#to those who still insist perhaps it's time to cease and desist? yes? no?

[thoughts-reasons]

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#WHEEZING 🤣 #to those who still insist perhaps it's time to cease and desist? yes? no? #what i wasn't prepared for was how cold it was going to be like it was in the 40s this morning 🥶🍀 #dehumanizing is a big word would knowing kermit's jimmy john's order make her more relatable to you? 😌 #it's not any different from the anti-stratfordian movement do you think kit marlowe knew how to make sourdough? 😝🐉 #there's something about canal water and red brick buildings that inspire once in a lifetime writers™️ 🤣 #her nom de guerre is the same as her nom de plume 🥂 #every 90s kid knows about aerosmith's crazy that's like bend it like beckham for 00s kids 👑 #kermit's mailbag #originanon

[monstersdownthepath]

Deity: The Keeper of Masquerades

(Art by @celenewashere​!)

Lawful Evil Archfey of Clocks, Fear, and Surveillance

Domains: Darkness, Evil, Knowledge, Law Subdomains: Shadow, Fear, Espionage, Tyranny

A mire of mystery surrounds the entity known as the Keeper of Masquerades, a fog so thick that anyone attempting to learn about him can expect to be turned around and lost before they even finish following the first thread. Hundreds have sunk permanently into that mire, never to be seen again. Perhaps they found answers, but more likely than not they found nothing but their own ends. The Keeper seems very keen on keeping any and all information about himself hidden from everyone and everything. His name, if he has one, is unknown. His true form, if he has one, is unknown, the most anyone ever sees of him being the shadow-shrouded mannequin bodies he inhabits now and again. His past? He certainly has one, and it is the first verifiable fact of his existence; he was once member of Count Ranalc’s inner circle, a dutiful butler and notekeeper for the shadowy Eldest. Ever since the Count’s disappearance, the Keeper has apparently begun attending to the affairs of the land Ranalc left behind.

Despite his status as an Archfey, he has at times sat in on meetings among the Eldest--an honor that must normally be granted by one of the demigod Fey themselves, yet the Keeper does not seem to require permission--though he has no true say in their matters and holds very little sway over their actions. He is merely there to record and offer polite advice when asked, ostensibly assuring that the distant Count is kept up-to-date on all matters the Eldest still discuss and all goings-ons in the First World. He is subservient and obedient, and willingly offers his services to the Eldest, despite their role in removing Ranalc from power.

For those below the Eldest of the First World, however, the Keeper is an entity to be avoided at any cost. An enforcer of a terribly rigid and inflexible order; the second verifiable fact of his existence is that there is little he despises more than needless chaos.

The Keeper holds the unique position of bringing law to the lawless the First World, though the laws he upholds seem arbitrary to the whimsical inhabitants. He believes in ideas such as how time should always move forwards, never backwards and certainly never side-to-side, that gravity should always be aimed downwards, that point A should always lead to point B. Yes, he believes in a First World that more closely mirrors the rigidity of the Material Plane, seeing the Material as the perfect culmination of the God’s work and thus something to be imitated, rather than ignored for the sake of--eugh--freedom. 

Few things are more of an anathema for the Keeper than the concept of true freedom. The messiness and the wasted time that come from countless individuals merely lazing about in their own little worlds infuriates the shadowy being, to the point that the third verifiable fact of his existence is that there’s absolutely nothing he despises more than people wasting his time. The Keeper carries on his person a pocketwatch, a simple thing with no apparent magical power. When it is closed, he is speaking. When it is open, that is when you are allowed to speak, with him carefully measuring how much time you’re allotted. If it shuts in the middle of your sentence, you’d best end it right there, for continuing to speak after your allotted time will see the wrath of the Keeper visiting you. There is a morbid joke among fey that most are born with a reflex that quiets them upon hearing the soft, metallic click of the watch shutting, while mortal-folk have to learn the hard way.

The “Masquerades” that the Keeper keeps fourfold. The first and most publicly-known is the literal masquerade balls he holds at the borders of Ranalc’s realm, Nighthold, during which the invited disguise themselves entirely as they feast, frolic, and dance about for the amusement of the hidden host which, rumor says, dances among them. While most will make their own objectives upon being invited, the true purpose of these events is as much a mystery as the Keeper himself, with many believing them to be little more than a means for the Archfey to bring himself some levity. However, if it were simply a case of harmless fun, the invitations would not be so insistent.

“It’s a bad idea to go, but a worse one to decline” is the common saying when regarding the Keeper’s parties. Ignoring or, even worse, tossing out the invitations will see more of them appearing in more worrying and private locations, such as within the bathroom, within secret getaway rooms, within clothing, or even tucked inside the recipient‘s hand upon waking. It’s not known what happens to those who decline one too many times, though such beings are never seen again.

The second masquerade for which he is Keeper is the masquerade of safety (or privacy, as some would say) in the First World. In the stead of Count Ranalc, the Keeper oversees an army of Ankou and shadowy fey that is unrivaled in its size and spread, with rumors sometimes hyperbolizing that the Keeper has eyes all over the entirety of the infinite First World. This is not nearly the truth, but it is a lie he enjoys playing into. Whatever its true size, it gives the Keeper a significant enough reach to hold a knife to the throat of any fey that gets a bit too big for their britches, or one who starts antagonizing the rulers of the First World a bit too much.

Agents of one great Fey or another, even those of the Eldest or Archfey, may find themselves visited in the darkened hours by the servants of the Keeper to deliver polite cease and desist warnings. “Failure to heed these warnings can be costly to one’s estate,” quoth the Keeper, “And I will neither condemn nor curtail the actions of my associates in their pursuit of justice against those who threaten the balance of power.” While trickery, throne theft, and backstabbing are common pastimes of the ever-whimsical Fey hoping to stir the pot, most have learned that such acts are best done in the daylight, where the claws of the Keeper struggle to reach. At least then they get a head start.

------

Obedience and Boons

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Not a single being has ever seen what the Keeper truly looks like (though if rumors are to be believed, many or all of the Eldest know; the Lantern King is the usual suspect). Even his most trusted Feysworn are spoken to entirely via his mannequin proxies if he deigns to meet them ‘in person’ at all, and those who’ve served him without failure or falter for their entire lives are still not allowed to set a single toe inside his shadowy lair, the Nevermoor. Barely a handful can truthfully claim to have done so much as step on the threshold of the Nevermoor, and just what secrets and treasures it may or may not contain is the third masquerade none but his chosen know the truths behind.

“Secret Police” is a polite way to describe the Feysworn who bow to the sinister mannequin. His fey minions are more comfortable in the dark, so it is his mortal minions within the First World walking among the general population during the daylight hours, enforcing his will and keeping the peace. Inquisitors are the most common breeds of adventurer to flock to the Keeper, though the investigative and attentive types of any class are welcome. Those with a knack for assuring the pecking order is disturbed as little as possible, and maniacal chaos and disruptive disorder are kept to a relative minimum. The Keeper prefers mortals who can deal with such messes both quickly and quietly. In return for their service, they earn certain freedoms both in and out of the First World, the sigil of the Keeper serving as something of both a badge of authority and a permit to excuse certain actions... though reckless abuse of this authority can earn one’s own disappearance.

The Keeper’s grip rarely expands into the Material Plane, as that is the realm of the Gods, not the Fey. Agents in the Material are typically delegated to settling matters of fey origin and little else, slapping at the hands of upstarts seeking to dig their wretched little nails into what does not belong to them. However, in a strange way it can be said that the Keeper cares for the Material, seeing it as the ultimate creation of the Gods and thus something to be preserved and protected. His grip falters, but his eyes still gaze with a curious mixture of fondness and envy. Threats to lands he has grown especially fond of are responded to with his aid, though rarely ever directly; as he is not ‘authorized’ to meddle in the Material, he does so entirely in secret, his Feysworn masquerading as members of other faiths if they display Divine magic at all.

Using the Fey Obedience feat, a worshiper of the Keeper gain s certain Boons upon reaching a certain amount of Hit Dice. These Boons are granted at 12HD, 16HD, and 20HD, though the Feysworn Prestige Class allows someone to achieve the Boons much, much sooner. The Keeper’s status as an Archfey means he grants very simple Boons; spell-like abilities that may each be cast 1/day.

Obedience: Pretend to meditate for an hour to a sound that is soft but repetitive and unrelenting, such as the ticking of a clock, dripping water, construction work, or a distant waterfall. During this time, keep one of your eyes open just a crack and listen closely, watching and listening to what everyone around you is doing. Benefit: Gain a +4 profane bonus to Sense Motive checks and saving throws against Fear effects.

Boon 1: Clairvoyance/Clairaudience

Boon 2: Symbol of Fear

Boon 3: Weird

The Keeper does not seek the power of the Eldest. He is happy with his own station and does not overreach. Overreaching is a result of greed, after all, and greed is what began the First War. His station is set, and he shall remain in it. So too shall he assure others remain in theirs.

#original concepts #Pathfinder #Dungeons and Dragons #not 100% happy with this but i can't let this beautiful art languish in my drafts anymore

[missizzy]

Fic: Habeas for Superheroes, Part 10: An Inquiry Involving the Punisher (Daredevil, Matt/Foggy)

A few days later there came an evening where Foggy and Matt got to walk home together for once, without any plans on Matt's part to go anywhere until after breakfast the following morning. It was all so ideal it gave Foggy the ominous feeling that someone was going to waiting for them in their apartment again.

Still, it was startling when Matt stopped on the stairwell. But after a moment, Foggy gathered herself together and asked, "Okay, who's waiting for us up there?"

A moment later, however, he relaxed, and said, "It’s just Karen." They continued up the stairs then, even as Matt said, "She's really anxious, though. Pacing." That could be for any number of reasons, none of them good.

By the time they'd reached their floor, Matt himself was looking very anxious indeed. Foggy was imagining Karen about to ask them to help on a completely new quest for justice, telling them the killed Watchdogs were definitely the ones who'd attacked her, telling them the killed Watchdogs were definitely not the ones who'd attacked her, or even having another possibly-illegal deed to confess to.

"Karen?" Matt called as they stepped into the apartment. "What.s wrong?"

"You'd better sit down," she said. "You might want to get alcohol first, too." She gestured to the counter; she'd brought them beer.

When they were all sitting down, drinks in their hands, she said, "Frank paid me a visit yesterday."

Instantly Matt was demanding, "What? What did he want? He wasn't expecting you to thank him, was he? Are you afraid he'll come back?"

"No, no, he wasn't going to...I did tell him he shouldn't have killed those men, but he kind of ignored me there...someone knew he was alive. He wanted to know if I'd told anybody. I, uh, I did tell him I told you, but I insisted to him you wouldn't have told anyone, that I'd even gotten a promise from you to consider it privileged, Foggy."

"I don't think he trusts us that easily, Karen," said Matt.

"Yeah, he said that, that he trusts me, but not you. I might have given him an earful on that subject too in response." She actually smiled a little.

"You think any of it took?" Foggy asked. To her surprise, she felt a little indignant at Frank. Karen kept saying he was a man of his own code of honor; how could he have not recognized and respected the fact that his two lawyers were the same?

"I don't know," she said. "He wants me to help with this guy who seems to be stalking him, but the only moniker he's got for him is 'Micro.'"

"You're not seriously thinking about helping him, are you?" Foggy wouldn't have thought she would, but now...

Karen looked down for a moment, then said, "There's something going on here. I'm not even sure what it is, but...Micro managed to contact Frank, and he called himself another 'dead man,' another 'ghost in New York.' That could mean any number of things...but why would he contact Frank like this when he clearly doesn't know him, which means he only knows what the world's said about him, which would lead him to think Frank would definitely kill him? What kind of man would take that chance?"

It was Matt who answered: "A desperate one."

