#the recent case of new york judge (i think)

[notreallysureyett]

I think the reason why abortion absolutism is becoming more popular (apart from the commonality of abortion diluting people's innate negative reaction towards it and recent legislative attempts to restrict it) is that more and more people realize that the libertarian framework of "this is a moral negative but it should be legal" falls flat when it comes to a life or death position such as abortion, so rather than realize abortion is an uncompromising evil they just decided to reframe abortion as a moral positive.

[paracosmic-murdock]

vigilante like me

chapter seven: you hang from my lips like the gardens of babylon

pairing: matt murdock x black widow!vigilante!reader

summary: nights and nights of playing the hero as if that could redeem you that easily ended up taking you to new york, where you accidentally met the man who would turn your world upside down. a vigilante like you.

warnings/tags: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, injuries, mentions of murder and themes explored in the past couple chapters, mentions of reader being able to wear matt's clothes but it's not specified whether they're too big/too small/fit perfectly/etc., phd in applied flirting and ma in yearning studies, some smut (minors dni), takes place sometime during the blip, when born again comes out we might find out if my decisions of who were gone were right, spoilers/references of stuff and themes from daredevil (2015); avengers: infinity war (2018); avengers: endgame (2019) black widow (2021); and hawkeye (2021), but y'all must've watched all of those already so idc, yelena belova and the themes and events from the black widow (2021) movie are very relevant in this plot, song: cowboy like me (taylor swift)

✰ chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six

word count: 2.9K

✰ mila's anthology (main masterlist)

Who would you call if you killed someone? That is the question.

As a Black Widow, you never really cared about hiding a body… you found your target, got the job done, and left. You never stuck around long enough to find out anything. Either way, you have nobody to call in case you ever had to hide a body or get an alibi. You don't think you would need anybody for that, right? You know enough.

But, who would Matt Murdock call if he killed somebody? Would he call anybody at all? He is not the kind of person who would burden anybody else with his faults if he can help it. Both knowledge and involvement are a heavy weight to carry, and Matt isn't willing to put anybody —much less if it is a person he loves— in that position; there is enough with those who already know he is Daredevil. However, he knows that there is one person in his life right now that wouldn't judge him and would be glad to help him carry such a cross—to ease his guilt.

That someone is you, he knows that all too well. That is why he couldn't tell you what happened; what he did.

He just returned home, took a long shower, a habit he had recently gotten from you, and went to sleep on his couch.

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of your phone. It was 7 AM, and your boss was calling you for God only knows what. Then, you remembered what had happened the previous night and the way he probably just found the gym.

“Hello?”

“Dear God, are you alright?!”

You cleared your throat. “I take it that you are in Fogwell's already.”

“Yeah! What the Hell happened here?! I saw the security footage right away, God!”

“Security footage?” you asked, fearing for yourself and for Matt's identity.

“Yes, where are you?”

“At home,” you lied, making a grin of guilt you knew he couldn't see.

He sighed. “How do you feel?”

“Like shit, of course,” you replied. “Can you not… tell the cops about this?”

“Sure, so the guy who drugged you and left you there and the other guy who tried to kill you can be free and get away with it?”

“Basically,” you replied, preparing yourself for him to disagree. “Look, I can't get involved with the cops, you know that.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“I'll make up for it,” you promised. “I'll be there today. 9 AM, Boss.”

“Oh, don't you dare,” he answered. You swear you could see his upset face staring at you, outraged like a father. “If you actually die in the workplace, I'll have way more issues, you know? Just… I'll come see you at lunch break. Do you need anything?”

You hummed. “I need you to delete that footage. Please.”

“Alright, I will,” He sighed. “What happened with- uh, you know. The guy who saved you?”

“I told him to take me home and not to worry,” you lied, again. “He, uh… left when I called a friend that's a doctor. You know Louis? He trains at Fogwell's almost everyday. He's an ortho surgeon, which is convenient, right?”

“I hope you're not lying to me, young lady.”

“You don't have to come see me, Bobby,” you chuckled. “I'm okay, and there's a friend with me here.”

“Do you even have friends?”

“An incredibly tiny amount and half as many as I used to.”

“What? Four to two?” he questioned, all ironic.

“You're a smart one, aren't you?”

He scoffed. “You're suspended for a week for being mean to your boss and also you're taking a few sick days. You must be eighty percent dead. Paid.”

“I'll take a three-day leave.”

“Make it five. And you'll take it easy once you're back, alright? Promise.”

“Okay, I promise.” You curved your lips slightly.

“I'll come see you tomorrow morning,” he announced. “I'll take Marlene with me and we'll bring you a nice breakfast.”

You sighed. “I don't want to put any of you at risk, okay? I'm not sure what those people truly wanted, but what I do know is that they could target anybody close to me.”

“I can take care of myself,”

“Those were the good old days,” you reminded him. “I'm gonna be back as good as new. You know that if there's someone in Fogwell's who can take a beating, it's me.”

“You remind me of someone, Y/N,” Bobby commented with a smile you couldn't see but you felt it in his voice. It was one of affection, very fatherly.

Your idea of fatherhood is based on some movies or shows. You always thought he was the model of a great father, at least he was always that way with you: dumb dad jokes you pretended not to laugh at, always protective of you despite you constantly telling him not to worry, and believing in you and helping you no matter what. Bobby Fogwell was a great boss, a great father figure, and a way greater person.

If there was somebody who didn't deserve to carry the burden of you or be affected by your shit, that was definitely him.

“Who would that be, sir?” you asked.

“There was a boxer here back in the good old days,” Bobby began. “Good at punching but somehow better at taking a punch. One thing about him? He never stayed down. He knew the floor very well and knew that's not where he belonged. Lost more than he ever won, but his conviction used to make it seem like he could never lose.”

“Do you think I've lost more than I've ever won, Bobby?”

He clicked his tongue. “Would you ever let me finish?”

“You stopped talking!”

“To breathe, damn,” You knew he rolled his eyes. “Alright, so… He had a son; a single father he was. The boy was in an accident when he was a kid, I think he was nine or ten, I'm not sure. The thing is: God, he did everything for his kid… when you see what parents sacrifice for their children, that's when you look at yourself and realize when and where you're failing. I'm not saying he was perfect, but he was damn good. And you must be wondering what that has to do with you, right?”

“Right,”

He chuckled. “I think you have never been one to look beyond the present, and I know you haven't really gotten around to care about someone else, but you'd be the best at it. You always stand up, no matter how awful those punches are, and I need you to look in the mirror and tell yourself that you can do anything; nothing can end you.”

“You really wanna see me all beaten up, don't you?” you questioned him, trying to suppress a laugh.

Bobby did laugh. “I'm gonna put you in the ring, lady. We'll make thousands out of you.”

“Will we? What would my stage name be?”

“I've actually thought about it. My go-to is Black Widow, you know? Because you're Russian like Natasha Romanoff and you're a damn good fighter.”

You clicked your tongue, trying to ignore how much being called a Black Widow by someone who didn't know any better really hurt you. “Did the man that I remind you of have a better stage name? I can't accept that.”

“Battlin’ Jack Murdock.”

Listening to that name made your heart jump. Of course it was Matt's father, and of course you felt like you had invaded his privacy by knowing what happened to him as a kid.

“That's a badass name,” you commented, looking at the door as you felt Matt's presence join you in his bedroom as if you had just summoned him. He had a tray in his hands but you didn't really pay attention. “I'm honored.”

“Damn right you should be,” He laughed. “Anyway, I won't take anymore of your time. Get well soon, okay? And rest a lot.”

“Will do, Boss.” You hung up the call.

“Work?”

You hummed. “Yeah. Bobby has security cameras now, but don't worry, I got him to delete the footage.”

“That's good to know, I guess.”

“Yeah, you're safe,” you noted. “He saw that you saved me, though.”

“So I heard.”

“Show off.” You scoffed.

Matt shook his head and smiled lightly. “I brought you breakfast.”

“Such a gentleman,” You lifted a corner of your lips while he sat beside you, looking incredibly handsome in his midnight blue dress suit for work. “I've only ever seen this in the movies.”

“Now you can say you've experienced it.”

You stared at his face. You couldn't help it. He was just so…

“Oh, you like me that much, sweetheart?” Matt grinned.

You just stood up. “Shut up. Give me a toothbrush.”

“I left one for you near the sink. It's the one that doesn't look used.”

“Copy that.”

“Do you not like me, then?” Matt questioned you, increasing the volume of his voice as you left the room.

“I don't. You're absolutely hideous and I might need a paper bag hiding your face once I'm back.” you muttered on your way, knowing he could hear you.

He laughed. “Was that a joke?”

“That was the truth.” you denied before starting to brush your teeth.

You didn't expect what you saw once you were back in the room.

“You're a kid,” You shook your head, taking a seat beside him. “Definitely. Are you seven?”

“No.”

You ripped the paper bag open. “Gross face. So hard on the eye.”

Matt smiled and brought you closer. “I hope you're not ugly because there can't be two of us.”

“Disgusting,” You kissed him. “Can't believe I like you this much.”

He brought you even closer and kissed you again, wishing he could do so and never, ever stop. Maybe having you like this would help him forget the one thing that has been driving him insane since the previous night, though you were the reason he did what he did.

Matt can't even say what he did. That would make it real, putting it a name.

“Hello?”

You inhaled, trying to muster the strength to speak. “Hi, Sveta.”

“Hi!” She greeted you cheerfully. You curved your lips softly as you heard how excited she was to speak to you. “You've forgotten about me.”

“I could never forget about you,” you replied. “Actually, I was thinking about having lunch with you today, are you in?”

“Yeah, of course,” she agreed. “We could go to that restaurant near my place, is that okay? It's the one that's right across the street.”

“Italian?”

“Yep.”

“Alright, see you there. 1 PM is alright?”

She hummed. “Perfect. See you.”

Waiting until Matt left for his office to make the call drove you far too anxious for your own good. So, when the rough calculations told you he must be at this workplace already, you gave yourself the freedom to make the call that was begging you to be made.

You decided you were going to stop fighting. It was of no use anymore.

During the hours of introspection in which Matt was out being Daredevil and you were failing to fall asleep in his bed, you came to the conclusion that you weren't doing anything to help anybody. It was all much more an excuse, or maybe you just weren't able to stop fighting because it's all you've ever known in life. Who are you if not a fighter?

That is what you had to find out, and now you had a reason to get an answer. Just because something is all you've ever known, it doesn't mean that it's all that you are.

However, it doesn't mean you should start right now. Maybe the process could wait until you found them. Because they did you dirty, and you couldn't really fathom how much until you were staring at yourself on your phone's screen.

There was no way in hell you could hide the fact that you had taken a beating not too long ago. It was so bad that you knew even under the average New Yorker's careless eyes, it was quite obvious with the way you stood, the way you walked, and the stitched cuts all over your body.

Either way, you did your best with Matt's clothes. Yours were all ripped and torn from the attack you had received, not to mention full of blood.

As you had a moment to do what you feared—looking at yourself, you felt tears running down your cheeks. You hadn't cried in five years, when Yelena was blipped, and before that, a couple years after she found you and showed you some other of the files Natasha had gotten from the Red Room, the one that said how you specifically were selected and later taken from your family. Reading how those routine genetic tests they perform at hospitals to pregnant women and their fetuses were just given to the wrong hands so they could find perfect matches for the model of girls they wanted for their Black Widow program, how the doctors would be so careful with the mothers of these girls and their pregnancies, how everyone just faked a baby's death to give them to the Dreykov, and how you were one of those. Just knowing that there wasn't any further information about you, wherever you were born and who your family was was so devastating that it made you shed a few tears. Before that, you cried when you killed Olga, and before that, the last day of an undercover mission in Naples when you were seven years old. The only souvenir you had from there was the last name of the Widow who pretended to be your mother, Katerina Volkova. You kept it as your own later. Those are the only happy years you know you have lived.

Now, you believed you could find happiness again; one as beautiful as how a child's innocence is, and you could only get there once you had the peace that will come when Fyodor and Crosby are gone.

It was ironic how a fake face was the only thing that made you feel safe. As if only someone else deserves peace, not you. Never you… So, you wore it as you left Matt's apartment building and got to yours in a cab.

You quickly checked your apartment for any possible intruder, so paranoid you could pass out from the stress.

Thankfully, it was all clear.

You found a bigger bag and saved some clothes, knives, all your guns but the one in the fridge, bullets, money, makeup, medicine, first aid kit, coffee, laptop, and a book you had bought but never read. You thought you might have to stay with Matt for a couple days at least and you had to be ready.

When you got back to Matt's apartment, you left your bag in a corner, changed your clothes, and left for the restaurant you and Svetlana would have lunch at.

The thing you weren't counting on was Matt going to his place with lunch for you, spotting you leaving far too easily.

So he followed you.

You and Svetlana had your lunch and got up to date with each other's lives. It was easy talking to someone who understood your struggles and shared a past.

She was always easy to read, that's how you knew she had no kind of involvement in what had happened to you. Once she was free, she decided she wouldn't be one to hide and be under radar; it was her moment to find out who she truly was.

“Can I ask you something a little personal?”

Sveta nodded. “Of course.”

“I wouldn't be asking this if it weren't this important, but… what happened between you and Fyodor?”

