#to the point where i was below the poverty line for several months because of it
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Note
How can I bribe you into helping me get a job in the industry, other than promising my undying love, which you already have <3
The industry is horrible and awful, low pay, long hours, no real chance of advancing.
Whenever people touring the station or new interns ask me for advice, I always tell them to change careers lol
#ask#plus; i'm a producer for a statewide channel sure; but it's nothing huge or glam#like;; i've gotten to work with celebrities but that's more luck than normal operations#and i've said 'i don't hate what i'm doing i hate where i do it' so much for so long that i don't even believe it anymore#i would only wish a career in television on people i hate#but i do try to be even minded as best i can; like i'm acutely aware i work in probably one of the most toxic environments in the state#i've been sexually harassed; grabbed; locked in a room and screamed at by a psycho freelance producer#been injured and seen graphic injuries that happened because of incompetence; seen theft and assault#and had the men at work get aggressive with me because i'm the youngest and shortest and only woman#told by management i was only given opportunities because i'm a woman and it looks better for their image if they pretend to put me up fron#had my bosses retaliate against me for refusing to do illegal things for them#to the point where i was below the poverty line for several months because of it#told by hr that i have no right to complain about anything because even though i run their biggest show i'm just a contractor#had my work stolen and other people's names put on it so those people get the emmys that my work has earned#and lied to about pay rates so I wouldn't know I'm paid less than the men who have fewer responsibilities and less experience than i do#and now they're waging a war against LGBT employees by promoting ultra-right viewpoints and banning mentions of pride#so no i really don't want to help bring anyone into this environment#every day driving in and driving home i just think about driving my car into a concrete wall#i'm looking for a new job i promise
27 notes
·
View notes
Text
Money is absolutely no object. I would not notice a $400 emergency.
I don’t think about money. I pay for whatever I need or want without thinking about the price. I don’t notice when my paycheck arrives unless my bank app notifies me. Most of my debt is either paid off or "strategic". A $400 emergency would not impact my day-to-day life or even my savings very much.
I don’t think about money much. In fact, I barely notice when my paycheck comes in. I have extra money left over after I spend all I need and want to every month, which makes adding to my savings every month pretty easy. I generally don’t worry about occasional $400 emergencies, because I know I can pay for them out of my savings or even out of my bank account depending on where they fall in my pay cycle.
I think about money rarely. I notice that my money runs low near payday. I can plan ahead and take money out of my paycheck first to build a savings account, but the money gets eaten up if I do not do this. I am pretty careful about what I buy. Even so, I am comfortable and can weather the occasional $400 emergency without falling behind.
I think about money some. I live paycheck to paycheck and it is hard to save money even when I try. I frequently buy the cheapest version of something and check my bank account before spending any money. An occasional $400 emergency puts me behind for a month or two but I can easily recover. —--------POVERTY LINE—-------------
I think about money every day. I live paycheck to paycheck, have no savings, and have little or no money the day before payday. Occasionally I fall behind on utilities or recurring payments but I generally have enough for my rent or mortgage. A $400 emergency would put me behind for several months and would be difficult to fully recover from.
I think about money every day. I live paycheck to paycheck, have no savings, and go broke multiple days before payday. Frequently, I am behind on one or more payments, but I can usually swing paying for what would otherwise be turned off. My rent or mortgage is usually something I have to plan carefully and sometimes give up other necessities for, but I have never been in danger of eviction. A $400 emergency would take 6 months or more to recover from, and in that time I may have several utilities shut off temporarily. Fortunately I would probably not go hungry during this time if I prioritize.
I think about money constantly. I live paycheck to paycheck, but it feels like the money is gone as soon as I get it. I spend more than a week between paychecks with no money at all. I am frequently in danger of having utilities shut off, have had them shut off temporarily in the past, and am frequently late on my rent or mortgage to the point where I have been threatened with eviction/foreclosure multiple times. Several days or more per month I worry about not having enough to eat. A $400 emergency would cause me to become homeless.
I am living in a vehicle, with a friend, or living in a tent with a nearby storage locker. I have some cash income, which goes to maintaining this and other necessities like food. I can generally get by and have some material resources, but I am not comfortable. I could never hope to recover from a $400 emergency.
I am alternating between being completely unhoused and living in a shelter. I cannot store belongings or food and have little or no cash income. I rely on free and charity food for nutrition.
63 notes
·
View notes
Text
Learning To Fish vs. Learning To Trust
Several months ago, I deleted my Twitter account because I spent too much time scrolling through it every day and getting angry at all the ridiculousness I found on it.
I also have some philosophical differences with the new owner of Twitter, so there's that, too.
But before my exodus from the platform, I did see an exchange between two people that amused me so much that I noted it for such a time as this.
