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allywritesforfun · 3 years ago

Note

Uhhh, a part 2 of the AweSamDude story. I don't know, maybe the court case would be cool! If requests arent open, then ignore them

um yes! I have wanted to make a part 2 for so long but had no clue where to start and this just makes perfect sense!

{Locked Up Heart pt 2} irl!warden!awesamdude x Reader

pronouns: were originally not mentioned, but now are she/they

word count: 2987

trigger warnings: mention/talk of rape and murder, court cases, somewhat angsty

a/n: the law I mentioned is a real law but I can't remember what the law is actually called so roll with it

part one

masterlist

You stared at yourself in the body mirror. You haven't seen yourself look like this in years. All dressed up and ready to impress. You wore a gorgeous black suit with a purple inside along with sleek black pants. You looked into the body mirror, admiring yourself.

Sam let you live with him “until you could find your own place” but neither of you had intentions of leaving. You looked at apartments once online, but you knew with this on your record that you were going nowhere but some run down ghetto, and Sam knew that too.

He knew that you would be able to take care of yourself there, he wasn't scared for your safety or any of that. He was scared that you wouldn't be able to support yourself. Finding a job was hard, all that there was these days for someone like you was online surveys that were not reliable.

Staying with Sam was the best of the both of you. He has been without a roommate for years now. He felt less alone with you being there. The first couple nights were awkward. You slept on the pull out couch and didn't have much clothes. You felt terrible about the amount of washes you did, but eventually you started to get more comfortable with Sam.

The first sign of progression was when he offered you his sweatshirt instead of a blanket. It was a sweet gesture, you gladly took it. Later that night instead of returning it, you cuddled it to sleep. Now, its your version of a teddy bear. Nice and warm and flourished with Sam’s scent.

You only started sleeping in his bed with him a week ago. It was a purposeful accident. He offered to watch tv in his room since you two deep cleaned the couch. You've planned on falling asleep on him, but you didn't plan for it to be that day.

It was the best feeling in the world: waking up to being wrapped around and held tight and safe. You must've laid there when you woke up for an hour before Sam got up. You pretended to be asleep so that you could play the innocent girl card. It worked.

You felt a pair of large hands caress your waist. You jumped and had a little fear-induced hiccup.

“Sorry!” Sam took his hands off and backed away. “I’m still getting used to sensitive areas.”

You two have been working on okay areas to touch. You taught yourself to be extra alert while in the prison and certain touches trigger your reflexes and others cause panic, like hips.

Because of your high murder count, you were sent to the normal prison, the non-all woman prison. It wasn't the worst in the world. You only saw males during eating times, but it was common to get grabbed like that. It happened to every single female, every eating hour. The guards did nothing about it, not that they really could.

Sam has seen it before, not you, but to other women. He had an idea of areas to stay away from, but he is such an affectionate guy and sometimes he forgets.

“You’re okay, Sam. The more you do it, the more comfortable I’ll get with it,” You explained.

Sam was so good to you. He’s helped you through it all. Everything that you needed to heal, he gave to you.

“Well then maybe after the trial we can get some practice in...” He swooned.

You chuckled, “If we win. There’s a chance I won't come back here tonight. I’m lucky enough that they gave me stay at home orders in the meantime.”

He nodded, “We’re gonna win.” He kissed your cheek, “How could anyone that looks as scrumptious as you right now lose? There is no way. We have the evidence, and we have your perfect prison record. Not a single misdemeanor! They might not drop all chargers but you’re coming home tonight.”

“Home?” You questioned.

You've avoided that word for the longest time. You always said ‘the house’ or ‘your place’. Not because you didn’t want this to be your home, not the exact opposite. You wanted this to be forever home, but you never wanted to overstay your welcome.

“Yes home,” Sam laughed. “Why wouldn’t this be home... you feel safe here don’t you?”

“I do!” You exclaimed, waving your hands back and forth in denial. “I just didn't realize you wanted this to be my home.”

Sam offered his hand out to you; you gladly took it. His soft hand gently squeezed yours as he pulled you slowly into him, embracing you, “Of course I want this to be your home. I couldn't imagine anywhere else I would want you to be. This never felt like home to me, until you came home with me.”

You breathed in his scent, instantly relaxing into him, “I like it here. A lot.”

He pressed his lips to your forehead, “Now have that same attitude in court, we got to go.”

The court room was filled, more than you expected. You looked around, not recognizing a single face except for a few prison guards who were testifying on both sides. You noticed the media set it up in the back. Your story hit the news faster than expected. You did have a great story: warden falls in love with murder.

“Hands out,” The officer directed.

You obliged. You opposed no threat to anyone and no intentions too, but if putting you in handcuffs made them feel better, then handcuffs it was. You looked back at Sam as the cold metal locked around your wrists. He replied with a frown, which quickly turned into an encouraging smile.

His bipolarness was the vibe right now. You noticed people having a hard time deciding where to sit. There were a lot of people on both sides, but no family members of yours. You gave up on them a long time ago when you noticed they weren’t writing letters and ignoring your calls.

You didn't need them, all you needed was Sam. You have everything you want right now, except for freedom.

“All rise!”

You stood up from the wooden bench. The judge walked in wearing the classic black gown and had a book in his hands. He nodded at a few of his guards before taking a seat. He opened up his book and looked around the room, landing on you.

“Good afternoon everyone, and there are a lot of you,” His voice was so deep that it bounced against the walls, making an eerie echo. “Calling the case of State Prison vs y/n. Are both sides ready?”

The representative of the prison and your lawyer both replied with a yes. The jury then stood and raised their right hand and made their oath, returning to the bench.

The representative stood up and gave their opening statement: “Ladies and gentleman of the court, Your Honor, the Jury. You will find that the defendant has been charged with four accounts of murder and convicted by confession. The defendant has taken accountability for all the murders committed and has given detail about how she killed those four men. It is ridiculous that we are here in court today deciding if we can release a serial killer back into the public. With a strong motive to kill, there is no reason why the defendant should be let back into the public eye.”

Serial killer. That is what you are. No one has ever said it that way, but he was absolutely right. You fit the definition perfectly, you had a type and more than three victims. It already wasn't looking good for you.

Your lawyer took center stage, “A martyr is the perfect word to describe the defendant. They have given their life to the state to save the lives of many to come. The strength that my client displays and ownership prove that although they are guilty of the crimes, they are still human and deserve a second chance.”

The judge called you to take the stand. You sat down after taking your oath and folded your hands neatly in your lap.

“Miss l/n,” He started. “Today you are trying to get your case dismissed after confessing to your crimes. That is very interesting. Let’s go back to before the crimes were committed, what were you thinking, what were you doing in your life at the time?”

You shook your head, “Many years ago I was an activist. I enjoyed speaking to the public about issues facing the community and the world at the time. If I wasn't outside with a sign, I was inside posting on social media. I was in college, I was studying Political Science.”

“And what were you planning on doing with the major?”

You paused. It’s been so long that you had a hard time remembering why you wanted to study and what career you wanted, “I was planning on becoming a political journalist, Your Honor.”

He shuffled around his papers, “I’ve looked at your latest credit that you were working on. It was a Sociology class. Do you remember what topic you were discussing in class?”

You nodded, “Rape. The number of rapes in a year and the number of rapists convicted was the last assignment I was working on.”

You remember that assignment like it was yesterday. That one assignment got you so worked up and so mad at the world, that you just had to do something. There was no way that you couldn't. Women’s voices were being ignored and cases rose every day; repeat offenders increased everyday.

“Now to my understanding all the men that you murdered were accused of rape.”

You nodded, “Yes, Your Honor.”

“The attorney may ask questions to Miss l/n.”

The attorney stood up and adjusted your jacket, “Miss l/n, did any of those men physically harm you?”

You shook your head, “No.”

“So you took advantage of the fact that you were young to persuade the men into being alone with you just to kill them?”

You shook your head, “No, I didn’t persuade them at all. All of them suggested going back to their place.”

“But you did stalk them to find out where they were going?”

“No,” You answered. “They had their location public on their phone. All I did was look up their name and I knew where they were.”

“So these men did nothing to you at all except invite you over to their house. And you accepted the offer under no influence or threat. You killed four innocent men and you want to be let back out on the streets? This woman is a danger to society. She seeks out innocent men to end their life for no reason.” He nodded his head and went back to his desk, looking at his notes. He looked back at you and nodded, “That will conclude my questioning.”

You looked back at your lawyer, they gave you back a look of relief. Then you searched the crowd for Sam. Once you found him he gave you a thumbs up. It seemed like you were already on top of the case.

“Miss y/n,” Your lawyer started. “We all know that you killed those men, but why?”

“They raped multiple women. When brought to court, they were given a light sentence and did not do proper justice to the woman. These woman went day to day fearing for their life that they ever spoke out about the terrible things that happened to them. I couldn't let myself live knowing that there was a reason for women to be scared because their government had failed them.”

“Those women were scared? Why were they scared?” “Because they feared that they would get raped again. All of those men were repeat offenders. They would only take more victims and never be punished.”

“So you killed those men to prevent others from being hurt with evidence that it would happen again.”

You nodded, “I would never hurt anyone that had no intentions of causing harm.”

“Miss l/n just described public defense. Under the public defense law, anyone can defend the public with reasonable cause. It’s like self-defense, but for others. She shouldn’t have been committed in the first place. If those men were still alive, they would have kept raping until they were killed. Miss y/n saved lives. That concludes my questioning.”

You were dismissed from the stand and went back by your lawyer. They smiled at you, knowing that with that alone, they had won the case.

The attorney called Sam to the stand; he took his oath and sat down.

“So, Sam. You were the warden in charge of the wing that Miss y/n was being held in?”

“Yes.”

“That prison is a tough place to be, she must’ve fussed around a lot.”

Sam shook his head, “Not one bit. She does not have a single complaint against her. Everything that was asked of her, she did with speed and efficiency. She didn't have one lash out in her time.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Like I said, not one complaint.”

“To my understanding you have a relationship with Miss l/n, is that correct?”

“Objection!” Your lawyer yelled. “Irrelevant to the case. Sam was called because of his position and his professional opinion, not his personal life.”

“Sustained.”

“That concludes my questioning.”

Your lawyer stood up and nodded. You could feel that they were about to lay down the last blow.

“Sam, did this prison have any rapists?”

He nodded, “All kinds of rapists, of all ages and target groups.”

“Did Miss l/n ever have contact with these rapists?”

“Yes. Most of the time during eating hours and the occasional passing in the hall.”

“And how did that interaction go?”

“Miss l/n was given a hard time by these rapists. While waiting in line she was often sexually grabbed. During passing she was cat called and teased at.”

“And what was here response to the sexual assault?”

“Stone faced, emotionless. Every time it happened it amazed me how she would just stand there and wait to be given a direction. The most reaction she’s ever had was lightly shuffling her body to get them off, but she never lunged or reached at them.”

“And what did the other guards do when they noticed this behavior?”

“Nothing. Sometimes they yelled if it was getting close to rape, but overall nothing. We were under instructions not to react because in the past it only caused encouragement of the assault. Prisoners love any excuse to fight a guard,” Sam looked over at you. “I am so sorry that there was nothing I could’ve done. Everyday I watched as you were touched and I wanted to give it to them, I wanted to make sure that I would see them every day of their life, but I couldn't. I couldn't risk hurting you more.”

You smiled, almost tearing up at his words, but you kept yourself composed with a small sniffle.

“The main concern of Miss y/n going back into the public is that she will kill again. As said by her and concluded by a court, she only killed rapists,” Your lawyer pointed out. “As stated by the warden in charge of looking over her, she had the opportunity to kill. She had the opportunity to hurt them, but she never took it. Even after being sexually assaulted, she still kept to herself. This is undeniable evidence that Miss y/n is a changed woman. In her file it is stated that she did more than required community service and went above and beyond with helping other cellmates. Her actions within the prison prove that she is a well-rounded and caring individual. She has changed her ways and is ready to go back into the world. She did justice to the world and it is time for the world to her justice.”

You waited anxiously for over an hour to find out what the jury had decided. You and your lawyer talked about possible outcomes. They told you the sooner they made the decision, the better chances that you had. You had no error in your case and said everything that you wanted to say. The opposing side’s evidence was all proven false.

You got called back into the court, the jury had made their final decision. You rose for the judge and took a seat when prompted. You could feel your leg bouncing.

“In the case of the State Prison vs l/n...” the judge started. You looked over your shoulder at Sam. He had his hands placed in a praying position with his head resting against them. “Miss y/n is found not guilty of all charges and her remaining sentence will be dismissed. She will compensated for her time falsely spent in prison plus be rewarded another trial for her sexual assault. This case is adjourned.”

You could feel emotion flood through you. Pure happiness and joy leaked from your eyes. You tilted your head back in relief and squeezed at your heart. All of these years of the bullshit you put up with was all worth it. You hugged your lawyer and thanked them up and down, the emotion so strong in you that you almost dropped to your knees. You were caught by familiar hands: Sam. Sam pulled you up and into him. He was practically jumping up and down in excitement. He calmed down for a second to lock eyes with you. He couldn't help but smile and cry with you. He placed his hands on your cheeks and pulled you into a deep kiss. It was nothing extravagant, just a simple deep and meaningful kiss that said all the words that he wanted to say.

“I’m coming home!”

#awesamdude #awesamedude x reader #x reader #warden #prison #warden!sam #irl #fluff #angst #mcyt #mcyt x reader #mcyt oneshot #oneshot #awesamdude oneshot #awesamdude imagine #imagine #mcyt imagine

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vvanini · 3 years ago

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whats your favorite obscure hc about each of the losers?

Fucking perfect thank you

1- Mike he reads books or articles like “how to understand woman”, “why women like jerks”, not because he wants to woo woman or is a nice guy or anything but just because he thinks it’s interesting

I don’t think he’d date anyone

Gives great dating advice tho

Reads manga Likes Junji Ito

“The manga/book was better” kind of guy

I don’t know why but I feel like he’d be this ENTP-ish dude who likes to gather information about a lot of useless things and likes to debate He likes film and game theories Watches MatPat for sure

Also he likes The Walking Dead and… zombies in general

Also I’m sorry but he likes Quentin Tarantino and Wes Anderson

He likes grindhouse movies and appreciates the gory details but is chill about it Likes cinematography in general

Watches video essays about movies

2- Richie

Unlike Mike, Richie isn’t chill about gory details and whenever someone gags while watching a movie he goes “You think that’s disgusting??? Lmaoooo that’s nothing.”

He’d be the type of guy who brags about being immune to disturbing shit

Google searches include “top ten disturbing movies of all time” “scariest movies ever” “movies worse than a serbian film”

Still likes pink guy and thinks Joji is a genius

Unironically loves the song “I Love Sex” by Pink Guy and listens to it at least once everyday

Uses Discord a lot

Always starts studying on the last day

I think he’d like history

Not like Mike tho, he just likes textbook history and world wars etc

Plays Hearts of Iron and League of Legends

Also :) he likes to code

he is a Linux >>>>>>>>>> Windows kinda guy

Likes breaking bad

And Rick and Morty

Understands politics really well

His music taste is… anime opening songs

Evangelion especially

Likes science fiction books

Pretends to be a flat-earther/conservative/anti-vax for the meme

3- Ben

LIKES BACKSTREET BOYS

and boy bands in general

he is old school and still carries an mp3 around

Doesn’t use spotify, he illegally downloads songs like a champ :D

Likes story rich games

Especially RPG’s. He really likes Planescape Torment and Baldur’s Gate

Kinda lame about women, like he hears Jordan Peterson say something like “the eternal image of the divine feminine” or some shit like that and he goes “wow poetic. agreed”

Doesn’t read “How to woo women” books like Mike but thinks about it a lot that’s for sure

Likes Audrey Hepburn

And Steinbeck

Saves different versions of the same song to his mp3. “The Less I Know The Better but you’re crying in a bathroom” “The Less I Know The Better Slowed & Reverb Listen With Headphones” “The Less I Know The Better Nightcore”

Shares playlists with Eddie

ALWAYS. ALWAYS waits for the person who’s tying their shoes

He notices if someone is walking behind the group alone and walks back to accompany them

If no one laughs at your joke, he does

Bleached his hair once and regretted it immediately Writes poetry in his free time and makes Stan proofread it

Into psychology

Hands always in pockets

Probably owned lots of lego sets as a kid

People go to him for dating advice because he is seen as this “romantic guy”, I mean he is but he gives terrible dating advice

4-Stan

He likes geography

Literally knows all the flags in the world and all the capitals

Blindfold him and give him a country name, he can show you exactly where it is on the map

Also he plays those google earth games where you get a random location and try to find out which country you’re in/ or try to find the nearest airport

Also I feel like he’d like planes a lot

Idk he just likes things that fly lol. Birds, planes etc.

Likes to read classics

LOVES H. P. Lovecraft

carries little poetry books with him everywhere and reads them he’s so cute

Dark academia is his aesthetic

Can play the piano

Likes to read Ben’s poetry :D

Dark humor

His ringtone is Le Festin :)

Has an instagram account but never posts, just watches people’s stories

Very photogenic tho.

He’s a man of culture. He likes visiting aquariums and museums

Hates zoos tho, thinks it’s evil to cage animals

Also I don’t know how to explain it but… He just likes to decorate his place? Like to the clubhouse he’ll bring stuff he likes and just quietly claims a corner as his own and make it as comfortable as he can

Has...beautiful hands

you know how some people cut the cothing labels because it irritates the back of their neck? Stan does that with everything he buys

5- Eddie

Likes Backstreet Boys because of Ben

Replies to texts immediately. Communication and social interaction gives him serotonin

I have no idea why but I feel like he’d have an obsession with Tekken and his favourite character is Ling Xiayou

Big fan of classic playstation games. Loves Spyro, Crash Bandicoot and Ratchet and Clank

He likes wearing long sleeves under t shirts

Listens to emo music, stares out the window and imagines scenarios matching the song he’s listening to

He considers MCR to be emo btw. Loves G note memes

Likes astrology

Can’t watch horror movies, and gets teased by Richie about it

However he likes media that is presented as funky/funny/happy but is actually depressing/disturbing

He likes courtroom dramas

Wears sunglasses indoors for no reason

Probably likes fallout and metro games

Has a collection of finger skateboards

#weirdcore #oddcore #nostalgia #grunge

buys and wears random college sweatshirts

Hates and loves study groups, hates it in the sense that he can’t focus on anything and just wants to hang out and talk, loves it in the sense that he CAN hang out with his friends and talk

Romanticizes everything

6- Bill

Has lots of taurus energy and is sleepy all the time

Has major Leonardo DiCaprio in The Basketball Diaries vibes

Dresses effortlessly

And likes basketball lol.

He just has… boy energy. If that makes sense. Boy next door

Likes to draw his friends

posts his drawings on Instagram

Has lots of OC’s but doesn’t know they’re called OC’s, just refers to them as “this character I created”

He likes being praised a lot ngl

His taste in memes is very similar to Richie’s

You know how they put a random word on top of a random image and it doesn’t make sense at all. He laughs at things like that. Like Richie sends him something like this:

ME WHEN I WHEN

[image of monkey]

BOTTOM TEXT

and he thinks it’s funny and loses his shit im sorry

Like someone sends a picture of Keanu Reeves to the groupchat and texts “g” and he thinks it’s funny???? He sees a picture of a cow in the backrooms and starts choking

He memorized every line in Boneless Pizza and can quote it wihtout stuttering. Like he would be sitting alone talking to himself saying shit like “ya pizza. Watchu want. 2 liter machine broke we got one liter tho. fuck you mean B.”

Never answers calls? Doesn’t like talking on the phone. He just has “Don’t fucking call me when you can text!!” energy

phone is always on silent mode

doesn’t do anything but attracts people anyway

7- Bev

Likes musicals

Theatre kid

Chews gum a lot

And swallows them :(

Likes cottagecore

Buys notebooks with cute covers but can never fill them so she just gives them to bill who turns them into sketchbooks

I think she’d give advice or reaussure people in a way that sounds kinda rude but isn’t really? Like she tells it like it is. Blunt

Likes Avatar The Last Airbender

Sense of humor is:

[Picutre of the fox from Zootopia]

why is he hot help ��😭😭

wears baggy clothing + long skirts

#headcanon #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #mike hanlon #beverly marsh #bill denbrough #ben hanscom #stan uris #stanley uris #hcs #ask

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derinthescarletpescatarian · 4 years ago

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What happened w the rationalist community, if you’re ok talking about it?

