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hellofastestnewsfan · 4 years

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On March 15, 2019, legions of Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s admirers celebrated her 86th birthday by dropping to the ground and grinding out the Super Diva’s signature push-ups on the steps of courthouses around the country.

This unusual tribute to a Supreme Court justice was one of the many ways a new generation has shown the love to the five-foot tall legal giant who made the lives they live possible. But by Sept. 18, her iron will and gritty determination was no longer enough to propel her to court. Ginsburg died on Friday at the age of 87 of complications from metastatic pancreatic cancer, according to a statement released by the Supreme Court, per the Associated Press.

In the early ’70s—when Gloria Steinem was working underground as a Playboy Bunny to expose sexism, and Betty Friedan was writing a feminist manifesto about “the problem with no name”—Ginsburg named the problem, briefed it, and argued it before the Supreme Court of the United States.

She was 37 then, on the receiving end of so much of the discrimination she would work to end, and she was just undertaking her first job as a litigator—as co-director of the Women’s Rights Project of the American Civil Liberties Union. In her “very precise” way, as Justice Harry Blackmun put it, she studied title, chapter, clause, and footnote of the legal canon that kept women down and overturned those that discriminated on the basis of sex in five landmark cases that extended the 14th Amendment’s equal rights clause to women. In that long, hard slog, she employed some novel devices, using “gender” (so as not to distract male jurists with the word “sex”) and representing harmed male plaintiffs when she could find one (to show that discrimination hurts everyone). And she never raised her voice.

When she was done, a widower could get the same Social Security benefits as a woman and a woman could claim the same military housing allowance as a man. A woman could cut a man’s hair, buy a drink at the same age, administer an estate, and serve on a jury.

By the time she left the ACLU, and before she donned her first black robe, Ginsburg had brought about a small revolution in how women were treated, wiping close to 200 laws that discriminated off the books. Over the next decades, first as a judge on the U.S. Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia, appointed by President Jimmy Carter in 1980, and then as the second woman on the Supreme Court, appointed by President Bill Clinton in 1993, she would become to women what Thurgood Marshall was to African Americans. She employed the same clause in the 14th Amendment he used to free former slaves to extend protection to the mentally ill who wanted to live outside institutions, gays who wanted to marry, immigrants who lived in fear, and, of course, females: those who wanted to be cadets at the Virginia Military Institute, have access to abortion, and, when pregnant, not be fired if they couldn’t perform duties their condition made, temporarily, impossible.

Her fans’ courthouse celebration was also a plea for the bionic Ginsburg to carry on, at least until the 2020 election. There was high anxiety when she fell asleep at the State of the Union in 2015 (a case of enjoying a fine California wine brought by Justice Anthony Kennedy to the justices pre-speech dinner) and even more when she missed the court’s 2019 opening session in January, her first such absence in 26 years. She hadn’t fully recovered from surgery to remove three cancerous nodules from her lungs. But she took her seat as the senior justice next to Chief Justice John Roberts in mid-February, picking up her full caseload. That following summer, she went through radiation to treat a cancerous tumor on her pancreas, her fourth brush with cancer. In July 2020, she announced that cancer had returned yet again. Despite receiving chemotherapy for lesions on her liver, the 87-year-old reasserted that she was still “fully able” to continue serving on the Supreme Court.

Collection of the Supreme Court of the United StatesAugust 2, 1935 Childhood photograph of Ruth Bader taken when she was two years old.

Baton-twirling bookworm

Joan Ruth Bader was born in 1933 in Brooklyn and came of age during the Holocaust, “a first-generation American on my father’s side, barely second-generation on my mother’s … What has become of me could happen only in America,” she said at her confirmation hearing.

True enough, but what would become of her was a long time coming. In an enthralling biography, Jane Sherron De Hart describes schoolgirl Ruth, who twirled a baton but was such a bookworm she tripped and broke her nose reading while walking. Her mother, who convinced her she could do anything, died just before Ruth, the class valedictorian, graduated and headed off to Cornell. There she met the tall, handsome Martin Ginsburg, and married him the minute she graduated Phi Beta Kappa—the first person, she said, who “loved me for my brain.” She’d been accepted to Harvard Law, where Marty was already enrolled. She calls “meeting Marty by far the most fortunate thing that ever happened to me.”

What happened next is proof of her maxim that “a woman can have it all, just not all at once.” Marty was called up to active duty, so instead of studying torts in Cambridge, Ginsburg found herself working as a claims examiner at the Social Security Administration in Fort Sill, Oklahoma—that is, until she was demoted with a pay cut for working while pregnant.

Collection of the Supreme Court of the United StatesSummer 1958 Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Martin Ginsburg play with their three-year old daughter, Jane, in her bedroom at Martin’s parents’ home in Rockville Centre, N.Y

Life threw another wrench into the works when both were back at Harvard with a baby girl, and Marty was stricken with a rare testicular cancer. Ruth went to class for both of them, typing up his notes and papers as well as her own, getting along on even less sleep than your usual new mother, all while being scolded for taking up a man’s seat by Dean Erwin Grisold. When her husband graduated and was offered a prestigious job at a white shoe law firm in New York, she gave up her last year at Harvard to finish at Columbia.

Once again, she felt the sting of the discrimination. Despite being the first student ever to serve on both the Harvard and Columbia Law Reviews and graduating at the top of her class, she couldn’t get a job at a premier law firm or one of the Supreme Court clerkships that went so easily to male classmates who ranked below her. According to DeHart, Judge Felix Frankfurter fretted a woman clerk might wear pants to chambers. Without bitterness, she calls anger a useless emotion; she noted that in the ’50s, “to be a woman, a Jew and a mother to boot—that combination was a bit too much.”

Librado Romero—The New York Times/Redux 1972 Ruth Bader Ginsburg in New York, when she was named a professor at Columbia Law School.

Battling discrimination

She didn’t get outwardly angry and only, after many years, got even. She took a lower court clerkship, researched civil procedure (and equality of the sexes in practice) in Sweden and wrote a book on the subject—in Swedish! She returned home to teach at the Newark campus of Rutgers Law, where she co-founded the Women’s Rights Law Reporter. Despite being a progressive school, discrimination struck again. She learned she didn’t earn the same as a male colleague because, the dean explained, “he has a wife and two children to support. You have a husband with a good paying job in New York.” No wonder then, when she found herself surprisingly (given her husband’s medical history) but happily pregnant again, she took no chances and hid it.

After the birth of her son, James, she became a tenured professor at Columbia, co-authored the first case book on discrimination law, a work in progress as she changed much of it while litigating for the ACLU, until in 1980 she joined the Court of Appeals.

Then, in 1993, President Bill Clinton was elected and he wanted a Cabinet, and by extension a Supreme Court, that looked like America. Ginsburg was on the list, but so were a dozen others and she wasn’t at the top.

Even Clinton’s deliberations weren’t without a peculiar form of discrimination as he worried, “the women are against her.” He was right. To the feminists of the ’90s—who might be ignored by the White House if it weren’t for Ginsburg’s decades of opening doors—she was yesterday. The judge methodically chipping away at bias, without burning a bra or tossing a high heel, looked plodding and uninspiring; her friendship with her colleague on the district court, Scalia, looked suspect.

Enter Marty. “I wasn’t very good at promotion, but Marty was,” she told the late Gwen Ifill, a PBS anchor. “He was tireless”—and beloved among lawyers, professors, and politicians. Women came around, reminded that she was a pioneer in their fight to overcome the patriarchy and a steadfast supporter of abortion rights, despite acknowledging in an interview that the country might be politically better off if the states had continued to legalize abortion rather than have Roe v. Wade as a singular target of its foes. Ginsburg was confirmed 96 to 3.

