#or be allowed to be around children or hold government jobs or all this bullshit. im not out to my family and now i dont think i feel safe

[atastypeach]

honestly. fuck the holidays.

[corvus--rex]

The first part of this is already on Ao3 as part of Julance 2021, and I wanted to throw it up here with the second (unfinished) part of the chapter. It's sleeping for now, but I really want to come back to it. If you've read the first part on Ao3, I said that Keith's a little dark at first, but that he has his reasons - those reasons come in in his part. It is an Omegaverse, with Alpha Lance and Omega Keith. As usual, please feel free to skip it if it's not your thing :)

~*~*~*~

Part 1: Sharpshooter

Unilu was an old neighborhood. One that didn’t care where you came from or where you were going. Didn’t care about dynamics. Didn’t care about where your money came from. The density of the buildings made the area dark even in the middle of the day. The stories said that Altea had been a beautiful city, light and free. That was impossible to see anymore. Daibazaal Industries had taken over long ago, running the nanny-state government from boardrooms.

This was the world Lance McClain navigated through on his way to a bar called Baku’s Den. He was supposed to be meeting up with Florona, a girl he’d been put in contact with. She had connections to a job he was interested in. Omega trafficking wasn’t an uncommon practice, but it was usually female Omegas that were targeted. Some bullshit about delicate beauty and submission he didn’t believe in. Lance’s mother was an Omega, wherever she was. He hoped she was safe; he hadn’t seen her in 8 years. But this trafficking ring was pretty new, and dealing exclusively in male Omegas. Lance had a feeling he knew why.

The Daibazaal state had mandated sterilization for all Betas and some female Omegas. Male Omegas were safe from the invasive procedure. The official reason was that there was a population issue and the city was over-crowded, and that, although unfortunate, it was necessary for even resource distribution, and the statistics showed that male Omegas were far less likely to have children. It was total bullshit. The birth rate had been dropping steadily for years. Some once-thriving neighborhoods had become ghost towns. The only reason a place like Unilu was still holding on was because they looked the other way on most things, becoming a haven of sorts for people like Lance. The Alpha had always had an innate talent for firearms of all types. It was a talent he’d honed into a finely-sharpened skill. One that he used to chip away at Daibazaal and the atrocities they allowed to go unaddressed, like this trafficking ring.

He’d left his hoverbike a few blocks away, making his way to Baku’s Den on foot. He stiffened when he caught the scent of someone coming up beside him, but relaxed when he realized he knew the Beta. It was another runner who went by Rolo. Lance and Rolo had first met when Rolo and his girlfriend Nyma took off with Lance’s hoverbike. He’d gotten it back from the Beta pair and their cyber-terrier Beezer, and they’d eventually become friends of a sort.

Rolo casually sauntered up beside the Alpha. “So, where ya headed?” he asked.

“Just drinks with a girl,” Lance answered. Meeting a contact,was the translation.

The Beta understood. “She pretty?” One of your usual contacts?

“Don’t know. Blind date a friend set up.” No, but I trust the one who set up the meeting.

“Well, good luck with that. Never can tell with some girls. Gimme a call if you need an excuse.” Watch your back. Call if you need backup.

Lance chuckled at the surface sentiment. “Sure. Thanks, man.” Will do.

“Well, I better take Beezer for a walk. Gettin’ late.” Doing a hacking run tonight, but I’ll be nearby.

“Have fun with that. Watch out for any stray cats.” Good luck. Keep an eye out for security bots.

“Eh, they’re easy to scare off.” I can get around them.

By then, they’d reached the block Baku’s Den was on. Lance nodded toward it, Rolo understanding that this was where his meeting was taking place. They parted ways, Lance headed for the bar, and Rolo disappeared around the corner. The sign hologram on the dark grey concrete building sat over the heavy steel door. The sign read Baku’s Den in a stylized typeface with a three-jawed serpent weaving through the letters. The serpent flew – swam? – through the bar’s name on a continual loop, executing a barrel roll around the name every third loop.

The interior looked very much like most other bars Lance had been to, whether meeting fixers or just relaxing. A dark concrete floor was easy to clean (and hide ingrained blood stains) after the inevitable bar fights. Dim lighting was both a blessing and a curse since it kept things more intimate, but it was also harder to spot a weapon. Booths were the same way. Made things more private, but also gave someone the chance to ambush a target. Lance’s cursory sweep was more tactical than he let show. He noted all exit points, where was best for cover, who looked the most dangerous. He also spotted his contact.

Florona sat at the edge of the booth in the back corner. She had closely cut maroon hair except for a white swath down the middle that was cut longer and swept to one side. Her gloss black cybernetic eyes had no visible sclera or iris, but he knew she was looking at him. He could see her brown leather jacket with dark red accents and skin-tight burgundy pants and heavy boots. It was also a pretty safe guess that she was armed. Just as it was a near certainty that Florona wasn’t her real name.

Lance McClain certainly wasn’t his. But when he was separated from his family at 16, he left Leandro Dávila behind. He made a new identity for himself, one that let him not stand out at all, one that let him hide. He wasn’t even sure if there was anything left of Leandro in him. Leandro had been a hopeful, optimistic child. Lance was hardened by years of fighting, jaded by harsh reality. Leandro would have been afraid of Lance. It was a smart thing to be.

Some people, like Florona, wore their cybernetics for the world to see. Implants and attachments that were blatantly obvious. Rarer were those like Lance. He’d lost his eyes after a run gone wrong. The crew he was with sold him out when they thought the other side would pay better for it. They blinded him, but even without sight, he was still able to take them out and escape. He’d called his fixer, who got him help. His cybernetics looked natural, as close to his original blue as they could get. But they were fully functional cyberware. Top of the line a few years back. Night vision, infrared, zooming, even the ability to limit the amount of light received – all linked in. By blinding him, his old crew made sure he would never be blinded again. Not too long after that, he lost his left hand. That run was successful, but Lance had gotten caught in crossfire and an unlucky shot blew out his wrist, shredding tendons and splintering bone. The new one was indistinguishable from his right, the artificial skin blending seamlessly with the organic.

Lance had no choice but to slide into the booth facing away from the door, forcing him to trust Florona with his personal safety. He nodded to her, careful not to say a word until he was seated. “Florona.” It was a statement, a greeting, a question, a confirmation.

“McClain,” she returned, “Or would you prefer Sharpshooter?”

He put on the illusion of relaxing, something he never truly did. “Lance is fine,” he said casually.

Florona’s lips twitched with an amused huff. “Alright, Lance. I’m going to order us drinks while we wait,” she said, signaling to the aqua-haired waitress.

“Waiting for what?” This wasn’t what Lance was expecting, and now he was getting nervous.

“Your partner.”

“Partner? That’s news to me. What can you tell me about them?”

The waitress came over, waiting for what she was sure would be Florona’s usual order. “Nunvil,” Florona said – no surprises there. “And bring the bottle.”

Lance whistled low. “You go hard.”

Florona raised a perfect eyebrow. “And you don’t?”

“Never said I didn’t. So, what about this partner?”

She leaned back, throwing an arm over the back of the booth. “Best fuckin’ swordsman I’ve ever seen. Stealth type. He’s got this one blade – let’s just say I never want to be on the wrong side of it.”

The waitress returned setting unopened bottle and a pair of glasses on the table. When she left, Florona made a show of breaking the seal on the bottle. She poured both glasses, and Lance idly played with the rim of his.

“What’s so special about this blade?” he asked. He was genuinely curious, but made sure she didn’t know that.

“Ultraviolet hard-light. Keeps it maglocked to a sheath on his back. Bio-activated so no one but him can use it. I got to see what happens when someone tried to take it once. Wasn’t pretty. New guy tried to hit on him. Pretty forcefully, but he didn’t know what he was in for.”

Interesting information. This mysterious partner of his was a known factor here. Lance wasn’t sure if Florona had mentioned that part to remind him that he was an outsider in Unilu or if she just considered it part of the story.

“I should tell you what to expect from him before he gets here. You're an Alpha, and he may take offense to that. He’s an Omega, and a lifetime of bad experiences makes him resent Alphas on sight.”

“That’s fair,” he said, and finally picked up his glass. He actually enjoyed the silky burn as it went down. “Anything else I should know?”

“Don’t piss him off. He’s not likely to actually kill you, but the threat will be there.”

“Anything else that’s not vague and threatening?” Lance asked, draining his glass.

“Mm, nope.” Florona refilled both their glasses, and Lance saw the tiniest movement of her looking to the bar. “Except that he’s coming over. Better get ready, he’s an experience.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2: Samurai

Keith stashed his heavily modified hoverbike in an alley barely a block away from Baku’s Den, activating the chameleon hologram that would keep it out of sight. He was familiar with both the Unilu neighborhood in general and Baku’s Den in particular, and knew to be cautious. It wasn’t just the relative lawlessness of the area that kept his guard up. Nowhere was truly safe for a male Omega in Altea. Not anymore, not with the disappearances that he now knew were a major Omega trafficking ring.

Knowing that the upper echelons of Altean society were buying and selling male Omegas like prized pets made his blood boil. It was assumed they were being taken as breeders, to be used to give the city’s elite heirs until their bodies gave out. But Keith had seen the kinds of things that happened to Omegas, male or female. Breeding was only part of it. He was lucky that he hadn’t been taken, but he’d freed more than a few who were in similar situations. Kidnapped or given away to Alphas, and even Betas, and abused into being the “perfect” Omega. It varied depending on the human garbage controlling the Omega. Docile, submissive servants, hypersexualized walking sex toys, psychologically broken breeding stock for their Alphas, and that was the better end. He’d seen Omegas so physically, emotionally, mentally broken that there was no saving them. Death was a welcome rest for them, but not for the abusers. He felt nothing for them as people when he put them down, only a sense of relief that they would never harm another Omega.

Keith was mainly a runner specializing in stealth and close combat. Taking out low-level Omega trafficking was what he did between runs. If working opposite Daibazaal Industries and its only subsidiary, Galra Technologies, was what amounted to Keith’s day job, his vigilante justice for trafficked and abused Omegas was his passion project. It was what made him jump at the chance to at least help bring down the biggest trafficking ring the city had ever seen. He didn’t know Florona well, but he trusted her boss Luxia, and she was the one who first had the intel for the run being offered.

The exterior of Baku’s Den was its usual façade of calm, as much as a high-class dive bar could be. Keith knew as well as anyone that a fight could break out at any time and for any reason. Just walking in made him uneasy, especially when he opened the door to a loud argument in progress between members of a runner team he’d seen there before. Almost subconsciously, his hand went toward the hard-light blade he kept sheathed on his lower back at all times. The near-fight ended with raucous laughter and a call for another round of drinks. He dropped his hand with a relieved sigh and made his way to the bar, intentionally catching Florona’s eye on the way.

“Keith! Haven’t seen you in a while,” Luxia greeted him.

“Yeah, been busy,” he answered, “Just finished another run last night. Anything I should know about this guy before I head over?”

She shrugged. “Experienced runner. Long-range firearms specialist. Got a couple cybernetics, but nothing obvious.” Luxia knew Keith’s preferred drink, and set the glass of SilveRing down in front of him, the dim lighting of the bar illuminating the juniberry-distilled, deep magenta alcohol from within and highlighting the silvery ring settled around the perimeter of the liquid surface. “Just so you know, he’s an Alpha, but I can tell he’s not just in it for the money. Don’t know what his deal is with that, but he seemed legitimately pissed at the idea of Omegas being trafficked.”

“Good to know. He’s still an Alpha.” Keith finished his drink, Luxia refilling it without a word. “Well, better head over there. Run’s more important than some Alpha.

~*~*~*~

Links to the rest of the series:

1 | 2 | 3* | 4 | 5* | 6* | 7 | 8 | 9* | 10 | 11 | 12* | 13 | 14 | 15* | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19* | 20* | 21*

[thevividgreenmoss]

My grandfather was awake and lucid for a longish while between late Friday night and Saturday morning apparently first time since this past Sunday when we all thought that was It and crammed ourselves seven people in one sedan that got a flat on the way over of course (as we were leaving the handle of the screen door came off in my hand as I was closing it behind me so the vibe was very on the nose things farcically falling apart that whole goddamn day lol) but then when we made it he was smiling and laughing and talking to and teasing everyone that was there, albeit with much more effort than it would have taken him even just a week earlier when he was already in a really frail state because of his hip surgery. My sister happened to be up later than she usually ever is and got to video call and chat with him for a bit I wanted terribly for my cousin in Colorado to be able to also but by the time he could get through my grandpa's blood pressure had suddenly spiked or something and he'd drifted back into that borderline unconscious state so they didn't get a chance to talk which makes me want to claw my fucking skin off of my face but who knows maybe another opportunity will present itself hopefully it does like he suddenly became really talkative and energized the other day after not having said more than maybe a couple sentences over the few previous days like I was there with him for several hours on Thursday and the entire time he didn't say a word and only opened his eyes once for like half a second and even that I might have been imagining after sitting there sleep-deprived and holding his hand trying not to cry because then my mom would start crying and then my aunt and on and on and if he's conscious at that point he'll start to get worried and his heart rate will destabilize but after that for this one stretch without anyone expecting it he was really talkative and alert and joking around with the nurses and doctors and all that for a while but then later yesterday afternoon he started to get disoriented and drift in and out of the present in between dreaming and waking again at one point apparently he kept saying 'look at my shoes' to my mom and her sisters and they thought it was just just the medication/pain-induced delirium talking but he kept insisting and eventually said 'you're not taking me seriously' and I guess gave up? Or said it a few more times I'm not clear on the course of events I only heard all this secondhand when my younger aunt, who also got diagnosed with cancer late last year but thankfully is more or less in the clear now, got back home last night and she and I went into his room and took all the shoes out of the cabinet he keeps them in and like looked inside and turned over and examined the soles of every pair, took the cushion insert things out of the ones that had them, checked for scooby doo-esque hidden doors, all that but there was nothing there just shoes. Her kids flew back out yesterday morning, the older one's tentatively returning to Toronto in the next week or so she had a painfully rough time in some ways her first couple of years and then abruptly had to be uprooted and leave because of covid then everything with her mom and in time honored eldest daughter tradition bearing the brunt of the familial frustration and insanity associated with that and now everything with our grandpa I really really want her senior year to go smoothly and be enjoyable and memorable in a manner opposite to how this past year+ has been I'm so worried about her and her little sister's starting freshman year there in the fall and I'm terribly worried about her in a whole different way like she's still really attached to her parents in this innocent way that still strongly resembles like a baby's adoring my mom hung the moon type attachment and it can be especially hard being away for the first time ever when that's the case...like she's hyper hypersensitive even by my family's standards lmao but she does have this sort of self-possession and inner groundedness that no one can quite pin down but it's

definitely there and maybe that

could carry her through I really hope so...they were saying to come up to visit them in the fall hopefully I can find a job soon after returning to Texas and like be able to afford to do that and also like keep paying the bills and shit lol in either case I hope so so badly that they'll be okay like I think they will be the women in my family are all really strong but they've also had to be because of various fucked circumstances and I don't want that to keep having to be the case...my grandpa's a Strong Woman in a certain way also honestly lmao like my mom's aunts have always been like your father raised you in a way beyond even most mothers which like who fucking receives let alone genuinely deserves that kind of praise from their in-laws lmao let alone a man from a notoriously patriarchal culture of a generation when fathers from any culture barely had any involvement in their children's upbringing at all which I mean most still don't but even more so back then and like literally everyone we've been hearing from or seeing drop by at the hospital has a story of how at one point or another my grandpa was there for them when no one else was like distant cousins variously removed and loose family friends all with something about how he comforted me when no one else could, I remember word for word what he said to me when I suffered some loss of my own, he's the strongest man in our family, the best times we ever had were when he was near us, when he'd take us out, his youngest brother's children saying he cared for and spoiled them as if their were his own after their dad died suddenly when they were just kids, my mom's third cousin whose own father was with her till a late age saying that he was even more of a father to me than my own father, his other brother's son who was ostracized for decades by his immediate family on some straight up racist ass bullshit on the part of his mom and older brother because he married a black woman but my grandpa stayed in touch and made sure my mom and uncle did as well and made sure we all got together when he'd came to the states, like even now lying there on what very well might be his literal deathbed when he can barely talk he was telling my uncle he's worried about him and he needs to go home and rest, asking who's taking care of the house, are the kids all okay even at this point his thoughts are for others. After I put his shoes back in the cabinet I closed it and opened the one beside just in case I guess just in case what I don't know but it was just like standard cabinet stuff clothes a shaving kit and a couple of what I assume are photo albums that I didn't feel like I should open for some reason and a few old books, a collection of Ghalib's which I can't really read very easily if at all because it's in Urdu lol, a history of government college of Lahore where his father was teaching at the time of his death and the two philosophy textbooks my great grandfather had written himself, Inductive & Deductive Reasoning, and inside the latter I found a handful of yellowed pages torn out of an old notebook upon which mostly seem to be translations of french poems and I think maybe a song or two? I guess old coursework or just for funsies I'm not sure whether written by my grandfather or his own father. My khala was mentioning just the other day that she'd kept one of my grandpa's old notebooks marked as having been designated for biology but inside it were no actual notes just urdu poetry which she wasn't sure whether it was his own original tossed off work or something the lifelong frustrated creative transcribed while bored in class. The night I got here I was looking through his bookshelves after everyone had gone to bed and then a couple of weeks ago I was sitting in the living room by myself watching archer when my cousin came and sat down next to me upset and unable to sleep on her own first night here and I held her and tried not to cry and then went through the same bookshelves again, this time with my cousin who we came to Pakistan for the first time after moving to the US

