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harrypotternerd77777 · 5 months ago

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The summer of 16

Summary: Snapes son is involved in a horrible accident that leads many secrets to be revealed.

It was an early July day. Severus has decided to go to his cottage for the 4th of July, as Americans call it. The cottage had been something Severus’s grandmother had passed down directly to him before she passed, purposefully skipping his father, as she to knew Tobias was a horrible man. The cottage was in Rhode Island, the smallest state but still his favorite. His best moments were moving here after the war and finally being free. That is how he met Ava. They soon wed and moved back to England so Severus could go teach at Hogwarts, but always coming back to the quaint little state for the summer. Soon they had a son, Adrian. It was the three of them against the world. Soon enough, it was two of them against the never-ending grief that poured out of every part of their hearts.

As Severus sat on the deck, he paused for a moment as he caught himself thinking back to the first summer they spent here as a family.

"Dad, can I go down to Avery’s doc to go on her boat?” Adrian had practically appeared out of nowhere, startling Severus.

"Adrian, are you going to behave?” Severus posed the question, half joking and half not. His mother was a party animal in her young years.

“Daddddddd, I'm 16 years old. I'm basically an adult, and I'm 5 minutes down the road.” Adrain whined at the thought of not getting his way.

“You turned 16 three days ago, and you are nowhere near an adult." Severus let out a deep sigh after seeing Adrain's puppy dog eyes.

“If I let you go, you have to be home by midnight; no drinking, no magic, and for the love of Merlin, do not get on that boat if someone is drunk driving. I mean it, Adrian, call me; blame me as the bad guy; I don’t care; I just want you safe.” He muttered, as he hated letting go.

"Dad, I'm going to be so safe, I pinky promise.” Adrian let out one of his million-dollar smiles. The kind that pulled at Severus's heart strings seeing his wife’s face in their son. He was growing up, but he will always be his little boy.

“Pinky promise.” Sev nodded as he pulled his son into a tight embrace.

"Adrain, are you coming??” The neighborhood boys he had grown up with had shouted from the street. They were waiting in a Jeep Wrangler with no doors, which certainly gives Severus anxiety every summer.

“YES. HOLD UP.” As Adrain rushes to grab his towel and run off the porch, he quickly turns around.

“Love ya, dad." He yells with a smile.

“Love you, DONT FORGET SUNSCREEN” Severus adds in his goodbye. Adrain is his twin, and that also includes being paler than snow.

Flash forward 5 hours:

Severus was on the couch, doing what he always does. Reading. His book was getting particularly interesting; it wasn’t his usual style, with this being one Adrain introduced him to. While he might be a quditicuh star, he is still his father’s son, so incredibly nerdy and smart. The spine of the well-loved copy of “We Were Liars” was beginning to crack as pounding and screaming were heard on the doorsteps. Severus rushed up from his seat, angry but worried, knowing his son was out.

“Mr.Snape Open the door, please. It's Brody." The shaken boy yelled out as Severus was rushing to the door.

Severus swings the door open to see Brody, still dripping wet and only in bathing suit shorts. The tears were still noticeable, despite his wet face. The terror in his eyes scared him severely. He hadn’t seen that terror since the war.

“There was an accident, and it was really bad, and there was so much blood, and oh my god, please don’t be mad.” Brody composure was entirely gone as Severus grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Brody. Brody, look at me,” Severus pleaded as he bent down to eye level. Not many people were 6’6.

“I'm not mad; you need to tell me what happened.” Severus tried to remain calm, but terror overtook him. He had to stay strong. He had to.

“Adrain was trying to get the motor to start; he went to check the blades in the back, and he was grabbing some garbage out of them when Cooper finally got the engine to flip over and start, and Adrian fell in.” Brody finished with a sob. They were best friends since they were 6.

“Where is he?” Severus said calmly. He had one thing on his mind, and that was that we were there.

“He’s at Westerly Hospital,” Brody says, still standing in the doorway despite Severus having already grabbed his socks and begun sliding on his vans.

Severus is basically out the door when he turns to give Brody a final gesture.

“Thank you, and Brody, it’s going to be okay,” Severus says as he takes Brody into his embrace. He’s the only neigborhood kid who knows about the magic that encapsulates nine months of their lives.

Flash forward to the hospital:

It had been 10 hours since Severus had run in the door with tears flooding down his face. He drove, everything in him wanting to evaporate but knowing the consequences of doing it somewhere unknown. He broke every traffic law known to man during the drive. All he wanted was to see Adrain, but he had already been carted off to surgery. He hated that. Knowing that his son was so exposed to all those strangers on a cold operating table. He knew, rationally, that they were saving his life. He had internal bleeding, major stomach gashes, a broken arm that needed screws, and a broken nose. Severus could have done it, but not here, maybe at Hogwarts or at their house on the spinner's end, where all his supplies were. Rationally, these doctors were the ones saving him, but unrationally, Severus had always been incredibly overprotective of his son, probably because no one was protective of him at that age, and boy did he turn out mean and cold for many years. The first years would still say he was, but that would never, in a million years, be Adrian. Adrain was loved by everyone and could always-

“Parents of Adrian Snape,” a young nurse with warm eyes said as she walked into the waiting room cutting of Sev’s thought.

“That’s me. I’m his dad,” Severus pipped up, sounding like one of his nervous students answering a challenging question.

“He’s okay. Surgery went well. His bleeding stopped, and his arm has been reset and should heal nicely,” she said with a falling smile.

“But?” Severus questions

“Can we talk in a private room?” the young nurse asks without making eye contact.

Severus gestures with his hand. While he is the warm, loving dad to his son and his friends, Severus is an introvert who, for the most part, hates people. The walk to the conference room has his mind stressing for answers on what could be wrong with the boy. Once they are both seated, the young nurse begins.

“Mr.Snape, Its kind of an untalked about subject with teenagers, especially your sons age because they are almost adults, so its often at the nurses discretion.”

‘Where is this going?” Snape buts in and cuts her off.

“Your son has been self-harming, Mr. Snape. I thought it best to inform you if you hadn’t already been aware.” The nurse found the courage to look at Severus as she said the words that took the wind out of him.

The tension in the room needs a butcher's knife to be cut. Severus felt like his world had crashed two times in one night.

“Thank you. Can I see him now?’ Severus hasn’t spoken that low and unclear since he himself was 16.

“His room is on the left B27, and here, take this,” she says, handing him a card.

“He’s the best psychiatrist in the county,” she finishes her sentence and leaves Severus alone to collect his thoughts as he journeys to room B27.

Time skip 3 hours:

Severus had sat there for hours holding Adrian's hand as he hummed, “Beautiful boy.” The song he sang to him when he was fussy as a baby always calmed him right down. Severus couldn't believe it. His boy was in so much pain that he did that to himself. His boy.

“Mamaaa, Mammmaaa, Pappaaaa, where are you?” Adrian mumbled out in his half-drug-induced state. Severus was only ever known as Papa before Adrain's first year at Hogwarts, when that became uncool. He missed it. But the first half of his sentence broke the small bits left of him after tonight.

“Im right here, baby, im right here,” Severus began rubbing the back of his head as he came to.

“I miss Mama,” Adrain mumbled as he began wrestling with the sheets.

“I do to, baby, I do to.” Severus was lost for words at first; all he could do was be there for his son.

The thought crossed his mind to use his legilimens spell on Adrain, or ask him now when he’s to hopped up on drugs to lie. But he knew in his heart that was wrong. He knew this needed to be a real conversation, not one where he forced answers out of him to make it better, because in his heart he knew. He knew this wouldn’t go away for a long time.

Time skip to 3 days post-accident:

In the past day since Severus had brought Adrain home, he had 12 visitors, 3 naps, a long conversation with Avery's parents as it was their boat, and most of all, no time for Severus to give him potions to quicken up healing and talk. He had floo powdered to Spinners end earlier in the day when Brody was over to get supplies. After hours of brewing and all the guests finally leaving, he made his way up to Adrain’s rooms.

“Hey buddy,” Severus said with a smile. His mind was racing. He had spent three days wondering how to ask his son about this. Adrain was his best friend. He told him everything: his first kiss, every single crush, the book he was reading, and what he had for lunch. How could he not know this? How could he not know this?

“Hey dad, that soup looks good,” Adrian said with a grin.

Severus had almost forgotten that he had a bowl of soup and two potions in his hands.

“Ahh yes. Drink the potions first, then wash them down with the soup.” Severus was good at talking when it came to potions. Right now, he felt like that was the only thing he was good at talking about. He handed Adrian the stuff and slowly sat down on the end of the bed. With a deep breath, he announced

“Adrian, we need to talk. Talk about something." The words stuttered out of Sev’s mouth. He hated this. He hated the concept that his son could be in so much pain, and he hadn’t known about it.

“Are you going to spit it out?” Adrian covered the growing terror in his voice with a laugh. Every teenager does stuff their parents don’t want them to do; any teenager would be shitting their pants right now hearing those words. Yet Adrain wasn’t even thinking about the scars and burn marks that graced his pale upper thighs. He wasn’t even thinking of that because there’s no way his dad could know. Adrain did everything he could to hide it. He had to hide it, or he would lose everything.

“Roll up your shorts.” Severus stated it like an order he gives in the classroom. He wanted nothing more than to break eye contact and just hug his son and forget this ever happened, but he couldn’t. He had to fix this.

Adrian began sitting up in bed. Something he wasn’t supposed to do. He was pissed; how could his dad know? How could his dad even think he would do that? He did do that, but no one would’ve ever guessed. He was the young, bright quditich star, and everyone loved him. Everyone loved him except himself.

“What are you talking about, dad?” Adrain stated barely being able to stop himself from having a panic attack, as muggles call it.

"Adrian, I need to see your legs." Severus didn’t break eye contact and just scooted forward towards Adrian.

“No.” Adrain said it with disgust filling his voice. He was mad. This couldn’t be happening. Not to him. He quickly bolted up out of bed and began going towards the bathroom.

“Sit down before you pop your stitches.“ Severus knew he sounded too harsh, but he was worried enough for his son without the idea of him popping stitches. He began to get up to grab him when he was thrown off by Adrain’s next course of action.

“JUST LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE, OKAY. I DON’T NEED HELP, AND I AM NOT SOME FUCKED UP FREAK WHOS GONNA GET LOCKED UP WITH NO MAGIC FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE.” Adrain began storming into the hallway with the intention of leaving. He knew he messed up. His dad hates yelling. Ever since he was a kid. He had never screamed at his dad like this, but in the moment, he could only care so much. His dad couldn’t know. His dad couldn’t see his legs and all the pain and scars behind them. That’s his best friend. He didn’t want his best friend to hate him.

“Adrain” Severus was lost for words. His son never yelled. That was something Severus taught him from a very young age: that yelling makes you lose control in an argument because it makes you seem childish. After a second of thinking, he chased after his son, having realized he most likely had intent to leave. He hurried into the hall and saw him struggling to walk, hanging on to a railing post with his one good arm.

“Im here, Im here, Im here.” Severus muttered as he shifted Adrian to a sitting position in the hallway. Adrain had begun to cry. The kind of tears where it seems like a slash has been made to the person's heart and it will never heal.

“Im sorry, papa, im so sorry,” he cried as he put his head into Severus chest.

“Im not mad; Im not mad at all, baby." Severus had begun rubbing the back of Adrain's head. The two just sat there as the minutes ticked by and the young boys tears began to lessen. Severus hadn’t seen him breakdown like that since Ava died. Adrain soon sat up and was sitting right next to his father, with both their backs up against the old walls.

“Can I?” Severus posed the question. That’s all he needed to say for Adrain to understand that this wasn’t going away.

Nothing came out as Adrain went to speak. He couldn’t look at his father, so he stared at the ceiling. With new tears dripping down his face, he gave his father a nod, still not making eye contact but allowing him to do the thing he was terrified of happening in the 4 years since this started.

“Tell me if I'm hurting you, even a little bit." It’s the only thing Severus could think of to say in that moment. He began rolling up his son’s shorts as they both sat there in the hallway. Seeing the dozens and dozens of cuts, keloid scars, and burn marks that covered his sweet boy's body.

“Please don’t hate me.” It was the only thing on Adrain's mind, and even though he was scared to put it into words, he felt there wasn’t much they were talking about in the moment.

“Don’t you ever dare say that. Adrain, when your mother and I had you, you were the best thing to ever happen to me in my entire life. I had a son. I had a little me who I could make sure was happy and taken care of. Who could I teach potions to and go on adventures with? I will never hate you.” Severus had let Adrain's shorts fall back down as he made sure to look his son in the eyes to make sure he knew how loved he was. His next question had already entered his mind.

"Why?” Severus said.

“I can’t tell you.” Adrain's heart had started racing again. It was scary enough that his dad knew he took a blade to his skin every day for years, but it’s even scarier to tell him why.

“I won’t be made, I promise,” Severus responded.

“You're going to hate me.”

“No, I won’t”

"Yes, you will.”

“I won’t be mad at all.”

“You don’t get it.”

“I do get it.”

“Okay” Adrain clears his breath in a panic. “Im just stressed with school and quditich and friends. You know? Ever since mom died, I have just had a whole lot to deal with, and The Owls have a lot to deal with and know we have to prep for our futures, and I need to be in 100 different places at what, and Oliver and kids are dicks for no reason over here. “

“Has Oliver Woods been giving you a hard time? Ill put that to a stop right now because that is.”

“No, he’s just a friend.”

“A friend?”

"Ya, just a friend.”

"Adrian,” “you know I don’t care if you are.“

“Dad stop”

Adrian began to wail. Sobbing is even worse than before. His dad couldn’t know. He couldn’t lose him; Severus was his only family. But he was more than that. He was his best friend, and he couldn’t lose that because he selfishly couldn’t like girls.

Severus debated for a moment. Debated just going for a drive and forgetting this whole shitshow of the last 3 days didn’t happen. He knew he couldn’t; he loved Adrian far too much to ever let him continue down this path of self-destruction. Making his choice, he grabbed Adrian’s good shoulder and said words that would live in Adrian’s mind every time he remembered his beloved father.

“Adrian, I don’t care if you’re gay. Thats the thing I give the least about the entire world.” Severus said, staring into his son’s bright blue eyes.

“You’re really not mad?” Adrain stuttered out.

“I already had my suspicions.”

“What”

“You really didn’t think I noticed how you would stay up late looking at magazines with shirtless men on the covers.” Adrian was shocked to say the least. He thought he had hidden it very well. He was incredibly wrong, but still.

Severus took a moment before putting his arm around Adrain and saying,

“I know you feel so much shame and so much guilt over who you are. But I don’t want you to ever feel like that, Adrain. I know you are scared of how people will react. I know you are scared of losing friends. But you will never lose me, and that’s a promise. You are so much braver than you ever knew. I am not mad at you; I will never be mad at you, but you have to stop, Adgie.“ Severus paused. He hadn’t said that name since he was little; it was the nickname his mother gave Adrian as a baby.

Adrian's tears had dwindled. His worst fear coming true hadn’t gone as far as the nightmares he had told him.

“Are you going to send me away?” Adrain spit out, the other half of his fear still prominent.

“What?” Severus responded in dumb shock.

“Are you going to make me go to one of those wizard psychiatric crazy hospitals where they tie you down with no magic for the rest of my life?” Adrain turned as he let the words leave his mouth. It was insane to most, but to him, it felt like where he would be by the next day.

“Adrain Isaac Snape. Look at me,” Severus replied as he waited for his son’s head to match his.

“I will never send you away. Ever, and for fuck sake, those hospitals take a lot more getting into than what you do.” Severus paused as he saw Adrain looking away and guided his chin up with his fingers. “Whenever you feel the urge to do this, whenever you so much as even think about it in the slightest, or even if you relapse, I want you to come find me. I don’t care what time of night it is; I don't care if I'm teaching or even if I'm with Dumbledoor. Come find me, and I will do whatever you need. But Adrain, I think we need to do checks. I know that can be embarrassing, but no one has to know. Whenever you come to my chambers before our Sunday dinner, I can do it then if you don’t mind.” Severus finished and could see the disheartenment on his son's face with the last sentences he spoke.

Adrian hated the idea of having to go to his dad’s room for leg checks. He felt like a baby. It then hit him how much he cared to have to do that.

“You’re a really good dad,” Adrain said, a soft smile grazing his face.

“You’re a really good son,” Severus said back, matching his son’s expression. The two sat in silence for a couple minutes as Adrian put his head on his dad’s shoulder.

“I haven’t told Oliver,” Adrain said, breaking the silence that filled the room.

“How long have you been together?” Severus posed, curious how long his son had been in love with her.

“Since last October, He kissed me on Halloween, then we made it official.” Adrain smiled, remembering that night. “I cast a charm on my skin to hide it whenever I was with him,” the smile had faded.

“If he truly loves you, he won’t care. But I have to say, I'm impressed you can cast that spell." Severus added the last part to try and lighten up the situation.

“I wish I could just tell him right now. But I'm not going to be an ass and send it to him through Owl. I’ll just wait till September, I guess. Can I go to bed?” It was beginning to plague him, just how tired he was.

“Of course, let me help you up." Severus immediately helped his son off the floor as the two hobbled to Adrain's room. Once Adrain was in bed, Severus began leaving the room. “I love you more than you will ever know.” Severus said as he exited, barely waiting for a response as he knew what his next goal was.

He immediately called the Wood’s household, and despite his barley understanding those impossible Irish accents, he did manage to convince Oliver's parents to let him spend the next two weeks in Rhode Island at the Snape’s Summer home. Oliver, with excitement, begged his parents to let him leave tonight. Severus didn’t know the boy could get so excited about anything other than Quidditch. But after some quick packing, Oliver was at the house on 1 Maplewood Ave. within the next three hours. When he first got through the chimney, things were awkward, to say the least. Severus quickly recognized this and said, “Oliver, I know about you and Adrian. I want you to know you have nothing to hide in this house. We can talk more in the morning, but he’s still supposed to be bed-bound, so go see him.”

"Ohh, uh, thank you,” was all Oliver could say. Snape really wasn’t that scary when he wasn’t in class. After a moment of reflection, Oliver ran up the stairs to Adrain's room. Snape followed behind to watch the moment about to take place between the two boys. Oliver busted through the door and yelled, “Hey sleepy head.”

“OLIVER?!? Holy shit, OlIVER?!?” Adrian was half awake, but yet this moment was perfect.

“Don't stay up too late, boys. Love you,” was all Snape said as he closed the door, and he was at least thankful two men couldn’t reproduce. The night went on, and Severus heard many laughs and many tears, but his son was out. His son didn’t have the burden of love on his shoulders anymore, something that should never be a burden.

#severus snape #snape community #self h@rm #mental health #oliver wood #harry potter #gay men

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bellacontracting · 2 years ago

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A History Of The Detroit Demolition Program

The Detroit Demolition Program has been a key part of the city’s history since its inception in 1974. The program is responsible for demolishing thousands of homes and businesses within the metropolitan area, making way for new development. Since its introduction, the Detroit Demolition Program has become an integral component to urban renewal projects across Michigan’s largest metropolis. This article will explore how this program originated and developed over time, detailing its impact on Detroit and surrounding communities.

In order to understand the motivations behind the creation of the Detroit Demolition Program, it is important to analyze both external economic forces acting upon Detroit as well as internal policies that have shaped the trajectory of urban redevelopment efforts in recent decades. Examining these factors provides insight into why such large-scale demolition operations were deemed necessary by local authorities in order to facilitate growth and revitalization initiatives.

Finally, this article will explore some of the challenges faced by those living near demolished structures during implementation of the Detroit Demolition Program, along with possible solutions offered through public policy and outreach programs. Through further discussion on these topics, readers will gain an appreciation for how difficult decisions made today are helping shape a better future for all citizens of Detroit.

Why Are So Many Houses Demolished In Detroit?

The once thriving Motor City of Detroit has become a ghost town in recent years, as its population dropped more than half from 1.8 million people to just over 700,000 since the 1950s and houses have been demolished left and right. The city’s demolition program is an emergency effort to demolish thousands of empty homes that are blighting many neighborhoods. The Detroit Land Bank Authority (DLBA) was formed in 2008 by Mayor Dave Bing with $50 million set aside for residential demolition which had grown to more than 100,000 structures needing attention when Mike Duggan became mayor in 2013.

According to the Detroit News, there were nearly 20,500 buildings taken down between 2014-2018 alone at a cost of approximately $260 million dollars. In addition to this number, another 8,176 were removed during 2019; however these numbers do not include demolitions done through federal funding programs like Hardest Hit Fund or Neighborhood Stabilization Program II either. This means the total number of demolitions is much higher than what is reported on paper due to incomplete records kept by both private companies and city government agencies alike.

The need for such drastic action has arisen from decades of economic stagnation coupled with major shifts in industry away from manufacturing toward technology services sectors; resulting in large amounts of abandoned housing throughout the city. While some may argue that these actions help reduce crime and increase property values within certain areas of Detroit, it has also led to displacement issues for residents who don’t immediately benefit financially from such measures being implemented in their neighborhoods.

This leaves us with two options: continue the current course of action knowing that there will be disruption but potentially positive results long term or find alternative solutions that won’t cause significant upheaval without providing substantial returns? Ultimately only time will tell how successful Detroit’s demolition efforts really are and if they can truly turn around this once great American metropolis into something even greater than before.

The Need For Demolition In Detroit

The need for demolition in Detroit is undeniable. The number of abandoned houses and vacant properties has been steadily increasing since the 1950s, leaving city officials to grapple with how best to address this issue. In 2008, Mayor Dave Bing established the Detroit Land Bank Authority (DLBA) with an initial budget of $50 million dollars dedicated solely to residential demolitions which had grown exponentially by 2013 when Mike Duggan became the mayor’s office.

Despite these efforts, the problem persists; however city voters are increasingly supportive of aggressive measures being taken as they understand that without such drastic action there will be no hope for a more prosperous future. This support has resulted in additional funds being allocated towards the demolition program on top of those already available from sources like Hardest Hit Fund or Neighborhood Stabilization Program II.

In order to ensure that all citizens benefit equally from this initiative it is essential to focus not only on tearing down homes but also finding ways for people living here who have lost their homes due to blighted neighborhoods to rebuild their lives and find new housing solutions. This could take many forms including increased access to micro-loans or educational opportunities so individuals can acquire skills needed for gainful employment and ultimately become self-sufficient members of society once again.

It is clear then that while demolition may be necessary in some cases, it must go hand-in-hand with other strategies if we truly wish to see sustainable change within communities affected by urban decay. To solve this complex issue requires effort across multiple fronts ranging from government policy reform right through economic initiatives designed specifically with the intention of helping citizens get back on their feet and reclaiming their place in society.

The Process For Demolition In Detroit

Now that the need for demolition in Detroit has been established, it is time to examine the process of actually getting such a program off the ground. In order to ensure safety and compliance with all applicable laws, there are several steps involved when demolishing a property in the city.

First and foremost, any structure which contains lead paint must be professionally abated before any demolition can begin. This is essential as exposure to this hazardous material can cause serious health risks if not properly managed. To supplement these costs, many home owners have taken advantage of federal dollars available through programs like Hardest Hit Fund or Neighborhood Stabilization Program II.

Once abatement is complete, it’s time for actual blight removal which most often takes place via physical destruction by either heavy machinery or explosives depending on the nature of the structure. Several local Detroit companies specialize in such services, making them an ideal partner for demolition projects throughout the area.

Finally once all necessary permits have been obtained and approved it’s simply a matter of executing according to plan until completion ensuring that both safety precautions and environmental standards are met at every stage along the way. It’s only then that we can truly start to see progress being made towards improving our communities one house at a time.

The Impact Of The Detroit Demolition Program

When it comes to assessing the impact of the Detroit demolition program, there is no shortage of data and analysis available. The most obvious effect has been a decrease in blighted homes around the city which can be attributed directly to the efforts of the Detroit Demolition Department. In accordance with their mission statement, they have successfully completed over 5,000 projects since its inception in 2014 resulting in almost 25 million dollars saved for Detroit taxpayers.

In addition to this visible improvement on the landscape, there have also been several economic benefits associated with these projects as well. By utilizing a bidding process for each project, competition among contractors keeps prices fair and prevents any one company from taking advantage of residents or other businesses involved in the process. This has proven beneficial not only financially but also because it encourages cooperation between companies throughout the entire state making them more likely to work together on future endeavors.