That did seem very possible, but Foggy had to say, "Or an extremely dangerous one. Look, Karen, even if you trust Frank..."

"Well, if this guy's stalking him, he might even know about me, anyway. It's only sensible I try to find some information out about him, know what we're dealing with. You might have to deal with him too, you know."

"Are you going to tell Frank about whatever you find?" Matt asked. "At least if you don't think he's in serious danger with this guy and he needs to know about that?"

"I don't know," said Karen, which sounded way too much like a yes, even when she added, "I'll probably decide once I know what there is to tell." She probably genuinely believed that right now. "Who knows, maybe I'll be able to help him and we won't have to get Frank involved." That, obviously not so much.

"You've been keeping an ear out for Frank, right, Matt?" Foggy asked. Matt had actually gone out for the first few nights after the Watchdogs had turned out dead mostly for that.

"I have," said Matt. "I haven't found a hint of him doing anything of remark besides killing these men, and even that I didn't have confirmed, although if he didn't deny it to you, Karen...I don't think he's even killed anyone else in a while; I've started to doubt there are any members of those gangs he was after left. I'm not quite sure where he's living. I think it's probably not in Hell's Kitchen itself. I do know he's gotten hired from a construction project down in the Lower East Side where they pay in cash, and that he often stays there after hours, even when they refuse to pay him for it." He shook his head. "Under different circumstances I'd be talking to him about how he really shouldn't be letting them exploit his labor like that, especially since at least some of his co-workers actually believe he's intellectually disabled."

A soft "oh" came out of Karen. It was obvious enough how they could've arrived at such a conclusion.

"I could probably look into this Micro myself," Matt continued. "Especially if you can get any more on him or how to identify him."

"You should definitely give us that," Foggy said to Karen.

"Of course I will," she said. Guessing Foggy's next question, she added, "I suppose I can hold off contacting Frank again until we've talked about whatever I find. It might take a little bit of time for him to respond, anyway. I'm afraid the only method of contact he left me was a pot of flowers to put in my window."

Foggy actually laughed. She couldn't help it.

But Matt frowned, and said, "That won't work without him at least semi-stalking you, which puts you at risk for being suspected to be his accomplice."

"Not necessarily," said Karen. "He's all too good at going undetected, and remember, everyone except the three of us and this one guy still thinks he's dead."

Matt looked like he wanted to argue further, but Foggy could tell it wouldn't do anything. So she just said, "Better get this done quickly, then."

"As fast as I can manage," Karen said, too quickly. Foggy didn't doubt she would try to get this done as fast as she could, but perhaps she would regret it. It was no secret that Frank Castle meant a lot to her, way more than he should, way more than either of them had ever intended for. Even under these circumstances, she must have been very happy to see him, and when this was done, who knew if she ever would again.

Matt insisted on shadowing her home. "For all we know, this Micro might have identified you already."

"Well," Foggy noted, "that would make it easy to find him, wouldn't it?"

With his costume over at Jessica's, Matt went to dress in black, while Foggy and Karen used the few minutes to wash out the used glasses. "Karen..." Foggy started when they were done.

"I may not know exactly what I'm doing," said Karen, "but there are some things you just have to do in life, and some people you just have to do them for-Matt's one of those people for both of us, and we're two of them for him. Like it or not, Frank's another one of them for me. I don't even entirely know why, Foggy, he just is."

Foggy couldn't say she didn't understand the feeling. "Just...be careful," she said. "Remember who he is and what he's done, and especially what he may be doing right now. Even if you don't do anything about it, don't actually forget that."

"I know," Karen sighed. "I'll try."

So Foggy was left alone that evening after all; she didn't even expect Matt to come back for a long while. But the conversation with Karen seemed to have already taken a bit out of her. Making herself a quick dinner and reviewing the latest filings from the government's lawyers easily did the rest. When she started to nod off while trying to read them, she put herself to bed, and was sound asleep within moments.

Later That Night

When the footsteps first woke Foggy, of course she assumed they were Matt, though when she tapped the clock, the time it gave out was earlier than she would've expected. Hastily she jumped out of bed and ran into the living room, calling, "Matt, are you okay? Did you run into..."

Then she saw who was standing there, and hastily grabbed Matt's cane, the easiest weapon on hand.

Frank put his hands up. "I'm not here to hurt you," he said. "You ain't someone I'm ever gonna hurt. Your husband wouldn't be either, but...well, that he's not here right now makes me pretty damn sure he happens to be someone I have already when he was wearing a mask, am I right?"

"I'm not confirming anything," Foggy snapped. She mostly believed him, but that just left her very annoyed at him. So she added, "But if it was true, surely it would occur to you that, really, having one vigilante continually coming in to wake me up at night is enough!"

"Look, I just need to talk to you two," he said. "Karen said she didn't want any more secrets between the three of you, even mine."

"She's only told us the ones that directly involved her," said Foggy. "Given the kind of turmoil some of that shit's caused her? You couldn't just demand she suffer in silence. And believe it or not, Mr. Castle, some lawyers actually have ethics, and as I'm sure she's told you, mine keep me from breathing a word about you to anyone, and Matt...well, I think he's pretty much decided to treat it the same way, and anyway, the three of us have taken to keeping each other's secrets beyond that."

Foggy thought she was convincing him, and for a moment she thought he might even just go away. But then he said, "If I'm right...Red's got really good hearing, hasn't he? Maybe to the point he might already know I'm here?"

"Still not confirming anything; please cease and desist with such questions." She even managed to keep her lawyer's face and tone in place, fat lot of good they were probably doing.

Except it seemed Matt would rather the Punisher know his secret than Foggy be left alone with him, because just then came the telltale thump on the roof, and Frank had the nerve to actually smile. "Red?" he called.

Matt had gone to Jessica's and changed into his proper armor, but he didn't even keep the mask on, hastening down with it held in his hands, which Foggy would've thought would've made it harder for him to fight. That left her so put out she just sighed, "You did not have to, Matt. Did you even think this through?"

"Foggy," he sighed back, "when the Punisher surprises your wife in your apartment, and your wife is also a lawyer working at a firm that has made some very morally dubious choices in its time, you are not taking any chances. Also, Frank, I want to know what I can do to get you to leave Karen out of this."

Frank shook his head. "It's her decision to help, Red. Only way we could've controlled that was I not tell her anything, so now..."

"He's got a point there, Matt," said Foggy, "much as I hate to say it. And you know to some extent Karen can take care of herself."

"To some extent," they heard Frank mutter under his breath. Well, a little too late for him to be lamenting who Karen was.

"Still," said Matt, "If maybe by lending you a hand, I can get her out of this quicker..."

Frank spared Foggy to need to yell it by saying it himself: "That's not how this works, Red. You wouldn't be able to let me kill anyone, I know that. Like I told you that one time..."

"Are you sure you're going to have to kill anyone on this one, Frank? I mean, I think if this Micro was intending to go after you, the last thing he would've done was put you on your guard."

"That assumes his behavior makes sense. He could be one of those crazy-ass villains who likes taunting people in very stupid ways."

"And if Karen finds something that indicates he's not?" Matt persisted.

Frank considered it. "Okay, maybe this'll end up being something you can help me on. Hell, you might know before I do, since I'm pretty sure Karen'll report to you before she does to me. That's fine, I ain't gonna push her on that one."

Sometimes Foggy forgot that Frank Castle could be a very smart man when he wanted to be. He would've first been caught a lot earlier if he hadn't been, after all. He probably also knew that Karen was more likely than not to tell him, and if for some reason she didn't, she'd almost certainly come to that decision completely on her own.

"Until then," said Frank, "I'll stay out of your way. If someone else attacks Karen, I'd appreciate it if you returned the favor."

"You do realize," Foggy said, "that she didn't want you to kill people for her? I know she told you that you shouldn't have killed those Watchdogs."

"And what if they come after her again? Those bastards have killed people who haven't done anything more than accidentally acquire superpowers, and next time they go after her she might not get as lucky, and I just can't..." He shook his head and made a frustrated noise.

So desperate to protect the life of someone reckless with it that he'd kill to do it, even against their wishes. And Foggy couldn't protest further without being a hypocrite.

Especially when her husband had folded his arms and said to the Punisher, "I'm not going to make any such promise."

But Frank just shrugged and said, "Your choice, then," and turned and headed out the way he had come. Foggy supposed they could've tried to detain him and call the police, but it honestly felt wrong to, and they probably wouldn't have succeeded anyway.

The Next Morning

Foggy definitely wanted to tell Karen about Frank's visit, but she was now too paranoid to even hint about it over the phone. So she just told her she'd like to meet her for lunch, and Karen only replied that she didn't know if she'd have time for it that day, and Foggy couldn't even tell her that the presumed reason for that was what she wanted to talk to her about.

So instead there was an ordinary morning, at least as much as they had those these days. Matt had gone back out after Frank's departure, but Foggy thought he'd pretty much just gone to Jessica's and back. He'd woken up the next day very broody, but he'd always done that a lot. And he did look a bit more cheerful after he'd had some coffee.

It was nice enough a day to walk to work, which Foggy made a point of still doing sometimes. It would get hotter later that day, and the humidity wasn't all that promising, but it wasn't doing anything to her hair that couldn't be smoothed out on the elevator ride up.

She was walking into the building when her phone rang. Seeing is was Alias Investigations' number, Foggy sidled over to a corner of the lobby while she answered it.

"Hey, Ms. Nelson, it's Malcolm Ducasse. We've been working on who leaked those emails, and it looks like they were linked by people either in or linked to the Department of Homeland Security. We've got emails that go all the way up to Carson Wolf, the Special Agent in Charge for New York."

"What kind of emails?" Foggy forced her voice to remain neutral.

"Nothing that proves anything yet, unfortunately, though it is Ms. Jones' professional opinion," from the humor in his voice Foggy could imagine just how professionally that opinion had originally been delivered, "that they make it hard to believe he wasn't at least in the know, and possibly the main guy behind the leaks. Unfortunately, he also think he's very good at getting out of trouble; he even got the Bulletin to not run a story at one point."

"Really?" Karen would be all over that, obviously. "Any idea of what that might have been about?"

"Well, at a guess, I would think it was about the supposed criminal that Wolf shot and killed out in the street last October, because he did do that. A guy called Lieberman, had been working for the NSA. White guy, too, so I don't think Wolf murdered him just for kicks. Probably whatever really happened's classified."

There were reasons someone might ask the head of a newspaper not to publish something. Some of them were even legitimate, though most of those wouldn't want a story withheld from the public forever, just until an investigation concluded, or something like that. Foggy didn't think this was a case of that. "Well," she said, "thanks for telling us all that. I'll talk to my three colleagues, and then call you or Jessica again later?"

Although since the four of them had pretty much agreed they could tell Karen who leaked the emails, the first thing she did after hanging up was text her, We really do need that lunch. And can you hold off on your latest project until then? Of course, they'd be in trouble anyway if the wrong person had been listening in or her and Malcolm, or listened into the upcoming conference call that now had to happen, but at least it would be a little harder for Wolf to use that against them publicly, and texts also remained riskier than phone calls anyway. Thankfully Karen's response was a simple acquiescence, arriving as she stood in the elevator.

She then texted both Matt and Jennifer, telling them only that she had news and to call into Marci's number for a conference call. She spotted Jose working on something with one of the other PAs, which probably made things easier. Cheryl would arrive in about half an hour, by which time Foggy hoped to have a better idea of how to explain this one to her. Though if the likes of Carson Wolf ever even breathed the names of her children, Foggy would wrangle out of the law every way she could find to heap as much misery on him as possible.

When she called Marci's name, the door opened, and her friend said to her "Whatever's happening today..."

"Involves us being wronged by someone powerful. React to that how you will."

