#Did you know a certain train incident involving John—

[gremlin-boah]

I'd let your imagination what happened next.

[oftincturedwords]

First of all: I'm currently listening to the songs you added to the descriptions of Steven and Bucky and I LOVE 'em!

I would ask for Doc Roe/Legolas/Dr. McCoy, whoever you most feel like describing!

(I hope you and your stitched up hand are doing well!)

send me a character and i’ll list: ACCEPTING !

DOC EUGENE ROE <3

favourite thing about them : doc roe is another top tier favourite character of mine so i everything about him is my favourite <3 but i won't cheat & just say everything agdjfkglg so to give a specific thing , i love how roe will do everything he can to help the wounded. from running out amidst a firefight / bombings to get to them & get them out to telling off superior officers to sacrificing pieces of himself to ensure he can do his job the best he can. his dedication to that is on par to lipton & winters i feel. he was right there during the absolute worst bits of some of these men's lives , working not only to patch up their bodies but to keep them calm , talking to them & using their nicknames whenever they're wounded so those hurt know they’re in good hands & with a friend , whether they make it to aid station or not. i admire roe for that , in giving his all for the wounded & not letting anything get in his way for advocating for a patient or ensuring his patients know he's treating a man with personality & life back home rather than another number of men on sick call / list of the wounded.

least favourite thing about them : what is not to like about this man ??? agdjfkglg but seriously , the only thing i can think of would be his decision to draw away from everyone during the time in bastogne & become isolated , but honestly i can't blame him for using that coping mechanism with everything that was going on then. but he may have had an easier time of it if he didn't resist heffron’s attempts at friendships & perhaps opened up somewhat to spina , even if spina is a lower rank than him , but roe is the sort to help others before himself & continue to do so until he's used up. he's rather self sacrificing like that & that's not healthy. but again it was 1940’s so they didn't have much concept of mental health help or understanding in ways that we do today & even still today it's stigmatised so i can too see why he wouldn't be openly talking , just wish he perhaps think he had to separate himself from everyone , to create distance & choose his job as a medic over creating those tight-knit friendships as everyone else did.

favourite line : “You are officers, you are grownups. You ought to know!”

brOTP : roe & spina , roe & heffron , roe & luz , roe & malarkey

OTP : roe / heffron

nOTP : roe / winters , only because winters needs nixon & vice versa

random headcanon : back during training , a group from easy company were swapping scary stories they’d been told from where their from or ones their parents shared with them , there's all sorts being told & some overlays , but somehow they convince doc to tell one , so he tells the one of the rougarou & with his low way of speaking & lilting tone he manages to be a good story teller , he’s most likely imitating how his grandparents on his mother’s side told him it. he’s one of the only guys out of three ( luz & malarkey are the other ) to actually get everyone a bit spooked. not scared but it's definitely difficult to not think of it when a few days later they have an exercise that has them out in the swamps of north carolina

unpopular opinion : erm i’m not certain that i have any unpopular opinions on roe , hmm i don't think that i do , but if i think of one i'll come back to fil this out

song i associate with them : oats in the water by ben howard or the humbling river by puscifer

favourite picture of them :

send me a character and i’ll list:

LEGOLAS <3 ( books / films )

favourite thing about them : another top tier favourite character of mine , i think you managed to pick every single ultimate favourite character in these fandoms xD that's very cool ! but back to the favourite , hmm i admire legolas’ ability to still find joy & happiness in the world even though his home has been besieged by darkness’ taint , & losses he's faced as well as the fight he's had to keep along with the rest of elves there. even during trials of the quest he was usually light & could find something to smile about. he has a lightness to him. yet he doesn't allow him to not see the reality of the situation or the quests’ weight , he is very grounded whilst being able to see the brightness that still lives in arda. he can sing , laugh , smile , & find humour even in dark times without seeming like he's clueless or ignorant or careless.

least favourite thing about them : i really don't like his characterisation in the hobbit films , but that's more due to writing than the actual character. i guess i would say least favourite hmm his prejudice against the dwarves , like i don't the elves have their sides & reasons just as the dwarves have theirs , but he really should go find it out for himself instead of just believing a long steeped prejudice & dislike. ( this is excluding the events of the hobbit films )

favourite line : “I go to find the sun!” or “How about side by side with a friend?”

brOTP : legolas & aragorn , legolas & gimli , legolas & elladan & elrohir , legolas & tauriel , legolas & faramir

OTP : legolas / gimli , although i see legolas as more asexual than anything

nOTP : legolas / éowyn , i love éowyn with faramir too much to ship this , so it's not that i hate it , just it isn't a favourite

random headcanon : legolas knows how to use a leaf as a musical instrument , by pressing it between their fingers & then bringing it to their lips to esstentially whistle against it , as do several in his patrol , during moments of downtime they try to play tunes on it & judge each other on how well it sounds or just laugh at the attempts or guess which song is being playing ( or trying to be played )

unpopular opinion : i think my unpopular opinion is in the fact i see legolas as aromantic asexual , tolkien never says that legolas gets married or has someone waiting for him back home , nor do i see he & gimli as anything more than friends. do i like the gigolas ship ? yes ! is it my canon when writing those two ? no.

song i associate with them : i love to see the wheels in motion by barry phillips or fear no darkness by adrian von ziegler or flight of the silverbird by two steps from hell

favourite picture of them :

send me a character and i’ll list:

LEONARD MCCOY <3 ( tos / aos )

favourite thing about them : his dedication to his patients & profession , he will tell off the highest of admirals if it’d help his patient & he'd risk his own life / safety ensure a patient was helped like when he tended to mirror!spock’s injuries or when he stepped in to alter the course of the kal-if-fee to save both spock & kirk , no doubt he got into some legal issue with vulcan on that one. too i admire his ability to remain calm , cool , & collected under any circumstance. like when khan threatened him with a knife to treating the horta to learning he had xenopolycythemia to tending crew members he's come to know as friends & even family.

least favourite thing about them : i don't really like some of his xenophobic comments to spock , especially in tos , i know it transforms more into a banter / teasing thing between him & spock later in their friendship , but it doesn't fit his character to be the sort to try to change someone's ways to prove a point or think humans are better because we express our emotions. i know he's a gruff doctor who speaks his mind , but it just let very off with his character to have him say those things with actual meaning & intent

favourite line : “When the personality of a human is involved, exact predictions are hazardous."

brOTP : mccoy & kirk , mccoy & spock , mccoy & scott , mccoy & uhura

OTP : mccoy / kirk

nOTP : mccoy / chapel , nothing against it , it just isn't my favourite pairing , i much prefer chapel with rand more than anything

random headcanon : his fear of transporters actually comes from an accident he & some of his childhood friends had with a transporter , it all turned out fine in the end but it always left mccoy feeling a bit weird round them , then in school he learnt about all the transporter incidents / injuries that had happened & it just increased his dislike , not to mention when he got to medical school in seeing some of those sort of injuries first hand , & just being on the enterprise with all her transporter incidents it just keep piling onto it , although it means he's picked up some very good ways of coping with it , some good some not. i think that's why he's especially cranky when it comes to transports because he's nervous to hell & back so instead of being anxious , he just gets angry.

unpopular opinion : hmm again i'm sure if i have an unpopular opinion for mccoy … i can't think of any

song i associate with them : far too good by john smith , feels like home by sam tinnesz

favourite picture of them :

[overheardatthecontinental]

The Claim, Chapter 10

Final chapter. Epilogue to come.

taglist: @greenmanalishi​, @fluffyfirewhiskey​, @cynic-spirit​

Her heat lasted for a full week but she took off a few extra days to be sure.

The paranoia took a few days to fully settle and the dizziness lasted even longer. The Caloremite had done a number on her and the last thing she wanted was to risk a relapse at work. And John was more than happy to keep her at home, in bed or the nest, for as long as he could.

They’d used the extra time to finish moving Helen in. It hadn’t taken long, between John, Marcus, Hasani, and Nicky. They had managed to pack her things in a matter of hours and what she didn’t need, mostly the furniture and old things that had once belonged to her father, were donated.

He pouted when she went back to work but, by then, there were only a few weeks left of school.

Summer was fast approaching and John had excitedly started planning trips for them to take.

John had rented a house in Greece and it was to be their homebase for several weeks, while he took her around to Europe and North Africa.

Helen was convinced John was far more excited than she was, even though she’d never left the country before, but she didn’t mind. He was practically bouncing when he dropped her off for the last day of school.

“I’ll see you at three.” Helen told him, sleepily nuzzling her face against his shoulder.

She’d given up coffee after the incident. For more reasons than one. Doc’s words had shaken both of them to the core.

John barely let Helen walk until Helen insisted upon calling Doc back up to have a serious talk with John about what it would mean if she were actually pregnant. She still could walk. She could still carry things, although heavy lifting should be kept at a minimum.

Helen had no problem with that seeing as she already had John do most of the heavy lifting.

The first few weeks were hard. The first time Helen was sick after breakfast, it all went down hill.

John had rushed out to buy a test. Finding a variety, he purchased eleven different tests.

Helen called it excessive but humored him.

Eleven little plus signs over the course of a day.

Another blood test from Doc and it was confirmed.

Helen was pregnant.

“Are you sure you don’t need help cleaning out your classroom?”

“It’s mostly done, anyway.” She says with a shake of her head, “And between my students and Nicky, I imagine I’ll be okay.”

It still surprised John that he was actually good friends with a D’Antonio. There was no espionage involved or any sort of Underworld bullshit. They were actually friends and both Nicolo and John took a bit of pleasure in knowing that, when Santino found out, he would be pissed.

Small victories, as Nicky put it.

“You’re absolutely sur--”

“Stop worrying.” Helen lifts her head from his shoulder and gives him a look, even as she smiles.

John nods, although they both know he will never stop worrying.

Helen squeezes his thigh. “I’ll see you at three.”

How did seven hours away from her turn into a lifetime?

He leans over and kisses her, softly. Her hand comes up and she places a finger to his mark, gently rubbing it. Calming him.

“Miss you already.” She tells him, and slides out of the car. “Love you!”

“I love you too.” He says and the car door closes.

It crosses his mind, briefly, that their three weeks would have been up by now. That her heat would be coming at any time.

In so many ways, he wishes it had been different. He wishes he could have stopped Cavanaugh. That he had taken the threat from the Principal more seriously and had just killed him off in the beginning like he wanted to.

And while he wished he could have changed so many things about how things happened, he can’t deny the thrill that comes from seeing her mark or catching a glimpse of his own in the mirror.

He’d taken shit for it but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Winston had regarded it with a small hint of distaste but made no comment. Marcus had teased John that he always knew, deep down, that he was a bitch.

Even Hasani had seemed confused as to why John wore his mark so proudly.

“My father would literally have me killed if I ever let Nicky do that to me.” He had commented as they moved they carried Helen’s couch down the two flights of stairs. “I’m not saying I disapprove by any means, but, you have to know it won’t go over well in our world.”

John had merely inclined his head, “ Helen is my world.”

And that was what everyone else didn’t seem to get. The Underworld prided itself on certain rules and orders and a degree of civilization that never quite fit for a bunch of assassins and spies and mob bosses. In the years that John had been a part of that, he had never once truly understood the politics. The lies. The betrayal.

The constant watching of your back because your friend, who you just had lunch with, might have dropped arsenic in your drink when you weren’t looking.

He never liked that world. But he fit in there far better than he had anywhere else.

The Underground didn't pretend that good and evil were a thing. It didn’t fall victim to a rhetoric of black and white thinking and of absolutes. It was a world built upon shades of grey. But even in those shades of grey, there was a rigidity of we will allow this, but we will not allow that and we will never explain our reasons.

And the real world… well, it wasn’t perfect. That was the world that had forced his beautiful Omega to lock herself away. The same world that rejected basic human decency in favor of cycling economics.

They had a foot in each, but neither was meant for them.

The Underworld had raised him; had broken him and built him back up. It had made him strong and capable and allowed a Romani orphan to become one of the most successful and feared men ever to walk the Earth.

But it was time to leave.

It was time to get out.

He went to the Continental first, heading straight to Winston’s office. The older man was found at his desk, drinking brandy with his toast and reading through some sort of log when John came in.

“Jonathan.” The Manager says, closing the text, “To what do I owe the surprise?”

John wonders if he would ever be in the office again as he walks down the stairs and over to the desk. He sits in one of the chairs.

“I wanted to talk to you first. Before word inevitably breaks out.”

“Oh?” Winston sits back in his seat, raising a brow.

“I’m getting out.”

He blinks, “Getting out of what, Jonathan?”

“All this. I’m leaving the Underworld.”

Winston is visibly taken aback, again blinking and leaning forward, “You don’t leave the Underworld.”

“I’m going to. I’ve already fulfilled all the markers I’ve ever given. I’ve completed all the contracts assigned to me and I’m not taking any more.”

“And your independent contracts? With the Camorra? With Tarasov?”

“I met with the entire D’Antonio family last night. My contract is closed.”

“And Tarasov?”

John shrugs, “I’m meeting with him next.”

Winston continues to rapidly blink, trying to place it all together. “I don’t understand.”

For John, it’s so simple.

Because the life that always felt out of reach is suddenly close at hand. Because he had something to live for after years of having nothing . Because John didn’t want to be covered in blood when he picked up his crying child.

“Helen’s pregnant.”

“Congratulations.” Winston says, “But that doesn’t mean you have to leave the fold. Plenty of assassins become fathers--”

“I don’t want to be in this life anymore.” John says, cutting him off. “Even if she weren’t, I would have come to the same decision. It just expedited it. I want to have time with my Omega before our baby comes. And I want to know, without a doubt, that I will be there for my child. I’m grateful for what this world has provided me but I’m done.”

“You’re serious.” Winston breathes, “Jonathan, you can’t just leave the fold.”

“Why not? Because no one ever has?”

“Regardless of whether or not you’re actively killing, you will always be a target.”

John shrugs a shoulder, “Anyone stupid enough to come after me will get what’s coming to them. And regardless of whether or not I’m killing, my claim on Helen still stands. She’ll be protected, our children grandfathered in.”

“Until they turn eighteen and are unleashed onto the world with no training. The facilities that we have here--”

“Are wonderful.” John interrupts again, “But I would prefer to train my children on my own. I’ve thought this through, Winston. Helen and I have discussed it. I won’t be changing my mind.”

They sit in silence and Winston downs what is left in his glass of brandy. He shakes his head, incredulously,  “Why?”

“I have never been a good man. But I would like to be a good father. A good husband. I think this is the first step.”

“What will you do?”

And John smiles, softly. It’s alarming for Winston to witness. “I’ll retire. Helen wants to keep teaching. She’s actually applied for the position of principal at her school.”

“There’s never been an Omega principal in New York.”

“She would be the first. If she gets it. Which she will.”

John wasn’t afraid to pull every string he had with the school board to vote her in. And Helen was more than willing to let John do his thing. When he had mentioned it, she had shrugged and said, “It’s rigged, anyway. May as well use what I have to my favor.”

“Helen will be the principal.” John says, “And I’ll be a stay-at-home dad.”

At which point, Winston stands up and walks over to the decanter. He doesn’t bother to pour himself another glass, lifting the lid and drinking it straight from the bottle.

When it is empty, Winston looks back. “You are the most efficient assassin I have ever met and you’re about to walk away to become a house husband ?”

John nods, “I am.”

“Changing diapers and cleaning the house?”

“And driving the kids to and from school.” John finishes.

“Am I dreaming?” Winston wonders aloud and John snorts.

“No. You’re not. I don’t expect you, or anyone, to understand. But I’ve spent enough time around death.”

“Jonathan, I adore your Omega but this…”

“This isn’t Helen’s idea.” John interrupts, “It’s mine. And Helen could care less if I leave the Underworld or if I stay.”

At the look of utter defeat on Winston’s face, John takes pity on him. “We’re still in the area. Maybe one day, I’ll come back. If there’s an impossible contract, maybe I’ll consider it.”

“You’re really leaving.” Winston says, shaking his head. “I’m truly not sure what to say.”

John stands and walks over to the Manager, offering a hand.

Winston takes it.

“I know you don’t understand my decision,” John says, “I know a lot of people are going to have a lot to say when they hear what I’m doing.”

Winston makes a face because that is true. By nightfall, the entire Continental will be abuzz about John Wick’s decision to leave the fold.

“But thank you, for everything. Your guidance has helped me through some difficult times.”

“Of course.” Winston says, and finds himself swallowing, “You are always welcome back at the Continental. And Helen, of course.”

“Thank you.” John repeats, “Give my best to Charon.”

And he leaves.

John Wick walks back down through the lobby, wondering if he’ll ever take Winston up on the offer. Or if this is the last time that he will pass through the halls of the Continental. Bittersweet.

This hotel has been a safe haven for him for decades.

But now, he has something so much better.

He ignores the stares, as he always does, and steps back onto the street. The valet excuses himself to get John’s car and John lets out a breath.

And he doesn’t look back.

…

John hasn’t been to Tarasov’s office since that fateful day, nearly a month ago, when a little Omega had forced her way into the compound to scream at Viggo Tarasov.

The memory brings a smile to his face as he knocks once on Tarasov’s office door and enters.

Tarasov looks up at him in surprise, a flash of fear in his eyes, making John nearly roll his own.

“Rasslab’tes.” Relax. John tells him, standing before the desk. There is a bottle of vodka and an assortment of glasses. John flips the glasses upright and pours two drinks.

He pushes one towards Tarasov and sits down with his own.

“To what do I owe this unexpected visit?” Tarasov asks.

“I want my contract dissolved. I’ll forfeit the remainder of my money and pay you back for this half of the year.”

If Winston was shocked, Tarasov is confused.

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m leaving.” John says, simply. “The fold, the Underworld. I’m leaving.”

“No, no, you’re on retainer.”

“I was . I’m forfeiting the rest of the money in exchange for the dissolution of my contract.”

“You signed that contract, in front of the High Table. In front of witnesses. Until that contract is complete, you are mine to use and--”

“I signed that contract with your Uncle. I am more than willing to go above your head for this, Viggo, but I’m offering you the chance, right now, to part with me on peaceful terms.”

“Where exactly are you going?” Viggo asks, leaning forward.

“I’m retiring.”

Viggo barks out a laugh. “Retiring? There is no retiring.”

John downs his shot before carefully slamming the crystal back to the desk, face down.

“I’m retiring, Viggo.” John repeats, “And that means, one way, or another, I’m leaving. Now,” John leans forward, “After that stunt you tried to pull with my Omega at the Continental, you’ve been very fortunate that I haven’t pursued any course of revenge. Of course, I suppose it was revenge enough, being threatened at knifepoint by the very Omega you were trying to intimidate. In front of half the Continental.

“Now your wealth and your status gives you a certain degree of anonymity when it comes to such things" John continues, "and the people in New York respect that. But it would be a shame if it reached your Uncle, the way you threatened a sweet, harmless Omega, only to flee from the scene when she pulled a knife.”

“Are you blackmailing me?”

“At the moment, I’m threatening you. With blackmail. I could kill you but, frankly, I don’t want to deal with the backlash.”

Viggo has turned red and has tensed up immensely. “This puts us in a difficult position, John.”

“Indeed, it does.” John agrees.

“You want out and you cannot break a contract witnessed by the High Table.”

“But I can be released from a contract at any time. And I assure you, Viggo, I am getting out.”

Viggo considers this. “I could not… simply let you out of a contract. It would appear too weak. Perhaps, you could perform a favor for me and we could simply call it… even. It may seem a little daunting, but if anyone could accomplish it, it would be you.”

John inclines his head. “What do you have in mind?”

Viggo drums his fingers on his desk, “It’s a bit of an impossible task…”

[softsweetsuffering]

OC LIST (New)

Trey:

Has an ability to mimic or amplify abilities/powers of others, as well as telekinesis

Was previously part of a group of people who also had abilities, however after mistreatment and other issues within the group, he left.

He's got a good wealth behind him.

Extremely gentle

Handsome ;)

Loves photography

Has lavender hair

Respects all

'Secretly' Plays violin

Lowkey a sugardaddy

Hamrish Benat:

Has four eyes!

Pink and blonde hair

He loves parkour (as in climbing buildings and leaping around in gyms)

Has PTSD (There are two AUS of which I default as to how he obtained it)

Ready to deck a bitch

Trained nurse

Loves teddy bears and fuzzy pink socks.

Also goes by Hami/Hayden

Andy peters:

Strong, kind.

The quiet Big Type, doesn't always talk, but his heart is in good places.

Wishes he could do more

Buff + Tall

Wears a pair of dogtags.

Has red streaks in his hair for the fun of it

Is extremely brotherly to Adrian

is friends with Hami

Adrian Géarán:

Nervous Malnutritioned anxiety filled tired mess

Has emotionally linked fire abilities (does not like having them)

likes to make little robots!

Easily bullied

Missing an arm

Struggles with normal life

Blames himself for Andys death

Looks unintentionally vaguely like Fry from Futurama

Chris:

Leader of a summer camp for kiddos

Huge fan of the outdoors

Loves to garden

Red head with freckles

Healthy!

Good build, a little on the below-average male height

Likes to hike

Loves kids

Strong but pacifistic

Great smile

Surprisingly a little shy around other adults

Bisexual

Himbo energy

Douglas Connelly:

Just a regular chubby guy

His chub is only important because this man gives some of the best hugs, he's like a marshmallow

He is outwardly confident about his size, even if it sometimes worries him internally

He loves music, loves to groove in the kitchen while making snacks

Always open for roommates and new friends (one of his roommates is a hot bartender called Donovan)

A bit awkward but he tries his best.

Tucker:

Badass

Bunny hybrid (ears :3)

White hair

Likes to wear denim jackets

Fast runner

Has had experience working in the force

Izekiel Iris:

Bruised and abused in a facility

Was turned from human into A being of made of Paint (Useful? no. Fun? yes. Rainbow blood anyone?)

Loves painting

Wallflower

Easily anxious

Loves to draw on his own arms

Matthew Libelle:

Aka Matty Very delayed development wise as well as Autistic

Very much a texture lad, soft blankets are his thing.

Doesn't like loud sounds ( who does honestly).

Tries his hardest to function normally but it's hard.

Watermelon colours are his fav. Green hoodie is his fav.

Has watermelon pink hair.

Gale:

Eldritch bab

Was cursed by a group of guys who were messing with magics they didn't understand

Did in fact murder said group of guys and is traumatised by the idea he has become a monster

hears voices

Has Tendrils that have burst out of his back

Has the ability to move from this realm to the Eldritch planes and back. (is terrified of said planes)

Doesn't have a home

Black curly hair- frizzy- shimmers like Slick oil

Shy type kinda, tall Pale. cold.

Kinda wishes he could just go back to normal.

Would really like to eat some fresh warm bread.

Rowan maverick

Was abandoned as a teen

Also known as Rogue/Red.

Lost some of their tongues making them mute

Trained Assassin.

Previously part of a cult

Addict to painkillers (Caused by the mental issues from the cult and the loss of tongue.)

Bad with Physical affection

Could use a friend

Jace

Cop/Ex Cop.

Laid off after an incident

Has a pubby called Otis

Likes the occasional beer

Dad energy

Issac Merewen

Was previously a Teacher - grade 11/12s

Kidnapped and kept Drugged the hell up.

Was given the new name: Jess/Jack. AKA The Jester

Now has Amnesia problems .(Anomic aphasia)

Was stored Cramped in box.

Needs glasses. (Long sighted. Cant see Infront of him for shit without glasses. He specifically likes round ones :3)

Natrually Blonde

He was very inspired by the Chitty Chitty bang bang scene, “Doll on a music box”.

- He naturally has two different coloured eyes :D

-He likes podcast n occasionally audiobooks. Its good for learning/remembering words, and way easier than straining his eyes. Although it is upsetting occasionally when he can remember more of a book/podcast he’s into more than real words or real-life things.

Tyrone Li

Incubus.

Wise, Patient, caring.

Brown tattoos wind up his hips and torso, curling around his chest around his heart, and around his back, flaring at his neck.

Glasses.

Loves plants and flora

Sex lost meaning when he was younger. He wants true intimacy again but he wants to find the right person..

Glamors hide the following features:

Tail, brown that gradients into Green, Leaf like tip.

Horns, curled. (green tipped :0)

Glamors break usually after a certain period of time regardless of feeding, however, during bad situations/fight the body may unglamour to reserve the last of its energy.

Caspian:

Basically immortal but can die (Reincarnations)

Not a pacifist, but not instantly into violence

He was blessed by the Heart of the Ocean (Shes wonderful <3)

Can control water, can do minor healing with water

Can make water bubble/ boil when angry

Glowy veins when powers are active

He has had many many lives

Soft..caring..Doesnt remember alot of his past..

Doesn't know how many times hes died

Doesn't have alot of family or friends

Goes on many adventures

Elio Solren.

Nickname: Sunshine

Good lad.

Is a shapeshifter Dealt with being told he was happy and always upbeat. People leaving or ignoring him whenever he wasn't started building this sense of need to be happy all the time for others.

Lots of struggles with self image. Being perfect. Appeasing everyone. Poor self body love/self body image.

Is scared about The hate from humans about shifters. The jealousy and fear about them being able to hide behind other faces.

Smiles to hide the pain

Punk/hipster vibes

Intricate golden tattoos

Doesn't open up easily

Doesn't like to admit to being in pain

Kotori

AKA Corey

Owl lad!

Bright yellow piercing eyes. But is totally blind. (Face scars)

Loves music.

Plays the uke.. hums..sings sometimes.

Big wings- like barn owl.

Likes to perch in trees

Jeremey Caulfield

Winter baby

Was left bleeding in the snow at some point

Father Lovely old man (John)

Mother died (Ellie)

Birthday December 23h

Blue eyes

Black hair

Russel

Box boy

Glasses

Red hair

Real sweetheart

Really needs more dev ; ;

Jules

Loves tofu n chicken

Touchstarved

Stubborn af

Kicks ass!

Has Sass

Wears binders/sports bras for Lotsa running n such

Black hair big messy pigtails

Dark brown eyes.

Has a navy bear sleeps with it ‘doesn't care’ about it but does

Gymnast/kickboxing. Bandages around hands

Loved swinging bars since being a kiddo

Trampolines!!

Participates in Underground fight ring to make easy money

Sleeps on just a mattress

Has a laptop for study work but she's slowly giving up on bothering.

(She's not one originally but Werewolf Jules is one of my fav things)

Miles

Part mole, part orphan

Lives underground

Very light-sensitive

Is colourblind

Absolute nerd

loves tinkering with things

is scared of humans

very foggy memories of his parents.

Leilah/ Lei

Can make/control shadows.

Owns a Magic skull(Speaks to it)

Lives in the woods

Wears a skull to spook off people from her woods

Has Tattoos that are shadow/absorb shadows

Kinda bad at maintaining friendships

Emotionally Distant

Wears a cloak.

Bao Ketsuyki

Blood magic bab

Short

East Asian.

Pink/red medium length hair

Big pretty red flower scar from blood magic use on her shoulder/ back.

Little bit foolish, little bit reckless.

Has almost died a few times from her magic use.

Oran Audun

Pale

Punk

Irish

Plays Guitar

Writes in journal, occasionally song lyrics, occasionally little messy ink drawings.

Easy to aggravate (On edge) however is trying to learn how to meditate and be calmer

Covered head to toe in scars but still tries to find confidence in himself. He doesn't find it unattractive, but he feels like others have no need to witness his scars.

loves wearing leather/fabric wrist bracelets

Unwelcome hands have used his body as a research object

Very very against physical contact, needs to break into it.

Ray

Social worker works mainly with kids.

Has a Shy guy tattoo.

His family consists of a Good ma, younger sister, and super baby brother

Dad died but dad was good.

Dirty blonde hair, kinda messy

Short, 5’

Socks the pupper is his helpful lil buddy (hes so round and white and fluffy)

Super dad vibes.

Owen

a hockey player n gymnast.

His mother died when he was about 9.

has an older brother who is a bit of a big jock type

quite protective and caring of his two much younger siblings.

ended up in a nasty scuffle though at some point during his more competitive years in Hockey

This leads to following his passion for Gym

Pole vault, the rings, trampoline.

Still plays hockey among mates or strangers on the weekends in the cold months tho

Ends up taking a position as a gym teacher for kids after taking a childhood course since he was so good at it.

actually a really sweet guy

Soft but likes his sport and jokes.

He can hold his own somewhat more than he appears.

has blue tips/stripes in his blonde hair.

He often wears varsity jackets or baseball tees. As well as a couple other sport wear shirts. (A. Good few are from his bro ofc. Free merch)

He's short but he's got a fairly decent build on him.

He's got a surprisingly good tackle if you aren't careful. And a good grip strength.

Nohea

but everyone calls him Noah.

Works at a Boba tea cafe..

likes to surf.

has an Epic board.

Back and shoulders all littered with lines and tic tac toe-like scars.

he's the type to brush off any questions and change topic while smiling. But not super bubbly. Just. Go lucky.

has a few friends who like to hang out at the cafe

Was in a surfing accident that involved a lot of rocks.

Ila

4’8 Soft. Short.

Ready to protect.

Loves to bake!!!

Smells like a vanilla cupcake most of the time

Isn't afraid to fight although isn't trained

likes Yoga ( and yoga pants)

Needs glasses but doesn't wear them (tsk tsk, unless tryign to read recipes)

Dyes hair silver/white

Jake

Homeless

Snake hybrid can transform his lower half from human legs to tail

Also has fangs, and therefore venom

He's got a lot of sass

Can be a bit of an asshole but soft around the right people

Isn't used to kindness

doesn't cry easily

Steals food

Mac Hiato

Also known as Caf

5’6

Very Grumpy.

Very often has bags under his eyes.

Hoodie is life

Insomnia has serious trouble sleeping.

Has nightmares of strangulation

Occasionally sufferers sleep paralysis

Scared of dark- night lights

Owns a mouse called Bean

Does freelancing webdesgisn/coding as job.

Sits like a gay.

Lives on coffee

Minorly Lactose intolerant

Has One bad eye

Neema

Egyptian

Mechanic

Her dad's a mechanic and used to bring her to work all the time

dead mum: which affected her ability to emote.

Works part time at the garage

Dad likes to bring gifts on their small catch-ups that happen every once in a while.