LONG REPLY TIME.

In my Wild Youth (tm) I was hardcore in the rationalist/skeptic/humanist community. You know, the New Atheist types (the vast majority of the community didn’t call themselves New Atheists, that was mostly American Dawkins fans, but we were those kinds of people, just less arrogant-PR about it). For people who don’t know, the core philosophy of this subculture basically comes down to: - humans are mostly good people, or try to be good people, and we should act in ways that are good for humanity, the environment, etc. - people with better or more accurate information about the world are capable of making better decisions - it is therefore vitally important that we view the world as accurately as possible. Truth is inherently important and valuable. We should do everything we can to make sure that our beliefs about the world are as accurate as possible. - your mind will lie to you. Cognitive biases have their social and evolutionary uses, but they result in bigotry and bad information. We should do everything we can to identify and compensate for these, and think as rationally as a human is capable of. - while it’s not perfect, science is the most effective tool we have for determining what is most likely to be true. Rationalism is therefore massively pro-science and pro-science education. (This isn’t a blind trust; most hardcore rationalists are scientists and fully aware of the limitations of the messy reality of how science is funded and published and the biases that introduces. These are taken into account. The other hardcore rationalists tend to be magicians/illusionists.)

All of this is perfectly fine and a hill I’m still perfectly willing to die on.

When you get a bunch of people together who are sincerely seeking truth and want the world to be a better place, there are some fairly obvious groups that they’re going to tangle with. Before my time, when we were just called skeptics, the main targets had been psychics and life-after-death spirit-communing con artists (this is where our magicians came from, the philosophical descendants of Houdini, one of the earliest voices in the movement, and later James Randi). But the big proponents of harm in my time were the healing crystals/essential oils/faith healing people, and the ‘Creation should be taught instead of evolution’ creationists. We spent a lot of time trying to stop people from selling oils that they said could cure cancer, and fighting against science education being replaced with religious belief inserted in science classes. (I spent a lot of my teenage years debating creationists on the internet. I can summarise this experience as a frustrating waste of time on both sides of the debate. Neither side was going to accomplish anything in these discussions.)

This is all perfectly fine. I won’t pretend I’m completely happy with everyone’s actions; it’s the internet, so of course there were subgroups doing things like mass trolling conservative religion forums and stuff, which had no purpose except to piss off people we happened not to like, but you get that. The problem with this is that it’s easy. People can believe what they want, but if you’re coming into a rational debate, every pro-Creation, anti-evolution argument is complete and utter bullshit, mostly demonstrating nothing beyond the fact that the creationist debater a) doesn’t understand the most fundamental things about biology or b) does understand and is willingly misleading the audience. Every pro healing crystal, pro astrology or pro telepathy argument is fatuous nonsense. Twelve-year-olds could walk into these discussions and completely shred every argument put forth by big-name “creation scientists” in minutes -- I know, I watched it happen regularly. I was on our conservative creationist Christian-owned community TV station for awhile doing a little ‘creation vs evolution!’ debate against the wealthy station owner’s son to fill air time, and I’d see him do a couple of hours of research for anti-evolution arguments every time we filmed, and it always pissed him off that I’d shred anything he said immediately, having done no research whatsoever, because even to me, a child, the giant drive-a-bus-through-this holes in his arguments were obvious. (Also, they were old hash; I’d read all the books by his idols before and checked the reasoning myself long before.)

Fresh voices in the community came from two main sources -- people who’d been pro-people and pro-reason/science for years finding others like them, and ex-creationists and magic healer victims who’d eventually found the holes in what they’d been taught. This second group, for obvious reasons, tended to be the most passionately pro-reason and pro-science people, and discussing different experiences in a place where people could feel safe being critical and actively celebrate doubt was great. But, inevitably, we got lazy.

A lot of the ‘laziness’ was perfectly reasonable and practical. Time and attention is always limited, and when you’ve dealt with six claims of “the eye is too complex to have evolved!” and explained the flaws in the irreducible complexity argument four times that fortnight, when someone walks in with “blood groups couldn’t possibly have evolved, therefore the earth must be 6,000 years old”, you just don’t fucking bother, and you shouldn’t fucking bother, there’s no value in that discussion.

That’s not the kind of laziness I’m talking about. I’m talking about the part where we got so used to ‘that sounds so fucking stupid’ leading directly being able to tear an argument to pieces,that it became normal to assume that anything that sounds stupid on the surface MUST be obviously wrong. Where ‘this is weird, let’s examine it and check for flaws’ became ‘that person disagrees with my preconceived notions, let’s double down and explain why they’re wrong, because I’m already assuming that they’re wrong’. At some point, “we want to be as rational and accurate as we can be, we call ourselves rationalist and work towards that” became “we’re rationalists, so we’re more accurate and rational than average and probably right”.

You might recognise that as in fact being *the exact opposite of the proported philosophy*. There were always some overenthusiastic idiots in any group, but watching it slowly become normal for rationalising to replace active rationalism and for the names of cognitive biases to be thrown around as gotcha buzzwords rather than things people were seriously considering in their own arguments was... concerning. (There were a lot of very smart people in the community, which unfortunately made it far more vulnerable to this particular kind of thing. Smarter people are better at fooling themselves; a person good at reason is also good at rationalising, and you can’t tell the difference between these things when you’re the one doing them.)

In practical terms, this doesn’t matter that much when you’re playing in the easy leagues of explaining to someone that the overpriced eucalyptus oil they bought from an MLM won’t protect them against chicken pox. The person who’s gotten lazy is shit at being a rationalist, but your reasoning skills don’t actually need to be all that impressive for this. You know what they do need to be impressive for? For when somebody says, “women are taken less seriously than men in science and biased against in hiring, payment and promotion”, and this hypothetical you, a male scientist who’s never noticed this and already knows that his profession is full of smart and reasonable people who wouldn’t do something stupid like that, thinks “that is fucking stupid” and automatically, without thinking about it, puts their energy into shouting down and dismissing alternate evidence. Or when somebody points out islamophobia in the community, or passive racism, or... you get the picture. Social issues can (and should) be examined and interrogated using rational philosophies, but it’s so much harder to do that than laugh at creationists who are sending you abusive messages about going to hell. And given the particular hot-button issues in the community, most of the people there were interested in biology, chemistry or physics and simply had no idea how to *do* social sciences, treating the parts that were familiar from their own specialities as valid and the rest as irrational nonsense. And now, you have prominent rationalists panicking about Sharia law, sneering at the made-up problems of feminism, and generally making fools of themselves... because they got lazy.

Because, like how it’s hard to be a liberal (American definition) but easy to be a conservative in a gay hat, it’s hard to be a rationalist, but easy to be an arsehole with a big vocabulary. And that’s why I can’t gush about how great Richard Dawkins’ early science books are without somebody bringing up his bullshit twitter opinions.

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221bshrlocked · 5 years ago

Text

Starstruck (1)

Pairing: Chris Beck x Reader

Words: 3445

Warnings: Bullying. Nothing else.

Prompt: “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

A/N: This is for one of my absolute favs @moonbeambucky . I love you dude :) Congrats on the milestone friend and yeeepepepe I hope you like this. Chris is getting his MA degree and reader is an undergrad. I don’t remember writing anything for our favorite spaceman so tell me how it is please and thank you. And sorry it is so last minute I am still struggling with writing.

Part 2

Pretending you didn’t just hear Emily mock your major for god knows what time this week, you plugged your headphones in and blasted some music in hopes to tune her out. You laughed at your own joke, and read the paragraph again to try and learn something.

Hmm, tune her out, that was funny Y/N!

But the harder you tried to focus, the louder and more obnoxious everyone became. You knew what they were doing, you knew why they kept on teasing you, and you thought ignoring them would eventually make it stop but that wasn’t the case. You’d never feel self-conscious about your major but sometimes, they hit you right where it hurt. Too many nights were spent crying just because they called you stupid or slow or unnecessary.

It’s okay, they don’t understand what the world would be life if music didn’t exist. Just ignore them. Don’t let them get to you.

Thinking back to when you started living here, you couldn’t help but sigh because all of this was avoidable had you not listened to your friend. Yes the price was lower than everywhere else, especially for this campus, and you weren’t far from where your classes met, even the grocery store was a minute away. Fine, this was the best deal and you’d probably not change your decision just because some assholes had issues.

They’re all leaving this weekend anyway so just power through this Y/N alright. You can do this. Fucking power through it and you’ll do gr-

You looked up as soon as you heard the front door opening, a part of you for once wishing this man was not walking through the door right now and was that his friend behind him?

“How did I just get to see your place man?” The blonde man asked before remembering he should probably leave his umbrella outside. You frowned when you noticed just how much it was raining, realizing there was no way you’d attempt to go to the library now.

The brunette glared at him before turning to you, a small smile adorning his face for a second right as he walked past you. You heard him ascending the two flights of stairs to your floor, probably to get something from his room and leave again. He was the only one living on the same floor as you, the other six being on the first and ground floors.

You snapped out of your haze when you heard someone tapping on your book, causing you to jump and take your headphones out.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Liam by the way.” He pulled out a chair and sat next to you, flipping the book to see what you were studying.

“Well this is fun,” he commented while pointing at the organic chemistry problems, making you cringe at his reaction because who in their right mind would call organic chemistry fun?

“Easy for you to say, this isn’t my major and frankly, I can’t stand it.” You crossed your arms, smiling a little because there was a cute blondie laughing at what you said. “I’m going to be honest with you, this is the shit I deal with on a daily basis and I agree with you. Can’t fucking stand it most of the times, especially when that genius upstairs makes it look like a piece of cake.”

“Oh? W-what’re you guys studying?” Knowing you’d never have the guts to ask your ‘neighbor,’ your curiosity got the best of you and blurted out the question before you can stop yourself. “We’re not in the same program actually but I’m in biomedical engineering and Chris over there is m-”

“Your late friend.” Chris came running down the stairs, wearing a NASA sweatshirt and a leather jacket on top and if you weren’t so occupied with what you just heard the girls in the other room were saying, you’d have gotten a better look at him. “Hey man we have a few minutes, I was just telling your cute housemate what you’re doing. You know she’s studying organic chemistry right? Maybe you c-”

“Liam I told you we needed to cut lunch short and now you’re being a dickhead again. Let’s go. Sorry Y/N!” Chris grabbed his friend and shoved him out the door but not before you heard his friend looking back at you and whispering “the Y/N? That’s Y/N??” You waved goodbye when they left, turning around and seeing Emily and Letty staring you down while the guys tried to catch their attention again. You’d think people would grow out of that phase in university but nope.

You dove back into your book and ignored them, trying your hardest not to think about Liam and who you now know as Chris. An hour later, you finally had the house to yourself, knowing fully well that everyone else was probably partying somewhere. Everyone has finished their finals, including you, except unlike everyone, you didn’t pass all of yours. Luckily, your professor grew very fond of you and appreciated how much time and effort you put into his class, informing you that while he takes your improvement into account, he couldn’t possibly pass you with that final grade. So you concluded with an agreement, if he gives you a chance to retake the final, you’d help him grade the other classes’ finals as well. When he smiled and shook your hands enthusiastically, you were relieved.

Two chapters and three cups of coffee later, you knew you couldn't stay awake any longer. As you packed your stuff and headed to your room, you couldn’t help but remember what happened a few hours ago again.

Wait, how did he know my name?

Thinking he probably just heard it from someone in the house, you threw your books on the desk and headed to your dresser, grabbing a pair of panties and your hair products before walking to the bathroom and hanging your towel near the curtain.

As the water warm water hit your back, you silently prayed the next week would pass by as peacefully as possible. But those thoughts scattered away when an image of Chris popped up in your head. Of course you had to fall for the quiet, uninterested, probably rude science dude, knowing fully well he wouldn’t give you a second glance. If only you wouldn’t freeze up whenever you saw him. Thinking back to when you were checking out the house, you smiled at what your friend said when she saw him walking into his room. And it took you two whole semesters to convince her he was definitely not the reason you moved here.

Well, he wasn’t the main reason but he was among the pros on your list. Rinsing your hair, you shut the water off and stepped out, wrapping the towel around your body before looking for your panties. When you couldn’t find them anywhere, you thought you probably just forgot to bring them, unlocking the door and heading to your room. Shutting your door, you were about to let go of the towel when you heard a knock on your door.

Pulling open the knob, your eyes widened in horror when you saw Chris standing in the middle of the doorway, hands crossed and-

Shit shit shit this is not happening.

“Hey Y/N you dro- fuck…” Chris knew he should shut his eyes but seeing you in nothing but the towel, hair still wet and thighs peeking from below the towel made him shift in his place. He realized he swore out loud and swallowed thickly, blinking before looking down at his feet. “S-sorry to bother you I know it’s late but...I umm, you seem to have dropped these and- well, here you go.” Chris held out his hand to you, fingers entirely intertwined with the soft cotton of your pink panties.

“Th-thank you, I...was just, sorry it’s uhh, getting late. Good night.” You didn’t wait for his response, stepping back and shutting the door quickly before resting your back on it. You heard him bid you goodnight from behind the doorway, steps leading away from your door letting you know he already left. You tried to calm your heart for a few minutes before slipping into your pajamas and rolling under the covers, pretending the last fifteen minutes never happened.

Chris on the other hand paced back and forth, the image of your body so slick and shiny under your bedroom light making him hiss before looking down and seeing his hard-on pressing against his sweatpants. He only just spent the last three hours telling his friends to fuck off because there was no way a girl like you was single. He came up with so many excuses to not ask you out, knowing the only thing stopping him is his fear of rejection. But now that he got a glimpse of you, he knew he had to at least try, even if it made things awkward later on.

When you woke up the next day, and walked downstairs to make breakfast, you’d completely forgotten everything that happened the night prior, cooking some waffles before pouring yourself some coffee and sitting down to check your emails. As soon as Chris walked in, hair messy and sweatpants hanging low on his hips, you choked on the liquid, holding your hands up when he stepped closer to you and patted your back.

“Shit you okay?” You tried to not think of the very tight white tank top he was wearing but the coughs only grew louder. “W-wrong pipe,” you managed to say between attempts to clear your throat. “Yeah just don’t speak, deep breathes, leave this for now.” He pushed the mug away and continued to rub your back, failing to notice how you’d already stopped coughing. You looked up at him and smiled, noticing the blush creeping up his neck when he realized he was still touching you. Chris pulled away reluctantly, rubbing his thighs before returning the awkward smile and heading to the coffee maker.

You stayed silent, afraid to say something because all you could think about is Chris holding your panties in his hands. He’d turned around and leaned against the sink, drinking his coffee and staring intently at you.

“You take your coffee black?” was the only thing you managed to come up with, cringing at your attempts of making conversation because of course he does, he’s drinking it right now isn’t he?

“Yeah, like my soul!” Chris chuckled before shaking his head and mentally slapping himself. But then he heard you snort at what he said, face beaming from happiness.

She thinks I’m funny? Okay, so she likes a little bit of dark, weird humor, cool. I can do that. Definitely doable.

Before he could say anything else, you were already getting up and rinsing the plate and mug, putting them in the dishwasher before telling him you’d see him later.

“Great job man.” Chris murmured to himself, finishing the rest of his coffee before heading upstairs to get dressed. He walked past your room and stopped, finally understanding why you probably almost died downstairs not ten minutes ago. He completely forgot about last night and realized you didn’t and shit shit shit did he need to apologize again? When he heard some rustling behind the door, he ran to his room and shut it as silently as possible.

What are you five years old? Get your shit together and act like an adult. You’re in medical school man for fuck’s sake!

You weren’t planning on leaving the house today but this was the first time you’d seen him in the morning and you panicked because what if he was going to stay inside for the day? It wouldn’t end well because at some point, you would’ve made a fool out of yourself, again, and that wasn’t going to be good for your already stressful self.

Chris was in fact planning on staying inside, even though it was Friday. But he didn’t want to run into you again, knowing he was completely unprepared and needed to ask one of his friends for advice, much to his dislike.

You thought the library would be the perfect place to get your head in the game but you couldn’t have been proven more wrong. You couldn’t stop thinking about how more talkative he became around you in the span of a day, occasionally zoning out and thinking of different scenarios where you weren’t a complete dork and actually held up a conversation with him.

Chris spent the day helping his friend plan some of the talks he and the others were going to give during the Annual meeting for the American College of Surgeons. But as hard as he tried to be of use, he wasn’t able to do much, mind running a hundred miles in attempts to come up with something to say to you. By six o’clock, his friend told him he should go home and get some rest before next week, and when he apologies for not helping out as much as the others, she told him not to worry about it and to try and talk to you.

“Wow, might as well give Liam a fucking mic so he can tell everyone.” Chris didn’t bother tying his shoes or changing out of his scrubs. “Relax, he said it by accident and let’s be honest, there is no way anything else can get the famous Chris Beck this distracted unless it was a girl. Seriously just be yourself and I’m sure she’ll like you.”

“I can’t even say one word without making a fool out of myself.” He stood up and put on his NASA sweatshirt.

“Well maybe you can help her out. Liam was telling me she was doing some chemistry stuff and was close to crying because of it. Come on Beck woe the girl, buy her some coffee and help the damsel in distress and you’ll see how far that goes.” Chris laughed at what Diana said, shaking his head before turning around and leaving.

“If that works, I swear I will help you out all of next week.” He pointed at her and shut the door behind him, heading to the nearby coffee place with a smile on his face.

You’d already left the library with a friend and decided to go to the coffee shop just around the corner with your friend, immediately regretting it when you entered and saw the rest of the house crew sitting on the couches.

“Hey look, our very own Mozart has a social life.” One of the guys yelled and made everyone around stare at you. Your friend asked if you wanted to leave and you told her it was fine, ordering a hot cocoa and keeping busy with talking to her about your new assignment. You could distinctly hear them still teasing you, shaking your head and laughing when your friend told you she can easily hit them with her cello.

“Let’s just leave,” you grabbed your cup and were about to head out when you hear some ruckus from behind you.

“What do you mean we have to leave?” Emily yelled at the barista standing in front of her group.

“It means, if I don’t see your little butts making their way out that door in the next minute, I will call campus police and file a report against you.” She placed her hands on her hips and didn’t budge when one of the guy stood up and got in her face. “Oh yeah and why should we believe you?” He pulled up his sleeves and smiled down at her.

“Because under Section 2.7-C, I have the right to kick you out for not only being unreasonably rowdy, and having already finished your orders an hour ago, but also lacking adequate hygiene seeing as you are, I’m assuming, football players and frankly, smell like ass. Since you’re in a public restaurant, it is my responsibility to keep this space clean and peaceful.” None of them said anything to the barista, blank expressions making everyone laugh and clap before Emily stood up again.

“You’re bluffing.”

“Sweetheart, I’m in three-L, I’m getting hired to become a prosecutor, and the Bar exam in this state is a piece of cake. So I would leave if I were you. Enjoy your pumpkin spice latte!” She smiled at her before looking at you and winking, crossing her arms and seeing the entire group ignoring you as they left. You walked up to her immediately to ask her what that was all about.

“Thank you so much you we were just leaving and I-”

“Don’t worry about it. There’s no place for bullies here and honestly they were too fucking loud.”

“That was so freaking cool and I’m in awe.”

“I may have pulled that law out of my ass but technically, it still applies. Just forgot what section it was under.” She rubbed your shoulder and told you to enjoy the rest of your night. You left with your friend and headed to your place, laughing along with your friend because how scared they looked.

“You have it bad Chris. Make a move on her or else I will.” Angela threw her towel at the corner where Chris stood the entire time. “Don’t you fucking dare!” He pointed at his friend and grabbed the coffee meant for you.

“Thank you by the way. I owe you one.” Chris lowered his head, clasping his hands together to thank his friend.

“Hell yeah you do, got get’em tiger,” she smiled before pushing him out the way and getting back to her work. When he made it back to the house, he smiled when he saw you making dinner in the kitchen. But that smile evaporated as soon as he heard the obnoxious yelling coming from the second floor. Ignoring them, he walked towards you and cleared his throat, waving when you turned around and and said hi.

“So Liam was telling me you needed help with some chemistry and I- well I was on my way back and thought....umm, you’re probably going to study tonight and instead of making yourself some coffee, I got this.” Chris placed the cup on the kitchen table and stared at you.