"Oh dear..." was how she reacted to that. That was pretty understandable.

Matt had already called in, and Jennifer did so pretty quickly, so Foggy was able to tell all three of them at once. Jennifer's reaction involved a surprising amount of swear words, while Matt didn't say anything immediately. Marci just stood there with her brow furrowed, and Foggy found herself thinking she just might be the first of them to devise a plan that had a real chance of getting something accomplished.

Maybe she would have, too, if Matt hadn't said, "Maybe we need to get our hands on more of Wolf's email. Marci, Jennifer, if Foggy and I said we might know someone who might be able to get them but that we can't tell you any more, would you be willing to trust us?"

Marci looked up at Foggy, and Foggy had absolutely no idea how she kept a straight face on, or really, how she managed to not drop her jaw in complete and utter shock that Matt would make this suggestion. Maybe he didn't mean who she thought he meant, she told herself. Maybe he was hoping to get into contact with Romanov or something.

That was probably what Marci thought he was planning to do when she said, "Well, I trust Foggy at least." Great, more for Foggy to feel guilty over.

At least until she got that wicked grin, and said, "Do you think you could ask your hacker friend to get the embarrassing emails? See if maybe he committed crimes purely for himself; that would be more likely to bring him down."

"I'll certainly put in that request," said Matt, and he sounded far too happy. Foggy had been right to worry about him and Marci putting their heads together.

As soon as she was out of Marci's office afterwards, she texted Matt, We talk before you do anything. At least this time he too quickly acquiesced. Although just after she'd sat down in her own office, he then texted, All three of us should do lunch today. He'd already texted Karen, too, and when her agreement came on his heels, Foggy decided not to argue.

Lunchtime

This had swiftly become the kind of lunch where they didn't want anyone overhearing them, so they ended up first in Matt and Foggy's apartment, then up on the roof when Matt was confident they wouldn't be overheard there. The summer was starting to come on, and soon it would be too hot out for this. But on that day, noontime found the temperature pleasant enough, and Matt had made them all turkey sandwiches with the perfect amount of mayo. Foggy would've enjoyed it if it wasn't for the pair of conversations she was facing.

Except they ended up getting unintentionally merged when, having heard first about Frank's night visit without comment, and then about Carson Wolf, Karen asked, "If we find this Micro person and he turns out to be a hacker, are you going to ask him for help with that? I think that might get us all tangled up together where I, and probably Frank too, will find out more about what's going on than you'd want, just to warn you."

"If Matt has been thinking of that," said Foggy, wishing for the umpteenth time these two people of hers weren't so alike, "hopefully that would be one of the many things to give him pause."

"Maybe," said Karen, "but the other side is already breaking the rules, so can't you at least bend them? You don't have to actually tell me anything, you know."

"Unless not knowing it endangers your life," Foggy countered,"which, by the way, is one of those ethical dilemmas I've had nightmares about from the time I decided I wanted to become a lawyer, but you getting tangled up in the matter of Carson Wolf takes it from something that could possibly someday happen to something that seems all too likely to happen."

"I think," Matt said quietly at this point, "that such a dilemma is not one that would last very long, Foggy."

Of course it wouldn't. Of course Matt would take care of it for her. She felt like an idiot for not realizing that already. Which only left her angrier at them both.

And much more so at Matt. Whirling on him, she said, "Since we don't known about any imminent threats to any of our lives just this moment, in front of Karen I will say only that you are a reckless idiot who decides to do something and doesn't stop to consider even the most obvious reasons for it being a terrible idea, and when the potential consequences for this one..."

"The way I see it," said Karen, who, Foggy supposed, could answer freely when Matt couldn't, "you're going up against the powerful, and you've already relied on one ally with a lot of technical ability whom you could never really trust fully. If, perfectly hypothetically, you're now going to bring in another one, well, there's a good chance such an individual would be a better person than Tony Stark, at least."

There was a genuine chance of that, but Foggy had more doubts than Karen did. "Of course if we were doing anything," she said, "I doubt Marci would agree to let us to confirm a thing to you about how until we've got more reportable information, so..."

"I'll go ahead and talk to Ellison about Wolf, then?" Karen asked. "Maybe he'll even have more information about this guy he gunned down. Shows a nasty pattern of consistent behavior, in any case."

She was even nice enough to clear out a little early, and Foggy and Matt were finally left alone. It wasn't five seconds after she left the roof that he said, "Look, I know this Micro might not turn out to be someone we want to trust at all, and if so, he'll never hear about any of this."

"And how much are you going to investigate and how much are you just going to rely on your gut?" she countered. "Especially if you aren't going to let Marci or Jennifer be involved in that decision-hell, will you even let me have my say, or will you just make up your mind when you run into him in the middle of only you the Devil knows where..."

"I can keep from doing that," said Matt. "It might not be just me monitoring him anyway-or me and Frank either," because he knew what Foggy would think of that, "I think Rand's likely to get himself involved in this too, sooner or later. Ever since Karen was attacked he's been trying to keep an eye on just about everything south of Central Park."

"That's not of much comfort, quite frankly," said Foggy. "Not when I've had Colleen argue to me that he's even worse than you. Besides, we don't know what would happen if he and Frank ran into each other, and maybe it would be better to not find out, you know?"

"Yeah," Matt nodded. "Although who knows, maybe Frank'll end up getting mixed up with Carson Wolf as well. Karen told you that there's evidence the Department of Homeland Security was connected to that sting operation gone wrong, right?"

"Oh, come on," Foggy sighed. "Surely our lives aren't going to turn out to be that crazy...."

#Daredevil #matt x foggy #matt murdock #foggy nelson #karen page #frank castle

[lovelylogans]

both foul and fair

ships: could be read as logicality, but none outright

words: 6,723

warnings: hypothermia, cut hand, food mentions, excessive puns

read on ao3 here

both foul and fair

If the blame could possibly be pinned on any singular person, in Logan's relatively unbiased opinion, that person would be Roman.

There are several reasons as to why Logan has reached this conclusion, but primarily for this: it happened in Roman's realm, which Roman made. Ergo, Roman's fault.

....perhaps relative is the key word in the phrase relatively unbiased.

The "bonding time," however, was originally Patton's idea. The other three had been rather slow to warm to the notion, but Logan has found the outings mostly pleasant. There had been occasional conflicts of timing with Logan's very particular working schedule, and it was difficult to go through any period of time together without at least a bit of bickering and backhanded commentary, but it was still mostly enjoyable.

Patton usually had big meals they all cooked together (or tried: Patton would tactfully take over with quite a few side-quests that tended to result in an overabundance of charcuterie boards) and board game nights; Virgil would have movie or video game or music nights; Logan would have quiet evenings spent with coffee and book recommendations for the others and music in the background; and Roman, well. Roman was the wild card.

That particular day was Roman's day to decide what to do, and Roman entreated them all to join him in his realm. From there, the day would take its form based on whatever Roman had in mind: there had been an enjoyable day lounging by a lakeside, when the weather had been warmer, and a sleepy night spent stargazing during a meteor shower, among others.

"We're going on an adventure," Roman declares brightly as soon as Logan steps through the door, jamming something atop Logan's head. "Bundle up, Wall-E!"

"Cease and desist," Logan splutters, hands jerking to the hat as he took a step back—cozy, knit, wool, and oh, fantastic, a rather obnoxious decorative ball on the top hat, wonderful. The flaps over his ears would be beneficial in ensuring a decreased risk of frostbite, though, and he rather enjoyed an article on the history of the ushanka and other hats—

He shakes himself. "Clearly, I would be Eve."

"Logan's right, Roman," Patton says, busy fussing over Virgil, who is seemingly refusing to wear a coat atop his usual hoodie. Virgil and Logan take a moment to exchange a despairing glance, which Patton either doesn't notice or cheerfully ignores. "Logan would be Eve, and I'd be Wall-E, and Virgil could be that cute little cockroach—"

Logan straightens his glasses, as Roman's knocked them askew, in the midst of Virgil grumbling angrily about his role in the movie, and Roman's just trying to be a nuisance, but Logan knows better than to voice his frustrations so early in the day. He goes over to the table instead, as it's laden with winter wear.

"Tell Logan about your plan today, Roman," Patton says, now jamming a pair of earmuffs onto Virgil's head, ignoring Virgil's squawks about his bangs.

"Oh, it'll be wonderful," Roman says—somehow making a puffy red-and-white winter coat that went down to his knees look like the height of fashion. "There'll be hot cider, and we'll go through the Winter Wonderland to go sledding, and then we'll get back here to bundle up in front of the fireplace with some cocoa and we'll roast marshmallows—"

Patton claps his hands in delight. "Like a snow day! Now, everyone, we've got to get all bundled up—"

Logan reaches for a sleek, black athletic jacket, ideal for the innermost layer, cutting off Patton's words. He's researched the ideal methods of dealing with the cold, though Thomas lives in a warmer climate. He's already running over how to decrease risks of the less savory aspects of being cold—the repeated application of warm beverages throughout the day would be helpful.

He tugs on a similarly puffy jacket—black, blue detailing, with a cheery Logan!!! ☺ scrawled in Patton's handwriting on the tag. Next a blue pair of gloves, a blue scarf, and a cursory straightening of the cap Roman had forcefully bestowed on him.

Patton's decked out in sky blue and gray—Logan spies the cat hoodie beneath his puffy jacket, and he's wearing a hat that's a similar style to Logan's, in addition to a scarf and mittens. Virgil, finally having sulkily agreed to get on with the day, is all in purple and black, grumpily adjusting his earmuffs with en-gloved hands. If Logan's not mistaken, they're the model of earmuffs that double as headphones—and, yes, there's distant strain of Virgil's music.

Roman, after ensuring that everyone's put on their winter boots (blue for Patton, black for Logan, red for Roman, purple for Virgil—Roman often delights in whenever he gets to dress them, however indirectly, and therefore goes the extra mile whenever he gets the chance) flings open the door, sending a blast of cold air into the house. "Onwards, men!"

He traipses cheerfully out into the snow, and with a sigh, Virgil follows, hunched over himself. Patton happily claps Logan on the shoulder, and with a sigh, Logan follows after him.

They're barely five minutes into the walk when Logan has to admit that he is (grudgingly) impressed: Roman's truly outdone himself this time. It rather looks like they've stepped into a postcard. They've set off down a plowed path in the midst of woods. The air smells of pine, and cold, with the faintest whiff of mint on the slight, nippy breeze. Fat, fluffy flakes fall gently from the clear white sky. There's already an even, undisturbed layer of snow over everything, making the world seem incredibly quiet.

What was that line he'd read? Ah, yes, Sarah Addison Allen—“It was magical, this snow globe world.”

Logan takes a moment to turn slowly in a circle, to witness this artificial form of winter mimicked to near-perfection, the world's faults smoothed over so professionally it almost wasn't noticeable, to breathe in and feel the burning cold as acutely as if he's in an actual forest—

"Keep up, four-eyes!" Roman shouts.

Moment of appreciation broken.

He sighs, and hastens after them—they've turned a corner, and a frozen-over river cuts a neat ribbon between the trees. On their side is an abandoned wooden stand, where Patton's helping Roman hoist what looks like a steaming cauldron before them. Logan's sense of smell is overtaken then—apple, most predominantly, and cinnamon, and possibly nutmeg, or cloves—

"Here you are, Lo," Patton says, cheerful, pressing a lid onto the paper cup  before pressing the cup into into Logan's hands. "Careful, it's hot!"

Logan curls his hands around it, enjoying the way the heat seeps into his hands, even through his gloves. Patton hands a cup to Virgil next, who tips his cup at Logan in a sarcastic toast (it has been a mystery, most of their lives, how nearly everything Virgil does has some kind of sarcastic slant to it) and then Patton waves Roman off and ladles a cup for him next before getting one for himself.