Sheeee. Suffers a bit of resting bitch face.

she's kinda stunted emotionally because she was raised by her dad, who, isn't great with emotions himself being a man's man and all.

She's very much a tomboy gal. Doesn't exactly get dressed up. because she finds it tiresome and not "her".

Also if she did/does have friends the nickname Nemo 100% crops up because it's sadly alll too fitting but also kinda sweet.

She's actually really into cars and mechanics. Which is one of the few good reasons her dad and her are close.

She's hard to get to know, very quiet. And if you're someone who dominates the conversation she won't speak up much, but you'll be surprised to how much she's listened.

Just because she looks tired and done doesn't actually mean she feels that way.

Samson (Lemonade boi)

His name is Samson, but he prefers Sun/Sunny. (Other more affectionate nicknames include Lemondrop and Sunflower.)

He really likes going out to markets and stuff like that, little stalls or knick knack shops to find the odd kinda items.

He also really likes wandering big forests. (Hes got some o that fae energy) He collects various cool stones/rocks/plants from some of them. He also has some small vials from waterfalls and ponds he’s encountered)

He wants to practice magic to become a witch! He loves the candles and rocks and other cool things that come with the craft. (He inherited things from his father)

He really likes loose fitting shirts too, like flowy things, ones with sleeves that drape past your fingers, or has extra fabric on the bottom that dangle down past hips. (Sometimes they come from the ladies section just because they’re softer and have more variety. Others from op shops and other niche little stores.)

He bought a cologne from a witch that looks cursed but the only curse is that it makes the one who puts it on smell like citrus..so not much of curse. (The bottle looks fuckin neato tho)

He looves fizzy drinks. Doesn’t mind his alcohol either, however it takes a surprising amount to get him on his ass despite looking like a serious lightweight.

He’s pretty average in build, bit of muscle in his arms, some fat on his thighs. Slight pouch of a tum (cause no ones flat and thats unrealistic :<)

He’s about 5′4. So not tall, but not the shortest of the short.

He kinda likes to backpack about. Not staying in places long if they get boring. Which means he is kinda jack of all trades when it comes to work, offering to fix things for pay, lots of casual work doing various things.(One of his favorites was helping a little old lady run a paint shop.)

He occasionally snorts when he laughs and tries not to.

He has his ears pierced, and he has a little yellow gemed stud in his nose.

The ring around his neck he found in the middle of a patch of mushrooms.

He has a couple other tattoos. One of them is of bubbles up his wrist :3 He also has some stars on his ankle, and a sunflower on one of his fingers on his left hand.

He’s not super in to gardening but he does have his lemon tree. He also wants to grow some mandarins

His eyes look silver in a lot of lights, but occasionally there’s some strange hints of yellow, and other times blue.

He has freckles!!!! that look alot like bubbles ;)

He has a twin brother called Fraser.

Scrunches his nose

Hides his laughter behind his hand

[og-danny-dorito]

A Few Tommy Shelby Headcanons

why did i decide to make this? good ass question cause idk myself

S F W:

- OK just to start it off, hes probably bisexual

- hear me out okay

- the dude has varied taste in women, obviously. the only distinct traits i could find between them all were short hair and formless figures. this doesn't necessarily mean that he's bisexual, but at the time there was a lot of social stigma around anything that wasn't heterosexual and so I'm fairly certain whatever attraction to men he has has been pushed down

- and pansexual is also very possible but i'd think that he'd get a little confused with gender fluidity or something like that and historically that sort of thing wasn't not all that prominent, especially in England in the 1930s where racism was still a normal thing

- what he probably does is that anytime he sees that a man is like relatively attractive his brain auto-corrects into harsh criticism and sudden scorn for the person for like no reason to cope with his gay feelings

- so you already know he's a stubborn baby man

- he doesn't admit a lot of things, like that he thinks you look nice or that he's happy to see you because his pride gets in the way a lot of the time

- the only time he really does admit anything outwardly is behind closed doors when you're both probably in bed and relaxed, not really thinking of anything. you'd probably hear him say something along the lines of “im a lucky man” or “dont leave me like the rest of them did”

- yeah, his self confidence is extremely low. of course he knows that he's a damn good businessman and a great leader, but he has doubts more often than not that cause him to loose sight of himself

- usually he drinks when this sort of thing happens because he can't help but feel ashamed to admit his feeling. it's a coping mechanism that he uses for pretty much everything, really

- he can't talk about himself very openly, so you'll either have to sit down and drink with him or urge him to speak about what's on his mind because that shit ain't healthy in more ways than one. (you personally can probably think of a million different solutions, those just seem like the most likely)

- speaking of which, he doesn't sleep much either. he can function on barely any sleep at all, but the issue is that before having to get into bed with someone he probably ends up falling asleep at his desk or on a couch or something. he's not sure how the blanket got there while he was sleeping, but he appreciates it regardless

- tommy probably enjoys someone who's confident in themselves or at least carries and air of being confident. people that he's pretty sure could stomp him into oblivion are hot, he can't help it. of course he also likes people who are the quiet type of scary as well. he can't ever figure out what's going on in their head, and it creates a sense of comfort in ignorance but unease in it as well

- i will elaborate on his secret masochism in my nsfw headcanons that i might make later (maybe idk yet)

- his favorite thing to do in his past time is read, honestly. it's a good way to detach from business and a good way to spend time with someone

- he probably likes historical fiction the most. maybe horror too, but he likes all things history. especially if they're about the Great War because honestly he wants to point out the flaws in some of the accounts he was part of

- if it's fine with you he'd rather just read and sleep all day or maybe bake something together if you've got enough time

- he gets frustrated with things that waste his time though so you'll have to probably do it on your own while he grumbles and watches

- if you were any sort of lgbtq+, he'd be that much more protective of you. same goes if you're a woman because in his mind woman=weaker. it's not necessarily true, but he feels an obligation to be protective of a woman. you're probably much stronger than him or at least seem like it, so not unless you tell him to stop treating you like a piece of glass he'll keep an arm around you at all times. a man he'd probably feel less protective of honestly just because he respects pride and dignity, but that doesn't mean he doesn't let up on the protection

- man or woman or anything like that, once you mean something to him you're going to have his boys’ eyes on you everywhere. it's a dangerous life he leads, and while he doesn't really want you to be involved in it to the point of keeping you in constant danger, it can't really be helped. expect to be kept under close inspection within his area and slightly closer inspection out of it

- is very hesitant to let you become a part of business affairs. even being at the meetings makes you a witness, therefore if one of the lower members snitches you might be in danger if your name is spilled. it's very unlikely he'll try to get you into business affairs unless you're trained and well-educated in that sort of thing

- this includes accounting, contract knowledge, and maybe even basic law knowledge amongst other things

- he may want you to come along for business events like parties or something, but if you're after grace there's close to no chance that he's introducing you as his significant other or bringing you at all. if you do come along though, he may introduce you as a whore. if you're a dude though you'll just be a friend coming along with him

- speaking of which, he has really bad PTSD. from the multiple things that's have happened to lead him to the present, it's not unlikely that he'll wake up with frequent nightmares and be triggered by things such as loud noises that are too sudden or someone screaming because they're in pain or something like that. and after the whole grace incident combined with john’s death he's probably even more of a mess

- this of course leads him to drinking quite often. it's no time unlikely for him to get intoxicated nearly every day of the week, and often times he doesn't say a word about it during and after. in fact, now that he has you around he's even more adamant to not talk about it. but he can't really help but talk once he feels safe doing so

- what if you leave him? would you have doubts because he's mentally damaged? what would happen if you did leave? these questions cause anxiety obviously

- but tommy has always paid attention to the little things. for instance, if you see him drunk and happen to sit next to him quietly while talking about something that has nothing to do with it, he'll definitely remember it the next day. the fact that it takes his mind off of whatever he's mourning about is something he really appreciates because he knows he wouldn't be able to do it himself

- he's never been one to have loose lips, but when he's intoxicated he may or may not just spill to you right there. you could be saying something like “- and then she knocked him the fuck out. It wasn't weird to watch cause she-” and he’ll just look you dead in the eye and say “I thought about France again today.”

- it's very likely you'll hear about his past lovers more than once and honestly Tommy is hesitant to talk about it. he may be insensitive sometimes but he's not an idiot, so he knows it may make you uncomfortable

- just listening to him makes all the difference to him. he hasn't felt like someone cared about what he's had to say without being a Shelby for a long time, and you just caring enough to sit and hear what he says means more than any big success in the business or good news from some merchant overseas

- he, in turn, is very good at listening. in fact, he's so good at it that all of that skill got drained from giving advice cause he's horrible at that. his way of handling things isn't great so when he tells you to shoot the guy at work who’s been bothering you in the hand as a “warning”  to the others, don't do it cause

- ok now for random headcanons that are not deep and depressing

- probably likes animals, but honestly if he had to keep one in the house he'd prefer a cat just because they're less strenuous and take less effort to handle. while he's not working he'd like one of them curled up in his lap and purring as he keep some one hand on the pen and the other on it’s head. he'd probably name the cat “Mitten” or “Button” ok let's all be honest with ourselves

- lowkey loves to wear your sweaters or something like that. he'll definitely deny any claims suggesting so, but you know damn we'll he still stealing your clothes whenever he can, feminine or masculine. honestly just having it feel like you're around him all the time by simply wearing your clothes makes him feel really comfortable, especially if you're bigger than him or wear clothes that are bigger than him. it makes him feel safe

- probably also likes it when you in turn wear his clothes. he won't say it out loud but he likes it when he notices that his shirt is missing only to see you groggily fixing yourself coffee/tee/literally anything else in it at like 8AM in the kitchen

- likes the color blue a lot, but red looks really nice on people in formal clothes. if you show up in a red dress or suit or whatever he's definitely going to be fucking you on the table later and that's just the facts

- he gets jealous very easily but never says anything about it. you can tell because he suddenly gets about 10x clingier and literally holds you close to him at all times to make a point. may also stare down anyone that looks in your general direction for good measure

- he gives his s/o flowers all the time, whether he's in person or not. he likes to pamper you to the point where you look like a monarch, but like alfie he fully understands if you're more simplistic and prefer to stay low-profile cause he does too

- guns are sexy and if you can use one or any other weapon that's hot and that's all i'm gonna say about that

- physical appearance doesn't matter to him all that much, but his favorite part of the human body is probably the hands. he likes to see hands that have been through some shit, like scars on them and maybe a little dirt or something from work

- he's always been fascinated by writers and people who can create something from nothing. in fact that sortof imagination is always something's he’s envied and wanted for himself, but he's not hopeless at it. he's very good at making up stories and detecting flaws in plot or logic in the storyline. so if you ever need someone to proof-read for something you missed he's the guy to go to. also he knows publishers all over so if you're having trouble he can hook you up with someone to get your stuff known

- kindof emotionally closed off but he can't help but want to talk when you're around. you're inviting in more ways than one, so he eventually ends up spilling no matter what's wrong

- once it's been established that you're close, the whole family may or may not watch you closely for several weeks trying to figure out whether you're good enough or not. arthur will most likely watch you from afar and give you death glares as a warning and john will defenitely flirt with you to see if you're going to cheat on his brother. finn is probably going to try to make friends with you, but aunt polly will interrogate you because that's what she does. ada will try to get the most information on you from everywhere she can and so and so forth until they finally decide that if tommy picked you you can't be all that bad

- they warm up to you quickly, to put it simply, but tommy will most likely have to shoo them off

- in conclusion, tommy shelby isn't an easy lover, but it's worth the struggle at the end of the day. it's been a while since he's felt someone cared about him, and regardless of the circumstance you bet your ass that once he's grown fond of you there's little to no getting out of it by that point. you're his lifeline, his world, and he plans to grow old with you or at least keep you next to him until he withers away and dies

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 59

 DISCLAIMER: This is a modern AU crossover story with Outlander and La Femme Nikita. LFN and its characters do not belong to me nor do those from Outlander.

 SYNOPSIS:  James Fraser meets with Superintendent Zheng to tell him about Claire Beauchamp’s transfer to the OCTB.  Although he is not pleased to do so, he reluctantly releases her knowing that this was a possibility.  Claire’s neighbour drops in to her apartment.

 THANK YOU to everyone who has been reading or who have just discovered this story.  My heartfelt thanks to you all. Much appreciated.  Also, a special shout out to all who reblog my story onto their blogs.  This is most appreciated for the exposure of Covert Operations and I am grateful to you all. I hope you enjoy this next chapter.

 Previous chapters can be found -  https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

CHAPTER 59

Superintendent Zheng had requested some files from police archives and Claire was just about to go and collect the records that he had wanted when the phone on her desk began ringing. Picking it up she didn’t even have time to answer when a familiar Scottish brogue said her Section One code name.

“Jo-se-phine.”

 It was all he said but it was enough for Claire to get those funny feelings in her stomach whenever Jamie contacted her at the start of an impending mission. It had been several weeks since she had heard his voice and the dulcet tones of his command washed over her and made her long to see him once more.  At last Jamie had contacted her to inform her that the new mission profile was imminent.

“Yep! Thanks.”   

Her reply too was brief but it was all she could manage to say. Replacing the handset, she set off to the archives in the basement to collect the documents knowing that Jamie would contact her soon with the updated profile. Claire smiled to herself and replayed the sound of his voice in her head once more.  She couldn’t wait to see him in person and hoped that he would be back in Hong Kong sooner rather than later. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“So, Mr Fraser.  We meet again.”

“Aye.” “I thought you had returned to Scotland?” “I did ... but now I’m here.” Superintendent Zheng remembered that James Fraser was a man of few words and his replies were succinct as before.  He did wonder however, why he had been in Scotland but guessed it was probably on some official business given the résumé of the man seated before him.  Fraser was certainly clandestine in his answers and in embellishing any details that really didn’t concern him.  Nevertheless, the man intrigued him.

“Yes ... you are. What brings you back to Hong Kong after all this time?” 

“New orders from your Chief Commissioner.” He sat back in his chair. Fraser’s statement was news to him.  “Really?”

“Aye ... I’m sure you did your homework Superintendent Zheng before I was assigned to Miss Beauchamp some months ago.” 

A wry look passed between the two men at Jamie’s words for Zheng had done exactly that. “You have a most impressive body of work Mr. Fraser. But what has that got to do with the Chief Commissioner?”

“What I am to tell ye is strictly confidential you understand and will go no further than this room.” “Of course.” “Private investigating work is but a mere cover. I actually work covertly for the Canadian Government and other world bodies specializing with triad groups in Canada and elsewhere. We liaise with similar agencies where triads are active.” “Hmm ... I see.”  Zheng remembered that it had stated on his resume that Fraser had been seconded to work as a special agent for the FBI in his area of expertise … Organized Crime. So, what he had said made sense and perhaps that is why he was also in Scotland.

“But I don’t quite understand why you are here then and not at the OCTB Mr Fraser? They deal with organised crime and triads here in Hong Kong.”

“That’s precisely why I am here Superintendent. Certain people Miss Beauchamp and I came across in our undercover assignment have been seen in Canada recently to open a chain of new business ventures.” 

“Who?”

“I’m not at liberty to disclose any names but some are of doubtful character. The Canadian government is worried about a triad influx into their borders to set up legitimate business but with underlying motives.” “So are these people members of the Rising Dragons?” “Read into it what ye will.” “I find this all a little overwhelming I must say Mr Fraser.” “That’s why I need yer help ... or more specifically ... Miss Beauchamp’s help.” “But why will you need her assistance again?” “As you are aware her undercover assignment was very successful.” “Yes.” “Your Chief Commissioner was most impressed and at the request of my government, Miss Beauchamp is to be transferred to Hong Kong's Organized Crime and Triad Bureau undercover unit for the remainder of her stay here in Hong Kong. You can verify this with the Commissioner if needs be.” Superintendent Zheng’s own premonition had come to fruition as he had pondered on this very scenario when Claire had arrived back at the Water Police, for he knew she would be best suited to the Organised Crime and Triad Bureau. Obviously orders had come through while he’d been sitting on his hands reluctant to release Claire to the OCTB as he’d known she would be eventually. Instead he dug his heels in and wanted to know the reasoning behind the decision. “For what reason?” “That’s classified I’m afraid.” “And if I refuse to transfer her to the OCTB?” “I wouldn’t if I were you. The deaths of Mr. Wu and Annalise de Marillac on the junk have proved that the Rising Dragons will not tolerate interference in their business. I think they have made that perfectly clear in the past. Wouldn’t you?” “But Mr Fraser … I need her here. I did have plans … Our tighter anti-crime laws have been responsible for a recent drop-off in the overall crime rate in Hong Kong.” “Ye are delusional Superintendent … they have merely been dormant for a while.  I would suspect that the current slow rate of crime is an indication that there is movement in the hierarchy of the triad for an overthrow and more so with the death of Tony Wong. He will need to be replaced. I would think that their leader Sun Yee Lok better watch his back.” “That may be so, but why Miss Beauchamp? Surely the OCTB has personnel that can deal with such a scenario?” “What valid reasons could ye come up with Superintendent? The junk murders have been solved as far as the Water Police are concerned and consequently your department has no further need of Miss Beauchamp’s services anyway.” “W-ell ...” “You’re grasping at straws Superintendent Zheng. Her transfer ... is not ... negotiable.” “But ...” Xiao Zheng tried to find a legitimate excuse that would sound rational rather than petulant and goading for this formidable man. He had noticed James Fraser’s steely disposition the first time he had met him and today only further confirmed that he was not a man to be underestimated. He was used to being in control. Zheng could feel the aura of power surrounding him. “Will you disobey your High Commissioner and cause a diplomatic incident by refusing orders Superintendent?” “No ... but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. She could be in danger.” “All covert work is dangerous. Miss Beauchamp can protect herself.” “I know.” “Good … then you’ll release her.” Superintendent Zheng looked at Jamie and finally nodded his compliance of the directive he’d been given. “Very well … I’ll have her come to my office when she returns.” “Thank ye ... Oh and Superintendent...” Jamie stated as he rose to leave. “Yes?” “I need to remain covert for obvious reasons.” “Of course.” “And ... this conversation never happened. Understand?” “Perfectly, Mr Fraser.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ After James Fraser had left his office, Superintendent Zheng sat musing over their conversation. Yes ... he understood perfectly well. Covert work was always clandestine. Zheng knew John So at OCTB and one or two others because of their past connections to the Water Police, but no one really knew who was undercover and who wasn’t. There were a few Bureau members who he didn’t care much for, Chief Inspector Jiang Ng, the head of the Bureau being on top of his list. He was young and brash and much too cocky for his likening. He never gave any Intel away either, unless he was after some. As for the others, Zheng kept an open mind. The thing that worried him most was that in some circumstances, life undercover often replicated itself into their real lives until the boundaries became blurred. He had to let go of his feelings of foreboding ... Claire had survived Tony Wong ... and the Rising Dragons’ triad ... but they never forgot or forgave those who betrayed them. Nevertheless, he was worried that Claire Beauchamp would become involved in something undercover that would affect her profoundly or get her into serious trouble. He knew that whatever had transpired and whoever they had met while they were undercover had prompted her recall. Obviously he was not privy to classified information and he knew that he would never know the extent of her knowledge of the Rising Dragons. Whoever they had in their sights was obviously dangerous and needed the expertise of people trained in covert work. Reaching for his telephone Superintendent Zheng reluctantly called Claire to his office. The telephone rang repeatedly at her desk but as yet there was no reply as she was clearly still trying to find the files he had asked for. He certainly didn’t want to lose her to the OCTB, but obviously his hands were tied. Orders were orders no matter what your personal feelings were. Transferring her to the OCTB could be fraught with danger, however, if Claire were in danger, he would rather she be protected by this man James Fraser. He had clearly seen to her safety on their undercover assignment and he would do so again on their next ... and besides he had been most adamant and persuasive. It was apparent to Superintendent Zheng that Claire Beauchamp knew too much about the Rising Dragons and would be invaluable to the OCTB. But why would the Canadian government make a formal request for her help? Perhaps they had requested Claire because of Intel the two of them had discovered that he was not privy to and this was their way of keeping her close? Or did their undercover assignment open up many leads that could only be perused through other avenues? Too many questions rose in his head ... too many scenarios presented themselves ... and there was too much secrecy. Clearly, he was not fully briefed about the Intel they’d uncovered for these questions would surely have been answered if he had been. Once again Zheng would be saying goodbye to a person whom he had come to admire and respect. He only hoped that Claire Beauchamp would come through this safely and unscathed. He tried to call her again and this time she answered. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ “Sir you wanted to see me?” Claire announced as she stood in the doorway to his office. “Yes ... come in Miss Beauchamp. Sit down.” “Have you enjoyed working here?" “Very much sir.” “Your time spent with us at police headquarters has been most valuable and I feel fortunate that you were assigned to the Water Police for your sabbatical leave.” “My sabbatical has certainly been interesting, hasn’t it Superintendent Zheng?” He smiled.  “You made a difference to our case Claire and this has not gone unnoticed by those in authority.” “Thank you sir.” “However ...” He paused and looked at her, “... there is no other way to say this but you are to be transferred to the Organised Crime and Triad Bureau.” Xiao Zheng announced sadly. “I see ... Why am I being transferred?” “The Police Commissioner feels that some experience at the OCTB would be beneficial especially given your past undercover assignment. Working at the Organised Crime and Triad Bureau will be enlightening police work I’m sure.” “I’ve enjoyed working with you Superintendent Zheng and I’ll miss you all.” “Everyone here at the Water Police is sorry to see you go too. But you need to move on and test new waters as they say.” “When will my transfer take place?” “Immediately ... You can clear out your desk ... but you’ll start there tomorrow.” “Oh.” Xiao Zheng rose from his desk and approached Claire. Shaking her hand he hesitated and then gave her a quick hug. “Good luck and good bye Claire. It was a pleasure to meet and work with you.” “And you too sir,” Claire replied as she turned and left his office for the last time. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Claire lay on the floor of her apartment exercising and trying to take her mind off her meeting with Superintendent Zheng today by giving herself a thorough workout. She’d cranked up the music before starting her exercise regime and had already worked up a sweat. With her body on her white floor rug and her lower legs resting on the couch she was up to her thirtieth sit-up. When she had finished her fiftieth one, she sat up. Feeling her pulse rate, Claire wiped the sweat from her brow with a towel then closed her eyes for a moment before getting up and walking into the kitchen. 

Having been told to stay in her police cover prior to returning to the Hong Kong Water Police until Section One would need her again, Claire realised that the next stage was this new appointment to the Organised Crime and Triad Bureau which would begin tomorrow morning. Clearly this transfer was part of the plan that Operations and Madeline had in mind, but she was a little worried though as Jamie hadn’t made any face to face contact with her yet to debrief her on her transfer to the OCTB. Perhaps he would have some Intel about Jonathon Randall as well, and if so, her profile would need to be changed. Claire wondered why he hadn’t arrived. Her mind was at loggerheads also thinking about whether they would be able to see each like they had on the Madame Cheung mission before the scenario was in play or would he be evasive about the mission. Getting a drink from her refrigerator she took a long swallow before returning to the floor for some push ups, but before she could begin a knock sounded at the door. Claire wondered who it could be at this time of night. She hoped that it was Jamie and that he’d finally arrived to debrief her about her new profile. She suddenly felt a little nervous. Her heart was immediately in her mouth and her pulse rate quickened in anticipation of her visitor. Remembering when he had arrived at her apartment before only exacerbated her nervous tension. She hoped that it wasn’t Angus and Mei as she’d already said her sad goodbyes to them when she had left Police Headquarters saying that they could not contact her again under any circumstances. The last thing she wanted was another spur-of-the-moment visit from her two friends trying to cheer her up after she’d told them of her transfer to the OCTB. They would be risking disciplinary action if they had broken with police protocol and tried to contact her after hours now that she was not associated with the Water Police. She had told them that she would also be leaving her apartment as soon as possible in order for them to not come calling in the future. Giving them both a huge hug she’d wished them well ... but it was a final good bye. They knew the risks involved when there was a transfer to the OCTB and they wouldn’t want to put her in jeopardy. Claire didn’t think that they would do that so perhaps it was her neighbour and jogging buddy Karen Yee. She would have to say goodbye to her too at some stage. Claire would miss her and their budding friendship that had developed over the past few weeks, but she didn’t live an ordinary life and friendships on the outside could not be encouraged. Standing, Claire turned the music down and hurried to open the door. Checking the peephole first, however, it was not who she expected. James Fraser was not the one standing on her threshold.  Nonetheless Claire took a breath to compose herself before answering and despite her disappointment she opened her apartment door with a cheery greeting.

 “Hi ... Come in.”

Leaving the door open, her neighbour Karen Yee walked into her apartment while Claire went to turn the music back up and resume her push ups. “Hey, what’s going on in here?” Karen asked closing the door behind her and casting her eyes around the apartment. “Sorry about that; I was just working out. The music wasn’t too loud was it?” “No, no ... I’ve got something to tell you,” she stated excitedly. “Uh huh.” “I met someone.” “Hey! Good for you!” “Remember that new nightclub I told you about a couple of weeks ago?” “What ... The Triangle?” “Yeah ... Well I met him there. Claire, I think this is the one. He’s different.” Karen walked into the kitchen and got some bottled water out of the refrigerator as she made herself at home in Claire’s apartment. “Want some water?” She called out. “No Thanks,” Claire called back. “I’ve got some.” “Mmmm! Something smells good. What ya cooking girlfriend?” “Spaghetti Bolognaise ... You wanna stay for dinner?” “Sure,” Karen replied coming back into the loungeroom where Claire was exercising doing a series of pushups. Taking a sip from her bottle, Karen sat on the floor in front of Claire and watched her work out. Arching her back like a cat in a stretch Claire feigned interest and solicited more information about her mystery man. “So tell me about him,” but as soon as Karen began talking she switched off and continued concentrating on her exercises. “I know musicians are trouble, but he’s such a wonderful guy. That can’t be that bad, right?” Noticing her apparent lack of interest, Karen handed Claire her half filled bottle of water from the floor then asked, “You okay Claire? ... You seem a bit distracted.” “Yep, I’m fine. It’s nothing really,” she replied as she stood up. Taking the bottled water with her, she moved to look out the balcony windows across Victoria Harbour. Karen could see that Claire was upset. “Yeah, well, it’s something. What’s wrong?” She asked trying to get to the bottom of her friend’s melancholy. “Something happened today.” “What?” “I left my job.” Claire stated not even looking at Karen. “Why? What happened?” “I had a huge falling out with my boss ... I just can’t work there anymore.” “That’s too bad.  Hey ... I know a way to cheer you up. How about coming to the nightclub to hear my guy play,” Karen said enthusiastically. “Nah! ... I don’t think so.” “Come on Claire it will be fun ... You might ... meet ... a guy.” Claire smiled at her persistence. “Okay ... Why not?” “That’s the girl. Now, why don’t you go freshen up? I’ll organise everything in here for dinner.” “Thanks Karen ... I am a bit sweaty. I won’t be long ... be back in a bit.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ When Claire returned, she helped Karen set her small glass table for dinner and as they did so they chatted. “I'm glad you came over Karen ... it's not very often I get to hang out with friends.” “What about Angus and Mei? Don't you guys hang out anymore?” “No.” Claire replied, putting the salad bowl down on the table. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” She replied sincerely then trying to cheer her up inquired sneakily, “So have you got a boyfriend?” “Well, I wouldn't really call him a boyfriend but he's okay.” Karen poured some red wine into two glasses. They smiled at each other and clicked glasses. Noting Claire’s apparent changed mood Karen asked, “But there's closeness, yeah?” “Yeah ... but we haven’t seen each other for a while.” Claire’s thoughts were suddenly somewhere else ... on someone else ... someone who should be here but wasn’t. “Hey Claire!” Karen’s voice however, brought Claire back to reality with a thud once again. For just a moment she’d forgotten that she was entertaining her friend. “I don't know about you but I'm starved. Let’s eat!” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ When Karen finally left her apartment, a worried Claire immediately contacted Section One as she thought that by now Jamie would have contacted her in some capacity one way or the other.

“Fergus! What’s happening? Where’s Jamie?”

“A situation has arisen that has taken priority. I don’t think he liked it, but Jamie has been recalled back to Section for a new mission in Senegal.” “Why? What’s happened?” “There’s been a coup d'état ... all hell has broken out.” “For how long?” “Don’t know ... Could be a couple of days or longer. It’s hard to tell until he reports in about the situation.” “Oh!” She replied, hoping that the disappointment didn’t register in her voice. “It seems Operations’ changed the agenda. He said he needed his top Level 5 operative in Senegal to ascertain and contain the situation.” “That would be right,” she responded softly but Fergus failed to hear her. “Claire? ... Claire? ...You still there?” “Yeah Fergus ... I’m still here ...” She answered as her voice trailed off. “So where does that leave the mission then? Will I be getting an update or do I wait for Jamie?” “Intel’s been transferred to your PDA. You should have the details within the hour.” “Why have I been transferred to the OCTB?” “Section thinks there is a mole at the Bureau. You’re to do some investigation to see if you can find out who it is.” “Does Jamie know about this?” “Yes.” “Is someone feeding information to the Rising Dragons from the OCTB?” “It appears so.” “Do we know who it might be?” “No. See what you can find out, then report back.” “Okay. Any new Intel on Jonathon Randall?” “Some, but Jamie will debrief you on what we know when he sees you.” “Okay.” “Good ...He will be there as soon as he can.” “Thanks Fergus.”

 Claire bit her bottom lip in disappointment ... when would she see Jamie?  Hopefully the Senegal mission would be brief and he would be back very soon.  She just wanted to see the man she missed in the flesh so desperately, but Claire knew she would have to be patient although she didn’t like it one iota. Tomorrow was another day and she was to start at the OCTB so Claire tiredly made her way to her bed. Nonetheless she didn’t think she would be able to sleep especially if her thoughts were about the man, she missed and longed to see.

 *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued

[robotnik-mun]

The Sonic/TF Crossover: Comic Cannon Changes List

Sonic The Hedgehog/Transformers Crossover Continuity Changes:

Here’s a list of minor things that will have changed from what happened in the canon of the Archie Comics or outright omitted.