“Oh, wow god you didn’t have to Chris that’s, you’re too nice.”

“I asked for hazelnut, I know you like it so, yeah it it was nothing really.” He stuttered and if you weren’t blown away by what he did, you would’ve found it really cute that a man like him was shy around you.

“I’m sure you’re really busy and I’d hate to have you waste your time helping me out with something like that and-”

“No no seriously it’s nothing. I’m already done with my exams and I’m not doing much next week.”

“You’re not going back for Christmas?” You didn’t want to sound too desperate to have him around but you couldn’t help it.

“Nope, I’m doing some interviews here then I leave to Pennsylvania for another one and then Washington and then California but until then, I’m a free-ish man.” Knowing it wasn’t in your place to ask him about the interviews, you just nodded and shut the stove off, telling him you’ll eat quickly before bringing down your stuff.

“How about we just stay upstairs? Avoid those idiots and wait until they leave.” He tried not to look to nervous asking you that question and relaxed when you took it with the best intentions.

“Yeah sounds good, and thank you so much it means a lot. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong but I just can’t seem to understand any of that stuff.”

“It’s definitely not for everyone. I can barely stand it sometimes.” Chris wasn’t one for showing off and he raised his hands when you called him on his bullshit. “What do you mean?”

“I was talking to your friend and he told me you were a genius when it came to all of this...he even told me you make him feel stupid sometimes.” You laughed when Chris looked offended by what you said, and thought this wasn’t too bad of a start after all.

“I never!! I just happened to study more than him and don’t fuck around when the professor is lecturing.” He grabbed a cookie from his bag and started eating. You tried not to let it affect you but the way he swore made you feel some kind of way that you hoped would go soon.

#chris beck #chris beck x reader #sebastian stan #the martian #sebastian stan x reader #chris beck fanfiction #space #nasa #chris beckxreader #music #the martian au

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anamericangirl · 4 years ago

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@mysterious-foxes I’m responding to you in a new post because you just said a lot of really dumb shit.

“dude 🤦‍♀️ I'm not saying you can't use analogies. I'm saying your analogies are bad because they're not even close to the same. In both pregnancy and organ donation, you are literally allowing your organs to be used. If abortion were illegal, the only difference is whether you get to choose if your organs are being used or not.”

and, dude, I wasn’t saying you said I can’t use any analogies. I was talking about that one specific analogy of slavery. Not analogies in general lol. What I was saying was if you think slavery is a bad analogy for pro-lifers to use in regards to abortion, then you shouldn’t use that analogy for abortion yourself. It’s hypocritical :) Especially when it makes less sense on your side of the debate. The analogy I was using isn’t bad, you are just failing to understand it. Telling people if they don’t like something then the solution is don’t do it themselves, not stop others from doing it is fine in general, but it stops being a good point when the thing in question is harming or killing others. With abortion, you are telling someone if they don’t like babies being killed, then the solution is not to kill babies ourselves but let other people do what they want. It’s like telling someone if they don’t like slavery or murder then don’t enslave or murder anyone but let others do what they want. You don’t accept the premise and I don’t expect you to accept the premise yourself, but I do expect you to try to understand where pro-life people are coming from and why that argument is a bad one and won’t have any sort of influence on our position.

Organ donation and abortion are two entirely different things even if they both involve organ use. Thinking that the only difference between abortion and organ donation is whether or not you get to choose if your organs are used suggests you know very little about about organ donation and abortion. Organ donation is voluntarily giving an organ to a person who needs one. Abortion is knowingly and intentionally removing a perfectly healthy, developing human being from the environment it needs to live, killing it in the process. I understand you are trying to justify this act because the developing baby uses your organs for a few months, but the situations are drastically different.

“Enslave: "cause (someone) to lose their freedom of choice or action" but yeah, you're right, denying abortion does not fit the criteria for enslaving someone at all 🙄 (that was sarcasm if you couldn't tell)”

I know you’re being sarcastic but it just looks dumb because you literally just explained why denying abortion isn’t slavery lol. How are we causing anyone to lose their freedom of choice of action? I didn’t cause the pregnancy. The person who is pregnant chose to engage in acts that lead to pregnancy. I didn’t force pregnancy on anyone but I don’t have a problem denying people the choice of killing their children. Equating denial of abortion to slavery means that you think all laws are enslavement. Laws against first-degree murder? Well that’s enslavement because it causes someone to lose their freedom of choice of action. Laws against drunk driving? By your logic that’s enslavement because it causes someone to lose their freedom of choice of action. I disagree that telling people they aren’t allowed to kill their baby is equal to enslavement.

“I never said that abortion is comparable to donating organs, I said that pregnancy is. I said that abortion is comparable to denying organ donation. Because that's exactly what you're doing, denying the use of your organs. It's not just a similar argument, it is litetally the same thing. Denying the use of your organs is the exact same as denying the use of your organs.”

Denying use of your organs in an organ donation scenario does not kill the person. That’s the big difference you’re refusing to acknowledge here. In an organ donation scenario, do you get to walk up to the person and stab them after denying the organ? Because that is what is happening in abortion. It’s like actively murdering the person who needs the organ. You already agreed to let the baby use your organs when you got pregnant. You can’t revoke your consent once the deed is done, especially if revoking consent demands that you intentionally kill another person.

“I'm sorry, I overestimated your intelligence. I thought you were smart enough to understand that forced pregnancy means forced continuation of pregnancy. Which is exactly what you're advocating for.”

Oh don’t worry, I get that when pro-choice people say “forced pregnancy” you’ll are trying to put the responsibility on everyone other than the person who chose to take the risk of getting pregnant and pretend like we’re “forcing” people to be pregnant because we’re against killing children. Like for some reason we’re the bad guys for saying “no I don’t think you should be able to kill your baby” and you guys translate that into “forcing” women to be pregnant. Yeah I definitely don’t have a problem advocating for people to remain pregnant once they become pregnant. Otherwise you advocate for killing babies and that’s what you’re doing.

“Good news! Abortion doesn't kill a single kid! So you don't have to worry about that. Glad we could get that cleared up. If you think the goal of abortion is to kill someone, you have a huge misunderstanding of the reason people get abortions and what abortion actually is. I suggest doing some research. The goal of abortion is to no longer be pregnant.”

We didn’t clear that up. You simply reiterated a statement you said earlier with no explanation to support it. If you think the goal of an abortion isn’t to kill someone then you’re the one that needs to do research.

Sorry but I'm not going to accept you as an authority on the subject, especially since you seem quite ignorant. Allow me to explain what an abortion is to help you understand it better and then I would love for you to explain to me how it doesn’t kill a single kid. Because if doesn’t kill anyone then I’m not against it, but, sadly, the science of the matter doesn’t seem to agree with your assertion.

A fetus is the scientific term for the unborn offspring of a mammal. It is typically used to reference an unborn human baby eight weeks after conception. By this time there has already been a lot of rapid development. The neural tube has closed, the head is developed, the heart is beating and other organs have developed, but the bones are still very weak and fragile. The CDC tells us that majority of abortions happen under 13 weeks, and other sources put the majority of them around 8 weeks or less, so much of this development has already occurred by the time people are getting abortions. So by all accounts the unborn baby is alive and growing at this point.

According to Planned Parenthood, the most common type of in-clinic abortion method is the suction abortion aka vacuum aspiration. The suction catheter is inserted into the uterus and the suction machine is turned on, which has a force up to 20x more powerful than a vacuum cleaner. The force of the suction power literally tears the baby apart, pulling it into the tube and forcing it into the suction machine. The abortionist then has to back in to the uterus and do some scraping to make sure none of the baby’s body has been left behind in the womb. At this point, the unborn baby has been ripped apart by a machine and is no longer alive and growing. It is dead. So please explain how abortion doesn’t kill anyone because I would be very interested in this new mind-blowing information that you’ve discovered that would contradict all biology and medical science that we have to date!

You sound incredibly ignorant when you say the goal of abortion is to no longer be pregnant. Like, yes, genius, I get that the woman is getting an abortion because she doesn’t want to be pregnant, but if we look at abortion medically, what it does to enable the woman not to be pregnant is kill what she is pregnant with. That’s how the pregnancy is ended, sweetie. If the baby is not dead at the end of the abortion, then the abortion was not successful. Surely someone who is as smart as you think you are would know that much at least.

“Abortion is not intentionally killing someone. Again, nobody is killed during an abortion. The organism dying is a byproduct of abortion, just like someone dying is a byproduct of denying use of your organs. But you do realize that you can have an abortion without killing the fetus, right? Oh, wait, I shouldnt assume that you know that since you haven't understood other fundamentals of abortion.”

Wow, you are really not very educated on this topic. The fetus dying is not the byproduct, it is the goal. An abortion kills the growing organism. That is what an abortion is. If the growing organism isn’t killed, you haven’t had an abortion. You are either very, very stupid or in a crazy amount of denial. Please tell me what kind of abortions don’t kill the fetus. I would be so happy to learn that such abortions existed.

“Next time, come up with a good analogy of something that's actually comparable instead of grasping for straws 🤷‍♀️ I simply pointed out similarities between anti choicers and slave owners. If you are offended by that, you should reexamine your beliefs.”

It is comparable. You lacking the brain capacity to understand it doesn’t make it a bad analogy. Your inability to grasp the comparison shows that you aren’t willing to even try to understand where the other side is coming from. And if you’re not willing to do that, you really shouldn’t be trying to debate the subject (another reason you shouldn’t debate the topic is you have absolutely no idea what you are talking about). I’m not offended by your analogy because it was a very poor one that didn’t make any sense. I don’t get offended by other people’s inability to make good analogies. You being wrong and not knowing anything about abortion or the pro-life belief doesn’t offend me, it just shows that your pro-choice beliefs come from very astonishing ignorance. Like you’re pro-choice but you don’t even know what an abortion really is. Yikes. And I know that based on how you are describing abortion.

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homenum-revelio-hq · 5 years ago

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Welcome (again) to the Order of the Phoenix, Amos!

You have been accepted for the role of non-biography character MAURICE CREEVEY with the faceclaim of Tom Sturridge! We really enjoyed reading through your application! The idea of a Muggleborn character who is actually not all that excited about going to Hogwarts is awesome! He’s resentful that he was taken away without a choice - resentful that he can’t go back and be the same person. We’re so thrilled to have him as an addition to the cast!

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME: Amos

AGE: 22

TIMEZONE: GMT

ACTIVITY LEVEL: You already have a pretty good idea of my activity. There is also plenty of time when I’m around and could be writing but I am either caught up on Fab or don’t have quite the right muse for him, so hopefully this new charrie can fill those gaps!

ANYTHING ELSE: nope

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Maurice Creevey

AGE: 24

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Male, He/Him, Homosexual. Gender isn’t something he’s really ever thought about. He’s pretty content in that respect. He is quite unapologetically gay though.

BLOOD STATUS: Muggleborn

HOUSE ALUMNI: Ravenclaw

ANY CHANGES: This is where you can request a FC change or a change from something in the skeleton bio.

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY:

To sum Maurice up very concisely, he’s angry. He hasn’t always been. He was a relatively happy go lucky child, full of endless energy and enthusiasm. Then he was plucked from his life and sent away to a school to learn magic. At first that was pretty cool, after all, every 11 year old wishes they had magical abilities, the difference being they get to grow up and forget those wishes and live normal lives. He has to live with his childish fantasies for the rest of his life. And apart from that, he appears to be in a world where muggleborns are being hunted and killed by an evil wizard and his crazy cult. To make things worse, they can’t escape back to their muggle lives because of all the damn secrecy laws. So yes, he’s angry, and a lot of his actions are fueled by that. Make no mistake though, Maurice is no Gryffindor, he doesn’t use his anger in brash reckless ways, he is more calculated. You may catch it crackling under the surface occasionally, but it would take a lot to make him properly explode. Even slurs like ‘mudblood’ would only make him roll his eyes and perhaps give a snarky retort.

Maurice is a Ravenclaw. He is a big believer that knowledge is power. He did fairly well at his subjects in Hogwarts considering he didn’t try all that hard. He did not choose this path and as a consequence, resented it. He would often get his brother who was a few years older, to send him muggle textbooks when he’d finished with them. He was fascinated by science and maths and history. Of course he had some curiosity for his lessons at Hogwarts, and the things he and his magic was capable of, but the element of choice was important for him. It felt like by attending Hogwarts, a whole area of understanding was suddenly off limits. As anyone knows, forbidden knowledge is the most desirable.

He likes to ask questions about as much as any other Ravenclaw, but he is also a big observer. He likes to take time to gather information before jumping into a lot of things, especially interactions with other people. He by no means stalks people, but a few minutes, to watch, take someone in, before starting a conversation is quite usual for him. It’s all about making informed choices. As a consequence, unexpected interactions can throw him, making him more awkward than he’d like.

He can be arrogant, he has a conviction in his beliefs that can come across as condescension if viewed the wrong way. He can get frustrated when someone is not following his thinking quite as quickly as he’d like, which is why he’d make a terrible teacher. However, this works equally in the opposite direction. His frustration can be palpable when he doesn’t understand something, and these moments are when he is least in control. A lot of his acts of protest come from anger, sure, but also the frustration of not being able to fathom how things got so bad, why they can’t just make them better now, why people can’t see it for themselves. But usually he is quiet. Unless he is invited to speak, or is so damn angry the words won’t stop, he can keep his thoughts to himself until someone is listening and his words can have an impact.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY:

Until the age of 11 Maurice grew up in a very normal, working class family in the midlands. His mother was a typical housewife, loving but somewhat distracted, staring out of windows whilst doing the washing up, leaving the dinner in slightly too long when listening to the radio. Maurice didn’t mind, he barely noticed, and she was excellent at bedtime stories, so what was there to complain about? His father was a miner, a tough, but humorous man. He worked hard, and he always came home dirty, but played football with them in the garden the weekends.

He has one older brother. Not the brightest bulb, but the kindest person Maurice knows. Maurice always thought him brave, in a quiet way. There is no one Maurice has ever looked up to quite like his big brother, even if they squabbled and scrapped as much as any other loving siblings.

Perhaps this happy set up, along with glowing school reports and a nice bunch of friends, was why he has always resented being ripped from that life and that path.

When he was a child, he dreamed of being an astronaut, an archaeologist, a doctor, a lawyer, and what’s more, none of these were stretches for him, with his brain and desire for learning, he could have done it, he could have gotten out of the rows and rows of back to back terraced houses that he and his family were confined to. He could have taken them with him. But he was torn away and sent to Hogwarts, and his parents only vaguely understood, were proud, but in a distant way. His brother became a milkman, a job he enjoyed, but not one that paid well. He married young, his school sweetheart, and they are expecting their first child. They all seem happy enough, they have the things that matter, enough food to eat, a roof over their head, love, but Maurice can’t help but feel he could have saved them. The terror of living paycheck to paycheck, the mundanity of their terraced hells, or just never being able to treat yourself to that little bit extra. He remembered as a child, when his father would be on strike, the unspoken fear that filled up their home. He had wanted to save them from that.

When he would return home for the summer, he would act like nothing had changed, he wouldn’t speak of Hogwarts, or of his magic. He would pretend like he was no different from them, but something had changed and something had broken, and eventually he realised that something couldn’t be fixed. Getting his Hogwarts letter had been the beginning of the end for Maurice. He hated it when summer would end and he’d have to go back, but he also hated going home in the first place.

OCCUPATION:

Maurice works as a sound engineer at the Wizarding Wireless Network. It was not something he expected of himself, more something he fell into. A job at the Ministry would have gone against all his principals. A deep hatred for ‘the man’ but also the wizarding world in general, he wasn’t about to go work in a place trying to keep it all ticking over, and bore himself to death in the process.

He considered more academic positions, but he’d had a hard enough time concentrating at Hogwarts. Trawling magical forests for new flora and fauna, or raiding tombs and breaking their curses had no appeal to him. Which largely left working class positions or the arts. It was not a tricky decision.

The newspaper was an option, but the fact that the Daily Prophet seemed to have a monopoly on journalism in wizarding Britain didn’t sit well with Maurice. Without another widely available newspaper to oppose their horribly biased reporting, what was the point? He would not be a puppet for their propaganda. For a while, he tried to write his own pieces, publish them independently, but that wasn’t entirely successful. The pieces were convoluted, preachy, and he had no audience, no one to either agree nor criticise him.

Eventually he wound up at the Wizarding Wireless Network. Again, it irked him that there was only one major company broadcasting, but at least they had a bit more variation, and whilst they did broadcast the news, the purpose leaned towards entertainment. It’s not a cause Maurice is particularly passionate for, but it’s not one he opposes.

As a sound engineer, he’s around for recordings and broadcasts, cleans up pre recorded audio, fixes equipment, just whatever needs doing that seems like it fit within his job title. Most of it he learned on the job, but it was fascinating enough to capture his attention, and similar enough to muggle radio not to infuriate him. It also introduced him to the world of pirate radio.

About 2 years after he started at WWN, his friend and mentor quit, and in his last few days, confided in Maurice that he was leaving to start his own show. Technically WWN was the only official broadcaster on wizarding radios, but if you knew how to get a frequency, you could broadcast whatever you liked. He and some friends were setting up a station out of someone’s garage, mostly to play the music the WWN spurned.

The idea lit a flame in Maurice. Of course, the fact that it was ever so slightly against the rules, and possibly the law, made it exciting. But the idea of broadcasting whatever he liked, even if there was no one listening, putting something out there, finite and unique.

So that’s what he does with his evenings at the weekends, he broadcasts late into the night and the early mornings. The Order gives him a focus, not just long rambling opinion pieces that sounds like the inner thoughts of a paranoid conspiracy theorist. He has found a purpose now. His show, it helps spread news, it helps spread information, it helps spread hope. Of course there is the tricky business of making sure the wrong ears don’t hear it, but he’s a smart guy, there’s a way around everything.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER:

Maurice joined the Order with best friend, Daisy Hookum. He was at the same Squib’s Rights March, right in the middle of the rioting, and landed square in the Order’s gaze because of it.

Maurice has always been an activist, even before graduating Hogwarts, he would hold small demonstrations, conquering whatever stage fright he might have for the greater good. Standing up on tables at breakfast to make impassioned speeches, chaining himself to statues and refusing to go to class, he even came very close to slashing a painting once before the painting’s occupant managed to talk him out of it.

Maurice has taken a lot of inspiration from muggle strikes and demonstration techniques. He remembers picket lines from his childhood, and grew up with the punk movement. He even had a bright red mohawk once before Daisy told him it really didn’t suit him.

These energies are what he hoped to bring to the Order. He recognises that Voldemort and the Death Eaters are the main enemy, but in his eyes, the Ministry are accomplices, and he feels just as violently about them. The Death Eaters may be the ones directly killing people, but the Ministry are letting them do it, even helping them to a certain degree. The fact that so many squeaky clean Ministry employees come to the Order to ‘do their part’ indicates to him, that there are just as many who are going over to Voldemort for the same reason. He wishes more of their actions were against the Ministry directly, but he can also do that in his own time.

Day to day, Maurice is generally a pretty good foot soldier, he isn’t crazy about the actual violence part, but he’ll do it if he has to. He’d like a louder voice at the table, but he knows how these things work, and he knows too many cooks spoil the broth. The fact that they are organised is enough for him. There is a system, and if he ever feels he needs to take something to the top, then he knows how to do that.

He has also brought his pirate radio platform to the Order. It’s a good way to spread news to people such as those being helped by the dissendium task force, and a good way to organise large groups of people. And also quite simply, it can raise spirits. Assuming that people tune in to listen. Maurice doesn’t think it’s quite being used to its full potential, but it’s getting there. The Order function on secrecy, whereas Maurice wants to inform the masses. There is clearly a conflict of interest.

(I see this radio show as being very similar to the Potterwatch of the second wizarding war, and if it isn’t quite at that structure yet, then building it up to that during the game.)

I think although he is happy to fight with the Order, and be on the front line of the fight against You-Know-Who, his main motives are doing something about the International Statute of Secrecy, even if he is a little distracted by other things and other causes, it all really comes back to him having the choice to fight, to flee, to live his life where he pleases, taking the elements of both cultures and combining them. And he wants that choice for others as well. A lot of his anger and frustration is on a very personal selfish level, but he does recognise that he’s fighting this cause for people other than himself.