The bond proposal that was passed by voters last year was another major milestone in terms of progress towards improving Detroit’s infrastructure through demolition initiatives. This allowed for an additional $250 million worth of funds to be allocated specifically toward demolishing abandoned buildings across the city which will undoubtedly help accelerate development and revitalization even further than before.

These programs continue to demonstrate how investment into public works can pay off significantly if done correctly while being mindful of both safety and budget concerns at all times. It is safe to say that Detroit’s demolition department has already made great strides towards becoming a model example for cities everywhere when dealing with similar issues related to urban decay and neglect.

Challenges And Criticisms Of The Detroit Demolition Program

Despite its impressive track record of successful projects, the Detroit Demolition Program has still faced some criticism and challenges along the way. One issue that has been brought up is the fact that many of these demolitions have taken place without taking into account federal guidelines or even local zoning regulations in some cases. This can potentially lead to a decrease in property values for those living nearby, as well as a lack of accountability if something goes wrong during an operation.

Another major concern comes from potential bid-rigging among contractors which could result in inflated prices on certain demolition jobs. In order to combat this, it is important that there are multiple bidders involved so competition can remain strong and honest between all parties. Furthermore, transparency must also be maintained throughout any given project so citizens know exactly how their money is being spent by the city government when tax dollars are used for demolitions.

Finally, another aspect worth discussing here is the long-term effect of removing blighted homes from neighborhoods around Detroit. While it does help improve safety and aesthetics in affected areas, it can also contribute to what is called “white flight” where wealthier people begin leaving for other parts of town because they no longer feel safe or welcome in their current neighborhood due to its newly improved condition. This phenomenon should not be underestimated when evaluating programs like this one as it could have serious implications down the line depending on who decides to stay or go within each community.

In sum, while the Detroit Demolition Program serves as an effective tool for improving quality of life across the city and stimulating economic growth through investment opportunities, there needs to be more attention paid to proper oversight and regulation when carrying out operations like this one in order to ensure everyone’s best interests are kept at heart going forward. Detroit’s Demolition Program has faced criticism for its lack of transparency, as reported by Michigan Radio.

Frequently Asked Questions

How Much Does It Cost To Demolish A House In Detroit?

The cost of demolishing a house in Detroit is an important question for those looking to invest in the city. Since the onset of its demolition program, the Motor City has become known as a hub for renovation and development. The actual cost of tearing down a structure can vary greatly based on the size and complexity of it. As with any project, there are multiple factors that go into determining the final price tag.

When assessing what it will take to tear down a building or home, it’s essential to consider how much debris must be removed from the site. This includes anything from furniture, appliances, siding and insulation, to hazardous materials such as asbestos and lead paint chips. If these items have been left behind by previous occupants, they may require additional removal costs before demolition work can proceed safely. Additionally, if the property contains any valuable salvageable material like cabinets or fixtures this could also add up quickly.

An experienced contractor should be able to provide you with an accurate estimate after inspecting your particular situation thoroughly. Furthermore, certain permits may need to be obtained prior to initiating the demolition process which could incur extra fees depending on local regulations and zoning requirements. It’s always best practice to compare quotes from different contractors before signing off on any agreement so that you can make sure you’re getting fair market value for your investment dollars.

Finally, when considering all aspects involved in taking down a building in Detroit it’s important not only factor in labor costs but also potential environmental concerns and waste management solutions needed afterward; both of which can significantly drive up expenses associated with demolition projects substantially.

TIP: Before making any decisions about investing money in tearing down properties in Detroit, look into government programs such as Neighborhood Stabilization Program (NSP) grants-which may help cover some or even all of the related costs associated with demolition work!

Are There Any Incentives For Homeowners To Demolish Their Own Houses?

The demolition of houses in Detroit has been a topic of much debate over the years. It is an issue that requires careful consideration and thoughtfulness when it comes to providing incentives for people to demolish their own homes. This article will explore this question, looking at whether there are any incentives available and what they entail.

To get started, it is important to recognize the financial implications associated with house demolition. In most cases, demolishing a home can be costly endeavor – particularly if done professionally. As such, many homeowners have looked into alternatives ways of disposing of unwanted properties, including tearing down their own abode. But do these efforts come with any incentive?

In some cases, yes. Depending on where you live in Detroit, there may be certain programs or initiatives designed specifically to provide assistance or support for those who want to take on the task themselves. For example, some local governments may offer grants or other monetary rewards for completing an approved project such as demolishing a home safely and responsibly. Additionally, other private organizations might offer similar types of assistance depending on individual circumstances and eligibility requirements.

While not every city offers such opportunities, it could potentially be worth researching further if one is interested in taking on the job themselves but needs additional help covering costs or resources involved. There also may be different regulations surrounding safe practices when conducting self-demolition projects so make sure that all necessary steps are taken before starting work on your property – regardless of whether incentives exist or not!

How Does The Detroit Demolition Program Prioritize Which Houses To Demolish?

The Detroit Demolition Program has been a major force in reshaping the city. Its goal is to reduce blight and improve public safety by demolishing vacant and abandoned homes. But how does the program prioritize which houses to target for demolition?

In order to understand this process, it is important to consider factors such as location, condition of the house, cost of rehabilitation compared with demolition, potential reuse or redevelopment opportunities, whether funding is available from state or federal sources, neighborhood stability and community engagement. The city also looks at incentives that may be offered to homeowners who choose to demolish their own properties.

To begin the assessment process, local government officials survey each structure and rate its conditions on a scale ranging from “unsafe” to “safe but dilapidated.” This rating system helps inform decisions about which homes should be targeted for demolition first. After evaluating individual structures, officials then assess entire neighborhoods and develop an action plan based on these evaluations.

The goal of the Detroit Demolition Program is twofold: revitalize struggling neighborhoods while maintaining public safety standards throughout the city. To accomplish these goals, decision makers must carefully weigh all aspects of a property before deciding whether demolition is necessary or if other alternatives are more appropriate. By doing so they can ensure that resources are allocated efficiently while making progress towards improving living conditions across Detroit’s urban core.

What Is Being Done To Prevent Illegal Dumping And Other Crimes Related To Vacant Houses?

In Detroit, vacant and abandoned houses have been a major issue for many years. To combat this, the city created the Detroit Demolition Program which focuses on eliminating blight from neighborhoods by demolishing these homes. While this federal program is an important step towards improving the community, it raises questions about what other measures are being taken to protect these sites from illegal dumping and other crimes that can be associated with vacant properties.

To prevent such activities, there are several initiatives in place including regular site inspections by law enforcement officers as well as increased fines for those found guilty of illegal disposal. Additionally, property owners who fail to secure their buildings after demolition can face hefty penalties from local authorities. Furthermore, volunteers have also begun working with community members and neighborhood associations to monitor and report any suspicious activity around vacant homes.

Another key component of preventing crime at empty lots is providing alternative uses while they remain unoccupied or awaiting redevelopment. These could include community gardens, urban farms or pocket parks that offer recreational opportunities and positive uses of space within the city limits. This not only provides incentive for people to stay away from the area but also helps promote economic development through creating jobs related to maintaining these spaces.

Finally, education campaigns aimed at informing citizens about proper waste disposal methods are essential in curbing illegal dumping and other criminal acts related to vacant properties in Detroit. By teaching individuals how to properly dispose of garbage and emphasizing why certain behaviors may be dangerous or harmful to both humans and wildlife living nearby, we can help ensure that everyone does their part in keeping our communities safe and clean.

TIP: If you live near a vacant house that has recently been demolished or appears neglected, remember that reporting any suspicious activity you see will not only keep your neighbors safe but can also help revitalize your community!

What Is The Average Time Frame For The Demolition Of A House In Detroit?

The average time frame for the demolition of a house in Detroit is an important question to consider. It has been estimated that around 20,000 homes have already been demolished since Detroit Mayor Mike Duggan took office in 2014. This figure continues to grow as the city works hard to address the issues associated with vacant properties and illegal dumping. To fully understand this timeline, it is necessary to look at both its origins and current practices.

As far back as 2004, the City of Detroit initiated various projects aimed at improving standards for housing throughout the area. While some efforts focused on rehabilitation rather than demolition, others sought to take down dilapidated buildings altogether. By 2008, these initiatives had achieved success by reducing blighted property by 8%. Since then, laws such as The Blight Elimination Program (BEP) were passed which allowed municipal authorities more freedom to demolish derelict structures faster than ever before—sometimes within two days of inspection!

This quick turnaround highlights how much effort goes into tackling blights from all angles; however, it also means that many other factors need to be considered when assessing timings for individual demolitions. For example: site preparation or hazardous material removal can extend project deadlines significantly due to their complexity and importance for safety reasons. Furthermore, if legal proceedings arise or appeals are lodged against any proposed demolitions then delays could ensue too.

Considering all of these elements helps provide insight into why it is difficult to give one definitive answer regarding the typical timeframe for home demolition in Detroit. What we do know is that there remains a steady commitment toward removing blight across neighborhoods while simultaneously creating space for new development opportunities—all revolving around safe living environments where people thrive together. In short, Detroit’s approach provides a model example of how cities can come together quickly but efficiently with regards to residential construction projects and urban renewal schemes alike.

Conclusion

The Detroit Demolition Program has been instrumental in reducing the amount of blighted, abandoned properties across the city. For over a decade, this program has continued to provide cost-effective solutions for homeowners and local businesses alike. The prioritization process is transparent and effective, ensuring that structures most at risk of compromising public safety are demolished first. Homeowners can also benefit from incentives such as tax credits when they choose to demolish their houses themselves. While illegal dumping remains an issue in some areas, measures have been taken by the Detroit Police Department to reduce crime associated with vacant buildings. On average, it takes approximately six weeks for demolition services to be completed after approval is granted.

Overall, the impact of the Detroit Demolition Program cannot be understated; its presence within the community has allowed countless members of society to experience safer neighborhoods while providing economic relief through reduced taxes and increased property values. What was once a source of distress and despair now serves as a symbol of hope for residents who look forward to brighter futures ahead. Its success thus far speaks volumes about its efficacy and effectiveness in tackling one of the city’s greatest challenges – urban blight. With a commitment towards continual improvement, there’s no telling what positive changes may come from this dynamic initiative in years to come.

from Bella Contracting Services https://ift.tt/W2KPHz7

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newstfionline · 3 years ago

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Sunday, August 22, 2021

US keeps ban on nonessential border crossings to slow COVID (AP) The U.S. government on Friday extended a ban on nonessential travel along the borders with Canada and Mexico to slow the spread of COVID-19 despite increasing pressure to lift the restriction. U.S. border communities that are dependent on shoppers from Mexico and Canada and their political representatives have urged the Biden administration to lift the ban. In addition, Canada recently began letting fully vaccinated U.S. citizens enter the country. But the Department of Homeland Security said in a tweet Friday that the restrictions on nonessential travel were still needed to minimize the spread of COVID-19 and the delta variant. It extended the ban until at least Sept. 21. The travel restrictions have been in place since early in the pandemic in March 2020 and repeatedly extended while allowing commercial traffic and essential crossings to continue.

Booming business at dollar stores shows the widening gulf between haves and have-nots during pandemic (Washington Post) Kyle Dishman can’t afford to shop at the local grocery store anymore. Instead he goes to Dollar General, where he can make $40 stretch into a week’s worth of groceries and the occasional can of motor oil for his Chrysler 300. He sticks with pasta, frozen pizza and canned vegetables, fully aware that “any food you can buy for only $1 is not the greatest for you.” But Dishman says prices have gone up so much that he’s started rationing his food. A growing number of Americans are relying on dollar stores for everyday needs, especially groceries, as the coronavirus pandemic drags into its 18th month. Chains such as Dollar General and Dollar Tree are reporting blockbuster sales and profits, and proliferating so quickly that some U.S. cities want to limit their growth. Foot traffic at Dollar General is up 32 percent from pre-pandemic levels, far outpacing the 3 percent increase at Walmart. Analysts say the explosive rise of dollar stores is yet another example of how the pandemic has reshaped the economy and widened the gulf between the wealthiest and poorest Americans. “It’s a striking disparity: In this country, there is now dollar-store land and there is Whole Foods land,” said Stacy Mitchell, co-director of the Institute for Local Self-Reliance (ILSR), a nonprofit advocacy group. “And if you live in Whole Foods land, it’s very hard for people to understand just how desperate circumstances are for the rest of the country.”

More Americans now say government should take steps to restrict false information online than in 2018 (Pew Research Center) Amid rising concerns over misinformation, Americans are now a bit more open to the idea of the U.S. government taking steps to restrict false information online. Roughly half of U.S. adults (48%) say the government should take steps to restrict such misinformation, even if it means losing some freedom to access and publish content. That is up from 39% three years ago, with Democrats driving much of the increase. Meanwhile, a majority of the public continues to favor technology companies taking steps to restrict online misinformation.

Hurricane Grace hits Mexico's Gulf coast, weakens; 8 killed (AP) Hurricane Grace hit Mexico’s Gulf shore as a major Category 3 storm before weakening on Saturday, drenching coastal and inland areas in its second landfall in the country in two days. At least eight people died, authorities said. The storm had lost power while crossing over the Yucatan Peninsula on Thursday, swirling through Mexico’s main tourist strip, but it rapidly drew in power from the relatively warm Gulf of Mexico before reaching the Mexican coast again late Friday. At least eight people, including children, died and three were missing after mudslides and flooding, said Cuitláhuac García, governor of Mexico’s Veracruz state. García said 330,000 people lost power in the storm but it was gradually being restored.

Haitian quake victims rush aid sites, take food and supplies (AP) Haitians left hungry and homeless by a devastating earthquake swarmed relief trucks and in some cases stole desperately needed goods Friday as leaders of the poor Caribbean nation struggled to coordinate aid and avoid a repeat of their chaotic response to a similar tragedy 11 years ago. The attacks on relief shipments illustrate the rising frustration of those left homeless after the Aug. 14 magnitude 7.2 earthquake, which killed nearly 2,200 people, injured more than 12,000 and destroyed or damaged more than 100,000 homes. The frustration over the pace of aid has been rising for days and has been illustrated by the growing number of people crowding together at aid distribution sites. But Friday was the first time there was such widespread stealing.

UNICEF warns millions of Lebanese face water shortages (Reuters) More than 4 million people in Lebanon could face a critical shortage of water or be cut off completely in the coming days, UNICEF warned, due to a severe fuel crisis. Lebanon, with a population of 6 million, is at a low point in a two-year financial meltdown, with a lack of fuel oil and gasoline meaning extensive blackouts and long lines at the few gas stations still operating. “Vital facilities such as hospitals and health centres have been without access to safe water due to electricity shortages, putting lives at risk,” UNICEF Executive Director Henrietta Fore said in a statement. “If four million people are forced to resort to unsafe and costly sources of water, public health and hygiene will be compromised, and Lebanon could see an increase in waterborne diseases, in addition to the surge in COVID-19 cases,” she said, urging the formation of a new government to tackle the crisis.

Ethiopia's Tigray crisis: US accuses Abiy's government of blocking aid (BBC) The US international development agency has blamed the Ethiopian government for a shortage of humanitarian aid in the country's conflict-torn Tigray region. USAID accused the government of "obstructing" access to Tigray, as it warned that food aid was set to run out this week for the first time. Hundreds of thousands of people are at risk of famine amid the conflict between government and rebel forces. USAID called on the Ethiopian government to "immediately allow humanitarian assistance". It noted that aid trucks have been unable to leave the town of Semera in the neighbouring Afar region—currently the only accessible land route into Tigray. About 100 trucks of aid are needed in Tigray each day, yet just 320 have managed to reach the region since the end of June, a UN spokesman told the BBC. "At least two important aid organizations have already run out of food," said Saviano Abreu from the UN humanitarian agency, Ocha. "Without urgent and unimpeded food assistance, there will be an imminent threat to the lives of over 400,000 people in Tigray already in famine-like conditions and over 1.8 million people now in emergency levels of hunger could slide into starvation," he said.

In Kabul, a fearful wait for US to deliver on evacuation vow (AP) Tens of thousands of people in Afghanistan waited nervously on Saturday to see whether the United States would deliver on President Joe Biden’s new pledge to evacuate all Americans and all Afghans who aided the war effort. Biden faces growing criticism as videos depict pandemonium and occasional violence outside the airport, and as vulnerable Afghans who fear the Taliban’s retaliation send desperate pleas not to be left behind. The Gulf nation of Bahrain on Saturday announced it was allowing flights to use its transit facilities for the evacuation, an option that should ease pressure after the U.S. faced issues Friday with its facilities at Al-Udeid Air Base in Qatar rapidly filling up. The backlog forced flights from the Kabul international airport to stop for several hours. The United Arab Emirates, meanwhile, said it would host up to 5,000 Afghans “prior to their departure to other countries.” So far, 13 countries have agreed to host at-risk Afghans at least temporarily, U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken said. Another 12 have agreed to serve as transit points for evacuees, including Americans and others. But the growing question for many other Afghans is, where will they finally call home? Already, European leaders who fear a repeat of the 2015 migration crisis are signaling that fleeing Afghans who didn’t help Western forces during the war should stay in neighboring countries instead. The desperate scenes of people clinging to aircraft taking off from Kabul’s airport have only deepened Europe’s anxiety.

Taliban took Afghanistan but face cash squeeze (AP) The Taliban face a frontal challenge in cementing control of Afghanistan: Money. Despite their dominant military blitz over the past week, the Taliban lack access to billions of dollars from their central bank and the International Monetary Fund that would keep the country running during a turbulent shakeup. Those funds are largely controlled by the U.S. and international institutions, a possible leverage point as tense evacuations proceed from the airport in the capital of Kabul. Tens of thousands of people remain to be evacuated ahead of the United States’ Aug. 31 deadline to withdraw its troops from the country. But the Taliban also do not currently have institutional structures to receive the money—a sign of the challenges it might confront as it tries to govern an economy that has urbanized and tripled in size since they were last in power two decades ago. The shortfall could lead to an economic crisis that would only fuel a deeper humanitarian one for the roughly 36 million Afghans expected to stay in the country.

The Taliban is flaunting captured U.S. weapons that may be worth billions. Can it use them? (Washington Post) As the Taliban swept into power across Afghanistan, it captured many millions, perhaps billions, of dollars worth of U.S. military equipment that had once belonged to Afghan forces. Footage from areas captured by the militant group shows bedraggled but celebratory fighters in control of U.S.-made guns, armored vehicles and even Blackhawk helicopters and drones. Beyond the flashy hardware, experts are also concerned that the extremist group would now be in charge of sophisticated technology, including biometric devices used by the U.S. military to identify Afghans who assisted Americans and allies. It’s an impressive haul for a group that was once dismissed as a band of rural Luddites when it emerged in the 1990s. But despite its austere interpretations of Islam and rejection of much of modern society, the Taliban has shown flexibility when it comes to technology. It is already active on the Internet and social media. And its fighters are no strangers to U.S. military equipment. “The Taliban have already been using sophisticated military equipment that they have captured from Afghan national security forces in recent years,” said Robert Crews, an expert on Afghanistan at Stanford University. “They have used everything from night vision goggles and scopes to sniper rifles and armored vehicles and artillery.”

Battered Airlines Owed Billions as Governments Withhold Cash (Bloomberg) Airlines are owed almost $1 billion across 20 countries as governments seek to hang on to hard currency, depriving the industry of vital cash at a time when travel has been devastated by the coronavirus crisis. Figures published by the International Air Transport Association show that Venezuela is withholding a further $4 billion that’s been outstanding for years and may be permanently lost to carriers. Lebanon, Bangladesh, Nigeria and Zimbabwe are the worst offenders among other states, accounting for 60% of the $963 million deficit, according to IATA.

#headlines #news

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jeranasblog · 4 years ago

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See me how I really am

Summary: Peter has a problem. He has a big crush on his adoptive father Tony Stark who raised him since he was five years old. Good thing, that the Alpha isn’t interested in him, right?

Rating: E

Notes: This story is my Starkercest Bingo 2020 contribution. Kink for the first story: Line Prompt** "You wanted me to walk in on you." (Bingo board at the end of the post)

Warnings: Adoptive Father/Adoptive Son, don’t like it, don’t read it

Read it on Ao3

„Daddy, you home?“ Peter opened the door to the million-dollar apartment he shared with his Dad in the middle of New York. He threw his backpack in the corner and kicked off his shoes, tucking them away in the shoe cabinet.

He was early today, his college professor had caught the flu, and his best friends Ned and MJ had canceled their Wednesday night study session. To be fair, Peter would have called off their meeting, too, because he was close to his heat and the only thing he wanted right now was to lie down in his bed surrounded by his pillows and toys.

Normally Peter wouldn’t go to his lectures if he didn’t feel like it. He was clever enough to catch up later and all the professors fully understood that an Omega would stay at home close to his heat, but there wasn’t much time left until finals. And Peter was a little bit afraid of the upcoming exams because he didn’t want to disappoint his Daddy.

Being the son of Tony Stark definitely had its advantages, even if the tech genius wasn’t really his Dad. Peter had never met his biological father, and Tony had married his mother when he had been five years old, so he was the only authoritative figure in his life. Especially since his mother had died a few months later and Peter could be lucky that Tony had decided to adopt him then, otherwise he would have ended up in an orphanage.

Peter was grateful, more than he could ever express, and so he did his best to please his Dad. He felt an overwhelming urge to be good, to make his Daddy proud, so he worked hard on every day. He studied for hours to get the best grades, he cooked and cleaned, he even did his father’s laundry. Everything just to be the perfect little Omega for his Dad. Peter knew very well that Tony Stark was a busy, important man, and he did everything he could to make his Daddy’s life easier.

Oh, and how proud Tony was of him. He always took Peter to social events, parading him around like the perfect son Peter tried his best to be. Tony told him how jealous the other rich people were of him, how he had to drive back other Alphas that want to claim Peter, and he was so glad that his Daddy protected him. He didn’t want to be with other Alphas, he just wanted to be with his Dad.

His life could have been so good, he had friends who cared about him, they had more than enough money to pay for his dream college in New York so he wouldn’t have to move away. He didn’t even argue with his Dad either. He could have been so happy if only Peter’s feelings hadn’t got in his way. Peter felt a strong urge to obey his Daddy, to be perfect for him, to get down on his knees and present for him, and the thought alone was enough to make him scared as hell. He was his Dad, for god’s sake! Maybe not in blood, but by name anyway.

Peter was ashamed of himself. At night he was lay in bed, imagining his Daddy’s hands all over his body while he was touching himself. He pictured his Daddy’s knot when he was riding his favorite dildo during his heat, and he wished that it were his Daddy’s fingers that stuffed him full while he was preparing himself for the plastic toy. His thoughts were wrong, so wrong, but he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering.

One day he might unintentionally reveal his secret, and he was afraid that he would destroy the relationship to his Dad. It became harder and harder every day to keep his feelings locked inside him. He had been so close to screaming his Daddy’s name during his last heat and if Tony had walked past his room, he could have heard his small whimpers that begged for his Daddy’s knot. Despite his fear, Peter couldn’t hold back much longer, and he knew his secret would be discovered one day. He just wasn’t ready to lose Tony yet.

That was one of the reasons why he was more than relieved that Tony wasn’t at home today. His whole body was tingling, his hole slickening up and arching to be filled and the closer he got to his heat, the harder it became to hold back the feelings about his daddy.

On the way to his room, Peter passed the bedroom door of Tony. Even though the whole apartment was clouded by his Daddy’s Alpha smell, it was even stronger here, so close to the bed where Tony was always sleeping in. The smell of black coffee mixed with leather and a hint of motor oil was overwhelming on a good day and now, so close to his heat, Peter immediately felt slick gushing out of his hole.

Fuck, he knew he was weak when he opened the door, he knew it was a mistake, but he had held back more often than not and this time, he snapped. Just for a minute, he tried to convince himself. I’ll be out in no time.

Of course, Peter had been in his Dad’s bedroom before, they were living in the same apartment, but usually, he tried to avoid entering the room. Tony was a neat man, his room tidied and clean, and it was probably the only room in the house that Peter didn’t clean regularly. His Daddy had told him that even though he loved Peter doing the chores, a bedroom was a very vulnerable place for an Alpha and that he would clean it himself. To be honest, Peter had felt relief because he knew he couldn’t be trusted around the smell of his Daddy.

Peter had wanted to stay a minute, maybe two. He had just wanted to take a deep breath, surrounded by the intoxicating smell, and then leave, memorizing the hint of coffee, leather, and motor oil while he was pleasuring himself alone in his room. But a simple black tank top, which his Daddy had most likely forgotten to put in the laundry bag this morning, made his resolution falter.