Virgil's eyes narrow at the cauldron. "Seems dangerous to take a drink from an unattended cauldron in the middle of the forest."

Leave it to Virgil—though, in the real world, Logan would be inclined to agree with him. As it is—

"My imagination, my rules," Roman says happily, waving a hand so the cauldron vanishes. "The witches are all holed up in their cottages, they hate it when I make it snowy. We can get refills at the sledding hill, we're nearly there."

Logan takes a second to survey the environment. It seems like a very pretty river, even frozen—in fact, he might have come close to following this exact path when the whole of Roman's realm had been decidedly more summery, back when the other three had been close to napping in their post-picnic stupor.

"Roman, were there those nymphaea candida specimen right around here in the summer?" Logan asks, now he's wondering.

"Nympha-what? Nymphadora? I didn't peg you for the one to start the Harry Potter talk, but if you insist—" Roman says, lowering his cup, glancing away from where Patton and Virgil are making mini snowsides.

"The river lilies," Logan says with a sigh. "White petals, yellow centers?"

"Oh, yeah, I suppose," Roman says. "There might have been."

Logan disguises his sigh by taking a sip of the admittedly delicious cider. Relying on his own memory then, he supposes, however unreliable that may be.

"Could we ice-skate on this river, Roman?" Patton gasps, looking up from what Logan thinks is snow-Patton, though it could also be snow-Logan.

Roman says, "No, this wouldn't do! We could go back to that lake we went to in the summer, though, that would be a nice rink for us. The ice on the river would probably be too unreliable."

Virgil shifts uncomfortably at that. "Couldn't you make it, you know. More reliable?"

"If we were going to ice-skate on it, certainly," Roman says, though without the bite that might have been in the statement a year prior. Virgil tilts his head, conceding the point, and Patton busily affixes a pine-needle-sash to what must be snow-Roman, mittens off, eyes narrowed in concentration. "The lake would be our best bet, though. No crumbling bridges or uncomfortable stopping points. We can go ice-skating next time."

Logan tries not to shudder. Lots of falling onto cold, hard surfaces, and Roman can probably secretly figure skate like an Olympian. He hopes Roman gets distracted by whatever idea takes him next.

Roman and Logan wait for Patton and Virgil—mostly Patton, Virgil seems to be in charge of snapping little sticks and pine needles to appropriate sizes for props—to finish making their snowsides, finishing their cider. Logan hangs onto his cup—if there'll be refills at the hill, he's disinclined to make waste, even imaginary waste.

Patton pauses, before he adds a little snowman in the middle—Thomas, Logan realizes, and Patton carefully adjusts the arms of snow-Thomas and each of the snowsides to go over each other's shoulders, like they're posing for a picture. Patton nods in satisfaction, and moves to stand, yanking his mittens back on and shaking out his hands.

"A wonderful facsimilie, Patton," Roman enthuses, crouching to snap a picture with his phone, and then a selfie with them, because of course.

"Good job, Pat," Virgil adds, and Logan echoes, "Indeed."

"Aw, thanks, guys," Patton says. "Let's go get some more cider, though, my hands are freezing!"

Roman laughs and claps him on the back, and off they go—Patton and Virgil, then Roman close behind, and Logan trailing after him, the pair of them trying to take his steps in their footprints—they're off the plowed path, now, and he doesn't want snow to get into his boots and wet his socks.

The snow grows thicker and thicker, and Logan loses sight of the river. The snowfall has stopped, leaving them with snow that must be half a foot deep—Logan would measure if he had an implement with him, but he doesn't, so he's left with an estimation. The trees have thinned out, and the world is blindingly white—the only way they all know where they're going is to trust Roman, a horrifying thought.

They've resorted to a single-file procession—a line of Patton-Virgil-Roman-Logan, Roman calling "It won't be long now!" and "Just past this bend!" as they plod along.

Logan is about to ask if this is the fastest they can go when they all hear it.

Crrr-crrrr-crrrrr.....

They all freeze where they're standing, Virgil wobbling—he'd been about to put his foot down where Patton's foot had just been.

Patton himself had frozen, arms held out away from him for balance, and he swallows enough that Logan, as far away as he is, can see his Adam's apple bob.

"Patton," Logan calls, trying to infuse a sense of authority into his tone, but a thread of fear works its way in anyways. "Virgil, if you'd just bring your weight down and distribute it evenly along the ice—"

Crrrrrrrrr—

And then, all in one movement, Patton moves faster than Logan's panic-ridden mind can track—he swings his arms from where he'd been holding them out, and shoves at Virgil's chest, hard, sending Virgil sprawling away from him, away from the river, and with the loudest, angriest CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR—

"Patton!" Logan shouts, and his voice seems to harmonize with the final crack—because Patton looks up enough to meet eyes with Logan, arms pinwheeling, when he's suddenly swallowed up by the water.

It boggles him—Patton there one moment, gone the next, as if this is some kind of magic relevant to Roman's realm, vanishing in less than a moment, and he's frozen to the spot, arms reaching as if he'd have been able to grab Patton and haul him back to safety—

Later, when Logan's reviewing the events in his mind, this won't surprise him, but at the time it does—Virgil is the first to react, throwing himself onto his stomach—distributing his weight evenly across the ice, Logan thinks dimly—and looking down into the crevasse that's swallowed Patton up, only black water greeting him.

"Spread out!" Roman barks, and Logan rushes to oblige, the pair of them throwing themselves onto their stomachs and sweeping aside armfuls of snow, squinting through the ice, to the dark water below, eyes scanning the depths below, until—

—a faint pale hand, he's lost his mitten—

"HERE!" is torn from Logan's throat, almost too desperate to be described as a scream, and he waves a hand desperately at Roman, who seems to understand what he needs immediately because in the next second there's a hammer in his hands, and he slams it down on the ice as close as he can get to Patton without hurting him, and again, and again—

Logan's barely thinking when he shoves his arms into the water, the cold hitting his arms so hard it hurts, and it's taking too long, every second one they might lose sight of Patton, and he closes his hand around an arm and pulls—

Distantly, he's aware of someone's hands holding at his legs, his waist, to make sure he doesn't fall in after him, and they hasten forwards to help haul Patton up, out of the water, onto his back, and what he sees terrifies him.

His face is too pale, and too still—Patton is their emotion, he should be laughing or listening earnestly or smiling or frowning, not this blank thing—

Logan's about to bend, plant his ear over his mouth to see if he's breathing, but Patton beats him to it—he lets out a cough, barely turning to keep himself from spluttering on the water, and Logan hastily shoves his hands under his head, to tilt his head to the side to keep him from choking on the water again.

"Right," Roman says, looking uncharacteristically ruffled, eyes wide, "Logan, what do we—what do we—?"

"Home," Logan says, and the word's barely out of his mouth before they're all crouched in Roman's living room, Patton still coughing weakly.

"Right," Logan says, taking a moment to draw his hand over his face, and then, "Right, Roman—start a fire—Virgil, get some blankets, as many as you can, and something warm for him to drink—"

There's the sound of two different sets of boots thumping off, doing what they're assigned to do, and now Logan has to fix it, he has to fix it—

He's struggling to undo his own coat zipper with his burningly cold hands, but he manages it and throws off the puffy coat before he sets in on Patton's, ridding him of his puffy coat and his singular mitten before there's more thudding and Virgil drops the blankets on the ground and sets in on the cat hoodie, allowing Logan to get to work divesting himself of his soaked clothes.

"Logan," Virgil says, voice threaded through with, well, anxiety, jostling Patton with his desperate attempts to get off his wet clothes as fast as possible. Patton barely even stirs. "What are we doing here?"

Logan's struggling to get off his inner jacket before he finally manages it, leaving him in his short-sleeved shirt. He grabs a blanket and wraps it around himself, and picks up three blankets, draping them over Patton, trying to ensure that all of his previously exposed skin is covered as he talks.

"We need to get these wet clothes off and make sure he gets dry. His body's lost heat faster than it can produce it, so we need to help warm him up."

Thud thud thud, yes, that's Roman running flat-out, juggling a variety of things, slamming down to his knees before the fireplace as Logan wraps Patton in blankets up to his ears.

"Water's unfortunately good at conducting heat away from your body, so he's lost heat much faster than if he was exposed to the elements the way we were. We need to make sure he can sustain a healthy core temperature, so that means blankets, a fire, and warm liquids—"

Logan has no idea what he's doing, he has to fix it, he has no idea what he's doing, he has to fix it, he has no idea what he's doing, he has to fix it—

He grabs another blanket, barely managing to throw it over his own shoulders before he wraps the rest of his blanket around Patton, pulling him close, holding Patton in his lap.

"Virgil, get him that something warm to drink," he says, terse, and Virgil hesitates before he scuttles off, Roman cursing as he fumbles with a matchbook.

He notices Patton's eyes are drifting shut, and Logan pokes him angrily in the ribs, once, twice, three times, before Patton's eyes open a little more, gaze unfocused, still so expressionless—

"Patton," Logan says, and pokes him in the ribs again, until Patton's head manages to swivel towards him, as much as it can when they're in such close contact. "Hey. Hey, Patton, what does a dinosaur wear when it's cold?"

Patton blinks. Once, twice.

"A Jurassic Park-a," Logan blurts out, too nervous to let him finish his thought. "Get it, Patton? Like the movie? And the segment of the Mesozoic Era? Get it?"

Patton blinks at him more, and Logan pokes him again, desperate. He needs to keep Patton's attention, and he needs to keep Patton from falling asleep. He's talking about the only thing that's coming to mind, something that would captivate and keep Patton's attention, and those are the awful jokes that come on the back of the chips that Logan likes to eat to fuel a late night brainstorming session, the jokes Patton love and Logan never understands but memorized anyways.

"Where does Frosty the Snowman keep his money?" He presses, and Patton's head dips worringly. "Mo." Another hard poke to the ribs, and Patton rests his head on Logan's shoulder with a shuddering breath. "Where does he keep his money?"

"A s-s-snuh," Patton mumbles into Logan's neck.

"A snow bank, that's right," Logan presses on, voice tight, why isn't there a fire, and he tucks his hand against Patton's cheek, keeping him upright, keeping him awake. Patton blinks at him again and again. "You're so smart, Patton, that's exactly right. Keep those guesses coming. What kind of math does Hedwig like?"

Finally, finally a fire starts up in the fireplace, and Roman swivels towards them as Logan bites out, "Owl-gebra, Patton, she likes owl-gebra, see? Because she's a snowy owl?"

Yes, there, the slightest twitch of a lip. That's a good sign. He thinks.

"What do chefs call Baked Alaska in Alaska?" Logan asks.

"Whuh," Patton mumbles.

"A baked here," Logan says, and there's a little huff of air from Patton, so close to a chuckle. Logan wriggles them closer to the fire, so Patton's closest to it, Roman throwing in old newspapers as fast as he can crumble them, building the fire high.

"Which side of an Arctic Tern has the most feathers?" Logan presses.

Another twitch of the lip. "Ousside," he sighs.

Logan laughs a little, giddy with it. That sounded like a word! That's even better! "So clever," Logan says. "Okay. Um—"

"Why do seals swim in salt water?" Roman picks up, and Patton sways towards him, only Logan's arms around his waist keeping him upright. Roman looks—a little nervous, a little scared—but it's gone in a flash as he grins and does jazz hands and declares, "Because pepper water makes them sneeze!"

Something that could conceivably be related to a snort.

Virgil crashes in from the kitchen, somehow hauling four mugs and a steaming kettle without dropping anything.

"Patton," he pants, and Logan doesn't even have to help Patton move his head that time, "What do you get when you cross a snowman and a vampire?"

