#the election is in 15 days (terrified and exhausted voice) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rebel-by-default · 6 years ago

Text

Overload

So I had a go at writing an autistic Peter Parker fic. I often headcanon Pete as autistic, and Tony so very clearly has ADHD it often surprises me it’s not canon (at least in the MCU). Anyway, the characters are probably way off, but I mostly wrote it for my own enjoyment.

Peter should have known things were going to go wrong today, the day had been cursed from the start. Waking up 15 minutes before his train left for school, forgetting his headphones, and apparently losing every single fidget toy he owned. The train had been completely packed and overwhelming, the stench of too many people crammed into a small space, mixing with various breakfast foods and the background stink of New York Public Transport.

With nothing to fiddle with, Peter absentmindedly chewed at his hoodie strings, not realising until it was too late, that he had chewed on them far too aggressively. Holding his severed hoodie string in his hand, he sighed and resigned himself to a Bad Day.

By the time Peter trudged into school, he had given up on any hopes of masking as neurotypical. Hood up, sunglasses on and hands slammed tightly over his head, he knew he looked odd, but there was no way he’d make it to class without his hood up.

“Hey Peter! Excited for the Weekend?”

A hand tapped Peter on the shoulder and he jumped round, curbing his jump to something resembling normal human abilities at the last second. The owner of the hand, Ned, quickly pulled back, and lowered his voice.

“Are you having a Bad Day?”

Peter just nodded mutely.

“Here” Ned whispered, rummaging in his bag, “I’ve got some spare headphones. Figured it was always good to be prepared”.

Peter grimaced, but smiled in thanks, and quickly went to plug his headphones in. He had always been in awe of Ned’s complete understanding of all of his quirky behaviours, it was nice to have a friend who got it, and was completely supportive.

When Peter had decided to first tell Ned, he was terrified. Terrified that Ned, a certified weirdo, would find him just too strange, and no longer want to be his friend. It had happened before. Peter remembered the ‘friends’ before Midtown Tech, sneering when he didn’t get a joke, or laughing when he flung his hands over his ears at the sound of a siren. He had learnt to hate himself, to hate the word written all over his medical reports. Autism.

When he managed to move to Midtown, he thought things would be better, as a scientific school, he had hoped he would meet more like-minded people, but one wrong step had led to Eugene Thompson, Flash, deciding that he was the resident nutter. Although May always encouraged him to be open and proud about a part of himself, Autism became a dirty word. It took Peter an entire year to tell Ned, stood in the parking lot at the end of school, practically vibrating with anxiety. When he finally managed to stutter through an explanation, he stood poised for danger, as if ready to run from his expected mockery, but Ned had simply shrugged and said “huh”, before running straight into a monologue about a new Star Wars Lego Kit.

Since that day, Ned had asked Peter how best he could support him, and often carried around a spare pair of headphones or a fidget cube.

However, today, even the headphones weren’t enough. Feeling his heartbeat rising, Peter consciously tried to push it down, taking deep breaths. Walking to his first lesson of the day, he just hoped his teachers would see his discomfort and leave him alone. Unluckily for him, the chance of an easy time flew right out of the window when an unfamiliar figure walked through the door.

“Good morning Class. My name is Ms Atkinson.”

A middle-aged looking woman with long blonde hair tied into a tight ponytail walked into the room. Even with his headphones on, Peter could easily hear her.

“I’ll be covering for Mr Harrington today. But just because I am not your normal teacher doesn’t mean you will be able to get away with misbehaviour.”

Peter sighed, he knew the inevitable was coming, but basked in the relative comfort of his hood and headphones for a few more seconds.

Ms Atkinson’s rather shrill voice quickly cut through any last minute relaxation.

“Excuse me young man, do you think that is appropriate attire for a lesson?”

Ned was about to protest, but Peter threw him a look saying, “I can deal with it” and slowly removed his hood and headphones, squinting at the sudden brightness of the room. As Mrs Atkinson walked away, Ned surreptitiously handed Peter a stress ball, Peter responding with a brief smile of thanks.

However as the lesson progressed, Peter got more and more agitated, aggressively wiggling his leg under the table and chewing his pen to death. When the bell finally rang, he was sure he would feel a sense of relief, but instead a wave of dread washed over him. He had physics next. Physics with Flash.

Physics started out okay. Mr Richards was surprisingly supportive, and allowed Peter to pull his headphones on once any explanations of the work had been given. The work was simple, and Peter finally began to relax, until he could feel a rhythmic poking behind him. Flash had elected to take up the desk behind him, and decided that the best method of torturing an overstimulated teen was to continually prod him with a pen. Peter kept trying to shift away, but each time Flash poked him with more force. The jabbing in his back was just one sensation too much, and Peter soon felt his body melt down into a puddle of panic.

Everything was too loud, too much. His hoodie itched, and his headphones were no longer a comfortable weight, but a crushing vice against his skull. Distantly, Peter recognised that he was now hyperventilating and aggressively flapping his hands by his face, but all he could feel was overwhelming panic. Desperately trying to calm himself down, peter prayed someone had noticed his distress and would remove him from the room.

Luckily his prayers were answered in the form of MJ. MJ? Oh god, MJ didn’t know, MJ didn’t know about “The Autism”. Peter’s panic increased further, what would she think of him now? She’d never want to be friends with a loser like Peter, especially now she knew he was defective. So blinded by this newfound fear, it wasn’t until he was seated in the Nurses office that he realised he had left the classroom. Pulling his hood over his eyes and clasping his hands to his ears, he curled into a tight ball on the hard, plastic chair. Even through his hands he could here the whispered conversation between MJ and the Nurse, and the faint ringing of a dial tone, meaning the Nurse was ringing May.

Peter knew May wouldn’t pick up. She had headed off this morning to spend a girly weekend in the Berkshires with her friends. Peter couldn’t begrudge her it, even when he so wished to have her calming presence right now. Since Ben’s death she had hardly given herself a chance to relax, and Peter was glad that her finding out about Spider-Man had allowed her to come to trust Tony, and take some time to reconnect with her friends. Right now, though, Peter just wished May was in Queens, and could come and take him back to the apartment. Instead…

Instead, the nurse hung up and began to ring Peter’s second emergency contact. Even through his hyperventilation, and MJ’s murmured reassurances next to him, Peter heard her small chuckle at the name. Of course she didn’t believe him. No one did.

Even so, she rang the number, and quickly began to explain the situation.

“Hello, I believe you are listed as Peter Parker’s second emergency contact?”

“I’m afraid he is having a difficult day and appears to be having a panic attack…”

“Yes, I’ll see you in five minutes, can I just take a name down?... Yes, there is a name next to the number, I just assumed it was a joke.

…

Apologies Mr Stark, I will have someone meet you outside the school in ten minutes”

Peter was momentarily calmed by the prospect of getting out of school, when the realisation struck him. Not only had MJ seen him like this, but now Mr Stark would too. How the hell would Peter ever be able to convince Mr Stark he is Avengers material if it gets out that he’s autistic. Peter just curled tighter into himself, attempting to prepare himself for his impending doom.

Peter was startled from his trance of panic when a large and calloused hand came to rest on his shoulder.

“Come on kid, lets have some breathing. I don’t think May would be impressed if I killed you on the first day of her weekend away.”

Peter took a shuddery breath, and registered the smell of engine oil and coffee. Mr Stark always smelt of oil and coffee, even when he had just showered. It was as if the smells were physically ingrained into his being, probably from overexposure. Miss Potts often jokes that Mr Stark’s blood is probably 70% coffee at this point. The smell was reassuring, and Peter’s breathing finally began to slow

“I think its best if we get you out of here. Do you think you can stand up?” Peter made a small whimpering noise, but nodded slowly and shakily made his way to his feet. Peter felt Mr Stark’s hand on his shoulder, and let him guide them both out of the School and into the back of a running car by the gates.

“Step on it Happy. Oh and put the window tints on, will you?” Tony said, before reaching into the side pocket of the car and pulling out a pair of ear defenders, placing them in Peter’s lap.

“I’d put them on for you, but I don’t want to touch you whilst you’re overloading. Think you can put them on?”

Peter looked at Tony inquisitively, before putting on the ear defenders and shutting his eyes. Finally able to really relax, Peter began to ponder just why Tony had a pair of what appeared to be enhanced ear defenders readily available, but he didn’t think for long before exhaustion hit him, and peter was out like a light.

When Peter woke again, it was to a light tapping on his shoulder, and the sound of a voice muffled by headphones.

“Come on kiddo, I’ll leave you alone again once you’re inside” said tony, handing peter a pair of sunglasses before turning to head towards the tower entrance. Peter slid on the glasses and followed closely behind, passing through the noisy foyer to the private elevator at the back as quickly as possible.

Peter waited for the customary order of “Penthouse please Fri”, but was instead surprised by tony softly requesting the communal floor. The lift rose silently and soon they were stepping out into the open kitchen and lounge. Tony placed his hand on the small of peter’s back, gently pushing him towards a corridor to the left of the lounge, one peter rarely went down. They walked all the way to the end, before Tony opened a door to a cool, dark room.

The room was only lit by a line of warm, low lights on the back wall. Against that wall, peter could see a pile of blankets, as well as a bucket of various fidget toys and stress balls. Why did Tony have all this? Oh god, maybe May told him about “the Autism”. Peter’s breath started to pick up and he could feel his fist beating out a staccato against his thigh. How the hell could he ever look at Mr Stark again? Would Mr Stark ever let him be an avenger?

A voice cut through Peter’s panicked haze.

“you going to go inside? Not much point in a sensory room if you just stand in the doorway hyperventilating kiddo”

Tony was right, as soon as Peter stepped inside, he calmed a little. The room was quiet and still, and Peter felt just comfortable enough to snatch a blanket, that appeared to be weighted, from the pile and throw it around himself. Huddling under his newfound covers, he raised his head, expecting a sneering glance or disappointment from his pseudo father figure.

Instead he just found eyes full of caring, and a question on Tony’s lips.

“Want me to stay?”

Peter nodded, before looking back down into his lap, and slowly rocking back and forth, processing the day’s emotions.

It only took about 45 minutes before Peter was feeling ready to move again. And feeling very hungry. After the third monstrous stomach rumble, he heard Tony chuckle beside him.

“Honestly kid, I’m starting to think you’ve smuggled a dragon into my tower under that hoodie.”

Peter giggled quietly, before braving a response.

