outside your own brain can find some ways to provide reassurance, but they cannot manage them for you. Is there a way you can work out a ritualized shorthand for the long set of reassurances or nimble tap-dancing that it sounds like ensues from this reflex triggering? (Something like: “are we still friends?” “yep!”)

In particular, if you find that expressing a need/feeling leads to you setting that conversation aside for prolonged discussion of the other person’s needs or feelings THIS IS NOT A HEALTHY OR SUSTAINABLE PATTERN.

-Listen to your brain when it wants you to stop doing something that hurts

When you’re experiencing emotional overload, distress, or damage, a healthy brain is gonna take steps to protect you. That resentment? That is your brain giving you armor. That is emotional coping.

If you’re like me, and not always very tuned in to your own needs (I *can* so obviously I *should*). Sometimes your brain will just scale up the shouting (”Seriously, Stop Doing the Thing”) until you have to acknowledge it. One example is the “bitch eating crackers” phenomenon, where your brain escalates resentment of a person to the point where even the way they eat crackers starts to bother you. “Look at that bitch sitting there eating crackers.” This is not a good place to be in in a relationship. Repression is not a sustainable interaction style in a relationship.

-People that love you want you to be happy

If you are unhappy, that is important. If your happiness requires you taking a step back, *even in a way that hurts the other person*, most of your friends will want you to take that step. Plus side: this means that sharing a relationship problem will trigger good friends’ protective problem-solving rather than defensiveness. Or at the very least you know what they would want for you if they were in a better place.

The corollary to this is, of course, people that don’t value your happiness are not worth pouring your emotional energy into.

-If you’re waiting for the Thing That Will Give You Permission to Leave, “I want to” is sufficient reason

I have to include this because it is so damn important. Seriously. If you want out of a relationship, this is your sign. Go.

-Be aware that “do this or I’ll hurt myself” is also abuse

Also so damn important. Threats of physical violence to coerce behavior are Not Good. Run run run.

-You aren’t required to invest work in fixing a relationship, but if you DO want to put it in, here are some quick thoughts:

Switch to only engaging in ways, frequencies, and topics that you find rewarding. (ENTHUSIASTIC CONSENT. DESIST FROM EMOTIONAL SUPPRESSION.)

State your needs without feeling the required to offer detailed explanation or justification. (“I’m really stressed lately, so I need to only talk about casual things”)

Resist the urge to get drawn into guilt spirals. (”I’m not mad” + restate need).

Resist engaging with stuff that violates boundaries you’ve communicated–just ignore and switch the topic. Redirect any too-heavy stuff to other channels. (“Sounds like you need a therapist to talk to”; “Ugh, that sounds stressful, hope you find someone that can help you through that”; “Sounds like something you two will need to work out together”; + TOPIC CHANGE).

Shift some of the relationship work to the other person, such as strategizing ways to balance conflicting needs.

Frankly what I’m hearing from you is “I want to stop” so…. yeah, you can stop. Official Stranger On the Internet permission given.

ps, check out Captain Awkward’s tag on The African Violet of Broken Friendship, highly recommend.

#Anonymous #advice #curlicue has opinions #1k

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intothespideyverses · 6 years

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so I had a season 2b/3 predictions post in my drafts that’s been sitting there since the bar mitzvah episode but now that so many Things have happened I feel like I kinda need to redo it. funnily enough I predicted juffy (but it was one-sided), ham having a midlife crisis (although the midlife crisis was linked to ham having a health scare that caused him to try to ‘live every day like its his last’ and not ham being so Done with his family that he just leaves them for india) and the post also mentions tyrus and g*briel coming back (neither have been been confirmed yet but they’re very likely) so! here’s my New and Improved list of Season 3 Predictions/Ideas:

[Disclaimer: I doubt a lot of this will happen bc my mind automatically goes for the most melodramatic scenario. This is still disney channel and they’re too cowardly to go thru with like half of this tbh. also tw for minor abuse mention!]

The G*briel Plot

-g*be comes back and reminds bex of “””why she can never marry anyone””” just as bowie is about to bring up maybe getting back together again. the reason why they shot a wedding scene and the whole green screen thing is bc bex has a nightmare about marrying bowie but then everyone’s heads turn into gabe’s. the following is literally copy and pasted from the first post and tbh I don’t think things will happen this way anymore (I originally thought miranda wasn’t going to be a snake and that her and bowie would get married, leading bex to run back to g*briel so andi could have a father figure in her life again) but it’s still a p interesting plot I think so: g*be’s an abusive asshole. it’s still disney so I doubt they’d show that much but like…he’s very manipulative and he kisses bex really hard all the time in front of everyone and he’s super possessive, etc. he gives bex the silent treatment every time she hangs out with bowie and thus the whole “ask if they’re mad 3 times” thing and on the third time he always yells at her in front of andi. andi notices all of this and tells bowie but bowie thinks she’s just saying that to break bex/gabe up so she can get back with bowie. that is until he witnesses the tomfoolery himself when the couples are on a double date so bowie takes her aside and starts questioning her but bex lies and this whole ugly thing continues on for several episodes until bex and satan have one last fight that goes too far (he says something about andi probably) thats about to get physical and andi strolls in w/ a phone in her hand like 91 fucking 1 bitch. pack your bags ur going home rat! and he’s finally gone and andi tells bex that she doesn’t need another dad if it means bex puts herself thru that kinda torture. and they have another closure ceremony <3

The Divorce Plot

-ham decides to permanently travel the world. he probably comes back for an episode to get cece to sign them divorce papers. this starts a huge plotline that will probably get ignored after 2 episodes lbr here but we finally see cece SNAP bc the way she’s been behaving lately has definitely been leading up to that

-bex is going off the rails at this. she starts slacking at work and the business that caused the rift in her parents’ marriage in the first place is starting to fall apart. the light bill is going unpaid and bex is crumbling. she doesn’t want anyone to know so she makes andi stay at cece’s while she’s living in darkness. bowie visits one day and is like “tf happened to the lights” and bex has a breakdown. she tells him everything and bowie comforts her and offers to help (how? who the hell knows!). bex is so touched that she admits to having feelings for bowie still. bowie turns her down tho bc she’s in a rly emotional state and doesn’t want to take advantage of her.

-andi eventually finds out what’s been going on and tells cece. cece is the last person bex wanted to know about cloud ten struggling, as cloud ten was the only thing keeping cece sane. they eventually have a heart-to-heart and bex/andi encourage cece to get some closure from ham

The Wandi Plot/Death of Jandi

-wandi rises. they resolve to just be friends at the end of season 2 but after a lot of things that I’ll mention later, andi realizes walker was the one for her :’). they paint a mural alongside cloud ten and cece makes some offhand comment about them becoming a painting duo, which they LOVE. they go around the town offering to paint on the walls of local businesses and it’s rly cute. god can you imagine the montages?? andi is in puppy love however we have like 5 episodes of her despairing over if walker even LIKES her anymore after months of just being friends. the roles are reversed and she’s the one doing all these things to get his attention. bc he’s not an oblivious Fool like jonah, walker picks up on this relatively fast and wandi is official!!

