#at least we know they were actually victims who were products of broken systems and there is genuine humanity beneath their asshole side

[gch1995]

Imo yoda has got to be one of the worst if not THE worst council member. Although I can understand the hate obi wan gets I can appreciate his character and think he can be redeemed to an extent. He shows sympathy and understanding at times and you can see he does care for anakin, but the cult he was in fucked him up; including his ability to empathise and understand others. Although he follows the council extensively he tries his best to make exceptions for those he cares about. (knowing about anakin and padme but choosing to ignore it because he knows anakin is happy like that, training anakin despite the council not wanting him to, yes I know it was qui gons dying wish but that is apart of it to an extent) the thing is being raised in the order took a massive toll on him and he seeks too much approval from them and doesn’t ever question their ways. He is a heavily flawed character but he does have redeeming qualities. Yoda on the other hand? None. Zero. Absolutely nothing. Nothing, not one thing about his character is redeemable. (Bit of a rant) This little green cunt is happily shown training a group of kids with lethal weapons in his fucked up cult. He is 500 fucking years old but never bothered to even attempt at learning how to speak normally, including when ordering the slave army he controlled. This fucker spent all his life supporting and feeding into the fuckery of the order whilst constantly telling himself it was the right thing. Arrogantly sitting in his little chair allowing slavery, making child soldiers and allowing god knows how much abuse to happen to others. This shit is responsible for approximately 700 years worth of abuse towards god knows how many others. This fucker straight up denies his responsibility for everything he’s done. And it’s not just the abuse. He’s caused billions to suffer because of his arrogance. The thing is, while I can find myself looking at a character like obi wan and thinking

“wow, this character is heavily flawed but has a lot of interesting aspects and I can sympathise with him at times. I like his character and the evolution of how he reacts and responds to situations although it’s sad considering his past and how those actions devolve into something horrific and unhealthy to the point where he becomes the abuser and carries on that line which is sad. Even though there are many things that he is responsible for there are times when it’s not his fault and I can empathise with that without excusing the ones he was responsible for even if they were heavily affected by the things he went through”

But when I look at yoda?

“I hope this cunt burns in hell for eternity for the things he’s done”

Legitimately cannot put into words just how much I hate him. He’s the one who’s heavily responsible for the way obi wan turned out and most of all:

He’s the one who tried to manipulate, gaslight and force Luke to kill his own mess of a father that he created.

I genuinely think he cannot be redeemed (for me, at least. I’ll never forgive that little shit) for everything thing he’s done. (Sorry for the long ask)

Definitely, agree with you! Within a Star Wars canon-divergent AU narrative that actually framed Obi-Wan’s bad choices and flaws as seriously bad ones in the story with stakes that he either learned from and self-improved upon before it was too late and/or didn’t learn from and suffered negative consequences for as a result. Yeah, he loses people he cares about, and, at least in regards to Anakin Skywalker and Ahsoka Tano, that is partially his own fault. However, while I do feel some sympathy for him and realize that he’s flawed, it’s difficult for me to get on board with his character in canon as he is written because he never actually learns from his mistakes on screen, nor are there any real stakes in him making seriously bad choices and not learning in comparison to Anakin and Luke. I don’t hate him, but it’s hard for me to get invested in a character who can always magically get the upper hand in his duels with his enemies or opponents suddenly getting baited, provoked, pushed into a corner, or dumbed down for him to be able to effortlessly defeat them. He also repeatedly gets away with being an asshole in many of the same ways that Luke and Anakin get framed as wrong for and/or suffer consequences for in the OT and PT movies when they don’t learn to be better. Yeah, Obi-Wan loses people he cares about, and at least in regards to Anakin and Ahsoka, that is partially his own fault, but there is no sort of humbling or meaningful development in canon for him.

Still, because, as you said, Obi-Wan also was a victim of Yoda’s cult who did genuinely grow to care for Qui Gonn, Anakin, and Ahsoka, in spite of being really bad at it, he does have a lot of potential to be a better character in canon-divergent/AU material that actually has him facing real stakes and learning to take real self-accountability for his bad choices before getting to earn the hero treatment in the narrative. Within canon and especially his fandom of diehard Kenobist fans, though, Obi-Wan is such a grossly overrated Gary Stu that I’ve genuinely began to find his character more annoying and boring than he was before.

Yoda, on the other hand, really doesn’t seem to have any sort of real conscience or significant guilt for being an asshole. Nor does he really feel like a person at all because the only things he cares about are avoiding the dark side and staying in power. He also has no real backstory, so I don’t understand why he’s become an unapologetically apathetic asshole, learned nothing throughout his life, and remained willfully in-denial for the past several centuries. I don’t understand why he was allowed to be in charge for so long. I don’t understand why he is the disaster of a person he is in the series because there is no development for his character. With Anakin, Obi-Wan, Padme, the rest Republic senate, and the other Jedi they may not be wholly innocent, but I can understand why.

[wolf-queer-discourse]

Adventures in Aphobia #1

So I was scrolling through Tumblr the other day (a regrettable mistake as always), and I had the great pleasure of seeing this joyous post.

*deep breath*

Not gonna lie, posts like this make me real pissed. Pissed because the person who posted this exists in a space where they feel comfortable enough to post this online. Pissed because these posts are so common and often face little backlash. And pissed because there’s nothing better than allosexuals condescendingly explaining to asexual people why they’re dirty attention whores who invent their own oppression. Ace people deserve to be defended against this horseshit. Young people see these posts, and it’s extremely damaging to have your identity be nothing more than fuel for people in discourse to mock you and demand you bled in order for them to notice your pain.

Anger aside, many people do not see why this post is wrong, so why is it? Let’s unpack this clusterfuck of bigotry:

“would love to see substantive evidence of systematic “aphobia” that isn’t actually just misogyny, toxic masculinity, or rpe culture.”

God damn, we are not mincing our words here XD. A few things: systematic in bold, which tells you if you do not make a blood sacrifice on the altar of queer pain you will not be taken seriously. Potential nitpick, but systemic and systematic are not the same thing. I believe systemic is the word they’re looking for. Systematic implies a lot more intentionality that can be hard to prove. Systemic merely means that systems, in their current state, do aphobic things, which they absolutely do.

“Aphobia” in quotes is absolutely rich. Not only will this person refuse to acknowledge systemic aphobia, which is only one type, but this poster casts clear doubt upon the mere concept of aphobia in and of itself. We love to see it.

There’s a lot to unpack here. The statement, as clearly condescending as intended, is sort of correct, though it doesn’t mean a whole lot. Systemic oppression is about the systems in a society (government, healthcare, etc) discriminating against people. Systemic oppression is not bigotry faced on a person-to-person level. In short, systematic oppression is something a person experiences in their overall life, while personal discrimination is experienced on a personal level by people who are not singularly in control of the systems. This post boils down the negative comments ace people face into being called “weird”, which is an understatement for sure, but calling a gay person weird isn’t systemic oppression either.

It’s still bad and discriminatory.

This is such a snotty way to dismiss aphobia as some mere, insignificant comment with no meaning as if it doesn’t reinforce society’s painful aphobic views in the same way casual homophobic comments reinforce heteronormativity and society’s hostility toward gay people.

Ace people face discrimination in healthcare, most notably, which is systemic discrimination, but the systemic discrimination of asexuals really ought to be its own post if I’m to nosedive into it. Even if ace people faced no systemic discrimination, it wouldn’t make this point anymore correct. Discrimination is a perfectly valid reason to feel disregarded by society, and often only ace people are denied the right to feel this way and are instead gaslit into admitting what they face is no big deal and they’re just making it up for attention.

The experience of being pressured to have sex when you’re allo vs ace is very different. The vast majority of allo people do not plan to be celibate their whole lives. Many ace people do not want to have sex, ever. “Waiting for sex” in much of western society and in Christianity is seen as pure and honorable. Yet being asexual and never wanting sex is seen as a deviant disorder and people are accused of robbing their partner of sex forever.

There’s really a specific flavor of sexual pressure that is unique to ace people. Sex being to “fix” someone or because they “just need to try it”.

In this respect, aphobic sexual pressure is better compared to that faced by gay people and lesbians. Lesbians especially often can face this same struggle, men pressuring them to have sex because they think lesbians just need to “try it” or to “fix them”. I can imagine this poster would have no issue acknowledging lesbophobia being the root of lesbians coerced into sex with men, yet she does not give ace people the same.

Imagine if someone said (and knowing our fucked world, someone probably has): “Lesbophobia doesn’t exist. It’s just misogyny. Straight women are coerced into sex too!”

It’d be pathetic bullshit. Toxic masculinity, misogyny and many other issues can all tangle into combined messes with other forms of bigotry. Lesbophobia is an experience that deserves to be recognized apart from misogyny, even if the two are linked. Please stop erasing ace people’s experiences with this when it’s not the same thing.

Honestly, though, this post, as trashy as it is, if anything, is perhaps, really asking: Is there any type of aphobic experience that’s inherently exclusive to ace people?

I still wager to go say, yes, yes there is, but I must make an important point first:

Most experiences of queer discrimination are not limited to queer people.

Homophobia and transphobia are both experienced by cishets in certain instances. Feminine straight men can be victims of homophobic harassment. This does not disprove the fact that it’s homophobia just because a straight man is the victim of it. A tall cis woman with broad shoulders and a lower voice may be the victim of transphobic remarks or comments. The basis of these comments is rooted in transphobia, however, so the fact that the victim is cis does not erase the transphobia.

People who argue that experiences ace people complain about can be experienced by allosexuals are not poking a legitimate hole in doing this. Certain experiences related to aphobia can and are experienced by allosexuals. If you do not acknowledge this, then homophobia and transphobia aren’t real because cishet people have sometimes experienced them.

Despite cishets sometimes experiencing queerphobia, most of us acknowledge that their experience of that bigotry, however unfortunate, is not the same as that experienced by actual queer people. It’d be quite homophobic for a feminine straight man to claim he knew just as much about the gay experience as an actual gay man. Similarly, when allosexual people relate experiences that were rooted in aphobia, it’s overstepping a line when they claim asexual discrimination isn’t real because they experienced elements of it too.

Cishet (cishet including allosexuals) people do not experience their doctors telling them their sexuality might be a disorder or caused by trauma. Allo queer people can experience this with their sexualities too.

“using sex appeal to sell products is misogyny, it is not engineered to gross sex-repulsed people, it is meant to objectify women.”

This is a strawman thinner than my last nerve. Uh, what? What ace people are you seeing that literally think sex appeal was engineered to gross-out sex-repulsed people?? I don’t think this is a core argument??

Yes, sex-repulsed ace people sometimes complain about sex appeal in media being uncomfortable. But that’s it. Every time an ace person shares a discomfort of theirs doesn’t mean it’s the entire basis of their oppression. For the love of God, let ace people discuss their experiences without being blow-torched over not being oppressed enough with an individual discomfort. 

BONUS ROUND

(This was in the tags)

“Completely vilifies celibate individuals” 

...no…? What…? Huh…? 

The most charitable interpretation of this vague accusation is that the poster means celibate people face aphobia as well, due to not wanting to have sex. I have no idea how this “vilifies” anyone, but that aside, as said before: people who are not queer can face aphobia. Also worth noting that society treats celibate people way better than ace people, which is really another example of aphobia. Celibate people can be told they’re missing out (which could be at very least related to aphobic ideals), but they’re rarely called broken. Celibacy is seen more as a respected, controlled ideal in allo people, but when ace people want to do it, they’re just mentally ill.

Anyway, the post was aphobic trash, and it needs to be debunked more often. Mocking ace people online is not a good look anymore, guys. Don't be ugly.

[forsakenoathkeeper]

I Am Alive (chapter 8/?)

Deviant!Connor[RK800] x (fem!)Reader Rated M(18+) for canon-typical violence and gore, medical procedures, and graphic sexual content

Please support me on AO3 & thanks for reading ♥

"Looks like we're gonna have to bring the plastic detective," Gavin said sourly, removing his phone from his ear.

Connor had been looking through hours and hours of security camera footage all morning. Somehow, he still managed to hear Gavin insult him from across the room.

Seeing as he didn't need to sleep, Connor was one of the first detectives to arrive in the morning, almost every morning. Detective Reed rarely failed to come in shortly after him. Judging by the dark lines in the skin beneath his eyes and redness in his sclera, Connor assumed he suffered from insomnia.

"Just sittin' there, doin' nothing?" Gavin asked, suddenly standing by Connor's desk. He crossed his arms, looking down at the android with contempt.

Connor had been staring at a blank computer screen, finding it much faster and easier to just use his internal interface than the computer. He also operated at much faster speeds than desktops.

He was aware of how comical it appeared, sitting there and looking at nothing; but, most were aware of his internal processes and didn't bother him about the strangeness of his behavior.

Connor had found footage of Robert pulling himself out of the harbor, the time stamp suggesting it was a few hours after their encounter. He had not managed to catch any more footage of him since. He also was on the lookout for the assailants that had attacked androids at the protests yesterday. Unsurprisingly, they were also laying low.

It was a massive city and there was a lot of ground to cover.

"I am going through security camera footage," Connor answered plainly, looking up at Gavin from his seat.

"Ahuh," Gavin replied, clearly not giving a damn. "Got a crime scene with a dead android. Heading over now. Don't fucking keep me waiting."

Connor didn't bother asking for any info, knowing full well he wouldn't get any. As Gavin walked away, Connor checked the case logs in the police database. Luckily, it was already there. The first responding officers had documented it fairly well.

Twenty-one minutes ago, officers responded to a 911 call that an armed assailant had broken into a small manufacturing plant on the north side of the city. The facility created specialized computer chips. They were most commonly used for android motherboards; however, they were also used in some security monitoring systems.

At a quick glance, Connor could see all the victims were androids. They were employees for the morning shift. When he searched the company's records, he could see they had hired the androids as proper employees a few months ago.

One android was dead and three others had been injured. There was one human involved, another employee and a witness, unharmed.

An important report was missing. Despite the fact that three androids had been attacked, no emergency medical services had been called to the scene. Unfortunately, it wasn't entirely surprising. There weren't clear medical services for androids. Not yet.

The clinic you worked at was outsourced from one of the big contributors to Cyberlife's stocks. It was, essentially, the company's way of carefully moving their funds from Cyberlife production to healthcare for androids. Eventually, it was going to start paying for itself, and it served as a great way to protect their public image.

The police needed medical services to document the case, sure; but, Connor was also bothered by the injustice here. Fowler wasn't in yet to approve of his idea. So, the android decided to make the call himself.

...

...

...

Connor was already gone by the time you woke up.

Funny enough, he still managed to wake you up.

You hummed groggily into the phone, not bothering to check who it was before answering.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think you would still be asleep," Connor's voice said politely on the other end.

You yawned into the phone. "Hm? Oh, Connor... You beat my alarm by, like, five minutes. Don't worry about it," you replied hoarsely, rolling onto your other side.

"There's been an incident," Connor began, suddenly sounding quite serious. His tone was enough to wake you up.

"Some androids were injured; but, no paramedics were called for... obvious reasons." Connor didn't sound mad, bless his heart. But, you could sense some frustration. "Would you mind accompanying me on this? I must warn you, it will lead to involvement in this case: paperwork, and likely testimonies."

"Yeah, of course, Connor," you said into the phone, rolling back over to swing your legs over the edge of the bed. "Text me the address?"

"Will do. I haven't arrived yet. I'll meet you there. I'm sorry, there's no food. I haven't had the time to go to the store for-..."

Connor trailed off when he heard you laughing quietly in the background.

"I'm sorry. I was just imagining you at the grocery store," you chuckled. While you didn't mean to laugh, it was hard not to. The image you conjured in your mind was Connor looking very out of place in a grocery store. He probably would only bring home raw vegetables and bottled water.

"I know what dietary needs humans have," Connor replied, almost defensive.

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of," you laughed softly. "Don't worry about it. I can just pick something up along the way."

"I hadn't considered, before I asked, if this unexpected time off would be approved by your employer?" Connor asked.

"Oh, they'll have a field day with this one. No IMS called to an assault. I should be asking you if YOU are gonna get in trouble."

"We need medical reports for the case; so, it isn't entirely in my own self-interest," Connor answered in his usual, calm tone. He sounded robotic at times; but, you had grown to recognize that as his own nature. He was a dedicated detective after all. In your privacy, he wore his heart on his sleeve. But, right now, he was on the force. It was all business.

"Alright. Meet ya' there-" You stole a glance at your messages and noticed the address. "Geez, north side of town? Oh - that's a factory, isn't it?"

"AlphaBio," Connor answered simply.

Naturally, you recognized that name, having a small stash of their chips at the clinic.

"You don't think it's related to the protests?" you asked. It was less of a question and more of a suggestion.

"It is... likely," Connor replied, sounding a little hesitant to answer you.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised... I'm'a let you go so I can get changed."

"I will see you soon - oh - and, good morning," Connor said warmly. You could practically hear the smile on his face.

You giggled, "good morning, Connor. See you soon," before hanging up.

...

...

...

Connor had failed to mention it was the crime scene for a homicide. Although, he was, specifically, a homicide detective; so, it really shouldn't have surprised you.

The first responders had separated the three damaged androids from the body and sanctioned off that part of the crime scene to everyone but the detectives.

You had been there for almost an hour and had yet to see Connor.

Two of the androids were AP700 models. They were almost exact twins, except one had blue eyes and the other had brown eyes. The third android was a BL100 model. She had her factory issued hair swapped with something short, boyish, and ebony black.

All of them had suffered defensive wounds. The detectives made it very clear you weren't to be given any insight to their testimonies. It was understandable. They wanted to verify that your findings matched their statements without preconceived notions.

Luckily, most of their wounds were superficial. The worse injury of the batch was one of the AP700's had severe nerve damage on his inner, right elbow, cutting off movement to his forearm and fingers. It was an easy fix, and he seemed grateful.

The BL100 was hesitant to let you touch her, not that you were the least bit offended or surprised. You knew what she was designed for, and she knew that you knew. It was only after she saw you handle the other two androids with respect that she felt comfortable enough to let you help her.

As you treated their damages, you documented them with a tablet one of the officers had given you. It was a little difficult, considering their documentation was designed for humans. Somehow, you managed to make it work.

You had been there for a little over two hours before you finally saw Connor. He had actually caught you off guard. You were seated at a small, fold out desk, tapping away on the DPD tablet when you saw someone suddenly approach in the corner of your eye. They set a water bottle at the edge of the desk.

Your eyes shifted to his torso first. Oh. He was wearing his nice coat today, and a matching, black tie.

"Thank you," you uttered, a small smile forming on your lips. You didn't maneuver too far from the tablet, going over your work carefully to make sure everything was properly notated. Considering it was documentation for human wounds, you had to put extra care into it.

"Hey, Robocop!" Detective Reed called out suddenly, before the android could say anything to you.

Connor knew he was talking about him, and wanted to ignore him; but, they were at a crime scene and this was important. He couldn't ignore him right now.

He shifted his eyes from you and over to the other detective. You froze up at the word 'Robocop', somehow doubting it was intended to be a word of endearment.

When Gavin saw that Connor was looking, he continued. "This computer is having issues. I figured it was your cousin or something. So, you should be able to fix it, yeah?"

All at once, blood rushed to your face and rage started to rise in you like smoke in a chimney.

Everyone in the room heard Gavin's remark: Hank, on the other side of the room, going over the case details with the first responding officers, another detective who had been dusting for prints along every entryway, a total of four police officers, and the CSI operator sitting at the desk next to Gavin.

If Connor was annoyed, he was doing a damn good job of hiding it.

The android approached the detective. "Androids are far more complicated than desktop computers," he said calmly, keeping his eyes focused on Gavin. He wasn't just calm: he was polite. "I won't be of much help, I'm afraid."

The person seated in front of the computer, a member of their computer division, looked uncomfortable enough to commit seppuku right then and there.

"Do the hand thing," Gavin suggested, lifting his hand for a moment and waving it like he was talking to a child. "You know - probe it."

"I can only probe androids," Connor answered, plainly, as if unbothered by the ridiculousness of it all.