“Can we have pancakes?” he asked, voice gravelly from a day of no use.

“Sure”, Tony replied, groaning as he stood up from his place on the floor and began to stretch his legs, “although I haven’t made pancakes since the time Vision wanted to learn how to fry things. There’s still burn marks in the kitchen. So this could be… interesting”

Peter laughed again, before throwing a wry grin up at Tony.

“The good news is Mr Stark, when you get pancakes stuck on the ceiling again, I can get it down before Pepper comes home!”

“You watch that cheek kiddo, or I’ll let Dum-E make your meals from now on.”

Later, with pancakes eaten, Aunt May kept in the loop, and Star Wars playing quietly on the penthouse lounge’s television, Peter’s curiosity finally outweighed his fears.

“Why do you have a sensory room?”

Peter stared intently at Tony, watching him formulate a response, terrified of what he was about to hear. Terrified of Tony saying that May had told him everything, or that he’d read Peter’s medical reports. Terrified that this was the moment where Tony would reveal that he had never intended to let Peter join the team, that he was just too broken to be an Avenger. Peter was expecting many responses, dreading most of them, but he didn’t expect Tony to say it was for himself.

“Do you know what ADHD is Pete? I’m sure you know enough to get an idea.

Anyway, I have ADHD, only got diagnosed about ten years ago when Pep pointed out that it wasn’t normal to spend 36 hours hyper-focused on a project without eating or sleeping, and then be unable to concentrate through a 10-minute presentation that was vital to the running of my company. Add in a plethora of sensory difficulties and complete time blindness, and you get Tony Stark, ADHD”

There was a pause, before Tony continued.

“Anyway, you looked like I do when everything is a bit too much, I thought chances are, the same techniques would make life a little bit easier.”

Peter turned to Tony, taking a deep breath, and beginning his own reveal.

“I have Autism” he said, looking down at his hands, where he was fiddling with the corner of a cushion, “Usually I can handle everything just fine, but its been even harder since the bite. But I promise I can handle being Spider-Man! I promise I can still be a superhero! I’m not useless I swear!” beginning to stress again, peter pulled his knees up to his face and began to rock again, before forcing himself to stop. He hated when he stimmed in public, he felt so weak. Why had he told Mr Stark? He’d sealed his fate now, Mr Stark would just see him as a weirdo like everyone else did! Looking up at Tony expectantly, he expected to see a look of disgust or disappointment, instead Mr Stark just seemed to smile softly.

“Yeah, I thought you might, Clint’s autistic too, and you remind me of him sometimes. You actually picked up his favourite weighted blanket back in the sensory room earlier. He’s nicknamed it Sylvester. God knows why.”

“Wait, Clint is autistic? And he’s allowed to be an Avenger?”

Tony raised an eyebrow, “Of course he is? Did you think the Avengers would turn away a super-spy because he also happens to have Autism? Jesus Christ kid, who’s told you to be embarrassed of who you are?”

Peter shrugged. Aunt May had always told him to be proud of himself, that being different is not a bad thing, and his autism was just a part of him that he should love like every other part of him. Aunt May had always indulged his special interests, and had never stopped him from stimming, but that didn’t stop the people at school from putting him down. After being called a weirdo for most of his school career, it was difficult not to believe it himself. After all, if being autistic wasn’t a bad thing, why had he been endlessly mocked for it?

“Listen kid”, Tony began, once again cutting through the flood of thoughts in Peter’s mind. “Autism isn’t a bad thing. It’s just a thing. Sometimes it gives you benefits, I bet your abilities in chemistry come from years as your special interest, don’t they?”

Peter nodded.

“Sometimes, it can make life a little more difficult, but we find ways forwards. There is nothing wrong with neurodivergence. It’s not bad, it’s not a defect, it just is. It’s a part of who you are, Pete, and it’s a part of you that you should be proud of. Its certainly not something you need to hide. I’ve seen you stuff your stim toys to the bottom of your bag when you come to the tower, you have nothing to hide here.”

Tony wrapped his arm around the teenager’s shoulders reassuringly, and Peter leaned into the embrace, returning his attention to the film on screen. A little while later, as his eyes were beginning to droop, and the exhaustion of the day yet again crept up on him, he smiled a soft smile and whispered “thanks dad” as quietly as he could manage.

Peter thought he had uttered the words so quietly that Tony couldn’t have noticed, but the last thing he heard before drifting off to sleep, was an equally soft “you’re welcome, kid”, and a slight tightening of Tony’s hug around him.

He was safe, he was sound, and… he was asleep.

178 notes · View notes

jibrillenyan · 7 years ago

Text

Episode 15 Guide

You can find it [here] (Italian) or [here] (English)

Thanks to Arcidaide for all her help on this guide.

Total Maana: around 3000 Outfit: Black Wave, 6 pieces: Bag, top, shoes, shorts, bracelets, hood Companions: None Required Items: None Received Items: None Illustrations: 3; 3 replays needed Exploration areas unlocked: Emerald Lake, Torii of Memories Companions unlocked: O’orulay (epic, exploration)

Ep 15 – Ezarel

Ep 15 – Valkyon

Ep 15 – Nevra

The Illustrations will unlock automatically for this episode.

Episode Videos: [NA]

NOTE: During the replays of this episode you will be able to change the boy that made the potion with you.

!! Spoilers Ahead !!

⊗ Locations marked with ⊗ are not guaranteed but highly probable

(0) L’O’M doesn’t change (+) L’O’M increases (-) L’O’M decreases

Like episode 6, this episode will start with Purreko, asking you if you want to change boy who helped you with the potion. You can’t do it on the first try, but the option will be available starting from the first replay.

Purreko:

Were you happy that it was him that worked with you in that challenge?

Obviously not!

*sigh* It doesn’t matter, let’s just say it was… swell…

Yes!

Once you’ve listened in, you will look for Karenn, to find out more.

Objective: You know it, Karenn is Miss-I-Know-Everything of H.Q. She surely knows who got hurt, go ask her!

At the [Fountain Park] ⊗ you will find Floppy

Valkyon

(Oh, that’s Floppy !) (+5)

(Eeeek, it’s Floppy ! I hate mice!!!) (0) (Dialogue 2)

(Awww! It’s little Floppy ♥) (+10)

Dialogue 2

(La laisser faire.) (0)

(Refuser de la prendre avec soi.) (0)

You will go to Valkyon to bring her back anyway, but he won’t be in his room.

You might meet Cryllis, Alajéa, Chrome, or Purroy (the alchemist cat), on the way. Once you’ve found Karenn (often at the forge), the girl will leave without answering you and you will have to look for clues.

Objective: She seems to know the victim, but you didn’t get a chance to ask her. Try to find more clues

Go to the jail, you’ll have a monologue

(I hope not… Although, given that Karenn is crying, Floppy’s master is missing, and Purroy is looking after the potions instead of Ezarel…)(0)

(It kind of would be karma coming back to them, given what they’ve done to me)

When you meet Ewelein on the way, she will drop some medical supplies.

Objective: Ewelein dropped some medical materials. Go give them to her!

Go to the infirmary, you’ll have the chance to help her.

Ewelein

Gardienne, If you want to stay, you’re welcome. If not, you should leave.

Will there be a lot of blood? (0)

I’ll stay, I’m not scared of blood! (+10)

What can I do to help? (+5)

(I looked away, a little embarassed.) (0)

(I watched her work, as if hypnotized by her technique.) (0)

(I’m watching Ewelein Maythz and Violine in turn. Please tell me everything’s going okay!) (0)

I hope it didn’t make you feel uneasy

A little bit… but that’s because I’m not used to seeing so much blood… (+5)

No worries, it was actually pretty interesting. I hope I can help you again some time! (+10)

I Don’t really know, that was my first time. (+5)

Once you’re done, Miiko will join you. Follow her in the Crystal Hall.

Objective: Follow Miiko in direction of the Crystal Room, she wants to talk to you.

You will find all of the light guard inside. You’ll talk about the attack to Enthraa.

Valkyon:

(I made a gesture as if to say “don’t worry about it”.) (0)

(I’d rather turn my head away and not reply) (0)

Miiko:

It’s about the attack on Enthraa.

Oh, that’s not difficult to guess. (+5)

You don’t say? Who would have thunk it?!!! (My voice was dripping with sarcasm) (-5)

Ok, and? (0)

Ewelein:

(Whoa, Eweleïn… you just won points in my heart.) (+5)

(Ouch, Miiko can’t have liked that.)

Miiko:

What about, exactly? Because you have several things to choose from! (-5)

What do you mean? (0)

Miiko:

And what if *you* are Ashkore’s ally? (0)

Do you really think that will change anything? (0)

Monologo:

(Part of me is quite happy to see them so worried about Ashkore) (0)

(It can’t be easy to manage all this) (0)

(He must have his reasons. I shouldn’t judge him before hearing his version of the story) (0)

(Now I understand why they get so tense when we bring up the subject) (0)

Miiko:

(I can’t really understand this compliment… it’s actually annoying me more than anything else.) (0)

(I don’t think I was as good as all that, but oh well… I’ll take all the compliments I can get!) (0)

(I’m delighted to know I’ve been useful to them, despite everything that certain people have done to me.) (0)

Objective: Lead the investigation on the attack on Enthraa.

and

Objective: Get Enthraa’s testimony

Once the meeting is over, go to your room to pick up your note pad. Then go to Ewelein, at the infirmary, to complete the objective:

Objective: Go see Ewelein and take some packets or other containers for your clues

She will send you to the [Alchemy Lab]. After collecting the containers, go to the [Prison].

Monologo:

(It’s pretty disturbing. I have to hold back a wretch.)

(Looking at all this, I think I understand what happened to Enthraa)

(This job is repulsive… it’s work though!)

Go to the isolated beach; you might find several characters on the way. Karenn, Valkyon, and a few members of the guard don’t have multiple answers, but some do:

Kero:

It’s Exhausting…

It’s just paperwork, it’s not a big deal. (-5)

I get it, but just tell yourself to keep pushing yourself through it! (+5)

Keep your spirits up though, Kero, it’s just a bad stage. (+10)

Chrome:

I hadn’t thought of that… it’s stressing me out, now. (+5)

Oh, no, don’t stay that… I’m the queen of bait, I don’t want to be elected victim of the year. (0)

The wind must be changing direction. (0) (Dialogue 2)

Dialogue 2

Sympa! Tu peux rêver pour que je t’en offre à l’avenir! (-5)

Les trèfles de Fortuna? (0) (Dialogue 3)

Dialogo 3

Ah oui, c’est vrai… (0)

(Je ne m’en souviens pas…) (0)

Nevra:

And guess what?