01: Sally does NOT let Max Steamroll her: At first Sally does cow a bit when Max starts to assert his authority, but quickly his dismissal of her achievements, disbanding the FF and inability to flex his views and traditionalist mindset drive a wedge between them. This comes to a climax when Elias is revealed and unlike the comics where Sally was presented as mostly confused, there is LIVID anger and she lets Max know it. To Sally, it was one thing to have her opinions dismissed as she could rationalize Max’s traditionalist mindset; but the revelation of her Mother still being alive and NEVER being told she had a Brother spoke volumes of how little Max seemed to care about her beyond his traditionalist views on how she should behave and act. She also refuses Max’s separating her from her FF friends, and spends as much time with them as she can, since she feels more love and acceptance from them than her Father. Plus her friends help her ‘vent’ and get things off her chest so she’s less likely to bottle it and explode on the wrong person, but plenty of her anger remains deep down, but she has outlets to focus at least and people who care.

  At this point, Sally becomes very cold to Max but remains cordial if just to not give him ammo to start an argument and she’d rather focus on getting to know her older sibling and her Mother’s recovery. However; with Max almost putting Elias to his ‘Princely duties’ soon as he gets home and shuts her out even more. Despite not trying to put this on Elias the resentment starts and so Sally focuses on FF stuff, but does not shut out Elias own attempts to get to know the other. Her resentment lessens as Elias confides he feels as used as she was since he feels his Father wants a ‘yes man’ Prince more than a son. This mutual resentment towards Max helps them bond and for Sally to get over any ill will she felt towards Elias. While Elias keeps his resentment close to the chest, Sally already the pariah becomes less tight-lipped on her disagreements with her Father but maintains some civility for Elias’ sake. When their Mother is revived and Max is injured to the point of being unable to walk, both dial back their issues with Max and try to focus on their family.

  Alicia once fully recovered and brought up to speed, sees the discord in the family and tries to help mend things. She manages some mending but Sally while openly warm and happy with her Mother is distant and less cordial but ‘tolerating’ of Max. Through the story motions, there are ups and downs with the Acorn Family, especially once Elias runs away and Sally fully unloads at Max, letting off pent up issues she kept lowkey for her Mother and Brother’s sake, and before leaving the castle tells Max she fully blames him and St. John for Elias running out of their lives barely after returning to it.

  Alicia now aware of certain things pulls off a mixture of chastising her Husband for the secrets and treating Sally and Elias; but also consoling him some as she can see that this incident was eating Max to the core as the guilt, Elias’ letter and Sally’s words finally started to undermine the surefire validity Max felt towards his actions.

  Things (mostly thanks to Alicia and Sonic himself of all people who had every beef with Max as Sally did) settle some with Max making an attempt at mending fences with Sally. Sally very much still angry agrees to ‘have talks and discussions, for Mother’s sake’. Over time, especially once Elias location and living status is affirmed things ease up and Sally while in no mind to forgive Max yet, is willing to ‘try again’ and things become pleasant for the Acorns, even to the point Max lets go of his bias against Sonic when Sally tells her parents her desire to openly date Sonic and gives his blessing.

  Then the Xorda invasion happens and with Sonic seemingly dead, Sally shuts down partially and focuses on her FF duties since she doubts Robotnik will uphold his truce for long. During this period, Elias concerned for his Sister takes to visiting her semi-frequently, taking walks through the forest or Elias accompanying her on scouting missions, letting the two siblings vent and deepen their bond (as well as give Elias a taste of action).

  Then that fateful day in the wastes near the Great Forest, they find that buried alien ship…

02: One Robotnik, one Eggman, ONE Doctor:

  Unlike in the comic canon, when the original Dr. Robotnik returns briefly, instead of that silly plot where at the end he vanishes anyway; the original is a bit testy when he returns that ANOTHER HIM is running the show! However, after initial hostility, both Doctor’s realize they should focus their hate on a proper target. Now working side by side properly, Dr. Eggman discovers his counterparts instability and so measures to prevent this long enough for the two to get revenge together is made. However surprisingly Eggman and Robotnik find themselves getting along despite their mutual treacherous natures. The cat and mouse game between ‘equals’ gives them a sense of dark joy and a benchmark to improve themselves. This leads to Eggman proposing a radical procedure that would ‘ensure they’d never be apart’. Between his own twisted enjoyment of Eggman’s company and not wanting to fade away to nothing again, Robotnik agrees and soon, the two enter an experimental device that fuses the two together. The same man but from two dimensions; rotund but also ‘beef-lanky’ in the right places. With coat and stylish cape, the new Robotnik fusion takes his place to run his Empire and DESTROY THAT ACCURSED HEDGEHOG!!

03: No Locke, you don’t get to microwave the baby and eat your cake too.

Much like Sally Knuckles isn’t, as accepting of the things Locke tells him. When he confronts Locke and gets the 411, he’s torn. He’s still elated his Father isn’t dead but now he’s livid at the lies and, well now he’s wondering if he had ANY control in his life, and also develops a worry about his own genetics. On the sly Knuckles has doctors check him to be sure nothing’s wrong. It doesn’t become a supremely obsessive paranoia, but once or twice Julie or one of the Chaotix consoles him if ‘anything wrong does happen, we got your back’. Furthermore while Knuckles tries to be open-minded about the Brotherhood and their methods, he slowly develops a disdain for a chunk of it, especially when certain things come to light, and when Motari Rex is revealed to have been impersonating Tobor for years, he criticizes the Brotherhood for not noticing such a crucial thing and who knows how much pain Rex/Tobor caused under their own noses.

  Locke for his end stubbornly feels his actions and those of the Brotherhood are mostly justified but between Knuckles words, the Rex/Tobor revelation, the raid on Haven, and other things give him pause for rumination. The other Brotherhood members also give pause but still fall back to their ‘tried and true’ methods, which furthers Knuckles distance from them and his admonishment of their actions.

  They come to a head when the Brotherhood refuses to get involved with Robotnik wars on the surface when Sally comes calling. Livid more than usual, Knuckles calls out the Brotherhood and tells Sally aside before she goes home if she needs help HE and the Chaotix will come if they can. Likewise, Sally offers her own help to Angel Island and the two old friends find another avenue to bond over, Father issues.

  This causes a minor schism within the Brotherhood, some now questioning if they’ve gone too far, and if they should revise some of their methods given how many things were implemented by ‘Tobor’ of all of them. How many were purposely flawed? Spectre as Pro-Brotherhood as he is; feels they should reevaluate their methods. Especially given his one-time imprisonment by the Dark Legion was not such a coincidence and that his ‘harsh training’ worked by a lucky fluke it would seem.

  Locke and some others maintain they should stay the course, but they all have some form of doubts and agree to discuss the matters as they come. Of course, ongoing events keep the Brotherhood from truly ironing out these issues. With the Legion’s attacks Knuckles turning briefly into a Chaos Being only to die, cause many setbacks to reorganize, culminating in the majority of the Brotherhood being taken by Robotnik’s Egg-Grapes and Locke a prisoner of the Dark Legion when they take over the island due to Knuckles and the Chaotix’s absence following the Xorda invasion.

04: The Troubles of Geoffery St. John:

  With recent Penders-BS events, I have to do something about the skunk.

  First up, he and Sally NEVER have any romantic relationship. Geoff does flirt with her a lot, and Sally is flattered by the attention, torn between liking it and also being off-put by their age gap.

  Geoff keeps his hands to himself but he does seem to push for things to happen between him and Sally, and he still takes joy in flirting with her when Sonic is around to get a rise out of him. While Sally feels a little torn at times, it’s Rosie Woodchuck who becomes the voice of reason when Sally asks for advice.

  “He’s how old? Hmm, well I’d be wary of a man who makes gestures like that to a teenager when he’s over 18.”

  “So I should shut him down entirely Rosie?”

  “My Princess, that is up to you, but for my two bits? Yes, he should be making flirtations with someone his own age, not you. A shame really, his Father Ian was a gentleman, flirty and suave yes, but only at the right time and NEVER to someone underage. Makes me wonder who raised that boy during all this time…?”

So yeah, Geoff and Sally never liplock and whether Geoff made moves due to his plans to undermine the kingdom, or he’s a creep or both… I’ll let the story’s chemistry decide at that point. He’ll back off when Sally lays it out her interest is non-existent and so Geoff just… remains a jackass, one with skills and does help the heroes but he’ll still be wracking that karma to get knocked down a peg when he and his Team get Nano’machined into uselessness, and Elias holding him in contempt for using him as a cudgel to undermine Sonic by stripping him of his knighthood.

05: Transformers, everywhere:

  As mentioned in many posts, the ties to old Earth, Cybertron, and modern Mobius will be discovered and felt throughout the story. The Source of All was an experiment of Shockwave’s, Humanity survived by hiding inside a Cybertronian Titan that was stasis locked in city/ship mode, the Echidna’s became so advanced ahead of everyone because they found a Mind-Linking Data Cube from one of the ship crashes, etc etc.

That’s it for now. Of course, this just covers what I can recall and when I expand this list I’ll re-submit it unless said ‘changes’ to the canon is due to a story secret that; well you’ll have to read it to find it out. ^_~

--

As per usual, veeery sensible changes to be made here. I rather like the touch about the old Robotnik and the current Eggman merging into a new, gestalt of the two. It’s something I’ve toyed with myself from time to time. Either way though, definitely approving of all of this, in particular the elimination of certain details regarding Geoffrey that we wish we could ALL forget. 

Keep it up!

[bountyofbeads]

Impeachment Testimony: Read a Statement from the White House Ukraine Expert

https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2019/10/29/us/politics/vindman-statement-impeachment.html

Read Alexander Vindman’s Statement on Trump and Ukraine

BY The New York Times | Published October 29, 2019 | New York Times | Posted October 29, 2019 |

Lt. Col. Alexander S. Vindman of the Army, the top Ukraine expert on the National Security Council, plans to tell impeachment investigators that he twice reported concerns about President Trump’s dealings with Ukraine, according to a draft statement obtained by The New York Times.

Opening Statement of Lieutenant Colonel Alexander S. Vindman

Before the House Permanent Select Committee on Intelligence, the House Committee on Foreign Affairs, and the House Committee on Oversight and Reform

October 29, 2019

Mr. Chairman and Ranking Member, thank you for the opportunity to address the Committees concerning the activities relating to Ukraine and my role in the events under investigation.

BACKGROUND

I have dedicated my entire professional life to the United States of America. For more than two decades, it has been my honor to serve as an officer in the United States Army. As an infantry officer, I served multiple overseas tours, including South Korea and Germany, and a deployment to Iraq for combat operations. In Iraq, I was wounded in an IED attack and awarded a Purple Heart.

Since 2008, I have been a Foreign Area Officer specializing in Eurasia. In this role, I have served in the United States' embassies in Kiev, Ukraine and Moscow, Russia. In Washington, D.C., I was a politico-military affairs officer for Russia for the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs where I authored the principle strategy for managing competition with Russia. In July 2018, I was asked to serve at the National Security Council.

The privilege of serving my country is not only rooted in my military service, but also in my personal history. I sit here, as a Lieutenant Colonel in the United States Army, an immigrant. My family fled the Soviet Union when I was three and a half years old. Upon arriving in New York City in 1979, my father worked multiple jobs to support us, all the while learning English at night. He stressed to us the importance of fully integrating into our adopted country. For many years, life was quite difficult. In spite of our challenging beginnings, my family worked to build its own American dream. I have a deep appreciation for American values and ideals and the power of freedom. I am a patriot, and it is my sacred duty and honor to advance and defend OUR country, irrespective of party or politics.

For over twenty years as an active duty United States military officer and diplomat, I have served this country in a nonpartisan manner, and have done so with the utmost respect and professionalism for both Republican and Democratic administrations.

INTRODUCTION

Before recounting my recollection of various events under investigation, I want to clarify a few issues. I am appearing today voluntarily pursuant to a subpoena and will answer all questions to the best of my recollection.

I want the Committees to know I am not the whistleblower who brought this issue to the CIA and the Committees’ attention. I do not know who the whistleblower is and I would not feel comfortable to speculate as to the identity of the whistleblower.

Also, as I will detail herein, I did convey certain concerns internally to National Security officials in accordance with my decades of experience and training, sense of duty, and obligation to operate within the chain of command. As an active duty military officer, the command structure is extremely important to me. On many occasions I have been told I should express my views and share my concerns with my chain of command and proper authorities. I believe that any good military officer should and would do the same, thus providing his or her best advice to leadership.

Furthermore, in performing my coordination role as a Director on the National Security Council, I provided readouts of relevant meetings and communications to a very small group of properly cleared national security counterparts with a relevant need-to-know.

MY SERVICE ON THE NATIONAL SECURITY COUNCIL

When I joined the White House’s National Security Council (“NSC”), I reported to Dr. Fiona Hill, who in turn reported to John Bolton, the National Security Advisor. My role at the NSC includes developing, coordinating, and executing plans and policies to manage the full range of diplomatic, informational, military, and

economic national security issues for the countries in my portfolio, which includes Ukraine.

In my position, I coordinate with a superb cohort of inter-agency partners. I regularly prepare internal memoranda, talking points, and other materials for the National Security Advisor and senior staff.

Most of my interactions relate to national security issues and are therefore especially sensitive. I would urge the Committees to carefully balance the need for information against the impact that disclosure would have on our foreign policy and national security.

I have never had direct contact or communications with the President.

THE GEOPOLITICAL IMPORTANCE OF UKRAINE

Since 2008, Russia has manifested an overtly aggressive foreign policy, leveraging military power and employing hybrid warfare to achieve its objectives of regional hegemony and global influence. Absent a deterrent to dissuade Russia from such aggression, there is an increased risk of further confrontations with the West. In this situation, a strong and independent Ukraine is critical to U.S. national security interests because Ukraine is a frontline state and a bulwark against Russian aggression.

In spite of being under assault from Russia for more than five years, Ukraine has taken major steps towards integrating with the West. The U.S. government policy community’s view is that the election of President Volodymyr Zelenskyy and the promise of reforms to eliminate corruption will lock in Ukraine’s Western-leaning trajectory, and allow Ukraine to realize its dream of a vibrant democracy and economic prosperity.

Given this perspective and my commitment to advancing our government's strategic interests, I will now recount several events that occurred.

RELEVANT EVENTS

When I joined the NSC in July 2018, I began implementing the administration’s policy on Ukraine. In the Spring of 2019, I became aware of outside influencers promoting a false narrative of Ukraine inconsistent with the consensus views of the interagency. This narrative was harmful to U.S. government policy. While my interagency colleagues and I were becoming increasingly optimistic on Ukraine’s prospects, this alternative narrative undermined U.S. government efforts to expand cooperation with Ukraine.

April 21, 2019: PRESIDENT TRUMP CALLS UKRAINE PRESIDENT ZELENSKYY

On April 21, 2019, Volodymyr Zelenskyy was elected President of Ukraine in a landslide victory. President Zelenskyy was seen as a unifying figure within the country. He was the first candidate to win a majority in every region of the country breaking the claims that Ukraine would be subject to a perpetual divide between the Ukrainian- and Russian-speaking populations. President Zelenskyy ran on a platform of unity, reform, and anti-corruption which resonated with the entire country.

In support of U.S. policy objectives to support Ukrainian sovereignty, President Trump called President Zelenskyy on April 21, 2019. I was one of several staff and officers who listened to the call. The call was positive and President Trump expressed his desire to work with President Zelenskyy and extended an invitation to visit the White House.

May 21, 2019: INAUGURATION DELEGATION GOES TO UKRAINE

On May 21, 2019 I was directed by Ambassador Bolton and Dr. Hill to join the delegation attending President Zelenkskyy’s inauguration. When the delegation returned, they provided a debriefing to President Trump and explained their positive assessment of President Zelenskyy and his team. I did not participate in the debriefing.

OLEKSANDR DANYLYUK VISIT - July 10, 2019

On July 10, 2019, Oleksandr Danylyuk, the Secretary of the National Security and Defense Council for Ukraine, visited Washington, D.C. for a meeting with National Security Advisor Bolton. Ambassadors Volker and Sondland also attended along with Energy Secretary Rick Perry.

The meeting proceeded well until the Ukrainians broached the subject of a meeting between the two presidents. The Ukrainians saw this meeting as critically important in order to solidify the support of their most important international partner. Amb. Sondland started to speak about delivering the specific investigations in order to secure the meeting with the President, at which time Ambassador Bolton cut the meeting short.

Following this meeting, there was a scheduled debriefing during which Amb. Sondland emphasized the importance that Ukraine deliver the investigations into the 2016 election, the Bidens, and Burisma. I stated to Amb. Sondland that his statements were inappropriate, that the request to investigate Biden and his son had nothing to do with national security, and that such investigations were not something the NSC was going to get involved in or push. Dr. Hill then entered the room and asserted to Amb. Sondland that his statements were inappropriate.

Following the debriefing meeting, I reported my concerns to the NSCs lead counsel. Dr. Hill also reported the incident to the NSC’s lead counsel.

ELECTION CALL – July 25, 2019

On July 21, 2019 President Zelenskyy’s party won Parliamentary elections in a landslide victory. The NSC proposed that President Trump call President Zelenskyy to congratulate him.

On July 25, 2019, the call occurred. I listened in on the call in the Situation Room with colleagues from the NSC and the office of the Vice President. As the transcript is in the public record, we are all aware of what was said.

I was concerned by the call. I did not think it was proper to demand that a foreign government investigate a U.S. citizen, and I was worried about the implications for...

.... the U.S. government’s support of Ukraine. I realized that if Ukraine pursued an investigation into the Bidens and Burisma, it would likely be interpreted as a partisan play which would undoubtedly result in Ukraine losing the bipartisan support it has thus far maintained. This would all undermine U.S. national security. Following the call, I again reported my concerns to NSC’s lead counsel.

CONCLUSION

The United States and Ukraine are and must remain strategic partners, working together to realize the shared vision of a stable, prosperous, and democratic Ukraine that is integrated into the Euro-Atlantic community. Our partnership is rooted in the idea that free citizens should be able to exercise their democratic rights, choose their own destiny, and live in peace.

It has been a great honor to serve the American people and a privilege to work in the White House and on the National Security Council. I hope to continue to serve and advance America’s national security interests.

Thank you again for your consideration, and now I would be happy to answer your questions.

Produced by Josh Williams and Tiff Fehr.

[angryhausfrau-writes]

Something Old and Something New - Chapter 3: Blood and Water and All That Rot

Charles cannot believe what Marjory has done. It's ruinous. Calamitous.

It's really very kind and thoughtful of her.

Because – and here, Charles pauses for a world weary sigh – he really was not looking forward to participating in the sort of political showpiece his wedding was rapidly becoming.

Charles understands familial duty - of course he does. He's a Winchester, of the Back Bay Winchesters. His blood is bluer than the depths of the Atlantic. He has been raised, been bred, with a perfect understanding of what his name and his position in society means. And an understanding of just how tenuous maintaining that position, and that reproachless name, actually is.

He is the third of his family to bear the name Charles Emerson Winchester, a symbol of the enduring alliance between the Emerson and Winchester families. A solemn promise to carry that alliance into the future, to safeguard and to improve upon his family's circumstances.

And as Honoria has made it quite plain that she never intends to make a suitable match – lucky scamp - it falls to Charles to build new such alliances. To shore up the family against those enemies – both without and within (ahem Cousin Alfred ahem) – who would see him brought to ruin that they may rise in his place. So Charles understands his duty, understands that his wedding must be a show of strength and opulence and the superiority of the Emerson-Winchesters over the rest of Boston high society.

But he's been to other such events. Never so grand, of course – the joining of the Emerson-Winchester and the Oakes families is a singularly prosperous alliance – but Charles has decades of being dragged to such balls and weddings and parties. First by his parents and then, as he grew older, by social obligation. And they are all interminably boring.

No one, other than perhaps the maiden aunts, who live on sweet sherry and malicious gossip, actually wants to be there. It's a duty, an obligation. Something to be endured rather than enjoyed.

But Charles actually loves Marjory, as strange an idea as that might sound given how rarely these matches are made for reasons other than the political. His own parents had dutifully produced an heir and a daughter and then retreated to separate bedroom suites – and, Charles is sure, separate lovers – as soon as their duty to the family was done. But Charles loves Marjory and he wants his wedding to be a genuine celebration of his feelings. An event to be enjoyed, a memory to be treasured into his dotage, something he and Marjory can someday look at the photographs and mementos from and reminisce about what a wonderful day it was, embarrassing the captive audience of children and grandchildren - and perhaps great grandchildren, if Charles is truly fortunate – with their pure, disgusting sentimentality. Charles wants his wedding to be something he does not merely have to suffer through in the name of familial duty.

And Marjory – Goddess among women that she is – has clearly realized Charles's sentiments on the matter, and perhaps even reciprocates – the two of them as in-tune with one another in this as they have been throughout the rest of their courtship – because she has done something rather unthinkable. Marjory has invited people Charles actually likes to the wedding.

Namely the lower-class hoodlums Charles had associated with so begrudgingly in Korea. And with whom, Charles is now realizing, he formed a closer bond with than most of his “friends” in the social circles he's meant to navigate as a scion of one of Boston's foremost families. Indeed, as the wedding planning progresses and he is forced to interact with increasing numbers of grasping family members attempting to curry favor – and solicit a wedding invitation – Charles finds himself preferring the company of his friends even above that of his blood family.

Individuals he had always looked up to as paragons of refinement and models of decorum are rather proving themselves wanting in his eyes.

Individuals such as Grandmama – who is, of course, incensed by the inclusion of “vagabonds and wastrels” (as well as some epithets which do not bear repeating) on the guest list. In fact, she is nearly incoherent with rage - her face a blotchy red as she storms through the halls, the guest list clutched in her shaking fist. Finally, her stampede – followed by a cowed but curious parade of Winchesters – terminates in the blue parlor, punctuated by a particularly vicious jab of her gnarled and accusatory finger at Charles.

“You!” Grandmama screeches as she hurls the list towards him. “Explain this!”

It is through these events that Charles discovers his fiance's actions. He makes a note to go and thank her – once the yelling has subsided, of course.

--

“My dear,” Charles says, when he finally encounters Marjory in the study – hiding from the commotion, presumably. “I've been looking for you all over.”

He sits next to her on the divan, hands brushing – propriety be damned, Charles needs to express his gratitude towards her.

He takes her hand and her face turns towards his. “I wanted to thank you for what you did.”

She looks rather forlorn for someone who has just saved Charles from certain boredom. “And here I was, hoping to find you to apologize.”

“Whatever do you want to apologize for?”

Marjory laughs a sarcastic little laugh. “What do you think, Charles? I've caused such a disturbance – your grandmother must be absolutely livid. I could hear her shouting from all the way up here. I wouldn't be surprised if the wedding got called off on account of my deplorable behavior.”

“Marjory! You must know I would never allow that to happen.”

“But you cannot deny that she was angry enough to at least consider it.”

“She was incensed of course. But since the invitations have already been issued, there is no way to rescind them without appearing gauche.”

Though Grandmama had still ordered Charles to do just that – saying that of course the lower classes would have no frame of reference for decorum and therefor wouldn't feel the snub.

“And,” Charles adds reassuringly, “I was able to impress upon her the necessity of my inviting each and every undesirable name on that list.”

Marjory laughs – a much brighter and happier laugh this time. “You silver-tongued rogue! How exactly did you manage that?”

“Well, Hawkeye and Letta are members of the board of trustees for one of my largest charitable contributions.” And therefore, tax write-offs. “It makes sense to... maintain a healthy business relationship with them.”

“Oh certainly,” Marjory says primly. “It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that those two idiots who lost you all that money will be at the wedding and you want to see them sweat.”

Charles laughs. “That may have been mentioned as well. Grandmama appreciates the importance of vengeance.”

Marjory is well aware of this fact – the Emerson-Winchesters didn't rise to such prominence in Boston society by being nice. She's just grateful that Charles appears to have cooled his grandmother's ire and removed the blame for this... incident from her and Honoria's shoulders – because Honoria had been the one to initially suggest the idea and should therefore take some of the blame, even if Charles has no idea of her involvement.

“The rest of the medical personnel,” Charles continues, “are perfectly obvious connections to foster. Among their number are several ivy-league surgeons, one of whom is my co-worker at Boston Mercy – and who is being groomed to take over running Emergency Medicine when the current head finally retires a decade from now – or dies at his post, whichever comes first. And that places the two of us on nearly equal social footing. It would be seen as a snub not to invite him. Another doctor on the guest list holds a research and teaching position at Stanford, a connection well worth strengthening. And the final individual – who trained at Johns Hopkins, need I remind you – is currently under the wing of Hawkeye's father. The same Hawkeye who's invitation has already been well established as necessary.”

“Compelling arguments, indeed,” Marjory says. There's a spark of laughter in her eyes, encouraging Charles to continue.

“Sidney Freedman is, of course, a forerunner in his field and widely published in several psychiatric journals, including those of the American Psychiatric Association. It would be foolish not to maintain that connection. Particularly if I wish to be included in his upcoming paper on Battle Fatigue and cardiac stress.”

“A feather in the Winchester cap, indeed.” Marjory knows that even though Charles has secured the position of head thoracic surgeon at Boston Mercy, hospital politics would see him dethroned should he ever prove less than exceptional. And little accolades like publication in reputable medical journals go a long way in securing his position.

“As for Margaret – from the sounds of it, she's practically running Fort Dix single-handedly. And she's the one responsible for implementing the nurse triage initiative in field hospitals. An initiative that is currently finding great success in Vietnam and other such outposts of benevolent democratic intervention.” Here, Charles rolls his eyes theatrically – all of Hawkeye's anti-war lectures having rather worn off on him over the years. “At any rate, it would be foolishness itself not to invite her to the small medical conference that is sure to break out once the wedding festivities are over. Indeed, I'd be surprised if several papers don't find their beginnings in our wedding reception – certainly a legacy worthy of the Winchester name.”

“And what of the non-medical individuals on the guest list? Surely they were not so easily explained away.” Not least because Charles is rather less charitable towards them than those he is more outwardly of a kind with.

“Hah! I placed the blame for Mr. O'Reily's invitation squarely on Mother and Father. After all, they were the ones who had such a splendid time with Mrs. O'Reily and “Uncle Ed” that they invited young Radar to summer with us on the Cape. As far as Grandmama knows, I am simply keeping that bargain without subjecting us all to an entire week or more of his quaint little Iowa-isms. She looked upon his invitation quite favorably after that.”

“Well played indeed, dear.”

“Max, of course has a myriad of influential political and “business” connections throughout the Middle West. And, while my interests remain largely medical, I am expected to have a larger hand in stewarding the Winchester fortune after we are wed. It makes sense to get the lay of the land – as it were - from one with their ear to the ground.”

Charles pauses.

“The fact that Max saved my life may have also entered into the conversation.”

Marjory squeezes his hand in comfort.

“Not much one can really say in the face of that,” Charles says – obviously trying for equanimity. Trying, but not quite succeeding.

“Not without appearing entirely too heartless, at any rate,” Marjory adds lightly.

And Charles snorts disparagingly but at least he's lost that rather desperate look he gets sometimes when he thinks about the wrong parts of the Korean war.

“Grandmama has never been overly concerned with appearing to have a heart. But she was eventually persuaded to allow Max a place on the guest list when it looked as if everyone else in the room would protest most vehemently if she did not. Indeed, cousin Alfred's wife appeared near tears at the story – tears that could have easily turned to rage given how high-strung she is.”

“Well, she's not one of the upper crust, is she?” Marjory asks rhetorically. “She's not used to callous indifference towards one's relations.”

“It is the cornerstone of gentility,” Charles says snidely. Then he sighs. “At least Honoria turned out a decent human being – one of two isn't bad odds.”

“You're rather decent yourself, dear. When you feel you can let yourself be.” Marjory pats his arm consolingly. “That's – well, that's rather the reason I invited your friends from Korea. You deserve to have people you can behave half-decently towards at your own damn wedding, instead of spending the entire night in political posturing and snide jabs.”

Charles takes her hand and kisses the back of it.

“And I thank you for that. As I thank God everyday that you have agreed to marry me – truly I would be lost without you.”

“Charles, you big sap.” Marjory pushes him gently away, but she's smiling. “You can't just say things like that – people will begin to think we love one another and the wedding will be called off.”

“Then I'd run off and elope with you. Marjory. I cannot fathom living my life without you by my side. Whatever I must do to secure such a thing – know that I will do it.”

Marjory laughs. “That's why I invited a priest. Just in case we needed to hold a ceremony on the lamb.”

 Charles laughs too, and then turns serious. “You know, Father Mulcahy presided over weddings for several of the MASH personnel. Margaret certainly. And Max was married by him twice over. Had Grandmama not raised my ire so, I would have protested his inclusion – we were never close, and he can be rather... cutting in his way. But it  is   rather fitting he be present at our wedding, even if it's not in his official capacity.” Charles looks at her with deep affection. “Once again, you prove yourself several steps ahead of me, my dear.”

Marjory smiles rather smugly. Though in fairness, it was Honoria who had made the suggestion. Apparently she'd been subjected to more than one diatribe on the subject of the Irish Catholic priest who had no time nor appreciation for Charles's wealth or pedigree and felt that he would make a rather welcome addition to the guest list.

Honoria always did appreciate Marjory's disinclination to take Charles too seriously – a trait the Father apparently shares.

Speaking of the devil, Honoria bursts through the door of the study in a flurry of gauzy scarves.

“Th-there you t-t-two are! I was so w-worried when I heard w-what happened. Grandmama had no right t-to speak to you like th-that!”

“It's quite all right, Honoria. She said nothing to me that I take any stock in. And I've managed to persuade Grandmama to accept my rather... unusual wedding guests. At present, I am simply expressing my appreciation to Marjory for her inviting them in the first place.”

“Th-that and canoodling,” Honoria says with a suggestive waggle of her eyebrows.

Marjory blushes at the realization that she and Charles are sitting in a rather compromising position. Thank goodness it was only Honoria who walked in on them. Marjory shifts on the settee so that they are no longer pressed together.

Oblivious to Honoria's shrewd gaze upon Marjory's movements, Charles puffs up in affront.

“I certainly don't canoodle.”

“Hah!” Marjory exclaims in disbelief - she very well knows that Charles has significant experience. And despite the fact that she's wearing white to the wedding, she's no blushing virgin either.

“W-well, canoodling or not, you can't st-stay up here just the t-t-two of you. Grandmama really w-would have a fit.”