to see being born who turned three

the day we arrived on what until this current trip was the last time I was here her little sister having just been born earlier that same year (whose life I may or may not have saved when I caught her after she was dropped by the person holding her (the fact that (parentheticals within parentheticals!) I may or may not have been the one who dropped her in the first place is immaterial imo not that I'm the one on trial here but what's important is that I caught her and if anything this would be an even more athletically impressive and frankly heroic incident if I'd been the one that was holding her to begin with since I was 8/9 years old at the time and there wasn't much of a distance for her to fall and yet I kept her from hitting the ground like talk about reflexes like that's what's important and what's more important than even that @ my year older cousin (whose younger sister was the first baby in the family after myself whose arrival in this world when I was three had me positively giddy in the way that young children get when witnessing the miracle of even younger children, who's the only other one of the cousins that's been here during all this, just me and the three I got to see as darling little babies) who was the only other person in the room with me at the time, is that we take this to our fucking graves no one can hear a word of this least of all any adults in the house who like not that they're the ones on trial here either but like who allowed for this scenario to transpire in the first place where two children and an infant are in a room by themselves unsupervised in retrospect that's somewhat irresponsible not that I'd ever hold it against them or even mention it because then they might get mad and not let me hold my little cousin anymore and I do love holding my little baby cousin and carrying her around everywhere, mostly without incident)) neither of whom I'd see in person again until we visited them in Canada the summer after I graduated college the trip during which I finished the last of the Neapolitan novels the day after landing and turned 22 the day after their mother, my younger khala, turned 43, looking through my nana's bookshelves with my baby cousin no longer a baby but a U of T classics major entering her senior year, noting the overlaps with our own, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, George Eliot, the same exact copies of Cheever and Kafka's collected shorts, Umberto Eco, Proust, wondering what the various titles meant to him or what they might say about him, wondering how much of even the version of him that can be hypothesized based off his library I'm missing now that I'm limited to the much reduced version of what had been in his old home in Lahore (when he visited us after my junior year of hs and my mom was trying to convince him to downsize and move in with my other aunt with whom he's been living the past several years, the one who most resembles my grandfather the only one that has his cheekbones my khala whose eyes have sunken all the way into her skull before my eyes with exhaustion and grief over the past two weeks, when my mom was like what's the point of just hanging onto a bunch of books that you've already read: I look at them [dramatic pause], and I feel happy [my mom sighing equally dramatically in.exasperation, me cracking up in the background]) the city I was born in the house where I spent the first almost five years of my life before we moved to the US to join my dad who'd moved back shortly after my mom became pregnant with what turned out to be me, abu nana's house with the garden we'd walk through every morning holding his hand and following along as he puttered around with his plants in the garden in the house in the city he had to leave to move into my khala's house in Islamabad where I've been the past almost a month now where two weeks ago he suddenly came down with pneumonia and had to be dragged to a hospital in Rawalpindi where he's been since, not in his house, my nana's house, with the garden in the city I haven't seen since the last time I was in this country the

summer I

turned nine the day after my khala turned 30 the day before my other khala turned 32(?) the summer I first remember obsessive compulsive disorder becoming an overwhelming aspect of my consciousness although it was there before, the first summer of the Iraq war and being terrified watching the Iraq war unfold on the BBC evening news my nana would turn on

at dinner time and hearing for the first time or maybe just the first time I remember the night we left the phrase 'the rich will get richer and the poor will get poorer' from my younger khala talking to her sisters and some family friends that had come over to see us off feeling terrified and cold then embarrassed because she noticed my face visibly fall from across the room and told my mom and I was like godammit everyone knows I'm scared now smhead then crying the entire flight back home because I missed everyone and maybe had a little kid premonition that I wouldn't return to my nana's house and I would be years and years till I saw any of them again some I still haven't or maybe there was nothing premonitory about it but in either case that's the way it turned out. I do feel grateful I got to see him again at all, when he last came to the US late 2016-early 2017 I was sure it would be the last time we would be in the same room. I'd make breakfast for us every morning and we'd eat together and the entire day I'd sit next to him inhaling secondhand smoke and talking and reading. I was in the midst of my initial aborted attempt to read Swann's way when he arrived. I'd gotten to Guermantes way last summer but I couldn't find a secondhand copy so I had to read it via ebook and that didn't feel right so I abandoned it until now I've been reading a copy pulled from his bookshelf. Last he visited was the first time I learned we were both Garcia Marquez-heads which I'd kind of assumed before and I showed him Mad Men which he heavily fucked with and also every John Le Carre adaptation I could track down online. From the first time I read one hundred years of solitude the summer after freshman year of college the passage describing Colonel Aureliano Buendia's death already absolutely and unbearably heartwrenching enough immediately brought thoughts of my grandfather, aching aching sorrow over the solitude that he himself existed within in all the fucking pain his life has been inordinately filled with grief over the knowledge of this inevitable final separation from him after so many years and so much distance already having separated him from the people he loved and cared for and he loved and cared for so many people so deeply with such sincerity and beauty and endless endless warmth and compassion and humor when Gabo wrote of the colonel trying to reach back through to his memories and being unable to after previously recalling that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice even years later, as he faced the firing squad, at the moment of his death like a 'baby chick' my poor frail beautiful grandfather appearing exactly the same way when he'd take off his dentures and curl over to the side to sleep, then when awake but still half asleep hearing your voice having brought his apple cider vinegar and garlic concoction or a cup of tea or just coming by to hold his hand or play with his beard the way all of his grandchildren have at one point or another and smiling with his eyes still closed smiling bright and wide the expression of a precious little cat purring as you scratch under its chin always the most beautiful smile and even as his hair turned white and his body withered and wrinkled and shrunk his cheekbones while still not bad long ago ceased being the way they were in that picture from his wedding day back when he he looked like young Robert De Niro's much much prettier Kashmiri cousin from then until now always that same radiance and those same quick-witted and kind and bright bright bright sparkling eyes. The past month and a half I've been feeling like I'm seeing my own mother dying before my eyes along with her father, my adorable beloved abu nana, I can't even begin to comprehend how she must be feeling right now I feel like I'm witnessing her death in advance through all of this and losing the part of her that is him even though I know that's not actually the case. Things have been so fucking painful and complicated between us but the one thing we've shared that's never

been painful is our love for him. When he left after his last visit four years ago I spent the next two days barely able to even talk. Compliments or like any positive comments directed in my directions have almost always caused me this reflexive discomfort and uneasiness but whenever he or anyone else would say that I'm his favorite grandchild I'd want to hold on to that as closely as i possibly can. I don't want him to leave us and more than that I want for whatever happens to at least happen with him back at home but neither of those things seem likely right now although who the fuck knows. I hope his last thoughts can be of flowers, like Kafka's, and Lispector's, or of love, wherever he is I hope it's not asking too much to hope for that at least. For someone that spent his life so deeply immersed within that Garciamarquesian solitude he never made those around him feel any way other than at home, safe and warm and loved and adored and adorable and lovable and at home not because of a place not even the garden at the house in Lahore but with him always always I've never felt more at home than during the times I spent near him, and his love and his flowers

[iatethepomegranate]

We are not alone in the dark with our demons, Chapter 12

In which Caleb buys a house in Rexxentrum with Beau and Yasha, becomes a professor, learns how to be a person, and grapples with how to help the other Volstrucker survivors, and his students, in a way he had never been helped.

Content warnings: References to Caleb's backstory, depression, poverty

Chapter summary: Caleb and the Nein meet up in Nicodranas, and he can no longer delay telling them of his failure to protect someone who desperately needed him. But, as it turns out, he was not the only person keeping secrets about that day.

Chapter notes: This is a somewhat chaotic chapter. Enjoy and let chaos reign, I guess! Chapter title is from Three by Sleeping At Last

****

Chapter 12: A mess of a story I'm ashamed to tell but I'm slowly learning how to break this spell

Essek teleported the four of them to the Blooming Grove the following morning to pick up Caduceus, who offered to message Wensforth to save the wizards the spell. They had breakfast in the Grove with the Clays, and got their hands dirty in the garden for a while, until Caleb rolled the aches from his shoulders and began to draw the teleportation circle to Tidepeak Tower.

“I might have to go back earlier than the rest of you,” said Beauregard. “Dairon’s guiding the monks on the Nico hunt for now, but they’re super busy.”

“We can send you back whenever you need,” said Essek.

Caleb’s next few chalk strokes were a bit more aggressive than they needed to be. It was hard not to feel guilty for leaving Rexxentrum while Nico was out on his own and people were searching for him. Essek sat on the floor by his side, knocking their knees together. He felt better, and no one made any mention of his silent outburst.

He completed the final stroke and the five of them rushed through, landing in a familiar tower, where Wensforth waited in the doorway.

“Welcome, welcome.” Wensforth guided them down the stairs. “The master is eager to speak with you.”

Yussa was already arranged on a couch in the sitting area on the ground floor, delicate fingers holding a teacup. Once borderline inscrutable, the man smiled at them as he often did these days. Especially to Caleb, on whom Jester thought Yussa had a crush. Caleb was more of the mind that Yussa saw him as little more than a precocious child, given their respective ages, but his particular fondness was evident all the same.

“Oremid tells me you are teaching at the Soltryce Academy now,” Yussa said. “Sit. We should talk.”

“Hi, Yussa,” Beauregard said, a little pointedly. “How’ve you been?”

“I am well, Beauregard. It is good to see you. All of you.”

They arranged themselves on the soft couches in the space, Caleb sitting across Yussa for ease of conversation, given the man clearly had things to say today. Essek was at Caleb’s side, slightly further than he would be just around the Nein, but close enough to be a comfort whenever Caleb’s anxiety spiked nonetheless.

Essek had been to Yussa’s tower a few times in Caleb’s company before. Given everything the Nein had put Yussa through already, the man had taken the presence of a fugitive of the Kryn Dynasty in his stride.

With a gesture from Yussa, his teapot lifted and poured itself into the other five cups on the little table in the centre of the room. Then, in turn, each cup floated into the hands of his visitors. Caleb accepted his with a soft thanks, slipping into Zemnian out of habit. He had spoken more Zemnian in the last few weeks than he had in years. It was always the little words, the pleases and thank yous, the hellos and goodbyes, that stuck the hardest.

“So…” Yussa honed in on him again. “Teaching. A step down from the original job they offered you, I hear.”

“Teaching is a better use of my time than spying.” There were more things Caleb could say about the Archmage of Civil Influence as a position, and most of them were far less polite. “Astrid always wanted that position more than I did anyway.”

“Good. You might survive to old age after all, for a human.”

Essek flinched a little at the reminder of Caleb’s shorter lifespan. Yussa’s eyes tracked the movement, but he let it pass without comment.

“Are we third-wheeling for you guys again?” Beau asked, but it wasn’t really a question. “Because we can, like, go.”

Caduceus placed a package on Yussa’s table. “Here, I brought that tea you liked last time.”

“Yes, thank you. You are all welcome to stay if you like.”

Beauregard was already standing up. “Nah, I think we’re good. Cool to see you again with your face where it belongs.” She awkwardly finger-gunned in Yussa’s direction, backing towards the door.

She, Yasha and Caduceus left the tower.

Yussa watched them go with amusement. “It seems my social graces are rather rusty.”

“They don’t mind,” said Caleb. “They have met too many wizards to be offended.” Essek snickered into his hand, finally relaxing a bit. “So, you were saying?”

“Teaching is good work, if you can tolerate the children,” said Yussa. “I did it myself for a time. For one to turn down an archmage position… you must have a goal.”

“Leave the Empire better than I found it,” Caleb said. That encompassed all his knotted up feelings about it.

Yussa raised a single well-kept eyebrow. “Interesting. What is your definition of ‘better’, if I may ask?”

Caleb did have a vision for this, and the situation with Felix and Nico had thrown into sharp, painful relief how far there was to go, and how much pain he would never be able to prevent. “No more children thrown on the pyre. No more stolen childhoods. No more abuse. A government and its mages who choose to consider simple human cost, before they consider their own selfish ambitions.” Caleb was typically more reserved with Yussa, but the more he spoke of this, the harder it became to restrain his emotions. “No more wizards with a god complex who think themselves above basic compassion and ethics. No more butchering the innocent to grease the wheels of war. Just… no more.”

“A lofty goal,” Yussa said, quiet. “One that would take the remainder of my lifetime, or even young Essek’s lifetime, let alone yours.”

“I know. Hence the importance of teaching these things to those who will come after me.”

Yussa hummed thoughtfully. “I wish you luck. More powerful men than yourself have tried, and been consumed.”

“Been there, done that. Have the trauma.” Caleb wasn’t sure where he found the capacity to joke, even flatly, about all of this. Sometimes it was easier to get the point across if he allowed for a bit of sarcasm. “In my experience, the children put at the mercy of these people may need the most help. And that is something I can do.”

“I will watch your progress.” Yussa finished his tea, setting the cup aside. “Now, enough of mundane matters. I have been tinkering with Willi some more. Would you like to see the results?”

“Always.” Caleb missed that golem terribly.

They lost a few hours discussing the golems of the Happy Fun Ball, and comparing notes about the pre-Calamity Aeormatons the Nein had encountered. Caleb and Essek had run across Devexian a few times in their travels since. It was a good use of time, and it settled Caleb’s nerves. He felt better.

***

Once they left Tidepeak Tower, Essek disguised as a blonde half-elf, they headed over to Veth’s place. Caleb was somewhat nervous about this, because he knew she would see through any of his bullshit and know he was going through something. And then he would have to explain everything to the rest of the Nein. And, of course, Jester already had an inkling thanks to Astrid.

There was no getting out of this. And it wasn’t that Caleb didn’t want them to know, exactly. He had just grown tired of explaining it. And he knew what little equilibrium he had managed to find would fall away as soon as Veth said or did anything in response, and he would break all over again.

Nevertheless, he messaged Veth as soon as they stepped out of the tower. “Hallo, Veth. Essek and I are on our way to your place. Be there soon.” Then, for old time’s sake: “You can reply to this message.”

The first sound that came through was Veth’s trademark screech. “Caleb! We made lunch. Get over here!” A split-second’s pause. “Good shot! Oh, sorry Lebby. Luc shot Beau in the ass. Like mother, like son.”

Luc was going to be a menace as a teenager. Caleb intended to be around to see it. And probably try to save a little bit of Yeza’s sanity if possible.

Caleb and Essek took their time wandering through Nicodranas. The streets were filled with people out for lunch, enticing scents curling through the air. Caleb and Essek stopped by a bakery to grab some pastries for the group (mostly Jester)--there had evidently been some Zemnian influence on Nicodranas, or the other way around, as treats such as bee stings could be found in both areas. Nicodranas made them a touch sweeter and stickier.

Caleb also grabbed a fresh loaf of bread, though he did not shove his hands into it this time. He hadn’t known that was a poverty thing until Beau and Jester had reacted so strongly to him doing it that one time. He still thought it was a useful trick, but it apparently unnerved people. Bread mittens had kept him warm many times in the freezing cold when he had no one to look out for him, and had to choose between food and something as simple as mittens.

Anyway, bread was wonderful.

They wound through the streets until they reached Veth’s place. There was an unpleasant feeling in the pit of Caleb’s stomach that he couldn’t quite describe. Unease or dread felt too uncharitable, but the feeling was somewhere in that neighbourhood. Essek slipped his hand into Caleb’s, gently leading him to the door. Essek knocked, and it was thrown open in seconds and Veth had already thrown herself at Caleb’s abdomen, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist.

Caleb almost broke then and there. He carefully rested a hand on the top of her head, sliding his fingers through her hair, looking ahead but not really seeing anything. Veth gave him a final squeeze and stepped back, grabbing his hand on the way. It took Caleb a second too long to lock eyes with her, by which time whatever joy had been on her face had been replaced with worry.

“Hi, Lebby,” she said, in a careful soft tone she used whenever he was teetering on the brink of crashing down. “What’s the matter?”

Caleb took a careful breath, and spoke in a measured tone. “I will tell you, but we should eat first. I may not be able to later.”

Veth tugged him inside, Essek taking care of the door and following them through the house. The rest of the Nein were already crammed into the kitchen, stuffing their faces with a simple stew that smelled delightful. It must have been one of the recipes Veth remembered from Felderwin.

Jester leapt upon him with a hug, dragging Essek in with her. “You’re here! It’s so good to see you! We got chased by a dragon turtle again and I turned it into a sea slug like last time, and we got away!”

“This happened at sea, I assume?” asked Caleb, who knew enough about Jester to take nothing at face value.

“Of course, Caleb. Don’t be silly!” Jester let him go, and booped his nose. He managed not to flinch.

Caleb wordlessly held out the pastries and bread. Jester squealed and grabbed them off him, shoving them into the centre of the table. Veth grabbed an enormous knife and began to cut the bread while the rest of the Nein shuffled around to make room for two more chairs. It was a tight fit, and Caleb was firmly sandwiched between Essek and Beauregard, but it felt somewhat akin to Essek’s nighttime pressure on his back and sometimes chest that crushed his soul back into his body. Their thighs were jammed together now, and it was easy to hook his ankle around Essek’s and keep himself grounded. For now.

A bowl was shoved in his direction and he ate mechanically, dimly aware of the chatter around him. Luc’s voice was among the loudest, and it was good to hear his voice. After everything the boy had been through, on Caleb’s account no less. No matter what anyone else said.

Caleb was going to spiral if he didn’t get a hold of himself. And he wanted to have a good time in Nicodranas; he didn’t know when he would be back here. Not to mention he would prefer not to retraumatise the already traumatised toddler by having a breakdown in the middle of lunch.

So he ate. Slowly. Methodically. He silently counted each mouthful, because he needed to count something. And when he had finished the stew, he felt more present in his surroundings. Veth distributed slices of bread with little pots of spiced olive oil and balsamic vinegar, and the Nein continued to chatter away as they tore off pieces of bread, dunked them into the oil, and finished off the loaf. Caleb was glad they liked it. And that Veth had been here long enough to have picked up a local bread tradition to share with them all.

“This is good bread, Caleb,” said Jester.

“I went to the bakery you recommended,” Caleb replied.

“That was months ago! You remembered!”

Caleb tapped his temple.

“Caleb has a very good memory,” Veth said warmly, as if everyone at the table wasn’t already keenly aware.

“I’m a bit curious about that,” said Kingsley, his tail smacking Beauregard in the arm, ignoring her as she slapped it off her. “Have you always been like that?”

“My memory was always good, ja,” said Caleb. It was rare for Kingsley to ask about someone’s past; very Molly-esque, not that Caleb would ever tell him that. “I could count things very well, especially time, and naturally had good recall. I did develop it further at school, but it was always there.”

Most people who found out about Caleb’s memory either saw it as an interesting party trick, or a useful tool if they were more like Trent. He did not speak of the downsides of having a near-infallible memory very often.

But Kingsley was looking at him with sharpness in his eyes behind the easy smile. “Maybe I’m biased since I barely remember anything that this body did before a few months ago, but that sounds feckin’ awful.” He said it lightly, but Caleb could hear the edge in his voice. Kingsley had been around when Caleb had told his story to Beauregard in the Grove; he had the context, and his own experiences, to put things together.

“A blessing and a curse, ja.”

The mood at the table threatened to darken, but Luc was thankfully oblivious to it, and instead started babbling about a huge bug the Brenattos had found in the garden yesterday. And that his father had screamed very loudly. Caleb sat back from the conversation, but was pleased when the tension broke.

“It really was adorable,” Veth was saying.

Yeza rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Yes, and you were my valiant saviour once again.”

But lunch was just about wrapping up at this point, and Veth would soon turn her focus back onto Caleb and his problems. Caleb’s lunch sat like a stone in his stomach, and maybe he shouldn’t have eaten quite that much. But it was hard to say no to a home-cooked meal surrounded by the people he loved most in this world. Those who were still alive, anyway.

Veth, charitably, let Caleb have a few extra minutes while she and Yeza cleared the table before she sat back down with a sigh, and turned her eyes to him. “All right. What’s the matter?”