-that leads us to what will come of jandi? they perish of course. andi starts getting jealous of jonah hanging out with all these high school girls and naturally there’s more and more miscommunication and jonah whines about her friendship with walker etc etc etc just break up already god. andi eventually realizes that she’s just not feeling it and she puts her foot down to bex that he’s just not right for her!! bc tbh at this point the only reason she still fw jonah is bc of bex’s constant encouragement

The Tyrus Plot

-tyrus happens obviously. if we ever actually get a real apology from tj (which I’m doubting at this point lol) this can happen smoothly. I kinda imagine tj trying to teach cyrus how to swim (swimming is definitely on cyrus’ list of things he can’t do) and the first time it happens tj is SO sure cyrus will be able to do it that he lets him go out on the deep end on his own and uh lmao ya boi almost drowns. buffy’s there and she saves him and she tells tj to stay away from cy bc hello he could’ve McDied and tj, crushed over the fact that cyrus could’ve met a watery grave, actually does what she says. cyrus tells buffy that it was his dumbass decision to go on the deep end tho, and tj didn’t make him do anything he didn’t want to do, so buffy relents. cyrus practices by himself and makes it his goal to learn how to swim in order to impress tj. he invites tj to the neighborhood pool one day as a surprise and he just like...cannonballs into the deep end (but he’s STILL not ready) and again almost fucking dies. tj saves him and he starts yelling at him a la titanic (”you’re SO stupid rose why’d ya do that huh???”) and then tj lets it slip that he would’ve mcfreaking lost it if something ever happened to cyrus bc “you mean a lot to me underdog” or w/e and during this whole rant cyrus realizes that he’s floating!! and he’s like yes bitch i did it im swimming! and tj’s so happy for him that he kisses him and cyrus almost drowns again from shock but it’s all good lol. maybe tj avoids him for a bit after the kiss bc cyrus’ reaction seemed like a rejection, but it wasn’t cyrus was honestly just shook to the core.

-cyrus lets tj know that he likes him too and they start dating. they definitely keep it a secret from the ghc for a while, probably until the midseason finale. maybe jonah finds out first and that’s how cyrus comes out to him and tells him that he used to have a crush on him too. jonah is flattered and cool w/ it. anyway at first tj doesn’t like going on rly public dates with cyrus, not bc he’s ashamed of him or anything, but bc he doesn’t want anyone to make fun of cyrus (he can take ugly remarks but he’d hulk out if anyone touched a hair on cyrus’ head). cyrus doesn’t care tho and the one time they go on a date, some kids from tj’s school (he’d be in high school by season 3 right?) start messing with them. tj does in fact hulk out but only when one of the demons says something about cyrus. cyrus hauls tj off the creep and they talk in private about not wanting to live in fear but also not wanting to get harassed everywhere they go. when cy tells andi, she tells them that maybe they’d be safer if they went on double dates with her and walker, and so that’s a thing and its cute

The Juffy Plot

-anyway by the season 3b, both wandi and tyrus are thriving. they all hang out a lot leaving buffy to feel like a fifth wheel. she hides it tho bc does she ever express her feelings? she soon finds out that jonah is feeling the same way, and he thinks andi and cyrus don’t rly want to hang out with him anymore. buffy starts inviting jonah to all their outings and anytime the two couples are on a double date or something, buffy and jonah decide to do something else together on their own. cyrus takes note of this and tries to push buffy to ask jonah out since they’re practically dating already but she refuses bc he’s still andi’s ex and that violates girl code or w/e.

-she goes to bex for advice! but she uses a hypothetical situation instead and changes names. bex, unaware that she’s telling buffy to go after her daughter’s ex, tells her to follow her heart but keep it a secret. meanwhile, jonah is slowly but surely realizing his feelings for buffy, and goes to bowie for advice. bc jonah’s a fool, he doesn’t know buffy has any feelings for him whatsoever, and he asks bowie how he can make her see him That Way. bowie, recycling ideas, tells him to perform a song for her but to do it as if he was just practicing and wanted to see if she thought it was a good song. jonah also doesn’t tell bowie that this is all for buffy lol.

-so jonah invites buffy to the record store to hang out while wandi and tyrus are doing wandi and tyrus things. he plays some song for her (chemistry perhaps?? i still haven’t heard it yet but if its as good as y’all say...) and buffy is all heart eyes!! until she assumes that he wrote that song for another girl. there’s more unnecessary tiptoeing and drama for an episode until jonah notices that there’s something Up with buffy (she started avoiding him) and demands to know what’s going on. she doesn’t feel like talking about fEeLiNgS so instead he challenges her to arm wrestle. if she wins, she has to fess up. buffy’s like “um?? so all I have to do is let you win” but jonah’s like “like you would ever do that lmao”. she almost lets him win but bc he starts taunting she slams his mf arm into the table!! she fesses up and jonah’s like :D bc duh bitch that song was for you this whole time. they keep it a secret bc of bex’s foolish advice but eventually cyrus finds out and tells them to tell andi. andi’s upset at first but she gets over it. the three couples live in harmony

The High School Plot

-we see more of the high school now that jonah (and tj?? unless he has to repeat a grade which is seeming likely actually) are there. jonah, who’s used to being the big man on campus, gets bullied for liking frisbee so much and is shamed into doing a “real sport” instead. he hates it and is miserable. he puts on a good face for the ghc bc he doesn’t want them to know he’s struggling. it eventually all comes crashing down when he has another panic attack (the first one in a while after starting therapy WHICH HE BETTER). also we get a look at his home life, I hc that he’s adopted and has a lot of foster siblings that have a lot of their own issues, so he constantly downplays his own bc he doesn’t want to be a “burden” and be abandoned again

-amber becomes a part of the crew and hopefully maybe just maybe is a lesbian. she starts hanging out with a bunch of sapphic baddies. she and jonah become friends and they help each other with their respective mental illnesses

-through jonah, buffy makes friends with the high school track lesbians <3 they adopt her. one of them tho is Evil and is jealous that some middle schooler is getting all of this attention from the captain so she tries to break buffy’s fucking leg akjhskjdhds I told y’all this was melodramatic

das it. disney you can send my paycheck to [redacted] within 10-12 business days.

#andi mack #disney PLS let me write ONE episode I keep asking and yet I receive nothing in return #tyrus #all i do is work and churn out plots for a tv show i never will be able to work on #long post

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blessuswithblogs · 5 years

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2018 Game of the Year Top Ten List I guess

2018 has been an interminable mire of exhausting miasma and quite frankly I feel like it has been longer than the entire stretch of 2010-2015 combined. I also didn't play many games released this year because, like last year, I'm still poor. I'll see what I can dig up.

10. Sunset Overdrive PC edition: It's a fun open world game by insomniac. The PC Port is actually balls but like. It's a good game with a unique emphasis on how you traverse the game world, where you can grind and bounce on just about anything and indeed to do so is the only way to not get totally chewed up by the hordes of mutants and scavengers and robots you have to fight. There's also some pretty fun and out there weapons to use, like a gun that shoots vinyl records or one that deploys little auto-turrets kept aloft with propellers or one that shoots out a bowling ball at terminal velocity. The base game didn't actually come out this year (I dont... think it did...?) but it was an XBone exclusive so I didn't play it then. It's got some weird problems with narrative tone and some kind of out of the blue racism but the M rated Nickolodeon toy commercial aesthetic is charming in a weird way. I guess.

9. The Forest: I think this got an official release this year? I don't know I can't fucking keep track. Speaking of a game with weird problems with racism, if you can look past the garbage "main quest" and really deeply uncomfortable racial politics where you murder and steal from cannibal mutants, The Forest is probably the best cool treefort building simulator I've ever played. This game has a love affair with lumber and I respect that. Shouldn't you be looking for Timmy, you ask me? Shouldn't you be shutting the fuck up before I put this airplane axe in your skullmeats? Gazebos are nice. I guess.