Were there H.Q. plans in amongst them? (+10)

What? (0)

I don’t know… (+5)

Ezarel:

Donc je prends de quoi tenir.

Good decisions this time, I hope. (0)

What sort of decisions? (0)

…

You could have taken something a little more substantial. (+5)

I hope you haven’t stolen it. Karuto is not going to be happy. (0)

Oh, Lordy, you and your love for honey. (+10)

Ykhar:

I forgive you. I understand you were angry. (+5)

I’m not sure if I want to forgive you. (Dialogo 2)

It means a lot that you apologized! (+5)

Dialogue 2

(Après tout… ce qu’elle a fait est loin d’être aussi grave que cette potion d’oubli.)

(Ça n’est pas suffisant à mon sens, mais c’est déjà ça.)

At the beach, pick up the clues:

A monologue will follow:

(I’m pretty relieved… I don’t really want to bring evidence that implies him any fruther to the eyes of the Guard.)

(I honestly don’t think he’s guilty in all this… at least, not this time)

Go to the [Centenary Cherry Tree], on this phase you can still meet the people listed above.

Go to the [Hall of Doors], Enthraa woke up. Talk to her at the [Infirmary]

Objective: With everything that you know now, go back to see Miiko

Miiko:

Maybe a Kraken?

I’d have bet a mermaid! ✓ Right answer

Are there leviathans in Eldarya?

Even though I have major doubts about this: Charybde and Scylla!

This answers affects only your thoughts, later on.

Listen in until Jamon interrupts you. You will be moved to Hall of Doors, where your stomach will growl loudly.

Objective: Rest up a bit then go to the dining hall to eat.

Go to the dining hall and talk to Karuto. Bring your meal to the park.

Objective:It’s beautiful out. The gardens are a delightful place for you to eat in peace and quet. Go!

Go to the [Fountain Park]

Objective: It’s really the end of the day this time. Go back to your room.

Go back to your room, the morning after you will decide to look for someone to teach you self-defense.

Objective: Try to find someone who can teach you how to defend yourself.

Go to the Library ⊗ to ask Ykhar and Kero for advice; they will suggest you to go to Cameria, she is in the dining hall ⊗

Cameria:

Hmm, and why do you want to be able to fight?

To be able to defend myself, no matter what the circumstance is. (0)

Because I want to be able to handle the things that could hurt me, myself. (+5)

Because I want to become stronger and more independent. (+10)

Go to the beach, after this dialogue:

Cameria:

Imagine que je suis un être maléfique et je pointe une arme vers toi alors que tu es « sans défense ». Comment réagirais-tu ?

I’d try to run away. (0)

I’d attack before you do. (0)

I’d be terrified, and I think I’d try to reason with you. .. (0)

You will have a QTE. The choice:

(But how?!)

(I’m ready!)

is to get an explanation on QTE (first option).

Once you’ve won you can go on with the story and finish the training. You will decide to shower.

Objective: Get rid of this “kappaesque” fragrance. Go to the showers. They’re near your room!

Go back to your room, when you’re in front of it, Ykhar will send you to Miiko, but you will still have time for a quick shower. Go to the Crystal Room.

Nevra:

(Take the scarf) (0)

(Catch the scarf but don’t take it) (0)

(Don’t catch the scarf) (0)

When you’re done go to the beach (to the cliff)

Objective: Go to the beach to capture the creature!

Valkyon:

Stay close to me and take action when we tell you to!

(I then went to Valkyon’s side, listening to his warning…)(0)

(I didn’t want to stay close to him, and maintained a certain distance from him, though staying covered.)(0)

A QTE will follow:

(Control your fear… control your fear… easier said than done!) (QTE explanation)

(Let’s do this!)

Ezarel:

Don’t touch me! (I moved away, brusquely.) (0)

No, I’m fine… (0)

Objective: QUICKLY go to the H.Q. before the creature awakens!

When you get to [Hall of Doors] you will be sent to [Crystal Room]

Objective: Go to the Crystal Room. Come on, go, go, go!

Miiko will ask you to find Alajéa.

Objective: Look for Alajea so she can give you her opinion. Sh’s a mermaid too.

Look for Alajéa, I went toward the [Fountain Park] and got lucky XD

You might meet Karenn or have these dialogues during your search or just after finding her:

Chrome:

(Good Lord, he went there… what a moron!) (+5)

(You really are just a kid. (-5)

… Seriously? (+10)

Ezarel:

So congratulations. Good job.

(Ezarel giving praise, I’m not sure how to take this.) (Dialogue 2)

Thank you. (+5)

Dialogue 2

Gardienne ? Tu pourrais dire merci, je te fais un compliment là.

En général, quand on fait un compliment, c’est de bon cœur. Non pas pour attendre un remerciement en retour. (-5)

C’est quoi l’entourloupe ? Tu n’es jamais aussi « gentil ». (0)

Je ne cède jamais aux caprices des enfants, donc tu peux dire adieu à ton merci ♥ (+5)

Nevra:

(Go right) (Dialogue 2) (0)

(Go left) (0)

Dialogue 2

(Go right) (0)

(Go left) (0)

That explains it. In any case, that’s cool… that you’re getting better and better at defending yourself.

Given my predisposition for ending up the bait, I thought it might lend me a non insubstantial advantage. (+5)

yes, we never know when people are going to try and hurt me… (0)

You guys are good at attacking people, huh? (-5)

Valkyon:

I’d have liked to be in your Guard, too. (0)

I’m doing just fine in my own guard, thanks (I was pretty harsh there) (Dialogue 2)

I’m very happy in the shadow guard. (0)

Dialogo 2

Ho detto qualcosa di male?

Detto, no. Fatto, sì. (0)

Tu te paies ma tête, là ? Tu as déjà oublié ce que vous m’avez fait subir? (-5)

After you’ve talked to the 3 boys you should be able to meet the mermaid you’re looking for:

Alajéa:

OK… see you later then?

That’s a promise! (+5)

(Sorry Alajea, but I don’t really want to talk about what happened to me with you…) (-5)

I’ll see… (0)

Objective: Bring Alajea to Miiko so she can give her opinion. Fingers crossed that the captured mermaid is in good health.

Go to the [Crystal Room] then to the [Prison]

Obiettivo: Follow Miiko to the prison.

Alajea will have a break down, follow her outside the prison.

Objective: You don’t know why, but your heart is telling you to look for Alajea.

You could meet Cryllin and Chrome outside the HQ. I found Alajea at the [Fountain Park]

Alajéa:

No… wait… Why did you follow me?

I was worried about you (+10)

I’m a very curious person. (0)

I don’t know… I just did, that’s all. (+5)

Objective: Alajéa has something important to tell you. Bring her to your room.

Go to your room. Talking to Alajea will start a flashback and the POV will move to hers.

Objective: Don’t let your little sister catch up to you,. So swim!

Objective: Go back with the others.

Objective: There is nothing, nothing at all… Go look for something.

There is only one possible route, just follow it 🙂

Alajéa:

Thank you, Alajea. (0)

Thanks, Al. (+5)

Thanks… Allie. (+15)

(The warmth she’s communicating to me means so much.) (0)

(I’m truly happy to be able to count her amongst my friends. Her hug is doing me a crazy amount of good. (0)

Once done go to the dining all for:

Objective: After all these emotions, a bit of relaxation! Go get some goodies from the dining hall.

Get your sweets and go back to your room:

Objective: Go back to your room to indulge in those goodies.

Alajéa:

This guy must really like you! Go for it! (0)

If he stayed that must be because he likes you. (0)

Karenn will bring back bad news. You’ll have a flashback in her POV.

Objective: Go to the crystal room to talk to your brother.

Go, listen in, Once you’re back in control of Gardienne, you will decide to do something about it but Alajéa is shaken up.

Alajéa:

(Shake Alajea)

(Keep calling Alajea’s name)

Karenn:

Gardienne, are you with us?

What a question! Of course! (0)

Yes… (0)

Karenn:

We could use the poison from Balenvia. That sure did it for [Poisoned Guy] and me. (0)

(I could use the poison from Balenvia, but that’s a bit extreme…) (0)

After thinking of a plan you’ll get the objective:

Objective: It’s time for the first part of the intervention: save Colaia. Go to the infirmary.

On the way you can find:

Nevra:

… (0)

Non posso parlarne, mi dispiace. (0)

Da quando ti interessi a Alajéa? (0)

Objective:

If you have to steal the notes go to [Hall of Doors]

Once there, go to the infirmary, you have to get this:

If you have to make a diversion go to the infirmary and take Ewelein to your room.

Then go find Karenn: go to the infirmary again then back to your room, she is there.

Both scenarios lead to your room.

Objective: It’s time to prepare the sleeping pill. Go to the Alchemy Lab.

Karenn:

That has always surprised me.

At the same time, when we know it’s the favorite hangout of that tyrant, Ezarel…

I don’t come here that often, either.

After talking to your accomplices go to the Alchemy shop and buy 2 Moogliz Milk.

You’ll start making the potion but Ezarel will startle you. You will have to divert his attention!

You will decide who gets the honor with a rock-paper-scissor match. It should be randomly determined.

If you win Alajea will take Ezarel away. You will have to help Karenn. Pick up the lavender and the sand:

If you lose, you will have to take Ezarel away. Go to the village and back. You will have this conversation with him:

Je ne doute pas que tu deviendras un des piliers de cette garde.

Tu es malade?

Tu le penses vraiment?

J’ai du mal à te croire.

Once you’re done the last, hardest, step:

Objective: Last mission: Convince Karuto to let you help him in the Kitchen. Good luck.

Go to the kitchen, past the dining hall.

Karuto will try the meal you prepared and drugged and… will collapse on the floor. Hide the body!

Objective: You didn’t account for this problem. Make sure no one notices.

by just exiting the kitchen.

Objective: Go back to the kitchen, quickly.

Go back to the kitchen and serve the meal. When you’re done you’ll get:

Objective: Your mission is now over. Go find Alajea and wait several hours for the last part of your plan.

Go to your room. You will get the outfit Black wave for free:

Karenn:

It’s really pretty, I love it! (+5)

I don’t like it at all… (-5)

It’s perfect! (+10)

Objective: Go around the H.Q. to make sure no one is lurking around.