“That asshole. If I see him ever again, I will rip his head off,” she swore. “But, to make it short, I wasn't taken from my family just like that… Him and my father sold me to Dreykov.”

You covered your mouth with your hand. “I can't believe it.”

“It's true,” Svetlana confirmed. “He always knew what I was going through and never, not even once, tried to find me. Not to mention that they lied to my mother and told her I was kidnapped by my father's enemies. She fell ill soon after thinking they wouldn't be able to find me.”

“Sveta, I am so sorry to hear that,” You shook your head, surprised by the information and outraged for ever engaging with Fyodor. “I needed to talk to you about him. He's in New York, or maybe he already left.”

“He's here?!”

“Yeah. And… he did something to me, something unforgivable,” you added. “He was insisting on going out with me and we saw each other last night. He drugged me, and when I woke up, I was beaten and hurt by a man who was seeking revenge for Tarakanov's death.”

She just stared at you. “We will find them.”

“I ubit’ ikh.” you completed.

Matt didn't need to know Russian to understand you and Svetlana meant you wanted to kill Fyodor and Crosby for what they did.

What will happen when or if you find out they are already dead?

Will you ever realize Matt was the one who killed them?

What would you say to that?

taglist: @wh1sp

[space-mermaid-writing]

Of monsters and men [IronStrange]

Summary: Some kidnappers fucked up big time and now Tony is bonded to this strange demon he continues to summon by accident.

Tags: demon!Stephen Strange, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Whump, body horror, protective Stephen Strange, Stephen Strange needs a hug

Author's note: It's finally happening! This is the demon fic I talked about ages ago. Special thanks to @harpywritesfic who listened to my random rambles about this and was one of my main motivations to write this in the first place. It might have even been her idea all along. The same amount of thanks goes to @kvjjjjjj who helped me tweaking everything and shaping the story into what it is now.

Read it on AO3 | Masterlist | Word count: 2.5k | Next (soon)

Chapter 1: I’m yours to command

Tony had been kidnapped – yet again.

A scratchy bag was blocking his view and his hands were bound above his head.

He had been drugged – must have been because he had blacked out and still felt dizzy, although he regained consciousness a while ago.

Whoever did this, they were experts. They had stripped him of all his tech; even his watch that transformed into a gauntlet. So he was left with no way to contact Jarvis.

At least he was sitting, with his back against a cold stone wall. Even if his left shoulder hurt all the way down to his elbow.

He guessed he was in a big room or some kind of hall. There were some noises and low voices nearby but still too far away to hear any specifics.

Until footsteps approached him and the bag was pulled off his head.

Tony squinted in the sudden light – that came mostly from candles all around the place. Huh – weird interior design choice.

“You know, I’m actually insured against being kidnapped by one million dollars,” Tony said. Because for the love of god, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Especially not when he was nervous. And while he was a pro in being kidnapped – really he should have a punch card at this point – it was always a reason to be at least slightly concerned.

Plus his head still felt weird.

The first thing Tony noticed of his kidnapper was his weird outfit. It was some kind of robe, like a monk but in a dark red. He wore a hoodie over it, as if he had decided at the last second that he needed another layer in case it got cold.

“Be glad we already collected everything we need from you.” The guy sounded annoyed by Tony’s comment; and he had a New York accent. Definitely a local then.

“If you have everything, you might as well let me go.”

“Oh no. We will keep you in case they want a snack. Why you of all people have a suitable bloodline is a mystery to me. I really would have liked someone who was easier to kidnap. So, we have to make it worth it.”

Tony squinted his eyes, irritated. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He didn’t get an answer, since the guy turned away and walked back to a group of people. All of them were wearing those red robes and various versions of jackets and hoodies.

Soon Tony noticed that he was in a kind of catacomb made of stone. It looked old, with high ceilings and no windows. Judging by the dusty smell of the air they were probably underground.

There was barely any interior – besides the candle sticks and some boxes that looked like they were brought here only recently.

The walls were decorated with weird carved-in symbols Tony didn’t recognize.

He raised his head. What he thought was a wall behind him was actually a block of stone, some kind of rough black granite. It was placed suspiciously like some kind of altar in the room.

The group of cultists or zealots or whatever, were currently working on copying something from an ancient looking tome onto the ground.

Shit, that wasn’t good.

These guys didn’t just want ransom or secret business information. They were serious with this, and maybe a bit crazy.

Tony tried to pull on his shackles to no avail. He had to think quickly – which wasn’t so easy with his head still swimming.

The cultists finished whatever they drew and inspected it. Then one of them stepped to the boxes, and took out a transparent bag with red liquid in it.

Tony suddenly had a horrible suspicion. He glanced up at his still aching arm: someone had put a band-aid under the crook of his elbow. Right where blood was usually drawn.

Now his lasting nausea made more sense.

They poured the red liquid onto the outer line of their work. Then they gathered in a circle around it and started chanting while holding their hands.

Tony didn’t really want to stay and find out what exactly they were attempting to accomplish here.

The drawn symbols on the ground lit up. Then suddenly, the blood got absorbed into the stone on the ground, as if it had been sucked up.

Tony didn’t believe in hell. Or in heaven for that matter. But he had met a super soldier, a green angry guy full of radiation, and a literal alien god. At this point everything was possible.

His fear spiked when dark smoke filled the floor – centered at the area where his blood had vanished – and the candles flickered. An eerie aura spread, almost as if the air had become tinted.

Tentacles grew out of the smoke; at first they seemed shadow-like but then they solidified, and Tony noticed immediately the sharp spikes that unsheathed from the suckers.

The cultists moved back a bit, making space.

Whatever was going on, Tony needed to leave. Sooner rather than later.

But when he tried to move, he just hurt his wrists.

Then a figure appeared amidst the smoke and the tentacles. It grew out of the shadows and became taller and taller.

Tony saw horns – and some kind of cape? There were more tentacles around the figure and it was hard to tell where the figure and its cape ended and the tentacles began.

The demon’s – there wasn’t any better term to describe the figure – voice echoed in the vault.

“Wħø đȺɍɇs ŧø sᵾmmøn mɇ?”

“It was us, creature of darkness.” One of the cultists took a step forward and the demon’s head whisked around to him. Tony imagined the eyes of such a creature being terrifying, but the cultist spoke with confidence. “Our bond compels you to heed our commands. We are your masters by blood and magic. Together, we shall harness the powers that lie dormant in the shadows.”

The speech was a bit much in Tony’s opinion – on the other hand he was in no position to voice critique.

The demon didn’t say anything. He looked down to where the summoning circle lay under the dark smoke.

Then he stepped over it.

The cultists’ faces fell and they became pale. That was when Tony knew something has went horribly wrong. He went back to trying to free himself. But he just rubbed his wrists more sore and hissed in pain.

The demon turned his head halfway towards him as if drawn by the noise, and Tony quickly bit his tongue. He didn’t want to draw further attention.

Fortunately, the demon deemed the cultists as the more important matter. “Ɏøᵾ Ⱥɍɇ nø mȺsŧɇɍ øf mɨnɇ. Ŧħɇ ƀønđ ɨs ᵽȺɨđ wɨŧħ ƀłøøđ – Ⱥnđ ɨŧ đøɇsn’ŧ ŧȺsŧɇ łɨkɇ ɏøᵾɍs.” He raised a long, slender arm and pointed at the speaker. “Ƀᵾŧ føɍ ɏøᵾ Ɨ wɨłł đøᵾƀłɇ ȼħɇȼk.”

In the next moment he vanished – just to re-appear right in front of the cultist who had addressed him, grabbing him by the throat and lifting him off the ground. He killed him effortlessly, almost like an afterthought.

Panic rose among the other cultists. They realized they had made a mistake and they held no power over the entity they had called. Naturally, they tried to flee.

The tentacles dashed after them – it didn’t look like the demon was willing to let them leave.

Tony averted his eyes and tried to work on his own escape instead. The fearful screams and noises of breaking bones were deafening but he knew his time frame was short, if he wanted to make it out alive.

His shackles were pretty tight and they didn’t give him a lot of room to move. There was nothing around him he could use either, just stone. He tried to grind his shackles against it, but it damaged the stone rather than his bonds. At this rate, he would need hours or days to get any results.

The noise of metal against stone became louder and at first, Tony thought it was because he still felt dizzy and his head was directly next to where he was working to free himself. It took him a second to notice that it had become silent in the room.

He stilled and focused back on his surroundings.

There was nobody left but the demon – and he looked straight at him.

Tony gulped. It was the first time he saw his face.

It was surprisingly human. The skin too pale, maybe even a bit purple-ish. And it seemed to flicker, as if its outlines were blurred – or constantly changing. Like the static noise of a television. His horns were framed by black hair, streaked with white on both sides.

His back was straight with confidence and his long arms hung low, ending in black tainted hands with claw-like fingers.

The ragged robes that once maybe had been blue but now leaned more into purple, and the red cloak around his shoulders had seen better days as well.

Tony squirmed in his place. “For the record, I had nothing to do with bothering you. Not my plan, didn’t approve it.” His eyes flickered to the tentacles all around, that seemed to – surprisingly – calm down, as well as the flickering of the demon’s skin.

The demon approached him. In the dark smoke that still lingered on the floor and with his long robes and cape, it almost looked like he was gliding over the ground. Funnily enough he also seemed to become smaller, shrinking to the size of a regular human being. He still towered over the altar Tony was bound to.

His eyes were blue and utterly inhuman. They looked like a window to another world; Tony could see colors swirling around in them. They were so very deep. Tony felt himself falling, sucked in by the blue and purple. He forgot to breathe.

“It was your blood that summoned me.” The voice of the demon brought Tony back into the moment and he blinked. His legs felt shaky.

The demon’s voice was now different then before- deep, and for some reason he spoke perfect English. Maybe it was the magic involved.

“Sorry about that. It wasn’t voluntary.” It was probably a stupid idea to talk to this creature. Tony’s last words would be something utterly ridiculous.

On the other hand, that was a very fitting way for him to go. He felt – maybe for the first time ever – like he had run out of time and options. Despite all the reckless stuff he was throwing himself into on a daily basis; this was different. He was used to dealing with human villains, maybe robots and the occasional alien from space, but not to whatever this creature was. There was some kind of power emanating from him Tony couldn’t even begin to fathom.

The demon stretched out his claw, sharp and intimidating, and Tony felt his heart race as a wave of dread washed over him. He winced in anticipation of the pain, bracing himself for the harsh reality of whatever cruel fate awaited him.

But the demon inflicted no harm. Instead the demon cut his restraints with a swift move. The shackles fell away, releasing Tony from his captivity.

He sat there, perplexed, as he rubbed his sore wrists, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

And then, to add to his astonishment, the demon lowered himself onto one knee, his head bowed.

“I’m yours to command,” he offered respectfully.

Tony’s initial wonder rapidly shifted back into disbelief mixed with a sense of foreboding.

“No need, thank you. You can leave,” he replied, his voice carrying the certainty that he wanted absolutely no part of what the creature was offering.

Now it was the demon’s turn to be surprised and he looked up. “I’m bound to you by the spell. I have to stay until I have been of service to you.” He eyed the human. “I’m sure there is something you need.” The demon came closer to Tony’s face. His eye color shifted to the clearest blue Tony had ever seen and he was captivated by it.

“Something you wish for. Something you desire.” The demon’s voice dropped an octave. “My mighty powers know only few restrictions.”

Proudly he grinned, revealing a row of terrible razor-sharp canines.

Tony suddenly felt hot. Did someone turn up the thermostat? Maybe this creature was fueled on hellfire or something like that.

Anyway, Tony wasn’t really interested in anything the demon could offer. He had more money than he could ever spend; everybody knew who he was, and if he wanted he could call and speak to the president. There was no power or fame that appealed to him.

But if he had to think of something in order to send this fellow away… “Can you heal that?” He showed his bruised wrists.

The demon paused. This wasn’t what he had expected. But then he nodded and reached out. Tony braced himself because of the claw-like fingers, but – yet again – they were surprisingly gentle when they touched his skin. They curled around the bruise and then – with a golden shimmer – the demon healed him.

Not having expected that, Tony watched in awe. “Wow, that’s incredible.”

The demon puffed up proudly for a moment, before he studied Tony. “That’s not your only injury,” he observed.

His hand wandered up his sleeve and he healed the ache in his arm from where his blood had been drawn, before it settled on his left shoulder. It was his bad one. The one that had been injured so often, Tony was used to the constant ache.

The demon’s hand lit up golden and the pain was gone.

Then the blue eyes looked at his chest, where the light of his arc reactor glowed faintly through the fabric of his shirt.

That was where Tony drew the line. “Don’t touch that,” he ordered sharply.

“But you are injured.”

“I am aware. But it’s good as it is. You can leave now, right? You were of service.”

The demon seemed taken aback by his behavior. As if he had never met a human, that settled for a simple healing spell. Most humans asked for power, wealth or being worshiped. Maybe to destroy their enemies.

“I guess technically I did,” he admitted.

“Totally. I’m a very satisfied customer. Five out of five stars. Big help, thank you. I don’t need your service anymore.”

“Fine.” The demon stepped back and Tony felt like he could breathe again. “It was interesting to meet you, Anthony, son of Howard.”