8. Spyro: reignited trilogy: haven't actually played this yet but let's be real the spyro games were fucking dope back in the day and giving them an HD coat of paint and packaging them all together is a real standup thing for insomniac to do in between slinging webs and making questionable pc ports. Also its like Dark Souls so it has to be good, right? Everything old is new again. I guess.

7. Super Smash Bros. Ultimate: haven't played this one either but like. I know that I am a smash-enjoyer. I even liked Brawl. This is the biggest, smashiest one yet and it's also on the switch which means it could also be portable if I decided I never wanted to leave my bed again. I'm probably going to find some money to get it soon. Should be fun. I guess.

6. The Quiet Man: look no game that is THIS hysterical can be all bad alright? Didn't play it. Won't play it. It's awful. But it's so fucking funny like oh my god. Still better than Fallout 76. I guess.

5. Dark Souls Remastered: was this even a good remaster? I don't fucking know. It's Dark Souls. It's better than 90% of released games by default. I miss Solaire of Astora. I guess there's Shadows Die Twice to look forward to. I guess.

4. Subnautica: I wrote a lot about this actually. Subnautica is great. Just fantastic. A wonderful, visually stunning (mostly) (when it works) journey under an alien ocean to unravel an ancient mystery behind a deadly plague. Building seabases is so much fun (when it doesn't hard crash your computer) and the peaceful playstyle you adopt where you really only kill things for food until you can grow your own, much more efficient produce is a welcome change of pace from everything else. Leviathans are scary, especially now that your cyclops is mortal and not indestructible. This game actually Came Out this year so it deserves to be on the spot. I guess.

3. Dragon Ball Fighterz: Honestly I'm hell trash garbage at fighting games that aren't smash but this was a very well put together, visually impressive as all hell fast paced tag fighter where you can have 3 gokus on the same team fight 3 other gokus on the same team. Goku density alone makes this game worth recommending. The eSports scene that has popped up around it is fun too. I guess.

2. Dead Cells: Another game that gets to be on the list by virtue of it actually coming out this year. Wait, was this on last year's list? Let me check. Ok good it wasn't. Early access is a fucking trip. It's fun, stylish, challenging, has a great deal of variety in ways to play, might have erased my entire save because it became obsolete and I'm definitely not bitter, and it has that classic rogue-lite replay value to give you some bang for your buck. There was that one review plagiarism scandal. I guess.

1. Monster Hunter World: If you really want to know what I think of this game my previous piece on it is a good place to start. In addition to everything said there, MHW is just a fun game. The loop is satisfying and, later on, quite challenging. The combat system takes some genuine getting used to and some monsters like Nergigante actually literally cheat but for the most part the game's unique fighting style, spread across several unique weapon types, is rewarding to learn because it demands some effort be put into it and the dividends of fighting well are very cool, like just knocking a flying monster on its ass with a single mighty swing of the hammer. When a game is hard in any capacity games journalists get dollar signs in their eyes and start drooling uncontrollably because they can immediately declare that Farm Sim 2020 is the next Bloodborne because they somehow managed to roll their tractor into a ditch, but MHW is actually quite similar in style and execution to deliberate Souls combat, but the comparison is made in reverse. Dark Souls is quite similar to Monster Hunter, the first game of which was popular and a couple of years old before Demon's Souls was even a twinkle in Miyazaki's eye. There's a lot of parallels between fighting a big ol' rathalos in monhun and going for the toes against a dragon in Dark Souls, but I think MHW actually does that kind of fight better. There are a lot of modern conveniences present in MHW that are a godsend to newer players, making the game pretty easy to get into if you're willing to try. It was my favorite game of the year that actually came out in 2018. I kind of wanted to put Warframe in this list but it's been out of early access for years now. I guess.

There were a lot of games this year that I wanted to play, but couldn't. I don't think 2018 was a weak year for video games. It wasn't as strong as 2017 but it had some hits, I just couldn't afford to play them all. Maybe next year I'll be able to give a better list. I think that the whole industry is in for some hard choices and major restructuring of how things get done and how they look at the end result. Stocks continue to trend downward - not just for Bethesda but for most mainstream, prominent AAA developers like EA and Take2. Given the well documented volatility of "The Shareholders", I imagine that they would be most displeased by downward trends even if they were still making a modest profit.

The situation has been likened to an economic bubble ripe for bursting. Games as a cultural institution have come a long way since the catastrophic days of Atari's warehouses of unsold copies of E.T., and I don't believe that we're in any danger of a complete collapse of the institution, but the fact absolutely remains That Something's Gotta Give. The increasingly predatory practices that game developers put in place as they pathologically attempt to Make Every Money Ever are intrinsically unsustainable. People are willing to forgive and overlook the now ubiquitous microtransaction if a game is good enough to overlook it, or if it's the game's only real way of actually making money. Warframe's microtransactions, for instance, are reasonably priced, platinum is often heavily discounted as a login bonus, and you can make large amounts of it without ever spending money thanks to the game's surprisingly robust trading economy. So. Yeah. They get a pass. Warframe is also good on its own merits, despite being free to play. They also listen to their community about pricing. Go check out Warframe. It's free. It's free!!! Warframe is my unofficial top spot.

Sorry I got a little bit distracted. So there's only really two instances where people will tolerate microtransactions and lootboxes in the contemporary sense: either a game is good enough and polished enough and the lootboxes are unobtrusive enough that you can just sort of shrug your shoulders and say "it sucks but what are you gonna do" or it genuinely relies on those microtransactions to support itself. When these tenets are violated, people WILL get mad. People raised absolute hell about Battlefront 2's scummy monetization schemes, enough to get EA to back off. Fallout 76 is getting lambasted in no small part due to its utterly overpriced "cosmetic" shop where you pay ten real dollars to get your power armor to look blue. You can buy fullfeatured, critically acclaimed games for half that price and you already dumped $60 on this lemon of a game. Destiny 2 got into hot water for being cagey about how its exp values were calculated and how the previously free and user-friendly shaders became one-time use items you could only get from rolling the dice. The public is getting positively irate about all of this nonsense, and if Fallout 76 (and evidently battlefield V?) is any indication, we are fast approaching a breaking point where shareholder demand for profit will outpace the consumer's ability to provide it and the developer's ability to skinner box it out of us.

Of course Nintendo continues to march on to the beat of its own drum seemingly unaffected by all of this garbage. Not out of any moral superiority, I imagine. More likely it's just a consequence of that company still being in the process of being dragged kicking and screaming into the 21st century. Maybe a few years down the line when everyboy else has abandoned microtransactions Nintendo will pick them up, put a cute Mario motif on it, and we'll be back to square one. Time will tell. We're in a volatile time for games and the timebomb keeps ticking. I just hope the explosion isn't too messy. I guess.

#goty #2018 #monster hunter world #subnautica #dead cells #gamedev

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missizzy · 3 years

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Fic: Agent Murdock, Part 14: Larry Cranston and Foggy Nelson(Daredevil)

(Read full work on AO3)

Matt's first day at Landman and Zack began with him just sitting around for half an hour in his new boss' office, while Larry Cranston kept him waiting. A couple of times he got up, ran his hands over the papers on the desk. But while he could've read them had he truly needed to, it would've taken a lot of time and concentration, and he didn't want Cranston, who no doubt had read up on his abilities, to start their acquaintance by demanding to know if he was trying to snoop.