Go to the Cherry tree and back, it should be enough to unlock the 2 monologues. Go in front to the Crystal Hall, Valkyon is there.

Ashkore-Rapunzel, winner of the “Best Moment” Prize.

Ashkore will knock him out with a frying pan.

Yes, you read that right.

Let’s continue.

Ashkore:

Ashkore! Take me with you! (I caught him by the arm to hold him back.) (0) (dialogue 2)

(No, I can’t ask him if I can go with him… I don’t know him well enough for that.) (0)

Dialogue 2

Insistere

Non insistere.

Go back to [Hall of Doors].

Objective: Free Colaia from the prison.

Go to the [Prison], you will have to drug Colaia too.

Objective: Bring Colaia to the beach so she can be free.

Go toward the [Isolated Beach], you will spend all the night moving the mermaid.

Alajéa:

Can you help me carry her to the water?

(I’m still too scared to approach the water…) I… (0)

(Come on, Gardienne, face your fears. It’s just water!!!) (0)

The Guard members will catch up to you.

Objective: Reassure Alajea as much as you can.

Go to the rock, cliff… whatever:

(Force everyone away, using the advice Cameria gave me) (0)

(Try to find another way of dealing with the situation) (0)

(unsheathe your weapon) (0)

(don’t) (0)

Miiko:

(Was she looking for me? Well, here I am!!!)

(Come on now, Gardienne, violence never solves anything… even though she deserves my fist right in her face.)

If you “willingly” drank the potion there will be no reference to the kiss, and no reaction on the ladies’ part. The dialogue will just skip that scene.

Objective: After so many emotions, go back to H.Q.

Go to the [Hall of Doors].

Ykhar:

But you can’t predict everything either. (0)

I don’t think I’m your friend. (0)

You were there for me, I was the one who didn’t want to take the helping hand you held out to me… (0)

Objective: You deserve a bit of rest! Go to your room!

The boy who made you drink the potion will knock at your door. The illustration unlocks here and has no prerequisites. If you drank the potion “willingly” you won’t talk about the kiss.

Objective: Quick! Go to the crystal Room!

Talk to Miiko.

Objective: Go out because Miiko has nothing to say to you.

Go out, Leiftan wants to talk. Once you’re done, go to the dining room for the objective:

Objective: You’re hungry! Go to the kitchen and fingers crossed… Karuto hopefully has something good in store for you.

A time-skip will follow.

Zifu:

Feng Zifu, is that you? (0)

Zif, is that you? (0)

Huang Hua?! (0)

Objective: Follow Feng Zifu to find out what he’s doing here!!

Go to the Crystal Room, the dialogue that follows will conclude the episode.

#eldarya 15 guide #eldarya guide #eldarya 15

1 note · View note

discoveringhistory · 6 years ago

Text

Dissertation Weekly: Making Discoveries & Changing My Interpretation and Perception

As I write this week’s blog I am anxiously awaiting the arrival of an important letter from the great-great grandson of Douglas and Kate Bemo!

One of the pitfalls of graduate school is that you never seem to get enough time to conduct research on your chosen dissertation topic while you are 1) up to your eyeballs in coursework, 2) opt to add an additional 15 hours of coursework for a graduate minor to your program of study, 3) and are prepping for your comprehensive exams. At this juncture in my graduate career I am past all three of these important milestones. I also had the good fortune to come into my program with roughly 90% of my research completed (something that is rare in my field). To date I have written the prologue, epilogue, and first two chapters of my dissertation and am working on the remaining three so I can hopefully stay on track to defend in early May and graduate in July 2019. (Note: I had hoped to be further along at this point in time. Moving, settling in to my new residence, my wedding, taking on my step son and his mental health and legal challenges, and my own near exhaustion has slowed down my progress more than I ever imagined!) One of the challenges I face is writing while researching and attempting to fill the gaps and little nooks and crannies that remain so I am have as much material as possible to flesh out the life and experiences of Douglas Bemo as an AfroMvskoke/Seminole man living in a very complex and ever-changing world in the Indian Territory in the mid to late 19th century.

The front page of the American Missionary in January 1873 touts the evangelizing work of Rev. D.B. Nichols at Howard University. In July 1872 Douglas was enrolled in and left at Howard University where he was a student in the Model School and a member of the Military Department’s Corps of Cadets until he left in 1874. Note the area highlighted by the pin box. The “Creek Indian” Nichols refers to in his description is indeed Douglas. His presence at Howard and his connection to the non-denominational church founded by Nichols made��excellent PR material.

As of late I have been able to flesh out details of Douglas’ life that 1) his wife Kate NEVER mentions in her one sided portrayal of him in her diary and 2) I never thought I would discover. To some the details may seem minor, nothing of consequence. However, when you are writing about an AfroMvksoke/Seminole man-- a person of color-- who has been marginalized in his wife’s diary (a primary source of great value to historians) and rendered voiceless by most histories of Indian Territory, the responsibility to flesh out the small details is imperative. Being able to find Douglas’ pay slips from the Mvskoke Nation, his appointment letter as a prosecuting attorney for the Mvskoke Nation, the American Missionary article that mentions him simply as a “Creek Indian”, or a fragment of a school essay he wrote while at the Tullahassee Mission provides me with insight into him that helps me as a historian or recover his voice. When Douglas died in 1898 his wife elected to not run an obituary in any of the local papers. For historians and geneaolgists obituaries are little goldmines of information and help us to pull threads of a person’s life together. For Douglas, however, his erasure from the “go-to” local history sources silences his voice. At this point in the writing of my dissertation I almost see the project as an extended obituary for Douglas. Despite the best attempt of his wife to erase him from memory and control how he was viewed by anyone reading her diary, my work is an intervention and call to change how we use our sources as historians. What are we missing by simply looking at them from one perspective? LOTS is the easy answer. In my case, as I am discovering every day, the little details are the most important and telling...and so critical to my understanding of this complex interracial marriage at a time when such unions normally followed a predictable pattern of an Anglo-American male paired with an Indigenous female.

This news snippet about Minnie Tappan, a Cheyenne survivor of the infamous Sand Creek Massacre, intersects with my look into Douglas’ time at Howard University. Douglas and Minnie were classmates at Howard and as the only American Indians enrolled at Howard at the time they surely closed paths.

Just this week I discovered that Douglas attended Howard University with a young woman named Minnie Tappan. A Cheyenne, Minnie was “orphaned” after the infamous Sand Creek Massacre in Colorado Territory during the Civil War. (Note: I use the term orphaned in quotes on purpose. Even though her parents were killed, Minnie would have been taken in my Aunts, Uncles, or other members of her mother’s clan. Anglo-Americans did not recognize this cultural practice with respect to American Indian peoples.) Taken back East by Samuel Tappan, Minnie was enrolled in Howard University. In 1873 Minnie contracted consumption and died in her dorm room at Miner’s Hall on the Howard Campus. News of her death surely filtered among the student body. For Douglas this must have been a terrifying prospect-- would he contract consumption and be next? The presence of another American Indian face on the Howard campus surely reassured and lifted Douglas’ spirits. In letters to Kate, back in Indian Territory teaching at a Mvskoke Nation agency school, Douglas mentions the passing of an Indian girl from Colorado. To some this may seem a trivial detail. However, for Douglas seeing Minnie’s face on campus meant there was someone else like him, he was not an Indigenous island unto himself. So the small bits and pieces of his life are now coming into sharper focus and making him seem so very real.

A photo of Kate Edwards Bemo Mitchell as an older woman. This photo surfaced online and after comparing it to a verified photo of Kate in her younger days there is no doubt it is Kate.

While looking for the traces of Douglas’ life, more details about Kate keep cropping up. The photo above is a recent discovery that stopped me in my tracks. Seeing the face of Kate as an older woman I was struck that Douglas did not get the privilege of living into his later years to watch his son grow into adulthood, marry, and have his own family. Douglas never got to be a grandfather and share the stories of his life with his descendants. Their views about Douglas come solely from Kate’s very partisan telling of her life and how she was impacted by her unfortunate marriage to her “worthless” Indian. Not only was history robbed of Douglas’ voice but his descendants as well. Now, I am even more determined to search as many archival sources in Oklahoma as possible in the hope I will find an image of Douglas to counterbalance Kate’s well crafted image. While this goal may not be realized during the writing of my dissertation I do hope that one day an image will surface. Looking into the life of Douglas’ brother Alec (Alexander) --who spent his life living in the Seminole Nation with his wife and large family-- may be the only chance to see what Douglas may have looked like, so the search for an image of Alec is on!

My scheduling calendar and book are a crazy patchwork colors and scribbles. This is the only way I can keep all the tasks related to my work, research, and family life in some semblance of order.

Of course the most difficult part of this entire process of writing a dissertation is keeping research, writing, thinking, reading, and family life scheduled and organized. My calendars/schedules (seen above in glorious colors) are nothing short of a form of managed chaos/controlled insanity at the moment. At this juncture I am really soul searching and looking at my progress, deadlines, and thinking about the fact I MIGHT have to push my defense off until October 2019 and graduate in December 2019. This would mean I missed my target deadline of earning my PhD and Graduate Minor in museum studies in four years start to finish by one semester. Part of me wants to push forward and graduate in July (so I can walk in may graduation and participate in departmental convocation) while the other part of me wants to produce an important dissertation and knows deep down that I need the time. Stay tuned, resolving this dilemma will be an interesting ride.

So, in my quest to flesh out Douglas’ lived experience in the Indian Territory I will be heading to Oklahoma City and the amazing collections of the Oklahoma Historical Society at the end of February. Add to that a trip to Howard University in D.C. (February), Western Kansas and Fort Wallace (March) and the Presbyterian Historical Society in Philly (April) and a possible research swing to the Seminole Nation in Wewoka, OK and you get an idea of what it is like to write and research simultaneously. Thank goodness for frequent flyer points, my husband’s willingness to pay for trips, and my love of travel...for I truly am a historian on the road.

Thanks for reading, hope you have enjoyed this edition of Dissertation Weekly. Stay tuned! Next week I will share about one of my recent research experiences and the need for document preservation in local communities!

Cheers,

Michelle and Josie the Kitten

Josie supervises the writing of a fellowship application. She is an excellent proofreader as long as you don’t want her to flip the pages.