It wouldn’t hurt anyone just to take a whiff, would it? Just once, then he could go back to his room and leave the filthy thoughts about his Daddy behind. Peter was so, so weak and he gave in, burying his nose in the soft fabric.

It was ecstatic. The smell was too strong, too good and he didn’t even notice the slick running down his thighs anymore. His mind was clouded, his biology took over his actions and he walked over to his Daddy’s bed, consequences be damned. Nothing mattered anymore except the smell of his Alpha and he craved to be closer to the scent.

Peter fell on the soft sheets, his eyes rolling back and a small moan slipped past his lips. He was floating, surrounded by his Daddy’s smell, and at that point, there was no turning back.

He stripped, kicking his clothes out of bed until the only barrier between him and the fabric was the pair of dark red panties that he put on in the morning, thinking about his Daddy. Slick was everywhere, pooling in the panties, running down his thighs and the sheets would be soaked by it in minutes. There was no way his Daddy wouldn’t notice the smell of aroused Omega, but Peter was too far gone to care. The desire had shut his mind down.

He moaned as he touched his neck for the first time, his fingertips pressed lightly against the heated skin. It was good, but at the same time not enough. He wanted his Daddy’s rough hands against his delicate throat, wanted the Alpha to sink his teeth down his neck until everyone knew who he belonged to. Peter tried to squeeze even harder, tried to imitate the Alpha grip, which he had only seen on TV before. He whimpered in distress, it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t his Daddy.

Peter gave up, his hand sliding lower, caressing his collar bones until they found his nipples. He flicked them gently first, sensitive so close to his heat and he enjoyed the feeling of too much. Tiny electric shocks tingled down his spine, making him even wetter, his cock completely hard by now.

Abruptly, he caught his nipples in a tight grip, squeezing until his back arched from the bed, a high-pitched moan echoing across the room. God, what he would give if only his Daddy was here with him. Watching him, touching him, stuffing his hole with his Alpha cock. “Daddy, please, Alpha.”

Peter had wanted to drag it out, to tease himself and savor the arousal, but the feeling of his Daddy’s sheets against his almost naked body was too much. His hands wandered lower as he spread his legs, giving himself enough room to touch.

Usually, he would reach for his cock first, touching and stroking it until it was too much until he couldn’t stand the desire anymore, but today Peter was impatient. He didn’t even pull down his panties, just slipped the fabric aside to get better access.

The first touch against his dripping hole was burning hot, too much, and Peter shivered, the pleasure almost hurt. He was so worked up, sitting in a classroom all day, and now surrounded by the smell of his Alpha. Fuck, what was he thinking? His Daddy wasn’t his Alpha, although there was nothing he wanted more. It would be a dream to be owned by a man as perfect as Tony Stark.

To stop his mind from spinning, he distracted himself, thrusting his finger into his wet heat in one stroke. “Daddy, god. Yes.” He closed his eyes in bliss, imagining it was the Alpha’s finger that had entered him. He moaned, feeling his tight walls clinging to the single digit. It wasn’t enough. He needed more.

Peter was out of control, he was no longer aware of his surroundings and so he almost screamed when a voice interrupted his pleasure. “You wanted me to walk in on you, don’t you?”

Peter froze, his finger still buried deep inside of him, and he slowly opened his eyes. In the doorway stood his Daddy, dressed in one of the fancy suits he wore to work, and his arms crossed in front of his chest. He looked good like every fantasy Peter ever had and horror started to spread in his veins. Oh, no. This was a nightmare.

He whimpered, half want half fear, his Daddy’s eyes fixed on his body and he couldn’t bring himself to pull his finger out. If he would just close his eyes, maybe everything would be a dream. He would wake up in his own bed, pinning after his Daddy like he always had. But seconds passed and he still didn’t wake up.

Slowly, Peter raised his head, trying to figure out what his Daddy was thinking. Would he be thrown out? He knew he had fucked up, and he was fully prepared for his Daddy to get rid of him. What he didn’t expect was pure hunger on the Alpha’s face. His Daddy’s hands were tightly clamped in fists, his knuckles white from the pressure, and black eyes were fixed on his uncovered hole. His face was twisted, the expression slowly changing until the Alpha stared at him like a predator. Peter shivered and immediately, his body produced more slick.

Tony growled. “Do you know how long I’ve been thinking about this?” The Alpha’s voice was deeper than Peter had ever heard before. “Do you know how long I’ve been dreaming about seeing you like this? So ready, waiting for my cock? Do you know how many times I’ve felt bad about thinking like this, about having such perverted thoughts about my own son?”

Peter shook his head frantically, whimpering and spreading his legs even wider to show off for his Alpha. He felt fresh slick running down his thighs, dripping onto the sheets which were probably ruined by now.

“Haven’t you ever wondered why I don’t want you to clean my room. You can’t imagine how wild your sweet Omega smell drives me, that I couldn’t stand it in my room, or I would have ravished you otherwise. You smell so ripe and eager, even outside of heat, it was a challenge for my self-restraint.” The Alpha cleared this throat and took a deep breath as he continued speaking, his voice already rough. “And then I come home from work early, and you’re lying in my bed, soaking my sheets with your slick, while you have your finger buried in your hole. Do you even know what you’re doing to me?”

Peter cried out, his Daddy’s words heightening his arousal until he felt like bursting. Everything was burning and it wasn’t enough. He needed his Daddy’s touch, he needed his Daddy’s knot. His control was slipping, all the shame disappeared, and he slammed a second finger into his hole, savoring the way his hot walls clenched around his digits. He felt frantic, desperate like he was in heat, but he wasn’t yet. It was his Alpha’s presence that made him go crazy.

Tony had stepped closer to the bed, his suit jacket thrown to the floor and he rolled up his sleeves, exposing his muscular forearms to Peter. He clenched around his finger, his gaze fixed on his Daddy’s exposed skin. He was so much stronger than him, could very likely hold him up while he was fucking him against a wall. He could hold Peter down without even using his Alpha voice.

Peter’s imagination went wild. He saw himself bouncing on his Daddy’s cock in the morning when the Alpha enjoyed his first coffee. He wanted to suck his Daddy’s cock during their weekly movie nights. He even wanted to be stuffed when his Daddy was on the phone with his employees. The thoughts were too much. Peter felt the trembling of his first orgasm coming closer and he tried to stuff his fingers even deeper.

“Don’t you dare, you little slut.” The Alpha looked at him with a thunderous expression, gripping Peter’s wrist tightly to prevent his hand from moving. Peter wailed, his hips bucking into the touch, but that wasn’t enough to make him come. A frustrated tear slipped from his eyes as he came back from the cliff. His breathing was hard, uneven and he hiccupped a little from the denial.

“Please.” The Omega whined and stared at his Daddy with wide eyes. He wanted to be good, he really did, but he was so close, he could barely stand it. Tony gripped his wrist even harder, pulled his fingers out, and that was enough to make him sob in earnest.

“Look at you.” The Alpha cooed, sitting down on the bed next to Peter. “You’re so desperate to get your fingers back, aren’t you? You’re whining like a little slut who doesn’t care about anything but getting her hole stuffed. But you’re lying on my bed in my room, so you’re going to play by my rules. Don’t you think that’s fair, baby?”

Oh god, the words were too much. There was nothing Peter wanted more in the world than to belong to his Daddy, to be owned by the Alpha. He wanted to be his little slut, he wanted to be ready whenever his Daddy wanted him.

“Please.” He whimpered, pathetic, not even sure what he was begging for. It wasn’t important, all that mattered was his Daddy right beside him.

“I’m not a cruel man.” The Alpha explained in a voice that proved otherwise. “I just don’t want you to pleasure yourself anymore. Can you do that for me? Stop touching your little cock and your tight hole?”

It sounded like a nightmare, but Peter was willing. As long as his Daddy kept looking at him this way, he would do anything for the man. So, he nodded, more tears running down his cheeks, and he fought to stay still, so he wouldn’t rub himself all over the sheets.

“Relax, sweetheart. I’m going to take care of you. You just have to let Daddy do it.”

Peter nodded enthusiastically, his curls swaying with the movement. He must look so wrecked, legs spread impossibly wide, his thighs glistening with slick and he was probably blushing like a virgin. It was like a dream coming true. He was lying in his Daddy’s bed, surrounded by his smell, and he didn’t have to think anymore. His Daddy would take care of his pleasure.

“I want you to turn around, to present for me. Can you do that?” The Alpha’s voice was deep, almost a growl, and Peter’s guts clenched in arousal.

He scrambled to his knees, turning around to get into the position his Daddy wanted him to be in. He lowered his shoulders to the sheets, his ass raised in the air while his hands rested next to his head. He would be a good little Omega for his Daddy, the best. Peter arched his back as enchanting as possible, presenting his features for his Alpha to take.

Tony growled from the vision and Peter felt a soft touch caressing his cheeks. “Please, Alpha. Give me your knot. Please.”

“Not today, baby boy.” Tony’s voice was hard, relentless, and Peter let out a little sob. He needed this, he needed his Daddy’s touch, his Daddy’s cock, but he would be a good boy. He would stay still until his Daddy decided he was allowed to move.

“I can’t give you my knot today.” The Alpha explained with regret. “You’re going to be in heat soon and if I want to fuck you during it, you can’t be sore already.”

That wasn’t fair. He could take it, sore or not. He just wanted his Daddy to soothe the all-consuming arch in his gut. He moaned pitifully, giving his Alpha the puppy-eye look to convince him, but Tony stood firm.

“No, Omega.” He growled, his voice shifting from friendly to determined. “You take what I give you, and if I decide not to give you my knot, then you won’t complain. Did I make myself clear?”

Peter cried harder. His Daddy, his Alpha, was disappointed in him, and it was breaking his heart. He wanted to be good, he really wanted to be good, it was just so hard when he got so worked up. “Yes, Alpha.” He sobbed, hoping his Daddy would forgive him.

“Good boy.” The Alpha soothed him and stroked his back, reassuring him that everything was fine, they were fine, and Peter let out a sigh of relief. He would try harder, he would be the perfect Omega for his Daddy.

Caught in his thoughts, Peter hadn’t realized that the Alpha’s hand had wandered lower until it touched his wet hole for the first time. It was pure bliss, his insides were clenching, and the fingertip was almost enough to let him trip over the edge. He couldn’t even moan anymore, silent and obedient from words and a single touch alone.

“Look at your hole.” His Daddy purred, spreading his slick all over his ass. “So wet for me. Do you need me? Do you need your Daddy?”

The broken yes turned into a cry when the Alpha suddenly pressed two of his fingers into the tight heat. Peter’s body twisted and he lifted his ass even higher. His muscles tightened and burned under the strain, but he didn't care. All he could focus on was the feeling of his Alpha’s fingers inside of him. Peter began to buck his hips uncontrollably, impaling himself further on his Daddy’s fingers.

Tony started to move his fingers, thrusting in and out of his hole and making a squelching sound emphasizes by his slick. It was loud and filthy, outright obscene and Peter felt that his body was producing even more slick, preparing him for his Alpha’s cock.

“Can you hear that, babydoll?” Tony teased, twisting his fingers so that the sound was even louder. “Can you hear how desperate you are for me? Like a little slut?”

Peter was gone so far that there was no shame left. “Yes, Daddy. Your slut. Yours.”

The Alpha growled at the statement, his free hand roaming until it found the Omega’s neck. He gripped tightly, forcing Peter’s face even further into the sheets. It was painful but glorious, and he submitted immediately, baring his throat for his Daddy’s touch. He had never felt so good before, so consumed, although his Alpha wasn’t even fucking him yet. It was fine, he could wait.

“I want you to work for it, sweetheart.” Tony commanded. “Show me how much you want me. Clench for me and I might give you a third finger.”

Yes, yes. Peter tensed up, clenching his inner muscles exactly the way his Alpha wanted him to. It was a struggle, his muscles already straining, but he would make it, he would show his Alpha how good he could be. He moaned again when Tony finally fed him the third finger. The stretch was so good, spreading him as he loved it and Peter purred contentedly. He could die happily like this.

The fingers kept thrusting in and out of his slick passage, getting faster and faster every second, and Peter felt how he was getting close a second time. The wave felt bigger than before, the feelings heightened by his Daddy’s touch and pathetic little noises slipped past his lips.

“Can I come? Oh, please. Can I?” Peter sobbed, turning his head to ask for the permission of his Daddy.

“I’m not sure yet.” The Alpha said, deliberately twisting his wrist until he was assaulting Peter’s prostate for the first time.

The pleasure was intense, something he had never felt before. His ears were ringing, he was screaming, but he didn’t recognize his own voice anymore. Hot, unyielding pleasure was flooding him, tingling in every cell of his body and he felt his cock leaking onto the mattress, his slick mixing with the precome. Everything was wet, hot, and messy, the sheets more than ruined by now.

“Look at you, so beautiful, my little Omega. So close.” Peter preened under the praise, a warm feeling spreading through his body. “You open up so beautiful for me. I’m going to teach you everything because you are mine. Mine. Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me that you are mine.”

“Yours, Daddy.” Peter sobbed. “Only yours. Your little slut, your little Omega. Everything you want me to be, just please don’t leave me.”

“Oh, baby boy.” The Alpha cooed, the grip around his neck tightening. “I won’t leave you. I’m already thinking about claiming you. You won’t mind that I’m your father by law, will you? You won’t care if I parade you around, show what a good little Omega you are? Do you want them all to see us? Want them to see how filthy you are?”

“Yes, Daddy. Whatever you want.” Peter screamed as a fourth finger was pressed inside him alongside the other. His vision swam and he felt the feelings building up, knowing he couldn’t hold back much longer.

“Then come for me, my good little slut. Come on my fingers.” Tony ordered and it was too much.

Peter was flying. He could see stars, his mind clouded by overwhelming pleasure and he let out a pathetic whimper. It was too much, too intense, so good. He didn’t know anymore whether he wanted to push back onto the fingers or withdraw, pulling away from the feelings. He couldn’t decide but his Daddy could. His brain was knocked out by the power of his orgasm.

The waves didn’t stop, carrying him higher and higher. His Daddy was focused on his prostate, milking every dribble of come that his Omega cock was able to give. His walls clenched, gripping his Alpha’s fingers so tightly that Tony let out a small hiss. He had never come so long, so intense before and he felt his vision fading the longer his Daddy dragged out the orgasm.

When Tony finally pulled his fingers out, Peter couldn’t even respond anymore. He fell onto the sheets, lying in a puddle of his come and slick. He was weak, too tired to move or to feel shame, wrung out by the best orgasm of his life.

“Hey, baby boy. You were wonderful. Let me move you.” His Daddy ordered, picking him up easily and holding him in his arms. Peter wrapped his legs around the Alpha’s middle, clinging to him like a koala bear. He felt the thick cock of his Daddy pressed against his ass and tried to move, wanting his Daddy to feel as good as he did.

But Tony gripped his hips, preventing him from moving. “Not now, Pete. Let’s go to your room. The sheets are clean there.”

“But I want you to feel good.” Peter whined, a tear slipping from his eyes. Didn’t his Daddy want him? Didn’t he want Peter to make him feel good?

The Alpha could apparently see what was going on inside him because he soothed him, calming him with a firm hand on his neck. “I want you, sweetheart. God, I want you. But I can wait. Today was about you. Next time you can show me how good your mouth can be for me. Deal?”

The Omega sighed contentedly, cuddling up closer to his Daddy’s chest. Yes, he was fine as long as he could have his Daddy again. Endorphins were still flooding his body, leaving no room for shame.

He smiled broadly as Tony carried him to his bed, his nose buried in the Alpha’s neck. He inhaled his intoxicating smell, mixed with his own slick, and if he was in heat, he would have been aroused again by now. Instead, he was satisfied and wanted to be close to his Daddy, wanted his affection and care.

He felt that his Daddy lowered them into Peter’s bed, how the Alpha purred contentedly, and pulled him closer against his chest. The thick cock of the Alpha nestled against his crack, a steady reminder that their relationship had shifted from father and son to something else.

The last thing on Peter’s mind was that he would do anything for his Daddy, anything to make him happy. Then he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

#starkercestbingo2020 #starker

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myonechicagoworld · 4 years ago

Text

CHICAGO FIRE – REAR VIEW MIRROR (S01E06)

[door bell chime]

Hallie Thomas: Gabriela.

Gabby Dawson: Hey.

Hallie Thomas: Thank you for meeting me.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah, of course.

Hallie Thomas: I hope it wasn’t an inconvenience.

Gabby Dawson: No, no, no, no. Not at all.

Hallie Thomas: I know you and Matt are close.

Gabby Dawson: Oh, uh…

Waitress: Can I get you something to drink?

Hallie Thomas: Uh, coffee’s fine, thank you.

I didn’t want to go to the Chief about this

because…

God, I’m so sorry.

Gabby Dawson: Oh, it’s okay. What’s… what’s wrong?

Hallie Thomas: It’s the Detective Voight thing. I didn’t, um…

I know your brother’s been trying to help.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah, that’s right.

Hallie Thomas: It’s just I have never seen Matt like this, and I have

a feeling that something bad is gonna happen.

Gabby Dawson: I’m really sorry for everything you’re going

through, Hallie, I am, but I’m not sure what I can

do.

Hallie Thomas: Matt’s deposition is scheduled after his shift.

Once he testifies against Voight’s son, it’s…it’s not

worth it anymore just to prove a point.

And I’m thinking more and more that Matt

shouldn’t go through with it.

Gabby Dawson: You should tell Matt.

Hallie Thomas: I did. Last night.

He wouldn’t listen.

But I think he would if it came from you.

cutscene

[motor humming]

[metal creaking & shaking]

Kelly Severide: Hey, hold still. Just relax.

Zit?

Tagger: I-I didn’t do that!

Kelly Severide: Of course not.

Look, this is as far as I can go. You gotta come the

rest of the way.

Tagger: You mean drop?

Kelly Severide: That’s right.

Otis Zvonecek: Zito…big-time tagger.

Leslie Shay: Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ve seen his name around.

Otis Zvonecek: Yeah? He’s hit every “L” train, bus stop, and

mailbox in Chicago.

Christopher Herrmann: You president of his fan club?

Otis Zvonecek: No. There’s a street art exhibition at the MCA.

Christopher Herrmann: This clown’s in the museum?

Otis Zvonecek: What a country. Right?

Kelly Severide: Just slide on down nice and easy. I got you.

Tagger (Zito): You called the cops!

Whoa!

Kelly Sevride: Hey!

Tagger (Zito): [struggling]

Kelly Severide: All right, now! Just drop!

(into radio) Coming down.

Matt Casey: (over radio) Copy. All clear.

Chief Boden: All good?

Otis Zvonecek: Yeah. Graffiti artist got stuck up there, Chief.

[dramatic music]

[car door shuts]

Chief Boden: Kelly.

You got no reason to be here.

Hank Voight: Oh, collecting gang intel, Chief.

Big new tag like that… gotta make sure it doesn’t

spark a turf war.

Chief Boden: You’ve seen it. Now leave.

Hank Voight: You might want to take a step back there. I don’t want

to charge you or one of your men with interfering

with a police investigation.

Chief Boden: Yeah.

Pack it up. We’re outta here.

Hank Voight: Oh, hey, Casey. You got your deposition tomorrow.

Kelly Severide: Come on, let’s go. Come on.

Hank Voight: Let me ask you, is that cute little fiancée of yours

gonna be there too? ‘Cause I gotta tell you, the

other night, when we were talking, she seemed

kinda, I don’t know, uh, shut down. But by the

end, she really started to open up.

Kelly Severide: Hey! Hey! Come on.

Matt Casey: Your day’s coming. Your day’s coming, Voight!

- Title Screen -

[knocks on door]

Chief Boden: Close the door.

[door shuts]

Chief Boden: You all right?

Matt Casey: Yeah.

Chief Boden: What do you want to do?

Matt Casey: About?

Chief Boden: You.

You want to go out on calls, stay here in the house,

take some time off?

Matt Casey: Go out on calls.

Chief Boden: Then you have to do it right.

Matt Casey: I have been.

Chief Boden: You’ve heard me say this a million times.

In this job, regardless of what’s going on in your life,

you take your eye off it for one second, people can

die.

Matt Casey: You’re right. I have heard you say that, and we’re in

agreement.

Chief Boden: I wish I could do more to fix this, but right now, it is

just a matter of trusting the system.

Look, Matt, there won’t be another warning.

[background chatter]

Kelly Severide: Hey.

Hey, look…

Look, man, you wanna hit somebody, my buddy

has got a boxing gym over in Bucktown. You get

a trainer, you glove up, you hit mitts. 5 bucks a

round. We could head over there after shift.

Matt Casey: Yeah, I’ll-I’ll think about it. Thanks.

cutscene

Christopher Herrmann: Not to sound like my father-in-law, but

this is what’s wrong with America.

Otis Zvonecek: What’s wrong with America or what’s great about

America?

Christopher Herrmann: Are you kidding me? 3,000 clams for that,

and I’m out there doing side jobs for 20

dollars an hour?

Joe Cruz: Hey, Mouch is looking for you.

Christopher Herrmann: Do you know how much the taxpayers of

this city pay for graffiti removal? 50 million

a year.

Peter Mills: Uh, that… that sounds high.

Christopher Herrmann: Look it up.

All right, stop. All right, so it’s more like

25 million or something.

[laughing]

Christopher Herrmann: Either way, it’s a lot of money.

Peter Mills: Yeah.

Christopher Herrmann: And then this little wannabe hood rat…

Leslie Shay: Herrmann… it’s bold. It’s provocative.

Christopher Herrmann: Hahaha. You’re just trying to get a rise.

And look at these high society douche

bags lapping it up.

You see, this is why, when my kids get out

of high school, Cindy and me, we’re

moving to Chain O’Lakes ‘cause… I can’t

deal with this insanity.

[laughter]

cutscene

Gabby Dawson: How long am I looking at? Realistically.

Mouch: Somewhere between 0 and 100 days.

Gabby Dawson: Oh…do you understand [chuckles] the definition

of ‘realistically’?

Mouch: There’s a lot of moving parts to this.

Gabby Dawson: They’re on your head.

Mouch: Ah.

Gabby Dawson: Have you ever even been to a suspension hearing

before?

Mouch: Of course.

Your case [Gabby sighs] is a two-demerit issue, and so

we’re gonna keep it friendly. And the more aggressive

you come across, the more guilty you’ll look. Keep

your responses short and to the point.

Gabby Dawson: All right, cool. So you’re saying you got this,

right Mouch?

Mouch: Yeah, but we still gotta prep. Where you going?

cutscene

Gabby Dawson: Hey.

Matt Casey: Hey.

Gabby Dawson: [nervous chuckle] Sorry, just what you needed,

right? One more person asking how you’re

doing.

Matt Casey: Better than nobody giving a rat’s ass, I guess.

Gabby Dawson: So… how are you holding up?

Matt Casey: I’m just hoping that luck’s on my side because in

terms of me being able to control the situation. It

hasn’t worked out so well.

Gabby Dawson: Uh… but I guess there… there is one more thing

you could do to end this whole thing, right?

Have you thought about retracting your statement?

Matt Casey: Would you?

Gabby Dawson: I would think about it.

Matt Casey: Okay. Now that you have…

Gabby Dawson: [sighs]

Matt Casey: Why would you advise me to do something you

wouldn’t?

Gabby Dawson: I…

[alarm whooping, PA buzzing]

(Over PA): Ambulance 61, Truck 81, gunshot victim. 25 East

Halsted Street.

[siren blares]

[horns honk]

[cars honking, indistinct chatter & shouting]

[truck door shuts]

Lady 1: C’mon!

Matt Casey: Wait!

Leslie Shay: Where’s the victim?

CTA Driver: In the back.

Matt Casey: Shooter?

CTA Driver: Gone. I swerved when I heard the shots.

Matt Casey: Cruz, Mills, in the bus.

Cones and flares; get these cars moving.

[car horns beeping & honking]

Leslie Shay: Shot to the neck. Not breathing. Weak pulse.

Guys…

Gabby Dawson: We need your help.

Leslie Shay: Alright, get him down here.

Down here’s good. Watch his head. Watch his head.

Gabby Dawson: Okay, you gotta get an open airway or we’re gonna

lose him right now.

Here, open this.

Leslie Shay: We can’t tube him; too much mouth trauma.

Gabby Dawson: All right, surgical cric.

