#also like arguments to be made about prisoners should be able to run for office to

[bisexualdinahlance]

Friendly reminder that as much as we all hate trump, felons, prisoners, etc. are still human and deserve rights! This includes the right to vote!

[magicalbats]

Kinktober 2024 Day 21: Wriothesley x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 5459

Warnings: Afab!reader, prison, handcuffs, solitary confinement, abuse of power, desperation play, noncon, vaginal fingering, watersports, piss

A/N: Once again cutting it close but I made it!

⭐

Evidently kicking one of his guards in the face was enough to warrant a personal visit from the Duke of Meropide himself. Go figure. 

Cautiously straightening up from the grumpy slouch you’d fallen into against your cot, you look over to the narrow doorway at his sudden and unexpected entrance. You can’t help noticing that he appears to take up most of the doorframe with his tall, stocky build, the solitary confinement cell they’d shove you into so small that he seems to fill the already cramped space with his presence. And you don’t exactly like the way he shuts the door behind himself either. 

You’d only been a prisoner in the Fortress long enough to know its head warden was a rather elusive fellow who didn’t often make public appearances aside from the brief glimpses one could catch of him walking down the steel lined and reinforced corridors. Being on the receiving end of a one-on-one talk with him so early on in your sentence did not seem to bode well for the rest of your stay in this deep sea prison. 

“… what are you doing here?” You hedge, warily watching him lean back against the opposite wall directly across from you with his arms folded over his broad barrel chest. This was your first time seeing him up close like this, and you were admittedly rather impressed with how very large he was. 

Or maybe intimidated was the better word. 

Sighing faintly through his nose, Wriothesley settles into place and pins you with a level stare that doesn’t tell you much about his reason for being here, but it does seem to solidify that your initial thoughts on the matter were correct. This couldn’t be anything good. 

“You should be glad it’s only me.” He drawls in a surprisingly light, affable tone for what he was saying. “A few of the other guards wanted to handle our newest troublemaker themselves, but I know how they do things and I told them I’d take care of it. You’re a lucky little inmate if I do say so myself.”

You restlessly shift on top of your cot, shooting him a suspicious look. “Why would you do that?” 

He gives those broad shoulders of his a rather disinterested shrug. “You’re a woman. Simple as that. I generally try to be a bit more lenient with the fairer sex when I can, even when they foolishly decide to kick one of my guards in the face.”

You self consciously draw your bare feet in at that, tucking them under yourself where he wouldn’t be able to easily see how naked and bare they were after the penitentiary officers relieved you of your standard issue shoes for the transgression. As far as you saw it, your penance had already been paid. Both in the form of how very chilled your toes were and also the last few hours you’d spent in here with absolutely nothing to do. 

But the way he looks over at you with a vague air of stern authority reflecting in his chilly blue gaze seemed to suggest he was not in agreement with that estimation. 

“That doesn’t sound very on the up and up to me,” You murmur, listlessly flexing your wrists where they were restrained behind your back to test the give of the cuffs around them. Nope. Still just as unrelenting as the last time you’d checked. “Does the surface world know about this? Something tells me The Steambird would love nothing more than to run a scathing exposé about the questionable practices of not only the Fortress staff but its own Duke as well.” 

“I’m sure they would too. Luckily though they’re not going to get their hands on this information any time soon to run that article in the paper.” 

“You - -“

“I think that's enough banter for now.” He smoothly cuts across you, his mild tone leaving no room for argument on your part. “Let’s talk about you instead. Wanna’ tell me why you decided to attack one of my guards like that?” 

Primly sniffing, you turn your head to look elsewhere in the room but there’s not much else to focus your attention on other than the stand alone toilet in the corner and the wall. You settle on the wall. “I don’t see why I should explain myself to you.”

“You should do it because I asked. Nicely, I may add. I don’t have to be polite about it, just keep that in mind.” 

You can’t quite stop yourself from prickling slightly at the soft note of warning in his voice. What was with this guy? Either he was on a massive power trip down here where no one of a more civilized nature was there to keep an eye on him or he had an ego the size of Fontaine with the attitude to match. You really didn’t think you liked him very much. 

“Fine. I kicked him because he grabbed me even after I told him not to. I was defending myself. Simple as that.” 

Stirring at the bitter vindication in your voice, Wriothesley slowly unfolds his arms to let them hang loose down at his sides. It’s so slight and subtle, but something about the change in his body language does not make you feel very optimistic about how this was going to play out, and you anxiously shift on your cot again. 

“Interestingly enough, I heard a somewhat different story. You were refusing to cooperate and go where he was telling you to go. He only grabbed you, as you put it, to get your butt in gear. Isn’t that right?” 

“It was unnecessary.” You hiss back, hackles starting to rise. 

“Not in a prison it’s not. You’re expected to follow orders, little miss inmate. Without question. The guards are well within their rights to make you do something even if you don’t want to do it.” 

“Well, he didn’t need to touch me to accomplish that!” 

His brows taking a sedate trip up to his hairline, Wriothesley looks at you like he’s equal parts impressed and puzzled by your growing anger. Could he really not see what the problem was with having an unknown man suddenly putting his hands on you like that? If he'd get close enough you wouldn’t have minded giving him a good kick in the face too, and you think he must see that in your expression because he lets out a quick laugh.   

“Goodness, you’ve certainly got a short temper. I’m starting to see now how the situation escalated like it did. Maybe I should give you a bit more time to cool off and we’ll see if you’re feeling less mouthy when I come back.” 

You’re so shocked by the abrupt shift in the conversation that you just numbly watch him push off from the wall and make the short pivot towards the doorway, reaching out for the handle. It’s only when he’s got it halfway open and you realize he’s actually serious about leaving you in here even longer do you lurch forward with a jerk. 

“Wait!”

Wriothesley pauses and glances back at you. He doesn’t say anything though so you quickly rouse yourself, cobbling together a haphazard entreaty on the fly. 

“Please don’t go. I don’t like it in here. I’ll cooperate, I promise. Please?” 

“Perhaps you should have thought of that before lashing out like a brat then.” 

“I wasn’t being a brat! I just … I’ve never been in a prison before and I’m so scared. I’m not used to being around this many men. The guards were yelling at me and I panicked. I didn’t know what he was going to do to me. He could have really hurt me or — worse. I swear it was just self defense, I didn’t mean anything by it. Really.” 

Batting your lashes at him, you fix the Duke with your best sad look of helplessness and even conjure a filmy sheen of moisture into your eyes for effect. It was one of the trusty ace’s you kept up your sleeve and one that tended to work on even the most resolute, emotionally unavailable men, but Wriothesley just stares at you with a less than impressed frown tugging at his mouth now. Dammit. 

You hadn’t expected him to be completely immune to your ploys and feminine wiles, and you don’t exactly have a back up plan in mind as he shifts his weight back to thoughtfully settle inside the tiny room again. 

“Hmm. If I remember correctly … you’re the one who’s in for scamming people, aren’t you? Is that poor little put out face how you got all those gentlemen to sign over their life’s fortunes to you?” 

A genuine flush starts to crawl across your cheeks, more than slightly embarrassed at having your innocent act fail so miserably. “That has nothing to do with this. I’m telling you the truth.” 

“I bet.” Scoffing a quiet laugh, he once again brings his arms up to cross them, pinning you with a pointed look. “Cute trick though. I’m sure you’ll be quite disappointed to find it won’t work half as well as it did on the surface down here. Well, maybe with the male inmates it might get you somewhere I suppose. But it’s not going to do you any good with my guards and it’s certainly not going to have any effect on me. Perhaps you could give it a try on one of the female officers next?” 

You shoot him a biting look of warning at that, making Wriothesley chuckle another brief sound of amusement at your expense. 

“Ooh, how scary. It looks like someone is in need of a major attitude adjustment to me. But don’t worry, we’ll take care of that in due time.” Still quietly laughing, he begins to turn back towards the door. “Enjoy the rest of your timeout. I’ll see you again in a few hours.” 

Your eyes immediately pop open, widening to the approximate size of dinner plates, and you lurch forward again when he starts to push into motion. 

“Wait!” 

Pausing once more, Wriothesley turns just enough to peer over his shoulder at you. “What is it now?” 

“You can’t … what do you mean ‘hours’? You can’t leave me in here that long!” 

“Oh? Is that so.” 

You sputter at that, realizing in a distant sort of way that he was actually, really truly serious about this. Not only did he plan to leave you locked inside this solitary confinement cell for who knows how long but he was also perfectly comfortable with the notion. Not even an ounce of guilt or shame! 

“This is — it’s a human rights violation, isn’t it?” You desperately stammer, foolishly thinking you might be able to get through to him if you just reasoned with him enough. “No food, no water. Nothing but a paper thin blanket in here to keep me warm. And I thought you said you like to be more lenient with female inmates. Or was that just a trick to make me trust you?” 

Studying you for a long, drawn out moment, Wriothesley finally breathes out a slow exhale and rocks back to stand inside the small room with you yet again, fully this time so he can swing the door shut with a casual flick of his hand. 

“That only applies to the female inmates who don’t test my patience and make everybody’s job harder than it needs to be. I gave you a chance to get in my good graces and behave but you refused. Tell me why you think that should have earned you any sympathy from me.” 

“It’s not about sympathy, you ass.” You growl at him, furiously working your arms against the unbudging handcuffs behind your back. “It’s about common decency! You can’t treat people like this just because you’re on some tyrannical head trip. But if you’re so dead set on doing this then at least take these damn things off. I can’t even use the toilet like this!” 

“Sure you can. I bet you haven’t even tried yet.” 

“Ugh! You are infuriating! How am I supposed to pull my pants down or wipe like this? And — and I don’t even see any tissue paper in here! What am I supposed to use, my hand?” 

He makes a considering face at that, as if it was a reasonable enough idea and you were simply too unreasonable to see that, which just pisses you off even more. Perhaps you would have been a little less on edge and a little less focused on this particular problem if you didn’t have to pee so bad. You’d already been stuck in here for a tortuously long stretch of hours since the incident first happened, no way could you last a couple more. 

“Please.” You sob, letting some of your desperation bleed into your voice now. “You’ve already taken everything else from me. My freedom, my life, even my shoes! At least let me keep my dignity.” 

“I’m telling you,” He intones, the abrupt drop in his voice down to a strict whip crack startling you somewhat. “You do not need your hands to go. You’re being a bit dramatic about this, don’t you think? Or is it just that you want me to help you with it?” 

Your spine snaps ramrod stiff, a curling tendril of real unease snaking through your cramping gut now. Surely he couldn’t be … “You wouldn’t.” 

“Oh, but I certainly would. It seems to me you’re forgetting a rather important detail, miss. I’m in charge here, not you. I can do whatever I please whenever I so choose. Would you like to try me?” 

You reel back in abject shock, feeling your shoulders quake with the impotent rage coursing through your system. There was even a hint of fear underneath that red hot current too, if you were being honest. It just didn’t make sense to you how he could speak to you like this, treat you like this and threaten you like this, all in good conscience with nary a sign of guilt to show for it. And this was all somehow legally sanctioned by the powers that be? 

Clearly seeing the raging confusion and uncertainty on your face, Wriothesley takes a casual step towards you and you suck in a sharp little gasp. Quickly drawing your legs up onto the cot so you can kick at the thin mattress and scoot as far back from him as you can. There’s nowhere you can feasibly go with your shoulders against the wall though, and you realize just how limited your options really are in such a cramped space with no shortage of sinking dread. 

Undeterred by your frightened reaction, he comes to stand over you in only two short strides, further reiterating how very trapped and cornered you were in here. You try very hard to keep a brave face but you can’t quite manage to conceal it when he was looming there like that. He was just so big and obviously powerful, if the size of his arms was anything to go by, so of course you’d be scared! 

The helplessness of having your arms secured behind your back doesn’t help either, and all you can do is cower when he sedately reaches out a hand towards you. A multitude of possibilities fly through your head all at once, each worse than the last as you imagine what sort of humiliating trial he was going to put you through next. You probably should have just kept your big mouth shut. 

To your shuddering surprise though, he merely wraps his massive hand around the back of your neck in an unexpectedly gentle yet firm grip, nudging you from the wall just enough to fit his knuckles between. Wildly trembling there on the cot, you hesitantly tip your eyes up to look at him. You didn’t understand what he was doing. This was not what you’d imagined when he’d said he would help you, thinking he was going to drag you over to the toilet and take your pants down himself, or perhaps even make you urinate on the floor like an animal. That is not what seems to be happening though, and you have no idea what to make of it when he lifts his other hand to reach for your lap, tracking the motion with a great deal of fast mounting horror. 

He doesn’t even give you a word of warning before he does it, just unceremoniously shoving his broad palm between your legs to cup you through your pants, and you jolt so hard you nearly come right up off the cot. He keeps you in place with his hold on your neck though, leaving you with such a limited range of movement that all you can do is squirm in place, hissing at him like an incensed cat. 

“Wh - what are you doing? You can’t … you can’t touch me like this, you bastard!” 

“Well, that’s quite a mouth you’ve got, isn’t it? Perhaps you need to have it washed out with soap when I come back.” 

Whimpering softly when that casually delivered threat hits its mark, you uselessly kick your legs up in an attempt to fight him off but of course it doesn’t work. Even when you press your bare foot into the bend of his elbow and push he doesn’t even budge. The Duke just keeps holding your cunt in the palm of his hand like it was meant to fit there and you frantically clench the muscles in your lower body, the warmth of his hand suddenly making it feel like you need to go even more than before. This could not be happening. 

“Leave me alone!” You warble, starting to pant from the effort of trying to wriggle free while holding back the urge to empty your bladder at the same time. “This is — a gross abuse of power, do you hear me? You’re sick! W - what do you think you’re doing to me!”  

“I think I’m teaching you a lesson that you should have learned a long time ago.” He tells you, perfectly calm and collected despite all your restless fidgeting. “Given your attitude and the long list of crimes you committed, I’d wager you think yourself pretty much untouchable huh? And it may have even been true at one point but unfortunately for you that’s no longer the case.” 

Pinching your neck just tight enough to make you squeak a hurt little sound, Wriorhesley all but scruffs you like you were nothing more than a misbehaved kitten to make you be still. The sharp pinprick of real tears rushes into your eyes as you roughly seethe, painfully stiff and halting in his hold. Immobilized like this, you can only follow the motion of his other hand when he lifts it from your cunt to demandingly tug the waistband of your pants lower. 

“I’m afraid you’re playing by my rules now. And before you start in on it again, no, I will not be facing any recourse for it regardless of how much you throw a fit over it. This is my fortress, little miss inmate. You’d do well to remember that from now on.”

He reaches into your pants then, slipping rough, callous worn fingers straight down through the top of them, and you plaintively mewl at the gruff way he worms it lower to dip into the space between your legs. Even trying to squeeze your thighs shut isn’t enough to dissuade him and Wriothesley merely bullies them apart, stretching your bottoms out as he angles his hand downward to find your slit. 

The first indelicate swipe of a blunt fingertip over the fleshy crease makes you jolt so hard your head slams back into the wall with a dull thud. He doesn’t seem to care though, slowly working his digit back and forth for a drawn out moment to encourage the fleshy lips to part for him. And gradually, they do. Not of your own volition or even with any conscious thought to the matter, but the insistent nudge against your labia still has its intended effect. 

As soon as he can dip that finger inside you he does, spearing through fleshy creases and folds to locate your clit. He presses down on it firmly enough to make your thighs twitch around his wrist but he doesn’t hurt you, which manages to surprise you slightly. For a man who looked like he’d be more of a meathead than anything else, someone who was much too focused on stroking his own ego to concern himself with the pleasure of a woman, he’s unexpectedly adept at rubbing you just right. Not too soft yet not too hard, all while not missing his intended target completely. It was astounding in a way. 

You hate it though. Even when your body grudgingly responds to his steady ministrations and you feel your pussy start to warm up to the masculine presence between your legs, you still mentally curse him for everything he was worth. The one and only good thing about this is the more he keeps caressing over that responsive pleasure button the less urgent your need to go seems to be. Maybe this was good after all. If your cunt was too busy getting fingered you wouldn’t have enough time to think about how badly you needed to pee. 

“There. That’s a little better now, isn’t it?” He murmurs when you stiffly relax into it, rewarding you for your good behavior by bringing a second finger to your soft clit so he can caress you over a wider surface area now. “If you would have just listened to the instructions you were given we wouldn’t have to be doing this right now, would we? Maybe next time you’ll stop and think before you act out.” 

Groaning a soft sound of protest under your breath, you screw your eyes shut and try to turn your head away from him. He was far too close for your liking, his warm breath ghosting softly against your hair where he was bent close over you. But Wriothesley’s hold on your neck is as good as iron, and all you can seem to do is reluctantly shudder in place for him, earning a brief click of his tongue when you halfheartedly try to twist away from his hand. 

“Don’t get yourself all worked up again. And you were starting to look so obedient too. Just relax. I’ve got you, you little brat.” 

You noise a threadbare sound of disagreement into the suddenly static charged air, your legs flexing in vain against the sheets underneath you. It’s clear you were losing the fight though — and then he switches up the motion of his hand, going from carefully deliberate nudging at your clit to flattening those long, broad fingers over the apex of your mound so he can firmly drag them back and forth. The very sharp surge of sensitive arousal that shoots through you in response probably would have bowled you over on the spot if he hadn’t been keeping you held upright and in place, shuddering intensely with a faltering mewl. 

It makes your head positively spin from how potent it is as your hips reluctantly judder under the exquisite pressure. You were feeling more and more delirious by the moment, especially when you were aware of your pussy slowly wettening for him. He could feel it too, and he murmurs quiet words of praise at you for being so pliant for him. 

That alone is almost enough to lull you into a throbbing daze wherein you don’t even think to protest when Wriothesley finally directs his damp fingers even lower to press into your entrance. It’s only when he pushes in, smoothly sliding a thick digit into your cunt with enough soft, gooey friction that you woundedly lurch in your spot, and you abruptly snap out of it. 

Mild alarm registers in your mind at the unexpected penetration but it quickly ratchets up to full blown, squirming panic when you realize a moment later how insidiously cruel this really is. The heavy presence of him inside you puts additional strain on your bladder's muscle control, the resulting weak flex pulsing through your entire cunt to make your inner sleeve sensitively contract around his finger. All at once that insistent pressure to let go until you were mercifully empty roars back to life full force and you renew your struggle with a frantic little whimper. 

Wriothesley just shushes you though, sedately withdrawing his hand from your pussy just so he can then push in with two fingers. The mind numbing stretch to your body makes you weakly thrash and clench your teeth in an attempt to stop yourself from involuntarily pissing everywhere. But he seems to know what he’s doing and he’s hellbent on doing it, curling those broad digits inside you to push on up on your upper wall and jab towards where your heavy bladder rests inside you. 

“Oh - oohh — waaaah, stop it! Please! I - I don’t want to …” 

Readjusting his grip on your neck, Wriothesley pointedly nudges your face in his general direction to make you look at him even when your head drunkenly lolls in his grasp. “What’s not getting through that pretty little head of yours, huh? It doesn’t matter what you want. Your needs and desires are of no concern to me. As long as you’re here under my care you’ll do what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it. Understand now?” 

Blubbering rather pitifully while he continues to almost idly fuck his fingers into your aching bladder, you just stare up at him in wide eyed disbelief. Not only were you incredibly taken aback by his misuse of power, his total lack of empathy for you, but the fact that he seemed to be actively trying to make you piss yourself strikes you as particularly alarming as well. Why would he want to do this to you? It didn’t even make any sense. 

But you stubbornly clench down even when the tears start to run over and track hot streaks down your face, fighting tooth and nail to keep your continence under control. It’s a losing battle when his fingers were so thick and heavy, churning your guts with every sharp little jab against your interior. And as the seconds tick by you can’t quite decide which is worse — the way his rough ministrations make your pussy noisily suck at his fingers, slurping loudly each time he plunges them inside, or if it’s the way your desperate attempt at tightening up just makes you squeeze down on him even harder. 

It’s a dizzying, confusing rush of sensation slamming into you all at once, head spinning so fast it almost comes as something of a relief when you feel the pressure in you start to tip. Wriothesley practically forces it out of you, demanding your body respond to him with such insidious precision that you simply can’t help but cum. 