“What do you suggest, oh most generous and helpful chaperon?” Marjory inquires, perhaps a little meanly. But Honoria missed out on all the theatrics earlier so the least she can do is spend a bit of time with her and Charles now that she's finally deigned to grace them with her presence.

--

“Charles!” Hawkeye exclaims. “What are you doing here?”

Apparently, Hawkeye's at their little neighborhood haunt tonight. And where one is, the other cannot be far behind.

“Yeah, Charles.” Trapper claps a companionable hand on his shoulder.

And he should bristle at the familiarity – but he's secretly rather glad to find them here.

“Not that I'm not glad to see you,” Trapper continues. “But I'm pretty sure today's Friday – and Friday of the week we don't play poker. Though after the shift I just had, I'm lucky I remember my own name, much less the days of the week.”

“I, for one, am always shocked to see that you have managed to successfully dress yourself – let alone express a mastery over names, dates, or places,” Charles answers deadpan.

But Hawkeye's drawled “Ouch, Trap – he's got you there.” betrays the fact that they both know he's joking.

 As does Trapper's muttered, “Boy, a guy sees you in your trunks  once   and he never lets it go.”

This kind of friendly repartee is so far removed from the icy jabs delivered by Grandmama earlier today – and that are indeed commonplace from the rest of his family as well - that Charles finds himself compelled to tell them the truth of his situation.

“In all seriousness, gentlemen, I myself find the idea of spending tonight at home rather oppressive. There was a bit of a row earlier and I find myself in search of pleasanter company. Not to cut your evening short-”

Trapper waves his halfhearted objections away with a “You ain't cutting nothing short.” He must not be having much luck finding a date, then. Ah, well. His loss is Charles's gain.

And Hawkeye, too, professes that he is more than happy to have the extra company. So they all collect drinks at the bar and Hawkeye even manages to get them a table in a quieter corner of the pub. It probably helps that he and McIntyre appear to know the gentlemen sitting there quite well judging by all the manly back-slapping and promises to join them next time at whatever bar they're heading to now. Some place far less reputable by the sound of things – they won't even mention the name of the establishment.

Which is just as well. Marjory is already looking a bit uncomfortable around all the working-class individuals packing the bar to the rafters. And even Honoria – who had suggested coming here, as she'd heard so much about the place but had never been – looks less than her usual unruffled self. Charles himself has grown used to the... ambiance of the place. But it is quite different from the stark propriety of the better regarded clubs.

 A difference that Charles is positively reveling in at present. He's had rather too much  gentility   today.

But Charles acknowledges that it takes some getting used to. He places a comforting arm around Marjory's shoulders, allowing her to lean into his arm rather than sit stiff-backed and tense.

And Hawkeye is quickly working to break the ice, as it were, by engaging Honoria, and Marjory in a conversation about all the latest debacles in wedding planning.

Charles rather thinks he's not supposed to be privy to the ins and outs of his own wedding – the planning and execution thereof is traditionally left to the bride's family, after all – with the exception of a check for a rehearsal dinner or two. But – and this is a secret he will take to his grave – Charles enjoys salacious gossip nearly as much as Hawkeye does. And there certainly is plenty of that surrounding the wedding, what with the clashes of personality between Grandmama and Marjory's mother, or the bevy of bridesmaids all fighting amongst one another for Marjory's favor. The political machinations of the French court before its fall has nothing on the Winchester-Oakes wedding.

Despite the rather complaint-filled conversation, Charles finds himself filled with a warm contentment as he sits there, surrounded by laughter and camaraderie. In an atmosphere so starkly different from the tense, silent halls of the Winchester home. Charles feels himself relax into his seat – and even dares to remove his arm from about Marjory's shoulder so that he may place his hand over hers. A gesture familiar enough that it that would elicit the ire of his relatives only garners a cheeky grin from Hawkeye and a soft smile from Marjory herself.

There's something rather freeing in the anonymity of their chosen watering hole. Here, no one knows him as him. Here, he does not need to be Charles Emerson Winchester III – he can simply be a man enjoying an evening with friends.

For that is what they've become over the years, Hawkeye and Trapper – who are currently gently ribbing Honoria about something to do with flower arrangements. They are even, dare he say it, something akin to family at this point. And rather better company than Charles's blood relations – who are more given to cruel mockery than friendly teasing.

Yes, this is certainly a far preferable way to spend an evening than remaining at home would have been. And Charles will certainly have to explain his whereabouts tomorrow, along with Marjory. The family has rather given up on making Honoria explain anything about her behavior at this point, but she will likely be required to make a full report on the propriety of Charles and Marjory's behavior.

And they are behaving rather indecorously, it has to be said. What with displaying affection in a public place and all. But Charles cannot bring himself to mind. Anyone who cares about that sort of thing is far, far away from this particular establishment.

Charles never wants to leave.

But then it's last call and they're being gently chivied out by the tired looking barmaid. And Charles still doesn't want to go home.

Trapper and Hawkeye, bless them, do that sort of silent communication that appears to consist largely of direct eye contact and subtle facial expressions and come to the consensus that Charles, Honoria, and Marjory may stay over at their home for the night. And Trapper even goes so far as to reassure Charles that he will not wake up with a makeover as he'd done the last time he'd slept on their sofa. At this point in the evening, Charles is soused enough he really wouldn't have complained if they had decided on a redux of that little incident.

He sobers up a little in the sharp night air but everything is still feels swimming and unreal. And it's nice to walk along the snowy streets of Boston with Trapper's arm around his shoulders – and to hear Honoria's giggling laugh as Marjory nearly topples Hawkeye into a snowbank. Charles may regret this evening tomorrow morning – he's already anticipating a rather egregious hangover - but right now he can't bring himself to regret anything. It's just too nice.

He really ought to tell them how much he appreciates their friendship.

Charles lets his head fall onto Trapper's shoulder, trying to look him in the eye, but it's not working very well for some reason.

“I'm.. I'm really very glad you two will be at the wedding – you will be at the wedding, won't you? You simply must.. must come. It would be so. So unbearably stuffy otherwise.”

“Yes, Charles, we'll be at the wedding,” Hawkeye says from behind them. And then yelps as Honoria makes another attempt on his life. “A decision I'm regretting more and more as the night goes on.”

But he's just teasing, like friends do to other friends.

And Trapper wraps his arm more firmly around Charles and says, “Yeah, Charles. Maybe we ain't RSVP'ed officially yet-”

“We're brushing up on our calligraphy.”

“-but we'll be there.”

And Trapper sounds very certain. But Charles can't help wondering if they really mean it. He knows he's not the easiest person to get along with, sometimes. He finds it difficult to shed that stuffy persona he's worn for so long. He's been that person so long, it's difficult to be someone else - someone his friends enjoy spending time with. So he's worried, still.

“You promise?”

Trapper turns so that he's facing Charles, looking him in the eye.

“Yes, Charles. We promise.”

Then Trapper tugs Charles's arm higher onto his shoulder and they set off for home.

[bevioletskies]

you make my dreams

characters: peter/gamora, guardians-centric

summary: peter and gamora attempt to figure out the nuances of personal space on a cramped ship, now that they’re a couple. first things first? sleeping arrangements, and what to do about those reocurring nightmares of each other’s deaths. how fun.

word count: 15.6k

a/n: if you haven’t read the main fic, all you need to know is: a) the guardians attend a superhero school on earth, b) therefore they are in their early-to-mid 20s (except for rocket and groot), c) peter and gamora were fake-dating but are now dating for real, and d) they've been playing an "endless" game of twenty questions since they started fake-dating as a way of getting to know each other.

warning for the nightmare sequences that peter and gamora have. they're relatively angsty and sort of creepy, so if you want to avoid them, they're the paragraphs in full italics, and there's a summary of them in the endnotes.

fic title is from the song you make my dreams by daryl hall & john oates.

ao3 | tag | masterpost

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Gamora began as she strolled up the loading ramp of the Milano. It was a somewhat overcast Saturday afternoon, the school year was beginning again (which meant very little at the academy, being year-round regardless), and there was a sense of anticipation for new beginnings in the air.

“That’s good to hear,” Peter mumbled from where he was face-planted into the couch, limbs dangling over the edge. He had his ass kicked in fight training just a little over an hour ago, and had no intention of moving, no matter how bad the cushions smelled.

She frowned, dropping her bookbag with a loud thump right by his head, folding her arms over her chest. “Peter, we’ve only been dating for one week. Don’t let that be our record.”

He scrambled up into a sitting position like someone had lit him - or at the very least, the couch - on fire. “Right. Yes. Go on. Did I mention how nice your hair looks today, because wow - ”

Gamora let out a slow exhale of complete and utter exhaustion. They were all of sixty seconds into the conversation and she was already tempted to give up. “I’ve been thinking,” she huffed, “that we need to start talking about how to share space on the ship. We’ve never really talked about it before, and now that we’re romantically involved, it kind of...complicates things.”

“Complicates things?” Peter was confused. “I thought it would make things easier. Y’know, since we’ve been sharing a bed since before we started dating.”

She took a few steps back so she could sit across from him in the armchair, neatly folding one leg over the other, her face set in defiance. “Right. But doesn’t the change in our relationship heighten our emotional volatility? Do you really think we’re never going to fight again? Never going to want to sleep separately at any point in time?”

“We’ve got the dorms,” he protested.

“Only if we’re grounded. But what if we go on a mission, and we argue, and we have no desire to be in each other’s presence? Then what? Someone has to sleep on the couch?” He winced. The cushions really did smell kind of more than, well, absolutely terrible. He was eighty percent certain that Rocket had been experimenting with toxins in here. It would, at the very least, explain the suspicious oil stains. “And what if the fight lasts for more than a few days, or what if we break up?”

Peter deflated near instantly, hurt. “One week, and you’re already thinking about breaking up?”

Gamora reached to squeeze his hands reassuringly, her gaze softening. “Peter, I’m just trying to be practical. As much as I’d like to move into your room permanently, it’s not a good idea. There could be all sorts of complications in moving our relationship forward too quickly, and think of how it would affect the rest of the team if we spent too much time in each other’s company. It would give us more opportunities to clash. We wouldn’t be very good influences on Groot if he saw us fighting more than usual, and going back and forth between sharing a room and sleeping out here in the common area. We need to get used to being separate when we’re together.” Noting the storm beginning to form in Peter’s cloud-colored eyes, she leaned forward to rest her forehead against his. “And I’m not saying we’re anywhere near breaking up. The complete opposite, in fact.”

“I agree,” he murmured, pecking her briefly on the lips, pleased to feel her smiling into the kiss. “But what’re you suggesting?”

Still grinning, she pulled away. “A trial run. For this week, at least. Friday and Saturday, we share a bed. It’s the weekend, nothing stress-inducing should be happening - in theory. The rest of the week, we sleep separately, whether we’re here or back at the dorms.”

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try,” Peter allowed, gently tugging Gamora by the hand so she would join him on the couch. He slung an arm over the back of her shoulders, pulling her into him. She automatically moved to rest her hands on his chest, smiling up at him encouragingly. “So...that means we’re sharing tonight, right?”

“Did you have other plans?” she teased.

He lowered his head so his mouth was by her ear. “Plans for you, maybe,” he whispered. She shivered a little at the implications, leaning in to kiss him again, when -

“Can you two stop mackin’ for a second, and one of you get up here? Twig’s got himself tangled in the wires again,” Yondu called from the cockpit. Peter let out an annoyed groan, pressing a quick kiss into the crook of her jaw before standing up.

“My turn, I guess,” he grumbled. “It’s like we can’t go five minutes without being interrupted.”

______

Dinner, as always, was anything but peaceful, especially with the entire team sitting down together. Drax was convinced Groot had stolen one of his favorite knives, Rocket was out of bullet casings for at least three of his guns and wouldn’t stop bringing it up every two minutes, Yondu had somehow failed his very first quiz of the semester despite it being a “getting-to-know-you” icebreaker, and Nebula had found out about Mantis having a crush on a mysterious someone, and was, oddly enough, teasing her about it.

“And you can’t figure out if she feels the same way? Some empath you are,” Nebula snarked.

“Who even told you?” Mantis whined, burying her face in her hands.

“Leave her alone, Nebula,” Gamora sighed. “Drax, Groot had nothing to do with your stolen knife, I found it under the couch where you dropped it after our last sparring practice. Rocket, I don’t know how you managed to run out of bullet casings since we haven’t had a mission in two months, but you can make the trip to SHIELD quarters yourself. Yondu, I...have no words. You couldn’t even answer what your favorite color was?”

“Who has a favorite color?” Yondu exclaimed. “Is that a thing Terrans think about in their spare time? Seems like a waste of time t’ me.”

“Peter’s favorite color is red,” Gamora retorted easily. Peter smiled privately to himself, pleased that she had remembered.

“Doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out,” Rocket snorted. “Just ‘cause you’re dating Quill now, don’t mean you’re the leading expert.”

“Anyways,” Gamora said a little louder than necessary. “If we can move past all of our petty problems, the Director has informed me that we’ve been taken off the mission roster until the month is through, aside from galaxy-wide emergencies. Apparently, Janet has been putting in a little toomuch effort into planning more school events since prom was so successful, so she has something called homecoming week starting soon. She doesn’t want anyone to go out of town unless it’s urgent. We should be financially covered though, since we came into quite a bit of money from the yearbook contest.”

“Yeah, and you won’t let nobody actually see it,” Yondu complained, tossing his fork down onto his plate with a loud clatter. “Where you hidin’ the money, Gamora?”

“I would speculate it is under Quill’s mattress,” Drax said thoughtfully.

“Why’s that?” Rocket asked, cocking his head in confusion.

“Because no one wants to go near Quill’s room, now that he and Gamora are...copulating,” Nebula smirked, leaning back in her chair triumphantly. “Who knows when he last washed those sheets?”

“I am Groot?”

“I am not telling you what she meant, Groot. Trust me, you don’t need the mental images I got going on right now.”

Peter turned to Gamora, a deadened expression in his usually mischievous eyes. “I have never wanted to bash my head into the wall as much as I do in this exact moment.” She only shot him a warning glare in return.

“No one’s getting their hands on the money,” she said as calmly as she could, though mentally she was writing a list of what order to punish the others in, and how exactly to do it. “We have to be responsible. It’s a lot of money, more than we’ve ever had at a time, but it’s not endless. We can’t afford to be frivolous.”

“You’re no fun, girl, you know that?” Yondu drawled.

“Hey, come on, she’s right,” Peter interjected defensively. “The money can go a long way if we spend it right. Long-term investments, you know?”

“Someone’s been paying attention in econ,” Nebula muttered.

“Thank you, Peter,” Gamora exhaled, relieved. It was comforting to know Peter was becoming more financially responsible, especially after the incident from when they had first arrived on Terra. (He may or may not have gotten too excited at discovering the advances in Nerf Blaster technology since he’d left Earth, and invested in about five too many toy guns. Gamora had to hide them in her dorm’s private bathroom cabinet, behind her tampons. To this day, she still couldn’t understand why boys were so afraid of feminine hygiene products.)

“But if I had to make one request…” he began. She immediately slapped a hand over his mouth.

“No,” she said firmly. “No toys.”

Sullen, Peter gently pushed her hand away and turned to Nebula. “And another thing,” he continued. “I mean, copulating? First of all, who even uses that word anymore, and secondly, we’ve been pretty polite about it since you guys also sleep on this ship - we’ve been sticking to the dorms. Mostly. Sometimes, the mood just hits.”

“Peter, I will do more than ‘just hit’ if you don’t stop talking right now,” Gamora hissed.

“I am Groot?”

“Seriously, I’m not explaining, so stop asking.”

“Oh, for the love of everything!” Gamora groaned, slumping forward onto the table.

“I am scared to find out if she feels the same way because I cannot handle that kind of stress!” Mantis wailed very suddenly, causing Nebula to jump. “I would not know what to do with myself if she does not, or worse, if she does!”

Drax reached across the table to pat her on the hand, a little awkwardly, but otherwise quite gentle, a stark contrast to his usually brutish way of showing affection. “I hope she finds you as disgusting, yet endearing, as I do,” he said sincerely.

It took another minute before Gamora recovered her composure and joined the conversation again. Honestly, they couldn’t even get through a single meal without it turning into dinner and a show.

______

After tucking Groot into bed (and reading him Goodnight Moon for the third time that week), Peter returned to his room to find Gamora lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, wide awake. “Hey, you alright?”

“Of all the things I have been through, I don’t think I’ve ever been as exhausted as I am when I’m with the team,” she said slowly, causing Peter to chuckle. “And don’t think you’re off the hook just because you’re my boyfriend.”

He smiled goofily at her as he climbed into bed, immediately snuggling into her side. “I love it when you say that. Uh, the boyfriend part, not the other - you know what I mean.” He slid his arms around her waist, squeezing her hips affectionately. “I’m gonna miss being able to hold you like this every night.”

“It’s only an experiment for this week,” she relented, turning onto her side to face him, her gaze softening as their eyes met. “I just think we need to consider establishing boundaries before it complicates the team dynamic, so sleeping separately is a good start. And I worry about what might happen the next time we go on a mission, how much will change now that we have an added layer to our own relationship. Can we be objective anymore?”

“Um, I’m never objective,” Peter said, looking oddly proud of that very fact. “I care about all of you, and maybe this is selfish of me, but other than you know, me, I tend to put you first regardless. Well, depending on how Mantis or Groot are doing.”

“And that’s my point,” Gamora said softly, cupping his jaw, though she couldn’t help but smile at how easy it was for him to admit that he was looking out for her the most. She wasn’t sure how to vocalize the same sentiment in return, though he probably already knew she felt the same way. “Maybe we’re already too codependent to begin with. We need to not rely on each other to the point of being unable to function alone, you know?”

“I get it.” He bent to kiss her on the nose, causing her to scrunch up her face so adorably that Peter’s heart melted a little. He maintained she was both one of the deadliest and one of the cutest women in the entire galaxy, her reputation be damned. “I don’t want to be like that either. But I also don’t think that sharing a bed is what’s gonna make it or break it. There’s other stuff that are signs of dangerous codependency, like…” She interrupted him with a sudden yawn, stretching, letting out a soft mewl like a kitten. Peter was pretty sure he was a puddle at this point - he really did love her to no end. “...maybe we can talk about this when you aren’t exhausted,” he chuckled.

“Sorry,” she laughed. “I promise that wasn’t in response to what you were saying. But yes, we can talk about that another time. And I’ll concede by the end of the week if you’re right.” She pecked him quickly on the lips. “Goodnight, Peter.”

He couldn’t resist chasing after her mouth for one last kiss, enjoying the feel of her arms around his neck, pulling him in close. “Night, honey.”

______

Sunday passed by in a rather lazy fashion - the start of a new semester was always relatively slow - with the Guardians dispersed across campus, going about their day. Rocket took Groot with him to SHIELD so he could pick up his bullet casings, Drax went to the gym to get in some combat practice with Thor, Yondu holed himself up in the Milano’s cockpit so he could chat with Kraglin, and Mantis found herself being dragged around by Nebula who was strangely insistent on seeing who it was she liked.

Gamora managed to get Peter to go to the library so they could get a headstart on their homework, promising she would make out with him for five minutes on one of the plush leather couches in the secluded study area if he finished. (“Can I make a case for ten?” “No, Peter.”)

She could feel eyes on them as she sat closer than usual, laying her head on his shoulder after she had been long done, while Peter was still struggling through his abstract on psychological warfare. For some reason, she felt more self-conscious now than she had been when they were fake-dating and playing up their physical affection, despite the new emotional security in knowing that they really did love each other. Janet had slowed on her insistence of Snapchatting whenever they held hands in public, and Kamala no longer shrieked every single time she saw them kiss, but it was still unnerving to be watched, and to be known as the so-called cutest couple in school.

Peter’s voice broke her out of her reverie. “Hey, you wanna go grab an early dinner?”

Gamora glanced down at his laptop screen to see his word count was only half of what he needed. “But you haven’t finished.”

His voice dropped to a whisper. “Yeah, but you’re clearly uncomfortable. It’s the staring, right?”

She nodded, biting her lip in worry. “It’s like the beginning of our ‘relationship’ all over again,” she muttered, downcast. Then, a bit louder, “I could go for some food. But you better not hand in that abstract late, or Madame Hydra will kill you. And with her, anything’s a possibility.”

After a much more pleasant dinner than the previous night’s, on account of being completely alone, the two of them stretched out in a leisurely manner on the lawn by the quad, watching other students pass by every now and then, breathing in the crisp air of early autumn. Already, Gamora felt much more at ease, though there was a knot forming in the pit of her stomach at knowing she and Peter would have to separate by the end of the night. And maybe that was a sign, the kind she’d been dreading - that she already spent too much time with him, had become too reliant on his presence.

“Question number I-don’t-know-what-we’re-on,” Peter said, grabbing another fry from Gamora’s take-out container and getting a playful punch in the shoulder for his efforts. “If you had to pick one person on campus to be Nebula’s significant other, who would you pick?”

Gamora laughed. “Oh, that’s awful. I’m not sure, maybe Barnes? They both have metal appendages and long, regretful histories of assassination. That sounds like a match made in Hel.” She smacked Peter’s hand away before he could steal more of her food. “By the way, do you have any idea who Mantis has a crush on? I was unaware she was even spending time with anyone but us.”

“My baby sister’s growing up,” he sniffled dramatically, putting a hand over his heart. Gamora gave him a look that he was pretty sure translated to “you are ridiculous, please stop”. “No, I haven’t gotten any hints or anything. I wanna help her, though. I want her to be as happy as I am with you.”

“Your overly sappy nature is incorrigible,” she said fondly, moving a little closer so their shoulders were brushing. She laid a hand over his, fingers splayed across his chest, delighted to feel his heartbeat speed up a little at her gesture. “But you will hear no complaints from me.”

“Now can we make out?” Peter asked hopefully.

Gamora rolled her eyes, leaning in closer. “Find us somewhere quieter, and I’ll acquiesce.”

Apparently, the spot Peter had found them wasn’t quite secluded enough, as thirty minutes later, they were shooed off by Pepper, who gave them a stern talking-to about public displays of affection, but then admitted she was glad they had won Cutest Couple (“I’d never hear the end of it from Tony if Steve and Peggy won, trust me.”). They walked back to the dorms, feeling light as air, with Peter in particular letting out hysterical little giggles at recalling the murderous expression on Pepper’s face.

It was a little sobering, however, when they stopped outside her room, fingers loosely tangled together, as he slowly pressed her against the door, kissing her languidly, wishing he didn’t have to let go. “Peter,” Gamora said in that half-stern, half-affectionate manner she usually reserved for him and him alone. “You can’t come inside tonight.”

“There’s a dirty joke in there somewhere,” he mumbled, reluctantly pulling away.

“Remember how I vaguely threatened to break up with you yesterday? I’m getting that urge again,” she deadpanned, patting his chest. “You’re meeting me at the gym tomorrow, right?”

He sighed, apologetic. “I can’t, I have to meet Cindy at the café after class. We have a presentation on Friday.”

“Cindy Moon? What’s the presentation on?”

“Whether superhero origin stories have a positive or negative effect on the psychological health of said superhero. It’s actually a debate - I’m for positive, she’s for negative. Obviously.” He smiled teasingly at her. “Why do you wanna know if it’s Cindy Moon specifically?”

“Your insistence on turning my curiosity into jealousy is exhausting,” she frowned. “Anyways, I guess we won’t be seeing each other after all. I’m having dinner with Natasha and Elektra after sparring practice, so I won’t be going to the Milano tomorrow.”

“Aww.” He pulled her in for one last embrace. “Then I’ll text you after class?”

Gamora took a few steps into her room before turning to cast him a glance over her shoulder. “If you text me and leave poor Cindy to do all the work, I’ll just text her and have her yell at you on my behalf.”

“You have Cindy’s number?” Peter asked incredulously, but she simply gave him one last smile and shut the door in his face.

______

“Peter. Peter. Peter. Hey!”

“I didn’t do it!” He practically flew out of his seat upon being prodded in the arm with a pencil eraser. He looked around wildly before his eyes landed on Cindy, who didn’t look particularly impressed.

“Didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, did you?” She handed him a Starkbucks napkin (how Stark hadn’t been sued by Starbucks yet was beyond Peter) so he could wipe the drool off his sleeve.

“Your spidey sense tell you that?” he snapped a little louder than he meant to, though he accepted the napkin regardless.

“Wow, okay. You don’t get to talk to me like that,” Cindy retorted, narrowing her eyes at him.

Peter held up his hands in surrender before running them through his hair, sheepish. “Shit. Sorry, Cindy, that was mean of me. You’re right, I didn’t sleep well. Uh, me and Gamora, we’re trying this thing where we sleep separately, but I guess I’m not really used to it yet.”

She chewed thoughtfully on her pencil, confused. “What for?”

“She thinks we’ve been spending too much time together and wants to establish some boundaries before we get too codependent,” he said, glancing down at his laptop screen. Apparently, he’d nodded off on his keyboard and had typed about a hundred rows of zeroes in the process. Whoops.

“And she thinks sleeping in separate beds is gonna change that? Interesting,” Cindy hummed.

It was Peter’s turn to look at her suspiciously. “What?”

“Nothing, I just…” He waved a hand, indicating he wanted her to continue. “...maybe in another life, where you and her, or really any of us, aren’t the people that we are, it might be kind of weird to be around each other all the time. Like, there’s stories about people who get weirdly obsessed with their SOs and stop talking to their friends and family because they’re too busy being with them. But it’s not another life, it’s this one, where we’re so-called heroes, with varying degrees of messed-up backstories. And honestly, where else are you going to find someone who can love and understand you the way that she can? And I’m not trying to be nasty when I say that, Peter, but I’m saying it’s hard for us to be with someone who doesn’t get it. There’s a reason you feel everything so deeply about her, even moreso because you run a team together. I think it’s natural, and it’s not unhealthy, which I’m guessing is what she’s really worried about."

“So...you’re saying it’s justified,” he said slowly. They fell silent for a moment as he mulled it over - admittedly, there was a lot of truth in Cindy’s statement. Before becoming a Guardian, he had found it so easy to be around others that were nothing like him. Now, he was finding it harder and harder to have conversations with people that didn’t also spend their time saving the world. “Wait, are you just trying to get me to see your side of the argument so I’ll lose the debate?”

“Damn, you saw right through me,” she said sarcastically, snapping her fingers in defeat. He stared at her for a second before they both dissolved into laughter. Still, maybe Cindy was onto something.

______

Peter: hey, how was dinner with nat and elektra?

Gamora: good, we actually had some pleasant conversation for once instead of elektra telling us about her latest outing with ‘matthew’. also, no one stole my food this time

Gamora: you get lots done with cindy?

Peter: it’s not stealing, it’s sharing :p

Peter: yeah, we’re basically ready to go but we’re gonna do a runthrough during lunch on friday

Peter: k honestly i’m super tired right now but i just wanted to check to see how you were doing

Peter: so i’m gonna head to bed now and i’ll see you in class tomorrow

Peter: goodnight - love you :)

Gamora: goodnight, love you too

She plugged her phone into its charger and set it on her side table, rolling onto her back to fixate on the ceiling. It was still somewhat foreign to her to see and hear Peter declare his love for her so easily, like it was as natural as breathing, but she tried her best to return the sentiment whenever he did. She did love him, of course, and he knew that she did, but being the first to say it, however, was a different story.

The first week of their relationship hadn’t been the smoothest - after all, they had gotten pretty angry at each other only a couple days ago, when Peter didn’t want to go on a mission for the sake of keeping the team safe - but it surprised her how easy it was to be with him. Maybe it was because they had been faking a relationship for three months beforehand, or maybe it was the fact that it changed very little about their existing relationship.

Either way, Gamora still couldn’t help but worry that they were already too attached at the hip. She had no basis for what relationships were like, aside from those she witnessed on campus, and that of her mother and father (the little she could remember of them, anyway), but she wanted to be sure they were on a healthy road and not a downward spiral. There was no harm in being cautious, after all.

She settled down into her pillow, burying her nose into it and realizing it still smelled a bit like Peter’s shampoo. They had slept here a few nights ago when she had gotten a little desperate (she may have unbuckled his pants in the hallway, it wasn’t her proudest moment). Smiling to herself, she slowly drifted off to sleep.

Gamora was running - no, sprinting - through a thicket of tall grass, if she could call it that. It was nearly twice her height and incredibly dense, scratching her face and hands, but she didn’t care, couldn’t afford to pause, not when she could hear the desperate cries of poor Groot in the distance.

Still, it seemed like the grass was endless, dizzying to the point of causing hysteria. She stopped to rest, hunching over to support her hands on her knees, panting, nearly gasping for air, the atmosphere becoming thicker by the second. She had only been running for a minute, how could she possibly be tired already? Was there some poison making its way through her veins? An airborne virus, perhaps?

Another moment passed before she realized everything had gone silent. Not silent in the way a classroom fell quiet after a teacher hushed their students, but like her ears had been clamped over by an airtight seal, not a single whistle of wind or hum of a fly to be heard. Or, more importantly, the whimpers of an injured child, desperate for help. Gamora twisted around, nearly tripping over her own feet in desperation, longing to hear something, anything again, when she found her surroundings being whisked away like some twisted house of mirrors gone mad, replaced with something familiar, and yet all the more eerie.

She now stood in the quad of the academy, but the campus was empty as far as the eye could see. There was no rambunctious laughter, no loud conversations, no students whizzing by with their super speed or magic powers or whatever it was that made them so quick on their feet. It was clean, too - sterile, almost. No chewed gum stuck to the pavement, no buildup of food wrappers in the garbage cans. It also smelled too fresh, like someone had taken a can of pine-scented aerosol and doused the entire area with it in an attempt to hide something.

Gamora was almost mesmerized by the whole ordeal, entranced, even, when she heard a wheezing noise from behind her. Whipping around immediately, she was horrified to find herself looking at Peter, tied to the bulletin board, head lolling about like he no longer had any control of his neck, and judging by how the rest of him had gone limp, had no control over his motor functions, period. He was devoid of any visible injuries - bruises, cuts, scrapes, not even a drop of blood, but there was a blankness in his eyes that made her heart stop.