Finally he heard his voice just outside, and he was on his feet, patting his hair down at the last moment, when he strode in. He stopped walking mid-step, and his heart jumped; Matt thought he hadn't remembered he'd just been provided with a new assistant. At least he remembered his name after a moment: "So you are Matthew Murdock? The enhanced spy who, being recently out of a job, has now decided he wants to become a lawyer instead?"

He did not need to feel affronted by this man yet, Matt reminded himself. It wasn't easy. "I was with S.H.I.E.L.D., and will be starting work on my JD in January, yes, sir." He was glad, now, that his acceptance to Columbia had come through three days ago. He wasn't sure Coulson hadn't literally been running around a few backrooms uptown to pull that one off.

"Well, you were not my choice of PA, of course. I'm afraid my first question simple must be: how are you going to be handling your enhanced hearing in our world? Because there are a lot of questions about ethical behavior that such an ability raises."

It was a fair question to ask, and Matt had already been expecting it. But there was an undertone there he didn't like at all. Still he gave the answer he'd prepared, "I'm not going to deliberately try to overhear things I'm not supposed to. There's some knowledge I won't be able to help, or my trying to get is going to be a very hard habit to break-my listening for deception whenever someone's heartbeat makes it detectable is probably the biggest thing. Generally I'm not going to find out much about anyone who's not in the same room with me unless I deliberately make the effort, which, as I said, I'm not going to do in violation of legal ethics."

This was certainly what he was going to say to anyone who asked. Matt was still hoping it would be true, too. But he supposed he couldn't know for sure whether he could resist temptation before he actually faced it.

"But what about the things you do find out? Words overheard by accident, drugs smelled on people's breath? Even lies detected; not everyone's going to know they can't lie around you." And now there was no mistaking it, the veiled hopefulness. Well, Matt had already known enough to know that if nothing else, this guy was the kind of lawyer he wanted to avoid becoming.

He let his voice turn cold as he replied, "What I do there I intend to determine on a case by case basis. However, for now, I don't think I'm likely to make use of much of the information I accidentally acquire here at Landman and Zack. I don't have as much grounding in legal ethics as I'm hoping to get in the future."

"Being conscientious, then." He would've concealed his disappointment had Matt only been able to hear his voice.

He didn't ask any more questions about the senses immediately, but instead went through more typical topics, telling Matt about his regular schedule and what he was likely to want from him when. He also gives him a rundown on some of his current cases. "There are a few affairs that I can't really let you be involved in, you understand," he said, and Matt would have, if he hadn't known better. "At least you won't have to do any extra work for those, though"â€ Well, he hadn't confirmed that he would, though he was starting to think so.

Matt was just starting to think Cranston would now ask if he had any questions, and he'd certainly had those prepared, when he instead said, "I am going to request you sit in on a meeting I've got this afternoon at two. It's with a private investigator who does most of the investigative work on my cases, but to be honest I've never completely trusted her. Of course I'm not asking you to do anything you consider unethical..."

"I might not be able to read her anyway," said Matt. "If people's job relies too much on deception I often can't."

"That could make things a lot simpler," said Cranston, half to himself, and the acceleration of his heartbeat there suggested all too much. "But I've got another meeting in half an hour that I'm going to have to attend alone. Meanwhile, could you take these files down to Lillian Sherbert on the first floor, fourth door to the right from the elevator? When you get back I'd like you to do some research on the latest building regulations over in Saratoga-you've got a laptop in your bag, right?"

He gestured over to where Matt had left his bag, which did indeed include a laptop. If Matt had been less experienced with his senses, he wouldn't have caught that. But he only said, "Yes, don't worry, I can do that," and took the pair of heavy folders Cranston brought over to him.

Matt took his time walking to the elevator, and to Ms. Sherbert's office from there, listening to the sounds of the building as he went. He almost always did that when in a place like this for the first time, especially if he was on a mission, and the offices of Landman and Zack were much less soundproofed than some of the places he'd been in. He'd listened to voice samples of the two partners and their main assistants, as well as a few other people high up in the firm, and he quickly had the location of both their offices. But he was also listening for the voice of Franklin Nelson, and when he was on the first floor, he heard it, saying, "I know, I know, I'll get it. You want sugar too?"

He got the files delivered quickly, and after that hurried up to the second floor. Some caffeine would do him good anyway.

Nelson was coaxing the coffee machine into giving him enough when Matt walked in. "Excuse me," he said, "but is this the second floor break room?"

"I think that would be obvious..." Nelson started in response, before he turned around and got a look at Matt. "Oh...uh, sorry."

"What for?" Matt asked.

"You're blind, right?"

"Yeah, so they tell me," Matt said, and broke the friendly grin out. "I'll be better about it once I've been here a few days."

"So I've finally found someone newer here than I am, besides the other interns." Nelson sounded all too delighted.

"Please to meet you, then." Matt held out his hand. "I just started as a PA. My name's Matt Murdock."

"Foggy Nelson..." The other man started, then stopped. "Wait...Matt Murdock?" He, too, had read about him, it seemed. That didn't necessarily mean anything, of course.

But then he asked, "Are you...you're not from Hell's Kitchen are you?"

"Yeah," said Matt. "Born there, lived there until I was ten, and now I just moved back there again."

"I've lived there my entire live." Rarely had a man's grin resounded so loudly in his tone. "Yeah, I heard about you when you were a kid, what you did, saving that guy crossing the street, even before you tried to go make a career out of saving people...you're practically a superhero, aren't you?"

"That's going a little far," Matt said, feeling genuinely embarrassed. "I mean, especially considering..."

"Yeah, okay, your bosses turned out to be a little evil. But still, getting your peepers knocked out and the rest of your senses cranked up to eleven saving that old dude? Classic superhero stuff, way before they got involved."

"They didn't get knocked out." That was a weak deflection, he knew.

It worked, though. He even heard Nelson's chest heave slightly as he said, "Good, because that would be...a little freaky. But no offense," he hastily added.

"None taken," Matt assured him. Then, because he wanted to get this established with anyone he got friendly with anyway, he said, "A lot of people seem to think the senses alone turn me into a freak, did even in S.H.I.E.L.D. Or they dance around me like I'm made of glass, which I hate even more."

"Yeah," Nelson said readily, "You're just a guy, right? A really, really, good-looking guy."

"Uh..." He should have read Nelson's signals already, he chided himself; his heartbeat alone gave away the attraction. But he didn't always think to check for that with men. This also brought up the option, of course, of honeypotting him. Matt in his long S.H.I.E.L.D. career had done that only twice, both times with women whom he'd only slept with once. In the old days, he probably wouldn't have in this case. But he had a lot more options back then. Now, they had to consider any possible advantage on hand.

He'd been silent long enough for Nelson to form the most logical conclusion, and he hastily added, "I mean, women must love that, the whole wounded, handsome duck thing, am I right?"

"Right..." He ought to keep the honeypot option open, but it was just too easy to go along with it. "Yeah, it's been known to happen."

"In that case..." Nelson seemed to remember in that moment what he'd come in there for, because he turned back to the machine. But a moment later, he continued, "Don't suppose you're free tonight? Or some other night? I now officially want to hang out with you at least once. See what kind of women it gets talking to me, you know?"

He could have any number of reasons for the offer. So could Matt. Even if he was innocent, as Sharpe's son, it would be useful to befriend him. "Sure," he grinned, "I don't have any plans."