And you do, seething viciously through your teeth while you tersely judder and shake into an unexpected yet not unwelcome orgasm. It leaves you reeling in his hold, woundedly lurching while you gasp and squeal, hips bucking uncontrollably as he continues to fuck his fingers into you. Deliberately milking your release for everything it’s worth and dragging it out until you sensitively angle your pelvis away from him, moaning a dire sound of frazzled distress. 

To your reeling, punchdrunk surprise, the Duke allows his fingers to carefully slide out of you and leave your tender cunt altogether, and you wheeze a grateful sigh at the reprieve. You’re not entirely sure how you’d managed not to vacate everything in your bladder throughout that process but you feel vaguely proud of yourself in the aftermath, in a far off, dreamy sort of way. 

You even manage to straighten up enough to shoot him a relatively sharp look of victory that you’re certain is not in any way diminished by the fact you were flushed hot and still trying to catch your breath. 

He just looks down at you though, those icy crystalline blue eyes taking some of the wind out of your sails for how unmoved they were. 

And when Wriothesley slides his hand out of your pants you foolishly think this bizarre trial is over, that you’d bested him at his own game and now he had no choice but to give up. 

Your triumph over him is regretfully short lived though, and a haggard, hissing gasp catches in your throat when he presses his palm down on your lower stomach. Jerking at the pressure, you immediately try to twist out of his grip even when it yanks on your neck but he holds you fast. A little more firmly he pushes down, not enough to crush or hurt you, yet it’s more than sufficient to make the tension in your bladder start to give out. 

You couldn’t stopper it. Not after being attacked from the inside and now the outside. All you can do is helplessly squeal and squeeze your thighs together as tight as you can but it’s no use. You feel it coming, eyes starting to roll back in your head when the first tiny trickle slips out of you. And once that small allowance is made, involuntary though it may be, it’s like you lose complete control all at once. 

Another dribble of piss quickly follows and then a full on stream, forced right out of you by the uncomfortable pressure on your guts. Wailing a stricken sound of humiliated defeat, you bonelessly slouch back into the wall and let your legs fall open in a wide spread while it just keeps coming out of you completely against your will. The warm, wet sensation rapidly spreads underneath you, soaking into the cot and even right through your pants. You’ve never felt quite so deeply embarrassed as you do watching that stain spread across the material as your hips twitch at the onset of great relief that comes with it, knowing Wriothesley was watching you piss yourself the same way. 

He doesn’t let up on your stomach until he seems to be certain there’s nothing left some few moments later, slowly retracting his hands from you and then straightening up to leave you sitting in your own soiled clothes. Weak and broken, you just lie there without even making an attempt to close your legs and hide the evidence from him. Not only was it much too late for that but there was also too much of a mess for you to conceivably hide any of it. 

Your pants were soaked. 

The middle of the mattress was as good as waterlogged. 

There was no way you’d ever be able to forget this mortifying ordeal for as long as you might live, and something told you Wriothesley was going to personally see to that himself. 

“Well,” He intones, casually straightening out his tie where it had gone askew. “I’d say that takes care of that. I trust you’re feeling better now, little miss inmate?” 

Listlessly rousing at that, you send him a halfhearted and tearful glare. “Screw you …” 

“Ah, so you’re still inclined to be mouthy with me I see. No matter. I’m sure you’ll be singing a much different tune the next time I check in.” He starts to pull away from the cot as if to leave but seems to think of something else, turning back to you again with a stilted exhale. “Seriously though, I hope you’ll take this opportunity to reflect on your behavior so we don’t have to have another demonstration like this one. I don’t like throwing my weight around unless I absolutely have to. You’re going to get yourself hurt down here if you start running your mouth with someone who’s a little less nice than me. Just some food for thought.” 

He does leave then, calmly walking over to the door which he tugs open and steps through, shutting it with a click behind him. The sound of a rattling set of keys turning in the lock rings loud in the tight, cramped little space as you’re left alone in a quickly cooling puddle of your own piss with only your deeply embarrassed feelings for company now. 

If this was how the Duke did things in his fortress then perhaps it would be wise to behave him from now on. At the very least you didn’t want to get on his bad side again. 

⭐

Crossposted: here

[coldcaseanomalies]

Where Is Alissa Turney?!

Alissa Marie Turney was born on April 3, 1984 in Phoenix, Arizona to Barbara and Steven Strahm. When Alissa was 2 1/2 her mother separated from her father and married a man named Michael Turney. Barbara and Michael had a daughter together named Sarah when Alissa was 4.

In 1992 Barbara was diagnosed with cancer and a year later on February 28, 1993 Barbara passed away. Leaving Michael with custody of Alissa and Sarah.

Michael was always very strict with Alissa and laid back with Sarah. Many of Alissa’s friends say the way he treated Alissa was more like a jealous lover than a father. He had video cameras hidden in the vent in the living-room and possibly in other locations of the house, including Alissa’s bedroom. He had a passive recording system on the telephones that would start recording as soon as a call was received or made. He swore up and down that Alissa had a severe learning disability despite Alissa making average grades in all of her classes. Michael would follow Alissa wherever she went and even sit outside her place of work and record her. When asked about why he was going to her place of work he said, “Just to look at her.”

On May 17th, 2001, the last day of Alissa’s junior year of high school, Michael picked her up early between 10:30 and 11am. Before leaving with her stepfather she poked her head into her boyfriend Jon’s shop class and said goodbye and that she’d see him later that day. She ran into a friend in the hallway who asked if Alissa was still going to the graduation party that night to which Alissa said she was. Alissa then got in Michael’s truck and that was the last time any of her friends saw her.

Michael states that he and Alissa went to lunch after picking her up but he could not recall where they went or if they dined in or took their food to go. He states that after they got home he and Alissa got into an argument because she wanted to have more freedoms for the summer and he refused. He says the last time he saw her she was stalking off to her room angrily and he left to run errands and pick up her younger sister, Sarah. Michael left the house between around 12 and 1pm.

Michael picked Sarah up between 5:30 and 6:30, as she got in the truck her father gave her his cell phone and said, “Call your sister, I can’t get ahold of her.” Sarah tried both the home phone and Alissa’s cell phone with no answer. When they arrived home Sarah went straight to Alissa’s room where she found the contents of her sisters backpack dumped on the floor, along with Alissa’s cell phone vibrating on the dresser with a note stating, “Dad + Sarah, when you dropped me off at school today I decided I really am going to California. Sarah you said you didn’t want me around look you got it I’m gone. That’s why I saved my money. Dad I took $300 from you. Alissa.” It did not appear as if Alissa took any of her personal belongings with her which is strange if she really had runaway. Her bank account that held $1,860 remained untouched and her social security number has never been used. Why would she make plans with her friends for that night if she had decided that morning to run away?

Michael did not call the police until almost 11pm on the night she disappeared. Even then, Michael, a retired cop, calmly reported his step-daughter as a runaway. Stating the note that was left, that she had stolen some cash, and headed to California, because she has family out there. He stated that even though he knew where she was, he still needed to report it. No officer was sent to the home to investigate. A week after Alissa disappeared Michael received a call at 5 am that he claims was from Alissa, yet there is no evidence of the recording for this call. The case stayed uninvestigated until 2006 when a man in a Florida prison confessed to murdering Alissa.

The police investigated the mans claims and found them to be false when he could not pass a polygraph and his witnesses to meeting Alissa could not identify her from photos. The case again went cold until 2008 when reports from Alissa’s friends made it to the detectives on the case that she had confided in them that Michael had sexually abused her.

In December of 2008 the detectives obtained warrants to search Michael Turney’s current residence and the residence that Alissa had disappeared from. When delivering the warrants Michael was detained and on his person the police found 2 pistols that were fully loaded, 7 extra loaded magazines, a knife, and a recording device. In searching Michael’s residence the police found 26 pipe bombs, 19 assault rifles, two homemade illegal silencers, and a 90+ page document labeled ‘Diary of A Madman Martyr’, which outlines his plan to blow up the union of electrical workers, his previous employer, in Phoenix, he’s stated that ‘the union’ as he calls it, kidnapped and murdered Alissa because of work environment complaints he made when employeed there to get back at him, and that this was his way of revenge and shedding light on Alissa’s case, also claiming he killed the two assassins that killed Alissa, the men were located and found to have passed before Alissa’s disappearance and not at the hands of Michael. He then planned to kill himself after carrying out his plan. Michael was arrested and tried on the bomb charges and illegal firearms charges. He was sentenced to 10 years in prison in 2010 and was released in 2017.

Michael still refuses to talk to police about Alissa’s case. When asked about the video footage from the day Alissa disappeared he stated, “I watched all 8 hours of footage and there’s nothing of interest.” Yet, in missing persons cases, isn’t any footage from the day they disappeared of interest?

Alissa’s sister Sarah has been fighting for justice for her sister for years. In 2017, Sarah met with her father to ask him questions about Alissa and his response was, “Come to the deathbed Sarah. Then I’ll give you all the answers you want.” Or, if he confesses to police they have to give him lethal injection within 10 days, Sarah was able to capture this in a voice recording on her phone. Sarah took this recording to the Phoenix PD and they told her that since he didn’t confess to them there was nothing they could do. The police told Sarah that she needed the get media attention on the case before they’d present the case to the prosecutors office. Ever since then Sarah has been busy everyday bringing attention to her sisters case. She has a podcast called Voices for Justice where she goes much more in depth into the case with phone transcripts and interviews and much more.

Alissa deserves justice. Her family has been in the dark for 19 years.

What do you think about this case? Should the police be working harder to get answers? Leave your theories in the ask box!

If you have any other cases you’d like to see covered here please submit them!

[thathopelessromantic]

Reckless Good (3/?)

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia

Fic Rating: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Teen+

Pairing: Todoroki Shouto/Midoriya Izuku 

Note: Thanks so much for the great response so far! And if you haven’t already, please check out some of the other great pieces for the TDDK Big Bang this year!

Todoroki Shouto had accepted his fate as a public figure when he became a pro-hero, but there are some parts of his private life he would like to stay private. When he gets invited to be a speaker in a college lecture series, he goes to the meeting with one goal: to give the coordinator a piece of his mind and finally put an end to people hounding him for information about his family.

The last thing he expects is the curious, and quirkless, hero- and quirk-study professor, Midoriya Izuku, who has no interest in his family’s history, and, somehow, even more ties to the hero industry than Shouto. Intrigued by the professor, Shouto tentatively agrees to the lecture series, unknowingly intertwining their futures.

But the more Todoroki sees of Midoriya, the more questions he has. When a villain attack leaves them living together until the culprits are apprehended, maybe he’ll finally get some answers.

AO3: (x) Chapter One: (X) Chapter Two: (X)

Shouto is, regrettably, not unfamiliar with the process of checking into the hospital, or the protocols in the burn unit, but things seem to go surprisingly quick with a doctor at his side, explaining not only the extent of his injury but the cause. Just a few moments after they’ve arrived, Shouto is whisked away from Dr. Midoriya and Kou to have his burn cleaned and dressed. They run the usual battery of tests, poke him for blood what feels like a dozen times, and after about half a dozen reassurances to various doctors and nurses that, yes, he does know how to care for a burn at home, he’s told he might be able to go home later that night.

The room he’s put in is, admittedly, one of the nicer hospital rooms that he’s visited. It’s part of a private wing made specifically for pro-heroes to get a little peace from fans and the media while recovering, but it doesn’t make him hate it any less. He’s only been alone in the room for twenty minutes or so, but he’s already contemplating a prison break. Let Momo handle the paperwork for his unconventional discharge on her next day at the office and call it good. But the risk of being put on some extra mandatory leave is too great. His doctor and Momo have been on his case about taking care of himself properly for months now and they’d love any excuse to bench him for a few extra weeks, instead of the couple of days he’ll need for the burn to heal enough that he can cover it securely and get back to work.

There’s a short knock on the door. Shouto starts to mentally prepare himself for another argument with a doctor when the door inches open and Kou peeks in. Surprised, Shouto waves to her. Kou smiles back, turning to motion at someone behind her. A moment later the door opens the rest of the way and Kou rushes in, followed by Dr. Midoriya.

“Dr. Midoriya and I are on a secret adventure.” Kou announces in a whisper. There’s a Uravity-themed spacesuit sticker on her cheek and she looks as if she’s recovered from the evening’s events, but her clothes have been replaced by a colorful hospital gown and fuzzy bathrobe.

Dr. Midoriya hasn’t changed his clothes, but he has a white lab coat on over top.

“Oh? What is your secret adventure?” Shouto asks. He shifts to the side and makes room for Kou to climb onto the bed besides him.

“Visiting you!” She announces, happily. “It’s a secret because I’m not supposed to leave the quirk ward, but Dr. Midoriya snuck me out. This is for you. Dr. Midoriya said you were friends!” She pulls two more stickers out of a pocket in her robe and hands them to him; a music note that says Earphone Jack and a nesting doll in Creati’s costume.

“Thank you,” Shouto says genuinely, though he has no idea what he’s going to do with the stickers. But his mind is distracted by Kou’s other words. The quirk ward? Obviously there was a reason the villains had targeted the girl, but that detail had gotten buried in the chaos of everything else. Now he’s reminded of the villain’s words…something about her being the key.

He looks up but Dr. Midoriya meets his eye with a subtle shake of his head.

Shouto lets the subject drop for now, but he’s determined to stay a part of this investigation. He’ll get his answers eventually.

Turning back to Kou, he tries a hesitant smile. “Would you still like that autograph?”

Her whole being lights up. “Really?” She reaches into the pocket of her robe again only for her face to drop. “Oh. I forgot my notebook.”

Dr. Midoriya taps her on the shoulder, holding out a small, heart-shaped notepad and a glittery gel pen.

Kou gasps, taking the items from him with excited thanks. She flips through the notebook quickly looking for a blank page, and Shouto is surprised by how many signatures she’s already amassed. Satisfied with the location, she hands the notebook and pen to him. She’s practically vibrating in excitement as he writes a quick note to her, trying to make it sound a little more personal than his usual scribbled signature.

Just as Shouto finishes his note, there’s another knock on the door. Yet another doctor steps into the room, reading through something in a folder. Her long, silver hair is draped over her shoulder in a thick braid and there’s a sharp horn coming out of her forehead. She seems faintly familiar to Shouto but he can’t place why he would recognize her. At the very least he doesn’t think he’s ever had her as a doctor before. She stops in her tracks when she sees Dr. Midoriya and Kou gathered around his hospital bed.

“Izuku!” she scolds, crossing her arms over her chest.

It takes Shouto a moment to remember Izuku is Dr. Midoriya’s first name. He glances up at him.

Dr. Midoriya leans close to Kou, covering his mouth with one hand to stage whisper to her. “I think we got caught.”

Kou copies him with a quiet giggle. “Oops.”

Shouto closes her notebook carefully and slides it across the bed. Kou covertly slips it into her robe.

“What are you even doing here?” The new doctor asks, exasperated. There’s no way she didn’t hear the two of them whispering, but she seems to be ignoring it.

“Kou just wanted to thank Entropy for saving her!” Dr. Midoriya insists, apparently choosing to take no blame in their “secret adventure.”

“Dr. Aizawa has a quirk kind of like mine,” Kou tells Shouto in a hushed voice while the two doctors argue. “She and Dr. Midoriya are really nice. And funny.”

Dr. Aizawa makes it all click. The light hair and the horn. She was the same little girl Aizawa had adopted during Shouto’s first year.

“We were just leaving, Dr. Aizawa!” Kou chimes in suddenly, sliding off the bed and grabbing Dr. Midoriya’s hand. “Bye!”

Dr. Aizawa shakes her head as Dr. Midoriya is pulled out of the room by a girl a quarter his size. “This isn’t over just because you have a patient protecting you, Izuku.”

Dr. Midoriya sends a bright smile back at her just as the door closes on the two of them.

“I hope they weren’t bothering you too much,” Dr. Aizawa says as she comes over to Shouto’s bed.

He shakes his head. “No, I’m glad I got to see her again. I was worried she’d be a little more upset after everything.”

“Kou’s a strong girl. She’s going to be okay.” Dr. Aizawa says with certainty. “Anyways, I’m Aizawa Eri, I’m part of the hero staff here.”

“Aizawa, er...Eraserhead’s daughter, right?”

Dr. Aizawa smiles and it looks so shockingly like Dr. Midoriya’s, Shouto can’t help but wonder about what their connection to each other is. Especially with how casually she spoke to him. Could they be related? It seems like he would have known if his homeroom teacher had also had or adopted a son his age, wouldn’t he? “That’s right, you were one of his students! Nice to see you again.”

Shouto bows his head in acknowledgement. He knows he met the young girl Aizawa adopted a few times, but his memories of her are fuzzy at best.

Dr. Aizawa checks him over again, asking him a few questions about how he’s feeling and what’s been done already. Finally, she gets to why she’s here to see him. “I’m not sure if you would remember, but my quirk is Rewind. It’s delicate but helpful for healing, especially for many pros. If you remember about how long ago you were burned, I should be able to heal your arm so that you can get back to work without too much fuss.”

“Really?”

Dr. Aizawa nods. “I can rewind your body back to before it happened, but it will rewind your whole body so the closer to the exact time it happened the better, otherwise too many things could change. Do you have a good idea of when it happened?”

“What time is it now?”

Dr. Aizawa glances at her watch. “Almost ten.”

Shouto is briefly surprised by that information. He hadn’t realized how long he had been in the hospital already. “I left the agency after the first alerts came in around 6:30, so it was probably around 7 that I made contact with the villain. I can’t be more exact than that, unfortunately.”

“That should work alright. Would you like to be rewound, or would you prefer to let it heal naturally?”

Shouto shakes his head. Anything to speed up the process. “No, please rewind it if you can.”

She smiles. “Okay, it will be just a moment then.”

Dr. Aizawa pulls on a pair of gloves and takes his arm in her hands, gently, mindful of the injury and the loose bandages protecting it.

A moment later the horn at her temple begins to glow, Shouto has to look away as the warm light grows brighter and then, just like that, it’s over. When he looks back at the doctor, her horn has shrunk a little, losing some of the sharp edge at the top.

“Okay! You should be good to go. How does it feel?”

Shouto moves his arm a few times, relieved that there’s no pain as he moves it. Carefully he peels off the bandages. It looks as if he was never injured, not even a small scar left behind.

Dr. Aizawa looks pleased with the results. “Perfect. Unfortunately it doesn’t work on non-living things so you will have to have your costume repaired separately.”

“That’s fine,” Shouto says. He was more worried about being forced to take some sick leave than repairing his costume to begin with. “Thank you.”

Dr. Aizawa smiles again. “Of course. I’m happy to help.” She pulls a few papers out of her folder and hands them to him. “If you are ready, you can take these to the desk out front and you’ll be discharged.”

Shouto hesitates as he takes the papers from her. An hour ago he was ready to run at the first chance, but now…she was someone who might have some answers…

“Kou mentioned that the two of you had similar quirks,”

“I’m sorry. If you become a part of the investigation I’m sure you’ll find out more information, but for now I can’t disclose a patient’s information.”  Dr. Aizawa says before he can even finish figuring out exactly what he wants to ask.

“Right. Sorry.”

“It’s alright. I don’t blame you for being curious, not after everything that’s happened.”

Dr. Aizawa looks ready to leave, but there’s one more thing Shouto has to ask. At least while he still has a chance.

“Can I ask about Dr. Midoriya, then?”

Dr. Aizawa stops with a puzzled look. “Izuku? What about him?”

Shouto's mind goes blank. Everything doesn’t seem like a plausible response. At least not one that would get him anywhere. “Uh, I…I was just surprised to hear you call him Izuku. Are you close?”

Dr. Aizawa studies him for a long time as if she could determine whatever ulterior motives he had for asking just by staring him down. Maybe she could if even he knew what he was doing asking these questions.

“I’ve known Izuku for a long time,” she finally says. “He’s like family.”

The answer is careful, guarded. With the slightest undertone of a threat.

“…Right.” Shouto replies awkwardly. “Thank you.”

Dr. Aizawa inclines her head to him. “Have a nice night, Entropy.”

 After checking out with Dr. Aizawa’s discharge papers, Shouto heads back to the agency. Sunspot practically tackles him in the lobby.

“Entropy! You’re okay! I thought you were just going to check on the kidnapped civilian, but then Ingenium told me his friend was taking you to the hospital and that I had nothing to worry about so I should just go back to the agency but I didn’t know why you were going to the hospital or what was happening,” she stutters over her words for a moment, taking a breath. “Was it okay to leave? I didn’t know what else to do but I didn’t know what hospital you went to or why. Were you injured? You don’t look hurt. Is that how you damaged your costume?”