Before Tony could ask how the fuck he knew his name, the demon disappeared back into the ground – and with him the tentacles and the dark smoke.

Tony leaned back against the stone, exhaling.

Just when he thought life couldn’t get any weirder…

Then he realized he should have asked the demon to bring him home, because he still had no idea where the hell he was.

[tirednyokie]

You want my honest opinion on some of the election statistics & politics right now? I never, NEVER, like to comment on politics, but I'm tired of being quiet and holding this in. There is no one I can be honest with and talk to other than you lovely people on the internet.

I voted blue as a young white christian woman. I was born and raised in the heart of a red state. My parents were considered super conservative, even to other Christians and conservatives. My extended family is still that way, to the point where asking genuine questions about history and reason is seen and taken as offensive and treacherous to the American good. When I went to college, I was still a very right-wing minded person. Here's the thing: I naturally have a soft heart. I don't like being mean, and I don't appreciate other people being crappy for no good reason. My upbringing in the church and my relationship with Jesus Christ both in and out of the church has only strengthened that part of me.

So, in college, I encountered a number of classmates and fellow musicians that were of other ethnicities, members of the LGBTQ community, and so much more. I learned quickly to see them as my cohorts and friends, and that I had no grounds to judge them based on their life and struggles. As they say, and I take literally, hate the sin, love the sinner. I couldn't care less if you're black, white, gay, trans, struggling with drug addictions, addictions to anything like porn, social media, etc.

I struggle with some of that too, which gives me no ground to judge. As the Bible says, "He who is without sin, cast the first stone." I am no better than anyone else, and I am actively trying to make that evident in my life.

As I said before, my ultra conservative christian family didn't like this. Not one bit of it. I managed to befriend and be a safe place for a number of my fellow musicians, because I knew about their bad experiences with other christians and the church, a recent burn from the church on myself, and their mixed family backgrounds that made my being an older sister that much more important. So, naturally, I started to lean more left, and at the same time, away from the "church."

To say I left the church would be accurate. Christianity, less so. It has been a rough four years in finding my faith again. But in the midst of that, I learned about the world around me from the perspectives of both christian and non-christian. I didn't have a reason to be spiteful or hateful towards a specific demographic (unlike some of my family).

Then I graduated and moved to New York, and let me tell you - blue state living is where it's at. But in stepping away from something you've been immersed in your whole life, you then see the issues within. I noticed this with the church, then with my family, and then my hometown and state. There are some SERIOUS issues with all of them.

This TikTok explains a lot of what I think of the modern "church:" https://www.tiktok.com/@k.t.phillips21/video/7434922467652554027?_r=1&_t=8rGnfwwJxNP

The church condemns so many things, until it applies to them. The burn from the church in my life came from a previous pastor telling someone to do something behind all of our backs, and that led to my family collapsing in on itself and my brother attempting suicide seven times. All because one man thought he knew what should be the case in a situation, and didn't think to bring God into the matter.

For my family, it's the same type of thing. The allowance of certain things, while condemning the same things when others struggle. It's exhausting. So, when I moved to New York, I blocked numbers, deleted others, and had a serious talk with my immediate family about boundaries and what being 20+ hours away meant. I happen to have understanding parents and siblings after the events of three years ago. On the other hand, my extended family is messed up. Constant asking of "are you depressed" or "do you have a boyfriend yet," while not actually caring about the answer, or just blatantly ignoring the truth. Recently, I cut off almost all of one side of my extended family because of a wedding happening in March between a girl who is barely eighteen and a boy (he is NOT a man, he just happens to be my cousin) who is TWENTY SEVEN. The relationship was arranged, and they recently decided to move the wedding up by 4 months because, and I quote: "he(cousin) just couldn't wait 😉." Mind you, his last relationship, he kidnapped from one state under the guise of "meeting the family" but was actually bringing her to another state after dating for three weeks to marry her without her family's knowledge or consent. It's messed up.

My hometown and state? Oklahoma. I think that question answers itself. Considering that it was completely red on Tuesday, and is the top state of searches "can I change my vote."

Anyways - I am disappointed in a lot of people. So many things were on the line in this election, and the fact that people are just now educating themselves on what this means now that they've re-elected Trump is ridiculous.

If a felon cannot get a job in some areas or vote, why the hell should one become president? Second - why is said felon SO quiet after winning? Something is wrong.

To my fellow women who voted blue, I'm sorry for what we're going to see and what we're encountering just days after the election. To the LGBTQ people who see this, I'm sorry too. To all of you blue (and some red) friends, I am sorry. I'm sorry that 53% of white women voted against a reasonable choice, and voted for a literal felon, rapist, and just crappy dude. I'm sorry that all of us are having so much mixed emotion about what the next 4 years looks like while my family and many others are home celebrating the idea of cheaper groceries. I wish I could hug many of you, because it's crappy that we're united and meeting like this.

To the people who voted red - I'm sure you've heard this already, but I really hope you get what you asked for. I hope you get what you wanted. I hope it affects you directly. I hope you see what happens when you don't educate yourself until it's too late. I hope you see what happens when you only look out for yourself. I hope you see how un-loving and un-Christian some of you are acting.

For the little boys (you are NOT men in my eyes right now) that keep saying "your body, my choice" and are saying so many crappy things to the women in and out of your life because you feel empowered by one president-elect: I hope you eat your words. I hope you manage to get your head out of your butt and see what you're doing. I hope you realize you've shoved your head so far up your butt that it came out of your throat and that's why you're acting the way you are. I hope you have to eat your words and get everything you think you're going to get and more.

I am lucky to be considered "safe" in a blue state, but I am still so heartbroken over my friends who aren't considered safe and have to deal with this stuff head on. I wish things were different. If any of you happen to know me in real life, take this to heart. If you don't know me, know this anyway:

I am sorry for how people in America are acting right now. I am sorry that we have to live in a nation so broken and frustrating. In the middle of it all, you are loved, and I pray now that something good comes out of this; that we learn to love and be loved, we learn to be gracious and forgiving instead of angry and condemning. I pray we learn to be people over Americans, that them and us doesn't continue, and that we learn what the right thing is and how we are going to move forward. If you need someone to be an ear or a friend, I hope you find one. Whether that is someone in real life, someone on another site, someone here, or even myself.

You are not alone ❤️

[bekolxeram]

S8 opening disaster predictions

I was patiently waiting for more bts material before making my predictions, but due to recent events, it seems like we're not going to get much more before the premiere, so here goes nothing, I'm making wild guesses out of what we've got so far. (No, we're not going to Oz.)

Bees

We've all seen the constant reference to bees in promos, the latest official teaser seems to indicate a bee-nado as well. I don't think it's an actual tornado with bees in it, or even a The Swarm style large scale bee disaster. In that film the bees crash 2 military helicopters, derail a train and contribute to a nuclear meltdown. I don't think ABC would greenlight The Swarm parody or an actual bee-tornado, especially after how widely mocked Lone Star was for that frozen man CPR scene.

I can see it being a severe bee infestation with multiple bee sting emergencies. Whenever a swamp of bees is reported by media, it's often described as... you've guessed it, a bee tornado. I can totally see the 118 dealing with bee attacks in 8x01.

I can't think of how the bees alone would be a major disaster though. A couple unfortunate people might get stung by a swamp, some more unlucky firefighters might have to fight through the bees to get to the patient, but it's hardly a city-wide catastrophe. I highly doubt the opening disaster is just about the bees.

Plane

I've already written why I think S8's big disaster would be aviation related, judging by the few photos and clips uploaded by the crew.

Every international airport in the US is required to have enough resources to deal with regular aviation incidents like bird strikes, hot brakes, engine failures, minor runway excursions, etc. There must be a very real possibility of a catastrophic mass casualty event for the fire department to send in engines from outside the airport for support.

The emergency vehicles we see in the hangar seem to be parked neatly in rows, so I don't think it's the case of a plane rapidly dropping out of the sky, looking for a place to land as soon as possible, or a sudden accident happening within the vicinity of the airfield. Emergency services have already been notified before the aircraft's arrival, so the trucks are just waiting on the side.

One real life example I can think of that matches these 2 conditions would be JetBlue Flight 292 in 2005. The A320 was flying from Burbank to New York when the pilots realized they couldn't retract the landing gear after takeoff. The crew tried troubleshooting while hand-flying the plane in a holding pattern (the stuck gear prevented the autopilot and the auto-throttle from engaging) to no avail, so they decided to divert to Long Beach and suggested doing a low fly-by for airport officials to assess the damage to the landing gear before attempting to land. It was reported back that the nose gear of the A320 was rotated 90° to the left, meaning it was completely perpendicular to the direction of the fuselage.

In the case of unsafe landing gear, pilots would usually attempt a gear up belly landing instead, as most modern airliners are designed to handle that. Since the nose gear was sideways in this case, retracting it was not possible, so the pilots decided to hold over the city for more than 2 hours in order to burn fuel (A320s can't dump fuel), then attempt to land at LAX, since its runways are longer and wider.

The LAFD mobilized over 100 firefighters all across the city to the airport and positioned them at different locations along the runway on standby. On the other hand, news stations sent out flocks of helicopters to broadcast the whole incident live on TV. Not only their loved ones at home, but the passengers themselves could utilize the in-flight entertainment system to tune in and witness the very plane they were on circling over LA, with aviation experts on air discussing the potential disastrous scenarios they might encounter.

At around 18:00, the flight crew turned off the in-flight entertainment system and gave the passengers a few minutes to call their loved ones. After that, the plane successfully landed at LAX with 1000 feet of runway to spare. No one was injured.

This is what's left of the nose gear wheels.

I'm not saying it will be exactly like this incident, but a major mechanical failure that hinders an aircraft's ability to land safely would fit the most.

Prisoner

Apparently Athena will be on a flight escorting a prisoner in 8x02, at least according to that person working at ONT who posted the photo with Angela on reddit. Naturally, some theorized that the prison would have something to do with the plane going down. I've seen nothing to disprove this theory so far, so it's absolutely a possibility. Although, that would make it the second time in a row a sort of transport vessel with Athena in it runs into a disaster caused by criminal sabotage. It's predictable and repetitive. I also haven't seen in bts stuff the amount of cops required for a hijacking scenario.

What I've noticed from crew photos is that the plane outside of the hangar during filming is a Boeing aircraft, while the cockpit we see earlier at the studio is an Airbus. If there are indeed two different airplanes involved in 8x02, then I can see maybe an impending emergency landing shutting down the airport, the prisoner being stuck inside of a plane on the ground decides to open an emergency exit and makes a run for it. Athena tracking down the prisoner would be the B-plot or something I don't know. I have 0 evidence to back it up, it's just a wild guess.

Sankes Bees on a plane?

Bees swarm airplanes all the time, but getting inside is a different story.

It's kind of hard to miss a swarm of buzzing bees inside an airplane. After pre-flight inspections by technicians and the flight crew, security checks by the cabin crew, the time it takes for the passengers to embark and the baggage to be loaded. then pushing back and taxiing, if a swarm of bees somehow still goes unnoticed, I guess everyone has to be blind and deaf.

Also, if the nature of the disaster is merely a bunch of angry bees attacking people on a plane, it would be quite boring? It would just be a lot of first responders triaging people and applying first aid.

What if the the bees are in the cockpit and the pilots are stung? Well, do both of them just happen to be allergic to bees at the same time? If so, I can maybe see a passenger onboard having to land the plane listening to instructions from the ground. I say 80% chance it'll end badly, thus needing fire rescue. But still, it's a very improbable scenario that requires way to many coincidences.

Bee strike

Airplanes accidentally hit wildlife in the air all the time, the most common one is bird strike, but there have also been locust strike, bat strike, even fish strike.

A swarm of bees is not like a flock of geese, bees don't have bones and are much lighter in mass, so while they can still cause some minor damages to the engine(s), it's usually not a big deal. The leftover bee goo on the windshield might affect visibility, but modern airliners have so many automated systems and navigational aid in place that they can pretty much land in 0 visibility.

So the bees have nothing to do with the plane?

Not exactly, bees and wasps are actually a serious hazard to aviation safety, but not in the way you would think.

Some species of bees and wasps like to build their nests in small, exposed cavities belonging to an aircraft, especially the pitot tubes.

A pitot tube is a crucial instrument on the fuselage of an aircraft that measures its airspeed. If it becomes clogged by foreign objects, in this bees, wasps and/or their nest, the pilots would be left with unreliable airspeed indications. If they unknowingly fly too slow, the plane risks stalling and crashing, like Birgenair Flight 301 in 1996. Air France Flight 447 also stalled and crashed into the Atlantic Ocean due to blocked pitot tubes, but this time not caused by insects, they were blocked by icing.

Brisbane Airport in Australia struggles with wasps infestation particularly badly. In 2013, some mud daubers managed to clog the pitot tubes on an Etihad A330 in under 2 hours, resulting in an overweight emergency landing. For that, airport authority recommended the use of pitot tube covers for aircrafts on the ground, but that causes a whole new problem.

Although the pitot tube covers are big red things with "REMOVE BEFORE FLIGHT" written on them, ground crews forgot to remove them before pushing back... twice! The 2022 incident was luckily caught just in time by a refueller nearby, but in 2018, the Malaysian Airlines A330 actually took off with all 3 pitot tube covers still on and the flight crew had to circle back to the airport with no airspeed indications.

