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youngmasterwisdomperson · 1 year ago

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I’ve been thinking a lot about what makes for a legitimately helpful superhero who isn’t just a cop with superpowers and even less accountability for their violent actions, and I think it largely comes down to whether I would consider their approach to hero work as more like that of a firefighter or, well, a cop. Because the stereotypical thing for a superhero to do is like, fight criminals, stop muggers, foil bank robberies, that sort of thing, but not a lot of superhero media acknowledges that crimes are largely just symptoms of large-scale socioeconomic and political issues.

I mean, sure, if you’re bullet proof or whatever and there’s someone who’s about to get shot, then by all means stop the guy with the gun. But crime fighting in my opinion shouldn’t be the main focus of any superhero. A great superhero only fights crime in the sense that a fireman might “fight” things like arson and building code violations. The primary goal of a superhero should always be to protect people from danger and take steps to ensure any given disaster doesn’t happen again, or if it does happen again, to ensure that they’ll be more prepared for it the next time around. A great superhero should be fighting to create a world that doesn’t need them anymore.

Well-written interpretations of Superman are especially good at this actually, with a very recent example in the form of the show My Adventures With Superman. This Superman’s goal is never once to fight the bad guys just for the sake of it or because they’re committing crimes and he thinks they ought to be put in jail or anything. In fact, I’m struggling to think of any example in that show where Clark’s motivation in a fight against the villain of the week was anything other than to get civilians out of harm’s way and then save the human bad guys from themselves. This Clark doesn’t want to hurt or imprison anyone! He’s extremely aware of his overwhelming strength and power and capacity to break things by accident, having grown up in a world that may as well have been made of cardboard, and when we see Supes out and about doing casual Superman things, the help he provides is almost never about catching criminals. Most of the time, he’s rescuing cats from trees, helping lost children find their parents, saving people from getting hit by cars, stopping bridges from collapsing, catching people who fall from high places, rescuing people from burning buildings, that sort of thing. This superman is a firefighter type to his very core.

Even when he defeats Dr. Ivo, a man who Clark has been shown to despise for the ways he’s been using his wealth to uproot people from their homes (and for the way he treats women), he doesn’t turn him in to the police. Instead, he notes his state of critical health as a result of the side affects of the Parasite suit, and brings him to the nearest ambulance. Even objectively horrible people who have done terrible things aren’t exempt from Clark’s desire to protect those who cannot protect themselves. Fighting supervillains was never about fighting evil for him. The goal was always to bring people to safety first and foremost, then to de-escalate the situation, neutralizing the source of the threat without causing anyone unnecessary harm. That is what Superman is all about.

Moving away from MAwS for the moment and into the characterization of Superman as a whole, I think that all too often Superman writers who don’t understand the point of the character undersell the importance of Clark Kent, mild-mannered reporter in the ways Supes goes about helping make the world a better place. Far too often in media, superheroes serve only as defenders of an imperfect status quo. They prevent the villains from bringing about whatever change they have in mind that would make the world worse, but more and more often as of late supervillains have been written with pseudo-sympathetic goals and motivations. They’ll pay lip-service to real-world systematic problems and social issues, then proceed to immediately undermine the validity of their stated mission by attempting to fulfill their alleged motives through needlessly ruthless, violent and authoritarian means, which only serves to imply to the audience that any sort of societal change will only make things worse, and that the status quo is the best we can possibly hope for. A bad superman writer will have Superman help the world by punching bad guys really hard. A good superman writer will have him focus on protecting people and saving those in peril instead. But a great superman writer knows that Superman alone is not enough.

Saving people, while noble and righteous and something Supes alone could do to such an effective degree, is ultimately just a patch job. A great Superman fights for a world that no longer needs his help, and Clark Kent is a big part about how he does that. Systematic problems can’t be punched, and bulletproof skin can’t save people from it. Superman can’t encase police brutality in a block of ice, or cut systemic racism to bits with his laser eyes. The tools Superman uses to protect people in a direct, physical sense are therefore not the powers he needs to create real positive change. No, the only thing that can overcome that sort of monster is the spread of information. More specifically, the truth. That’s why out of all of Superman’s abilities, it’s his super hearing and X-Ray vision that offer him the greatest amount of power to enact positive change, because while both of those have their uses as the Man of Steel, they’re actually infinitely more useful to mild-mannered newspaper reporter Clark Kent.

Superman can take on pretty much any physical threat, which is why his greatest foes are always those who threaten the world with problems he can’t punch. Picture in your mind, if you will, Superman’s arch-nemesis. I don’t even have to say his name, do I? Sure, you might debate for a split second the importance of the more direct threats like Braniac, Doomsday, and Zod, but everyone knows who Superman’s true nemesis is, and it isn’t any of them. It isn’t anyone with special powers or the innate capacity to level entire cities, but instead Lex. Fucking. Luther. A human man. A rich CEO, a politician. The living personification of the problems Superman can’t punch. That’s why Clark Kent is so important. Because he’s a reporter for the daily planet. It’s his job to chase leads, seek out the truth and expose it to the world. And Clark hears everything. He knows how severely corrupt the police are, because he can hear them from his office. He knows how awful the prison system is, because he can see what goes on in there through multiple layers of concrete walls.

True, he has to hide his identity as Superman and thus can’t just tell his coworkers everything he sees and hears. And even if he could tell them, it would all amount to little more than hearsay. But Clark Kent can also just follow up on “anonymous tips,” or leave hints of a big story for his coworkers to find and sniff out for themselves. Honestly, being Clark Kent must take infinitely more restraint for Supes than being the Man of Steel, because if he follows up on too many tips or knows too well where to look for leads on too many scandals, he’ll draw too much attention to himself and lose his edge against the bad guys. Hell, even with ample amount of subtlety and restraint I wouldn’t be surprised if Clark came to earn something of a reputation around the office as the “spiders georg” of police corruption and political scandals. And all that on top of that one really good tumblr post about Clark cracking down on lead pipes in Metropolis. Like this man must be a journalism machine, the whistleblower to end all whistleblowers! Superman may be able to save the world, but Clark Kent is the one who can actually change it for the better.

Not to say Superman wouldn’t publicly speak out about these things as well of course. Save enough families from burning buildings and people are bound to start caring about what you have to say sooner or later. And what are the police going to do about it if fucking Superman calls them out? Shoot the man of steel? Arrest a guy who can melt through concrete just by looking at it? Call the fucking military to deal with a man who spends his time rescuing cats from trees and helping old ladies across the street? Superman represents everything that cops want us to think they are, and logically speaking he would fucking despise them. Because Superman stands for Truth and Justice. And all cops are bastards. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

#superman #my adventures with superman #my writing #superheroes #acab

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houseofbrat · 4 months ago

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youtube

Democratic party civil war, you say?