"It's fine. I can recover the data-" the crime scene investigator tried to mediate. It was clear that Gavin wasn't listening to him.

"Ohhh - right - right," Gavin replied, drawing out his words in mock understanding. "Poor girlfriend," he added on with a chuckle.

Did he just suggest-...?

Something in you snapped. You carefully set down the tablet, pushed your chair back, and marched over to the detective.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" you called out to the detective, not caring if everyone in this god-damned room was watching.

The smug bastard turned around, eyeing you. You stepped right up to him, fearless, fire in your eyes. You could tell Connor was looking at you; but, most of your vision was being taken in by this asshole, leaving you unable to make out Connor's expression.

"Ugh - shit," Hank muttered to himself. He approached, deciding to intervene before things got ugly.

"A real cop," Gavin sneered at you. "-and you are here as a formality. Don't push your luck."

"Connor is a real cop," you practically snarled at the guy. "He deserves just as much respect as anyone else."

"That's enough," Hank said lowly, directed at both you and the detective.

The lieutenant looked around, eyes briefly scanning everyone in the room. "This isn't a high school locker room. Get back to work," he hollered. He was loud and commanding. His words didn't fall on deaf ears.

Except, you and Detective Reed were still locked in a death glare.

You wanted to punch him. You hadn't felt the desire to do that since college, when you had to share crowded hallways with smug assholes who thought they owned the world.

Somehow, you had a feeling, the detective could sense that.

"Unless you wanna get arrested for assaulting a police officer, honey, I suggest you back down," he threatened, craning his neck a little to get closer to you.

The android felt his internal temperature rise at the word 'honey'. He didn't care if Gavin called him 'plastic detective', 'robocop', or whatever else came to mind. But, that, directed at you, specifically, bothered him.

Connor could see how tense you were, staring Gavin down with the kind of burning rage he had seen in you once before, directed at himself when he attempted to prevent you from salvaging supplies from a truck in the middle of a firefighter.

He wasn't sure if you would actually hit Detective Reed; but, he couldn't take that chance. There was a high probability that Detective Reed would go through with his threat. You didn't have a criminal record, and Connor didn't want you to end up with one, especially because of him.

The android moved in and slid his arm around your waist. He pulled you into him and away from Gavin, turning his back to the detective. With his legs moving, you had no choice but to shuffle your own feet to keep up with him, practically being dragged away. You flailed awkwardly, but Connor kept you up.

"Don't," Connor requested. You glared at the detective over Connor's shoulder.

Gavin seemed pleased with that. "I would listen to your vibrator, sweetheart," he called out to you smugly, starting to step away. "Might do ya' some good!"

"You don't fucking know when to quit," Hank snarled, his hand roughly falling onto Gavin's shoulder, giving him a push away from you.

"Take your own advice, fuckhead!" you almost shouted over Connor's shoulder. "Maybe if you got laid every once in a while, you wouldn't be such a piece of s-"

"Please don't," Connor interrupted you, stepping in the way so that he took up most of your field of view.

"Connor, don't you fucking-" you hissed at him.

"He's not worth it," Connor warned, eyes narrowing slightly at you. Well, that was new. He actually looked a little angry with you.

"Like fuck he isn't. That bastard deserves to be punched in his stupid bitch-ass fa-"

"I don't want you to get in trouble," he insisted, shaking you a little.

You clenched your jaw, glaring at the android's stupid, handsome face. That bastard disrespected him. You had no doubt that it wasn't the first time, and it sure as hell wouldn't be the last.

"I like when you get angry," Connor commented with a small grin. He didn't say it, but you couldn't hear it being followed with, 'cute'. He seemed enamored in that moment, and he was, captivated by how passionate you were in his defense, even if it didn't exactly make sense to him.

"...maybe I should punch you instead," you grumbled, trying not to be completely smitten with him.

Connor removed his arm from your waist and stepped back a little, giving you space. You let go of his shoulders and fixed your scrub top, which had been bunched up a little after he grabbed you.

"Well-" you stammered, feeling a little flustered. You couldn't help it. You liked it when he was like this. Connor wanted to be protective, but he also wanted to give you freedom, and it clashed so beautifully in him.

"Y-yeah, well, he fucking had it coming and - and you should'a just let me-..." You sighed heavily. Of course he shouldn't have just let you do whatever.

But, still-

-you were frustrated.

"-you're in the doghouse, mister," you proclaimed quietly, sounding barely serious at all, and poked a finger into Connor's shoulder.

The android stared at you, perplexed.

The dog... house?

As you stepped away and returned to the desk, Connor searched the internet for the meaning of that. From his findings: it seemed to be a word primarily used between couples and meant that someone was in trouble for angering the other, and held the connotation that the one in said 'doghouse' would not be bedding with the one they had angered.

Connor fixed his tie in place of his pride.

He couldn't say he didn't understand why you would be upset with him. What he had done to you was degrading, wasn't it? He had manhandled you, in front of everyone.

He despised Detective Reed, if he was being perfectly honest. It was something he had struggled with; but, it was inevitable that he would meet people whom he simply could never get along with.

He could make sense of being disliked for being an android; he had heard many, many reasons ranging from past traumas to selfish insecurities. But, Detective Reed sought out ways to degrade him whenever the moment convenienced him.

It didn't exactly help that Connor had left him passed out in the evidence room some odd months ago. That likely left a huge dent in his ego. Of course, Connor didn't bring it up because he didn't care.

Connor had yet to hear the detective actually call him by his name. If he was being perfectly honest, 'robocop' was somehow the most flattering of the bunch.

Detective Reed seemed to enjoy relating him to every piece of computer equipment in the office. Connor knew this was to remind him that he wasn't human: he was a machine, a computer wrapped in plastic.

-and, he enjoyed emasculating Connor.

The android didn't care of the extent of Detective Reed's knowledge of his genitalia or whether or not he was capable of pleasing you sexually; but, you cared?

Maybe, while he was in the 'doghouse', he could try to make sense of it.

...

...

...

"It's almost midnight. What the hell are you still doing here, Connor?" Hank barked at him.

Connor looked up at his desk, uttering, "I could ask you the same thing, detective..."

Hank was holding his coffee mug in one hand, a folder in the other. He laughed, mumbling, "smartass", as he sat back down at his desk.

The android sighed out your name, "-said I'm in the 'doghouse'. I assumed that meant she wanted space."

Hank let out a bellowing laugh that almost startled the android. He nearly split his coffee, too. After Hank calmed his laughter and looked at him again, and caught that childish frown on Connor's face, he started laughing again.

"Trust me, son-" Hank coughed, still trying to calm his laughter. "She doesn't want space. She wants you to go home and apologize."

Connor looked at Hank like he was analyzing. He hadn't looked at Hank like that in a long time.

"I see..." he uttered, sounding quite embarrassed.

"It's about the thing Gavin said, huh?" Hank added on. "You not having a huge ego is good for you and all, but - of course she was gonna defend you because well - you know."

Hank waved his hand at Connor, not explicitly wanting to say what he was thinking.

"But," Hank continued, "you did the right thing: stopping her before she did something stupid. She knows that, which is why ya' need'ta go home and apologize anyway. Women are... like that."

Hank paused and took a sip of his coffee, hissing in response to how hot it was; however, that didn't stop him from immediately going in for another drink.

The android pondered over the lieutenant's words quickly.

"Thanks, Hank," Connor said, hastily removing himself from his desk. It was the first time he left the office without tucking his chair back in.

[spiritualgateway]

You are your own creation

written by Steven Black:

At least since „Seth“, we all know the famous sentence: „You are the creator of your own reality. “

Fine.

But we usually overlook the most important point, namely the center of where everything happens.

OUR SELF!

The very personal kind of evaluations we make about ourselves creates our human personality. The identity as which we know and experience ourselves. This is how it manifests itself. Our stream of evaluations leads to patterns of conviction and to a certain belief structure. And with this we then identify ourselves, which sets a certain dynamic in motion through which we will attract and experience certain things.

The core of the center lies in what we believe about ourselves, how we feel about ourselves and how we think about ourselves. This in turn is closely related to what kind of experiences we have already had. And how we have then judged these experiences. If we really want to understand the phrase – „You are the creator of your own reality“ – then it is valuable if we look at the stream of evaluation that we generate about ourselves throughout our lives. Second by minute, day by week for months for years and decades.

The person we are now is the product of many years of incessant evaluations and definitions about ourselves.

Sure, before we are born, we put together a kind of blueprint – with certain character traits, talents and inclinations, in order to be able to have certain experiences. And of course, when we come to Earth, we go through an imprinting process that will activate this Blueprint. We go through education by parents and the school system, learn cultural, social and societal collective beliefs and much more. In this way we learn to think in a certain way and to classify things, circumstances, people and situations – we adopt the definitions and evaluations that have been given to us.

In fact, it is only the basic training for being human at the moment, it is not the „wisdom last resort“.

Much more important for our human experience are our judgements about ourselves – which we make again and again (mostly very unconsciously) permanently. We constantly make comparisons and constantly generate our very personal interpretations about other people, life, our experiences and ourselves. And this, of course, first on the basis of what we have been taught.

All these interpretations, evaluations and definitions flow to what we call the subconscious and bundle there into beliefs (beliefs). This is called programming; this is how a program is written – and it is we ourselves who write it. Minute by minute for hour for day, months and years.

Beliefs become a program that works continuously without us having to consciously think about things. Belief systems are automatically formed after a certain amount or load of (good or bad) evaluations we have made about our experiences. Beliefs are nothing more than a condensation of evaluation streams that accumulate within us over time.

Each one of us is a creative soul, each one creates his own reality – without exception. And we create with the highest possible commitment: with ourselves.    

However we evaluate ourselves, whatever beliefs and ideas we may develop about ourselves – we ourselves bear the consequences. Because we will then have to live this idea we have about ourselves.      

We usually believe that it is only our experiences – the good and the less good – that influence our ways of thinking and acting. This is only partly true – I mean, of course experiences shape us. But much more important for the subsequent shaping is our personal evaluation of the perceptions and experiences we have made. For an impressive imprint a certain form of meaning is necessary. Meanings do not exist „just like that“, a meaning is created by weighting. By different evaluations within a certain context and by the feeling or an emotion that co-creates this evaluation. I have to evaluate things in order for them to have a meaning for me personally. This means that the meaning that any things, situations, people, and diverse experiences have for us is co-determined and shaped by ourselves.

Of course, when we are young and inexperienced, we will usually „blindly“ follow the definitions and evaluations that we have been taught. No matter how good, healthy, disabling, limiting or valuable they are. As we get older, we will probably realize at some point how many of these are not really ours. Then, at some point, we will probably make adjustments and think differently.

For example, if we often had the experience of being criticized as a child, we will develop an „inner critic“ over time. Considering the fact that there is a psychological study that says that a child up to the age of 5 is criticized about 40,000 times, we can safely assume that almost everyone develops an „inner critic“. The „Inner Critic“ emerges as a kind of protective function for the child.

He criticizes with the „good intention“ of sparing the child further criticism, which of course does not work. The Inner Critic is usually associated with a parent’s voice or that of another important caregiver. And what they say must be true, right? We quickly make the experience that we can rarely meet the requirements and so we develop additional feelings of guilt and shame. The heard criticism, together with the emotional reaction in us, leads to an often traumatic impact in our consciousness. The more often this happened, the more often we were criticized, the more often we felt shame about it, the more a conviction structure condenses and bundles itself in us, which approximately says: You are not valuable, you are not enough, you are … blah-blah-blah. We then believe that.

The vehemence and psychological scope of this „inner critic“ may vary individually, but the point is: You create a thought form that will accompany you and tell you unpleasant things about yourself until you start to stop and find a way to stop it. Because – you are hitting yourself …

In eastern spiritual traditions the „monkey mind“ has been blamed for centuries. The „stupid (monkey) mind“ that just does what it wants – as if it had its own life and its own decisions that have nothing to do with you. The solution to this problem was then – just don’t judge anymore. This is in my eyes a very immature idea, because the mind has no own ideas and no own consciousness – it is a function, like a kind of operating system, which does, repeats and executes what WE have given it to work. Our brain works with what it is offered.

And if we keep making devaluations about ourselves, what will keep coming up?

No matter how much other people may criticize you. No one can criticize you as badly, rob you of your own value and strength as you rob yourself. The consequence of this will be that we will be plagued by countless fears, physical tensions and insecurities – which will of course also be triggered by the outer world. The outer world always reflects our inner world in a special way. If you get criticism from the outside, it will most likely bring up the old shame inside you, which reflects the conviction that you are worth nothing. This in turn will throw up another chain of self-critical thoughts, which are usually suppressed as quickly as possible.      

As long as we are still unconscious, we will devalue the other and call him an asshole because he makes us feel that way. But it really hits us, because deep inside of us there is a conviction that correlates – even if only a little – with this criticism. That’s why it hurts, because something in us says – that’s right. No matter how wrong that may be. It is inside of us. The person in question may still be an asshole, but he is not responsible for how I feel about it. The statements trigger and activate the content, which we ourselves have already evaluated countless times in this or similar ways (for whatever reason) and also hide it from ourselves. If this is touched, it hurts. If we had no subject with it, it would not hurt so much.

But you only check it after you have worked your ass off on your topic. Not before – as long as we are only focused on the outer world and its dynamics, we are more likely to make classifications and evaluations that are based on a victim and perpetrator spiral. Me, the poor victim and the evil perpetrator.

Sure, from the outside it looks the same in its EFFECT. But there is always a complex dynamic behind it that has unfolded. We can either learn something important about ourselves from it or we simply repeat and repeat and repeat this dynamic. And we will repeat it if we are not aware of it.        

I know this has been a very strong example of how you create your own reality. An example that can show us that the esoteric idea that everyone creates their reality quasi-consciously is quite unrealistic. We create a lot of unconscious dynamics and weird behaviors because at some point we just didn’t know better. Because basically nobody taught us how to deal with ourselves. And so it is in most cases, life is based on trial and error dynamics when we know very little about how our own system operates.

As long as we do not deal with our own consciousness and inner world, we simply take for „God-given“ who we are and how we think about ourselves. So much mindfuck accumulates there and also the images and ideas we have about relationships, success, money, politics and thousands of other ideas are based on various evaluations and definitions that we have very rarely questioned. Most of the time they simply do not apply (anymore).

As you can see, we are actually deep inside the topic of „self-love“ (whatever that may mean).

Namely: How do I deal with myself?    

How we think about ourselves, how we evaluate ourselves and how we feel with ourselves has an enormous importance for our personal development. It also has a great influence on which connections our brain synapses develop, which ones we expand or whether some of them are broken at all. The state of our brain and all its connections correlate closely with our thoughts and emotions, as well as our actions.      

The axis of meaning

We cannot do without ratings!

I have to rate something as great, exciting, important, boring, euphoric, insignificant, desirable, aborting, likeable, good or bad (etc; etc.) in order for it to have this meaning for me at all. Through evaluations, like „yes, I like“ or „no you, don’t bother“. Evaluations, how difficult or easy the respective situation is or was for us to cope with. Ratings, how to deal with it in the future – acceptance, affirmation or avoidance. These evaluations are made on the basis of permanent comparisons between past and present. And they are extrapolated to future developments.  This feeds our expectations of how things will happen in the future …

As mentioned above, there are of course also meanings whose context has been shaped by other people or society. Because they are simply taken over and regarded as „given facts“. Every meaning has a kind of weight. How heavy it is depends on how important we consider those who taught and taught us various meanings. But a really strong weight they get from us, if it really concerns us and we make an experience about it. Until then, it has more of an abstract meaning, the weight of which has been shaped by others.

The weighting of a meaning is usually only given when we have experience with it and have repeatedly given the same or at least similar evaluations of it. OR relatively quickly, as soon as we are violently „hit“ by an emotional wave – positive or negative in nature.  

EMOTION IS A RESPONSE TO WHATEVER WE BELIEVE IS TRUE

Every emotion and feeling is a reflection of the energy of negative or positive judgement that we have defined and put into it. Emotions are reaction patterns that show us what we believe in. We condition the way we feel. And this means that a feeling or an emotion does not necessarily have to be true.  But it feels very, very true. Sometimes so true, so devastating, depressing and depressingly true that you get stuck in it for a long time. You can also forget about the highly praised „gut feeling“ – because that too is based on resonances that have a connection to any kind of meaning and judgement. Sometimes they are correct, sometimes they are just avoidance, rejection or fear. Also „gut feeling“ is something you can only rely on if you are emotionally relatively clear.

Emotions contain a certain definition, the core of which is a wide range of evaluations that have formed into a conviction. This is the origin, the root of all emotions and also the reason why emotions can sometimes be violent and so overwhelming. The content cascade of countless mental and emotional evaluations is so extensive that we can feel overwhelmed by the respective charge of emotion. Emotions are the first and fastest reaction of our system to flush content – i.e. information from the subconscious – upwards. Imagine if all the thoughts and evaluations we have ever made on a topic suddenly appeared in our waking consciousness – I think that would be much more confusing.

That is why I never tire of emphasizing the value of feeling work. When I am „buried“ by emotional things, I sit down and sit with the emotion – I follow it to the center of (my own) hell. At some point the tangle of meaning unravels and I understand the definition behind it. And then I have the opportunity to see – is this now REALLY true? If so, is it still true now? Very often there are unresolved issues that reach far back into childhood. An emotion that hits you now can be an original situation or experience from childhood, with all the definitions given to it, some of which have – even if only slight – similarities to the current situation. The similarity is enough to trigger the emotional field.

Knowing the definition allows me to make a new assessment – either to reinforce and respond to it or to add a new perspective. This allows me to update my emotional content and my evaluation stream. In order for this to work, I have to sit with the emotion in question until it is halfway discharged. Charge = all of the given evaluations and received feelings. Sometimes this happens quickly, sometimes it can take months or even years. If energy has been put into something for years, it does not dissolve overnight.

Our assessments are rarely made by purely cognitive, logical or clear, sober conclusions alone. We judge situations not only by factual and cognitive criteria, but also how we feel about them. How we feel with it in turn directly reflects our underlying thoughts and beliefs. And the respective emotional perception will in turn lead to certain thoughts and evaluations about them. In this way, our beliefs are condensed. All of this flows incessantly into our „subconscious“, this is how we write our story.

We not only evaluate, we also evaluate our evaluations and our emotions in addition. This reinforces the whole pattern even more. So most of our evaluations have become „self-runners“. We do not question them. They simply continue.

We evaluate almost every perception, every thought, every feeling, every emotion:

The sky is blue – feels good. It is raining – rather bad. It is hot – shit. It is cold – shit. I have to go to work – fuck. The neighbor – is friendly, sexy, annoying, exhausting, cheeky, creepy – whatever. I am in a relationship – super. I’m in a relationship – my god, what was I thinking? A look in the mirror shows – I’m too thin, too fat, too big, too small, have too big/small breasts, have too little/too many muscles, everyone else looks better/worse than me.

I like Rock ’n Roll music/all brass music lovers are morons. Classical music is for snobs. My boyfriend/girlfriend has left me – my god, it feels so shitty/ jeez, I’m so glad about that. I have no money in the bank – my life is boring. I have no money in the bank – at least I don’t have any debts.

There are thousands of different evaluations we make about ourselves and things. The beliefs we have accumulated over the course of our lives are so deeply rooted in us that we are not even aware of them. This happens so fast within us that we are very, very rarely consciously aware of it. We simply take them as a given reality and overlook the fact that we ourselves formed this reality. With our evaluations we condition our personal reality and the kind of person we are. How we evaluate ourselves forms the personality we perceive ourselves as. The personality that we are attracts certain experiences because of their belief patterns. So yes, we all create our own reality …

As we evaluate, so do things appear to us. No matter what kind of beliefs we have, they tend to confirm themselves. We always find confirmation of what we believe.

Of course, we always have the choice to say – „well, I don’t like my reality and I’m going to sit in my corner defiantly, it’s not my fault“. Mostly, however, life forces us to continue learning, to adapt and to change. Sometimes in an absolutely unpleasant way – through pain, trauma or we are confronted with difficult diseases. With everything that gives us the opportunity to pause and realize that we have to go INSIDE to face the many challenges of human existence. Mostly we will only emerge stronger if we redefine ourselves.