"You want to come out with me, then? How long have you been back? Get a chance to see how the old neighborhood's changed yet?"

"Not yet," said Matt. "And I probably should do it soon, since I'll be starting law school in January, up at Columbia."

He got the reaction he wanted: "Columbia? That's where I went! I can tell you about the campus, where to get the best coffee...it'll be great! Listen, I'd better get these to the bosses, but you want to meet down in the lobby at, uh six-thirtyish?"

When Matt nodded, Nelson hurried out. He continued to listen to him as he made his way back upstairs, a little worried he'd have made him late and gotten him in trouble, but thankfully Nelson didn't get himself yelled at.

He felt kind of strange, like someone had grabbed him and whirled him all around, leaving him uncertain which direction he was currently facing in. But while normally there was little he disliked more, at that moment, he instead felt cheered by it. In a place like this, one that threw cold reality into his dream of becoming a lawyer, he had taken an extra turn into a break room and found something and someone that his long years of experience had firmly declared good, and Matt trusted his judgement there, even when it wasn't at all what he had expected.

Six-thirtyish

They were both a little late. They were both very understanding about that sort of thing. As soon as they were safely out of the building, they already had stories to exchange about the demands their new bosses were making on them. Matt attempts at reading Cranston had gotten rather derailed that afternoon by what had happened after their meeting with the investigator.

Matt had honestly not been able to discern much about Ms. Jones, aside from that she had an alcohol problem and may have suffered some sort of heavy trauma recently. Cranston had asked him to do research on her work. He'd stated firmly he didn't care about her teen years and the whole thing where she'd been fostered by Patsy Walker and her mother after her family was killed. But when Matt had returned with a dearth of information on an investigations practice set up too recently for there to be much and a little more about a the murder of a less than reputable boyfriend, Cranston had chewed him out for not looking at her involvement in the more scandalous corners of the Walker family saga.

"Cranston was actually at Columbia a year ahead of me," said Foggy-he had already insisted Matt call him that. "Always knew he was going to be the sort of lawyer who gets our profession villainized."

"And you, I trust, have every intention of not being that," Matt said, keep his tone light and easy.

"Of course I won't!" said Foggy. "Though I am hoping to make money, but, you know, I pride myself that I can avoid doing anything truly evil, you know?"

Every physical response Matt knew how to read confirmed his sincerity. But he did need to be thorough about this, so he said, "I did hear one thing today, though, from one of the other PAs. I, uh, mean no offense, and maybe he was wrong, but he talked about your mother..."

"My biomom, you mean," sighed Foggy. "Yeah, she's a bit of a..." He stopped himself for a moment, then said, "Honestly, I don't think I even know half of what she does. But I think a lot of it must be bad."

And with that all almost certainly the truth, he was pretty much cleared. And he might not be as useful a source of information as some might have hoped, but Matt was relieved for that, too. He would much rather Foggy be his friend.

But he still had the responsibility to get what little information Foggy had, so he then asked, "Anything in particular stand out from what you have seen? I mean, I hope she hasn't done anything to seriously scare you or anything like that."

"Not scare me, exactly, but...I actually never even saw much of her before these most recent months. I never even heard from her much before I got into her alma mater, after which she started emailing me a lot. But now I've been to her offices, especially right before I started here, and well, I'm wondering about who some of her friends are. And I'm not even talking about her clients; I mostly know who they are. These are guys that came in there that she just described as her 'associates' and I don't know what it is, but something about the way they talk...it's like I get the feeling they would commit mass murder if they thought they could get away with it. Or maybe they even had."

They almost certainly had, but Matt still responded with, "You sure that's not just paranoia? I mean, it doesn't even sound like they introduced themselves to you, even. Afraid if you got their names, you'd look them up, maybe?"

"You know, they didn't, but I did get a few of their names anyway. We could look them up once we're sitting down, if you really want to."

Matt just smiled, and said, "If we have time. You promised to tell me all about Columbia, remember." He would try to make sure they had the time, but if he needed to he could always set up another meeting, especially since he wanted continuous ones anyway.

So they left off that subject for a while, especially when Foggy decided they should actually take the trip uptown and eat at one of the many dirty but dirt-cheap places that had kept Foggy himself fed during this student years. The whole sensory experience, from the train ride to the place itself, definitely wasn't pleasant, but Foggy was a very good anchor. He didn't say a word about Matt clinging to his arm on the train even when they were sitting down, and he seemed to know when it was good for him to talk to Matt and when it wasn't.

The food was a little better. Well-cooked, if a little heavy on the additives. Perhaps Matt shouldn't have gone for the chowder, but he'd always liked its texture, even when the flavoring got downright unpleasant, which this was not. He told Foggy that when asked, and laughed when Foggy replied that he'd known a place in the area where they bragged about how their chowder was so thick some diners used knives on it. "Little out of my price range, though, so I have only their word for it."

"Don't get much money from the rich mother?" Matt asked, mostly out of sympathy.

"Biomom," Foggy said sharply. "My actual mother runs a deli with my father, and he didn't really get anything in the divorce. Okay, I can't say Ms. Sharpe's never helped me, especially not recently. But she's always been stingy and alway put me down and usually been a terrible person to my parents especially."

"Of course," said Matt, who certainly understood the difference between biological parents and actual parents, even if he hadn't actually rejected a former. He even added, "I don't even have any memories of my own birth mother. I think my leaked profile had most of what I know about her..."

"Oh, I didn't read that!" Foggy sounded positively scandalized. "I read about your abilities and skimmed your professional record and that's all. Reading the rest would've been invasive, and weird, and seriously, they should've limited what they leaked. I suppose the likes of the Black Widow doesn't think about things like personal privacy. Honestly, Matt, I wonder about some of the things even the loyal members of S.H.I.E.L.D. did. The whole culture of your old company, you know?"

Matt thought about his secret current colleagues, and all the things they were doing this guy would probably object to. He had to remember that being a good guy didn't mean they were going to understand. So he simply said, "They were very good to me. I assume you read enough to know that they got me basically able to function in the world as a kid, and they always made it clear I was under no obligation to stay with them."

"You wanted to, then." Foggy didn't sound judgemental, exactly, but he did sound like he was trying to figure Matt out there. "And you kept wanting to, until..."

"It's different now," said Matt, because it very much was. "Not even just because of Hydra, really, though obviously that's a big part of it, just..." He'd never felt able to talk like this to anyone, not even Karen, so he had to think it through to find the words. "It...it just changed way I saw everything I had in my life, and it's sort of like...like that also allowed me to take a figurative look even at things that had been exactly what I'd thought they were and still see them differently. Or maybe...maybe it just let me face that the plan I'd formed as a teenager and gotten comfortable with, to be an agent until I got too old for the field and then do law school, wasn't entirely what I wanted anymore."

"Sounds like an important epiphany to have," said Foggy. "Make sure you hold onto it, keep it in mind."

It was better advice than he even knew. "Thanks," Matt told him. "And I do agree there were records maybe they didn't need to leak. Although while I don't suppose anyone besides herself knows what goes on in Agent Romanov's head, I do wonder if she didn't trust herself to make any judgements there. I mean...I'm not sure I would have. I've done some pretty nasty things in my time. You can and should definitely read all about those." It was still hard to actually say that, to not only accept that others would know but push them to, but he made himself do it. If he had to tell lies to this man in one way, he wanted to be honest with him in every other.