SURVIVAL:

Being both muggleborn and publicly vocal in his opinions, does put a bit of a target on Maurice’s back. He’s had a few close scrapes in the past, but luckily that’s as much as they were. Making enemies with a lot of purebloods perhaps isn’t the most efficient way to survive this war. He doesn’t move around a lot, thankfully he’s never been traced to his home address and he wants to keep it that way. He rents a little place in Muggle London, clean and comfortable enough, but out of the way and non-descript. He wards it heavily, and takes great lengths to make sure he isn’t followed home.

He isn’t too bad at dueling, but it isn’t his greatest strength. Mostly he relies on quick thinking rather than brute strength. And paranoia. He’s seen what the other side is capable of, and he’s heard enough of Moody’s lecture like speeches to know how to watch his back.

Still, he can lay awake many nights, realising there that if he continues to fight like this, there is a large chance he won’t survive the war. Is it worth it? He usually falls asleep before reaching a conclusive answer. Needless to say, as a 24 year old, he is terrified of dying. He is just also too angry to let that stop him.

RELATIONSHIPS:

Daisy Hookum: Friends since first year, he and Daisy have a special bond. There are very few people who know him as closely as Daisy knows him. Even his family, who he loves dearly, can’t understand him the way Daisy does. They may have been brought together by class timetables and group projects, but what bonded them was their shared views of the world. Particularly as they got older, they could talk for hours and hours about their politics. They didn’t always agree on every point, but respected each other enough to hear the other out. Of course this wasn’t the only thing that kept them friends. They could have fun together, let loose, forget for a little while that things were so bad, forget how angry they were.

They joined the Order together, as they did so much together. But then Daisy left for her year in the muggle world. Since then the relationship has been strained. He understood better than most what she was trying to do, but the reality is still that he felt abandoned, and jealous, that she could go off and live her ‘muggle’ life. It’s become obvious since her return that Maurice’s idea of activism is now split from hers. She wants to take a more passive role, and Maurice couldn’t bear that.

Caradoc Dearborn: Caradoc is someone Maurice begrudgingly looks up to. On the one hand he is everything he despises, wealthy and pure blooded. But the way he conducts himself is something that Maurice admires. He can’t help but want to be in Caradoc’s good books. If he had an issue within the Order, he would most likely take it to Caradoc.

Mary MacDonald: Mary is a more recent friend. They were a few years apart at Hogwarts and so only got to know each other after they both joined the Order. A lot of Mary’s politics match up with Maurice’s, and apart from that they are very compatible on a personal level. She is one of the lucky few Maurice has let in. Of course it helps that she is muggle-born as well, he feels that with so few of them inside the Order, they really have to stick together.

He has never been the most social of people. It is not that he doesn’t enjoy company, more that he doesn’t settle. If he is going to spend time with someone, properly invest in them, he wants to be sure they are the right person. He does not do this consciously you understand, but he is constantly assessing and reassessing the people in his life. First impressions, as he’s found, are often misleading, but that doesn’t mean doesn’t heed them. He’s more inclined to search out the red flags than give someone the benefit of the doubt. The people who slip through the cracks however, get the best of him. The warmth, the wit, everything he’s been desperately been bottling up waiting for the right vessel to pour it into.

Generally, Maurice is going to feel some animosity for the richer, pure blooded members of the order, but he’ll tolerate them. He’s also going to be fairly uninterested in those who aren’t as active in the cause, or any cause for that matter. So maybe he’s made a few enemies within the Order, or at least brushed some people the wrong way. Or perhaps he’s been pleasantly surprised by others.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS: No ships or antiships, I’m really open to anything. I do see Maurice as gay, so I think relationships with women would be unlikely, but I’m a sucker for some unrequited love plots, or maybe some confused one night stands. Basically anything is on the table.

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

Well Maurice is a white male, so let’s start with that. I don’t think feminism is high up on his rank of causes, or racism, simply because I don’t think it’s played a huge role within his personal life experience. He probably doesn’t even realise a lot of the privileges he has as a white man.

He’s also gay, and whilst he is quite unapologetic about that, his sexuality seemed to be more of an issue in his muggle life than in the wizarding world, so it isn’t something he feels the need to fight about all the time. Again there are more important causes right now.

As a person who grew up in a working class family, he generally just resents the wealthy, and he won’t give them much chance to prove themselves to him either. This definitely stems from growing up poor, but perhaps if he’d been able to make his own fortune and save his family from their poverty, then he wouldn’t feel as strongly. In that sense it’s quite hypocritical. Now it’s also tied to the fact that the wealthy are the ones in control, both in the Death Eaters and their reign of terror, and at the Ministry, making and enforcing the laws that keep them all trapped and helpless. It hasn’t missed his attention that most of the wealthier wizards are pureblooded, so he’ll often lump them in with his disdain.

This works the other way as well. He’s willing to overlook a lot of shit that his working class/muggle born acquaintances get up to, forgive a lot of their sins. I don’t think he realises he does this, but it certainly happens.

He doesn’t necessarily hate the people who work for the Ministry, even if he has a dislike for the establishment and the way it’s run. He understands everyone has to work, and most don’t get the privilege of doing something they like or agree with entirely. There is a bit of time though where he’ll figure out their motives before he really trusts or likes them.

Law enforcement isn’t particularly in his good books either, but that is perhaps more linked to his view of how muggle police act towards protests and demonstrations.

When it comes to the issues of half-breeds, he’ll go along to the marches, he’ll sign the petitions, he’s probably up to date on all the latest views and opinions, but again, it’s not at the top of his priorities.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? You already know I love this roleplay. I’m looking forward to being more active hopefully, interacting with a wider range of characters, playing someone who is quite different to Fab as well and stretching those writing muscles.

PLOT DROP IDEAS:

I would love to see his pirate radio show have an effect somehow, either positive or negative (but maybe more positive at least at first, I’ve already done a lot of disappointing the Order with Fab).

I would love to see how his bloodstatus affects him. If he is genuinely more in danger for being a loud annoying muggleborn, it might be nice to work that into the larger plot somehow.

ANYTHING ELSE? I haven’t put whether he’s low level or mid level in the Order, I’m happy for either, wherever you think he’d fit best.

EXTRA FOR NON-BIO CHARACTERS:

PAST:

Maurice Creevey grew up in the midlands, part of a typical working class family. His mother was a housewife, and his father a Miner. The strikes and picket lines his father was a part of were some of his first experiences with activism, and the spark didn’t stop there. Maurice was rudely torn from his happy muggle life by the revelation he was a Wizard and the letter ‘inviting’ him to study at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. With no choice but to follow this path, Maurice has resented it ever since. He didn’t waste his time there by any means though. This was when he got his first taste for activism, protesting in the great hall and demonstrating in classes. These habits followed him faithfully into adulthood, developing until he found real urgent causes. At the top of his list, was tearing down the Statue of Secrecy that traps all muggle-borns in the wizarding world whilst an evil wizard and his cronies are attempting to pick them off one by one, and also prevents the muggles from fighting back on their own terms.

PRESENT:

It’s his activism that brought him to the attention of the Order. He is a good soldier for the Order, willing to do what has to be done and follow orders dutifully. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have his own intentions. Maurice works for the Wizarding Wireless Network, and a few nights a week he hosts his own pirate radio station. Sometimes his broadcasts can get hundreds or thousands of listeners, all scared but hopeful, wanting to hear what no-one else is telling them, the news the papers won’t print, the the stories the WWN won’t air. The Order value their secrecy, but Maurice knows information is power, and knowledge gives you a choice. He knows he can use his show to the Order’s advantage if only it’s given a chance.

FC CHOICES: top choice is Tom Sturridge, I’m not very good at fcs so if you don’t think he fits I’m happy to go with recommendations!

#homenumaccepted

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smokeybrand · 4 years ago

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The Rising Tide Raises All Ships

I don't understand people who are so ardently against social systems. Like, it's pulling eye-teeth just to have what little we do. I can't tell you how many f*cking time some MAGA cultist attacks food stamps or welfare like it's the worst thing ever but it's like, the ones who abuse it like you say, look like you. They don't look like me. There's always bad actors in any system, but if the majority carries on the way they should, then that system should function regardless. We know it can because it's being executed in real time, all over the world. There's a reason why the happiest places on earth, have the most expansive social welfare systems. Its fine to drive capitalism, no one's telling you not to work hard, but if we expanded those processes, everyone benefits. If everyone contributes a little more to the pool, all of our boats rise with the tide. I mean, seriously, if 2020 has taught us anything, it's that the systems we have in pace right now, don't work. They are easily exploited, easily manipulated, and completely counter intuitive to living life. There is a literal f*cking plague going on and our president is forcing people back to work and kids back to class because the economy. If that don't scream broke and needs fixing, I don't what does.

Free Healthcare means no worries going to the doctor. Paper cut, baby delivery, broken bone, or f*cking cancer, there'd be no stressing over how to pay those ridiculous bills. They wouldn't be ridiculous. I think in Canada an ambulance ride is, like, $230 dollars, average, depending on circumstances. In some places, it's as low as $45 and others, as high as $385. The average here in the States is closer to $1200 f*cking dollars. For just the ambulance. That's not even beginning to address the hospital visit and hope you don't an extended stay. These mother*ckers gave me a bill for close to $50,000 for my two week stay the first time I almost died. Bro, there's no way I am ever going to pay that. The f*ck is you saying? I read an account of someone going to the emergency room in the Philippines and it cost her $15 dollars. To see the doctor. It would have been free but she's not a citizen. More than anything, universal healthcare would force Big Pharma to price their medications appropriately. There would have affordable prescriptions for everyone. When I left my job, I lot my insurance. When I checked prices on my meds, just a single prescription was $400 f*cking dollars for one month's worth. In Canada, that prescription would have been $15. The ill thing? The $400 dollar one was the cheapest I could find stateside. I take five medications for my heart. Uninsured, I'd be dropping close to $3800 a month, on sh*t I need to live. Who the f*ck has a loose $3800 when they have to pay that much in rent every month? Insulin is, like, $300 for 10 days worth here. In Canada, it's f*cking $30. Sh*t's even cheaper in Egypt. Small businesses wouldn't have to worry about employee healthcare or anything like that. If you have more than two employees, the cost you save in insurance coverage is more than enough to offset that tax increase. You'd be able to actually pay a more livable wage, while pocketing more profit at the same time. How is any of this bad? How can you spin this sh*t as a negative?

Free education means a more literate populace. We wouldn't have near as many Anti-Vaxxers and Flat Earthers. Motherf*ckers would understand the science of social distancing and mask wearing during a goddamn pandemic. I wouldn't be so f*cking mad having to dumb myself down just to interact with society. If we follow the Nordic system, you get your four years worth of education, graduate with a proper degree, and get placed into a position immediately out of college to tenure in your focus for the next four years. It's not an internship but a real job. You not only get a degree, but you immediately start earning a living in that field, while accumulating experience. Once you complete your four year employment obligation, you can continue your employment, start the process over with a new major in mind, or you're free to travel abroad with four years experience and a BA in your pocket. Not only would the populace be more literate, more people would be employed thus stimulating the economy. Those that enter into science and engineering, would have to innovate in their fields for four years, minimum, so you'd have hungry minds creating the future, just like back in the day when “America was great” or whatever. More education, means more jobs, means a stronger economy, means less crime. Again, how is this a bad thing? You wouldn't even have to do away with private college or studying whatever you want. If there wasn't a free program to take advantage of, just pay for your classes. I'm sure there'd still be grants and scholarship and financial aid available for aspiring painters or wannabe film makers, or any number of vanity degrees. F*ck it, man, if you want to go to Harvard just for the clout, you can still totally do that. F*ck, dude, you can do it after getting your free degree even. Graduate school, bro. Motherf*cker can be making six figures paying that stupid, clout chasing, tuition out of pocket because you can afford it with the job you got with that free degree. That's the beauty of the Nordic system; Everyone gets what they want.

That's just the surface of these benefits. I'm not even going to go into what universal income, maternity leave, vacation time, strong unions, and subsidized child care. I'm not even going to touch on how prisons over there are built to rehabilitate, not to humiliate and effectively enslave. For Profit prisons are the modern plantations. Look that sh*t up. I'm not even going to go into detail about the benefits collective legalization for all drugs and how crime plummeted because of it, or how they treat addiction like a mental illness and not a criminal offense, or the way they house their homeless and treat them humanely, while transitioning them into society with counseling, job placement, and social work. All of this, for, maybe, an extra hundred or two a year. That's, what? An extra $30 a month out of your check? Less than $10 a f*cking week? That one trip to Starbucks. That's two Quarter-Pounders. That's nothing. How does that math not work? How do these universal benefits, not jive with everyone? How does this sh*t not make sense to people, when you can see it working the world over? The illest thing in this whole situations is the fact that we, as the US, have absolutely more than enough to implement this system, this type of social democracy which benefits everyone, if we just rearranged our budget. Admittedly, we couldn't just implement the healthcare out the box. I mean, we could, but that would entail getting motherf*ckers who make trillions, like Amazon, Facebook, and Tesla as well as Zuckerberg, Musk, and Bezos, to pay their fair share without circumventing said responsibilities Corporate Welfare is crippling the working American and people are too dumb to even pay attention to it, distracted by buzzwords like “communism” and “immigrant.” So we do the free education thing first. That's only $4 billion a year. I checked. That's pittance compared to the defense budget.

Motherf*ckers wouldn't even need to “tax the rich” or “hold them accountable” if we just cut the defense budget. We can keep pretending that trickle down works and that Wall Street works for us and not corporate gluttons and that Reaganomics works, and whatever else the conservatives want us all to believe. Whatever, right? The US spends $650 billion on defense. That is, quite literally, $400 billion more than the next country, China. The rest of the world, minus the US and China, spends a collective $831 billion. That's an average of less than $50 billion a year, worldwide. F*ck, if you add China back into that, it's still less than $65 billion a year. Did i mention that these are yearly budgets? And these are old numbers. My guy, we can afford to drop a few billion of that defense budget. We can probably skim $50 billion and enrich a lot of people's lives but we don't even need that much. Drop $4 billion off of that gratuitous $650 tril, and you can fund free education for everyone. Following the Nordic system, that means more jobs. That means more taxes. That means a better economy and more revenue to implement the universal health care, which would further lessen the burden of employers and employees, putting even more money back into everyone's pockets, which would grow the economy even more. Happy and secure people, spend more money. The only people this system hurts, are those hurting us with the current system. Are they literally too dumb and/or selfish to let go of a little extra and uplift all of us? How do you argue that math? No one loses but the people forcing you to lose right now, in real time. F*ck, man, 2020 has exposed this entire system and there are still people who will die for a country that won't even give you enough money to be safe during a whole ass plague and I don't understand that at all.

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lurafita · 5 years ago

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Hi! So, I have so far only seen you post stories for the Starker pairing, or Iron Dad. Do you do other pairings, too? If so, would you consider writing something for Spideypool? Please and thank you.

Spideypool was my absolute OTP for a long time (though I did have some side pairings I also enjoyed with Peter all the while), I’m a hoe like that.

Anyway, it took me a while to answer this ask, but I do hope you enjoy what I wrote up.

I sometimes like imagining Spideypool as the kind of power couple, where they both are just ridiculously badass.

No-powers AU, established relationship, police detective!Wade, mysterious background!Peter.

—

Edward Collins, suspected for weapons dealing, drug smuggling, and human trafficking, looked far too smug for a man currently sitting in an interrogation room, with his hands cuffed to the table.

Captain Steve Rogers watched the man through the one way mirror with a suspicious frown on his face.

“All our evidence so far is circumstantial. It was enough to bring him in, but it won’t hold up in court. I don’t like that he waved his rights to a lawyer. He must think he has some kind of trump card. We need either a confession, or for him to incriminate himself in any way. Just get him to talk, Wilson.”

Next to the blond captain, the ex-special forces turned New York police detective, grinned sharply.

“No worries Captain America. I’ll have him singing like a bird.”

He ignored the familiar demand of “Stop calling me that!” and strode leisurely into the room.

“Eddie! Pal, Amigo, dirt under my shoes!”

He let himself fall into the chair right across from the man.

“So, what’s a scumbag like you doing in a place like this? Also, you don’t mind if I call you Shirley, right?”

Most of the precinct would describe Major Crimes unit’s detective Wade Wilson anything from ‘slightly eccentric’ to 'bat shit fucking insane’. They would also say, however, that at the end of the day, Wilson always got his shit done. So as much talk there was about his methods (and general being), it was usually accompanied with a measure of respect.

Wade reveled in it. Not just the respect, but also all the gossip about his 'crazy antics’. In fact, he liked to stir up the rumor mill every now and then, exaggerate on some tales, spice up some details.

His long time partner, Nathan Summers, had tried to reign him in during the early stages of their work relationship, but after damn near 7 years of being friends with Wade, he had given up.

It was too bad that good old Nate wasn’t down here with them to see him work his particular brand of magic on their suspect. (Someone did need to do the paperwork, after all. And Nate had lost at rock-paper-scissors)

Wade so loved aggravating his uptight partner.

Anyway, back to business. There was actually (sometimes) a method to his madness.

Sure, Collins had seemed pretty relaxed and put together so far, but how would that facade hold up when he was angry? What would the man let slip if Wade pissed him off enough?

If there was one thing that Wade liked to pride himself with (apart from his excellent taste in food and the love of his life), it was his ability to piss people off.

“You know, on second thought, you look more like that old woman in that horror game, after she was taken over by that parasite or whatever that was, and had all those cockroaches coming out of her crotch. What was her name again… Marguerite! That was it!”

The look on Collins face had darkened significantly, and his fists were clenched tightly on top of the table.

Bingo.

“So, Maggie-moo, let’s talk about last weeks shipment for your company.”

He pretended to rifle through the stack of notes to his side.

“You know, the one that, according to your books, should have been transporting sheep wool from Uruguay. However, it says here the ship hailed from the exotic shores of Columbia, and was carrying about twenty-five million dollars worth of cocaine.”

He affected a shocked look, complete with dramatically slapping his hands to his cheeks.

“Marguerite! What a bad, gross looking, girl you have been!”

Collins face was growing red, eyes pinched, teeth grinding together. Guy was gonna blow any second now. It was almost too easy.

“It’s because you weren’t hugged enough as a kid, isn’t it? I mean, I totally understand that your parents didn’t want to hold what must have been the ugliest baby on the planet, and I’m not blaming them one bit. But maybe it was a little much for them to chain you up outside and tell the neighbors you were just a mangy dog for all those years.”

Just as it looked like the other man would explode into an all condemning rage, Collins, surprisingly, suddenly calmed. The angry red left his face, his tense shoulders relaxed, the fisted hands intertwined their fingers together, and the man leaned back into the chair with a long exhale. Then he smiled.

“You said your name was Wilson, right? Detective Wade Wilson. I thought the name was familiar. I read about you in the newspaper the other day. An engagement announcement, wasn’t it?”

His smile turned nasty.

“And what a lovely creature your fiance is. Peter Parker, 28 years old, works in Queens 'Little Tykes’ daycare center, doesn’t he?”

Wade’s demeanor changed instantly, as a cold, foreboding feeling spread through his stomach. Collins went on, smirking as he saw the panic building up in the detective.

“It would be such a shame, wouldn’t it, if something were to happen to that pretty little fiance of yours. While you are in here, wasting your and your departments time and resources by accusing a good, honorable citizen of crimes he didn’t commit.”

Wade pressed his hands down on the table before him hard, and leaned over to be as much in the slime-bag’s face as possible, and spat out through clenched teeth.

“What did you do?”

He knew that his captain, who had been watching and listening to everything from the other side of the mirror, was likely sending people to his house right now to check up on Peter, as well as calling him on his mobile. It was the only reason why he remained calm enough to not break Collins bones one by one right then.

But Collins remained seemingly unintimidated.

“Why, Detective Wilson, I didn’t do anything. I have been in this room ever since you and your friends in blue so rudely interrupted my meeting, waving these false arrest charges about. I can hardly be held accountable for any accident that might befall the man you love, because you happen to be bad at your job. Did you know that most accidents happen at home?”

The gears in his head turned as fast as his rage grew.

“You sent someone to my fucking house, didn’t you?! Who did you sent? How many?!”