Collection of the Supreme Court of the United States August 10, 1993 Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg is sworn in as an Associate Justice of the Supreme Court. From left to right stand President Bill Clinton, Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Martin Ginsburg, and Chief Justice William Rehnquist.

David Hume Kennerly—Getty Images March 2001 The only two female Justices of the U.S. Supreme Court, Sandra Day O’Connor and Ruth Bader Ginsburg, pose for a portrait in Statuary Hall, surrounded by statues of men at the U.S. Capitol Building in Washington, D.C. The two Justices were preparing to address a meeting of the Congressional Women’s Caucus.

The Great Dissenter

She didn’t disappoint. In one case after another, she asked the right questions (and usually the first one), cobbled together majorities and wrote elegantly reasoned opinions: striking down stricter requirements for abortion clinics designed to make the procedure extinct (Whole Woman’s Health v. Hellerstedt), and approving gay marriage (Obergefell v. Hodges), making the point during oral argument that if you can’t refuse a 70-year-old couple marriage because they can’t procreate, how could you use that excuse to deprive a gay one.

But it was her minority — not her majority — opinions that made her beloved to a new generation of women. As the court tilted right in 2006 after the retirement of Sandra Day O’Connor, Ginsburg started to read, not just file, her dissents to explain to the majority why they were wrong in hopes that “if the court has a blind spot today, its eyes will be open tomorrow.”

Here was a shy, understated incrementalist suddenly becoming the Great Dissenter. In Shelby County v. Holder, she said that relieving errant states of the close scrutiny of the Voting Rights Act was like “throwing away your umbrella in a rainstorm because you are not getting wet.” In Hobby Lobby, she was aghast that the court would deny costly contraception coverage to working women “because of someone else’s religious beliefs.” In the Ledbetter v. Goodyear Tire & Rubber equal pay case, she asked how her brethren could penalize the plaintiff, who only got evidence of the disparity from an anonymous note, for missing a 180-day filing deadline given that salaries are kept secret. One person whose eyes were opened was Barack Obama. His first piece of legislation in 2009 was the Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act.

Karsten Moran—ReduxA woman attending the New York City Women’s March wears a t-shirt featuring Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg on Jan. 20, 2018.

Becoming the Notorious RBG

Ginsburg’s womansplaining caught the attention of New York University law student Shana Knizhnik, who uploaded Ginsburg’s dissents to Tumblr. Overnight, a younger generation of women, and their mothers and grandmothers, were reminded of what Ginsburg had done for them. Knizhnik joined with reporter Irin Carmon to write Notorious RBG: The Life and Times of Ruth Bader Ginsburg. The justice was soon a recurring character on Saturday Night Live, with a hyperkinetic Kate McKinnon issuing blistering “Ginsburns.” The justice’s 2016 memoir, My Own Words, was a New York Times bestseller. There were more books — adult, children’s and coloring. In 2018, Hollywood released a major motion picture, On the Basis of Sex, and the documentary RBG, which won an Emmy. Store shelves groan with merch: mugs (you Bader believe it), onesies (The Ruth will set you free), tote bags, bobblehead dolls, and action figures, one of the latest from her cameo in Lego Movie 2, produced by none other than Trump Administration Treasury Secretary Steve Mnuchin.

All this late-arriving fame rested uneasily on the shoulders of Ginsburg, who accepted it with dignity and took some pleasure at grandchildren’s shock that “so many people want to take my picture.” She kept a large supply of Notorious RBG T-shirts as a party favor for visitors.

At the heart of Hollywood’s treatment of Ginsburg wasn’t only the case Marty and his wife worked on together—an appeal of an IRS ruling—but a marriage of extraordinary compatibility and mutual support. After he recovered from cancer and had become a sought-after lawyer, he eagerly took on his share of domestic duties, which included feeding the children since, according to former Solicitor General Ted Olson, “Ruth wanted nothing whatsoever to do with the kitchen.” Marty was the fun parent (Ginsburg joked at her confirmation hearing that the children kept a log called “Mommy Laughed”) and a big-hearted host who happily roasted “Bambi,” Ruth’s name for whatever Scalia, her opera buddy, bagged on his last hunting trip. The pair were the subject of an actual comic opera, Scalia/Ginsburg, in which one scene depicts the over-emoting Scalia, locked in a dark room for excessive dissenting, and Ginsburg descending through a glass ceiling to rescue him.

A fellow justice said that neither Ginsburg would be who they were without the other. Marty once joked about being second banana: “As a general rule, my wife does not give me any advice about cooking and I do not give her any advice about the law. This seems to work quite well on both sides.” De Hart reprints the letter Marty put in a drawer in the bedside table as he was dying from a recurrence of his cancer. He was the “most fortunate” part of her life.

Marty lived to see his wife recognized beyond what the two imagined when they agreed to marry and be lawyers together, but died just before a slight she suffered for following him to New York was righted. In 2011, she was awarded an honorary degree from Harvard Law that Dean Griswold had denied her for taking her last credits at Columbia.

The longer she lived, the wider her reach and the deeper the appreciation for her years on the bench. At the opening concert of the National Symphony Orchestra in Sept. 2019, Kennedy Center chair David Rubinstein introduced the dignitaries in the audience. When he got to the justice, women rose to applaud her. Then, the men quickly joined in until everyone in the hall was standing, looking up at the balcony, cheering and whistling, as if they’d come to tell her that they knew what she had done for them, not to hear Shostakovich’s Piano Concerto #2.

This wasn’t an audience of liberals, but a cross-section of the capital touched by a once-young lawyer who saw unfairness and quietly tried to end it during her 60 years of public service.

Throughout the decades, Ginsburg quietly persisted—through discrimination she would seek to end, through the death of Marty, through more illness and debilitating treatments than any one person should have to endure—without complaint, holding on and out, until sheer will was no longer enough.

from TIME https://ift.tt/2RHBzbQ

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cutsliceddiced · 4 years

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New top story from Time: Ruth Bader Ginsburg Has Died. She Leaves Behind a Vital Legacy for Women — and Men

Collection of the Supreme Court of the United StatesAugust 2, 1935 Childhood photograph of Ruth Bader taken when she was two years old.

Baton-twirling bookworm

Librado Romero—The New York Times/Redux 1972 Ruth Bader Ginsburg in New York, when she was named a professor at Columbia Law School.

Battling discrimination

The Great Dissenter

Karsten Moran—ReduxA woman attending the New York City Women’s March wears a t-shirt featuring Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg on Jan. 20, 2018.

Becoming the Notorious RBG

This wasn’t an audience of liberals, but a cross-section of the capital touched by a once-young lawyer who saw unfairness and quietly tried to end it during her 60 years of public service.

via https://cutslicedanddiced.wordpress.com/2018/01/24/how-to-prevent-food-from-going-to-waste

#Time #top stories #IFTTT #news

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chocoholicannanymous · 7 years

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...As Stupid Does 16/? (Teen Wolf)

Yeah, so. This fic fell of the face of the earth for the last year and a half, and I have no excuses except “I didn’t feel like I could write for most of that time”.

Not at all the chapter I’d outlined - more like 1/3 of that, so forget chapter count - but it’s an update. And I swear I’m going to finish this, okay, because otherwise the 3k of selfindulgent, very me, finale would be wasted writing and no one wants that, right?

Anyway: UPDATE!