Matt Stoller on Kamala Harris:

There's a fair critique here of Kamala Harris skeptics. What basis do we have for skepticism? I'll lay out my views, which are largely policy-centered. I realize no one cares about what kind of leader Harris will be as President, but if there's one lesson we should take away from this moment, it's that we as a party should try to think more than five minutes ahead instead of panicking ourselves into a rushed decision. I started paying attention to Harris when she became California AG in 2010, because some friends worked to get her elected. It was in the middle of the financial crisis, Bush's and Obama's handling of which eventually led to the emergence of Trump. While AG, she had her most important test as an executive presiding over a big political economy decision - what to do about foreclosure crisis in California. Her position was unusual, because California is a big state, so the AG office is, staffed with many lawyers who can do complex finance analysis. Most states don't. There are only a few places - Texas, NY, Illinois, California - who have the capacity to truly wage independent litigation against powerful institutions like big banks. Harris pledged to do so. [Harris] pledged take on the banks and get something genuinely meaningful for homeowners for a mass legal violation called foreclosure fraud that put them on the hook for trillions. The details aren't important but if you want to know them read Dave Dayen's Chain of Title. It's something I was involved in. After two years where it became obvious Obama was on the wrong side, it was exciting to see a Democrat finally stand up.

Only, she didn't. Harris signed a sham settlement with a big fake fine number, that mostly let the banks do whatever they want, and I believe even get a tax deduction for the fines they did pay. As a result, a lot of people lost their homes who shouldn't have. That was a tragedy. But then when she was running for President in 2020, she *bragged* about what she did. It was rancid, similar to the worst of Obama. https://theintercept.com/2019/03/13/kamala-harris-mortage-crisis… Later it came out that her staff had given her memos on how she should have prosecuted (later) Trump Treasury Secretary Steve Mnuchin's bank OneWest, but just chose not to. It's not hard to see that, had Obama (and Harris) actually put the bad guys away, a whole slew of Trump officials would have been in jail rather than in the cabinet. https://politico.com/news/2019/10/22/kamala-harris-attorney-general-california-housing-053716…

I didn't pay as much attention to her big tech work or her time in the Senate, but she's quite close to a whole slew of people in the industry, top execs at Google and Facebook like Sheryl Sandberg. While AG, which was when these companies cemented their dominance in America, Harris's office saw Facebook as "a good actor." She took no actions against big firms as AG, opposed important legislation, and even started a privacy-related "monthly working group that included representatives from Facebook, Google, Instagram, and Kleiner Perkins. In internal documents, Harris' office referred to the companies as "partners."' Again, standard operating Obamacrat stuff. https://businessinsider.com/kamala-harris-silicon-valley-big-tech-facebook-attorney-general-2021-11…… Harris's circle of friends and family are biglaw Obamacrats. Her brother-in-law Tony West was a high-level Obama official, and now GC of Uber. Her niece worked at Uber, Slack, and FB, and her husband was a biglaw partner at Venable and DLA Piper. His clients included Walmart, Merck, and an arms dealer, and there were ethics questions since DLA Piper had a long list of foreign clients. https://nytimes.com/2020/08/17/us/elections/doug-emhoff-kamala-harriss-husband-takes-a-leave-of-absence-from-his-law-firm.html…

How does this differ from Biden's track record? As a Senator, you could read him like Harris. Biden did whatever the credit card companies wanted, was in on bad trade deals, and was VP when Obama mishandled the financial crisis. But Biden always had a tinge of populism. In the 1990s, he went after Stephen Breyer in his hearing for the Supreme Court, calling him an elitist for instance. He was a foreign policy guy, and never liked the Silicon Valley and Wall Street execs, he always thought they looked down on him. As President, he delegated and ignored most domestic policy, and so some of it went to populists and union people while most of it went to neoliberals like Janet Yellen and Neera Tanden. The net result of Biden's choices is a mix - good policy in a few areas, and rank incompetence across a host of them, as well as fantastically incompetent messaging. What was Harris's role? As VP, she's largely been absent from most policy areas I follow, so I don't know how to think about her views on Biden's economic agenda. She's certainly never talked about or been involved in anything competition or regulatory minded that I can see. She does not seem to be a player in any of the big money areas. That said, Harris has proven incapable of managing important tasks like addressing or even explaining the obviously dysfunctional asylum process at the border, so it's hard to know how much she *can* actually do in terms of competence. There's also a lot of inertia here, it's not like she can change everything on a dime. She will inherit Biden's legacy and officeholders, and she hasn't done much as VP to thwart economic policy, for good or ill.

So how will she be as President? I don't want to overstate my read, it's just a guess. But since we're all just guessing, what I suspect is she'll lead to a total wipeout of Dems in 2026 and 2028 as the party turns wholly against working people, and a more complete Trump-y style realignment. And that's if she wins. So that's the optimistic scenario.

Dem Civil War commencing...

#my gif #2024: Year of the Wood Dragon #USA #politics #democratic party #joe biden #nancy pelosi #alexandria ocasio cortez #glenn greenwald #twitter #matt stoller #kamala harris #critique #Youtube #election 2024

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jpitha · 2 years ago

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Just a Little Further 26

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25

*six months later*

It's been half a year, but I can't believe we're already on our third ship! High Line took two months instead of the one that Omar first promised, but that was because he and his crew were getting use to the process and how best to refurbish the ships. Then after that I made the decision to refurbish the food tugs, but those were (relatively) easy. New thrusters, some strengthening of the cargo containers and a few brand new ones and that was it. Once that was finished the food deliveries increased over 30%!

You would not believe how much cheaper, more abundant food improves one's legitimacy. As soon as that was finished and the food rolled in, almost all of the last grumblings about me coming in and "declaring" myself Empress died down.

I couldn't wait, and we took High Line out for a quick spin around the system after it was completed. Omar asked to be in control for the trip and since he refurbished it, I let him. While Omar was looking through the Builder archives, he found plans for a starship's control chair. It was kind of line a small version of my Throne, or the Builder chairs back on the Reach. From the chair, a Builder can interface with the ship and control it, almost like how AIs are ships back home.

I asked Starlight, River and Ocean if they wanted to come along and see what we did to their ship. The whole time they looked around in wonder and surprise at the work we did. Starlight said it felt like a new ship and River marveled that we were able to add so many features to it.

I didn't tell them about the wormhole generator. I don't know why. Maybe I still think we need some kind of secret surprise.

Really though, I couldn't do what I'm doing now if it wasn't for my fellow Builders and our staff. Ava is my second in command and handles most of the interactions between us and the institutions here at the Reach. Bank, Security Team, and Maintenance Crew; she works with them to bring their needs to my attention, and then we work out a solution together. She still tends to be a little more... aggressive than I prefer, but she knows who is Empress. She makes me more assertive and I'm able to cool her down. I think we work well together.