No matter why we get stuck in something – we ourselves are the root. Only from there change can happen. If we do not change ourselves, our life, our reality, cannot change.

Alright! Then I just start to think differently!

Good luck with it.

Will not work.

Forget it!

I mean, if you don’t have a big issue with it, if you don’t have a serious emotional charge attached to it – then, yes, it can work. At least it’s a small start. But if that’s not the case, you will just have many and long „discussions“ and arguments against one of your „inner voices“. You will not win this fight this way. This is war with yourself and will only aggravate your inner condition.

Our evaluations are a decision from which perspective we choose to see things. Of course, this means that we can make and give other, new decisions, i.e., new evaluations regarding EVERYTHING. But as long as we have not discharged „the old“, as long as we are not clear about the definitions we have made – about whatever – we will be maltreated by the „old stuff“ of our old creation. That is the incredible power we have, we make LIVING and experiencing what we believe. And what we believe in, comes about through our very personal stream of evaluation.      

The experience of our human personality is a flowing process that is never really complete, because there are so many possibilities and perspectives that we can experience ourselves again and again. We are not a rigid, fixed matter – it sometimes only appears that way. There is a lot of room to readjust or change that. It is possible to make new, better, clearer evaluations about ourselves. But sometimes this is one of the hardest transformation processes one can undergo.

Refine your inner world and you refine your reality

Basically we are never „finished“ unless we stop learning.

Until next time same station

DISCLAIMER:

Nothing you read here is THE truth. It is my truth, my perception and how I see things – now, in this moment.

THE INFORMATION SPACE

[poormeowmeowcollector]

First Kiss, But Not On The Lips

Pair: Tony/ace!Loki (platonic)

Warnings: mentions of insomnia, nightmares, panic attack, isolation and alcohol.

Notes: Basically, the idiots in love trope is my favourite. Tony is a bi mess, Loki doesn't care about a thing (or cares about too many things), Thor is a himbo and Steve is trying. Also, yes, Loki has the ace ring (and a pride flag in his room) and he legally cannot sit like a normal person. And Steve lost the bet because he didn't expect Tony to find out about his crush on Loki within a month.

Read on AO3

"You know what, I get it. We all deserve second chances and blah blah blah, but can't Loki redeem his name on another solar system? What about Jötunnheim? He did a genocide there too!" Tony argues. At least he moves past the redeem part.

"I told you they would not accept me," Loki sighs at Thor, trying to appear stoic. But Tony sees the disappointment in him. Because he knows how to spot it in the mirror.

"Fine, he can stay for a month as a testing period. But if he causes trouble, he's gone," Steve decides. He loves speaking out the decisions even though no one will disagree.

And Thor smiles widely and hugs his brother. But Tony can still see the disappointment in Loki.

~~~

Sleeping is hard while knowing he's in the same building. Tony expected it, but it's still annoying.

"You know he was a victim too, why are you so afraid?" He asks himself but no answer is given.

He knows he won't be able to sleep, and there is a broken suit waiting for him in the lab.

Well, if he's about to pull an all nighter, he better be productive.

~~~

Tony had gotten his all nighter on a schedule. He would wait until Steve is asleep, go to the lab, and return to his bed only one hour before Steve wakes up. Of course and they all noticed his dark circles and moodiness, but he would blame nightmares and get away with it. Not that he was lying.

And, apparently, Tony is not the only one with sleeping issues.

Thor was claiming that Gods don't need sleep or nutrition. But Thor is also a sleeper and eats every time like it's his last time. But Loki doesn't. He barely touches whatever food is placed in front of him or drinks a little water and he looks more sleep deprived than Tony. But no one has the guts to say to a thousand years old powerful cranky god to go sleep or to eat, not even Thor.

And he doesn't talk. It's been days since his voice was heard. Thor doesn't like it, but the few times he mentioned it or tried to get Loki to speak or take part in a talk, he only got a glare. And Tony still doesn't know how Thor still makes Loki even get out of his room.

~~~

Once again, Tony is working on a new suit, during his favourite inhuman hours. Because two things come out at 3am, the devil and Tony Stark.

But the first dude is not helping Tony with the non functioning leg that's driving him insane.

"It's not going to work," Someone comments from the lab's door. Who the hell is up that late?

"Excuse me?" Tony turns around, only to face Loki leaning against the door frame.

"Remaking the joint to resemble a human's is not going to work. You need less strength and more flexibility, probably even another material," Loki explains, staring at Tony. He makes a small nod. Loki then straightens himself and walks closer.

"You know about mechanical engineering?" Tony asks.

"Science, magic, it's all the same on Asgard… and I happen to be the Master of Magic, and therefore…" He trails off, something sad blooming in his eyes. Homesickness, Tony recognises with ease.

"Alright, so, how do you think we'll make it work?" Tony asks, a grin on his face. But instead of answering, Loki just lifts his sleeves and grabs a wrench.

Tony watches as Loki plays with the machine—he looks more like he plays than like he's repairing something—and uses his magic to change the elements on the materials, green glows appearing and disappearing. And, after the five minutes it took him, the leg is perfect.

"Wow…" Tony whistles. Loki grins and sits on the working table, spinning the wrench on his fingers.

"It will probably last for a millennium or two," He shrugs, like it's something easy. And Tony is more impressed.

And they go on with the suit, finishing it before it's time for Tony to go and pretend he's sleeping. And Tony would use this time.

"Well, I didn't know you're good at engineering," Tony trails off. Loki shrugs in response, again sitting on the table with his legs in lotus position.

"You never asked,"

"Yeah, sorry about that. You are just too…" He suddenly can't find the word.

"Cold?" Loki asks, raising his eyebrows at Tony.

"Reserved is how I would phrase it, actually," Tony responds, making Loki hum.

"You know what, nevermind. I'm asking now. What do you like? What don't you like? Just rumble about things," He decides, big brown eyes staring at Loki. And he responds with another shrug.

"I don't know… it is quite late, so I'll probably head to my bed. Good morning, Stark," He jumps up and leaves, before Tony can even think of stopping him.

Right, he's just waiting for people to ask…

"So… Do you remember the rumble offer? Cause it still stands," Tony eyes Loki. And Loki responds with a smile.

~~~

The next morning, Loki didn't appear. Thor explained that he crashed on the bed. And it must be the hell of a sleep because he got out of his room three days after. Again, while Tony was working on a suit.

"Hey, wanna help?" Tony yells at Loki as he walks outside of the lab. And Loki nods a yes and gets to work.

"Still not sleeping, Stark?" He asks, his smart eyes pinned on the helmet of the suit.

"No rest for the wicked," Tony smiles. Looks like he's more talkative now that he's fresh.

"Tell me about it…" He sighs. Then, he grunts a bit, probably gotten hit by some remaining electricity.

Tony hadn't noticed before how pretty Loki's smile is.

And Loki takes the opportunity and starts to talk. Tony learns a lot about Loki during the Great Rumble. Dandelions are his favourite flowers, thanks to the Æsir library he became an encyclopaedia of random fun facts (even took it far enough to share some), he's a cat person, he loves classical music or music without lyrics, and then he starts sharing some stories of him and Thor as kids.

But Tony notices other things too. He noticed that Loki's eyes seem to glow when he talks about things that make him happy, he moves his hands around, he has this cute little smile that makes his face shine. And when he talks fast, his Nordic accent slips out—just some trilled 'r's or some harder sounds—and he also has a stutter that slips out. And Tony finds all of those so beautiful, but he can't say it.

"Your turn," Loki says. And Tony freezes.

Because his mind is nothing but simping for Loki, right now.

"I… em… Ya know, I…" He mutters, trying to think of something. But, Goddamnit, those shining green eyes pinning on him and waiting are so distracting.

"I'm actually bisexual, but more attracted to women than men," He snaps, finally finding something. But what if Asgard is not so accepting? Earth is having issues with those things and those guys live in the middle ages.

"Oh, nice," Loki shrugs after noticing Tony's brief pause. And it's enough to relax Tony.

"And… Dammit, this is so hard… I like cheeseburgers?" He squirts. "I don't know, can't think of something right now… when something pops up, I'll let you know," He gives up and rubs his nose bridge.

"No worries, you're hot anyways,"

Loki grins after seeing how red Tony's face became. And Tony clears his throat in hope of containing himself somehow.

"Alrighty… How's the helmet going? Tony moves the subject away. He sees Loki short-circuiting for a long moment, before remembering what they are doing here and grabbing back the helmet.

"It won't let me fix it… whenever I try to do something to the source of the issue, I get striked," He answers.

"Have you tried plastic gloves?" Tony asks, not even looking up from the hand he's oiling.

"For the helmet?" Loki asks, his eyebrows furrowed at Tony.

"For your hands, you idiot!" Tony screams, his head snapping heavenwards. Why did he agree on this?

"Fine, fine… Norns, dauðlegir eru svo stuttir í skapi... —Norns, Mortals are so short tempered…" Loki mutters under his breath.

"You know JARVIS can translate from Old Norse to English, right?" Tony snaps.

Loki shrugs and leaps into the working table and walks across it with three big steps, jumping back down with grace and opening shelves to find the gloves.

"They won't fit," He yells at Tony.

"Whatcha mean they won't fit?" Tony yells back.

Loki jumps on the table again and ends right behind Tony.

"I mean, they won't fit. They're too small," He answers to Tony's ear. Tony has learned how much Loki loved climbing on furniture, so he just turns around instead of jumping around and cussing at the God.

"Come on… how big are your hands?" He asks. Loki grabs Tony's hand and places his palm against his own. Tony's fingers were beginning on Loki's second joints, his fingers long and thin. And Tony licks his lips, because he knows what big hands mean…

Stop being horny over deities, you idiot! It didn't end well with Jesus and it won't end well with this one too! The, usually silent, voice of reason reminds him.

"Maybe you can magic them into fitting…" He suggests. Loki nods and stretches the left glove with his right hand, a green light making it bigger as he slides his hand inside.

"Thank you, Stark…" He smiles and climbs back on the table, eyes pinned on the helmet as he's playing with the screwdriver. It's been two weeks since he came here, and he still uses only last names. But when Clint called him Odinson, Thor, Steve and the Hulk had to physically hold Loki from snapping the archer's neck. And no one dares to call him Laufeyson or even think about it.

"Hey," Tony snaps. Loki flinches at the sudden noise but composes himself right after. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare ya," Tony apologizes.

"It's fine… What do you want to ask?" Loki shrugs one shoulder, placing the helmet on his right and the screwdriver on his left.

"Why do you call everyone by their last name but don't want to be addressed as so?" He asks.

"I'm not anyone's friend, and first names feel too familiar for such a situation. And, I won't stay for a long time…" He answers, the livid glow in his eyes fading just so.

"And, your last name?"

"I don't have one…" He whispers, with what Tony recognises as shame in his voice. Tony frowns and walks closer, staying outside of Loki's personal space.

"But you're Thor's brother and he's an Odinson," He studied his words before speaking. The last thing he wants is to trigger Loki, even as an accident.

"On Asgard and Jötenheim, last names work differently. You choose the name of the parent who you are closest to and then add the -son, -dottir or -barn. But Odin and Laufey were not close at all, and Frigga could help but she chose to keep me at arm's reach. So, no last name…" Tony can see how Loki was trying hard not to show emotions, but he is so close to breaking.

"You know, with this logic, only Thor has a last name. Don't tell Steve, but Howard was a first class terrible father. Steve's dad abandoned him and his mother, after beating the poor woman. Clint's parents made him run away and go to the circus. Natasha was given her name in the Red Room, she doesn't know who her parents are. And Bruce's was violent too. The only people with decent parents are Thor and JARVIS." Tony should move the topic away, but he didn't. At least he tries to patch it up on the last bit.

"And Dum-E," Loki adds, with a barely visible smile. A fake one. Tony hears the robot's joints moving as he lifts his upper part.

"And Dum-E," Tony agrees with a smile, and the robot makes a few happy noises. Loki laughs.

"You know, he says he loves you," He turns to Tony.

"If that's so, he earned some nice oil," Tony grabs the oil and applies some to Dum-E's joint. It doesn't stop making those mechanic noises and when Tony is over, Loki's smiling at him from the table.

"He still says he loves me, right?" Tony asks. Loki makes a slight nod, not abandoning his small smile.

"And that you are the best dad," He adds. Tony laughs and pets Dum-E before heading back to the table. But he still won't get too close to Loki, he is very strict with his personal space.

Loki grabs back the helmet and starts poking it around with the tool, now ignoring Tony.

"So, you don't feel like talking, huh?" Tony asks.

"If you mean the topic you want to talk about, then no," Loki snaps, not raising his eyes. Tony nods, he knows better than invading Loki's personal space.

And Loki didn't open his mouth for the rest of the night. The next morning, he would pretend nothing happened, but Tony would see how something changed in him. How his eyes darkened and his face became colder.

~~~

The next night, Loki is even more grumpy. So, Tony avoids speaking, or making anything that has even the slightest chance to irritate him.

"You're scared of me…" Loki finally speaks, his voice soft like a whisper and his fingers playing with the black ring on his ring finger. Tony looks up from the metal glove he's making to stare at Loki.

"Should I be scared?" Tony asks, careful not to say the wrong words.

"You are too picky about what you do around me. Why not do that if not because you are scared?" He answers. And this is where Tony lets himself frown and talks without thinking.

"Maybe because I don't want to make you feel bad?" He lets his words come out without filters. And Loki raises his eyebrow at it.

"Well, you don't lie about it. But why are you so dedicated to this?" He narrows his eyes and crosses his hands, body leaning towards Tony.

And now, he can't answer. Why does he care so much? It's not that they're old friends like with Rhodey or ex-s but still friends like with Pepper. They're not even teammates. Loki said it himself, he will leave after the one month Steve gave him.

So, why does Tony care so much?

"Hmm, nice answer…" Loki snarls and looks away, playing again with the other hand of the suit.

"You're a cold son of a whore, you know that?" Tony spits, his eyes stabbing Loki. He now raises his glare again, but he looks more confused than before.

"I beg your pardon?" He blinks.

"I try to be decent towards you, okay? The reasons behind it don't matter. Could be fear, guilt, interest, it means jack. And you question me on how I dare be decent towards you and why and what I want from you! You know what, I have a question for you. Why can't you accept being treated as a normal person? Are you that messed up in the brain or you just love so much being alone and miserable?" Tony lets his thoughts come out as they are, not giving a care how much they will hurt Loki. But the moment he sees Loki's reaction, he regrets it.

The room gets cold enough for Tony to see his breathing. Loki leaves the tools and the metal hand beside him and locks his feet on a tight fatal position, his hands on his face and pulling some hair with enough strength to pull them out and his shoulders rising and falling too fast.

And Tony knows what this means… It means he messed up badly.

"Crap! Hey, buddy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean those things…" He sprints closer. Loki raises his hand towards him, a green glow erupting from it and sending Tony flying to the other side of the lab.

Loki mutters something to this in Old Norse, before jumping up and leaving, his feet shaking as he was trying to walk towards the exit. But he manages to vanish in the dark corridor anyways.

And this time, Tony definitely messed up the worst way possible.

~~~

For the next two weeks, Loki doesn't get out of his room. And it only makes the knot in Tony's stomach grow tighter. He asks Thor all the time how Loki is, if he eats, if he sleeps, if he needs something. It's a wonder Thor hasn't grown tired of the constant questioning. And the answer is always the same, "I don't know, he won't let me in,".

And if everyone on the tower has learned something about Loki, is that things are bad when he keeps Thor at arm's length.

Tony wants to go and check on Loki himself, but he bets his right hand that Loki will spit curses at him, and he has every right to do so. So, he has to settle down on annoying Thor and worrying with him.

"You know what? It's my fault," Tony admits to Thor the night before Loki leaves. And Thor furrowed his eyebrows.

"What do you mean?"

Tony explains everything that happened that night, and Thor smiles with sympathy and touches Tony's neck.

"You were right on your words, that's why Loki reacted like this. He doesn't want people to know too much about him… But he won't be mad at you." He answers.

"But, why do I care so much? We barely know each other…" Tony asks.

"Have you thought of love?" Thor suggest. Tony is about to smack Thor for saying something like this, but it makes sense.

"Do… you don't happen to know if he's queer, right?" Tony makes the big question.

"I know very few Æsir who are not your definition of queer, but Loki was never open about those things. You better ask him…" He shrugs.

Well, Thor has a point. But Tony can't exactly ask Loki what his sexuality is while he's like this. So, he better wait till it's time.

"Thank you, Point Break…" Tony pats Thor's back. And then, JARVIS yells at them that Steve wants everyone in the central room.

And there is everyone here, even Loki. Well, an emotionally drained and mentally exhausted Loki, but he's there.

"As you know, your month has passed…" Steve begins talking, his Captain Voice on. Loki nods and lowers his shoulders to appear smaller.

"I'll be on my way, then…" He mutters, voice low and breaking. Steve wants to smile, but Loki's reaction stops him.

"So, you don't want to be an Avenger?" He lets his Captain mask fall, eyeing Loki with worry. And every single one of the Avengers is now doing the same. Tony hadn't realised that this antisocial emo little God had become so popular.

Loki lets his lips make a smile so big Tony bets it hurts like hell.

"You mean I can stay?" He asks, his voice now louder and livid.

"Can't see a reason to kick you out," Steve smiles too.

And Loki drags him to a hug tight enough to break the poor soldier in half, smiling like a sunbeam and rumbling thank you again and again.

"Alright, can you let me breathe?" Steve wheezes. Loki makes a small oh sound and lets go of the hug.

"Sorry, Steve," He hums, not breaking eye contact.

"Steve? Where's the "Rogers"?" Clint asks, his eyebrows raised and his hands signing along even though he wears his hearing aids.

"Well, since I'm about to stay, there's no point in calling you with your last names, is there?" Loki shrugs.