Shouto lets her run on while he goes to his office. He knows she’ll follow. And that it’s pointless to try and get a word in until she runs out of breath.

Sunspot sinks into one of his office chairs as he goes to turn his computer on. He lifts a brow at her slumped form in the armchair.

“Are you done?”

She opens her mouth to speak again but after a moment shuts it again and nods.

“The villain who took the hostage burned me. I hadn’t realized the extent of the injury until later. I’m sorry I didn’t contact you personally so that you knew it was okay to come back, but it was fine that you came back. It wasn’t serious.” Shouto explains calmly. “You said Ingenium told you to come back?” Shouto thinks back to Dr. Midoriya texting in the ambulance and he wonders if the two know each other.

Sunspot nods again. “He came and found me and told me a friend was taking you to the hospital. I assumed he meant one of the paramedics. I didn’t know he was friends with the paramedics. Was that part of U.A. training? Getting to know first-responders closely? Or just a coincidence?”

“I think it’s just a coincidence on Ingenium’s part. Not something you’re missing out on.” Shouto says. “You did good tonight. Go home and get some rest.”

“But-”

Shouto gestures to her before she can argue. “You expended a lot of your reserve helping the rescue crews with civilians trapped under the rubble and then helping me melt the ice. It’s okay.”

Sunspot looks down at herself. The faint glow she normally gives off as a result of having excess energy saved up by her quirk is almost completely extinguished. At the late hour, she wouldn’t be able to get any more energy even if they needed to go out into the field again. Not until the sun was up again.

Sunspot pushes herself out of the chair. “I’m sorry I can’t be more help tonight.” She says with a short bow.

Shouto waves her off. “It’s okay.”

“Good night, Entropy.”

“Good night, Sunspot. Good work tonight.” Shouto says. He catches just a glimpse of her relieved smile as his office door closes quietly behind her.

Alone, Shouto settles into his desk chair, already mentally preparing for a long night. He considers going against doctor’s orders and getting some coffee but just barely resists the temptation. Caffeine might end up making him too jittery to focus and this is important. Writing up a more in-depth report of the event for the police and the agency records is the first priority of the night. But after that, Shouto has some research to do.

 X

Momo finds him like that in the morning. Sometime in the night the combination of the late hour and bright computer screen got to him and he went in search of his rarely-worn glasses to take some of the stress off. His final report and the accompanying paperwork are tucked in a folder for safe keeping, but the rest of his desk is a disaster zone of scattered pages, printed news reports of the attack last night with any information he might have missed, any police reports on the matter he could get his hands on with his current clearance, his own compiled notes.

He doesn’t even realize someone else is in the office with him until Momo clears her throat, placing a paper to-go cup of tea in the middle of his desk, on top of the latest piece he’s reading.

“Shouto,” she says seriously, crossing her arms over her chest. “ When did you last take a break?”

Shouto tries to come up with an answer but his brain is fuzzy at best, street names and potential identities floating at the forefront of his consciousness. “Uh, what time is it?”

Momo sighs, rubbing at her temple with one hand. “ Go home, Shouto.”

“I just need to-"

“No.” Momo comes around the other side of his desk, pulling him up and out of his desk chair by one arm. “It’s almost eight o'clock. You need to go home and go to bed.”

Momo might have had a point, his shift was supposed to end at six that morning and he hadn’t even noticed the time, but he digs his heels in, resisting being dragged from the office to the best of his ability. Unfortunately, Momo is stronger than she looks, and has the advantage of a full-night’s sleep on him.

“Go home. Go to sleep. Don’t come back until Saturday.”

“But-”

“You were injured! You should have called me as soon as you were taken to the hospital,” Momo scolds.

“I got better.”

Momo looks at him curiously. She comes to a stop, scanning him over. Shouto’s sure he looks a mess, still half-dressed in his damaged hero-suit, the top unzipped and tied around his waist. His hair has started to escape the braid he had it in for work and he can see the loose hair floating in his peripheral vision. Not to mention how exhausted he probably looks after spending the whole night scouring the police database. But – he’s not injured.

“What do you mean you ‘got better’? You weren’t really injured?”

Shouto sighs. “No, I was. There was a doctor at the hospital with a quirk who fixed it. Aizawa’s daughter, actually.”

Momo’s brows shoot up in surprise. “I didn’t realize she became a doctor. That’s wonderful.” She pauses. “But not the point. You still should have called someone. Though I suppose I should be grateful you went to get help, at all.”

Shouto rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Well…there was a doctor on the scene when I was talking to the girl who was targeted who saw my burn.”

“A doctor?”

“Uh…Dr. Midoriya.” Shouto explains. He isn’t sure if Momo will recognize the name, not entirely sure if he wants her to remember or not.

“The professor from the lecture series?” Momo asks in surprise. “What was he doing there?”

“Apparently he’s not just a professor.”

Momo studies him for a few moments, trying to figure something out. Shouto doesn’t blame her. He’d like some answers about his behavior too. He just hopes she comes to an easy conclusion, like Shouto cooperated with Dr. Midoriya because he sort-of knew him, and not anything else ridiculous. Or revealing. Or uncomfortable.

Finally, Momo shakes her head, brushing off whatever conclusions she may have come to. “I don’t care. Go home. Sleep. Eat something. I’ll finish submitting your reports to the police and I’ll make sure they know you are interested in joining the case searching for the villains who escaped last night, but other than talking to anyone who contacts you about the case, I don’t want to hear about you working again until this weekend.”

Shouto wants to keep arguing, he’s not even hurt anymore, but he knows this is the best he’s going to get from her. He is also unbelievably grateful for all the years they’ve known each other and how Momo knows exactly what he needs to hear to relax, even just a little.  “Okay. Thank you.”

Momo nods. “We’ll get whoever it is, Shouto. But you don’t have to do it alone. And you can’t do it in one night. So please take care of yourself. I’ll see you on Friday for dinner.”

Momo waves to an intern, instructing them to escort Shouto to the exit. Shouto wants to protest being babysat the rest of the way to the door, but Momo pins him with a hard look before he can even open his mouth and he lets it happen. Admittedly, now that he’s not pouring over his research to keep himself moving, he can feel exhaustion settling over him.

Though he could still find the way to the damn door himself.

 Shouto stumbles into his dark apartment twenty minutes later. He leaves the lights off as he comes through the entrance. The morning sun has started to fill the front room with light, and its enough for him to make his way to the bedroom without tripping over anything. His bed is cool, the sheets still ruffled from the previous morning. Shouto just barely remembers to strip off his ruined hero-suit before he drops into the bed, using his left side to warm up the sheets quicker. In a minute, he’s asleep.

When he wakes again, warm golden light pours into the room from his half-open window. He runs a hand over his face, trying to will away the strange, disorienting feeling of waking up. He reaches to his bedside table, knocking a few things to the side until he connects with his alarm clock. Pulling it close, he squints at the lit screen. It was almost five in the afternoon. Shouto tosses the offending thing away. He takes just a few moments to reorient himself before he forces himself out of bed and into the shower.

He only remembers after stepping into the spray that half of his hair is still twisted into a braid. He swears as he tears the now-wet strands free of the stubborn rubber-band, tugging at the knots there unhappily. He doesn’t mean to stay in the shower for long, but after fighting with his hair for who knows how long, the heat and relaxing pound of the spray against his shoulders eases some of the tension from his body and he wastes time under the comforting water until it starts to run cold. The temperature change doesn’t bother him much, but he figures he’s wasted enough water like that and climbs out.

After drying off a little, Shouto brushes his teeth, and that, combined with washing off the grime of the previous day, helps make him feel a little more awake. A little more human.

Shouto dresses in casual civilian clothes. He finds his phone, dead, in a pocket of his hero-suit before tossing the ruined thing in a bag to give to the support team. They’ll probably just have to make him a new one, but he feels bad throwing it away without trying to salvage it.

His charger is plugged in near the bed, so he goes to grab it so he can charge his phone in the kitchen while he makes something to eat. But in fumbling around looking for the charger, he spots his forgotten glasses in the mess of sheets and pillows on his bed. The ear piece on the right side is bent at a strange angle and one of the lenses is cracked. Shit. Well, he supposes, that’s what he gets for wearing them for the first time in months while running on fumes. He tosses the damaged glasses on his side table and leaves for the kitchen.

Finally, he switches on a few lights.

His apartment is mostly bare, plain white walls with just a few basic pieces of furniture, mostly just there to fill the empty space. The occasional dirty glass or dish that gets left behind if he’s in a rush on his way to work are the only signs of the life in the otherwise dull place. Those, and the three picture frames hanging on the wall in his living room; one of his mother and siblings, one of his graduating class with their teachers mixed in with the colorful crowd, and one of the day he and Momo started their agency. They’re the only decoration he needs. They represent all the important people in his life.

There are a few containers of leftovers in the fridge, and while it would be easier to warm something up and leave it at that, Shouto takes the time to pull out some fresh ingredients. Washing off the vegetables and prepping them while rice cooks is a simple, familiar routine and it helps ground him.

He starts a simple stir fry with chicken just as his phone finally comes back to life, chiming with a number of missed notifications. Lowering the heat slightly, Shouto lets it simmer for a minute while he checks his phone.

A few of the notifications are basic news reports he usually dismisses, though today he saves any about last night’s attack incase there’s been any updated information. There are two texts from Momo asking if he got home safe and if he ate anything. He shoots of a quick reply to her, apologizing for not letting her know right away and reassuring her he’s making food now. He takes a picture of the pan and sends it as an after thought, just in case she doesn’t believe him. There are also a few texts from Kyouka telling him to stop worrying her wife and to stop being an idiot. He responds to those with a few choice emojis and nothing else. She’ll get the message.

Finally, he looks at the emails he missed. There’s one from an Officer Uchida he doesn’t recognize, confirming he (Momo) submitted the right paper work to join the case against the villains from the night before and once the task force has been officially formed he would be contacted with more information. Relieved, Shotuo saves the contact information and sets it as a priority so he’ll be sure to get any future notifications right away. The only other missed email is from Dr. Midoriya.

Shouto goes back to checking his food, stirring it for a few minutes and adding a few more ingredients. His attention goes back to his phone a few times, but he resists going back to it. He’s not sure why, he’s been waiting for this stupid email basically since he left the professor’s office, but suddenly he’s nervous about opening it. He’s not sure what to expect once he opens the list of the professor’s topics. What if he imagined all of this and the professor still wants him to talk about his family? What if Shouto can’t answer any of his questions about how his quirk works? Is it even a good idea for him to talk publicly about how his quirk works? Couldn’t someone use that against him?

Shouto turns his phone upside down, hiding the blinking notification.

He’ll look at it after he eats.

He finishes cooking a little while later. Scooping out a generous serving of rice into a bowl and getting a plate for the stir fry he settles in the living room. He has a perfectly good table he could eat at in the kitchen, but there’s something satisfying in breaking the rules and eating on the couch. Out in the open, casually. He hasn’t lived with his father since he was a first year, but he still takes satisfaction in all the ways he can defy him and the rules he kept in that house.

Shouto turns on the local news channel to watch while he eats. Unsurprisingly, the attack from last night is still the focus of the station. There’s a reporter discussing the widespread damage through downtown on the screen. In the background, heroes and clean up crews are still working to clear the rubble. Shouto recognizes Uravity’s bright pink costume amongst all the grey and black. She’s moving two giant pieces of concrete overhead, some kind of broken metal rods coming from one look particularly dangerous.

A scrolling banner runs across the bottom of the broadcast, asking anyone who might have information about the villains to call in to a hotline, and a separate call for anyone with quirks that might help in fixing the damage done to the roads. There are also short headlines for stories meant to air later that night and a small graphic with the weather.

The camera view changes suddenly and the report comes back into view with a police officer, answering questions about the attack.

What did they know about it? Not much yet, but they don’t think it was random.

Was anyone seriously injured? Thankfully most casualties were only minor injuries and the paramedics on scene took care of most of the civilians who were hurt.

Who were the villains? No one in particular. They don’t think this is an organized group starting attacks. Not like in the past. No one needs to worry.

All safe answers that tell them basically nothing about what happened. Shouto learned more in the two minutes he spent on the radio before pursuing the villain than the news report. He changes the channel. A talk show re-run is showing an old interview with Hawks. Shouto hesitates changing the channel again.

“So, Hawks, it’s no secret that you’ve been a fan of Endeavor’s basically since your debut, and the two of you made a good team as Number 1 and 2 for a while,” the interviewer says in a fake cheerful voice. Hawks gives a stiff smile, placating but revealing nothing about how he actually feels about the subject. “What are your thoughts on the rumors brewing about a civil trial after the allegations against Endeavor from his family?”

‘Tis the season.

Shouto clicks the TV off before Hawks can reply.

Not hungry anymore, Shouto puts his plate down. He ate most of what he had taken anyways. The rest will be fine for leftovers.

Getting up from the couch, Shouto goes back to the kitchen for his phone. The same ignored email is still waiting for him with that mocking, blinking notification light. Taking a deep breath, as if preparing for a fight, he opens it.

Entropy,

I hope you are doing better after Dr. Aizawa’s visit with you at the hospital. Sorry I couldn’t see you off. Here is the list of possible topics we discussed the other day. This is just an abbreviated list of some basic things to talk about. You can obviously go into more detail about anything that might interest you or that you think might be important information for anyone with two or dual quirks to consider.

Thank you for considering being a part of the Hero Talks Series.

Thank you, also, for your help with the attacks last night and with Kou.

Midoriya

 Shouto isn’t sure what to focus on first. The dropped title from the professor’s name? Midoriya thanking him for doing his job of all things?

Making the executive decision to focus on none of them for the time being, Shouto opens the attached document with the lecture topics. Dr. Midoriya’s “abbreviated list" is still two pages long.

Somehow, it’s exactly what Shouto was expecting.

[nametags]

But her emails...

I aim to be a woman of integrity. I’ve sat on the content I’m about to share for almost 6 years in part because it originally was a private conversation between me and a friend. A friend who happens to be a lead singer of a band, but a friend none the less. However the way people have been speaking about him and what’s been going on in the world lately, I couldn’t let this stay hidden anymore.

I’m tired of people claiming that because Patrick no longer uses social media (and hasn’t for damn near five years at this point) that somehow he doesn’t “care” or isn’t doing anything right now to help the Black Lives Matter movement. I’m also incredibly tired of people ignoring/belittling the fact that Pete Wentz is a biracial/black man in America. You really do not want the social media person in charge of Patrick’s account tweeting things out. It would be hollow and fake.

Below is both a transcript of the conversation I had with Patrick on 12/06/2014, a follow up message he sent to me 08/25/2015, and the accompanying screenshots. Unfortunately I do not have the tweet(s) that prompted me to contact him in the first place nor can I find screenshots of them to provide that context. An image of me and my younger brother Jacob when we met the band at Boys of Zummer will also be attached to demonstrate one of the people I was concerned about in my original email. 

The only redactions made were my personal email address and the name of a friend I referenced. Patrick deleted his email account at some point between late 2016 and early 2017. It’s only left in these screenshots as proof for those who knew the address before to see these were legitimate messages. I hope the content reveals not only where his heart lies not only then but where it is now. 

Allison White: So I caught the insanity way late, but it's a tricky spot to be in with what's going on. For most of my life, I didn't even identify with half of my race. I was raised with my mom's side of the family and it just didn't click for me. It really hasn't been until teen years and onward that I've opened my eyes to it all. And with that, I began to grow wary of authority in a way. Like I still believe that people go into law enforcement for the right reasons. The few times I have dealt with police officers personally I haven't been concerned, but I have noticed in the past few years that when I spot a police car on the road or an officer just out in public somewhere is if I look "white enough" or do I actually look like an adult who belongs in whatever space I am in. I know Trayvon Martin was murdered by a vigilante and not an actual officer of the law, but that was when I first started to fear for my little brothers. I knew both of them were the sort of young men that could get targeted and most likely justice would not be found for them. And then there comes this summer. With both the Mike Brown and Eric Garner cases coming back with no indictment, it makes it feel as if it's just open season for black people to be hunted by cops. Which is hurtful for the cops who are actually in it to protect and serve, and every citizen who now has to wonder if they are next. I hope that your cousin is doing alright. I hope that people aren't making his job harder right now. Just I know for me right now with all that's going on I am definitely on the side of the protesters.

Patrick Stump: Brief for now; I'm sorry in all that you didn't notice that I'm squarely on the side of the protestors too. That's a failure of my wording

PS: The problem is that I so poorly expressed myself, people thought I was balancing the empathy to be spread across the black community and cops. That's a mistake on my part. I'm angry.

I'm angry that Mike Brown's case didn't yield enough evidence to indict. But that case was a very complicated one...Brown had just (allegedly) committed a violent crime and information was murky. As sure as I was that Wilson straight up murdered the Brown, I understood the limitations of the american Justice system given how little evidence there was. That's the unfortunate reality of justice is that it needs to be just. It needs to be 100%. We can't go in with "I know in my heart." And so that case pissed me off, but I understood it. 

With Eric Garner however, this just feels so flagrant. By no accounts was he violent, wasn't he doing anything that could even be misconstrued as life-threatening enough to even imagine defending the usage of deadly force. He was cooperating and they choked him to death on camera. That's fucked up. I'm pissed. I tried to be polite and sit back and not say anything, but I'm pissed.

However, my reason for discussing the side of the police as well is that human beings are complicated. When we boil people down to simplistic stereotypes, when we create a narrative of "Us VS them," we lose sight of the humanity of it all. You can't reason with a "Them." You can only reason with a person and it works better when you remember they're people.

I don't believe in enemies. I'm not religious but I love the way Jesus preached "Love thy enemy." That's hugely influential to me. Hugely important. That's the empathy I mean.

The other night I was holding my son and I thought to myself about a black girl I used to date. And how, we could have had a kid together. Maybe a little boy. And how, that boy could (by no action of his own) be killed just for the color of his skin. Like, I've heard and read words like that before, but to actually connect with it (on as small a scale as that) was horrifying. Gutting. For a little moment I thought, all this joy and all this beauty and somewhere, someone's having a black baby boy, loving him and feeling all the same things I feel for my son. But I wondered if in between their tired diaper changes and their burpings, if they were saying a silent prayer "I hope you don't get killed by a cop." If they say it constantly because they know how possible it is. Or even if he lives to be a 100, what black man won't have an unjust run in with the law? Not to make it exclusively a male issue but seriously, how many black men are in prison right now in America? That's a disgusting thing. The young parent of a young black boy probably considers that and that's maybe the most depressing thing I've ever tried to understood. That's a horrifying thing. There really still is a racial divide in this country, and to not be black is to not say those little prayers. We live in a supposedly free country. What about the pursuit of happiness? Who's defending the right of that little black baby boy born somewhere in America to just be an adorable little baby without any pretense? And when that baby grows up, who's defending his right to walk down a residential sidewalk and not expect to get pulled over and frisked? Maybe worse? 

So I'm angry. Just plain angry. But I didn't want to offend anyone so I expressed my anger in the lightest way I could think of. 

I'm not sorry for having an opinion, I'm sorry I explained it so poorly that you didn't know what it was.

AW: All of this is hard, and there is so much anger. You shouldn't ever be sorry for your opinions, and I am pretty sure you yourself have told people only be sorry for how you express your opinions. I wasn't upset with you or what you said, I just felt compelled to share that for me there's a knee jerk reaction to the image/idea of police and why.  This whole situation has been tough and it's been inspiring watching people across this country let their anger show and demonstrate in the streets against it. It makes me wish I was brave enough to take part in it out in the streets and not just online. 

I hope this collective anger and protest leads to real change. That in 2014 we are able to do the things they were aiming for in 1964. I mean recently the full letter the FBI sent to MLK to urge him into suicide was released and it just highlights the divide between how much has and has not changed. There's a lot of value in what religion is supposed to teach. Love thy enemy, love thy neighbor. True love and care for those around you is a great thing and certainly something I'd hope people identified with. 

The past nearly seven years there has been this push for hope and change. Maybe the country is finally reaching a point to make it happen?

PS: I have a funny feeling this is civil rights part 2. I'm proud of the protests. I'm so grateful our generation is angry about something it should be angry about for a change.

AW: An argument can be made that our generation (or just post baby boomer generations in general) have been taught and fed nonsense to keep us compliant, but that veers into a territory that I am not completely sure or comfortable with. Overall I do think that this is heading a direction that the powers that be are not ready for in the slightest.