Leslie Shay: Not approved in the field, Dawson.

Gabby Dawson: Excuse me, sir, does that really matter to you

right now? No? Oh, okay, good.

Leslie Shay: Give it to me.

Gabby Dawson: I got it.

Leslie Shay: Dawson, give it to me. Now!

Alright, give me the tube.

Joe Cruz: We’ll get the backboard and stretcher.

[car door shuts]

Christopher Herrmann: Chief.

[whistles] Hey, keep it moving!

Let’s go, let’s go.

Chief Boden: Surgical cric?

Gabby Dawson: We could’ve waited for approval, but then he

would have been D.O.A.

Leslie Shay: It was my call, Chief. I’ll take the hit.

[tires screech, horns honk]

Matt Casey: What was that?

Man 1: What are you doing?

Matt Casey: Huh? No, you’re gotta wait.

Oh, you’re gonna do that? Go on.

[tires screeching]

Chief Boden: Casey!

Your shift is over.

Matt Casey: Oh, come on Chief!

Chief Boden: No, no, no, no. Go home. Head for the house.

Whatever you want but you are done for

today.

[radio chatter]

[truck door shuts]

Kelly Severide: Where’s Casey?

Chief.

Chief Boden: I’m not taking any more chances.

Kelly Severide: He’s doing the right thing. He’s getting his ass

kicked for it.

Chief Boden: You don’t think I know that?

Kelly Severide: Then he needs to be here where we can keep an

eye on him.

Chief Boden: Kelly, I tried that already.

Kelly Severide: So he’s better off out there by himself, pissed off,

not thinking straight…

Chief Boden: This is a firehouse…

Not some of the time, not for some of the calls.

Any man who walks through that door, he gotta be

ready. If he isn’t, he’s gonna be walking in the

other direction.

‘Cause I am a chief first and I am a friend second.

Casey’s just gonna have to find his own way from

now on.

cutscene

Leslie Shay: Saline?

Gabby Dawson: [sighs] Two.

Leslie Shay: Ambo bag?

Gabby Dawson: One. Do you also want me to tell you how much

gas we have left in the ambo tank ‘cause

apparently, all I’m good for is inventory and

driving now.

Leslie Shay: Listen, one more black mark on your record between

now and Friday…

Gabby Dawson: Why even go to the hearing if you’re already

suspending me?

Leslie Shay: Maybe I don’t want to ride around with half-assed

relievers for three months. Ever thought of that?

Listen, Chief did the right thing. Gave him some time

to cool off.

He’s gonna be fine.

cutscene

Otis Zvonecek: We should eat, huh?

Peter Mills: Make a sandwich.

Otis Zvonecek: [munching]

Peter Mills: So… Casey’s out for how long?

Christopher Herrmann: Chief knows that, not me.

Mouch: I got a suspension hearing to prepare for.

Send Dawson in, if you see her.

Joe Cruz: [slams fists down on table] Yo I feel like we’re sitting

around like a bunch of pussies while we let Voight

push our boy around. Why can’t we take the ball

game to him?

Christopher Herrmann: I got a wife and four kids who don’t need

their dad fired or locked up.

Joe Cruz: How ‘bout you, Mills?

Otis Zvonecek: Why aren’t you asking me?

Joe Cruz: Because I’m not talking about toilet papering Voight’s

house, O.

How ‘bout it, Mills?

Peter Mills: I’m down.

Christopher Herrmann: Okay, the both of you shut up.

Nobody’s gonna do nothin’.

Joe Cruz: So we just sit by?

Christopher Herrmann: Then go! Put on a ski mask and take on a

dirty cop, and see how far that gets you.

[door shuts]

cutscene

[cell phone buzzes]

Gabby Dawson: What’s the latest?

Antonio Dawson: Nothing yet.

Gabby Dawson: What are you say…what, we’re still at zero?

Score one? What do you mean nothing?

Antonio Dawson: I’ve been doing plenty. But if you’re asking if I

have anything conclusive at this moment, the

answer’s no.

Gabby Dawson: Well, what have you been doing, Antonio?

Antonio Dawson: [scoffs]

Gabby Dawson: I would love to know, because this whole thing is

unravelling for Casey.

Antonio Dawson: Voight’s put the word out on the street…

we know that. So we’re looking for someone to

wear a wire. Yesterday, we busted a kid for

possession. He’s in a gang with ties to Voight.

I offered him a deal if he’d flip. Had him this

close, but he wouldn’t go.

Gabby Dawson: So offer him something else.

Antonio Dawson: [scoffs] It don’t work like that.

As long as Casey doesn’t take the bait, this

thing’s gonna play out the way we want.

So sit tight. Have a little faith in your brother.

cutscene

Hallie Thomas: Why don’t we just leave? We both have vacation

time built up. We could even go longer, I’m sure

they would give you a leave of absence.

Matt Casey: When we get back… Voight will have forgotten all

about it?

Hallie Thomas: We go where he can’t find us, and we give the

cops enough time to bust him.

Come on, baby. Let’s get out of here.

Let’s regroup.

[knocks on door]

Matt Casey: Just…

[indistinct radio chatter]

Officer Bell: Matthew Casey?

Matt Casey: Yeah?

Officer Bell: We have a warrant to search your home.

Matt Casey: What?

Officer Bell: We got a tip says you’re in possession of cocaine.

Either we can search your house, or you can

produce the cocaine and your cooperation will be

taken into consideration.

Matt Casey: Voight. Detective Voight, he put you up to this?

Officer Bell: No, I don’t know any Voight.

I just know we’re coming in.

The warrant allows us to search the entire house, and

you’re allowed, by law, to stay in the house if you

remain cooperative.

Matt Casey: I’m a firefighter, Station 51. My fiancée is a doctor at

Lakeshore. Do we really look like cocaine users to

you?

Officer Bell: If you could please both go wait in the front room.

Now.

Matt Casey: Antonio Dawson. He’s a Detective in Vice. He’ll tell you

we’re being harassed by this cop. I have Antonio’s

number on my cell. Will you please just take a second

and talk to him?

Please.

Officer Madden: Yeah, this is Officer Madden.

Yeah, we have a search warrant for

Matthew Casey…

[continues indistinctly]

Matt Casey: It’s all right, baby. It’s gonna be alright.

[suspenseful music]

Officer Madden: He says they’re clean.

Officer Bell: If I ever have to come back here again, no favour is

gonna get you out of it.

[police radio chatter in background]

[door closes]

Hallie Thomas: It was under the table.

Oh my God.

Matt Casey: That’s 15 years right there.

Hallie Thomas: Call Antonio back.

Matt Casey: Flush it down the toilet.

Hallie Thomas: Baby…

Matt Casey: Flush it down the toilet!

[toilet flushes]

Hallie Thomas: Matt!

[tires screeching]

[raps on door]

Hank Voight: [grunts]

Matt Casey: [heavy breathing]

Hank Voight: You just committed a couple felonies.

Matt Casey: I’m ready to commit a few more. Because I’m telling

you, it ends now, or you’re the one that’s gonna

disappear.

[gun cocks]

Hank Voight: Yeah, I can respect that.

Go ahead. Use it.

You retract that statement against my son… or you

pull that trigger.

Because that’s the only thing that’s gonna stop me.

[car door shuts]

Matt Casey: [heavy breathing]

[grunts & pants]

cutscene

Gabby Dawson: Muffled heart sounds. It was clearly Beck’s triad.

She had a sternal fracture, a large

hemopericardium and mediastinal haemorrhage,

all of which indicates that a pericardiocentesis is

obviously…

Mouch: You’re already talking too much. The question was what did

you see?

Gabby Dawson: Uh, I saw a young girl in danger of dying and so I

felt it was necessary…

Mouch: Feelings… no feelings. Thoughts. Convictions.

Gabby Dawson: Okay, fine. I thought that… I knew that I had to do

something immediately, and that something was

per…

Mouch: Just answer the question posed to you. Don’t elaborate.

And smile.

Gabby Dawson: Fine.

Mouch: Go ahead.

Gabby Dawson: What?

Mouch: Smile. Let me see it.

Gabby Dawson: Oh, Mouch, come on.

Mouch: Let me see it.

Gabby Dawson: I can smile

Mouch: Come on. Contrite, not smug.

Welcoming and innocent.

We’re gonna work on that.

cutscene

Tony: [sighs] I’m hitting the rack, boys.

Hadley: Yeah [chuckles] ‘Cause you’re getting buried.

[truck door shuts]

Capp: Uh, oh.

Kelly Severide: Nah, all good.

Hadley: How do you know?

Kelly Severide: That’s an ‘I’m with the program’ kind of walk.

[cards shuffling]

[knocks on door]

Matt Casey: [sighs] You were right. Voight had me spun out. I let it

get to me. Won’t let it again. I need to work. I’m willing

to trust the system.

So I’d like to resume my duties, Chief.

Chief Boden: Welcome back.

Mouch: Hey!

[laughing & cheering]

Joe Cruz: Yeah, there he is, huh?

Christopher Herrmann: Alright, alright, alright, alright. Don’t turn it

into a Greek wedding. Come on,

everybody, normal day. Everybody go

about your business. Let’s go.

[siren blares, PA buzzes]

(Over PA): Truck 81, Engine 51, Squad 3, Ambulance 61.

Building fire, Indiana and 28th Place.

[doors shuts]

[engine starts]

[sirens blaring]

Christopher Herrmann: Hey, Chief. Dumpster fire. Nobody called

it in. Flames went up the service elevator

shaft, spread out on the fifth.

[indistinctive chatter]

Chief Boden: Find me the super. I need occupancy numbers.

What about the main elevator?

Christopher Herrmann: Otis just cleared it. He’s coming out with a

few more tenants.

[radio chatter]

Chief Boden: Five more ambos, and Chief Hatcher’s on the way.

Leslie Shay: We’re gonna need ‘em. Anticipate at least five reds in

there.

Gabby Dawson: We can’t wait for Hatcher with this many

non-responsives.

We gotta set up triage.

Chief Boden: Do it. You’re in charge here.

Gabby Dawson: All right.

(into radio) This is Ambulance 61. Give me an

EMS plan one...[continues indistinctly]

Leslie Shay: Hey, Chief?

Chief Boden: She’ll be fine.

Leslie Shay: I know. But where are all the people?

No one’s coming out of the other side of the building.

Chief Boden: (into radio) Squad 3, check out the West Side fire

stairwell.

Kelly Severide: (into radio) Already on three. Must be a blockage.

Capp and Hadley have the east.

Chief Boden: (over radio) I’m sending you Casey, Cruz, and Mills.

We need to check out those upper floors.

Matt Casey: On it.

Kelly Severide: You’re kidding me.

Matt Casey: You alright?

Joe Cruz: Yeah.

Matt Casey: Severide!

Kelly Severide: Hey, I’m clearing a path.

Hey, is there anybody back there?

Hey.

Victim 1 (lady): They… They can’t breathe. It’s pitch black in there.

There’s people in the hall.

[coughing]

Kelly Severide: If you’re mobile, keep walking.

Slow and steady. There’s paramedics waiting.

Hey, I’ll take this.

Matt Casey: I’m going up further.

Kelly Severide: Okay.

[signal clicking]

Kelly Severide: (into radio) Got at least four reds heading to triage.

Gabby Dawson: Alright, we got another red.

Shay, this one’s yours.

Leslie Shay: Yeah, got it.

Gabby Dawson: Alright.

Kelly Severide: There’s three more up on six.

Gabby Dawson: Any burns?

Kelly Severide: Not on six. But Casey, Cruz and Mills went higher.

Gabby Dawson: All right.

Chief Boden: (into radio) Capp, Hadley, meet us in the west

stairwell.

Hadley: (over radio) Copy.

Boy 1: You’re going in there?

Chief Boden: You need to get back behind the lines. Mouch, get

this kid safe.

Mouch: Come here, pal.

Leslie Shay: You gotta get that tube down her throat.

Paramedic: I can’t. There’s too much swelling.

Leslie Shay: Then cric her.

Paramedic: I’ve never done it.

Leslie Shay: Dawson, you’ve gotta cric this woman, or she’s a

goner.

Gabby Dawson: Alright, hand me a scalpel.

Chief Hatcher: Who’s the lead here?

Gabby Dawson: You’re looking at her.

You may as well keep looking over my shoulder,

‘cause this is definitely gonna be an infraction.

Hand me a size five tube.

Bag.

All right, bag her.

Lungs are good. Get me the fastest driver we’ve

got.

Chief Hatcher: (into radio) Next available ambulance, now!

Dispatcher: (over radio) Copy that. Car 816, respond to triage.

Joe Cruz: Seven is clear.

Peter Mills: Casey is on eight.

Chief Boden: I got it. I’m on my way up.

Matt Casey: Fire department! Call out!

[door busting open]

[people coughing]

Matt Casey: Come on!

Come on.

Victim 2 (man): [grunts]

Chief Boden: No. Casey, retreat. Go back. You won’t make it.

Retreat. You won’t make it!

Get back in the apartment.

[coughing]

Chief Boden: Casey, go back!

[flashover]

[door shuts]

Matt Casey: Get down.

Chief Boden: [into radio] Casey plus two on eight. East corner unit.

Move that ladder now!

[glass shatters]

[coughing]

Matt Casey: (into radio) Mayday!

(over radio) Mayday! Not sure how long I can hold it

back.

[indistinctive chatter]

Joe Cruz: Eight is a reach.

Kelly Severide: No choice.

Get that ladder as close as you can. Hug that

building if you have to, Capp and I will climb.

Joe Cruz: I need a clear path to the East Corner.

Matt Casey: What’s your name?

Victim 2 (man): [coughing] Curtis.

Matt Casey: Okay, Curtis, you’re gonna put that on her. Make sure

it’s tight around her face.

Victim 2 (man) (Curtis): [coughing]

Matt Casey: Good, now I want you to open the window.

Victim 2 (man) (Curtis): We ain’t gonna make it.

Matt Casey: Open it!

Victim 2 (man) (Curtis): [coughing]

Christopher Herrmann: (into radio) We’re gonna have three

coming down from eight. I need

two ambulance crews ready at the

base of Truck 81.

Dispatcher: (over radio) Copy that. Truck 81, we’ll have you two

ambos…[continued indistinctly]

Kelly Severide: (into radio) We’re coming for you, Casey.

Matt Casey: (over radio) Better make it fast!

(into radio) It’s getting hot in here!

Kelly Severide: (into radio) Alright, tell ‘em to stand in three, two…

one.

Matt Casey: Alright, Curtis, get your mom up!

Victim 2 (man) (Curtis): Come on, you go first.

Kelly Severide: Okay. Come on out.

Turn around.

Victim 2 (man) (Curtis): [coughing]

Kelly Severide: Capp, take her!

Hang on.

All right. Here.

Capp: Slow step backwards.

Kelly Severide: Come on!

Matt Casey: Not until he’s out!

Kelly Severide: Let’s go.

Matt Casey: Aah!

Kelly Severide: Come on.

All right, your turn!

Matt Casey: No way! Not until you’re out of range!

Kelly Severide: Not moving! Let go now!

Matt Casey: All right, here I come!

Kelly Severide: All right, hang on, keep your head down.

Matt Casey: [grunts]

[explosion]

Matt Casey: Can’t… Can’t get up.

Kelly Severide: Hey!

Matt Casey: [grunting]

Kelly Severide: Grab my…grab my arm.

[grunts]

Swing!

[winces]

Come on, I got you.

Matt Casey: [grunts]

Severide & Casey: [pants]

[radio chatter]

Chief Boden: Capp.

Capp: Thanks, Chief.

Chief Boden: Hadley.

Hadley: Chief.

Chief Boden: Good job.

Christopher Herrmann: Chief.

Gabby Dawson: That was pretty close, huh?

Matt Casey: Plenty of time.

Gabby Dawson: [scoffs] Really?

Matt Casey: Listen, if you see Hallie at the hospital, don’t tell her

about this, okay? I’ve given her enough to worry

about lately.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah.

Peter Mills: Hey… Chief says you should hit it so you can make it

to your hearing.

Gabby Dawson: Who’s gonna cover?

Peter Mills: EMT certified. Good luck.

Matt Casey: Yeah, good luck.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah. Okay.

Matt Casey: Take care of your mom, okay?

[siren wailing]

Curtis: Hey, you Casey?

Matt Casey: Yeah.

Curtis: You’re the one got the problem with Detective Voight, right?

Matt Casey: Yeah, that’s right.

Curtis: Man, I can help you out.

cutscene

Antonio Dawson: Curtis is gonna do it.

Chief Boden: When? Where?

Antonio Dawson: Now. He already put in a call to Voight for a

meet.

I’m gonna prep him while my techs wire him up.

Then we’re good to go.

Now, we got one shot at this. There’s about a

dozen things that could flush it down the drain,

so don’t say anything to anyone. Don’t even

mention his name out loud, ‘cause Voight’s got

ears all over this city.

I’ll let you know once it goes down.

Matt Casey: I want to be there.

Antonio Dawson: [sighs]

Fine. Let’s go.

cutscene

Hearing Officer: The charges you face, Miss Dawson, are both very

serious and very troubling.

Mouch: We disagree whole heartedly, Sir.

Hearing Officer: Miss Dawson chose to perform a procedure that

was clearly outside of her jurisdiction, and that

could have mortally injured the patient in her

care.

Gabby Dawson: I…

Mouch: J… To refresh my memory, could you please read the full

charges out loud? I believe we have that right.

Hearing Officer: Gabriela Dawson is charged with wilful neglect of

protocol, and of practising a medical procedure

that she was neither trained nor certified…

Gabby Dawson: No, I have been trained in that procedure, and I

knew exactly what I was doing, and how much

time we didn’t have. I’m also currently taking

pre-med classes, where I’ve re-studied every

procedure…

Mouch: I’m sorry.

Hearing Officer: And I am studying for my pilot’s license,

Miss Dawson, but that does not mean I

can land a 747 in a blizzard.

Gabby Dawson: But you’d sure as hell try if you were about to

crash.

Hearing Officer: You are lucky that girl is alive, or there would be

criminal charges pending against you.

Gabby Dawson: If saving a kid’s life is now a criminal offense, then

maybe it’s your damn protocol that’s out of

whack, and the wrong people are making the

rules.

Mouch: Ten-minute break?

Hearing Officer: Five.

Gabby Dawson: You didn’t even remember the charges.

Mouch: I was stalling for time.

Gabby Dawson: What? Why?

Hearing Officer: We’re ready.

[footsteps]

Mouch: Ah…

Gabby Dawson: Hey Madeline.

Lady 2 (Madeline’s mother): I’m sorry. Are we too late?

Gabby Dawson: Hi.

Mouch: Uh, please enter into the record witnesses number two,

three, and four.

There’s a reason sky divers pack two parachutes.

cutscene

[cat meowing]

Antonio Dawson: Here we go.

[car door shuts]

Hank Voight: What’s happening, young blood?

Curtis: What’s up with you, V?

Deshawn said there’s money to be made on the firefighter.

I want his deal.

Hank Voight: He tell you who it is?

Curtis: Yeah, but I wasn’t really paying attention till he said

something about the money.

Hank Voight: His name is Casey.

Curtis: How much?

Hank Voight: Depends on services rendered.

Curtis: Well, Deshawn said his boys got 5 for jumping him. I figure I

could do a lot worse for a grand.

Hank Voight: Bro, you stop him for good, I’ll give you 2.

Antonio Dawson: We got it?

(into radio) Move it in.

[siren whoops]

Curtis: They ain’t here for me, bro.

Police Officers: Let’s see your hands!

Don’t move!

Come on, get ‘em up!

Hank Voight: Yeah, look at me.

Antonio Dawson: I got him, I got him.

Hank Voight: Enjoy it while you can. This is entrapment.

Antonio Dawson: You’re cooked, young blood.

Get in.

[door shuts]

cutscene

Otis Zvonecek: Got it.

Oh, that’s great.That’s great to hear.

Oh yeah, okay. See you at the shindig. Bye.

That was Mouch. Dawson got a three-shift

suspension, but we’ll be throwing her a

suspension party tomorrow night.

Joe Cruz: So how much money does she lose, like, 2 grand?

Otis Zvonecek: [sighs] A little bit more but if we all chip in

20 bucks, we might be able to put a dent in

it.

Christopher Herrmann: Or…[sighs]

Otis Zvonecek: It’s got that signature wild style of his and it has

this lovely unfinished quality to it. He almost fell

to his death while finishing the ‘O’.

Christopher Herrmann: Unbelievable.

Otis Zvonecek: Can you hold on one second?

Thanks, pal. Hello?

Hey Serg, how are you?

Listen, I’m gonna have to give you a call back.

I’m on the other line with a different buyer. But if

he starts dragging his feet, it’s all yours buddy.

All right [chuckles], thanks, pal. Hello?

Alright, 2,000.

1,500?

You gonna slap me in the face like that? You

gonna slap me in the face with 1,000?

You…[laughs] I’ll take it.

cutscene

Peter Mills: There we go

Mouch: What’s this?

Peter Mills: Just drink it.

Congrats to Dawson. Could have been worse.

Gabby Dawson: Thank you.

Cheers.

Mills & Mouch: Cheers

All: Oh!

Mouch: Shiver me timbers.

Gabby Dawson: [chokes & laughs]

[kissing sound]

Gabby Dawson: Thank you so much for your help, Mouch.

You really pulled it out.

Mouch: You weren’t… worried about me, were you?

Gabby Dawson: Oh no. Never.

Christopher Herrmann: [sighs] Thomas Kincade? Okay, I get that.

You look at his paintings…God rest his

soul…But yeah, that’s art. That’s worth

money. But this?

The scourge of a civilised society, man.

Chain O’Lakes, guys. Chain O’Lakes.

That’s where you’ll find me.

[cell phone rings]

Otis Zvonecek: Yello?

Okay, great. We’ll bring it right out.

It’s the buyer. He’s here. Grab an end.

Christopher Herrmann: I’m not touching it.

Otis Zvonecek: Chain O’Lakes.

Gabby Dawson: Hey, guys, I’ll help you.

Otis Zvonecek: Hey, thanks Dawson.

[door bell chimes]

Someone: Thanks. D.

Matt Casey: I’m not gonna ask. I didn’t see it. I didn’t see it.

I’d have thrown the book at you.

Gabby Dawson: [laughs]

Matt Casey: [laughs]

Gabby Dawson: Hi.

Matt Casey: Hi.

Gabby Dawson: Hey.

Antonio Dawson: Hey.

Gabby Dawson: I heard about Voight. He got it worse than me,

huh?

Matt Casey: Rear view mirror, baby. Rear view mirror.

Gabby Dawson: [giggles] Well, then, you come to the right place.

You can see my friend Peter Mills at the bar

over there.

Oh, yeah, you did an okay job.

Antonio Dawson: Oh, thanks. What a ball-breaker, huh?

Gabby Dawson: You can handle it.

Any chance Voight beats this?

Antonio Dawson: No shot.

Speaking of shots, where are they?

Gabby Dawson: Over there.

Where’s Hallie?

Matt Casey: Meeting me here.

Gabby Dawson: I’m really happy for you.

Matt Casey: Me too.

Chief Boden: Hey. Come here.

Matt Casey: [muffled] Hey.

Chief Boden: I am glad it is over.

Matt Casey: It is. Thanks for everything, Chief.

Chief Boden: [scoffs]

Matt Casey: Are you… drunk… Chief?

Chief Boden: Yeah, a little.

Matt Casey: I’ll be joining you momentarily.

Chief Boden: Good. Glad to hear it.

Kelly Severide: Just ask him.

Leslie Shay: You.

Kelly Severide: He’ll think I’m sniffing around.

Leslie Shay: How do you think I’m gonna come across?

Kelly Severide: Here he comes.

Leslie Shay: He thinks I’m a curmudgeon.

Kelly Severide: Would you just do it for me?

Leslie Shay: Peter Mills.

Peter Mills: Hey. Lieutenant.

Kelly Severide: What’s up?

Leslie Shay: Great party. Thank you for hosting it.

Peter Mills: Yeah, no sweat.

Leslie Shay: And it’s a really cool space.

And what kind of food do you guys serve?

Peter Mills: Well, it’s a diner, so diner food.

Leslie Shay: Oh, hey, um, is your sister Elise here… tonight?

Peter Mills: No, she’s out with some friends.

Leslie Shay: Oh, alright.

Kelly Severide: Thanks.

Gabby Dawson: Cheers.

[glass clinking]

Matt Casey: Cheers.