At least Karen's profile wasn't out there anymore. That made it just a little easier to let his own be.

"If you say so," said Foggy, and he sounded hesitant. He'd probably look in the end, though. He wouldn't be much of a lawyer if he didn't do his research.

They were nearly done eating, and Matt found he didn't really want to leave Foggy's company yet. He might look up those names and find something useful, too, though that wasn't really his reason. "Anything else you want to show me?"

Foggy considered it for a moment, then said, "Well, I don't suppose it matter much if you see the campus by day or night, does it?"

"Nope," Matt said cheerfully. "You said the main law building was at one end, right next to Morningside Park?"

It wasn't that long a walk before they were standing together, close enough to the building that Matt can easily map it out, and Foggy even commented, "You can probably discern more about this place than I can right now. The smell's never been my favorite thing in the world either..."

"Right now it mostly smells of cleaning. So way better than most of New York." Matt listens to Foggy laugh, which is kind of becoming a sound he wants to keep hearing in his life. Though the distraction made it a little harder to map the building out, especially with noone currently in the hallways, though at least it wasn't actually empty.

The hum of Columbia's nighttime campus was also a more welcome sound than not. Being a college campus, some of the voices were loud, and so were some of the other sounds, but nothing he couldn't easily deal with after his many years of training. He mostly tuned it back out as he said, "Anything else you want to show me?"

Foggy did. Over the next half an hour, Matt was given a chance to take in a few buildings where Foggy happened to know some interesting history, and also the dorm building he'd spent his first year there in. Despite the chilly night they found themselves lingering, finally sitting down on what Foggy called the Low Steps, as the latter said, "There are other things I can tell you about, too. I'd start with whose classes you want to take and whose you want to avoid if you can, but honestly, I get started on that, we'll be here all night."

"Then maybe we could meet some other time?" Matt suggested. "I might even get lucky and be free for lunch sometime next week."

"Under Cranston? I doubt it. And even if you do, that'll probably be the day when I have to spend ten long hours copying things. But we could do another dinner. Or if you're as broke as I am right now, we could just steal the firm's free bagels and go somewhere nice to eat them."

By then, Matt ruefully thought, they will have lost their freshness, and while Foggy might not care, his heightened senses will. Still, this man's company might just make him mind that less. So he just said, "If you really don't have money for anything else. Do you want me to call or email you?"

They ended up exchanging phone numbers and emails both, before heading back to the metro station together, and Foggy even managed to spot a relatively empty car for them to ride back to Hell's Kitchen in. "I'm currently crashing at my family's place," he told Matt. "I'm holding out hope of getting my own place by the end of the year, but even with the Incident depressing all the prices..."

"The Incident," Matt repeated. It was obvious enough exactly what incident Foggy was talking about. "Is that what they're calling it these days?"

"Look, buddy," Foggy sighed, "not all of us have spent our entirely life dealing with things like aliens invading our home town. Some people have to use a simple term to refer to aliens invading our home town because we're not up to thinking too much about the fact that aliens invaded our home town. So if you're going to live among us, do everyone a favor and get with the lingo, kapeesh?"

"Fair enough," Matt said. "Any other local terms I should know?"

They parted outside Penn Station, and all the way back to his apartment, Matt Murdock found the chilly evening was a little less cold.

#Daredevil #agents of shield #marvel cinematic universe #matt murdock #foggy nelson

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rotationalsymmetry · 3 years

Text

So, I’m thinking about anarchism, right, and thinking about, well in the kink world we call it power exchange, but let’s say the leader/follower concept. Teacher/student, conductor/musicians, boss/employee, pastor/congregant, dungeon master/players, that kind of thing.

(Cw for some rape and incest mention in the final paragraph.)

My actual reading of anarchist theory is pathetic, so I’m not entirely sure how much of this is offic anarchist theory and how much is just me piecing shit together on my own (I think it’s official though?) but...the leader/follower thing is not actually the issue. One person having more power or authority in a specific situation isn’t the issue. Coercion is the issue. Enforcement.

There’s a world of difference between going to a gym as an adult and the physical trainer m tells you “this machine, this weight, 20 reps” because if you don’t do that, what’s the trainer going to do? And being in school and your coach says “20 jumping jacks” and if you actually want to catch up with your friend or lie down and stare at the sky instead, there’s consequences.

There’s a world of difference between doing volunteer work where the worst thing that can happen to you is you’re told not to come back, if you’ve got your material needs covered some other way, and paid work where the worst thing that can happen is you end up not having the material resources you need to survive (plus everyone you care about thinks you’re a loser because you can’t hold down a job.) And your boss knows you need a job, so there’s all sorts of in between consequences and indignities that you have to just put up with if you want to keep the job. That you need. Because the system is set up such that you need a job.

There’s a difference between being in a relationship that you don’t absolutely need for your survival and well-being, that you can be in just because you want to, and being in a relationship where if it ended your partner might be heartbroken but would be materially OK, and you would be materially ruined.

There is a difference between seeing a doctor under circumstances where you can say “nah, I hear you recommending that treatment, but I don’t think it’s going to work for me” and seeing a doctor where either there will be repercussions for you not following medical advice (other than, you know, not getting the effects of that course of treatment), or you can be administered medication or whatever against your will.

And there’s a difference between “law” (and law isn’t always a government thing, religions and culture have laws too) where you get a fine or go to jail or get murdered if the authorities decide you’ve broken the law, and “law” in the sense of...expectations. For instance, “law” as in if you don’t wear a mask you get arrested, vs “law” as in if you don’t wear a mask you’re not welcome in the store or at my get-together (and also people will judge the fuck out of you). You might argue those aren’t “laws”, that’s corporate policy or personal boundaries or social norms or whatever. If so, what’s the difference? Ask a Jewish person what keeping kosher is, they’ll say it’s part of Jewish law. Law doesn’t have to involve violating people’s autonomy in order to enforce the law. Law does not imply coercive law enforcement.

We just think it does because we’ve been told our whole lives that those two go together inevitably, law and punishment.

Anyways: anarchism demands an absence of retributive justice, of enforcing laws by denying people’s agency. It does not demand an absence of “it’s good manners to say thank you when someone does someone nice for you” and “throw back any fish shorter than 12 inches” and “it’s not OK to punch people just because you’re feeling angry.”

(Nor does it generally demand an absence of violence ever — if the only solution you can think of to stopping a stalker or bully or abuser is to fight back yourself or recruit someone to beat them up for you, that’s not necessarily ideal but it’s not incompatible with anarchism, and it is something that the current system will punish you for whether you had better options or not.)

A parent whose toddler won’t go to bed can, legally etc, decide to punish the child. But you don’t actually need punishments to set a regular bedtime, and punishments probably aren’t going to help as much as creating material and social conditions that encourage the outcome you want. Routines and storytime and cuddles. Punishment is likely to make things worse, not better. With adults too, creating material and social conditions for following the rules (whatever the rules are) tends to work better than punishment. For instance, Amazon’s been penalizing workers for leaving pee bottles in delivery vans rather than adjusting the work conditions so that workers actually have time for bathroom breaks. I think most people understand, right, that this situation is something that Amazon is doing wrong, not something that the workers are doing wrong.

This is how things work the vast majority of the time — when people do things that are harmful to others or unpleasant or whatever, there’s pretty much always some underlying reason for it. The fifth grader hasn’t cleaned her desk because no one told her she should; she yelled at the boy sitting next to her because he’d been provoking her; the worker lies on his time sheet because there wasn’t actually time to get it all done and uses someone else’s urine for the drug test because his pot use is none of your damn business.