Um'reli has dug deep into the Builder systems here on the Reach. She's working out how much work the old Builders did day to day to make the Reach run so smoothly. When I told her that the Nanites say that it was a full time crew of 10 she believed me. It's a lot of work. There's still only the 4 of us, so we still can't run at full capacity, but she's got the fire suppression systems up and running, the environmental systems are much more efficient and even the gravity works better. We're operating with a power surplus now! I asked Omar build another reactor for the Reach and soon we will have power to spare.

Omar, he has taken over as my shipbuilder and is really growing into the role. When we were on FarReach, printing was just a hobby and his main role was ship's battery, but here he's become a master printer. Between the database we got from FarReach and the existing Database on the Reach, we have more than enough plans to make anything we need. He even worked out that Reach of the Might of Vzzx used to have defensive batteries! He found the hardpoints and has been using downtime on the printers to make new laser batteries. We don't know where the original weapons went, so we're just going to add Starjumper class laser batteries to the existing hardpoints. We're so large and will soon have such a power surplus that he says running the huge laser batteries should be no problem. That should help hold off anyone who comes to pay us a visit.

Speaking of visiting, I haven't told anyone, but I unlocked the Gate last month. With two ships and the laser batteries almost done, I figured it was safe to unlock the Gate.

I'm anxious to go back out and visit the Wilds and see if we can figure out what happened. I don't think I'm ready to admit to the others yet, but I'm also excited to visit other Starbases and planets as Empress and see just how much of this side of the Galaxy is happy to see me. Waves and smiles for everyone happy to see me, Starjumper laser batteries for those who aren't.

I'm kidding about the Starjumper laser batteries if people aren't happy to see me. I don't think I want to restart a war of conquest, do I?

These days, I spend a lot of my time on the Throne, just watching things. I find it soothing to sit here and just... feel the world go by. Things are running so smoothly, and the people legitimately seem pleased that we're here and working, I like to, I don't know, absorb the vibes?

It's just after breakfast and I'm settling down for a day of reports and presiding over a few small disagreements when a chirrup interrupts my reverie. I glance over and... It's a signal from outside the Reach? I extend my senses into the local space and I feel...

Activity from the Gate. Someone is coming through.

"Ava, Um'reli, Omar! We've got a ping from the Gate. Someone is coming though!" I'm excited to tell everyone.

Omar is less excited. "What? Okay, Reactors to 200%, defensive batteries online, sound general alert.." I can hear hooting in the background. Omar insisted on activating the old alert tones and we have been sending out messages reminding everyone to listen to them.

"Omar, Omar! It's just someone coming through. Do we really need to get ready to shoot them?"

"Uh, yes Melody? We have no idea who it is. I didn't even know the Gate was unlocked. Did you do that?"

"Yes, I did it a month ago. I figured we were ready for visitors then. I'm so excited to see who is coming to visit us!"

Over the mental connection, I can feel Ava, Omar and Um'reli staring at me.

Uh oh.

Um'reli sounds exasperated. "Melody, we are at least a year away from unlocking the Gate. We have some defensive lasers sure, but we don't even have the new reactor online and we have two small ships now. Two. If that's a human dreadnought, we'd be utterly outmatched. What were you thinking?"

"Um'reli be nice, I'm sure Melody was just so happy about our progress she wanted people to come and see it and see her." Ava jumps to my defense.

"It's still something she should have run by us first. We could have given her more insight to our actual readiness..."

"She is the empress Um'reli, and besides, what's done is done. Now we have to get ready for our new visitors. Melody, have they come though yet, do we have a visual on them?"

I'm looking out into the system and I see the ship. It's... huge. It's way larger than anything we know about on this side of the Galaxy. It doesn't look like a Starjumper though, it's the wrong shape.

"It's through. Here, I'll send you what I see through the long range scopes. I toss the visual feed over to them. Um'reli is as confused as I am, but Omar has a sharp intake of breath and Ava swears.

"What is it Omar? Do you recognize the ship Ava?"

"I do, but I wish I didn't. That's the Vengeance of Lavinia. It's the flag carrier for Venus." Omar sound disgusted.

Ava sounds downright angry. What the hell are they doing out here?"

Um'reli zooms in on the image and tries to enhance to get more detail. "It Looks like FarReach didn't succeed in keeping us quiet like she wanted though. Clearly someone told them we were out here and they're coming to say hello."

I don't know much about Imperial Venus, I grew up on Meíhuā. From what I understand and what Omar explains while Ava makes a face, they took over governance of the Sol system about a decade ago. They mostly control the inner planets. The High Mars Cities are the borderlands, and from then out is the OPA, the Outer Planet Alliance. They're a bunch of small starbase city-states that pool their resources together to hold off Venus. It's been a back and forth for the entire time that Venus has claimed sovereignty.

Venus came out into the colonies to throw their weight around a few years back, but they got massacred at Parvati, and they caused trouble over at Sarbase Picaresque. This was all years before we left. A group of residents and a faction of AIs kicked them out. I think a colony ship was involved too? I wasn't living there then, I've heard all this information second and third hand. But, since then, they've stayed in the Sol system and dialed down the anti-AI rhetoric. Nobody is pleased to see them when they come visiting.

Still, it was visitors. Guess we should see what they want.

"Maybe they have people who want to come join us?" I try to sound hopeful. I don't think it worked.

"More like spy on us." Omar said darkly. "Melody, I'm going to go against my usual stance on you using your Voice on people. These folks need to be told how we do stuff here."

I can feel Um'reli nodding. "I agree. We don't want them to start anything, but like don't lead with Voicing them. If you did that, they'd probably try and run and we'd lose any advantage we have. Play it cool. Be nice, be welcoming. It's not like we couldn't use more Builders. If folks are coming out because they want to come out, we should welcome them."

"But they're from Venus, Um'reli. Don't forget how they treat AIs." Ava is unusually firm. Venus has a strict policy of not recognizing AI sapience. It's stupid really. AIs have been recognized as alive and sapient for nearly two thousand years in Human space, for them to come out of nowhere and say that they're not is ludicrous and treated that way in Colonial space. It's almost a joke.

Almost.

We can't turn them away, we simply don't have the firepower. "Omar, let them know we're not defenseless. Free the defensive lasers but don't target the ship. The are probably scanning the heck out of us, they should see them come online."