Part 15, Part 14, Part 13, Part 12, Part 11, Part 10, Interlude, Part 9, Part 8d, Part 8c, Part 8b, Part 8a, Part 7, Part 6, Part 5,Part 4,Part 3, Part 2, Part 1,Not Stupid, Stupid Is… and pre-verse ficlet I’m Stupid (Don’t Worry ‘Bout Me)

...As Stupid Does

part 3 of the Stupid ‘verse

16/?

Just about everyone around him has an opinion on Stiles giving Derek a second chance. Almost no one is optimistic. Leah goes the furthest though. She tells him – repeatedly – that he's being stupid. It hits him harder than he lets on, with her being so much of a role model for him. At the same time...

Leah's healing now, yeah, but for so long she wasn't and Stiles doesn't want that for himself – years of letting bitterness and pain rule him. Stiles tells her that, or tries to. Says that he's working on how to be stronger. Braver. She screams at him for two minutes straight, and then storms out.

Who knows, maybe she's right. Maybe bravery is just another word for stupidity. Maybe this is the stupidest thing he's ever done. He just knows he needs to. Because it also has the potential to be the best thing ever.

And Stiles is willing to be more than a little stupid in order to win that.

He's in love with Derek, none of the bad shit has changed that, and he's giving the two of them a chance. If Derek hurts him again, this time without outside influences, then Stiles will cut all ties. Will allow his pack to take whatever vengeance is deemed suitable. But. Derek – not the Alpha, no, because Stiles isn't accepting an Alpha in this, not ever again – feels deeply for him. That means something.

Maybe it means everything.

The only person who doesn't call him some version or other of idiot is Embry. As grateful as he is, Stiles doesn't really get it, and it keeps bugging him. When he finally breaks down and asks the answer is so simple he's ashamed to have missed it.

“You're my imprint. That means giving you what you need. And if what you need is to give Derek a second chance? I'm going to back you up. It doesn't mean I'm not worried, it just means that I'll support you.

“But, Stiles? Since we're apparently talking about it, I have a question for you. Remember back when we first met, how you reacted when Sam told you I wasn't into guys?”

Yeah. Stiles remembers. He remembers all too well exactly how scared that statement and its implications had made him.

“And remember when you told me about how Derek had acted in pretty much the way you were terrified I would? Now, can you understand how that makes me more than a little worried? Because it really, really does. And the fact that the guy who would never take that from me is apparently willing to let it slide now...”

“Em. Just, no. Look, there's a pretty huge difference in what I might be willing to let slide between the guy I'm choosing to date, and the guy I've supposedly been chosen for, where I get no say at all. The situation's nothing alike, okay?

“Derek did have all those issues with internalized homophobia, and he did take it out on me, and that was so not okay. But. He's over it. He's worked through it, with a professional, and being attracted to a guy isn't an issue any longer. Also, as weird as it sounds, if there were any lingering issues? Not really a problem in the same way, because magic isn't pushing him in that direction any longer.”

And wow, having to use “because magic” as an argument for anything never stopped feeling strange.

“But in the end? If Derek fucks up again, I can – and will – walk away. That's an option I have with him that didn't really exist with you. Because if I dump Derek? What's he going to do? Growl at me? That'll help, not. He knows I can hurt him, and that I'm protected now, and me giving him a second chance is miracle enough for him. But you? You had the whole 'gift from the spirits' thing, and not just one but two werewolf packs backing you up. What basically equals religious fanatic with muscle back-up against a scrawny kid with no real support at all? Yeah. Walking away wouldn't have been an option for me had you been that guy, would it?”

It's not a happy conversation, and they're both flinching more than not, but maybe it's good that they're doing this. Getting it out into the air.

Plus. Stiles really does want to give the whole dating Derek thing an honest try. Having his 'wolf on his side will make that so more painless.

“But you, all of you, you're a huge part of why I can do this, why I feel safe doing this. You know that, right? I know my pack will be there for me if I need them, and in fact, the can of mace that'll make sure Derek backs off if I want him to? That's because of you guys too.

“So I'm grateful that you're worried, but honestly, I'm fine. I will be fine. And the second I'm not I'll dump his grumpy ass and come straight to you. That good enough for you, big brother?”

He says the last two words in a teasing lilt, hoping for levity, and smiles in relief when Embry relaxes.

“Fine. And as I said, I'll back you up. I support you completely, you know that, right? As long as you're safe and happy. But Stiles? If he hurts you again, I'm going to show him exactly why I'm a superior breed of werewolf and rip him to pieces. Unless that happens though? I'll be behind you 200%.”

Hearing Embry's words, knowing he has that kind of support... It makes Stiles's heart grow at least two sizes in his chest, and everything feels so warm. It's unconditional, and amazing, and everything he could ever have asked for. And it's just what he needs.

The resulting hug lasts longer than Stiles would be comfortable with, had it been anyone else, but. It's Embry. It's his soulmate. The platonic part changes nothing about how important that is. And that's why Embry is the only one to get an answer that has no defenses.

“It's not about giving Derek a second chance. Or well, it is, but it also isn't. It's not just him that needs it. I need one too. I've been make shit judgment calls for years, and that's the reason behind so much of all this. I'm doing better now, I think, but I need to see if my judgment can be trusted. That's what I need to give a second chance.

“That Derek, and me and Derek, also gets one? That's kind of just a bonus.”

Because it is. He wants this relationship to work. He really, really does. But if, in the end, it doesn't? As long as it's not because Derek turned out to not be worthy of the trust Stiles has decided to show him, then a breakup would be hard, but doable.

Stiles just needs to have a life where he can have faith that things will work.

As much as telling the pack is difficult, and leads to some less than comfortable discussions – and arguments – it's still preferable to telling his dad. Because unlike with the pack his dad has a ton of background details to fill out whatever story Stiles gives him, and all the chances of putting it all into a clear picture that Stiles doesn't want him to see.

He even considers not telling his dad, and that's a first since the move, and a warning. If he can't tell his dad about dating Derek, Stiles knows, then he really can't go through with it. No more secrets, that was the point, right?

Only, they've dialed back some on that. Not lying is good, not having secrets is too, to a degree. Just, everyone should be entitled to their secrets according to John Stilinski, as long as those secrets doesn't hurt others. And Stiles, well, Stiles has to agree. He does, after all, still have two major secrets, even after swearing to himself he was done with that; Derek and Aiden.

Those are not the kind of secrets you share with someone who works law-enforcement, after all, not something you burden them with. His dad is keeping quiet about the Alpha pack's murders, yes, but that's because they were a bunch of vicious killers, and killing them was just a form of self-defense. Extreme, but still.

Telling him about more crimes though... No thanks. That's asking too much.

One of the last things Stiles wants to do is tell his dad he killed someone. Oh, John Stilinski would let it go, would never investigate or charge Stiles. Not when, again, it's self-defense. Because it truly was – it was Stiles or Aiden, and John would never fault Stiles for making the choice of being the one to walk away alive.

Plus, it's not like they could prove that Stiles acted in the only manner he could, not without bringing up werewolves – and landing at least one of them in a mental hospital.

Anyway, having to keep that secret is not something Stiles wants to burden his father with.

As for Derek... Well. Stiles can't see telling his dad about that ever ending well. There's no reason for John to not charge Derek with statutory rape – and possibly more – and every reason for that to end in disaster. So yeah. When push comes to shove Stiles would rather tell his dad he killed someone than that he used to have sex with Derek before leaving Beacon Hills.