Sure, a tiny minority of the time people are assholes and if there’s an underlying reason it’s pretty hidden and we still got to deal with them. But honestly, our current criminal justice system is terrible at picking up on those people. I don’t say our criminal justice system is bad at handling rape as a gotcha. I say it because the man who raped me never saw even the first step of the criminal proceedings and from what I’ve heard from people I know that’s typical. (Most rape isn’t stranger rape — it’s a date, a boyfriend, a friend. A relative.) And I’m white and middle class and dripping with privilege and so are an awful lot of the people I know — if the criminal justice system isn’t working for me when I get raped....

#anarchism #does this make any sense? I’m concerned I might not be explaining this well #you could say law is by definition something involving punishment but that’s semantics #you could just as easily say law is a widespread standard of behavior #and that does not actually imply punishment #punishment is neither the only nor the most effective way to get people to follow the law #most of the time #the vast majority of the time #people who follow rules do it voluntarily #nothing would function otherwise #rape mention #incest mention #long post #political #even if the criminal justice system just stopped prosecuting people who fought back against their abusers #that would be a tremendous improvement in everyone’s safety

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toonstarterz · 7 years

Text

Having a lot of free time on my commute to boot camp has made me crazy enough to write an Ikarishipping fanfic. That ain’t a complaint by the way.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12660134/1/Empathetic

Rating: T

Pairing: Paul/Dawn

Summary: Gym Battles? Easy. Winning the Pokémon League? Child's play. Becoming Dawn's stupid boyfriend? Paul's greatest challenge.

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon, TPCi, or any of its properties. Bless you, Satoshi Tajiri.

~ Empathetic ~

Contrary to what people may think, Paul is not some stone-faced, unfeeling bastard. He has emotions just like everyone else. Serious. Bitter. Exasperated. That last one’s been happening a lot lately, and the cause of it comes from everywhere. His chimchar failing to meet expectations, the trainers in the corner that won’t shut up about Brandon of the Battle Pyramid, that blue-haired friend of Ash whose name alludes him that tries to get him to show a smidgen of compassion.

Paul is exasperated.

Paul’s hates useless small talk. He always answers people with only the minimum amount of words necessary–or a cold scowl if he can help it. But that girl–Dawn, right?–is tailing behind him after he exits the Pokémon Center and it doesn’t seem like she’ll leave him alone unless he talks to her.

He mentally groans. If he has to say something, he may as well be honest.

And so he talks. He talks about his dislike for Ash, his distaste for how similar the boy is to his brother Reggie, and how inane ideas like ‘trust’ and ‘guts’ annoy him to no end.

He expects Dawn to start spouting nonsense about how right Ash is, and how wrong he is. What he doesn’t expect Dawn to say is how people can have vastly different styles despite having similar beliefs, and how those contrary styles don’t necessarily make any one person wrong.

At least, that’s what she meant to be say. Her actual answer is much more simple-minded.

But the important part is that Dawn didn’t reject him like so many others, and when your training style goes against the majority rule, that’s oddly comforting.

Paul is thankful.

He runs into her again about a year later by chance. Yes, chance. He refuses to call it ‘fate’. He just so happened to be in the area following his win at the Lumiose Gym when he bumps into Dawn right in the middle of the north plaza. It’s probably his biggest surprise of the day, second only to the gym leader he’d just beaten that was also a talking robot. They exchange awkward pleasantries, and Dawn invites him over for lunch at Restaurant Le Nah. And it’s only because Paul has no excuse, and that he’s actually quite hungry that he agrees.

He plows through the double battle with just his weavile, and helps himself to an order of soup and breadsticks while Dawn enjoys her salad. She offers to foot the bill.

It’s only later that night that Paul realizes that, by pure definition, he went on a date with Dawn.

Paul is not displeased.

Paul is not fond of pokémon contests. They’re far too showy and impractical for his sake. But while he has no interest in contests, he can respect that pokémon coordinators need a mastery of skills are that are far beyond Paul’s level of understanding.

When he sees Dawn on the broadcast trounce the competition with a combination of discharge and ice beam to create a cage of electrically-charged ice, he is quite honestly impressed.

Next time they run into each other, he asks her to teach it to him.

So they set up a date, er, meeting the next day at a local park where they have a few practice battles and in no time, Weavile and Electivire have mastered the technique completely, albeit in a style more suited for battling. As a thank you, Paul offers to buy her a meal.

As they eat in silence, A girl with giant pink ringlets saunters up to them and starts giving them the third degree.

“This guy your boyfriend?” she asks, loud enough for the other patrons to hear.

“No, Ursula,” Dawn says, barely hiding the annoyance behind a smile. “This is Paul, one of Ash’s rivals from a few years back.”

Paul makes some sort of grunting noise that simultaneously says, “yes” and “back off” to this Ursula girl. She takes the hint and exits the restaurant with a satisfied smirk.

Paul is irritated.

Less than two months have passed, and word around the coordinator circle is that the esteemed Dawn is now dating some edgelord trainer named Paul.

Paul reads the excerpt in Coordinator Monthly, clicking his tongue in distaste.

If there’s anything Paul truly hated about being a pokémon trainer, it’s the publicity. Warding off reporters, kids badgering him for battling advice, that goddamned fanclub that arose when that photo of him in an undershirt leaked online. It’s why Paul travels alone, away from all the scrutiny so he can keep all his focus on training. But all of his attempts to keep a low profile were apparently all for naught.

Zoey is the first to confront him. He cooly brushes her off, simply stating that it’s mindless gossip and completely untrue. She leaves him alone after that, but not before giving him an eye that said “you try anything funny, and I’ll break your legs”.

Barry comes soon after that, demanding at the top of his lungs for an explanation lest he fine Paul for betraying him. Paul doesn’t know what he means by that, and frankly, he doesn’t care. He gives him the same answer he gave Zoey, word for word, and Barry eventually believes him.

At some point, Kenny steps up, and Paul saves the poor guy a lot of trouble by outright denying everything before he can even get a word in.

Paul is tired.

Paul excels at a lot of things. Training, battling, pissing people off, the list goes on. But the one thing he never got the hang of is being a socially functional human being.

So when Dawn invites him over to a banquet for coordinators as her plus-one, Paul is disinterested, as if trying to find some benefit to going that will help him be a stronger trainer.

“Why?” he asks far too directly, “Just ask someone else.”

“Everyone else is busy with other plans,” Dawn explains, a bit miffed. “And you’re my only friend left in the whole region!”

Paul stiffens, his mind stuck on the word ‘friend’. When was the last time anyone ever referred to him like that? Kindergarten?

“People will get the wrong idea,” he tells her gruffly. “And I’d rather not give them another reason to think that we’re dating.”

“Since when have you ever cared about what people think of you?” she counters.

Touché. Still, he’d like to keep the pests at bay, especially now that they’ve finally started to leave him and his nonexistent love life alone. But as far as he can tell, all the coordinators at the banquet will be people he’s already explained himself to, so the possibly of another rumor spreading should be exponentially lower.

“Fine.”

Paul is naive.

After a long day of training for the Pokémon League, Paul checks into the local Pokémon Center. Nurse Joy sympathetically tells him that they’re overbooked and that he’ll need to share a room with someone in order to stay. Not surprising, he surmises. The League challengers are always monopolizing the Center during this time. He’d much rather get his own room, but he can deal with bunking with some random trainer for the night.