She was by his side in an instant, hands grasping at the ropes that bound him there, trying to find a knot or an end to pull him free. “Who did this to you?” she said frantically, tugging with every last bit of strength she had. It seemed like a very simple rope - the kind they used on Terra to teach young children how to tie knots - so she would usually be able to snap it like it was nothing, but it had no give at all, no slack anywhere for her to slip her fingers into.

"Th...Th…” His voice was frail, lacking the energy she’d come to expect of him, but she didn’t need him to complete his sentence to know who he was talking about.

“He’s here?” She tried her best to choke back the bile rising in her throat, burning hot. “Why is there no end on this rope?!”

“G...G’mora,” Peter panted, his fingers grasping at her but not quite finding their hold. “I...I love you.”

With a final raspy breath, hollow, echoing about in his chest, his chin dropped downwards, every last bit of posture he’d been struggling to keep going slack. “No,” she breathed, her hands moving to grab his jaw. “No, Peter...no...you can’t be...no…”

“NO!” Gamora shrieked, bolting upright. Gasping, she clutched at her own chest, thrashing about, legs tangling in her duvet as she tried to get her bearings. You’re in your dorm room, she told herself sternly, once the pounding sensation in her throat had ebbed. Even the voice in her mind seemed to be shaking. Her eyes flickered over to her phone. You fell asleep, it’s midnight, Peter went to bed two hours ago on the Milano. He’s okay. You’re okay.

Am I okay? Gamora wondered, shoving her bedsheets aside. Despite the cold sweat beginning to form on her brow bone, the rest of her was burning up like a furnace. She stripped off her hoodie and sweatpants - it seemed like a good idea at the time since it had been quite chilly outside when she returned to her room, but now it felt like she was drowning in excess fabric.

After turning on her bedroom light, she tentatively made her way over to her closet. She was hedging on whether to just sleep in her underwear when she found one of Peter’s T-shirts on the floor by her bookbag. She deliberated for all of ten seconds before picking it up and pulling it over her head, staring contemplatively into the mirror. She could practically hear Peter’s voice as he explained its significance to her (“Oh man, I should really show you Flash Gordon sometime, it’s incredible”), cracking a small smile as she did. “Screw attachments,” she said to herself, making eye contact in the mirror. “It’s just one night.” Her breath finally evening out, she climbed back into bed and settled back under the covers, managing to close her eyes once again.

______

Peter strolled into Professor Pym’s lab, whistling idly to himself as he settled down on one of the benches, when he felt fingertips grazing his bicep. Flinching slightly, he turned towards the perpetrator and relaxed instantly when he saw it was Gamora. “Hey you,” he said cheerfully. “You’re wearing my shirt.”

Gamora had indeed worn the shirt she slept in over her usual leather pants. “Do you want it back?” she asked as she sat next to him.

“I told you, I like it when you wear my clothes. Just don’t take literally everything I own,” he chuckled.

She nodded absentmindedly as she began unpacking her bookbag, laying everything out on her desk. “I think I’ll be sleeping on the Milano tonight,” she said as nonchalantly as she could. She hoped Peter wouldn’t notice the slight tremor in her voice, though he was usually pretty observant when it came to her. “My dorm room was oddly cold last night.”

“Did you check with your RA? The thermostat could be broken. Or maybe the boiler,” he suggested.

“That was the first thing I did,” she lied, neatly lining up her pens alongside her notebook. “They might need to bring in maintenance and see if there’s a draft anywhere. Regardless, I’m not taking my chances on freezing in my sleep.”

“Well, it’ll be good to have you back. Groot missed you at dinner last night. So did I, obviously.” Gamora bit her lip to hide a smile, though Peter’s shy grin in return only strengthened her fondness for him. She leaned over to quickly kiss his shoulder, just as Professor Pym strolled to the front of the room.

“Alright, students, there was a little mishap in the computer lab last night, and I don’t want to point any fingers, but there’s one student with a hankering - hankering - for arson and skulls, am I right, Mister Reyes…?”

After classes were over, Gamora convinced Peter to go to the gym with her before heading to the Milano for the rest of the evening. There was something peacefully domestic about being on the treadmills together despite not having any conversation, Peter with his headphones on as always, bopping his head enthusiastically and nearly falling off twice, while Gamora was listening to a TED Talk on her phone (Natasha had gotten her hooked, and it was her alternate way of learning about Terran knowledge and culture outside of Peter’s admittedly narrow influence). It almost made her forget about the sudden terror she had experienced last night.

“So, what’d you get up to after I went to bed?” Peter asked as they moved over to the weight benches. It was like he read her mind.

“Going after the paperwork from past jobs that you haven’t filed away yet,” she replied. It felt like every lie she told was making her tongue feel heavier in her mouth, She hated keeping things from him, but she wasn’t ready to admit defeat just yet, and she knew the moment she vocalized that something was wrong, Peter would start to fuss. “I didn’t realize the Director would require so much documentation.”

“I think that’s more Pepper’s doing than Fury’s,” he laughed, sitting on the floor in front of her. “I’ll spot you. Ready?”

To their relief, when they returned to the ship, the only ones on board were Rocket and Groot, the latter being a little sad, now that he was starting to shed leaves instead of grow them. The four of them had a surprisingly pleasant dinner, with minimal teasing from Rocket when Peter kissed Gamora in the kitchen. “You two are ridiculous,” Rocket said, waving a fork at them, though he didn’t look as put off by their romantic display as his tone would suggest. Groot was staring up at them with wide, puppy-like eyes from the kitchen counter, his mood instantly brightened at the sight.

Once the meal was over, Rocket went to put Groot to bed, and then was off to spend his night working on some weapons he didn’t want the others to know about that were stashed away in his room. Peter, on the other hand, requested Gamora spoon him on the couch while they watched a couple episodes of Happy Days on his holo-tab.

“You look tired,” she commented quietly, reaching around his back to gently pat his face. “I thought you went to bed early.”

“I did,” he protested, turning around to look at her. “One good night’s sleep isn’t gonna suddenly make me more awake.”

“Alright, I’ll concede,” she chuckled. “How was your day?”

“Good, good,” he nodded, resting their heads together, his eyes twinkling with warmth. “I had lunch with Mantis, I’m no closer to cracking the case on her crush. But asking questions makes her uncomfortable, so I’m not gonna be an ass about it. I also stopped by Avengers Hall to check out the announcements since Janet said something about peer tutoring. Figured I could use all the credentials I can get, you know? I didn’t sign up for anything yet, but I got a pamphlet if you wanna check it out. Oh, and…”

Eventually, she laid her head on his shoulder as he continued to talk, the even lilt of Peter’s voice rumbling through his body and keeping her heartbeat steady. She inhaled slowly, taking in the smell of his sweater. In all honesty, she had hated it the moment he had first put it on, having bought it last autumn - it was the sort of open-weave knit that snagged on hooks and corners, and made everything it came into contact with quite itchy, such as her own skin - but now, it just felt like home.

Gamora didn’t realize she had nodded off until Peter was shaking her shoulder, having set the tablet aside and was now supporting the entirety of her body weight, one hand on the small of her back, the other running through her hair. “Speaking of tired,” he chuckled. “Bedtime?”

“You’re quite comfortable,” she replied, yawning as she got off the couch. “I’ll see you in polisci tomorrow?” He nodded, patting her on the hip and kissing her goodnight before letting her go. Peter made a few last paces around the Milano, checking the doors and appliances, before heading back to his room.

He let out a somewhat disappointed exhale at the sight of his empty bed. Of course, he knew not to expect Gamora to be there, but he was half-hoping in her drowsy state, she would have returned to his room like she had been doing for weeks, acting on pure instinct. He turned off the light and climbed into his bunk, hating the way it felt to spread his limbs outwards and never brush against another person, to hear only the sound of his own breathing, the sheets cool to the touch at the presence of only one body.

Peter turned over onto his side, realizing he was occupying half of the mattress in the way he had become so used to, and promptly planted his face into the pillow, where he could smell the faint scent of Gamora’s shampoo. That, at the very least, gave him some comfort, allowing his muscles to relax as his eyes slid closed.

It was warm, the sort of warm that one only felt on a beach in the tropics. It made everything a little hazy, the air rippling with the lack of humidity, making one’s limbs feel oddly light, like it would be easy to lay flat on one’s back and float away into nothingness. Peter opened his eyes to find Gamora sitting cross-legged beside him, leaning over his prone form. “Hey.” He was disturbed to find that his voice sounded disembodied, as if he weren’t physically present. One glance down at his own hands relieved him of his fear, though they were a little cleaner than he remembered. Peter wasn’t a slob by any means, but he often had blisters from the way he gripped his dual blasters, and he had scraped knuckles after his latest combat training session. These hands - his hands? - were free of flaws.

“Good, you’re awake.” Her voice was sharper than his, blunt as the edge of her sword. It reminded him of the way she spoke to him when they first met - irritable, no-nonsense, condescending, almost. “We need to talk.”

“Uh, sure. What about?” He sat up, looking around. They appeared to be in some sort of sterile white room, the kind that made him think of evil lairs in futuristic movies, where they did unethical experiments on animals and humans. Shivering, he turned back to look at Gamora, noting the lifelessness in her expression. She had been so warm as of late, with her teasing grins and gentle smiles, that the utter blankness of her face made him feel colder than the room ever could.

“About breaking up.” She wasn’t meeting his eyes, instead electing to pull out her phone and start scrolling through...something.

“I - what? I thought you said we weren’t anywhere near - ”

“Your persistence may have won me over, but now I’m realizing how wrong you are for me,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Remember when you asked me what I looked for in a partner? Discipline, intelligence, level-headedness. You may have fooled me into seeing those qualities in you with your thoroughly detailed plans to pursue Thanos, but now I realize you’re still the immature, self-absorbed, impulsive child that you were when we first met. Not to mention your surprising lack of confidence in your own abilities, and your reliance on me to make yourself feel good about the decisions you’ve made. I’m supposed to be your girlfriend, and yet, you treat me like both your child and your parent. I’m not your pet project, and I’m not your mother, either. Your attempts to both take care of me and get me to take care of you are tired, your constant pursuit of physical intimacy with me is unwelcomed, and your crude sense of humor offends me. Therefore, I wish to be in this relationship no longer.”

It was like she had taken the Godslayer and pierced it straight through his heart. Frankly, Peter wished she had done that instead. “Gamora,” he choked. “You said I was different than how I was before - I’ve been trying so hard to be more responsible, for all of you - so I can take care of the team and be a good leader - but I know I failed you - please - “ He could feel his face growing hot, tears brewing in his eyes, his fingers trembling as he reached for her.

She got to her feet, looking away from her phone briefly so she could glance down at him like he was a particularly uninteresting bug she’d squashed beneath her shoe. Without another word, she turned and began walking away. He moved as if to stand as well, but found that he could not - his feet were now glued to the floor. Crying out desperately, he began tugging at his ankles, wondering why he was without shoes, and where they were, and what had happened, and what to do - when suddenly, something dropped out of the ceiling in front of Gamora, causing her to leap backward in shock.

It was Awesome Mix 2, the cassette tape that Ego had broken before Peter’s very eyes.

Brandy, you're a fine girl...what a good wife you would be...but my life, my lover, my lady is the sea…

“Gamora!” he yelled. He changed his strategy instantly, beginning to claw at the floor in a futile attempt to drag himself towards her. He could feel his fingernails breaking from sheer force, the pads of his fingertips starting to bleed. Peter froze when Ego suddenly appeared in a cloud of nothingness, crushing the tape under his foot into dust. “GAMORA!”

“Remember, Peter,” Ego said, his voice just as charmingly affable as ever, the sort of kindly voice that had gotten his son to follow him to his planet in the first place. “The girl is temporary.” With one swoop of his arm, he picked up Gamora by the neck and squeezed. Peter could only sob helplessly as she dissolved into ash, crumbling beneath Ego’s fingers.

“You already killed my mother,” he wept, slumping against the floor. “And now...my best friend...the girl that I love more than anything else...why? Why would you do this?”

“You’re letting the human side of you win, Peter,” Ego sing-songed, wagging a mocking finger at him. “We’re Celestials. Everything is temporary. We can’t let emotions get in the way of our one true purpose. If you don’t obey me, I’ll go after ol’ Yondu next. Or maybe Mantis. She did betray me, after all. And for what? Love?”

“You leave them alone,” Peter panted, struggling to prop himself up on his hands. “I don’t wanna be a Celestial, not if it makes me a maniac like you. Small ‘g’ or not, I ain’t playing god.”

“Shame,” Ego said, stroking his beard like he was in deep thought. “I always did like Yondu. Only met him a couple times when he was still with Stakar, but he was a feisty kid.”

“NO! DON’T HURT HIM!” Peter hollered, but Ego disappeared once more in a cloud of smoke.

His eyes flew open in shock, choking violently as he did, despite his mouth being bone dry. Peter began grasping around desperately until he found his Walkman, and with trembling hands, slid the headphones over his ears, hitting play.

And I love you so...the people ask me how...how I've lived till now...I tell them I don't know…

“Shit.” He began running his fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands like they’d offended him somehow. “That’s three nights in a row now.”

And yes I know how lonely life can be...the shadows follow me...and the night won't set me free...but I don't let the evening bring me down...now that you're around me...

______

Despite being more tired than usual, Peter practically sprinted to his morning class like he was going to be late (and he wasn’t, not this time). An unusual sense of relief flooded him upon seeing the telltale red fin, bobbing over the heads of their other classmates.

“Yondu,” he exclaimed, sitting down beside him and nearly tumbling out of the chair in his desperation. “You’re okay.”

Yondu’s eyebrows shot up immediately in suspicion. “Uh, yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I had a dream about Ego comin’ after you,” Peter confessed. “It’s stupid, but I was kinda worried I was gonna wake up and find that you were gone.”

“You’re right. That is stupid,” Yondu snorted. “I’m fine, boy, relax. Though you don’t sound so good yourself.”

“I mean, I’ve been better,” Peter said hesitantly. “Ego killed Gamora in the dream. That wasn’t so fun.”

“You two are ridiculous, you know that?” Yondu let out a hearty laugh like he was remembering a particularly funny joke, twirling his yaka arrow in a way that made the students around them look a little nervous.

“So I’ve heard,” Peter mumbled.

“I don’t mean no offense by it, honest. I still remember comin’ after you on Knowhere and gettin’ yelled at by her ‘cause you spent a lot of time talking shit about me. Guess she didn’t understand the...complicated parts of our relationship. But you been mooning after her ever since you met her, and now that you’re actually datin’, you’re still making a big deal outta everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the whole sleeping separately thing,” Yondu said, brandishing the arrow at Peter in a way that even made him jump. “Ain’t gonna make a bit of difference. You’re gonna be crazy about each other no matter what. So stop making yourselves miserable to prove a point. Y’all already did that when you were trying to pretend you weren’t in love, and look how that turned out!”

In lieu of a response, Peter glanced down at his phone. “I should text Mantis,” he mumbled. “Make sure she’s okay, too.”

“Fine. You don’t wanna talk about your girl. What’s this about peer tutoring I’m hearing?” Yondu leaned back in his seat, folding his arms, kicking his feet up onto the desk in a rather precarious manner.

“It’s a new thing they’re trying out,” Peter said as he tapped out a quick “doing the big brother thing and saying good morning” message to Mantis. “Some students have more experience in specific areas than others, so they wanted to do like, group sessions. And Gamora is still trying to get her fight clinic with Nebula off the ground, but she has to get it approved by the Director first.”

“What were you thinkin’ of? Gun-slinging? Weird-ass improvised strategies?”

“Communication and leadership, actually,” Peter replied, smiling a little at Mantis’s reply of “good morning :D”. She was the only other Guardian who used emojis as often as he did. “There’s also a family component to it, and you know, considering Groot’s basically like my kid, I can kind of help with that part, too. But, uh, I dunno if anyone considers me a good leader. They probably want Captain America or someone like him to tutor that class instead.”

His mind wandered back to what Gamora had said to him in the dream, all the harsh barbs she’d thrown his way, like she had taken millions of tiny needles and dug them into every square inch of his skin. It wasn’t like anything she said was new to him - it was all variations of things other people had said about him, or worse, to him - but it was the way she had said it, like she’d been dying to say it for weeks and wanted to get it all out in as little time as possible.

“I didn’t run the Eclector for too long, but I spent enough time with Stakar to know the diff’rence between good and bad leadership,” Yondu said sagely. “Bad leadership’s when people follow you ‘cause they’re afraid of what you’ll do if they don’t. Good leadership’s when people follow you because they know they the best version of themselves when they do. And that’s you in a nutshell, Quill. We’re all good because of you.”

“Weirdly nice of you, but I’ll take it,” Peter chuckled, clapping Yondu on the shoulder. “Thanks, Yondu. I don’t know why you keep ‘dad speech’-ing me but I think it’s actually starting to make me feel better.”

“You can talk yourself into a frenzy real easy,” Yondu shrugged, though he looked pleased. “Someone’s gotta get you outta your funk.”

By the time Peter arrived at his last class of the day, the usual spring in his step had returned, his mind occupied with thoughts of potential lesson plans for peer tutoring instead of the way the nightmare version of Ego (though really, wasn’t every version of him a nightmare?) had taken hold of his brain. He happily kissed Gamora hello, and was relieved to find that she didn’t notice anything different about him. Maybe they wouldn’t have to talk about this - he didn’t want her to get mad, or worse, worry about him unnecessarily.

They returned to the Milano in good spirits, discussing the semester’s curriculum and what their favorite classes had been so far. When they approached the loading bay, they could see Rocket and Groot sitting on the ramp, working on Rocket’s chemistry project together. Well, Groot was watching in rapt fascination. Rocket was trying his best not to swear every five seconds whenever he burnt his claws with the Bunsen burner. “Hey, should you be doing that out here?” Peter called.

“Live a little, Quill,” Rocket smirked, holding up his test tube as if to toast him. “No one ever got shit done by following the rules.”

“Nothing you said just now was true,” Gamora informed him haughtily, though she relaxed as Groot came running to wrap his arms around her ankles in greeting. She knelt to pick him up, bringing him closer to her face. “Hi, Groot. You have a good day today?”

“I am Groot,” he answered happily, nuzzling into her cheek. Smiling, she sat him back down next to Rocket, and she and Peter made their way onto the ship. To their surprise, Mantis was sitting on the couch with Drax and Nebula on either side, looking oddly flushed, her hands twisting in her lap.

“What’s going on?” Peter said, frowning. “Mantis, you okay?”

“We have almost cracked the case of Mantis’s infatuation,” Drax said eagerly. He sounded just as enthused as he did right before engaging in combat. “Would you care to help?”

“Drax,” Gamora said sternly, as Peter groaned behind her, slapping a hand over his forehead. “Leave her alone, both of you. If she wanted to tell you, she would.”

“Such a buzzkill, as always,” Nebula hummed, getting to her feet. “I thought you wanted me to take interest in the other’s lives.” Before she could retreat to her room, Gamora stepped forward to grab her sister’s wrist.

“Not at the expense of their comfort.” Gamora gestured at Mantis, who had curled into herself on the couch, looking just as withdrawn as the day they met her, like she wasn’t entirely all there. “Do your homework together, or help her make dinner, I don’t know. But do not emotionally torture her for your own pleasure.”

“Whatever.” Nebula made to move again, but Gamora only followed her down the corridor, her footsteps getting increasingly heavy.

“Nebula! I’m serious,” Gamora hissed, trapping her against the wall with her arm. “Mantis may seem more well-adjusted than you and I, but she grew up with a grand total of one person in her life, and I don’t need to tell you how screwed up he was. At least we had siblings to socialize with, as much as we despised them. She’s already experiencing new emotions for the first time by having her first crush, you don’t need to complicate it with your insistence on being hateful to everyone who happens to bore you.”

“She doesn’t bore me. Frankly, her romantic drama is far more interesting than yours,” Nebula retorted, rolling her eyes. There was something in the way Nebula had said it that made Gamora a little suspicious, as if...

“You don’t...like Mantis, do you?” Gamora hoped she didn’t look as uncomfortable as she felt asking it.

“Gods, no,” Nebula spat. “I just want her to get this over with already, or she’ll turn into Quill. His mopiness when he was convinced you didn’t like him was insufferable.”

“You want her to be happy,” Gamora translated, a grin beginning to form on her face. “Your persistence is admirable, but the way you’re going about it is not. Just leave her alone, and let her tell you about it when she’s ready, okay?” Nebula only grumbled and shoved her sister aside so she could make her way into her bedroom, though she didn’t slam the door quite as loudly as she usually did.

Still smiling, Gamora made her way back into the common area, only to be practically ambushed by Drax, who looked woefully ashamed of himself. “Gamora, I would like you to know that I have apologized to Mantis. Once again, my blunders have caused great distress to someone I care about, and I wanted to rectify it. It seems I still haven’t mastered the expectations of socialization.”

“You and everybody else in the galaxy,” Peter called from the couch, where he had an arm slung around Mantis. She looked completely at ease now, her sweet (if a little unsettling) smile having returned.

“Peter’s right, Drax, you aren’t expected to be perfect. But I appreciate you apologizing,” Gamora said, patting him on the arm. He smiled at her, nodding silently before moving into the kitchen to begin making dinner.

It was then that Yondu strolled on board, his boots clattering loudly against the metal grates as always, whistling idly, though his arrow remained tucked into his jacket. “Hey, losers,” he said cheerfully. Gamora rolled her eyes as she joined Peter and Mantis on the couch. “Quill, you tell Gamora ‘bout that nightmare of yours yet?”

“I - no, I - Yondu!” Peter exclaimed, agitated.

“Nightmare?” Gamora asked, leaning around Mantis to look at him. “What nightmare?”

“Dude, why’d you have to say that?” Peter groaned. Yondu held up his hands defensively as he threw himself down into the armchair across from them.

“Y’ told me about it, and you tell your girl everything. Figured I could bring it up just fine.”

“That doesn’t mean - ugh.”

“Peter. Your room, now,” Gamora said firmly, getting to her feet once again. Letting out a reluctant whine, he followed her down the corridor, ignoring Yondu’s wolf whistle trailing after them, and shut the door behind him. “Listen, I only ever ask for two things in relationships with other people. Trust, and honesty.”

“As you’ve said before,” he grumbled. She only gave him another warning glare in return. “You also said we were entitled to secrets.”

“Not if Yondu, of all people, cares enough to bring it up.” She sat on his bed, folding her arms over her chest. “Peter.”

“I don’t need you babying me, okay? I’m a grown man,” he shot back.

“Then start acting like one!” she yelled, causing him to reel in alarm. Sighing, she pinched the bridge of her nose, falling silent for a full minute before looking back up at him, despondent. “Look...I don’t...I don’t know how to be a girlfriend. I don’t know what the difference is between being your friend and being your girlfriend. So if I’m being overbearing, it’s because I care about you in more than one way. Does that make sense?”

Peter sat next to her, resting one hand in her lap, and using the other to tilt her chin upwards so their eyes could meet. “I don’t know how to be a boyfriend, either. But from what I can tell, there really isn’t a huge difference between being a friend or a partner. After all, people always say, ‘date your best friend’, and that’s what we’re doing, right?”

“It is,” she said quietly, a rueful smile crossing her face.

“The only difference for us, really, is the physical stuff.” He paused, remembering one of the things she had said to him in his nightmare. “Gamora...I’m not forcing you to have sex with me, am I?”

“What?”

“Like, you’re not just having sex with me because you think it’s what I want, right? It’s something that you want, too?”

“I thought I’ve vocalized my desire, my consent, and my enjoyment very thoroughly,” she murmured, squeezing his hand. “Peter, I just want to know. You’ve told me about your nightmares before, what’s different about this one?”

“They’re...not the kind of nightmares you want to be having when you’re trying to be independent.”

“You dreamt about me dying,” Gamora guessed. At his surprised expression, she added, “My nightmares are of your death as well. It wasn’t exactly a hard assumption to make.”

“You didn’t tell me you were having nightmares,” Peter said accusingly. “Come on, now.”

“You’re right.” She slouched a little, defeated. “I apologize. It’s hypocritical of me to ask you to be honest when I’m not being honest myself. I’ve been having a few bad nights in a row, the last two featuring your death.”

“How did I die?” He was almost scared to find out, though he could make a reasonable guess about what it would be.

“Thanos.” Exactly what he thought. “How did I die?”

“Ego.” He turned to lie on his back, gazing at the photos they’d taken over the course of their fake relationship that he’d stuck on his ceiling long ago. They hadn’t taken any pictures since they started dating for real, but neither felt like they had to - there was no need to prove their relationship anymore. Gamora laid down next to him, her eyes also traveling across the photos. He briefly wondered what she was thinking about. “There was some...stuff. That the nightmare version of you said to me.”

“Was it about me trying to baby you?”

“It was a lot more than that. It was stuff that hit really close to home, you know? And hearing it from you...so angry and tired…” His breath trembled slightly as he trailed off, unsure of what else he wanted to say. What else could he say, really, that wouldn’t make things worse?

“Like I was saying,” she whispered, staring almost unblinkingly at the ceiling. “I don’t know what it’s like to be in a relationship, but ours is only a week and a half old, and it already feels like we’ve put too much at stake here.”

“Comes with the job, I think,” Peter offered. “Cindy was telling me that she thinks it’s the life that we live that makes us feel everything more intensely. We’re still learning how to be together, so we can’t give up yet.” He turned to look at her. “New idea - Mantis used her powers to help my dad sleep, right? What if we got her to do the same for us, until we get so used to it that we can sleep without her help and without each other?”

“That’s quite clever of you,” she admitted, brightening. “We should try that tonight, then. But in the meantime…” In one fluid move, she’d rolled onto her side, gripped Peter’s shoulders, and pushed him down, her knees braced around his hips.

“W - what?” he stuttered dumbly.

Leaning in, Gamora murmured, “You’re worried that I’m not having sex with you because I want to, but because you want to. But ever since escaping Thanos’s clutches, I’ve never done anything I don’t want to do. Now, we’re in here alone, the others know not to disturb us when your door is closed, and dinner’s not for another few hours. But I’m already hungry, and I’d like to put your hesitation to rest.”

Peter let out a high-pitched squeak he wasn’t proud of, but once Gamora began sucking bruising kisses along the column of his throat, he was pretty sure he couldn’t be held responsible for any of the noises that escaped his mouth over the following hour.

“Your inclination to leave bites on Quill’s neck where others can see implies you think other girls will want to steal him away from you, and I can’t imagine anyone would find Quill attractive enough to do so,” Drax said to Gamora once they’d emerged from Peter’s bedroom for dinner.

“He has his admirers,” Gamora said dryly. At Drax’s raised eyebrow, she added, “I know, I was surprised, too.”

“Hey!” Peter exclaimed, but was immediately distracted by the basket of bread rolls Mantis had waved under his nose.

“Mantis, are you free tonight?” Gamora asked, wrinkling her nose a little at the sight of Peter stuffing his face with bread. “I was thinking we could do some homework together.”

Peter shot her a look of what are you up to?, to which Gamora answered with a cocked chin that clearly said trust me. “Oh,” Mantis said, a little surprised. “I did not have anything planned. Sure!”

After dinner was over, everyone slowly dispersed to their rooms, aside from Gamora and Mantis, who remained in the common area, set up on the couch, their books and papers spread across the coffee table. “I talked to Nebula about leaving you alone,” Gamora said after they’d been studiously quiet for about two hours. “She shouldn’t be bothering you anymore.”

Mantis let out a soft chuckle. “You and Peter are always trying so hard to protect me. I appreciate it, Gamora, but I am not that fragile.”

“Sure, but I also have the responsibility of taking care of Nebula as well,” Gamora replied. “She can’t go around thinking it’s okay to treat people like that.”

Hesitant, Mantis reached across the couch to lay a hand on Gamora’s knee. “You both had to be mean to survive, didn’t you?”

Gamora swallowed, but the lump in her throat that had suddenly formed didn’t seem to be going away. “Yes. Nebula more than me, since I was Thanos’s favorite daughter. If the others were cruel to me, Thanos would be cruel in return. It was not out of actual care for me, though, it was so I wouldn’t get caught up in fighting back.”

“I suppose that is where you and I differ,” Mantis said, smiling sadly as she leaned back against the armrest, removing her hand from Gamora’s leg. “You were raised to be ruthless, and I was raised to be submissive. But I do not think either of us are like that anymore. We are somewhere in the middle.”

“‘Ruthless’ is a generous word to use.” Gamora idly flipped through the pages of the article she was reading on her holo-tab, not really absorbing anything she was supposed to take in. “I agree, though. We’ve both grown substantially since becoming part of this team. It would be interesting to see who we become when we graduate.”

“I am secretly hoping we do not leave Terra once that happens,” Mantis confessed. “I know the Milano is our true base, but it has become so comforting here.”

“I always thought Peter wouldn’t want to come back because of his mother,” Gamora said thoughtfully. “You know, he hasn’t actually returned to his childhood home? To this place called ‘Missouri’?”

“Maybe it would be too painful for him. He could need time, or perhaps never return at all,” Mantis suggested.

“Or he’s waiting for the right time.” They both startled a little at the sound of Peter’s voice. He was descending the ladder from the cockpit, where he’d been running a software check for the past hour. “How’re my two favorite girls doing?”

“We’ve gotten quite a bit done,” Gamora shrugged, Mantis nodding eagerly in agreeance. “Milano’s okay?”

“She’s steady,” Peter replied, smiling. “So, Mantis, before I forget, we have a favor to ask of you…”

______

“Good morning!” Mantis said cheerfully as she practically skipped into the kitchen, stealing Peter’s multigrain bread from the toaster before his reflexes could kick in. She plopped it down onto a plate and began rummaging through the fridge for some strawberry jam. “Did you sleep alright?”

“Like a baby,” he beamed. He was in too good of a mood to berate her for toast-stealing. “I’ll bet Gamora would say the same if she were here, and didn’t leave for class super early like a crazy person. Thanks so much, Mantis.”

“No problem,” she grinned in return, settling down at the kitchen island, directly across from him. “You should have asked me earlier. I was not aware you were both having sleep troubles. I do not like seeing either of you in pain.”

“How did it work on my dad?” He leaned forward on his elbows a little. “You said he was occupied with the thoughts of his children and the so-called Expansion. How long could he go without your powers?”