When Omar releases the lasers, I can feel it. 6 different batteries energize and tell us their readiness. Wow, I don't know if this is something new Omar added, or something he tied into old systems, but it's so... intuitive to use them. With a thought, I can swing them around, aim and point them, and... yes, if I were to pull there, they'd fire. Neat. After moving them around a little, I swing them off to the side and set them to follow our commands. If Venus wants to start something, we can bring them to bear relatively quickly, but Um'reli is right, we do need more builders. If they're just shuttling volunteers because FarReach told all the AIs and none of them will have anything to do with me, then we should be nice.

Radio contact. We're being signaled. "Uh, Reach of the Might of Vzzx? This is Vengeance of Lavinia. We'd like to speak to... Empress... Melody?"

They're reading from notes. Their comms officer sounds so unsure. I decide to answer myself and lay it on thick.

"Good morning Vengeance of Lavinia. This is Empress Melody Mullen the First, Empress of the Holy Imperial Systems. I hear your call and am replying. How may I assist?"

"We are requesting docking permission and to be able to come aboard for a goodwill exchange as well as to deliver some volunteers from our side of the Galaxy who wish to sign on with your work over here."

Interesting. They say they have volunteers. It's not like we don't need more Builder help.

"Be careful, Melody." Ava is right.

"But, don't turn them away just yet." Um'reli is right too. Ugh do they want to do the talking here? I feel like I'm being pulled in so many directions. I check on the docking ring. High Line and Sun Dancer, the two ships we were able to refit are next to the dock the FarReach used, I'll put them there.

"Vengeance of Lavinia you are cleared to dock at umbilical X45, I shall note it on this image I am sending your way. Additionally it shall be lit as you pass by. After you dock a welcome party will meet you at the umbilical."

"Umbilical X45 confirmed. See you soon, Reach of the Might of Vzzx. Vengeance of Lavinia out."

Well then. Guess we had better go meet them.

"Okay everyone, we're on. Let's go gather some folks and go see them."

Ava, Um'reli and Omar disconnect from their chairs and come out. "I swear to you we're not ready for someone like Venus coming, but here they are so I guess we're going to have to be ready." Um'reli looks around. "Where is City?"

Sound of the City bounds up the stairs. "Here, Builder, what do you need of me?"

Um'reli smiles. "Hello, Sound of the City. Please gather Starlight, Ocean, River, Vaaqo, and yourself. Dispatch a runner to Sep and ask them to bring a few security guards too. Make sure you have your Builder uniforms on and they're clean and neat. We have visitors."

City bows nervously. "Of course Builder. I shall fetch them at once." There is a pause while they try to figure out what they can get away with. "Who is visiting?"

"It's a group of people from our side of the Galaxy. They're a different... faction than we were and we always haven't been... friendly? We're willing to give them the benefit of the doubt for now, but make sure everyone knows to keep watch on them."

Another bow "Builder. I go!" and Sound of the City bounds away. I'm so happy we are able to give them a job. They're still young so it's only part time, but they bring me happiness every time I see them. They really are becoming a vital part of our retinue. They're just so energetic! I hope they stay with us.

I pick up my rifle from next to the Throne and examine it. I do get a chance to go to Sep's Security office and get some range time in now, but it's never enough. Omar has programmed the Security Office's printers to make rounds for me, so I don't have to conserve, it's just that there are only so many hours in a day. But, I feel good that I can still do the things that Melody likes to do. It helps ground me and reminds me that I'm more than an Empress.

I sigh to myself, check the rifle to make sure it's loaded and safe, and then click it to my back. It's weight is reassuring. While we walk down the steps, I get myself ready. The crown and wings come out, but I keep them subtle for now. I make my heels a little taller but keep my working outfit on - no gown today. It's still royal blue and still sharply cut, but I just look like the head Builder I am instead of all full Empress.

As we reach the docs, Starlight, Ocean and River are there already. They were probably over in the drydock working on the third ship so were close by. At our approach, they all bow low.

"Empress, Builders. It is always a pleasure to see you."

I incline my head. "Starlight, Ocean, River. We have guests coming."

They look at me and blink. This was unexpected.

"O-of course Empress. We shall welcome them warmly. Who is coming?"

"People from our side of the Galaxy. They represent a different faction than us, so we're wary about their visit. Still, we shall receive them. Just, be on your guard."

They bow again. "Always Empress. We have learned that about Builders."

Huh. Cheeky. But not wrong. I decide to let it slide.

City bounds up out of breath. "I have alerted Vaaqo and Sep, they shall arrive shortly."

"City, take a moment and catch your breath, they're not here yet." Ava looks concerned. Sound of the City is so eager to help that sometimes they run themselves ragged. I think we all fuss over City just a bit because they're still a kid, but I remember being a teen and so eager to prove myself.

After a short time, Vaaqo arrives with Sep and they bow. Behind Sep is about a dozen security guards, all with clubs and energy weapons. Vaaqo speaks first. "Builders. What is it you need of us? Your runner mentioned visitors?"

I smile warmly and nod. "Yes. people from our side of the Galaxy have come through the Gate and wish to visit. They are from a different faction than us originally, so be wary, but let us welcome them. Sep, have your people set up around us, visible, but not part of the welcome party. Clubs can be seen, but let's keep the firearms behind their backs for now."

Another bow, and Sep gestures to the guards and they set up like I asked. We have a semicircle of guards a bit away, and the rest of us are a few meters from the umbilical.

As we finish setting up, I hear the whir and hum of the umbilical coming out to meet the ship.

After a few tense moments, there is a hiss as the pressures equalize and the umbilical opens. Immediately, silently, 6 troopers walk out. They're wearing glossy maroon armored pressure suits polished to a mirror sheen They're so glossy the coloring of the pressure suits looks like it has depth. I can see all of us distorted in the reflection of their faceless helmets. They're holding battle rifles, but they're aimed down and I can see they're safe and they have little decorative tips on the end - that's a nice touch. Shows everyone that they can't shoot them without extra effort. Looking closer at the rifles I'm shocked.

It's the same model I use.

That's not standard issue. My rifle was a special order. I can feel it's weight on my back, reminding me.

The troopers line up, three to a side of the umbilical and stand there at attention for a moment, and then a woman walks confidently out.

She's not wearing a pressure suit, but she has a very elaborate uniform on. It doesn't look like our Builder uniforms, but it's of a similar ilk. Professional, Military, it's short sleeves and form fitting, with pockets and folds and places for medals and ribbons. Her uniform has plenty of both. It's the same maroon as the troopers, but there's a pure white sash from her left shoulder to her right waist. On her waist is a sidearm - hmm, that looks like a custom version of a very fiddly - but accurate - pistol and is very well taken care of. She's wearing maroon pants tucked into highly polished black riding boots that click on the floor of the dock. On both of her shoulders are a gold fringe. She's wearing a cap at a rakish angle and peeking underneath I can see that she has very close cropped blond hair.