While pitot tubes seem to be the most popular among bees and wasps, there have been cases of other openings on an aircraft being blocked by wasps. This Gulfstream business jet had its cabin pressurization relief valve clogged by dried dirt from a mud dauber, leading to a cabin over-pressurization event.

There shouldn't be a catastrophic crash because of unreliable airspeed if the pilots are well trained, but I can imagine a TV show finding some even more crucial flight instruments to be clogged by bees.

Bees as indirect contributors

Of course it can also be the case of bees just happen to sting the one person keeping the aircraft safe. Maybe bees distracted a small aircraft or drone pilot, causing a midair collision.

Or it could be an important airplane mechanic missing work to recover from bee stings. Just last week, an article was published on the Seattle Times detailing the timeline leading up to the Alaska Airlines 737 Max 9 door plug blowout incident. It was revealed that there was basically only one single mechanic who would work on door plugs. On the 2 days when the door plug in question had to be opened and closed back up to replace damaged rivets, the mechanic happened to be on vacation. His replacement, a young trainee, had no idea what they were doing, and the 737 with a ticking time bomb of a door plug rolled straight out of the shop.

Aviation experts have commented that if the door plug exited the aircraft at a higher altitude, the result would be much more catastrophic: some parts in the cabin could be ripped off, objects would fly out of the plane and possibly ingested into the engine, and if the plane hit cruising altitude, unbuckled passengers and flight attendants up and walking around the cabin would be sucked right out.

Tommy's role in this disaster

The 217 truck is right there next to the 118 one, so Tommy's house is definitely involved. It probably happens at the airport where the 217 is located as well. We've already seen Tommy working on the ground in 7x06, he'll be needed in this kind of all hands on deck situation at his station's airport too.

He could also be airlifting seriously injured patients to the hospital. One service Air Ops provide that is often overlooked, is VIP transport. Tommy may be asked to fly higher ups of the fire department around the airport to assess the situation. LAFD helicopters were deployed for the JetBlue 292 incident in fact.

*Whisper*

There’s also a chance that Tommy’s helicopter will crash. One crashed in New York back in July because its fuel vent was clogged by a wasp nest.🫣

But I hope not, not so soon. Let me see them be cute and sweet for a while first, that’ll make the angst more delicious.

Conclusion

My predictions are probably super wrong, I don't have a lot to work with, so take them with a grain of salt, maybe think of this as simply a fun read about planes. These all are about as accurate as the Wizard of Oz theory, only I didn't grow up watching classic fantasy musical like a normal person, I watched all 24 seasons of Mayday.

I guess we'll find out in a month.

[the-badger-mole]

I feel like I don't harp on Aang's lack of leadership skills enough. I can already hear people cracking their knuckles to type out some long diatribe about how it's unfair to judge Aang's leadership because he's a kid. Let me stop you right there. As with his lack of respect for consent and his lack of preparation to deal with Ozai, his age is irrelevant because the framing of Aang would have us believe that he's right. The show wants us, the audience, to see Aang as clever and wise beyond his years. To say I can't be too hard on Aang because he's a child flies directly in the face of what the writers intended. So, step away from the keyboard and let me finish, alright?

Bet.

When I think of Aang as a leader, the episode that comes to mind is The Great Divide. Someone recently brought this up to me as an example of Aang being a Trickster type. I disagree. I think Aang is more of an Innocent than a Trickster, but I get how someone might see him as either *. It doesn't make him a great leader, in any case. In fact, it supports my theory that he's a bad leader. His actions in TGD show that he is far more interested in taking the easy way out than in any real sort of conflict resolution, which in a world looking for guidance post war is...not a great attitude to have. This is the most egregious example of his lack of conflict resolution skills, but it's not the only example of this. He also looks for the easy fix when Katara and Toph are fighting (although, this is interestingly actually framed as a misstep for him. A box of Mars bars to Bryke for that, I guess). It would be fine if this was acknowledged as a short-coming in him, but the way TGD ends, it's supposed to make Aang look clever. (P.S. there's NO way those groups didn't go right back to fighting, because that's not how conflict works).

Bryke could have left that alone and just have more examples of Aang being a good leader in the rest of the series or in the comics, but seeing as they don't seem to understand why Aang isn't the wonderful person they frame him to be, I get why there's not a whole lot of growth in him. Speaking of the comics, remember that time that Aang jumped on board with anti-miscegenation without considering the consequences? Remember how the only reason he changed his mind is because he would be personally affected by it? Yeah...

So, in the comics, Aang meets a group of wanna be Acolytes who studied Air Nomad customs and wanted to actually live them out. They shaved their heads and painted on some tattoos, and Aang was all about it...until he realized that it wasn't paint, they had actually gotten the tattoos, and at that point, he feels insulted. Mind you, he wasn't insulted about his culture being used as cosplay. He was mad that they misunderstood the significance of the tattoos and in their misguided attempts they did something they weren't supposed to. I'm not saying he was wrong to be upset, per se, I'm just saying that cultural appropriation is probably something that the creators of Avatar: The Last Airbender are out of their depths on. Well, this incident sours him on the idea of mixing cultures and in his anger, he jumps right to anti-miscegenation.

Let me repeat that. Avatar Aang, who is supposed to represent all peoples, got angry at some well-intentioned, but severely misguided girls, and decided that the solution would be to support policies that would literally tear apart families. Then he only walked that back because he wouldn't be able to keep Katara. It wasn't him realizing how much damage he would do to other people. It wasn't him understanding that the issue he's trying to solve requires more delicate handling than simply saying "everyone go back to where you came from". It was his selfishness that saved the day (sort of? I think annexing a part of the Earth Kingdom to make pseudo-New York was...questionable at best).

These are the two biggest, if not only examples of the type of leader Aang is. In both cases, his solution had more to do with him, his personal convenience, his feelings, than any thought of how best serve the people looking to him to lead. They are not presented as issues with his leadership, highlighting the ways he needs to grow into his role. The solutions he comes up with are presented as examples of his cleverness and wisdom, but actually, they just show how he leads based on what's best for him. The people of Planet Avatar ** are subject to Aang's whims and how much work he feels like putting in on a given day. But the people he's leading are supposed to think he's a Big Dang Hero. In a better written story, this would be the beginning of a villain arc.

*(btw, it is still The Year of Content ™️©️®️, so probably expect another post in the future about why I think Aang is more in line with the Innocent than the Trickster. Maybe. We'll see...)

** (is there a name for that world in the fandom? Can we come up with one? Planet Avatar is incredibly lame.)

[tangerinetrees]

Hello! So sorry to bug you out of nowhere, but you added something really cool from the legal realm to a chain of custody post so I was wondering on your take on whether Harvey Dent could practice law in Gotham (even if he did get disbarred for criminal activities)?

hello! tysm for asking about harvey bc he’s very dear to me!! i do want to specify first that my legal knowledge is mostly limited to like a) criticizing the justice system in the us, and b) pretty vague in terms of the nuances to new jersey’s state system bc i don’t live there, so this is 80% headcanon and 20% personal research. also warning this got kinda long

like for one, regarding the state legal system, apparently jersey has “county prosecutors” (equivalent to new york’s district attorneys) who are appointed by the state attorney general instead of being elected. given it’s pretty much a staple for gotham to have a DA, we’re already throwing real world examples out the window

harvey getting disbarred is a really interesting point to me (<- intense focus on minutiae in world building), given that it’s already established in universe that gotham’s system is corrupt - which should include everyone from police to judges to prosecutors to prisons. which is kinda funny since most comics and adaptations don’t take the level of corruption inherent to police+prosecutors to nearly the depths they reach irl in the usa? and irl they rarely get disciplined or disbarred? i digress. because of the highly public nature of harvey / two face going on a revenge spree against gotham’s mob families, starting his own crime syndicate, and his arrest being published in the media, i think it’s safe to say he was disbarred.

while i’m not sure of how disbarment works as a process, i can imagine the NJ supreme court conducting an investigation into harvey’s crimes and run as DA to decide whether or not to disbar him - and all of the cops/ADAs/politicians/judges he pissed off while trying to reform gotham giving support for his disbarment. not to mention the actual criminal case that would be filed against harvey. disbarment in jersey is permanent (although apparently this might be changing recently?), so realistically, harvey can’t ever be reinstated. man crashed and killed his career so he could kill the maronis. which kind of explains harvey’s hopelessness about rebuilding his life

i mean mostly we see harvey offering legal advice, or sometimes just ‘holding court’ as a way for harv and twos to argue with each other. theoretically harvey could choose to represent himself in court. but even if they finish serving a sentence and try to build a non-crimey life, harvey’s disbarment would be his biggest obstacle to practicing law again. maybe given how convoluted gotham’s legal system is, ex con harvey would be allowed to practice in some but not all courts? like civil court and family court is fine, but as for criminal court... harvey can help with your divorce but he can’t defend you for committing robbery lmao

but honestly my preferred take is that two face and harvey have separate licenses. there was a scene in i think btas where they had a credit card with two face listed as the name, and in one of his runs with red hood he mentions their drivers license being out of date. so really i just think it would be hilarious if two face was not disbarred, or if he passed the bar as part of a rehab program (and i can definitely see a wayne sponsored convict higher education program existing in gotham)

(and relatedly, harvey and the other rogues being sentenced to arkham over and over again has fascinating implications? since traditionally it’s not a correctional facility the way a prison like blackgate is, not really. which would insinuate that despite being hella corrupt, gotham’s DAs don’t typically push for death penalty (illegal in NJ since 2007 btw) or even for life in prison, depending on the case. who knows? maybe harvey’s reform policies have kickstarted a lineage of more progressive DAs. well. unless arkham is being used as a jail+hospital for ppl with health needs, and that sentenced inmates are awaiting trial, bc then that would be more fucked up..)

anyway! sorry for this very long response lol, harvey and two face are my boys, and i could go on all night about them. tldr, whether or not harvey can practice law depends on 1) how closely you want adhere to jersey law, 2) whether he’s currently an escapee/avoiding arkham or an ex-con, and 3) how funny it is at the moment. there was a post floating around about how a reformed dent storyline should be harvey as a pro bono civil defense lawyer and two face as a personal injury lawyer which to me is the ideal state of things lol

[sweetcocopowder]

For your milestone can i order a sambucky heart fill confess with the prompts, another nightmare and can i kiss you.

I found your blog recently from the cyberpunk fics so to know you also write mcu stuff is rad. ✌️ you write excellently man.

Prompt 5 | SamBucky

Synopsis: Bucky wakes from a nightmare and Sam is there to help him through it.

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Trauma.

Notes: thank you so much. i haven't written Sambucky stuff in ages but i reckon i cooked up something fucking gawd.

For once in Sam’s life, he was the only one up in the shared apartment. It’s quiet in the place but New York never sleeps as everyone says. Which is true. The hum of cars can be heard through the shutters and the thin walls. It’s small, but it’s comfortable. And cheap enough because hero work doesn’t really pay the best. Or at all.

It had taken a lot of convincing to make the former Winter Soldier move in with him. Bucky had been struggling with keeping his apartment. Rent in the great city of New York isn’t cheap. And being in between transfers with his veteran payments, he isn’t all too finically stable. It’s a lot of court cases to convince the Government that he isn’t going to go deadly assassin again after his time in Wakanda.

Sam nurses a two-litre bottle of orange juice, chugging down as much as he can. He knows for a fact that Bucky will want some of the stuff in the morning, but he couldn’t give too damns at the moment. The bastard ate his leftover muffins that Sarah had given him. So, this is pay back. Even though Bucky didn’t know Sam was keeping those aside for himself. Orange juice can be bought. Sarah’s muffins can’t be made.

At first, the muffled shout that hits Sam’s ears is soft enough that he thinks it’s some crack job outside. Shouting about random shit or that Thanos is upon them again. But when the next shout comes, Sam is quick to put down the juice.

He walks to Bucky’s door a little too urgently for his own good. No more noise comes, but he already has a feeling that Bucky has woken himself up. He hesitates to knock, his knuckles hovering over the wood.

He’s aware of Bucky’s nightmares. The ones that don’t seem to leave no matter how much he talks about them or opens up. Some things don’t leave. Especially with the shit that Bucky has gone through in his life. He can’t blame the man and he doesn’t judge him for it either. Sam finally knocks, softly as to not scare the century old man.

“Bucky?” Sam calls just loud enough to be heard through the door.

There’s shuffling on the other side before the door opens up a tad. The New York lights shine in through open windows, illuminating Bucky as a dark shadow peeping through a hand width crack. Even in the dark though, Sam can deep just how tired Bucky is. His short hair spikes up every which way and he only wears a bear of boxers.

“Why are you up?” Bucky asks with a furrowed expression.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Sam lies. “Another nightmare?”

The vet looks Sam up and down, but not in a threatened way. There’s so much going on his mind right now that Sam can almost hear his thoughts. He opens the door a little further, looking past Sam to try and figure out just why he’s up so late. It’s close to two in the morning.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sam asks as he leans against the door frame.

This isn’t out of the norm. Getting stuff like this out of Bucky was almost like dealing with a child at first. But Sam had patience and it won over. He hasn’t done a group therapy with other soldiers dealing with their own ptsd in months. But he thinks he’s alright at the moment with helping Bucky. It makes him feel full. Despite how odd that sounds.