"Alright, you know what we need? A party. Who's with me?" Tony claps his hands and yells, glad to see everyone agreeing.

~~~

Apparently, being an alien God makes you hold your liquor a lot. Tony knew about Steve, but he didn't expect those two to have this stamina as well.

But Thor has started losing his balance and yelling at everyone how much he loves them in Old Norse and Loki's accent and stutter are showing, but he is just sitting on the bar and watching over the chaos.

This is your chance. He's happy and drunk enough, what could possibly go wrong? Tony thinks and stumbles towards Loki before he sits on a tall stool.

"So, are you having fun?" He asks, smiling at Loki and sipping on his scotch. It's fine, he's done this countless times before and he can do it now.

"It's quite nice, yes…" Loki hums, now turning to face Tony.

"And, em… Sorry about the other night… It was too much, should have been midler on ya," Tony mumbles, trying not to lower his eyes and break eye contact. Loki makes a soft nod.

"It's fine, you don't have to apologize… And you were quite right about some things…" He gives Tony a small smile as he talks, making him relax his shoulders a bit a mouth a thank you.

"And I wanna tell you something… I also talked to Thor about it… And I think… No, I'm pretty sure I have a crush on you. And, that's why the care and stuff…" Tony rumbles, his eyes big as he searches for reaction. But Loki stays untouched.

"I am… flattered… But I'm also asexual," He breathes out, staring back at Tony for a reaction.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't want to make it uncomfortable…" Tony rushes to apologize. Couldn't he see the black wedding ring? It's a symbol of asexuality!

"You know, things can work out platonically. I mean, you do start to grow on me…" Loki responds, smiling just a bit.

"Really? I mean, you don't mind?" Tony grins at the response, his eyes big at the God. Loki shrugs.

"Yeah, If you are okay with not getting laid with me…"

"Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!" Tony gives Loki an ear to ear smile and grabs his right hand, kissing gently the black ring.

Loki's cheeks and ears get bright red and he bites his lower lip. Tony is quick to let go of his hand.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable…" He chunters, now lowering his glare and playing with his glass.

"It was… nice…" Loki whispers, most likely to himself. But Tony still snaps his head up.

"Seriously?"

"Yes… And…" The red blush appears back in his cheeks as he fidgets with his sleeves. "It was the first time someone kissed me…"

"No way!" Tony exhales.

"I know, embarrassing…" Loki bites his lip again, breaking eye contact.

"I'm actually honoured. Not a lot of humans had the chance to steal the first kiss of a God, you know," Tony grins, hoping the joke is not that bad.

Loki reacts with a snorting sound and a light punch on the ribs, that sends Tony straight to the floor and makes the glass scatter in pieces.

"Oh, dear, are you alright?!" Loki squirts at Tony.

"I think I need a safeword…" Tony grunts.

He is sure that Loki will grimace on the joke, but instead, he giggles like a highschool girl.

"Most definitely yeah," He sighs, handing over an identical glass with the one they broke.

From the back of the room, no one sees Thor laughing as Steve sighs at the view of Loki and Tony and handing over the twenty dollars of the bet.

[fandom-necromancer]

A step too far

This was prompted by a wonderful anon! Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (pre-relationship) (Warnings: Panic attack, guilt)

Nines knew once his daily morning scan of the precinct had reached the breakroom that today would be a good day. Or at least had the potential to have a rather interesting scene in check for everyone who was in clean sight of a rather innocent looking cake. He watched Hank and Connor sitting across the bullpen, starting up their terminals and preparing themselves for another workday. They usually were the first ones to arrive by now. They didn’t even look up as their victim entered through the security gate.

Nines kept a straight face as the Detective sat down in front at him and they exchanged their normal greetings. Inwardly he couldn’t wait until the man would head for his first morning coffee and found free cake completely unsupervised. The whole precinct knew Gavin had a sweet tooth and wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation long enough for suspicion to arise. Nines was curious how this one would go. So, as Gavin walked over for a coffee, all eyes were on him. No one giggled, but Tina was at the verge of losing it, as the coffee filled the Detective’s mug and his gaze wandered over to the cake while waiting. Next to it plates were waiting along with a knife to cut it. His struggle was evident on how his face contorted and Nines smiled.

Then he caved in, taking a plate from the stack and setting it next to it. As he grabbed the knife everyone was on the edge of their seat. Gavin moved in to cut it. As soon as the point of it broke through the frosting there suddenly was a loud bang and bits of frosting flew through the breakroom as it deflated, and the broken balloon became visible from inside. ‘Connor!’, Gavin screamed furious. ‘You phcking asshole of a robot!’ Tina broke into laughter, as did Hank and Miller. Nines smiled and looked over to the accused android, who looked up as innocently as he could. ‘What is it, Gavin? Do you need help?’ ‘Oh, you will pay for this, I’ll make sure of it!’ Gavin picked bits of fake cake from his face, before taking his coffee and stomping over to his desk. ‘Did you know of this?’, he hissed as soon as everyone got back to their workday. Nines shrugged. ‘I expected as much’, he admitted. ‘But I have told you before, I will remain neutral in this battle between you and my brother.’ Gavin huffed at that, crossing his arms. Nines fake coughed and leaned forwards then. ‘Though I know from certain sources that if you drop an egg yolk in thirium, you won’t see it if you don’t search for it. Our filtering systems would discard it before it gets into our system, so… It would be a discomforting experience, but not harmful.’ ‘Interesting what you can learn from neutral parties’, he smirked at that, already eying Connor’s refill bottle. Nines decided his deed was done and began working.

It was a constant back and forth between the two pranking each other. It stayed in harmless territory and as both of them stubbornly refused to make peace it gave them an outlet for their rivalry while bettering their overall relationship. Nines just liked watching them. Seeing how the perfect Connor stood completely dumbfounded (and wet) in front of a faucet that had been manipulated with duct-tape to spray the entire room just made his day. Nearly as much as seeing Gavin rock around all day because all the bathroom stalls were decorated with “Out of Service” signs while still being perfectly fine. His highlight yet was likely Connor manipulating the precincts radio to switch channels whenever some station played a song Gavin despised. It had even made himself chuckle to see the furious man stomp over there and pull the chord once and for all.

Their battle made both drop their defensive walls. Gavin, the tough asshole guy was revealed to be just a regular human who had a quick temper. And Connor, the puppy-eyed know-it-all was repeatedly outwitted. That both were able to laugh it off had led to Nines’ decision to not intervene in any way and occasionally helping each party depending on who needed it most.

He didn’t think much of their spiel as their pranks never hurt the other and only created inconveniences. Until one day.

Nines had come into the precinct shortly after Hank and Connor arrived. He had seen the official looking letter that laid on Gavin’s desk and ignored it. It couldn’t be anything serious else there would have been a mark in the system files.

But as Gavin had arrived, taken his morning coffee and started his computer, he proceeded to open the letter. And immediately Nines’ systems alarmed him of the other’s vital signs. The man had frozen rigid, every single muscle tense and his heartbeat dangerously fast. The hand holding the paper shook and he stared wide eyed at the paper, unfocused and not actually reading what was in front of him. ‘Gavin?’, Nines asked, standing up as he didn’t answer. ‘Gavin! Everything alright?’ He moved around their desks, shielding the Detective from the expecting looks all around. He placed his hand on Gavin’s shoulder, what made him sink back, the paper falling from his hand. Nines picked it up and scanned it over. The further he read it, the more the anger rose in him. He crumped the sheet in his hand and turned around towards a grinning Connor. ‘You took it too far this time!’, he shouted at his brother and hurried to make Gavin stand up and leave through the back entrance.

Outside he helped Gavin lean against the wall. ‘Gavin, it’s alright. It’s fake. Don’t worry, it was one of Connor’s pranks. Breathe. Come on. Concentrate on the now. I’m here, I can help you. Do you need to sit down? How do you feel?’ ‘B-Better’, Gavin stammered, blinking and fixing Nines. ‘Where are we?’ ‘Outside. Smoking corner.’ ‘Oh, thank phck.’ Gavin wiped his forehead that had accumulated a few drops of sweat. ‘I… I am not fired?’ Nines shook his head and as he was sure the man could stand on his own, he produced the crumpled paper from his pocket.

‘Here’, he said, showing him the paper and reading for him: ‘Dear Detective Gavin Reed, you are found to be in violation of the following policy: City of Detroit Personnel Policy Manual Section 69 – Android rights It is the duty of each employee to maintain high standards of productivity-‘ Nines stopped and flew over the next lines. ‘He just copied the work standards section here. Here he edited it again: You failed to provide me with any basis for believing you accepted your new android overlords. I have therefore decided to terminate your employment with the City at this time.’ Nines looked up to Gavin and let the paper sink. ‘It is fake. Connor just wanted to see your shocked reaction, expecting you to recognise it had no real basis.’

Now, Gavin really slid down the wall and came to sit on the cold stone. He rubbed his head and sighed, his breathing finally back to normal. ‘Are you alright?’, Nines asked, kneeling down too. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I guess.’ ‘I will tell him to stop these pranks’, Nines determined. ‘This one caused you to panic. I won’t accept this.’ ‘No, no, he couldn’t have known.’ Nines cocked his head. ‘Why?’ ‘Hey, the idiot doesn’t know me. I… work is all I have, okay?’

Nines kept staring at the man, who lifted his head again not caring that Nines saw the tears in his eyes. ‘Phck, I thought I’d be done for.’ ‘But it is clearly fake, how-‘ ‘I know these letters, okay?!’ Gavin had nearly lashed out at the android, but in the last-minute thought better of it. ‘Got enough of them in my career. All I read was “Android rights” and “terminate your employment”. It looked real. I need this job, okay?’ ‘Of course’, Nines spoke, unsure how to deal with the Detective crying, when he had thought the man unable to. ‘I did a lot of shit to androids before the revolution. And… during it. I’m… Everyone thinks I’m the asshole that nothing can get to. I was quite content with that lie.’ Nines just nodded, continuing to kneel next to him. ‘I… I did wrong, okay? I did a lot of shit I regret now that it finally settled in that you are- that androids are more than just machines. I’m still waiting for the day that shit comes back to bite me in the ass.’ ‘But you changed’, Nines said, not able to follow. ‘I don’t know you for long, but in my opinion, you aren’t any different to the others. Just… more abrasive and happier to throw curses at others.’ ‘Ask Connor. Ask Fowler. Hell, ask anyone. They will tell you all the same thing. It is hard to get something out of someone’s head once they are so sure of it to be true.’ ‘And this paper triggered that fear?’, Nines asked. ‘No, I- Yes. I believe so.’

Nines nodded to himself. It surprised him how easily even the strongest person could be brought to fall if you knew the right place to poke at. Still, hearing – seeing first-hand – how vulnerable the Detective really was if all it needed was a stray comment or a prank gone wrong… It let his protective instincts flare up and made the human all the more endearing to him. He stood up, crumpled the paper to a ball again and threw it into the trash-can underneath the ashtray. He held out a hand for Gavin and helped him off the cold floor. Then he offered him a handkerchief to wipe away the worst of his tears. ‘I will tell him to stop’, he reassured him. ‘I won’t tell him of what you just told me, that is your decision to make. But I will tell him to stop with the pranks, so that something like this won’t happen again.’ ‘Yeah, that… That would be amazing. Thank you, Nines.’ ‘For what?’ ‘I don’t know. For… being there? Helping me?’

Nines nodded politely with a smile. ‘You are welcome. Anytime.’

[scripttorture]

I'm curious about the the mental processes that makes torturers do their work. Is that akin to the process that allowed the "Teacher" to press the supposedly shock-inducing button in the Milgram Experiment? Do they blame their victims for "making them torture them"? Does dehumanisation play a role? What do symptoms look like on a torturer? Thank you in advance.

These are all good questions but a lack of research means it’s difficult to answer them definitely.

 I’ll start by saying that the Milgram experiments are a steaming pile of… insults to the scientific community shall we say. Honestly as a scientist the Milgram experiments make me angry because they are just so darned sloppy. They are terrible. They cherry picked data. They applied significant coercion to the ‘teachers’ while claiming they didn’t. They failed to record the ways ‘teachers’ tried to trick the system (especially those who pretended to press the button but did not actually do so).

 And they also didn’t bother to check whether the ‘teachers’ believed they were actually administering electric shocks. When a follow up study asked these people about it later they found that the majority of people who pressed the button didn’t believe the button caused electric shocks.

 Essentially- Milgram can’t tell us shit about why this happens. Those experiments were too sloppy and poorly conducted for us to draw any conclusions.

 So what do we actually have that can tell us about torturers?

 There are a lot of interviews conducted by non-specialists; mostly journalists. There are works torturers published. I consider both of these sources useful but biased. Torturers have repeatedly shown that they don’t provide accurate accounts of events or their own actions. So – I take these accounts with a pinch of salt and try to be critical.

 When it comes to actual specialists providing notes on torturers- I’ve only really found two sources: Fanon’s The Wretched of the Earth contains notes on torturers he treated after the Franco-Algerian war, and Sironi’s body of work studying torturers. Which is only available in French and is print on demand.

 Yes I am still bitter, moving on!

 Where does all this leave us?

 Well it means that we don’t have enough good quality studies to be absolutely sure. It means most of what we ‘know’ is educated guess work, based on the little bit of research and anecdotal accounts.

 It’s frustrating. We need more data. And the result is that most of what I can say here is ‘may bes’.

 Dehumanisation probably does play a role, but it may not be as great a role as we tend to assume. Studies of the effects of hate speech in Rwanda in the lead-up to the genocide (along with what we know about ICURE techniques) do suggest that dehumanisation makes atrocities more likely. But they don’t necessarily make torture specifically more likely and many torturers will acknowledge the humanity of their victims.

 Some torturers do use language that blames their victims but- not in quite the way you’ve put it here. They don’t tend to say victim’s ‘made them’ torture. Instead they tend to suggest that the victims put themselves in a position where they knew they were going to be tortured.

 ‘A kid that colour walking around in that part of town at night? What did he expect!’

 That kind of phrasing is something I see more regularly.

 Another common one is torturers suggesting the victims ‘deserved it’ because of a particular characteristic: ie race, sexuality, gender, homelessness, disability. Arguing that a victim was ‘probably guilty’ or is actually guilty of a crime and therefore ‘should’ be tortured is also pretty common among torturers.

 But- I also get the impression that most torturers just don’t think about their victims much. Not as human individuals anyway. They don’t seem to consider the lasting impact they have on other people in any meaningful way.

 I think this is easiest to illustrate by looking at the way torturers express regret. Because they do often express regret for what they did.

 But it’s not expressed as them primarily being sorry they hurt so many people. Instead it’s- they regret what they did because they have nightmares about it. Because they’re ill and the symptoms are terrible. Because they lost their job. Because they’re socially isolated.

 It’s regret focused on the consequences of torture for the torturer rather then an acknowledgement of the scale of harm they caused their victims.

 I often get asks that suggest this as an inherent characteristic that ‘makes’ people torturers but there’s no evidence to support that. I personally believe this lack of empathy is an effect of torture rather then something that leads to torture.

 I guess what I’m driving at here is that there is a rather selfish focus in torturers. But beyond that symptoms in torturers look pretty much the same as symptoms in everyone else.

 My impression, based on the interviews I’ve read, is that unless the subject of torture comes up torturers come across as trauma survivors. Asshole trauma survivors but still trauma survivors.

 They tend to be rather convinced of their own importance. I’m unsure where this personality trait comes from but it does seem common. It could be a product of the sub-culture torturers create.

 And that brings me more or less to- well the answer to the big question here: why do they do it? How can they do it?

 My opinion is that the answer has little to do with individuals and everything to do with organisations.

 I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again: Torturers do not work alone.

 Torture by it’s definition and nature is a function of groups, of broken systems.

 Torturers are not individuals who arbitrarily decide to abuse someone. They are police officers with little training and no funding instructed to ‘do something now’. They are soldiers who’ve been taught over a lifetime that the ��enemy would do the same to us’. They are teachers told to ‘control the class or else’.

 They’re groups of people in an environment that has a huge pressure to produce ‘results’ while also being under trained, under staffed, under funded and unsupervised. Into this already unhealthy mix throw the persistent background cultural lie that torture is a short cut to the results they want.

 Hell the persistent cultural message that violence is any kind of answer.

 Is it really a surprise that our police turn to torture when we don’t teach them to interrogate and our news outlets, our politics, our fiction is full of apologia telling them that abuse will get them the results they want?

 The mindset that let’s torturers abuse other people does rely on assumptions that some people are ‘lesser’ or otherwise ‘deserve’ to be abused. But the bit most fiction doesn’t capture is the social aspect.

 The way torturers egg each other on and the way they compete. The way they gradually become more or less the entirety of each other’s social circles. The fear they have of each other, which can trap them in the abusive role they’ve taken on. The way they lose other skills, making it feel impossible to switch. The way they seem to feel that stopping represents both personal failure and letting down the only people they still count as ‘friends’.

 The closest I’ve seen a movie come to this was The Shape of Water, the villain brilliantly captured the bizarre mix of self importance, incompetence and intense environmental stress that characterises torturers.

 Torturers say that they start because ‘there’s no other choice’. I don’t know how much they believe that piece of apologia.

 I do know that in any organisation that tortures there is often incredibly intense pressure to participate in, or at least ignore, torture. Refusal often leads to a person leaving an organisation, sometimes feet first.

 But the reasons they continue are complicated. For some of them they probably do believe the apologia, that they’re ‘doing necessary work’. Some of them definitely see their victims as less then human.

 All of them are caught in a... societal trap not unlike a cult. They’re isolated from non-torturers. They’re constantly fed the message that torturing is right. They’re threatened if they try to leave.

 I think that, whether they acknowledge it or not, the main reason torturers continue is because they know they’re at risk if they stop and they know they’ll be completely socially isolated if they stop.

 Of course sooner or later they do stop. It’s completely unsustainable.

 When they do they generally report isolation, low self esteem and difficulty functioning in society. They struggle to find and keep work. They struggle to form or maintain relationships. It wrecks their lives; the organisation chews them up and spits them out mangled to a point where they can’t navigate society.

 And because they rarely come to terms with what they’ve done they rarely recover.

Availableon Wordpress.

Disclaimer

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Family and Fantasy

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Y/N finally gets the life she’s been dreaming of with the man she’s in love with but it’s not all it appears. 

Warnings: Supernatural typical violence, bad writing as always

____________________________________________

The sun shone brightly on your face, warming your skin, as you leaned against the warm sun-heated Impala. A light breeze rustled through the leaves of the forest that surrounded the clearing you were in and across the field of mixed weeds and flowers. Dean always insisted they were weeds at least; you thought that it was all beautiful. 

A large smile spread across your face as you heard the squealing laughter of your three year old son, Marcus, “Daddy stop!” He giggled, Dean chasing him in small circles with a big grin. You watched the two of them run around in the middle of the empty dirt road in front of your home.

“I’m gonna get you!” Dean said, closing in on the little boy, snatching him up in his arms and swinging him around. Laughter filled the air as Dean tossed him in the air and and ran up to you. “Now let’s get Mommy!” 

You put your arms up, jokingly shielding yourself as Dean and Marcus came running towards you, Marcus’s hands outstretched. His bright green eyes - his father’s eyes - sparkled with glee. Marcus squealed excitedly. “No!!!” You teased. Suddenly, Dean thrust Marcus into your open arms, “throwing” him at you. 

“Got you!” Marcus giggled, throwing his slightly chubby arms around your neck. Dean came up besides you, wrapping his arms around your body and squeezing you and your son into his arms. He kissed the top of your head and you snuggled into his neck, taking in everything. The feeling of his skin against yours, the scent of him and his cologne on his shirt, the slight scratch of his ever-so-slightly scruffy face on your cheek as he nuzzled against you, the squirming of your son as he vied for your attention over Dean. Most importantly, you looked up at Dean and you saw him smile. He actually smiled with genuine happiness and contentment. 

You looked up lovingly at him and watched his gaze scan across the scene in front of him: from the luscious green forest around a field mixed with grass and flowers to the dirt road that doubled as your driveway to the large dirt driveway that led to your home then back to your son, who there was no denying was his just by looks. Finally, his gaze drifted down, beautiful green eyes meeting yours as he kissed you gently, “I love you.” 

______________

Dean rushed into the motel room excitedly, setting the bags of take-out on the half-broken table. It was a good night. It was his night to take the bed instead of the floor and he had just gotten back from getting a double bacon cheeseburger. What wasn’t to love? “I HAVE PROVIDED!” He announced, throwing his arms in the air triumphantly for doing a basic human task like getting food.

He reached into the large brown paper bag, pulling out his burger before looking pu and noticing that nobody was getting their food. “Don’t all get up at once.” He commented sarcastically, looking at Sam, Cas, Jack, and… oh. That’s what was off. “Where’s Y/N?” 

Sam leaned back from his laptop, “Y/N’s not back yet.” 

“What do you mean Y/N isn’t back yet?” He asked. 

“I mean she isn't back. She left this morning to go check in on the girl we wanted to talk to about the potential case here but she never came back. She stopped responding to my text messages five hours ago. She won’t answer her phone.” 

“Maybe her phone died?” Dean suggested, trying to push aside the panic that was rising in his chest. 

Cas shrugged, “That’s what we assumed too but she’s been gone for almost twelve hours. Even if her phone did die, she should have been back by now or at least told us she went to go do other things. It’s nearly eleven o’clock at night. And nothing in this town is open past eight as far as I can tell.” 

Dean thought for a second, “Okay… so what do we do? Where do we start? What do we know?” He rambled. 