[door bell chimes]

Gabby Dawson: Oh, Hallie’s here.

Hallie Thomas: Hi.

[kissing sound]

Matt Casey: Hi. It’s over. We’re all right now.

[whispers] We’re all right.

- end -

Definitions:

MCA = Museum of Contemporary Art (Chicago)

Surgical cric = A cricothyrotomy is an incision made through the skin and cricothyroid membrane to establish a patent airway during certain life-threatening situations, such as airway obstruction by a foreign body, angioedema (swelling of the lower layer of skin and tissue just under the skin or mucous membranes. The swelling may occur in the face, tongue, larynx/voice box, abdomen or arms and legs) or massive facial trauma. It is nearly always performed as a last resort in cases where orotracheal (placement of a flexible plastic tube into the windpipe/trachea to maintain an open airway to serve as a conduit through which to administer certain drugs. It is frequently performed in critically injured, ill, or anesthetised patients to facilitate ventilation of the lungs. The endotracheal tube – the catheter – is passed through the mouth and vocal apparatus into the trachea) and nasotracheal (an endotracheal tube is passed through the nose and vocal apparatus into the trachea) intubation are impossible or contraindicated

D.O.A = Dead on arrival

Beck’s triad = Collection of three medical signs, associated with acute cardiac tamponade, a medical emergency when excessive fluid accumulates in the pericardial sac around the heart and impairs its ability to pump blood. The signs are low arterial blood pressure, distended neck veins, and distant, muffled heart sounds.

Sternal fracture = Fracture of the sternum (breast bone), located in the centre of the chest.

Hemopericardium = Refers to blood in the pericardial sac of the heart.

Mediastinal haemorrhage = Blunt chest trauma. It is caused by aortic injury, by mediastinal vascular injury such as aortic injury, and by fractures of the sternum and vertebral column

Pericardiocentesis = Procedure done to remove fluid that has built up in the sac around the heart.

EMS Plan One = 5 ambulances, 1 paramedic in charge, 1 assistant paramedic, 1 engine company or truck company, 1 battalion chief.

Curmudgeon = A bad tempered person, especially an old one.

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seriousbusinessforhumans · 4 years ago

Link

NEW DELHI (IDN) – On February 6, protesters blocked roads at an estimated 10,000 spots across India as part of the ongoing movement against the new farm laws enacted by the national government last year. For over two months, the most populous democracy in the world has witnessed what is being called one of the biggest protests in human history.

Hundreds of thousands of farmers have been rallying against three new laws that have thrown open the agriculture sector to private players. Protesters feel the legislation will allow a corporate takeover of crop production and trading, which would eventually impact their earnings and land ownership.

The movement has overcome regional, religious, gender and ideological differences to build pressure. Leftist farm unions, religious organisations and traditional caste-based brotherhoods called khaps, which make pronouncements on social issues, are working in tandem through resolute sit-ins and an aggressive boycott of politicians.

India’s right-wing government led by Prime Minister Narendra Modi of the Bharatiya Janata Party, or BJP, pushed the laws through the parliament in September 2020, despite lacking a majority in the upper house and agriculture being in the jurisdiction of state governments. The protest is a response to the lack of respect for parliamentary democracy and federalism, but its main focus is the pervasive corporate influence on governance.

After limits on corporate contributions were removed and allowed to be made anonymously, 8.2 billion dollars was spent on Indian parliamentary elections in 2019, which exceeded how much was spent on the U.S. election in 2016 by 26 per cent. Most of this money came from corporations and the BJP was the primary recipient.

Farm crisis is the fuel

Farmers are a large electoral block in India, with half the population being engaged in agriculture. No political party can afford to offend them publicly even though policymakers have done little to increase farm incomes and address their indebtedness. Around 300,000 farmers died by suicide between 1995 and 2013, mostly due to financial stress. In 2019, another 10,281 farmers took their lives.

Indian farms are mostly family-owned, and the land is a source of subsistence for millions. Around 86 per cent of farmers, however, till less than five acres while the other 14 per cent, mostly upper castes, own over half of the country’s 388 million acres of arable land.

Farmers in a few north Indian states were able to consolidate their holdings through increased incomes with the introduction of irrigation, modern seeds, fertilisers, machines, market infrastructure and guaranteed price support from the government during the Green Revolution in the 1960s.

But rising input costs and climate crisis have adversely impacted the profits there as well. In Punjab, the most agriculturally-developed state, for instance, the input costs of electric motors, labour, fertiliser and fuel rose by 100 to 290 per cent from 2000 to 2013, but the support price of wheat and rice rose by only 122 to 137 per cent in the same period, according to a government report. Heavy use of chemicals, mono-cropping and farm mechanisation have damaged the soil, affecting productivity and forcing farmers into debt.

Strength and strategy

Punjab saw widespread protests as soon as the laws were enacted. Farmers occupied railway tracks and toll plazas on major roads besides corporate-owned thermal plants, gas stations and shopping malls. Scores of subscribers left Jio, the telecom service owned by the top Indian businessman perceived to be close to Prime Minister Modi.

Farm unions also held regular sit-ins in front of the houses of prominent political leaders forcing an important regional party to leave the national government alliance. Several state leaders of the ruling party resigned from their posts as well. Similar scenes played out in the neighbouring state of Haryana, where leaders were publicly shamed and the helicopter of the elected head of the government was prevented from landing for a public meeting after farmers dug up the helipad area.

In November, thousands of farmers drove their tractor trolleys towards the national capital as they played protest songs by celebrity singers. Stocked with rations, clothing, water and wood for months, they braved tear gas shells and water cannons used by the police along the way. Powerful tractors pushed heavy transport vehicles, concrete slabs and barbed wires that the administration had placed en route out of their way.

Open libraries and medical camps were set up and volunteers offered their skills, ranging from tailoring to tutoring children. Besides speeches by the farm leaders, cultural performances, film screenings and wrestling bouts became a regular feature. More farmers poured in with each passing day.

“These occupations are not just a reaction of wronged citizens who have set out to reform the Indian parliament or assert dissent. Rather, they form an important stage in a still-unfolding narrative of militant anti-capitalist struggle,” wrote Aditya Bahl, a doctoral scholar at the John Hopkins University who is archiving the peasants’ revolts that took place in Punjab in the 1960s and ’70s.

The Indian Supreme Court suspended the implementation of laws and formed a four-member expert committee on Jan. 13 to look into the issue. Farmers have, however, refused to meet the committee members, alleging that many of them have already written or spoken in favour of the laws.

The protests are not only targeting domestic companies and political figures. Farmers have also burnt effigies of Uncle Sam, the World Trade Organisation and IMF, signifying the influence of global trade over domestic agricultural policies. Developed countries have been pressuring India for last three decades to open up its agriculture sector to multinational players by slashing subsidies and reducing public procurement and distribution of food grains to the poor.

Protesters are also seeking a legal right to sell their produce at a guaranteed price. The Indian government usually declares a minimum support price on various crops based on the costs of their production, but only a fraction of the produce is procured at that rate. In the absence of government procurement facilities in their areas, most farmers have to settle for a lower price offered by private traders. A law would make it mandatory for private players to buy the produce at a declared price.

“If Indian farmers are able to get the law on guaranteed price passed through their current agitation, they will become a role model for farmers across the world living under heavy debts,” Sharma continued. “India should put its foot down at the WTO and create much-needed disruption in the world food trade policy for the benefit of the global agriculture sector.”

The movement grows

The BJP-led national government has faced numerous protests over the last six years of its rule..... The country has dropped 26 places in the Democracy Index’s global ranking since 2014 due to “erosion of civil liberties.”

This is the first time peasants have been galvanised in such large numbers against the government. The government has already held 11 rounds of negotiations with farmers’ representatives and offered to suspend the laws for one and a half years on Jan. 20. But farmers are not budging from their demand of the complete repeal of the laws and legal cover for the selling of their crops at a guaranteed price.

On January 26, which marks India’s Republic Day, 19 out of 28 states witnessed protests against the farm laws.

In Delhi, however, a plan to organise a farmers’ tractor march parallel to the official Republic Day function, went awry. A group of protesters clashed with police at multiple spots and stormed the iconic Red Fort, a traditional seat of power for the Mughals, where the colonial British and independent India’s prime ministers have also raised their flags.

The protesters unfurled banners of the farm unions and Sikhs – one of the minority religious groups and the most prominent face of the protests. Mainstream media and ruling party supporters used the opportunity to blame the movement for desecration and religious terrorism. Security forces charged sleeping farmers with batons at one location, filed cases against movement leaders, allowed opponents to pelt campaigners with stones, arrested journalists and shut down the Internet.

The attacks, therefore, ended up lifting the flagging morale of the farmers and helped the movement gain even more supporters, who shunned the government and media narrative. Massive community gatherings of khaps were organised at multiple places over the next few days, extending their support to the protests and issuing a boycott call for the BJP and its political allies.

Mending fault lines

The movement has also been able to overcome regional and gender divisions, and is trying to address caste divides.

The states of Haryana and Punjab are often at loggerheads on the issue of sharing of river waters. Haryana was carved out of Punjab on linguistic lines in 1966, but most of the rivers flow through the current Punjab state. Haryana has been seeking a greater amount of water for use by its farmers, while Punjab’s farmers oppose the demand, citing reduced water flow in the rivers over the years. The current protests have united farmers for a common cause, helping them understand each other even though opponents have made attempts revive the water issue.

Women have also been participating in the protests in large numbers. They are either occupying roads on Delhi’s borders or managing homes and farms in the absence of men, while taking part in protest marches in villages.

“Earlier, we were able to rally only 8,000-10,000 women for a protest. Today that number has swelled to 25,000-30,000, as they recognised the threats posed by the new laws to the livelihoods of their families,” said Harinder Bindu, who leads the women’s wing of the largest farm union in Punjab. “For many women, this is the first time they are participating in a protest, which is a big change because they were earlier confined to household work. Men are getting used to seeing women participate and recognising the value they bring to a movement.”

“When women members participate in sit-ins, men manage the house. I feel this movement will bring greater focus on women’s issues within the farming community – one of which is the need to support the widows of farmers who died by suicide due to financial constraints.”

In Punjab, less than four per cent of private farmland belongs to Dalits, the lowest caste in the traditional social hierarchy of India, even though they constitute 32 per cent of the state’s population. They often earn their livelihoods through farm work or daily wage labour. Even though Dalits have a legal right to till village common land, attempts to assert that right often lead to violent clashes with upper-caste landlords who want to keep it for themselves. Dalits are waging similar battles across India. Researchers recorded 31 land conflicts involving 92,000 Dalits in 2019. A few of the farmers’ unions have supported and raised funds for Dalit agitations in the past.

The movement is gradually encompassing other rural issues beyond the farm laws. In the state of Maharashtra, for instance, thousands of tribal people travelled to the capital Mumbai on Jan. 23 to extend support to the farmers. They also asserted their own long pending demand for land titles under the Forest Rights Act, which recognises traditional rights of scheduled tribes and other forest dwellers on the use of land and other forest resources.

* Manu Moudgil is an independent journalist based in India. He tweets at @manumoudgil.The original version of this article was published on Waging Nonviolence under the title ‘India’s farmers’ protests are about more than reform – they are resisting the corporate takeover of agriculture’.

#India #modern India #south asia #2021 #agriculture #food politics #international politics #activists #movements #indian farmer protests #indian farm reforms 2020 #indian agriculture #Punjab #grassroots movements #farmers #sex and gender in south asia #Forest rights act #Narendra Modi #BJP

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wingcharm · 5 years ago

Text

Never-Never Land, Part 1/3

Ao3

“I’m not doing that. No way.”

“Kid, I can’t believe you have so little faith in me.”

Peter is sat flat on the living room floor, directly across from Tony. He casts a dubious look at the knife in Tony’s hand. “Didn’t Pepper put child locks on all the kitchen drawers? How did you even get that, Mr. Stark?”

“Daddy knows how to open them! He showed me how!” Morgan chimes in from her place at Peter’s hip.

Peter’s jaw drops. Tony has the good grace to look a little ashamed of himself.

“Okay, not my best parenting moment. But hey, Mo and I already played this game and look!” Tony extends both hands for Peter’s examination, “Not a mark in sight.”

“Tony, I’m not going to stab your hands!”

“You’re right! You won’t. Because I’ll be much —” Tony empties an entire pint of motor oil all over the hardwood floor between them “—much too fast for you.”

Peter gapes, momentarily horror-struck at the prospect of Pepper arriving home to find motor oil all over her floor. At his side, Morgan giggles into her hands.

“Mr. Stark! I’m not—!”

Tony presses the knife into Peter’s grip, still grinning. He knows he must look as though he’s having the time of his life. Peter looks as though he thinks he’s in the throes of some sort of mid-life mental crisis. “C’mon, Underoos, it’ll be fun! Toss me that towel, Mighty Mouse.”

Morgan does, producing a dish towel from behind her back like a kind of pint-sized magician. Peter shoots her a look of betrayal which sends her skittering out of the way, still giggling.

“Now get your head in the game, kid! We gotta get this up before it stains. On the count of three, I wipe up the spill, and you have to stab me in the hands before I can finish. Are you ready?”

Peter stares, dumbstruck, at the knife in his hand. “Wha—no! No way!”

“One—” Tony leans forward.

”Mr. Stark!”

“Two—” Tony raises his hands, the towel outstretched.

“Nope. Not happening—”

“Three!” The towel is thrown straight into Peter’s face. He sputters around a mouthful of Egyptian cotton even as Tony seizes hold of his ankles and drags him feet-first through the spilled motor oil, cackling like a madman.

It seems to take a moment for Peter’s brain to catch up with the prank. He drops the butter knife to the floor and removes the towel from his face to catch sight of Morgan, bouncing up and down on the couch and squealing with laughter. “Daddy got you! Petey’s got wet pants!”

Tony is bent double with laughter, savoring the expression of mingled shock and feigned outrage on the kid’s face as he catches on. He does his best to hide the smile that threatens, and Tony knows it’s purely for Morgan’s benefit; nothing delights his daughter more than seeing her two heroes go head-to-head.

Peter must know it too, because with an exaggerated roar which he knows will thrill Morgan to death, the kid scrambles to his feet, dripping oil everywhere as he makes a wild lunge for Tony, who can hardly move for laughing. Tony lets himself be tackled, feels the kids arms wrap around his shoulders as they collide and the pair of them topple over the back of the loveseat.

Peter does his best to smother Tony’s laughter in the plush cushions, hiding his grin in the man’s shoulder. “Who’s Earth’s Mightiest Defender now?”

“Think you can take on your old man, Spidey?” Tony frees an arm and fixes Peter in a headlock. “Getting a little big for your britches—oh, shit!” Peter flips them over a hair too far and they crash off the loveseat and onto the floor, knocking over the endtable along the way. A decorative lamp smashes against the hardwood.

“Dad, you’re wrecking the house!” Morgan wails.

“Yeah, Dad, you’re wrecking the house!” Peter laughs, doing his best to pin his mentor to the floor and reaching one-handed for the half-empty container of motor oil. “All that gray in your hair, Mr. Stark, it needs a little product. Have you tried —” but he shrieks as Tony drills his fingers into his ribs and regains the upperhand.

“Morgan, go get Daddy his suit. It’s time to whoop some ass.”

The playful wrestling match goes on until there is far more oil outside the container than in it, and Peter is red-faced and breathless with laughter. His plea for a ceasefire is granted, and he stretches out on the now slick floor and struggles to catch his breath. A still grinning and panting Tony drops down beside him.

“Pepper’s gonna kill us,” Tony chuckles, lifting one arm to tuck the kid under it.

“You started it.” Peter wriggles until he can prop his head on Tony’s bicep, turning to muffle a yawn in the man’s shirtsleeve. “My last day here, Mr. Stark, and this is how I’m treated.”

He knows the kid must have meant it as a joke, but the reminder that his break from reality is quickly drawing to a close is sobering all the same. It seems to have a similar effect on Peter, who looks as though he wishes he could take it back.

“I mean — I’m kidding. It’s been amazing, being here. You’ve been great, it’s been so great. I just, I’ll miss this, you know? I’ll really — sorry. Sorry, I’m ruining the moment.”

Tony puffs out a sigh, leaning over to gently knock his head against Peter’s. He tries to sound more sure of himself than he feels. “It’ll be fine, kid. You and Fred will be so busy finding dates and building your Lego Doomstars that I’ll have to drag you back for a visit.”

“Yeah. I’ll be — it’ll be fine.” Peter sits up, no longer meeting Tony’s eyes. His arms have folded around himself so tightly that Tony swears he can hear the kid’s ribs creak in protest. He looks lost, and it pulls at Tony in a such a visceral way that he reaches for Peter without conscious thought. “Hey. C’mere, kid.”

Peter goes willingly, releasing the death-grip he had himself in and wrapping his arms around his mentor instead. His fists close convulsively around the fabric of Tony’s jacket. “M’fine,” he breathes into Tony’s collarbone.

“I know,” Tony murmurs back, pressing his cheek into the kid’s hair. “I’m not worried. I just really like hugs now, it’s a whole thing. I had to make a choice between you or Morgan, and she knows where we keep the knives. It was a tough call. Don’t make me regret it.”

And just as he’d hoped, Peter’s hitched breaths are replaced by a genuine, honest-to-God laugh, and they’re okay again.

——-

The parting was every bit as difficult as Tony expected; it wasn’t as though it could ever be easy, but it feels as though he’s only just gotten Peter back. He’d spent five years without him, and the prospect of separation, of any distance or length of time, feels oddly foreboding.

Happy had volunteered to set-up the Parkers’ new residence ahead of time. Real-estate in the city was in unsurprisingly high demand with the return of half the planet, but Tony had secured them a new, furnished unit in Queens in record time. With the move-in of their old things from the storage facility Happy had originally placed them in after the Snap, all that was needed to complete the home was the Parkers themselves.

It was necessary, Tony knew. They had to get back to living. The kid had to move on with his life, now that he had it back. It was just — there was something in the way Peter watched him out the window as the Audi faded from view. Something like rejection.

But it was nothing. It wasn’t anything. Peter had to go back to school, he had to be a kid again. Much as he wanted to, Tony couldn’t keep him holed away in the lake house for the rest of his days.

Pepper’s advice was to let the kid get settled in, and so Tony forces himself not to call the moment he’s sure they must have arrived in the city. He kisses Morgan goodnight and watches Pepper read, and finally retreats to the porch where he can have what feels to be a rapidly approaching meltdown in relative privacy.

Just as he’s settled himself on the porch swing, his phone lights up with a video call request.

Tony’s heart leaps. Overwhelming relief makes him clumsy, and his fingers fumble over the screen until Peter’s face appears, his hair wet and curling as though he’s just stepped out of the shower. He looks surprised to see Tony’s face staring back at him. “Hey, Mr. Stark! Oh man, I didn’t think you’d answer!”

It hurts a little to hear his doubt. But Tony knows the memory of straight-to-voicemail calls and empty suits are fresher in Peter’s mind than his.

“’Course I answered. What’ve you been doing, drowning in tears since you left me? You’re soaked. Dry your hair, you little miscreant. You’ll make yourself sick.”

Peter scoffs, flopping back onto his pillows. “You bought us Turkish bath towels, Mr. Stark. Those are like — crazy expensive. I looked ‘em up. They feel like angel wings, I can’t ruin those. I’ll just air dry.”

“I built you a multi-million dollar suit and you spilled pizza sauce on it. Twice.” Tony knows he’s smiling ridiculously, sounds way too fond.

“That’s different,” Peter yawns. “Anyway, I just wanted to, you know. Check-in. The new place looks great, really, May is just blown away. She says it’s the first time she’s owned a dishwasher that doesn’t smell like melted tires when you turn it on.”

Tony snorts, not bothering to hide a smile. “Glad you like it, kid. Get some sleep before tomorrow. Big day. School, friends, Spidey — I know you’ll be back webbing up bad guys the first chance you get.”

He sees it only for a split second: a shadow of doubt that falls over Peter’s face and vanishes just as quickly. But it’s there, he knows it is. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll — I’ll be back at it in no time.”

“Hey,” Tony pulls his focus back, giving the camera a little shake for good measure. “I believe in you, Pete. Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay,” Peter manages a smile. He looks as though he’s struggling with his next words; his mouth opens and closes a few times before he settles on, “Thanks again, Tony. ‘Night.”

“’Night, Underoos.” The call ends, and Tony wonders if this is how other parents feel when their kids leave home: restless and somehow bereft. He shakes his head to dispel the feeling, rising from his seat on the porch to seek out Pepper in the cabin. Before he can make it all the way in, his phone lights up with a text, and the words Peter had been unable to say face-to-face now light up the screen:

Love you.

He’s never typed so fast in his life.

Love you tons, kid. Get some rest.

——-

For the next week, it carries on like that; Tony and Peter keep in contact throughout the day via text or video chat, and Peter tells Tony all about his life at a school where half the students and faculty are entirely new to him.

“But the cafeteria ladies, Mr. Stark, they’re all still here. Isn’t that crazy? They look exactly the same.”

“That’s wild, kid.”

“Yeah, I know! And Ned and I have the same teacher for AP History as we would’ve had, except now she looks super old. Our Physics teacher is new, though, and he knows his stuff, but last year — I mean, five years ago, I guess — the Physics teacher was this super hot Brazilian lady. I wonder what happened to her? Ow!” There’s a scuffling sound at the other end of the line. Tony sighs.

“I’m not gonna lie, Pete, I feel a little uncomfortable having this conversation with you while you’re struggling with an armed criminal.”

“I think you’re being a little dramatic, Mr. Stark. He’s armed with a taser. Who even commits crimes with a taser? Like, get a life. Pick something less stupid.” This, apparently, to the baddie grunting beneath what Tony assumes is a net of webbing.

Tony casts a quick glance at the read-out from Peter’s suit, which FRIDAY has thoughtfully projected into view: the kid’s vitals are all within normal limits. “I’m gonna let you go so you can focus on getting home without giving me a heart attack, Spider-Kid. Think you can manage that?”

“Oh, definitely. Don’t worry about me, Mr. Stark, I’m doing great. The suit improvements are really — aw, come on, man, spitting? Not cool!” The call clicks off

——-

When the weekend arrives, Happy drives down to the city to pick up the kid for a visit. The Audi hasn’t yet rolled to a stop on the gravel drive before Peter is flinging open the door and barreling at Tony with such obvious excitement that he can’t help but jog out to meet him halfway, opening his arms just so Peter can crash right into them. The force of the hug knocks Tony back into the grass, a laughing Peter pulled along with him.

“Sorry — shit, sorry, that was really dumb.” Peter giggles a little nervously, but his grip on Tony never slackens. Tony pats his back consolingly, watching from the corner of his eye as Happy exits the Audi, exclaiming loudly about the need for child-locks.

“Good to see you too, Beetleborg. Come on, Pepper’s got grub on already.”

They make their way into the cabin, where a squealing Morgan launches herself at Peter’s midsection, clearly trusting him to catch her. He does, seizing her under the arms and letting her cling to him like a limpet, beaming all the while. “Hi, Mo! How’s the world’s smartest Stark doing?”

“Good!” Morgan tilts back her head and fixes him with her most adoring smile. “Hungry! Can you get me a—”

“Nope,” Tony cuts in, trying to keep up a stern facade. He knows a smile will only encourage her, but her powers of manipulation are something to behold. “You can’t con Peter into spoiling your appetite. No juice pops before lunch.”

“Maybe just one?” Peter hedges, swayed by the way her little eyes go round with sorrow as though she hasn’t spent the morning eating half a bag of stolen marshmallows, and Tony knows the battle is lost.

Over lunch, Peter fills them in on life in the city.

“Ned’s got no chill, Mr. Stark, honestly. He told his new girlfriend about how he works with Spider-Man right in the middle of class,” the kid rolls his eyes as he reaches for the mustard bottle.

“Did she believe him?” Pepper’s brow furrows with concern as she leans over to cut up Morgan’s hot dog into little round pieces.

“Well, yeah. But she also believes he owned a Mercedes before the blip, so that doesn’t mean much. Nobody else believed him, though. Flash was ripping on him until the teacher told him to simmer down. But…” he trails off, staring contemplatively at his glass of orange juice.

“But?” Tony prompts.

Peter flushes red. “Oh, nothing, sorry. It’s just, um. There’s this girl.”

Something mischievous must show on Tony’s face, because Pepper points a threatening finger in his direction. “Stop. No. We’re not having girl advice at my table.”