Roman stands to help Virgil fill up the mugs as fast as possible, and Patton's chin settles on Logan's shoulder. Logan pokes him in the ribs again, sharp, and Patton mumbles incoherently.

"Frostbite!" Virgil says, fingers threading together, biting his lip.

"Good," Logan says, and pokes Patton again. "Did you hear, Patton? Frostbite!"

"Goo'ne," he slurs. "S'good."

They keep them coming as Virgil and Roman work on making cocoa for all four of them—why don't mountains get cold in the winter? they wear ice caps! what do arctic hares use to keep their fur looking spiffy? hare spray! what do you call a cold ghost? casp-burr!—and Logan has to keep poking Patton, even as Logan feels more and more like a person. Control over fire, he thinks—there is a reason that it was the most revolutionary discovery and invention in human history, spurring mankind to progress to the point they are at today.

But Patton is still shivering hard enough that his teeth clack together, even with the extra blankets, and his back to the fire. He's still barely responding to the jokes—more slurred mumbles, huffs of air, smiles that look more like winces. Virgil, visibly worried, lifts the mug to Patton's mouth so he doesn't have to disentangle from the blankets, and Patton flinches back, spitting.

"Burns," he chokes out. "Too hot—"

Virgil's brow creases in concern, and Logan can see why—he'd barely waited for the kettle to heat, so the water is only a few steps above lukewarm. It would be a fine temperature for any of them to drink, except—

Logan's busily wracking his brain for the article he'd read years ago—handle the person gently, limit movements to those that are necessary. Move the person out of the cold, remove wet clothing, cover the person with blankets, monitor breathing—but what else, what else, they're missing a step—

So how would Logan get warm on a cold day? Wear blankets, stay dry, what else—

And it hits him so suddenly that he barely resists smacking himself on the forehead.

"Roman, Virgil, would you two come over here? I think I know something else we need—"

Logan's loath to leave Patton in this state, but Roman and Virgil seem to both understand—with a bit of bickering, Patton's laid down on his side, as curled up as he can be, with Roman pressed up against his back and Virgil against his front, Virgil keeping a close eye on Patton to ensure he doesn't go to sleep. Logan discards the blanket he'd had around his shoulders, and he hears a sucked-in breath.

"Logan, your hand," Virgil says, almost getting up but remembering himself at the last moment. Logan stares at his hand—still bleeding sluggishly, and he sees the slight stain on the dark fabric of where his hand had been resting on the blanket.

"I'll bandage it up," he says, standing. "Roman, your first aid kit's still in the bathroom—?"

Roman nods, and Logan sets off to gather his supplies, setting a quick pace. Now that he's aware of the injury on his hand—must have been cut on the ice—it pulses more and more, notifications of something wrong to his brain, something to fix. But pain is a message he can choose to ignore—it is more important to get Patton back to a healthy body heat that he can sustain on his own. A cut hand is hardly the priority.

When he comes back, first aid kit tucked under his arm and a variety of makeshift warm compresses in his hands, he crouches beside Patton, placing one on the back of his neck. Patton makes a squeaky noise, trying to move away from it, but Logan presses it into place.

"We're heating your major arteries, Patton," Logan says, "so that it'll help provide better internal heat. Neck for the carotid, armpits for brachial, the groin for your femoral. I don't want to unwrap you from your blankets, so could you place them for me?"

"They're too hot," Patton mumbles. Logan forces himself to take a breath—Patton responds best to pathos, not logos. Appeal to his emotions.

"Patton," Logan says, tempering his voice, making it softer. Patton's eyes took too long to focus on him, and Logan takes note, tries to inject the concern into his voice as best he can.

"It would make me feel... very relieved if you would put these where I tell you, all right? We're all worried about you."

Patton blinks again, and there's something familiar in the way he shifts in his blankets. Something that makes him think sulky, or perhaps—self-conscious.

In the next moment, his eyes slide to where Virgil is curled against Patton, who seems to be ignoring the way Logan is imploring Patton, and Logan realizes. The way Patton shifted, just then—it's the way Virgil fidgets in his hoodie whenever there's too much attention on him. The similarity between them is jarring, in that moment. Patton lost his glasses in the river, and the cold brings out the blues and purples in his face. If Virgil would discard his hoodie and they stood side by side—Logan would be hard-pressed to distinguish between them.

For some reason, that makes something in his chest tighten. For once, he doesn't particularly analyze why.

He has to make himself softer, gentler. Logan widens his eyes a little, leans in a little closer, moves his uninjured hand from the compress to let his fingers scratch lightly at Patton's scalp. He makes himself look as entreating as possible. "We just want you to feel warmer, and better, and happier. And these would help warm you up faster, so we can all feel better." He takes another breath, sets his pride aside, and adds, "Please."

Another shift, and then Patton's hands snake out of the blankets, tugging in four of the compresses, and Logan lets out a breath of relief. He runs his fingers through Patton's hair again.

"Thank you. You just need to keep them there for about ten minutes, but they'll make you feel so much better, Patton, I promise."

"Hand," Roman says pointedly, as soon as Patton's adjusted for the compresses, and Logan nods, sitting back and opening up the first aid kit.

From there, it's almost comforting to focus on a more straightforward injury. Logan tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, and sets to work. Disinfect with a careful, measured inhalation through his nose to keep himself from making any less-than-distinguished noises from the pain. No stitches necessary, thankfully—it's a long but shallow cut, running jagged from the space between his fourth and fifth metacarpals, down the carpals, and jerked suddenly to the side, fortunately away from any important veins.

He places clean white gauze over the wound, and then wraps his hand and wrist in an elastic bandage, to ensure the gauze would stay in place. He flexes and clenches his hand, to ensure it would stay in place, and then it's time to ask Patton to pass the compresses back. He does that with remarkably less of an argument.

Logan decides to reheat their abandoned kettle so they can all have some cocoa, and he's just pouring them new mugs when Patton sniffles.

The other three focus on him with laser-like intensity, and then Patton coughs, and then he says, "Wh-what'd'you c-call a P-patton that falls through th-the ice?"

"What?" Virgil asks, voice soft.

"P-popsicle," Patton stammers out. "G-get it? B-because I'm the dad? And I'm c-cold?"

There's a moment of strained silence that stretches like a rubber band, and then Logan laughs, a bit too hysterical, but he can't bring himself to care—he's too relieved. Reasoning, a joke—marked improvement from Patton's previous state. They're practically out of the woods. Roman joins in next, laughter loud and booming, and Virgil snickers, shaking his head.

"Awful, Padre," Roman says, but he's grinning and hooking his chin over Patton's shoulder. Logan would wager a hug happened under the blankets, where he can't see. "Truly. I love it."

And they're off again, puns galore as they all sit up and drink their cocoa—what eight letters can you find in the arctic ocean? h to o! why is slippery ice like music? if you don't c sharp, you'll b flat! why did the snowman want a divorce? because he thought his wife was a flake! where can you find an ocean without water? on a map! where do penguins go to see movies? the dive-in!—and it's so much better, now that Patton's aware enough to laugh along.

By the time he's drained his cocoa, he isn't shaking anymore, and the temporary stammer's vanished. He even pops in with a couple more, to Logan's chagrin. ("How is a baby bird like its dad? It's a chirp off the old block!")

Roman goes to get the supplies for roasting marshmallows, at Logan's urging (carbohydrates and sugar would be good for boosting Patton's energy) and they all gather in front of the fire. Virgil takes over fussing for a while, from there—he makes sure none of the blankets are within the flames' reach, and takes Patton's stick if he thinks his hand's been outside of the blankets for too long, and makes sure Patton won't burn his tongue on any of his marshmallows.

Roman would either bluster off any such attention or play up any such injury to get more attention, and Logan would strain under such care. Virgil would brush it off with a scoff. Patton, though—Patton just smiles indulgently, occasionally hugging Virgil or thanking him, usually with a sport or champ or sunshine tacked on at the end. Each time, Virgil ducks his head and mumbles something like "whatever." Because that's what Virgil needs at the moment: to reassure himself that things are okay, that Patton is okay, and that the worst of it is over now. And Patton must know it; that must be why he isn't squirming under the attention. Patton has always been the most gracious of the four of them. He's much more observant than they give him credit.

Logan turns back to his own marshmallow, only to find Roman looking over at Virgil and Patton, too. It seems he isn't the only one to have that realization. Roman clears his throat when he realizes he's been caught, and drives a nearly-friendly elbow into Logan's ribcage, before swiftly spearing another marshmallow on his stick.

Logan scowls (nearly, the key word in that phrase) and elbows him back, before popping his own marshmallow into his mouth.

They work their way through the plate of marshmallows, and Patton's eyes seem to focus on Logan's bandaged hand for the first time with a small noise of dismay. Logan decides to take a page out of his book, and sits still, unprotesting, when Patton takes Logan's hand gently between the both of his.

Patton carefully turns Logan's hand over, inspecting the bandage, and then back over again.

"It's not very serious," Logan says. Distantly, he's aware that Virgil's pulling Roman to his feet, to go make something a bit more substantial to eat and to top off their drinks, but he's too ensnared by this: the heat of the fire, and Patton's cautious touch, like Logan's made of glass. "It should heal up just fine."

Patton hums, and settles for cradling Logan's hand, tracing his fingers along the bumps in the bandage, the protruding squares of gauze. Gently, with such a soft pressure it, bizarrely, makes Logan think of bugs crawling up his arms.

"You were very brave, Logan," Patton says instead. "I'm sorry that you got hurt while you were saving me."

He isn't looking up from Logan's hand, so Logan can only hope that he doesn't see the slight flush to Logan's cheeks. Logan clears his throat.

"Yes, well," he says. "Acceptable loss, a bandaged hand. You... it would be much less so."

A potential future too terrible to even think of, so he sets the thoughts aside.

"Still," Patton says, and his brow is furrowed. It's very odd to see Patton without glasses. He wonders distantly if there's an old pair gathering dust somewhere, or if Roman can materialize a pair, before an idea occurs to him. "I hate that you got hurt."

"I didn't notice it until Virgil pointed it out," Logan says truthfully. "The cold may have been helpful, numbing it."

He reaches up with his free hand, taking off his glasses. He narrows his eyes and blinks, adjusting to the blurry vision, before he reclaims his hand from Patton to tilt up Patton's chin, directing him to look at Logan straight on. He holds up the glasses in explanation. Patton blinks at him, a little confused, and in answer Logan carefully slides his pair of glasses onto Patton's face.

"Our prescriptions are the same, if I recall correctly," Logan says, and fiddles with them so they sit correctly on Patton's nose.

Even without his glasses, he's close enough that he can see the faint dusting of freckles across Patton's cheeks and nose, the way his lips are slightly parted, the look in his eyes—like Logan has done something extraordinary, revolutionary, amazing, instead of just handing over a pair of glasses. Logan's fingers brush over the tops of the shells of Patton's ears, and he clears his throat, letting his hands and gaze drop.

Except Patton picks up his injured hand again, and Logan blinks, looking back at him. There is a look of determination in Patton's eyes.

"Well," Patton says, "clearly, you've forgotten the most important part of treating an injury."

Logan blinks. "Impossible. I disinfected and cleaned the wound and bandaged it properly—"

But then Patton's spinning his hand over, palm up, and dropping to kiss it with an obnoxious smacking noise, and Logan's mouth drops open, just a little.

"You forgot to get someone to kiss it better!" Patton declares, and then leans forwards and kisses Logan's cheek with an impossibly more obnoxious smacking sound, the mwah! seeming to echo around the room.

??????????????????????????????

Patton leans forwards, and gives Logan a short, sweet hug—a squeeze round the shoulders, really. Logan has frozen up, arms trapped awkwardly between them. His cheek is a little wet from where Patton's lips had been. What—what exactly—what?