Is that a tattoo I see around her collar?

She is standing there with a smirk all casually professional and extremely cool. She looks like she is in charge through sheer charisma. She looks as if nobody would dare question whether she was in charge.

Swallowing and hoping I don't look too awkward, I turn up the crown and wings and take one step forward. "Welcome to Reach of the Might of Vzzx. I am Empress Melody Mullen of the Holy Imperial Systems." I gesture to my side. "This is Ava Williams, Omar Adel, and Um'reli Desmen, my Builders." I turn to the other side. "This is Starlight on a Moonless Evening, The Smell Of The Ocean, Rapid River Roaring, Sound of the City, Sep and Vaaco. They are part of my retinue and assist with day to day operation here. We welcome you."

She inclines her head slightly then stands up straight and salutes sharply. "I am Archduke Helen Raaden of Imperial Venus, second to the crown prince of Venus and third in line for the Venusian throne. I come with a contingent of Venusian soldiers and citizens as well as a small group of volunteers from throughout Human space.

We come as friends on a goodwill tour, and wish to extend our most sincere greetings to her Imperial Highness and make a personal offer from the Emperor to give assistance in any way we can." When she finishes her pronouncement she winks at me.

Oh no, she's so hot. What am I going to do?

Part 27

#humans are deathworlders #humans are space orcs #humans go on adventure #humans are space oddities #sci fi writing #writing #humans and ai #humans and aliens #the k'laxiverse #jpitha #just a little further

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inkblot22 · 6 months ago

Note

I just read the azul request and your writing was so goooddd. If you don't mind, i'm curious what happened with their friendship after that. Is darling would end the friendship or forced to still in the friendship because her "kind" personality?

Thank you! I'm honestly planning on making time to do some more editing on that one because when I reread it, there are a few odd spacing incidents and typos.

Anyhow! I'll put this under the cut so that people who don't want to read about this don't have to scroll past a wall of text, but be warned that this is a little heavy:

So, before I get to the good stuff, in the original request said a people-pleaser and anxious darling, but people-pleasers are some of the most anxious people I know. They're constantly stepping all over themselves to allow others to treat them like a doormat. It's incredibly sad to watch, and while it can be mistaken for kindness, people-pleasing is more so indicative of a lack of self-respect. People-pleasers look for validation from others based on how strongly they dislike themselves, imo. So Azul's darling is... struggling.

Okay, on to the good stuff in headcanon format:

+ To put it very plainly: No, they're not friends anymore but that's not really the main issue.

+ So within the fic, there is a point in which Azul's darling just blindly signed a contract. If Azul is nothing else, he is a capitalist- to put it alternatively, he consistently takes advantage of other peoples' weaknesses and faults in order to benefit himself.

+ Because his darling never reads the contract, she doesn't get context and, therefore, neither do people who read that fic without coming to look at this post. I know this is a shit move on my part but this is a clarification thingy. His darling doesn't get to know that Azul mistook his fondness for her stroking his ego for him being in love with her, she doesn't get to know that he misunderstood her rambling at Jade for her having a crush on him, and she doesn't get to know that he wrote that contract, banking completely on her blind trust in him so she'd either just go along with the contents or not look at them at all.

+ Azul lucked tf out in that area, honestly. Within the contract are clauses upon clauses of legalese that forces his darling to remain by his side, unless Crowley finds a way to get her home (never going to happen) or she literally dies.

+ Of course, from his darling's POV, it'd be ridiculous to continue being friends with someone who, quite literally, raped her. Hopefully this post doesn't get me shadowbanned again becs I said the r-word. The issue comes in with her inability to get out.

+ She'd be tentative, more so than usual, because she would be stuck with someone who she immediately lost all respect for, but since she's stuck with him and, as previously established, has low self-esteem, there's a high chance that she will start to believe that she deserved it in some capacity.

+ Trauma manifests in really odd ways, and one of those ways is a ton of guilt. Bone-crushing, soul-rending guilt. Anxiety makes you believe some really weird stuff sometimes, so it's also very likely that she hyperfixates on one thing she did, blaming her own actions instead of the whole bastard who did this to her. Like, 'Oh, I shouldn't have mentioned birth control," or "I should have tried on the other outfit first, not this dress."

+ Obviously, Azul knows that her mental health is shit. He takes advantage of it throughout the whole fic, and it only makes sense that he continues to do so. One could even say that Azul never even saw her as a friend and only as a fancy accessory. She's arm candy, because unless there are some female teachers, she is the only woman on campus. That's a big flex, or something. Idk, men are weird.

+ Regardless, it's very hopeless for Azul's darling. He's scarily powerful in multiple fields and has connections everywhere. Even if she believed she had the ability to get out, she cannot. Hence the power imbalance tw in that fic.

#tw: dark themes #twisted wonderland #tw: dark content #disney twst #tw: yandere #yandere #twst #the blot talks!#anon asks #anon answered #thank you for sending an ask!!#yandere headcanons #tw noncon mention #tw power imbalance #tw misogyny #tw trauma

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workersolidarity · 1 year ago

Text

Photo: CRRC

🇮🇩🇨🇳 INDONESIA LAUNCHES FIRST HIGH-SPEED RAIL IN SOUTHEAST ASIA FUNDED BY CHINA: PART OF BELT & ROAD INITIATIVE (BRI)

Indonesia unveiled the first high-speed railway in Southeast Asia Saturday, a joint-project between Indonesia and China funded at 75% by the Chinese State-owned China Development Bank and the remaining 25% was funded by Private Equity from Indonesian and Chinese shareholders. The Project is part of China's increasingly popular Belt & Road Initiative (BRI).

Though the initial project was projected to cost $6 Billion, some cost overruns mostly from land compensation costs raised the bill by another $1.2 Billion. Though by American and European standards, this would be a relatively small overrun.

The new high-speed railway connects Jakarta, a city of more than 10 million, with Bandung, an educational and technology of 2.5 million, with four stops: Halim, Karawang, Padalarang, Tegalluar.

The train four times daily, with a maximum capacity of 600 passengers and travels at speeds in excess of 350kmh (218mph), and covering a total of 142km (88mi).

The new train cuts the travel time between Jakarta's Halim station and Bandung's Padalarang from roughly 3 hours to just over 30 minutes, a truly stunning improvement for these rapidly growing and developing cities.

The high-speed train's cars are equipped with modern amenities including spacious seating, power outlets, and LCD screens while the ride is smooth, with few bumps.

Though a Western media blitz intended to deligitimize the project in recent weeks, actual Indonesian people's excitement about the project is evident.

“We feel very comfortable on the train. We can see how fast it is going,” said Muhammad Risman, a 48-year-old private employee from Jakarta who was taking the test ride with his wife.