“What’s girl advice?” Morgan chimes in around a mouthful of hotdog.

Tony opens his mouth to speak again, and Pepper slaps a hand over his lips. “It’s something no one should ever get from Daddy.”

Peter chokes on his mouthful of potato salad and Happy slaps him dutifully on the back. He swallows thickly. “Thanks. Anyway, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant…sometimes she looks at me like — Mr. Stark, stop making that face! — she looks at me like she, um, suspects something.”

“Something like Spider-Man?” Pepper frowns.

Peter shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe?”

Tony shakes off a prickle of unease and reaches over to squeeze the kid’s shoulder. “It’ll be fine, Pete. It’s like you said, no one believed Fred. Your Spidey identity is safe. Look at all the people sitting at this table. Can you really picture one of us letting a major secret get out?”

Happy casts Tony a dubious stare. “Well.”

Peter’s gaze cuts sideways to the refrigerator, where one of Morgan’s more colorful drawings is pinned up: it bears a labeled family portrait, containing meticulously drawn versions of Iron Man, Rescue, and Spider-Man. A thick crayon arrow points at each figure, above which Morgan’s childish handwriting proclaims them to be: Daddy, Mommy, Peter.

Across the table, Pepper lets out a sigh and massages her temples.

“Okay,” Tony cuts in, “can we just — let’s all relax. I won’t let anything bad happen to you, Underoos, okay? And now I’m going to change the subject. You won’t even notice it happening. This lunch is great, honey.”

——-

When Sunday evening rolls around, Tony loads Peter back into the Audi with a little less trepidation than the first time he left. Peter, too, seems more at ease with the parting; he rolls his eyes fondly when Tony makes a show of kissing both his cheeks like an Italian mother, but hugs him just as tightly as he always has.

Tony strolls back into the cabin and cozies in beside Pepper on the loveseat, dropping his head into her lap and closing his eyes as her fingers comb a familiar path through his hair.

“You’re doing well, you know. You’ve got this parenting thing down to a science now.”

He opens his eyes. She’s staring down at him with a smile that warms him from the inside out, the smile that has saved his life more times than he can count — that is still saving him. It remains the only thing that can render him speechless. He reaches for her free hand and presses a reverent kiss into the back of it.

He doesn’t know how long he lays there, basking in the warmth of her company. He only knows that some time later, she is stroking his cheek to wake him, her voice a hushed whisper in the dark. “It’s late, hon. Let’s go to bed.”

He lets her lead him down the hall to their bedroom, slips into the ensuite, and it hits him with a sudden chill: his phone is silent.

He reaches for it to check, sure Pepper would not have let him sleep through a call from the kid — sure enough, there are no missed calls or texts. No notifications. He isn’t sure whether to feel relieved or…

But after all, he’d dozed off himself. What was to say the kid hadn’t done the same? Happy would have called by now if he’d run into trouble getting the kid home, and the fact that Peter hadn’t reached out mere hours after having seen Tony didn’t mean anything except that he was a teenager. It was healthy, probably.

So it’s fine. They’re fine. He should let the kid sleep. There’s a fine line to walk here; too much contact and he’s hovering, too little contact and he’s Howard.

He sends the text anyway.

Love you, Pete.

He slides under the covers beside Pepper, and falls back to sleep waiting for a reply.

——-

When the morning dawns, he wakes to find no missed calls or texts. But it’s early yet, and the kid is a late riser, and he knows for a fact that Midtown School is closed for some obscure bank holiday — he’s probably sleeping in. They’d spoken over the weekend about Tony, Pepper and Morgan heading in to the city for a visit mid-week to the Parkers’ new home, and Tony decides it’s as good an excuse as any to check-in. He fires off a text at the dining room table as Morgan stares balefully at her breakfast.

Wanna hit the zoo later this week? The Mouse has been dying to see that new baby spider-monkey. He includes a string of nonsense emojis he knows will get a reaction out of Peter, who can sculpt entire paragraphs out of the things.

By the time Morgan has finished her oatmeal and Pepper has left for work only after replacing Tony’s coffee with de-caf, the kid still hasn’t responded.

And that’s…unusual, Tony thinks. Two texts unanswered. And Peter isn’t the leave-you-on-read kind of kid, particularly where Tony is concerned. His hand reaches for his phone. He hesitates.

Morgan grips hold of the table cloth as she slides out of her booster chair and onto the floor. The table cloth and its contents slide with her, apple juice and dirty plates and all. He counts to ten in his head before he reacts, praying for patience. It’s a distraction. He’d wanted a distraction.

So maybe he’ll give it a little longer.

——-

He makes it until almost Noon, and then he calls Happy.

“Hey, Boss.” Happy’s voice is a little too high, and his face is both entirely too close to the camera and a little too pink. He looks almost shifty, and Tony is temporarily distracted from his panic by the sight of it.

“Hey yourself,” he narrows his eyes, “Why am I staring up your left nostril? Hold the camera away from your face.”

Happy adjusts until his entire head fits in the frame. “Ha, sorry. I was just — what’s up?”

“You look like you’re up to something. Are you up to something? Did you forget to take your baby aspirin today? Nevermind. Listen, have you heard from the kid?”

Happy frowns, suddenly serious. “Which kid? The kid kid? Peter? Not since I dropped him off last night. Why? What’s—”

“What about Peter?” cuts in another voice entirely, and for the second time in as many minutes, Tony’s train of thought his completely derailed.

“Is that — is that Aunt May?” Tony is aghast as Happy gives up the game and holds his phone at a more reasonable distance so that May Parker, still dressed in her work scrubs, is visible beside him.

“Can we not do this right now?” Happy pleas, now definitely red in the cheeks. “We’ll do it later, I promise. But what about Peter? What’s going on?”

“Um,” Tony fumbles, struggling to dispel the barrage of mental images that have suddenly been conjured up and focus on the kid, “Yeah, the kid. It might be nothing, it’s just — he hasn’t texted me back since last night.”

“That’s not nothing,” May frowns, “not by a long shot. Peter always texts back. Peter would text back Hitler.”

“Jesus, thanks,” Tony scowls. May rolls her eyes.

“And he adores you, Tony, he wouldn’t leave you hanging. Could he be out doing…you know,” she raises her eyebrows meaningfully and mimes shooting a web, “his internship?”

“FRIDAY, pull up the feed from the Spider—” he begins, but Happy lets out a shout of alarm and drops his phone. For a moment, Tony can see nothing but blue skies and the pointy ends of Manhattan’s skyscrapers, but then, just for a moment, a flash of red and blue.

“Happy!” he barks, feeling suddenly panicked.

“Sorry! Sorry,” Happy’s face swims back into view, but he isn’t looking at Tony; he’s watching something Tony can’t see, and his face goes oddly slack. “That’s — is that —?”

Tony can’t understand what has the head of security so puzzled until he turns the phone the other way round, so that Tony can see it, too, and it’s Spider-Man. It’s definitely Spider-Man. That’s the suit, he’d know it anywhere, he built it, but—

“Something’s wrong,” May’s voice is tight with fear, and Tony can see why, because something is wrong. Spider-Man is careening between buildings in slow, graceless arcs, his movements clumsy and uncoordinated and somehow off.

“Is he drunk?” Happy wonders aloud, and receives a slap on the arm from May. “Okay, sorry, I know he doesn’t drink! It’s just, he looks—”

Tony regains his senses in time to finish his earlier command. “FRI, pull up Peter Parker’s vitals.”

The holographic projection appears, but its glowing red heart is motionless; its usually diverse set of numbers a solid line of zero, zero, zero. Tony’s heart seems to stop along with it. “FRIDAY, what—?”

“Peter Parker is not wearing his tracker band, boss.” FRIDAY explains, and Tony’s instant relief that the kid isn’t dead is short-lived, because Peter didn’t take it off. Peter would never take it off without warning, he wouldn’t do that to Tony.

“Give me — gimme Spider-Man’s visual and audio feed. Track the suit. Do it now.”

“Tracking now,” FRIDAY’s cool voice does little to calm the racing of his heart, which only increases when, after a pause— “Unable. I’m sorry, boss. There seems to be interference blocking the signal.”

But that isn’t possible. It isn’t. He’d taken extra precautions after the kid’s friend had hacked through the Training Wheels Protocol. “Patch Karen through. Have her run diagnostics.”

“Unable,” FRIDAY sounds almost apologetic.

Tony feels his fingers go numb. He ignores the frantic yelling from the phone, heading for the door even as he tries to stave down the panic burgeoning in his chest. “Fine. Just — suit. Get a suit ready, I’ll have to —”

“Boss, suit deployment requires secondary authorization.”

Pepper. God, he’ll have to tell Pepper. It’s a protocol he’d set for himself after Thanos, an incentive to stick to his retirement. There is no getting around it — as long as Pepper is alive and safe, there is no bypassing the restriction. But she’ll understand — of course she will, she loves Peter. She’ll let him go, she’d never stop him —

The floor seems to drop from beneath him when the realization hits: Pepper is at work. Pepper is at work and Tony is home with Morgan, and she’s watching cartoons on the sofa and still wearing her unicorn pajamas and he can’t leave her alone. He can’t. She needs him. She’s—

She’s screaming.

“Daddy, Daddy, DADDY! LOOK!” Morgan’s voice is shrill with terror in a way that makes his blood run cold. He doubles back to the living room, his arm outstretched instinctively to summon a suit that won’t come, it won’t come—

Down the hall, into the room where Morgan is inches from the TV, her tiny hands over her mouth, and he looks at the screen—

“—watching the scene again, Susan, as SPIDER-MAN, the masked menace, the famed protege of Iron Man Tony Stark, destroys the Brooklyn Bridge in an act of terrorism—” the red-faced man on the screen looks positively gleeful, gesticulating wildly at the evidence on display: helicopter footage zooms in as Spider-Man hangs from a support beam, firing grenade webs indiscriminately. Explosions rock the bridge, and cars screech to a halt as their occupants flee in terror, some of them wounded, smoke obscuring the scene.

Another grenade web meets its mark a little too close to his perch, and Spider-Man sways precariously from his web, clutching it clumsily for support. And Tony can see now what the others can’t — he can see the way the suit stretches too tightly over the man’s shoulders, the way the bottom of the mask doesn’t quite cover the pale line of skin at the neck, the way its wearer’s aim is thrown off when his wrists flex too far inward as he stretches his finger for the palm trigger—

“It isn’t Peter. That’s not him. That’s—” His words choke off as the full weight of what he’s seeing — what it means — strikes him dumb.

It isn’t Peter in the suit. It’s someone else.

Peter would never, ever, let his suit be taken unless he—unless—

Pain lances up his left arm and he can’t breathe. His daughter rushes to him, but he can’t see her, he can’t see anything past the carnage on the screen.

His phone falls from his hand, he can hear screaming at the other end of it, muffled explosions as Happy and May try their best to get through to him.

It’s like he’s there on the bridge, scorched skin and choking breaths and smoke in his eyes. Distantly, he feels Morgan’s little hands on his cheeks. Her face swims back into view, all big eyes and panicked baby tears and he can’t do this now, he can’t, his kids need him. His kids need him.

“Tony! Tony, snap out of it! We have to get to him, I have to —”

“I’m getting May out of here, Tony, it’s too dangerous—”

“Peter! PETER!!”

“I’m coming,” Tony says, and he ends the call.

#i have no idea how to post a fic on tumblr #but here i am #doing it anyway #like a pro #irondad #peter parker #tony stark #morgan stark

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zen3to5 · 5 years ago

Text

J/H 3-23: Backstage Pass

This was a tricky one to re-write; the changes to "Trials of Michael Kelso" really start to factor in here, and that will lead into the season finale, but those changes meant that Hyde - a very guarded character - had to express certain things without saying them. It was a fun needle to thread, and I hope it worked out.

FF.Net AO3

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SHOW TITLE INT. RADIO STATION - DAY WFPP control room, early afternoon. The ON AIR light over the booth door is on. DONNA is in the booth, unable to stop grinning like a dork as she reads off the FARM REPORT. DONNA: And in pork belly news, prices have risen to nearly 54 cents per pound. Mmm-hmm, bacon! ERIC enters the control room, waving when he sees Donna. She waves back. DONNA (cont’d): And I’ll be back at 3, 4, and 5 o’ clock with more updates. Until then, keep on farmin’! The ON AIR light shuts off. Donna exits the booth and crosses to a frowning Eric. DONNA (cont’d): Hey. ERIC: Donna, you’re doing the rest of the farm reports? I thought we were going to the movies. DONNA: Well, Janice called in sick, so... She shrugs as she trails off and goes to work sorting records. Eric’s frown deepens. ERIC: Okay, Donna, look. I think we need to talk. I think this job is really cutting into your Eric time. Donna stops and looks at Eric, half-amused, half-annoyed. DONNA: My “Eric time?” ERIC: And I’m very concerned about your diminishing Eric time, because it directly affects me, you know. (beat) Um, I’m Eric. The door opens, and MAX enters, tickets in hand. He crosses to Donna. MAX: Hey, thanks for staying late again, Donna. You know, you might just turn this into a full-time gig. ERIC: Hey, I’m her full-time gig. Max gives him an appraising look. MAX: Yeah. (to Donna) Here’s those tickets. Enjoy the show. He hands Donna the tickets and exits. ERIC: Tickets? DONNA: Yeah. I know I’ve been working a lot lately and I wanted to make it up to you, so I got Max to hook us up with Ted Nugent tickets for everybody. ERIC: The Motor City Madman? No way! Donna presents him with the tickets, and he takes them in awe. ERIC (cont’d): Oh, my disappointment is melting into a mixture of excitement and guilt. DONNA: Great. That’s what I was going for. She gives him a quick kiss, then gets back to work.