PS: Where did I go wrong? What do people think I said? They're so mad at me, and none of the people have said anything I didn't mean. I'm not getting angry right-wing stuff, people are just calling me a racist. What did I say that was racist? What do I think that's racist?

AW: There's a strong immediate reaction right now of if you sound slightly in favor of the officers that did wrong that you are racist. The swift reaction and need to dogpile on is kind of crazy. I think people took the initial comment to mean "not all cops!!!!" In the same vein as "not all men!!!" and that's where the rage is coming from. 

AW: Just to be clear, those who matter know you're not racist. You have shown both in your words and actions where your beliefs lie. I don't know how to calm the masses right now because at least for the time being its not going to get through :(

AW: You could try a blog entry on tumblr?

PS: Nah, I think I've done enough damage for one lifetime. I think I'll keep it to myself but I appreciate your talking it through with me. 

AW: No problem. I am always willing to be a sounding board for that stuff if you need it.

PS: I re-read my stuff; "I support our police," is the worst things said. I meant "I support the idea of police and the need for a police force we can trust on a national level," not "I support the police in NYC who are killing people and attacking protestors." That sucks.

AW: If you wanna try to clarify now you can. At least in your Google alert it only had one mention of he mess and it was a tumblr user supporting/defending you. 

PS: There's no fixing it. The Internet is unforgiving I think and the reality is, I said that. I didn't mean it in the way that it so obviously sounds, but I said that. So I deserve everything I get.

AW: It will most likely go easier if you let it ride out instead of trying to go out and fight it. That just gives the "he doth protest too much" air about it. Hopefully the energy behind letting you know you said something like that will dissipate sooner rather than later. And that it won't get big enough for someone to write a story about it. 

PS: Yeah. It'll sound like back-pedaling and glad-handing. Anyway, thanks for talking it through! 

AW: You're very welcome! Thank you for hearing out my side of it this morning.

PS:  I never would've ignored your side.

AW: Which is very much appreciated

AW: I say that because in the past two weeks I have lost a handful of friends because of all of what's going on and them being unable to understand how and why their words hurt me.

PS: Well that's awful and unfair

AW: It was but they were all from the "when I look at you I don't see black, I just see Ally" camp and then would go on to say things about stereotypes and "thugs"

PS: Yeah. Thug. "Oh that's so ghetto." Bullshit.

AW: When someone says "thug" it's always clear they wanna say the n word

PS: Or even if they're the kind of "Well meaning," person who knows enough not to say that word, they mean the same thing

PS: "Not like you. You're good"

PS: White America just needs to know what it doesn't know

PS: Or rather, understand that there are things they (we) will never understand. Not from a first person perspective.

AW: It always makes me want to scream. The erasure of identity so then the people known to them stay safe. It reminds me of something I witnessed the other day. My friend [REDACTED] from junior high is now an established lawyer. Needless to say he has been keeping up very much with the recent events. He made a post about it and one of his friends commented with "I wish you would go back to being my friend [REDACTED] and not my black friend [REDACTED]." Mind you there's no denying [REDACTED] is a black man. He can't pass in the slightest so the comment shocked and saddened me. Thankfully [REDACTED] handled it with poise and grace. 

PS: If you have to say you have a "black friend," then you probably don't. That's fucked. I guess I just genuinely didn't imagine how pervasive this stuff really is. Like, Pete and Joe and I have been talking a lot today. I was under the misapprehension that we grew up in a decently inclusive area. Just come to find out, nobody used those words around me. The whole time they were heckling kids like Joe and Pete. I thought racism was this thing that doesn't happen here. It's scary how much it's come out post Obama's election. Elected officials sending out mass e-mails of pictures of watermelons. I just didn't get it. Ignorance is bliss.

AW: It knows how to hide in plain sight, which is a lot of the problem. People are taught "don't be racist!!!!" Without being told exactly what racism is. People (myself included at times) aren't aware of words/phrases/ideas have nefarious ties until too late. 

PS: I think we get too caught up on words and not enough on what they imply. "Thug," means a prepackaged idea of a black male. It instantly limits his perceived intelligence, his perceived trustworthiness, his perceived value to society, and his perceived prospects in life. That's so fucked. We expect black men to go to prison. Not be doctors and lawyers. When a black man is a doctor or lawyer, we treat him like such a cool novelty. When a black woman asserts herself, she's so "Sassy." "You go girl." 

These little words and phrases feel harmless. They never were

AW: Those are the positives. Usually assertive black women are angry, mean. It's so fucked all around. 

AW: I really owe Pete for helping me be informed on Ferguson. He tweeted the hashtag the night the protests started in August and it helped me dive in. I am sure tumblr would have got me to it eventually, but seeing it from day one was a definite help. 

PS: You know part of my problem? I'm just not brave enough to say what I think. I'm just scared of offending people. Pete's not. He doesn't care. That's powerful

AW: It takes a lot to just put it out there. I am not sure if I had the amount of eyes on me that you do that I would be so "fuck you I will do/say what I want" as I am. Hell I become such a shadow of myself when at work with how quiet and polite I am. I mean I am still pierced and tatted with short hair so visually I say a lot, but then I watch my speech to make us for it. 

(Follow up on 8/25/2015)

Patrick Stump: That is amazing and I'm very flattered. By the way; Been thinking about our conversation from a year ago a lot. The takeaway is this: Saying "All lives matter," and "Not all cops," while literally true are contextually horrendous. Really awful. In retrospect I feel pretty awful about saying both. Specifically because "All lives matter," can carry a lot of implications. Who's lives? I meant by it that Latinos and Muslims are also unreasonably targeted/mistreated/murdered by cops. But is it as systematic or blatant as it is with darker skinned Americans? Not remotely. Furthermore, as a white man, I just need to remember how fucking easy I have it. It's easy for me to preach peace and unflinching patience when I've NEVER been a victim of the War On Drugs or the aftermath of straight up slavery. So there's a lot to think about in terms of what I, a white guy, have to say and do about the situation. But not a lot I have to say about the way it feels to be oppressed to the point of feeling like less than a citizen of this country. I shouldn't have spoken about it because I don't/can't know. Well-meaning white folks get to talk about policy changes and do everything we can to help, otherwise we should get the fuck out of the way. I'm sorry, really REALLY sorry to the world that I ever said either of those things. It's more than "Fuck the police." It's "Fuck this whole system." And as aware as I'd been, I hadn't realized how complacent in it I was. Anyway, disgusted I said what I said. Sorry to the whole world for being part of the problem

[liukangmybeloved]

the cold now scares her half to death {Mortal Kombat (2021)}

Summary: Emily Young is only thirteen years old when she learns that she is, and is almost killed for being, the end of Hanzo Hasashi's bloodline.

A/N: 2790 words. SPOILERS FOR MORTAL KOMBAT 2021. Set after the movie, Emily Young-centric. i love cole young and his family, fite me. I know it's implied that the dragon marking is passed down when people die, but since it's a bloodline thing for Cole..... what if it didn't need to be through death, what if descendants of Hanzo were simply born with the marking? Also i might write more for this because i know what i want emily's arcana to be. this is very unedited.

----

Emily's whole life had changed in a night. Still reeling in the frozen-over gym her dad used to fight and train in, she watches a man produce and hold fire, and all she can think about is how grateful she is for the warmth, how she almost died, and if this man could breathe fire like the other man could.

Then there's a commotion, another man appearing out of nowhere, making vicious declarations as black smoke enveloped the ashen corpse of the man who'd taken her and her mother hostage, leaving only a scorch mark on the floor. Her mother holds her close as the man hollers and threatens, and he's gone in a dramatic bolt of lightening, kind of like the one her father had left in, not too long before she and her mother had been taken prisoner, frozen solid, almost killed. She hugs her mother tighter.

Hearing some of what the others are talking about - champions, they call themselves champions - she hears them make plans to find others like them, though she has no idea what that means beyond assuming they all had super powers of some sort. How could they find others like themselves? How common were super powers? Frowning as she considers, she reaches up and absent-mindedly scratches at her shoulder blade, where her own dragon-birthmark sat. In all the commotion, she'd kind of forgotten about it, about how the man - who now had robot arms? - had said that it meant her dad was chosen.

Shivering, mostly from the cold, she tries not to think about it too hard. They'd tell her if it was something to worry about.

She saw her dad gut a four-armed, impossibly large and tall creature. She saw a man reduce her would-be killer to ash and blood and bone by breathing fire. She was almost frozen to death.

It's been a long day.

When her dad picks her up like he used to when she was younger, hugging her tightly, apologising for letting anything like that happen to her, Emily can't help the tears that well up as she hugs him back. Tucking her face in by his neck, everything hits her, and she realises that this is the first moment in which she actually feels safe since they'd all gone out to eat after his last fight, that she'd been running on adrenaline and nervous energy, and that for all she was glad to have her mom with her, she was terrified knowing what her dad was facing.

But somehow, the man that had seemed like an unstoppable, super-human juggernaut, who had caused snow, then a snow storm, the man who'd kidnapped and frozen both her and her mother, was taken down by someone even scarier. The newcomer, in armour the colours of the bracelet she'd made for herself, for her father, she knew him a way she couldn't quite place at first. It was the strangest sense of deja vu when he'd looked over her father's shoulder when the fight had finally died down, said something in a language she didn't understand, and gave her the briefest of nods.

Now, huddled with her mother as her father and the other champions talked, she squeezed her eyes shut, wracking her brain for how she knew him, before it hit her. A swirling haze of overwhelming red and anger and fire and a blade and the words 'release me' playing in her head like it had so many times before; this time she was simply remembering the face of the man who haunted her nightmares, realising that he was the same man as had helped defeat her assailant today.

How was she supposed to go home, return the world like the world was still normal? Like everything she knew hadn't suddenly been called into question?

When her dad, several days later, sits her down and explains everything that had happened, albeit with the sharp edges of it all dulled down for a thirteen-year-old, he tells her the man she saw breathe fire was their ancestor, Hanzo Hasashi. Asking if she was ever going to see him again elicits a moment of genuine confusion from her father, then a shrug. He didn't know either.

Emily scratches idly at her shoulder blade, and tries to make sense of this new information, fit it in with what she already knows.

They talk about ghosts and hell and assassins and super powers, and Cole gets a faraway look in his eyes when he tells her that 'they're like a box of chocolates' like he's quoting someone. She's seen Forest Gump, but if he were simply quoting a movie at her, she's pretty sure he wouldn't be vaguely emotional in the same capacity. She pets his hand fondly, trying to reassure him. That at least snaps him out of his thoughts, and he takes her hand and gives it a squeeze, asking if she had any questions.

She had about a million, but asks only one.

"How are you going to find others like you?"

"What?"

"The guy in the hat, that's what he said, right? That he was going to put together a list of other people like you and your friend; is it like that guy, Jax, said? Is it the marking?"

Slowly, her dad turned it over in his mind; the question itself was simple enough, but he's kind of surprised that she'd been paying that much attention.

"There's a guy in Hollywood they're asking me to find," he says slowly in response, to which Emily sat up a little straighter, "he's a fighter like me, actually; you've seen the Johnny Cage posters around the ring, right?" And Emily nods, then Cole gives a nod of his own, "yeah, the marking, it means we're champions of Earthrealm - that's what they call Earth."

And then, after a beat, Emily speaks again.

"Does that make me a champion too?"

Slowly, her father remembers the marking she was born with, and the horror dawns on his face at the implication. He's shaking his head before he's even saying anything, and everything that had ever been said to him about taking care of his bloodline, the implications of it all because he hadn't grown up with a family so it was strange to think, even all these years later, that people were referring to the fact that his bloodline continued after him, not just before.

"No, no way Em, you're not- no."

And she doesn't fight him on it, but she still wraps her arms around him beside her on the sofa and hugs him tightly, hearing the fear in his voice at the mere idea of her being a champion like him. She'd heard the stories, seen his opponents; if she could get away with being a kid for a bit longer, she'd take it.

She doesn't ask about her ancestor either, Hanzo, or Scorpion has her father had called him, she wouldn't know what to say. All she knows is that she hasn't stopped seeing him, seeing the place that he must have been roaming for hundreds of years, but he's no longer asking to be released. Instead, he's walking away, but he looks behind, as if waiting for her to follow, and she does, but it feels like only seconds before she wakes up to her alarm clock. Eight hours in seconds.

Except the feeling of her whole body being frozen in place, watching her father fight Sub-Zero, as she'd finally learned his name to be, after watching him almost die at the hands of that four-armed monster, it was a feeling she couldn't seem to forget, and every time she thought about it, how helpless she'd felt, she felt a little ill.

So her dad's in Hollywood, and her mom's working inside from their home-office, and Emily puts on an old pair of gardening gloves, her sturdiest boots, and starts digging her father's old training equipment from the rubble that was the remains of their shed.

Of course she'd learned and trained with her dad from time to time, more to spend time with him, to encourage and support him, than any dedication to participating in the sport herself.

It's rote in no time at all, a routine she sets, she sticks to for the rest of the summer, working out while her mind goes numb, laying punch after punch and kick after kick into the worn training dummy, only knowing that if she can hit harder, faster, run further, get stronger, there's less chance of her getting caught like she was.

She can't leave the property without her mother, which she'd not opposed to; Sub-Zero's body disappeared in magical, black smoke, and they're both half-convinced he's moments away from popping up and kidnapping them all over again. The idea of a hideous, half-burned, zombie version of Sub-Zero kind of scares the ever-loving shit out of Emily, but she tries to use that fear to motivate her.

Even a slight, cold breeze has the hair rising on the back of her neck, checking over her shoulder, and she can barely stand to open the freezer for the rush of icy air that hits her, has her thinking about the feeling of the air frozen in her lungs back at the gym -

"Em?" Her mother calls several times throughout the day from the window of the office.

"Out the front," she'll call back, every time.

And when her dad gets back, she overhears a whisper argument between her parents when she's meant to be asleep; both are worried about her, but neither knows what to do. After everything happened, she is so different to who she was. Focused and quietly fearful, she never wants to be the scared little kid she used to be.

She doesn't know why her parents worry, if anything they should be worrying less.

In her dreams, she sees Scorpion still, she follows him still, but where she'd once thought of these visions as nightmares, she's no longer afraid.

"Will I be able to do what you do?" Eventually, they stop walking, and he turns to her - she wakes up.

"I had to become one with the flames of hell to survive them -" he says, when she sees him several nights later - she wakes up. The brevity of these visions is intensely infuriating, though she's glad that, despite the fact that she can hear him speaking another language out loud, the world they're in somehow allows her to understand his meaning.

However, as of the meetings afterwards, Scorpion becomes deeply unhelpful, simply raising his right hand, fingers together, palm facing her, like the gesture should mean something. When she ask him what it means, he tells her that her arcana comes from her bloodline. That's all he tells her.

When she asks her dad what arcana is, he goes tense, goes quiet, and asks how she knows about that. Emily frowns, tells him she'd heard it somewhere; she doesn't tell him about Scorpion, she doesn't want to worry him.

"Arcana... it's essentially our powers," Cole says slowly, carefully, "we get them because of the marking." His hand comes to rest absent-mindedly on his chest, over where his own mark lay. Emily fidgeted.

"Will I get one?" She asks, and Cole frowns a little at that.

"I hope not," he admits honestly, "arcana is often unlocked in very... dire circumstances; I unlocked mine despite having the mark my whole life, only because I thought you and your mom were gonna die," he reminded her, and Emily deflates a little at that, curling in on herself at the memory. She's stronger now, but she's not sure she'll ever be strong enough to face something like that.

"Why?" Her dad snaps her out of her thoughts, and Emily looks at him, no answer prepared, a little lost for words.

"Ours would come from our bloodline, right? Like, from that Scorpion guy?" There's a long moment of hesitation from Cole after her question, and Emily's gaze slides out the window to the training dummy sitting idly in the front yard of their little property.

"I'm not sure; we have the potential to unlock our arcana because of him, but I don't think there's much linking the actual powers beyond... a similarity of looks, I guess?" He sounds like he's not quite sure himself, and Emily nods, as if satisfied with the answer.

The following night, Scorpion tells her, with his right hand raised and open, 'your arcana will come from your Hasashi blood' - and then she wakes up.

Her parents still worry about her, but her father's quickly got bigger things to worry about, as the fighting tournament the champions are involved in, the one he keeps the details about deliberately vague, has been pushed back by the Elder Gods. This is not a problem Emily ever thought her father would ever had.

One of the men she'd met that day at the gym, when everything was frozen, the one with the lightning powers who called himself Raiden, apparently was right furious. Because of a sudden uneven-ness of the teams, the leader of Outerworld had demanded the Gods give him time to find new champions of his own for a fair and even fight. Considering how he'd tried to have Earthrealm's champions all murdered before the fight could begin, simply so he could claim an easy victory, Raiden was understandably pissed.

Despite everything her father was leaving out, Emily could tell that it was more dangerous than he'd ever let on. He usually didn't talk about the day she and her mother were kidnapped, and he especially didn't talk about how or why he and the others had gotten so beaten and bloody before they'd all showed up, but when he admits they were almost killed - that one of them was killed - Emily's heart is in her throat.

More time for him to train, to hone his skills, of course that was a good thing, but it also meant more time for something to happen to him before the fight.

Sometimes, when Emily considered this while she was doing training of her own, her fear and premature grief overwhelmed her to the point where she was clutching at the training dummy, or curled up on the ground, or doubled over, gasping for air, trying to keep breathing and remind herself that her father was strong; she'd seen proof enough of that herself.

"Em?" Her mother calls like usual, but Emily can't bring herself to answer, with tears in her eyes as she hears the four-armed monster in her mind telling them all how he's going to rip her dad's spine from his body, thinking about how she doesn't know where the monster's body went, how there could be hundreds more like him in the tournament - "Emily?!" Her mother, on the front porch, calls out to her, terrified to see her daughter shaking like a leaf and clutching the dummy for dear life. Emily can't speak, but she wants to be hugging her mother faster than she can even move, to make sure she's alright, that she's here and that she's real, and her palms ache as she runs, and tackles her mother, but the pain subsides as does her fear in her embrace.

"You're okay, it's okay," Alison whispers to her daughter, and Emily nods against her, "you're scaring us, Emmy," she mutters, stroking Emily's hair, "are you okay? What's going on with you?"

"I don't want anything to happen to you or dad," Emily manages, though she's still shaking, "not if I can help it." Her mother holds her tighter, if only so her daughter can't see the tears welling in her eyes.

"We'll be fine, your dad is going to be fine, I promise."

Emily knows she can't actually promise that, not after everything that's happened, but she takes comfort in the words for the moment, pretends like she believes them.

The mark on her shoulder burns.

For all that her father is upholding the legacy of their bloodline, he is no longer the end of it; that weight falls upon her shoulders. So she keeps training, as much as she can, as much as she's allowed, as much as her body can take. One day she will discover her arcana, she's sure of that, one day she may be called upon to fight in the name of her ancestors, fight in the name of Hanzo Hasashi, and when that day comes, she wants to be ready.

She'd never given much thought to what she'd be when she grew up, had kind of liked just being her dad's corner-man, his support, his crew. Now, when the time comes, she'll do her best to simply be him.

[calliecat93]

ST: TNG S6 Watchthrough Episodes 14-17

Face of the Enemy: Troi has been kidnapped and forced to look/pose as a Romulan officer. Why? The one responsible isn’t saying, but to say that she’s unhappy would be an understatement. As it turns out, Troi was abducted by a part of the resistance from Unification and they need a Starfleet officer in case their current plan goes south. They even mention Spock… IDK if I can see him approving of an abduction but maybe they just forgot to mention that he disapproved that part… then again I guess it makes logical sense. Eh, whatever. So… this is by far the best Troi episode that they’ve done thus far. She was kidnapped yes, but she is NOT playing the damsel-in-distress. She’s not victimized. She’s not sexualized. She’s not forced into a poorly conceived romance or undergoes anything gross/f*cked up. She has to act the part of a cold-hearted authoritarian among a ship of Romulans and she is freakin’ badass. Especially when she decides that she’s had enough going and thoroughly tells off her kidnapper N’Vek and that he will listen to her. 100% perfection. They even managed to make her empathic abilities useful. Did putting her in the uniform cause this? Did they get it out of their systems in Man of the People? IDK but I am all for it! It was also an awesome look into the Romulans and the going-ons on their ship, something we haven’t really gotten since TOS’ Balance of Terror, and all the Romulans are done very well. N’Vek kidnapped Troi but he did it for his cause and is a great morally grey character, and the female Romulan Commander Toreth is an excellent antagonist. Plus it’s nice to see more of the resistance and to see them within the Romulan ranks. It was an excellent episode and I freakin’ loved it~! Thank you show for giving Troi the badass episode that she deserves (even if it was this late in the show's run), now keep it up! 5/5.