He was becoming frantic, his muscles shaking with the effort to keep himself from lunging right at the smug mother fucker.

“You wouldn’t have sent a lot, right? You have neither the brains to plan accordingly, nor enough underlings to organize something like this on such short notice. You would have sent only one, right? Two at the most! Two couldn’t cause too much damage, right? Tell me you didn’t send more than two!”

The man was far too satisfied with having rattled the detective so much, it didn’t occur to him to wonder about the strange nature of the questions. He was just about to taunt him more, when a new voice cut into the room.

“Four.”

Both heads whipped around to look at the person standing in the now open door.

Peter Parker’s brown hair was slightly ruffled (but still looked ridiculously fluffy if anyone were to ask Wade), his jeans had a few unidentified stains on them, and the too big flannel shirt (Wade’s) that he wore over his science pun t-shirt, was ripped all the way up his left arm. Other than that, however, the younger man looked completely fine.

If you didn’t count the scowl on his face.

“He sent four guys. They trampled their muddy shoes over the new rug in the living room, bled all over the furniture, and broke the vase Aunt May gave us last Christmas.”

Wade had just straightened up and slapped a mollifying smile on his face. “Baby boy-”

Peter’s pointing finger stopped him right in his tracks.

“Don’t you 'Baby boy’ me! I told you not to buy the white rug, because it’ll be a literal dirt magnet. Did you listen? No. You were also the one who insisted on the hard-to-clean couch, because 'But Petey! It’s so soft.’ “

Behind Peter stood one astonished looking Steve Rogers, and a snickering (SNICKERING! The traitor!) Nathan Summers, who had undoubtedly followed Peter down here.

Then his fiance pinned Wade with another withering glare.

“Since our house is now a 'crime scene’, and I will probably have to wait several hours to get back to reading my book in some semblance of peace, until the CSI has found all of the missing teeth from your suspects amateur cronies, I’ll be spending the rest of my day off at Gwen’s place. And who knows, maybe we will go on a little trip down the street, to the shelter on the next block and get a dog.”

With that, the younger man turned on his heel and left a gaping Wade, his full out laughing partner, and their gobsmacked captain in his wake.

“But Babe! We were supposed to pick out the dog together!”

If Peter heard him, it went ignored.

The captain still didn’t know how to react to what had just transpired, it seemed, as he questioningly turned to face one of his best detectives.

“Say, Wilson, how did you two meet again?”

Summers just laughed harder for some reason, and Wade, instead of answering his captain, turned to (the up to that point forgotten) Collins.

Clearly having not anticipated that the detectives twink-looking fiance would be capable of defending himself against the men he had sent out, Collins’ previous bravado melted away faster than ice cream in a microwave. Add to that the now absolutely murderous expression on Wilson’s face, and he was seconds away from wetting himself.

Wade stalked over slowly to his suspect.

“Do you have any idea, how much sex my baby boy is going to withhold from me for this?”

It took both his partner and the captain to restrain the detective long enough for Collins to confess.

#spideypool #au #fic #alternative universe fic #ask #peter parker #wade wilson #no-powers au #detective!Wade #bamf!Peter #short story #op lurafita

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nalufever · 6 years ago

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One of a Kind: Chapter 1 of Guarding Miss Shirayuki

Fandom: Snow White with the Red Hair

Summary: Obi didn't know when he accepted the job of protecting Miss Shirayuki that he'd become so entranced with his charge. Yuki was smarter and more intriguing than any other person he'd spent protecting - but how could he ever have guessed Shirayuki would become so important? A canonesque romp of a story - exploring the relationship that could have been.

Chapter One: One of a Kind: Guarding Miss Shirayuki ~ This is the first chapter of three - Dedicated to my good friend @hidetheremote . You da best! Thank you for talking, listening and joining my salty rants! There’s two more chapters, so I hope you enjoy as much this as much as I loved writing in a fandom you adore. This section is about 5000 words ~ ^^

Obi spat, the thin stream of saliva and blood mixing with the old stains underfoot. He blocked out the shouts - some encouragement, some invective, and all easy to ignore. He'd endured five years of training, working his way up in the mixed martial arts ranking. No way was he going to blow his chance at the championship on account of some foolish yelling. All he had to do was beat this guy and he'd be in the title fight next month.

Hungry for the win, Obi's opponent danced left in the giant metal cage they occupied. Rushing forward, the man delivered a flurry of punches in combination with side-kicks. Voice gruff, he sneered, "You look tired."

With a feral grin, Obi shook his head. "M'not, but you must be." He raised his hands to protect his face and moved closer into Staniel's reach, surprising the man.

Staniel faltered, his next punch extending into the air where Obi had been. His arm pulled back but Obi had already thrown his arm and used leverage to toss him. On his back, Staniel cursed as Obi took total control, pinning him to the mat.

The bell clanged and the referee stepped in, bellowing the count, slapping the mat with every number. "...nine, ten!"

Obi sprang up with the official, his arm raised high. The crowd cheered, chanting, hooting, whistling. It was almost perfect. He searched the stands, imagining in the far off faces the features of long-lost comrades. Forcing a smile, Obi bowed his head in thanks.

Walking slowly out of the cage, Obi ignored his aches and pains. A hot shower would soothe his body even if it also encouraged morbid introspection. The dead were going to stay dead even if they still had space in his mind.

Alone again in his apartment, Obi shrugged off his clothes, leaving them in a heap and stepped into the welcome confines of the shower. Stinging needles of hot water washed away some of his melancholy. Head bowed again, Obi thought back to happier times. He'd been so young and naive - but no longer. Life had a way of teaching a student - it was either learn or die when your job was being a bodyguard.

Hands flat against the tiled wall opposite the shower head, Obi closed his eyes and pretended his tears weren't mixing with the water. Sighing, he stood straight, soaped and rinsed his body - regret wouldn't do anything but drive him crazy.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Shirayuki shifted the collection of binders in her arms and pasted what she hoped was a pleasant smile on her face. "I'm actually close to a breakthrough on one of the problem area formulas."

"How many times do I have to insist you call me by name?" Zen sat back in his padded chair, crossing his legs. "We did attend the same college, no need to be so formal."

"I'll try to remember."

"Excellent, I've decided to give you some assistance with your project." Zen smiled, hand drifting to one knee and tapping. "Our company stands to make a fortune once it's complete. That means competing companies, like Daiichi Sankyo and Otsuka Holdings, will want to keep pace by whatever means necessary."

"My team is full, sir."

"I wasn't asking-" Zen continued, as if Shirayuki's interjection hadn't happened, "-I'm telling you, as of noon today, you'll have a specialist added to your team."

"With what kind of Ph.D?" Shirayuki set her binders on the corner of the vice-president's desk, sinking into a chair. "I formed this team myself, we've got all the major talent we need."

"He's a security specialist." Zen nodded in time with his still tapping fingers, his eyes locked onto Shirayuki's gaze. "This is non-negotiable. The amount of profit is astronomical - and you're our main asset."

"Let me understand, you're assigning me some sort of bodyguard?" Shirayuki pinched the bridge of her nose. "There's no way I need some beef-brained, thick-witted muscle bound moron underfoot in my lab or interfering with my team."

"I promise to spend most of my time improving my feeble brain and keeping out of your way."

Shirayuki whipped her head around, mouth dropping open. The man in the doorway wore dark dress pants and a crisp white shirt, fitted to show off a lithe figure - no bulky or ostentatious muscles - a fit and firm body. Blushing, she grit her teeth and ignored the jump of rocks in her stomach. "Adding a person at this late stage will upset my workers."

"Don't overestimate your role, Shirayuki." Zen chuckled and waved the newcomer to the other chair. "All management is on board with this decision - Obi here will become your personal assistant."

"With all due respect," Shirayuki fought to keep her voice level, "I have no need of an assistant. What I said earlier is still true. I -"

"If I may, sir?" Obi picked up the binders on the corner of Zen's desk. "We'll leave first." He stood with an impassive face, leading the way from the private office, through the maze of cubicles in the main part and down the corridor towards the area kept secured for members of the bioengineering team.

More than a bit pissed over following her unwanted 'assistant,' Shirayuki lengthened her stride, intending to pass. "I don't need you to carry my stuff. I'm capable of managing my own possessions."

Voice dry, Obi said, "Such big words from a smart science nerd. Are you sure this muscle-bound moron will understand?" Obi stopped and held out his burden to his new boss. "If you want your notes, please take them - but how else are you going to explain my presence to your team?"

Shirayuki reached to grab them - hands out, she hesitated, thinking. She huffed and jammed her hands into her lab coat. "I'll get rid of you somehow."

Amicably, like he hadn't challenged Shirayuki, Obi smiled. "Once this job finishes, I'll go away. You're not the only one displeased with this arrangement." Binders held against his chest once again, Obi inclined his head to the still fuming woman. "After you, boss."

Shirayuki hunched over her laptop and stared at the group designed molecule, comparing it to the previous incarnation and checking her notes for discrepancies. Imelda tapped her on the shoulder, making Shirayuki jump.

"Sorry boss, we're taking a lunch break."

"Cafeteria?" Shirayuki pulled up another diagram. "Bring me whatever." She focussed back into her work.

"We're going stir-crazy," Imelda waved her hand in front of the screen. "Raj is insisting on taking us to his cousin's place. We'll be back a bit late - you don't want to come, do you?"

"I'm two ideas away from solving the last problem." Belatedly Shirayuki remembered to smile and look at her second-in-command. "You guys go and have fun - you've been working really hard. You may as well come back even later. Go rest your brains." She made a shooing motion, and waved goodbye to her team.

The private powder room door opened and Obi exited, wiping his hands on his borrowed lab coat. "You sent them to lunch without you again. Don't they ever wonder why you stay on company premises? Normal people like taking time away from work."

"They'd be more surprised if I joined them." Shirayuki took off her glasses, absently cleaning them on the hem of her shirt. "It's more expedient for me to eat in the cafeteria. I hate losing time to food when I could be solving more important issues." She looked up in shock as Obi filched her glasses with dexterity any pickpocket would envy. Squinting, she frowned in confusion.

"You mean to tell me you're an antisocial nerd?" Obi blew a puff of air on Shirayuki's glasses. Pulling a proper lens cleaning cloth from his jacket, he polished and presented the cleaned glasses to Shirayuki. "You should let your personal assistant buy you lunch."

Skepticism warred with hunger - stomach rumbling, Shirayuki saved her progress and locked the laptop. "Might be the only thing you're good for."

Obi smiled and said nothing, allowing his boss to walk in front. For all her prickly attitude towards him and his assignment, Shirayuki treated her teammates well - and worked a damn sight harder than he'd expected. Not that he thought all beautiful women were lazy - no, he'd done his homework after taking the bodyguard job. Shirayuki came from a monied family. Wealth, status and impeccable breeding - she didn't need to work. This woman wanted to make the world a better place and had applied her smarts to learning something that would benefit everyone.

Maybe he shouldn't enjoy how her hips swayed as she walked. Her figure, even hidden as it was under a lab coat - it was curved in all the right places. Obi shoved down his appreciation into the box he'd labelled 'late night fun time.' She wasn't the spoiled rich princess he'd feared - but she was far out of his reach. His pedigree was muddy while hers was golden.

Halfway to the cafeteria, the Vice-President of Fujisawa Corporation stepped into their path. "Hello, Shirayuki and Obi!" Zen smiled warmly at Shirayuki and exchanged nods with Obi. "I have some business matters to discuss with you, Obi."

"We're going to grab lunch in the cafeteria right now, care to join us?" Shirayuki, still ruminating about polypeptides and molecular bonds, missed the serious undertones in Zen's words.

"Go save us a good seat, I'll join you soon." Obi waved off Shirayuki, keeping his inner glee hidden as her nostrils flared and she stomped away. Beautiful, smart, and prone to quick flare-ups of temper (as befitting her fiery red hair).

Zen wasted no time after shutting his office door. "I need you to provide twenty-four hour coverage." He strode to his desk, hand slightly trembling as he dug a key out of his pocket and unlocked the topmost drawer. "Here, take a look at this."

Face impassive, Obi read the threatening letter. He offered it back to Zen, "She's not going to take this well."

"She needs to be protected from knowing there's a death threat against her. You're getting paid well to shield her body, you can shield her mind too." Zen put the letter back. "She's not just a valuable employee, she's...she's special."

"I understand, sir." Obi took note of the light flush on Zen's cheeks, the man's starry eyes and wistful smile. "Shirayuki is a one-of-a-kind woman. Er, person."

"You were right the first time, she's a wonderful woman." Zen dropped into his chair and sighed, rubbing his forehead. "By any means necessary, keep her safe."

"Good work guys! Tomorrow is the weekend and that means I don't want to see anyone at work." Shirayuki laughed as several of her team parroted the same thing back to her, cautioning her against becoming a workaholic. "Fine, fine! I'll see you Monday." She waved them off, smiling.

"You going to take your own advice?" Obi smirked. Shirayuki had forgotten he was in the lab - or was he that good at staying silent? Either way, it was cute how she'd clutched her chest and glared at him.

This week of bodyguarding had been both heaven and hell. Miss Shirayuki was smart, personable and extremely capable - especially in regards to her work. Thinking about her, Obi had decided to keep a wall between them - needing the formal type of address to remind himself that the red-haired, smart, talented woman was above his reach.

Obi came to love watching her eyes light with passion as she wrote equations; the tip of her tongue making an appearance as she concentrated, how she'd push up her glasses and squint. It was hellish to be so close and be denied the physical contact he was dreaming of nightly.

"I know how to relax." Shirayuki lifted her chin. "See you Monday, unless you'd rather quit right now. Zen is blowing this product launch out of proportion. I don't need a babysitter."

"I'm sure you think that." Obi crossed his arms over his chest. "But you haven't ever tried my relaxation program."

"I'm good." Shirayuki's voice was flat and showed disinterest. "I have chores to do and no time to waste on you."

"Huh, didn't know you were a coward." Obi shrugged and waited - Shirayuki's nostrils flared. Oh, she was hooked. "For someone so smart, you're not willing to try other methods? Far be it for this muscle-bound moron to call you on your bullshit." Game. Set. Match. He made a show of checking his pockets for keys and tipped an imaginary hat. "See you Monday. Coward."

Shirayuki ground her teeth and seethed. What a high-handed, smug, sexy and rude bastard. "I'm not a coward."

"Good news, you're gonna love my relaxation program." Obi offered the woman under his care his arm. "Step this way."

Not exactly sure why she was going with Obi, Shirayuki decided she'd slip off once she got bored. A simple distraction and her unwanted personal assistant would never notice her leaving. Allowing him to take her somewhere was an anomaly. It had nothing to do with how cute the man looked. Nope! Nor his earnestness, or even how much she'd wondered about what he did on his own time. Uh-uh. This was her learning more about an opponent.

The sounds and smell of the underground gym hit Shirayuki hard. She'd been confused why it was several levels below the surface - and all Obi had said in answer to her questions was, 'no special reason.'

"Is there something wrong with the ventilation system?" Shirayuki did her best to breathe from her mouth. "I can recommend several new versions of air scrubbers - when's the last time this was serviced?"

Obi chuckled, ignoring Shirayuki's questions. The more he delayed answers, the more she'd be inclined to stay - or at least not want to escape at the first chance. He nodded to several competitors in greeting, making progress towards one of his oldest friends. "Beatrice! I'm glad to see you're still here at this hour."

"Well, ifn' it isn't our mysterious loner." Beatrice smirked, setting her weights onto the bar support. "What brings you here with a visitor? Not your usual Friday night type of date, now is it?"

"Date? No!" Obi flushed, his eyes widening as he looked back and forth between the two women. "This isn't a date - she's my current boss in need of some relaxation."

Shirayuki shifted her weight, lips pressed in a straight line. An uncomfortable minute passed. "Obi thinks I don't know how to relax." Her words were offered to Beatrice, but her savage look was given to Obi. "He's wrong."

"Yes," Beatrice nodded, "I can see that. Obi is so clueless when it comes to introductions though, wouldn't you say? Your name is?"

Face even redder, Obi rubbed his forehead. "Sorry Beatrice, may I introduce Miss Shirayuki of Fujisawa Corporation?"

Shirayuki thrust out her hand to the other woman, "Call me Yuki, pleased to meet you. No need to stand on outdated formalities."

"Agreed." Beatrice took note of Yuki's strong grip and enthusiastic shaking. "A pleasure for me as well. This gym could do with more females who know their own minds."

A bit chagrined, Obi looked like a deer caught in headlights. "I was wondering if you had a spare workout outfit to lend?"

"What's wrong with yours? Don't you keep extra spares?"

"Of course I do - but it's not really proper for me to offer man's clothes for a lady." Obi wished very hard for the floor to swallow him. "They're clean but not meant -"

"Clothes are just clothes." Shirayuki wasn't sure if she'd surprised herself more or Obi. "As long as they're clean - no big deal if they're men's or lady's." She smiled at Beatrice and dropped her expression down to borderline polite to look at Obi. "It's a bit more than rude to expect to borrow someone else's clothes without asking beforehand."

"I like her." Beatrice pinched Obi's cheek. "You should try to not fuck this up." She laid back on the bench and grasped her barbell, "I'm in the middle of my workout, so if you don't mind, I need my 'me' time." One smooth motion and Beatrice hoisted her weights. She winked at Obi. "Talk to ya later - maybe meet up when you and Miss Yuki have reconciled your differences?"

Obi met Beatrice's stare with a sinking stomach. "Yeah, that'll be soon, I'm sure."

Beatrice hummed noncommittally as she continued with her workout, dismissing Obi and Yuki from her mind - secure that sometime soon she'd be meeting up with them under vastly different circumstances. A more harmonious and happy sort - the kind you bring up in a toast to the bride and groom. She disguised a snort of laughter as effort and continued her bench presses.

Isolated in the empty changeroom, Shirayuki looked at the armful of clothes Obi had given her and smiled. Plain but serviceable t-shirt and shorts, dull blue in colour - but fashioned of moisture-wicking fabrics. She dropped them on the bench and took off her work clothes. Tonight was going to be interesting - and she'd never been so enthused to work-out before.

Obi hurried into his second set of gym clothes. Shirayuki had seemed interested in working out - but he'd be damned to take her acquiesce at face-value. If she was lying and ran out now, she might be captured by the scum threatening her life - and that would haunt him forever.

"I'm going to show you my usual work-out." Obi nodded, "Miss Yuki, this shouldn't be any harder than you can manage."

"How hard do you go at it on a regular day?" Shirayuki made sure to smile sweetly. "I'm sure I can keep up. Don't hold back on my account."

"Fine." Obi marched over to an unattended machine, adjusted the weights and changed the incline of the bench.

Shirayuki watched him, her smile losing its wattage as more people left the gym. "What's up with the mass exodus?"

"Friday nights aren't as busy - some people go out on dates instead of working around the clock like nerds." Shrugging, Obi pretended not to see Shirayuki frown. "Are you sure you should use such fancy words with a big dummy like me?"

"Don't distract me."

"Wouldn't dream of it." His dry delivery was at odds with Obi's smirk. He would dream of Yuki - and his imagination would spook her like nothing else. "This is a very simple machine, I would guess you've used something like this before."

"Obviously." Shirayuki tugged on the bottom of her borrowed shirt. "Who hasn't?" She gestured at her bodyguard to move aside. "All the time."

Obi hid his smile as Shirayuki sat backwards on the bench and did a very poor job of hiding her search for work instructions. She moved her feet further apart and made a show of rolling her shoulders and then tightening her shoelaces.

"All the time?"

"No. How long were you going to let me struggle?"

"I'll use it first - you watch and learn. Get up." Obi then sat facing forward and gripped the handles, admiring the attractive picture Shirayuki made. She stood with hands on hips, her little frown all the more adorable as she chewed her bottom lip. Obi demonstrated five reps. "Now you try."

Shirayuki nodded and sat, gripping the handles tight.

"Relax, no one's gonna try to take them from you!" Obi laid a hand on Shirayuki's shoulder, "Is this too much? There's lots of treadmills we could use instead."

"I've never enjoyed the more complicated gym machines." Shirayuki released her death grip, wiping her hands on her thighs. "I let my competitive nature get the best of me - but I don't mind if you get your workout in. I can get myself home from here." She made to rise, stopped by Obi moving closer - his face, normally so impassive, clearly chagrined.