Bucky’s eyes flicker to the ground for a moment before he opens the door wider. He lets Sam in with a grumbled, “Come in then.” He doesn’t close the door fully, leaving it open a crack.

Sam makes himself at home by sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning over to turn on the lamp. Bucky throws on a random white shirt from the ground before sitting on the bed as well. He places his face in his palms, his Vibranium arm reflecting light from the bedside lamp. Sam doesn’t pay it any attention, the awe having worn off ages ago.

“Was it the train again?” Sam asks.

“No,” Bucky shakes his head.

Sam hesitates before asking the next question. He’s read over Bucky’s reports once. Once and never again. He knows from the reports on what experimentations Hydra had put the soldier through. But hearing the stories from Bucky’s lips is enough to make Sam feel nauseous.

“Do you remember the year?” Sam asks.

He’s realized that in asking so, it seems to help ground Bucky. His memories of going in and out of cryo are so jumbled and hazy that he didn’t realize just how many years he was losing.

“I-“ Bucky pauses, “I couldn’t tell you.”

“What happened this time round?”

The vet sits up straight but doesn’t dare make eye contact with Sam. He tries to smooth out his hair but it’s too no avail. It sticks up every which way, as if his hair is still not use to being so short.

“I’ve told you how I was used to train the other super soldiers. The ones that hydra made after me,” Bucky asks rhetorically before he continues on. “There was this one in particular, I forget his name now. Gone with everything else. But he wouldn’t listen. Didn’t understand that there was no way out of this.”

“You got out,” Sam interrupts.

Bucky’s icy eyes finally glance his way. “After how many years?”

Sam only hums at that, not sure how to answer. He waits for Bucky to continue, his gaze never leaving him.

“Then finally one training session,” Bucky endures as he hunches back over, twiddling his thumbs between his knees, “he snapped. He came at me with blood lust. And with everything that was pent up, and with me being worn down and just so damn tired from all the work… he easily overcame me. He beat me bloody. Beyond bloody even. I can still remember the pain, the bruises that didn’t leave for months afterwards. Even with the serum in me, my wounds didn’t heal for weeks,” Bucky voices cracks here and there as he tries to cover it up with clearing his throat.

But Sam can see the memory playing as freshly as if it’s happening now behind those pale blue eyes. A shiver runs down Bucky’s spine, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

Sam frowns, exhaling slowly before reaching out and places a hand on the vet’s shoulder. Bucky doesn’t flinch away, instead looks to Sam like a hurt street pup.

“That pain is in the past,” Sam enquires softly. “Nothing can change that. But maybe you’re holding onto it because it’s familiar. Or because you thought you did something wrong. Maybe because you thought you could keep that man in line.”

Bucky exhales shakily, his gaze becoming long once again. “That’s the thing. I did set him in line at the end. They- They made me-” he clears his throat, looking back down at his twiddling thumbs. “They made me put him down like some dog, Sam.”

“So you think you didn’t do him just?” Sam asks, squeezing Bucky’s shoulder.

The soldier shrugs softly. “I’m not sure on that. Is it bad that I think it’s more just putting him down than allowing him to become Hydra’s little plaything?”

Sam is quiet for a heartbeat, not wanting to stay silent for too long. “No. But at the same time, I don’t think you should hold yourself accountable because you were both under Hydra’s thumb. Both being played a game you didn’t you head or tail of.”

“Doesn’t change the fact I did it,” Bucky grumbles.

“But it’s the fact that you’re trying to do better on top of that, Buck.”

Bucky glances at Sam, opening his mouth to snap at him for calling him that. But he stops himself, his gaze flickering off again. A taxi horn honks loudly outside, but neither of them pays it any attention.

“Look,” Sam squeezes Bucky’s shoulder again before sliding down and grabbing onto his forearm gently. “Those things you did. That person you were. Is all gone now. Wakanda made sure of that. There’s only Bucky.”

The vet looks to Sam’s hand on his arm, a sad look coming to his eyes. But he receives a soft, sweet smile that warms Sam’s heart. He’s won tonight. Even if it’s a little victory, he’s won.

“You’re too sweet on me, Sam,” Bucky mumbles.

It seems so out of character yet not at the same time. Sam raises a brow at him, waiting for him to continue on with what else is on his mind. A warm, metal hand is placed over his own instead and Sam can feel his heart skip a beat. But he collects himself quickly.

It’s hard though when Bucky looks at him like that. With a soft smile on his lips and his warm yet icy gaze looking directly at him. He’s always had a staring problem, but Sam’s never been truly bothered by it. The soldier that Sam always sees is gone in this moment. It’s just the Bucky he’s grown to know that’s under all the fucked up shit.

“I’m going to ask you something stupid right now,” Bucky says, his voice low and barely a whisper. But Sam hears it all the same in the night.

“Go right ahead,” Sam blurts out a little too quickly.

Bucky turns to Sam a little bit more, squeezing his hand in the process.

“This might be one sided but I’ve lived too long to care,” Bucky chuckles breathlessly to himself, as if what he’s just said his humorous. Sam can’t take his eyes off him, swallowing a thick lump in his throat. “Can I, kiss you?”

Sam short circuits, staring blankly at Bucky for a tad too long. He feels his heart skip a beat again, as if he’s about to have a heart attacked or something, blinking a few times a tad shocked. The vet sighs deeply, pulling away his hand from Sam’s.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says as he looks down.

But Sam snaps out of it, grabbing onto his Vibranium arm to draw Bucky closer. He crashes their lips together a little too harshly, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t know what’s taken a hold of him, but having this, flag waving above their heads now saying it’s the all go is all Sam needed. The kiss is warm and everything Sam would have expected.

He’s seen the little flirts and flashes of who Bucky use to be in the 40’s. He’s heard Steve talk about him from before he got all jacked with super serum. And Bucky doesn’t disappoint.

Bucky pulls away first with a breathless chuckle. He holds onto Sam’s hand tightly, as if he’s afraid he’ll run away from him. But Sam is still as stiff as ice, frozen in place as he looks to Bucky as if this isn’t real. If it was this easy to shut Sam up at times he would have done this much, much sooner.

-

Hope your enjoyed this ;)

[steelbluehome]

Hell yeah! A politician finally said it! The electoral college is bullshit! Every vote should count!

(Of course he isn't talking about this election, but if they win, maybe every election from now on!)

The Guardian

Tim Walz calls for scrapping of electoral college to decide US presidential race

Kamala Harris’s running mate urges popular vote system but campaign says issue is not part of Democrats’ agenda

Robert Tait in Washington

Wed 9 Oct 2024

Tim Walz, the Democratic vice-presidential nominee, has called for the electoral college system of electing US presidents to be abolished and replaced with a popular vote principle, as operates in most democracies.

His comments – to an audience of party fundraisers – chime with the sentiments of a majority of American voters but risk destabilising the campaign of Kamala Harris, the Democratic presidential candidate, who has not adopted a position on the matter, despite having previously voiced similar views.

“I think all of us know, the electoral college needs to go,” Walz told donors at a gathering at the home of the California governor, Gavin Newsom. “We need a national popular vote. We need to be able to go into York, Pennsylvania, and win. We need to be in western Wisconsin and win. We need to be in Reno, Nevada, and win.”

He had earlier made similar remarks at a separate event in Seattle, where he called himself “a national popular vote guy”, while qualifying it by saying, “that’s not the world we live in.”

The statements refer to the apparent democratic anomaly whereby US presidential polls are decided not by who wins the most votes nationwide but instead by which candidate captures a majority of 538 electoral votes across the 50 states, plus Washington DC.

The votes are distributed broadly reflective of each state’s population size, so populous California, for example, has 54 electoral college votes, while tiny Rhode Island has just four. However, rare cases of US presidents winning the electoral college while losing the popular vote tally do happen, notably in recent times George W Bush in 2000 and Donald Trump in 2016

The concerns over the electoral college system crystallise the reality that next month’s contest between Harris and Trump, the Republican nominee, will come down to the outcomes in a small number of battleground states, where polls show them running neck-and-neck.

Most surveys indicate Harris having a small but consistent nationwide lead. Yet even if these are borne out on polling day, Trump could still return to the White House by winning enough swing states to reach the 270 electoral votes needed.

That scenario is feared by Democrats since it would repeat the outcome of the 2016 election, when Trump beat Hillary Clinton thanks to the electoral college despite winning nearly 3m fewer votes across the nation.

Walz’s comments are eye-catching because he was chosen as Harris’s running mate because his homely, plain-speaking style was judged as appealing to working-class voters in three of the most important battleground states, Pennsylvania, Michigan and Wisconsin.

It is not the first time that Walz, the Minnesota governor, has advocated ditching the electoral college.

Last year, he signed legislation that added Minnesota to the National Popular Vote Interstate Compact, which would force states to award their electors to the national popular vote winner if enough of them agreed to do so.

In the absence of that, only a constitutional amendment could alter the current electoral system.

Harris-Walz campaign officials stressed that abolishing the electoral college was not part of its agenda.

“Governor Walz believes that every vote matters in the electoral college and he is honored to be traveling the country and battleground states working to earn support for the Harris-Walz ticket,” Teddy Tschann, a spokesman for Walz, told the New York Times.

The comments were seized on gleefully by Trump’s campaign, which is generally believed to have an advantage in the present system.

“Why does Tampon Tim [Trump’s derisive nickname for Walz] hate the Constitution so much?,” the Trump campaign posted on its official X account.

The comment overlooked the fact that Trump himself has been accused of calling for “terminating the constitution” in support of his lie that Joe Biden and the Democrats stole the 2020 presidential election.

Research published last month by Pew showed 63% of American voters favouring electing the president by the popular vote, although support was greatest among Democrats, while a small majority of Republicans favoured keeping the electoral college.

Harris said in a 2019 appearance on Jimmy Kimmel Live that she was “open to the discussion” of changing the current system, saying the popular vote had been “diminished”. But she has avoided more categorical statements on the subject.

In a 60 Minutes interview on CBS that aired on Monday, the vice-president said she had recently told Walz that “you need to be a little more careful on how you say things.”

[kellyvela]

Hello! I didn't fully understand what was going on, but one thing is for sure, I hate joe. As far as I understood, on January 11, they completed the custody case, but the divorce was suspended and was supposed to resume when the guardianship was completed, this did not happen, and that is why Sophie's lawyers are now asking for the reopening of the divorce. Is it that joe is deliberately delaying the divorce? And will we learn the details of custody? Although it is so obvious that a larger percentage of Sophie and her children live with her in England, still wanted to know this for sure. And interesting article:

https://www.etonline.com/sophie-turner-and-joe-jonas-divorce-case-reopened-in-miami-a-timeline-of-their-split-211872 I didn't know some things before that.

joe is so horrible, he cheated on her twice, first when he refused to move to UK, and the second time with some 20 year old girl. And I also like that Sophie and her lawyers have documents and letters and everything has dates and facts, while joe has only empty words. And there is also confirmation that the children lived with Sophie in UK and only at the end of July they decided that the children would go with joe, which again confirms the position of Sophie, not joe. I hope you can explain more about their affairs to me now. And I'm glad that soon all the horror with joe will end and Sophie will live peacefully with her children in England. And I hope that justice and karma will punish joe and even his fans will see what a piece of shit and a rat he is.

Hello, anon!

What I really hated was the shady and misleading tmz headline, they implied that Sophie said that the negotiation collapses so she requested the Miami judge to rule the divorce and decide the custody. But I think this is wrong.

I believe the rat was thinking about filling divorce for a long time, that's why he convinced Sophie to let the girls come back to US with him while she was very busy filming Joan.

So, having the girls with him in the US, the first days of September, the rat leaked rumors that he was looking for divorce lawyers in LA (California) area, but few days later he filled divorce in Miami (Florida). In the end, despite leaking LA rumors, he chose Miami, a red state, that favored fathers in custody battles, this is what a lot of people told me so far. So, this was an evident legal strategy, designed by lawyers, to take advantage over the other part.

And at that point, the PR strategy also started, with him implying Sophie was a bad mother, always patying and drinking while he was basically a single dad caring for the girls alone all the time. And this is the reason why I call him a 🐀

But it was evident that the rat lied to the Miami court by saying the girls and him were Miami residents for the past six months, because the girls were living in England most of the year. Sophie was very detailed when she filled her lawsuit to the New York Federal court.

Indeed, Sophie was right when she filled an international lawsuit to the New York Federal court, claiming that the girls main residence was England, so the custody should be determined or approved by a UK court. The New York Federal court then ordered the Miami State court to stop the case regarding the custody of the girls.

The New York court also ordered the parties to start mediation and during the mediation they stablished a temporary custody agreement and decided to bring the case (custody) to a UK court.

So, since the custody was out of its jurisdiction, the Miami court approved an abatement, which is basically a suspension of the divorce case, until they reached a permanent custody agreement.

So, I think they already reached a permanent custody agreement in the UK court, which was approved on January 11, 2024, and that's why Sophie dropped the international lawsuit at the New York court, and requested to the Miami court to "reactivate" the divorce case on January 14, 2024, but this was only recently made public.