0 notes

rosyredlipstick · 8 years ago

Text

wildest dreams (pt.4)

part one

part two

part three

Description:

Will has just about a thousand things to deal with. With the six month anniversary of the battle coming up, along with a literal crowd of visiting Roman campers, Will is exhausted. This isn’t to mention the sudden unapproved expansion to his infirmary, or the handful of trouble he’s in charge of, fondly nicknamed the Apollo cabin, and all these facts translate to only one thing - he’s a very busy man.

With all these things in mind, he does not have time to consider why the forever empty Hades cabin seems to be bothering him nowadays.

And he definitely does not have time to figure out why the air beside him suddenly feels so empty.

And he absolutely, completely, totally does not have the time to even consider why the hell he’s having dreams (nightmares) that have him crying and screaming into the late hours of the night.

He’s a busy man, after all.

“So.” Will badly forced nonchalance had Reyna rolling her eyes in the background, but, as they agreed, she let him continue. He leaned up against the doorway of the cabin, crossing his arms. “So, like, hypothetically, how would someone summon a minor god?”

The Athena cabin was strangely empty for this time of day. Late afternoons were usually reserved for quiet reading in the cabin, as most of the camp knew, because the cabin usually demanded the same quiet from the rest of the camp. Little did Will and them know, Malcolm had discovered what he thought to be a new mutation in the strawberry plants, calling away a majority of the Athena and Demeter cabins to investigate, leaving both cabins deserted.

Correction - nearly deserted.

Wes paused, his previously scrawling pen hovering over his notebook for a second. He took a deep breath, capped his pen, and turned to them, his limbs still stiff. “You want to what?”

Will heard the few of them shifting behind him - the creaking of the floorboards being pretty tell-tale, and Will took another step forward, his arms up in surrender. “Completely hypothetical. Summoning a minor god, like, how would someone? Hypothetically.”

Wes gave him such a dry look, Will was feeling a bit parched. “There are no hypothetical situations for demigods. There is what is happening at this moment and what is being planned for said demigods in the future.” Wes stood, a bit defensive. “What are you planning?”

Will bit his lip, weighting everything he knew about the son of Athena. He was book-bound, as all Athena kids were, smart off the charts - but he was also known to be best friends with a few Hermes kids, and his pranks never seemed to break any actual rules. He was smart, yeah, but in a way that always kept him in trouble. He got absorbed in his projects, but always had good results, so no one really minded when he fell down the rabbit-hole of research.

Will took a breath. “We need to get into contact with a minor god.” He gestured to the small group congregating behind him. Again, because of his ties to nearly every cabin, he was elected to do the outreach.

That, and Reyna was a bit scary if you didn’t know her.

And, Will glanced towards the glaring girl, even if you did know her, she was a bit terrifying.

Wes stood, pulling Will’s attention back to him, and turned to the side to examine the papers thrown across his desk.

“Which minor god?” Wes began leafing through some textbook, his eyebrows coming together.

“We...don’t know.” Will hesitated, “We...don’t know a lot about this.”

Wes gave them a look. “Do you know anything?”

“The spell is rooted in magic.” Jason added on helpfully, coming up behind Will. “Lou Ellen has been kind off because of it.”

“Most of the Hecate cabin, actually.” Wes muttered, and Will was surprised to remember that Wes was dating one of the older Hecate sons.

“You’ve noticed it too?” Hazel asked, probably remembering the same fact.

Wes was already nodding. “Yeah. Jasper’s been adding weird for the past few weeks. Very...spacey.”

Will was nodding quickly. “Yes! Yes, that’s it!” Will bit his lip. This was the hard part, and he clenched at the ring hanging around his throat to anchor him. “We think it has to do with a boy we’ve been seeing. In our dreams, I mean.” Will glanced to his companions, “We’ve all been having dreams about him, and we think a god has to do with this. They’re the only ones really powerful enough to pull something off like this.”

Wes was nodding along. “This boy, what do you know about him?”

Will bit his lip, nearly drawing blood, and struggled with the too-full air around him. Just as he opened his mouth, working himself up to saying the name that would inevitably seize his chest, Reyna interrupted him.

“His name is Nico.” Her voice was strong, clear, but her hands shook in clenched fists at her side. “He is a son of Hades. He is young, maybe 15 years old. He has black hair and olive skin and -” She cut herself off, a bright sweat now glossing her skin. She moved on, “He is loyal and smart and tells horrible jokes and -” She was swaying on her feet now, and Will edged closer to provide comfort if needed. She saw this and straightened the best she could, her eyes still a bit fuzzy. “And he is my best friend.”

Wes ducked his head, giving her a moment to compose herself as he thought over her words. “Nico...Nico.” He nodded, turning back to his notebook to scrawl something down. “That...sounds familiar.” Wes finally looked up at them, all a bit worn from Reyna’s words. “He was one of you guys. One of the heroes, right?”

“I’m not a hero.” Will shook his head, “But I think so. I think...He helped end the war.”

Wes nodded like it was all staring to make sense. “Annabeth, in her sleep, was saying something about Hades.” He glanced away, “It’s not uncommon for her to have nightmares about Tartarus, usually one of us just goes and drags Percy back in here for the night but…she was talking about the son of Hades once. Saying he was gone.” Wes just shook his head, “We all just thought it was something she’d seen down there.”

This spell. It’s bothering the Hecate cabin?” He continued, cocking his head to the side, not really paying them an attention at this point. He began making notes on a wrinkled sheet of paper, his handwriting messy and quick. “Have you noticed the nymphs acting weird?”

They all shared a look, “No we haven’t.” Will answered, unsure. Wes only continued to write, looking completely drawn in with information.

“Okay so that means,” He bit down on the end of his pencil, chewing the wood absentmindedly. He felt Reyna shift behind him, probably staring on in disgust, and this was when Wes finally looked up to meet their stares. “That means it’s not rooted in nature magic. If we can pin the type of magic, we can start figuring out who actually cast this spell.”

Wes looked back to his work in a way like most Athena kids did their research – completely and wholly. They lingered in the doorway, each of them feeling a varying amount of awkwardness – Will the most, Reyna the least – and looked to each other.

“We’d appreciate if you kept this on the down low.” Will told him, remembering what they had agreed upon before they entered the cabin. “We don’t want to involve Annabeth, and Chiron isn’t completely….on board with this.”

Wes didn’t hesitate. “It’ll stay between us.” He glanced around, eyeing the bookcase that wrapped almost completely around the cabin’s walls. “It’ll take me like a day or two to get through all these books.”

Will almost wanted to ask, only a day or two? From the look of the already tall growing pile on his personal desk, Will would have sworn at least a week. But they nodded, secret relief hidden in each of them, and quietly filed out. They went their separate ways with quiet nods, and each prayed for silent dreams.

Prayers, though, were never guaranteed.

As Will closed his eyes for the night, always so desperately tired these days, he gripped onto the heavy silver hanging around his neck, and hoped, oh gods he hoped, that he would remember when he woke.

Seconds later, barely seconds after closing his eyes, he was opening them in now familiar darkness, only glowing emerald flames to dance in his reflecting eyes.

He was standing, he was surprised to notice, and his hand was still clenching around the ring. His free hand, the one that wasn’t so incredibly desperately squeezing around warm metal, was feeling the hard stone wall, guiding him forward.

He’d read once that in a maze, you should always keep your hand on the right wall and you’d eventually escape. He didn’t know why he was remembering that right now, but as the floor in front of him escaped and shifted, he found it fitting. He struggled to walk forward, the rough stone comforting on his fingertips. It kept him from drifting off into the thick haze that only got thicker as he walked forward. It seemed like miles he was walking, a much larger distance then the camp even felt.

The ring was almost pulsing in his hand now, the warm metal almost burning, but Will only held on tighter. As he walked, the glowing torches around him got dimmer, and fewer, until Will was gripping onto the stone as he stumbled in the darkness. The haze was pushing down on him, and he remembered what Annabeth had told him once, how she held up the weight of the world and he wondered if that’s what this felt like, stumbling under an invisible weight. He thought of the burning pain in his hand, and how it felt when he finally remembered Nico and his memories. He remembered how it felt to fall in the memory of meeting Nico, of their playful banter that never really stopped, how it felt when they bickered and fought and kissed and defended each other. The glow in his chest that was ignited at the sound of his name or laugh or even just the sight of his small grin.

Will gasped, the weight of the haze almost pushing him over. It was weighting down on every movement of his now, the lifting of his legs as he trudged on, the uneven rise and fall of his chest, the slow swing of his arms and he felt like he could never take another step, like he could never take another breath and he tried to think of Nico, of his steady hands and blushing cheeks and his dark hair on pale skin and –

And suddenly the weight was gone, and Will was falling to the ground in relief and exhaustion. The air in his chest hitched and fought its way in and out until Will was able to breathe steady, and he was able to stand on unsteady feet, his body shaking in protest because – because – because -

- because Nico was there, looking away, focusing on something in the distance. He was draped over a large plush chair, something Will was certain he’d never seen in the Hades cabin. His hands looked to be folded in his lap, the rest of him unfocused. When he spoke, his voice was soft, his lips barely moving.

“I loved you.” Nico told him, his gaze still vacant and fixed on a portion of the wall. “You...gave me hope.” His hands were clenched around something, and his fingers were nearly white with the effort. His head was a lull on the couch and, even without setting his eyes on Will’s shaking figure, he seemed to know he was there.

“I love you.” These words spilled so easily out of Will, and they were so incredibly true, they had never stopped being true, even when he didn’t remember. In that absence, Will had always had a portion of his chest dedicated to the other boy, a hole in his soul that he knew only Nico could fill with a sly grin or a soft laugh. “Nico, I love you. Present tense. I love you.”

Nico’s hands spasmed at that, the only part of him that wasn’t lax and loose. His hands shook violently, and through the soft green light Will could barely, just barely, see something cradled there in Nico’s pale hands, it was a flash of color, a flash of leather, a flash of - was that? Was that?

“Goodnight Will.” Nico whispered, and with that -

- Will was awake, sitting up in his bunk, gasping and choking, and the light was flipped on and suddenly arms were around him, around his shoulders and chest and neck and - and - and –

“My necklace!” He choked out, the images still stamped in his mind, the image of Nico’s desperate, white hands squeezing the soft, thin leather and beads, as desperate as Will felt. He heaved, nothing in his stomach to throw up and whoa, when was the last time Will had eaten? He…he couldn’t remember. His chest started seizing at this simple thought, because how could Will not remember when he’d last eaten? What else was he forgetting, among all this?