"The seats are nice and spacious. The screens are also easy to see and show us what the route looks like.”

While Indonesian President Joko “Jokowi” Widodo, who also rode on the train for the first time last week, expressed his admiration for the project.

“I had visited the high-speed train project site four times before, but this was the first time I actually rode on it. It was very comfortable, and I didn’t feel the speed of 350 km [per hour] at all, whether I was sitting or walking around,” Jokowi said.

“This is what civilization looks like."

#source

#source2

#source3

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orangameelectronics · 2 months ago

Video

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lindsohalloran · 1 month ago

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general information.

full name lindsay amos o’halloran

nicknames linds / uncle linds ( only by maisie )

age 41

date of birth may 1

place of birth elderslie, scotland

zodiac taurus sun cancer moon virgo rising

gender cis male

nationality scottish

religion raised catholic / non-practicing

orientation homosexual

physical attributes.

face claim richard madden

voice claim richard madden

height 5’10

weight 176 lbs

build athletic / muscular

exercise habits whenever possible but mostly circumstantial

allergies cats + nickel + medical adhesive

hair color dark copper with faint grey + a mallen streak at his hairline

hairstyle short

eye color blue

glasses/contacts no

dominant hand right

tattoos a small black orchid on his inner left bicep

scars too many to count

piercings none

jewelry/accessories garmin instinct 2x solar watch + dog tags

background information.

hometown elderslie, scotland

current residence new york, ny

spoken languages english / gaelic / spanish / belizean creole / igbo / hausa / yaruba / a few other languages very minimally

driver's license yes

occupation private security / previously scottish royal regiment

familial information.

relationship status single

mother eilidh o’halloran ( nee buchanan )

father graeme o’halloran

siblings niamh o’halloran / sister + deceased

other maisie o’halloran / niece and current ward

children none

pets none

personality.

positive traits steadfast + astute + observant + loyal + selfless

negative traits guarded + overbearing + distrustful + suspicious

likes earl grey + cutobrute + air-dried laundry + live music + runner’s highs

dislikes disorganization + rainy weather + selfishness + coffee + sunburn

moral alignment lawful good

mbti entj

Lindsay has always been private, especially when it comes to matters of his personal life, and the outbreak has only seemed to amplify this about him. In his prime, he was a skilled leader and communicator; his nearly two decades spent in service with the Scottish Royal Regiment have left him vigilant and selfless, always at the ready to keep a sharp out for the sake of those close to him, whether friends, family, or battalion. Professionally, he had a sternness about him that was not unkind, often softened by a quiet charisma and sudden and unexpected bouts of dry humor, and own his own time, he lived a life surrounded by vibrancy, more an observer than a participant. He’d frequent bustling bars and cafes and music venues, existing as a stoic fixture in the background, enjoying and observing with a simple smile twitching at his lips. He doesn’t take time for the simple pleasures anymore, and those glimpses of humor, of the lighthearted man he could have been, they’re rarer now than they ever have been.

supplies.

95-ltr. capacity tactical backpack / rucksack

first aid kit ( nearly empty )

two stainless steel water bottles

water purification tablets

utility knife / swiss army multi-tool

solar powered flashlight / power bank

hand-crank emergency radio

lighter / magnesium fire starter

signal mirror

tarp / rope

a children's sleeping bag

small plush rabbit

glock 17 + ammunition

machete + thigh holster

biography.

tw: brief mention of homophobia + abuse + drug use + death

From the outside looking in, the O’Halloran household is almost picturesque; with a modest but lovely two-story in the heart of Elderslie and two children, a son and a daughter, it would appear that Graeme and Eilidh have it all! Graeme has a government job that provides well enough that Eilidh can stay home and mind the house and the children. Lindsay Amos O’Halloran is younger than his sister Niamh by two years, but the pair are incredibly close; their father is strict — they’re mindful of their manners, their marks in school, for fear of his reaction if they don’t — and their mother is … well, Lindsay suspects she hasn’t been in her right mind in years. ❛ The pills will do that, ❜ Niamh tells him, ❛ numb you right up. ❜ She tells him this is why their mother never says anything. Lindsay expects all children must live like this — quiet, obedient. They protect each other, Lindsay and Niamh — best they can, at least. He walks her to class, she helps him with his coursework, and then they hide away in her bedroom and make up stories, elaborate tales of all the places they’ll go once they only get out of Elderslie.

To his credit, Lindsay does well to appease his father and keep relative peace in the house for many years. He learns when to mind his tongue, how to behave. If he yearns for approval, he quickly learns what it feels like to go without. Praise comes in the form of a quiet night — no shouting, no dishes thrown. He is careful to make no mistake significant enough to not be forgotten after his father’s spent a few long nights at the pub. Not until he turns fifteen. All his life, he’s been keeping it a secret; from his parents, his sister … sometimes it almost felt like he was keeping it from himself. For a while, it isn’t hard to keep it locked away; between school, church, and chores, he doesn’t have time for sinful thoughts. He can almost pretend …

His world ends on a brisk September afternoon at nearly three p.m. He’s sitting on his bed with Colin Bigbie from trigonometry, trying desperately to figure out how to calculate angles. And Colin’s tutoring him, which should be helping. It should, but Colin’s sitting so close Lindsay can smell his spearmint gum and he can’t stop looking at his lips, the way he grins around the eraser of a pencil. He still remembers the way his mother shrieks when she opens his bedroom door to find her son pinned under another boy in his own bed, a tangle of lips and limbs. ( How could he have let himself get carried away? How could he have let himself get caught? ) Colin has the common sense to scramble out of the house long before his father comes home. Lindsay is not so lucky. He has nowhere else to go.

Only a few months shy of his sixteenth birthday, Lindsay enlists in the Royal Regiment of Scotland. His mother nearly worries herself into an ulcer over the idea alone, but his father is supportive. Thinks it’s a ❛ wise move, ❜ in fact, that Lindsay could use the structure. She weeps over afternoon tea the day he brings home the forms, cannot even bear to look her husband in the eye as he fills them out. The more unpalatable truth need not be said aloud, for Lindsay already knows it in his heart — as far as Graeme O’Halloran is concerned, he no longer has a son, not in the eyes of God. Perhaps if he leaves now … learns what it means to really be a man, to bring his family respect in lieu of shame, of disappointment … well, perhaps he might return home to more welcoming arms.