We don't know the details of the permanent custody agreement. But I hope she has primary custody, and the rat has visitation rights.

Things are really coming to an end, anon. I bet there are basically just a few details left to be determined, or at least I hope I'm right.

This is what I think is happening. But the press love the click bait . . . .

Again, I hope I'm right!

[carriesthewind]

This ChatGPT fuckery case is so interesting. Thank you for writing it up and making it more understandable to the general public. I know it's entirely speculation but do you think that this has potential to set the tone for AI tools in the legal profession (ie no one credible uses them, all use has to be disclosed and will weaken your arguments, etc) or that it will be focused primarily on the behaviour of individuals specifically and their lack/failure of professional responsibility?

You are welcome! And I don't know? There was federal judge in Texas who just issued a requirement that "All attorneys and pro se litigants appearing before the Court must, together with their notice of appearance, file on the docket a certificate attesting either that no portion of any filing will be drafted by generative artificial intelligence (such as ChatGPT, Harvey.AI, or Google Bard) or that any language drafted by generative artificial intelligence will be checked for accuracy, using print reporters or traditional legal databases, by a human being." (This is a specific rule for filings in his courtroom - judges are allowed to make these specific rules. So this is only for a requirement for people specifically appearing in front of Judge Brantley Starr in the Northern District of Texas.) Based on the timing, a lot of the reporting I've seen has linked it to the New York case I've been discussing, but (at least as far as I have seen) there hasn't been any confirmation from the judge that the two are linked.

I think this particular case appears to be so extremely bad in terms of existing professional responsibility that it could be fairly easy for "AI" proponents to brush it aside? Because most of the proponents were already including disclaimers of, "well of course you have to double check," and "it sometimes makes things up." As I said in another post - the underlying ethics issues would be the same if they had gotten the brief and the "opinions" by asking some random dude in the street. Going back to that certificate required by the Texas judge - of course an attorney should understand that they are responsible for the contents of any filing they sign and submit to the court! That's already part of the rules!

On the other hand, it's gotten so much widespread bad press that it could possibly spook some people/firms who might have otherwise been willing to give it a try?

On the third hand, as I understand it, there are a lot of products being marketed as "AI" right now that do very different things. I think chatbots and "AI" have gotten somewhat conflated in the public discourse recently, but as I understand it, chatbots are just one small part of a wide variety of products and tools that are being marketed as "AI."

Someone who works in a private firm or in the judiciary might have a different perspective/more insight on this front. From my perspective, I'm just watching to see how it plays out.

[remembertheplunge]

A Christmas Eve Miracle

12/24/2023I can’t recall if I have blogged this story before or not. But, being that it’s Christmas Eve, I thought it would be worth writing up and publishing here today.

A Christmas Eve Miracle happened Christmas Eve 2015, eight years ago.

Since my first years of criminal law practice up until about 2019, I would act now and them as pro term judge in traffic court, meaning, I would fill in for the actual judge.

Christmas Eve 2015, I did this out in traffic court on Floyd Ave in Modesto, California.

The afternoon session ended at about 2:30pm . At the stop light at Oakdale Road and Floyd, I looked out about 2 miles to the north west to see intense black low clouds. They seemed to be in the area where two significant events in my life had taken place.

I was in a grocery story there when the Loma Prieta earth quake hit at 5:04pm. October 17, 1989. The store floor began to have a rolling motion and things fell from the shelves. I thought the roof was going to give.  And in 2013 a man was killed in front of some apartments behind the store. I would be appointed to represent Lisandro Mendosa, one of 5 codefendants charged with a gang related murder of the man. A 6 month jury trial resulted in a hung jury and a New York Times article about the trial, “”How do you define a gang member?   New York Times Sunday Magazine 5/27/2015. The trial was long and emotionally violent.

I continued my drive down Floyd Ave toward home. I decided to stop at the Star Bucks for a hot chocolate at Coffee road and Floyd. It sits across Coffee Road and a parking lot from the store I was in during the 89 quake. Just beyond and behind the store is where the man was killed resulting in the Mendoza trial.

Before entering Starbucks, I stood about 40 feet from Coffee Road and leaned my head back. Fine mist was falling now . I closed my eyes, felt the mist on my face and sent a healing prayer out across the store and the seen of the killing beyond it. 

Just then, unbeknownst to me,  about a mile west on Coffee road, a  storm related microburst caused a tree to to fall into telephone wires causing 50 foot tall telephone poles to one by one collapse into Coffee Road headed in my direction.

I finished my prayer, unaware of the collapsing poles, and walked 17 seconds to the Star Bucks. Inside , the power was out and there was a general sense of panic . The staff locked the door and wouldn’t let us out. Starbucks had no windows facing Floyd or Coffee Road, so we couldn’t see that the pole 40 feet from where I said the prayer had collapsed into the street as well the one just beyond  that I had just driven by.

Despite the fact it was Christmas Eve afternoon, and that Coffee Road is a busy four lane road, no one was hurt or killed inn the mile long collapse of polls and live wires into the road.

We had been told during the Mendosa jury trial that the trial had been cursed by people in Vera Cruz, Mexico. The man who was killed was hispanic. Not sure who placed the curse or why.

I drove to the jail after leaving Starbucks to meet with Mr. Mendosa who was incarcerated there.

I told him about the telephone pole incident and asked him if he thought it was as a result of the curse. He said he didn’t thinks so. He said he thought it was a sign he would get a break in the case. He did. In 2016, he received a 16 year sentence instead of life in prison via a negotiated plea. Recently, due to a change in sentencing laws, he was re sentenced and released!

[gameshowtrainwreck]

A step by step guide to making something with a niche application in Godot 4, as laid out like a cooking blog giving you a recipe (with art elements I've made for it)

A person has to have influences. Not just in who inspires them to create art, but who inspires them in their planning their avenues of attack, their planning, their sheer fuckin' gumption.  the utter balls they have to even show up after that nonsense they pulled last week. Nobody has ever said that about me, but life has a way of beating every last ounce of shame out of a person to the point where they feel there is the chance that could happen.

In my case, there are the people i think those who know me would say i would pick: people in game shows, people for whom 'bastard' has been an exclamation of both high praise and low curse. People like Jay Wolpert, for being perhaps the most experimental producer in an especially commercial genre (Whew, Shopping Spree, for attempting to make Trivial Pursit somehow exciting to watch instead of just to play); Bob Stewart, for being the man in the right place at the right time (one of those times was hearing Monty Hall tell him that old man goodson was looking for people); Reg Grundy, the aussie tv producer who would go on research trips to new york, spending the entire week in a hotel room with a copy of tv guide, a pen, and a composition book with a masking tape label bearing the caution of "original game show ideas do not steal" —and i am totally not hating on Grundy for that; IANAL but I've observed enough of it to make the opinion that you can protect how a game looks, reads, and sounds, but games are processes, and the intellectual property system here in the US does not protect the processes of baking a cake/formulating a fragrance/giving away merchandise to members of the general public according to arbitrarily set metrics presented as competitions of skill.

There have been at least two or three court cases where somebody *tried* to sue one show for being "too much like" another game show, but those what weren't settled out of court (most recently Tokyo Broadcasting System vs Endemol over Wipeout being too much like Takeshi's Castle), were dismissed outright (e.g. Chuck Barris vs Haim Saban, over the defendant's I'm Telling being too much like The Newlywed Game. The judge said nobody had a claim on inane bullshit and told all parties involved to stop wasting the court's time). Hell, it's the reason why Words With Friends was left unscathed (and eventually bought out) by Hasbro while Scrabulous had to shut down– Scrabulous danced a little to close of the “reasonable person” argument, in that there were actual ways people *could* confuse Scrabulous for Scrabble in that they used a similar board layout, similar scoring, etc.

But my influences extend beyond game shows, like film director/producer william castle, probably the most successful boilermaker hollywood could ever offer out of postwar america; there was a talk he gave to a college class. even though you might be able to tell in the speech that he felt somewhat disrespected by a class who knew him just from the movies he directed, he gave advice that stuck with me, even if the exact quote has peeled off in a couple of places in my mind from age: 'a producer is someone who is willing to step into any role in a project to see it through to completion.’ and I would say that's not just useful for having an understanding of how it all works, but it is incredibly important for a producer to learn patience, especially for anybody a producer works with. By learning how to edit, learning how to direct, and so on, you have an appreciation for the skills you're only just dipping your toes in; these are people who committed to that particular role and they are no less worthy of the patience, respect, and money that you would want for yourself for this.

Which has been why I've been learning Godot 4. That, and I am both too fucking broke to pay anybody else. Also there's the ifetime of neurodivergent trauma has made hyperindependence A Thing for me. That self-reliance, the rural Appalachian definition of it at least, is a Key Sign of Adulthood, and that an inability to do everything on your own is a choice of slothfulness. I can't ask people for help when I am still trying to figure out what it is I need help with. And if I hate being asked to help with no ready instructions on what to do, why would I want to put anybody else through the same thing?

So I try to learn it all and do it all. It's why a man in his 40s is just starting out in a career that most everybody else in his peer group are developing midlife crises over. It's why a man who has worked what was available hasn't been able to work what he wants to do, and why he still weeps at the end of the day over the years where it turned out he wasn't lazy or flawed or worthless, but had to work even harder just to get the same level of normal everybody else had no trouble managing.

I've also got in the habit of writing the stuff I've learned down, so if anybody else is looking to do the same thing, maybe they will have more time and energy to get to places I've not been able to find because I've had to do this, first.

So, if anyone is inclined/interested in making their own quiz projects, or just having a goofy little graphical element to represent a value within a game they are building, here's the workflow I've found so far for making trilons (the old fashioned flippy boxes like you see on $25,000 Pyramid) in Godot4:

(1) Make a new 3d scene. Add a new MeshInstance3D node to it, Look in the Inspector for the mesh just created > look for Mesh in the first entry > click the dropdown box next to it > select New Prism Mesh. Set initial mesh dimensions 1:0.866:1-- whatever changes made after this will keep things conforming to these initial proportions.

(2) find center mass: adjust it along your pivot axis by half of the height ( 0.866*0.5, or 0.433; look for inspector > transform > position > y-axis), then take that result and subtract the height, divided by 3 (0.433 - (0.866/3), or 0.144 in the same field)

(3) make your initial positioning; depending on where and how you wanna put it, the info i need to display on this is a maximum of three lines of text with some graphical highlights added. A landscape orientation will be what I need here. to that end, i set the rotation on the y-axis field to 90, so that only one face is visible to the camera when seen from the front. The pivot for its initial/"home" position itself will be done later.

(4) size it to spec; because we set the initial dimensions in step one, we can use the scale fields to size it to the specifications and still keep things equilateral. In the layout I've designed, I will need three of these, the faces of which being 295x95 pixels. Each face will need to be able to fit these proportions, so the x axis needs to stay at 1, the y-axis needs to be requested height divided by 100 (95/100 or 0.95 inspector > transform > scale > y-axis), the z-axis needs to be the width done the same way (295/100 or 2.95, next field over)

(5) create the controller; create a new Node3D, set the MeshInstance3D as a child to it. this will be what will have the animations attached to it later on. I renamed mine to 'controller,' because I lack an imagination at three-thirty in the morning.

(6) Set its starting position; change focus from the MeshInstance3D to its adoptive parent, bringing its fields up in the inspector. The default state needs to have one face as the only one being visible. The easiest thing I have found to do, especially considering the animations I need to set for this, is setting inspector > transform > rotation > x-axis to -90 degrees, as the animation player gets a little screwy if it tries to go beyond 360, plus or minus. it's a thing, i don't sweat it.

(7) Create the animations. Add an AnimationPlayer node to bring up the Animations panel, then choose the controller node. This will move the entire mesh by the center pivot we set earlier. 

You should notice a key icon in each heading of the transform section of the Inspector, that's for setting keyframes. Go to the Animation pane > click the "animation" button next to the greyed out dropdown box. In the menu that pops up, choose "new animation." 

(7b) For this, since I've got 3 faces on this (and it's possible to use more, it's possible to just have one plane, double-sided. I just figured a trilon was as good a starting place as any), there needs to be 3 seperate stops: from the 1st face to the 2nd; 2nd to the 3rd; etc. that's 120 degrees between each stop. For the first animation, I click the key under 'transform' (and it may ask you to confirm that you're starting a new animation track, it's okay). There should be a checkbox with the word 'rotation' and a dot next to the border of the timeline. 

(7c) Next, advance the animation shuttle (it's that blue stick that glides along the animation timeline whenever you hit the play button) to the other, accessable end of the timeline (it defaults to one second but you can change it), and then add 120 degrees to the x-axis rotation (should be showing 30 degrees). Click the key again to set the ending keyframe. Godot will now rotate the mesh from the position you gave it to start on to the position you gave it to end on. 

Repeat that until you've made animations moving along all three stops. A reset animation will be really handy here, as the default state will be showing a 'blank' graphic I made for this, so any time I need to introduce a new category with it, it will snap back to the ready state.

(7d, optional) I went ahead and made duplicate animations to speed up the rotation to make it seem a little more dramatic as mood dictates-- I went through and selected each animation from the dropdown box, clicked the animation button, and chose 'duplicate.'

it will ask you to give this duplicate a name, and I just attached the word 'snap' to it. I changed the overall length to .3 seconds, and adjusted the position of the ending keyframe on the timeline by clicking on the appropriate dot on the timeline, and changing the value for 'time' in the inspector to the end of the animation (.3).