“Calm down Will.” He could hear, he could hear this and yet he couldn’t process this simple order, could listen and nod and take a deep breath. The arms around him, the arms holding him down from his thrashing body, lessened until there was only one touch, holding his shoulders in place as he swallowed in dusty air, and his sister was across from him, Kayla, who was always the best with their panicking patients, and her voice was soft but sure as she gave him simple instructions.

“Breath.” She instructed, her own breathing slowed and loud so Will could match his to hers. He tried to follow her simple instruction, tried to force the air in and out of his lungs, and with this, he closed his eyes and fell against her shoulder.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when he was finally able to pull away, blinking himself back to reality. Long enough that the bright sweat on his skin dried into an itch, he noticed, running his hand over the back of his neck. Their cabin was nearly empty now, only Hina leaning against the open doorway, letting the cool breeze drift in. Lukas probably lead their siblings to the Hermes cabin for the night, or let them crash on the extra cots in the infirmary. That was something…something Will thinks he used to do, when one of them was having a bad nightmare.

Kayla was still crouched across from him, probably inducing killer pain on her knees, and only patiently stared back at him. “Better now?” She asked in her doctor-soft voice, nothing like her usual high note.

Will nodded, still a bit wobbly. “What - what time is it?”

Kayla glanced back to Hina, who shrugged. “Around four, probably.” Hina answered, eyeing the skyline. “Dad’s not up yet but Artemis is getting ready to leave.”

Will nodded at that – he’d gone to bed around midnight but his dream had felt like days of fighting that horrible pressure and shaking in front of Nico instead of a mere four hours of sleeping. He rubbed at his sore eyes, a familiar exhaustion already aching down to his bones.

Both of his sisters were watching him, varying amounts of concern evident in their eyes.

“Have you been taking your meds, Will?” Kayla asked, biting her lip.

He hadn’t, he just noticed. Ever since he remembered Nico, he hadn’t bothered. He wondered if lying would help him, but, as he noticed, the almost completely full pill bottle was still at his bedside where he had thrown it.

“I’m fine.” He declared, picking himself off the floor. “I just- I just need to go on a walk.”

They watched him go, their concern eyes having an almost physical touch on his skin. He shifted his tense shoulders, his skin suddenly aching with an unbearable itch.

He was half-way across the field separating the cabins when he realized he wasn’t wearing any shoes on the dew-ridden grass. Already, his bare feet felt like ice. It had been strangely cold the last few days, he was just now realizing, and all he was wearing was an old tank top and a thin pair of pajama pants. The pants had little skulls on them, he was also just noticing, and he vaguely wondered when he would have bought them.

He glanced around to where his feet had brought him and sighed, reaching up to rub some friction caused warmth into his arms. Of course this is where his body brought him on auto-pilot.

He shivered once more, staring up at the glowing green lanterns flickering above him. He took one more glance to his glowing cabin where his sisters were undoubtedly talking about him, and how easy it would be to simply return back there and fall asleep once more. He could take a few pills and be out within minutes.

He turned back to the cabin that seemed to be leaching darkness from the night air and ducked inside.

He was still wide awake hours later when Jason was cracking open the cabin door. He didn’t seem surprised to see Will there, only nodding at him as he claimed a random bunk as his own. Will was curled up in the cot from his dreams, the only one that felt like anything close to familiar. He traced the wood stain on the bed frame and wondered if Jason felt the same.

Hazel and Reyna each followed soon after, and Will wondered if they knew he was in here or if this was a ritual of their own. They met in here often, yes, but usually when the sky was darkened and the night was forgiving of sneaking away demi-gods.

Will closed his eyes as Hazel’s soft snores began to echo through the cabin, and was unsure if he was hopeful for a dream filled with nothing or a dream filled with everything.

Sleep came easy to him these days, mostly exhaustion, a little the desperate need to fall back into the darkness with Nico.

Will wasn’t sure if it was the fact he fell asleep in Nico’s cabin, or perhaps it was being curled up in Nico’s bed, holding his ring, but when he woke up in the dream, he was already in Nico’s presence. The chair from what felt like hours ago was gone, and Nico stood draped in shadows.

“Nico.” He choked out, attempting to rush forward. And, for once, it worked, and Will was across the room in seconds, his hands shaking as he reached forward. His hands hesitated, hovering, for a moment over the other boy’s too-pale skin. He…he didn’t know what to do. Hug him? Sit with him? He swallowed in uncertainty and attempted the only thing that felt okay.

Will rested his forehead against Nico’s, trying and failing to ignore the coldness of the other boy’s skin. “I’m coming for you, Nico.”

Nico’s grip was causing his hands to shake violently. Will pulled away, not enough so they were out of each other space but enough to stare down between them. Will carefully, gently, turned Nico’s shaking hands over. He peeled back Nico’s squeezing fingers to expose the colorful beads and worn leather Will had worn for the past five years.

“Keep it safe for me, Neeks.” Will finally told him as they both stared, wide-eyed, at the simple piece. Will had no idea where that nickname came from. It felt right.

Will, his hand under Nico’s, guided Nico’s hand into a fist around the leather. With the movement, Nico suddenly froze, his eyes glued to Will’s torso.

“That…that’s mine.” Nico’s voice was full of air as he spoke so, so softly. Nothing like the screams that haunted Will’s forgettable nightmares. Nothing like the strong, sarcastic voice that echoed in Will’s thoughts. “That’s…mine. Right?”

Will looked down, slightly surprised to see the ring hanging around his neck. He…didn’t remember that part of the dream.

Nico’s lips barely wrapped around his words as he spoke, one of his hands breaking away from its tight grip on the necklace to slowly reach for the silver chain on Will’s neck.

“It helps me remember you.” Will told him, holding it up so Nico could examine it in the dim, green light. He was surprised it showed up at all. After all, he went to the bed in pajamas and always woke up in his dreams in an entirely different outfit. It was strange that the ring made an appearance in all this. “It’s helping us find you.”

That last part had Nico tensing up, pulling away, and Will wanted to follow the movement immediately.

“Will.” Nico didn’t look to him as he spoke, “Be safe. That’s…” He took a deep breath, and the words seem to physically pain him. “That’s all I want. If you can’t…if you can’t do this, I need you to be safe. I, I,’ll be fine.” Nico’s weak voice shook as he said this, his gaze unfocused on a section of darkness.

Will wanted to argue, the words - We’re coming for you Nico, I’ll never stop looking, I can’t be safe without you, I’ll never be fine without you, Gods, Nico, please ohgodsplease Nico please don’t give up hope we’re coming Nico I promise, I promised - all wanting to burst out in that moment, but then the darkness was fading, and Nico was turning away, his fists still clenched together, and –

- and Will was waking up.

He didn’t try and fall back asleep after that.

The next day, Will found himself in a position familiar to these days: cross-legged in a half-circle on the Hades cabin floor with the others.

They were trading their favorite stories, usually wrapped with an odd reference of appearance from the son of Hades himself. Will was forcing down a bowl of fruit salad that Hazel had brought, praying to the gods he’d keep it down. He tried to focus on the stories as they shared them, his thoughts wanting to be carried away as soon as Nico was mentioned. He held a hand against his chest, pressing the metal to his skin, and concentrated on Hazel’s words.

She was just finishing the vague story of how Nico brought her back to life, unsure if she simply didn’t remember all the details or if she never understood it at all. They were deciding probably a mixture of both, they agreed on, when Jason, leaning back with his head in his crossed arms, suddenly sat up, spilling an open bag of chips onto lap and the floor. He blinked a few times, either confused about the happenings of said chip bag or collecting his thoughts. From the way he was eyeing the sour cream and onion in his lap, it was probably the former. Finally, after a few seconds of having their full, quiet attention on him, he spoke.

“Can’t we just contact Hades and ask him about Nico?” Jason asked, only stumbling over the boy’s name a bit. He said this like it was a brilliant idea, like it was a game-changer.

Reyna was already shaking her head. Knowing her, she had probably explored that option long before any of them considered it. “You can’t just contact the god of the Underworld. It is much more difficult, more difficult than tracing the line of magic.”

Will glanced at the other girl in their small group. “But...could Hazel do it?”

Reyna looked to Hazel. She seemed unsure – either about the question or asking, Will didn’t know. “Hazel? What do you think?”

Said girl was biting down on her lip, hesitant. “I’ll try.” She told them, “But I’ve been praying to him for a few days now and I haven’t gotten any response.”

“That seems to be the verdict for most of the major gods.” Will muttered, a bit bitter about the fact. He shook his head, clearing his head of at least most of his negative thoughts. “Has anyone talked to Wes?”

“I stopped by yesterday.” Jason told them all, still picking fragments of chips off his lap, his nose wrinkled. “He said we should probably come by after capture the flag tomorrow, he thinks he’s close to something.”

Will let out a long groan at the end of Jason’s sentence. “I forgot tomorrow was Friday.” He informed them mournfully at their confused glances.

Jason flashed him a weak grin, and Will was just beginning to notice how tired the other boy looked. How tired they all looked. “Romans verse Greeks. Should be fun, right?”

Will literally couldn’t put into words how much he did not have energy for this today.

Although honestly, these days he hardly had energy for anything. But still. Running around in full armor to steal a piece of cloth from a couple dozen war hardened Romans?

No. Absolutely not.

Capture the flag used to be his favorite. When he was younger, before play-war turned into real-war and a bit of ambrosia could heal anything and everything, he loved the game. He loved being on the front line, a white medic band around his arm, and fighting and sweating and laughing with his siblings.

Now, his eyes drooping further with every second, he was put on self-inflicted emergency services.

This was usually the position they gave out as punishment – after all, you were forced to stay in a stuffy infirmary while the rest of the camp ran around and shrieked with excitement and adrenaline.

He pulled on a set of the infirmary-blue scrubs, not bothering to yet pull on a pair of latex gloves, and explained the temporary change of command to his siblings. Kayla, who he’d named in charge for the course of the game, puffed out her chest a bit in pride. She had real command potential, she did, and Will was sorry it had only become evident to him in such late times.

Hina – who had been given the shift after she was caught making out with her girlfriend after lights out – brightened at Will’s volunteering statement.

“Don’t worry Hina.” Will smirked, and was a bit annoyed when his voice wasn’t as strong as he’d like. He cleared his throat, continuing. “You can organize the supplies closet later to make up for this.”