The first guy posted a tweet in response to an article on a government program for people stuck in the cycle of poverty that essentially said:
"Jesus taught people to fish. He didn't give them handouts."
To which another guy responded:
"Oh yeah, I forgot the story where Jesus taught 5,000 people to fish so they could feed themselves."
I had to laugh at that whole thing for a couple of reasons. The first guy obviously needed to read the New Testament more carefully.
Jesus never taught anyone to fish. He wasn't a fisherman. When he gave the disciples advice on fishing, it wasn't a lesson on fishing but a lesson on trust.
Jesus told the disciples in the fishing boat to cast their nets again after they'd been fishing all night and caught nothing. Peter probably sighed before he responded, "Well, you see, we've been fishing all night and haven't caught a thing, but because you say so, I'll do it."
And then they pulled in a haul that was so large it almost broke their nets.
The disciples knew how to fish; they had been doing it most of their lives. They didn't know how to trust, though. Jesus fixed that.
Further, the point of the second guy in that Twitter exchange is well-taken. When Jesus fed the multitudes who had gathered to hear him speak, he was meeting their immediate need, which was hunger and a more profound need, trust.
Both the multitudes and the disciples, who were flummoxed by Jesus' direction to feed everyone, got to experience the rush and joy of having their needs met and their trust in God enlivened.
So what do we learn from this?
The Way of Jesus demands we meet people where they are, and sometimes where they are is in a place of immediate need that needs to be filled before they can learn to trust and begin to find their way again.
And if we ignore their immediate need, we do violence to the Gospel.
James, the brother of Jesus, put it like this in his letter to the Church:
If one of you says to him, "Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed," but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it? In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead.
The myth of the American success story is often buoyed by accounts of those who we are led to believe pulled themselves up by their bootstraps, made their way in the world, worked hard, imagined more, and came out on top.
What's missing from those accounts is that, more often than not, they were given a leg up along the way; someone offered them something they would not have attained on their own.
Another hard truth is that in the wealthiest country in the world, millions are living below the poverty line, most of whom have long given up trusting that there is a way out.
You can't pull yourself up by the bootstraps when you're barefooted.
And so, like Jesus, we are called to do everything we can to try and meet the immediate needs of those whose immediate needs keep them from imagining a better life, a good God, and a kinder, gentler world.
This is the Way of Christ. May we live into it with all the love we can muster.
And may the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with us all, now and forever. Amen.
0 notes
Text
"Trese" and the truth in the fiction
In short: why the actual monsters in Trese don't have horns, wings, or summoning rituals
Finally the Netflix anime adaptation of the Filipino graphic novel/comics series "Trese" has dropped. It is available in several languages such as English, Filipino, Japanese, Spanish...just to name a few. It is not a perfect work, both in technical terms as well as an adaptation of the source material, but it is worth a watch. Go watch it. Please.
That being said, there is so much to unpack about the series, and I do not mean in terms of the voice-acting and the ethnicities of the persons involved, or just how crunched together the writing is. I will leave that to the critics. What I am writing here is a view as to the real life truths woven into the horror/supernatural threads of the "Trese" episodes, and why these are important. It's because for a lot of people encountering "Trese" at this point, the actual every day monsters of the tale (or at least of the first 4 episodes) are even more distant than the aswangs, tikbalangs, nunos and other supernatural beings that populate the anime.
This will go into spoilers below the cut
Episode 1: The series opens with a train stopping right near the "Guadalupe Station", and some of its passengers being attacked by aswang as they walk along the railroad tracks. During the course of investigating this and another case (that of a ghost murdered on Balete Drive), Alexandra Trese learns that other spirits using this train line have recently perished in a fire or have also been murdered by aswang in league with a politician.
The squatter/informal settler community mentioned in this episode is based on a real one. That area has gone up in flames from accidental and not so accidental fires over the past few decades. Some of the settlers have moved on, but a good many have stubbornly stuck around despite the land being eyed by a large property developer. That area is a symptom of the inequality that plagues that particular part of the metropolis, since it is only less than a mile away from some of the country's swankiest gated subdivisions. While the powers that be are (probably) not involved in selling anyone for meat, they still have a long way to go to address the woes of that community when it is not election season.
As for the other murder in the episode? There have been several cases of women associated with or married to prominent politicians who have died in mysterious circumstances, with some of these deaths ruled as suicide. In many cases, the truth has been hushed up, or simply swept under the rug.
Episode 2: While Alexandra is pursuing the trail of a tikbalang running wild in the city, she also is called to investigate a mysterious series of electrocutions in a gated village. Along the way she discovers that this is a form of human sacrifice to the bagyons manning the electricity providers of the city.