John asks, of course, and it's obvious he's suspicious, but Stiles manages to talk himself out of that. He thinks. He tells a few lies, as much as he doesn't want to, and pretties up the truths as much as he can, and generally tries to make Derek look like the date-able guy of now instead of the power-tripping Alpha-asshole of then.

Of course, life being what it is, being with Derek isn't as easy as Stiles had hoped. Oh, it had been a very small hope, since nothing with Derek has been easy since that very first day in the preserve, years ago, but still. He'd held on to that tiny glimmer of hope. Of course, it's not as bad as he'd feared either, but. It's too close.

They don't see each other as often as Stiles (or Derek for that matter) would like, but in the bigger picture that's a small detail. The huge issue is their fighting, and how it's basically always brought on by Derek being an Alpha-asshole.

He brushes it away the first time. (Or rather, he pushes it away, onto a mental shelf marked “for later”, or maybe “just in case”.) The second time he sits down afterwards and goes over everything.

It's not that bad. Not yet. But the truth is, as much as Stiles would like to pretend otherwise, that Derek is displaying much of the same behavior that led to Stiles fleeing Beacon Hills. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe it's just Derek having a really bad day (okay, two). Or maybe it's Derek sliding back into his old behavior.

Maybe he really hasn't gotten better after all. Maybe it was all just a sham, and now that he's gotten what he wanted (Stiles back? Scott calmed? Something else?) Derek feels safe to drop the act.

Whatever it is, Stiles knows he can't ignore the warning signs. He's done that once before, and never again. He won't be that guy. He's stronger than that now, is healthier than that.

So. What to do? In the end, Stiles decides to go with the tried and true “three strikes” rule. That means Derek gets one more chance, and if he fucks up, then that's it. Out the door it is. Stiles might be in love with Derek, but that doesn't make him a doormat.

Besides. Maybe it really has been just bad days, and Derek won't fuck up again.

Derek fucks up again.

Stiles doesn't throw him out.

Oh, he's seconds from it; he's got his hand on the handle, about to throw the door open, and his panic button in the other hand, finally grateful that his pack insisted on one. But then he hears Derek. Really hears him, instead of just letting the angry ranting flow over him.

“What did you say?”

“I said, I can't believe you would do this,” Derek bites out between his teeth.

“Not that, before. Derek, did you come straight here? Like, did you come straight to my place, without stopping at the rez or Dr Bianchi's office first? You did, didn't you?

“And it's not the first time either.”

It's not a question, because suddenly it's all so very clear. As much as they'd both like to think differently, Derek still isn't free from what the Darach and Deaton did to him. He's still not impervious to the negative effects of the packbonds. He still needs healing – and if he's been skipping out on that, well. That would explain more than a few things.

He sees Derek hesitate, and knows the wolf is debating how to answer. Whether or not to tell the truth.

“Please. Just tell me the truth. I won't be mad, even if you screwed up. Not as long as you're honest. We can't fix this if you lie to me.”

Because if that’s what’s the problem here, then it’s something that can be fixed, and that Stiles wants to fix. And Derek seems to pick up on that, because he deflates and nods.

“Okay, yeah, I did that. You're far enough away that I can't see you nearly as often as I want – as you want. As you deserve. So I take every opportunity, regardless of how short a period of time. Sometimes... Spending maybe half of that to go up to LaPush and Quil, when I can stop here and actually spend that time with you? In what scenario wouldn't I chose you instead?

“Besides, the pack's stabilized so much, I can feel it, and Dr Bianchi told me that'd carry over.

“And we've been fine, haven't we?”

Stiles swallows, because as much as Derek probably intended for that last statement to sound decisive, and authoritative, it just comes out as vulnerable. In need of reassurance. He... He wants to say he's stronger than that, but. He can feel himself melting.

At the same time he's going over Derek's visits, and his behavior, and if Derek really has been neglecting his “therapy”, both actual and magical, whenever he's pulled one of his surprise visits to Stiles in Seattle then it all makes sense.

Every single fight they've had has occurred in Seattle. Every single flash of temperament from Derek has happened here. And they've gotten worse.

Which is why, even though Stiles is touched, he has to put his foot down. Before everything completely derails. Again.

Besides, as much as Derek is (probably) right about the pack being more stable – having Cora there, and Scott back, and Danny gone has helped a lot, from what Stiles can tell – it's not enough. Not when Derek have so many more issues.

Not when Peter is still part of the pack. Because while Stiles won't say it, he truly believes the only way for the Hale pack to be truly healthy is to get rid of Peter. (Preferably by killing him. Again.) But that's another conversation. One they’ll probably never have.

“No, we haven't. Not really, Derek, not if we're honest. Now, you're going to go sit down, and I'm going to make a call to see how we can fix this. No,” he holds up a hand – not the one holding the panic button – to both silence Derek and stop him in his tracks, “you are going to do as I say or leave. Those are your only options, Derek. And if you leave, don't come back. Not ever.”

Derek sits down.

Old Quil is obviously upset when Stiles reaches him – Dr Bianchi is out of town, her messaging service informs – and very worried. He's also, thankfully, able to both stay calm and suggest a solution.

They're lucky – Stiles has everything his mentor tells him he needs on hand. Or well, it's not as much luck as it is lingering paranoia (though, does it still count as paranoia when it's been repeatedly proven that a/ monsters do exist and b/ they really are out to get him?) but still.

The chest under his bed is fully stocked with everything they need – and more. (Stiles's blades, for instance, are probably not necessary at the moment. Not if he does this right. So, like, no pressure.)

With the list in one hand Stiles pulls out herbs and candles, rocks and crystals and a totem old Quil's made for him, and then he adds a few things just in case. He mixes what he can only think of as a potion, watches Derek like a hawk while the man downs it with an extra grumpy face, and then steels himself for the ritual.

It feels like trying to wrestle an uncooperative wolf, like channeling the forces from a nuclear power plant to light a desk lamp – all while blindfolded and with one hand tied behind his back. It leaves him drained, feeling like a wet rag, but it works. Stiles can feel it work, and even if he couldn't, it's obvious as hell on Derek's face.

Once they've recovered enough to do anything except pant for breath – and it's very telling that that takes just as long for Derek as it does for Stiles – Stiles decides to address the elephant in the room.

“Derek? We need to talk.

“What you did today, coming here to see me, even when it meant more hours on the road than together... It means a lot to me that you'd be willing to do that. It tells me that this, us, means a lot to you.

“That said? You can't do this again. I'm serious. You skipped seeing either Dr Bianchi or old Quil before coming here, because you didn't feel you had the time, and that showed.

“I don't want you to come here if that's the Derek I'm getting. I left my home to get away from that behavior – I'm not having it in my new home. I know you don't have to be like that, I've seen you change, become better. I've seen you healthier. And that's who I agreed to date. The healthy” sane “Derek. The one that isn't being twisted by the pack bonds, or magic.”

The one that doesn't scare me, he thinks but doesn't say.

“We both know you need the help you've getting to connect to your anchor. You're doing so much better, yes, but you're not ready to do it on your own yet. So please, even if it takes away from the time we get together, you need to do it. I'd rather have one hour with the real you than a day with...this.”

Of course, that assumes that the Derek that isn't an Alpha-asshole is the real Derek, but Stiles refuses to believe otherwise. For now.

“I need you to do that, or I can't do this. I'm giving you one last chance, because I truly don't think you realized how badly you were fucking up, but if you do this again? That's it.”

Stiles knows Derek hears the truth in his words, in his heartbeat. Now all he can do is hope that the wolf will listen.

“But you fixed it. Fixed me. Why can't I just come straight to you, and you do it every time? At least when time's short?”