Yeza picked Luc up. “I think we’ll go for a walk.” He didn’t know every little thing about Caleb’s shit, but he knew enough to understand whatever they were about to discuss was not something Luc needed to hear. “We’ll be back in an hour.”

As soon as they were gone, Jester spoke up. “Astrid said some stuff happened, but she wouldn’t tell me what.”

Caleb sighed deeply. “All right. I will tell you. Some of you already know what happened. I would appreciate your assistance.”

Beauregard knocked her knee against his. “We’ll help. But you should start.”

So he did. Caleb told the Nein that Astrid had been reaching out to the Volstrucker, and that two boys had been unaccounted for. He led most of the explanation of how they had come to understand what this probably meant, and to make plans for it. Beauregard began to speak up a bit when he spoke of finding Felix and convincing him to speak to them, of bringing in Caduceus to lift the modified memory. Caduceus began to add pieces where relevant, of the things he saw. Of scrying on Nico, and learning where he was.

Beauregard led the discussion of rushing after him and finding the house ablaze, and Caleb very briefly spoke of his experience on the upper floor, and finding the bodies of Nico’s parents. The memories were too vivid, and choked him up a bit, so Beauregard took over once again, and then Caduceus after they had traded places to help Caleb try to save the Baumanns.

“I do have a confession to make,” said Caduceus.

“Oh?” said Caleb, who couldn’t say much else at the moment.

“I was still scrying when Nico lit the fire,” Caduceus admitted. “I saw how he reacted to it. I chose not to inform you, because I feared leaving the scry before your arrival, in case something else happened. I… in the moment, I did not think telling you would have helped, but I wanted to apologise. I wanted to explain all this earlier, but...” Caduceus didn’t finish--maybe he had realised that would be jumping a bit ahead in the story. But Caleb understood.

There had been a small shred of curiosity in the back of Caleb’s mind, but he had been too preoccupied to give it much thought. But Caduceus’s explanation made sense; he had weighed up the benefits of both options and chosen the one he thought best in the moment. Leaving the scry to tell Caleb the house was already ablaze probably wouldn’t have made much difference. The Baumanns had already been long dead by the time he reached them. So Caleb harboured no ill will towards Caduceus for the difficult choice he had made, nor did he resent Caduceus for not telling him sooner, when Caleb had been far too unwell.

“There is no need to apologise,” Caleb told him. “You made a hard decision. Thank you for telling me now, when I am better able to handle it. Are you all right?”

Caduceus smiled sadly at him. “I understand you better now. Not in the way either of us wanted, but I’m all right now that I’ve told you.” He straightened, clearing his throat. “Anyway, where were we?”

They briefly talked about the night they had Nico, and that it had been a bad one for Caleb, and then Essek chipped in to describe the Greater Restoration spell the following morning. And the chaos that had ensued. Caleb spoke briefly about the chase on his side of things, with Beau and Yasha contributing theirs.

“We didn’t find him,” said Beauregard. “Monks and Volstrucker are still on the lookout. Caleb thinks the kid probably ran for the woods to get some cover. He taught Felix the Sending spell and took him back home to his parents.”

“Felix and I message Nico regularly,” said Caleb. “No responses yet.” And, because he was with the Nein, and because they loved him, he said, “I… feel a bit useless, at the moment.”

Jester reached across the table, tears in her eyes, and squeezed his hand. “You’re not useless, Caleb. You’re really smart, and really cool.”

“You’ve done a lot for those kids,” said Fjord. “I’m sure they both appreciate it, even if Nico isn’t talking to you. He’ll find you when he’s ready.”

“Maybe,” Caleb murmured. He was tired.

Veth was watching him, mouth downturned at the corners. “Caleb. Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve come over.”

Caleb didn’t know what to say to her. An apology wasn’t enough. And he didn’t know if he could explain it right now. He looked away from her, down at the table, and tried not to crack apart with guilt. He was not doing a very good job.

A flash of movement, and Veth had launched herself across the table and into his lap. “Oh, Cay Cay, honey. No. Shh.” She squished his cheeks, which he only now realised were wet. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” She flung her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. Caleb buried his face in her shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I’m not angry, and I don’t blame you for not wanting to talk about it. It’s okay.”

That only made him feel worse. Breathing was hard. Two hands, belonging to two different people, found their way to his back, rubbing slow circles. The more delicate hand--Essek’s--applied a little more pressure than the other. Probably Beauregard. She was next to him.

“You’re all right, Caleb,” said Caduceus. “We’ve got you.”

Caleb laughed wetly, remembering those exact words from Fjord as they had guided him home after a panic attack behind the coffee shop. Maybe this was a thing now. Or at least a thing from the Wildmother devotees of the Nein.

The rest of the day was quiet. Caleb composed himself after a while, and set up his lesson plans and speech notes on the floor of the Brenattos’ living room. A cup of dead people tea at his side. Surrounded by the chatter of his friends, and Essek’s head on his shoulder as he worked through a book written in Undercommon.

Yeza and Luc returned after a while, and Luc napped on the couch at Caleb’s back. Breathing loudly into his ear. It should have been annoying, but really wasn’t. The boy woke up some time later and wriggled his way onto the floor, peppering Caleb with questions about what he was doing. Caleb was more than happy to answer, hoping he had simplified it enough for the boy. Luc was very clever, but he was also very young.

Most of the Nein drifted away once Caleb seemed more stable. Jester, Fjord and Kingsley went off to check on their crew (including Vandran), and hang out with Marion. Caleb expected he would see her at the Chateau in the evening for dinner. Beau and Yasha had wandered off to the fish market.

Caduceus was still around, and Caleb suspected he actually felt much worse than he was letting on. But he seemed content to chat with Yeza and Veth over tea in the kitchen. Caleb caught snatches of the conversation; it seemed they were trying to explain some alchemical concepts to him. There was a good chance that Caduceus did have some knowledge in the area, but not in the same scientific way. Which made such a conversation all the more entertaining, as fragments of it drifted into the living room as the Brenattos and Caduceus tried to reconcile their wildly different experiences of very similar things.

Luc had just finished asking Caleb what a cantrip was, drawn from his lesson notes for Beginner’s Transmutation. The boy climbed into his lap, resting his head against Caleb’s collarbone. At first, Caleb thought he was still groggy from his nap. Then:

“Uncle Caleb?”

“Ja?”

“Are you having a bad day?”

That was a far cry from most of Caleb’s interactions with Luc, where he was mostly playing the part of the fun uncle with cool magic tricks. Essek hadn’t spent as much time with Luc, and was still phenomenally awkward around both him and Yeza, and even he seemed to notice the shift. Essek froze, his eyes glued to the one spot on the page.

“What do you mean?” Caleb asked Luc.

Luc shrugged. “Your eyes are puffy.”

Caleb chuckled at that; trust a small child to have no filter. “Ja, okay. I cried a bit earlier. Your mother and our friends took good care of me, though.” He thought back to Luc’s question. “We all have bad days, ja?”

Luc nodded, face pressed against Caleb’s shirt. “I had a bad day yesterday.”

“Oh?”

“I was remembering something that hurt a lot. And sometimes when I remember it, I get really sad and can’t think about anything else.”

Caleb, unfortunately, knew exactly what Luc was remembering. Veth didn’t bring it up often, but she had occasionally mentioned that Luc would have entire days after waking from nightmares of fire where he was just… out of sorts. Not wanting to play. Or even shoot his crossbow. Caleb could relate to the feeling.

So he set his pen aside and wrapped his arms around Luc. “Ja, that happens to me, too. Shall we stick together for today? We can cheer each other up.”

Luc just nodded, and Caleb rocked him side-to-side. The boy was probably still recovering, both from his disturbed sleep and the depressive episode.

“You’re good with him,” Essek said later, when Luc had fallen asleep against his chest.

Yeza ducked his head out of the kitchen, probably concerned that Luc was up to mischief in his silence, but his expression cleared when he saw the boy was sleeping. “Thank you, Caleb.”

Luc was not only a child, but also a halfling child, so it was a simple matter for even Caleb to hold him throughout the day. He felt better having someone else to care for, and Luc seemed to find comfort in Caleb’s attention.

***

That evening, they all visited the Lavish Chateau for dinner. Essek was in his blonde half-elf disguise again while the group ate on the ground floor. Luc was still clingy with Caleb, but he genuinely didn’t mind. He balanced the boy in his lap while they ate dinner. The chef had prepared a mildly spiced rice dish for the table that was easy for both of them to eat in this situation.

Marion joined them, graceful and lovely as ever. Like Yeza, she had not held ill will for what had befallen her during Trent’s pursuit. In fact, on more than one occasion, she had joked that she should thank “that horrible man” for forcing her to spend time with Babenon while in hiding. The situation was still complicated between the pair, and Caleb understood those kinds of complications better than most of the Nein. But she seemed happier than she had been in a long time.

Jester had apparently updated Marion with every shred of information she had gleaned from the Nein, so Marion was already aware of Caleb’s new job, and that he and the lesbians had a house together in Rexxentrum.

“It’s quite the change, I imagine,” she said.

“Oh, ja. I still wake up sometimes and have to pinch myself.”

“If you ever find yourself in Rexxentrum,” said Beauregard, “we’d love to have you.” She even managed not to look constipated or aggressive while saying it, which was a far cry from the prickly woman Caleb had met in Trostenwald all that time ago.

Marion smiled warmly. “Unlikely, but I will be sure to take you up on the offer if the need arises. How is your work, Beauregard?”

She glanced at Caleb, and sighed. “Complicated. But Caleb’s ex is the new archmage in the Assembly, and she’s actually not a shitty person most of the time. So that helps.”

Marion looked to Caleb, amused. “How does she feel about your new partner?”

Gods, Caleb had never gotten to have this kind of conversation with his own mother. So, even though the reminder hurt a bit, he indulged her. “Oh. Uh. Well, you see…”

“Caleb’s had a threesome,” Jester supplied helpfully.

“I see.” Now Marion looked very entertained. “We all have hidden depths. The two people who came to warn us about your teacher?”

“Ja.” Caleb’s face was hot, and probably as red as his hair. “They are… respectful of us. But they also told me they would, ah…” He remembered there was a small child on his lap who absolutely did not need to go around telling people he would cut off their balls. “They would cut off an important part of his anatomy if he ever hurt me. So, I think they approve.”

Essek made a choked sound. “You did not tell me this.”

“I was preoccupied.” Caleb didn’t need to elaborate; Essek would figure out what he meant.

Essek relaxed marginally, and knocked their knees together. “Right.” He wasn’t the type for public displays of affection, even if he didn’t have to worry about drawing attention to himself.

Marion looked to Essek. “Good luck.”

He laughed nervously. “Thank you. I will need it.”

“You’ll be fine,” Caleb said. Astrid and Wulf cared too much for Caleb to hurt him, now that they were no longer in a situation where it was required of them.

“Moral of the story,” Beauregard said, already three cups in. “Caleb’s got game.”

“I really do not,” Caleb said flatly.

“Real recognises real, Caleb, and you’re lookin’ real familiar.”

Caleb sighed, relieved that Luc was preoccupied with a puzzle cube he had brought the Brenattos last time he was in town. “We have talked about this before.”

“Yeah, but it’s different in front of Marion. She knows what I’m talking about.”

Marion chuckled softly behind her hand. “Indeed I do.”

“Caleb’s a loving guy, if you know what I mean,” said Jester, and her eyebrow waggle was too much for him to bear. Caleb did not stop loving people, and while it was easier to deal with his feelings for Jester now they were both in stable, happy relationships, there would always be an edge for Caleb. A point where he had to step back.

Kingsley, also quite drunk at this point, was biting his lip while he watched Caleb. “Oh, really?” The flirting from Kingsley was far easier to handle, even if the ghost of Molly made any joy bittersweet.

“That’s quite enough, I think,” said Essek. Gods, Caleb was both relieved and terrified by how well the man could read him these days.

Kingsley and Jester both pouted, and Caleb pounded back his glass of wine so he didn’t have to look at them.

Later, as Caleb carried Luc through the nighttime streets alongside Essek, Veth and Yeza, Essek tugged gently on his sleeve.

“Maybe this is a bad time,” Essek said quietly, tilting his head to check that Luc was asleep. He was. “And I do not expect answers you do not wish to give. But, may I ask you something?”

Caleb glanced ahead, where Veth had grabbed Yeza’s ass; they weren’t listening to this conversation. “All right.”

“I know the nature of our circumstances means we cannot be together all the time,” Essek said quietly. “I had a… proposal, I suppose. I don’t know how to word it, or if you will be insulted. But I notice you are very…” He cleared his throat. “What the fuck am I saying? You are a sexual person, and I enjoy that very much about you. And while we are together, I am happy for us both to fulfill our needs with each other.”

“But?” Caleb had not fully recovered from Jester and Kingsley at the Chateau.

“Well, I was wondering. You know I do not experience attraction as often as you do. That I need to be close to someone, and I am close to very few people. You are the first in many years to have caught my interest in this way. But I know it’s not the same for you.”

“Essek, I love you, but please get to the point.”

“Right.” Essek chuckled, and it was out of sheer discomfort. “I just wanted to say, that if you choose to scratch that, ah, itch while I am not around, I would be okay with that.”

Caleb didn’t know what he had expected from Essek, but certainly not that. “Oh. Um. Good to know.”

Essek glanced around in the dark, evidently found nothing of concern, and kissed Caleb’s cheek. “You are still my priority in that department. And I want to remain yours as well.”

“You are.”

“Good. There will be times when we are apart for a long time. You are still mine, through all of it, but I don’t mind if you, ah, take your pleasures as you need them.”

“That is… generous.” Caleb’s mind was not coping with this conversation at all. “I will… think about it.”

The Brenatto home came into view at that point, and Caleb was relieved that it effectively ended this discussion. Caleb had never really talked about it, but he had also never hidden from Essek the fact he had a lot of feelings for many people going at any one time. Essek came first. Always. And he wasn’t sure if he would ever take Essek up on the offer to invite someone else into his bed in Essek’s absence. But it was good of him to say.

He felt seen, in a strange way. Even though Essek was firmly monogamous, and extremely demisexual, he understood Caleb better than most.

So, as long as Essek wasn’t being self-sacrificing by offering this, Caleb was grateful for it. Even if he never acted on it. He couldn’t think about it right now. Probably wouldn’t for a long time. And if he did think about it, he certainly would not be doing that while Essek was very much within his reach, rendering the offer irrelevant.

They stepped inside the house after Veth and Yeza, and offered to watch Luc for a while. Though no one said anything explicitly for fear of Luc waking and hearing the conversation, it had evidently been some time since Veth and Yeza had been intimate together.

So Caleb and Essek sat in the sitting room for a while, quietly working on their respective studies, with Luc napping in Caleb’s arms.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Karen.”

Sorry guys. I have to post this really quick, sorry for spelling errors. Don’t worry about the Drev translations, they arent important

The civilian transport was very lucky.

In fact it was very lucky for a couple of reasons, the first being that it was only their secondary engine which had malfunctioned, not the warp core, second because at least their life support still worked, and three that they were close enough to an outpost , that their S.O.S was received in under a day by a very bored Tesraki, and an overly-talkative Rundi.

Their last stroke of luck might have been that there just so happened to be a UNSC ship passing by, on their way to the same original destination.

In fact, the civilian transport, piloted by some kind of space cruise company, offering interstellar tours, was attached to the harbinger in under an hour opening the doors and flooding the civilians with fresh cool air.

Krill was waiting with doctor Katie on the loading ramp just in case the civilians were in need of some sort of medical attention. He didn’t exactly have much experience with civilians. The harbinger was crewed, in large part, by military personnel and the occasional government contractor, so most of them were relatively professional, and most, if not all of them , were required to go through extensive training and physical testing before leaving their planet.

As the civilian humans disembarked, Krill got a sudden taste of human tourism.

Some very, very large humans, wearing widely unmatching clothing and strangely patterned shirts toddling through the doors with so much excess weight, he wondered how the human skeleton was capable of supporting such an egregious amount without simply imploding and turning to dust. The health implications were absolutely horrendous, and made him cringe to think about.

And if they weren’t big and colorfully dressed, they were rail thin, with plastic faces and puffy lips, the mark of cosmetic surgery done poorly. And with them they brought a hoard of screaming children, and moody teenagers their heads down glowering at their implanted communication devices, though Krill could hardly blame them from their moodiness.

A few more normal humans were there of course, averaging between the two extremes, and dressed conservatively for travel looking absolutely done with the entire thing and relieved when they stepped onto the cargo deck.

“Well it is about time!”

Krill and Dr. Katie turned their heads just in time to see the last human disembark shoving past the other guests and onto the floor, dragging with her two teenagers, one young child and her apologetic looking husband “It sure did take you long enough. And I swear once I have time I am going to be complaining to customer service. I will be complaining to the travel agency, and to the transport agency and.” She turned to glower at Dr. Katie and Dr. Krill,” And I will be complaining to you, whoever you people are for taking so long to show up.”

Krill glanced up at the woman who was only growing closer and closer, ominously looming over them. From this distance Krill got a better look of her badly maintained A line haircut, and her patchy blonde dye job with layers. She had a look on her face that were to suggest she perpetually had something sour in her mouth

Dr. Katie sighed, “Sorry ma’am. I can’t help you, I am a civilian medical contractor, not a member of the UNSC. I am just here to deal with any medical issues that you may have experienced during the malfunction.”

“Of course you’re UNSC, you work on the ship don’t you?”

Katie tried to remain patient, “Yes, I work on the ship, but like I said before I am a civilian contractor and have no ability to help you with your complaints. Is there any medical issue that I can help you with.”

“I demand a refund at once.”

Dr. katie Sighed, “I am a Dr. and I do not work for your touring company either. I am a private civilian medical contractor.” 

“And that was not a medical issue.” Krill added already annoyed.

By this time, the woman hadn’t even semed to notice him, but as soon as he spoke, she turned her eyes down towards him and screamed. She made a big show of falling backwards hand over her heart as if she had been shocked, “What is that!” Dr. Katie frowned, “This is Dr. krill, our OTHER civilian medical contractor.”

“Get it out of here, Immediately! I demand it be removed.” She backed away towards her family, “How dare you do something like this, my daughter has arachnophobia. I demand he be removed immediately”

Dr. Katie was frowning openly now, “I am not going to remove him from the deck. He is our chief medical officer, and not an arachnid. That is very rude, you may not know but it is considered a very offensive slur to call Vrul by those terms.”

“I don’t care, can’t you see what it is doing to my daughter!”

Dr. Katie and Dr. Krill turned to look at the teenage daughter, who, at that very moment looked like she wished to melt through the floor. It seemed that having all blood boiled out her ears in the vacuum of space would be way more preferable to this. Her husband was hiding his face, though no one said anything.