Tapestry: Two Q episodes this season? Hell yes~! So… Picard dies. Welp. Q decides to take this to give Picard an offer: go back in time and undo his greatest regret, the incident that caused his artificial heart that he told Wesley about in Samaritan Snare. Back when he was a hot-blooded rebel who got himself into a fight that got him stabbed in the heart. In doing so, he now has a chance to correct all the wrongs and settle all he regrets in his life since that day. So up to this point, Q’s episodes since Q Who, while still entertaining and interesting, had been more light-hearted. Q still came off as an all-powerful being (Deja Q aside which him not being was the plot point), but his antics had been more comedic or light-hearted in comparison. In this episode, he’s acting like a trickster as per usual, but again more with the purpose to teach Picard a lesson. Why isn’t made very clear aside from maybe he just likes Picard (take that however way you’d like), but it’s nice to see this version of Q again while still utterly stealing the show. Picard got to undo the event… but would it have really turned out any better had it not happened? Would not making mistakes, having regrets, and making all the supposed ‘right’ choices when he should have had truly made a better impact in his present? That’s the funny thing about life, it’s easy to look back and go ‘if I had done this one thing differently, it would have been better’ and te desire to correct it is very powerful. But with mistakes comes the ability to learn. To grow. To mature. You’ll always have guilt and regrets, but you have to accept that this is what you chose and go about your life. Picard is a man full of thrown-away opportunities, pain, and so much more… but it also caused him to become a strong leader, intelligent, a risk-taker, and even with all his faults become a better person in his present day. Now obviously he doesn’t actually die, but he sure as Hell learned the lesson. The life he would have lead would have been unsatisfying, his old regrets replaced with new ones, and been unfulfilling for a man like himself. Now he can truly value the one that he has and the people in it. This was a fantastic episode. It’s crazy how Picard went from one of my least favorites to now one of my absolute favorites. His development and growth from a strict, aloof authoritarian to a much more reasonable father-like figure and much more humbled man and the captain has been excellent, and this episode just helps further that. The only real complaint is there’s not much time devoted to showing how his crew ended up without him, but that’s minor and doesn’t take anything away at all. Very well done~! 5/5.

Birthright: Okay, guess we got a second two-parter… and apparently it crosses over with DS9. Didn’t see that coming. But alrighty, I’m game~!

Part One: So the crew is on Deep Space 9 to assist in repairs of some incident involving the Bajorans and the Cardassians that I guess I’ll find out about when I get to the show. While there Worf is approached by an alien who informs him that his dead father? He may not be dead after all, having been kept in a Romulan prison. Worf doesn’t take it well. He ain’t the only one having daddy issues. While working with DS9‘s CMO Dr. Bashir, Data gets knocked out has a vision of Dr. Soong (a much younger one than in Brothers). Normally Data can’t dream so he’s pretty taken aback by this. So as a first part, this was pretty good. It sets up Worf’s plot well with him deciding to break into the Romulan camp to find out the truth and rescue the Klingons there. Data’s plot is overall nice. He’s never dreamed before so him trying to track down why is very understandable, especiallya after Picard suggests that he quit going through facts and try a more creative outlet to get his answers. So what happened? As it turns out Dr. Soong made it so that when Data reached a certain cognitive point, he would obtaint he ability to dream and he made an AI version of himself to talk to him. I guess he would have explained this to him in Brothers had Lore not shown up/had he not died. It was a really touching moment. Soong’s still not exactly the most ideal parent, but his AI copy seemed legit proud of how far Data’s come. Is it out of ego, legit parental pride, or both? That’s up for you to decide. As this is my first look at Bashir… so far I don’t have too manys torng opinions. he seems to act more liek a Science Officer or Engineer han a CMO, but he is cute and so far liekabe. He’s curious about Data, but doesn’t dehumanize him like Maddox in The Measure of a Man did, if anything he notes Data’s more human-like elements like being able to grow hair than any of the nuts and bolts. He seems pretty well liked from what I’ve seen int he fandom, so I’ll see how that holds when I reach DS9 but I like him so far. I do have some issues, but that more impacts the Overall so I’ll save it for there. So we end with Worf discovering his father’s true fate… and he’s informed by the Klingons there that he’s never leaving the camp. Welp. How will Worf get out of this one in Part 2? We shall see. 4/5.

Part Two: So what the heck is going on? Well, Worf’s father is infact dead, but there were captured Klingons. As they weren’t able to die with honor nor could they return home as it would dishonor their families (Klingons prefer death to capture), they chose to remain in the camp and live out the rest of their lives there. So now Worf is among multiple Klingons, the vast majority of which know nothing about their heritage, culture, and customs and had it outright demonized. To them, the lives they have are the norm and they have no desire to change it. Worf may have been out of touch with Klingons due to being raised on Earth, but at least he can explore it and get in touch with it. The ones in the camp? They can’t do that. They’re essentially in a gilded cage. Yeah, there's the argument that they achieved peace between Klingons and Romulans… by imprisoning said Klingons and demonizing their culture to them with the older Klingons allowing it. Though it seems it’s also because of broken spirits and the dishonor they’d have faced otherwise which is worst than death to them. There’s even one girl, Ba’el, who is half Klingon, half-Romulan… and despite what gets said I don’t get the sense that her parents' union was a fully consensual one. This was pretty good. Worf has found a group that like him were out of touch with their heritage, and he is now able to educate them and guide them. With all that’s happened and his struggle to be a true Klingon and find his way, this was really nice to have. He’s still clinging onto his hatred of Romulans and this episode isn’t going to help it dissipate, but at least it was addressed and Ba’el being upset at being judged due to how she was born was very much justified. Heaven knows that the themes here are still very much relevant in today’s time. Worf’s guidance pays off in the end and at last, they can be free. The younger Klingons have a rough road likely ahead of them since we know that Klingon society isn’t exactly the easiest to get through, but at least they have a chance at freedom. It was a very strong Worf episode and it was great to see~. 4/5.

Overall: Okay, so overall… it’s pretty uneasy. The Worf parts are good.. As I said, it was nice to see him in a position to give guidance to a group even more out of touch than he is. It was very wel done. The issues are mainly with Part One. We have this plot where they go to DS9… and we are barely there. We have Dr. Bashir… and only him. None of the other characters. We don't even see O’Brien despite him having transferred to DS9 at this point. Maybe the actors were busy sot they could only pick one but it kinda makes doing a crossover cheap. Bashir doesn’t even get a lot to do, you could write him out and very little would change. On the upside this means that viewers who haven’t watched DS9 won’t be confused nor would DS9 be required viewing, but it also kind of defeats the purpose of bringing DS9 in. It’s essentially just window dressing. Data’s plot, while nice, is completely dropped in Part Two. It feels like they were required to do a two-parter, didn’t have enough of the Worf plot to fill it out, and came up with the Data dream plot and using DS9 to fill it out. The crew also don’t really do anything in either part. As such, aside from getting Worf into the place he needs to be, Part One feels irrelevant. As such, I can’t give it a perfect rating. It was still good, but as a two-parter Part One bogs it down, but still allows for Part Two to happen. Overall, pretty good. 4/5.

[shirorinyuaaru]

A Soldier’s Countenance

Chapter 2 - Of Pride and Competition

The memory of last night lingering in each of you, Levi tries to handle your sudden sheepish disposition. Will things remain awkward, or will you be able to get past your emotionally-charged argument following the death of the original Special Ops Squad? What will happen to Levi's team when it is repopulated with members of the 104th Cadet Corps?

Are either of you ready for the uncertainty that follows?

Levi’s Office 0930 Hours

Silence was thick in the air as you went about scrubbing the floors of Captain Levi’s office. The tea you placed on his desk sat untouched and cold, and Levi would scarcely look at you. You had been at this for a half-hour already and your hands were raw. The strong scent of lemon was beginning to make you feel sick, but you ignored it in favor of completing your task faster.

It was easier to focus your attention on a dirty floor than the whirlwind of emotions in your chest anyway.

Levi tried desperately to ignore your presence in the room, internally cursing himself for the weakness he had shown the night before. It was not his intention to let your importance to him slip past his lips. Caring and compassion were weaknesses that had to be stomped out both in the Underground and in the Survey Corps.

Weaknesses get you killed.

Furthermore, your own confession weighed heavily on his mind. Damn you Erwin - this is a fucking pain in the ass , he thought, his grip tightening on the pen he was holding. His eyes were a dark grey, like the clouds of an oncoming storm. The nonverbal agreement between you both seemed to be that you wouldn’t talk about it. Levi liked it that way.

The raven-haired soldier briefly lifted his head from his work to see you on your hands and knees, working diligently on the floors. While he was more-than-satisfied with the work you were putting in, he was also keenly aware of the damage you were doing to your hands. If you scrubbed any harder, you threatened to make yourself bleed.

“Take a break, Brat.”

“I’m almost done, Captain. I’ll get out of your way soon.”

“Not the point. If you don’t take a fucking break you’re going to bleed everywhere and just make the floors filthy again. Get up, that’s an order.” Levi commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

With a small sigh, you stood, placing the scrub brush back in the bucket before moving them both to the corner of the room. The last thing you needed was for one of you to trip over the damn thing and ruin the work you had already put in. Without a task to focus on, you became increasingly aware of the sharp, throbbing pain in your hands.

The next thing you heard was Levi’s trademark “Tch,” followed by the sound of his chair scraping across the floor. His footsteps echoed in the otherwise quiet room as he made his way toward you. The next thing you were aware of was a firm, but gentle grip on your wrist.

“Come here,” Levi muttered, shielding his face as he led you through the office to his bedroom and into his private bathroom.

You stood there dubiously, unsure of what he expected of you.

“Well don’t just fucking stand there, Idiot. Sit on the edge of the tub.” He barked, slipping past you to get his first aid kit.

You complied, keeping your eyes locked on the floor while you waited for his return.

Levi decided he didn’t like your uncharacteristic silence; nor did he like the sheepish disposition he was met with since this morning. Regardless of what had transpired last night, he didn’t like things being so…so…

Awkward.

The silence, the way you looked at your shoes like a child being scolded, his inability to make his own mouth fucking move for anything other than commands - it all pissed him off. Levi grumbled to himself as he made his way back to the bathroom, kit in hand.

You were startled to see him squat in front of you, his eyes searching for yours.

“I’m going to wrap your hands. Just stay still.” He muttered, opening the kit and procuring some antiseptic, antibiotic cream, and wrapping.

“I can do it myself.” You replied, an eyebrow quirked.

“And make a mess of my bathroom? No fucking thank you.”

Much to Levi’s surprise, you actually snorted. “I’m pretty sure if I can keep your office clean, I can make sure not to fuck up your bathroom.”

“Yeah well, my faith in brats is pretty minimal.” He reminded, as if you could forget.

“Luckily the only brat here is you.”

Silence.

You were pretty sure you were about to get decked across the face for your comment and floundered for a proper apology. Hell, you weren’t even sure where you got the balls to let something like that slip past your lips.

“Captain, I - that was -”

What came next was almost more frightening than a fist: Laughter.

You sat in stunned silence, your eyes wide as you watched Captain Levi actually laugh . He was still squatting in front of you, but his eyes were shut and he had one hand on his forehead, a grin on his face.

“You’ve been quiet as a fucking mouse all day and this is the moment that your characteristic sass comes back? You’ve got to be shitting me.” He cackled, taking a deep breath to compose himself. “I’m pretty sure if you were anyone else I would have beat the shit out of you.”

“Honestly, that’s what I was expecting.” You conceded, still dumbfounded.

“You’re staring at me like you’ve seen a ghost, Cadet.”

“Can you blame me? You laughed.”

“Contrary to the rumors you Brats like to spread around, I’m not emotionless.”

“No, just almost emotionless.” You quipped, looking away from Levi. It was difficult to maintain your composure when he regarded you so sincerely.

Why do you have to be so alluring?

For the first time in a long time, Humanity’s Strongest Soldier found himself sincerely enjoying the company of someone else. It eased the sting of the losses he had experienced the following day, if only slightly. The revelation should concern him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, f/n. Now let me clean up your damn hands.”

—

Training Grounds, One Week Later

Levi’s new squad was a royal pain in his ass. They may be talented, but they were young, stupid, and really fucking annoying most of the time. Well, everyone but f/n, the captain mused, keeping his expression flat.

Eren was especially difficult for Levi to handle. His passion and dedication were admirable, sure, but he was too emotional and almost refused to fucking think .

Mikasa was in a league of her own, skilled in all aspects of being a soldier, but her loyalty was not with the Survey Corps. It was with Eren.

Connie was alright most of the time. The kid had better-than-average skills, and he was dedicated. However, the air in his head could fill a hot air balloon.

Jean irritated Levi; he was a skilled soldier, but also extremely fucking arrogant . Levi assured himself his distaste for Jean had nothing to do with his ceaseless attempts to get into your pants, or the fact that he was overly touchy with you whenever he got the chance. No, it was just his arrogance.

Sasha? Don’t get him started on Sasha. She was…something.

Prying Eren back from the hands of the Military Police had been a feat requiring unfathomable sacrifices of soldiers and innocent citizens alike. Managing to finally detain the Female Titan, Annie Leonhart, was a bitter victory for all of you. So many dead, so much destruction, all for a prisoner that couldn’t even be questioned. While Eren was safe for now, it was clear Levi and Erwin had their work cut out for them. For now, training served as a welcome distraction for everyone on the squad. Besides, he wanted his new members up to his standards within two months.

He had seen you train and had trained with you many times, even before the last expedition. Frankly, he made you train with him and his squad while Hange dug her greedy paws into Eren. While she experimented to her heart’s content (and to Eren’s increasing frustration), he wanted to get you close to the skill level of the Special Operations Squad. After all, you were his “personal assistant” - He wasn’t about to let you get your ass killed after one expedition.

Your extra training with Captain Levi made you useful when running drills and training scenarios. Levi found himself leaning on you when it came to explaining certain intricacies that came with his brand of training. He was a hardass - a very, very particular hardass. You were the only one who would be able to satisfy his requirements from the very beginning.

Well, you were the only one left. The thought left a bitter taste in Levi’s mouth, so he quickly turned his attention to the sparring pairs he had set for his squad members. Mikasa already had Sasha on her ass, Armin was desperately trying to hold his own against Connie, Jean and Eren were practically at each other's' throats in an attempt to be the one on top, and Krista had tapped out during your sparring match with her five minutes ago.

To Captain Levi, this meant you weren’t getting in enough training. “Oi, Cadet l/n. Take on Krista again.”

“With all due respect, Captain, I don’t think I should.”

“And why is that?”

“Well,” you winced, glancing at the injured cadet on the floor, “I was a bit too rough and damaged her shoulder.”

“Tch. Krista, what the hell were you doing? Was the fight really that one-sided?” Levi demanded, marching over to the pair.

“Well - I - Yes, actually it was.” She murmured, her eyes cast downward. “Since she started training with your squad originally, I can’t keep up just yet.”

Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to pair you with one of your old comrades just yet.

“Go get patched up, Cadet. When you’re done, come back and give me thirty laps around the green. We’ll start with your stamina.” Came the Captain’s calculated response.

As Krista left to see her shoulder tended to, Levi’s piercing gaze focused on you instead. “It seems that you need a sparring partner at your level. If Mikasa wasn’t currently trying to wrangle Eren and Jean, I’d put you with her.”

“I have a better sparring partner in mind.” You smirked, feeling cocky after such a one-sided sparring match.

“Hoh? Who exactly did you have in mind?”

“I think it’s time the student showed up her teacher, Captain.”

A flash of amusement spread over Levi’s face, but he soon crossed his arms and pressed his lips into a firm line. “You really think you can take me on, huh?”

“Not only can I take you on, Captain.” You said, leaning closer to him so you could speak to him without the others hearing, “I’ll have you on your ass before you even know what hits you.”

Levi wasn’t sure whether to laugh at you outright for your overconfidence or punish you for it. He supposed he could give you the chance to face off against him and punish you after you lost miserably. Add salt to the wound to teach her a lesson, he thought.

“Alright, Cadet. Let’s see if you can survive even a minute sparring with me.”

The bond that you and Captain Levi had formed since you became his assistant had only grown. He thought of you as a friend, though he wouldn’t publicly admit it. Though, knowing you, he didn’t have to. In private, you were something of a reprieve from his daily stressors. You made sure his workspace was clean, provided a great fucking cup of tea, and made sure that his paperwork was done in a timely manner and that he actually slept . Levi decided this was the reason he was so soft on you at times, not immediately punishing you for sassing him. He found your snarky comments and sarcasm oddly soothing in his office and out. You saw Levi for Levi - He wasn’t just Humanity’s Strongest to you.

Maybe that’s why I’m so quick to give in to her ridiculous challenges.

A wide grin had spread across your face when you realized he agreed to spar with you. “Thank you, Captain! It’ll be fun to go against you!”

“Fun for me, sure. Especially once I get to wipe that cocky smirk off of your face.” Levi quipped, clapping his hands twice.

“Oi, Brats. Stop your sparring sessions for a minute and watch what happens when you try to challenge your Captain. Apparently Cadet l/n needs a lesson in how quickly overconfidence can fuck you over.”

The squad - his squad, he reminded himself - turned their attention to f/n in disbelief. Either you were extremely brave or extremely stupid.

Captain Levi knew you were both.

Wordlessly, you each assumed a fighting stance, carefully observing each other’s movements. The tension in the air was so thick that Eren was certain he could cut it with a knife. The only sound that could be heard was the rustling of leaves and the calm breathing of both Captain Levi and Cadet l/n.

Realizing you weren’t going to take the first move, Levi lunged forward before planting his left foot firmly on the ground and twisting himself into a roundhouse kick. You dodged his attack effortlessly, e/c eyes trained on his each and every movement.

Needless to say, he was impressed that you even managed to dodge, expecting you to block instead. However, he didn’t have time to entertain the hubris of one of his subordinates, so he continued his onslaught in rapid succession. Punch after punch was either smacked away or avoided effortlessly - as if you were dancing.

Frustration mounted in Captain Levi. For someone who was so keen on sparring with him, you hadn’t gone on the offensive once yet. If you expected to tire him out and then strike, they would be there all night.

I have to end this now, Levi thought as he searched for an opening. Then it dawned on him - you never let him see your back. Each dodge, each block that you put up kept him from getting to your back. That’s where I get her. She can’t defend herself from attacks that originate from behind her.

Using the inhuman speed Levi was known for, he shot past you and whirled around to lock you in a chokehold. What he didn’t see the moment he passed you was the smirk that plastered your face. He realized a moment too late that you had made no move to stop him from getting behind you.

With a mirthless chuckle, you grabbed the arm he had reached with and, using his momentum, flung him over you and onto the dirt with a loud thud. Taking advantage of the mere seconds Captain Levi would be dazed, you jumped on top of him, straddling his hips and pressing his legs down with yours. Your hands found his and you pinned them next to his head, panting heavily.

Levi gaped at you, his grey eyes finding yours. You had completely changed your fighting style to erase all of the patterns he had grown accustomed to when training you. He opened his mouth to speak, but found the words caught in his throat as he saw the animalistic look on your face. With every heaving breath you took, your body pressed against Levi’s.

“I win.” You murmured, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “What was that about teaching me a lesson, Captain?”

Your voice was a sultry purr in his ear and he could no longer ignore how tight his uniform suddenly felt. However, he would not let you have the win - even if he had to play dirty.

“I still plan to bend you over my desk to teach you that lesson.” He murmured in your ear, his hips shifting slightly under you.

You gasped and for a moment your grip on Levi lessened.

That was all he needed.

Before you could rectify your mistake, Levi had pushed you off of his torso and wrapped his legs around your hips, rolling you under him and pinning you. By now, he was panting too. His uniform was a mess, his hair disheveled, and his pupils blown. This time he would ensure you conceded, so he had pinned both of your arms with one of his and wrapped the other hand around your throat, squeezing firmly, but not enough to actually cut off your air supply.

“Do you yield, Cadet?” He growled, his voice rough with poorly-concealed desire.

“Yes I - I yield.” You whispered, absolutely breathless.