The desire to either slam his head into a wall or his fist into Derek's face is almost overwhelming. That Derek can be so, so stupid after what just happened is, well, infuriating. Of course, Stiles realizes, he probably doesn't understand exactly how bad things really were.

“Derek, what I did? So an emergency fix-it. It's... It's the magical equivalent of using duct-tape to put you back together, dammit. So yeah, sure, I managed to fix it this time, but I can't, no, I won't do it again.

“Do you realize that what you're asking me to do is to fucking McGuyver your emotional stability, your soul, your safety? And mine, while we're at it, all things considered. I'm really not going to do that. Not unless it actually is an emergency.” Because as much as Stiles wants to say he'll never subject himself to that again, he's self-aware enough to know he won't stand aside in case of an emergency, and he's realistic enough to know that with their lives there will be emergencies.

Just wanting to see each other sooner, or more often, though? That doesn't count.

“I want to see you, and spend time with you. I really do. All the time I can get – I'm greedy like that. But we have to be smart about it. Be safe. Because I don't want to spend that time being afraid that you're going to lose it because you didn't want to take an hour to have a professional make sure you're okay. Which I'm not. I'm an amateur, an apprentice at best!

“I can't take that risk. Not with you – and not with me.”

Both their tempers are about to flare up, and Stiles makes a conscious effort to stop that from happening.

“I'm going to go make some tea, and once that's done we can talk more, okay? Just, sit here. Relax. Make sure you're actually fine and I didn't miss anything.”

Making tea gives Stiles time to calm down properly, and sort through his thoughts and feelings. Once they're both seated with a cup he starts over, tries to be more rational.

“What old Quil uses on you, what he helps you with, it's tribal magic. That's what gives him the strength to combat what's been done to you, to strengthen your anchor.

“And that magic? It's not mine, it's not for me to use.

“My bond with Embry makes me pack, yes, and technically that makes me a member of the Quileute tribe as well. But it really is only technically. When push comes to shove, I'm not part of the tribe.”

And Stiles is more than fine with that. Deep down he doesn’t want to belong to the tribe, because that would be to give up just one piece too many of himself. But. It’s not about that now.

“That in turns means the magic won't respond to me – or maybe that it doesn't want to. Sure, what I did earlier, that used the tribal magic, but only because I had permission. I couldn't have done it otherwise. And without that, I, I'm just not strong enough. I don't have the power to be anything except your last resort, so please, please Derek, let the people who actually have the power to help you do it. Even if you don't think us being together is a good enough reason, you should do it for you. For your pack, and your sister.”

He reaches for Derek’s hand and squeezes it a little.

“You need this. And I, I don't think you want to risk either one of us any more than I do.”

Stiles looks into Derek’s eyes and tries to project his sincerity, tries to convey how much he really does care.

Derek's face still has that stubborn twist, but Stiles’ words makes it practically melt away, leaving dejected exhaustion behind.

“I just want to spend time with you. I wanted to give you a nice evening, take you out on a real date. Only I completely fucked that up, didn't I?” He snorts. “Pretty sure the restaurant's given our table away by now. Not that either of us is in shape to go out, I guess.”

Stiles appreciates the thought, he really does, but. He'd have appreciated a heads-up and an anchored Derek a lot more. He doesn't say anything about that though. Chances are Derek will have realized that himself by now, and if he hasn't, well, Stiles has had enough drama for one night.

They still do “dinner and a movie”, except instead of the restaurant and an actual movie theater Derek had planned for they order in food and watch Mulan on Stiles's laptop. Comfort movie – don't knock it. (Once it would have been the Lion King. Stiles kind of thinks Peter needs to die extra much for ruining that movie for him.)

Stiles doesn't even make it halfway through the movie. He blames the magic, though admittedly the fight before and the outpouring of feelings after didn't help. He's drained. So's Derek, apparently, because when Stiles wakes up a couple of hours later (slumped against Derek's shoulder) the wolf is out like a light.

So much for not being able to stay for long.

For a minute Stiles debates letting Derek sleep, but in the end pragmatism wins out. With how eager Derek was to see him, if he doesn't feel secure enough to stay for more than a couple of hours, then he's got to have a really good reason. Well. A pack of them probably.

And if in the end Derek does think staying is an option? He'll rest better laying down – even if it'll be on the floor, on the spare mattress. As nice as it felt just now, waking up with Derek's smell in his nose, and Derek's body heat close, the truth is that they're not at the bed-sharing stage yet.

Stiles isn't ready.

Somehow, he thinks that might be true for Derek too.

Less than a minute after Stiles closes the door behind Derek – he hasn't even made it into bed yet – his phone buzzes. “Let me in” the message reads. It's from Embry. Stiles...isn't surprised. He fully expected old Quil to let at least Jake and Sam know what's happened, and to be honest he's kind of impressed that it's taken this long for a wolf to show up. He's also impressed that it's just the one wolf, not the whole pack.

They do tend to see him as fragile, after all.

Regardless, it's always good to have his wolf with him. And if a part of him thinks it'd be even better with another wolf... Yeah, well. It is what it is. Also, one of the things it is is probably better this way.

For now.

The next morning Stiles intends to sneak out before Embry notices – it's called having an early class, okay? – but that's a bust. For one, Embry's awake before him, and besides, it turns out that Stiles is not fit for sneaking that morning. His head's a bit foggy, and he sways when trying to stand up. It's possible he could make it through class, but getting there might be a problem. It's not one he has to bother about though, because Embry takes one look at him, and pushes him back into bed.

“You're staying home today. No, I don't care how important this class is. Your health is more important. Right now? You'd just as likely break your neck stumbling on a cobblestone as make it to class in one piece.”

And well, he's not wrong. Stiles has stumbled over nothing more than once before, and today feels like just the kind of day when he could do that and end up seriously hurting himself while at it. Plus, the idea of spending the day in bed sounds lovely.

“Old Quil told me you'd probably be a wreck today. So, you are going to call school, then you're going to eat the breakfast I'm making you, and after that you're taking a nap. Okay?”

Stiles agrees, because yeah, he could do that. Also, nowhere did Embry mention talking about yesterday's train-wreck, so Stiles is just going to nod along and try to fall asleep before he can remember that.

Of course it's not quite that easy. He gets to nap in peace, and have lunch and a shower, and then a second nap, but that's it. Embry is patient, and smart, and waits until a ravenous Stiles is occupied with dinner before starting the interrogation. And Stiles is still fuzzy enough to not see it coming, or to come up with a good deflection for that matter.

“So. This is where you try and convince me I shouldn’t plan for me and Paul to take a trip to Beacon Hills.”

Stiles knows he must have that deer-in-the-headlights look. It’s not pretty - he’s seen pictures. Embry is patient though, waits him out until Stiles has managed to both find words and make his tongue cooperate.

“Because I’d be very unhappy with you both?” Okay, no, not a good reason. Not good enough anyway, not for anyone who cares about him.

He would be very unhappy, really, just… Embry’s going to need more convincing than that. Paul is definitely going to need more. They’ve seen him break. They have both made it very clear they don’t intend to let it happen again.

“Look, he fucked up. Not denying that. And he’s on his last chance, for real. Just, if I’m going to cut everyone who fucks up out of my life? I’m going to be very lonely. I’d also have to start with my dad, which obviously, not happening. Ever.