Virgil and Roman choose then to walk in, and Roman declares loudly, "Has Logan had a malfunction?"

All at once, Logan's face burns, and he moves to adjust his glasses, except there's nothing to adjust, so he ends up poking himself in the nose.

"Now, Roman," Patton says, "Logan just did something very nice, and I was thanking him, is all. What'd you make?"

Roman and Virgil exchange a slightly sheepish glance, and present the plates—quesadillas, if Logan's not mistaken, that were made in the microwave. He supposes that, at least, it isn't burnt.

Roman builds up the fire more while they all eat in relative silence. They've just finished their meal when Virgil says suddenly, "Pat, do you want me to get you some actual clothes?"

Patton's just arranged a blanket vaguely like a toga over his bare chest, with another wrapped around his shoulders. "That'd be great, kiddo," Patton says. "How about some pajamas for everyone? We'll do a slumber party!"

"I'll handle this, Virgil," Roman says, looking excited, and snaps his fingers before anyone can protest.

Logan looks down at himself, prepared for the worst. But it isn't actually all that bad—a navy shirt, and a fuzzy light blue pair of pants with a unicorn print on them. Roman's outfitted in a Prince Charming shirt and a pair of checkered pajama pants, and Virgil's picking at his thick tank top straps—Logan suspects he's secretly pleased with the Nightmare Before Christmas theme. Patton's is the most eyesearing combination of colors—his top is a very bright rainbow tie-dye t-shirt, and his bottoms are patterned with... some kind of reference, Logan supposes, in a shade of happy purple.

Logan also drapes a blanket over Patton's shoulders. Just as a precaution. Patton gives him a look that Logan would describe as "fondly exasperated." But he does cuddle into it, wrapping it around himself, and Logan counts it as a victory.

Patton gets to pick the movie, and all three of them groan when Patton reveals "Frozen" with a mischievous smile ("get it? because I was frozen?") but they all settle in—Logan suspects some quirk of Roman's realm, because the floor feels much more like a mattress than an actual floor, now. In any case, there are plenty of throw pillows and blankets sprinkled on the floor, and Logan picks up a blanket at random, resigned to restraining himself from pointing out the holes in reason. And, of course, to Roman's performances, and Patton's acting along, and Virgil's commentary.

By the time Anna is climbing the impossibly formed ice stairs to her sister's impossibly formed ice castle, all four sides are struggling to suppress yawns. He blames Virgil entirely for yawning the first time, and he'd caught it then, and the pair of them had made swift work of Patton and Roman. Besides, it had been a long day. Sleep would do them all good.

Logan's about to admit defeat, curl up under his blanket and go to sleep, when Patton clears his throat. All three of them turn to him, alert, and he spreads his arms.

"We should all cuddle together," he says decisively. "I got to cuddle plenty, but I didn't get to snuggle with all of you. I mean, if everyone's. Comfortable with that."

Patton. Hesitant. Abnormal. Logan doesn't like it.

"Certainly," he says, a little stiff. "Close physical contact increases oxytocin levels."

Roman, not to be outdone, proclaims, "Of course! That sounds wonderful!"

Virgil shrugs a little, plucks a little more aggravatedly at his tank top straps. He looks oddly bereft without the hoodie. "Sure, I guess," he grumbles.

It doesn't materialize perfectly from there, of course—they have to go and brush their teeth and wash their faces, jostling each other at the sink. And there's a bit of arguing about configuration, and who would be on their back or their side, and gathering and placing of blankets and pillows, and then shifting in their place, getting comfortable. Logan's-now-Patton's glasses are settled safely on the coffee table.

When Logan will wake up, there will be twin wet spots of drool on his shirt. Patton will be sprawled halfway over Logan's body with his hand on Virgil's back, Virgil curled up with his head on Logan's shoulder. And Roman will be the cause of Logan's feet falling asleep, tucked up between Virgil and Logan's bodies as he would be, with his dead weight on Logan's legs and his arms enclosed around Patton's waist. Logan will be sweaty and overheated, and most of his body will have its circulation cut off, and he will have to lay awake, alone and more than a bit uncomfortable, until the others stir from their deep sleep.

But for now, there is only the fluffy state between consciousness and unconsciousness, and the slowly evening breaths of the sides setting rhythm with the troll's song, and Logan—

Logan is secretly grateful for each and every one of them.

#text #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #hypothermia #cuddling #logicality #puns #my fic

[entergamingxp]

When Sony shut down a promising LittleBigPlanet PC fan-game, its creators scrambled to save the project • Eurogamer.net

In 2008, Media Molecule launched its debut game LittleBigPlanet. The idea behind the ambitious project was to make a game where players could create their own stages and share them with a community of players, or as the tagline more succinctly puts it: “Play, Create, Share.”

Upon its release, LittleBigPlanet received almost unanimous acclaim from critics, becoming one of Sony’s most interesting exclusives for the PlayStation 3. But two sequels and several spinoffs later, the series has become somewhat dormant, with the lack of support frustrating the most dedicated fans.

Media Molecule appears to have put the series largely behind it, focusing its attention on its latest passion project, another creation game called Dreams. Meanwhile, those who are still playing LittleBigPlanet 3, the third game in the series developed by Sumo Digital, are reporting persistent problems with corrupted profiles and other glitches that are driving the community away. Problems that have led to some players posting tips on Reddit to avoid limiting the damage done. Things were looking grim for LittleBigPlanet fans. That was, until late 2019, when there was a beacon of hope.

In November 2019, Trixel Creative, a community of creators developing content for games such as The Sims 4, Dreams and LittleBigPlanet, announced LittleBigPlanet Restitched, a PC fan-game that would bring back Sackboy for another set of community-crafted adventures. But, as is the case for most fan-produced projects, it was shut down shortly after its exciting announcement, with Sony Interactive Entertainment Europe issuing a cease and desist via email in January 2020.

We reached out to the team at Trixel Creative a day before Sony sent this email for a feature that was originally going to be about the project’s announcement. But after hearing the news, we wanted to find out what happened instead, how far the team got with the project, and why the developers dedicated the best part of a year to trying to revive the LittleBigPlanet series.

LittleBigPlanet Restitched, as it was in November 2019.

For most members of Trixel Creative, LittleBigPlanet wasn’t just a game, it was a second home. Most of the developers we spoke to said they were younger than 10 when the first game came out. Some of them met their best friends playing LittleBigPlanet and credit it with having led to careers in programming, the arts and graphic design.

“I grew up with LittleBigPlanet from a young age,” says Halston Stephenson, a US-based member of the Trixel Creative team who had worked on the project. “I was around eight or nine-years-old when it came out, and I always played it on a cousin’s PS3. About a year or so later I got my own PS3 as a birthday present, and I immediately knew which game to get. From there it was love at first sight.”

“LittleBigPlanet made me realise from a young age that making games was something anyone could do,” says Ethan Hanbury, another member of the Trixel Creative team, based in the UK. “There were so many of us who would communicate through fan-forums and work on in-game projects together. I still talk to so many people I originally met through the LBP community and it’s crazy to see what everyone has moved on to do. I’m currently in my final year studying computer animation as a 3D artist hoping to join the games industry for myself once I graduate in the summer.”

“I discovered LittleBigPlanet when I was around eight-years-old,” Julian Treveri, another Trixel Creative member from the US, tells me. “A neighbour showed it to me and I immediately started to beg my parents for a PlayStation and a copy of the game. I was totally addicted to creating things with it. I’d spend a lot of time lost in my own little world. Maybe a little too much time.”

The prototype for stickers in LittleBigPlanet Restitched.

LittleBigPlanet Restitched came about when Treveri discovered an open-source code library called ClipperLib and its function to manipulate shapes by cutting and adding. Throwing it into Unity, he built a small prototype where players could paint and erase 3D shapes, similar to the create mode seen in the LittleBigPlanet games.

“The folks at Trixel had been wanting to build a LittleBigPlanet fan game for a while,” Treveri explains. “When they saw this very rough framework for one, they asked if I had any interest in building a LittleBigPlanet fan-game with them, and I said yes!”

From there, the project entered development in early 2019 with the first four months focused on creating concepts, stickers, and implementing the user interface. Eventually, more members were brought on board, growing the team to 20 developers in total. This larger group started building the framework for the create mode, developing the player controls, physics, and a material creation system.

The plan was to create an experience that got fans of the series excited and talking about LittleBigPlanet again. Although, because of their inability to crowdfund out of fear of sparking a cease and desist from Sony, the project would have to make some compromises, such as looking into alternatives to online servers to provide players with a co-op experience.

“Everything started to come together after we had all worked separately for a few months, and it was magical,” says Stephenson. “We compiled a build for our reveal trailer to be recorded in and, although it was buggy (as to be expected for such an early build), it all materialised pretty quickly. It was a strange yet welcome feeling to be playing LBP on PC, and it worked and felt a lot better than I think some of us expected it to!”

Aware of the shaky legal territory they were wading into, the team got in touch with Media Molecule’s community manager from the outset and were given some advice and guidelines. Among the tips they were given was to clearly communicate that the project was fan-made, so players would know it was not an official product of any kind. This meant putting a disclaimer in the logo itself to avoid confusion. They were also told to avoid crowdfunding for the game to ensure the project was entirely not-for-profit.

In spite of these precautions, a cease and desist arrived on the morning of Friday, 17th January 2020 in Trixel Creative’s inbox, as well as the personal inbox of one of its members. It was an email – perhaps an inevitable one – that put a swift end to the project.

The prevailing reaction among the team seems to be bafflement. Not only because Sony had managed to contact a team member who hadn’t made their email account widely available, but also because the team were aware of several other LittleBigPlanet fan projects that were seemingly unaffected. The cease and desist stated the reason for the take-down was “commercialisation” of the project, which caused even more confusion among the team.

In December 2019, Trixel Creative excitedly announced LittleBigPlanet Restitched. A month later it was no more.

Was there a degree of naivety among the developers of LittleBigPlanet Restitched, a fangame that, whatever Media Molecule staff may have thought about it, used a Sony trademark and intellectual property without an licence agreement? Perhaps. Nevertheless, the developers now say they understand the move, believing the project’s potential release on PC was likely an influence on Sony’s decision to call in the laywers.

“We always knew it was ultimately up to Sony’s legal department to protect their IP, and rightfully so,” comments Stephenson. “[Although], the takedown was a bit of a surprise for us, considering the support we’d been shown from PlayStation-employed developers and the original creators of the IP, Media Molecule, who helped to support and livestream the reveal of the project during our Tri-Expo 2019 event.”

“I was actually working on LBP Restitched as part of my final major collab project for university,” adds Hanbury. “So it was a bit surreal when I had to explain to my lecturers that it had been taken down by Sony’s legal team.”

“We love and respect LittleBigPlanet and its developers, and we definitely aren’t upset at Sony’s legal actions,” insists Stephenson. “We respect them highly, and they are simply protecting their intellectual property. If LittleBigPlanet were already on PC, then this might have been a different story entirely. In any case, we’re all huge fans of the LittleBigPlanet franchise and can’t wait to see where Sony will take it next.”

LittleBigPlanet 3 is officially playable on PC – via streaming subscription service PlayStation Now.

The team quickly set about scrubbing all mention of the fan-game from their website and decided to retool the project into something original. This new game is to be a user-generated content game in the same spirit as LittleBigPlanet, but with its own characters and visual identity. As to what this visual identity looks like, the team are reluctant to reveal too much.

“I would like this project to be what Parkitect is to RollerCoaster Tycoon,” explains Thomas Voets, a Netherlands-based member of Trixel Creative. “A fresh, new take that modernises some stuff, but keeps the charm of the original largely intact, creating a fresh yet familiar experience. On a personal level, as a music creator, I want to make as many songs for the project as I can, so that people can really go wild with theming their levels.”