"Hey, I was a little bit pushy too. But my offer stands - exercising makes for a great release of endorphins." In the back of his mind, Obi wondered how hard Shirayuki would slap him if he suggested the other (and better to his way of thinking) method to achieve peace. Damn, that would be glorious.

"It's been a long week, and I know I've had enough of your company." Shirayuki let a bitter smile twist her lips. "And I'm not in the mood to be babysat further."

"And here I thought we were connecting on a friendship level." Obi joked, forcing gaiety into his voice and actions. He shrugged, taking a big step backward. "Miss Ph.D. is a coward."

"Fine - I'll be running laps on a treadmill and you knock yourself out on that contraption." Shirayuki stood and raised her chin. "You'd better add more weights - after all, it isn't a good workout if you don't struggle."

"Pfft. Thanks for the words of wisdom." Obi watched Shirayuki secure a treadmill, pleased it was close - and began a light gym routine that switched him from machine to machine, all ringing Yuki's treadmill.

An hour of covert spying and exercise later, Obi, drenched in sweat (more from nerves than exhaustion) was dying for a shower. Shirayuki had cooled down from her run twenty minutes ago and was openly staring as Obi continued to use more equipment. Was he a bit of an exhibitionist, or was he pathetic? Why would someone so smart and talented care about him? If nothing else, Obi knew he wasn't that unattractive. Miss Yuki might at the very least decide to slum and sample his wares. Heh, Obi knew he was being ridiculous.

An itch between his shoulder blades made Obi wary. He inspected the perimeter of the gym for suspicious activity; only two men working together, one as a spotter and the other lifting. He'd lived long enough as a bodyguard not to ignore those sorts of sensations. Lived - that was the operative word. Taking a precaution that others deem unnecessary could be the difference between a big fat bonus cheque or riding in place of honour in a funeral procession.

"Babe!" Obi knew Shirayuki would respond - very possibly loudly - immediately.

"Sweetie-nugget," Shirayuki answered through gritted teeth. "Have you lost your mind?" She moved closer, arms crossed.

In for a penny, in for a pound. "Babe, you can yell at me later. Right now, you should listen to your man."

Obi stood and placed his hands on Shirayuki's shoulders, leaning within kissing distance. Praying it looked like he was fooling around, Obi whispered instructions. "We're leaving now - and whatever happens, follow my lead."

Her sweet breath tickled his ear, and Obi fought to control his libido. He was a battle-hardened assassin dammit - why did this woman derail him from his purpose?

"I noticed those two guys too - they're both big and bulky but only using half the weights you set for me."

Damn, Shirayuki was every inch a brilliant person. "We want to give them the slip without alerting them. Let's go and allow them to follow - but we'll cut and run once we move past the exit."

Shirayuki giggled, her lips dangerously close to Obi's ear for his peace of mind. Softly, she said, "You'll pay for this later."

"I can live with that." Obi prayed his luck would hold as he gave her a hug. "Might as well run the tab, huh? We'll act like lovers. Can you manage? You want your work badge, right?"

"You know you're dead, right? And yeah, I can't let that fall into the wrong hands. I could cancel it, but ..."

"Later. We'll discuss it later." Obi caught Shirayuki's hand and laced his fingers with hers. Making sure to take slow and easy strides, he lead her to the women's locker room. Taking care to seem oblivious to the two threats, Obi kept his back to them - as if he was totally unconcerned. He fished out his phone and began browsing.

Holding her street clothes and personal possessions to her chest, Shirayuki came out of the locker room. "I'm ready."

Obi kept hold of his phone, pretending to pay attention to that more than where they were going. "My keys are on me - there's nothing else I need to retrieve. Take my arm and play girlfriend, okay?"

Sensing Yuki wanted to argue but knew it wasn't workable now, Obi gave himself a personal bonus. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and placed his hand over where Shirayuki had attached herself to his upper arm. "You're a nasty girl! Can't believe you like knockin' boots before getting clean!"

They were mere steps away from the exit. The two burly men appeared to be discussing which machine to use next - as they ambled closer and closer to the exit as well.

"Takes one to know one!" Shirayuki felt flustered. She knew her reply didn't quite make sense, but it was the best she could currently manage.

In the gym's foyer, Obi hustled his charge down the corridor leading to the front entrance. "Hurry, they'll most likely split to cover both the front and back. If we can get out of sight sooner, so much the better."

Hands on the door, they both heard heavy footfalls pounding closer.

"Shit!" Obi thrust Shirayuki out first and clicked his car remote. Halfway down the block his vehicle chirped and unlocked. "Run faster!"

Obi looked over his shoulder - the larger of the two thugs was fumbling with some kind of sidearm. Together they pelted towards the car, Obi rolling over the hood to take the driver's side and Shirayuki collapsing into the passenger seat.

Two soft 'thwups' made the car shake. "Get down, more!" Obi jammed the key into the ignition and peeled away from the curb, laying smoke and rubber. Three more 'thwups' - dinging the bumper and breaking a tail light.

"I'm gonna have to assume they know where you live - I can't bring you to your home until they're neutralized." Obi glanced at Shirayuki. She was hugging her clothes like her life depended on it. Reaching over slowly, Obi patted her shoulder. "Lucky you, we're besties until this is solved."

"Did they change the definition of lucky? If not my place, then yours? There's got to be a better choice."

Obi was relieved to hear a bit of Shirayuki's attitude make a return. If she could make jokes it meant that she was rebounding from the horror of the two goons shooting at them. "You haven't seen my place, so don't diss my digs."

"Either I make snarky comments or I start freaking out. Your choice, sweetie-nugget." Shirayuki giggled, high-pitched and going higher.

"Call me darling." Obi glanced at his charge - she was caught off-guard by his comment. Now for some more foolishness. "My love, honey, or even dear would be acceptable. But don't call me late to dinner."

Shirayuki realized she was digging her fingernails into her street clothes, ruining them. She released her grip and let them slide down her legs. Only turning her head, she stared at her bodyguard. "You must be joking."

"Not joking." Obi took the next left and zipped down a small street - more of a lane, actually. "Well, a bit. Feeling better?"

"Yeah...I am." Her nerves were still jangling, but more from imagining herself using those endearments on Obi. More exactly, from imagining an intimate encounter with him...bare limbs twisted together...satiated...heated bodies and a climax scream torn from her throat after an hour of foreplay. Was this her body's reaction after encountering danger?

"I've got a defendable safe house - perfect for this situation." Obi let his tone grow jocular as he tested Shirayuki's resilience. "Unless you'd rather run away with me to some decadent top-flight hotel?" He gunned the engine and took a corner with more zip than needed. "Thanks for the silent vote of hell-to-the-no."

Shirayuki shook her head and slumped in her seat. "Take me wherever you need. I'm not going to be thinking and using logic until my heart makes its way back into my ribcage."

"Deal."

To be continued....

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donnaannette18 · 3 years ago

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My Goals In The Future

I used to enjoy solving math problems or equations when I was younger. Until I discovered that math was my favorite subject. My parents and relatives would frequently ask me what job I wanted to have when I grew up. I had no idea what to say when they asked me that. There were moments when I was approximately ten years old that I asked myself what I truly wanted to do when I grew up. I have a mixed feeling inside of me that is both perplexing and pressing. Because my peers have already decided what they want to do when they grow up. I'm envious of them because they know exactly what they want, whilst I'm still unsure. When I asked my mother what job she wanted for me, she answered, "Any job that you like and that makes you happy." "Mommy, I have a problem; I still don't know what job I want to pursue when I grow up," I tell her. "Don't worry," she said, "the day will come when you will know what your heart truly desires." Even if you don't know what God has in store for you right now, the day will come when you will." When I started junior high school, I assumed that because I enjoy math, I would look into math-related careers. My research led to me becoming an engineer, accountant, teacher, and many more professions. The accountant piqued my interest, so I did some investigation right away. And it is a professional who conducts accounting activities such as account analysis, auditing, or financial statement analysis, as I discovered. When I was a kid, I used to spend a lot of time pretending to be in an office and working for a corporation with my playmate. I became more interested in accounting as I learned more about what it accomplishes. I also watched accounting-related movies, which I thoroughly appreciated. Then I made the decision to pursue a Bachelor of Science degree with a major in accounting in college. One day, I told her "Mommy, God seems gave me a sign of what profession I want," and she said, "What is it?" I told her, "Mommy, I want to be a Certified Public Accountant." Mommy gave me a warm smile and expressed her delight that I had picked that option. As a result, when I entered senior high school, I chose Accountancy and Business Management as my strand. And now I'm studying hard to achieve my goals.

But, if you ask me whether being a CPA is my only ambition, I'll tell you that it isn't. I also want to start a business. I want to succeed so that I may assist my parents. I have a younger brother, and when I get a steady job, I'd like to be the one to support him. I wish to cover all of his tuition costs so that my parents are not burdened. By that time, I want to be the one fighting for them. And I always want for a long life for them so that we can spend more time with them.

However, we must always keep in mind that our dreams should be more than just that. We must take action. We are well aware that success will elude us. We must put up with it and toil. Let us have self-assurance, believe in God, and if we become tired, take a break but never give up.

I understand that not everything in my chosen course will be simple, but it is not a cause for me to give up. Furthermore, nothing in life is simple; everyone must overcome adversity in order to achieve success.

https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&url=https%3A%2F%2Fcampus-eg.com%2Fcourses%2Fcpa-certified-public-accountant%2F&psig=AOvVaw2iZZrh46Ly6wvH1uk_1ELZ&ust=1642086609971000&source=images&cd=vfe&ved=0CAsQjRxqFwoTCNDV0qrArPUCFQAAAAAdAAAAABAD

https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&url=https%3A%2F%2Fsmallbiztrends.com%2F2021%2F08%2Fwhere-do-accountants-make-most-money.html&psig=AOvVaw2exRaiT-XnDN5cdGYJL-0G&ust=1642086712983000&source=images&cd=vfe&ved=0CAsQjRxqFwoTCPj0gfa_rPUCFQAAAAAdAAAAABAW

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biguns60plus · 4 years ago

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This is what's happening and I'm so glad I know so many that see right through it all. You know who you are. It looks long but, it's a quick read you'll see it all as I do. You're not racist. You're not crazy. You're be gaslighted.

Sophocles said: "What people believe prevails over the truth."

Interesting observation:

The term Gaslighting originates in the systematic psychological manipulation of a victim by her husband in Patrick Hamilton’s 1938 stage play Gas Light, and the film adaptations in 1940 and 1944.

In the story, the husband attempts to convince his wife and others that she is insane by manipulating small elements of their environment and insisting that she is mistaken, remembering things incorrectly, or delusional when she points out these changes.

The play's title alludes to how the

abusive husband slowly dims the gas lights in their home, while pretending nothing has changed, in an effort to make his wife doubt her own perceptions. The wife repeatedly asks her husband to confirm

her perceptions about the dimming lights, but in defiance of reality,

he keeps insisting that the lights are the same and instead it is she

who is going insane.

Today we are living in a perpetual state of gaslighting. The reality

that we are being told by the media is at complete odds with what we

are seeing with our own two eyes. And when we question the false

reality that we are being presented, or we claim that what we see is

that actual reality, we are vilified as racist or bigots or just plain

crazy. You’re not racist. You’re not crazy. You’re being gaslighted

New York State has twice as many deaths from Covid-19 than any other

state, and New York has accounted for one fifth of all Covid-19 deaths, but we are told that New York Governor Andrew Cuomo handled the pandemic better than any other governor.

But if we support policies of Governors whose states had only a fraction of the infections and deaths as New York, we’re called anti-science and want people to die. So, we ask ourselves, am I crazy? No, you’re being gaslighted.

We see mobs of people looting stores, smashing windows, setting cars on fire and burning down buildings, but we are told that these

demonstrations are peaceful protests And when we call this destruction of our cities, riots, we are called racists. So, we ask ourselves, am I crazy? No....you’re being gaslighted.

We see the major problem destroying many inner-cities is crime; murder, gang violence, drug dealing, drive-by shootings, armed robbery, but we are told that it is not crime, but the police that are the problem in the inner-cities. We are told we must de-fund the police and remove law enforcement from crime-riddled cities to make them safer But if we advocate for more policing in cities overrun by crime, we are accused of being white supremacists & racists. So, we ask ourselves, am I crazy? No, you’re being gaslighted

The United States of America accepts more immigrants than any other country in the world. The vast majority of the immigrants are “people of color”, and these immigrants are enjoying freedom and economic opportunity not available to them in their country of origin, but we are told that the United States is the most racist and oppressive country on the planet, and if we disagree, we are called racist and xenophobic. So, we ask ourselves, am I crazy? No...you’re being gaslighted.

Capitalist countries are the most prosperous countries in the world.

The standard of living is the highest in capitalist countries. We see

more poor people move up the economic ladder to the middle and even

the wealthy class through their effort and ability in capitalist countries than any other economic system in the world, but we are told capitalism is an oppressive system designed to keep people down. So, we ask ourselves, am I crazy? No, you’re being gaslighted.

Communist countries killed over 100 million people in the 20th century. Communist countries strip their citizens of basic human rights, dictate every aspect of their lives, treat their citizens as slaves, and drive their economies into the ground, but we are told that Communism is the fairest, most equitable, freest, and most

prosperous economic system in the world. So, we ask ourselves, am I

crazy? No, you’re being gaslighted.

The most egregious example of gaslighting is the concept of “white

fragility”. You spend your life trying to be a good person, trying to

treat people fairly and with respect. You disavow racism and bigotry

in all its forms. You judge people solely on the content of their

character and not by the color of their skin. You don’t discriminate

based on race or ethnicity. But you are told you are a racist, not

because of something you did or said, but solely because of the color

of your skin. You know instinctively that charging someone with racism

because of their skin color is itself racist. You know that you are

not racist, so you defend yourself and your character, but you are

told that your defense of yourself is proof of your racism. So, we ask

ourselves, am I crazy? No, you’re being gaslighted.

Gaslighting has become one of the most pervasive and destructive

tactics in American politics. It is the exact opposite of what our

political system was meant to be. It deals in lies and psychological

coercion, and not the truth and intellectual discourse. If you ever

ask yourself if you’re crazy, you are not. Crazy people aren’t sane

enough to ask themselves if they’re crazy. So, trust yourself, believe

what’s in your heart. Trust your eyes over what you are told. Never

listen to the people who tell you that you are crazy, because you are

not, you’re being gaslighted.

Sophocles said: "What people believe prevails over the truth."

And that's what the media is trying to exploit.

If you have read this far let me say one thing. I did not write the

above and I am not sure who the author is.

I sent this to you because you are hopefully smart enough to

understand what is being done to you on a daily basis from many

directions. I do not care about your political party affiliation.

Just think through what you are being told. Don't listen with a deaf

ear, or see with a blind eye. Question everything -- even things

from people who you think you can trust. Question why you are being

told whatever, by whomever. Question their motives. Question who benefits. Question if there is a hidden agenda behind the propaganda.

Question, Question, Question. Then do your own research, and use some

of your own critical thinking skills to get to the truth. Listen with your heart and with your mind.

Sadly, 95% of the masses don't even know that they are being

gaslighted. At least now you do.

If this makes sense to you, then forward to your friends who you think

might "get it"

Copied and Pasted 2/16/2021

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arcane-ish · 3 years ago

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For me at least when I like ships, I firmly understand that to be about my tastes.

For example I don’t ship Jinx x Lux. There is nothing wrong with that ship. The reason I don’t is:

- I don’t like Lux

There, that’s it.

And the reason why I don’t like Lux is about 20% that I think that she is a boring character and 80% that I feel like strangling her everytime she says “By the light!” in Legends of Runeterra. But this a completely personal taste thing and I would never expect or even want anybody to miss out on a ship that is fun to them just because I find her brain stabbingly nail on a chalkboard obnoxious.

(give me Jinx x Serphine for Jinx plus an upbeat idealistic female character over Lux any day, personally)

Some more thoughts on the majority of other Arcane ship, both popular and niche under the cut:

Similiarly (as in "I don't dislike it, it's just not for me"), I don’t ship Jayce/Viktor *at this point* because:

1.) I get the whole illness trope, I just don’t happen to have a kink for it, but I totally get how it would be powerful if I had. Similarly I don’t have a specific science kink. Neither are things that I have personal connection to or a kink for. I don’t have an anti kink for it either, it just doesn’t hold any special meaning. That doesn’t make it a bad ship, it’s actually a very good ship. It’s just their particular expertise doesn’t hold special significance for me.

2.) I have this weird thing where I like shipping and enjoying something in a very all encompassing way. Like it’s the same reason why I love it when the show pays credit to weird lore details and have complex mythologies. Why I love mutlimedia franchises like Arcane or comic books. I just love stuff that incorporates the maximum account of canon and stuff. So shipping that cuts out Mel to me feels like it’s ignoring half of Jayce’s storyline and characterization. (it’s actually a similar issue I have with Jilco, like completely independent of any moral questions, I feel like it probably has to ignore all the ways Jinx chooses Vi while Silco dislikes Vi and feels in direct rivalry with her, like if you pretend that Jinx doesn’t want to reconnect with Vi you cut out a huge chuck of her characterization, if you pretend that he doesn’t hate Vi you cut out a huge chunk of his and if you incorporate both things you end up for a very unpleasant and unfun situation)

And it took me a while to realize that that is a totally random taste and probably kind of a weird and not that useful and healthy taste in the first place, that I prefer to include as much obscure canon compliancy.

Like there is nothing morally wrong or problematic and it might even be creative if you pretend that let’s say only the first three episodes exist and just ignore everything that comes after. It’s just not how my brain works. Which doesn’t mean that I dislike the ships, it’s just that personally struggle to see/ship them in an “OTP” kind of way.

3.) I feel like the more League style JayVik with Glorious Evolution Viktor sounds like it would be much more my style and kink but I struggle with the fact that I don’t see what this Arcane!Viktor sees in the Glorious Evolution. Like I don’t get a feel for his ideology (ie nothing of that “metal is perfection/erease human frailty/I protect people by getting rid of human error” is there yet) So that leaves me feeling like I have nothing to really hold on to and sink my teeth into (compared to let’s say the revolution vs peace conflict of Silco x Vander or chaos/violence vs. control/morality in Ekko x Jinx)

Like they definitely have some awesome moments in season 1, like Viktor saying that there is always another way or Jayce bringing Viktor to the council meeting at the end episode 9. And I’m totally open to shipping the in season 2 if they get a storyline that appeals to me.

It’s just that in season 1 there just isn’t quite enough there yet for me to go gaga over them.

(plus, I seem to be generically engineered to be a contrarian incapable of liking whatever the most popular ships are, I’m very glad I at least like Cait x Vi. )

Anyway:

Vander x Silco

Just kidding, my current brainrot and obsession. They are everything. It will take a whole while longer till I have vomited out all my thoughts and ideas on them.

Ekko x Jinx

My babies! I love them! I alternate between brainrotting them and Vander x Silco. I want at least some moments between them in season 2 even as I realize that they can't really have a happy ending together in Arcane. They have a special place in my heart and with them I at least I have hope that I can at least get little snippets, little gold nuggets maybe? and if not in Arcane, I can at least still hope for them within extended League lore (League fighting game! Ekko solo game! True Damage AU!)

Cait x Vi

I love them! They are so sweet. They are my comfort food. I need them to be happy and soft and for Vi to get all the hugs and comfort from Caitlyn. They must make up for the angst in all the other pairings by being sane supportive and healthy! (and also romantic and sexy) Lucky for us and them, I think they have what it takes to shoulder that burden.

Mel x Jayce

I really love Mel and I love analyzing them as flawed characters. I don't really see them as a forever couple, but I like analyzing their storyline.

Silco x Jinx

Ah, that thing that within polite tumblr society we pretend doesn't exist. (as somebody who often looks at the a03 stats it will forever be amusing to me that this it is like 8th most popular of all pairings (romantic and platonic) but if you filter down to just porn/explicit fic it shoots up to third (on top of Ekko/Jinx, Silco/Reader and Viktor/Reader, like Ekko/Jinx might make sense, they might just act as a background pairing for a lot of fic, but X/Reader fans being less horny surprised me, I assumed it would be the other way around)

As mentioned above I same problem with them as with JayVik. I feel like as a ship they only make sense if you chuck out a large part of Jinx's characterization that is her connection with Vi.