“I’m not sure,” Jack started, “But she went to interview someone who knew the vic right? Maybe we should go talk to the girl she interviewed? See if she knows anything?” 

Cas nodded, “That would be a good place to start.”

Before Cas even finished agreeing, Dean had the keys pulled out of his pocket and was heading towards the door, “Alright, let’s go.” 

__________________

“Excuse me boys but what exactly do you think you’re doing?” You questioned, hands on your hips, as you watched your three year old sitting on the granite kitchen counter next to your husband, both of them looking like a deer in headlights. Marcus quickly ripped his hand out of the pack of cookies he and Dean were sneaking into while Dean continued to look at you, mid-bite into his chocolate chip cookie. They knew they were caught. “I just got back from the store to make dinner! It is not time for cookies!” You exclaimed, not actually mad, just irritated at Dean for spoiling your son’s appetite. It was hard enough getting him to eat his veggies sometimes. 

“Daddy! Mommy’s home!” Marcus very obviously scream whispered, panicking. 

Dean leaned over, “Yeah, thanks buddy.” You cocked an eyebrow at him. After a second, Dean stood a little straighter, looking at you defiantly and finishing biting into the cookie. 

“Dean Winchester! Don’t make me fight you!” You threatened, reaching over to pick Marcus up off the counter. 

“Is that a promise or a threat?” Dean asked with a smirk and cheesy eyebrow wiggle. 

Your eyes widened as you cleared your throat, motioning to the toddler in your arms. 

Your husband rolled his eyes, “Awe c’mon, he’s three. He doesn’t know what I mean.” You rolled your eyes back at him, setting Marcus down. 

After watching him run into the other room, Dean moved a little closer to you, grabbing your waist and leaning close to you, his scruffiness scratching seductively up your neck, making your knees weak. “So… maybe we can get him to bed early tonight and we can make that a promise?” 

______________________

“Hello, Miss. Peyton Wilson?” Sam started, the girl nodding in response, “I’m agent Cole and this is my partner agent Wanek,” He gestured to Dean, “Another agent came by this morning to speak with you about your brother’s death, correct?” 

Peyton looked as if she’d been crying for days, her eyes puffy and hair messy, “I already talked to the police. But no, nobody from the FBI came by.” 

“No?” Sam asked, fear flashing in his chest, “Okay, well I’m sorry for bothering you so late. We’ll be back tomorrow at a more reasonable time to speak with you about the incident. Have a good night.” 

“So she never made it here?” Dean thought out loud as they walked towards the impala where Jack and Cas were. 

From the back, Cas said, concerned, “Then she’s been missing for longer than we thought.” 

“So where do we start then?” Dean asked, needing something productive to be said. He felt like they weren’t getting anywhere. 

In the backseat, a thought occurred to Jack, “What if whatever we’re hunting here got Y/N too?” 

Dean groaned, “Then we better find whatever it is fast. We don’t even know for sure what we’re hunting. But whatever it is, it’s not good and she probably doesn’t have much time.” 

“Three known victims so far, all completely drained of blood. So we’re down to… what? A vamp or a djinn?” Sam thought through before sighing, “Either way, it’s not good.” 

“And where’s the nest then?” Cas asked. 

Out across the dark, rainy street, what looked like a teenage girl walking down the sidewalk caught Sam’s attention. She walked straight ahead, shielding herself from the rain by pulling her coat over her head. Sam watched, noticing that she kept glancing behind her nervously. “Hey, guys…” Sam mentioned, drawing everyone’s attention to the young girl who was quickly looking more and more scared. The girl completely stopped, looking around and taking out her earbuds when suddenly a man appeared out of the bushes next to her. Within less than a second, his eyes glowed a bright blue, illuminating his heavily tattooed body, and he snatched her into the bushes, the both of them disappearing silently. 

All four of the men jumped out of the car, rushing towards where the girl and djinn just stood. “I guess we know which one it is now.” As they approached where they were, they couldn’t find where they went. Dean rustled the leaves around, trying to figure out where the djinn could have possibly taken the girl. That’s when he saw the opening behind the bush. 

“Right here guys!” He announced, ripping away the branches and diving straight into the tunnel, gun drawn. It was dark and entirely concrete, walls, floor, ceiling, and all. Water leaked from cracks in the ceiling, small weeds peeping through the seams between slabs on cement. The tunnel itself only went about fifteen feet in before opening into a medium sized room lit only by the sporadic, nearly-burnt out candle. 

Dean cautiously scanned the room, nodding his head silently to let the other three men know it was clear. They all entered, guns readied. Broken furniture littered the room except for the occasional mostly intact couch or table. The men spread around the room, each looking in different areas for either the man or the girl he took or (preferably) you. 

Jack followed along one wall, seeing a hallway that led off to the right. He rounded the corner, gasping when he saw the scene in front of him. Across the room, he saw a row of people strung up by rope around their wrists, feet barely touching the floor (not that it mattered considering they hung limp and unconscious anyways.) There were three people in total: one older gentleman, a younger man- the one who’s disappearance drew you all to the town in the first place, and you. Each of you were hooked up to an IV system, deep red blood flowing from your arms into a bag that hung next to each of your bodies.  “Dean! Sam! Cas!” Jack yelled, alerting the others. 

______________________________

You couldn’t help the slight quiver in your legs or the flutter in your chest as Dean’s lips dipped below your jaw and just behind your ear, knowing every spot on your body that made you weak. His rough hands gently crept under your shirt, calloused fingers resting on your soft skin, as he pinned your body between his hips and the granite kitchen counter. You tilted your head, giving him better access to exactly where you wanted him. A whimper escaped your lips as he sank his teeth into your delicate skin before soothing over it with his tongue. 

“Do you realize how beautiful you are?” He asked, pulling away from your neck to look into your eyes with all the love and adoration that they held five years ago when you first fell in love. 

Gosh, the way this man made you feel. He had the power to make you feel like the strongest most badass woman in the world but he could also make you feel like the most beautiful, loved person on the planet. 

“Do you realize how much I love you?” You responded, hoping your eyes conveyed the exact same message his did. Before he could respond, you pulled him close to you, hand resting on his neck before craning your mouth back up to meet his in a fiery kiss. Dean’s large hands trailed down from your hips to your thighs, lifting you up onto the counter. He quickly closed the gap between you, hips coming flush with you. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his hips as you pulled him impossibly closer, earning a grunt from Dean as the bulge in his jeans rubbed against your clothed core. 

Your lips still crashed passionately as his hand snaked around your lower back and he leaned forward, catching you off guard as you suddenly found yourself leaning back. Before you could lie all the way down, your hands shot out in panic, trying to catch yourself in a momentary panic despite the fact that Dean had you supported the whole time. In your panic, you accidentally knocked a small pile of books off the counter and they came crashing to the ground with a loud thud. 

You and Dean both froze, listening for Marcus to see if he woke up. After it was decided it was safe, you giggled at your mishap. Dean looked down at you and poked your sides in humorous aggression, “Gotta be quiet princess or you’ll wake him up! It’s already been so long.” He growled the last part, diving back into your neck, trailing hot kisses down into your cleavage and across your breasts, pulling your tank top down further to expose your supple skin. His teeth grazed over the tender flesh pulling a whimper from your lips. 

“You sound so sweet princess.” Ohhh that nickname. It really did things to you. His hands came up to massage your breasts , pulling your shirt and bra down, completely exposing you, and you found yourself arching your back into his rough palms. “You have no idea how badly I’ve missed this.” He groaned in your ear, grinding his hips into your heat and you could feel everything. 

“I’m pretty sure I have an idea.” You teased, your words broken by breathy moans. Slowly, he moved his left hand from your breast and down to your heat, massaging you through your shorts. 

“Oh Dean-” You moaned in ecstasy. 

_______________________________

“Dean…” You groaned quietly. 

“I’m here! I’m here Y/N. C’mon wake up.” Dean told you, panicked, as he and Sam ran over to you. Dean checked your pulse while Sam whipped out his knife and began sawing through the ropes that held you up. It didn’t take long to cut all the rope and your weight crashed into Dean’s arms. He gently lied you on the ground, kneeling over you. 

“He’s dead. Is she okay?” Cas asked, looking over from his own work of cutting down the elderly gentleman. 

“She’s alive.” Dean announced, “C’mon Y/N, wake up!” He shook you slightly. Gosh, you were so pale and your skin was cold and clammy. Your lips were chapped and he could’ve sworn they were almost purple. His eyes trailed down to where the IV was and he quickly removed the tape, gently removing the catheter from your arm, blood squirting down your arm from the lack of pressure. “Jack! Help!” 

Jack quickly ran over to you and swiped his hand over your body. His eyes glowed bright amber and a warm energy flowed from his hands into your body, stopping the bleeding in your arm and trailing up. As he worked his way up, you slowly regained some color and your breathing became more regular. 

Before he could finish though, Sam yelled, grunting as he was tackled to the ground by a man. Jack stopped and stood quickly, his attention turning to Sam who was being attacked by the same man that had taken the girl earlier that night. The man choked Sam, his hands gripping tightly around his throat. “Jack-” He choked out, hands trying to pry the man’s grip off. As Sam met his eyes though he noticed them glow bright blue and saw the tattoos all over his body do the same and Sam knew right away what he was dealing with. 

With a flick of his wrist, the man was thrown off Sam by some invisible force and sent crashing into the cement walls. Sam rolled over, gasping and coughing loudly, managing to croak out, “It’s a djinn!” 

The tattooed monster didn’t stay down for long though and before the boys knew it, he was back up. The djinn rushed towards Castiel, who turned soon enough to take a blunt tackle to the chest. He found himself pinned against the wall. Cas struggled hard against the pressure but the djinn wasn’t budging. Again, he glowed bright blue and brought his fingers up to Castiel’s forehead. When he did, Cas’s eyes glowed as well and he stared off as if he were in a trance. 

Before the djinn’s magic was completely though, Sam rushed up from behind, running him through with the angel blade. His blue glow flickered before completely dimming and he crashed to the ground. Cas fell as well but quickly regained consciousness, the djinn’s magic having not worked entirely. 

“Jack!” Dean hissed, snapping a distracted Jack back to his previous job of healing you.

“Right!” Jack knelt back down next to you and ran his hands over your still body. Slowly, you began moving again, even if only a little. 

Suddenly, your eyes shot open as you gasped and sat up, nearly knocking Dean’s head with yours. You leaned back against your hands as you gasped, looking around at your surroundings.

How the hell did you get here? What happened? Where were you? Two seconds ago you were in your very happy home, doing very very pleasant things with your husband when suddenly you were jolted to wherever the hell this was. You really thought you were done with all that hunter stuff… 

“Y/N?!” A familiar voice gasped, “You’re okay! We’ve got you!” 

You looked over to see Dean crouching next to you but this wasn’t your Dean. This was the Dean you’d first started dating back when you were hunters. “What’s going on?” You asked, looking around frantically. Dean, Cas, Sam, and Jack all stood around you with worried looks on their faces. 

“You were taken by a djinn,” Cas explained, turning to the boys, “Her confusion is probably caused by suddenly being jerked from whatever fantasy he had her in.” 

Fantasy. That was just a fantasy? “It all felt so real.” You sighed sadly to yourself. You wanted that to be real so badly.

Dean took your hand gently, “Believe me, I know. I’ve been zapped in by one of those suckers too.” 

“Let’s get her back to the hotel.” Sam suggested. 

Everyone nodded in agreement and Dean reached down to help you up. The second his skin touched yours, your heart sped up and you gasped, still feeling hot from his touch in your dream. Dean noticed and looked at you with a concerned expression, “You okay?” 

You nodded hurriedly, avoiding eye contact with him. It was all too weird. You’d been in love with the man for months and you finally had everything you’d dreamed of. You’d been with him in ways you could only imagine being with him in real life and now it was as if none of it had happened. Because none of it had. 

“I can do it.” You stated, pushing yourself up with wobbly arms. They were still sore despite the fact that your wounds had been healed.

Together, the five of you made your way out of the room you were in, along with the girl they’d saved. Once outside, you made quick work of making the scene look like a typical kidnapping-murder. Dean called it in to the police that you’d all been working with as FBI and told them that you’d found the victims. 

As soon as all of that was done, you’d gotten in the Impala and made your way back to the motel. Everyone noticed you were uncharacteristically quiet but chose not to push it. They had no clue what hallucination you were stuck in. 

But Jack, of course, with his child-like naivety and thirst for learning looked at you innocently in the backseat, “So you were stuck in a dream?” He asked. 

You nodded, trying to hide the sadness, “Apparently so.” 

“And he was feeding off of your blood while keeping you trapped in a dream?” He pressed, innocent curiosity all over his face. 

“Yes, Jack.” You stated simply, really not wanting to explain all of this right now. It wasn’t as if you’d just been strung up and drained of your blood all day or anything. 

He shifted in his seat to look at you, “So what did you dream about?” 

You stopped, unsure what to say. Silently, you looked up to the front seat to look at Dean, hoping with every fiber of your being that maybe that dream was some premonition, “It actually wasn’t bad,” You explained with a small smile, “It was everything I’ve wanted my life to be for a long time.” 

“Doesn’t sound like a bad way to die,” Jack commented, “Y’know, stuck in a perfect dream world where you can’t feel yourself slowly being murdered.” 

You cringed a little at the way he explained it, especially since he did it with his boy-like smile. “I guess you’re right, Jack.” You chuckled. 

“Well now that you saw your perfect life, maybe you can work on making it real!” He chirped excitedly. 

Again, your eyes found their attention on Dean and the way the moonlight and headlights highlighted his features in the night and the way he occasionally peeked back at you to make sure you were okay. How could a girl not fall for him? “Yeah, maybe you’re right.” You said with a smile. Maybe he was. 

[popwasabi]

“Joker” Review: Send in the (Problematic) Clowns

Directed by Todd Philips

Starring: Joaquin Phoenix, Robert De Niro, Zazie Beets, Frances Conroy

 “Joker,” on paper at least, has a message most us can all agree on.

Over the last five or six years, mental health has been a subject of increasing importance for a variety of reasons from millennial burnout, substance abuse, increases in suicide and the stigma is slowly dying away. People are more concerned than ever about it and, generally speaking, everyone wants the system to do better at addressing it in society.

(”Office Space” continues to be more and more relatable every year...)

Throughout its two-hour runtime “Joker” makes the case for better mental healthcare and a society that’s more empathetic to the mentally ill. For some viewers this is a much-needed discussion on a complicated topic through the medium of pop culture’s most famous psychopath. 

For others (me), the problem is it goes about this in an extremely problematic way that grossly mischaracterizes the problem, the people afflicted by it and namely who the victims really are, making some of the pre-film controversy unfortunately not all too inaccurate.

“Joker” takes place in early 1980s where a man named Arthur Fleck cares for his disabled mother in an increasingly hostile Gotham battling the unfair social structures of society. Arthur struggles with his mental health, seeing a social worker each week, taking multiple psychoactive drugs to keep his mind intact, and failing to keep down a Tourette like laugh that estranges those around him. As the world gets increasingly more difficult to live in around him Arthur begins to see himself in a new way and wonder’s what the point of participating any longer in it, thus beginning a series of events that will change his life and the city forever.

One of the core appeals of Gotham’s most sadistic psychopath, The Joker, has always been that the motives behind his violence have rarely had a clear reason behind them.

Other than to piss off Batman, The Joker just kind of does things because he can and kills for the exact same reasons. There’s no reasoning behind it, he just doesn’t believe in much of anything. It’s just chaos and he loves it. There’s some twisted nihilistic appeal to that in a cruel world that relentlessly reminds us many times of it and it’s what made the Clown Prince of Gotham such an iconic villain across all forms of media.

Because we all kind of want to stop caring, even just a little.

(Iconic.)

But what happens when you try to give a character like this a reason behind his twisted psyche? Does it take away or enhance the character? Many writers have toyed with this concept but never concretely answered it whether it was Alan Moore alluding to him having a “bad day” in “Killing Joke,” or the intentionally vague and confusing backstory Christopher Nolan gave the character in “The Dark Knight.”

The question behind who The Joker is, and why he is, is never truly answered in any case. They still tend to keep it mysterious because well, giving a concrete reason to this character’s particular madness kind of takes away from what makes him interesting. To quote Ledger’s Joker he’s an “Agent of Chaos” and nothing more. The Joker doesn’t care so why should we?

(Let’s really not care about this version though. Like seriously. In fact, throw it in the trash and shoot it into the sun...)

But director Todd Philips decided to give the character his first real motive behind his psychosis in “Joker” and while it can be admirable that he attempted something no other writer or director has done, and in some small way has a positive message to it, the results is at best a boring slog of a movie and at worst a problematic depiction of the mentally ill.

“Joker” certainly get’s A-pluses in plenty of areas of course; Joaquin Phoenix probably deserves an Oscar for his twisted depiction of a pre-clown prince Joker as he fully takes on the character’s twisted, emaciated skin and Philips certainly creates a believable pre-Batman Gotham city with some effective Scorsese-esque shot creation and sets. The movie though is extremely predictable as nothing all that surprising happens from beginning to end. It’s just one shitty moment for Arthur after another, culminating with (SPOILER) Arthur’s encounter with a young Bruce Wayne that leads to the final moments of the film.

(Did we really need to put Bruce through this again onscreen? The MCU gave Uncle Ben a reprieve at least...)

I wish I could get into the more superficial reasons this movie doesn’t work, such as its overly self-serious dialogue, Philips making some perhaps unintentionally humorous moments in the movie but the problem is truly it’s muddled script that appears to not really understand what mental health issues look like and who the real victims are.

“Joker” appears to make the case that society has largely ignored and left behind those with this stigma, that we are responsible for not engaging with the problem actively and not caring about the problem. Throughout the film, Gotham and its inhabitants are relentlessly cruel to Arthur, sometimes to the point where it can be over the top, showing that this is what we do to people like Arthur in the real world. They are beaten both physically and mentally and we refuse to understand or acknowledge their existence and their problems.

In this way the film almost endorses Arthur’s eventual turn to violence as the price paid for ignoring people like this.

(I’m amazed how literal some of these memes ended up being after watching this movie...)

Again, the problem with this film isn’t that this isn’t a tremendous issue in society because it is; suicide rates are climbing, despite progress in mental health awareness many country’s still stigmatize it as a “you problem,” and healthcare in this country, well you know the drill. The problem is the film seems to make the claim that these folks who are left behind by these broken systems are in danger of becoming violent monsters and it’s fucking gross.

I cannot stress this enough when I say this but there is NO CONNECTION between mental health problems and an increase in violence. In fact, they are far more likely, ten times more likely in fact, to be the victims of the kind of monster The Joker is in this movie.

The idea that simply better healthcare will make those with mental health issues less likely to commit violence isn’t a new one. The NRA and other small-brained politicians (left and right) have been scapegoating them since the days of Columbine and our doofus of a “president” isn’t far behind in licking those boots. 

In the wake of the Marjory Stoneman Douglas shooting, as protesters did walkouts to decry gun violence, the mental health “advocates” made a counter protest called “walk-up” encouraging students to talk to each other more and engage with the outcasts in their schools.

While I certainly can agree that we should all try to be nicer to each other instead of not at all, it grossly ignores the fact that the shooter, Nicholas Cruz, was reportedly abusive, sexist and racist to his fellow classmates. Tell me, in what world would it be smart or safe, especially for a female student, to engage with a guy like this? Cruz didn’t kill people because he had “mental health problems,” he killed people because he was evil asshole.

(Yup, these people definitely look just some misunderstood social outcasts who were just in need of a few more hugs and some happy pills. Yup....)

Again, I can’t stress this enough lack of mental healthcare doesn’t make super villains; it’s pure fiction like this movie. Throughout the film Arthur is bombarded with slight after slight after slight be it from the institutions that leave him in the dust or the people around him. The movie kind of wants to state that the intuitions need more help but weirdly at the same time shouldn’t be trusted as Arthur is openly hostile with them throughout the movie. It’s almost comical at times as after a while and some viewers might find themselves after a while going “ok, we get it. The world is really mean to this guy, when does he become The Joker?”

The point is though, the motives behind great acts of violence have rarely, if ever, been about not being able to get access to some guy’s prescription drugs. In fact, the truly mentally ill are far more likely to be a danger to themselves than to others (as stated in a few of these articles linked already).

But for argument’s sake let’s pretend that this is not meant to be a literal depiction of how mental healthcare in society has failed people. Let’s say its metaphorical instead, that those with mental health issues become monsters within their own minds, hell the movie kind of alludes to a bent reality that may or may not have happened within Arthur Fleck’s mind.

(It’s actually one of the few narrative choices I liked about this movie, so A for effort, Mr. Philips.)

The problem with that is that again it depicts the mentally ill as monsters instead of the victims of those kinds of people. The movie does make a point of depicting the system as monstrous but again a person like The Joker as a product of that is misleading of what is actually going on.

Depicting the mentally ill as monsters, be it metaphorical or literal, will do more harm than good to those who are afflicted by these issues.

While I do not subscribe to the idea, necessarily, that movies create shooters these films definitely don’t exist in a vacuum either. Afterall there are still d-bags who think Tyler Durden is the real hero of “Fight Club,” and idolize maniacs like Al Pacino’s “Scarface” because they’re “badass’s.” I went into this movie thinking the pre-trailer controversy was likely overblown but I came out of it thinking some incel asshole could absolutely find something to relate to in this particular version of The Joker.