This, Lindsay thinks as he packs a sparse duffel the night before he leaves for phase one training, that’s what he wants out of enlisting. He wants to feel like he belongs again. ( Has he ever? Has his father ever actually been proud? ) ❛ No but for christ’s sake, fuck ‘em all, Linds! Honestly! It’s all a bunch a’ shite, and anyway, you’ll always belong here with me,❜ comes a tearful reassurance from his sister over a shared rooftop cigarette the very same night, a possible last ditch effort at convincing him to stay. It doesn’t work! His mind is made up, and when she pinky swears that she gets it, that she understands and she could never hold it against him, Lindsay believes her. He cries when she hugs him goodbye the following morning. In spite of his best efforts, he cannot hide red eyes and mottled cheeks from his father as he climbs into the car. He says nothing, but Lindsay can feel his gaze; he cannot bring himself to meet it for the entirety of the six hour drive from Elderslie to Berkshire.

The Royal Military Academy Sandhurst provides twelve months of intensive training to all prospective young officers. Lindsay is desperate to succeed because, in his mind, there is no other option. He learns to operate on a strict schedule and quickly becomes regimented, disciplined. But Lindsay does not socialize with the other young men in his barracks. Many of them are quick to make friends — he sees them being raucous in the mess hall, hears them slagging off their superiors when they’re out of earshot — but Lindsay always keeps to himself. He never joins in. In his spare time, Lindsay pens letters. They’re mostly to Niamh. He tells her of his successes, embellishes his happiness in neat lines signed with love. The letters he receives back are the highlight of his time at the academy — they keep him going. Occasionally, he’ll write to his mother and father; to those letters, he hears nothing in return. his mother takes his phone calls on holidays — he expects that’s the only grace his father allows — but beyond that, they make no effort toward significant contact.

At least not until he graduates. They all show up, all three of them, but make no mistake it is not a grand affair. He knows from his sister’s letters things have not grown better in his absence but worse; his father’s temper flares and without Lindsay there to take the heat, his mother and sister suffer in his place. At dinner that evening, Niamh announces her plans to move overseas. She’s nearly twenty now, and after all, they’ve got relatives in America, distant cousins in New York, and she intends to relocate with their help. Her news doesn’t go over well; their father shouts, their mother wails, and when they leave, it is with the assurance that the entire lot of them are banned from what was Lindsay’s favorite Italian place in Berkshire for life. In the end, it doesn’t actually matter though, does it? He’s leaving again anyway.

Lindsay returns home for two weeks while he awaits his assignment. He helps Niamh pack and does his best to avoid conflict with their parents. When she leaves for New York, Lindsay is the one who takes the family car to drive her to the airport. ( He finds out that day that maybe he doesn’t know how to say goodbye to his sister without crying. Once can be written off as a fluke, but twice? ) He doesn’t know what to expect when he receives the call specifying the location of his first tour, but Lindsay can be certain that Belize does not even make the list. He didn’t even know they had anyone stationed in Belize. ( If he’s being honest, before he knows he’s going, Lindsay couldn’t have confidently pointed the country out on a map. ) Within seventy-two hours, he’s on a plane. Unlike with Niamh, when his parents leave him at the terminal, Lindsay sheds not a single tear. On the flight, he thinks of this mother’s outpouring of emotion and wonders if it’s sincere. Does she mourn the loss of both her children?

The stifling heat of the South American sun — surely impossibly the same sun that casts clouds over his village back home — fries pale, freckled skin within hours of landing, but Lindsay quickly learns that he enjoys the pain. It provides a welcome distraction. A lucky break, it would seem, because it is found here in no short supply. Tropical Environment Training, it’s called. Or, how to fight in the jungle! From dawn to dusk, he and his battalion trudge through gnarled, swampy undergrowth; they learn to camouflage themselves in the wild, how to use nature and the elements to their advantage. He learns to blink past the burn of sweat in his eyes, to claw his way forward when his limbs threaten to give out. His limits? Clearly he’s been underestimating them all his life! Out here in the harsh wild, nobody cares about his story, where he came from. Nobody cares who he loves. They only care that he can perform. Endure. It matters not who he is, only what he is capable of.

Belize teaches Lindsay O’Halloran that he is a very capable man.

When he first enlisted, it was without a clear, intentional path in mind; he’d known then that he wanted to serve his country, but he hadn’t the foggiest what he could even offer. would he be sent to kitchen duty or put on the frontlines? Were there even front lines? Six months after arriving in Belize, Lindsay completes his training. He’s adapted extraordinarily well to the environment; his superiors watch as he takes lead of his battalion, seizes control to lead his brothers- and sisters-in-arms to safety. He watches his team with the fierceness and precision of a hawk. When his entire battalion completes the program with flying colors, Lindsay is asked to remain in Belize. For someone so young, he displays potential. For the next ten years, Ladyville becomes his new home. He immerses himself in its culture just as much as its jungles; his accent twists the words in a funny sort of way, but he learns to speak spanish and Belizean creole. He drinks belikin and shares panades with locals. He becomes familiar with the forestry, teaches it to hundreds. And he writes to Niamh about all of it.

One day, when she writes back, Lindsay learns he’s an uncle. When his tour ends, he hops on the first plane he can catch to New York so he can meet his niece. Her name is Maisie O’Halloran and Lindsay is convinced he falls in love the second he holds her in his arms. He spends several weeks in the states with Niamh; he sleeps on her couch and spends day in and day out with her to make up for all the time they’ve lost. She tells him Maisie’s father isn’t in the picture, and Lindsay makes her pinky swear that she’s safe, that she’s okay. He wishes he could stay, but he’s given another assignment far too quickly. He tells himself he won’t cry this time when Niamh and Maisie leave him at the terminal, that he can keep it together. He can’t, and they’re both laughing through their tears as she makes him promise they’ll meet here again in a few years and he relents on one condition: she sends him weekly updates on Maisie in the meantime.

When he lands again, Lindsay is in Nigeria. He has been assigned to the UK’s permanent outpost Abuja to aid in the training of the Nigerian military. What he lacks in knowledge about the country and terrain, he makes up for in a passion for the sharing of knowledge, of valuable, life-saving skills. Hausa and Yaruba are more difficult to learn than spanish, he’ll admit, but he spends enough time there that he becomes at very least conversational in a few different local languages. When he returns to Elderslie after another six years, he does not sound the same and the streets no longer look like home. His country beckons him back before he can visit Niamh, but he promises soon. He still writes every chance he gets; she convinces him to start video calling because Maisie is talking more than ever. His parents don’t see their only grandchild, don’t get the privilege. He visits them once while he’s back on home soil. Once in two years. It’s tense. His mother doesn’t recognize him. His father shakes his hand.

It takes fifteen years, but Lindsay can finally feel the weakness in his grip.