She frowned at that, but didn’t seem nearly as down as she did moments before. She shrugged, a matching smirk coming to her face, “Sage is all about that organized life crap. She’ll help me.”

Will shrugged, mostly because Hina’s Demeter girlfriend was like that, and Will didn’t have a good comeback in response. In retaliation, he simply vowed to just not be as careful when putting away supplies today during their inevitable rush periods.

His siblings took a few more minutes loading up their supply backpacks, their arm bands snow white and obvious on their dark and metal suits. Hina was excitedly pulling on her own set of armor, her sword swinging already at her side.

At least someone was excited for the game.

Will couldn’t remember the last time he truly enjoyed a good game of capture the flag. Not anytime recently, that was obvious.

He let himself wonder, very briefly, if Nico enjoyed capture the flag. He thinks so.

His siblings filed out, Kayla already muttering about a potential team up with the Athena cabin, and Will reveled in the rare silence that joined the dust in the air as they left.

He wasn’t stupid enough to attempt a nap, not with his nerves already on edge with Wes’s soon announcement. He filled out a few stacks of paperwork, only interrupted twice by the same rag-tag group of Hermes-Ares kids, each demanding small blocks of ambrosia so they walk off their injuries and get back to the game. Both times, Will eyed them, the doctor in him wanting to bind them each to a bed until they were properly healed, the Greek half-blood in him completely agreeing with their crazed, slightly desperate, need to win against the Romans. Both times, he handed off the small amounts of godly food, on the only condition they return afterwards for a proper check-up – a safe compromise for those sides of him.

He paused after that. Negotiating infirmary stays…that felt familiar, for some odd reason. Who had he done that with before? Cecil, maybe?

Will shook the thought out of his head. He had too much work to be daydreaming all day.

There was another long period of quiet, the calm before the storm that happened right before a win when no camper could be dragged from the forest no matter the injury. This was welcomed, and Will managed to clear the heavy pile of paperwork on the desk and organize the supplies closet.

What? He can always find a different punishment for Hina, and he hates a messy workplace.

He finally settled in the desk, all his work taken care of, no patients to take care of, and began his scheduled freak-out about what Wes had to say.

The door crashed open and Will, despite nodding off into a good freak-out only seconds before, was at the doorway in seconds. It was one of the minor god’s kids – Janus, he thinks – unconscious in the arms of a muddy Aphrodite girl. Will had one of the gurney under the kid in seconds, already examining the steadily bleeding head wound on the young girl. The Aphrodite girl – Scarlett, he registers under the layer of mud, is injured as well, a shoulder puncture wound that didn’t look too bad, but the mud covering her head to toe clearly wasn’t helping it. Selena, hot on Scarlett’s heals apparently, hip checked him out of the way of the Janus kid, nodding towards the doorway.

The rest of his siblings charged the infirmary, the after-battle injuries pouring in. Usually, there was nothing really bad – a few stab wounds at most from overzealous campers who didn’t care about the status of their dessert privileges. This time around, the battle seemed to be definitely more brutal. The Romans didn’t pull punches, this was known, but Will vaguely wondered if they’d had the Mess Hall brownies yet. Not even the most deserved stab wound was worth losing those little pieces of Olympus.

He quickly dealt with Scarlett’s minor wound – a bit of antiseptic, a bandage to keep anymore dirt from falling in, as well as a small vial of nectar to quick start the healing – and threw himself into a few more urgent cases.

Will was just finishing up one of the Nike girls, sewing back a particularly bad cut she swore was accidental, when the door slammed open again, bringing all their attention back to the front.

Jason hung off the doorway, breathing hard like he’d run a mile. From the looks of his sweat stained t-shirt and the glossy shine to his skin, maybe he had.

“Will.” He gasped, ignoring the rest of the campers in the infirmary. Almost immediately, Will’s siblings were on the son of Zeus, their hands guiding him to a cot, searching him for some kind of injury. Not many people burst into the infirmary for the Hades of it, after all.

Jason waved off the concerned hands as nicely as he could, “I’m not injured! Will!” He stood up, lightly pushing his way through the gathered campers, “Will, Wes found something. He said – he said he needs us right now.”

Will froze, the heavy exhaustion that was just starting to settle over his skin a moment ago disappearing in an instant. He passed the needle and thread over to one of his siblings, not really checking who, and stripped his latex gloves in a quick moment.

“Let’s go.” He said, already half way out the door following him.

He trusted one of his siblings to take over – they’d probably be relieved about this time off anyways. The few serious cases they had – the Hermes son who took a sword to the chest, the Vulcan kid who took an accidental flamethrower to the torso - were already being treated. It was mostly just stitches and ankle binding at that point.

He heard one of them call after him, out of surprise he’d imagine, but Will ignored them, instead bolting after Jason towards the Athena cabin.

“What is it?” He panted out, itching desperation slicking up his chest as they got closer to the cabin.

Jason didn’t answer, either too out of breath or having no idea. Probably the latter.

They slowed to a jog as they got closer to the cabin, looking thankfully empty except for the single figure inside and the two girls lingering on the porch, clearing waiting for them before going in. The rest of the Athena kids were probably going over their game strategy, pulling it apart and making it better for next time like they always did.

On the porch waiting, Hazel and Reyna, both still dressed in their Roman battle gear, were just as sweaty as he and Jason. Hazel had a bit of dried blood on her forehead and cheek that she paid no attention to, and Reyna’s knuckles were bruised and purple. He was itching to examine them - at least make sure Hazel’s head wound wasn’t too deep and Reyna’s knuckles weren’t broken - but ignored the urge.

Reyna nodded at them as they climbed the few stairs, turning and leading them through the doorway, sparing no time. Still heaving for breath, Will followed.

It was probably a good thing the rest of the Athena kids were still out, because their cabin was an absolute mess. Will vaguely suspected Wes had sat out this game in order to lay out all his papers, because there was no way that mess could be made up in less than an hour.

Wes didn’t glance up as they entered; lingering still by the doorway, each eyeing a different form of research the Athena kid had spread out. There were half-Greek notes pinned up on the large corkboard, and several ancient looking books opened and dog-earred on the floor. He had a large piece of canvas paper spread out on the floor as well, occasionally taking a second to examine or add to. They watched this process for a long moment before Reyna, always a bit impatient when it came to the Greeks, stepped forward and cleared her throat.

“Watch that!” Wes instantly snapped, holding his hands protectively over a opened book a few inches from where the girl had stepped.

Will saw Reyna’s shoulders tense up, just slightly. She didn’t seem like someone who was used to people snapping at her. Hazel, always the observant one, must have noticed this too because just a second later she was stepping forward, careful to leave a space between the work and her feet.

“Wes?” Hazel’s voice was soft with reminder, “You said you had something really important to tell us?”

Wes didn’t answer for a long moment, instead jumping up to examine the corkboard with such intensity, Will would have sworn there was a blood feud involved somehow.

“Look!” He finally exclaimed, pointing to one of the papers pinned at the bottom. Will, the nearest to the board, bent down to get a better look.

He blinked. Waited a few moments, wondering if his dyslexia was acting up, and stood.

“That’s…not Greek.” Will answered after a moment of staring at the paper. The buzz lighting up his skin was only getting more intense every second he wasn’t getting answers, but he wasn’t about to yell at their own chance for information.

“Swahili, actually. But I was referring to –“ Wes pointed to the picture directly under the text. “That.”

Will unpinned the paper, pulling it up to show the others. “It’s a…diagram.”

Wes nodded excitedly, looking like he lived for this kind of action. Knowing Athena kids, he probably did. “It’s a diagram to trace magic. It explains the whole thing!”

Hazel, leaning over Reyna’s arm, only stared uncomprehending at the foreign language. “But…how are we going to figure out who cast it? How does this help us get Nico back?”

Wes blinked a few times, his eyes unfocused. “Okay so. We already figured out that this spell isn’t nature magic – the magic’s too dark for that and none of the nature spirits seem effected like the Hecate kids are – so it means that this must be a birthright kind of magic. This means it can be either a Hecate descendent, someone with magic in their blood, although no one in this camp would be nearly strong enough to control that amount of magic, or even weave this complex of a spell. So that means it was probably a god. Minor, like you guys said, because a major god’s spell wouldn’t have nearly as many flaws. They should have learned from the last time around.” Wes shook his head in annoyance, as if missing the opportunity to learn was a personal offense to him. He ignored the rest of Hazel’s question, instead flipping through the book nearest to him.

Will felt a jolt of anger at that – at Wes for being so unconcerned about this whole fucked up situation, at the gods who kept messing with their fucking lives, and the fucking universe that kept letting it happen – but was interrupted in his red hot emotion by Reyna suddenly taking another step forward, her eyes flaming with her own brand of anger.

“Flaws?” Reyna demanded, her eyes sharp.

Wes clearly wasn’t paying attention to the dangerous note in Reyna’s voice, because he continued on like nothing. “Yeah, this spell was done kind of horribly. You guys shouldn’t be remembering this Nico by the barrowful, if at all. And the nightmares, definitely a fault. When Hera pulled her version of this, she was nearly flawless with wiping Grace and Jackson.” Wes shook his head, his eyes already glued to a different notebook. “This time, it was just sloppy.”

Will recognized the anger beginning to bubble underneath Reyna’s eyes – mostly because it was beginning to heat up his own emotions. Wes’s nonchalant tone of voice wasn’t exactly the enemy at the moment, but that didn’t stop Will from grinding his teeth together. Hazel, at his side, was surprising sharp in her anger, her hands in fists at her side.

“What can we do?” Jason spoke up before any of them could lash out. “To save Nico?”

Wes perked up at that, pulling up one of the books from the floor. “We’re going to trace the magic.” He told them, his eyes too excited for something they’d been crying, screaming, forgetting about for what felt like forever. “We’re going to trace it back to whomever cast it, after that you’ll at least know who, and then you can find out why. But that’s not why I called you guys – the spell as to be done while the sun is still in the sky – don’t ask me why – but if we hurry we can do it tonight.”

Will’s bones felt like they’d been shocked with electricity at that. He nearly stumbled onto the carpet at that single word alone, his legs suddenly jelly, but managed to grab onto the desk for support.

“How.” Hazel choked out, probably just as affected as him. Next to her, Jason was leaning against the wall, his eyes shiny and unbelieving.

They – they could save Nico tonight. He could – he could be back by tomorrow and he’s be okay and alive and breathing and here.

By tomorrow.