“What Derek did was idiotic, but also… I get it. I do. First of all, he warned me. Not that he’d do something like this,” Stiles hastens to add, because Embry’s beginning to really look murderous at that comment, “just, that he wouldn’t take only getting a small part of me well. Which, fair. I wouldn’t have given him a chance if I thought he would be happy with that. And you know, maybe I should have taken that as more of a warning than I did.

“But Derek, he… He’s been doing so much better, and it’s… Okay. It’s like when my dad was drinking too much after my mom, and then he cut down, only he couldn’t make himself admit that he was enough of an alcoholic by then that maybe what he needed to do wasn’t cut down but stop.”

By now John’s at a point where he can have a beer without a single warning bell going off in Stiles’s head. That’s only just now though, and well, John rarely does drink these days.

“And it’s kind of the same with Derek. He didn’t want to admit he wasn’t strong enough to do this without help. Just like I didn’t want to admit I couldn’t.”

Because honestly? There are so many instances where Stiles should have asked for help, should have asked anyone, and maybe things wouldn’t have gone to shit. Besides… He can understand why Derek would try and avoid getting help, regardless of his promises. Because underneath everything? There’s still the fact that Deaton was supposed to help him, and chose to cast spells on him instead. And Derek sure as hell should have been able to expect help from Peter, which… Yeah.

“I was so dead set on being able to do it myself I didn’t even think about getting help until after I flipped and tried to slit Paul’s throat. At least Derek didn’t almost kill someone.”

And wow, now Stiles really feels like crap. Plus Embry looks like he’s been kicked in the nads. Yup, this day is a clear contender for shitshow of the year.

“Maybe he didn’t. But I’m not sure I want to take that risk, not knowing what he could do to you. It’s not my show though, so I guess what matters is are you sure?”

“Sure enough to give him one more shot.” And then, because honesty is important here. “Unsure enough that I’m going to check that he gets his magic detox from now on. After today, he’s not getting within touching distance of me without clearance from either Dr Bianchi or old Quil, or both.”

Embry looks like that’s not good enough, and maybe it’s not. Stiles is going to let it be though. Or no. He’s going to believe that it will be good enough, and if it’s one thing he’s learned it’s that his belief? Can be pretty damned powerful.

~ TBC ~

#chocoholic fics #fanfiction #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #teen wolf #twilight crossover #...asd #stupid 'verse #...as stupid does #embry call

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damian-palendryl · 7 years

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Scraps of Past V: The Ice Lands’ Tragedy Forgotten in Snow part II

The travel up North felt like an eternity. The weather grew colder and colder, there were no maps for me to use, so I had to rely solely on the directions of local people who, strangely enough, were always happy to let me stay over and feed me at the cost of only a few interesting stories.

I soon found out that what I'd thought to be "sufficient wear" was not sufficient at all and the blankets and furrs I'd been forced to keep buying kept on accumulating. The travelling itself became harder as I had to drag my feet through the deep snow and every mile I managed to cross felt like 10. It was surprising how much effort it took to even get up and comparing the distance I'd crossed in no-snow covered places with Ice Lands was devastating, both mentaly and physically.

Nevertheless, during those few moments I'd forced my mind to actually enjoy the view for a few minutes, trying to forget the cold, I was stunned by how much beauty all this untouched paleness can radiate.

On the 40th day (counting since leaving Narradia's borders), I finally arrived in my final destination. Seeing the village smoke, I'd certainly hoped that it's the right one. Followed by my Bear that I'd kept summoning almost everyday during the last week or two to keep me company because the stillness and unchanging terrain had started to slowly creep on my brain, threatening to alter my sensing of the reality.

About 200 meters from the village, I was stopped by two hunters, asking about my bussiness in their territory.

From under a horde of layers of clothing I tried to explain with shaky teeth about my research and being a Shaman but they'd soon decided to bring me to their Chieftain to decide what the hell am I even babbling about. One thing I'd noticed were their glances towards my Bear but they'd said nothing about him and I called him in becore entering the village anyway.

The village itself wasn't big. It was built close to the sea in the West and the East was covered by forrests of coniferous trees. I arrived from South-West by crossing a literal ice land. A place of no life but also no living danger... Yes, I almost froze to death several times... The huts in the village were small in height but sturdy, holding strong against the howling wind storms and inside they continued about 2 feet to the dept to compensate the lack of space. Two feet was about the maximum to dig out in these conditions, even for the strongest of people.

The fire was mostly stationed in the middle of the dwellings, providing heat for cooking, melting ice into drinkable water and cosy warmth that hit you as soon as you've entered. There were also two long houses with two or three fire places inside to provide for the whole space. One of them was a sort of tavern, a meeting place for people during lunch and evening to engage in festive activities and the other mostly served for official purposes, whenever the Chieftain had a statement to voice, if there were a need for a trial or a simple wedding. But mostly, it was used as a school for kids during the day. They learnt how to read and write and almost everyone here was taught basic Shaman magic from a young age.

There was also a small marina for the fishing boats and one general goods store, founded by a traveler three years ago. The traveler went on his way, the store stayed, providing local people with various not-food-based neccessities. Otherwise, if the fishers came with fish, you went to them, buying a fish or trading it for something else other than money, if hunters came with venison, you went to buy that. And if those who lived as mercenary Shamans came back from their quests and travels in the South, there was a chance for fruits or vegetables to bless the household. Mostly reheated after freezing along the way to the village. My arrival happened to be in the early afternoon and I remember, the kids just left the other long house, staring at me in disbelief. To be true, I was definitely more covered than any of the people around me who apparently treated -35 °C as a mid-autumn weather.

While entering the first long house with a tongue-wrenching name "Kharglagh Gybladgh" (which was actually derrived from a very old version of one of many local dialects, meaning "Dining Hall", left there as a name mainly as a touristic attraction... for the up to five tourists who pass by here every year), I was finally able to put away some of the blankets, covering my head and face. After checking with my fingers, I can still feel my pointy elvish ears, I noticed the other people in the house staring at me. And not in a friendly manner. There was a mix of confusion, fear and anger. I was pretty sure, an evil twin was not the option and was more inclined to the option of my bounty reaching even here, far beyond the borders of Narradia. Still, it wasn't very probable, right...?

"Eh... Hello...? Thank you... for your hospitality...?" I didn't like the long silence and my nervousity decided to speak first. "Uhm... I'm a mixed-blood..." I pointed at my face, hoping they were just startled from seeing such a weird Elf. "My mom is Eladrin and father Human... I came here to study Shamanry..."

A man, about 6 feet tall walked up to me, staring down at my tiny self. "Sit by the fire, little man. We are wondering whether you're a friend or a foe."

"Oh... I see..." Wait, what is happening? I looked around if any of these people are getting ready to kill me on the spot... "Uhm... Is that a Shaman thing I don't know about?" I asked, desperatly searching for a peaceful solution and started searching my backpack for writing utensils.

"No, my dear. It's a prophet's thing." A calm gentle womanly voice brought everyone's attention to the door, including mine. She was of Elven origin, for sure, dressed in common woolen clothes, normal pretty and pale Elven skin, dark hair, dark eyes and while holding a toddler in her arms she might have been a totally normal mother figure. Although, something about her felt a tiny bit mysterious.

"A prophet?" I stepped towards her but the muscly guys, including the inn-keeper blocked my way immediately. That startled me. "I... 'm not carrying any weapons..."

"You're a Shaman," stated one of the two hunters who'd brought me in.

"Hardly, I haven't completed the Initiation ritual, yet," I held my arms above my head in a peaceful gesture.

"Liar! We saw your Spirit Companion! It's White Bear!" yelled the other hunter and everybody looked at me.