The smile on Mantis’s face faded a little, her antennae drooping as she lowered her chin to fixate on her toast. She began picking at it, crumbling it between her fingernails, her appetite lost. “He did not need it that often at first,” she said reluctantly. “When I was a young girl, I could not do it as easily, so he only asked it of me when he was really overwhelmed. But as I grew older and stronger, he would ask me to use my powers every night. Sometimes, even more than once per day, if he exhausted his cosmic abilities and needed to take a nap. It was like a drug to him. He was addicted to what I could do, and I feel that if we had left him alive...who knows what he would have done to get me back.”

“So...it would actually be dangerous for us to ask you to do it every night?” Peter’s heart sank.

“I would only advise it perhaps once a week, and even then, it depends on the person,” Mantis said, apologetic. “If you have an addictive personality, then your reliance could develop by the third occurrence.”

“Dammit.” Peter stood and turned away from her, pacing over to the living area, rubbing at his temples, head bowed. They had come so close to a plausible solution - he should’ve known this was too easy.

“I am sorry,” Mantis whimpered, shoulders slumping in defeat. “I should have told you, but you both seemed so excited at finding an answer, that I did not want to turn you down. I did not want you to hate me.”

“Hey, no, Mantis, we could never hate you.” Peter almost half-sprinted back into the kitchen to put an arm around her shoulders. “It’s not your fault, okay? It’s our problem, not yours. You know, maybe this whole thing was a mistake to begin with.”

Mantis’s eyes widened. “You do not mean your relationship with Gamora is a mistake, do you?”

“No, no, of course not,” Peter said reassuringly, squeezing her shoulders one last time before stepping away. “But she might be right. We rushed headfirst into being together without talking about what it means.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you two are being very mature about it,” Mantis offered, smiling tentatively. “I do not think most couples would discuss these things until it is too late. But at the same time, I think you are both making it a problem before there is even a chance of it actually happening.”

“Honestly, that’s what I’ve been thinking too,” Peter admitted. “But you know how Gamora is about preparation and contingencies, and I don’t want to disappoint her.”

“Which is a sign you are very much in lo-o-o-ve,” Mantis sing-songed, the stiffness in her posture melting away in favor of playfully poking Peter in the cheek. Laughing, Peter swatted her away before moving to finally get another slice of toast going.

Predictably, Gamora wasn’t too pleased later that evening when everyone had returned to the Milano, in which Mantis confessed what she had been hiding from them. However, it was hard for her to remain mad at Mantis (it was hard for anyone to be mad at Mantis), and she forgave her by dinnertime. “Just don’t do that next time, okay?” Gamora said sternly. “Imagine the consequences if Peter had never asked.”

“I thought we was finally done with your relationship drama,” Yondu teased after the meal was over.

“We are never done being the ‘Quill and Gamora Show’, apparently,” Nebula sneered, kicking her feet up onto the length of the couch before Yondu could even consider sitting next to her. “Are you always going to be like this?”

“You know, for a bunch of people who tried really hard to get us together, you seem to have issues about us having issues, which, by the way - totally normal thing to happen for couples!” Peter exclaimed, accusatory.

“Let’s discuss something else,” Gamora said, joining him in the armchair, her eyes ablaze as she stared her sister down across the room, who seemed nonplussed, and as always, in a perpetual state of casual disinterest. “We’ve had a few jobs sent through the Director. We can put them off until October, but we should review them in advance and decide what to accept.”

“Whatever gets us units,” Rocket said gleefully, hopping onto the back of the chair to peer over Gamora’s head at her holo-tab. “Lemme amend that. Whatever gets us the most units. And none of them bullshit jobs with the Sovereign again.”

“Moving precious cargo?” Peter pointed at the one on the top of the screen. “That sounds a lot like ‘being shot at. Repeatedly’.”

“This one wants us to be bodyguards for a gala? That sounds vastly underwhelming and a misuse of our skills,” Drax said, hovering by Peter’s shoulder.

“What is this one about a duchess who claims to know you, Peter?” Mantis poked at the job in question, causing a profile to pop up. “Oh, she is very pretty.”

“Uhh - ”

“I am Groot!” A tiny wail caused everyone to jump, looking around wildly for the source of the crying. To their dismay, Groot had tripped over one of the metal grates (Peter really needed to make baby-proofing the ship one of his priorities) and gotten his hand stuck inside, and was now desperately tugging on his arm. Instead of leaping into action, Gamora found herself stumbling backward into the armchair. Peter shot her a perplexed glance before rushing over to help.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay, Groot, just stop movin’ for a second,” he said soothingly, cupping his back. Rocket was already by Groot’s side with a screwdriver and a tub of grease he had grabbed at seemingly lightning speed. They worked in tense silence for a couple minutes, coating Groot’s arm with the grease and using the screwdriver to loosen the grate and ease him out. The others hovered nervously, except for Gamora who had seemingly frozen where she was. Finally, Groot was freed, immediately turning to bury his face into Rocket’s belly.

The others moved closer to console Groot - even Nebula was nearby, straining her neck to see how he was doing - but Gamora continued to remain seated until Peter kneeled in front of her, ducking his head slightly in an attempt to make eye contact. “Hey,” he murmured, reaching for her, but making no actual physical contact. “Can we talk? My room?”

Nodding wordlessly, she followed him down the corridor and, once again, sat on his bed as she did last time. “I dreamt that Groot was dying as well,” she said quietly, before he could ask.

“You don’t have to tell me - ”

“But I do,” she interrupted, letting out a hysterical laugh. “Because that’s what people in relationships do, right? They talk about their feelings, and spend all their free time with each other, and - ”

"Gamora.” He knelt in front of her again, cupping her face in his hands. “Breathe.”

They fell silent, aside from the steady, slow inhales and exhales as they took deep breaths together. “I feel like I’ve become an entirely different person, these past two years. But what kind of person am I?” she muttered, once the tremble in her chest had subsided.

“I can tell you what I think,” he offered. She nodded, wanting him to continue. “I think you’re someone who went from having to take care of herself to someone who wants to take care of others. But if I’m wrong…”

“That’s an apt description, if a little generous.” She smiled, bending to kiss Peter briefly. “I just feel like I’m not in control lately. Like I’ve turned over my emotions to be handled by everyone else, and I hate it.”

In all honesty, Gamora was angry at herself for being so emotionally volatile, and Peter could tell. She wasn’t used to losing control like this, to put it all out there for everyone else to see. She had gotten so used to watching Peter being so open - laughing, crying, making faces so full of expression, so full of life, that she had started to do it herself. Hell, they had all picked up so many of Peter’s mannerisms in their short time together, vocabulary that hadn’t existed to them previously, little quirks or habits that they had once thought to be annoying, and now had become subconsciously ingrained in their minds. It was like Nebula often said - Gamora had become too attached to ever let the others go, found it extraordinarily difficult to imagine a life without the team, and deemed it impossible to leave them behind.

“Then talk to me about it,” Peter said imploringly, his hands moving to rest on her lap. “Because you’re right. People in relationships talk. And somehow, we’re still really terrible at it. We never continued our conversation about signs of codependency, you know, the one we were trying to have on Saturday night?”

“Then what are we doing here? Are we healthy, or are we cause for concern?” she asked.

He didn’t respond immediately, instead electing to stand and then lie down on the bed, gesturing for her to join him. They rolled onto their sides, face-to-face, though didn’t touch. “Let’s find out.” At her furrowed brow, he chuckled softly and said, “Question. Do you think of me every minute of every day?”

The bluntness of his question caused her to snort. “What? No.”

“Do you always want me to be around?”

“Not necessarily, though I don’t mean that negatively,” she said slowly.

“Am I the only person who can make you happy?”

“You might make me the happiest, but you aren’t the only one.” Gamora was starting to catch on, another smile beginning to form on her face as she did so.

“Am I the only person you can talk to? About anything?”

“No. I have my sister and your sister.”

“Can you go an entire day without seeing me? Can you sleep without me being there?” Peter continued, determined.

A crease had formed between his eyebrows, and Gamora had the urge to reach out and smooth it away. “Yes to both,” she said quietly. “I wasn’t aware you were taking psychology this semester, Peter.”

“My answers are the same as yours,” he said, grinning. “So I’d say we’re fine. We’re co-leaders who happen to be a couple, but we don’t get weirdly obsessive over each other or fall apart without the other person around. That sounds perfectly healthy to me!”

She couldn’t help but grin back, relieved. Once he put it like that, it all seemed so simple. “So should we stop this stupid experiment of mine?”

“It’s not stupid.” He reached over to push her hair out of her face, tenderly tracing the silver in her cheekbones with the pads of his fingers. “You had good intentions. I just think we got ahead of ourselves here. I think we’ve just been worried about spending too much time together because we already hung out so much. But that’s because we were friends first.” He leaned in closer, their eyes locking. “Also, for the record? I’ve loved you for much longer than the three weeks it’s been since we first kissed.”

Gamora bit her lip, shuffling forwards so she could wrap her arms around his waist. He really did have a knack for throwing out casual statements of unfiltered sentiment like no one else did. It was the way he was in combat as well - catching people off-guard, throwing them off their game. But unlike his quips at villains, his words for her were always simply intangible tokens of affection. “Same,” she murmured, unable to form prose of her own. Maybe someday. “But what do you suggest we do now?”

“You said one week,” he shrugged. “So we’ll try it one more time tonight. No Mantis or anything. Let’s see what happens.”

“But you have your debate tomorrow,” she protested. “If you don’t sleep well…”

“One more time,” he repeated, kissing her forehead. “We’ll be okay. Also, I’ve been meaning to ask if you’ll come watch the debate? We’re the last pair to go, and you’d only have to leave class, like, ten minutes early - I mean, if you don’t want to, it’s not gonna be that interesting, but I just thought if maybe - ”

“Please stop,” she chuckled. “I’ll be there.”

“Really?”

“Sure.” She gave him a mischievous grin. “I’m curious to see how adequate you’ll be at making speeches under six minutes.”

______

Gamora stretched leisurely, yawning as she did so, rolling over onto her side and grabbing her phone off her side table. She hadn’t slept this well since Saturday night, even noticeably better than the previous night when Mantis had used her powers. Her back ached a little from the stiff mattress (they really needed to get a start on buying new ones), but she was otherwise well-rested, the dull strain in her eyes and sinuses from yesterday’s little meltdown having gone away with sleep.

She got dressed, grabbed an energy bar from the pantry, and made her way off the Milano to her first class, wondering what had changed. She had drifted off the minute her head hit the pillow, and only woke up once to get a drink of water. Her mind had been utterly clear, devoid of visions of a dying Peter or the horrid sounds of Groot’s pain, despite him being in very real pain yesterday. It was like her brain had forgotten about the whole ordeal in the first place, as if it hadn’t been plaguing her for the past three days, but that couldn’t have happened, could it?

Gamora went through all of her classes with relative ease, and received permission from Ares to leave combat class early to watch Peter’s debate (“You’ve already at the top of the class, just go already.”). She was weirdly nervous for him - he could make a damn good speech when the situation called for it, but a structured one could be cause for concern. He had come a long way from the rambling, oversharing, foot-in-the-mouth boy he had been when they first met, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t still worried about him going off-script.

She arrived at the lecture hall just in time to see Cindy sitting down after receiving polite applause for her opening statement. She scanned the room for open seats and was surprised to find one next to her very own sister. “I didn’t know you were taking this class,” Gamora whispered, slipping in beside her.

“I’m not,” Nebula replied, rolling her eyes. “Nothing good was on television, so I was hoping to get some entertainment out of watching Quill crash and burn.” Gamora could only shoot her a warning glare before the debate started again.

“The superhero origin story,” Peter began, taking his place at the center of the whiteboard. “It’s the kind of stuff that writers and creators can only dream of - and they have. At the risk of stating the obvious, it’s where we all started. And really, what determines where it ends? We carry so much of it with us, with every job we take, with every one person that we save.”

“Crash and burn, huh?” Gamora murmured, a sense of pride beginning to well up in her chest.

“I want to tell you a bit of a personal story. My origin story, if you will,” he added. “I don’t know how much you guys know about me - I’ve been told I talk a lot of crap - sorry professor - but I was kidnapped when I was a kid. Taken in by a bunch of super cool space pirates, just minutes after my mother died right in front of my eyes.” The room seemed to have sobered up, everyone falling silent as they watched Peter slowly pace around the front. “I managed to grow up pretty well-adjusted, pretty happy, all things considered. But what I wasn’t, was good.”

“I was never really concerned about being good. I didn’t think it was as important as being happy. I know, it sounds super selfish. But my priorities changed when I met the other Guardians, and after we did the whole save-the-world-and-be-awesome thing, I realized the kind of heroism I was capable of,” he continued. “You might be like, ‘what does this have to do with the psychological effects of your origins?’. ‘How does this prove that it’s a positive thing?’. ‘You’re just one example of a so-called good outcome from a bad history.’ But let me point out my teammates, and what they’ve also had to go through. I’m not saying that tragedy is a good thing - I don’t wanna romanticize trauma, because that shit’s not fun - sorry, professor - ”

“It could go all downhill from here.” Nebula sounded way too delighted for Gamora’s liking.

“I’d like to single out one person who really brings it home for me,” Peter said, trying his best not to make eye contact with the teacher, who was getting increasingly irritated. “My co-leader and best friend, Gamora.” He waved at her - she wasn’t even aware he’d seen her come in - causing several heads to turn. She sank a little deeper into her seat. Oh god, what was he doing? “I don’t think I have to tell you guys what she’s been through. I’m also not gonna tell you about her motivations, or her goals, or any of that stuff, because I don’t speak for her. That’s what gets me in trouble in the first place.” Laughter rippled through the crowd. Even Nebula looked somewhat pleased at the joke. “What I can tell you is who I saw when we first met, and who I see when I look at her now.”

“I saw a girl who suffered, and lost her family.” His voice broke a little on the last word. “I saw someone who had to take care of herself, and only herself, because that’s all she had left. But then she saw an opportunity to save other people, and she took it. Not because she wanted recognition or money, the way that I did, but because she knew despite all the awful things she had done in the past, she knew that this was the right thing to do. And that was it, really. She just happened to pick up a bunch of losers along the way, myself included.” More laughter rippled across the lecture hall. Gamora had leaned forward in anticipation at some point in Peter’s heartfelt story, gripping at the edges of the desk as it creaked, threatening to break under her fingers. “She was fierce and fearless. Diplomatic but headstrong, determined beyond belief. A real fighter, you know, and not just in combat. And guess what? She’s exactly like that now. The only difference is that she’s fighting for more than her own life. She’s fighting for the lives of everyone in the whole galaxy.”

“Quill is so incredibly gone for you, I may vomit,” Nebula commented.

“You might argue that her quote-unquote ‘backstory’ was finished when we arrived on Terra and joined this school, but I disagree. I think, like all of you, Gamora takes it with her every day of her life. The stuff she’s gone through, the life-changing moments that she’ll always remember. I think all of us carry a piece of our past with us because it’s what makes us who we are. Sometimes, it’s a physical item.” Peter turned to pick up his Walkman form the table, holding it up high for everyone to see. There were nods and smiles of recognition throughout the crowd. “Sometimes, it’s a memory. Or maybe it’s both, I dunno. And yeah, sometimes we need counseling, or therapy, or to beat up some bad guys to get us through the next day. But being able to wake up from a nightmare and still keep going is what makes us heroes.”

Gamora might have been biased, but she was pretty sure Peter’s applause was louder than Cindy’s as he sat back down at his desk. Nebula was quiet for the rest of the debate, and though her expression was relatively neutral, her silence spoke volumes to Gamora - she was impressed.

Cindy countered with several strong arguments of her own, the entire lecture hall tense with anticipation as they watched the two go back and forth. It was a spirited debate, though they kept it professional - Cindy and Peter were casual friends, there were no heated remarks made whatsoever. By the time they reached their closing statements, Gamora was smiling into her hands, attempting to hide it from Nebula before she could tease her further.

“There’s no denying that a lot of us have gone through some of the worst kind of pain to get to where we are now, and we probably don’t wanna remember it ever happened,” Peter said, making one last lap around the front of the room. “I’ve done things that I’m not proud of. I’m sure all of us have. But it’s naive to pretend that everything’s black and white - that we can divide every single event in our lives into good and bad. Which is why, in the end, I believe that where we come from isn’t something we just forget or shove aside. It shaped us, but it doesn’t define us. We can’t write off our histories and pretend we’ve been the people that we are this whole time. We can’t deny the things that have happened so we can be just a little bit happier now. We can talk to people about it, we can get help, but that’s where it all starts. Because we have to learn from our past - ” he waved the Walkman once more “ - to take charge of our own futures.” Peter smiled bashfully, almost shy. “Thank you.”

The lecture hall burst into polite applause - many students were starting to get bored by this point - as the professor approached Peter and Cindy to congratulate them on their successful debate. She then dismissed the entire class, causing most students to practically sprint out the door, hoping to catch the last rays of sunshine before early sunset. Gamora, on the other hand, made her way down to the front to approach Peter, who had his back to her as he packed his bag.

“I’m impressed,” she said, leaning against the table. Peter turned, his expression immediately softening upon seeing her. “I know you like to talk, but I have to admit - I didn’t think you would be very good at debate. You have a tendency to ramble.”

“I still do,” he chuckled, closing his bag and throwing it over his shoulder. He took her hand and began leading them out of the lecture hall. “I got a B minus.”

She frowned. “What, really?”

“Yeah. Prof was expecting me to look into more case studies to back up the facts, but there aren’t any on superhero psychology specifically - I mean, frankly, this school is the one writing those papers - which is why I went for real-life examples,” he replied, pausing to glance at her. “I had a pretty great muse.”

“Incorrigible,” she repeated, though she was blushing somewhat. “Your arguments. Were they part of what made you so confident about us being okay?”

“Sort of.” They passed through the rest of the campus, silent, as there was too much typical rowdy chaos happening around them - students chatting, showing off their powers, swapping study notes - the kind of noise that Gamora found herself glad to hear. Despite the occasional stare from other students, eyeing their clasped hands, she found she couldn’t be bothered by it anymore - she was pleased to be surrounded by people again, after knowing how eerie the school could be when it was utterly vacant.

The two of them didn’t get a chance to pick up their conversation again until they returned to the Milano, where the others were milling about, also engaging in rambunctious behavior. Sighing, Peter once again led Gamora to his room, ignoring the identical shit-eating grins on Rocket and Yondu’s faces that followed. “I think talking about everything that was bothering us and the kind of nightmares we were having literally made us sleep easier. When you first brought up sleeping alone, we probably got so stressed out about what could go wrong that it did go wrong. We didn’t have nightmares because we weren’t together, we had nightmares because we thought we would have nightmares.”

Gamora let out a defeated sigh, sprawling face-first across his mattress, unusually pliant. “I really don’t know what I’m doing,” she mumbled into his pillow.

“Hey, come on. Like I said, we’re learning together,” Peter said reassuringly, resting a hand on the small of her back. “We both have - or in my case, had - crazy homicidal dads, a laundry list of insecurities, and zero experience in relationships. Look how much we have in common!” He winced. “That was too much, wasn’t it.”

“Your sense of humor is odd and sometimes crude,” she began, turning to look at him consideringly. “But don’t tell anyone that I actually find you funny. I have a reputation to uphold.”

“So rude to me,” he faux-whined, laying down next to her, his entire arm now slung across her back. “Let’s make a deal. We stop talking about how bad we are at relationships, and instead talk about our actual relationship when stuff’s bothering us.”

“Okay,” she replied, smiling. “But I’m still terrible at being a girlfriend.”

“You help me deal with my crap, you’re really fun to hang out with, and you’re generally just a super cool, badass, all-around awesome person. For the record? You’re an amazing girlfriend.” Gamora chuckled, patting him on the chest affectionately. “By the way, this is the part where you tell me the same thing.”

“You’re adequate,” she responded teasingly. Her eyes flickered to meet his, holding steady, before leaning in to quickly peck him on the mouth. “And I love you.”

If he was surprised at her saying it first for the first time, he didn’t show it. “Love you too,” he mumbled, cupping her face. “Okay, so, here’s my plan for the rest of the night - we go back out into the living room, make out on the couch until the others get grossed out because it’s funny, then come back in here after dinner, we do homework like a bunch of bores until we fall asleep, and figure out the next step in our sleeping arrangements tomorrow.”

“Or we can determine it right now,” Gamora shrugged. “We share your bed, but I keep my room the way it is, for whenever we have fights. And I do mean ‘when’, and not ‘if’. I also get to steal your clothes whenever I want.

“I’m certainly not complaining,” Peter laughed, leaning in for another kiss. When they pulled apart, he looked oddly inquisitive. “Though I do have to ask about where you found my Flash Gordon shirt, because I swear I lost it, like, the week we got here…”

this one-shot was supposed to be like 8k words, but once again, like the main fic, peter and gamora just decided to have feelings all over the place and it turned out way longer than intended. hope you guys enjoyed it anyways!

some quick things - the song peter listened to after his nightmare was and i love you so by don mclean, which is a song peter has on his "for gamora" mixtape. also, there is a hint about the next one-shot hidden in here somewhere. finally, a brief summary of their nightmares if you skipped them over: gamora dreamed of hearing groot being hurt, and then witnessed peter dying (implied to be thanos's doing). peter dreamed of gamora listing all his insecurities as reasons to break up with him, and then ego showed up to kill her and threatened to go after the others.

once again, thank you for reading, likes and reblogs would be much appreciated, and I hope you're enjoying this series :)

[citizenscreen]

To do a job is to work. The physical space in which one does a job is a workplace. Don’t you marvel at all the things you learn here? Anyway, I’m here to discuss three specific workplaces in movies, settings that have allowed for stories that range from melodrama to broad comedy. The workplace lends itself to a myriad of emotions, after all. We can sympathize, abhor, empathize and relate to all manner of workplace situations. My chosen workplaces all have Meryl Streep in common. You may already know who Meryl Streep is. but if you don’t suffice it to say that she is one of the greatest actors of all time – although I admit that saying that feels like saying air is the best thing we can breathe. Throughout her impressive career Ms. Streep has portrayed workers in workplaces numerous times and all have been memorable. I chose three that I find particularly compelling not only as individual characterizations, but also in comparison to each other. I shall begin with the Catholic Church.

As Sister Aloysius in DOUBT

As Miranda Priestly in THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA

As Karen Silkwood in SILKWOOD

  Doubt (2008) – John Patrick Shanley, Director

Sister Aloysius Beauvier (Meryl Streep)

Title: Principal of St. Nicholas school in the Bronx

Employer: The Catholic Church

Few people in American society were immune to the changes that came about in the 1960s. Even those whose lives took place in hermetically sealed environs couldn’t escape the changes that were happening. One such person is Sister Aloysius, the severe principal of St. Nicholas school in the Bronx who, in 1964, doubts many things and many people.

Sister Aloysius is a traditionalist trained to live and work under strict rules, which are strengthened by a daily dose of rituals. As principal at St. Nicholas Aloysius is the letter of the law, unbending and unwilling to change. She is a hard woman who – although not devoid of heart – protests even the slightest advancement such as a pen and wears her bonnet like a harness. The Sister doubts everything – people’s character, people’s intentions and people’s capabilities. Some may even say Sister Aloysius is the model of the Catholic Church, its values and what it represented, old school religious doctrine with its uncompromising mores and authoritarian judgments. Then came the reforms of Vatican II, which were under way in 1964, when the story in john Patrick Shanley’s Doubt takes place. Lead by Pope John XXIII the Catholic Church was now intending to “be a part of the modern world, an entity wanting to engage, not condemn.” (Thomas Ryan) It’s only natural that Aloysius felt betrayed by her employers and her faith, a faith that dictated – up to this point – how she ruled her world and lived her life. The employee manual, if you will, had just been rewritten with no input whatsoever by Sister Aloysius. Her certain world is now rendered uncertain. All of this plays a role in how Sister Aloysius reacts when questionable behavior by a priest involves Donald Miller, the first black student to ever attend St. Nicholas school in the Bronx.

Being a Catholic school, the culture at St. Nicholas is very specific and under Sister Aloysius’ firm thumb rules cannot be deviated from. The chain of command is important. A nun who teaches should report any incident to Sister Aloysius who would then report anything serious to the Monsignor and on up to the Holy Father (aka The Pope). This is also a male dominated culture that permeates all mandates and decisions made by the Church. It’s made clear in Doubt that the word of a priest, for instance, would be valued more highly than that of a nun. It is also intimated that the sins of a priest might be overlooked easily and the misguided accusations of a nun judged harshly. We certainly know that the true positions of power within the Catholic Church, those who set policies and make rules, are all men. All of this plays a role in how Sister Aloysius reacts when questionable behavior by a priest involves Donald Miller, the first black student to ever attend St. Nicholas school in the Bronx.

One day Sister James (Amy Adams) mentions to Sister Aloysius that she has concerns about Donald Miller, a student in her class. Sister James is young, somewhat innocent – or certainly has a clean slate compared to Aloysius’ baggage – and is willing (and able) to give people the benefit of the doubt. When she tells Aloysius that she is concerned about Miller and his (perhaps) suspicious relationship with the school priest, Father Flynn (Philip Seymour Hoffman) the older nun immediately jumps to conclusions. In fact, it is the only thing she doesn’t doubt.

PS – This is not intended as a commentary on the film in general, but rather one on the “workplace” aspect of the movie. While both Adams and Hoffman give good performances in Doubt I can’t help but give a special shout out to Viola Davis whose performance as Donald Miller’s mother is so moving it permeates the entire movie despite it being a relatively small role. We don’t want to hear what Mrs. Miller has to say. We don’t want to know her reality, which means that what her son may be going through at the hands of a priest is preferable to the child’s alternative reality. What Mrs. Miller has to say is heart-breaking, it is the movie’s game-changer. I’ll leave you to doubt what you will from here.

Sister Aloysius, Sister James and Father Flynn

  The Devil Wears Prada (2006) – David Frankel, Director

Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep)

Title: Editor-in-chief, Runway magazine

I now turn away from a woman whose power is limited by a repressive set of regulations and turn toward one on whose shoulders lies the responsibility of a global brand. In the highly competitive world of high fashion Miranda Priestly is top dog and queen of her domain. Ms. Priestly sets the rules, the tempo and everyone at Runway dances to her tune. The world Miranda has created is one where appearances matter as much as competence, where best behavior and best look are the basics. With demanding precision, an ice-cold voice and a look that can kill Priestly manages a team that scrambles to meet her expectations lest she be disappointed in them. She is invested in her job and expects everyone else to be as well. All the time.

The character of Miranda Priestly is said to be based on Anna Wintour, the formidable editor of Vogue whose nickname in the industry is “Nuclear Wintour.” While it’s easy to chuckle at that moniker it’s been traditionally true that many powerful, determined, capable women are referred to in a negative manner so I’m not buying into whether Wintour earned it. That said, Ms. Priestly does have what some may perceive as a less than kind demeanor toward her subordinates, making them squirm at every possible opportunity. And if she expects better, which she always does, and you disappoint she might give you an impossible task – like when she asks her assistant Andy Sachs (Anne Hathaway) to get copies of an unpublished Harry Potter manuscript. It’s through Andy, a recent journalism graduate who accepts the assistant job at Runway despite belittling fashion, that we get to know Miranda Priestly and her world. And yes, we immediately recognize that Miranda’s tough and yes, she holds no prisoners when things don’t go her way, but there is a lot to admire about her. To start she is the top in her field the world over, she can make or break a career with a look and works harder than anyone. If you can survive in Miranda’s world you too will be prepared for anything. That’s admirable. And in the end – without giving anything away – Miranda Priestly proves she can play hardball with the best of them in an industry that values youth and beauty above all things. She is indispensable.

The world depicted in The Devil Wears Prada is, according to Ginia Bellefante, former fashion reporter for The New York Times, “easily the truest portrayal of fashion culture since Unzipped,” Douglas Keeve’s 1995 documentary about designer Isaac Mizrahi. This movie illustrates how high stress and high fashion go hand-in-hand. And, I should add, makes a statement about women in the workforce as well. Not only do we see Miranda’s personal life suffer due to – we assume – her demanding career, but we witness Andy’s relationship worsen as she gets better at her Runway job, as she becomes more like Miranda.

I thoroughly enjoy Meryl Streep’s performance in The Devil Wears Prada. Every look, nuance and movement she makes is in character with confidence radiating – as it should – from a person who rules absolutely. This is best illustrated in the scene when Miranda puts Andy in her place with the cerulean sweater story. It’s simply one of the greatest Streep moments on film, in my opinion, and she’s had many. Don’t let a contemporary dramedy about fashion dissuade you. This is good stuff.

I’ll end with shout outs to Stanley Tucci and Emily Blunt who are terrific in The Devil Wears Prada. They are in large part responsible for why it’s such an entertaining movie. Finally, a personal fashion anecdote. Years ago I worked at Liz Claiborne for a short time as an administrative assistant to a division VP and, um…let me just say I am not administrative assistant material. Every time one of the bosses asked me to bring them something my instinct was to reply, “why don’t you get it yourself?” Of course, I needed the job and did as asked, but I wasn’t happy about it. Still, I admired the people who worked there, passionate people who loved what they did, but I never understood that world and the fact that they could have four-hour meetings about buttons was mind-blowing. Unfortunately, I had to attend those meetings myself and was tasked with taking notes about a subject I not only knew nothing about, but didn’t understand or care about. I was very much the Andy Sachs of Liz Claiborne and there was no Meryl Streep to convince me about the importance of the history of buttons and how they ended up in my closet. In short, those meetings were boring as all hell and all the buttons looked the same to me aside from maybe a blue one being different from a green one. Yet, they were discussed to the minutest details for hours. Then one day, during one of those meetings, one of the VPs caught me making an extemporaneous note in the margin of my notebook, “please God, take me now.”

Miranda Priestly judging in her office

  Silkwood (1983) – Mike Nichols, Director

Karen Silkwood (Meryl Streep)

Title: Factory worker at a plutonium processing plant

Employer: Kerr-McGee

From the formidable Miranda Priestly I turn my attention to Karen Silkwood, a hero made so by her ordinariness and a will to tell the truth.