Behind her, the other tourists were looking wildly uncomfortable.

One of the large, colorful gentlemen stepped forward, “Why don’t we all just calm down, they are only trying to do their jobs.”

“Yeah, didn’t you hear them. They are civilian contractors.”

“You mind your own business.” She snapped turning back to the two of them. Behind her, her youngest son had gotten bored of the conversation and had wandered off. As they watched he busied himself with terrorizing the cargo crew darting in front of cargo carriers and screaming at the top of his lungs once he realized he could make his voice echo back to him.

“Ma’am, could you please get your son.” Dr Katie began, but was cut off.

“He can do what he wants. Don’t your bring my baby into this.”

“Mom-” The teenager began.

“Quiet Terrance.”

The boy shut his mouth joining his sister in wanting to melt through the floor.

She jabbed a finger at Krill, “Get that bug out of here NOW before I am forced to call someone.”

Krill watched in detached awe as Dr. katie grew very still. Her lips were drawn into a thing line, and the eyes behind her glasses narrowed sharply brows plunging, “I will not.” He was worried for a moment that Katie was going to flat out deck this woman, but she kept her cool, though her hands were balled into fists.

“I demand to speak with the manager!” The woman began screaming stomping her foot like a toddler.”

“Fine.” Doctor katie growled through clenched teeth, turning to look down at her implant before sending a text. 

The woman looked very smug sitting back with her arms crossed as Dr. katie and Krill were finally allowed to begin their work, going around to the other civilians and asking if they were feeling alright. The big colorful man, with the surprisingly pleasant voice  whispered an apology to them, “She's been a nightmare the whole trip. My wife and I were just coming out to gamble in some of those Tesraki casinos, you know try the exotic food, but she insisted that her son can’t eat any of that and that it shouldn’t be served on the ship or else he'd have some horrible allergic reaction. Honestly it's probably a load of bullshit.” 

His wife placed a hand on his arm, “Herold.” She scolded quietly 

“Sorry, dear. Anyway, you two are doing a great job.” Before looking down at Krill, “Watch out, there are some real xenophobes around these parts, and she might just be one of them.” 

In the background her kid was still making a mess bringing everything in the hold to a complete standstill.

Krill was appalled and almost impressed at how horrible this all was

There was a clattering towards the end of the room, and the group of them turned to see commander Vir, Sunny and a group of other drev walk into the space..

“Zha dah nee to chatahach nehkasi.”

“Zha janaik.”

“Tsa dee.”

“Geesee zha dee.”

“Nin tsa kasish, Chalan.”

“Zha nehrekazi. Zha lad nee gengi kasat.”

The group of them stopped in their tracks cutting their conversation mid go as the kid ran past them screaming, nearly knocking a pallet of crates off balance as he went.

Commander Vir frowned, “Hey! Knock it off!” The kid paused in his tracks a defiant expression in his eyes, and looked about ready to do something stupid. However a group of three Hulking Drev, and one eyeless human was enough  to send him scurrying to his mother, who was not happy.

She marched forward, “how dare you speak to my son like that. Who exactly do you think you are.”

“And who are you?” The commander asked.

“A paying customer.”

The commander looked confused, “Paying for what?” 

“Don’t play coy with me. You now what.”

“I can honestly tell you that I don’t know.” He turned his head back to the Drev “Nijeesh”, and motioned them off knowing this was going to take a while

She screeched, “Stop speaking to them in that language, this is a human ship! Speak human!” Krill an the other Drev looked on in confusion, considering that there were a couple of human languages to choose form, making her argument extra stupid.

“I paid for this tour, and now I demand to speak with your manager.”

The commander folded his arms, “We aren’t part of the tour company, we are part of the UNSC.”

“I don’t care.”

“Ma’am I cannot help you with the tour company. THe UNSC has nothing to do with civilian tours.”

She held up a hand in front of his face, “No, I won’t be talking to you anymore, not until is see a manager.” She snapped her fingers.

A small spark of fire lit in the man’s eyes, “I AM the manager.”

She laughed, barking like a condescending seal, “Don’t lie to me boy, you are too young. Now let me talk to an adult. The REAL manager.”

Commander Vir stared at her mouth open completely nonplussed, “I’m 25.”

“Exactly, clearly not old enough.”

He just held out his hands lost for words for a long moment before, a subtle change appeared in his expression. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, “My apologies, ma’am, we don’t technically have a manager aboard the ship, but this just so happens to be the UNSC Harbinger, so maybe I can get Commander Vir to speak with you.” 

Her eyes lit up hungrily at that. And Krill stared on in wonder and fascination.

“yes , I will speak with the commander.”

Her two teenagers looked up from their shame, and Krill could tell by the wide eyed expressions on their faces, they knew exactly who their mother was talking to. Both of their faces went beat red.

Commander Vir turned walked a few steps turned around and walked back standing up straighter, ‘Hello ma’am I am Fleet Commander Vir of the UNSC Harbinger, how may I be of assistance.”

The woman looked livid, “This isn’t funny! Now get me the real commander now!”

“mom/” One of her kids hissed.

She held out a finger.

“Mom!”

She turned to glare angrily at her child, “Not while the adults are speaking terrance.”

“But mom! He IS the commander!”

She turned to glower at her son, who was brandishing his implant with a picture of Adam in uniform, one of the images used for the movie.

It was time for her husband to speak up, “Dear…. He’s the one from that movie…” he trailed off.

She whirled around to face him face red with embarrassment as he stood there with a shit eating grin, but then, in her embarrassment, doubled down even harder, “Well no wonder this place is so poorly run. You’re too young to have the position you do. Is there someone ELSE more experienced I  can speak with.”

Commander Vir just stared at her, “Ma’am I am the highest power you are ever going to talk to. Even if I was god's secretary, you wouldn't get past the door. Now shut up get your crotch goblin, under contorl and keep your xenophobic agest ass quiet. I am not going to bother being polite to someone who has openly thrown speciesest slurs at my crew.” He motioned to the other passengers, “The rest of you are welcome onto the crew deck for the time being.” The rest of her family members visibly wilted, “Your two kids and your husband are allowed as well, but until you can learn a little respect, and treat my crew the way they deserve, you and your youngest can stay on the civilian transport alone.” 

From where she stood next to Krill, Dr. Katie giggled, “I love it when he gets all righteous indignation.” Krill had to agree with her.

Watching him turn and leave the woman speechless with fury behind him was extremely satisfying. 

[neednothavehappenedtobetrue]

okay. this is a post about a new character, who is a person in the same 'verse as the main one for Robert and Isabelle, sci-fi and spaceships. she is a pastor in the one specific "limits on technology" religion I made up, but also, she is very cool. she does not live on their main terraformed colony, she lives in another colony with some definite cultural differences.

I am mostly posting this for my own future reference. there are definitely people who will enjoy Gwendolyn a lot, even with the extensive trigger tag situation here, but I think "a short story that has space for more nuance" would be a better venue for her than "my thoughts from Skype at 4AM"

if you do decide to read this, check the tags first, please

shoutout to @anonymus-maximus-er for being my thought partner on this.

but as I understand it now, there are, like , degrees of Intensity in Church Of Man

like, even their chillest followers are kind of intense about it because it's hard to be real, real chill about "god said we were only allowed to use these specific fifteen technologies" or whatever the exact rules are

but as far as incubators go, Aimee's community, the one you saw, would definitely have been like "well, too bad God wants that baby to die" and there are some other communities which would be more like "okay, probably make sure your baby does not die, do what you've gotta do there, but don't come back and talk to us afterwards"

and also for sure there are communities like "do literally whatever you have to do to make sure your baby does not die, we will be here with whole-made casseroles when you're home again"

and like, could some of those kids have benefitted from subsequent quality-of-life stuff they didn't get? probably, yes

to varying degrees

but hopefully Aimee finds a nice community where she can be like "this is so important to me but my babies and I experienced a bunch of technology in order to not die and we got excommunicated."

and they're like "wow that sounds like a lot of Not Your Fault would you like some whole-made casseroles and toddler clothes?"

and she's like "I got excommunicated" and they're like "did you know, perhaps you didn't, that there is no Central Authority for every Church Of Man church in the galaxy? there for sure is not! the people from New Maryland often pretend they are, but we didn't vote for them! your old pastor is just not at all the boss of us, is the thing"

that is the future epilogue I want for Aimee

I feel like the Tau Ceti Church of Man community is small and some people think they're weird, but they're nice neighbors. their pastor is a woman named Gwendolyn or something who is just constantly mad about Richard Brinton That Fucking Asshole

she has never called him any of those words because of decorum, she has just spent a lot of time talking to new people like "wow you seem very traumatized did you know he is not the boss of us?"

"we don't have a pope!"

"we've tried to have a council a few times, but it's logistically complicated"

"every church is supposed to make its own rules in accordance with the texts"

"yes, I have read every single one of his missives to the world, I know which bits of the Texts you probably have memorized, here are some bits I like a lot"

Gwendolyn has some opinions

like, churches are supposed to set their own rules about "necessary" technologies and she has quietly labeled almost all life-saving medical technology "necessary"

meanwhile, Brinton thinks it's necessary for him to have access to telecommunications equipment to he can send his editorials all over the galaxy, so people can be Educated

huh

of course, he does not actually physically touch the telecommunications equipment, he keeps like four people who know how to use it around so they can spread his word, but also, huh

the thing about Gwendolyn is that she has spent a long time watching traumatized New Marylanders join her community, many of them quite young and quite traumatized

also, she was never a New Marylander, she is fourth-generation Tau Ceti, which, crucially

means that her first set of principles is "Church Stuff, Misc" and her second set of principles, right there after the first is "you're not the boss of me"

even if somebody could point to actual scripture that said they were the boss of her, she would have some trouble with it, but some dude! who cannot point to anything at all! no justification whatsoever! nothing in the texts even a little bit! keeps trying to be the boss of her! and also keeps traumatizing all of the people in his community pretty badly! and making everyone else look like jerks!

"I'm more conservative than you, therefore, I am the boss of you"

NOPE

not for Gwendolyn

Gwendolyn votes in every local election and votes for her Senator, who she has met and quite likes. she occasionally goes to protests when the local government does some dipshit thing, but the Tau Ceti local government is pretty well-behaved because if it's not the citizenry will absolutely be like "fuck you, you're not the boss of me" at its government

she has some Very Big Opinions about debtor employment. she's not thrilled about the like, severity of the gang situation in her city, but she doesn't have a lot of optimism that the Government is gonna fix it, so she does community groups instead

also, in recognition of the fact that she can't just throw these traumatized New Marylanders right off into the personal autonomy deep end she is like "okay, if you need someone to tell you what to do sometimes, I will be the temporary boss of you until you are ready to be the boss of you"

she does not Love that aspect of her job, but sometimes you gotta

you can't bring people from "obedience all the time" to "you must make every choice in your life with no backup" overnight, they'll just collapse in on themselves or become targets for worse people

so she does the thing

she and Brinton have a <very> passive aggressive correspondence going as church leaders

there are many many long letters back and forth

they are very polite and also, if any of them are preserved, historians will find them fascinating

"wow these people just fucking loathed each other"

Anonymus, 5:05 AM

your obedient servant, A. Burr

5:05 AM

if they did not live on separate planets, legitimately maybe

like, if she could get to Brinton's house on a horse to yell at him in person, she would have by now

she didn't swear a lot in real life, but sometimes she wanted to

she got real good at saying "that man" or "sugar" or "nonsense" in A Tone, but you could tell

I can't decide if she has a husband or a wife

Aimee's church definitely thinks gay people are Modern and therefore Wrong, but like

I feel like probably their specific religious texts don't even have that much on being nice to people? like, there's definitely a few pages on like "kindness is an ancient value, we hold fast to ancient values, these are them"

but it's like 70% Rules Minutiae

it's also not a super long book

so everybody has very different opinions about how to interpret the Rules Minutiae in light of the 30% of the book that's like "here are our actual values"

"modesty" and "fidelity" are both in the Ancient Values bits for sure

and I feel like different denominations went in different directions on the "modesty" and "fidelity" implications of "gay people"

no, I've decided, Gwendolyn definitely has a wife

show her in the actual rules where she can't have a wife

yes, fidelity, that thing she has with her wife

Anonymus, 5:13 AM

can the wife be a very proper rebbetzin?

organises all the casserole chains

5:14 AM

yes, she can definitely organize all of the casserole chains

5:18 AM

right

Gwendolyn's wife's name is Tara and she came from an Earth Church of Man community where they were like "technically it's not illegal for you to be gay, but, like, ehhhh? we'd rather you didn't and also you definitely cannot have children if you're gay"

5:20 AM

and she got to Tau Ceti and met Gwendolyn who even in college was like "show me in the texts where it says I cannot have a wife."

"show me."

Anonymus, 5:21 AM

sounds like excellent breeding ground for Very Textually and Theologically Conversant, but not actually a religious authority

5:21 AM

the thing is, Tau Ceti is Bad At Authority

if they had a motto on their coins it would just be "you're not the boss of me" but maybe in Latin

but maybe not even in Latin because people who know Latin often think they are the boss of you

Anonymus, 5:22 AM

WHO MADE U KING

5:22 AM

for real

I think there is a dude who is technically the "boss" of Gwendolyn and they take turns giving the sermons and calibrating which parishoners they support based on like, communication styles in a way that often ends up with just all of the women and queer folks being Gwendolyn's people

she is smarter than him, he handles all of the Local Politics things that require you not to go "EXCUSE me, where is the LAW ABOUT THAT"

Anonymus, 5:24 AM

different type of smart

5:24 AM

if he ever tried to pull rank on her, she would either be so startled that it would work or she would unhinge her jaw and eat him

so he's never tried

he doesn't want to! very few people on Tau Ceti even want to be in charge, both because it's like herding cats who will hate you if they catch you herding them and because the finely honed distrust of authority doesn't go away when you become authority

Anonymus, 5:26 AM

"I'm pretty sure I'm up to some bullshit"

5:27 AM

yeah, Gwendolyn spends a lot of time with these sad transplants from other communities, nearly all of them women (because for SOME REASON women tend to get excommunicated WAY MORE OFTEN. HUH. are there ADDITIONAL RULES for WOMEN? I DON'T SEE ANY)

and they're like "please I am so sad and scared just tell me what to do"

and she wants to be like "I am not the boss of you, you have to be the boss of you" but they often are not ready for that, so she just tries to get a sense of what they want to do or what might be healthiest for them and tells them her strong recommendation is that they do that thing

everyone in her community knows she is passionate and can get fired up about some of this stuff, she doesn't hide that, but also, there are some conversations she (a only has with her wife and also (b has had with her wife a number of times

they are basically "our community is like 55% traumatized exiles from other communities and like 30% traumatized people from This One Dude's Community specifically. he traumatizes women and girls and girls he calls women and gay people and parents with sick babies!"

"we have so so many people we take care of now who are so so shaken and traumatized and sad"

"and we only get the people who don't leave the faith entirely!"

"it's not fair! it's not fair that he gets to do that! it's not fair!"

because when you carry the faces of like twenty good people all traumatized by the same garbage person and all you can do is try to take care of them and send passive-aggressive letters, sometimes it sucks!

if they lived on the same planet and she could get there on a horse, she would have done something ill-advised by now. yelled, certainly

but then again, if she had been born on New Maryland she would be a super different person and if he had been born on Tau Ceti there would have been a hard upper limit on how much he could get anyone to listen to him

like, bad bullshit happens on Tau Ceti, but the first time he married a fourteen-year-old girl off to her rapist, his neighbors would have set him on fire

church of man neighbors, regular neighbors, possibly neighbors who are criminals, just all the neighbors

5:37 AM

so her wife listens to her cry and reads over her letters to Brinton to make sure she doesn't actually say anything Too Impolitic (I think her boss also reads them, but he's less invested)

and her wife has these new folks over for dinner and helps them find clothes for their kids and adapt their modesty rules to the thing where it's like, as hot as it is possible to be in Tau Ceti

5:38 AM

like, most of the summer it's like 120 degrees, on a brisk day in December it drops into like, the low nineties

5:39 AM

sometimes people from other communities are like "we do modesty more modestly than they do" and they have to be like "okay, your choices are us dressing this way or us using air conditioning, because people do die in real life of heatstroke sometimes, that is a thing that can kill you"

also, even before Gwendolyn came along, her previous pastor was definitely like "we're gonna make electric fans permissible. we're just... heatstroke sure does kill you in real life"

"particularly in Modest Dress"

she liked him. they had meetings like twice a month when she was young because she had A Lot of questions and her parents were less invested in the answers than she was

when she was like twelve, he was like "maybe they'll give you my job one day" and she was like "I don't want your job! you're the boss of people!" and he was like "they very much would not give you my job if you wanted my job, kiddo"

(even 50% of the organized crime leaders on Tau Ceti are like "hey, I'm not the boss of anybody, I'm just a guy you don't want to fuck with because of all of the friends that I have got"

"I am not the boss of you, but I do have this gun")

5:49 AM

final thought on Gwendolyn: she had a real hard time when Robert Thompson died, because that dude thought her faith was a good reason to murder a husband and father.

and like, that dude is a fucking asshole, obviously, but it's hard

and then Brinton puts out an editorial about it and it is the only time Gwendolyn and Tara's children ever hear one of their mothers swear

because she is usually super meticulous about that

but also, sometimes

there is a limit

she makes several attempts before she writes him her next letter and the subtext of the entire letter is just "fuck you SO much, I do not generally believe in Hell, however, I will make an exception"

there is a limit! a man is dead and his wife and daughter are grieving and then a dude who everyone thinks is, like, the pope of her puts out some bullshit like "of course we don't do hate crimes but also that dude who got murdered deserved it" bullshit

there is a limit she is past it!

5:53 AM

also, they have seven adopted kids

[sirsharp-a]

Hellbent  (TEASER) ;

Summary:  Edgar sits down to have a chat with you. Warnings:  Mentions of child predators, sexual assault, murder and torture.

    I am not a good person.

    I’m not telling you this because I rejoice in it.  It isn’t because I aspire to be ‘’The Big Bad’’.  It isn’t because I’m wounded and small, nor is it because I’m secretly fragile with a heart of gold.  I’m telling you this because it’s the truth.  I am not good.  I am not bad.  I toe  the line whenever it suits me, and the rest goes up in flames.

    The more I open up to you, the less you’re going to like me.

    And I don’t care.  I’m not your Messiah.

    There is evil in this world.  True evil.   The moment I came to Earth and began to study its inhabitants, I took note of a trend that was most disturbing:  this realm’s children, in a lot of cases, are treated no better than livestock.  Empty vessels for adults to vent their frustrations on.  Before long, I found myself obsessed, books and case files I’d printed from previously solved cases scattered across the length of my bed like I was some detective from a critically acclaimed drama, a morbid fascination blossoming in my brain like a chrysanthemum beside a tombstone.