Time slips through his fingers faster than Lindsay can stop it and before he knows it, the year is 2023. He’s back in Berkshire and, as it turns out, that little Italian restaurant? They don’t even remember him anymore. Lindsay is in his flat when he receives a phone call from an unrecognized number. It’s his cousins from New York, bearing news of his sister. Grave news. He can barely make out the details over the ringing in his ears the moment he realizes what they’re trying to say. ❛ …it was a break in … she’d just gotten back from work … didn’t even know she’d been struck …’m so sorry … ❜ And just like that, Lindsay O’Halloran’s whole world shatters.

By some grace of God, Maisie isn’t home when it happens. Their cousin had been watching her while Niamh was on shift, had just gone to take her back and opened the door when … ( oh, she saw it, the poor girl saw it! ) Lindsay requests immediate discharge and his years of dedicated service allow him to catch the next flight out of Heathrow to New York. He has to begin making arrangements. It takes six days to find a flat in the city and get Ellie moved into it; with his cousin minding her for a few hours, he packs up his sister’s apartment in a single night. Delicately, he tucks away years of memories into boxes — some he’s seen, many he’s missed out on. He does this alone, and he realizes a truth he’s known his entire life. He will always cry when he says goodbye to his sister. This night is no different. He weeps openly on the floor at the center of her apartment, surrounded by sweaters and pillows and photos — he cries for every little piece of her that he is forced to say goodbye to. His grief echoes off the walls. He gives so much that by the time they bury Niamh, Lindsay has no tears left to shed. He is exhausted. And for this, he is grateful. It allows him the ability to stay strong — he does not do well with emotion, but he knows how to push through fatigue. For Maisie, he will. From this day forward, his needs will forever take the back burner to hers. He is no father, but he will raise her the best he can. He owes as much to Niamh.

To provide for them both, Lindsay secures a position at a private security company called Sentry Solutions. His extensive military and combat training make him the perfect fit for private security, and he finds that he approaches his new career with an inherent sort of dedication. Blame it on the guilt — he wasn’t there to protect his sister, couldn’t save her, but he’ll be damned if he can’t protect everybody else. Most of all, he intends to protect Maisie, to provide her with anything and everything she could ever possibly need and keep her safe. He wants to keep her happy, too, but he knows that’s a more difficult battle won. Though he could count the number of times he’d seen her face to face before moving to New York on one hand, they were hardly strangers; he used to call weekly at minimum to speak to her and her mum, often sent her gifts from Nigeria and then again from Berkshire. This does not make the process of familiarization any easier or less awkward, but Lindsay does his best and eventually, they fall into a routine. He learns what Frozen is and how to dutch braid hair. He wakes up early on Saturday mornings to make chocolate chip pancakes and commits the details of a traditional tea party menu to memory. Every Wednesday starts with a visit to Maisie’s grief counselor and always ends with gelato from the little Italian place on the corner of their block. After a few months, Lindsay starts to believe he can actually do this. That they both can.

And the moment Lindsay thinks he’s finally started to find his footing again, it’s as if the rug has been ripped from beneath his feet again. The world is ending. If it was dangerous to live in the city before, it begins to feel like a death sentence the moment he hears the news. He immediately begins formulating a plan. They need to get out of the city. The population is too dense, the layout of the city too labyrinthine to feel safe. He packs a bag and instructs Maisie to do the same. ❛ Only take what ye can carry, Mais, ❜ he says as if he’d not carry the moon on his back had she told him she wanted to take it along, ❛ only take what’s important. ❜ Her backpack is pink with faux-fur straps, stuffed with crayons and fruit snacks, plushes and photos of her mother; the matching sleeping bag is attached to his own rucksack.

Lindsay expects it will take them some time to leave New York, but no amount of training or planning can prepare him for the chaos and bloodshed that ravage the streets. The streets are gridlocked but the cars are abandoned, some with windows smashed or doors left wide open. Driving out of the city is an impossibility, and every sidewalk, every building is like an active war zone. To think he'd been worried about the barricades. Moving through the city is slow. Every new street, every building promises new threats; if it's not the undead, it's the living trying to ransack them for supplies. Desperate people. Lindsay tries not to fault them ― fear can make people do all sorts of irrational things. He knows this. But if Maisie's safety is threatened, Lindsay does not hesitate to exterminate said threat, living or otherwise.

Distances Lindsay expects might take hours to cover instead take days. Weeks, even. Maisie is scared, confused, but she holds up better than he expects her to. He should've expected she'd be resilient like her mum. He keeps watch while she sleeps, operates on bare minimum and learns how to whittle his exhaustion into something functional and sharp under the cutting edge of adrenaline. He's never been in survival mode for this long. He thinks back to Belize, to the way the sun blistered his skin and the way his muscles screamed for mercy. He'd been able to push through it then for family who didn't give a damn about him, and he'll dig his heels in and survive this too. For Maisie.

When the snowstorm hits, they take shelter in an elementary school. It appears as though it had been used at some point in the recent past as a makeshift shelter, but aside from the biters that Lindsay methodically removes, it has been thoroughly abandoned. ( Some of the ones Lindsay exterminates, they look fresh. He does well not to dwell on this. ) The winter is long and cold and grueling but they survive. Lindsay is careful to ration what food he can scavenge from the cafeteria and, by some grace of God, it's enough to last the pair of them through the coldest months. He's grateful for the sense of familiarity the location provides Maisie; there are books and toys in the classrooms to keep her entertained and enriched. She has the chance to be a child and Lindsay finally has the chance to rest. At least for a little while. Come spring, they'll be getting out of this city.

Lindsay thinks so, anyway, but he's beginning to realize that what they say about the best laid plans of mice and men might actually be true. Maisie falls ill sometime in late February. It's not that he hasn't been keeping track of the passage of days, either, only that he doesn't know for sure when it actually begins. Her sniffles are easy enough to write off as a symptom of the colder weather, of course, but the cough is admittedly concerning. She seems unfazed, so he keeps an eye on it for a few days and intends to wait for it to resolve itself. Only it doesn't resolve itself. Maisie gets worse.

When the fever appears, Lindsay can no longer deny his concern or the way it steadily seems to morph into panic. He's never dealt with this before. He's only been responsible for her less than a year. There are no useful medications to be found in the nurse's office, nothing more than old antihistamines and cough drops in the desks. He's not familiar with this part of the city, and even after scoping from the rooftop, there's not a pharmacy in sight, not that he can tell. It isn't as if he can leave her, either, to go looking further, or even take her along in this condition, out of fear he'll come up empty-handed and make her feel worse in the process. But he's been surveilling the area, watching. He's seen survivors at the Wexley, coming and going. They must have supplies. It's a short enough distance that he could run it from the school even with his pack on his back and her in his arms, and, with no other options, that's precisely what Lindsay does.

#↳ intro #↳ about #bnyintro #the way this got stupid long and took me two days even though he was already a pre-existing muse of mine kshsakl #anyway hmu for plots y'all

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