Meryl Streep’s performance as Karen Silkwood is one of my favorites. Known for becoming the characters she plays, Streep completely disappears into Karen Silkwood, the Oklahoma woman at the center of Mike Nichols’ extraordinary 1983 film. The movie is based on the true story of a woman who comes to believe she and her co-workers are being exposed to unsafe levels of radiation at their processing plant. As a result of sounding the alarm against safety conditions Silkwood quietly becomes a union activist and is ultimately used by both sides of the argument. Meanwhile, we are exposed to the raw story of the woman who represents the American working class and who is powerless against the uncontrollable forces that affect the workers.

The story of Silkwood is told so truthfully and the characters are so fully realized that it feels as though you’re watching a documentary. At the beginning of the movie Karen Silkwood is just another cog in the wheel, as is the case (I imagine) for most factory workers in the country. We see the workers punching clocks, doing their work automatically and the apparent camaraderie leads us to believe everyone fits in, they feel at home. As the story progresses, however, we see Kerr-McGee is not an ideal place to work. The bosses are strict about time off, everyone is putting in more hours than they should and are met with little compensation. In fact, corners are being cut and because of that it soon comes to light that the health of the workers are at risk.

Karen Silkwood fights back as any average person might do, she begins to attend union meetings and becomes one of the spokespersons for the workers. Interestingly, she is not met with support and gratitude when she is vocal about Kerr-McGee falsifying safety tests. Many of these workers are angry, they don’t want to lose their jobs or have the spotlight shined on them. This, even after seeing the brutality with which the workers are treated if the plutonium alarm should go off as they leave the work space. It is a dehumanizing process that tells all there is to know about a workplace like Kerr-McGee. Indeed, it’s difficult to watch what came to be known as the “Silkwood shower,” where the worker is forced to disrobe before he/she is scrubbed until the skin is raw. This happened to Karen Silkwood as punishment for her activism, which should have outraged everybody, but instead leaves her high and dry with no union support and no co-worker willing to stand by her. That is the tragedy depicted in Silkwood. This is not a movie about dangerous leaks or conspiracies. Silkwood‘s power comes from the tragedy of a single life, which could be anybody’s.

Karen Silkwood at Kerr-McGee

Also in Silkwood are Kurt Russell and Cher, both delivering memorable performances as does the entire cast of supporting players. The movie is also masterfully directed by Mike Nichols.

  I could’ve chosen any number of movies to comment on from Meryl Streep’s filmography, but for some reason these three came to mind immediately. I think they illustrate her extraordinary talent as well as any other triple feature with the added benefit of allowing discussion on three very different workplaces.

♦

This is the first of two entries I hope to submit to Moon in Gemini for The Workplace in Film & TV Blogathon, which runs from August 18 – 20. Be sure to visit.

Meryl Streep in the Workplace To do a job is to work. The physical space in which one does a job is a workplace.

[ursafilms]

The Nightmare Before Christmas and the Curse of the Oogie-Boogie Set

In between visits by perennially disgruntled The Nightmare Before Christmas employees, a few other adventures awaited me on the production of the movie. One of them actually involved Tim Burton.

He showed up at the studio one morning with Lisa Marie in tow.

Jenny, TNBC’s fab accounting assistant had just poured water into our coffee maker and hit the ‘On’ button. We had an old-fashioned restaurant style system which did not include an automatic shut-off. Tim, in his zeal to get some caffeine into his system made a bee-line for the kitchen.

Before I could intercede, he’d snatched the glass coffee pot off the burner; emptied its contents into a large Styrofoam cup; added milk and/or sugar before placing the pot back to catch the remaining coffee.

Tim and the strikingly beautiful Lisa Marie disappeared to their confab with Kathleen Gavin, our producer and Henry Selick, TNBC’s director.

I turned back to survey the damage.

Me: “Jen, the best Smiley Face I can put on this one, is that Tim Burton is one intense and focused individual.”

Jen: “You want the counter or the carpet?”

Me: “The carpet. It will take longer and delay my inevitable daily public stoning in front of The Big Board at the hands of the animators.”

Jen: “Oh come on. It’s not that bad. They don’t stone you every day.”

Me: “That’s true. Sometimes they do it twice.”

****

The next incident involved the late night stage inspections, of which I became a part after Jackie, the former head of scheduling, left on maternity leave and I moved from stage management (ahem) to the production department.

The production department split up the responsibility of doing one final late night walk-through of the stages among the entirety of the staff, which now included me. We wanted to share the pain of 14 hour days equally. Okay, they did. I might have. I can’t remember.

Before finishing their shift, one production person checked on the stages and made sure the animators, some of whom did work very late, had everything they needed to finish a shot or at least continue one.

Along with everyone in the production department, I pulled that duty once a month. Most of the inspections were fairly routine and involved finding a missing prop or getting animators tape, paint, or glue. They were a very self-sufficient bunch, used to working long hours on their own, but a last check-in did help expedite the process.

During one of my late night shifts I walked the main studio, which included the Roulette Wheel set, the one used for the final confrontation between Jack and Oogie-Boogie. It occupied the largest stage in the complex. The exact dimensions escape me, but about half the set lived on a couple pieces of secured plywood whose length and width exceeded that of a King-sized bed.

Which turned out to be a very appropriate comparison.

Now would be a good time to explain the physical rigors of stop-motion animation. Anyone trained in this particular artform has to be in relatively good shape. I’ve never seen a fat animator. Okay, that’s not true. I’ve seen plenty of fat animators. They sit on their behinds and push a mouse, pencil, or joystick around and make pretty pictures on a monitor.

The qualification I make is I’ve never seen a fat stop-motion animator.

One of TNBC’s animators, in particular, would rise everyone morning at 6am and do an hour of plyometrics before coming into work. Another one studied martial arts. One of them, an artist from Boston, had to be one of the most athletic people I’d ever met. Had he not gone into animation, I believe he could have excelled at professional sports.

It’s a very physical job. A lot of crawling, climbing, clutching, and lifting.

All this might go so far as to excuse me for not paying nearly enough attention to the heavy breathing I heard coming from the roulette wheel set. And if not for the apparent sounds of twosets of rhythmic and intense respiration, I’d have walked into quite a performance. Common sense took over and just before I yanked back the closure of black curtains that surrounded all the stages, I withdrew my hand and stepped back.

But not quite quickly enough.

Panting Individual: “Anyone out there?”

Me: “Uh. No?”

Continually Panting Individual: “Is anyone out there?”

Me: “I’ll come back later.”

Still Panting Individual: “I don’t need anything.”

Me: “Evidently.”

Really Panting Individual: “What was that?”

Me: “I’ll go check on Steve and the Sleigh flying rig.”

Several animators wondered if production forgot about them that evening. I fled the scene and skipped a few stages, hoping that the independent buggers could get along without someone to fetch them 1” white camera tape for a night.

For a week I avoided the couple I speculated occupied Motel Oogie-Boogie on that particular evening. Not easy to do in a facility with 100 workers, all of whom knew each other right down to their personal lives. A conversation with a coworker or two about my possible voyeurism didn’t make it high on the list of things to do during the workday.

****

That particular Oogie-Boogie roulette wheel set had a curse on it. A few days after the Things Go Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump In The Night episode, one of our quantum physics degreed camera operators decided to drive their brand new motion control rig from Stage 1 to Stage 20.

In defense of our own Doctor Einstein, his next assignment did take place on Stage 20. However, driving a contraption of speed rail, welded metal plates, block and tackle from the 1700s ship-building industry, and a motorized Worrall head through the Escher-like construction of Skellington AT NIGHT however, might not have been the best plan. Throw in the duvetyne which wrapped everything on the stage floor in a black shroud of grim death and the only place more dangerous to take a spin on four wheels might be a Demolition Derby on ABC’s Wide World of Sports.

[Whoa! Look at that, Jim. Hunter McQueen just backed his Brinks Armored Vehicle overthe Yugo driven by the former Jimmy “The Bohunk” Abramowitz!]

[Yes that is something, John!]

But don’t let common sense interfere with a joyride in the middle of the night . . . on a pitch black studio floor . . . with hundreds of thousands of dollars of equipment and gear in the way . . . and millions of dollars of set pieces, props, and puppets on display.

The following is the chagrined personal account of said cameraman and the production assistant on rounds. I was not on duty that evening. Follow the layout of Skellington Studios below this posting.

The camera operator took off from Stage 1 and worked the Motion Control rig down one of the narrow alleyways on the studio floor. The stages did lay out in a surprising form of organized numbering. Stages 1 through 7 were on the right hand side of the studio as you drove from front to back, and Stages 8 through 13 sat on the left.

14 through 20, or the Auxiliary Stages, were in the far reaches of Skellington and defied such military regimentation. As such we had an overhead of the stages that I used until I memorized where they were. Several thousand trips to each working set will embed their whereabouts in your brain.

Back to the accident about to happen.

The motion control rig, far from street ready, managed to avoid any collisions, despite the lack of definition in the field of vision of the driver, until it got to near the end of its initial journey through the first thirteen stages. Just before the safety of open space, which lay just on the other side of the drapery that divided the two sets of stages, the motion control rig crashed into a corner of the Oogie-Boogie Roulette Wheel set.

A six inch protrusion of a corner of the set extended into the narrow alleyway. Invisible due to its camouflage of black duvetyne. An additional piece of plywood had been added to allow the animator to keep certain tools and materials close at hand.

Or, perhaps the amorous couple of a few nights back needed a little extra room to move around. We will never know.

Whatever the reason, the MoCon (That’s film lingo.) rig had inadvertently committed one of the several zillion cardinal sins of stop motion animation known as unnecessary or un-filmed movement.

It causes horrific things to happen when such events occur such as Oogie-Boogie moving six feet in perspective without any known purpose and against all the laws of physics. The shot, to this juncture, might be ruined.

The fallout and possible solutions.

1.     The animator can kill the camera operator and be found not guilty due to justifiable homicide. Also included would be the subsequent dismantling and melting down of the MoCon rig. The entire camera department would be forced to attend this event.

2.     The animator can commit suicide, greatly reducing his productivity ongoing.

3.     The shot, already 360 frames into a 720 frame extravaganza, can be restarted. This request would precipitate #2.

4.     Phil Lofaro works on a brilliant solution. He sends the finished 360 frames to Disney. They send back specs to line up the set in its original position. The animator starts from frame 361, and Disney’s editorial staff is prepared to make further micro adjustments in post.

Strangely, as much as we wanted to see the camera operator dispatched and the cursed MoCon rig turned into scrap, we opted for #4.

Courtesy Reminder: When I said Phil Lofaro could do anything, I was not joking. The shot continued on schedule. It finished on time and looked great. If another performance of the Posturepedic Polka occurred on the Oogie-Boogie set, I was not the one to hear it.

And really, you two. That Roulette Wheel had a surface like an Iron Maiden.

Ick.

[thechasefiles]

The Chase Files Daily Newscap 2//28/2019

Good MORNING  #realdreamchasers! Here is The Chase Files Daily News Cap for Thursday 28th February 2019. Remember you can read full articles for FREE via Barbados Today (BT) or Barbados Government Information Services (BGIS) OR by purchasing by purchasing a Daily Nation Newspaper (DN).

NO CRIME CRISIS – Certain crimes, particularly murder, are on the up, but the situation has not yet reached crisis stage. Deputy Commissioner of Police Erwin Boyce gave Barbadians this assurance as he addressed the National Strategic Consultation On The Social Response To Crime In Barbados conference at the Lloyd Erskine Sandiford Centre yesterday. “The Royal Barbados Police Forces sees the recent crime events in Barbados as a major cause of concern . . . . However, we do not believe by the stretch of the imagination that we are in a crime crisis,” he said. Boyce said the 12 murders (nine males and three females) and over 15 reports of shootings for the year were unprecedented, but serious crime rates had fallen within the past few years. (DN)

STUDY: 6 GANGS, GUNS FOR RENT – There are six major gangs in Barbados, and guns are being circulated or rented for up to $10 000. These were among the findings from a study conducted by the Criminal Justice Research and Planning Unit, and director Cheryl Willoughby said there were over 50 blocks in Barbados in both rural and urban areas. She said the Royal Barbados Police Force’s Special Branch had identified these six gangs, which ranged from 25 to 50 people, while smaller ones had a membership of 15 to 30. The general age range was 17 to 40 years old, with the average age of members in the mid-20s, but research showed some as young as 15 were frequenting the blocks.  The crimes committed by those groups, she said, included theft, robbery, drug possession and distribution, firearm possession, serious bodily harm, woundings and murder, and they were “very organised”. Speaking at the National Strategic Consultation On The Social Response To Crime In Barbados conference at the Lloyd Erskine Sandiford Centre yesterday, Willoughby said some communities had warring factions and this led some young people to get involved in gangs and criminal activity. “During our research, we learnt of a phenomenon, I refer to as the ‘Circle’, where inmates spoke of being in groups where firearms could be easily obtained and passed from one person to another if you were of a particular circle or group,” she said.   (DN)

GANJA ‘FOR MEDICINE NOT FUN’ – A prominent evangelical pastor has given his blessing to medical marijuana but holds firm against decriminalising the drug for recreational use. Senior Pastor at Apostolic Teaching Center, Eliseus Joseph, based his stance against freer use of the herb on his belief that the drug affects individuals in different ways, saying ganja “does not agree” with every human being. Saying that not everybody has the same genetic make up, he told reporters: “We need to understand that we can’t legalise this whole idea of marijuana for recreational purpose. “The idea of having marijuana for medicinal purpose, we are not arguing against that. But the point is that when we legalise marijuana for recreational purposes, there is a challenge for some people who are not genetically predisposed for one smoke.” The Pentacostal preacher and professional counsellor gave his views to journalists at the Restoration Ministries, Brittons Hill Church, on Tuesday, to announce plans for a Weekend of Prayer. Late last year, Prime Minister Mottley announced that there was soon to be a framework for medical cannabis put in place, and pointed out that Barbados could no longer afford to miss out on the emerging marijuana industry. But she said that allowing the drug for recreational use would be put to a referendum. Mottley said that Barbados would not be going about it carelessly, and indicated that thorough research would have to be carried out. Joseph continued: “We believe that one drink does not fit all. You could have one person who drinks one beer, and he can engage in psychotic behaviour, because his genes don’t predispose him to drink one beer. “The same thing applies to marijuana. One smoke does not fit all. We as a church understand that there are people who might smoke one spliff, and that spliff would certainly predispose them to psychotic behaviour.” Reverend John Carter told the news conference that Government ought to be specific about the purpose for which it would legalise the drug. Carter declared that right now, people “are just growing whatever they can grow”. He told journalists: “There is nobody in Barbados, as far as I know, who is specifically growing medical marijuana. The marijuana that is being grown in Barbados, [or] is being imported, it is for recreation. And the Government has to be very careful with that approach.”  (BT)

POLICE BLAMED – Relatives of the 18-year-old who was shot and killed by police at London Road, Brittons Hill, St Michael, on Tuesday, are crying foul. In fact, they have already sought legal advice and are planning to sue the cops. Kadeem Ifill’s immediate family confirmed the pending action against the Royal Barbados Police Force in an interview, hours after the death of their loved one, who police claimed was one of two males who attacked them as they responded to a report that there were two armed men at the location. This morning, members of the London Road community, and the deceased’s friends, gathered in the area, reflecting on the loss of one of the younger members of the community. Still reeling from the pain of the loss, the teenager’s grieving relatives expressed anger and outrage over what they described as an unfair killing. His aunt Michelle Ifill said that while she would not seek to assure Barbadians that her nephew was “a saint or a good boy”, she believed his death was unjustified. “We the family know for sure, Kadeem ain’t had nothing. We know Kadeem did nothing but get scared and attempt to flee. That was his only mistake and unfortunately it was fatal. Police ain’t had no right to do it, and they know it too,” Michelle said. A statement from the Police Public Relations Officer, Inspector Rodney Inniss, indicated that lawmen responded to reports that two men with guns were at London Road. According to the statement, two police units responded and upon arrival at the scene, they came under attack from two individuals with what appeared to be firearms. “As a result the police responded. One man fell to the ground, and one loaded firearm was recovered,” Inniss said. However, Michelle who described some of what was reported by police as a “smear campaign”, said she was standing firm to her belief that her nephew, whom she claimed had no criminal record, was innocent. “The police has in essence, launched a smear campaign on an 18-year-old who we know is innocent. Just come and let the family know that it was a grave error by one of your own, and deal with the one of your own who made the grave error. “Do not try to subject the family to further shame and scandal, like if we don’t know how to train up we children,” Michelle said. The aunt also stressed that the family was displeased with the way they were treated at the scene. Ifill’s mother, Angela Ifill, who was being comforted by loved ones, lamented that she was still in disbelief that the last of her four sons was “gone”. The mother said she had the best ever relationship with her son who was unemployed, but did odd jobs for family members. “Out of all the boys Kadeem was the closest to me. I cannot say he was an angel. I am not the type of mother to say ‘not my child’, because in these times, on the streets, anything goes. “But to me, he was the best out of the lot. When I say the best I mean he was closer to me than the rest. Kadeem would call me every day at lunchtime to see if I good,” the mother said. Ifill said she would forever remember that phone call she received, when the other person on the line told her to hurry and get home because something had happened to her child. The relatives also argued that they found it hard to believe that Ifill, who was still recovering from an injury, was able to run from the police. One of Ifill’s friends said she was already missing the teenager who she said was a “nice, loving” boy. “We went to St George Secondary together and he was humble and peaceful. He wasn’t a troublemaker at school. He don’t get in nobody way. “He just used to smile. If his mother quarreling he would just smile. He was a peaceful boy. He used to do he own thing, and talk to he friends. He was irie.  This death break down a lot of people. It is hurtful. The friend said she saw Ifill about 30 minutes before he died, close to the area where the incident took place. About seven hours before the incident, a group of pastors gathered at Restoration Ministries Church, just a stone’s throw away from where Ifill died, to announce plans for an upcoming weekend of prayer. The pastors, including David Durant, who is known throughout the Brittons Hill community, called for an end to gun violence. “We are appealing to the youths to please, please put down the guns and desist from the violent activities. Also to the drug lords who are mobilising our youths, please reconsider the destructive paths being created and the fear in communities that this is causing. “And to the importers of illegal guns, recognize that every person murdered or robbery committed with these weapons, you had a part to play in that lawless violent activity. Let’s bring a halt to this downward slide,” Durant said. Pastor Durant visited Ifill’s relatives this afternoon where he offered them words of comfort. (BT)

POLICE INVESTIGATE FATAL SHOOTING AT BLACK ROCK, ST MICHAEL – Police are on the scene of another shooting at Clevedale Road, Black Rock, St Michael. Reports are that two males were shot and one has died. More details as they come to hand. (BT)

MAN REMANDED ON FIREARM, ASSAULT CHARGES – A 24-year-old man who appeared before a Bridgetown Magistrate this afternoon was remanded to HMP Dodds for sentencing next month. Shaquille Ricarla Calderon, of Thores Gap, Lands End, Spring Garden, St Michael, was not required to plead to having a firearm without a valid licence last December 20. He was also not required to plead to the indictable offences of assaulting Linda Abbott with intent to rob her last December 8 and robbing Elke Sommer of a $500 cell phone last December 20. However, he pleaded guilty to three counts of breaking and entering and two counts of theft, but denied two other robbery charges. He returns to court on March 27 for sentencing. (DN)

JORDAN GETS SIX MONTHS – A reputed thief added yet another conviction to his name when he pleaded guilty to an offence dating back to December 16, 2018. Fifty-year-old Richard Dacosta Jordan, of no fixed place of abode, was sentenced to six months in prison after admitting to being on the premises of Capri Condominium with intent to comment theft. “I am sorry for going on the property. I was playing racquetball and the ball deviated and went on the property. I shouted for someone to come and assist me but no one came, so I went for the ball but I was wrong,” Jordan who has over 50 convictions for offences of a similar nature told Magistrate Kristie Cuffy-Sargeant. “I beg you don’t send me to jail,” he pleaded. However, his plea fell on deaf ears.  (BT)

‘I WAS OUT OF WORK’ – Standing in the docks of the District ‘A’ Magistrates’ Court today a 24-year-old man used his unemployment as a defence for committing four of ten criminal offences beginning in January last year. “I try to get back to work . . . this is not my life . . . I couldn’t pay my rent,” Thornes Gap, Lands End, Spring Garden, St Michael resident Shaquille Ricarla Calderon told Magistrate Kristie Cuffy-Sargeant this afternoon after the facts were detailed by police constable Kenmore Phillips. The 24-year-old first got an automatic 28-day remand at HMP Dodds for allegedly having a firearm in his possession on December 20, 2018 without a valid licence. He was not required to plead to this indictable charge nor to robbing Elke Sommer of a $500 cellular phone on the same day and assaulting Linda Abbott with intent to rob her on December 8, 2018. The accused then entered not guilty pleas to robbing Patricia Stroudley of a cellular phone and case worth $1,068.89 on December 2018, stealing an $800 cellular phone when he burglarized the home of Monica Maynard on January 20, 2018 and stealing US$200 belonging to Jean-Luc Beauhieu on December 10, 2018. Calderon however pleaded guilty to entering the home of Melvia Callender as a trespasser between January 21 and 22, 2019 and stealing a number of electronic devices worth $2,185 as well as robbing Shanice Gilkes of a cellular phone, a chain, and a purse worth $1,055, which also included $85 cash. He told Cuffy-Sargeant that he was the one who took three watches and a cellular phone totaling $1,700 when he burglarized the home of Daniel Debidin on February 21 as well as a $2,000 television from the home of Mark Downie on the same day. The prosecutor revealed that in most of the crimes the complainants secured their homes and later returned to discover the items missing. Another complainant was woken to a light flashing in the bedroom and the culprit ran away when he realized that he had been spotted. In the case involving Gilkes, Calderon came from behind a tree and demanded her phone. She first refused but the accused pushed his hand in his pocket, pulled a weapon and made good his escape after snatching her purse. Investigations into those four crimes were still ongoing. However, Calderon admitted to committing the offences when he was detained in connection with other crimes on February 22. “I was working, I got laid off . . . the reason for the offences was I was out of work I accustom to working but I try to get back work but I did not get it so. . . . “I apologise to the complainants, to the court for my crimes because this is not my life. I just could not pay my rent or my bills,” Calderon stated moments before he was remanded until March 27 when he will be sentenced.  (BT)

MAN WITH 81 CONVICTIONS GOES BACK TO PRISON – A 50-year-old handyman was intoxicated on December 3 last year when he loitered on the property of another man with intentions of burglarizing the place. For that crime, Alvin Anthony Harris, of Clevedale Road, Black Rock, St Michael was sentenced to six months in prison. But, having already spent two months on remand, he will have to spend only four more months of the sentence imposed by Magistrate Kristie Cuffy-Sargeant today. “I was under the influence of alcohol because I does drink really hard and I am asking for you to be lenient. I was wrong,” Harris said to the District ‘A’ Magistrate who revealed that the accused had over 81 convictions to his name. “I don’t know how many I have but that was my past, when I used to smoke cocaine . . . that’s five or six years ago. I don’t smoke now,” the offender said. However, Cuffy-Sargeant told him that explanation did not bode well for him as it highlighted that he committed other offences even when he was not under the influence of drugs. “Ma’am that was when I was young and stupid,” he added before the sentence was imposed. (BT)

CARMICHAEL JAILED FOR BREACHING BOND, BURGLARY – Claims that he was a “psychiatric patient” were not enough to save a 53-year-old man from an 18-month prison sentence for two burglaries. But before his sentencing on the two matters, Andrew Delisle Anderson Carmichael of No. 10 Pine Plantation, St Michael received a three-month prison term for breaching a bond imposed on him two weeks ago after pleading guilty to similar offence. Standing before Magistrate Kristie Cuffy-Sargeant this afternoon Carmichael pleaded guilty to entering the home of Valdeen Broome as a trespasser and stealing an $800 vase, a $900 ornament and two bowls worth $800 between December 1, 2018 and February 23, 2019. He also admitted to burglarizing the home of Lemuel Smith on January 6, 2019 and stealing a spray can, a pair of shears, a hoe, a chair and a bowl worth $362. Prosecutor, Station Sergeant Cameron Gibbons revealed that Smith was at home when she spotted a man moving from the area of her basement with several items in his hands. However, Carmichael threw a coffee bottle at Smith as she approached and then ran away. In the other case the caretaker for the Broome residence was notified that that a man was seen leaving the property with a number of items. When asked if he had anything to say in his defence Carmichael responded: “I am a psychiatric patient”.  (BT)

GAYLE NOT ENOUGH – Veteran Chris Gayle struck a scintillating 25th one-day international hundred and passed 10 000 career runs, but the task of completing their highest-ever successful run chase proved too much for West Indies and they slipped to a 29-run defeat to England in an entertaining fourth ODI here yesterday. Faced with a daunting target of 419 at the Grenada National Stadium after Jos Buttler and captain Eoin Morgan had pummelled high-quality hundreds, West Indies appeared poised to spring a massive surprise when the left-handed Gayle smashed a breathtaking 162 off 97 deliveries. But despite Darren Bravo’s 61 from 59 balls and Carlos Brathwaite’s maiden ODI half-century in gathering 50 from 36 deliveries towards the end, the Windies suffered a late collapse to be all out for 389 off 48 overs– their highest ever ODI total. The hosts lost wickets in clusters as speedster Mark Wood, with four for 60, triggered a middle-order collapse before leg-spinner Adil Rashid polished off the tail with five for 85, in an anticlimactic end to the high-scoring affair. The Windies were under pressure at 301 for six in the 36th over before Brathwaite and Ashley Nurse (43) revived their hopes with a sensible 88-run, seventh-wicket partnership. (DN)

BRITISH JOCKEY EXPECTS BIG RUN – First-time jockey in the Sandy Lane Gold Cup, Sean Levey, is hoping for a big run in the Caribbean’s biggest horse race at the Garrison Savannah on Saturday. The 30-year-old English international, who will sit in the saddle of American horse Bodie Tap for the Gold Cup told NATION SPORT that despite not being familiar with the track he was confident ahead of his first mounting Barbados. “I’m looking forward to it. This is really a big race. I’m not worried about the conditions. My horse is in very good form no doubt about that. Obviously, he is not a local horse and he would not have been around this track before; that is the only thing I am worried about. He seems very versatile and I’m hoping for a big run,”Levey said. “It’s tighter than normal tracks I’m used to going around but I have a couple favourite tracks and I think I will be alright,” added the experienced Levey, who has running starts in Europe and Africa. (DN)

DRUMS COMING BACK – Music and the party-LIKE atmosphere that have been part of every secondary school track and field championships for more than two decades, are likely to beat again for the first time in ten years in a more organised fashion. It had been mooted for some time and confirmed yesterday at a Barbados Association of Principals of Public Secondary Schools (BAPPSS) meeting at Harrison College.  A highly-placed source told the NATION students would be allowed to play music on finals days of the Barbados Secondary Schools Athletics Championships (BSSAC) on March 21 and 22. “The music will be back but it will be in a structured form. Selected students from across the schools will provide the music,” the source said. (DN)

NO KITE FLYING IN RESTRICTED AREAS – The Barbados Civil Aviation Department has received reports of kite flying taking place in some districts that pose a danger to low flying aircraft. And the department is reminding those people who fly kites in these districts that they may be prosecuted if caught doing so. Kite flying restrictions are in place for districts which fall within five kilometres of the perimeter of the Grantley Adams International Airport, which runs from Oistins in Christ Church to Boarded Hall in St George, and Brereton and Six Roads in St Phillip, back to South Point and Oistins. The districts in Christ Church where kite flying restrictions exist include: Silver Hill, Gall Hill, Kingsland, Wotton, Maxwell, Cane Vale, Newton, Scarborough, Pegwell, Gibbons, Thornbury Hill, Silver Sands, Ealing Park, Wilcox, Lowlands, Coverley, Charnocks, Pilgrim Road, Fairy Valley, Durants, Callenders, Chancery Lane, Parish Land and Leadvale. Other areas where kite flying is prohibited are: Gemswick, Mangrove, Heddings, Foul Bay, Ocean City, Diamond Valley, and Rock Hall, all in St Philip. Offenders found guilty of flying kites in these restricted areas are liable on summary conviction to a fine of $50 000, or imprisonment for a term of 12 months, or on indictment, to a fine of $100 000, or to imprisonment for a term of two years. (BGIS)

A NIGHT OF MASH-UPS AND MISSES – Machel Monday had great moments. To say, however, Machel Montano’s concert performance at the Hasely Crawford Stadium in Port of Spain on Monday night was his Greatest Of All Time (GOAT) would be a large oversell. The soca GOAT promised a diverse musical experience reflecting the nuances of cultural expressions that are the Caribbean. And in many ways he did just that. The problem is, the show was far too long and at times lacked clarity to allow patrons the opportunity to fully appreciate the wealth of talent on offer. In some cases, guest artistes seemed reluctant to leave the spotlight and lingered on stage needlessly.  Montano clearly aimed to give all his guests a fair opportunity to shine, but the people didn’t come to see Destra Garcia or Calypso Rose in concert and their extended performances affected the flow and energy of Montano’s set. Intermittent rain didn’t help either. Montano may have buried his grouse with the self-proclaimed soca water lord Iwer George with an open invitation for him to attend and/or perform at Machel Monday. Iwer, however, refused, citing a lack of rehearsal time with Montano’s band. But his presence was surely felt with the amount of water that fell from the skies and doused the scampering feteing crowd. Montano started well enough when he took to the stage at 10:30 p.m., with a huge pyrotechnic-fuelled opening to his three-hour-plus set. Dressed in a gold and black tracksuit with matching headband, soca’s biggest star ran on stage beneath a larger-than-life matching Carnival portrayal to the sound of his Road March contender Release. The band was emphatic and the fireworks above the stadium majestic. The problem was the energy of the stage presentation didn’t match that song, at least the public reception of it. And that reality became even more evident when he cued his band, moments later, into the opening notes of his hit collaboration with Skinny Fabulous (Gamal Doyle) and Bunji Garlin (Ian Alvarez) Famalay. “It will be Bunji’s first and we welcome Skinny, one Caribbean. I am looking for Road March number what?” Montano asked, showing the crowd his ten fingers. His perfect opening sequence was completed when he followed with a medley of his road dominators that included Like A Boss, Advantage and Ministry of Road. Cuban fusion star Cimafunk (Erik Alejandro Rodriguez) brought a Latin swing to the stage when he appeared with dance troupe et al. Though they may not have understood a word of Spanish, the crowd showed appreciation to the rising talent when he performed his hits Me Voy and Parar el Tiempo. Not to be outdone, Montano showed his pedigree with a performance of his Spanish-language hit La Vida. About an hour later when he invited Kassav lead singer Jacob Desvarieux, he created another one of those special memorable moments. Desvarieux’s voice is pure gold. The veteran performer didn’t require any backing tracks when the duo sang their 2019 hit Dance. The performance compelled everyone to get on their feet and dance in the pouring rain. The decision to have acts sing atop backing vocal tracks was perhaps the most disappointing aspect of the showcase. Some artistes couldn’t match their studio recordings and ended up going off key as was the case of Nessa Preppy (Vanessa John). Another poor decision was the inclusion of Candice, the dancer made famous for rolling down the Diego Martin main road like a car tyre in a viral video. Candice did the most toppling, rolling, contorting and jumping into split positions. All this happened in full view of several minors in attendance at the show. American R&B star Ashanti Douglas, meanwhile, restored a level of class to the show with immaculate vocal runs during a fantastic performance of her collaboration with Montano The Road. Ashanti shocked the audience when she leapt off her feet and asked them to jump and wave. They obliged wholeheartedly. And when she arched her back and rotated her hips and instructed them to wine the entire venue lit up just as brightly as during the concert’s opening sequence.  (DN)

For daily or breaking news reports follow us on Instagram, Tumblr, Twitter & Facebook. That’s all for today folks. There are 307 days left in the year. Shalom! #thechasefilesdailynewscap #thechasefiles# dailynewscapsbythechasefiles

[consciousowl]

The Gift of Anger

In all the world’s literature, secular or sacred, conflict is the most essential element, usually ignited by anger. Without conflict you quite simply have no story. Thus, all the great epics, such as Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey and India’s Ramayana and Mahabharata, revolve around continuing conflict, involving danger and death, accompanied by fear and anger.