“The programmers are eager to use the foundation we’ve made in our new, original UGC game,” says Stephenson. “They’ve sunk several months into creating the setup for the user interface, lighting system, mesh editing for level creation, and player movement.

“We are looking at various UGC titles as a source of inspiration for many aspects of the game, but overall we want it to be something original while still capturing the essence of LittleBigPlanet that we all fell in love with. With this being a new title free from the constraints of strict legal guidelines and community expectations, a lot of opportunities are now open for us to create new content and mechanics. Who knows what you might see?”

We reached out to Sony as well as Media Molecule’s Mark Healey, one of the co-creators of LittleBigPlanet, for comment. Sony has yet to respond, but Healey offered some nice words of encouragement to the team.

“It’s great that LBP is so loved, and obviously I wish the team the best of luck with their future project/s,” Healey says. “I love that LBP and Dreams can be a conduit for creators and teams to come together, blossom and break into new exciting circles, so maybe this story is that story.”

While fans of the project may be disappointed by the news of LittleBigPlanet Restitched’s cancellation, the prospect of a new game in the same style is an exciting one. LittleBigPlanet played a huge part in the lives of so many players growing up, and hopefully whatever Trixel is cooking up can create that same sense of community and inspire a new generation to keep the dream alive.

from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2020/02/when-sony-shut-down-a-promising-littlebigplanet-pc-fan-game-its-creators-scrambled-to-save-the-project-%e2%80%a2-eurogamer-net/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=when-sony-shut-down-a-promising-littlebigplanet-pc-fan-game-its-creators-scrambled-to-save-the-project-%25e2%2580%25a2-eurogamer-net

[tqtheater]

Recent editorials from Texas newspapers

Here are excerpts from recent editorials in Texas newspapers:

San Antonio Express-News. March 26, 2018.

Downtown San Antonio is a jewel, and a recent federal historic designation should help keep it that way.

Here’s the news: The National Park Service has designated downtown as a federal historic district. The district includes more than 200 buildings and properties, including 37 already listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

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Here’s what it means: Properties in the district are eligible for federal tax credits equal to 45 percent of renovation costs. That’s a huge financial benefit for restoring and maintaining significant history in our community. Think of the 2015 renovation of the St. Anthony Hotel as a good example of what’s possible. But this designation creates much-needed continuity.

We must admit to occasional walks across the district on brilliant and sunny days, pausing to admire the stunning details of the Scottish Rite Cathedral, replica of a Greek temple; the ornate details in the facades of the Southwestern Bell Building and the Emily Morgan Hotel; and many other displays of architectural inspiration.

Downtown San Antonio is packed with wondrous architecture.

When we talk about downtown, the focus is often on the new — development at The Pearl or in Southtown; revival of the San Pedro Creek; the symbolic shimmer of the new Frost Bank Tower; the tension created with new high-end housing and an obvious need for affordability.

But this designation, thanks to the work of the city’s Office of Historic Preservation, will help preserve our rich and layered architectural history. As the city continues to move forward, its residents will always be able to look back.

___

Houston Chronicle. March 26, 2018.

Those pesky teachers are at it again.

First they balk at the idea of packing heat in their classrooms. Now they have the audacity to encourage each other to vote.

Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton apparently has some time on his hands, even though he’s fighting security fraud charges that could send him to prison for the rest of his life. His office has launched a fishing expedition against school administrators he suspects of "illegal electioneering."

The Texas Tribune reports the AG’s office sent open records requests to more than a dozen school districts, demanding copies of communications about voting in Texas primaries. Some of those districts also got slapped with cease and desist letters telling them to stop using taxpayer money to advocate for political candidates.

What we have here is the latest salvo in a battle between right-wing activists and school administrators encouraging teachers to vote. Educators across Texas are justifiably upset with Republican elected officials who’ve slashed school funding and failed to fix our broken school finance system. So anything that drives more teachers to the polls presumably would hurt GOP candidates on the ballot.

That’s what prompted the influential conservative group Empower Texans to launch a social media campaign encouraging teachers to snitch on educators engaging in electioneering. That’s also what led state Sen. Paul Bettencourt, R-Houston, to ask for an attorney general’s opinion saying that school districts shouldn’t incentivize voting by driving students and teachers to polling places.

No doubt a couple of administrators have stepped over the line. One superintendent posted a video encouraging teachers "to let the Texas Legislature know you’ve had enough." In at least two other districts, educators wrote questionable comments on official social media accounts; they didn’t name any politicians’ names, but they left no doubt they weren’t very happy with elected officials who’ve been cutting funding for public education.

Still, those examples don’t justify the attorney general’s office wasting a lot of time and energy trolling for superintendents and principals urging teachers to cast ballots. And let’s face it, there’s no doubt this heavy-handed action will serve the partisan purpose of discouraging school administrators from engaging in legitimate get-out-the-vote efforts.

This is the sort of behavior that threatens to stigmatize Texas Republicans as enemies of public education. Unless it wants to alienate a generation of Texas parents, the GOP doesn’t want to get stuck with that brand.

Our attorney general has more important job duties. This partisan battle against public school educators needs to come to an end.

___

The Dallas Morning News. March 26, 2018.

After a deadly house explosion in northwest Dallas, Atmos Energy is facing two substantial repair jobs: Not only must it replace problematic pipes carrying natural gas but it also must improve communication lines with all its consumers.

Twelve-year-old Linda "Michellita" Rogers died Feb. 23 when her home was blown off its foundation. Since that tragedy, we’ve asked many questions of Atmos officials — on behalf of North Texas residents — regarding the safety of natural gas service.

Assurances from Atmos lean heavily on the several billion dollars it has invested in infrastructure since 2005 and its plans to spend more. Company executives also point to the safety regulations under which they operate and the training of field personnel.

Yet it’s understandable if residents don’t feel completely at ease, especially given Dallas Morning News investigative reporting that exposed new concerns.

Atmos officials who met with us last week were adamant that the company had no way to know the danger the Midway Hollow neighborhood potentially faced. They brought with them a consultant with expertise in civil engineering and geology who explained how heavy rains and unique soil composition created a "sudden and unexplainable" problem.

But in a preliminary report Friday, the National Transportation Safety Board said Atmos became aware of gas leaks in the neighborhood Jan. 1 and had made various repairs.

Records obtained by The News show that at least one emergency repair was ordered in January after Atmos found a leak in the alley behind Linda Rogers’ home. The company says that problem, which it described as non-hazardous, was repaired by Jan. 29. Additionally, gas-related house fires were reported nearby on Feb. 21 and 22.

Among The News’ other findings is that Atmos can take weeks or even months to fully repair the most dangerous types of gas leaks. Company leaders insist they take action immediately to eliminate any potential danger.

Atmos says it wants to be more open with customers and, as part of that effort, released a map last week that generally shows where steel, cast iron and plastic pipelines are located in Dallas.

The company says it has replaced 400 miles of cast iron pipes — generally the oldest in the system — in North Texas and plans to replace the remaining 400 miles.

While plastic pipes are the preferred choice, Atmos maintains the steel ones are safe. Yet in 2010 the Texas Railroad Commission considered requiring gas utilities to replace all steel lines following several North Texas explosions.

When asked about the decades-long timeline for replacing steel pipes, here was Atmos’ response: "Is it fast enough?" CEO Michael Haefner said. "That’s a good debate to have."

Answers like that are unnerving. As Atmos finishes the replacement of the entire gas distribution system in Midway Hollow, it needs to dig deeper to determine how best to restore consumer confidence.

Perhaps that’s a full accounting on its website of work being performed throughout the system or better explanations of what technicians finds during service calls. But giving customers the full facts is the next step in Atmos’ pledge for greater transparency and improved communication.

___

Amarillo Globe-News. March 27, 2018.

Amarillo was part of the #marchforourlives event Saturday, a nationally organized demonstration/protest (depending on perspective) in support of increased gun control measures following a mass shooting at a high school in Florida.

Here is what Nell Newton, a minister at Amarillo Unitarian Universalist Fellowship who participated in Amarillo’s march, had to say regarding the event, "I wanted to support our youth because our youth are really seeing that things are not safe. Our youth are wondering what happened? Why did the adults not work to keep them safe?" (Amarillo takes part in the national conversation, March 24, amarillo.com.)

It is a valid question — why did the adults not work the keep kids safe?

This is a question that has many answers — if the question is looked at logically and not from a one-sided perspective.

For example, more gun laws and regulations will not change the fact that school administrators and officials failed to adequately address or respond to the myriad of problems and issues displayed by the shooter, at least in the case of the aforementioned Florida school shooting.

Syndicated columnist Ann Coulter has detailed mistakes made by school administration, most recently in a column in Amarillo Globe-News. (Coulter: Make Dems run on ‘school to prison pipeline’, March 19, amarillo.com.) We doubt many of the young people who participated in a #marchforourlives event (especially in Amarillo) are aware of this failure by the school, especially since many in national media have ignored these facts because they do not fit the gun control agenda.

And the constant blame of the National Rifle Association is tiresome and illogical.

According to www.opensecrets.org, the NRA ranked 154th out of 3,798 entities in 2016 in terms of money spent on lobbying, and No. 490 of 18,910 in contributions.

Follow the money — the political influence of the NRA is overrated, which is supported by the numbers, if one bothers to look.

Are some politicians fervently in favor of the Second Amendment? Yes, but this fact has more to do with politicians doing what is necessary to reflect what the voters back home want and support rather than a special interest group which ranked 490th in terms of contributions in 2016.

Young people need to understand that the gun used to commit death and carnage is often the final step in a descent into crime, evil and insanity – a fall that far too often can and should be noticed before a person legally or illegally obtains a gun.

___

Victoria Advocate. March 27, 2018.

The Victoria city and county officials have released a copy of the 929-page emergency plan.

The plan is designed to be the official handbook of how to be prepared for and respond to emergencies ranging from floods to hazardous material spills to nuclear cite crisis and natural disasters such as hurricanes.

The plan has been held so close to the vest of select officials for many years that even elected officials were not privy to the information until recently when city Councilmember Jeff Bauknight asked for a copy of the plan so he could have informed answers when the public needed information.

The Advocate also asked for a copy of the plan in early December, but was told no because it contained confidential material. But after learning other counties have posted their plans online, local officials changed their minds and agreed to release it after information they deemed confidential was redacted.

The plan is on the website now for anyone to read, the way it should have been all along.

Releasing the emergency plan is the right step. At the very least, the public can now get more informed, involved and better prepared.

It will allow the public an opportunity to volunteer to be a part of the committees the plan calls for to be set up prior to disasters.

It will help all in city and county governments be prepared for the next disaster when it happens.

We are doubtful many will take the time to read all 929 pages of the plan. To say it is not light reading is fairly accurate. But it is divided into sections that allow the public to pick sections that interest them.

Unfortunately at this time the plan is only a document online and not interactive and not searchable by topic. It does contain a two-page table of contents at the beginning of the plan.

As the emergency management officials begin working on the new plan, it is important for all to include lessons learned from Hurricane Harvey and other disasters so preparation for the recovery is already in place before the disaster.

A good example of the city doing this was pre-contracting for debris removal, which meant the contractor was in town soon after it was safe for workers to begin to clear the debris.

This also locked in the city on a set cost and expectations for the contractor, cutting out needless lost time to negotiate after the disaster.

The city is also taking the right steps now by having a consultant look at its water supply needs so it can be prepared with the right equipment to keep the water supply running to the city.

While we applaud the city for taking these steps, we question why they did not do a full damage assessment for private property. It is not credible to say the assessment was not needed because the federal disaster declaration had been granted.