As reprehensible as the bagyons are, what is truly sickening is the seeming indifference of the people in Livewell Village. It's mentioned more in the comics (but also given a line or two of exposition here by the Nuno) that the people regularly offer an outsider, usually a skilled worker in charge of maintenance, to ensure that the bagyon will bless them. In real life there is the callousness that some people exhibit towards essential workers such as yes, repairmen and electricians who have to endure heights and storms just to ensure the "comfort" of consumers. Although the Philippines isn't a country crawling with litiginous folk and "Karens", there are enough of this sort to make essential workers' lives miserable on a daily basis.
Episode 3: This is a difficult one, both in the comics and the anime. One of Trese's cases leads her to cross paths with an actress named Nova, who is later revealed to have had her child left to die (hence making her a target for a specific type of monster). Nova's story is admittedly not easy to deal with and may be considered incredulous, but there are two important contexts to remember when watching it.
The first is that abortion is still illegal throughout the Philippines. It cannot be legally offered by any clinic or medical practitioner. There are clandestine alternatives available, but at a steep price.
That being said, most Filipinos regardless of where they stand on the abortion issue will still consider the abandonment or murder of an infant to be beyond the pale. Yet this does happen. Every month one can expect to read a story or two of babies being tossed in the trash or left in bathrooms---and those are just the stories that make it to the press. There have been exposes about mothers who have sold off their infants to "adopters" willing to pay thousands of pesos or dollars for an under the table transfer of custody. These happen because of desperation, poverty, and lack of resources to support mothers. Maternity leave is only up to 120 days here in most cases, and there are few resources to support mothers with PPD, mothers abandoned by their partners, or those with just too many mouths to feed. Questions of "bodily autonomy" are not first and foremost in the mind of many women who do the worst to their newborns; the question is food on the table for the next day or the day after. Survival is key. Not independence or empowerment.
With these in mind, it is not surprising that Nova is considered one of the most disturbing and reprehensible characters in this episode. From what we see, her choice of abandoning her child stems from vanity and pursuit of a glamorous career. We can see that this is not because she would be out on the streets if she had a child to care for, or because she was escaping something. It's just portrayed as pure selfishness.
It is interesting that Nova is introduced here almost as a juxtaposition to another mother, Ramona. Ramona, the mother of Crispin and Basilio, is an armed insurgent who engages in a ritual to avenge herself on the military men who forced her to murder her own comrades. It is also implied earlier in the season that it was not just murder involved, but that Ramona had also been a "prize" given to the soldiers who captured her. And yes in this context, it can also mean rape. The Armed Forces of the Philippines does not have a shining record when it comes to its treatment of women dissidents and prisoners. This backstory does not justify what Ramona does for the remainder of her screentime, but it does show why she has absolutely no sympathy or mercy to give to anyone outside of her two children. She is part of a cycle of killing that makes any peaceful resolution of the insurgency in the Philippines so difficult to achieve. Both sides behave abominably, and civillians do get caught in the crossfire (or explosions).
Episode 4: Much of this episode revolves around the events in and surrounding a certain police station located near a large public cemetery. We see that the police chief Captain Guerrero has his hands full with cases and keeping his subordinates in line. The cops in the precinct range from the innocent apparent newcomer Tapia to the more stereotypical "asshole" cops Reyes and company. Later it is discovered that the bodies apparently "stolen" from the graves are resurrected zombies who are being directed to attack the station for a specific reason...and it has to do with how the police run their often bloody operations.
The real life neighborhoods surrounding the cemetery have seen their share of violence and "extra judicial killings". In some houses there are still candles and placards calling for justice for family members killed in raids or accused of having been drug suspects (almost a death sentence in the Philippines 2016 onwards). Eyewitnesses and CCTV footage show members of the police force taking part in these raids and clandestine operations. The worst part? The neighborhoods surrounding that particular cemetery haven't even seen the worst of it. Other disadvantaged communities in the north of the metropolis have seen even more deaths of this sort...with some of the deaths being those of children. Google the name of Kian delos Santos as a test case. Kian's case was one of the few to have extended media coverage, and even then the resolution has been rather wanting.
It is tempting to go into the "all cops are bastards" line of thought with this episode, but I do like how Captain Guerrero is forced to interact with someone who he is trying to save in the station, since as it turns out this person has recently lost a family member to this form of senseless murder. Captain Guerrero and the audience are led to remember that these victims have names. They had families. They had lives. They are more than body counts and statistics. That scene is one of the most humanizing of the series, and shows that while not all cops are bastards, there is enough rot in the institution to make it a problem.