"A White Bear...?" smiled the woman and sat down by one of the fires, patting at the floor next to her for me to sit, craddling the small child in her arms.

"Excuse me..." I looked at the wall of muscle before me and tried to fit in between the unmoving guys to get to the lady who so kindly didn't seem to want to tear me appart on the spot.

Very unelegantly I squeezed myself between two of them, and with a wave of cynical and not-at-all warm laughter I fell flat down, hitting my nose on the floor. For a moment, I'd hoped that this isn't my dreamed Shamman village... Why is this happening to me? What did I do?

With utmost courage I pushed away the feeling of hopelessness and crawled over to the fire.

"Take off your coat, you will get warmer faster," said the woman without even looking at me. I followed her instrictions, stripping down to my white, long sleeved tunic with violet hems. I knew I looked even more pale in this but it definily wasn't anything to hum in low voice about. I started to feel slightly violated under all those stares. "Uhm... Can I ask what is wrong...?"

The woman seemed to be the only talkable and possibly most inteligent in the house at the moment. She raised her arms and handed the baby over to the biggest guy. The guy’s eyes shot daggers at me but his face went totally soft when he handled the baby. Its father, maybe?

She finally looked at me and she kept looking at me for a long time. Sometimes, she took my hand in hers and sometimes she pulled my cheek. Then she closed her eyes and her face became somewhat saddened, I could see a wrinkle form on her forehead before she hid her face in her hand.

“Mami, love! Is it him?” yelled the guy holding the small child.

She took a deep breath, put a hand on my cheek and looked at me through tear-stained eyes. “In my final moments, there will be a white person standing in front of me. You are not my murderer, young Shaman. And you guys!” She turned to the angry-looking men. “Treat our guest nicely. He’s not a bearer of death. He’s a bearer of life.”

I had no idea what she was talking about and as I could see, none of us did but everyone tried to look like they undestand every single word.

Except for one guy: “So he’s like... a woman...?”

#Scraps of Past V: The Ice Lands’ Tragedy Forgotten in Snow part II

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canaryatlaw · 7 years

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Well, today was pretty good, if not terribly thrilling it was a good combination of relaxing and productive. Slept in which was lovely, and woke up at approximately 12:17 pm. Had some breakfast and hung out for a little while, then finalized my list and prepared for my trek to target. I needed to get gas bottle refills for my sodastream, so I had to go across town to target instead of just going to the grocery store right around the block from me, and while I'm there I might as well do my grocery shopping. It's a fine balance of catching buses at the right time to get there, there's like no one convenient way to get there, it has to be a combination of a few. It's basically southeast of me, and I have to find a way south and a way east. It's further south, so I normally end up taking a bus south and walking east, which isn't bad (it's about the same as my trek to the train for school). Of course it's absolutely gorgeous out today and I took my light jacket off and was just in a t shirt walking there and it was so glorious, I can't believe this is January when a few weeks ago it was below 20. I'm sure it won't last, but it's nice while it happen. So of course absolutely everyone is out and about today. Get to target, get my sodastream refills and then go to the grocery section. I had to stop myself from looking at the clothing because I literally have an overflowing dresser because I have SO much damn clothing it's really a problem, lol. They did have super cute pajama pants though. So I went through my list, which was mostly like, breakfast shit, instant meal shit, snack shit, and ice cream. That was basically it lol. I have what I need to make some big meals at some point, I just haven't really had a chance to make them yet, but I did pick up some more pasta and that sauce that goes really amazing with chicken and is super easy to make, so that should be good. And I basically just needed snacks for study fuel purposes, so those I got. One of my things of blueberries spilled off the check out belt while I was bagging, so I lost that haha but I said it was ok I still had one left and didn't really need the other. Whenever I bring my grocery cart thing with me and start filling it up at the checkout the person working it almost always comments like "wow, that thing is huge" because it fits a shit ton of groceries in it and it's super helpful haha, another good target purchase. On the way back managed to catch buses both ways, and when I got home I put everything away and then dove into my reading. I started with the reading for my nonprofit class since that's the first one of the week, but after like half an hour (and like 10 pages) I was quickly losing interest because it's just sooooo dry, like its like "ten effective strategies to managing the board of your nonprofit" like okay that's great but it's not particularly knowledge I need in my life right now...? And it's not like we're gonna get cold called on it because it's not that kind of class or reading really, so I started just skimming the paragraphs and headers for another like 15 minutes until I was through. I moved to trial ad next, but it turns out there wasn't any reading (it just said to review last week's reading, probably because it was like 200 pages) so I just had to do the problems we were assigned. So for this week I got assigned as the witness for one problem and the cross for another. The witness one is pretty basic, it's a contract case about a car purchase, not too much for me to have to know there. The one I'm crossing is a bit more complicated, mostly because it's under the header of "refreshing recollection" (which is when your witness can't remember their shit on the stand and you have to get something to remind them) but then for cross was like "oh assume he changed his statement, cross him on it" which brings things into impeachment territory and like, I know the mechanics of it from mock trial but that's kind of heading into a whole new world of stuff that I'm not all that certain in, lol. I'm sure it'll be fine, I'm not particularly worried, but it'll be interesting at least. Done with that I moved on to crim pro, figuring if I finish my reading today I can work on my larc assignment tomorrow (and not just because I really dread doing larc and want to put it off as long as possible) since I know I'll need more time for it, and I'm not sure how much I'll be able to get done on it during the week because my only real free day is Wednesday and I do have some other things to do then as well. Crim pro was fine, reading about case screening on a prosecutors level, judicial level, and grand jury level. The grand jury stuff was interesting, came with a lot of statistics of just how much grand juries indict, and how if a prosecutor doesn't want them to indict they almost never will, but prosecutors can use it as an excuse to not pursue a case they want to drop (think: Michael Brown and other situations where grand juries inexplicably failed to bring charges: it wasn't the grand jury's fault). So that was intriguing. I finished by 7:45, which was perfect because I wanted to be done by 8. I then worked on making some muffins, I was looking through a few similar recipes, basically all blueberry oatmeal muffins made with Greek yogurt, so I tried a new one today that was similar to the ones I made last week but didn't include any banana (I don't normally keep banana around anyway). They were the ones with the least amount of sugar, in fact they just use honey, so they didn't come out very sweet but they were still good. I was bad and didn't read the full blog post though that said not to use paper liners for them because they're low fat and will stick to the liners, but oh well I'll just have to peel them off. When I finished with those I turned on the last two episodes of a series of unfortunate events which I didn't find terribly entertaining, sadly, episodes 3-6 were definitely the best ones. The story just kind of went blah for me and the ending felt rather unsatisfactory just because it wasn't very certain by any means. Like I get it, they're not gonna have a happy ending, that's kind of the point of the whole thing, but it just felt like a very random place to close the series, or the season at least. I guess we'll see if it gets more episodes from here, I'd probably be willing to watch them. Somewhere along the line my roommate came home, and after those finished I had nothing left to watch so I let her pick and we wound up watching some episodes of the last season of the office, most of which I couldn't recall watching before. They were quite funny, I really did enjoy them. It was a good show in its time for sure, I wish we still had more comedies like it on tv instead of shit like the Big Bang theory that's just obnoxious. While watching we discussed different things, mostly the women's March and how sad we were that we didn't get to go. I don't know in all honestly if it would've been the best decision for me to go, I think I would feel awkward with some of it for certain reasons, but it at least made me sad to see it being all awesome and not being able to be there. 250,000 people showed up here in Chi, which is pretty amazing given that Thursday they were expecting like 50,000 (and that was up from like 25,000 on Tuesday). So we clearly had a good turn out. I love my city and how we all stick together so much, even if the government fails us we'll hold you accountable. I keep thinking back to how last year when I was walking home the police were arresting some people in a park, and across the street there was a very noticeable group of people standing there and very clearly watching, several with their phones on recording. To me, the message was very clear: we're watching, and if you don't hold yourselves accountable we will. And I feel like that goes for a lot of stuff in this city and I just love it. I was also talking with some people on Twitter about going to the heroes vs villains fan fest in Chicago at the end of March, which happens to fall on my birthday, and I think it would be super awesome to go, I just have to figure out a cosplay and obtain one, which is probably gonna end up being from some internet source since I have neither the time nor skills to make one myself lol. So we'll see what happens there. Oh, and the other thing was my 711 license came in the mail today, so I can officially start stepping up in court this week which is both awesome and completely terrifying, but I'm choosing to be excited about it (for now, anyway, things may change in the moments before it happens). But yeah, that was about it for me today. Church in the morning, hopefully service then nursery so I actually get to be in the service, it's been wayyyyyy too long and I miss hearing my pastor speak. Okay, sleep now being that I have to wake up in less than 7 hours. Goodnight my loves. Sleep tight.