This movie has proven to me that the Joker’s origins are simply best left mysterious. He is just best used as a stand-in for chaos and anarchy with no specific goals or ideologies. Though his psychosis has certainly been the stuff of speculation behind his motives for decades by the fans its never been about him being crazy so much as it is about him being the antithesis to Batman’s ridgid sense of law and order.

(Probably the best cinematic depiction of that clash of ideologies.)

The Joker is a fascinating character and there’s a reason fans have gravitated to him for so long and inspired plenty of writers, directors and actors to try their hand with him. But any amount of understanding regarding what’s going on with mental health in society will take you out of this movie almost instantly for most people.

I think fans of this movie have perhaps latched on to the right messages of the movie, namely that we do need to do better with mental health and the mentally ill in this country, and I definitely don’t disagree with that, but the conclusions this movie appears to come to just aren’t right and it makes the movie damn near unwatchable for myself at least.

I’ll close with this though, “Joker” is inspiring in one way and one way only for me and that’s that it may cause a change in the way Hollywood see’s this genre of movies. I’ve written extensively myself about how, at times, the MCU has too rigidly adhered to the blockbuster formula and created almost a factory-line style of movies for the general populace to devour but a film like this, that is enjoying quite a bit of success right now, could change the way major studios approach these characters.

(The blockbuster formula can be great though sometimes if done right. Exhibit A ^)

Superheroes are modern Greek myths these days and have tons of source material and nuance to mine for directors and writers. Restricting them just to simple heavily CGI, action blockbusters is a disservice to their extensive catalog of stories and the comic book writers that made them famous.

While “Joker” is definitely not my favorite comic book movie of all-time I can respect that it took the risk of doing something different and going against the grain of most of the rest of the genre. If it inspires Hollywood to greenlight newer and more unique depictions of these characters I’m all for it.

In the end though, “Joker” is a mess of a movie that sends some right messages but ultimately the wrong one. If you enjoyed it great, I won’t stop you but I do ask  you to think about how this movie could be twisted in the wrong ways as well.

After all, we live in a society...

 VERDICT:

2 out of 5

Can we all agree at least this is still the best version of The Clown Prince of Gotham?

[aboriginalnewswire]

Trigger warning for sexual abuse, stalking, rape, domestic violence and large-scale attacks by hate groups. Last Thursday, I criticized the Linux community for continuing to support and center a leader with a years-long, documented history of unrepentant abusive behavior, someone who has actively and systematically nurtured a hostile, homogeneous technical community, and someone who has long actively chased people from marginalized groups out of open source. The retaliation has been terrifying. On Friday night, the home addresses of every member of my immediate family were posted online. I have received literally thousands of harassing, abusive, threatening and violent messages across at least half a dozen separate sites. People speaking up in support of me had their home addresses posted online as well, sometimes within minutes, creating a climate of fear that has functionally isolated me from most community support. I have received slurs of every variety, death and rape threats, and violent and threatening images. They have gone after my business and my family's livelihoods with slander, intimidation and attempts to cut off financial support, and tried to hack into various of my accounts and systems. They have left pages and pages of stomach-turning comments on the front of every internet community I am a part of and that influences my professional community and peers. As I was reeling from my family being doxxed and taking steps to ensure everyone’s safety, the tech press was giving a massive platform to an ex-partner - someone I dated for four months more than 3 years ago - who has, after I dumped him, terrorized, threatened and abused me for years, and continues to do so. This is a person who is a known liar, abuser and manipulator, with a long history of stalking, hacking and terrorizing women, who is now being treated as an authoritative character witness on one of his long-term victims - for the sole purpose of destroying my company, discrediting my work, and terrorizing me into silence. This is a person who has hacked nude photos of me and sent them to my employers - yes, bosses, executive team and investors. (I barely left my house for two weeks after and to this day cannot recall a time being more scared, depressed and humiliated). Details of my private sex life - provided by my ex - are now all over the internet and have been used to justify my abuse, incite more of it, and slut and kink-shame me. Valleywag -- less than a day after stealing stories from me, plagiarizing content from my Twitter, publishing my comments without permission or compensation, and refusing to properly acknowledge my work and job title -- has used its platform to replicate this terrorism and domestic violence to an even larger audience. Nevermind that their original articles had already incited harassment against me (they were posted over and over to the anonymous hate boards that attacked my family); their most recent article on me is an act of pure and spiteful violence following my critiques of their behavior. The past few days have been terrifying, and my heart is broken. This is abuse. This is domestic violence. This is harassment. This is terrorism. While many are eager to claim that I am actually being abused because I'm crazy, a liar, a fraud, a troll, a hypocrite, a neo-Nazi, a whore, because I've had kinky sex, because I dated an abuser, because I'm mean to men on Twitter, because I swear a lot, because I'm a "blogger" that contributes nothing to the field: I am being targeted because of my work speaking up against tech culture. My work is what has made me a target, but it is nonetheless ironically (or maybe predictably) being erased in a frothing media-frenzy to portray me as a useless, insane "PR girl", a hysterical slut with a social media account, and to generate page views from my pain. (I'm posting this on Pastebin because unlike most of the tech press, I refuse to use this abuse as a machine for eyeballs and ad dollars.) In case you’re not familiar with my work, let me tell you about it. A few years ago, I started blogging independently about tech culture, giving talks about it, and organizing resistance efforts on social media. In that period, I produced several books-worth of essays that deconstructed in detail harmful elements of tech culture, discussed useful modes of intervention and resistance, and called out collective complicity in oppression across the industry... including my own complicity. I also began using my Twitter account to talk about my experiences with misogyny in tech, call out inequality and advocate for change - and yes, I use swear words on Twitter dot com, and you will handle it because you’re not a fucking three year old. (I might take your cookies and smash your fucking Xbox anyway, though.) I did this in my spare time until late in 2013, when I started working full-time on Model View Culture, which launched in January '14. In the past year, Model View Culture has produced a body of tech and cultural criticism the size of the Lord of the Rings trilogy. We have published over 150 authors. Our publication consistently stands against discrimination, abuse and oppression in the tech industry. We have covered sexual abuse and assault, social media activism and abuse, the surveillance complex, engineering mythology, open source community, accessibility, hiring discrimination, mental illness and disability, consent in product design, workplace abuse, the VC industrial complex, suicide, white liberalism, police violence, codes of conduct, team dysfunctions, and systemic discrimination, violence and inequality at every stage of the technology pipeline. We publish and pay a large and diverse groups of writers speaking to their experiences, to their beliefs and to their sense of justice, to their demands for a better tech industry. We challenge racism & white supremacy, sexism and misogyny, transphobia, ableism, classism and other forms of institutionalized oppression rampant in tech. I believe we have produced more critical content from diverse voices than any other tech media. Model View Culture is not perfect. It is not a panacea. It is not done, or complete. It is one year old, just getting started, and there is so much more for us to do. But we have been an influential, if small, part of the growing attempts to call out and dismantle fundamental problems in the tech community. This work is what people are desperate to stop, by any means including trying to get my family killed by SWATing, trying to convince me to kill myself, terrorizing my supporters, stalking me (I have had multiple men stalk me for 6-14 months at a time), hacking my computers and accounts, "exposing" my sex life, cutting off my funding, belittling and erasing my writing, plagiarizing my content, sending constant rape and death threats, and ceaselessly holding me up for abuse to hate groups. This has been my life for almost two years. I'm sad to say that part of you starts to get used to it. But I also want to tell you about what it does to me and other victims of these attacks. Because of my work, I can no longer make public appearances, speak at events or have anyone know where I am or what I'm doing. I can't have friends over to my house because no one can know where I live. My social life consists only of a few close friends who I feel I can trust. Many of them also undergo the same shit I do - other people don’t understand and find it too stressful to be around. I am traumatized by what is now years of active stalking and abuse; abuse committed by tech workers and unaffiliated individuals, by anonymous harassers and influential figures in tech, and by media both in tech and mainstream. My sex life is fodder for 8chan and corrupt journalists trying to destroy my company because it is competition and it poses a threat to their press-release factories, funded by startups and venture capitalists and uncritically reproducing their propaganda. I receive anywhere between dozens and thousands of harassing messages each week. Anything bad that happens to me is considered “normal” and “expected”, and any reason to expose me to abuse is sufficient. People say I am a "professional victim", suggesting I am somehow profiting off my work, but I am now unemployable in the field I once loved and make a fraction of what I used to make as a tech worker. I spend an enormous amount of money and time securing my safety. It is no longer safe for me to do media appearances as media abuses me, demeans me, violates my boundaries, steals my content and holds me up for abuse, offering no support or protection: every article has resulted in more stalkers and harassment. I am frequently cut off from support because people who support me are afraid to be targeted as well. That's just my everyday. Then there's these recent attacks. Frankly, I am devastated, depressed, vulnerable, non-functional, anxious, paranoid and isolated. I’ve visibly lost weight since last Thursday. My heart hurts and my body aches. I feel humiliated, exploited, and am in physical pain. I'm frightened for myself, my family, my friends, and people in my community who have supported me. I am trying to keep working but honestly, it is incredibly difficult. I had a lot of plans for Model View Culture in the beginning of this year, and unfortunately most of them are going to be delayed by at least weeks as I try to put my self-esteem and sense of safety back together, take the needed steps to protect myself, family and community, and process these feelings of fear, anxiety, trauma and anger. It's devastating to admit the toll this has taken on me, to accept that it is having such a significant impact on my work. I fear that people won’t want to write for Model View Culture anymore because doing this work is actually dangerous. As is, we have to publish far too many articles anonymously, because people fear losing their jobs and their safety for speaking out and telling their stories. I am asking myself how I can actually continue like this and run a company under these conditions. No other tech press is operating under this level of violence and terrorism, and we don’t have corporate money or VC funding to help us defend against it. It’s intimidating. I ask Model View Culture readers and community to be patient during this time. The truth of the matter is that as much as people want abuse victims to be fearless, to come out on top, to not be stopped: at some point, this is simply not realistic. That said, I'm not stopping, I am not going away, and I will continue, even if it happens a little slower or a little later than I planned. Changing tech is my life's work. I'm only 28, so you'll probably have to deal with it for at least the next few decades. This is a set-back for my health and my ability to work, but I'm here for the long-term. I am sad that my new normal is, well, this. But so be it. To everyone who has supported me in this time: Thank you so much. I haven't been able to respond to so many of you because it hasn't been safe to, but I appreciate and value your belief and faith in me. To everyone else: Go fuck yourself. Some specific “fucks yous” go out to: The Linux community, I hope you realize how fucking toxic and broken your “community” is after standing by silently as me and my entire family were terrorized after I criticized Linus Torvalds. I think you are cowardly and spineless and I stand behind everything I said. I also think you need to seriously look at the clear ties the Linux community has to 8chan and GamerGate which led many of the attacks on me. Andrew Auernheimer aka a blast of trash from my past: you started whining and crying the day I dumped your ass and you haven’t stopped since. May the ouroboros eat YOU, easily mistaken for a snake, and may you spend the rest of your days as you have to date - pathetic, prospectless, alone and heartbroken, ever-pining over women who hate your guts and clinging to any last scrap of fast-fading relevance. Milo Yiannopoulos, a failure of a human being but tremendous success as an opportunistic sell-out scumbag who has spent months digging up details on my sex life and leading harassment campaigns against me. Valleywag, particularly Valleywag editor Dan Lyons -- a white man who is 26 years older then me and uses my sex life for clickbait while citing Yiannopolous and Weev as a credible source in order to take me down. Also Jason Calacanis, who has supported my long term stalker Loren Feldman and is basically a shitstain of a human being who we should kick out of tech forever. Vivek Wadhwa, who is building his career off women in tech yet is transparently a misogynistic asshole who has used this opportunity to get back at me for criticizing his profiteering and patriarchal brand of "allyship." Also Elizabeth Spiers who continues to refuse to get the FUCK away from me after MONTHS of me asking to be left in peace. Get the fuck over me and move on with your life as a has-been. You are literally 10 years older than me, yet are relentlessly picking on a young woman with an up-and-coming media career like you once had. You look jealous and petty, and your ongoing obsession with me is creepy as fuck. In the remainder of this post, I am addressing my community. I realize that following my tweets can be difficult and not very coherent, especially as I have navigated the emotional roller coaster of the weekend. My anxiety is through the roof and I haven’t gotten much sleep. While I don't think I should have to explain and rehash my sex life, analyze terrorism against me at length, and somehow summon words out of a fog of anxiety, fear and depression, I want to get my views on the record. They have been dismissed, erased, deemed irrelevant, misconstrued, twisted and deployed against me. So here they are, FROM ME. They have made it too scary to defend me, so I defend myself: I, unequivocally, support ourselves and stand behind us. Lol. OK for real. I wanted to start by discussing my past sexual history. Since we are already so deep into my sex life - released non-consensually and with the sole aim of terrorizing me - let's talk about it. Over three years ago, a friend of mine introduced me to Andrew Auernheimer aka Weev. I had no idea who he was prior to this friend telling me about him and introducing me. I was not involved in the infosec community (still aren’t), was fairly new to tech, and arrived in Silicon Valley years after his most high-profile attacks on other women in tech. As many of you have conveniently forgotten, (even those of you who wrote them!), articles about him painted him as a charismatic, counter-culture hacker taking on powerful and corrupt systems - someone who expressed a number of "controversial" (i.e. sexist, racist and homophobic) views, but these were glossed over as satire and mischief. I was happy to do the same, something which I deeply regret and deeply apologize for. The industry was, as it always has been and remains, enamored and worshipping of the "edgy" young white male hacker who ostensibly reflects a challenge to the status-quo, but in actuality just re-creates those systems under the guise of liberalism, satire and "mischief" aka misogynistic and racist terrorism. Frankly, I was also enamored. At the time, I was really early in my career, didn't give much of a shit about social justice, didn't particularly understand how fucked up the industry was, and was laboring under the profound delusion that my career success meant some kind of feminism. I think I was starting to undergo some type of political realization or awakening and was in some clumsy and inept way reaching out for an alternative framework, a tech “counter culture”. Of course, the "alternative" framework I discovered was some abusive piece of shit who would crawl into my life, use me for money and housing, and then spend years after punishing me for it. Typical. I am also not the only victim of his predatory and exploitative behavior towards his partners and ex-partners. At the time, I was in a bad place (which he gleefully exploited) and frankly looking for some strings-free fun and (unhealthy) emotional support. A good time seemed like having a completely doomed relationship with a notorious, emotionally co-dependent bad boy that I could fuck for a few hours and call daddy in a hotel room, then leave after giving him $40 out of the ATM because he had no money (stemming from a blanket refusal to work, preferring to just take money from women who feel sorry for his miserable existence). It worked for me at the time, it satisfied something I was looking for, and it made my life feel edgy and exciting, even though I know recognize it as a a huge mistake and deeply regret it. But, it happened. To all the people berating me for making poor dating choices in my mid-20s, many who haven't seen their mid-twenties in ten to twenty years: Guess what, assholes. Mistakes. Were. Made. Can you really tell me that you haven't fucked the wrong people? Maybe ones of the dudes I fucked was worse than your partners, but I've always been an overachiever. Like I have previously stated: At least I fucked weev in shame and private unlike the EFF, TechCrunch, the NY Times and all the rest of your favs. To be honest, dating men who are emotionally and physically abusive has been something of a pattern for me, due to the fact that I have disproportionately fallen into these relationships as a former abuse victim AND due to the fact that so many men are abusive, predatory, manipulative and lying scum. Fuck them, and misandry forever. In response to Andrew's allegations that I am a racist, hate-filled neo-Nazi who shared his views, that I am simply a troll or performance artist: I do not, and have never shared Andrew's views, and he didn't teach me shit. Most of our relationship consisted of fucking in potentially disturbing and unhealthy ways, talking about his upcoming trial, sharing photos of red pandas, me bitching about work, watching My Little Pony (i know, i know) and him trying to get as much money out of me as he could. I smoked a bunch of weed, he drank and we ate lots of takeout. As far as his trolling techniques, they seem to consist primarily of convincing people who can actually code to do things for him, then taking the credit for them, so I wasn't really interested in acquiring these “skills” even if I did have a naive fascination with what I then saw as his "innocent" pranks and how they functioned. While it wasn't a big part of our brief-lived (four month) relationship, he often made comments that were racist, homophobic, anti-semitic, misogynist and transphobic. I alternated between being like "hahahaha", “satiring” back to him (including making similar comments), and telling him to knock it the fuck off. In private conversations he assured me that he was just a performance artist, that it was satire and trolling, and that he was actually a feminist (lol). He was always laughing when he said really horrible things. Like the anti-intellectual, self-centered, callous, cavalier and "edgy" white liberal that I fancied myself (And was) at the time, I laughed too and played along. As much as there is lots of feigned outrage from white people about it, this discourse was frankly not much different than that I saw and still see constantly in the tech workplace and at events, online and in the community. Tech prides itself on being "not overtly -ist" when it actually is, despite almost everyone’s vehement protestations. For those who attempt to distance themselves from the racism, sexism, and transphobia of the industry by congratulating themselves that we don’t "say those things": you are full of shit. The tech industry is chock full NOT ONLY of "subtle" issues that let us continue to feel like good people because we don't use slurs, but actual constant and overt abuse, discrimination, and violence - often under the guises of "irony" and "satire”. And I have absolutely participated in it. People demand to know why I won't "defend" myself from the "charges" made by my ex. Yes, they contain a number of outright lies and inventions as well as self-serving exaggerations, distortions and manipulations. Frankly, I’m not going to indulge this circus by refuting and responding point-by-point to the details of an abusive relationship I had years ago. As to the overall tone of the allegations, basically that I used to be an oppressive asshole who held much different values than I do now... well I don't feel a need to "defend" or "deny" that because the truth is, I had for years and years of my past been whole-heartedly complicit in the systems of inequality and discrimination that plague our field. I thought that if I made six figures and did well in my career, acted like "one of the boys” aka white male patriarchs, or played along with them, and was as vulgar, violent, self-centered and cut-throat as the "successful" white men around me, that was "feminism." I gave a shit about my own advancement but for many years didn't really give a shit about anyone else's advancement. I didn't recognize my role in the tech industry as a privileged white woman, and didn't do much of the internal and external work required to divest from those systems. As I started my political awakening, I was primarily concerned with the advancement of white women like myself and didn't give much thought to broader systemic issues, or how I was complicit in the oppression of other groups. My attitudes, beliefs and behavior were 100% born of my alignment with white capitalist patriarchy, and I benefitted enormously (And still do) from it even as it has abused me. Here are two categories of things that are both true. 1. I am queer, mentally ill and a woman. I have been through a lot of hard stuff because of those things. I went through some Carrie-style shit when I came out in middle school. I have had an anxiety disorder and obsessive compulsive disorder since I was a kid. Some of my first "real" sexual experiences included being molested and a victim of statutory rape. Later in my life, I've been raped at knife point and dragged across the floor thinking I would die that night. I've been punched in the face by my "lovers". I showed up to my first real job interview with a barely concealed black eye and bruised ribs. I've finished school while I screamed bloody murder into an apartment complex at night pleading for help from anyone who heard. As a working professional I've been sexually harassed, verbally and physically intimidated by managers, underpaid, overworked, denied promotions, humiliated, and subjected to hostile work environment after hostile work environment. I've been threatened with revenge porn by multiple exes, and coerced into doing things I think are unethical by people in positions of power over me. I've had hacked nude photos sent to my bosses and investors. I've been stalked over the course of months and years, been slandered and abused by media, and disowned by my industry for being a woman who spoke up. I am one of the most visible women in tech - not as a respected and valued member of our industry, but as a target. I live in constant fear of the tech community and am terrorized on a regular basis. I am held up for all to see, a public example of what they will do to you if you speak out - and it seems “anything goes” more and more each day as organized hate groups grow in numbers and strength while the tech community grows in apathy. 