MAIN CREDITS BUMPER INT. FORMAN BASEMENT - DAY The next day. Eric and Donna sit on the couch, Eric’s arm around Donna’s shoulders. “Cat Scratch Fever” by TED NUGENT plays on the radio. HYDE comes down the stairs and takes a seat in his chair. HYDE: Hey. DONNA: Hey. Ready for the Nuge tonight? HYDE: Oh, yeah. A night of business and pleasure. He cackles as he opens up a magazine. DONNA: What’s the business? HYDE: Check it out: me and Fez, we’re gonna sell counterfeit T-shirts after the show. I figure with the original concert T’s going for 15 dollars, we sell ours for ten and turn a 50-dollar investment into 250 bucks. DONNA: How entrepreneurial of you. ERIC: You and Fez, huh? So you’re taking a break from corrupting cheerleaders to revisit the old standby of exploiting foreign exchange students? HYDE: Hey, I get Jackie mixed up in anything that involves clothing, next thing you know I’m out my last cent smuggling discount Jordache in from Madison. He turns slightly away, overly interested in his magazine. Eric and Donna share a look. ERIC: (to Hyde) Seriously, man. What’s going on with you and Jackie? HYDE: (warning) I keep telling everyone, nothing. ERIC: And yet you keep doing not-nothing. (adopts stern, “fatherly” voice) “Come, come, my wayward orphan – confess your feelings.” Hyde flips his magazine down in frustration. HYDE: Fine. You wanna know what’s going on? (beat) You know that episode of Wild Kingdom where the pilot fish hangs around the school of sharks? We can’t get rid of the pilot fish, so someone’s gotta show her how to be badass. Eric scoffs and Donna chuckles. DONNA: Well, if the shark had any other ideas, he might want to make a move, or else the pilot fish might just go back to the big, dumb Kelso fish. HYDE: (scoffs) Yeah, right. He goes back to his magazine. DONNA: Really, Hyde, I think he and Jackie are gonna get back together. HYDE: Trust me, that door’s closed. There’s no way Jackie’s going out with Kelso again. CUT TO: INT. CAR - DAY The inside of a Lincoln, parked in a random lot. KELSO sits in the driver’s seat, and JACKIE in the passenger’s seat. “Fins” by Jimmy Buffett plays on the car radio. KELSO: I want you to go out with me again. JACKIE: What? KELSO: Look, I know we were gonna stick to being just friends, but it’s been going so well that I think we should give us another try as a couple. Jackie looks skeptical. Undeterred, Kelso leans a little closer. KELSO (cont’d): We can start slow. Try one date, see how it goes. And it’ll be full of all the romantic magic you love. And I know magic. He waves his hands around, turning the flailing into the thumb removal magic trick. JACKIE: (giggling) Michael, I don’t know. KELSO: Come on, Jackie. Just one date. Please? He gives her a big puppy-dog face. JACKIE: (laughs) All right, Michael. You win. So, where are we going on our second first date? KELSO: The Ted Nugent concert. JACKIE: Michael, we’re all going to the Ted Nugent concert. KELSO: Hey, a date with all our friends there! Now how’s that for magic? He beams at Jackie, who shakes her head and smiles. CUT TO: INT. FORMAN KITCHEN - EVENING Later that day. With the kids out at the show, it’s poker night with the Pinciottis. RED, MIDGE, KITTY, and BOB all sit around the kitchen table with cards and drinks. BOB: You know – (points to Midge) Our anniversary’s coming up. Eighteen years. I can still remember the first time I saw Midgie. She was the tallest girl in chemistry class. MIDGE: And Bob was the shortest boy. But what he lacked in height, he made up for in shortness. The Pinciottis beam at each other. Red turns away to hide his eye roll. KITTY: Red, do you remember when we first met? RED: Like it was yesterday. He leans back, and we cut to: INT. DANCE HALL – NIGHT FLASHBACK. A USO dance is underway, with great swing music and plenty of punch. A YOUNG RED stands near the punch bowl with a few army officers and navy sailors, spiking the punch with rum. RED (v.o.): It was 1952 at a USO dance. Me and my buddies were blowing off steam. And suddenly, I saw her. Red looks up from the punch and sees a YOUNG KITTY, bathed in flattering light, across the dance floor. RED (v.o.): She was the most beautiful girl in the joint. A MARINE gets between them as he leers over Kitty. MARINE: Hiya, dame. Wanna shake a leg? KITTY: No, thanks. She turns away, but the marine spins her back around by the arm. MARINE: It wasn’t a question. KITTY: I think it was, mister. Red come up behind them and taps the marine on the shoulder. RED: (to army man) Mind if I cut in? MARINE: It’s none of your business, bell-bottom. He shoves Red back. RED: I think you could use a little punch, leatherneck. He slugs the marine good, taking him to the floor. Red stands tall and proud. His teeth actually shine in his smile. Kitty scowls at him, and when she talks, it’s the voice of PRESENT-DAY KITTY coming out. KITTY: Oh, you’re in big trouble, Red Forman. RED: Huh? CUT TO: INT. FORMAN KITCHEN – EVENING The flashback’s come crashing down. Kitty glares at Red across the table. KITTY: I said, you’re in big trouble, Red Forman. You’re thinking of some other girl. That’s not how we met at all! Red frowns in thought. RED: Oh. (beat) Oh! He looks over at his wife. She is one unhappy lady. RED (cont’d): Uh-oh. They continue to lock eyes across the table, while the Pinciottis try to be inconspicuous. CUT TO: INT. AUDITORIUM – NIGHT Minutes before the concert, a packed house. The gang take up an entire row of seats in the balcony: Hyde, FEZ, Donna, Eric, Jackie, and Kelso. Fez has a large cardboard box balanced in his lap. FEZ: (to Donna and Eric) Hey, you guys want to see our counterfeit T-shirts? He reaches into the box and lifts up a black T-shirt with “Tad Nugent” written across the top. Fez smiles, but Hyde stirs; it’s the first time he’s seen the shirts. HYDE: Fez, it’s Ted Nugent. FEZ: Uh-huh. Tad Nugent. HYDE: No, man. I’m saying “Ted.” FEZ: I’m saying “Tad” too. HYDE: No, you’re not. It says “Tad.” FEZ: I know it says “Tad.” I’m the one who put it on there. I don’t know why we’re fighting. What’s the problem here? HYDE: Because the shirt says “Tad!” FEZ: Exactly! HYDE: But the “A” should be an “E.” FEZ: Well, that’s not how you spell “Tad.” HYDE: No. That’s how you spell “Ted.” It finally clicks. Fez gains a million-mile stare as he slowly replaces the shirt in the box. FEZ: Oh... But there’s no time to dwell on that. The lights dim and the crowd – including the gang – rise to their feet and erupt into cheers as the concert begins. BUMPER INT. FORMAN LIVING ROOM - NIGHT Red sits on the couch, deep in thought. Unfortunately, Bob and Midge are sat right next to him, staring and interrupting those thoughts. RED: You know, it’s hard enough trying to remember this without you two staring at me. BOB: Hey, I could hypnotize you. MIDGE: I know! You could retrace your steps. What did you have for breakfast? Red is spared having to answer that by Kitty’s march through the living room, an empty wine glass in hand. Red stands. RED: Oh, hi, Kitty. Uh... you know, (laughs) I was just thinking about how much I love you - KITTY: So you remember yet? RED: Yes! (beat) No. Kitty sets he glass down and puts her hands on her hips. KITTY: It was November 17, 1953, at a USO dance. I remember because it was the most important moment of my life! RED: (beat) Really, Kitty? Because in November 1953, I was in Korea. (sits) So I’m pretty sure that you were talking to someone else. Kitty tries gamely to maintain surety. KITTY: Are you sure? Maybe – maybe you came home for the weekend. Red fixes her with a hard stare. RED: Not from Korea. KITTY: Oh, great. Now, neither one of us knows how we met. Well, you better get your thinking cap on, mister! She retrieves her wine glass and disappears into the kitchen as Red lets out a long sigh. BUMPER INT. AUDITORIUM – NIGHT We rejoin the concert just as it ends and spares the accountants any licensing concerns. Everyone is still on their feet, making noise. EMCEE (v.o.) Thank you, Wisconsin! Good night! In a long pan, the gang all applaud and (ad-lib) remark on the incredible show they’ve just seen. We end on Jackie and Kelso turning in toward each other. JACKIE: God, Michael, this was the most magical night! KELSO: You know, during the concert, I rewrote some of Ted Nugent’s songs with your name in it. Okay, which one do you like better: “Cat Scratch Jackie” or “Jackie Scratch Fever?” JACKIE: I love them both! They both laugh with joy and hurry up the aisle, hand in hand. Hyde looks after them. His shades can’t hide his shock. Fez waves a hand in front of Hyde’s eyes. FEZ: Hyde? Hello? We have crap to sell? He elbows his way past Hyde and heads up on the other end of the row. Hyde follows slowly, as if in a trance. Donna and Eric remain by the seats, taking in the ambience. ERIC: What do you wanna do now? DONNA: Uh... oh! We can go around back and watch the tour buses from behind the chain-link fence. ERIC: Great idea! They start to exit, but Max comes down the aisle and joins them in their row. He has a backstage pass around his neck. MAX: Hiya, kids. Enjoy the show? ERIC: Are you kidding? I’m deaf! Max smiles and nods. ERIC: You can say that again, Max! Max sits down. MAX: Well, you know, I’m starting to come down... I mean, I’m getting tired. (to Donna) Uh, why don’t you take this? He removes his backstage pass and hands it to Donna. She and Eric look at it as if it were the Holy Grail (or something.) DONNA: Oh, my God... a backstage pass... ERIC: Oh, yeah! (beat) Oh, too bad there’s only one, huh? DONNA: I’ll be back in five minutes, I swear. ERIC: You’re going? DONNA: Well, don’t you want me to? ERIC: (beat) Of course I do! That’s why I said, “oh, you’re going! Yay!” DONNA: You’re the best! She gives him a kiss and rushes off. ERIC: (to Donna’s wake) Yeah, that’s... (to Max) Yeah, that’s good. That’s nice for her. MAX: You’ll never see her again. That’s how I lost my first wife. Damn you, Donny Osmond! He shakes his head violently as Eric looks down at the stage, troubled. FADE TO BLACK COMMERCIAL BUMPER EXT. AUDITORIUM - NIGHT Just outside the exit. The concert may be over, but people aren’t in a hurry to leave. At the base of the stairs, Hyde and Fez try to hawk their counterfeit merchandise. Shockingly, no one’s going for the “Tad” T’s. Fez is at least giving it the ol’ college try; Hyde seems distracted. FEZ: T-shirts! Get your crappy, misspelled T-shirts! Can’t enjoy the after-party without your crappy, misspelled T-shirts! HYDE: (to Fez) I rue the day I took you under my wing, my foreign friend. I should’ve gone with Jackie on this. Fez looks over at Hyde and pouts. FEZ: Oh, yes... Jackie, who kicked Fort Anderson’s ass. Jackie, so good at graffiti. Jackie, with the bobby pins for picking locks. Well, I am not your perfect student Jackie, Hyde! She is getting back together with Kelso, so you will have to settle for me! He stomps his foot and turns away. Behind his shades, Hyde rolls his eyes. HYDE: They’re not back together, all right? Jackie’s learned enough now that she’s not gonna go back to a buffoon like Kelso. Speak of the devil: Kelso and Jackie come up behind Hyde, happy as clams. At least, they are until Jackie notices a puddle of vomit in front of them. JACKIE: Eww! Michael, someone blew chunks. Without missing a beat, Kelso takes the Tad T from Fez, spreads it out over the vomit, and offers his arm to Jackie. KELSO: May I escort you across the vomit, my lady? Jackie smiles and links arms with him. JACKIE: Why thank you, good sir. Heads held high, they walk across the T-shirt and proceed on their way. Hyde glares after them. Fez turns to Hyde, rather smug. FEZ: So... the buffoon makes his move. And she will go back to him. And then who will you have? No one – but Fez. He retrieves another T-shirt from the box and holds it up for passersby to see. FEZ: Todd Nugent! Get your Todd Nugent T-shirts! HYDE: Fez? He beckons Fez closer, and Fez leans in. HYDE (cont’d): IT’S TED! TWO POLICEMEN appear behind Fez. POLICEMAN: Is there a problem here? Hyde and Fez look at the cops, look at each other, and break for it, leaving the T-shirts behind. The cops take off after them. CUT TO: INT. BACKSTAGE – NIGHT The life of a rock star. TED NUGENT and his band kick back after their show, a bevy of beautiful women hanging on each of them. Amps and guitars rest against the walls and furniture. Into this den of cool steps Donna, jaw hanging open. Ted notices her first. TED: Hey, who ordered the redhead? Two of the band raise their hands. DONNA: (to Ted) Oh, my God, you’re looking at me. (to the band) Ted Nugent is looking at me. (to Ted) Stop looking at me! I’m Donna. I am, like, your biggest fan. She offers her hand, and Ted takes it. TED: Hi, Donna. Meet the other groupies. (pointing each one out) This is Blonde Girl, the other Blonde Girl, Tall Girl, and the Tall Blonde Girl. DONNA: Well, actually, I’m not a groupie. I mean, I love you, but I work at a rock radio station – WFPP, “The Sound!” I do the farm report. It’s like, a huge day for pork bellies. (beat) You don’t care. Sorry. Ted stands and crosses to Donna. TED: Oh, you work for a radio station? You wanna do an interview or somethin’? DONNA: Oh, my God. An interview would be amazing. Do you have, um, a piece of paper and one of those, uh... TED: Pens. DONNA: Pens. Exactly! One of the band hands Donna a notepad and pen. DONNA: You are the best. (to Ted) Okay, first question... um... uh... oh, my God, why are you so great? BUMPER INT. AUDITORIUM - NIGHT Eric and Max are still up in the balcony, both sitting, Max still coming down. A JANITOR stands impatiently to their left with a mop and bucket. ERIC: It’s not just tonight, you know. Yeah, she’s been blowing me off more and more. And she thinks I’ll take it, but I won’t. Uh-uh. MAX: Yeah, that’s how it starts. You say you won’t take it; you say you’ll be firm. And then the Mormon smoothie comes to town... A haunted look comes to Max’s eye, enough to give Eric a chill. The janitor, on the other hand, is unfazed. JANITOR: Can you two lift your feet please? Somewhat grudgingly, Eric lifts his feet. Max doesn’t; he’s so lost in memories and his trip, he probably didn’t hear. Eric manages, awkwardly, to pull Max’s legs up as the janitor passes through. CUT TO: INT. BACKSTAGE - NIGHT Some time later. Donna has taken Ted’s chair, while the Nuge plays a section of “Strangehold” on his guitar. As he finishes, Donna leaps up, applauding. When she realizes she’s the only one reacting, she’s flummoxed. DONNA: What is wrong with you people? Come on! That was great! What, are you on dope? They all stare back her with glazed expressions. DONNA: Oh. (to Ted) Well, I better go. My boyfriend’s waiting. Thank you so much for the interview, Ted. They shake hands again. TED: You’re very welcome. You wanna stick around? I’ll let you touch the guitar. DONNA: Really? All right! (beat) Wait, you mean your guitar guitar, right? TED: Yeah. DONNA: All right! She reaches out and strokes his guitar. CUT TO: EXT. AUDITORIUM - NIGHT Far down the auditorium wall, with restroom doors. Hyde, coming down from a full run, ducks behind a tree and leans back against the wall to catch his breath. Jackie and Kelso stroll up the sidewalk, their arms still linked. Jackie has a small bag of popcorn. They don’t see Hyde, but he sees them. JACKIE: Michael, I have to say, this really has been a magically romantic day. They look at each other and smile. As they reach the restroom doors, Kelso stops. He takes his arm back, holds up a finger for “one sec,” and steps inside. Jackie sighs contentedly and looks out at the night. Hyde steps out from behind the tree. Jackie yelps and jumps back, her popcorn flying everywhere. She sees it’s Hyde and relaxes, though she still clutches at her chest. JACKIE: Steven, you scared me. HYDE: (points to restroom) What’s going on with you and Kelso? JACKIE: Oh. Well... She giggles. Coyly, she steps in toward Steven. JACKIE (cont’d): Steven, should I give Michael a second chance? I mean, Donna says “no,” and I didn’t think I wanted to be more than friends, but he really has changed. He’s so different. And we’re different together. I felt that tonight. She chuckles to herself and kicks at the sidewalk. JACKIE (cont’d): I dunno. What do you think? Hyde regards her coolly. HYDE: If that’s your call, make the play. Jackie beams and starts to pace with joy. HYDE (cont’d): Yeah, I mean, you made the same call after he burned your house, and that worked out, right? Jackie stops pacing, looks to Hyde, confused. HYDE (cont’d): Oh, and when he first got his van, and you thought that was a step toward maturity, then he used it for nailin’ Laurie. Real good call there. JACKIE: What are you saying? HYDE: Oh, are you not getting it? Maybe it’d help if I waved around some pom-poms and used a cheer with all one-syllable words. Jackie takes a step back; it’s been a long time since she’s seen Hyde like this. JACKIE: Steven, you’re being rude. HYDE: Sorry. It’s my nature to be rude to stupid crap. JACKIE: (hurt) Steven! HYDE: What, I’m wrong? When Kelso burns you over and over, tells you he’s changed, and because he kisses your ass and buys you crap, you fall for it every time? He gives her a chance to retort; she can’t. HYDE (cont’d): I had you figured right in the first place, but I thought maybe you weren’t that square and shallow, so I gave you a shot. Turns out you haven’t learned a thing from me. He starts to walk away. JACKIE: Steven, what are you talking about? What was I supposed to learn? Hyde stops and whirls around. HYDE: To think! Maybe then you’d see life ain’t one of your Nancy Drew, Disney World, unicorn fantasies. That second chances are for losers who can’t figure out that people don’t change, and if they screw you once, they screw you every time. He advances on her as he raves. Jackie doesn’t back up. JACKIE: That’s not true! People do change! You’ve changed! At least, I thought you had, from when you were such a jerk when we first met. But I know Michael has, because I have thought about this, a lot, and I didn’t just believe that things were different this time. And by the way, Steven? I’m the one who was “screwed” and hurt and betrayed. What would a scruffy orphan know about that? Hyde’s face doesn’t change, but Jackie knows immediately she’s gone too far. Finally, she takes a step back, her hands over her mouth. JACKIE (cont’d): Steven, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean - HYDE: (cold) You wanna know what I think? I think you can marry that moron for all I care. Next time you get burned, find someone else to cry to. He walks away. Jackie doesn’t follow him, not even with her eyes. She just stares ahead at the ground, trying not to cry. Kelso comes out of the bathroom, all smiles. He moseys up behind Jackie and puts a hand on her shoulder. KELSO: Hey there. So, the concession stand’s still open, and I think they were selling cherry slurpees. Jackie looks up at him, eyes shining with tears. She pulls away from his hold and stomps off. Kelso’s jaw drops. KELSO (cont’d): Okay, we’ll get watermelon! That doesn’t bring her back. Kelso throws up his hands and runs after her. Further up the sidewalk, Hyde stands alone. He rips his sunglasses off, clenching them tight in his fist as he kicks at the auditorium wall. The policemen come up the way Jackie and Kelso left, each of them holding Fez by an arm between them. Fez is handcuffed. FEZ: (to Hyde) “Sell some T-shirts,” you said. “No risk,” you said. I’m going to jail, you son of a bitch! They all pass by. Hyde looks after Jackie and Kelso briefly, then pops his shades back on and goes after Fez. CUT TO: INT. FORMAN LIVING ROOM – NIGHT The Pinciottis have gone. Kitty sits on the couch, flipping through an old photo album. Red enters from the kitchen with two small drinks. KITTY: (not looking up) Oh, Red, it’s killing me that I can’t remember. RED: Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah, me too. (sits next to her) But I’ll tell you one thing I remember: I remember that you loved Manhattans. He hands her one of the drinks. KITTY: Oh, that’s right. That’s what I used to drink. (laughs) Oh, I haven’t had a Manhattan in twenty years. She and Red clink glasses and have a sip. It’s a GOOD Manhattan. KITTY (cont’d): Oh, boy, that takes me back. Oh. Oh... The lightbulb goes off in her head. We cut to: INT. DANCE HALL – NIGHT FLASHBACK. Young Kitty is sat at a table with A FRIEND, a row of glasses in front of her. She downs one Manhattan and accepts another from the WAITER. KITTY: (to waiter) Keep ‘em coming. (to friend) Oh, my. I’m as loose as a goose. (laughs) Back by the punch bowl, young Red and HIS FRIEND stand with shot glasses in hand. RED: Okay, let’s do it. They clink glasses, down their shots, set the glasses down, and drop their pants. On their boxers are written the words “HELLO LADIES.” Kitty, her back to them, doesn’t see the mooning. She stands up as well as she can, all giggles. KITTY: Upsy-daisy. I need to use the ladies’ - She turns to head for the restroom but collides with Red’s ass and falls down on hers. It doesn’t damper her mood any; she falls into a fresh round of laughter. Red turns to look at her, hiking his pants back up as he does so. RED: You all right? KITTY: I bumped into your butt and fell down! (laughs) RED: Sorry. My pants were... He helps her to her feet, and they look at each other – really look at each other. Red’s grip turns into a handshake. RED (cont’d): I’m Red Forman. KITTY: How do you do, Red Forman? I’m Kitty Sigurdson. CUT TO: INT. FORMAN LIVING ROOM – NIGHT The present. Neither Red nor Kitty can believe it. RED: You bumped into my butt and fell down? And that’s how we met? KITTY: I’m afraid so. RED: (beat) Well, what do you say, if the kids ever ask, we go with the “I punched out a marine” story. KITTY: And I wasn’t drinking, I was reading to the blind. RED: Sounds good. They clink glasses, take a sip, and look at the album. CUT TO: EXT. PARKING LOT – NIGHT The auditorium lot. The concert crowds have finally dispersed; the Vista Cruiser is alone in the lot. Eric sits on the front of the car, listening to the radio through the cracked windows. Donna comes around the corner. She races to Eric when she sees him, and he slides off the car. DONNA: Oh, my God, Eric, I have so much to tell you! I actually met Ted Nugent, and I got an interview, and I know I said I’d be right back, but – it was so exciting! ERIC: Oh, yeah. My night too. I met the janitor, and I got to hear your boss talk about the sexual magnetism of Donny Osmond. Rock n’ roll! His tone isn’t lost on Donna. DONNA: Eric, you’re mad at me for going backstage to meet Ted Nugent? ERIC: No, no. I’m mad at you because you ditched me. DONNA: I didn’t ditch you. This was Ted Nugent! This was a huge opportunity for me. So, come Monday, I don’t have to just talk about the farm report. I can talk about the interview, like an interviewer. ERIC: Well, you know what, Donna? All I can say is that my mom never would have bailed on my dad like that. DONNA: Yeah, I know. But they’re married. ERIC: (beat) Okay. Okay, forget it. Let’s just forget it. You’re sorry – everything’s fine. DONNA: I never said I was sorry. ERIC: But... you are, right? DONNA: I shouldn’t have to be. Eric has no reply. He’s spared having to make one by Hyde and Fez coming around the corner, Hyde’s arm around Fez’s shoulders. FEZ: I am free! At last, I am free! They were going to charge me with selling counterfeit merchandise, but Hyde convinced them that since Ted Nugent was misspelled, it wasn’t really counterfeit, it was just stupid. My ignorance of American youth culture finally pays off. Hyde notices Donna’s pass. HYDE: Donna, man, did you get to meet the Nuge? DONNA: Yeah, it was awesome! I was right there with him! The Nuge! The flash of excitement vanishes when Donna turns back to Eric. DONNA (cont’d): So can we go now? Jackie and Kelso come up from the other direction. Jackie has her arms folded and her head down, and Kelso is completely lost. KELSO: Well, damn, Jackie, just tell me where the magic went! They stop when they see the rest of the gang. Jackie glares at Hyde, who glares back. Eric and Donna stare each other down. Fez and Kelso shift uncomfortably. The driver’s side back door opens on the Vista Cruiser. Max sticks his head out. He’s still not fully down. MAX: Hey, kids? I can’t find my car. He looks up at them pleadingly. They all start to look in different directions for his car. FADE TO BLACK CREDITS EXT. AUDITORIUM - NIGHT Just outside the exit. The box of Tad Nugent T-shirts is right where Hyde and Fez left it. Ted Nugent himself walks up the sidewalk, dressed down from the show. He spies the box and takes a look inside. He holds one of the shirts up to his chest; it seems like a good fit. Ted shrugs, tosses the shirt over his shoulder, picks up the box, and carries on. END.

#z's fics #that 70s show #zenmasters #jackie x hyde #fan fiction #fan script #zen3to5

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phroyd · 5 years ago

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So how can California put an end to PG&E’s reign of error?

The answer: Make this so-called “public utility” into a true public system—a customer-owned power cooperative, a plan proposed by the city of San Jose. Currently, the only things “public” about PG&E are the bills the public pays and the charred homes and bodies this bankrupt beast leaves behind.

But how can the public take ownership without busting government coffers?

The way Gordon Gekko did it in “Wall Street”: through a hostile takeover bid for PG&E’s stock—now bouncing on the floor at about $4 per share.

It’s been done before, in New York.

For decades, Long Island Lighting Co., LILCO, like PG&E, left millions of its customers in the dark, endangered their safety and emptied their pockets with monstrously high electric bills. Then, in 1998, the customers seized ownership of the renegade utility—at low cost, below its book value.

In 1981, as executive director of the state legislature’s Science and Technology Commission, I was tasked with drafting a law that would allow customers to buy out this dangerous power company cheaply.

Our solution was inventive. LILCO’s stock, like PG&E’s, was in the toilet, trading at a fraction of its book value—that is, way less than the cost of its lines and equipment. If corporate raiders can take over companies cheap to reap giant profits, why couldn’t the state do a hostile takeover to keep the public safe and reduce electric bills?

My agency drafted, and the legislature passed, a law permitting the state to make a hostile tender offer for LILCO’s stock.

To keep the utility’s stock from soaring on the takeover offer, I also drafted civil racketeering (RICO) charges that were filed by the state and local government. The complaint cited years of the company extracting billions from its captive customers on false claims.

A jury awarded Long Island’s beleaguered customers $4 billion in damages. The company, now effectively bankrupted like PG&E, ultimately sold to the state’s newly created Long Island Power Authority at a cost low enough to cut power rates and rebuild the system.

The result: The new publicly owned system rapidly improved reliability and safety, boosted green energy programs, reduced electric bills and even shut down and dismantled a dangerous nuclear plant.

Likewise, California has a good cause to take legal action against PG&E on behalf of its customers. The still-blazing Kincade fire was, the company all but admits, caused by failure on a transmission line the company had promised for two years to fix by this April. It didn’t.

When California Got Ken Lay’d

In olden days, before “deregulation,” your local gas and electric company was not allowed to burn down your house, blow it up, cut off your oxygen tank and then bill you for it.

So what happened?

PG&E’s transformation from a public utility into an Academy for Accidental Arsonists began 30 years ago with Ken Lay, chief executive of Enron. Enron, a criminal enterprise parading as a power company, convinced California to lead the nation in “deregulating” its power markets.

Until then, utilities were dull things, controlled like government agencies with highly detailed budgets for operation and maintenance that, when approved by regulators, had to be spent on … maintenance and operations. If they failed to use the money as promised, regulators punished the company with a severe hit to profits already tightly capped by law.

Then, deregulation allowed utilities to pocket unspent money as an efficiency incentive. In practice, deregulation became decriminalization of skimming on safety and reliability.

I can only imagine what Robert “Bat” Batinovich would have done to the company for the deadly delay which likely resulted in the Kincade fire. Batinovich, appointed chairman of the California Public Utilities Commission by Young Governor Jerry Brown, was known as the toughest regulator in America.

Decades later, the Elderly Governor Brown filled the PUC with louche industry buddies dedicated to defending the company except when the TV cameras are on.

What did PG&E do with the maintenance fund embedded in the bills of its captive customers? While those with lives and homes burnt are obvious victims of PG&E’s cost-shaving devil-may-care operations, all of those who pay the monthly bill deserve their day in court.

As we did in New York, the state and local governments should file legal action on behalf of every customer. And that will, justly, cut the price of a takeover.

The Vulture Swoops In

The only thing more dangerous than leaving PG&E in the hands of its current mis-managers is the proposal to give control of PG&E to the financier known as “The Vulture,” Paul Elliott Singer of Elliott Management.

Singer has bought up a hunk of PG&E‘s debt cheaply, and he’s looking to the bankruptcy court to adopt a re-organization plan that would give him a giant payday at ratepayers’ expense.

I’ve been tracking Singer for BBC Television for 12 years.

Here’s how Singer operates. In 2009, Singer and his vulture colleagues bought control of Delphi Corp., which was once General Motors’ auto parts division. Singer’s team threatened to cut off delivery of parts to GM unless the U.S. Treasury paid him billions of dollars. President Barack Obama’s auto bailout chief, Steve Rattner, called it “extortion.”

Obama had no choice but to give in because the parts cut-off would have forced GM’s liquidation, costing half a million jobs. Singer got his billion-dollar payoff, then Delphi shifted almost every union job overseas.

If Singer does a “Delphi“ on PG&E, investment will be cut to the bone to hike profits.

Of special concern to Californians is whether PG&E under Singer’s management would continue to fund its program to reduce pollution and greenhouse gas emissions. Singer is the chairman of the Manhattan Institute, the far-right, climate-change-denying think tank behind the fake trope that the Green New Deal would cost $1 trillion and destroy the economy.

Democracy Is the Solution

There is an alternative for managing PG&E other than the current busload of befuddled bozos or financial vultures.

San Jose has the right idea: consumer cooperative ownership.

Electricity socialism is not so radical: There are 900 power co-ops in the U.S. serving 47 million Americans. And here in Los Angeles, my computer is powered by the city-owned Department of Water and Power, which, while not a stellar enterprise, limits blackouts and tends not to kill its customers—because the mayor must personally answer for the DWP’s failings.

Simply put: Democracy keeps the lights on.

But to keep the cost low and move quickly, local and state governments should take advantage of PG&E’s bargain-basement stock price and the discount on the trading price of its bonds. That, combined with legal action to seek compensation for financially abused ratepayers, should force this un-public utility into the public’s hands at a fair, low price.

Phroyd

#wildfires #pg&e #capitalism

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nerdyangeldetective · 5 years ago

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Deadly Shadows II - [John Wick x Reader]

AN: I’m far too inspired for this even if I don’t know where it is going... Also, little reminder: English isn’t my native language. I’m a french trying her best to write to please you guys! Enjoy! ♥

Words: ~1.8k

TW: Fluff - Slow burn - A tiny bit of cursing - mention of blood at some point.

AN bis: The events take place after John Wick Chapter 2.

Song for this chapter:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2LaiBsm4DVI

Summary:

In order to avenge your sister being greedy because of the contract put on Wick’s head, Shade, an assassin known to be quiet and leave no mess behind her have for goal to kill John Wick, but nothing goes like she wanted to.

Tag List: @lustforfern

New York City - Continental Hotel, on the stairs.

"Well... We're in the same shit now, Shade."

His deep and sarcastic voice sent shivers all over her body. Narrowing her eyes and looking at the tall man that was beaten up. Shade was about to speak, but the pain from the wound on her stomach only made her cough some blood.

"Goddamnit, she whispered, Kill me, Charon, do it," she said as Shade sat on the stairs, knowing she had only a few minutes left. "I'm afraid I can't do it, Ms. Perkins," he stated before walking back to the door of the Continental. "You still have a few minutes left."

With this mysterious sentence, Charon disappeared inside the hotel, leaving John and Shade on the stairs, both bleeding out and beaten up.

"Let's go, said Wick as he broke the silence, We need to move."

Confused, Shade looked up to the man that got up and got even more confused when she saw he had given her his hand to help her get up. Taking it, she got on her feet, and they both looked around.

"We should- " "Hide. I know where to go."

Shade started to walk away. She was losing a lot of blood, and her skin was also getting pale.

"I got an apartment under my real name. We probably have enough time to hide and get patched up before they found my real name."

John nodded and followed her through the dark alleys of New York. Everything was weirdly quiet, too quiet. Something was off, and they both knew it. Grabbing her last knife, she knit her eyebrows and carefully looked around.

Sounds of motors were heard, and the light of motorcycles blinded them for a few seconds. John immediately knew it was two assassins, one for her and one for him, and quickly grabbed her by the waist to hide on a corner as they started to shot.

"Be more careful! he half-yelled at her, do you have any guns left!?" "No! I don't. I only had three!"

John looked around and then saw the knife on her hands. He tried to take it, but she wasn't going to let it to him.

"Shade. If you want to survive, if we want to survive this, you need to give it to me."

His serious tone made Shade change her mind. He wanted to team up and was determined to help her. Why? It was so strange, but now that she thinks about it, he didn't hit her with all of his strength, well, apart from stabbing her she had nothing, no real injuries, just a few bruises.

By the time Shade was thinking about it, John had already taken down the two assassins; he barely had nothing.

"Beginners."

Shade gave him a barely-there smile as they hurried to get inside the building and took the elevator to the 14th floor. Only their breathing could be heard on this silent elevator, Shade's vision was getting more and more blurry, and she let herself slide on the wall to be sit.

"Do you have anything to patch you up?" "Of course I do. My sister and I always ended up here to patch ourselves up until she started to work solo."

John nodded once. He was still mysterious, and she didn't know why he spared her nor why he decided to team with her. John Wick was known to do everything himself, so why?

His strong hands grabbed her right arm to put it around his shoulder while his other hand went on her waist. Shade didn't even protest, no, she was getting too tired of trying to play the hard one when she wasn't.

"Which one is it?" he stated as he pointed out the name on few doors at this floor. "[Y/N] [Y/L/N]."

Having the keys in her hand, she opened the door and closed it quickly with John's help. He left her on her bedroom, laying her down on the bed and pushing up her top once he had taken the medical-kit on her bathroom along with alcohol and sterile bandages.

He was about to pour alcohol on the wound, but Shade stopped him.

"No! Stop!"

The girl moved, putting her hands on the injury, fresh blood staining them.

"I'll be quick. Here, take this."

Reaching for her pillow, John gave it to her.

"You can't scream. You know what to do."

Shade nodded and closed her eyes, a part of the pillow inside her mouth. John quickly poured alcohol into cleaning the wound and took the stapler to close it, finishing with a clean bandage around her stomach. Shade was struggling but didn't move, her muffled cries were heard, but overall, she did well. John removed the pillow from her mouth and sighed.

"It's over. You're fine."

John's voice was surprisingly soft. He sat next to her and was about to do the same to his wounds.

"I'll do it."

Her voice and hands shaking, she sat up on the bed to have a good look on his injury and did the same as he did to her earlier. He didn't even flinch. Was this guy a human at least?

Both were exhausted and coming back from an intense pain as they lay down on the bed.

"Why?" "Why what?" answered John. "Why didn't you kill me? We both know you can kill me and ask to be forgiven."

John stayed quiet for a few seconds before sighing and running a hand through his face.