This information would have greatly helped not only the city, but also nonprofits and recovery groups to know how badly the city was damaged and where the needs are for helping in the recovery.

We are also concerned that required parts of the plan were not followed. It appears the preparation for this storm was not carried out months beforehand.

Plans are developed for reasons — to be used and referred to so everyone is fully prepared when a disaster hits — not to sit on a shelf, never to be looked at until the disaster hits. Preparation takes time and energy, but if it is done properly, it will save time and energy after the disaster when time and organization are crucial.

As officials work to update this plan, hopefully this spring before the June 1 start of hurricane season, let’s hope all the planners take the past year’s experience to heart and make a plan that will work, including developing committees that will help the emergency operations be prepared and organized.

The public needs to be part of the planning as well, so we will have a better informed community that can pull together to successfully recover from a disaster no matter the level.

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The post Recent editorials from Texas newspapers appeared first on TQTHEATER.

Learn More: http://www.tqtheater.com/recent-editorials-from-texas-newspapers/

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Recent editorials from Texas newspapers

Here are excerpts from recent editorials in Texas newspapers:

San Antonio Express-News. March 26, 2018.

Downtown San Antonio is a jewel, and a recent federal historic designation should help keep it that way.

Here’s the news: The National Park Service has designated downtown as a federal historic district. The district includes more than 200 buildings and properties, including 37 already listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

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Here’s what it means: Properties in the district are eligible for federal tax credits equal to 45 percent of renovation costs. That’s a huge financial benefit for restoring and maintaining significant history in our community. Think of the 2015 renovation of the St. Anthony Hotel as a good example of what’s possible. But this designation creates much-needed continuity.

We must admit to occasional walks across the district on brilliant and sunny days, pausing to admire the stunning details of the Scottish Rite Cathedral, replica of a Greek temple; the ornate details in the facades of the Southwestern Bell Building and the Emily Morgan Hotel; and many other displays of architectural inspiration.

Downtown San Antonio is packed with wondrous architecture.

When we talk about downtown, the focus is often on the new — development at The Pearl or in Southtown; revival of the San Pedro Creek; the symbolic shimmer of the new Frost Bank Tower; the tension created with new high-end housing and an obvious need for affordability.

But this designation, thanks to the work of the city’s Office of Historic Preservation, will help preserve our rich and layered architectural history. As the city continues to move forward, its residents will always be able to look back.

___

Houston Chronicle. March 26, 2018.

Those pesky teachers are at it again.

First they balk at the idea of packing heat in their classrooms. Now they have the audacity to encourage each other to vote.

Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton apparently has some time on his hands, even though he’s fighting security fraud charges that could send him to prison for the rest of his life. His office has launched a fishing expedition against school administrators he suspects of "illegal electioneering."

The Texas Tribune reports the AG’s office sent open records requests to more than a dozen school districts, demanding copies of communications about voting in Texas primaries. Some of those districts also got slapped with cease and desist letters telling them to stop using taxpayer money to advocate for political candidates.

What we have here is the latest salvo in a battle between right-wing activists and school administrators encouraging teachers to vote. Educators across Texas are justifiably upset with Republican elected officials who’ve slashed school funding and failed to fix our broken school finance system. So anything that drives more teachers to the polls presumably would hurt GOP candidates on the ballot.

That’s what prompted the influential conservative group Empower Texans to launch a social media campaign encouraging teachers to snitch on educators engaging in electioneering. That’s also what led state Sen. Paul Bettencourt, R-Houston, to ask for an attorney general’s opinion saying that school districts shouldn’t incentivize voting by driving students and teachers to polling places.

No doubt a couple of administrators have stepped over the line. One superintendent posted a video encouraging teachers "to let the Texas Legislature know you’ve had enough." In at least two other districts, educators wrote questionable comments on official social media accounts; they didn’t name any politicians’ names, but they left no doubt they weren’t very happy with elected officials who’ve been cutting funding for public education.

Still, those examples don’t justify the attorney general’s office wasting a lot of time and energy trolling for superintendents and principals urging teachers to cast ballots. And let’s face it, there’s no doubt this heavy-handed action will serve the partisan purpose of discouraging school administrators from engaging in legitimate get-out-the-vote efforts.

This is the sort of behavior that threatens to stigmatize Texas Republicans as enemies of public education. Unless it wants to alienate a generation of Texas parents, the GOP doesn’t want to get stuck with that brand.

Our attorney general has more important job duties. This partisan battle against public school educators needs to come to an end.

___

The Dallas Morning News. March 26, 2018.

After a deadly house explosion in northwest Dallas, Atmos Energy is facing two substantial repair jobs: Not only must it replace problematic pipes carrying natural gas but it also must improve communication lines with all its consumers.

Twelve-year-old Linda "Michellita" Rogers died Feb. 23 when her home was blown off its foundation. Since that tragedy, we’ve asked many questions of Atmos officials — on behalf of North Texas residents — regarding the safety of natural gas service.

Assurances from Atmos lean heavily on the several billion dollars it has invested in infrastructure since 2005 and its plans to spend more. Company executives also point to the safety regulations under which they operate and the training of field personnel.

Yet it’s understandable if residents don’t feel completely at ease, especially given Dallas Morning News investigative reporting that exposed new concerns.

Atmos officials who met with us last week were adamant that the company had no way to know the danger the Midway Hollow neighborhood potentially faced. They brought with them a consultant with expertise in civil engineering and geology who explained how heavy rains and unique soil composition created a "sudden and unexplainable" problem.

But in a preliminary report Friday, the National Transportation Safety Board said Atmos became aware of gas leaks in the neighborhood Jan. 1 and had made various repairs.

Records obtained by The News show that at least one emergency repair was ordered in January after Atmos found a leak in the alley behind Linda Rogers’ home. The company says that problem, which it described as non-hazardous, was repaired by Jan. 29. Additionally, gas-related house fires were reported nearby on Feb. 21 and 22.

Among The News’ other findings is that Atmos can take weeks or even months to fully repair the most dangerous types of gas leaks. Company leaders insist they take action immediately to eliminate any potential danger.

Atmos says it wants to be more open with customers and, as part of that effort, released a map last week that generally shows where steel, cast iron and plastic pipelines are located in Dallas.

The company says it has replaced 400 miles of cast iron pipes — generally the oldest in the system — in North Texas and plans to replace the remaining 400 miles.

While plastic pipes are the preferred choice, Atmos maintains the steel ones are safe. Yet in 2010 the Texas Railroad Commission considered requiring gas utilities to replace all steel lines following several North Texas explosions.

When asked about the decades-long timeline for replacing steel pipes, here was Atmos’ response: "Is it fast enough?" CEO Michael Haefner said. "That’s a good debate to have."

Answers like that are unnerving. As Atmos finishes the replacement of the entire gas distribution system in Midway Hollow, it needs to dig deeper to determine how best to restore consumer confidence.

Perhaps that’s a full accounting on its website of work being performed throughout the system or better explanations of what technicians finds during service calls. But giving customers the full facts is the next step in Atmos’ pledge for greater transparency and improved communication.

___

Amarillo Globe-News. March 27, 2018.

Amarillo was part of the #marchforourlives event Saturday, a nationally organized demonstration/protest (depending on perspective) in support of increased gun control measures following a mass shooting at a high school in Florida.

Here is what Nell Newton, a minister at Amarillo Unitarian Universalist Fellowship who participated in Amarillo’s march, had to say regarding the event, "I wanted to support our youth because our youth are really seeing that things are not safe. Our youth are wondering what happened? Why did the adults not work to keep them safe?" (Amarillo takes part in the national conversation, March 24, amarillo.com.)

It is a valid question — why did the adults not work the keep kids safe?

This is a question that has many answers — if the question is looked at logically and not from a one-sided perspective.

For example, more gun laws and regulations will not change the fact that school administrators and officials failed to adequately address or respond to the myriad of problems and issues displayed by the shooter, at least in the case of the aforementioned Florida school shooting.

Syndicated columnist Ann Coulter has detailed mistakes made by school administration, most recently in a column in Amarillo Globe-News. (Coulter: Make Dems run on ‘school to prison pipeline’, March 19, amarillo.com.) We doubt many of the young people who participated in a #marchforourlives event (especially in Amarillo) are aware of this failure by the school, especially since many in national media have ignored these facts because they do not fit the gun control agenda.

And the constant blame of the National Rifle Association is tiresome and illogical.

According to www.opensecrets.org, the NRA ranked 154th out of 3,798 entities in 2016 in terms of money spent on lobbying, and No. 490 of 18,910 in contributions.

Follow the money — the political influence of the NRA is overrated, which is supported by the numbers, if one bothers to look.

Are some politicians fervently in favor of the Second Amendment? Yes, but this fact has more to do with politicians doing what is necessary to reflect what the voters back home want and support rather than a special interest group which ranked 490th in terms of contributions in 2016.

Young people need to understand that the gun used to commit death and carnage is often the final step in a descent into crime, evil and insanity – a fall that far too often can and should be noticed before a person legally or illegally obtains a gun.

___

Victoria Advocate. March 27, 2018.

The Victoria city and county officials have released a copy of the 929-page emergency plan.

The plan is designed to be the official handbook of how to be prepared for and respond to emergencies ranging from floods to hazardous material spills to nuclear cite crisis and natural disasters such as hurricanes.

The plan has been held so close to the vest of select officials for many years that even elected officials were not privy to the information until recently when city Councilmember Jeff Bauknight asked for a copy of the plan so he could have informed answers when the public needed information.

The Advocate also asked for a copy of the plan in early December, but was told no because it contained confidential material. But after learning other counties have posted their plans online, local officials changed their minds and agreed to release it after information they deemed confidential was redacted.

The plan is on the website now for anyone to read, the way it should have been all along.

Releasing the emergency plan is the right step. At the very least, the public can now get more informed, involved and better prepared.

It will allow the public an opportunity to volunteer to be a part of the committees the plan calls for to be set up prior to disasters.

It will help all in city and county governments be prepared for the next disaster when it happens.

We are doubtful many will take the time to read all 929 pages of the plan. To say it is not light reading is fairly accurate. But it is divided into sections that allow the public to pick sections that interest them.

Unfortunately at this time the plan is only a document online and not interactive and not searchable by topic. It does contain a two-page table of contents at the beginning of the plan.

As the emergency management officials begin working on the new plan, it is important for all to include lessons learned from Hurricane Harvey and other disasters so preparation for the recovery is already in place before the disaster.

A good example of the city doing this was pre-contracting for debris removal, which meant the contractor was in town soon after it was safe for workers to begin to clear the debris.

This also locked in the city on a set cost and expectations for the contractor, cutting out needless lost time to negotiate after the disaster.

The city is also taking the right steps now by having a consultant look at its water supply needs so it can be prepared with the right equipment to keep the water supply running to the city.

While we applaud the city for taking these steps, we question why they did not do a full damage assessment for private property. It is not credible to say the assessment was not needed because the federal disaster declaration had been granted.

This information would have greatly helped not only the city, but also nonprofits and recovery groups to know how badly the city was damaged and where the needs are for helping in the recovery.

We are also concerned that required parts of the plan were not followed. It appears the preparation for this storm was not carried out months beforehand.

Plans are developed for reasons — to be used and referred to so everyone is fully prepared when a disaster hits — not to sit on a shelf, never to be looked at until the disaster hits. Preparation takes time and energy, but if it is done properly, it will save time and energy after the disaster when time and organization are crucial.

As officials work to update this plan, hopefully this spring before the June 1 start of hurricane season, let’s hope all the planners take the past year’s experience to heart and make a plan that will work, including developing committees that will help the emergency operations be prepared and organized.

The public needs to be part of the planning as well, so we will have a better informed community that can pull together to successfully recover from a disaster no matter the level.

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