I'm not going to go into the whole immorality of it, like this is something I would have to defend if I believed in them as a couple, which I don't.

That said, as an appreciater of Silco & Jinx, some seriously talented people ship this, based on the fanart (I'm thinking here of the more gothic/symbolic one, less the NSFW types) [btw JayVik too has some amazing fanart, I look forward to maybe one time shipping it for real].

Vi x Jinx

Again people are probably going to object to "it's incest" or "Jinx is not sane" are not my reasons for not shipping them. But that's personally not how I roll. I'm not saying that there are never ships I wouldn't not ship on morality alone. I'm just "lucky" most of the time that seriously problematic ships are often also knocked out of the running by other categories that matter to me like "I want to imagine them being a long lasting couple" or "I want to see them happy in canon" or "I need to buy that they are most important people to each other" and combined with my "I want my ships to obey the maximum amount of canon", there's just very few actual canon that would portray problematic relationships like that.

That said, pairings with that forever appeal are slightly more likely to exist in epic sibling stories where I can at least see the pull.

But concretely Vi and Jinx just aren't my thing simply on account:

- I think Vi x Cait is cuter - Jinx x Ekko has my brainrot more - I really like Silco & Jinx

Like in a world where all those other relationships sucked I might be tempted to ship it?

Though I feel like my other big rub is that while I see the whole codependency aspect of it, I just personally feel like Vi would be made unhappy by it (compared to let's say a character like Silco who I could buy totally being into a codependent unhealthy relationship) and Vi for some reason to me is not the kind of character I enjoy seeing unhappy (1.) she already suffers a lot in canon 2.) I identify more with her than I sexualize with her).

Cait x Jinx

I can see the non-con appeal, but I'm not into non-con enough to be interested. I don't really see it from a personality combination POV. And I also like Vi so the angst and drama of it making Vi suffer is a turnoff to me rather than a turn on.

Sevika x Vi

I would ship this if Vi x Cait sucked. But more as equals who both love fighting, not in the darkfic kind of way.

Silco x Jayce, Silco x Viktor

's cool. I'll read it if it runs past. I want to support rarepairs.

Silco x Sevika

See Silco x Jayce and Silco x Viktor, with the addition of "would be kind of neat if there was more of it".

Neat, wouldn't mind if more existed, might read it if it scrolled past or just have vague feelings of happiness if it scrolled past:

Cait x Grayson, Mel x Elora, Mel x Silco, Ambessa x any regular character, Ekko x any male Arcane character, Cassandra x any female character

Arcane Ships

Arcane, although quite short with nine episodes, is a very emotional series with well thought out characters and nice graphics. Of course there will be some shippings. Shippings with Jinx are particularly popular. On the one hand, because you already know her from the game "League of Legends", on the other hand, because psychopaths are always well received. And where there are shippings, there are also anti-shippings. And I don't understand why. Because. I love virtually every shipping with Jinx. Silco x Jinx: When you see the two, you notice the close father-daughter bond that the two have with each other. Silco trusts Jinx very much and Jinx is able to open up to him and be who she is. Seeing the two of them I can understand why some ship them together. They are very beautyful. Vi x Jinx: Vi has always been the most important person in Jinx's life. It was only through Vi that Powder became Jinx. Their sibling bond is still very strong and beautyful. So it's no wonder why some ship the two together. Ekko x Jinx: He was in love with her and as children they played together. Now he seems to hate her. But when he's about to deliver the fatal blow, he sees her again as the girl he once loved. He can't kill her. Here, too, it is clear why the two are being shipped together. But other ships are beautyful, too. Vander x Silco: The strong bond the two had. The fact that Silco got the way he is because of Vander. Also, at the end Silco realizes he's no different than Vander. That he only wants to protect his child. Caitlyn x Vi, Victor x Jayce, Jayce x Mel and many more. The dynamic and the emotional bond that the individual characters have to each other makes these shippings so wonderful. And it doesn't matter at all how the individual people are relative, friend or foe. Shippings are fiction and are only shipped because of their connection to each other. And none is worse than the other. I like to include the lore shippings from the game, even if I don't know them. Kayn x Jinx, Lux x Jinx, Ekko x Taliyah... I'm sure these are wonderful too. And yes. I don't like some shippings from the list either. And that's okay too. But then it's better to focus on the shippings you like, than the ones you don't like. Anti-shipping only becomes really disgusting, when the person behind the shipping is questioned. No shipping is better than the other. Especially if you're trying to elevate yourself, because the person is shipping an incestuous or gay ship. Anyway, I want to spread a little love here. Comment or reblog what your favorite Arcane/League of Legends shipping is and why. Detailed texts are welcome.

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shirlleycoyle · 4 years ago

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It’s Time for the Eternal September to End

A version of this post originally appeared on Tedium, a twice-weekly newsletter that hunts for the end of the long tail.

For nearly 30 years, the internet’s culture has been defined by a corporation’s move that seemed to, without any care about what was left behind, ensure that a sense of order would never again drive the growth of this series of tubes.

This phenomenon is, in many ways, the central tension on which the modern internet is built. And it’s a tension that most people aren’t aware of, even though it is an undercurrent secretly framing our online interactions.

I am, of course, discussing the Eternal September, a 1993 move by AOL to allow its users into the free-for-all that is Usenet. In the decades since, the conflict that move created, although long forgotten today, lingers in the way that technical users and not-so-technical users interact.

And, in too many ways, it is the basis for digital conflicts that have nothing to do with back then and everything to do with right now.

It’s time to retire the Eternal September. Twenty-seven years is long enough.

“September 1993 will go down in net.history as the September that never ended.”

— Dave Fischer, a Usenet user, discussing the start of the Eternal September in 1993, the point at which the chaos created by mainstream interest in the internet began to overwhelm the early discussion forums that originally attracted technical users to computer labs on college campuses and pokey modem connections at homes.

At its root, perhaps we can blame AOL for all of this. Image: sarahe/Flickr

How the Eternal September set the stage for decades of online conflict

For decades, internet culture has struggled with the n00bs. For generations, as new people entered the digital gates, there was an inevitable sneer that awaited them as they hit the onramp.

If you’re not in the know, what do you know?

The internet is, of course, not alone in owning this dynamic. It plays out in all sorts of areas that traditionally have nothing to do with technology: High school, internships, sports teams, organized crime syndicates. The little guy knows nothing and has to work their way up. Most don’t. You get the idea.

But on the internet, we all technically should be on equal ground. After all, knowledge is at our fingertips at all times.

Yet tribalism has long defined the internet. We are built around subcultures upon subcultures, and these subcultures have only hardened over time, creating shells of insularity that have proven impenetrable.

And perhaps its most notable form came about in the mid-1990s, when the “Eternal September,” a concept involving the n00bs taking over Usenet, took hold. For those who don’t date back to this era, here’s the general gist: Each school year, thousands of new students would flock to Usenet groups for the first time, hoping to find community or learn from the folks already there. The problem was that they were green and didn’t really know much of anything, so they faced rejection until they got the gist.

In September of 1993, AOL added Usenet access, turning a controlled situation of steady ongoing community growth into something of a flood of never-ending n00bs. Suddenly, the social norms that the Usenet community was built around were broken at the seams, never to be repaired.

This was a major communal shift, and one that put early online users on the defensive. To put it simply, people were dismissive of their fellow users based on nothing other than the domain attached to their email address. It was an easy signifier; if you had an AOL.com email address, you were a dork, or beyond saving.

An essay on the commercialization of the internet, written in 1995 by MIT student Christopher R. Vincent, put the situation like this:

As accessing the Internet continues to grow easier for the novice user, it is inevitable that many of these social guidelines will fall to the wayside. This is not to say that new users should be denied access to Internet resources. It has been the first reflex in many newsgroups to flame any user who posted from an online service provider. Some of the larger providers, such as America Online have not received a very warm welcome to the network (note the formation of the alt.aol-sucks newsgroup). This reaction does not necessarily stem from elitism, but from a genuine fear that as more and more users appear, Usenet will fall apart. Indeed, this is a valid concern. The current system is not designed for the commercial-oriented direction the Internet is now taking.

Over time, the close association between AOL and lamers subsided, in part because our online access points evolved toward providers decided by local area, rather than consumer-oriented services.

So many flame wars fought over digital turf. Image: Anthony Cantin/Unsplash

But this dynamic of conflict and savvy emerged in other ways. When web-based communication alternatives emerged to replace Usenet, new types of turf wars appeared: Apple vs. Microsoft; open source vs. proprietary; Something Awful vs. Fark; Digg vs. Reddit; liberal bloggers vs. conservative bloggers; early adopters vs. technical laggards; iPhone vs. Android. You get the idea.

In many ways, these ideological battles of the digital age only found gasoline with the advent of social mediums, which helped to better connect people, but failed to account for the side effects that came with all that.

But the internet, early on, played into this tribalism in ways that allowed it to evolve into something dangerous.

“The newbies could not be forced to accept what we now understand as a central tenet of cyberlibertarianism: that cyberspace, too, was a place, separate from the world, and thus free. For it all to work, all the visionaries needed was for everyone to recognize a small set of self-evident truths.”

— Bradley Fidler, a researcher with the UCLA Computer Science Department, discussing in the IEEE Annals of the History of Computing the rise of what he calls the Eternal October—the understanding that “it is no longer possible to pretend (no matter one’s privilege) that cyberspace can circumvent the politics of civilization.” At the time he wrote this, it was October 2016, ahead of a U.S. election that helped bring some scary forces into the world. I can only imagine how Fidler must feel in October of 2020.

The calendar never stops. Image: Eric Rothermel/Unsplash

Why, in many ways, the Eternal September is still going strong

Look, I’m not going to tell you that we have a constant influx of newbies hitting the internet at all times. That certainly is not what I mean when I describe the Eternal September as an ongoing thing.

But I do think that the spirit that led to the Eternal September becoming a landmark in the first place is still very much there. It has simply taken new forms.

There’s a modern term for what this is called, in fact: Gatekeeping. The idea that, because of your identity or lack of experience, you shouldn’t have access to an online community.

Now, to be clear, there are lots of kinds of gatekeeping in terms of the internet—for example, the technical barriers created by large companies to shape the broader network, whether internet service providers like Comcast or Verizon, or major tech firms like Google or Facebook. Those figures deservedly need their callouts.

But in this case, I’d like to focus on a particular cultural kind of gatekeeping, the kind that leaves people out for reasons of elitism, fear, or simple “othering.”

Earlier this month, a great example of this type of gatekeeping emerged on Twitter when a user claimed that they assumed anyone who used a mouse to program was a junior programmer. That user (rightly) got criticized over it—though I’ll pass on linking the viral tweet, because who needs to add to that kind of drama? But examples that don’t get called out in quite that way abound online, and they represent the way that users tend to focus on their own tribes.

Back in 2017, before our world became even more divided, CBC News columnist Ramona Pringle wrote a piece about how digital tribalism has proven a nasty side effect of highly amplified online echo chambers:

In and of themselves, tribes aren’t inherently bad. We all long to be part of something bigger than ourselves, and tribes fulfill that need. But where we get into trouble is when we introduce borders, which separate my land from your land, and by extension, my tribe from your tribe. When borders are violated, we fight. This, in broad strokes is the root of all war.

The Eternal September, in many ways, was the opening salvo in decades of division on the internet. And in the years since, it has only gotten worse.

In many ways, we understand the people around us even less than we did a few years ago. We aim for the jugular instead of the handshake. And by the time the word “compromise” is thrown around, it’s already too late. It’s a sign of weakness.

It is perhaps sad to think about, considering the early internet was built around utopian dreams. But it’s where we are. I’ll let you draw the through line between ’90s programmer/IT elitism and some of the internet’s modern day problems, because ultimately all those programmers helped lay the foundation for today’s tech infrastructure.

I’m still idealistic that some of that utopian spirit is out there, if you know where to look. But I wonder if, in the big fight for protecting netiquette, the early internet set a bad example for all the people that came after, who jumped in not looking for help, but looking for a fight. The initial separation between the normal and the technical that the Eternal September fostered underlined the tribalism that other internet users follow without even thinking about it. It discourages people from taking part in communities—especially those underrepresented in STEM fields—and sows the kinds of division that attract users to misinformation.

And I wonder if the same types of users who criticized the n00bs way back when are the same folks who can help get us back—by setting an open-arms example that other communities can follow.

At a time when Godwin’s law is less an observation and more a genuine worry, perhaps there are bigger fish to fry than whether or not someone asked a technical question the right way … and those technical users might need to shift their plan of attack accordingly.

“We need to make sure that Rust is prepared to welcome people who are just learning about Rust today. We don’t want anyone to feel like they’re late to the party.”

— Tim McNamara, a software developer and writer who focuses on the Rust programming language, making a case for leaning into the Eternal September, as far as the Rust community goes. It’s a refreshing take from someone in a technical community, and an approach that others should follow.

So, you might be wondering: Why write about this topic, and why now?

Honestly, what got me thinking about it was one specific reaction to a recent piece I wrote about the mainstream demise of FTP. I aimed really broad with that piece, because honestly, that’s usually who I write for—someone who knows something about technology, but who doesn’t know everything and is curious about learning more.

Functionally, the point of my piece was that plain vanilla FTP is on its way out, a vestige of the past for the vast majority of people, thanks to its forthcoming removal from major web browsers. But there are people in narrow spaces who likely will never stop using it—or, who choose not to stop.

While I can get technical, I generally write for regular people who know a thing or two about technology but who, perhaps, aren’t engineers.

And well, this user was a technical user in a highly technical role. And they decided to mock it for not covering specific technical cases where it might persist, rather than spending five seconds considering that they may not be the target audience for this piece. Cockroaches are everywhere—you don’t have to tell me.

I’ve seen this with other things we’ve written as well. Last year, I ran a piece about OS/2’s continued use on the NYC subway system, and I spotted a reader who got upset because we focused on the obvious novelty of a vintage operating system being used in a high-profile way, rather than focusing on the low-level technical aspects that may appeal to that specific user but may go over everyone else’s heads.

I get it. You might get upset if you dive into this with the expectation that we’re going to talk about code or infrastructure on here, and that’s not what you get.

But the reason that technology content is often written more broadly is because, well, writers often want to open up the gates and encourage people to take a deeper look into tech. As much fun as it is to do a deep technical dive into the nuances of how a system is designed, there is a deep threat of losing people if you go too deep without explaining why they should care.

Tying back to our discussion of the Eternal September in this piece, I would also like to make a broader point: We have to figure out a way to bridge the gap between technical and non-technical users online. To pretend that there isn’t room to offer a helping hand, or that we can just focus on our own tiny bubble, just isn’t working anymore.

In September of 1993, well-established users who felt their territory was being encroached on by people who didn’t earn their place in the digital culture reacted by being inhospitable to those users.

It’s nearly three decades later, and in the years since, tech has very much won. Our world has been redefined by it, in ways large and small. And while technical corners can and should exist, we should no longer pretend that technical users have a monopoly on these stories.

And, honestly, given the way that technology has negatively affected the lives of so many, we need to do a better job explaining it to the average person, so they have a chance to grab a hold of the ways that algorithms define what we see online, or how automation might reshape our lives and careers, in ways good and bad.

The Eternal September is over. We’re well into October now. We need to open up the gates.

It’s Time for the Eternal September to End syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/

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fortheloveofcringe · 4 years ago

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September 25,2020; 11:38 p.m. “A severe case from the introspective saboteur”

I started this year reading a bunch of self-help books under the assumption that I had to be fixed and something was wrong with me.

I though I was going to go crazy this year. There was so much adversity from internal to external and I was just waiting for that moment when I finally snap. Where I lose control of my narratives and just become completely unhinged.

The most challenging part of 2020 was not to drown myself with the thoughts I have with my head. That there was someway not to evade the thinking but there was a way to structure my thoughts to make sense of everything compared to just loathing every conceived idea, bad or good.

I felt like I had the privilege to do this. Some don’t, and this essay isn’t formed in a way where I want you to think that you might be doing something wrong because you haven’t conceived the ideas by yourself. I have been through that rabbit hole and all I can say is, let’s all be thankful that we can think, but sometimes the very thoughts we have stop us from accepting the truth of ourselves and others.

My mission was simple. Figure out where everything was stemming from. Understand why it occurs from time to time and then if possible, cut the roots.

I devoted a sincere amount of time to trace where my actions where coming from, first. The things I talk about, the videos I share and upload, the photos I post, my performance and art pieces, my conversations and interactions with other people, and my conversations and interactions with myself.

It’s a crippling puzzle piece. To trace the pedigree of what makes Hambert the Hambert that you know, then realizing the Hambert that I know and the Hambert that isn’t. I realize this account is actually important but at the same time not something to be stressed out about.

“Who am I?”

“What’s my Identity?”

I had to understand myself first. The question of who am I was very simple to answer. I would go through a day where I would list down the things that were obvious about me. Things that I love and the things that keep me going.

I would list down facts that I know within me without listening to the auditorium of people in my head that formed a probable baseless description of who I was. And that assumption was that I was a “loving” and “caring” person.

The fact scared me. I wasn’t either of those two. I was not loving nor caring. I was a robot programmed to be “nice.”

Although this may sound self-deprecating, I clearly understood the separation between those words. Nice isn’t always pure. Loving and Caring can be harsh. The awareness opened a door of growth.

The thing about me is that I am always self-conscious about how I play a role in the scene of my daily life. The villain role has been my role for years. I was either an asshole for my honesty or a manipulative monster as people would call me. I hated these words. I assume these words were born out of the fact that I always had the truth in my tongue and no one could endure hearing it. People loved lies and niceties.

And I craved acceptance.

I went around my country in my early 20’s hoping to understand people more. In Manila, people were more acclimated to those who know how to portray a role in society, it was like being in a baseball field with tall buildings and traffic and people like you better if you speak and project yourself in a certain elevated way. In Cebu, people were more acclimated to those who are true to themselves because it is exhausting to be around people who pretend. Ultimately what I realized is that practically no one cared if you are or you are not who you are. The energy you give in a space is what mattered.

In my hometown, it’s a combination of both. When you’re in a province, you have to act like a Canadian basically. Canadians are nice but distant people. Too much interaction could lead to you being the soup of the dinner gossip and not interacting at all would be the equivalent of being so incapable of social graces that you become a pariah.

I was confused. My orientation about the world was usually, I’m either one or another. I’m either good or bad. There was no mixture of anything, who am I was blurring out. Because I was either one of those two and most of the times I am the two. This is where I saw myself. I was human. As confused as everybody else.

I think one of the most profound lessons I got from travelling from a young age is that everybody is just meat, organs and bones with stories inside them. I think that’s the most grounding thing I understood, my ego can’t go big because I am meat and bones, I am capable of death and decay, when you die you sort of float around in terms of lingering tales of who we were on Earth. We are tales, the limiting limitless. Even the biggest stars decay. The smallest particle decay. So it really doesn’t matter who you are in society. The role you play is for you to decide. It’s for your energy to decide. Ability will decide and ultimately, you have the choice to let it be influenced by those around you.

Influence was a major chess piece in my identity. From the things and people I hated and loved. There was always a review about it or a whisper from a friend that informed me of how I was to choose whether to like something or not. My identity was built by the endless likes and comments that I got from a post. The first photo I see on my newsfeed. The products under my online cart. The men I swiped right to. It was always a proposition. Always a suggestion by something other than me.

I hated it. It made me ailing to my stomach. Knowing my identity was built not by the things I myself chose but by things that was offered to me by the moment they present themselves. In some level, sure, it could have been my choice, but man do I whisper things to myself when I realized I have never in my life chose for myself. It was like I was a puppet of the opinions of others on which choices were assumed most excellent, what I should be, better, and what I should associate myself with, only the best. This truly made me lose it.

I had to step back.

I had to stop anything that might influence me.

Anything that would make me not think for myself.

It was even getting harder to do things. When I thought of this ideology, I also started questioning the intentions of what I do. Do I it for myself? or is there someone other than me that I am trying to leave a good impression with. All my life I felt like I was buying the goodwill of others by being some sort of idiotic pleasant mannequin. This, once again made me unravel. It made detest parts of myself even more.

What was I suppose to do now?

All I knew my entire life was to please people. All I know is I wouldn’t survive if I isolate myself, my psychiatrist told me this. The world is truly unkind to those who choose the path of becoming self-possessed. The moment you choose for yourself is the moment you become a monster in the eyes of many. But is this of any importance? to value those who are behind me in knowing myself?