Ostensibly the two of you had taken a moment more than necessary to stare at each other in such a compromising position because Eren loudly cleared his throat.

Suppressing his desire to shoot a glare at Eren and give him a week of stable duty, Levi removed himself from you and stalked away. “You’re dismissed for the day. And Cadet l/n, I expect you in my office after dinner to start scrubbing my floors with a toothbrush.”

Panting, extremely aroused, and even more pissed off, you groaned. It was going to be a long night.

—

Dinner Hour

As the day left you, you found yourself becoming increasingly irritated with Levi. That should have been your win. It would have been your win if he hadn’t used such a dirty tactic.

A sore fucking loser, you cursed, ignoring the irony of your statement.

You were so annoyed, in fact, that you disregarded Levi for the rest of the day. You did not bring him tea, you did not organize his workspace, and you certainly didn’t provide him any relief from the workload weighing him down. When you sat with Eren and the other cadets at dinner, you could practically feel his glare burning a hole in your uniform.

Frankly, you didn’t fucking care. You’d be sure to give him a piece of your mind later.

--

Levi’s Office 1900 Hours

“What the hell was that, Levi?” You snarled, slamming the door to his office behind you.

“Which part? Me kicking your ass or me absolutely kicking your ass?” Came his monotone reply as he continued reading over a report from Hange.

“How about you playing dirty to secure your win? I had you . Are you that much of a sore loser?”

“I never tapped out. You wrongly assumed that the fight was over - your cockiness is what fucked you.” Levi couldn’t mask the amusement in his voice. Getting you riled up was fun once in a while, he decided. Furthermore, it was fitting revenge for ignoring him all day.

Your move, f/n.

He wouldn’t listen to your ranting about it? Fine. You’d make him listen. You stalked around the desk and whipped his chair around to face you, pinning him in place with your hands on each armrest and your knee between his legs. “So the comment about bending me over your desk to teach me a lesson wasn’t dirty?” You snapped, your eyes boring into his.

“It’s not my fault that you lowered your defenses because of something I said.”

“Something you knew would get a response out of me! You don’t just fuck with someone like that!”

Levi’s patience was thinning, his eyes darkening, “Do you really think an enemy is going to play nice when you’re out in the field, f/n? Do you really think they won’t use any perceived weakness against you?”

“You aren’t an enemy. It was a sparring match between a Squad Leader and a Cadet - between two friends.” You hissed, knuckles white on the armrests of Levi’s chair.

“Our perceived relationship is of no fucking consequence during sparring. You know that. Sparring is meant to hone your skills and keep you from getting your shitty ass killed when you get into a real fight.” He snarled, brow furrowing.

“So using my obvious attraction to you is fair game? We don’t address it. We don’t give it the fucking time of day, but suddenly it’s okay to use during sparring?”

A pregnant silence filled the room. One you were not keen on entertaining for long.

“What about you, then, Levi? What about your obvious issue during the fight that you had to dismiss the squad for? Is that something I should use against you the next time we go head to head?”

“F/n,” Levi started, his tone dangerous, “I suggest you shut your fucking mouth right now.”

“Why,” you mocked, “did I hit a nerve, Captain?”

“Because if you keep talking,” He began, leaning towards you threateningly, “I absolutely fucking will bend you over my desk to teach you a lesson.”

“Prove it.”

“Fine.”

Suddenly, as though pulled together by powerful magnets, your lips met in a fierce battle for control. Your fingers sought purchase in raven hair and you tugged it as the war of tongues, teeth, and lips raged on. You were vaguely aware of being lifted by your ass out of the chair and unceremoniously dumped on the desk. Papers were scattered everywhere as Levi cleared the area, taking his place between your legs.

He held your neck in a tight grip with one hand, his other roughly shoving into your pants to find your slit. “Do you understand what you do to me?” He growled, biting at your clavicle as you bucked your hips into his hand. “I want to devour you. I want to own you.”

The thin string keeping both of you at bay had snapped, leaving chaos in its wake. Any semblance of reason - of control - was lost in the fray.

“Levi I-” You began, your fingers digging into his hips as you pulled him closer. “I want you. I need you.” You breathed, your e/c eyes cloudy with desire.

I think I love you. A mutual thought that threatened to escape both of you.

“What have you done to me, F/n?” Levi choked out, burying his head in the crook of your neck and suckling on the sensitive skin.

Before you could go further, a sharp knock on the door got your attention. You both quickly pulled away, righting yourself before Levi spoke.

“Name and Business.”

“Oh come on, Shorty! It’s just me - I need to talk to you about our latest findings regarding Eren!” Came Hange’s cheerful voice.

“Tch. Shitty Glasses. Come in.” He groaned, glancing at you.

You were both aware of the line you had crossed, how you had both fucked up.

“Levi, I —”

“You’re dismissed, Cadet.”

[oleksiaksjamie]

Shows You Watch Together (Preference)

Angel Reyes: 90 Day Fiance. You don’t really announce it to the world, but this show and all of its spinoff really owns your Sunday and sometimes Monday nights. When you and Angel first got together and you stayed at his place whenever he was home, you’d just record it on your DVR and watch it at another time. It wasn’t until Angel stayed at your place one Sunday night that he realized that this was your show. He made fun of you for awhile, but the second you guys moved in together, he was also watching it and would often get mad if you watched it without him.

Bishop Losa: Supernatural. Okay, look, this show has been on forever. He’s probably seen an episode or two before you guys got together. However, when he got with you that’s when he really got into it. The one day he got into it just happened to be a day that you were super sick and he had a slow day with the club. He sat with you (at a safe distance) as you put on Netflix to watch the show. After about a season, he had you going back to the beginning so that you two could watch it together.

Coco Cruz: Dare Me. This is a fairly new show. You had heard about it coming on and the previews really interested you. The night that it came on, Coco had spent the night at your house. It didn’t take you guys long to get into it, giving one another different theories about who was dead and then who killed the person that did die.The two of you also got into a healthy debate about who was the person in the wrong with Addy and Beth. It was a good show that left you two hoping that there was a second season.

Creeper Vargas: Peaky Blinders. You really only got interest in the show because you had the biggest crush on Tom Hardy. Creeper just liked to get close to you so when you invited him over to watch Netflix, he was quick to come over. This wasn’t a case of Netflix and Chill, not like the way that other shows had been for you. The two of you were really into the show. When the new season aired, he was on a run and you couldn’t wait. He checked your netflix to make sure you didn’t sneaky, which led to a slight and petty argument.

EZ Reyes: Grey’s Anatomy. Like with Bishop, EZ had seen a few episodes of Grey’s Anatomy in the more than a decade that it’s been out. He just never dedicated himself to watch it like you did, mostly because he was in prison for a lot of the show’s tenure. After getting closer to you and learning of your love for the show, he watched it. Then it just became you guys’ thing. When you got time, the two of you just watched it. The show required commitment, both of which you were ready to give.

Gilly Lopez: Terriers. First, this show deserved better. Like seriously. You and Gilly had started this show during one of the times that he was out for the count because of a club-related injury. He was pouty a lot, so you figured that this would’ve been a good reason to get him to stop the pouting. You put it on and the two of you were hooked anymore. Unfortunately, when you two found out that there wouldn’t be a second season after you completed the first... then you both were pouting.

Miguel Galindo: HGTV. Miguel didn’t really have the desire to watch any television. He thought it was a waste of his time and really, he had better things to do. On the rare days when he had it to himself, you and him were lazy for most of the day and watching HGTV. He’d make you call out (not that he believed you should be working anyways) and you’d be cuddled up and commenting on the houses. If you saw something that you particularly liked, Miguel made a mental note to get it in the house.

Nestor Oceteva: All American. First, you would die for this show. The name may be misleading to some but you loved this show a little too much. One night, Nestor got home early. It was halfway through the show and he was a little surprised by the way you just dismissed him as he tried to greet you. The next week, it was the same. After another week, he decided that he was going to check this show out for himself. He really only started watching it to see what was so great, but the excitement on your face when you saw him watching it was enough for him to keep up with it, too.

Riz Ariza: The Office. With everything going on in the club and occasionally at Vicki’s, Riz needed some sort of relief at home. Of course, he’d seen the show before he met you. Then he found out that you had never seen it and he had to make you watch it. For awhile, Bishop thought he was doing something else when he didn’t show up to the parties. But really, the two of you were just at home and cracking up over the dumbest things that happened in the show.

Taza Romero: Kingdom. So, when you told Taza you wanted to watch the show the first thing that he did was look it up. You didn’t tell him, however, that there were two shows with the name Kingdom. The show you were talking about did not have Frank Grillo in it. So, when you both were at home the night and the show ended up being a South Korean show.. he was shocked. Even more so when it turned out to be about zombies. You two had a great time watching it and really have thought about rewatching it multiple times. 

Tranq Loza: The Walking Dead. The two of you actually watched this show separately at first. It was one of the most popular shows for awhile, so that wasn’t really a shocker. You got together around season 4 of the show and then just naturally watched it together. Even when the two of you lost interest in the show, you still kept up with it the best you could. It was hard to watch it when it aired on Sunday nights, considering that Tranq was busy a lot with the club. When you get the time, no matter how many episodes have passed, you two just curl up and watch it together like the two of you used to be able to do before things with the MC picked up.

[aion-rsa]

Superman & Lois Episode 4 Review: Haywire

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This Superman & Lois review contains spoilers.

Superman and Lois Episode 4

One of the most tired arguments in comics is about whether or not Superman is too powerful to tell good stories with. The plethora of exceptional, meaningful, moving Superman stories out there should put that argument to bed for good, but if they haven’t, feel free to direct anyone making it to “Haywire,” the fourth episode of what’s shaping up to be one of the best Superman arcs ever.

To my mind, the key Superman conflict has nothing to do with his power level and everything to do with the fact that he can’t be everywhere at once. He is a man who wants to help everyone, but has to prioritize where he can be and how much time he can stay there, and those choices all have consequences. That’s basically the thesis statement of this episode: Clark is being pulled in a thousand different directions at once, with his father-in-law climbing on his back about not being seen enough in Metropolis; an Intergang prisoner transfer going down; Morgan Edge about to close the deal on a mine outside of Smallville and Lois trying to run headfirst into Edge; and the boys trying to navigate school and also one of their classmates developing super speed.

But the thing that makes this episode, and the show as a whole, such a good Superman story isn’t necessarily the content of the story. It’s the storytelling, too. Superman & Lois excels at showing and telling. It weaves the three storylines – Clark, Lois and the kids – in and out, contrasting points against each other by bouncing from scene to scene to heighten the point. There are two spots this week where this is really well done.

The first is about midway through the episode. Lois’ big Morgan Edge expose in the Gazette has been spiked by a lawsuit threat – turns out Lois, a star reporter at a major metropolitan newspaper, had a noncompete WHODATHUNK (note: see the mailbag for who indeed thunk). So she pushed it off on Clark, who, as a well known mediocrity, had no such legal conflict, and was planning to bring up the issue in the big town meeting where Smallville was voting on granting Edge’s Intercorp mining rights to the party spot from the first episode.

Meanwhile, the Department of Defense was moving a super-prisoner out of town because Superman’s lack of presence in town was making the authorities skittish about keeping him in town. And at the same time, Sam Lane was giving the kids a hard time about being too needy now that they know their dad was Superman, because the rest of the world needed him more. 

Of course, nothing works out right. Superman takes way too long on a wild goose chase, so Edge wins the town vote nearly unanimously, while the stuff with Jordan and Jon takes some time to blow up. 

The performances really carry this sequence over. Hoechlin’s Clark agonizes over missing the vote and practically begs Tulloch’s Lois to be mad at him, and their argument is so natural and honest feeling that it’s immediately relatable. 

Later, when the family finds out what Sam said to the kids, there’s an argument in the farmhouse that is also immediately recognizable and yet perfectly performed. Clark is pissed at Sam, but Superman’s anger is so often played as some world-ending threat, with glowing red eyes and menacing body language, yet here Hoechlin plays it completely straight – as an angry dad dealing with a shitty in-law. I’m sure we’re going to keep talking about this as the show goes along, but the amount of acting Hoechlin and Tulloch do with only their body language, and the way it conveys exactly who Superman and Lois are both alone and in relation to each other is a HUGE part of the mastery of this show. 

The only problem I have with the episode is how it’s all a path to Sam’s radicalization into creating Project 7734. This is pretty BS for a couple of reasons: first, there’s no way the shady-ass government doesn’t already have a similar contingency plan (or 6) for dealing with a rogue Superman; and second, I know the episode is all about what a terrible parent he is, but I really can’t wrap my head around turning on Superman because he’s spending too much time with your grandkids. Maybe that’s what makes Sam a villain, but it’s also what makes this Superman the best he’s been so far in an already great show.

Metropolis Mailbag

Thaddeus Killgrave is a weaselly little shit created in the 1980s as a weapons designer for Intergang. The Killgrave we see on screen bears little resemblance to his comics version, where he was almost childlike in his stature. Instead, this bearded, bedraggled, mouth-noise-making character actually looks a lot like his creator, John Byrne.

Superman’s call sign when he’s working with the Department of Defense is “Bishop 6.” So…uh…does Sam Lane work for Checkmate? Checkmate is one of the various super-clandestine services operating in the DC Universe (along with Task Force X/Suicide Squad, Spyral, Kobra, Argus, the D.E.O., and on and on and on). Checkmate was first seen in Action Comics in the late 1980s and has counted among its members any number of famous DC heroes, from Deathstroke to Alan Scott and Mr. Terrific.

We have confirmation here that Morgan Edge is running a company called “Intercorp.” The Inter- prefix usually has connotations with Intergang (which is also present in the show), a gang of thugs organized by Bruno Mannheim, usually working for Morgan Edge in some capacity, and all functioning as a subsidiary of Apokalips. Intergang was created by Jack Kirby when he first started on Superman’s Pal, Jimmy Olsen #133, recently reprinted in a gorgeous absolute edition which is worth every single penny.

Calling the mines “Shuster Mines” is a nice touch, especially when they get bought out by a big company and filled with Superman’s only weakness. 

Speaking of callbacks to Grant Morrison’s run, Glenmorgan Square is likely named after Glen Glenmorgan, a minor throwaway villain from the very beginning of Morrison’s Action Comics. 

It’s not really an easter egg or anything, but I want it to be known that when Lois walked into the local paper’s office, I texted someone else watching and said “she definitely has a noncompete.” I’m glad the show also remembered this so I could be proven correct.

X-Kryptonite is a deeeeeep cut. Supergirl originally created X-Kryptonite as an antidote for green k. But she made it wrong, and it ended up being able to give anyone powers who was exposed to it. Including her otherwise normal Earth cat, Streaky. Yes this was 1960, why do you ask?

Tag’s emerging powers are a lot of vague references all in one. The super healing and the fast movement are pretty clearly emerging speedster powers, but he doesn’t have any other characteristics of Flashes. Besides getting his powers from a mysterious energy discharge hitting a bunch of weird chemicals. That said, Sam was probably talking out of his ass when he blamed phosphorus for Tag’s powers, considering they were partying on top of a pile of power-giving crystals when it happened. 

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Sam also says Tag is being sent to a “special school” for kids with powers, which…it’s weirdly early to be introducing Titans Academy to the TV shows, isn’t it? That new feature of the Infinite Frontier DCU is the only school for gifted youngsters I can think of that would fit the bill, but sound off in the comments if you know what he’s talking about! God I hope it’s not HIVE…

The post Superman & Lois Episode 4 Review: Haywire appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/38O74tS

[quidfree]

hi! hope you're well and that you're having a good day:) I absolutely adore LMV - I genuinely think it's the best fic I've ever read. anyway, the point of this ask was that I was wondering whether you had any thoughts about sirius as a godfather? like, was he suited for the job, did he actually do a good job... idk, maybe you've answered that question before, in that case, sorry! and ofc don't stress abt answering:))

this is so nice of you ty!!!

ive never talked about dogfather sirius, actually!! what an interesting pair of questions.... i would have to say a qualified yes to both?

was sirius suited for the job: personality-wise, maybe not entirely (raising a child alone in the event of jily deaths would have been Rough, and he’s not exactly a stable parental unit, not to mention he would have spoiled harry rotten), BUT he has the most important prerequisite, which is undying love and loyalty for the potters and for harry, and that means he would have done everything in his power to be a good parent figure to him, which is what really matters, so. not to mention that jily realistically weren’t contemplating he would have to be godfather alone for the majority of harry’s life- with jily around he could have been just The Coolest Godfather Ever instead of harry’s first living parental figure who didn’t treat him like shit.

did he actually do a good job? i would say a resounding yes. bearing in mind he was stuck in azkaban for twelve years (let’s not get into that), we only actively see him godparent harry for three years (plus when he was a baby). obviously baby harry was spoilt v much by his dogfather; what we see of sirius + teen harry also speaks favourably of him, i think. ok, little bit of a rough start what with the unhinged prisoner vibe, but the FIRST thing sirius does when free is go check up on harry- and he keeps tabs via crookshanks etc once at school, knows his interests well enough to send him the firebolt, and he values harry’s opinions enough to not murder peter on the spot despite his thirteen year revenge vendetta. obviously, the fact harry is the spitting image of someone sirius hasnt seen except for in his nightmares for over a decade doesn’t hurt, but he’s just so awkwardly sweet to harry afterwards- when he offers harry to come live with him, expecting him to refuse and completely understanding of it, it’s so endearing (and it always broke my heart how excited they both were about it- i bet sirius was thinking about another time a potter asked to live together). and from the start sirius ALWAYS speaks to harry like a whole person, not a child to be kept in the dark (which, if everyone else had done, looking at you dumbledore...)- the speech he gives him before he escapes is so important for harry to hear, especially from someone who knew his parents. sirius is always so careful to tell harry things about james and lily. now, it’s not that sirius treating harry like an adult would be ideal on its own, and i do think in part the issue is that he skipped his entire childhood and harry looks so much like james, but i also don’t think sirius actually treats harry too much like a grown man, apart from slipups- just like a grown teen. he advises him against threats, tells him the edgy backstories harry SHOULD know (and no other adult ever wants to tell him), looks after him as best he can (HE LIVES IN A CAVE EATING BONES TO LOOK OUT FOR HIM), listens to his teen melodrama. even when he’s fucking up by encouraging harry’s risk-taking i don’t think he’s treating him like an adult- he’s treating him like a *marauder*, because at that age, that’s what he or james would have done; being able to make informed choices is what sirius would have wanted at his age. i don’t think molly or sirius necessarily have the better argument- both make good points; sirius gets what harry wants and molly gets what harry might need even if he doesn’t want it, but that makes perfect sense- molly is an older woman who’s raised seven children, and sirius is in his early thirties and lived with kids for (1) year. james and sirius were order members by age /eighteen/ and sirius was in azkaban at /twenty-one/- he was basically a kid HIMSELF before he got put in the torture prison. i always found it so unfair that literally none of the other adults ever mention the debilitating mental issues he must be suffering from- remember the lifelong PTSD hagrid got from a MONTH there???- and that’s without even mentioning dumbledore’s purposeful exacerbating of them. not to say that mental health excuses poor parenting, but sirius both /isn’t a parent/ and really does very well at filling that role anyways, on the whole, so i think he can be cut some slack for once in his life. harry loves sirius SO MUCH and sirius loves him right back- and sirius teaches him some of the most important lessons in the whole series, even if he himself never managed to learn them- lessons that i really think shape the adult harry becomes, and the kind of lessons his parents might have taught him. so overall i’d give him kudos- and considering the absolute bullshit he’s living through, with james and lily dead, azkaban sucking the light out of him for over a decade, peter running free, and dumbledore QUARANTINING HIM IN THE HOUSE WHERE HIS ABUSIVE DEAD MOTHER IS (?!?!), i would say he does a stellar fucking job.

anyways harry & sirius’ relationship is so important to the series- even the GP was upset when sirius dies in OOTP, largely because everyone could see how bad it hit harry. that scene in dumbledore’s office? oof. they just care about each other so v much and we were robbed of a lifetime of sirius as harry’s absolute fav adult. if sirius had held onto harry that day- if dumbledore hadn’t decided to place him with abusive bigots for a plan which would only pay off by OOTP- i honestly think sirius would have outlived the series. because with harry he’d have been less unhinged by grief, able to testify properly, gotten support from other order members, not gone to azkaban- and with harry he would have had a reason to live. thirteen years of raising harry would have made harry the snarky little fucker he is at his core by age eleven, confident and happy and very good at quidditch indeed; thirteen years would have made sirius as whole as he can get. they would have patched things up with remus. there’d be no OOTP tragedy of errors. sirius would have punched dumbledore at some point. harry would have sent a pic of him and his new friends over week 1 of hogwarts and sirius would have punched through a wall and then calmly strolled over to hogwarts and taken ron’s pet rat over to minerva mcgonnagal, where unspeakable things happened to it. he would have gently butted heads with hermione (but won her over via crookshanks if nothing else) and gotten on very well with ron; snape would barely have been able to be such a dick to him because sirius would have gleefully sent him howlers for every minute of his day until he cracked. lucius on the school board terrorizing the other parents? not on sirius “billionaire heir to the toujours pur line” black’s watch- he’d happily invest even more obnoxious wealth into the school fund to get first call, not to mention lucius’ imperius excuse would not get very far with sirius around. “who’s nicholas flamel? we can’t ask adults- we’d get in trouble with the teachers and our parents are either muggles or wouldn’t know- oh wait nevermind, sirius, who’s nicholas flamel?” no more expelliarmus-ing for four years; harry Trained Duellist By Age 11 more like. dobby the house-elf? oi dobby sirius is family too- now spit it all out, won’t you? chamber of secrets? yeah, sirius knows what that is. parseltongue? yeah, sirius is familiar, and fuck those other kids for being weird to harry about it, does he want to come home for the holidays? weird creepy diary? oh, sirius’ family will have Magicke Moste Evile around somewhere. book 3 is just Harry’s Holiday: The Book because there’s no sirius subplot. you think snape would have dared treat remus the way he does with sirius hovering around paying half his checks? i think the fuck not. you bet your ass they had box seats for the whole of gryffindor house at the Quidditch World Cup. barty crouch? yeah, sirius knows THAT asshole- and remembers his son. catch harry whizzing through all the challenges minus the nerves ahead of time while sirius and remus do half the investigating for him. yule ball? no sweat, just go with ron; that’s what james and sirius would have done. if the maze went the way it goes in the books, “moody” wouldn’t even have been able to drag harry off without sirius intervening. and sirius “ptsd” black would have been The One Person who Got harry’s feelings in OOTP- not to mention sirius Skilled Legilimens black could have coopted that shit from snape and gotten harry up to scratch. sirius-raised-harry would have given umbridge twice as much shit. no kreacher lying here- and harry has sirius’ mirror anyways. so no massive drama in the ministry, and no suicidal recklessness / desperate first taste of freedom on sirius’ part means no veil incident even if they got there. hence book six through seven going Quite Differently. sirius shows up book six to be DADA teacher, why not. him and remus think it’d be funny, and besides he’s petty enough to steal the job from snape. move over firenze, new hot teacher in town. half the books are avoidable.