2. I am a cis white woman who has uncritically profited from white supremacy, cissexism, ableism, classism and other forms of oppression. My success, visibility, and achievements are fundamentally built on the oppression of others, and I spent years not giving a fuck, lending any semblance of a hand, acknowledging my role, or working to dismantle the systems I've been part of. Most of my privileges in life happen as a direct result of a white supremacist capitalist system, and I too long stayed silent and comfortable. From an essay I published in autumn 2013 on my personal blog, called "Finding Out You’re a Sexist, Misogynistic, Homophobic, Classist, Racist Asshole and Hypocrite": "I can only cringe and hate myself when I think of all the times I have totally fucked up and became part of the very problems I hate. Yes, I have slut-shamed, body-policed, name-called, bad-joked, appropriated, derailed, co-opted, silenced, objectified, stereotyped, trivialized, slurred, punished, isolated, insulted, benefited, and stayed silent with the worst of them. A highlight reel of my life profiting uncritically and even participating in the systems of misogyny, classism, racism, cis-normativity and homophobia that oppress my friends, my family, my fellow humans would not endear anyone to me, least of all myself. It fees horrible to talk about. But I am because we all must realize how complete, how intersecting, how deeply fucked up the system is, and the role we play in it. It’s easy to become invested in an image of ourselves as good human beings, without blame or participation in the oppression of other people. Sometimes we even imagine ourselves as a helper to them, a healer, an ally, without even thinking it through." I have made many sexist, racist, transphobic and homophobic comments that were abusive and violent in my life. I have consistently failed to stand against discrimination that affected other people. I've often prioritized my own needs and success above that of more marginalized people. For years, I made no effort to use my privilege and power to help others. I have *literally fucked a neo-Nazi and harbored him with money, emotional support and yeah, kinky sex.* My internalized misogyny and the racism I have reproduced affected real relationships and hurt real people. Because I have had access to white, cis, class and educational privilege, I have been able to protect myself, get amazing health and mental health care, and attain economic security that many suffering the same and much, much worse do not have access to. In the workplace, I got the perks of diversity in tech efforts while more marginalized people were left behind, and I didn't say shit. I benefited and continue to benefit enormously from white supremacy in the tech industry, able to amass financial resources to start my own company and escape the day-to-day grind of the abusive tech workforce, which is not an option for so many. All of the above things are true. As a cis white woman I have both abused and been abused, been a victim of violence and someone who commits violence, been punished by the system and also benefited extensively from it. I refuse to run around insisting that I'm not an oppressive asshole instead of actually doing the work of dismantling the system - inside me and outside me. I heal myself, and I also work to ease, destroy and amend for the pain and oppression I have inflicted on others, that I participate in, benefit from, and bear responsibility for taking down. I also want readers to note that the "redemption" narrative that people are looking for me to manifest here is hugely problematic, centering white people's feelings and experiences, our personal growth over dismantling oppressive systems, and our need to feel like we are "good people." As I've written in the past, I don't believe that "good person" as a framework to approaching systemic inequalities is useful. I don’t think I am a good or bad person. I am a person who has done good things and bad things, and I try to do more good things as I grow. I don't wish to offer excuses for my past. I cannot undo it, nor change it. I remain complicit in and benefit from many systems of oppression, I still have an enormous amount of work to do to divest of my own investment in the system and how I enable it to continue, and I have a life-time of work to do against it, work that I try to do each day. This is work that the tech industry needs to partake in. I invite you to get out of my sex life and to join me doing it.

[allenmendezsr]

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[kenttheatreblog]

Should Amatuer Dramatic groups invest in understudies?

A few months ago, I stage managed a production of A Fine Bright Day Today and in the last week or so leading up to opening night, a member of the cast ran in the Brighton Marathon. I jokingly told him not to break any limbs as I would have to send Sara, our director, on in his place. Sara then countered that it was the stage manager’s responsibility to cover any parts should the occasion call for it and, while I already knew this to be the case, the reminder did make my stomach turn slightly. This was partly because two of the three cast members were female and I didn’t fancy wandering around a stage book in hand pretending to be a lady for two hours, but it largely boiled down to the fact that it was a real possibility that someone may just call out. The reminder got me thinking about how important it is to have a “Plan B” in the event that the wish of a “broken leg” is actually fulfilled.

In recent years, I’ve come across a few instances of people covering a part in amateur productions and each time I’ve been thoroughly impressed. When I was playing Gerald in a production of When We Are Married, the leading lady sprained her ankle and we had to call in the help of the very talented Val Galbraith to cover the part, a part she played herself no less than 24 years prior! To see Val play the part as though it had been hers all along was extraordinary and you would not have thought she had only been given a few hours preparation before going on. It was nothing short of witchcraft and frankly she was a godsend. But we were lucky that someone who knew the part was available and had she not have been we may not have been able to go on at all.

Unlike professional productions, amateur groups don’t typically have understudies for the simple reason that it’s a hobby. It’s supposed to be a bit of fun. So how do you find an actor to learn and rehearse a part that they may never perform when you’re not paying them? The truth is that you can’t, at least not all of the time, but it helps to have a backup up plan.

A friend of mine was once asked to be such a backup plan, and he secretly rehearsed a part in a show because the person playing said part was having some personal issues and everyone thought he would inevitably pull out. In the end he didn’t, but my friend said that there was something really bizarre about rehearsing for a part that you may never actually get to play. While I myself wouldn’t invest the time in such a set up, you had to admire the director’s foresight and preparation to ensure that the show would go on regardless. I have been part of a lot of productions where an actor’s future in a role is far from certain, yet the director chooses to ignore any concerns and just wish away any problems.

That said you can’t cover every role just in case… Can you?

As I’ve mentioned in a few previous blogs, I was in a production of Rattigan’s Flare Path a few years ago and had a piddly little part in it. As a result, during the rehearsal period I covered pretty much every part in the show (bar one, damn you Laura Flawn and your amazing attendance). Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t any good at playing half the parts but I got to know them all quite well thank you very much. Even the lady ones.

One night before the show, one of the actors didn’t turn up at the time he usually did. One of the other cast members jokingly suggested that I better start going through his lines just in case. As we got to five minutes to curtain and the places being called the missing actor was still not there. The actor who had jokingly suggested that I look at his lines then, not so jokingly, said that maybe I should think about getting into the missing actor’s costume. While I pondered this, the misplaced thesp bolted into the dressing room like an ostrich with its arse on fire repeating words like “sorry” and “traffic” on a loop.

While I was relieved that I didn’t have to go on, I was curious about whether or not I actually could have gone on. I listened to the PA throughout the show and tried to say the lines in sync with the other actor’s voices (any actor who has ever had a small part in a show will know that this is exactly the weird sort of shit you get up to when you are trapped in a dressing room for the best part of two hours). While I didn’t get all of the lines right, I got most of them and concluded that if the entire cast had been the victims of a micro-genocide, I could have done a one man performance of Flare Path if I tried hard enough.

So maybe that’s the solution? Maybe have one or two actors spare who cover rehearsal absences? They keep themselves free during the run and then should they be called, off they pop to the theatre.

Or maybe that’s too much of a ball ache.

In the few years that I’ve been involved in theatre, the one thing that I’ve learnt is that productions do seem to have a mind of their own and are determined to plod on regardless. I’ve heard of an actress who lost her voice lip syncing while the director said her lines into a PA system. I’ve seen directors take on parts in their own shows. Hell, I’ve even heard of audience members having to step into parts! That old mantra of “the show must go on” is one that seems to, in reality, be a self fulfilling prophecy. Most shows seem to go on no matter what is thrown at them, which I think is bloody fantastic.

So remember, if you do break a leg, don’t worry! Someone will be thrust into the limelight in your place...hopefully!

[allenmendezsr]

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P.S. Remember, with my 100% guaranteed refund, there’s no risk on your part. You have nothing to lose by at least ordering Colon Cleanse Your Way To Better Health. However, you’ll need to act quickly to get in on this offer before the price goes up, so click on the link below to order today!

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     Colon-Cleanse-For-Health.com – Copyright ©2006-7. All Rights Reserved.

[pensarelvirus]

‘The impossible has already happened': what coronavirus can teach us about hope / Rebecca Solnit

.

Disasters begin suddenly and never really end. The future will not, in crucial ways, be anything like the past, even the very recent past of a month or two ago. Our economy, our priorities, our perceptions will not be what they were at the outset of this year. The particulars are startling: companies such as GE and Ford retooling to make ventilators, the scramble for protective gear, once-bustling city streets becoming quiet and empty, the economy in freefall. Things that were supposed to be unstoppable stopped, and things that were supposed to be impossible – extending workers’ rights and benefits, freeing prisoners, moving a few trillion dollars around in the US – have already happened.    

The word “crisis” means, in medical terms, the crossroads a patient reaches, the point at which she will either take the road to recovery or to death. The word “emergency” comes from “emergence” or “emerge”, as if you were ejected from the familiar and urgently need to reorient. The word “catastrophe” comes from a root meaning a sudden overturning.

We have reached a crossroads, we have emerged from what we assumed was normality, things have suddenly overturned. One of our main tasks now – especially those of us who are not sick, are not frontline workers, and are not dealing with other economic or housing difficulties – is to understand this moment, what it might require of us, and what it might make possible.

A disaster (which originally meant “ill-starred”, or “under a bad star”) changes the world and our view of it. Our focus shifts, and what matters shifts. What is weak breaks under new pressure, what is strong holds, and what was hidden emerges. Change is not only possible, we are swept away by it. We ourselves change as our priorities shift, as intensified awareness of mortality makes us wake up to our own lives and the preciousness of life. Even our definition of “we” might change as we are separated from schoolmates or co-workers, sharing this new reality with strangers. Our sense of self generally comes from the world around us, and right now, we are finding another version of who we are.

As the pandemic upended our lives, people around me worried that they were having trouble focusing and being productive. It was, I suspected, because we were all doing other, more important work. When you’re recovering from an illness, pregnant or young and undergoing a growth spurt, you’re working all the time, especially when it appears you’re doing nothing. Your body is growing, healing, making, transforming and labouring below the threshold of consciousness. As we struggled to learn the science and statistics of this terrible scourge, our psyches were doing something equivalent. We were adjusting to the profound social and economic changes, studying the lessons disasters teach, equipping ourselves for an unanticipated world.

The first lesson a disaster teaches is that everything is connected. In fact, disasters, I found while living through a medium-sized one (the 1989 earthquake in the San Francisco Bay Area) and later writing about major ones (including 9/11, Hurricane Katrina and the 2011 Tōhoku earthquake and Fukushima nuclear catastrophe in Japan), are crash courses in those connections. At moments of immense change, we see with new clarity the systems – political, economic, social, ecological – in which we are immersed as they change around us. We see what’s strong, what’s weak, what’s corrupt, what matters and what doesn’t.

I often think of these times as akin to a spring thaw: it’s as if the pack ice has broken up, the water starts flowing again and boats can move through places they could not during winter. The ice was the arrangement of power relations that we call the status quo – it seems to be stable, and those who benefit from it often insist that it’s unchangeable. Then it changes fast and dramatically, and that can be exhilarating, terrifying, or both.

Those who benefit most from the shattered status quo are often more focused on preserving or reestablishing it than protecting human life – as we saw when a chorus of US conservatives and corporate top dogs insisted that, for the sake of the stock market, everyone had to go back to work, and that the resultant deaths would be an acceptable price to pay. In a crisis, the powerful often try to seize more power – as they have in this round, with the Trump Department of Justice looking at suspending constitutional rights – and the rich seek more riches: two Republican senators are under fire for allegedly using inside information about the coming pandemic to make a profit in the stock market (although both have denied wrongdoing).

Disaster scholars use the term “elite panic” to describe the ways that elites react when they assume that ordinary people will behave badly. When elites describe “panic” and “looting” in the streets, these are usually misnomers for ordinary people doing what they need to do to survive or care for others. Sometimes it’s wise to move rapidly from danger; sometimes it’s altruistic to gather supplies to share.

Such elites often prioritise profit and property over human life and community. In the days after a huge earthquake struck San Francisco on 18 April 1906, the US military swarmed over the city, convinced that ordinary people were a threat and a source of disorder. The mayor issued a “shoot to kill” proclamation against looters, and the soldiers believed they were restoring order. What they were actually doing was setting inexpert firebreaks that helped fire spread through the city, and shooting or beating citizens who disobeyed orders (sometimes those orders were to let the fires burn down their own homes and neighbourhoods). Ninety-nine years later, in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, New Orleans’s police and white vigilantes did the same thing: shooting black people in the name of defending property and their own authority. The local, state and federal government insisted on treating a stranded, mostly poor, mostly black population as dangerous enemies to be contained and controlled, rather than victims of a catastrophe to be aided.

The mainstream media colluded in obsessing about looting in the aftermath of Katrina. The stock of mass-manufactured goods in large corporate chain stores seemed to matter more than people needing food and clean water, or grandmothers left clinging to roofs. Nearly 1,500 people died of a disaster that had more to do with bad government than with bad weather. The US Army Corps of Engineers’ levees had failed; the city had no evacuation plans for the poor, and President George W Bush’s administration failed to deliver prompt and effective relief. The same calculus is happening now. A member of the Brazilian opposition said of Brazil’s rightwing president Jair Bolsonaro: “He represents the most perverse economic interests that couldn’t care less about people’s lives. They’re worried about maintaining their profitability.” (Bolsonaro claims he is trying to protect workers and the economy.)

The billionaire evangelist who owns the arts and crafts chain Hobby Lobby claimed divine guidance in keeping his workers at their jobs when businesses were ordered to close. (The company has now closed all its stores.) At Uline Corporation, owned by billionaire Trump backers Richard and Liz Uihlein, a memo sent to Wisconsin workers said: “please do NOT tell your peers about the symptoms & your assumptions. By doing so, you are causing unnecessary panic in the office.” The billionaire founder and chairman of payroll processing corporation Paychex, Tom Golisano, said: “The damages of keeping the economy closed as it is could be worse than losing a few more people.” (Golisano has since said his comments were misrepresented, and has apologised.)

Historically, there have always been titans of industry who prized the lifeless thing that is profit over living beings, who paid bribes in order to operate unhindered, worked children to death or put labourers in mortal danger in sweatshops and coal mines. There were also those who pressed on with fossil fuel extraction and burning despite what they knew, or refused to know, about climate change. One of the primary uses of wealth has always been to buy your way out of the common fate, or, at least, it has come with a belief that you can disassociate from society at large. And while the rich are often conservative, conservatives more often align with the rich, whatever their economic status.

The idea that everything is connected is an affront to conservatives who cherish a macho every-man-for-himself frontier fantasy. Climate change has been a huge insult to them – this science that says what comes out of our cars and chimneys shapes the fate of the world in the long run and affects crops, sea level, forest fires and so much more. If everything is connected, then the consequences of every choice and act and word have to be examined, which we see as love in action and they see as impingement upon absolute freedom, freedom being another word for absolutely no limits on the pursuit of self-interest. Ultimately, a significant portion of conservatives and corporate leaders regard science as an annoyance that they can refuse to recognise. Some insist they can choose whatever rules and facts they want, as though these too are just free-market commodities to pick and choose from or remake according to one’s whims. “This denial of science and critical thinking among religious ultraconservatives now haunts the American response to the coronavirus crisis,” wrote the journalist Katherine Stewart in the New York Times.

Our rulers showed little willingness to recognise the ominous possibilities of the pandemic in the US, the UK, Brazil and many other countries. They failed in their most important job, and denying that failure will be a major focus for them. And while it may be inevitable that the pandemic will result in an economic crash, it is also turning into an opportunity for authoritarian power grabs in the Philippines, Hungary, Israel and the US – a reminder that the largest problems are still political, and so are their solutions.

When a storm subsides, the air is washed clean of whatever particulate matter has been obscuring the view, and you can often see farther and more sharply than at any other time. When this storm clears, we may, as do people who have survived a serious illness or accident, see where we were and where we should go in a new light. We may feel free to pursue change in ways that seemed impossible while the ice of the status quo was locked up. We may have a profoundly different sense of ourselves, our communities, our systems of production and our future.

For many of us in the developed world, what has changed most immediately is spatial. We have stayed home, those of us who have homes, and away from contact with others. We have withdrawn from schools, workplaces, conferences, vacations, gyms, errands, parties, bars, clubs, churches, mosques, synagogues, from the busyness and bustle of everyday life. The philosopher-mystic Simone Weil once wrote to a faraway friend: “Let us love this distance, which is thoroughly woven with friendship, since those who do not love each other are not separated.” We have withdrawn from each other to protect each other. And people have found ways to help the vulnerable, despite the need to remain physically distant.

My friend Renato Redentor Constantino, a climate campaigner, wrote to me from the Philippines, and said: “We are witness today to daily displays of love that remind us of the many reasons why humans have survived this long. We encounter epic acts of courage and citizenship each day in our neighbourhoods and in other cities and countries, instances that whisper to us that the depredations of a few will eventually be overcome by legions of stubborn people who refuse the counsel of despair, violence, indifference and arrogance that so-called leaders appear so eager nowadays to trigger.”

When we are no longer trying to unlink ourselves from the chain of a spreading disease, I wonder if we will rethink how we were linked, how we moved about and how the goods we rely on moved about. Perhaps we will appreciate the value of direct face-to-face contact more. Perhaps the Europeans who have sung together from their balconies or applauded together for their medical workers, and the Americans who came out to sing or dance on their suburban blocks, will have a different sense of belonging. Perhaps we will find a new respect for the workers who produce our food and those who bring it to our tables.

Although staying put is hard, maybe we will be reluctant to resume our rushing about, and something of the stillness now upon us will stay with us. We may rethink the wisdom of having much of our most vital stuff – medicine, medical equipment – made on other continents. We may also rethink the precarious just-in-time supply chains. I have often thought that the wave of privatisation that has characterised our neoliberal age began with the privatisation of the human heart, the withdrawal from a sense of a shared fate and social bonds. It is to be hoped that this shared experience of catastrophe will reverse the process. A new awareness of how each of us belongs to the whole and depends on it may strengthen the case for meaningful climate action, as we learn that sudden and profound change is possible after all.

“Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers,” Wordsworth wrote, a little more than 200 years ago. Perhaps this will be the moment that we recognise that there is enough food, clothing, shelter, healthcare and education for all – and that access to these things should not depend on what job you do and whether you earn enough money. Perhaps the pandemic is also making the case, for those who were not already convinced, for universal healthcare and basic income. In the aftermath of disaster, a change of consciousness and priorities are powerful forces.

A dozen years ago I interviewed the Nicaraguan poet and Sandinista revolutionary Gioconda Belli for my book on disaster, A Paradise Built in Hell. What she told me about the aftermath of the 1972 earthquake in Managua – that, despite the dictatorship’s crackdown, it helped bring on the revolution – was unforgettable. She said: “You had a sense of what was important. And people realised that what was important was freedom and being able to decide your life and agency. Two days later you had this tyrant imposing a curfew, imposing martial law. The sense of oppression on top of the catastrophe was really unbearable. And once you had realised that your life can be decided by one night of the Earth deciding to shake, [you thought]: ‘So what? I want to live a good life and I want to risk my life, because I can also lose my life in one night.’ You realise that life has to be lived well or is not worth living. It’s a very profound transformation that takes place during catastrophes.”

I have found over and over that the proximity of death in shared calamity makes many people more urgently alive, less attached to the small things in life and more committed to the big ones, often including civil society or the common good.