#daily journal #January 2017

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sarahburness · 7 years

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6 Simple Habits For More Productivity, Happiness And Fulfillment

Research tells us that willpower is like a muscle. You can work on making it stronger, but you can’t keep it flexed forever.

In other words:

Willpower is a limited resource.

There’s no better use of one’s willpower than on forming the right habits. The right habits serve as the bridge between where you are and where you want to be. Once those habits are formed, you don’t have to exert willpower on them anymore. Your journey towards success is effectively put on autopilot.

Try and adopt at least one of the following six productivity habits and reap the fruits of increased happiness and fulfillment.

Join the 5 a.m. club

“Early to bed and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise”

– Ben Franklin

Waking up early is a habit common among the world’s highest achievers. Theodore Roosevelt, Benjamin Franklin, Ernest Hemingway, Immanuel Kant and Thomas Jefferson are all examples of men who were early risers.

Turns out:

Several studies have correlated waking up early with success.

In a 2008 Texas University study, college students who woke up earlier earned a higher point than those who study and sleep late (3.5 vs. 2.5).

Also, Harvard biologist Christoph Randler found that early risers are more proactive and more likely to respond positively to statements like “I spend time identifying long-range goals for myself” and “I feel in charge of making things happen.”

And if that isn’t enough, psychology research also tells us that early risers are happier and healthier than night-owls.

When you wake up early, there are less distractions and more time for you to focus on planning your day and doing what needs to get done.

Check out this actionable guide to discover how to burst out of bed every single morning.

Meditate Daily

“The thing about meditation is: You become more and more you.”

– David Lynch

After interviewing more than 200 world-class performers like Jamie Foxx, Arnold Schwarzenegger and Amelia Boone for his podcast (The Tim Ferris Show), Tim found that the most consistent habit among his guests was some form of daily meditation or mindfulness practice.

Meditation is a practice that is a thousand years old. Only recently has science begun to discover the profound effects that it has on the brain.

A group of Harvard-affiliated researchers reported that, over time, meditation can increase the brain’s gray matter. This is the region of your brain associated with decision-making.

What is life but a sum total of your decisions?

If something as simple as 10 minutes of daily meditation can improve the quality of your decisions, imagine what it can do for your overall quality of life.

Meditation has also been shown to reduce stress, improve concentration, increase self-awareness, slow down aging and increase happiness. It’s a habit that can improve every area of your life.

Don’t know where to start? Check out this beginner’s guide to meditation.

See Also: Benefits Of Meditation: How You Can Change Your Life In 10 Minutes

Read for 30 Minutes Everyday

“Employ your time in improving yourself by other men’s writings, so that you shall gain easily what others have labored hard for.”

– Socrates

I compare reading to taking the red pill because it’s what snapped me out of the matrix of societal conditioning. Reading the works of great men and women showed me the extent of what’s really possible.

When we hear about Richard Branson in the media, we see him as the cool and suave, self-made billionaire. However, when you read his autobiography, you’ll learn about the mistakes he made, the obstacles he overcame and the lessons he learned. It has a sort of humanizing effect on him and you’ll realize that what one man can do, another can do as well.

Expose yourself to a wide variety of books and ideas to develop a dynamic and empowered perspective on life.

Need help getting started? Check out this step-by-step guide on how to read more.

Practice Gratitude

“Gratefulness is a higher organ of perception, through which you can accurately appreciate a fundamental truth: the universe works in mysterious ways, and you’re the constant beneficiary of its generosity.”

– Phil Stutz

Practicing gratitude teaches us to love the life we have while in pursuit of the life we want.

It’s human nature to compare ourselves to those who have more than us. But, when we realize the simple miracles of everyday life (e.g. access to clean water, the ability to walk, a warm bed to sleep in, etc.), it puts things in perspective.

The power of gratitude has been demonstrated in multiple studies. Here’s one that I like in particular:

Researchers brought participants into a lab and asked them to write a few sentences each week focused on a particular topic. One group wrote about the things they were grateful for while the other wrote about daily irritations or things that displeased them.

After about 10 weeks, the participants that wrote down what they were grateful for were more optimistic, felt better about their lives, exercised more and visited their physicians less.

Practicing gratitude literally changes your brain and makes you a happier and more fulfilled person. Make it a habit to write down 5 things that you’re grateful for every single day.

Skip Breakfast

“Since I’ve started intermittent fasting I’ve increased muscle mass, decreased body fat, increased explosiveness, and decreased the amount of time I’ve spent training.”

– James Clear

This habit might come as a shock to you. After all, we’ve all heard that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. This idea, however, is quickly being laid to rest as the benefits of intermittent fasting have become too many to ignore.

See Also: Breaking the Fast: What I Have Learned Using Intermittent Fasting

Did you know that digestion is actually one of your body’s most complicated and intensive functions? That’s right.

By skipping breakfast, you extend your overnight fast and allow your body to focus its resources on other important tasks, like controlling blood sugar and facilitating cellular recovery.

Furthermore, a short-term fast can boost testosterone and growth hormone levels. These two factors can seriously enhance your progress when trying to lean down.

Intermittent fasting (IF) is not a diet. It is a pattern of eating. To get started with IF, you only have to follow one rule:

Eat within a 6-8 hour window.

So, if you wake up at 8 a.m., simply skip breakfast and have your first meal between 12-2 p.m. Have your final meal between 8-10 p.m. It’s as simple as that. For a more intensive resource for, you can check out James Clear’s guide.

Since adopting IF, my productivity has also shot up. My body is not involved in digestion and I find myself more focused on work. By the time I have my first meal, I’ve already gotten so much work done that the rest of the day is pretty much just a bonus.

Make Your Bed

“If you want to change the world, start off by making your bed.”

– U.S. Navy Adm. William H. McCraven

Making your bed in the morning will set the tone for the rest of your day. As the first task of the day, it will set the momentum for your next set of tasks. By the end of the day, it will be like a domino effect that has carried over.

As McCraven mentions in his University of Texas commencement speech:

“Making your bed will reinforce the fact that the little things in life matter. If you can’t do the little things right, you’ll never be able to do the big things right. And, if by chance you have a miserable day, you will come home to a bed that is made – that you made. And a made bed gives you encouragement that tomorrow will be better.”

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from Dumb Little Man https://www.dumblittleman.com/productivity-habits/

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