    Fathers that beat their children because they had a bad day at work.     Mothers who take care of their addictions instead of feeding their young.     Babysitters that aggressively antagonise babies while their parents slave away.

    The deeper down the rabbit-hole I fell, the more I felt myself coming to terms with feeling.  If there is anything you must know about me, it is that I have the emotional capacity of a goddamn waffle--  or so I’ve been told.  I’d have to agree.  I’ve never felt things… ‘right’.  But by God, as I leafed through those records, I felt angry.  How could somebody do such cruel things to people who have not even lived yet?  Children are tiny, fragile, and weak.  What could you POSSIBLY glean from being horrible to them?  To me, it’s the equivalent of people abusing animals:  they’re so hungry for somebody to notice them that they’ll do even the most asinine, malignant of things for a morsel of sweet, sweet attention.

    Congratulations.  You have my attention now.

    As most unfortunate things go, these things were relatively tame.  Even now, I can’t believe that I’m saying such a thing when children have died at the hands of people like this--  but again, it’s the truth.  The more I read, the more educated I became.  The more educated I became, the more I realised that this realm was not doing enough to protect those that could do nothing to defend themselves.  It made me so hot with rage that I had to leave my research behind for several days.  I’d seen enough.  I didn’t want to witness more.

    Still, it didn’t take long for me to come crawling back.  As if I could forget such heinous displays of depravity.  

    Mothers that burned their children alive in microwaves.     Fathers who buried their children in the backyard after ‘accidentally’ hitting them too hard.

    And then the worst of it.

    Parents that molest their sons and daughters for reasons unknown.     Mothers and fathers that rape their sons and daughters for--

    … for what?  What reason could you POSSIBLY have for laying your hands on a child in that way?  Do you know how small they are--  how much they resemble glass in your large, grubby hands?  Why is that alluring to you?  Why do you need to touch the one thing that no person, monster or God ever should?  Do you think yourself special?  Exempt of the rules?  A person who  DESERVES  it all?

    That was when my plan was first hatched.

    I was bored.  I was angry.  And I will always have forever to fill.

    I began to investigate on my own.  I watched the news like a hawk whenever I came to visit.  Steadily, I filled my head with information and I laid in wait.  I’m not going to spew some bullshit at you;  I’m not going to tell you I heard the children crying out to me, or that their silent pleas lingered in between the lines of every calculated interview, PR meeting and news report.  There was no feeling of subservience to a higher power, no ‘child whispering’ technique I employed--  just the facts, and my fury being fed.  Like a starving animal being tossed scraps from a man that pitied it.

    The first man I murdered was in cold blood.  I found him using nothing but my nose and my brain, recognised him immediately in light of the hours of research I’d been doing.  While the cops ran circles around the breadcrumbs he had left behind, I tore his legs off and beat him to death with them in his bedroom.  I can’t describe the feeling it gave me.  Satisfaction doesn’t describe it  -  and that’s what I’m trying to highlight to you.  I’m not the good guy.  I do this not just for the people in need, but because I’m a self-righteous bastard who can do it.  I know that.  I accept it.  Damn, I embrace it.

    … but I will ask you this:

    If not me, who?

    I know, I know--  what a self-centred, cliche question, no?  But think about it.  Really open your mind and think.  You sit there in your perfect little house with your comfortable amenities and your dazzling future spread ahead of you like a big blue tarpaulin, all while the elites you have funded sit around twiddling their thumbs and doing nothing to aid crises.  Your police forces, in most cases, mean well, but the law smothers their ability to enforce any sort of goodwill.  Who fears a man that bears a gun if he is not allowed to fire it under most circumstances?  There’s nothing that most of them can do unless it’s literally going to cost them their life.  A lifetime in jail--  even with prisoners who do not like them--  is not a fair punishment.  It’s simply what you’ve been told is humane.

    Do you think it’s humane to hold a little girl who’s crying and screaming still while a grown man inserts himself into her?  Do you think it’s humane for an adult woman to humiliate her prepubescent son for the changes his body is going through, touching and probing in places nobody should touch?  Do you not think that kind of abhorrence deserves an equal measure of retaliation?

    They should both be in Hell.  And I have no desire to wait until after death for that to unfold.

    Humans have too many rules, too many laws that mean nothing and too many governmental figures that are content to turn a blind eye to the things wrong with the world.  I don’t want people to get into unnecessary trouble.  I understand why the police can’t unleash an entire clip into a pedophile’s chest because they caught them in the act while going to apprehend them.

    But I’m not the police.  I’m not a government official.  I don’t have a cushy office, or a high-paying job, or a moral compass that prevents me from delivering a hearty blow to the back of a man’s head should he fiddle with small bodies.  I have myself.  I have my principles.  I have my rage.  That’s all…  and perhaps that’s why I enjoy it.  I know I’m doing something cruel, but it’s to people who deserve it, and for that I will never apologise.  People who ruin others for no good reason.  People who tarnish the sanctity of youth for no other purpose than to satisfy their perverted fantasies.

    While ever I feel strongly about this, I’m going to continue my work.  It’s why I come to Earth routinely now;  sit in a darkened apartment in London after having dinner with my wife in another realm completely, sifting through encrypted requests for help in my inbox.

    Do you need help removing a human stain?  Contact E.Strahv for further assistance.

                                                   [ You have (1) new email! ]

                                                      It’s time to get to work.

[dipshit-pig]

Digging through my folders and I feel like this is mood. This country is shit. But at least we finally didn’t something that wasn’t objectively a mistake :^) 

God bless this stupid backwards country that has rules that put fascists in power, no free health care, is filled with racists, no legalized weed, no legalized sex work, no public transport, no wage equality, the bible belt, little fair housing, a massive homeless problem, massive debt problems, a culture that fetishizes slave owning weed smokers as being divinely inspired to write a Constitution that’s function might as well be toilet paper, no maximum wage, barely functioning tax brackets, tax exempt millionaires, a horribly designed immigration process, states that don’t have running water everywhere, states that still allow the KKK to be around, states that allow oil companies to frack, states that let trans people get fired for being trans, basic lack of intelligent city planning, Mormons, Scientology, South Park creators Matt Stone and Tray Parker, the Federalists, other secret societies that want to use their religious freedom to oppress others, very little oversight on what qualifies as misinformation, unregulated consumption of any and all resources, a school to prison pipeline, a system of law that’s fundamentally and easily neglected based on material wealth, lobbyist groups, world leader in gun crime, world leader in food waste, the NRA, Belgian tax havens, an aggressive attitude unions unless they are for police officers who abuse them, Police officers that can’t be tried in a majority of the 50 states, constant neglect for the 5 territories that don’t get to be states for some reason, selfish ass people who don’t want to help others out with schooling but also complain that jobs in qualified fields are down, non standardized PTO for the working class, extremely lax laws on over time, insurance companies that refuse to pay for cancer treatment, constant corporates bail outs that use Social Security, a national retirement program that isn’t something you can opt out of but also the government keeps taking that retirement money to spend on other bullshit, poorly allocated taxes, overpaid positions, political campaigns who’s success relies entirely on how much money can be pumped into them, meaning that the poor or parties that aren’t one of the big two will never win, a DNC which constantly picks shitty candidates instead of ones that would hurt their bottom line, Mitt Romney, George W. Bush Jr., Jeb Bush, the entire Bush estate, being able to paint dogs in your fuck off huge mansion all day despite having ruined schooling for an entire generation of children, the Walt Disney Corp, institutionalized bigotry, jingoism, no term limits for an alarming amount of political officials, many, MANY defecto monopolies, really poor sex education, really poor access to sexual related health for anyone especially if they have a uterus, culturally acceptable xenophobia, a general lack of empathy, not one female president, only one trans governor who gets death threats often, and ONE OF THE WORST THINGS ABOUT THE USA...

Fucking NEBRASKA  

AND A LOT MORE THAT I CAN’T EVEN THINK OF BECAUSE THERE IS A LOT OF STUID ASS SHIT WE, THE UNITED FUCKING STATES OF AMERICA GET UP TO.

Let’s hold the Democrats accountable now, yeah? Let’s push for making sure the Police have their Unions abolished and for them to be possible to charge criminally. Let’s push for National Health Care. Let’s push for affordable collage. Let’s actually keep being loud about the problems America has and really make a difference. It’s not going to be easy. But let’s fucking try. 

We can’t keep allowing the rich and elite to suck the life out of our working class and our planet. The US is a huge global force, and as citizens we have a responsibility to make sure we’re being good neighbors. 

Thank you to everyone who voted based on who was going to hurt the earth least. Obviously not the best choice, but unfortunately it’s the best we have for the time being until the foundation of our institutions are changed.  

Oh yeah and... Fuck the Founding Fathers. Dude’s lived more than 200 years ago. No way they could predict the effects of the internet and post globalization. Also they were all about using up resources and not giving a fuck so... Maybe let’s not pretend they know everything and look at the problems we have with the modern solutions that are available to us? Yeah? 

[theunderdogwrites]

2020: The Year I Lost My Ass

Well, we reached the end of that toilet roll only to start another one, because that is what we do for as long as we are allowed to continue revolutions around the sun – we keep going.

2020 was a terrible year for so many. My brain is incapable of processing the number of losses suffered on a global scale. Be it jobs, security, rights, sanity, relationships or life. My brain is not just incapable of these calculations, it has plain refused to entertain those thoughts on behalf of my heart. My heart, that sensitive little blood pumping work horse who not once allows itself to stop. Thank goodness.

I don’t believe the majority of people are willing and able to bring themselves to fully comprehend what was lost in 2020.

Here is a list of a few more losses suffered last year:

- People lost their shit. And over the most ridiculous things like toilet paper, having to wear a mask to secure toilet paper and being held to the consequences resulting from not wearing a mask when asked to while attempting to purchase toilet paper. Pause for a moment and let that last sentence hang around in your mind. 2020 made that happen. I didn’t make it up! Recently I saw a news piece showing a man (40’s) lying down on the floor in a Costco to protest being asked to wear a mask. He spoke loudly, he beat his hands at his sides and wildly kicked his legs when an employee asked him to get up. Now, I am not judging for I too have participated in such behaviour MANY times. Granted I was three, but hey… some of us mature faster than others.

 - People lost their damn minds. 2020 should be dubbed “The Year of The Karen”. For those of you not in the know about the Karen phenomenon, here is a description courtesy of Urban Dictionary:

 “Karen is a pejorative term used in the United States and other English-speaking countries for a woman perceived as entitled or demanding beyond the scope of what is appropriate or necessary. A common stereotype is that of a white woman who uses her privilege to demand her own way at the expense of others.’

 Basically, a Karen is a I WANT TO SPEAK TO YOUR MANAGER type person (There is a male equivalent, but it seems no one can agree on the name… Chad, Terry, Kyle, Kevin, Steve). You can often find a Karen on her cellphone calling the police to report a black man who lives in her neighborhood, simply living his life in her neighbourhood. I didn’t make that up either.

 More recently a Karen was videoed in a UPS store claiming that she didn’t have to wear a mask because that space was government property and not a private business. Would it be safe to say that most Karen types suffer from a lack of oxygen to their brain? Possibly. But that would involve science and Karen types DO NOT enjoy hard facts.

 As always when I download my thoughts into reality, I must go within and search myself. Am I a Karen? My immediate answer is: no fucking way. I can honestly say I’ve never once asked to see a manager or called the police to report someone eating their lunch on a park bench. I do not enjoy confrontation. Unless there is a bully involved. Then I will drag that person to hell with me. I much prefer discussion over going straight to the ‘I triple dog dare you!’ approach to the world. (If you got that reference, you are my new favourite) Because that is who a Karen really is… someone who jumps right to the most extreme action in order to satisfy their need to be superior. Truly, we should feel sorry for these people because instead of engaging they’re raging. And how awful must their insides feel… always full of anger, fear and self doubt. I say instead of judging these Karen types or putting them on blast on social media, we should hug the shit out of them. Just grab them and squeeze as hard as you fucking can until they stop talking. Peaceful solutions my friends, peaceful solutions.

 - Pets lost their faith in us. Children a close second. If you are a proud owner of a pet or a child, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

I’ve always operated under the notion that my cat loves it when I’m home and hates it when I leave. 2020 has taught me it might be the other way around. Because our animals are, well, animals we just believe our presence is the greatest gift in their lives. Remember when you were old enough to be left alone by your parents and once you had the taste of that kind of freedom, you just wanted more of it and couldn’t wait for them to go out? I feel it’s like that with our pets now. We might not think animals have a routine or preferences or enjoy some alone time, but we’d be wrong.

I think at first our pets were thrilled. If we are home more it means more time for prolonged petting, walks and the opportunity to ritualistically train us to respond to their caterwauls for more food and treats than normal. But then as the weeks of lockdown and working from home increased, so did our pets desire to kill us in our sleep.

 I’m pretty sure my cat has asked me several times using her feline glare: “why the fuck won’t you just leave?”. It would be naïve of us to assume we don’t disrupt their day with our constant noise making and snacking and scotch drinking that leads to a good buzz that leads to showing too much affection to our pets. To the point where they run and hide when they see us coming. Please tell me I didn’t describe just my own experience.

 There is such a thing as everything in moderation, we know this, so I think it can be applied here. People, get away from your pets. Give them the space you often desire from human beings. Because if you don’t, that random turd in your shoe could be pointing to a much larger, more alarming problem you’re about to encounter.

 I had the absolute blessing of being able to assist in caring for and raising of my three nephews (12,9,6) for the last 11 years. So, when I say: ‘children are always watching us’, I feel I know what I’m talking about. I’ve been mimicked so often by these young boys that I’ve had to pause due to mortification. Children will hold you accountable without even knowing it. I’ve had some behaviours of mine corrected by a 5-year-old and let me tell you, it stings like hell.

 As adults, when our world was thrown into turmoil because of Covid-19, we looked to our medical health professionals and our politicians for guidance. Basically, we searched for those who would lead us. The children – looked to us. And while many adults handled this responsibility the best they possibly could, many more failed miserably and displayed attitudes I can only describe as juvenile, damaging and pathetic. I suppose it doesn’t help if the people the adults are looking to for help are themselves - juvenile, damaging and pathetic.

 When I say we still have not grasped just how much has been lost over the past year, I’m hinting at integrity, compassion and creditability. Three vital qualities you’d hope people want to instill into their children. But if they themselves are unable to display such valuable traits, what does this say for the children who are looking up to them as an example on how to act when life gets challenging?

 For myself in 2020, I gained by losing.

When they locked our gyms down for four months last spring, I came close to being one of those people who lost their shit. While people were moaning about wearing a mask for 20 minutes in the grocery store, I was contemplating if murdering those people could be considered a cardio exercise and would that hold up in a court of law.

To reflect on that time period now (especially since our gyms are closed AGAIN at the moment) the loss of the gyms brought me the knowledge of how important the routine of going to and being in the gym is to my mental health. I won’t launch into how I feel about shopping malls being open and gyms being closed despite their proven benefit to one’s overall health because then I really will lose my shit.

People always say getting to the gym is the hardest part and once they’re there it’s easy to workout. And for many that is the truth, but for me it’s all a part of the workout. Getting to the gym is the psychological effort. Putting in the work at the gym is the physical. You can’t have one without the other. I became so pathetic that I’d often walk to the closed gym from my house, stare at the closed doors and then walk home. 1.5 hour round trip. True story.

Remember a few years back everyone became obsessed with that Netflix show ‘Tidying Up with Marie Kondo’? It is the show where that lovely woman from Japan showed us all how to declutter our homes by getting rid of anything that didn’t bring us joy. Those acid wash jeans from 1989… sit with them… hold them close to your chest… if they don’t make you happy, remove them from your space. Well, the same idea can be applied to people and ideas and even feelings. And 2020 was a great year for simplifying our lives. I’ve heard so many people talk about how they can’t wait to get back to ‘normal’… not me. I’ve already started my ‘new normal’.

The loss of drama has gained me peace and a better understanding of the importance of remaining true to who I am instead of trying to please others in hopes it wins me points. Because it doesn’t. Because its inauthentic and only brings you more loss and more drama. And anxiety. And sleepless nights. And an overall sense of hatred for everyone. 2020 gave me the option to no longer care about the things that don’t make me happy and to embrace the process of letting all that stupid bullshit fade away.

It was a year of gained focus.

It was a year of gained appreciation.

It was a year of gained gratitude.

It was a year of gained love for myself.

 I’m going to leave you now, but not before I share one of my favorite songs by the Tragically Hip:

In A World Possessed by The Human Mind

Just give me the news

It can all be lies

Exciting over fair or the right thing at the right time

Everything is clear

Just how you described

The way it appears, "A world possessed by the human mind"

 Then I think I smiled

Then I think you said, "it's fine"

And quietly I dressed, in a world completely possessed by the human mind

 We're in awe of no one

We've none of their fear

Fighting's goin' nowhere and we stay right here

Where everything is quiet

A little super dangerous

"In the shadow of the law and with colours of justice"

 Then I hope I smiled

Then I'm sure you said, "It's fine"

They got no interest in a world completely possessed by the human mind

 Everything is quiet

A little super dangerous

Quiet enough to hear God rustlin' around in the bushes

Oh, but it was you

Girl, I was so afraid

You said, "You shoulda seen the look on your face"

 Then I hope I laughed

Then I hope I said, "it's fine"

And quietly undressed in a world completely possessed by the human mind

 Oh it was you

Girl, I was so afraid

You said, "You shoulda seen the look on your face"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mgXphurrsE0

[blametheeditor]

In The Palm Of My Hand | Part 2

Previously in part 1

Next in part 3

NOT SUITABLE FOR ALL AGES

Warnings: Almost excessive cursings. Mentions of experimenting on people. Mentions of murder, death. People being forced to do things against their will. Government intervention. Using willingness against others. Being seperated. Trust being essentially abussed. Trigger warnings

NOT SUITABLE FOR ALL AGES

Run Down: The population of the world has reached its carrying capacity. In the need to ensure resources won’t be completely diminished, a solution was found in the form of a virus. The only true question lies in being an indivdual society would chose to have, or to get infrected due to having no despirable traits.

NOT SUITABLE FOR EVERYONE

Eggs may or may not should be allowed near tinies for more than one reason

________

They had been chosen based upon their records. School, jobs, stability with the economy. Those who benefited everyone the most, and those who seemed to weigh society down. 

They also had a few randomly chosen. If they seemed to hold promise, they’d be placed with those who have their lives completely unaffected. To go home and only have their neighbor no longer living beside them.

And the system included those related, mainly for children, but also siblings. The parents combined status would then determine what their flesh and blood would be decided, though less so the older they are. 

David Harrison’s name holds success and wealth. His original business was to be hired by people who needed assistance building their own business’s, creating a reputation for them and a flawless system to care for their customers. 