Will I need to snap-flip whenever an ordinary category is played? Probably not, but I will need that snap-flip to happen if a modifier comes attached to the category (e.g. offering free picks at the board or doubling the value of the pot on a successful contract). I'd sooner have something and not need it as need it and not have it.

(8) Save the scene. 

As of right now, I admit this is only half-useful; I have the mechanics but no way of putting graphics on each individual face of this trilon. Trying to set a texture via the MeshInstance3D > Material > NewStandardMaterial3D > Albedo will just use that one graphic and stretch it across the entire mesh.

From what I understand, I will need to build a custom shader that will divide the face into three, and swap the individual graphics out as the state of play and game logic require. 

When I figure out how to do that, I'll put up what I did to get there.

For now, have a couple pieces of my poor craftsmanship:

[moirai-moros]

bar none · chapter one; wednesday (ao3 link) - pairing: rafael barba/dominick "sonny" carisi jr. rating: t, later prob. m+ words: 3672 summary:

“You’re really intending to sit the bar next week? In the condition you’re in?” “Yeah? I mean, is that so hard to believe? I’m just a little roughed up is all.” “Roughed up?” The counsellor repeated, his voice tinged with disbelief. “You were shot by an assailant. You have a head wound. And you think that putting yourself through a bar exam is the correct way to recover from that?” With a sigh, Sonny sank back into the pillows on the bed. “Look, I appreciate the concern, Counselor, I really do. But I know you’ve worked really hard for things you’re not willing to give up on, even when the odds weren’t in your favour. Maybe it’s a dumb idea to assume I can think straight enough to pass the bar after hitting every stair on my way down, but I don’t want to… not try. I’ve put a lot into this, and I’m not givin’ up, not now. Not so close to the finish line.”

--

tl;dr; an A.D.A. helps a Fordham Law student revise for the bar from a hospital bed.

When Sonny came to, he immediately regretted regaining consciousness.

Everything burned, everything hurt, everything was too loud and too bright. Eyes adjusting to the offensive brightness of the hospital fluorescents and crisp linen bedding, his mind spun its wheels aimlessly for a moment - two - as he tried to regain his bearings. It felt like he’d been reset, roughly turned off then on again like the vending machine in the break room that was always on the fritz, and he certainly felt like he’d had the shit kicked out of him just as much.

“Carisi?” A voice spoke from somewhere beside him, one familiar enough to force him to focus his eyes and try to gather himself together enough to rejoin reality again.

Canting his head to the side - Christ, his head hurt - the image of an overly-concerned Rollins swam into sharpness. Brow furrowed, she looked like she hadn’t slept in some time judging by the rings underneath her eyes, one hand reaching forward and clasped around his own forearm - and dimly, Sonny realised where he was.

“Rollins.” He was aiming for that trademark Carisi-family confidence in his response, but to his dismay it came out as more of a grating croak. Ugh. “Hey, you look awful.”

The concern on her face was quickly replaced by surprise, then bemusement as she scoffed. “Obviously you haven’t looked in a mirror recently, but thanks for the compliment. Charming.” She pauses briefly, expression softening as Sonny looks around the room sluggishly, trying to piece the mess that was him in this hospital bed back together. “How are you feeling? Y’know, you gave us quite a scare back there.”

Back where?

It’s Sonny’s turn to frown as he turns his head back to rest position on his pillow, the effort too much to both keep up an appearance for Rollins and try to figure out what had put him in here.

Last thing he remembered… think, Sonny, think. Okay, so he’d been at work - that much he could remember, because he can remember Fin putting in their evening takeaway order (two chow meins, a bag of prawn crackers and a large fried rice from the Chinese joint two blocks away); he can remember them being interrupted by the Lieutenant as the prawn crackers had just been broken out, sending Sonny and Rollins over to check out a suspicious call placed by a witness on a case they were currently working; he can remember Amanda making snarky comments about his driving on the way there, and he can remember the just as snarky rebuttals he’d made in response (“Yeah, well, I can’t drive, but you can’t boil water without settin’ it on fire.”).

They’d turned up to the apartment block what, perhaps nine? Nine thirty? It was dark out and New York was sporting a classic miserable winter’s evening, because Sonny remembers being cold as all hell as he didn’t remember to bring his thicker jacket. A witness had called SVU in a relative panic, babbling into the phone incoherently about being afraid and paranoid, and “please, just come quickly”. The call had been so non-specific and hard to understand that the actual problem wasn’t really apparent, so Liv had sent him and Rollins to do a welfare check, especially since this was the only witness they’d managed to convince to stay on their rolodex for a potential testimony further down the track.

The case itself was a sticky one: hard to tie together and lacking a lot of concrete evidence, but flush with consequential evidence and obvious lines to draw together. The perfect combination to give the entirety of SVU and the DA’s Office a collective migraine, hence the overtime, hence the late night, hence the prawn crackers and quickly cooling tupperware of chow mein that had sat at Sonny’s desk. An elaborate front of high-school tutors - all young women, all decidedly underage, all listed like they were in a catalogue on an innocuous looking website - had been circulating the depraved underbelly of the city, money changing hands in legitimate-looking ways to solicit teenagers for exploitation. TARU had their work cut out for them, and no hard evidence had floated to the top of the bucket of scum yet. They had been attempting to ply overseas domain providers with warrants and as much pressure as SVU could put on, but aside from identifying some local girls involved with the ring, their work the whole week had come up with a big fat nothing.

That might’ve been why Sonny hadn’t really expected the way things played out that evening. The welfare check, by all ticks and balances, should’ve also been a bit fat nothing. But, as he’s starting to remember as his head threatens to tear itself into small pieces, it had definitely been a bit fat something.

The entire situation had felt off as soon as the lady had answered the door. Small things, that Sonny simply catalogues as a second thought now - the wobble of a voice, the watery look in her green eyes, the fact that she would only open the door a crack to show a sign of life to the people she’d called over just twenty minutes ago. Exchanging a look with Rollins as they stood out in the apartment corridor, Carisi had asked a couple of standard questions - was she safe? (“yes,”), was there anyone else at home besides her? (“no- … no.”) and then the fatal, could we come in for a moment?

Hm. Yeah, he could remember why he was here now.

The question had shot such fear into the woman that she’d fatally faltered in her act, eyes darting off to the side to some unknown player in the room behind her - and then, a flurry of action had unfolded. The door swung back on its hinges hard enough for the wood to scream as it slammed into the inside wall, a large man pushing his way out and essentially bowling over the two detectives standing outside, sending them staggering for balance as he made a run for it down the corridor. Sonny had already had one hand on his gun at the fearful glance from the witness, drawing it as he and Rollins took off down the corridor after him.

“Stop, NYPD!” He’d yelled in full sprint, handgun still trained on the figure as they rounded a corner to the stairwell. Of course, he wasn’t stopping but instead trying to jump the stairs three at a time, the detectives thundering after him and managing to actually close a lot of the distance despite the cramped quarters - and it’s when they catch up to the same flight of stairs that the man stops for a second and raises his own weapon.

“Gun!” Rollins shouted with urgency, turning to the far side of the stairwell’s wall to take cover. Sonny, already a third down the flight, had no such cover to turn to and faced with an aggravated suspect, he froze midstep and squeezed the trigger.

It all happened so quickly - the familiar pop of a gunshot, or gunshots? ripping through the air like a knife through canvas - and, well. Now?

Now, Sonny was here.

- hold on.

“Wait, I got shot?” He asked incredulously, voice tinged in disbelief. “I thought I shot him.”

“You got shot,” Rollins confirmed politely. “And, you fell down the rest of the stairs.”

“God,” Sonny’s voice came out as a mumble as he attempted to raise his hands to summarily bury his face in, but the pain that shoots up his right arm when he does so makes him swiftly reconsider. “You’re kidding. Ain’t no way I’m gonna live this down.”

“What, that you got shot in the line of duty? Are you serious?”

“And, I fell down the stairs. Is that why my head feels like I’ve gone twenty rounds in a ring with the Hulk?”

“Well, if you want the laundry list: you have a fairly major concussion, a gunshot wound in your right shoulder, and a sprained ankle.” Distantly, Sonny’s aware that Rollins was trying to keep things light, but even concussed he could pick up the underlying worry in her voice. “Let’s just say you’re not getting discharged tonight, and the doctor says you’re banned from - uh, how did he put it? - ‘any phones and whatnot’ for several weeks.”

“Several weeks,” Sonny repeated, eyes slipping closed as he desperately wondered just who the hell he’d pissed off upstairs to have eaten shit so hard while simply pursuing a suspect. “Several weeks.”

(There’s something important, something critical in his head that conflicted strongly with the idea of taking off ‘several weeks’, but the what, the why was too difficult to sort from all the pain and brain-fog. Too much effort.)

“Yeah. Look, I’ve got to go tell Liv that you’re awake - she’s been worried sick about you all night and I’m pretty sure she’s still hanging about. Actually, I’m pretty sure most of the crew are still hanging about.”

He’d roll his eyes at that, but his head hurt too much. Denied the pleasure. “Gloating?”

“Oh, shut up.” Rollins admonished, slowly drawing herself up from the hospital chair with a stiffness that belied sitting in it all night. “You might’ve taken a fall, but you got the guy too. You did good.”

Ah.

“Dead?” He croaked, cracking a tired look back at Amanda.

“Not dead.” She corrected. “Incapacitated. Luckily, incapacitated enough not to shoot at us anymore.”

Oh, fuck. That’s right, what an asshole he was being right now - “God, Rollins, I forgot to ask, are you-”

“I’m totally fine.” His question was cut off before he could finish it, but from what he could make out of Amanda’s face, she looked reassuring. Warm. Not shot. “Thanks to you, for really taking the brunt of it.”

Carisi laughs at that, a dry empty chuckle that makes him instantly wish he hadn’t. Everything burned. Everything felt like shit. But at least it had been for something, right? Even if his pride hurt as much as his brain did right now?

“You’re welcome,” He settled on as Rollins headed over to the door, eyes following her as closely as he could manage. Punctuating her exit with a tired grin; “Though if you feel real grateful, consider the large stack of overdue paperwork on my desk.”

All he hears is Amanda scoff again, and then the room is quiet.

He must’ve drifted off after that, because the next time Sonny wakes up it’s the morning, and the nurse informs him there’s more visitors.

Normally he’d be thrilled to be the center of such adoring attention, but he’d been having the most awful nightmare just before waking. God, it was terrible; to think that he’d dreamed that the bar exam was in a week, and that he’d put himself in a position where he’d injured himself so stupidly and so thoroughly that it’d be near impossible to -

Oh, sweet Mother Mary.

Draping his good arm over his face, Sonny swears under his breath at the sheer stupidity of the universe and all of its creations, yes, even those ones. So deep is he in his current Defcon-5 that he doesn’t realise that the nurse had let two people into his room, and those people had started to repeat themselves louder to get his attention.

“Carisi?” Olivia repeated, strongly enough that it gets him to lift his right arm to look in her direction. Standing at the side of his bed was the Lieutenant, and, strangely, A.D.A. Barba. He - what was he doing here? “Are you alright?”

“Fantastic,” Sonny quipped, his voice still hoarse. “Really great. I think I’ll put in for the New York marathon next week.”

Olivia simply gave him a look that said in no uncertain terms that she could now relax; he was being Carisi, and therefore, he was actually fine (in a relative sense). “Yeah? Noble, but I might hold off on that, actually.”

And right now, it’s easier to just maintain eye contact with the Lieutenant than try to figure out why Barba had tagged along, much less perceive the fact that he had. Here Sonny was, having flown down fifteen stairs and eaten the vinyl floor of a barely-liveable Harlem apartment, looking his worst, feeling his worst, and literally prostrate in front of the one person he only ever wanted to see the best of him. It was absolutely, thoroughly embarrassing right down to Carisi’s core, that he was lying in bed like a dumbass for being a dumbass right now in front of - him.

Him.

If only a giant sinkhole could’ve swallowed the entire apartment building up with him, then this could’ve all been easily solved, but unfortunately the sinkholes in New York never appeared where you wanted them to.

“Rollins gave me an update last night, but the doctors recommended that you got rest so we decided to leave you to it.” Olivia continued. “The squad sends their well wishes, though Fin passes on that he’s ‘commandeered your leftovers.’”

A dry chuckle escaped Sonny at that - and some mild regret. It was good chow mein.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure today?” Carisi asked with an attempt at light-heartedness, glancing up between his two visitors - especially since Barba had yet to say a word. Unnerving, and far too much stress for his battered head to handle. “The Lieutenant and the A.D.A.? Am I getting told off?”

It’s Barba’s turn to scoff quietly, and if Sonny knew any better, he’d say that the counsellor almost looked - concerned?

“Believe me, if that were the case, I would’ve done it already.” Barba stated, his gaze as piercing as ever. Unfair, Sonny thinks, because he’s already been pierced through-and-through by one thing in the last 24 hours. “Actually, I came along with Olivia to check on the suspect’s status - the People can’t prosecute the dead.”