I have mostly written about 20th-century disasters, but one analogy a bit further back comes to mind: the Black Death, which wiped out a third of Europe’s population, and, in England, later led to peasant revolts against war taxes and wage caps that were officially quashed, but nevertheless led to more rights and freedoms for peasants and labourers. In the emergency legislation passed in the US in March, many workers gained new sick-leave rights. Lots of things we were assured were impossible – housing the homeless, for example – have come to pass in some places.

Ireland nationalised its hospitals, something “we were told would never happen and could never happen,” an Irish journalist commented. Canada came up with four months of basic income for those who lost their jobs. Germany did more than that. Portugal decided to treat immigrants and asylum seekers as full citizens during the pandemic. In the US, we have seen powerful labour agitation, and results. Workers at Whole Foods, Instacart and Amazon have protested at being forced to work in unsafe conditions during the pandemic. (Whole Foods has since offered workers who test positive two weeks off on full pay; Instacart says it has made changes to safeguard workers and shoppers, while Amazon said it is “following guidelines” on safety.) Some workers have gained new rights and raises, including almost half a million Kroger grocery store workers, while 15 state attorneys-general told Amazon to expand its paid sick leave. These specifics make clear how possible it is to change the financial arrangements of all our societies.

But often the most significant consequences of disasters are not immediate or direct. The 2008 financial collapse led to 2011’s Occupy Wall Street uprising, which prompted a new reckoning with economic inequality and a new scrutiny of the human impact of exploitative mortgages, student loans, for profit-colleges, health-insurance systems and more, and that in turn amplified the profiles of Elizabeth Warren and Bernie Sanders, whose ideas have helped pull the Democratic party to the left, towards policies that will make the US fairer and more equal. The conversations stirred by Occupy and its sister movements across the globe incited more critical scrutiny of ruling powers, and more demands for economic justice. Changes in the public sphere originate within the individual, but also, changes in the world at large affect our sense of self, our priorities and our sense of the possible.

We are only in the early stages of this disaster, and we are also in a strange stillness. It is like the Christmas truce of 1914, when German and English soldiers stopped fighting for a day, the guns fell silent and soldiers mingled freely. War itself paused. There’s a way that our getting and spending has been a kind of war against the Earth. Since the outbreak of Covid-19, carbon emissions have plummeted. Reports say the air above Los Angeles, Beijing and New Delhi is miraculously clean. Parks all over the US are shut to visitors, which may have a beneficial effect on wildlife. In the last government shutdown of 2018-2019, elephant seals at Point Reyes National Seashore just north of San Francisco took over a new beach, and now own it for the duration of their season of mating and birthing on land.

There’s another analogy that comes to mind. When a caterpillar enters its chrysalis, it dissolves itself, quite literally, into liquid. In this state, what was a caterpillar and will be a butterfly is neither one nor the other, it’s a sort of living soup. Within this living soup are the imaginal cells that will catalyse its transformation into winged maturity. May the best among us, the most visionary, the most inclusive, be the imaginal cells – for now we are in the soup. The outcome of disasters is not foreordained. It’s a conflict, one that takes place while things that were frozen, solid and locked up have become open and fluid – full of both the best and worst possibilities. We are both becalmed and in a state of profound change.

But this is also a time of depth for those spending more time at home and more time alone, looking outward at this unanticipated world. We often divide emotions into good and bad, happy and sad, but I think they can equally be divided into shallow and deep, and the pursuit of what is supposed to be happiness is often a flight from depth, from one’s own interior life and the suffering around us – and not being happy is often framed as a failure. But there is meaning as well as pain in sadness, mourning and grief, the emotions born of empathy and solidarity. If you are sad and frightened, it is a sign that you care, that you are connected in spirit. If you are overwhelmed – well, it is overwhelming, and it will take decades of study, analysis, discussion and contemplation to understand how and why 2020 suddenly took us all into marshy new territory.

Seven years ago, Patrisse Cullors wrote a sort of mission statement for Black Lives Matter: “Provide hope and inspiration for collective action to build collective power to achieve collective transformation. Rooted in grief and rage but pointed towards vision and dreams.” It is beautiful not only because it is hopeful, not only because then Black Lives Matter set out and did transformative work, but because it acknowledges that hope can coexist with difficulty and suffering. The sadness in the depths and the fury that burns above are not incompatible with hope, because we are complex creatures, because hope is not optimism that everything will be fine regardless.

Hope offers us clarity that, amid the uncertainty ahead, there will be conflicts worth joining and the possibility of winning some of them. And one of the things most dangerous to this hope is the lapse into believing that everything was fine before disaster struck, and that all we need to do is return to things as they were. Ordinary life before the pandemic was already a catastrophe of desperation and exclusion for too many human beings, an environmental and climate catastrophe, an obscenity of inequality. It is too soon to know what will emerge from this emergency, but not too soon to start looking for chances to help decide it. It is, I believe, what many of us are preparing to do.

*

Fuente: https://www.theguardian.com/about-hope-rebecca-solnit

[Publicado 7/abril/2020]

[sheminecrafts]

In the Accelerator over the Sea

In our oceans the scale of disasters is measured in millions, billions, and trillions, while solutions amount to single digits: individuals or institutions working to impact a chosen issue with approaches often both brilliant and quixotic. Putting such individuals in close contact with both whales and billionaires is the strange alchemy being attempted by the Sustainable Ocean Alliance’s Accelerator at Sea.

I and a few other reporters were invited to observe said program, a five-day excursion in Alaska that put recent college graduates, aspiring entrepreneurs, legends of the sea, and soft-spoken financial titans on the same footing: spotting whales from Zodiacs in the morning, learning from one another in the afternoon, and drinking whiskey good and bad under the Northern lights in the pre-dawn dark.

The boat — no, not that big one, or that other big one… yes, that one.

In that time I got to know the dozen or so companies in the accelerator, the second batch from the SOA but the first to experience this oddly effective enterprise. And I also gathered from conversations among the group the many challenges facing conservation-focused startups.

(By way of disclosure, I should say that I was among four press offered a spot on the chartered boat; Those invited, from penniless students to deep-pocketed investors, could join provided they got themselves to Juneau for embarkation.)

The picture painted by just about everyone was one of impending doom from a multiplicity of interlinked trends, and as many different approaches to averting or mitigating that doom as people discussing it.

What’s the problem?

In Silicon Valley one grows so used to seeing enormous sums of money expended on things barely categorizable as irritations, let alone serious problems, that it is a bit bewildering to be presented with the opposite: existential problems being addressed on shoestring budgets by founders actually passionate about their domain.

Throughout the trip, the discussions had at almost every occasion, be it looking for bear prints in a tidal flat or visiting a local salmon hatchery, were about the imminent collapse of natural ecosystems and the far-reaching consequences thereof.

Overfishing, rising water temperatures, deforestation, pollution, strip mining, microplastics — everywhere we looked is a man-made threat that has been allowed to go too far. Not a single industry or species is unaffected.

It’s enough to make you want to throw your hands up and go home, which is in fact what some have advised. But the people on this boat are not them. They were selected for their dedication to conservation and ingenuity in pursuing solutions.

Of course, there’s no “solution” to the million of tons of plastic and oil in the oceans poisoning fish and creating enormous dead zones. There’s no “solution” to climate change. No one expects or promises a miracle cure for nature’s centuries of abuse at human hands.

But there are mitigations, choices we can make and technologies we can opt for where a small change can propagate meaningfully and, if not undo the damage we’ve done, reduce it going forward and make people aware of the difference they can make.

Small fish in a big, scary pond

The trip came right at the beginning of the accelerator, a choice that meant they were only getting started in the program and in fact had never met one another. It also meant in many cases their pitches and business models were less than polished. This is for the most part an early-stage program, and early in the program at that.

That said, the companies may be young but the ideas and technologies are sound. I expect to follow up with many as they perfect their hardware, raise money, and complete pilot projects, but I think it’s important to highlight each one of them, if only briefly. The accelerator’s demo day is actually today, and I wish I could attend to see how the companies and founders have evolved.

Some accelerators are so big and so general-purpose that it was refreshing to have a manageable number of companies all clustered around interlinked issues and united by a common concern. If young entrepreneurs trying to change the world isn’t TechCrunch business, I don’t know what is.

The problems may be multifarious, but I managed to group the startups under two general umbrellas: waste reduction and aquatic intelligence.

But before that I want to mention one that doesn’t fit into either category and for other reasons deserves a shout out.

Coral Vita grows corals at many times their normal rate and implants them in dying reefs.

Coral Vita is working on a special method of fast-tracking coral growth and simultaneously selecting for organisms resistant to bleaching and other threats. The founder, Gator Halpern, impressed the importance of the coral systems on us over the trip, as did filmmaker Jeff Orlowski, who directed the harrowing documentaries Chasing Ice and Chasing Coral. (He gave a workshop on storytelling — important when you’re pitching a film or a startup.)

Gator is using a special method to grow corals at 50 times normal rates and hopefully resuscitate reefs around the world, which is awesome, but I wanted to put Coral Vita first because of a horribly apropos coincidence: Hurricane Dorian, the latest in a historically long unbroken line of storms, struck his home and lab in the Bahamas while we were at sea.

It was literally battering the islands while he was supposed to pitch investors, and he used his time instead to ask us to help the victims of the storm. That’s heart. And it serves as a reminder that these are not armchair solutions to invented problems.

If you can spare a buck, you can support Coral Vita and victims of Dorian in the Bahamas here.

Waste reduction

The other companies were addressing problems equally as destructive, if not quite so immediately so.

Humans produce a lot of waste, and a lot of that waste ends up in the ocean, either as whole plastic bags scooping up fish, microplastics poisoning them, or heavier trash cluttering the sea floor. These startups focused on reducing humanity’s deleterious effects on ocean ecosystems.

Cruz Foam is looking to replace one of my least favorite substances, Styrofoam, which I see broken up and mixed in with beach soil and sand all the time. The company has created a process that uses an incredibly abundant and strong material called chitin to create a lightweight, biodegradable packing foam. Chitin is what a lot of invertebrates use to form their shells and exoskeletons, and there’s tons of it out there — but the company has been careful to find ethical sourcing for the volume it need.

Cruz Foam’s chitin-based product, left, and Biocellection’s plastic reduction process.

Biocellection is coming from the other direction, having created a process to break down polyethylenes (i.e. plastics) into smaller molecules that are useful in existing chemical processes. It’s actually upcycling waste plastic rather than repurposing it as a lower grade product.

Loliware was in SOA’s first batch, and creates single-use straws out of kelp material — a timely endeavor, as evidenced by the $6M round A they just pulled in, and backlog of millions of units ordered. Their challenge now is not finding a market but supplying it.

Dispatch Goods and Muuse are taking complementary approaches to reducing single-use items for take-out. Dispatch follows a model in use elsewhere in the world where durable containers are used rather than disposable ones for delivery items, then picked up, washed, and reused. Kind of obvious when you think about it, which is it’s common in other places.

Muuse (formerly Revolv) takes a more tech-centric approach, partnering with coffee shops to issue reusable cups rather than disposable ones. You can keep the cup if you want, or drop it off at a smart collection point and get a refund; RFID tags keep track of the items. Founder Forrest Carroll talked about early successes with this model on semi-closed environments like airports and college campuses.

Repurpose is aiming to create a way to go “plastic neutral” the way people try to go “carbon neutral.” Companies and individuals can sponsor individual landfills where their plastics go, subsidizing the direct removal and handling costs of a given quantity of trash.

Finless Foods hopes to indirectly reduce the huge amount of cost and waste created by fishing (“sustainable” really isn’t) by creating lab-grown tuna tissue that’s indistinguishable from the real thing. It’s a work in progress, but they’ve got a ton of money so you can probably count on it.

Intelligence and automation

The technology used in the maritime and fishing industries tends toward the “sturdy legacy” type rather than “cutting edge.” That’s changing as costs drop and the benefits of things like autonomous vehicles and IoT become evident.

Ellipsis represents perhaps the most advanced, yet direct, application of the latest tech. The company uses camera-equipped drones using computer vision to inspect rivers and bodies of water for plastics, helping cleanup and response crews characterize and prioritize them. This kind of low-level data is largely missing from cleanup efforts, which gave rise to the name, which refers to both the peripatetic founder Ellie and the symbol indicating missing or omitted information

Ellipsis uses computer vision to find plastic waste in water systems.

For larger-scale inspection, autonomous boats like Saildrone are an increasingly valuable tool — but they cost hundreds of thousands of dollars and have their own limitations.

EcoDrone is a lower-cost, smaller, customizable autonomous sailboat that costs more like $2,500. Plenty of missions would prefer to deploy a fleet of smaller, cheaper boats than put all their hopes into one vessel.

Sea Proven is going the other direction, with a much larger autonomous ship: 20 meters long with a full ton of payload space. That opens up entirely new mission profiles that use sophisticated, large-scale equipment and require long-term presence at sea. The company has two ships now embarking on a mission to track whales in the Mediterranean.

Nets and traps are notoriously dumb, producing a huge amount of “bycatch,” animals caught up in them that aren’t what the fishing vessel was aiming (or licensed) to collect. Smart Catch equips these huge nets with a camera that tracks and characterizes the fish that enter, allowing the owner to watch and monitor them remotely and respond if necessary.

Meanwhile “dumb” traps can still be smarter in other ways. Stationary traps in stormy seas are often lost, dragged along the sea bed to an unknown location, there to sit attracting hapless crab and fish until they fall apart centuries from now. Blue Ocean Gear makes GPS-equipped buoys that can be tracked easily, reducing the risk of losing expensive fishing kit and line, and preventing “ghost fishing.”

Connectivity at sea can be problematic, with satellite often the only real option. Sure, Starlink and others are on their way, but why wait? A system of interconnected floating hubs from ONet could serve as hotspots for ships carrying valuable and voluminous data that would otherwise need to be processed at sea or uploaded at great cost.

And integrating all that data with other datasets like those provided by universities, ports, municipalities, NGOs… good luck getting it all in one place. But that’s the goal of SINAY, which is assembling a huge ocean-centric meta-database where users can cross-reference without having to sort or process it locally. Clouds come from oceans, right? So why shouldn’t the ocean be in the cloud?

Accelerator at Sea

The idea of commencing this accelerator program with a trip to southeast Alaska is a fanciful one, no doubt. But an influx of support for the accelerator’s parent organization, the Sustainable Ocean Alliance, made it possible. The SOA raised millions from the mysterious Pine and not-so-mysterious Benioffs, but it also made a deep impression on the founder of Lindblad Expeditions, Sven Lindblad, who offered not just to host the event but to attend and speak at it.

He joined several other experts and interesting people in doing so: Former head of Google X Tom Chi, Value Act’s Jeff Ubben, Gigi Brisson and her Ocean Elders, including Captain (ret.) Don Walsh, the first man to reach the bottom of the Challenger Depths in the Marianas Trench. He’s hilarious, by the way.

I met SOA founder Daniela Fernandez at a TechCrunch event a few years ago when all this was just one of many twinkles in her twinkly eyes, and it’s been rewarding to watch her grow a community around these issues, which have passionate supporters around the globe if you’re willing to look for them and validate their purpose. It’s not a surprise to me at all that she has collected such an impressive group.

The boat, departing from Juneau, made a number of stops at local places of interest, where we would meet locals in the fishing industry, whale researchers, and others, or hear about the local economy ecology from one of the boat’s designated naturalists. In between these expeditions we did team-building exercises, honed pitches, and heard talks from the people mentioned above on hiring practices, investment trends, history.

These people weren’t just plucked from from the void — they are all part of the extended community that the SOA and Fernandez have built over the last few years. The organization was built with the idea of putting young, motivated people together with older, more experienced ones, and that’s just what was happening.

In a way it was what you might expect out of an accelerator program: Connecting startups with industry veterans and investors (of which there were several present) and getting them the advice and exposure they need. There was a pitch competition — the “Otter Sanctuary” (you had to be there).

But there was something very different about doing it this way — on a boat, I mean. In Alaska. With bears, whales, and the northern lights present at every turn.

“For the first time ever, we brought together a community of ocean entrepreneurs from all around the world and allowed them to become fully immersed in the environment that they have been working so hard to protect,” said Craig Dudenhoffer, who runs the accelerator program. “It was amazing to see the entrepreneurs establishing lifelong relationships with each other and with members of the SOA community. It might seem counter-intuitive for a technology entrepreneur, but sometimes you have to disconnect from technology in order to reconnect with your mission.”

In a normal startup accelerator, and in fact for the remainder of this one, aspiring entrepreneurs are living on their own somewhere, coming into a shared office space, attending office hours, meeting VCs in their offices or at demo days. That’s just fine, and indeed what many a startup needs — a peer group, a focal point in space and time, goals and advice.

On the boat, however, these things were present, but secondary to the experience of, say, standing next to someone under the aurora. I’m aware of how that sounds — “it was an experience, man!” — but there’s something fundamentally different about it.

In an office in the Bay Area, there is an established power structure and hierarchy. Schedules are adjusted around meetings, priorities are split, time and attention are devoted in formal 15-minute increments. On the boat there was no hierarchy, or rather the artificial one to which we would cleave in the city was flattened by the scale of what we were learning and experiencing.

You’d be in a zodiac or pressed against the railing with your binoculars, talking about whales and the threat of microplastics with whoever’s next to you in a normal fashion, only to find out they’re a billionaire who you’d never be able to meet directly with at all, let alone on equal terms.

Sitting at breakfast one day the guy next to me started talking about hydrogen-powered trucking — I figured I’d indulge this harmless idealist. In fact it was Jeff Ubben and Value Act was investing millions in an ecosystem they fully expect to take over the west coast. This sort of encounter was happening constantly as people engaged naturally, acting outside the established hierarchies and power structures.

Part of that was the gravity of the issues the startups were facing, and which we were reminded of repeatedly by the impending hurricane, the hatchery warning of salmon apocalypse, the visibly collapsing ecosystems, and perhaps most poignantly by the changes seen personally by Don and Sven, who were been on the seas professionally long before I was even born.

“It’s like salmon eggs”

On the last night of the trip, I shared a glass of wine with Sven to talk about why he was supporting this endeavor, which was undoubtedly expensive and certainly unusual.

“From a business perspective, I depend on the ocean — but there’s a personal connection as well. I’m constantly looking for ways to protect what we depend on,” he began. “We have a fund that generates a couple million dollars a year, and we find different people that we believe in — that have an idea, a passion, intelligence. You meet someone like Daniela, you want to go to bat for them.”

“When you’re 21 or whatever, you have all these idealistic thoughts about making a difference in the world. They need support in a variety of ways — advice, finance, mentorship, all these things are part of the puzzle,” he said. “What SOA has done is recognize people that have a good idea. Left to their own devices most of them would probably fail. But we can provide some support, and it’s like with salmon eggs – maybe instead of one in a million surviving, maybe two, or five survive, you know?”

“Tech is a valuable tool, but it has to serve to support an idea. It isn’t the idea. Eliminating plastics and bycatch, making data more useful, putting sonar sensors on robotic boats, all very interesting. We need solutions, actions, ideas, as fast as we can, to accelerate the change in behavior as fast as we can.”

His earnest replies soon became emotional, however, as his core concern for the ocean and planet in general took over.

“We’re fucked,” he said simply. “We are literally destroying the next generation’s future. I’ve been with colleagues and we’ve wept over glasses of wine over what we’re doing.”

“I have two personalities,” he explained. “And most of my friends, associates, scientists have these dual personalities, too. One is when they look in the mirror and talk to themselves — that tends to be more pessimistic. But the other is the external personality, where being pessimistic is not helpful.”

“Something like this really activates that optimism,” he said. “At the end of the day young people have to grab their future, because we sure haven’t done a great job of it. They have to get out there, they have to vote, they have to take control. Because if the system really starts to collapse… I don’t think anyone even begins to understand the magnitude of it. It’s unfathomable.”

The Accelerator at Sea program was a fascinating experience and I’m glad to have taken part. I feel sure it was valuable for the startups as well, and not just because of the $25,000 they were each spontaneously awarded from the investors on board, who in closing remarks emphasized how important it is that startups like these and the people behind them are supported by gatekeepers like venture firms and press.

The combination of good times in nature, stimulating experts and talks, and a group of highly motivated young entrepreneurs was a powerful mixture, and unfortunately one that is difficult to describe even in 3,000 words. But I’m glad it exists and I look forward to following the progress of these companies and the people behind them. You can keep up with the SOA at its website.

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