William Afton is tied to the richest man alive. A failing restaurant that had been placed as number one once again under the people he hired motivation and standing. Everything he’s done that doesn’t contribute positively to his name is unknown and will stay that way. 

James Stiller’s reputation stands higher than his current standing. Now a night guard, he still got the highest score out of his entire high school class when he graduated, as well as a year of college under his belt and the path of a doctor. 

Eggs Benedict’s name stands with his parents. Wealthy and well known, he’d make great contributions no matter what he does. Adding to the fact of almost flawless engineering skills stated by college professors, it’s clear he owns up to the family last name. 

Caleb White only stands with his father. A single dad but with a healthy income and two other children living under his roof. He’s a hard worker and takes care of his two sons and daughter, even if he constantly states his son’s fear is only a nightmare. 

Henry Ross’s name has honorable mentions within the military during the Vietnam war. Only a solider he showed leadership and completed difficult missions even at the age of nineteen. Now he works under a growing company as a character designer and keeping a decent wage.

Mike Schmidt was put up for adoption and lost his frontal lobe. The only job he could get was as a night guard, and a night guard he will stay, unable to even provide enough for himself. 

Jeremy Fitzgerald almost unable to pay for his apartment and works as a night guard. Once with the top scores of his class, they suddenly dropped senior year and lost his scholarship to Stanford University. 

Scott Cawthon lives in a perfect home. Divorced, worked under a restaurant for nearly thirty years and not going to be gaining a better standing. 

Vincent Wright’s history of being adopted over and over again stands for itself. Not only that but essentially disappearing off the face of the earth at certain times. 

Fritz Smith while only sixteen lost both his mother and his father, taken in by a foster family and seemingly needing to work in order to help support him. Not the greatest of grades, no documentation of great talents, and nothing set to a bright future. 

Sammy Lawrence, Norman Polk, and Wally Franks have little to no status under their names. As if they had disappeared and then were raised from the dead once again. Sammy working under William Afton as a music composer, Norman having no documented job or wage, and Wally a young adult earning money at a fast food restaurant. 

And those deemed to be unfit of being ‘chosen’ were infected. 

Right that minute it was announced, to be precise. 

“They aren’t harmed!” 

William elbows David at that, finally earning the business man’s attention when he found out the others apparently were ‘infected’. That Fritz hadn’t been chosen to simply go home with him. 

Screw the others! Fritz is his charge! AND his hardest worker! 

“See? Not harmed.” 

“They’ve been goddamn infected,” David hisses, staring at the man as he tries to just process what was being said. 

If they aren’t harmed, then most likely that doesn’t mean zombie apocalypse. Or maybe it does and now they’re all going to die. Why the fuck is it even described as being infected! Who the hell comes up with this stuff! 

He has to be fine. He has to! This is FUCKED UP! 

“I’m just as confused,” James murmurs at the pleading glance. He wasn’t able to come up with an extremely friendly solution to the idea of population control. And that means he truly can’t understand why ‘infecting’ someone without harming them would help in any way. 

Eggs nudges the horror guard at that, attempting to calm his own nerves about the bullshit being said. “Famous Stiller not knowing the answer? That’s definitely something I’d use to balance all of this!” 

His mouth closes at Henry’s shake of the head. The old animator was on edge, and he didn’t want to push an ex-solider further. 

“M-Mr. Aft-?” 

Caleb’s question is cut off with a yelp, William’s hand that was holding his suddenly letting go in order to pick him up. He’s quickly handing off to David, however, the man holding his close as tears soak his suit. “A-Are they really okay?” 

There’s no answer, not even from Fredbear as he hugs the plush tightly. 

“If they’re not, I’ll kick everyone’s ass, okay?” 

A laugh escapes the boy. Because as much as the business man tries, he can never pull off Mike’s line like the lead guard does. 

Does. Not did. 

“Okay.” 

James gently shushes the two, listening intently to what was being said. Apparently the others are condensed, small enough to be cared for easily. 

“Shrunk.” 

David looks down at him, breathing speeding up as Caleb buries into his chest. “What?” 

“They’re shrunk.” 

“Like M & M size?” Eggs questions, darting after Henry as their friend quickly approaches the raised platform. 

A thoughtful look is sent as William raises an eyebrow. “You immediately want to compare them to a candy?” 

“What! Means they’re bite-sized.” 

Bite-sized. If that’s correct, then Fritz is that size. Minuscule. Unable to defend against a bug. And unable to defend against someone ’chosen’. David himself. 

Fucking- 

“Sir?” Henry begins, grabbing the attention of the man who was practically pleading the ex-solider to punch by simply existing. “There seems to have been a misunderstanding.” 

“Everyone infected was deliberately-” 

“Guardianship.” 

The word forces David to finally focus. To realize he had moved without thinking, following after those he learned to trust and almost tolerate the presence of. The idea of someone being shrunk though kept flickering through his head, though. Realization the teenager he’s admittedly begun to enjoy being around was shrunk. 

How small? Eggs’ guess, or bigger? And how much bigger? Or was he even smaller? They said ‘easily cared for’. That could mean anything. Even if it means I’m a danger by simply being near him. 

A shake of his head. Henry was talking about guardianship. About him and Fritz. 

The animator nods to the wall behind the man. Calm and collected even though he wanted to tear concrete down to right something incredibly wrong. “Someone who is set to be infected is actually under the legal custody of this man here. Not as a foster, but a legal guardian and therefore considered a ‘relative’ in some cases. 

“That means they’ve been separated. Due to the statement you gave, this is to be corrected and they will be placed under his care, correct, sir?” 

Why was the man looking almost panicked? Why wasn’t he grabbing Fritz? Why did he have a terrible feeling about this? 

“I apologize for the miscommunication between the legal statements of a few guardianships.” 

So where’s Fritz? Why aren’t they allowing him in here now? 

“We’ll be more than happy to right this.” 

Good. Now give him- 

“We must inform you he is already-” 

NO! 

Caleb tenses up as David does, shaking his head at what was being said. No Fritz wasn’t hurt, and no one else was. But they’ve been infected. 

“Are we able to get him now?” James questions, earning a questioning look before he gestures someone to approach. 

“The immersion is supposed to be done several weeks from-” 

“No.” 

William pushes the now frozen business man aside, fixing a glare at the person standing between him and Vincent. “They’re infected already, correct? And as you had spoken briefly about, if someone infected and uninfected mutually agree with being under the care of those uninfected, they are permitted to do so. Written statement is all that’s required, as well as an agreement someone with authority will check in at a scheduled time and day every week to ensure no one is harmed or being treated inhumanly. Nothing had been stated a certain amount of time had to pass.” 

A moment. And another. Then there’s a single word and the man beckons William and David to follow. 

“Come with me.” 

[alluringasteria]

7 Signs From Your Higher Self

1. When you feel like something just isn’t right.

You know in your gut when something just doesn't feel right. I remember after I was suffering miscarriage after miscarriage the doctors couldn't find the physical reason I kept losing the babies. Everything was tested, and everything seemed fine and in good working order. However, on a deep level I felt like because I had worked so hard on the “spiritual reasons” my baby wasn't manifesting there still had to be a “physical reason” why I could only stay pregnant for up to 10 or 11 weeks. It wasn't until I moved states and found a more progressive doctor that she tested me for a gene mutation called MTHFR. Turned out that this was the reason I suffered recurring miscarriages. So I guess the moral of this story is to go with your gut, follow those hunches and keep seeking second and third opinions until your situation “feels right” again. Our intuitive guidance system is such a blessing, we must remember how to use those bullshit detectors to their full capacity.

A message from you higher self: BELIEVE BEYOND WHAT YOU CAN SEE

2. When a little voice whispers a message to you.

Sometimes we hear little voices that give us messages and snippets of wisdom that will help us out in our lives in some way.  To be clear, these are NOT the same types of voices that so-called “crazy” people might be listening to. I'm talking about an intuitive connection to your higher self that is often helping you in your times of need. These could be the voice of your spirit guides or guardian angels etc.

I remember one day when my husband Sean and I were picking up the kids from school. We were running late, so he told me to get out of the car at the stop light and he'd find somewhere to park. I heard a strong voice in my head say “NO” just as I was about to open the car door. As I paused, a school bus went speeding right by us. If I hadn't of taken that pause and listened to the voice I would have been hit by that bus. I was extremely grateful that I listened, otherwise I wouldn't be here to be telling that story.

A message from you higher self: LISTEN

3. When you see signs of alignment and choose to ignore them.

When you are on a spiritual journey and you're living your life by cultivating conscious awareness, signs of alignment from the Universe are frequently presented to you. These signs can be messages from your higher self that you are on the right path. My husband Sean and I see rainbows as a sign of alignment. We saw one on the day we met, the day we got engaged and in various other times when we have launched new ventures within our company.But when you hold and intention dear to your heart and you are then presented with signs that you choose to ignore, then energetic resistance begins to build up. Many of us tend to put our own needs last. We think that because we have children, or because we don't have enough money or other various excuses that we are unable to follow our dreams. This kind of thinking, where we willfully reject the signs of alignment is flawed. You have the power to see and view the world around you as a mirror of your own consciousness. If you see that white rabbit, you need to follow it. It will help your soul to expand and grow in miraculous ways. It's time to stop being fearful of living to your full potential.

A message from you higher self: SEE THE SIGNS AS TIME TO TAKE ACTION TOWARDS YOUR DREAMS

4. When you have recurring dreams or experience recurring synchronicities.

Do you have the same tidal wave dream over and over again? Or do you see the same person showing up in different locations all over your city? When the energetic signature patterns of life are in our awareness there is usually a reason behind it. It's a message… perhaps and instruction and sometimes a warning. Your job is to follow the clues and see if you can make sense of the reason the information is being presented to you on a regular basis.

A message from you higher self: SEEK THE MEANING

5. When your needs aren’t being met in a relationship.

When you don't use your voice in a relationship then the Universe will pick up the pace of your spiritual lessons and speak for you. If you know in your heart that your relationship isn't working and you stay without making an attempt to shine a light on the situation then you are dishonoring yourself at a very deep level. You are worthy of your needs being met. You are worthy to be loved and treated in a way that makes you feeling amazing. If you're currently feeling this way, then see it as a sign that deep transformation needs to take place. Whether you stay or you leave, a decision needs to be made, before it's made for you.

A message from you higher self: YOU ARE WORTHY

6. When you have thoughts that don’t make sense.

Have you ever had a thought about someone that didn't make any sense and then a deep or dark secret was exposed and your intuition was verified? Sometimes when we follow these hunches about people we fall into the trap of judging unfairly. However, there is a really delicate balance to strike where if you have a certain thought about someone then there must be a vibrational match to their energy somehow. The key is to not allow fear to govern your instincts. For instance, you can't constantly be checking your partners phone to see if they're cheating on you because more that likely you will create that experience from your lack of trust. But when you have a random thought or a hunch about someone or something just allow it to be and don't interfere. Send the thoughts love and allow them to play out as they are meant to.

A message from you higher self: SOMETIMES YOU CAN BE WRONG AND IT'S OKAY

7. When you ignore ongoing health issues and pretend they’ll go away.

You might have a pesky cough that doesn't seem to go away, or a mole that keeps changing color, or a weird lump that you are trying to ignore. Whatever it is, you really can't afford to ignore the health symptoms that are being presented to you. My mother-in-law is vigilant at getting a breast examination each year and it literally saved her life when she was diagnosed with breast cancer at an early stage. Our bodies work just like anything else in our lives, if you ignore problems then they will get bigger until you do something about them.

A message from you higher self: PAY ATTENTION TO THE FEEDBACK YOU FEEL IN YOUR BODY

(Not mine)

[thats-sir-dyke-to-you]

Sometimes I really hate the fact I was born female.

I hate that fact that men don't take me seriously.

I hate that I'm seen as a harpy whenever I show slight passion about a topic.

I hate that I was raised in a school where the boys thought I was insane for being a feminist. Where boys took pictures of me after saying "women only belong in two places, the kitchen and the bedroom", and then posting them all over social media calling me the "angry man hating lesbian feminist". I hate that a boy negged me on in chemistry class, sexually harassed me, and then when I lost it at him my chemistry teacher told me to calm down, that I was overreacting. I hate that when i told him to fuck off, and got sent to the deputy principal to explain myself. Me. Not him. Not the boy who was harrassing me, or the teacher that allowed it in his classroom.

I hate that when I told my dad a boy had been sexually harassing me, he went behind my back, contacted his parents and my school administration. I hate that I was then called into my deputy principals office and told that this had all "been blown out of proportion" and that I was being unreasonable. But it wasn't unreasonable for that boy to say he couldnt wait until I was 18 to get me drunk and high so he could have sex with me. When I was an out lesbian.

I hate that one of my friends was raped by a boy in our school. I hate that when she told the school they didn't believe her. I hate that they made her continue to share classes with him. I hate that she was threatened with suspension for spreading lies about "such a serious topic" and that he was able to keep harassing her on school grounds, unchecked.

I hate that one of my friends thought it was okay to threaten to rape me in front of my entire social group as a joke. And then I was seen as a hysterical bitch for telling my most trusted teacher. She actually did something about the situation. I was then ostracised from that group of friends. I "couldnt take a joke" apparently.

I hate that when I was nine years old I was riding my bike around my neighbourhood, and a boy five years my senior cornered me in an alleyway and tried to rape me not twenty meters away from my front door.

I hate that when I was younger a boy would hit me, scratch me, pull my hair, twist my arm, dig his grubby little fingers into my pressure points, making me cry out with pain, only to be told it was because he liked me. I hate that I believed it. I hate that I let it continue for two years. For two years my "best friend" covered me in bruises, and I let him because it made me feel pretty and wanted. I was ten.

I hate that when I was fourteen and desperate to convince myself I wasn't gay, a boy who i thought was my friend tried to pressure me into dating him only to then tell me about his porn addiction—his words, not mine—and call me an insensitive cunt for getting as far away from him as possible. After he told me about the things he'd like to do to me. Not with me. To me. As fourteen year olds. As children.

I hate that I was forced into pink and shaved legs and make up and long hair.

I hate that my mother made me cut up boxer shorts I had bought because I was sick and tired of wearing panties. Because some guy had made some comment about my grammy-panties. Never mind the fact that they were comfortable. I bought boxers because they were closer to shorts and I thought boys would just leave me alone. I bought boxers because they were cool and had superheroes on them and were comfortable. I bought boxers because I was sick and tired of the neon pink panties my mother had been making me wear for my entire life.

I hate that I wore pigtails to school and a boy called them "ride-me handle-bars".

I hate that when I cut my hair off the first thing people assumed I was, was a man. As if its that easy to take my womanhood away from me. As if all that makes a woman is long hair. I hate that I was called "skank who was trying to hard" when I had long hair, an "art hoe" when I had short hair, and a "dyke", "failed woman", "wannabe man" when it was cropped.

I hate that at 8 years old I was being bullied for being ugly. Because I had unkempt eyebrows. Unshaven legs. Tangled hair. Sweaty skin. Scraped knees. A crooked smile. Because I wasn't a child model. Because I wasn't some pedophiles wet dream.

I hate that I'm considered incompetent for certain jobs because of my menstrual cycle. Because women are too over emotional when they're "pms-ing" or "on the rag"

I hate that a man's go to insult for me is "cunt". Something that dehumanises me to my genitals. How silly of me to think I was anything more than just a hole for someone to fuck.

I hate that someone took advantage of my sexuality. Because I was repressed. Because I was a woman who grew up in a christian environment. Because I was a lesbian who was still convinced I could be straight. Because there was a pretty woman who knew she could manipulate me. I hate how there are people who still think its my fault, or that lesbian sex isnt even real so how could I be raped? Or that women can't rape. I hate that I had been convinced that what happened to me was normal. Because women are frigid bitches that don't want sex, but their partners do, and its "inhumane" to not put out.

I hate that I am paid less. And that people don't believe women arent paid less. Despite the fact that their is mountains of evidence to support our argument.

I hate that I had to do twice the work to get half the recognition in school.

I hate that a boy with no experience and no drive was seen as a more suitable leader than I was. Because I was a "controlling bitch". I hate that I did an incredible amount of work on the student council and he got to take the credit for it. I hate that he was a worse student but was seen as more acedemically gifted than I was.

I hate the double standards.

I hate how every part of my body is sexualised. I hate how my disability is sexualised.

I hate how when I mentioned my chronic pain condition to my male classmates, they made comments about how I would make a fantastic masochist. I hate that I internalised it. I hate that I believed them. I hate that when I got into a sexual relationship I let her hurt me—even though i didn't like it—because I throught kinky sex was the bare minimum and "vanilla" was for frigid prudes.

I hate that my body is not mine, but rather belongs to the public. For the government to legislate. For strangers to ogle at. For my father to control. And when I speak up I'm an unreasonable bitch. When I demand agency, I'm insane.

I hate how the odds were stacked against me since birth all because of that second x chromosome. All because some doctor said "its a girl" and immediately half of my opportunities were removed because they "weren't for girls".

I hate that in order to keep a job I am supposed to adhere to femininity. That not wearing make up is seen as lazy and unhygienic. That I need to "fix my eyebrows". That I need to shave my "gross gorilla legs".

I hate all this bullshit bagage that comes with being female. I hate it. I hate it so much. I hate that I am my own voyeur. I hate that even in my most private moments I am focused on how an unseen gaze would percieve me.

I hate that the slightest devience from "purity" will be met with threats of violence. That if someone doesnt agree with my politics I can be told to "choke on a dick" and to "kill myself" and whoever said that is safe in the knowledge that their community supports their words and actions. That if I step a toe out of line or make a mistake I deserve the full force of misogyny that people have been waiting to dole out to an appropriate victim.

I hate that my own father sexualised me. I hate that he abused me. I hate that he got away with it all because "teen girls make up that kind of stuff for attention". Because he was an "upstanding man". I hate that believes he is guiltless. I hate that he has manipulated and gaslighted me into believing his version of events. I hate that when I speak up I need to be careful because "he's a good man" and "he doesnt seem like the kind to do that" and that "you're blowing things out of proportion, I'm sure it was never like that."

I hate that when women accuse men of violence its "he said, she said". But when men accuse women of the same they are instantly believed. I hate that my voice holds less weight than a man's.

I hate that the religion I was raised in told me not to speak in church. Not to ask questions. To submit to men. To cover my head before god. That braided hair was sinful and vain.

I hate that I was taught there was no such thing as a female orgasm in order to discourage me from having sex. That I was told sex would be painful. And yet I was also told that when I married a man I should freely give him sex because it was my duty to serve him and bear children.

I hate that I'm seen as a baby factory.

I hate that I'm seen as a collection of body parts. A uterus. A pair of tits. A vagina.