"I know what it feels to lose someone. I know what it feels like to be angry at everyone, and I know what it's like to want revenge. In your sister's case... You know she brought this to herself."

He was right. Shade knows deep down that she did it to herself for money. She got greedy, and Shade wanted to do the impossible out of anger.

"We'll team up. It'll be useful if we can count on each other, especially that now you're an ex-communicado."

John took his phone on the pocket inside his suit and showed her the text.

"Shade, [Y/N] Perkins. Ex-communicado. $6 million dollars."

Shade smiled and started to laugh, a weak one, but it was there.

"Is Perkins even your real last name?" "No. Perkins and I weren't biological sisters. My parents died when I was 2 in a car crash. Lucky me, I survived, and her parents adopted me, mostly for money. We ran away from home at 13 and lived on our own for most of our lives." "I guess that is why the name on the door is [Y/N] [Y/L/N]." "Yeah. For the government, I'm a student who earns a lot of money."

Looking down, the real Shade, [Y/N] was showing by the way she was speaking. She wasn't Shade with him, not anymore.

"Shade is just a whole character. Someone I pretend to be, but this lifestyle is scaring me to no end, but we had no choice. We had no fucking choice."

John listened to her. He was so similar to him on a few points. They both knew precisely was not to do and still, here they are, being ex-communicado with millions on their heads.

"We'll get through this." he whispered as he closed his eyes.

Shade looked at him and nodded.

"Get some rest, Wick. I'll stay awake in case something goes wrong."

Getting up, she went to her kitchen to get some coffee. They knew they only have a few hours of peace before someone finds them... She also knows it is better if John is one resting properly for a few hours.

Shade was sure of it; she would die soon, no matter how John protects her.

#John Wick x you #john wick x reader #john wick #john wick fiction

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newstfionline · 5 years ago

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Headlines

GM workers worry about paying bills as strike continues (AP) Nearly four weeks into the United Auto Workers’ strike against General Motors, employees are starting to feel the pinch of going without their regular paychecks. While pressure is intensifying to reach a deal, the losses for both sides are mounting and spilling over into the auto supply chain. Striking full-time workers are losing roughly $1,000 each week, and that’s not counting the overtime many of them make.

White House cuts millions in foreign aid (Foreign Policy) Tens of millions of dollars earmarked for human rights programs in China, Iraq, and elsewhere are in jeopardy after the Trump administration used bureaucratic tactics to hold up the funding, FP’s Robbie Gramer reports. The move comes two months after the administration proposed to cut nearly $4 billion in foreign aid, and current and former officials see the move as a way to slash funding after proposals to do so drew public and congressional backlash.

Trump calls death of British teen a ‘terrible accident,’ says driving on wrong side of the road ‘happens’ (Washington Post) President Trump said Wednesday that a British teenager killed in a crash allegedly caused by the wife of a U.S. diplomat was the victim of a “terrible accident,” adding that driving on the wrong side of the road “happens.” He made the remarks at a news conference to which he carried briefing notes saying that the woman, who left the country after the crash, would not return to Britain, as British authorities have requested. The Dunn case has sparked controversy at home and abroad and placed the issue of diplomatic immunity under intense scrutiny.

Venezuela’s Gas Shortages Stall Ambulances in Their Tracks (AP) Ambulances have become the latest casualty of Venezuela’s unraveling political and economic crisis, struggling to fuel up and speed away to emergencies as gasoline scarcities deepen.

Climate Protester Lies on Plane as London Arrests Top 1,000 (Reuters) A protester lay on top of a plane while another forced a jet to turn around on the runway as climate change activists descended on London City Airport on Thursday, causing some flight disruption as the number of arrests this week topped 1,000.

Merkel, After Synagogue Shooting, Says Anti-Semitism Has No Place in Germany (Reuters) Chancellor Angela Merkel said on Thursday she was shocked by a shooting near a synagogue in eastern Germany in which two people were killed, and stressed that anti-Semitism had no place in German society.

Turkey presses Syrian assault as thousands flee the fighting (AP) Turkey pressed its assault against U.S.-allied Kurdish forces in northern Syria on Thursday for a second day, pounding the region with airstrikes and an artillery bombardment that raised columns of black smoke in a border town, killing dozens, and sent panicked civilians scrambling to get out. The U.N. refugee agency said tens of thousands were on the move, and aid agencies warned that nearly a half-million people near the border were at risk.

Turkey’s Erdogan Threatens to Send Syrian Refugees to Europe (Reuters) President Tayyip Erdogan said on Thursday Ankara will send the 3.6 million Syrian refugees in Turkey to Europe if European countries label the country’s military incursion in Syria as an occupation.

In 14-hour news conference, Ukraine’s leader says was not blackmailed by Trump (Reuters) Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskiy said on Thursday he would be ready to open a probe into any Ukrainian interference in the 2016 U.S. presidential election but denied that President Donald Trump had tried to blackmail him. Zelenskiy was asked repeatedly about his relations with the Trump administration while speaking to reporters at a news conference that lasted more than 14 hours at a food court in Kiev with rotating groups of reporters.

Aging Westerners skipping their hospital bills in Thailand (Reuters) Foreigners over 50 years old seeking long-term, non-immigrant visas to Thailand will soon be required to present proof of health insurance when they apply. A Thai official told Reuters that aging Westerners skipping their hospital bills were “burdensome for the public health ministry.”

Media events canceled in China for NBA preseason game (AP) In response to the NBA defending Daryl Morey’s freedom of speech, Chinese officials took it away from the Los Angeles Lakers and Brooklyn Nets. All of the usual media sessions surrounding the Lakers-Nets preseason game in Shanghai on Thursday were canceled. It was the latest salvo in the rift between the league and China stemming from a since-deleted tweet posted last week by Morey, the general manager of the Houston Rockets. Morey’s tweet expressed support for anti-government protesters in Hong Kong, and sparked fallout that has completely overshadowed the NBA’s annual trip to China.

Typhoon May Bring 2 Feet of Rain, Strong Winds to Tokyo Area (AP) A typhoon was forecast to bring 2 feet of rain and damaging winds to the Tokyo area and central Japan’s Pacific coast this weekend, and the government warned people Friday to stockpile and leave high-risk places before it’s too dangerous.

Iran Says Oil Tanker Struck by Missiles Off Saudi Arabia (AP) Two missiles struck an Iranian tanker traveling through the Red Sea off the coast of Saudi Arabia on Friday, Iranian officials said, the latest incident in the region amid months of heightened tensions between Tehran and the U.S.

US Sanctions Family Accused of Rampant Graft in South Africa (AP) The U.S. Treasury Department on Thursday imposed sanctions on members of the Gupta family who face wide-ranging corruption allegations in South Africa during former president Jacob Zuma’s tenure.

#headlines #news

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pinerzones · 2 years ago

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Last year super bowl 2021

#Last year super bowl 2021 series#

Viewer interest in the Super Bowl continues to be strong. Strong creative plays an important role in helping brands make the most of this super-sized opportunity. According to Kantar research, the 2021 Super Bowl ads delivered an average return on investment (ROI) of $4.60 per dollar spent, with ads for Mountain Dew, Verizon, T-Mobile, and General Motors achieving the best results. As a result, Super Bowl ads consistently deliver strong return on investment. Kantar's Sports MONITOR’s fan insight service found that the commercials were the third-most popular aspect of watching the big game, ahead of even the halftime show. The reported average 30 second average unit cost for this year’s game represents a 6% increase over the average price paid for a 30-second commercial in 2021, and a 10% increase from five years ago.īrands make this investment for good reason. With NBC, the exclusive broadcasting network of Super Bowl LVI, selling spots at a reported record high price of $6.5 million per 30 seconds of airtime, up from $5.5 million last year, revenue is forecasted to surpass last year’s total.

#Last year super bowl 2021 series#

Twice, the Chiefs were penalized for pass interference on the drive that was capped by a Brady to Antonio Brown 1-yard TD pass right before the break.Super Bowl LV generated $434.5 million of in-game ad revenue, higher than the World Series and NBA finals and second only to the Olympic Games according to an analysis by Kantar. KC was penalized early and often, with players on defense being nailed for holding. Instead, Brady hit Gronkowski with a TD pass and Tampa Bay was up by 11. The second one - encroachment - took a 40-yard field goal off the scoreboard that would have put the Bucs up by 7. The first one - defensive holding - wiped out an interception by cornerback Tyrann Mathieu. The Chiefs found themselves penalized often in the first half - a Super Bowl-record 95 yards in one half - but none hurt more than two on the TD drive that saw Tampa Bay take that 14-3 lead. Mahomes passed the Chiefs down the field into the red zone before the drive ended on a fourth down play that saw the KC quarterback running around to try to find an open receiver and somehow throwing a 30-yard pass while parallel to the ground that was deflected by a Tampa Bay defender.Įven the Chiefs' final drive ended with an interception in the end zone with 1:33 left. Perhaps no series or play summed up Mahomes' tough night more than one early in the fourth quarter as the Chiefs mounted what would turn out to be their last gasp at a rally. The Bucs played their safeties deep to keep KC's play-makers from making big plays and their rushing defense remained solid. Mahomes, who was under pressure much of the game and apparently hampered by a turf toe injury, did not reach100 yards passing until late in the third quarter. Unfortunately for long-suffering Tampa Bay fans, the virus curtailed attendance at the stadium to 22,000, including 7,500 vaccinated health-care workers. It was the Bucs' second Super Bowl victory, made sweeter by getting the win at Raymond James Stadium, the first team ever to play in the Super Bowl on its home field. More: Bucs in the Super Bowl gives Tampa Bay three teams playing for championships in five months Still on top: Tom Brady still takes seventh title as Buccaneers rip Chiefs in Super Bowl 55ĥ5 facts about the Super Bowl: From the name to the coin they flip With a 43-year-old quarterback leading a team that had not made the playoffs since 2007 to an upset victory against the defending champions.Īgeless Tom Brady passed for three touchdowns, the Tampa Bay defense shut down Patrick Mahomes and the prolific Kansas City offense and the Buccaneers defeated the Chiefs 31-9 Sunday night in Super Bowl LV. A season marked by the coronavirus pandemic and the NFL overcoming improbable odds to complete its schedule could only have ended one way.

#Last year super bowl 2021

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royal-red-asks · 6 years ago

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You Should Experience SEO 2019 At Least Once In Your Lifetime And Here's Why

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barinacraft · 6 years ago

Text

Stinger ↠ Drinks Up History As Crème de la Crème

High Society's After Dinner After-Party

A Stinger is a classic cocktail (of sorts) mixed with Cognac and white crème de menthe.* Perceived as an upper class after dinner drink if you will, its mint flavor has deceived many with ordinary brandy as their swill.

How To Make The Perfect Stinger

Stinger Cocktail Recipe:

1 ½ oz brandy or Cognac

½ oz white creme de menthe

1 mint leaf for garnish

Add to a cocktail shaker with ice. Shake ingredients thoroughly. Strain into a chilled glass and garnish with a mint leaf.

Many Stinger drink variations call for a lower ratio of Cognac to liqueur of say 2:1 or even lower. If you're unsure, its easy to start with that recipe and then adjust to taste by adding more brandy to stiffen the spirits if desired. Or, vice versa.

History of the Stinger Drink Recipe

The Backstory - Let Me In, I'm Filthy RICH!

The Stinger has long been associated with social status, which itself was once defined by the Vanderbilts who symbolized American Royalty during the Gilded Age. Patriarch Cornelius "Commodore" Vanderbilt built the family business from scratch by turning a $100 loan from his mother into a $100 million fortune before his death in 1877.

But, his was new money ...

And to be truly accepted into the upper echelons of 'Society' you had to be on Caroline Astor and Ward McAllister's list of the 400 people who were considered fashionable. Old money dominated the elite New York socialite crowd back then and Lina thought railroad riches were distasteful.

Often identified, qualified and then picked from the Social Register, members of the aristocracy lead the way in a clash of old money versus new money struggling for acceptance in the Social 400. This meant Alva, wife of the Commodore's grandson William Kissam Vanderbilt, would have to find a new way in.

She decided to flaunt her wealth and make a list of her own.†

It all started by building an opulent mansion on Fifth Avenue followed by a lavish housewarming party hyped in the press and held on March 26, 1883. Her exclusive guest list included invitations to all of society's highest ranking members along with a select group of young debutantes with one notable exception, Mrs. Astor's daughter Carrie.

Social customs dictated that Miss Astor couldn't be invited since her mother had never visited the Vanderbilt home. Or so Alva claimed.

As a result, Mrs. Astor came calling and the Astors' invitations arrived the next day. A reciprocal request to attend the Astor's upcoming annual ball meant formal acceptance of the Vanderbilts into New York society's upper echelon.

Guess it pays to have a plan.

4th Generation Vanderbilt Mixology

Fast forward a few decades and it was time to check in to see how things were going inside The 400.

After inheriting over ten million dollars and then another five when his brother Alfred died a hero aboard the RMS Lusitania in WWI, Reginald Claypoole Vanderbilt was living it up as an equestrian down on the Sandy Point Farm in Portsmouth, Rhode Island.‡ With a reputation as a playboy and avid gambler, Reggie was also famous for his country estate's "home bar."

Modeled after one in the William the Conqueror tavern in the seaside resort town of Deauville, France in the Calvados department of Normandy, it was spectacular and a status symbol like no other. What better way to celebrate the good life than a round of drinks among friends in grand style?

Long the stuff of legend (reputed to suck down lots at his favorite NY speakeasy, The Colony), this 1923 article made the scuttlebutt official and forever associated Reginald with his specialty behind the bar, the Stinger.1 He fancied himself an expert bartender and did everything from the squeezing and the shaking himself. That included the serving, even though he had servants.

So, Mr. Vanderbilt is largely credited with making the Stinger acceptable as a cocktail for other occasions too including morning, noon and nightcap apparently. In the 1957 musical comedy High Society for example, Bing Crosby heads to the butler's pantry, one of many bars in the movie's mansions, and hands a morning drink to Grace Kelly as “doctor's orders” after a long night of champagne and wine. Asked what it is, he said:

Oh, just the juice of a few fresh flowers called a Stinger ... removes the sting.

This drink has been in the movies outside of the upper crust of high society as well. Other notable featured film and TV appearances include The Bishop's Wife (1947), Kiss Them For Me (1957), The Apartment (1960), Gorky Park (1983) and Mad Men season one episode "Nixon v. Kennedy," set in 1960 along with season three episode two "Love Among the Ruins," set in 1963.

Stinger Drink Timeline with Related Recipe Milestones

Nibbling Along - But Not Quite A Bite

Prior to actually being stung, there was definitely a "sting in the air." Several recipe formulations pre-dated the soon to be Stinger standard that could be classified as iterations or similar drinks like those listed below, but were left in the timeline to illustrate the progression.

1892 The Judge - It called for a 2:1 ratio of brandy to crème de menthe along with a few dashes of gum syrup to sweeten things up. Sound familiar?

The Paymaster - Same proportions as above with bitters replacing the sweetener. Plus, a lemon-peel garnish on the glass brim.2

1895 Brant Cocktail - A renamed Paymaster drink with Angostura bitters and white crème de menthe called out specifically as ingredients.3

1900 Ice Trust Cocktail - Eight years later, the "Only William" of lower Broadway, who created The Paymaster and The Judge drinks above, decided equal parts plain was the perfect potion.4

Finally Stung - A Cocktail Chronology

1909 The Stinger - William T. "Cocktail Bill" Boothby, San Francisco bartender extraordinaire, is said to have left a note tucked into the back of one of his earlier books supposedly for possible inclusion in a later edition. In it he credits J. C. O'Conner, the proprietor of the "handsomest cafe for gentlemen in the world," located on the corner of Market and Eddy Streets in S. F., Calif.

Mr. O'Conner's formula stiffens the predecessors with a 3:1 ratio and caters to those with more expensive taste by specifying Cognac over ordinary brandy. Its shaken and served cold in a sherry glass. No garnish.

As for the date, its sometime after 1909 since his establishment didn't exist prior. Just exactly how long after is unknown and open to debate.5

1912 1st bartending book to actually print the Stinger recipe—maybe. Even though there seems to be consensus, 'circa' clouds the circumstance and we have been unable to confirm the calendar.6

Equal parts Rex Cognac and creme de menthe (white). Frapped.

1913 Popularity is plausible according to the Washington Herald which stated that both the Stinger (half brandy & half white mint cream) and the Green Dragon (green mint cream topped with white absinthe over ice) were on the rise. In hindsight, it looks like the latter didn't fulfill its promise, but the former certainly did.7

Half and half garnished with a lemon peel is what's mixed up in what may really be the Stinger's first formal trade publication appearance. No spirits from a specific region in France had to be brandied about in this recipe though.8

Amer Picon is said to have been the main ingredient of the Bustanoby brothers version at their famous ladies bar Café de Beaux Arts according to the New York Times back then. Very Campari-ble [sic]

1914 Cognac is back. One half pony glass of each. Shaken with ice and strained into an ungarnished vermouth glass.9

1916 Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder, or so says this barkeeper's bible. A couple dashes is all that's needed along with a base of 75% of the good stuff and 25% minty cream liqueur.10

Apparently, Reggie V. liked to splash a little absinthe in his for some extra sting as well.

1917 Country Club Style - St. Louis Country Club style in particular that is. One jigger of really old brandy mixed with one pony of white creme de menthe. That's a 3:2 ratio for those of you following along at home. Shake well with ice, strain and serve.11

Date Check

1933 From Sawdust To Upper Crust - Why did a little bartending book from Oshkosh, Wisconsin (once known as the "Sawdust Capital of the World") contain what appeared to be the first Stinger recipe in print, instead of one from a fancy East Coast publishing house?

Circa bites again. Only this time it was supposedly 1910.12

However, unlike the one from two years later (listed above), we were able to confirm that this promotional booklet was actually printed right after the Repeal of Prohibition which itself was on December 5, 1933. This was followed by ads for the brochure from Wiese Auto & Radio Sales in the Racine, Wisconsin Journal Times and the Universal Motor Company's Mixing Guide For Boatmen in Motor Boating - The Yachtsmen's Magazine in late December 1933 and March 1934, respectively. Both urged you to obtain your own copy of 101 Drinks and How to Mix Them by either coming in person or requesting delivery by mail in care of an Oshkosh address.

Direct mail marketing added a shot of humor to the mix of this particular recipe by joking:

Our pet bee took a sip of this once and threw a jealous fit.

Good one.

Its Official

Although David Embury, Don Marquis, Joyce Kilmer and others may disagree, the Stinger is an IBA official cocktail in their Unforgettables category. Their 5:2 after-dinner formula may be beloved, but many dissenting comments have been made over the years as to whether that drink style in particular is applicable.

White mint and brandy shaken up together with cracked ice make a good substitute for a cocktail. ~ Joyce Kilmer13

Of course, a cocktail or two and an occasional Stinger, is something no one can well avoid taking, if one is dining out or having supper after the theater with one's own particular crowd. ~ Hermione14

Liqueurs should never (with the possible exception of a very few drinks such as the Stinger, which is not really a cocktail) dominate and overpower the flavor of the base. ~ David Embury15

You, of course, will have to judge for yourself. But, whatever its classification, it certainly is unforgettable.

Plus, here's something I think we can all agree on:

Cocktails should be sipped, not gulped, and should remain stinging cold to the last drop. ~ Embury

Hear, hear.

Party Perfect

Stingers are not really Christmas drinks per se, they're much more all season. But, the minty flavor does fit other Christmassy themes like candy canes and such so they definitely make for some happy holidays.

This drink is also a namesake for the Columbus Blue Jackets NHL hockey team mascot Stinger, the “Bug with an Attitude.” Chosen as a symbol of the people of Columbus, OH who are known for their hard work and team pride, Central Ohio is becoming a hardcore hockey hotbed.

Wonder if Reggie was a fan?

Drinks Similar To The Stinger Cocktail

Mixing brandy with green crème de menthe, in place of white, yields an Emerald cocktail / Green Hornet drink. However, many recipes claiming the same name(s) use other green liqueur substitutions and host a hodgepodge of hooch mainly for St. Patrick's Day concoctions.

You can also replace base spirits and include the alternate in the naming pre-fix as in Amaretto, Gin, Rum, Tequila and Vodka Stingers et al.16 The list goes on and on.

Others akin with a spin include:

Alexander's Sister - dry gin, green creme de menthe and light cream.

American Beauty - brandy, white crème de menthe, French vermouth, grenadine syrup, orange juice and port wine.

By The Sea - green crème de menthe, brandy and kirschwasser.

Devil Drink - an Emerald with a dash of cayenne pepper.

Dry Stinger - brandy, lime juice and white crème de menthe.

Gamma Ray - VSOP Armagnac, white crème de menthe, cayenne pepper and flamed lemon peel twist.

Gentleman's Cocktail No. 2 - bourbon whiskey, brandy, crème de menthe and club soda.

Hell - a Stinger dashed with red pepper.

Miami Cocktail - white Cuban rum and crème de menthe with lime or lemon juice.

Shamrock Sip - green cream of mint liqueur, gin and egg white with lemon and orange juice.

Snapper - white crème de menthe and gin.

Stingeree - half-n-half with a dash or two of absinthe.

White Way Cocktail - a Snapper with dry gin.

References

* - Not to be confused with the 'stengah' drink popular in the British Empire in Asia which is mixed with equal amounts of whisky and soda water. Derived from the Malay word 'setengah' meaning half.

† - Broyles, Susannah. "Vanderbilt Ball – how a costume ball changed New York elite society." MCNY Blog: New York Stories. 06 August, 2013.

‡ - While unrelated, ingredient-wise, the Vanderbilt cocktail was created and named for his older brother Alfred in 1922.

1 - "Behind the Curtains With The '400.'" The Indianapolis Star. 08 July, 1923.

2 - William Schmidt, The Flowing Bowl - What and When to Drink (New York: Charles L. Webster, 1891), 160 and 169. Print.

3 - George Kappeler, Modern American Drinks - How to Mix and Serve All Kinds of Cups and Drinks (New York: Merriam, 1895), 33. Print.

4 - "Summer Drinks." The Saint Paul Globe. 02 July, 1900.

5 - William T. (Cocktail) Boothby, American Bar-Tender (San Francisco: Anchor Distilling, 2009). Print.

6 - Holtz & Freystedt Co. Importers; compiled by E.J.M., The Great American Cocktail (New York: Holtz & Freystedt, ca. 1912), 26. Print.

7 - "Balkan Idea At Last Reaches Summer Drinks." The Washington Herald. 22 June, 1913.

8 - Jacques Straub, Straub's Manual of Mixed Drinks (Chicago: R. Francis Welsh, 1913), 101. Print.

9 - Ernest P. Rawling, Rawling's Book of Mixed Drinks - An Up to Date Guide for Mixing and Serving All Kinds of Beverages and Written Expressly for the Man Who Entertains at Home (San Francisco: Guild Press, 1914), 84. Print.

10 - J. A. Grohusko, Jack's Manual on The Vintage and Production, Care, and Handling of Wines, Liquors, etc. A Handbook of Information for Home, Club or Hotel (New York: McClunn & Co., 1916), 122. Print.

11 - Thomas Bullock, The Ideal Bartender (St. Louis: Buxton & Skinner, 1917), 47. Print.

12 - 101 Drinks and how to Mix Them (Oshkosh, Wisconsin: Direct Mail Associates, Inc. and Dean W. Geer Co., ca. 1933), 12. Print.

13 - Annie Kilburn Kilmer, Memories Of My Son Sergeant Joyce Kilmer (New York: Brentano's, 1920), 89. Print. Note: individual letter was dated May 27, 1914.

14 - Don Marquis, Hermione and Her Little Group of Serious Thinkers (New York and London: D. Appleton and Company, 1916), 150. Print.

15 - David A. Embury, The Fine Art of Mixing Drinks (New York: Doubleday, 1948), 8. Print. Note: He also comments on page 143 that the Stinger formulated with equal proportions, like the Coffee cocktail (typically sugar syrup, port, brandy and a whole egg), isn't really a true cocktail. But, it can be converted into a dry and very palatable one like the Miami by substituting brandy for rum in the latter.

16 - A Vodka Stinger has also been known as a White Spider cocktail as far back as 1959 when Smirnoff published their How To Give A Vodka Party promotional pamphlet. Their White Spider drink recipe was a 3:1 ratio of Smirnoff vodka to Heublein white creme de menthe.

#Cocktails #Drinks #Brandy #Mint #Bing Crosby #Mad Men #creme de menthe

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