I have to say most of the times I was all alone, not because I chose to be alone, but because even with a bunch of people around me, there was no one else who could fathom the depths of my thoughts as I do to myself. No one could understand it. Sometimes it will be coated by toxic positivity, even be shrugged off by those who I chose to hopefully comprehend the ambiguity that I am. But no one knows the riddle but me. When I communicate, I usually just get disappointed, even with therapists, because people only want to hear what they want to hear. They cluster out information based on what appeals to them. Even the Mormons who I thought would be very open about discussing life has limited comprehension. Everything else is white noise to those who have already painted a poem in their head.

I didn’t exactly know what to do anymore. It felt like driving a car with it’s brakes malfunctioning as you hit a brick wall.

I arrived at a point where nothing excited me. Not anything that I used to find joy with, brings me out of the door. I think the most depressing part was when I realized that when I age each year, even when I try to make something remarkable out of my life, soon enough, after I’m gone from the surface of this giant floating rock in space, it will be worthless because, it will just disappear, the world itself will either burn or those who carry the stories will never make it out of this planet. I keep thinking about the end of time and the inevitable oblivion. Like it’s close to my face. It really all is futile.

The stasis began in the middle of the pandemic. The second wave was much worse. Everyone was believing it was all a hoax which then exposed themselves to the risks without an afterthought. Everyone I knew was suffocating from my usual.

I’m glad I trained myself to be properly alone.

I keep thinking about the nights when I was trying to make sense of what I was realizing before me. I felt that my mind is currently undergoing a transmutation and that I had no one but myself to unload all of my discoveries.

The books I was suddenly reading. The symbols in my dreams and in my waking life. The music, the stories, the myths and the psychological research I was exposed to. I keep on wondering why things were suddenly approaching me. Not is a suggestive way but as if the golden pail to my vast waters of thought was suddenly appearing in my hands.

I see them scattered in my head.

Now the pail is present.

I imagine pouring everything slowly.

The first drops. I’ll begin by stating that in fourth grade, I remember the elated feeling I had when it was time to discuss science, specially when the topic was about the solar system and the planetary compositions of each planet. I started making sense of why my fascinations with space tickled my brain. I longed for the adventure that I might experience. In my mind I could travel to those fields of blue or red, glide on the rings. Hold the stars in my hands and swim through the vastness of the unknown.

Planets were named after mythological Gods and Goddesses. By the time I was in high school, I was always left alone in our apartment by afternoon. I remember my classes were conducted from 6 a.m. to 12 noon. So by the afternoon, I was buzzing from knowledge and wanted more. My mother and I had a recent conversation about how she intentionally created a small library of books back then when I was in my sophomore year. She said besides the role of being a solo parent hindering her to not be able to properly coach us with literacy, it was also in her will to allow us to discover things on our own. My 1 o’clock to dinnertime was composed of 3 things, music, examining my emotions, and then the best part, reading books.

They took me to adventures where my physical plane felt but no consequence was to be faced. It was like being God. To foresee, to advance to the last page or not. To know the ending or not. To start a new venture by opening a page. Live a life of another without actually living it. Pausing, feeling, amusing, thinking and then dreaming.

The Greek and Egyptians were most fragrant to me. The gold in the tombs made me think about design and intention of design. The sculptures of Greek bodies made me think of beauty and the meaning of symbols. I also had a deep romance with horror stories. I love how they made my hair raise. I love the twists and turns, the blood and the ghosts. The moral that life can end at any point.

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rasbari · 7 years ago

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WALIDAH IMARISHA.— What are y’alls definition of abolition? What is transformative justice? Are they the same thing?

adrienne maree brown.— I tend to think of abolition as one result of transformative justice: abolition is the end of prisons; transformative justice is the methods people use to uproot injustice patterns in communities. I tend to think of abolition as a totality, and I think that can be tricky. People set out to abolish slavery and we ended up with the prison industrial complex because while there were surface and policy level shifts, the culture did not shift. That deep underlying racism and classism remains and is now roaring to the surface as we write this. So, while I identify as an abolitionist, I find speaking about the iterative tangible work of TJ makes more sense to me now–I don’t simply want the prisons gone, I want a radically different way of interacting with each other to grow.

ALEXIS PAULINE GUMBS.— I learned both of those terms in the context of the organization Critical Resistance, and I learned abolition as a critical and generative term, and a movement with three main components: dismantle, change, build. That definition of abolition included the daily work of generating relationships, systems, and processes that produce peaceful, sustainable results that fully address the unaddressed fears, intergenerational trauma, and systemic violence that prisons, policing, and surveillance (the systemic external version, and the internalized versions) pretend to mitigate.

I think what Adrienne is saying about the abolition of slavery is important, and it’s actually what attracts me to abolition as a poetic term. It automatically invokes slavery–and the philosophy and practice of abolition targets enslaving practices in general, and points out that prison and policing are enslaving practices that are directly related to the history of U.S. chattel slavery.

LEAH LAKSHMI PIEPZNA-SAMARASINHA.— My standard definition of transformative justice is “any way of creating safety, justice, and healing for survivors of violence that does not rely on the state (by which I mean the prison industrial complex, the criminal legal system, foster care, children’s aid, the psychiatric and disability prison industrial complex–e.g. psych hospitals, nursing homes, and extended care- Immigration, the TSA, and more) A movement created by Black, Indigenous, and People of Color feminist revolutionaries to free our people.”

It’s really important for me to state that transformative justice is a Black and Brown feminist movement because there’s been a ton of recent efforts on the part of white radicals to whitewash away and erase the Black and Brown feminized labor, scholarship, and struggle that creates these movements. I’m not just talking about the transformative justice movement of the last 20 years in North America; I’m talking about Mohawk Clan Mother law on Six Nations, the trans women of color sex workers like Miss Major, Sylvia P. Rivera, Mirha-Soleil Ross, who fought police at Stonewall and also fought back physically against transphobic violence on the street. This work we are doing is not new, and no, white punks did not invent everything.

I believe that you can’t have transformative justice without prison abolition. If you think prisons, cops, and carceral-ableist institutions are fixable by giving them a sensitivity workshop, we don’t have the same political vision of what we want and how to get there. Believing this means you’re not looking at how what we experience, with policing and prisons in North America, comes directly from the Fugitive Slave Act, the Indian Act, the Mann Act, and various anti- Asian and anti-migrant/refugee laws–from S-COMM to White Canada and the Chinese Exclusion Act–as well as ableist laws like the Ugly Laws, and laws that criminalize sex workers’ employment. All of those laws were created directly out of racist, colonial, ableist patriarchy and they all directly increase gender violence and policing.

For a lot of people, transformative justice means nonviolence. I disagree with this, because I believe that self-defense and armed movements for liberation can be part of achieving transformative justice.

MIA MINGUS.— To me, the two are intimately connected, but are not the same thing. Abolition is the ending of prisons, the prison industrial complex, and a culture of prisons (e.g. criminalization, punishment, disposability, revenge). Transformative justice is a way to respond to violence within our communities in ways that 1) don’t create more harm and violence and 2) actively work to cultivate the very things that we know will prevent violence, such as accountability, healing, trust, connection, safety.

I understand abolition to be a necessary part of transformative justice because prisons, and the PIC, are major sites of individual and collective violence, abuse, and trauma. However, transformative justice is and must also be a critical part of abolition work because we will need to build alternatives to how we respond to harm, violence, and abuse. Just because we shut down prisons, does not mean that these will stop. Transformative justice has roots in abolition work and is an abolitionist framework, but goes beyond abolishing prisons (and slavery) and asks us to end–and transform the conditions that perpetuate–generational cycles of violence such as rape, sexual assault, child abuse, child sexual abuse, domestic violence, intimate partner abuse, war, genocide, poverty, human trafficking, police brutality, murder, stalking, sexual harassment, all systems of oppression, dangerous societal norms, and trauma.

WALIDAH IMARISHA.— I’ve written that when I talk about prison abolition, people look at me like I just said aliens from outer space landed. What connections do you see between science fiction and abolition/transformative justice? What is illuminated when we use fantastical writing to talk about alternative systems of justice?

adrienne maree brown.— our work is to make the unimaginable feel tangible, become a longing. I have worked with organizers for years and we’ve found the edges of what we are building. In science fiction and visionary fiction it feels like we give ourselves permission to move beyond that edge. We can go to a moon where disability is embraced, or futures where we are somatically networked–or postcapitalism, as my fellow panelists did in Octavia’s Brood. Beyond that edge we find solutions and more problems, which is also important to me in transformative justice–that it isn’t utopian.

ALEXIS PAULINE GUMBS.— Yes. First of all, I would say that prison is an accurate name for our contemporary culture, and prison as culture presumes a certain set of problems and reinforces a dominant reaction in our imaginations. Sylvia Wynter talks about reservation–which is also an accurate name for our contemporary culture–meaning that at the same moment indigenous people are confined to reservations by the state, our imaginations are also confined. All of us. And, I would also say that the moments in which prisons became a dominant feature of the U.S., our imaginations (for all, not just those of us disproportionately imprisoned) also became imprisoned. The way we imagine work, our relationships, the future, family everything, is locked down.

I see science fiction as liberation work that allows our imaginations to live beyond prison. I think that’s why so many folks in prison have loved Octavia’s Brood and created their own sci-fi collections. They have been seeking to write their way beyond prison for a long time.

adrienne maree brown.— We perpetuate the prison state for so many reasons; we internalize the narrative that we can’t do any better than this and we become comfortable inside the limits, demanding someone else make the changes. Transformative justice is hard because it requires self-examination, being uncomfortable as things change.

LEAH LAKSHMI PIEPZNA-SAMARASINHA.— When I was a teenaged survivor of childhood sexual abuse and partner abuse within my family, some of the first places that gave me hope and visions for how violence and abuse could change were science fiction. I read Marge Piercy’s Woman on the Edge of Time, Ursula K. Le Guin’s The Dispossessed and Starhawk’s The Fifth Sacred Thing before I turned 20, and they all had these incredible ideas for how rape culture could change. In their worlds, everyone was trained in self-defense and de-escalation, and there were systems of atonement, reparations and healing when violence did occur. In contrast, mainstream survivor literature didn’t have any visions for how sexual abuse and partner violence could end. Science fiction was this place of rich prefigurative survivor politics that backed up my dreams of creating and participating in anti-violence politics where my and other survivors visions were at the center of the work, not a side note.

MIA MINGUS.— The visions of transformative justice often feel sci-fi-fi to many–a world without child sexual abuse, a world free of sexual violence. We are building a reality that we have never seen before. We are asking people to flex their visioning and dreaming skills, something that is not readily supported in our society. This is especially true for my work with the Bay Area Transformative Justice Collective (BATJC) because we focus on child sexual abuse. So many people do not believe that child sexual abuse can be ended.

Transformative justice is about creativity and imagination. It is about not going with the status quo systems response and, instead, inventing new ways of being. It is about creating what you need with what you have. There are no blueprints or manuals for transformative justice because each incident, individual, and community will have different needs–necessarily so. I always say that this is one of TJ’s greatest strengths and greatest weaknesses because we live in a society where people like to be told what to do; they like to “look up” to someone; they feel more comfortable with the well trodden path and a “boss” or an “expert” with all the answers. Much of my transformative justice work has been about resisting this kind of culture and instead encouraging people to trust themselves and their instincts.

WALIDAH IMARISHA.— In her piece for the Critical Resistance Abolition Now anthology (which is now available as a free download from the organization) Alexis wrote:

What if abolition isn’t a shattering thing, not a crashing thing, not a wrecking ball event? What if abolition is something that sprouts out of the wet places in our eyes, the broken places in our skin, the waiting places in our palms, the tremble holding in my mouth when I turn to you? What if abolition is something that grows?

All three of you have first-hand experience trying to create alternate systems of justice. If we are not just tearing down prisons and police as institutions, but growing something, what are we growing specifically? Mia, especially with your work around transformative justice with survivors of childhood sexual abuse, what seeds are sprouting to address so much trauma?

LEAH LAKSHMI PIEPZNA-SAMARASINHA.— Transformative justice can be a multi-year, survivor-lead circle of people asking someone who has perpetrated abuse and harm to make specific changes and give them reparations. It can also be as small, and big, as interrupting some asshole harassing someone at the same bus stop as me. I think it’s important to say that because it is easy to get overwhelmed. It turns out that ending the prison industrial complex and creating something different with no money and a lot of unpaid femme of color labor is hard. I really appreciate the Everyday Abolition blog because it is a project dedicated to publishing everyday stories of many ways abolition could look like in daily life–those little, big moments of change.

In many transformative justice processes from hell I’ve witnessed, one of the problems is that everybody hits the ground running, totally on adrenaline mode, totally triggered: “We have to do something! Now!” and then they burn out. Bringing healing justice and disability justice principles into transformative justice–which could be anything from asking the ancestors for help in creating justice and transforming harm, to rituals for cleansing and protection when things are hard, to making sure people have their herbs and other supports for stress and anxiety–make all our justice richer, more cripped out, and more possible.

MIA MINGUS.— One of the things we are trying to grow in our work are the kinds of relationships, values, and practices that can concretely support transformative justice. We want the kind of community where any survivor could come forward about their experiences without having to fear being shamed and blamed, ostracized, not believed, harassed, or re-traumatized. The kind of community where people who have harmed and are trying to take accountability could be “out” about the harm they’ve done, without fear of violence or retaliation. Living in a rape culture, we are a long way from this. We also know that “communities” are made up of individual people and the relationships they have with each other; so we are asking people to grow their own skills and practices to be able to build the kinds of relationships with each other where, for example, we can talk about harm we’ve done, no matter how big or how small (e.g. “I used to bully other kids in school when I was younger,” or “I think I might have sexually assaulted someone”).

One of the ways we are doing this is by using our model of “pods.” Your pod is made up of the people that you would call on if you experienced violence, whether you were targeted for violence or you were violent yourself or you witnessed violence. Most people have multiple pods because the people they would call on if they survived violence are often different than the people they would call on to support them in taking accountability for violence they’ve done or harm they’ve caused. We encourage people to think about who their pod people are (how much more sci-fi can we get?) and to grow and deepen their pod.

Our pod people are not necessarily our closest people because this is often where the violence is coming from. We challenge ourselves to actively build our own pods, rather than simply hoping other people will.

adrienne maree brown.— So many beautiful experiments! I included transformative justice as a core principle of emergent strategy, both because it aligns with what I notice in nature–that nothing is disposable–and because the only ways it works, that I’ve seen, are iterative, emergent. I have facilitated many meditations, grievances, conflicts, breakups… and so much of the work is about unlearning dishonesty, whether it’s in the form of complete lies, half-truths, omissions, politeness. I have learned this in myself–the most egregious things I have done always rooted into some unspoken, unacknowledged pain. So I have started with myself, increasing radical honesty in my own life; this has been a focus of my somatics work–learning to stay present in my body while I tell and or hear truth. It has shifted my political work; instead of helping people develop five-year plans, I often find myself supporting people to just be more honest in real time, to speak the truth of the connection (in the organization, network, relationship, family) to get better at tolerating the truth from others. The results are astounding: humans are capable of anything when we are honest–we have boundaries, work sustainably, do the work most needed by our communities (rather than the easiest funded or most media inducing), get out of unhealthy dynamics, feel seen and appropriately valued, participate in authentic intimacy. This is earth, water, fire, and air level stuff. Without these core connections, injustice flourishes.

WALIDAH IMARISHA.— Will Trump’s election have impact on these visions of transformative justice, and the on-the-ground work being done to bring them about?

LEAH LAKSHMI PIEPZNA-SAMARASINHA.— It means we need it more than ever because we really, really can’t trust the system.

adrienne maree brown.— It’s all so scary that a lot of us will drop our eyes from the horizon to the ground right in front of us, or actually tuck our heads in and just kind of roll forward hoping to survive. It’s a daunting time. But: I think our survival depends on being able to hold both views, surviving the present, and supporting the most vulnerable with our eyes on the horizon, looking as far as we can, shaping our reality towards that. The threats now are universal–nuclear war, climate catastrophe–and none of us are served by short sight or normalizing this political moment. I also think that in our fear we get small, we get competitive, we get righteous. Division abounds. Leaning into transformative justice, complexity, unity, being ungovernable together–all of that will be important.

WALIDAH IMARISHA.— What does a futuristic society rooted in the principles of abolition and transformative justice look like to you?

MIA MINGUS.— One of the things about visioning for transformative justice is that, after enough practice, you begin to learn that the most important thing is not to come up with a crystal clear vision with all the answers, but rather to embrace that as we envision new worlds, that envisioning will inevitably change us, which will change our work and so on. You learn that envisioning is an emergent and evolving process that is constantly changing, like a river. One of the visions I have of a society rooted in abolition and transformative justice is that we would all be able to respond–even if it is not perfect–to violence, harm, and abuse in our communities. I envision a society that actively works to prevent violence, harm, and abuse and that understands mistakes as opportunities for growth, realignment, and clarity. I envision that we would truly live from the belief that “no one is disposable.” I envision a society where we could get help from the people in our everyday lives and where we wouldn’t have to leave our communities for healing, safety, or education; a society where we know our neighbors and ourselves, and where individual and collective healing are everyday parts of our lives.

WALIDAH IMARISHA Walidah Imarisha is an educator, writer, public scholar and poet. She is the editor of two anthologies including Octavia’s Brood: Science Fiction Stories From Social Justice Movements. Imarisha is also the author of the nonfiction book Angels with Dirty Faces: Three Stories of Crime, Prison and Redemption and the poetry collection Scars/Stars. She spent 6 years with Oregon Humanities’ Conversation Project as a public scholar facilitating programs across Oregon about Oregon Black history, alternatives to incarceration, and the history of hip hop. Imarisha is currently a Lecturer in Stanford University’s Program of Writing and Rhetoric, and has taught in Portland State University’s Black Studies Department, Oregon State University’s Women Gender Sexuality Studies Department, and Southern New Hampshire University’s English Department.

ALEXIS PAULINE GUMBS Alexis Pauline Gumbs is a Black feminist love evangelist and a community accountable writer and scholar. Alexis is a founding member of UBUNTU, a women of color survivor-led coalition to end gendered violence. She is the author of Spill: Scenes of Black Feminist Fugitivity, a co-editor of Revolutionary Mothering: Love on the Front Lines, and a contributor to Octavia’s Brood: Science Fiction Stories from Social Justice Movements and Abolition Now: Ten Years of Strategy and Struggle Against the Prison Industrial Complex.

LEAH LAKSHMI PIEPZNA-SAMARASINHA Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha is a queer femme sick and disabled Sri Lankan/ Irish/Roma writer, educator and disability and transformative justice organizer. The Lambda and ALA Stonewall Award winning author of Dirty River, Bodymap, Love Cake, Consensual Genocide and co-editor of The Revolution Starts At Home, she co-founded and co-directed QTPOC performance collective Mangos With Chili from 2005-2015. A lead artist with disability justice performance troupe Sins Invalid, she is currently finishing her new book of essays, Care Work: Dreaming Disability Justice Culture and book of poetry, Tonguebreaker. Website: brownstargirl.org

adrienne maree brown adrienne maree brown is a writer, facilitator, healer and pleasure activist living in Detroit. she is co-editor of Octavia’s Brood and author of the forthcoming Emergent Strategy: Shaping Change, Changing Worlds (AK Press 2017).

MIA MINGUS Mia Mingus is a writer, public speaker, community educator and organizer working for disability justice and transformative justice responses to child sexual abuse. She is a queer physically disabled korean woman transracial and transnational adoptee, born in Korea, raised in the Caribbean, nurtured in the U.S. South, and now living in Northern California. She works for community, interdependency and home for all of us, not just some of us, and longs for a world where disabled children can live free of violence, with dignity and love. As her work for liberation evolves and deepens, her roots remain firmly planted in ending sexual violence. Mia is a core-member of the Bay Area Transformative Justice Collective (BATJC), a local collective working to build and support transformative justice responses to child sexual abuse that do not rely on the state (i.e. police, prisons, the criminal legal system). She believes in prison abolition and urges all activists and organizers to critically and creatively think beyond the non-profit industrial complex.

#transformative justice #long post #tw csa

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