As the nurse hands him the room key, it’s only then that he notices Dawn further down the reception desk, a room key in her hand marked with a number the same as his own.

That night, he glances from his book as Dawn exits the shower, clad in a white rope, and her glistening, blue hair hanging over her bare shoulders.

Paul is frustrated.

Paul is a man of routine. Wake up, eat breakfast, train, eat lunch, train, eat dinner, read a book, sleep. Lather, rinse, repeat. If something were to incorporate itself into his precious time, it would have to be something of great importance.

How Dawn managed to sneak her way in there, he’ll never know.

Today, Paul is listening with one ear as Dawn laments on making the semifinals of the Unova Grand Festival. She hasn’t made it this far since Sinnoh all those years ago, and understandably, she’s nervous out of her mind.

He notices Dawn’s fidgeting hand, so he places his own ice-cold palm on top of it in an attempt to calm her down. “You’ll be fine,” he says offhandedly, not even looking up from his phone.

Dawn eyes bug out, and she goes red in the face, as though Paul has violated her in some way. When she realizes that this was Paul’s weird way of showing affection, she smiles softly, and places her other hand on top of the pile.

“Thanks Paul,” she says with a sigh of relief, “You’re a good friend.”

Paul is ignorant.

“Do you want to go out with me?”

It doesn’t show on his face, but Paul feels like he was just blown back fifty feet by a hyper beam. He swerves his body to stare at Dawn as if she’s grown a second head. He scrutinizes her, looking for some trace of teasing on her expression, some hint of humor in her body language, any sort of indication that she’s only pulling his leg.

There is none.

“Why?” he asks, with all the careful seriousness he uses in battle. “I don’t date people.”

“I know, but…” Dawn bites her tongue, trying not to sound foolish. “I really like you, you know? I mean, you’re smart and determined and not as heartless as everyone says you are.”

Paul thinks she’s rationalizing. That she must be blinded by some great desire for romance that she’s ignoring all the very obvious reasons why he would not be a good boyfriend in any respect. At least, that’s what he thinks at first. He knows from first-hand experience that while Dawn can be naive, she’s not frivolous, nor is she the type to lead people on. In that case, she must honestly have some romantic interest in him, as absurd as that may sound.

And if he’s being completely and utterly and totally honest...he’s rather fond of her himself.

Just a tad.

“Fine,” he says curtly. “I’ll go out with you.”

A jubilent smile stretches across Dawn’s face, and she immediately starts listing off places to go on their first “official” date, while her boyfriend of three seconds grumbles in agreement.

Paul is content.

Paul nibbles down just below Dawn’s collarbone, eliciting a faint moan from the coordinator. He gently pushes themselves onto the bed, and slowly moves his tongue down Dawn’s figure while she straddles his waist.

At this moment, Piplup steps into the room and squawks in horror. In the shadow of darkness, all he can see is a big, scary man forcing himself onto his beloved trainer.

Piplup launches forward with a drill peck, and Paul screams loud enough to wake up the entire Pokémon Center.

While her boyfriend gets checked for rectal damage, Dawn takes Piplup into the hospital lobby to have a magnificently awkward talk about human relationships.

Paul is humiliated.

Paul isn’t sure how to feel at the moment. One the one hand, he’s just accomplished a huge part of his dream that many trainers could only hope for. On the other hand, he feels weak in the knees, as if all the attention on him is physically beating him down into the ground. Or maybe that’s just the solid gold trophy in his grasp.

“Congratulations, Paul,” Cynthia says to him with a tender smile. “May you carry the title of Sinnoh League Champion with honor.”

“Thank you.” Despite of himself, Paul smiles. As of now, nothing could ruin his relatively good mood.

At least until the press conference.

With the reporters and cameramen bombarding him like a machine gun, Paul resists the urge to curse them out and instead puts on a face of what he hopes is dignity.

“Mr. Champion, what’s the secret to your immense strength?”

“How do you respond to the allegations that you’ve abused your pokémon with illegal stimulants?”

“Is it true that you are dating Top Coordinator Dawn?”

“No comment,” Paul spits. “Next question.”

The next onslaught of paparazzi is even more ravenous, and after an hour of fending off the vullabys, Paul retreats to his hotel room. Dawn is there with a cup of tea and a comfy bed.

Paul is drained.

Paul hardly doubts himself. Oh sure, ninety-nine percent of things annoy him to no end, but barely anything makes him self-conscious. He’s so used to people chastising him for his harsh training methods that such things now slide off like butter. Years of being called a douche, a stick-in-the-mud, and an asshole has given Paul a lot of thick skin.

But when a young trainer actually called him a ‘nice guy’, Paul visibly bristles.

Worst yet, his former rival Ash Ketchum is there when it happened. As a precocious little boy dashes off in excitement after receiving the Sinnoh Champion’s autograph, Ash is giving Paul the most aggravating yet genuine shit-eating grin the latter has ever seen.

“A ‘nice guy’, huh?” Ash lightly teases. “I always knew you had a heart.”

Paul glares back at him as if to mentally punch him in the face. It isn’t the first time someone has accused him of getting ‘soft’, and it’s a trend that’s been bugging him for over a year now. They always say that it’s in the little things, such as the hint of warmness in his fierce eyes, or how he now compliments his pokémon about five percent more often than usual. And every damn time, they always say it began when he started dating Dawn. Paul cringes at the possibility of losing his edge to romance.

“No need to worry,” he tells the young man with the pikachu on his shoulder. “That’s just the image I have to put on as Champion. Absolutely nothing’s changed about me.”

Paul glances aside, having made his point. He hopes that Ash, is his infamous ability to take everything at face-value, will drop the subject after that. But when he sees the guy stifling a laugh, a surge of rage rushes over Paul’s body.

“What?” he barks.

Ash crosses his arms, knowingly. “You just said ‘No need to worry!’ You’re talking like her now!”

It takes all of three seconds for the the color to drain from Paul’s face. He races forward in shame, trying to hide his mortified expression from Ash’s exuberance. No amount of humiliating defeats could rival the terror that comes with adopting your girlfriend’s catchphrase. He stops in the middle of a clearing, his mind racing as Ash catches up to him.

At what point had Dawn brainwashed with all these flowery emotions? Paul considers smashing his head with a rock to self-induce amnesia and revert back to his old, happily unhappy self. But then he remembers there’s too much to lose.

Like it or not, Dawn had been good to him–like a spoonful of bitter medicine that tastes awful at first, but makes you feel better in the long run. Whenever he was doing more than his daily ten hours of training, Dawn would remind him to eat dinner. Whenever he forgot his ‘please and thank you’s, Dawn would punch him in the arm. Whenever the stress of being Champion was too much and he sentenced himself to solitary confinement, Dawn would drag him out so they could watch Cleavon Schpielbunk movies over ice cream sundaes.

Indeed, every ounce of logic was screaming that Dawn was ruining him. But in his shriveled up, raisin-like heart, he knows that Dawn is probably the best thing that’s ever happened to him. And that feeling he gets when Paul realizes that he, the man who worked through blood, sweat, and tears to get to the top, couldn’t handle the fun-loving nature of his own wonderfully imperfect girlfriend can only be summed up in the most prominent word in his dictionary.

Paul is pathetic.

#pokemon #pokeani #dawn #paul #ikarishipping #fanfiction #zoey #barry #kenny #ash ketchum #cynthia #piplup #ursula

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