[noctomania]

As Someone Who Didn’t Vote For 10 Years: Your Vote Matters.

Hey. So, let’s chat. Or rather, hear me out.

I turned 18 in 2006. I did not vote until 2016. Bc even I saw through my apathy & prioritized trying to combat potential fascism. You can get an idea of how many elections one sits out of over a 10yr span here. It’s a lot & I should have done my part much sooner. Though I could say “well I was in college from 2007-2012 & &&” no. Not an excuse. I had time no doubt. I was just apathetic. I have reflections for those who continue to abstain from their right & duty to vote.

I remember my parents encouraging me to register to vote. I think it was part of applying for my license or something. I can’t remember if I ever registered with a party, but I think in TX in order to vote you have to be registered with a party. In any case, since I’ve been registered in the north I haven’t been part of a party bc I too felt the whole thing was a sham. I was still remembering the robbery that was Bush’s terms. TWO WHOLE TERMS. I remember seeing my mom cry when he won his first term. I remember hearing about all the awful shit he was doing as president from my dad & stepmom.

But I also remember thinking: “Why isn’t anyone doing anything?”

It can be incredibly disheartening & frustrating & downright angering to hear about atrocities without hearing about the forces fighting back. Death & Drama sells.

I wasn’t eligible to vote when bush was running. Then Obama came along & I was like “Great, surely my blue state I live in now is all for him & I don’t gotta bother - y'all got my order.”

Your. Vote. Matters.

Obama was an incredible victory. I will never allude to him ever being perfect bc he, just like every other president, has had to make tough decisions that do not always work out, or they make decisions you outright disagree with. He’s just part of the spectrum of what we’ve known, but he was the first Black president of a nation that was built & raised on destroying Native communities & enslaving Black people. That was & will remain significant. As you can imagine, during that time of not voting I also was not entirely involved in racial matters as much as I should have been despite what I was actively learning about in college. I sunk into apathy.

Apathy is a comfort not afforded to everyone. It is not an option for everyone as a means of survival. Were Black communities & of color to sink entirely into apathy they would be completely wiped out bc there are organized white supremacists who spend every waking hour trying to find new ways to attack in covert & not-so-covert ways - voter suppression, intimidation, manipulation, propaganda. Apathy is a privilege. A white privilege that even a kid raised on free lunches at school & hand-me-downs from neighbors could afford.

Your. Vote. Matters.

Let’s talk symbolism. “My refusal to vote is symbolic of my disgust with how this nation is run, how our elections are corrupt, to show my hatred of the electoral college, my vote doesn’t matter anyway bc ...”

You’re right. Your vote is symbolic. But not for what you think.

When you don’t vote, that is like not replying to a message. The nation poses a question to all voters: Who do you want to represent you? If you don’t reply to the email, your input isn’t counted at all. There is no footnote to say “I didn’t vote bc of such-and-such reason.” You might have been unconscious. You might have forgotten. You might have not cared. You might care very much.

But there is literally no job in the entire election process who’s responsibility is to sit in an office & contemplate why Jared in Oklahoma didn’t cast a vote.

“Gee, I sure hope Jared is ok. Is he mad at us? I guess he might want change...”

No. The way you show that you are not happy with how things are going is to vote. THAT is how you send the sentiment of “Hey so this isn’t great I’d like to try moving this way.” But we can’t really make progress without continuing to push. Even when things look like they’re going well (”Hey, we got a Black guy in office, we’re doing great with the racism stuff!”) you gotta keep pushing - which is why you need to be able to realize the ones you do vote for need to be criticized as well. Obviously, there will be myths & the ones about Obama probably hit a record tally on that with how angry a Black person as president made the racists in this country feel, but there are valid criticisms as well that should not be overlooked if we want to know how to push for a better tomorrow, or to avoid accidentally electing a new nightmare bc you aren’t getting immediate results from who you thought was going to change the world. It’s a lot to put on one president. It would take multiple terms, beyond 2, to really see a shift considering they may be combating an opposing congress or supreme court. 

The only reason your vote matters is because it is symbolic. If we all had esp we wouldn’t need to vote. Writing on a form that looks different depending on where you are yet all cumulatively results in the tallying for ONE election is entirely symbolic. That’s not an argument against voting, it’s proof as to why you should vote. Symbolism is not without consequence. Look at every book-burning that has ever happened. Our ideas are symbolic until they are put into practice. Your vote is your idea. We can’t read your mind. And the government isn’t reading your blog being like “GiantD0ngB0ng really said it best when they said ‘Fuck politicians’. That really change our perspective on how we had been running this nation. You’re right GiantD0ngB0ng, you’re right.”

If we had elected Hillary after Obama, we wouldn’t be so fucking bad with corona bc she wouldn’t have dismembered the pandemic response Obama had built due to swine flu, we wouldn’t be nearly as worried about ACA, we would still absolutely have criticisms bc no matter Woman, Black, Hispanic, Immigrant, Trans, Disabled, Homeless, or any combination of intersection of minorities, nobody is perfect. Nobody knows all the answers. Thus a decentralized government model that will only remain anywhere near as such if we stop letting fascists & bad faith actors get power by using our symbolic vote to say no.

Most everyone HATES group projects. I certainly do. If any people enjoy them, there are still likely aspects of it that rub them the wrong way like having a partner that doesn’t contribute. Guess what.

Elections are group projects.

I believe it was EvelynFromTheInternets who made me realize that, & echoes much of the same sentiment I have written in this.

And at 5:55 she says: What Are You Going To Do On November 4th bc We Are Still Fighting For Suffrage. We have to keep pushing & working towards a better tomorrow, today. None of it will amount to much if people are not voting. You can campaign & fundraising & educate all you want. But if people don’t vote it’s all for nothing. You need both.

“ As of June 2020, the United States had the highest number of incarcerated individuals worldwide, with more than 2.12 million people in prison “ This is absolutely part of the bigger problem & yet another way people have been disheartened. It’s on purpose. They don’t want disenfranchised communities to be able to vote. So we - those of us who don’t have to wait in lines for hours, those of us who don’t face racial violence, those of us who can choose apathy & laziness for a decade with little to no personal consequence - must vote symbolically for them.

If you want your vote to mean something then vote for them. Vote for the people who are still ineligible to vote even though they aren’t in prison anymore. Vote for the people who despite working more than you do, harder than you do, for less than you do, still have to pay taxes & still denied the right to vote. Vote for the people who can’t vote bc police murdered them. Vote for the people who wait 10 hours in line to vote & are turned away when they finally get to the front of the line. Vote for those who don’t have the right to relinquish in the first place. Hell you can even vote for those who do vote anyway but have been misled by propaganda. Bc if you don’t, eventually we all will sink. You may be in the upper class of the titanic but in the end the whole ship is going down & you may just have the opportunity to slowly freeze out in the dark ocean on a lifeboat with all your rich strangers with the slim chance at survival rather than swallowed immediately by the sea like those who were locked in the lower levels to keep them from access to rescue.

At 7:24 Evelyn hits another really important part that I think drives my whole point home: as a Black woman her actual life, & those who share her experience, is on the line constantly in this country & much of this world. It is not entirely as symbolic to some people as it is to the more privileged populations.

Sure, your vote is symbolic, & sure you not voting is absolutely symbolic. But the only thing not voting is symbolic of is your apathy, your own privilege to choose that & think you’ll be fine & that it’s other people who need to “wake up”. No babe, it’s you. Wake up to the wider consequences of symbolic gestures.

Your vote matters whether it’s electoral college or popular vote. Your vote matters to getting closer to an admin that will enable popular vote as the determinant & eradicate the electoral college. Your vote matters whether you’re in a “blue” state or a “red” state or a battleground state. A state is only red or blue until it’s not. I come from TX I know about that shit. The only reason “battleground” states are a focus is bc they fluctuate more often than others, that doesn’t make others ineligible to change. Your vote matters bc you may be only a portion of the overall grade, but the overall grade affects everyone. It will impact others more harshly than you.

Your Vote Matters.

I want to add one last note: voting doesn’t happen once every 4 years, & it’s never JUST about president. If you don’t go vote at all, you are neglecting the more local stuff as well which is what affects the bigger elections. If all you do during a group project is read one line during the presentation in class, the grade will reflect you lack of effort elsewhere throughout the project. If I showed up & only voted for president & nothing else it would be for nothing. Racist & bigoted GOP will vote all red all the time up & down ballot. It’s not about age either. If your vote didn’t matter then they wouldn’t sink so much money & effort into trying to prevent people from doing it.

[blackswaneuroparedux]

walaw17 asked: Any thoughts on Scottish independence?  

I have tried avoiding answers about Scottish independence and by proxy Brexit because like everyone else I am just bored into numbness by the whole on-going soap opera saga. There’s no escaping it. Even within families the conversation around the dinner table is about the next referendum and by proxy, Brexit.

I have Scottish roots on my father’s side and so when I meet my Scottish cousins up in Scotland for weddings, funerals and the like the topic does come up. This summer I was up in the Angus glens for the annual ‘Glorious 12th’ - the start of the shooting season - to join a family shooting party to shoot grouse and share a feast afterwards.

Most of the clan and family friends gathered would be High Tory. Thus they are very much in favour of the Union as they are strong monarchists to boot - even if they have fought for and against the crown at different times in their gilded past. They remain fierce Scottish patriots to the extent that they (good naturedly!) admonish me for taking my Scottish ancestry for granted and being ‘Anglicised’ on my father’s side.

I believe the Scots are for the largely loyal to the Union and they proved that at the last referendum on Scottish independence. But Brexit is now added into the mix and its has clouded the picture somewhat for many Scots. It’s easy to see why.

If I take the Scottish part of my family and their clan. As loyal as they are to the Union there were grumblings about how Scotland seems to be pushed to the margins as Little Englanders run around and use the cover of nationalist fervour to concentrate wealth and power in the City of London to become a free market Singapore 2.0. Even worse leave the United Kingdom vulnerable to the whimsical mercies of Donald Trump if we ever did a trade deal. 

Where the Scots differ from the English is that they are natural Euro-philes. Scotland has always been close to France - even shared past Queens. The Scots are naturally outward looking people who in their proud history have always been travelers to the world - to seek work, or settle in new lands, or to trade. Look at the the British Empire, the Scots virtualy ran the empire and even populated it as far as India and North America. So one can’t ignore the impulse of the Scots to not turn its back on Europe.

The first minister of Scotland, Nicola Sturgeon, now proposes a second Scottish referendum. While politically justifiable even if it’s opportunistic, this is not the best way forward.

Less than three years removed from the first referendum, in which Scotland voted to remain in the UK by 55%, the question of national sovereignty returns to the political forefront. While 52% of the UK opted to leave the EU, 62% of Scots voted to remain Citing the manifesto of her Scottish National Party (SNP), which holds the majority in the Scottish Parliament, Ms. Sturgeon stated that Brexit constitutes a significant and material change from the 2014 vote and a new referendum is necessary. In this, the first minister is right to call for a referendum, as circumstances have unquestionably changed. Forced to leave a union most Scots prefer, the nation should have the right to reevaluate the partnership with their southern neighbours.

Scotland is better off remaining part of the UK than leaving it. The SNP, a separatist group at heart, is misleading its countrymen by saying otherwise. The timetable set by Ms. Sturgeon places undue pressure to resolve Brexit during an already tight window of two years. With Greenland taking roughly seven years to finalise its departure from the European Economic Community, it is hard to believe the UK, a political and economic behemoth in the region, departing in a mere couple. The timetable also provides Scots with little ability to make an informed decision. Much uncertainty exists regarding Brexit and its future ramifications for the UK after Oct 31st. These are not empty words, as Scots increasingly believe that there should not be another referendum in the next few years.

Even for a leader with high approval ratings like Ms. Sturgeon, referendums are risky. The first minister need not look further than her European counterparts, where referendums in the UK and Italy led to the self-inflicted downfalls of David Cameron and Matteo Renzi. Ms. Sturgeon would be wise to learn from the past, as referendums can have dire and unpredictable consequences on a political career. She should act more like the citizens she was elected to represent, who currently have little appetite for another vote. Even if one were held, the most recent polls shows only 37% of Scots supporting Scottish independence.

Arguing for departure from the UK may play well politically, but it would have disastrous ramifications for the small northern nation.

How did we get here?

Through the inattention of the leaders of the British government of the two major political parties is one obvious answer. Labour Prime Minister Tony Blair was eager to devolve power from London to representative assemblies in Scotland and Wales, despite the constitutional problems. Large majorities of Scottish and Welsh parliamentary constituencies elect Labour members of the House of Commons, and particularly in Scotland there was deep discontent with the policies of Conservative Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher. They associated them with the inevitable decline of Scotland’s heavy industries — steel, shipbuilding — and the high unemployment that resulted. Glasgow, once the proud “Second City of the Empire,” as you can readily imagine when you see its impressive century-old downtown office buildings, was particularly hard hit. Scotland, since the Act of Union of 1707, has provided a disproportionate share of Britain’s philosophers, statesmen (11 prime ministers including its most recent in Blair, Brown, and even Cameron), colonial administrators and military officers and men.

Now the Scottish economy is dominated by the public sector, and the Scots are suffused with self-pity over what they regard as the underfunding of the welfare state. Scotland’s second Parliament went into operation in 1999, with Labour party stalwart Donald Dewar as chief minister and with power over much of Scottish domestic policy, including the ability to raise taxes. Indeed under the 1707 Act of Union, Scotland retained Scottish law rather than the English common law, kept the Presbyterian established Church of Scotland rather than the episcopal established Church of England; and under later legislation ran its own education system.

But in 2007, as Labour’s popularity was declining in the UK generally, Labour lost its majority in the Scottish Parliament and the Scottish National Party’s Alex Salmond became chief minister. With a Scots Nats majority, Salmond pushed for the referendum and he got an apparently absent-minded Conservative Prime Minister David Cameron to agree to terms favourable to the separatists: the 16-year-old vote, the exclusion of Scots in the military or otherwise living outside Scotland, the fact that a “yes” vote favours separation rather than continuation of a relationship that has produced one of the world’s greatest nations for 307 years.

Scottish independence advocates argue that an independent Scotland will be able to tax itself to its heart’s content and will be able to draw on endless North Sea oil revenues to pay for whatever level of social services and community provision Scots want. But that’s unlikely. North Sea oil production is declining, and a pro-independence vote would be followed by negotiations between England (or rUK, rest of United Kingdom, as some dub it) over the division of oil resources — and division of the national debt.

UK authorities have made it plain that Scotland is not welcome to retain the UK pound, and that if it does (as Panama and Ecuador have the U.S. dollar as their currency), Scottish financial institutions won’t get a bailout if they get into trouble. So it seems likely that the two major Scottish banks and other financial institutions will move their headquarters and legal residence to London if Scotland votes for independence.

The EU’s doctrine of ‘subsidiarity’ seems superficially pro-devolution and the Treaty of Maastricht created the ‘European Committee of the Regions’ to promote regional identities against national capitals. But what is the reality? Neither Spain nor France will permit the precedent of secessionists joining the EU. During the 2014 Scottish Independence referendum, the European Commission said Scotland would not inherit the UK’s membership of the EU.

Brussels instinctively backed Madrid against Catalonia, prompting famous Breton musician Alan Stivell to lament “Catalonia’s political prisoners represents the suicide of the idea of Europe”. And the EU has a poor track record of looking after small states like Ireland. Brussels forced two ‘People’s Votes’ after Irish referendums went against the Nice and Lisbon treaties. The bail-out imposed on Irish taxpayers, politicisation of the Irish border and Corporation Tax harmonisation fuel rising Irish Euro-scepticism.

For all this politics are about passion and not reason, especially when you deal in mobilising (low information fed) populist sentiment.

This is why I fear that the economic arguments against Scottish independence, while strong on the merits, are less likely to be persuasive than an appeal to cosmopolitanism and history: the fact that Scotland, as part of the United Kingdom, has in many ways led the world over the last 307 years, intellectually in the Scottish Enlightenment of the eighteenth century (which helped inspire America’s Founding Fathers), economically in the industrial revolution, politically in the British Empire and then the British Commonwealth of Nations. Scotland looms larger in the world as part of the UK than it would as a separate nation.

The first minister of Scotland, Nicola Sturgeon, has the right and perhaps may even be right to hold a Scottish referendum in the near future, but she should not do so at the expense of her citizens’ prosperity. Once the ramifications of Brexit and voting to leave the UK are fully known, then Sturgeon could consider proposing another referendum.

But I hope the arguments against independence prove successful and that whenever Scotland has a second referendum the vast majority of Scots vote ’No’. And if or when that happens the Scots will cease to be transfixed by the idea of secession, as have voters in Canada’s Quebec. Casting aside a working relationship which has had such outstanding results for the (by no means assured) chance of a slightly higher-spending welfare state seems like a foolish idea.

I have argued with Scottish family and friends that Scottish independence would disturb our identities more profoundly, in ways that few yet grasp.

Our modern politics are Whiggish. Even the name “Whig” comes from the term “whiggamor” meaning a Scots cattle-driver. As someone who was raised High Tory values from an early age, I find that hard to concede but it’s painfully true certainly from the 17th and 18th Centuries onwards with the rise of parliamentary democracy. I suspect it’s even harder for Marxist inspired leftists to stomach given the socialist driven Labour Party have traditionally worked within Whiggish principles despite their fiery rhetoric being matched only by their incompetence to actually govern.

Whiggism favouring the theories and practices that evolved in the formation of the British constitution. But a lot of Whiggish ideas evolved out of High Toryism and so as a committed British royalist I have a strong attachment to the Anglican Church, and of course the British constitution is modelled upon and arose directly from Anglican theories of governance. But it is British, not English.  Perhaps because her name begins with E, Elizabeth Saxe-Coburg and Gotha is sometimes thought of as an English monarch.  But she is Elizabeth I of Scotland, of a German family introduced to rule in Britain not just in England.  We have little, if any, reason to imagine that, absent the joining of crowns in 1603 or the Union of 1707, the constitution of England (or England and Wales) would have evolved remotely to resemble the British constitution as we have had it.  