I'm not those things. I am made up of those things, but they do not define my worth. I am made of carbon, but you wouldn't call me "an arrangement of carbon atoms" or "a carbon storage system" or "a carbon factory"

I hate that when I talk about my experience with womanhood I need to twist myself into knots to not step on any toes or offend. I hate that I have to be palatable when I am upset and enraged.

I hate that my anger is demonised and sexualised.

I hate that my love is fetished by heterosexual men. I hate that they see lesbianism as this empty thing to get off to.

I hate that I don't feel safe holding my girlfriend's hand in public. I love her more than anything in the world and my skin burns when I don't get to touch her. I hate that sometimes I get scared and call her my "friend". Not girlfriend. I hate that in public I feel ashamed to love her.

I hate it that my homosexuality is debated. I hate that it is seen as disgusting.

I hate that I have been taught and socialised that every single part of who I am is fundamentally flawed in some way.

And yet, despite all this, there are days where I am grateful for who I am. There are days when this body is not my enemy. There are days when I love my womanhood, however that may appear. There are days when I am unbothered by the thoughts of others. There are days where I am unafraid to love who I love and to love proudly.

There are days where the pain and anger of the past drive me to be happy.

I know those days won't last. They never do. There's always a slur, or a misogynist, or an abuser, or a traumatic memory. There's always a right being infringed upon, or an aspect of my body made public property, and it takes me right back to the anger.

I could never stop being angry. There is too much pain in this body to forgive and forget.

But sometimes, I don't hate the fact that I was born female. Some days I'm proud.

[obliterus]

REVERSE AU//MVA part 1

It’s been a while, but now it’s coming back. Some things have been completely re-vamped, some things have gotten darker and more sinister here. I’m going to begin re-telling the story of this AU on this blog since Shion will be involved, and then offer all other exclusive in-depth character profiles (several key characters that are vital to the plot, and who I want to write again or introduce) on my upcoming multi-muse blog. Since... I’m sure there will be questions and there will be answers. 

                WELCOME TO MY VILLAIN ACADEMIA!

Please enjoy your stay and remember to do your best, because an attempt isn’t tolerated. Let’s get started, shall we?

        Everything that you’ve come to love and cherish, those storybook heroes and their happy ever after endings don’t exist here. This is a story in which raw power and glory run the show and all that heroic bullshit? Well, let’s just say it doesn’t exist! In this world, your abilities dictate your entire life, how you attend school, and even the friends you make! If you’re born quirkless, from the moment you take your first breath, life will be especially hard for you, because you’re as good to dirt in this society. Villains are the top dog here, and your life can only get a little bit better if you entrust yourself into the hands of those with abilities greater than your own. You’re considered a disability to the system if you’re quirkless, you may as well just kiss your life goodbye or die trying! 

         There are no happy endings here, only the struggle to come out on top, and become the best Pro Villain you can. Corruption is encouraged, using your abilities to get ahead and manipulate are all welcomed here, so is physical violence. Not too much though, we don’t need to mop up blood off campus every single hour on the hour. We have a battle arena if you need to fight out your differences, but please book that in advance. Most of your peers will be anywhere between Green and Orange ranking, so please respect them once you encounter them and their ranking. This is the opposite of the hero stories you’ve come to understand, so please make sure you’re familiar with all of the rules and where you, yourself fall! Have a GREAT year!

--

My Villain Academia is an alternative universe in which tells takes the canon storyline and completely reverses it! Yes, that’s right. Everyone you know and love is actually a heartless villain in training in this. I shouldn’t say completely heartless, but they’re pretty close. Also, your heartless canon villains are actually morally wonderful underground Heroes. UA Academy is a school that prides itself on producing some of the best Villains not only in Japan but across the globe. With its excellent selection of courses and rigorous acceptance exams, one can only dream of being accepted to UA. The story is narrated by the resident King of UA Academia, Midoriya Izuku, and his journey in becoming a Pro Villain.

The school is separated into two classes when it comes to the Villain Course, A and B. These are considered some of the top aspiring students in all of Japan. They’ll do just about anything and everything to get ahead, but they will not turn on each other. They are required to work together in some fields because powerful quirk users combined can be a beautiful thing in the face of battle, or in establishing dominance, right? It’s designed to set you on the right path and separate the powerful from the weak hearted.

General Studies is offered to students that have failed the Villain course exam but still have the potential to join the Villain course during the spring of their following year. However, General Studies students can usually be seen in one of two lights: Scrubs and targets, or potential villains based on how students present themselves in those classes. They’re sorted into C and D, and E categories.

Support Course are students that have been gifted with extreme knowledge and craftsmanship. These are the individuals that instead choose to support their future pro Villains along their course by designing weapons that can enhance not only their quirks but their combat abilities. Support students are highly treasured at UA, and often shown an extra level of respect so that villain course students can ultimately get what they want to be made. There is no limit to what they can make, and their stock room is filled to the brim with assorted tools. Some legal, some very illegal. Anything goes when you’re in support course territory! They are sorted into F, G and H categories.

Lastly, but certainly not least, the Management Course. They are the individuals single-handedly responsible for starting a Villain’s career. They deal with all marketing, opening up agencies, and provide a line of direction for newborn villains. They are sharp individuals, with great problem-solving skills and are masters of working the system in their favor. They’re a more isolated group of students, who choose to keep their secrets to themselves. They are sorted into I, J and K categories.

Much of the Discourse that should arise in UA isn’t handled by the teachers but handled by the ranking system that is established among the Villain Course students. It is called The Royal Flush and composed up of a King, Queen, Jack, Ace and Ten of Hearts. Each title is worn by a Villain Course student, and with it, comes specific duties that are to be obeyed around the school. Before I outline who this is made up, I’ll explain how society’s ranking system works based on what type of quirk you’re born with. Or NOT born with.

When a child’s quirk manifests, they are immediately classified into a color that will dictate how the rest of their life will go. Let’s start from lowest to highest! Now, these are subject to change if a quirkless child is a late bloomer and their quirk manifests later, OR an individual that was already sorted has a quirk change or an enhancement in their abilities that calls for them to be sorted into a different classification. This is done by the government in which the person goes through a series of tests to be passed on to a different classification.

--

COLOR QUIRK CLASSIFICATION SYSTEM ;;

QUIRKLESS (Black) If no quirk manifests in a child, they are tapped as black and are donned as a disability to the society overall. They are shunned and mocked, these are the people who have a very hard time finding suitable jobs and education for themselves. They tend to stick together to survive and are virtually non-existing to society unless they do something to prove themselves. A lot of them do the services that many quirk users do not want to do, and this buys them protection and a safe space. The highest suicide ranking is among the quirkless.

LOW TIER (Blue) The weakest on the quirk totem pole. Low tier quirk users are registered under the color blue to signal their ranking. These are the people who are offered the lowest ranking jobs and education. They have a chance to climb up the pole if their quirk changes after they’ve already been tapped as a child. Otherwise, these are the people who are easily taken advantage of and who often deflect for the Hero underground.

MID-TIER (Green) The middle of the pole. Once sorted into this category, I would consider this the middle class of the quirk ranking system. A lot of citizens are mid-tier users. They have the ability to hold decent jobs, can become advisors to higher ranking quirk users, are offered good education, and are respected enough to be left alone. They don’t help the weak if they know what’s good for them and their safety. A lot of UA students are Green users that are trying to advance to Orange if their ability allows, but honestly, being Green is a good thing. It doesn’t get you looked at like the Blues, and it takes some of the pressures of Orange off you.

HIGH TIER (Orange) The second highest ranking on the quirk pole. They are the world’s leaders, offered the highest ranking jobs, exposed to the absolute best education system. The police tend to turn a blind eye to high tier users who act out in society because they are seen as the best of the best. Their power isn’t something to be questioned. High tier users can offer protective services to mid-tier users.

SUPREME TIER (Red) Extremely rare. 5% of the population. These are people that are considered walking Gods because of their quirk abilities. Both feared and praised, they are hunted down for their abilities and turned into lethal villain machines. They can offer protective services to just about anyone they choose and it will -never- be questioned. It is very much a thing that children born and tested as Red, will be registered as Orange and their quirk abilities fairly suppressed.

--

Now that that’s outlined, going back to The Royal Flush squad. The Big Three were the top dogs of UA while they were there, Mirio becoming King in his second year, along with Nejire as Queen and Tamaki as Jack. The Big Three came to dominate the school, they were the people that aspiring individuals looked to for advice. They handled a lot of disputes, while not only increasing their profiles as Villains but also letting people know that they were not the ones to be questioned. Izuku inherits the King title, reluctant to do so after he inherits his ability, None for All, and was now tasked with building his own elite team to wear the Royal titles through the years at UA. Izuku is the only one to become King during his first year.

Who he picks are a total secret, and one you’ll come to discover later on.

Now, what about the Hero Underground? Is there a silver lining in all of this? Of course! The Hero Underground, known as the League of Heroes, is a widespread society that was started by one man, known as All For One. However, in the Villain realm, he’s known bitterly as Robin Hood. He can steal quirks from the most sinister of Villains and gift them to aspiring Heroes who are desperate to try and make society a better place. There have been rumors floating around forever that Shimura Nana has killed him, but in reality, AFO is safely hidden in an unknown location that’s under intense security.

The League of Heroes fights for everyone. They do not discriminate against Quirkless and Low Tier users and are always welcoming to any Villain that chooses to deflect. Once somebody chooses to deflect, they are stripped of their ranking and are considered as good as dirt to society. Heroes are seen as vermin, with their want for equal rights among everyone else and to have quirks liberated rather than controlled by the government and other systems. Hero Agencies exist in locations spread all over Japan, some greatly hidden behind walls, underground, within a maze of tunnels, or through extensive passwords. 

Three misfits, ostracized and hunted for their abilities joined the Hero ranking and own one of the most successful Agencies of all time. (Also a real pain in the ass for the Villains of the society) Chisaki Kai, Todoroki Touya, and Shigaraki Tomura. Three individuals who were born RED, who deflected from villain society and built an Agency from the ground up in honor of liberation.  They are walking messiahs to those on the lower end of the deal, and they’ve already saved countless people. They have dodged great difficulties to get to where they need to be. The question is, the government wants them, but more so have been forced to turn the other cheek. The system is just as much afraid of them. 

They operate out of an office that’s disguise as a Speakeasy, hidden behind a door with a peephole that Touya maintains. Those looking for their aid are given specific instructions to this door, and will only be let in if their password is said correctly. This office also operates as a safe house for those who just are looking to escape the gruesome system they were born into. Welcome to the Hero world! Let Todoroki Touya be your guide. 

--

(Part 1 end)

[ghost-chance]

Rant regarding disability

It recently came to my attention that most people don’t know this...and it happened because a nosy receptionist made my friend Autumn fall apart in a waiting room. Since people apparently don’t know, here’s the scoop:

If you receive a government check through SSI or SSDI, you are ALWAYS at risk of losing that check. MARRYING, in particular, will end your benefits.

No, I’m not exaggerating or being alarmist - I’m entirely serious. Maybe it’s not the case in all states, but in all the ones I’ve checked, it’s true. Marrying while receiving SSI/SSDI or Survivors’ Benefits renders you ineligible for further payments because now you’re your spouse’s problem. THEY are expected to provide for you, whether they are capable or not. Allow me to illustrate specific instances I’ve come across.

A physically disabled woman on SSI married an unemployed man looking for work. Her SSI was canceled point-blank. Her husband, too, was disabled, and having trouble finding work because of it...but he was expected to be able to provide for the both of them. They lost their home, spiraled into debt, couldn’t find work, and last I heard, they were living in a shelter and panhandling. Their only mistake was MARRYING each other.

A friend of mine got engaged and had to call it off. She’s on SSI and hasn’t been able to hold down a job in years because her mental illness flares up under the slightest bit of stress. Her fiance works minimum wage and is mentally/emotionally incapable of rising to a better paying position. This couple had everything planned - they had wedding rings, they had plans for their future, they were even looking into local chapels - then the JOP they saw warned them she’d lose her benefits if they married. They’ve been together for years now and people constantly ask them “so when’s the date?” There is no date...setting a date will cancel the payments they depend on.

A disabled man married a non-disabled woman. Before marrying, she was financially well-off and had no money problems. After marrying, her husband’s benefits were canceled and she was made responsible for paying for EVERYTHING. Her finances don’t go far enough anymore and they’ve never stopped struggling.

Two disabled persons receiving SSI payments married each other. They thought surely since they were both receiving payments no one would have their benefits taken away because neither could possibly support the other. Their benefits were NOT taken away...they were COMBINED and DECREASED. Yes, they went from a full payment apiece each month to ONE JOINT PAYMENT EACH MONTH which was LOWER than their previous payments COMBINED.

That’s only a few examples. The point remains: As much as people say government benefits are supposed to encourage financial independence, the regulations connected just end up making you more dependent on a broken system. If you’re disabled and receiving benefits, apparently you’re expected to spend the rest of your days living in your mom’s basement, single, depressed, and a drain on society...and that expectation is BULLSHIT. Disabled folks still contribute to society and they CAN build a life of their own with a little extra help. The marriage rules aren’t the only injustice, either - people often say “Well, then get a job!” but they’ve never tried earning work while on government benefits - the regulations around WORKING are even more absurd and archaic.

SSI/SSDI payments are meant to be extra help for those who need them; instead, they come with more regulations. NOWHERE in the US will the legal monthly limit for an SSI payment cover a month’s rent AND a month’s groceries. NOWHERE in the US can an SSI recipient raise a child without relying heavily on charity and increasingly red-taped government-funded programs. NOWHERE in the US can an SSI recipient work part time at minimum wage without having their payments docked by MORE THAN THEY‘RE MAKING, even if the hours aren’t regular.

Many people struggling with the system have become afraid to ask for help because of the public outcry and blame. “If you’re poor, stick to rice and beans!” “People on government payments shouldn’t be allowed to buy pet food!” “People getting paid by the government don’t need their own house - that’s what the shelters are for!” No matter how normal or expected it is for non-disabled persons to engage in something, it’s liable to be seen as excessive or forbidden for people on benefits. Having children, having access to a working vehicle, being married, working, eating healthy, enjoying a book or movie once in a while, owning your own home - these are all things EXPECTED of people without disabilities, but God Forbid a disabled person expect the same treatment.

Back to my friend Autumn. Autumn is a strong, determined and unbearably sweet young woman who just happened to lose at the genetic lottery. She never asked for the invisible disability she was born with and she’s never stopped fighting to overcome it, but when people look at her, all they see is someone who isn’t trying. She’s given up on countless ‘luxuries’ just to live independently without resorting to CHARITY and high-demand government programs like HUD and SNAP. She skips meals and buys cheap food that destroys her body. She has no vehicle and gave up on the chance of having children. She lives in a rental complex where the residents aren’t treated properly because respect and working appliances costs more. She never reads or watches anything that isn’t FREE, and she’s still using the same clothes and belongings from over ten years ago, and although she wears his ring, she can’t afford to marry her boyfriend of ten years. As long as I’ve known her, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve seen Autumn get repeatedly shat on by life, pick herself up, dust herself off, and start over with a pun and a smile.

“I see you’re wearing an engagement ring?” the nosy receptionist asked Autumn. “Who’s the lucky guy? When’s the date?” Yet again, Autumn had to explain to a complete stranger “There is no date - we can’t marry because I’d lose my SSI, he can’t afford to support us on his own, and I can’t keep a job because of my disability.”

“What? No, that’s silly, you can still marry! Just lose the government check, it’ll work out in the end!” The receptionist, I should mention, was apparently wearing enough jewelry to stock a jeweler’s store and had impeccable and visibly expensive makeup, clothes, and a professional manicure. Autumn’s jeans were frayed, her shirt had a couple holes, and her engagement ring is plain and simple silver. She’s visibly poor...and this ableist woman literally made her cry.

Ten minutes later I got a tearful call from the parking lot and spent the next ten minutes talking Autumn through it; it wasn’t the first time and I know it won’t be the last, and I’ve never minded offering that help whenever I can. After we hung up, I got a text from her: “The abstract art in here looks like some kind of arboreal fungus - I’m not really lichen it.” Yet again, she picked herself up, dusted herself off, and moved on with a joke and a smile, and all in the face of ignorance and negligence. Sure, this one was my joke first, but all that mattered was she was feeling better. Autumn is legally disabled and bounces back remarkably quickly, no matter how badly someone hurts her; our non-disabled landlord can’t even cope with people hanging up on her and takes it out on everyone around her.

Tell me again that the system doesn’t discriminate against people with disabilities. Tell me again that we’re subhuman and don’t deserve equal treatment.

[l-enfer-c-est-les-autres]

just had a long argument with my roommate about how “violence doesn’t solve anything”,  “violence is never the answer, if we kill we’re just as bad as them, look at gandhi”, and “everyone has the right to live/no one deserves to die, even murderers/rapists/fascists/etc”, “if a woman’s being abused she can just walk out the door while the abuser is sleeping”, and how “there’s always jobs available nearby for everyone if you work hard enough, that don’t require transportation and are sustainable for you and your family and you magically qualify for and don’t require any luck”. she’s absolutely a good person, and generally well-informed, but this is where white, middle class privilege shows.

1. self defense IS NOT EQUAL to assault. there is no moral comparison, and those who argue this are brainwashing their victims into allowing themselves to be victimized, to not fight back, to roll over and make things easier for them. if it’s kill or be killed, the aggressors should absolutely be the ones to die.

2. no, i do not value the lives of murderers/rapists/fascists/etc as equal to that of their victims. if it’s kill or be killed, they should absolutely be the ones to die.  it’s not about the morality of the death penalty; in the USA, the ‘justice’ system is blatantly broken: prisons are for profit, black kids who smoke weed go to prison for 6 years while white rapists get 1 week of jail time, sexual predators and offenders become president. when the system not only fails to protect you, but is part of the oppression against you and your loved ones, fighting back is self-defense, and you should and must fight back with all the means at your disposal, including violence.

3. india rebelled violently against britain, there was violent armed conflict between indians and british, gandhi just became the figurehead of the movement, and there were other factors such as economics at play; it is total bullshit myth that india achieved independence solely through pacific protest. resisting and fighting against the depredation of a colonizing aggressor is self-defense.

4. sexism, classism, racism, fascism - there is a war going on. people, lots of people, especially the poor and POC, are dying every day, murdered deliberately and though the negligence of the government and the society that is supposed to serve and protect them. you cannot “vote them out” because a) in the USA, the popular vote DOES NOT MATTER, the electoral college chooses the president and most americans don’t vote enough at the lower levels of government to claim any measure of democratic power (not to mention the US has been an oligarchy since Reagan), b) the system is designed by the people in power so that they remain in power. the system literally CANNOT be fought from within. ex: a good number of dictators were originally democratically elected; then once in power they change the laws so the presidency becomes a lifetime office. corrupt governments - and all governments become corrupt over time because enough/too many humans are selfish, greedy, stupid creatures - are self-sustaining and will legalize evil and corruption. bribing officials and buying elections? legal in the USA. under the trump administration, getting rid of the EPA means legalizing known dangers to public health and safety such as toxic waste dumping. the water crisis in flint? perfectly legal for the government to do nothing for 5 years and let an entire city suffer without clean water and get lead poisoning (the citizens are suing the government for damages, but this will not undo their suffering or restore their health). this is why revolution is the only means of destroying corrupt government and restoring power to the people, and revolution is self-defense.