Oddly, Sonny’s heart dropped slightly at the selfish thought that Barba hadn’t simply come down to the hospital to see how he was doing - but yeah, why would he? Better things to do.

“And?”

“You’ll be pleased to know he’ll make a full recovery.”

“Great,” Sonny replied flatly, allowing himself to close his eyes again if only because it was easier than witnessing this entire situation.

“I agree; he’ll be held accountable to the full extent of the law. A huge amount more satisfying than indicting a corpse.”

“Is this your attempt at bedside manner, Counsellor?” The detective groaned. “It could use some work. Like, a lot of work.”

Somewhere down by the foot of the bed, a quick inhale made it sound like Barba was about to retort but Olivia quickly cut whatever it was off with her own question.

“And how are you doing, Carisi? How are you feeling?”

“Yeah, fine,” Attempting to brush it off, Sonny looks back up at Olivia like it’d definitely convince her. It did not. “Honestly. I’m stuck here for a bit, but y’know. Gotta make the best of things. It’s not like I can un-shoot myself.”

Olivia sighed knowingly, her arms crossing over her chest. “Okay, well, is there anything that we can get for you while you’re holed up in here?”

“Nah.” - is his automatic response, because Sonny’s so used to looking after other people that the idea of being asked what he needs is so foreign that a thick, Staten Island-accented ‘nah’ is his go-to - but.

“Actually -” He started again, shifting up in bed slightly. The pain of doing so was apparently evident on his face, as he notices Barba’s eyes flick towards him as he does so. Unreadable, as always. “Could I trouble someone to grab some things from my apartment?”

“Sure. Clothes?”

“Nah, books. There’s a big stack of ‘em on my coffee table, but please ignore the absolutely-everything-else that’s lying around. Haven’t had a chance to clean recently.”

“Oookay.” The look on Olivia’s face suggested that she thought clothes were a far better, far more useful option in Sonny’s situation. “Anything specific?”

“Yeah, just - anything that looks like a law textbook. Uh, I wasn’t going to tell anyone because I don’t think it’s good luck before you know the outcome, but my bar exam? It’s in a week. I kinda need to catch up on study.”

The ensuing silent pause in the room was deafening.

“Carisi, do you really think that’s such a good idea?” Olivia replied softly, in the way that she did when she saw someone in the squad doing something monumentally stupid with their well-being, or their relationships, or their anything. “You’ve just gone through a traumatic shock. Perhaps it’d be better to just… put the exam off until you’re in a better condition.”

The frown creasing Sonny’s brow did more explaining for him than his words needed to.

“Nah, nah, that’s not an option. I’ve been working real hard for this, real hard, and I don’t want to miss the final exam just because I fell down the goddamn stairs. Jesus.”

“Got shot,” Olivia corrected.

“However you wanna put it,” Sonny replied instantaneously. “Just. Please, I’m going to go mad in here with the five cable channels they’ve got, anyway. I need to do something with my time, and it mayaswell be somethin’ useful.”

Raising her hands in mock defeat, the lieutenant shook her head with a faint smile on her face. “Okay, I understand. Look, I’ll get Fin or Rollins to go over to yours and get your stuff sometime today. In the meantime, you should get some more rest before you think about doing anything academic.”

“Yeah, yeah. Promise.”

Moving to leave the room and give Sonny some space, Olivia looks expectantly at Rafael, still standing stoically by the foot of Sonny’s bed. And now, Sonny’s looking at him just as expectantly.

“Counsellor?” The lieutenant queried as she opened the door to Carisi’s room. To both of their surprises, Barba raised a hand up briefly.

“Give me a moment,” He murmured in Olivia’s direction in a way that would make shivers run down Sonny’s back if he weren’t so worried about twinging his shoulder wound. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

And with a nod, the Lieutenant is gone. It’s just them, having an awkward, quiet stand-off in Carisi’s hospital room. Pity, because if he were in a better condition, Sonny would’ve made it a loud one.

At least the noise of him running his own mouth would take the edge of this situation, because now they’re alone, all he can hear is the thrum of blood in his ears and Sonny’s not a doctor but, y’know, he’s pretty sure that’s not a sign of his concussion. Unfortunately, things always got this way when they were in close proximity, and Carisi had been dismayed to notice it getting worse as time went on and they crossed each other's paths more frequently. What had started as an initial attraction when the A.D.A. had strolled into the precinct on his first day had developed into much more of a headache, which was even shittier when he now had an actual, splitting headache to contend with.

It was a sordid, shameful one-two punch of being both extremely attracted to someone in a physical sense and a professional sense, and for someone already feeling fairly sore, Sonny didn’t know if he could do this today.

“So I’m in trouble after all?” Sonny attempted to break the silence, a hand drifting towards his wounded shoulder. “Knew it.”

Barba ignored the deflection. “You’re really intending to sit the bar next week? In the condition you’re in?”

“Yeah? I mean, is that so hard to believe? I’m just a little roughed up is all.”

“Roughed up?” The counsellor repeated, his voice tinged with disbelief. “You were shot by an assailant. You have a head wound. And you think that putting yourself through a bar exam is the correct way to recover from that?”

With a sigh, Sonny sank back slightly into the pillows on the bed. “Look, I appreciate the concern, Counsellor, I really do. But I know you’ve worked really hard for things you’re not willing to give up on, even when the odds weren’t in your favour. Maybe it’s a dumb idea to assume I can think straight enough to pass the bar after hitting every stair on my way down, but I don’t want to… not try. I’ve put a lot into this, and I’m not givin’ up, not now. Not so close to the finish line.”

“It’s not giving up,” Barba said quietly, his gaze meeting squarely with Sonny’s in a way that makes him want to curl his toes. “It’s doing it later.”

“I’m doing it now.”

The detective’s response comes out much firmer than he’d intended - not in an aggressive way, but in a way that made Barba’s shoulders relax slightly, as if he knew the battle he was waging was a lost cause. Of course, there’s an expression the counsellor’s wearing that is absolutely inscrutable, though if Sonny had to guess, it would be that he clearly thinks he’s an idiot.

So, imagine his surprise when the corner of Rafael’s mouth quirked up into a half-smirk as he crossed his arms across his chest, a combination that made the breath catch in Sonny’s throat.

“Very well - then I suppose the least I can do is make sure you’re ready. Fordham Law needs all the help it can get.”

- and the jab at his school goes completely unnoticed as the detective all but gaped at the unsolicited offer of help from the guy he’d never ask it from, but the one he’d want it from the most.

Want, well, a lot of things from the most, but -

The door closes, signaling Barba’s departure, and Sonny simply sits there staring at it.

[beardedmrbean]

SANTA FE, N.M. (AP) — Alec Baldwin’s trial in the shooting of a cinematographer is set to begin Tuesday with the selection of jurors who will be tasked with deciding whether the actor is guilty of involuntary manslaughter.

Getting chosen to serve in a trial of such a major star accused of such a major crime would be unusual even in Los Angeles or Baldwin’s hometown of New York. But it will be essentially an unheard-of experience for those who are picked as jurors in Santa Fe, New Mexico, though the state has increasingly become a hub of Hollywood production in recent years.

Baldwin and his wife Hilaria arrived at the courthouse Tuesday with at least one of their youngest children. The couple have several children, with the youngest set to turn 2 in September.

Baldwin, 66, could get up to 18 months in prison if jurors unanimously decide he committed the felony when a revolver he was pointing at cinematographer Halyna Hutchins went off, killing her and wounding director Joel Souza during a rehearsal for the Western film “Rust” in October 2021 at Bonanza Creek Ranch, some 18 miles (29 kilometers) from where the trial is being held.

Baldwin has said the gun fired accidentally after he followed instructions to point it toward Hutchins, who was behind the camera. Unaware the gun contained a live round, Baldwin said he pulled back the hammer — not the trigger — and it fired.

The star of “30 Rock” and “The Hunt for Red October” made his first appearance in the courtroom on Monday, when Judge Mary Marlowe Summer, in a significant victory for the defense, ruled at a pretrial hearing that Baldwin's role as a co-producer on “Rust” isn't relevant to the trial.

The judge has said that the special circumstances of a celebrity trial shouldn't keep jury selection from moving quickly, and that opening statements should begin Wednesday.

“I’m not worried about being able to pick a jury in one day,” Marlowe Summer said. “I think we’re going to pick a jury by the afternoon.”

Special prosecutor Kari Morrissey, however, was dubious that Baldwin's lawyers, with whom she has clashed in the run-up to the trial, would make that possible.

“It is my guess that with this group of defense attorneys, that’s not gonna happen,” Morrissey said at the hearing.

Baldwin attorney Alex Spiro replied, “I’ve never not picked a jury in one day. I can’t imagine that this would be the first time.”

Dozens of prospective jurors will be brought into the courtroom for questioning Tuesday morning. Cameras that will carry the rest of the proceedings will be turned off to protect their privacy. Jurors are expected to get the case after a nine-day trial.

Attorneys will be able to request they be dismissed for conflicts or other causes. The defense under state law can dismiss up to five jurors without giving a reason, the prosecution three. More challenges will be allowed when four expected alternates are chosen.

Before Marlowe Sommer's ruling Monday, prosecutors had hoped to highlight Baldwin’s safety obligations on the set as co-producer to bolster an alternative theory of guilt beyond his alleged negligent use of a firearm. They aimed to link Baldwin’s behavior to “total disregard or indifference for the safety of others" under the involuntary manslaughter law.

ut the prosecution managed other wins Monday. They successfully argued for the exclusion of summary findings from a state workplace safety investigation that placed much of the blame on the film's assistant director, shifting fault away from Baldwin.

And the judge ruled that they could show graphic images from Hutchins' autopsy, and from police lapel cameras during the treatment of her injuries.

[william-r-melich]

Trump Gagged? No Way! - 04/03/2024

The New York supreme court judge Juan Merchan in Trump's "hush money" case has expanded on his earlier gag order which tried to restrict what Trump could publicly say about the case. The order came late yesterday which gags the former president from speaking in public about Manhattan D.A. Alvin Brag's family members and all others named including jurors, potential jurors, counsel, court staff, witnesses, and their families. The judge wrote, “This pattern of attacking family members of presiding jurists and attorneys assigned to his cases serves no legitimate purpose, it merely injects fear in those assigned or called to participate in the proceedings that not only they, but their family members as well, are ‘fair game,’ for Defendant’s vitriol.” He further wrote that courts are "understandably concerned" on restricting defendants' free speech, especially for those who are publicly notable. He further wrote, “The circumstances of the instant matter, however, are different. The conventional ‘David vs. Goliath’ roles are no longer in play as demonstrated by the singular power defendant’s words have on countless others.” In his ruling arguments he cited from the prosecution, “multiple potential witnesses have already raised grave concerns [...] about their own safety and that of their family members should they appear as witnesses against the defendant.” On those fears he wrote that they would "undoubtedly interfere" with the proceedings, and he continued. “The average observer, must now, after hearing defendant’s recent attacks, draw the conclusion that if they become involved in these proceedings, even tangentially, they should worry not only for themselves, but for their loved ones as well.” State prosecutor Matthew Colangelo wrote, “Defendant’s dangerous, violent, and reprehensible rhetoric fundamentally threatens the integrity of these proceedings and is intended to intimidate witnesses and trial participants alike—including this Court.” The state attorney's office was referencing Trump's remarks about the judge's daughter.

This judge, Juan Merchan, is compromised with a serious case of Trump Derangement Syndrome, and Trump's lawyers think he should recuse himself from the case because his daughter, Loren Merchan who owns a Democrat political consulting firm, heavily profited from her fundraisers dedicated to hurt and remove Trump from the political scene. The judge's wife, Lara Merchan, used to work for New York Attorney General Letitia James, who prosecuted Trump for a victimless crime of "over valuating" his property to get a more favorable loan, and to which he paid back fully with interest that made Duetsche Bank (no complaints) a lot of money. Another ridiculous, unconstitutionally brought case, which, like all the others, is nothing more than political persecution. Judge Juan Merchan's profile picture on X was of Donald Trump behind bars. I think it's fair to say that this judge is compromised, or as Trump would say, "by a lot!"

Of course, the mainstream media's talking point's echoe-chamber put out that Trump made threatening remarks about the judge's daughter, when in fact he did no such thing. One of his Truth Social posts reads, “Judge Juan Merchan, a very distinguished looking man, is nevertheless a true and certified Trump Hater who suffers from a very serious case of Trump Derangement Syndrome. In other words, he hates me! His daughter is a senior executive at a Super Liberal Democrat firm that works for Adam ‘Shifty’ Schiff, the Democrat National Committee, Senate Majority PAC, and even Crooked Joe Biden.”

As I have said before, I think all of these cases against Trump should be dismissed and thrown out, as they are obviously political witch hunts directed by Biden's crooked administration and their weaponized justice department. So, Trump appropriately calls them the "Biden trials." The left thinks they can stop him from coming back to DC, and this judge thinks he can silence him, to keep him from pointing out all of the obvious corruption in that's clearly in plain sight for anyone with a functioning brain to see; --No Way! No Way! - will they ever silence or stop him, and No Way! - will they ever silence or stop us, we the people. Trump is right when he declares these trials as being "election interference," and that they should never, ever take place in the United States of America: abso-futting-lutely; -- No Way!