Will had to take a large, calming breath, and repeated after Hazel. Reyna, he’d noticed, was as stiff as a board, her eyes steel and still on the wall. Like she was unwilling to hope. “How. What do you need us to do.”

Wes beamed suddenly, brightly and joyfully, and completely ignored their effected expressions. “I’m going to need some blood.”

There was a long moment of silence, filled with mostly each demi-god making sure they’d heard that right. The spell of relief that was settled over them was broken momentarily in exchange for a thick layer of confusion. Even Reyna, the most composed of them all, seemed thrown for a second. Hazel only scratched at the flaky blood on her forehead, probably only just now remembering it was there.

“…blood?” Will was the one who finally spoke up.

“From each of you, please.” Wes began cleaning up the floor space, exposing the wooden floor underneath. “And some candles. And a Hecate kid.”

“Um. Why?” Hazel asked, a very, very good question.

Wes pointed to the diagram still in Reyna’s hands, looking a bit annoyed. “That’s what it says. Candles. Descendent of magic itself. Something that the magic itself has touched.” He traced a line of the text, “It says we have to light the magic something on fire, or else I’d just use one of you.” Wes paused to give you all a dull look. “The magic is in all of you, influencing you constantly. You could always donate some skin, the paper adds on , if you want to keep your blood.”

Seeing no other option to fight the empty space in his chest, Will only dropped the fight in his shoulders. He would do much more then give a little blood to save Nico. “Someone go find a Hecate kid. I’ll….I’ll go and get some needles.”

Wes looked satisfied, and a bit crazed. That was a common expression amongst Athena kids who proved themselves right. “Good. Now go. Let’s find your friend!”

#IT'S FINALLY HERE #IM ONLY HALF DEAD #angst #solangelo #So much ANGST #fanfiction #fanfic #Percy Jackon and the Olympians #Heroes of Olympus #trials of apollo #Will solace #Nico di Angelo #sad bbs #dreams au #erased au

11 notes · View notes

morningusa · 5 years ago

Link

Impeachment is shaping up as unpredictably explosive, but not in the way imagined.There are lots of things that we do know about the present impeachment of Donald Trump — and we know that there are even more areas that remain unknown.Quietly, the approval ratings of Trump have been rising to pre-impeachment levels and are nearing a RealClearPolitics average of 45. Support for impeaching Trump and/or removing him is not increasing as the House Democrats expected. It is essentially static, or slowly eroding, depending on how polls phrase such questions.Apparently, an exhausted public did not see “Ukrainian” impeachment as a one-off national crisis akin to the Nixon inquiry and the Clinton impeachment and trial that merited national attention. The impeachment vote instead is being confirmed in the public mind as part of a now boring three-year impeachment psychodrama (from impeachment 1.0, the Logan Act, the emoluments clause, the 25th Amendment, and Michael Avenatti/Stormy Daniels comedies to Robert Mueller’s “dream team” and “all-stars”). The progressive logic of the current jump-the-shark monotony is to become even more monotonous, the way that a driller leans ever harder on his dull and chipping bit as his bore becomes static.The Democrats believed that all of these efforts would be like small cuts, each one perhaps minor but all combining to bleed Trump out. But now we know, given polling data and the strong Trump economy, that the long odyssey to impeachment has had almost no effect on Trump’s popularity, other than losing him 3–4 points for a few weeks as periodic media “bombshells” went off.The reality may be the very opposite of what Democrats planned. The more the Left tries to abort the Trump presidency before the election, the more it bleeds from each of its own inflicted nicks. As an example, Rachel Maddow’s reputation has not been enhanced by her neurotic assertions that Trump’s tax returns would soon appear, or that the Steele dossier was steadily gaining credibility, or that yet another tell-tale Russian colluder had emerged from under another American bed.The past three years of Trump mania did not induce a recession, despite last summer’s sudden hysteria that “recession” was on the horizon. It is hard to envision a looming recession when real wages of workers continue to rise, unemployment is at historic lows, U.S. energy production is at record highs, inflation is low, interest rates are manageable, and growth is moderate but steady. We collectively have an appointment with the staggering national debt and stock-market exuberance, but probably not until after 2020. And the Left has completely nullified that issue by proposing trillions of dollars in new spending.For now, the Democrats in extremis have redefined impeachment for the first time in American history as a Sword of Damocles, now permanently hanging by a horse’s hair over Trump’s head. Impeachment is being reinvented as way of presidential life that will supposedly impale Trump one day or at least constrain him, as occasional additional writs are added on, as the polls, media, and Democratic fancy dictate. Nancy Pelosi has rewritten the U.S. Constitution after reading a few op-eds by Trump-hating academics. Most Americans accept that if the Republican Congress had tried the same with Barack Obama (at a time when just wearing an Obama mask got a rodeo clown fired for life from a state fair), we would have had a revolution.Most presidents need 50 percent approval ratings in the lead-up to a reelection bid to win another four years. But Trump, who won the election without 50 percent approval, may not. He is polling now not far from where Obama was while on his trajectory to reelection in 2012, and his approval is about what it was at the time of his own election victory in 2016.The Left remains scared that the polls, which seemed accurate in the midterm elections when Trump was not on the ballot, may not be accurate in 2020. The flawed analytics on election eve 2016 remain a terrifying specter. Democrats fear that few who voted for Trump in 2020 will defect and that some who did not vote for Trump will approve of the economy and change their minds this November. All irony is lost on the Left that their four-year-long climate of MAGA intolerance and contempt for the deplorables, irredeemables, clingers, crazies, the so-called toothless, and Joe Biden’s dregs may well have polluted their own polls.It is not just anger at the Left or a wish to avoid confrontations that camouflages Trump support. The existential hatred of Donald Trump is such that average Americans may not wish to accurately express their support even anonymously to pollsters either by phone or on computers. There are recent widespread (and increasingly legitimate) fears of electronic data mining and the compilation of information that might later be used against respondents (what was once considered quite paranoid is no longer so, given revelations about the ethos of Silicon Valley). Plenty of Americans don’t think it's wise to honestly answer, whether in a phone conversation or by text, an anonymous pollster asking about opinions on Trump.In addition, the odium among the Left is so pernicious and so ubiquitous that the surveyors themselves may pollute the very taking of polls. Pollsters know that massaging polls creates momentum for media stories about Trump’s “unpopularity” and the “erosion” in his support. Thus in theory a few true believers could warp, within limits, their own data, in service to a noble cause. When the Hill/Harris and the USA/Suffolk polls have a two-point gap between Trump’s approval and disapproval, while Politico has him down 15 points, something seems to the public haywire somewhere.No one knows the effect that the Horowitz report, following the Mueller-investigation dud, is having on the credibility of the mainstream media — so far, the great force multiplier of the abort-Trump Left. It may be that we are nearing the point at which “bombshells” and “walls are closing in” are little more than soap bubbles. Certainly, the public was lied to about the “Steele dossier” and the “Schiff memo,” to the point that the media may soon be not a catalyst but a retardant of the Left, a smelly albatross around its collective neck. The Durham investigations are not yet in, and the fate of Brennan, Clapper, Comey, and McCabe may make Horowitz’s damning report seem tame. What would happen if paid TV analysts got indicted after predicting that everyone who was innocent would go to jail?We are living in bizarre times -- the rhetoric of Trump hatred is nearing its logical end, and scant further popular animus can be expressed beyond smashing his face, shooting him, burning him up, or blowing up the White House, and no further political venom voiced than urging progressives to surround Trump officials and harass them at restaurants and stores.Many who voted for Trump were quite aware that Trump’s rhetoric often bothered them. They now weigh that discomfort against his achievements and the shrill Democratic alternative — and find the latter far scarier. Few on the left ever contemplate the effect on the general public of the 24/7, 360-degree pure hatred of Trump on network and cable news, public TV and radio, and late-night TV talk shows, as well as print media. The silent disdain many people have for the progressive media nexus is especially potent when the haters so often fit a stereotypical profile in the public mind: counterfeit elite as defined by education, zip codes, careers, or supposed cultural influence; smug in their parrot-like group-speak and accustomed to deference.This paradox was brought home to me not long ago when I asked an unlikely Trump minority supporter why in the world he would vote against his family’s and community’s political heritage. He answered at once, with simply, “I hate the people who hate him.”Translated, I think that means we often are missing a cultural element to Trump Agonistes, exacerbated by the latest toxic impeachment episode.Again, millions of Americans actually leave Trump per se out of their voting equations. They do not give him full credit for a remarkable economy and an unorthodox foreign policy that is addressing China, Iran, and the Middle East in a way many once advocated but few seriously believed would ever be enacted.Instead, voters are exhausted by his haters and their crazy agendas. They grow enraged over how the Mueller and Horowitz investigatory reports have disproved all the daily media, celebrity, and political assertions. And they are upset about the larger culture of the anti-Trump Left, from the fundamentals of open borders and identity politics to the trivia of transgendered athletes, Colin Kaepernickism, and the open-border, Green New Deal socialism. An auto worker who votes as a true-blue union Democrat but likes Trump’s trade policies, a no-nonsense farmer who worries about farm exports but likes deregulation, and a teacher who votes a liberal slate but has no way to control his classroom may not seem like Trump voters, but some such voters are terrified by the cultural trajectory of what the Trump-hating Left has in store for them all.For a majority, refined and arrogant progressive mendaciousness voiced in condescending nasal tones has become far more repugnant than all-American hype in a Queens accent.* * *National Review Institute (NRI) is the nonprofit 501(c)(3) journalistic think tank that supports the NR mission and 14 NRI fellows (including this author!), allowing them to do what they do best: Advance principled and practical conservative journalism. NRI is currently in the midst of its End-of-Year Fund Appeal and seeks to raise over $200,000 to support the work of the NRI fellows. Please consider giving a generous end-of-year tax-deductible contribution to NRI. Your gift, along with all those from the NR Nation, will provide the essential fuel for our mission to defend those consequential principles for which National Review has fought since 1955, and for which, with your support, it will carry the fight far into the future. Thank you for your consideration.

from Yahoo News - Latest News & Headlines

#News #Blogger

0 notes

attredd · 5 years ago

Link

from Yahoo News - Latest News & Headlines https://ift.tt/2SDKyMS

#Impeachment Fallouts

0 notes

tendance-news · 5 years ago

Link

from Yahoo News - Latest News & Headlines https://ift.tt/2SDKyMS

#IFTTT #Blogger

0 notes