5. the rights we have today - women’s rights, equal rights, LGBT rights, children’s rights, human rights - our grandparents and parents absolutely fought and died for them, they did not wait around pacifically waiting for those in power to give them some, and too many of us today are still fighting for ourselves and others. suffragettes were imprisoned, assaulted, and had their lives ruined; martin luther king jr. was assassinated by the FBI only 50 years ago when my mother was a teenager (don’t let those black and white photos fool you into thinking it was further away than it really is), and countless others died protesting and fighting; the LGBT at stonewall rioted and physically fought the police for 5 days. so many of the LGBT+ community are still fighting today, and being harassed, physically and sexually assaulted, and murdered, and teenagers are especially vulnerable and often are kicked out of their homes and forced into homelessness. those in power never voluntarily relinquish, share, or give power, because it doesn’t benefit them; they have to be forced to do so, including through violent means, and this is self-defense.

6. no there aren’t magically convenient jobs for everyone everywhere, and it is nearly impossible to climb out of poverty. when you’re living paycheck to paycheck, losing a job for even a week can be enough to force you and your family into homelessness, and from there it’s nearly impossible to find work without a permanent address, a phone number, access to regular showers and food, and god forbid you need healthcare in america, etc. you’re disabled or it’s freezing winter outside? financial insecurity and homelessness is a death sentence. in france the gilets jaunes movement began to protest a tax on cars that would have crippled the working poor, because while it’s good in theory to reduce carbon emissions and save the environment, there is not the infrastructure necessary to replace those cars. in north america, you can’t go anywhere without a car; if you live outside the city or in certain neighborhoods there’s no public transportation or it’s unreliable, or what would be a 10min trip from my house to the grocery store would take >2h30 by bus because there’s a highway to go around, which is simply not doable: the more time i spend commuting, the less time i can spend working, sleeping, feeding myself, taking care of dependents, etc. in contrast, you could live without a car in most of Japan because they have amazing public transportation. fighting to maintain the means of self-subsistence is self-defense.

7. i asked her: have you ever had to worry about where you were going to sleep tonight, or whether you could eat? no, she hasn’t. how many homeless people do you know, when you’re talking about how you and your friends all managed to find work within bicycle distance of your house? none. when is the last time you or your loved ones were threatened and endangered, harassed, discriminated against, or killed by neo-nazis, mass shooters, the police, etc? never. (ironically, she agreed that World War II needed to be fought) . when confronted with bigots whose proudly self-professed goal is mass genocide of you and your people, fighting back and killing them to prevent them from killing you is self-defense.

8. nazis, school shooters, domestic abusers, ARE NOT MENTALLY ILL. the majority of them, and this is proven by many, many studies, don’t have mental illness, and ALL of them have VALUE PROBLEMS. as in, they don’t value the lives of POC and women, they hold as a core belief that they are less and deserve to be killed and treated poorly. “if a woman’s being abused she can just walk out the door while the abuser is sleeping”: even discounting the psychological effects of abuse (hopelessness, feeling of being trapped, dependence, fear of repercussions and punishment, etc) abused women usually don’t have any money or means of earning money; if they have children it’s even harder. women’s shelters will only let people stay for a limited amount of time, and an abuser can easily find out the address. i used to live by the only women’s shelter in the area, the gate was dented from all the men who would come and beat it, with their hands, baseball bats, ramming their cars into it, shouting and threatening; i’m sure that more than one woman was caught leaving and beaten even worse for the attempt, and they are often too afraid to ask the police for help, or the police refuse to help because they’re poor/uneducated/POC/don’t give a fuck/don’t believe them because the abuser is an upstanding pillar of the community/etc, or in the USA the abuser is often a cop. and if the police do show up, the abuser might not go to court or serve jail time, meaning he’ll be free to retaliate against the woman and children, and in many cases abusers retain parental rights over their children; even if a restraining order is issued, that doesn’t guarantee it will be enforced, and it will not prevent an abuser from harming the woman and children, only punish him for it after it’s too late. for the woman and her potential children, leaving means homelessness, starvation, immense psychological stress, and huge risk of retaliation up unto being murdered. so if, since she cannot resist or escape her abuser while he’s beating the shit out of her, she decides to take a kitchen knife and kill him while he’s passed out drunk, that’s self-defense.

yes, we can and must educate people, especially children, and yes this is the only way to bring lasting change on a societal level. but in the meantime, my roommate and her loved ones aren’t the ones suffering from chronic poverty, threatened and degraded by discrimination, being denied job opportunities and basic rights, or dying from completely preventable lack of food, shelter, and medical care, or being murdered because they and their lives are considered trash. no violence is not always the only solution, but sometimes it is, and sometimes it is the best solution.

obviously her understanding of the world is going to be heavily influenced by her experience of it. and the reality is, she’s blonde, thin and conventionally attractive, from an educated financially secure family, can afford to be vegetarian and buy high-quality food every day, and she can single-handedly pay her own university tuition (in canada) with her part-time job. but it’s easy for her to say that “violence is never the answer” when she has never, and likely will never, have to fight for her life, her rights, or those of people like her, will never have to defend her inherent worth to people who genuinely don’t care. and this is a good thing, because no one should have to do any of this, but it needs to be true for everyone. so repeat after me,

PACIFISM IS FOR THE PRIVILEGED.

THE LAW IS NOT JUSTICE.

CAPITALISM IS FAKE AND NON-SUSTAINABLE, IT IS A VIOLENT, SYSTEMATIC, MURDEROUS ATTACK AGAINST THE 99%. there is no reason other than the greed of the 1% for the way our society is currently structured or how resources are being distributed. jeff bezos is currently worth 165 billion USD. if you divided that equally among all 7 billion people on this planet right now, we would each have over 22 billion, can you wrap your heads around that? or let’s convert that into time, $1 for 1 second: if i earn 50k/year, i get to live for not even 14 hours; jeff over there will live for 5232 years. so yes, EAT THE RICH. it is horrifyingly evil to have that much money, knowing the only way to have that much is to make it at the expense of the vulnerable, off of slave labor and the exploitation of human suffering, and even worse to choose not to use it to improve the world around you and help your fellow man.

[jbuffyangel]

Bored Now: Arrow 6x19 Review (The Dragon)

What in the ever-loving hill tops of Olympus was THAT?

I was exhausted Thursday, so I missed the episode. However, I waited until Sunday because I wasn’t motivated to watch given the fan reaction. But I figured it couldn’t be that bad right?

Yes. Yes it can.

I would rather watch Oliver pontificate about his super-secret plan to stop gun violence (without revealing his super-secret plan to stop gun violence) than “The Dr*gon.” I would rather watch L*urel earn her BC suit (without really earning it) by hallucinating her dead sister. I could watch Oliver and Sara bang fifty times over. Yes, I know what I am saying. 6x19 is worse than all the terrible 13th episodes combined! After six years and 134 episodes I am bestowing “The Dr*gon” with the title of WORST EPISODE EVER.  Congratulations. We have a new low.

I flitted between enraged and bored watching “The Dr*gon”, so I feel Evil Willow’s iconic expression conveys my emotions nicely.

Let’s dig in… it won’t take long. I promise an excess of snarky gifs.

Felicity Smoak and Curtis Holt

This is the first week post Oliver firing Felicity. Yes, he can dress it up any way he likes, but that’s exactly what he did. Felicity chooses to devote her extra free time to her company and reaches out to Curtis for a truce. A truce in these writers’ minds means FELICITY APOLOGIZES TO CURTIS. 

Liz Kim, who co wrote the episode, explained:

Let’s pretend we live in a world of rainbows and unicorns where the main governing body is the Girl Scouts and instead of paying taxes we get free cookies. 

We must live in this kind of world to understand what Liz Kim is pushing. Fine. Felicity isn’t holding a grudge. She’s being the bigger person and is sorry for her role in the fight. If we look objectively at all six characters Felicity has the least to apologize for, but that’s just details. 

What infuriates me is Curtis just stands there and glowers at her. He oozes moral superiority, contempt and arrogance. 

Why, dear writer, didn’t Curtis then apologize to Felicity? If this is all about being the bigger person and not holding a grudge, why didn’t Curtis step up to the plate next? Last time I checked, Curtis has as much to apologize for if not more than Felicity. Instead, we get Felicity apologizing to yet another man on this show and Curtis just stands there like a condescending lump. 

UNACCEPTABLE.

Then Curtis cannot hide his glee over Diggle quitting the team. He wants to skip around the room and sing, “Nananana boo boo” while Felicity is distraught about her husband being alone in the field. CURTIS HAS THE NERVE TO TELL FELICITY HE MUST FIGHT THE DESIRE TO GLOAT. But sure, what an amazing friend. 

Listen asshat, if you tell someone you are trying not to gloat that’s the same as gloating.

Why is Curtis the only “friend” Felicity is ever allowed to speak to? Why couldn’t she have gone to Lance or even Diggle. Diggle has a beef with Oliver, not Felicity. I don’t see how going to Curtis is any better than going to John in Oliver’s eyes. Hell, I’d take a phone call Thea over this. I don’t need to hear her side of the conversation.

How does anything Curtis says correlate to real friendship? He states the obvious – Felicity is using work to distract her from worrying about Oliver. OH MY GOD. THANK YOU SO MUCH CURTIS. WHAT WOULD WE HAVE DONE WITHOUT YOU HERE TO EXPLAIN THAT COMPLETELY OBVIOUS PLOT POINT TO US ALL?

Then, he almost laughs in her face about it, but can control himself enough to only gloat. Wow. Felicity’s friendship cup runneth over. And last, but not least, he refuses to take any responsibility for his role in the team breakdown. How magnanimous of him. What a petty little prick.

Also, why is Curtis always the one to fix a problem with the Helix tech? JUST ONCE I would like to see Felicity solve something tech related to this company without Curtis’ help. Felicity Smoak can program and hack anything. SHE INVENTED THE KEY PIECE OF RAY’S ATOM SUIT. But whenever Curtis is around she is forced to be clueless and rely on Curtis’ brilliance to save the day because LOOK AT WHAT A GOOD TEAM THEY ARE. She is a shining example of a genius female character and now she’s being used to prop Curtis’ man baby brain. It’s nauseating and unbelievably insulting to my gender.

If this is the route Arrow chooses to fix the breach between the two teams (OTA members apologizing while Newbies gloat) then I can safely say I will not forgive the newbies for anything they’ve done. They will be on my list of “Characters Who Need to Die” for the remainder of the show. Starting with my number one spot – Curtis Holt.

Olicity

At least the writers knew the only way to get Olicity fans to watch this garbage pile of nonsense was to stick a 3 minutes Olicity scene at the end and promo the crap out of it.  Unfortunately, the scene didn’t give me “all the feels” the writers intended. 

Felicity comes home in a panic after watching a news report stating the Green Arrow is probably dead. 

Source: @oliverfelicitygifs

Oliver pops up behind her and a very relieved Felicity throws herself into his arms. Any gooey feels I have over Felicity’s concern and emotional hug are about to be obliterated. Felicity informs Oliver this set up doesn’t work for her. When she’s in the bunker, and knows where he is or can see what is happening, it’s easier to cope with her worry. Oliver condescendingly implies there’s very little Felicity can do to help him while she’s in the bunker.

Excuse me, but is Oliver a pod person now? How do we get from THIS

to THIS 

to THIS. 

Do the Arrow writers watch Arrow? This is why people get so fed up. We can go from one episode to the next and characters act completely OOC to push a storyline along. Oliver “You’re My Partner” Queen is now saying Felicity can do very little to help? 

Let’s just unravel the entire basis of the show and the reason the character exists in the first place 

for another bullshit Oliver Queen regression that makes no sense. 

All I am asking for is a modicum of character cohesion and storyline consistency. Is it so much to ask that the Arrow writers know the show and characters they are writing for? I think not.

After Felicity correctly argues she can and HAS helped Oliver many times, he does another 180 and tells Felicity she can never be helpless. Cool bro, but you stated the exact opposite 15 seconds ago. 

Oliver decides it’s time to placate his wife’s legitimate fears by telling her he will always come home.

Source: @oliverfelicitygifs​

Sure, it’s a nice foreshadow for the future since Oliver is probably going to land himself in jail. This scene can serve as reassurance for all those terrified Oliver is going to do 25 to life. I take issue with the promise, however. Do you know why Oliver didn’t make that promise to Felicity in 2x09? 

Because he respected her too much to lie to her. Oliver knew then he doesn’t always have control over what happens to him in this line of work. Accepting death and not being afraid of it is part of the job description. Oliver knows this is a promise he can’t keep because NOBODY CAN. The tiny look of hesitation and resignation his face after hugging Felicity proves it.

Source: @oliverfelicitygifs​

We tell our children little white lies to ease their fears because sometimes they aren’t old enough to understand the truth. Was the promise Oliver made to William completely true? No. Should he have made the promise? Probably not, but I understood why he did. Oliver was trying to ease his son’s fears because William is a child.

But Felicity is a grown woman. Oliver doesn’t need to tell little white lies to his wife so he can continue his deeply stupid need to regress. The only reason Felicity needs to buy into this obvious lie is so she can function while Oliver is out in the field by himself.  How about Oliver LISTENS to his wife and acknowledges the truth – he can’t do this without her. Even emotionally stunted Oliver Queen understood THAT. 

We’re really supposed to believe emotionally evolved Oliver doesn’t? 

I MEAN GIVE ME A FRIGGIN BREAK.

This is why viewers get so frustrated with Arrow. The characters can change personalities like the show changes writers. 

Things we know to be true, and are the backbone of the series, are tossed aside to make an illogical plotlines work. It does nothing to service the characters, show or viewers. All that’s left is a terrible hour of television.

The Dr*gon and Bl*ck S*ren

The function of this episode is to make us give a flying flip about the Dr*gon. However, we are given a sloppily slapped together back story that doesn’t connect to any of the main characters whatsoever – particularly Oliver.  

Di*z grew up in an orphanage and was bullied by an older boy. This is the reason he’s become a menace to society. 

He named his fear “The Dr*gon” and tattooed it everywhere because he’s so tortured and intense.

He’s been trying to move up the criminal ladder to conquer his fear and be respected as a legitimate crime lord. Ummm… okay? Good luck with that. WHY DO I CARE? Oh, that’s right. I don’t. 

Ultimately, Di*z gets a seat on the Quadrant (Season 7 villain set up for sure) and revenge on the kid who bullied him as a child. The moral of the story is don’t be a bully because someday the kid you tortured might show up on your door step and light you on fire.

I thought this was supposed to be the season of many villains. Weren’t we doing away with the singular Big Bad? Why are we suddenly zeroing in on the lamest villain in the group? He’s so lame the writers had to come up with an entire episode to mitigate the lameness.

Di*z and Sir*n spend 85% of the episode sitting in a car trading fortune cookie sayings with one another. They go on and on and on about power, control and not being a dog. It’s a lot about not rolling over, bellies, tails... maybe an ear. Think of every single villain cliché you’ve ever seen and that sums up “The Dr*gon.” 

Di*z’s moves are utterly predicable and I’ve heard the dialogue in about fifty other shows/movies. I wish they had just gone full throttle with plagiarism and stuck, “I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse” in there. It’d feel more honest.

BS spends the entire episode asking the big strong man how to be a big strong villain. So, a win for feminism all around. 

BS is so busy telling Di*z not to “roll over” she fails to see she’s following him around like a lost puppy.  

Di*z is the lamest Arrow villain in history (Yes, even worse than Sebastian Blood), but BS is his henchman. So, what does that make her? Nothing good! I’ll tell ya that much. 

In C*ssidy’s defense the dialogue is cringe worthy, but she didn’t make it any better with the over the top acting.

BS tells Di*z not to be a wuss, but when he listens she acts like she has a problem with violence. YOU JUST TOLD HIM NOT TO ROLL OVER. HE’S DOING WHAT YOU ASKED, KEVIN. 

Yet, her eyes cannot behold the horror of Di*z beating a man. Her soul withers at the sight of Di*z killing. She blinks, sighs and turns away in disgust. SHE IS SO CONFLICTED.

Oh, holy hell. Are you kidding me with this crap? This is the same character who killed a security guard begging for his life. This is the same character who screamed in another man’s ear until his veins popped. She’s tried to kill the team multiple times. It’s a little difficult to believe BS has a hard time watching someone get punched. But we’re supposed to believe it because REDEMPTION. Sorry, Imma gonna need a little more than excessive blinking from C*ssidy to sell me on that one.

Di*z’s need to be a legitimate crime boss doesn’t mean the character translates as any more than the common street thug he is. His backstory is intended to make him look complex, but it does the direct opposite. We’ve seen “a villain is made not born” trope a thousand times, including on Arrow. Unfortunately, “bullied in an orphanage” doesn’t hold up against the backstories of Slade, Merlyn, Ra’s Ahl Ghul or Prometheus. 

BS has the nerve to compare Di*z to Adrian Chase and I laughed out loud. 

BS spent all of 15 seconds with Chase, but she knows his anger consumed him? Okay, cupcake. Whatever you say. Comparing the genius ways Chase inflicted pain and revenge on Oliver to the Dr*gon’s hum drum plan of vertigo and the Quadrant is just wrong. Why didn’t they do this villain focused episode with PROMETHEUS? That would have been a good time.

“But Jen, you didn’t like Prometheus at first. You thought he was boring and then you loved him.” Sure, that’s true, but by episode 19 we were full throttle on Adrian’s crazy.

There’s nothing to unmask with Di*z. This isn’t Josh Segarra going to another level. If it was those things then 6x19 was the episode to do it. All that’s revealed is more boring on top of boring.  I can tolerate a misfire in the 10-15-episode range, but we’re rapidly approaching the end. It is incredibly late in the season to be telling us why we should give a flying fig newtin about Di*z. The writers need to come armed with a hell of a lot more than bullied and power hungry for a chair.

Stray Thoughts

It’s safe to say it’s going to be a terrible episode if the writer is tweeting as a PR defense strategy. We shouldn’t need episodes explained to us, but if we do then the answers should make a modicum of sense.

Oliver was in episode 3x10 more AND HE WAS “DEAD.” There’s a reason why Stephen Amell is the star. He carries the show. Don’t ever bench him, writers.

This wins Twitter:

Disclaimer: Any gifs on the blog are not mine. If you would like a gif removed from my reviews, please message me. 6x19 gifs credited.