British Whiggism has not only slowly seeped into and eroded the ideological underpinnings of High Toryism (think of Thatcherism rather than Lord Salisbury) but it has also ben entrenching a Whiggish inspired constitution over the past 400 years or so. But if Scotland leaves, that constitution and its history are over. There is little reason at base to imagine an English-only constitution any more (or less) likely to evolve in a future direction I would favour than, say, a European constitution. If Britain is literally finished – if the Union is broken and our constitution is no more – why would an England-alone future be any better than, say, membership of the Single European State? England survived perfectly happily as a component of a larger Union within Britain. Why should it be any less content as part of a larger union in the EU Federation?

The reality is that despite the marginalising of High Toryism, it is the Conservative party as the party of Britain, that has been the inheritor of the Whiggish tradition and appointed protector of the Whiggish constitution. If Scotland leaves the Union the Conservative Party would be finished in its present form, because it would dominate England so overwhelmingly that it would inevitably split. To be sure, it would perhaps last two or three more General Elections, in which with huge majorities it would govern in England (Wales doubtless becoming semi-autonomous and Northern Ireland departing to join Scotland forthwith). But no party that won 75 per cent and more of the seats in the House of Commons could last for long. Our adversarial politics needs an opposition as well as a governing party. So the Conservative Party would split, perhaps into Tories and the rest.

This is why ironically I believe in Brexit even if our current crop of incompetent politicians are making a real dog’s dinner out of it.

Passions aside, for me Brexit is an opportunity to reboot unionism between England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland.

It may twitch my High Tory nerves a little but I am coming around to the view that Brexit, the biggest ever vote of confidence in the political project of the United Kingdom, is an opportunity to fashion a new unionism. This new unionism might well have a sharper focus on citizenship and rights but it might also trash the canard that Brexiteers are little Englanders. A clean Brexit can rejuvenate marginalised and fraying institutions that were once the bedrock of a collective national identity. But only if we re-orienteer ourselves and go back to the original principle that allegiances of Unionism are to institutions and symbols of nationhood  and shared national values. If we can do that as a union then one might be able to capture a greater diversity that narrow nationalisms rather than widening them - under of course a unifying national figure of a monarch.

Even the most ardent of the free market Brexiteers will have to accept that the best one can hope for is a Unionism as the quintessential one nation politics. Here such Unionism acknowledges the reality of an inegalitarian society made up of people with different talents but tempered by roles and responsibilities that has an ingrained sense of a duty of care to others. But equally Unionism stands for equality amongst citizens governed by the same rules and respecting the authority of enduring institutions. All votes are of equal value in one of the world’s oldest and most successful democracies where MPs serve constituents rather than outside sectional or multi-national corporate interests.

Ironically then the best chance Scotland for its future is Brexit. Brexit will protect the Union that puts the ‘Great’ into Britain. Unionists can be confident we will stay better together in the good Union of the United Kingdom as we leave the bad union of the EU.

Thanks for your question.

[travllingbunny]

AoS rewatch: 1x07 The Hub

I’m late with this in relation to the fandom-wide rewatch timetable, but actual work takes precedence. I hope to be able to catch up soon.

This episode is the second one in a row that focuses on Fitz and SImmons and gives them more development. But unlike FZZT, which also had a really strong case-of-the-week, this one has a throwaway plot about agents going to Russia twice to...do...stuff...which is supposed to have something to do with South Ossetian separatists and anti-separatists.  I’m not a fan of TV shows randomly throwing in references to real world conflicts that it has no intention of treating seriously. If you need some random Eastern European stereotypes, better use made-up stereotypical Eastern European countries like Sokovia or Markovia and whatever. A fictional world like that of the MCU universe has a perfect excuse to do that.

This is also the episode where me first meet Victoria Hand,. Agent Sitwell also pops up, and we get to see “the Hub”, SHIELD  headquarters (one of them, apparently smaller than the Triskelion), in a secret location.

This episode begins in medias res - extremely so, with some guys interrogating Coulson, who’s doing the Black Widow from The Avengers thing, tied up to a chair, only in his case it’s in an underground prison in Siberia. In this case, the scary interrogator turns out to be SHIELD Agent Shaw. (A common name enough, I guess, or just one that the AoS writers like.) It would be fun to follow a story about Agent Shaw and what it was like to torture people brutally so you would maintain a cover, but AoS is not really a show that likes to go there, just like it never really went there with Bobbi Morse.

To sum up SHIELD’s international dealings: they have a close relationship with the US government, offices in China and Morocco, no office in Peru or Italy (see 1x13) but they cooperate with the police there; and no office or cooperation and a rather hostile relationship with Russia and Belarus and, in fact, go to missions unknown to the governments of these countries; Including breaking into government facilities. How many international laws are they breaking? To be fair, they’re also kidnapping US citizens on its soil, so they’re also breaking US laws.

Some weapon called “overkill device” is involved. (At least the show itself makes fun of it, pointing out its OTT name. “Something was lost in translation”.) 

Victoria Hand is somewhat of a legend. Coulson has never met her before, but he knows her by reputation. 

Skye is, of course, upset over the secrecy that surrounds the mission, now that a higher up is in charge. The others keep dismissing her concerns as silly - but she later turns out to be completely right. Fitz: “No need to start with one of your socialist rants”. *sigh* That’s not what “socialism” means, Fitz. I guess the SHIELD Academy  didn’t provide a lot in terms of general education in the field of humanities.

There’s mission that Ward and Fitz have to go to as a team, but it’s just an excuse to get the Odd Couple pairing of these two on a mission and do the classic bromance progression from arguing to starting to respect or like each other more. In retrospect, this is what makes this episode important, other than the introduction of Hand - it helps build a stronger bond between Fitz and Ward, which will make Ward’s betrayal much more painful and hit Fitz very hard. This is one of the reasons why those people who go “oh, you can just skip the early episodes” are bozos - without the buildup of Ward’s relationships with the other team members, and without those early lighthearted moments, what happens later in the season would never have the same emotional weight.

Meanwhile, Simmons and Skye have their “bad girl shenanigans” at the Hub, where Simmons is responsible for some of the show’s funniest moments (”You certainly have a gorgeous...head”, “I like men who are about my height but heavier than me”) and we get a great Skye “WTF?!” face:

I like using it as a meme. In fact, I’ve seen it used even before I started watching the show.

Simmons is a rule follower, but the moment she hears that Fitz may be in danger and could be tortured somewhere, she changes her mind and is break the rules.  Last episode we heard Fitz is afraid to go to the field, now that Simmons loves following the rules, but both of them are ready go outside their comfort zones to save the other.

There is noticeable new closeness between FitzSimmons after the events of 1x06, or maybe it is just because we have never seen them getting separated (yes, this is their first separation!) or Simmons worrying about Fitz.

I know that the Sandwich (TM) is something of a legend, but no matter how much the fandom has mourned it, Ward was right that it had to thrown away, or else we’d be mourning Fitz - dogs were, indeed, following them.

The nice version of Ward, which we see when he tells Fitz he has nothing to prove and that he knows he would have jumped out to save Simmons, will be contrasted with Ward’s darker side in the very next episode, when he bullies Fitz, targeting his weaknesses while under the influence of the staff. Both moments show that Ward was always noticing Fitz’ feelings for SImmons, maybe before Fitz himself fully admitted them to himself (which he’ll talk to Fitz about in 1x19).

Skye had a moment when she almost gave in to the selfish urge to use her brief access to confidential files to try to decipher the redacted file on herself, but then she gave priority to Ward’s and Firz’s safety and checked the mission file.

That blooper is right - Skye, May and Simmons  lined up in that scene really make you think of Charlie’s Angels.

While Hand is portrayed as a SHIELD hardliner with a stern and somewhat ruthless attitude, she finally reveals a nicer side, when our protagonists can’t even see her. She lets Coulson and his team go on their rescue mission and is smiling seeing that they are safe, pointing out her belief that they can carry it out “We needed our resources elsewhere. And it’s Coulson’s team, they don’t need one’. This feels different than her portrayal in upcoming episodes like 1x11 or 1x16. She also obviously wasn’t suspicious of Coulson at this point. Is it just because she still didn’t know about Hydra? Or it was Coulson blowing up the facility in 1x14 and  Ward shooting Nash after Deathlock lead them to him, that made her suspicious. Or maybe it was already the fact he let Mike be a part of the team in 1x10, which was one of her arguments against him.   

Does Sitwell know about Ward also being Hydra? He didn’t seem particularly happy that they were getting rescued, so maybe he doesn’t, and identifies of many Hydra double agents were shared only on need to know basis or within smaller units. After all, Cap’s “Hail Hydra” ruse in Endgame wouldn’t have worked otherwise. Garrett was mostly running his own thing while making sure what he’s doing also remains useful to Hydra through the creation of supersoldiers, while pursuing his goal of finding the way to ensure his survival, so he may have revealed Ward’s allegiance just to a select few or almost no one.

Coulson spends a lot of this episode telling Skye things like “Some secrets are meant to stay secret” but doesn’t actually mean it, as he enlists May to help in trying to find out info about Skye’s parentage; and tries to open his own file about his recovery in “Tahiti”, learning his Level 8 clearance isn’t enough.  I believe Fury is Level 10. I wonder who is Level 9? Hand also doesn’t seem to know the truth.

Hand notes that Coulson is a special favorite of Fury - “Not everyone gets sent to Tahiti” (cough). Which the season 1 ending will certainly prove.

Foreshadowing

Ward to Fitz: “How long can you hold your breath underwater?” (This line will never sound the same.)

Fitz: “You should know by now, Agent Ward, that looks can be deceiving.” (Oh Fitz, you have no idea.)

Fitz to Ward: “I am every bit the SHIELD agent you are”. (Oh, Fitz, you have no idea.)

Skye about Coulson: “He’s acting like a robot version of himself right now.” (..No comment.)

[hollyoaksloversx]

Protesting, Prom Proposals and Alison Hammond...

Rounding up a week in Hollyoaks (10th-14th June 2019)

Ste’s life went from bad to worse this week as he fell further under the spell of the far right. Things were going well for Ste at the start of the week. Stuart had just invited him and the kids on an all expenses paid holiday to Florida and he also had the march to look forward to. However, Peri and Yasmine soon got wind of what was happening and contacted the police in an attempt to get the march stopped. Unfortunately, the girls were told that, as Stuart and Jonny had obtained the necessary permits, there was nothing they could do. Funnily enough, it would be Ste’s own actions which would put a spanner in the works. After a run in with Walter and Lisa at the shop, which saw the place trashed, the police were called and they made the decision to cancel the march, angering Stuart and Jonny. Keen to show them what he was made off, Ste decided to organise his own protest...

Wanting to be seen as a respectable group, Stuart had a list of known trouble makers banned from marching with them. Not caring one jot about the group’s image, Ste threw caution to the wind and invited all and sundry. As the march got underway, thugs tore through the village, trashing the place as business owners, Tony, Diane and Walter, locked their doors. As things got more and more out of hand, Ste appeared disturbed by the turn of events, but still decided to put a brick through The Hutch’s window. Ste was arrested and, on his release, Stuart informed him that he wanted nothing more to do with him, pointing out that he had done their image more harm than good. Ste then found himself even more alone when Tony finally turned his back on him too...

With Ste at his lowest ebb, Peri decided to invite him back into the bosom of his family and invited him for a meal at The Hutch. However, Ste got drunk and failed to show up. The following day, Jonny and Stuart decided to test Ste’s commitment to the group when they sent a fellow member round to pose as a policeman in an attempt to see if Ste would be tempted to spill the beans. Despite being offered money to work as an informant, Ste refused to speak about the group. Stuart was so impressed by Ste’s loyalty, that he arranged for him to get the group’s symbol tattooed on his arm in a weird sort of ceremony complete with candles.  With Ste well and truly back under the group’s spell, Peri decided to look for evidence that would prove that Jonny and Ste were not related...

Meanwhile, there was much excitement at Hollyoaks High as plans for prom got underway. Ollie was mortified when he realised that Brooke was expecting a ‘prom-proposal’ from him, and Juliet used his lack of thought to place doubts in her mind about their relationship. Luckily, Ollie came good just in time but Juliet soon found a new way to cause trouble for her so-called friend. Knowing how much Brooke’s exams meant to her, Juliet pretended to have forgotten her calculator on the morning of the maths exam. Telling Brooke she was going home to get it, Juliet begged her to wait for her, before promptly heading inside the school. Brooke did eventually go to the exam room but was left devastated when she realised she was too late to sit her exam. Spurred on by Juliet, Brooke lied to Sally that a meltdown had caused her to miss the exam, but this had no effect, and Brooke was told that she would have to resit the exam next year. In another dastardly deed, Juliet went on to tell Nancy that Ollie was distracting Brooke from her work, causing Nancy to question whether the pair should continue to see each other...

Elsewhere, there was a special guest in the village this week when This Morning’s Alison Hammond arrived to interview Maxine about her ‘illness’. Fed up with not getting enough attention at her engagement party, Maxine orchestrated an argument with Damon before running home and contacting This Morning with her sob story. Viewers were apparently so touched by Maxine’s plight that they raised £5000 for her and Alison turned up to present Maxine with the cheque. Maxine was delighted by her five minutes of fame but her happiness didn’t last long when she received a phone call from the hospital asking her to come in. Ever since he met Maxine, Mitchell’s been determined to get to the bottom of her ‘illness’ but has since realised that he can’t do it alone and called on his former uni tutor, Levi. Apparently, he’s an expert in mystery illnesses and will be able to finally figure out what’s ‘killing’ Maxine...

In other news this week, Laurie continued to cause trouble at the school when he accused Sienna of putting up inflammatory posters about him, and later caused Sally to loose her temper with him in front of a group of students. Walter was less than impressed to discover that Lisa had spent the night with Liam and, finally, Breda panicked when Jack asked her to move in with him.

5 Things We Learned This Week:

1. There’s so much pressure put on teenagers today. Exam stress, social media, friendship and relationship issues, and now they’ve got ‘prom-proposals’ to worry about too. Who’d be a teenager nowadays?

2. Tom is terrified of dogs. I was quite impressed initially when Tom arrived home and was immediately spooked by the presence of Bronzer, thinking that the show had remembered that Tom was bitten by a dog years ago. But nope, it wasn’t mentioned. 

3.  This Morning could do a whole special about the residents of Hollyoaks’ personal lives. As Alison Hammond arrived to interview Maxine, Juliet immediately tried to hog the limelight, telling the presenter that she was far more interesting as her Mum was in prison for murdering her Dad. This Morning would have an absolute field day with those McQueen’s...

4. Hollyoaks are reusing scripts again. What is it with villains in this show getting their dodgy mates to pose as police officers in an attempt to test the loyalty of new recruits? We saw pretty much those exact scenes not that long ago with Liam and Prince and now we’re seeing them again with Ste.

5. What does Nana’s dream man look like? A cross between Popeye and a garden gnome. How lovely...

Characters Featured:

Breda, Brody, Brooke, Courtney, Damon, Diane, DJ, Goldie, Grace, Hannah, Imran, Jack, Jonny, Juliet, Laurie, Leah, Leela, Levi, Liam, Liberty, Lisa, Lucas, Maxine, Mercedes, Mitchell, Nana McQueen, Nancy, Oliver, Oscar, Peri, Sally, Scott, Sid, Sienna, Ste, Stuart, Sylver, Tom, Tony, Walter and Yasmine. 

Past Characters Mentioned:

Amy Barnes, Pauline Hay, Neeta Kaur, Ryan Knight, Tegan Lomax, Jacqui McQueen, Mitzeee Minniver, Mac Nightingale, Finn O’Connor, Frankie Osborne, Max Owen, Donna-Marie Quinn, Shane Sweeney, Darcy Wilde.

[news4dzhozhar]

While the federal government said Thursday it will resume executing death-row inmates, that policy change will have little effect on convicted Boston Marathon bomber Dzhokhar Tsarnaev’s case in the short-term, according to local attorneys and legal scholars.

Tsarnaev was sentenced to death in 2015 for detonating a bomb amid Marathon spectators, becoming the first terrorist condemned to death by a jury in the post-9/11 US. But when that happened, the Justice Department was operating under a de facto moratorium on executions because of a review of federal death penalty policy.

That review has been completed, Attorney General William Barr said Thursday, and it has cleared the way for executions to resume.

Tsarnaev has appealed his conviction and death sentence. Since the appeal is still pending, the policy change holds little significance for his case at the moment, according to Daniel Medwed, a professor at Northeastern University School of Law.

“That is going to take a while to unfold,” said Medwed of the appeal.

After that appeal, Tsarnaev will be able to seek review from the US Supreme Court, and after that, he will have the opportunity to file a petition to challenge the sentence in federal district court, according to Medwed, who teaches criminal law and evidence.

“He has at a minimum three litigation procedures available before an execution date would even matter,” said Medwed.

According to Medwed, it would likely be “at least several years before there is any realistic possibility of a meaningful” execution date.

D. Christopher Dearborn, a professor who teaches criminal procedure and trial practice at Suffolk University Law School, had similar sentiments, saying he did not think Thursday’s developments would “have a huge impact” on Tsarnaev’s case.

“He’s still got a bunch of procedural steps to go,” said Dearborn. “The case is a long way from over.”

Dearborn found the timing of the death penalty announcement “to be a little suspicious.”

“I think a cynical person would say it’s [President] Trump playing to his base again,” he said.

Trump supports the death penalty.

For Tsarnaev’s legal defense, Dearborn thought there were arguments to be made regarding pre-trial publicity possibly tainting jurors and the choice of venue for the trial.

In their 500-page brief filed in the US Court of Appeals for the First Circuit, Tsarnaev’s taxpayer-funded legal team argued that the case should not have been tried in Boston and that the presiding judge allowed jurors to serve who appeared to have lied during the selection process.

Tsarnaev’s lawyers at trial admitted his role in the attack, which killed three people and wounded more than 260 others, but attempted to portray his older brother and co-assailant, Tamerlan, who died in a confrontation with police days after the blasts, as the dominant leader of the plot.

The brothers also killed an MIT police officer while they were on the run.

In another case, a federal jury in Massachusetts condemned admitted serial killer Gary Lee Sampson to death in 2017 for a weeklong crime spree that left three people dead in two states in July 2001.

State courts in Massachusetts struck down the death penalty laws in the early 1980s and the last executions in the state were in the late 1940s. But Tsarnaev and Sampson were charged with federal crimes that allow capital punishment; in Sampson’s case, it was the crimes of carjacking resulting in death.

Martin G. Weinberg, a Boston criminal defense attorney, said in the short-term, Thursday’s news is a nonfactor for Tsarnaev.

“But in the longer term, it’s a very real and imperilling factor if his appeals are not successful,” he said.

The average capital defendant, said Weinberg, “has a decade of litigation before even becoming eligible for this irrevocably draconian punishment.”

On Thursday, Barr, the attorney general, instructed the Bureau of Prisons to schedule executions starting in December for five men, all accused of murdering children.

Although the death penalty remains legal in 30 states, executions on the federal level are rare. Since the federal death penalty was restored in 1988, the government has put to death only three defendants, with the last one being executed in 2003.

In 2014, following a botched state execution in Oklahoma, President Barack Obama directed the Justice Department to conduct a broad review of capital punishment and issues surrounding lethal injection drugs.

According to Weinberg, the change in federal policy represents a “step that reverses all the illumination of the last decades that demonstrates the system is not perfect and that innocent people are on death row.”

“Mistakes are made and to extinguish the potential to reverse a mistake is just horrifying,” he said.

Barry J. Bisson, another Boston criminal defense attorney, said there are many unanswered questions about the new federal policy.

Barr has approved a new procedure for lethal injections that replaces a three-drug cocktail with a single drug, pentobarbital. The government, said Bisson, is risking “making people lab rats who are put to death.”

“We have no idea much is needed to execute someone,” he said. “We could have a lot of botched executions.”

Bisson expected there to be legal challenges questioning if the new policy constituted cruel and unusual punishment. He wouldn’t be surprised if the issue landed before the Supreme Court, he said.

By the time Tsarnaev has exhausted his legal options, there could be a different federal death penalty policy.

“It may not affect his case at all,” said Bisson.