And the Jews' passover was at hand, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem.And found in the temple those that sold oxen and sheep and doves,and the changers of money sitting:

And when he had made a scourge of small cords,

he drove them all out of the temple, and the sheep, and the oxen;

and poured out the changers' money, and overthrew the tables;

And said unto them that sold doves, Take these things hence;

make not my Father's house an house of merchandise.

And his disciples remembered that it was written,The zeal of thine house hath eaten me up.

Jesus Christ in the Gospel of John

Conflict is even essential in comedy, where it may not always become violent. Anger is an indispensible component, typically based upon misunderstandings that eventually get sorted out. When the fairy tales assure us that the heroic couple lives “happily ever after,” they usually leave out anger management. As Joseph Campbell, who dearly loved his younger wife, Jean Erdman, put it, “Marriage is an ordeal!”

Why We Get Angry

If the truth be told, anger simply happens. Watch little children together, even at play. They will have disputes and start pushing or even biting each other.

We, as adults, go about it more smoothly. We hide or suppress our anger; whereas children quickly forgive and make up. Anger just happens, but we almost always attribute it to someone or something.​

We all have expectations, as we are rational creatures with acute imaginations. We quickly get a sense of entitlement and start insisting on certain outcomes based on past experience. When they are blocked, we get frustrated and flare up. We are not content with the basics of food, water, shelter and clothing. We require so much more.

Western religions point to our “sin” nature, our innate tendency to rebel against our Creator. From an Eastern perspective, our false sense of self makes us insist that we are confined within this bag of skin and bones, rather than realizing that we are the whole of life, the whole of creation.​

Anger as a Blessing

We all admire, and often emulate, fictional characters who keep their cool under all circumstances, such as the many incarnations of James Bond. James has the aplomb to make love to a beautiful counter-agent just before being thrown out of a fast-moving airplane. These make-believe characters seem so professional, powerful and totally together.

Yet anger can actually be a positive force in the face of systematic exploitation, or as Pope Francis I put it, “structural evil.” We disempower ourselves when we pretend that it is all cool when the very ground is falling out from under us.​

If our species had been without the fight or flight response, we would never have made it out of the trees. This is the automatic response of fear or anger where we decide to take on the lioness, or run for our lives right back up the tree.

Few Americans were thrilled with the results of the 2016 Presidential election. It seemed nobody got what they really wanted, and the candidates with heart got eliminated in the primaries. The attendant shock and dismay of the public led many Americans to actively protest and seek to change the political system in more fundamental ways than had ever been contemplated. This would not be possible if everyone maintained a “grin-and-bear it” attitude.

How Anger Utterly Transformed Three of the Greatest Men

When we think of saints and sages, let alone avatars, bodhisattvas and messiahs, we think of infinitely pure beings who have transcended their egos, given up all attachments and do nothing but radiate bliss 24-hours a day. Jesus is the “meek and mild” shepherd, Gandhi is the playful grandfather who gives candy to children and Mandela is the ultimate diplomat who brings black and white people together in a World Cup love fest.

It wasn’t always that way!​

1.  Jesus of Nazareth

Before Jesus threw the moneychangers out of the temple, he had called the Pharisees, the most visibly religious members of His society “whitewashed tombs that look beautiful on the outside, but are inwardly filled with dead men’s bones.” A powerful young man in the prime of His life, Jesus spoke in metaphors and was gifted in shocking people out of their complacency. He was anything but thrilled with the status quo.

2.  Mahatma Gandhi

Gandhi’s grandson, Dr. Arun Gandhi, recently wrote a book, The Gift of Anger, based on the early guidance of the Mahatma, when Arun came to Gandhi’s ashram as a child. When Arun would get angry, Gandhi did not try to punish him, but to encourage him to channel his anger in a positive way, just as Gandhi did as a young man when thrown out of the train in South Africa solely on the basis of the color of his skin. Don’t fight the people, fight the oppressive system. Love the perpetrators; hate the system, itself.

3.  Nelson Mandela

Madiba Mandela started out life as a tribal chieftain with a good education, prepared to play a positive role in society. However, he couldn’t accept the arbitrary nature of Apartheid, and the indignity that Black Africans suffered in a deeply segregated South Africa. Mandela got involved in the terrorist wing of the African National Congress and was convicted of a car bomb that killed 19 people. For that, Mandela was sentenced for 27 years to an offshore prison breaking stones. Mandela gradually faced his dark side, and developed compassion for the ruling Afrikaans as people. He finally realized the evil was with the system, itself, that ultimately served neither whites nor blacks.

Forgiveness the Flip Side of Anger

Forgiveness is the capstone of Christianity, as Christ taught his students in the Sermon on the Mount to forgive their enemies. Anger is part of life, but we are to let go of our anger before the sun sets and reconcile ourselves with our offender. This wasn’t simply an empty platitude on Christ’s part. When He was tried in the Sanhedrin, He refused to defend Himself. Even on the cross, He prayed that His Father would forgive the very Pharisees who mocked Him “for they know not what they do.”

It is no sin to get upset and angry. It is, however, self-defeating to nurture it and cherish a grudge. Modern medical and psychiatric studies reveal how an unwillingness to forgive is behind many dysfunctions and diseases, such as cancer. Sustained anger is its own “reward,” it devours the body! Consider anger much like pain. It alerts you to needed changes, but it is counterproductive when it persists.

It is no sin to get upset and angry. It is, however, self-defeating to nurture it and cherish a grudge.

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When Christ forgave his enemies, He revealed a powerful insight: They literally didn’t know what they were doing. We are all at various stages of being conscious, and when we are totally unconscious, we end up doing stupid and hurtful things.

Punishing these people for that is inappropriate. We are to have compassion, and see ourselves in them. We would say and do the very same things at their level of consciousness.

Communication Always the Way Out

With anger management, communication is the foundation, especially in intimate relationships. We literally don’t hear each other. When we pretend to listen, we too often compare and contrast and interpret what she says, rather letting her speak for herself. In addition, we often interrupt her or even talk over her.

Werner Erhard revealed the power of sharing withholds. Conflict most often starts out of what is NOT said, what we are unwilling to share with our partner. This typically results in smoldering resentment. Werner taught people in his seminars to HAVE their anger, rather than BE their anger.

If you get your head out of the way, you will find that your upset is often gone in a flash.

Over the years, I have tested out Werner’s insights and realized that he was totally on the mark when he disclosed that love is a function of communication. As he put it, when you have said it all, both the good and the bad, you will find that what you have really been withholding is: I LOVE YOU! Deep listening is the most fulfilling possible price to pay for the love that is just waiting inside you.

Never Put a Person Out of Your Heart

Baba Ram Dass served as a missionary from the East to an entire generation of Westerners, having dropped out as a professor at Harvard through his preoccupation with psychedellics. He traveled to India in search of the truth and stumbled upon Maharaji (Neem Karoli Baba), a spiritual master with very advanced psychic ability and siddhis (inner powers). Ram Dass fell in love with Maharaji when spoke about Ram Dass’s mother.

While Ram Das went through his initiation at the foothills of the Himalayas, Maharaji happened to do something that deeply offended Ram Dass’s standards of right and wrong. Maharaji had harshly fired one of his assistants for making what Ram Dass felt were very minor mistakes. If Maharaji were really the enlightened man everyone says he was, he would never do such a thing.

When Ram Dass eventually confronted his master, he received no apology. Ram Dass then and there had to choose between upholding his standards over a trivial incident, or forgiving the person he loved most in the entire world. It was no contest. Then Maharaji called Ram Dass over to his private quarters with good humor and admonished him that, yes, he can get angry, but never put a person out of his heart.

We can have anger AND love. One doesn’t necessarily cancel out the other.

Far More Loving Than You Ever Imagined

The most important person I have ever met, the woman I have been in love with for nearly 20 years, has often argued with me, and I with her. I can’t count all the times that we have been angry about one thing or another. Looking back it couldn’t matter less. We love each other very deeply. This love has grown over the years. We live within a context where you can love one another and still get angry.

We have gotten a whole lot more skillful with our anger. I am beginning to learn that she is almost always right, and I am getting more than a little tired of my own stupidity. So, I would say that we are making progress.

But what about the truly difficult people, such as President Donald Trump? Where does anger management apply to someone like him? Whether I voted for him or not, he is still the American President. I can hate what he does, and yet still love him. As Voltaire put it, “I may not agree with a word you say, but I will defend to death your right to say it!”

We can actually be thankful for the difficult people of every persuasion. They stretch us spiritually and take us to the edge of enlightenment and sainthood. Christ made no conditions on forgiveness. Why should we? We can continually bless people every morning and evening and realize that the divine love that emerges from this exercise is the most powerful force in the entire Universe.

We can even forgive our own folly along the way. The final gift will be to realize that WHO WE ALL REALLY ARE, our very essence, is ABSOLUTE LOVE.

The Gift of Anger appeared first on http://consciousowl.com.

[kansascityhappenings]

Northland couple upset after dog attack incident at Bar K was not reported to animal control

KANSAS CITY, Mo. — A Northland couple says their dog was attacked at Bar K last month. The dog is going to be alright, but they say the business didn’t report it to animal control, and won’t give them the information to file a report themselves.

Ralphia is a little big for her age. The 10-month-old great Pyrenees loves her family, and loves to play, especially at Bar K Dog Bar on Kansas City’s riverfront.

“We were so excited that something cool had opened up near us,” owner Daniel Wells said. “It’s only eight minutes away. We went to Bar K everyday essentially unless it was pouring down rain.”

Daniel and Kristin Wells take her almost every day to play, but on March 16, the couple says she was attacked. They say there were two incidents the same day with the same dog. In the first incident they said Ralphia was laying on her back when a Pit Bull mix allegedly tried to attack her, and a staff member was able to get between the dogs. The second time they said the dog made contact.

“The attack happened Ralphia yelping in pain before it took two dog tenders this time to separate the dog from Ralphia’s hindquarters,” Wells said.

“We did examine this particular dog immediately after the incident and found no injuries,” Bar K partner and co-owner, Leib Dodell said. “In fact, this dog stayed and played in the park for two hours after the incident occurred.”

Wells disputes that they were there for two hours after the incident. He said employees told him Ralphia wasn’t injured, but based on her behavior Wells believed she might be. Something he said his vet confirmed. They found a sprain, put her on pain medication, and told the family not to let her do any activities for a week. A week later the couple said Ralphia got an infection in her foot pad and was back at the vet. Wells said their vet costs total around $300, but isn’t looking for money.

Reporting with animal control

Wells said they contacted Bar K, and submitted their vet bills the day after the incident, however, Bar K wouldn’t tell them who the owners of the dog are, and may not know. Without that information the city said the couple won’t be able to file a report with animal control. Wells said he went in to file a report with the information he did have, but was turned away.

“They said you at least need to have the other person’s address,” Wells said. “I said, well I don’t have that. Bar K wouldn’t give it to me. I said, can I put Bar K down as them. They said, no, they aren’t the owner of the other dog.”

“If it happened to us it’s going to happen to somebody else, and I don’t know if they realize that they are doing this, but by not holding the dog that attacked Ralphia accountable in any way they’re spreading the message that you can bring your dog that may be aggressive, and if your dog attacks another dog you won’t be held responsible,” Kristin said.

“It is our policy in the event of any altercation of any seriousness that we would share with both parties involved the report showing the identities of the dog and the owners so the parties can discuss among themselves what they feel is appropriate,” Dodell said.

However, that hasn’t happened in this case. Dodell said they did not believe the incident was serious based on their evaluation of the dog, and did not file an internal report. He said they are considering filing an internal incident report retroactively now.

Bar K said they file reports with animal control when they believe it’s a serious matter, and always file a report if it involves a person.

“We’re all dog people here know that they’re constantly engaging with one another, and there’s no obligation to report every incident to the city,” Dodell said.

John Baccala, an animal health spokesperson with the city says, it’s important to report every incident, but it’s not required.

“Whether it’s dog biting dog, dog biting man, because it’s really important that we know from really a public health standpoint, because we want to make sure that the offending dog does have it’s proper shots,” Baccala said.

Baccala says while it can be an emotional moment for any dog owner, it’s important to get the other dog owner’s information yourself, and not to rely on a third party.

“I’d look at it like you do a car accident,” Baccala said. “If you’re in a car accident what do you do – you get the name, and the address, and the phone number of the other driver. Same here. You need to get the name, address, and the phone number of the other dog owner.”

When a dog is reported to animal control Baccala said they are able to keep a record of the dog for future incidents, and when it’s not done it’s hard to hold dog owners accountable for future incidents.

You don’t know if that dog’s had it’s rabies shot, if that dog bites a child, bites someone else, we could have a big issue,” Baccala said. “Think of it this way, you’re protecting the rest of the city, because we don’t know about the attacking dog. Until we can get it in and check to make sure it’s had all it’s vaccinations, and shots, and doesn’t pose a health risk.”

What can be done legally?

James Stigall, a former animal abuse prosecutor with Jackson County said while Bar K isn’t liable for the damages done to the dog – the other dog’s owners might be.

“If you can prove that that dog owner knew of the dangerous propensities,” Stigall said. “Usually it takes one maybe two incidents of injury to another person, and he brings his dog there – he can be liable.”

Stigall said while the organization doesn’t have to give information about the other dog, sometimes clients can get information through litigation, but it can be costly. He also said, if you know an organization may have information or evidence that could disappear after a certain amount of time, the best thing you can do is send them a formal letter asking for it to be saved in case it should be needed for litigation later.

“Unfortunately to get that you’re forced to file a lawsuit which gets them in a situation – do I hire an attorney for this small amount when I just want the information?” Stigell said.

The couple says they will keep going to Bar K, but they want to make sure all dogs that go there are safe. They also would like to see an update to Bar K’s policy and how they believe it contradicts their businesses vision.

“Be aware. Be present. Watch your dog, and that doesn’t mix with – go have a beer and watch the game while our professionally trained dog tenders make sure that there’s a safe, clean, fun environment for their dogs and humans,” Wells said.

Bar K says while this is one incident there are hundreds of people who come to their establishment and experience no issues.

“We take incredible pride in what we’ve created here in Kansas City, a joyful community meeting place for people and dogs, and we hope that those of you who haven’t checked it out will do so,” Dodell said.

from FOX 4 Kansas City WDAF-TV | News, Weather, Sports https://fox4kc.com/2019/04/06/northland-couple-upset-after-dog-attack-incident-at-bar-k-was-not-reported-to-animal-control/

from Kansas City Happenings https://kansascityhappenings.wordpress.com/2019/04/07/northland-couple-upset-after-dog-attack-incident-at-bar-k-was-not-reported-to-animal-control/

[terryblount]

Far Cry: New Dawn Review

Far Cry: New Dawn is the latest installment in a series that recently turned fourteen years old. New Dawn is not a DLC; it might be considered as an expansion of Far Cry 5 since it continues that story but I think a sequel is a better word to describe it.

I am amazed the game does not have little ponies.

Far Cry was one of the best FPS (first person shooters) that mixed action with stealth and while the first game was a pretty realistic shooter with a sci-fi twist, the rest did not follow in its footsteps. Far Cry 3 and Primal had some supernatural nonsense (this one does as well) but nothing close to the sci-fi elements that were introduced in the first game. I honestly enjoyed every game until Far Cry 4. After FC4, though, I reached my limits mainly due to the lack of creativity. Ubisoft tried to change things with FC5 and it did, though those changes were not enough to make the game feel fresh or interesting (at least they removed the towers).

“Problem makers must be solved. So rabbits, are you problem makers or problem solvers?” – One of the twins right before bashing someone’s head with a helmet.

These are the twins, so instead of having one boring villain now you get two in the price of one!

Since Vaas (“You are so fucked Jason”), no main villain really made an impact on me. The story was always an important part of the Far Cry games and without a solid antagonist the story, usually, falls flat. Of course no matter how cool Vaas was, the gameplay evolution of the third game is what made Far Cry what it is today (and in case you haven’t figured it out yet, I love stealth games).

Oh dear God please do not remind me of that music.

Even today, I believe that Far Cry has the perfect stealth mechanics in any FPS game. Not only that, but with each new iteration the Far Cry series only becomes better. Unfortunately though even if the gameplay has always been good, most of the other parts were not so much. I thought the fifth game will be the end of the series but, apparently, I was mistaken. I was also surprised as I thought New Dawn would be a glorified crappy pink re-skin (since it hasn’t even been a year since the release of Far Cry 5). Looks like it wasn’t – or at least not as much as I initially thought – and to be honest, I liked it in spite of all the pink crap (even if it does make the game feel like it was built for little girls!). Seriously, the pink colour is frigging everywhere! I did not like the game as much as Blood Dragon which, in my opinion, was amazing – and I am still hoping for a sequel – but New Dawn is better than Far Cry 5.

“If I wasn’t blind as fuck I would have joined the fight” –Grace Armstrong, probably the best sniper in Far Cry 5 but not anymore.

For the sake of spoilers I am only going to say that the game continues exactly where the fifth game ends (or to be more precise from a specific ending since there was more than one). Seventeen years after the incident people resurface and start to rebuild the world. A group of ruthless murderers called the Highwaymen, led by the twins Mickey & Lou, terrorize the inhabitants of Hope county in Montana (I get it’s a catchier name but why not Highwaywomen since most of them are women? I mean even the leaders are women. Just a thought).

“Are you ready to go so fast that your pubes will pull back and tickle your asshole?” – The Monkey God’s faithful servant Hurk right before handing me the keys of his deadly car.

After the near complete annihilation of the safe haven Prosperity, Carmina Rye (the daughter of Nick & Kim Rye from FC5) asks survivors lead by Thomas Rush to help them. Since Rush is helping to rebuild communities all across the country, with the help of experts he has recruited over the years. Shit hits the fan very soon though and a full frontal assault begins at the train where Rush and the rest of his people are using for transportation. That’s where you take the role of the captain of the security who, minutes after the attack, rushes in to save his people. Unfortunately, everyone dies and Rush gets captured. The captain as the sole survivor is being found by Carmina who leads him to Prosperity and the fight against the Highwaymen begins.

Don’t even ask! Seriously just don’t.

The story is nothing special but certainly more “believable”  and enjoyable than what we got in Far Cry 5, though most characters – with a few exceptions – are nothing extraordinary. While there is a comedic tone here and there, the actual story is rather serious. I mean, it is a survival game so how fun can it be right? Speaking of which, if you could adjust some things, remove some others and put zombies in the mix, this could easily pass as a “The Walking Dead” game (which could have been better than the one we recently got). I also do not know why Ubisoft chose to, once again, go with the silent protagonist (maybe it is the RPG elements which Ubisoft tries to put in every single bloody game it makes but more on that later) but for me it’s getting tiresome; this is not a sandbox RPG for the love of god.

“Lollypop lollypop, you are going to eat dirt lollypop” – Little girl outside the arena before I enter with the fight name Lollypop.

The voice acting is pretty good but the lip-syncing is not always that great. Moreover, most of the characters from the previous game return in this one. The main antagonists, the twins, are OK I guess. They are “psychotic” and “logical” with extremely violent tendencies and without showing any kind of empathy or sorrow, however they are not very menacing or scary and their looks do not fit their characters. As such, they become a bit forgettable.

Yap, this is where I found the naked guy.

I mean, take a look at Vaas. His looks matched his personality almost perfectly (he could be psychotic and insane while at the same time he could be funny and clever) and most importantly there was a serious reason for you to fear him and hate him at the same time (I think the writing was better as well). The twins failed to emotionally engage me with their personalities/looks as I basically didn’t really care or worry for anyone except for Rush. Even so, there is a part  involving the twins that I really liked though it becomes forgettable rather quickly (if you’ve played the game, you understand the part I’m referencing). I do not want to spoil anything more but I have to say that some of the returning characters make much more sense in this world rather than the one that Far Cry 5 was based on.

“Loot them but do not defile them” – Father Jerome while I am going through someone’s pockets.

Visually speaking, the game looks just as good as Far Cry 5, and some may say that it performs a bit better than it. The only performance issues I’ve encountered were some random stutters (from time to time) and, for some odd reasons, the subtitles kept resetting whenever I was launching the game. Other than these two minor issues, though, New Dawn ran fine on my system. For more details on performance please read John’s analysis.

Well terrorizing and killing innocents is hard work, he deserves a break, a permanent one.

Music and sound are fine. There are some audio glitches though they occurred rarely, but Christ the music playing at the outposts is frigging horrific. Terrible, just terrible (no wonder why all the highwaymen are losing their fucking minds after listening to it). Thankfully, there is another radio station that plays classics and although I am not a big fan of that genre, it sounds heavenly better than the other station.

I told you BOY, you are not allowed to play with grenades before dinner! Now go eat your veggies and come back to teach you how to politely stab people in the face!

Now let me address the elephant in the room  – not actual elephants like in FC4 as there aren’t any ride-able animals this time – the RPG elements. Yes, Ubisoft did implement some of the changes/features we saw in games like The Division or AC: Odyssey. Unfortunately, Ubisoft keeps copying and pasting stuff to every game it makes, even if these elements do not fit in specific titles. What it doesn’t seem to understand is that New Dawn’s lasting appeal won’t be extended by adding them, and that all of its latest games look alike and/or play the same. In reality, what these RPG elements actually do is make the game boring and repetitive as hell, and I’m certain that no one wants unnecessary grinding that does not come with, at least, worthy rewards. Also, I find it really stupid – in a Far Cry game – to shoot an enemy 100 times in the face so that you can kill him/her, just because he/she is one or two levels higher than you; it’s bullshit.

That crap is all over the place so that’s why we call her Glitchy Gina, she doesn’t like that as you can see.

“I always hated that motherfucker” – Gina after shooting some random highwayman.

I do get that some people like this but it makes no sense to me in this particular series. But hey, at least you can turn off the damage numbers and enemy health bars, thus making it a bit more tolerable.  Thankfully, I did not rush the main story and all the missions I completed were on the same level I was, so I never had to shoot someone in the face more than once (or maybe twice if they wore a helmet). On the other hand, I had a couple encounters with some mutated animals which could only be killed by shooting specific parts of their bodies.

Even the god damn fire is pink…the bodies?! What bodies? No, there are no bodies here.

The shooting is – as always – pretty good and the non-restrictive cover system works, once again, great. The melee combat is also solid and I do appreciate the return of the knife take-downs. Actually, these may be the best take-down animations I have seen in a Far Cry game. You can use numerous melee weapons like bats, pipes and shovels but all the stealth take-down sequences feature a knife. As for the advertised new weapon, the saw-launcher, it is cool but I stopped using it the moment I realized there is still no gore or dismemberment in the game.

“Go sinner, with our blessing and hope” – Leader of the hunters before I go burn everything to dust .

Stealth, as usual, is great but some parts felt a bit weird since you can now move the camera while doing take-downs and using skills like the chain take-downs (which worked perfectly in the previous games but did not this time around or maybe I was doing something wrong which I doubt since I have played extensively all of the previous Far Cry games). By the way, I will never understand why you throw a bat instead of a knife when you do the advanced take-down.

This nice old lady is a killer, she might not look the part but she is, trust me.

Instead of a skill tree you now have perks, just like FC5. You earn perk points by doing challenges like killing ten enemies with a handgun. After a specific part of the main story you get access to some new perks which I found unnecessary. Honestly, if I knew what these silly perks exactly did, I would had never unlocked them, though that’s a personal opinion as I am almost certain that some people will like them.

He seriously expects me to take the apple?! I am no Snow White father, oh wait wrong book.

Weapons customization is completely gone. All weapons are pre-made and there is no way for you to make any modifications no matter the weapon you choose. To be honest, I didn’t really mind that very much. However, I was really annoyed by the newly introduced weapon rarity level system. Due to this system, players will need a level X weapon to kill a level X enemy as anything below that feels like a water-gun. At least almost every weapon feels unique and has different stats.

“You will be the Shepard of my people” – Joseph Seed.

Surprisingly enough. there are no fetch missions or annoying side-quests in New Dawn. All of the side content is tied to the main story. I am truly amazed that there isn’t any of Ubisoft’s classic fetching crap flooding the map. Speaking of the map, it is smaller than before and most of the surrounding areas are radioactive (thus impassible). Furthermore, Ubisoft did something interesting with the outposts this time around. In the previous Far Cry games, players could liberate outposts and after that they could use them as resupply centers and/or fast travel points. This time if you capture an outpost, you can abandon it and the enemy will take it back from you. You can then re-capture it though it will be much harder as enemies will be tougher (though the rewards will also be better).

The Cap after a bloody fight taking over an outpost. I wonder who cleans all the mess he leaves behind.

The most important currency in the game is Ethanol (which translates to power fuel) and Prosperity, being your home-base, needs several things to expand and grow. You can upgrade many parts of Prosperity, like the infirmary or the garage, and you need Ethanol in order to upgrade them (which you get mainly by capturing outposts). There are three upgrade stages, with each stage providing different bonuses. The only thing that needs more resources than Ethanol, so that it can be further upgraded, is the main building (as it requires specific people called Specialists so that they can operate specific sections of your home-base). I honestly prefer this way of upgrading your base compared to the older games in which you had to hunt numerous animals to get skins for crafting better equipment. At least this makes more sense now.

It’s so funny that they think they can put me down with fists and bats when I have already killed hundreds of them, just by staring at them. They should be fleeing up the mountains crying for their mommies.

One great addition to the game are the Expeditions. These missions are taking place in different locations outside Montana (like San Francisco) and they have a very simple goal; steal shit from the Highwaymen (so the baddies are all over the states but live in Montana? And you also fly all the way to these locations with a chopper? Oh well). These missions are a nice break from the green fields of Hope County and can be done solo or with a gun for hire.

“They penetrated our defenses so deeply” – Bean, creator of Wikibeania, after the attack on Prosperity.

Speaking of which, and just like the previous FC game, guns for hire are back. These are people or animals who are willing to follow your command into battle, from a cute doggy to an angry wild boar and from an old lady with a sniper to a guy with a mask and bow who says absolutely nothing in the whole game (he just moans a lot… and he sucks by the way). In order to recruit them you will usually have to do a mission involving them like rescuing some nice doggies from some evil twisted motherfuckers who are butchering them. My doggy, by the way, had more than a hundred kills.

I fed these guys to the dogs, stupidity is untreatable anyways.

As for the game’s boss fights… well… they are awful. I mean… OK… I get it; it is not that easy to make a memorable boss fight in a, mostly, realistic first person shooter. However, making your boss absorb enemy fire like Sponge-Bob is not the freaking solution. Put some armour on them or do the hide and seek trick, make it a melee-only fight, hell even make a god damn QTE-fest sequence like Far Cry 3 did; it will still feel better than what we get in New Dawn. Seriously, in the final fight the boss had 3 arrows stuck in its damned head for the first three seconds of the cut-scene… it was ridiculous I tell you.

The Rye family reunited! Even after everything I have done I still don’t get a hug. Ungrateful bastards!

“Even if there are less cars now people still drive like assholes” – Gina after being hit by another vehicle.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering, there are microtransactions in the game. Truth be told they are not intrusive and you can get almost everything with the in-game currency, but if you want to unlock every single weapon then get ready for some glorious grinding. Microtransactions have no place in a single player game in my opinion. It’s unacceptable, plain and simple.

Currency for microtransactions. I donated all of mine to my pet friends.

In conclusion, Far Cry: New Dawn is OK. It’s certainly not the best Far Cry game but it’s way better than the previous one (even if you include all of its DLCs). Is it worth purchasing and playing it right now? Maybe. All I can say is that I didn’t encounter any problem that could ruin my experience (I mean it doesn’t have the awful and crazy spawn times that were happening in the previous game). If you liked Far Cry 5, chances are you will also like this one. If you lost interest in the series after Far Cry 3 then this might also be a nice breath of fresh air. At least it was for me and it has been a while since I had fun with a Far Cry game.

  Melee

Stealth

Shooting

Upgrades

Cover System

No Busy Work

Weapon Variety

Villains

Boss Fights

Freaking Pink

RPG Elements

Silent Protagonist

Microtransactions

Lack of Customization

        Playtime: 17+ hours total

Computer Specs: CPU: i5 4440, GPU: MSI 960GTX 4GB, RAM: G.Skill Ripjaws X 8GB HDD: Crucial 275GB MX300, OS: Win7, 1080p

Far Cry: New Dawn Review published first on https://touchgen.tumblr.com/