Episodes 5-6: I would go more into Episodes 5 and 6, but those deserve a whole new treatment into the nature of truth, compromise, and even gaslighting (even I am not sure how much of a certain character's narrative is true, and how much is just meant to confuse Alexandra with regard to what she knows of her father). The context she does face before those harrowing revelations is a very real one though: things going wrong in a penitentiary.
The penal system of the Philippines is alarmingly punitive and full of inequities. Privileged inmates like politicians do receive special treatment (including media coverage and becoming leaders of factions) while less privileged inmates languish and must struggle to survive the brutal social hiearchy in some institutions. And yes it has happened that inmates have been sent out to do "jobs" of murder and arson in the outside world, often being snuck in and out. A movie that tackles this aspect better is "OTJ (On the Job)" directed by Erik Matti. That one will keep you up at night.
The ending of Episode 6 is rather ambiguous, and it remains to be seen what Alexandra really experienced during her trials prior to becoming a detective, and what her father really did to her and her sibling. We'll have to wait for another season to get to the bottom of that. But if the anime will continue to draw from the comics themselves for stories/case files, we can count on seeing more societal demons and baddies alongside the supernatural ones. And those are the villains that Alexandra Trese cannot just readily beat; it will take a heck lot more than a babaylan na mandirigma to handle those!
125 notes
·
View notes
Text
We All Want To Be Free: Disability, Veganism, Oppression & Trauma
In my experience when you're disabled (and proud #represent ) but require home health care services, it seems like you can't go 6 months without having to fight against cuts in funding, Which means, that every damn year, we are fighting against attacks (from democrats and republicans) on our literal freedom. Do you know what it’s like to fight to not be forced from your home and into nursing homes & institutions? It’s exhausting, its terrifying and it’s normalized. As of early April 2022 I have been signal boosting #FairPay4Home Care, which works to solve the home health care worker shortage crisis by ensuring a fair wage (not poverty wage) for HHC workers, More workers in the HHC industry, less disabled and/or seniors forced from our homes. Our struggles are connected.
[image description: black background. In the center is a woman of color. Her curly hair is gently blowing in a breeze. She is looking at the camera with a certain quite strength. The text around her reads as follows: On the left, in large white font “Disabled people exist” There is then a upside yellow L shape that underlines the text but also brings the eye down to the text below it which reads “within every marginalized community” then the text on the upper right reads “so when they go after the rights and freedom of disabled people, it's an attack on us all.” All the text is in white, except that last line ] Getting involved in the movement has been simultaneously fulfilling as I am currently mostly bed bound (though working on getting stronger) and sometimes feel isolated from the world, so it has been nice to feel apart of something bigger than myself and my friends. But at times it was also triggering (in the actual psychological sense of the word, not as in a synonym for merely bothered as it's often misused). No one deserves to be forced from their homes against their will and into institutions, where daily life is a dehumanizing assembly line. And that’s just when we’re not in a pandemic. When we are, such places can be a literal death trap and nightmare.
An experience, I unfortunately know all to well, as I spent several months in three different nursing homes from October 2021 to January 2022. Not only was I malnourished, not only did I at times experience abuse and neglect, but as I mentioned in the previous article which was somewhat controversial, I (like many of those stuck in institutions) was not able to remain vegan.
RELATED: Legitimate excuses to not being fully vegan?: What my animal rights activism got wrong. (said article) And because at that point, I had already lost far too much weight as it was in these various hospitals and institutions, I had little choice but to consume animals like chicken and fish. And at first it broke my heart more than I can say, but like many toxic experiences that occurred during that time, my way of getting through things was to shut down as I was essentially in survival mode. And it got to the point where I was so closed off emotionally, that after a month, I ate chickens and fish without much of a thought. To be clear I didn’t take pleasure in it. I didn’t take pleasure in much during that time. It was eat or starve - so I ate. But I never felt good about it. I just shut down from those feelings of sadness, the knowledge that I am eating a fellow being. Nope not a being. Just food.
[image description: Photo of my lunch on a blue plate. The pieces of green beans are a vibrant green and the chickpeas are this beige yellow as is the toasted which is more of a beige. In my mind it looks delicious but I could be just hungry ] In a way, it kind of reminds me of before I went vegan. Not that I was in a place of trauma but I was never fully comfortable with eating animals but I would shut down that part of myself because I was told we need to eat them or we’ll get weak (aka the protein myth). But it never felt right to me. RELATED: How Does Trauma Effect the Brain?
When I got out the nursing home, my health was not stabilized.In fact it was worse. I had actually gotten covid while I was there, because at first there was one case, then there was a whole floor of covid, and then it was on three floors of covid (including the floor I was on). And still the owners of the nursing home kept accepting new people even though the staff was already overwhelmed and burnt out and could not keep up with the numbers that we had. In many cases, sometimes on a daily basis, the staff punched down. I remember being so dehydrated at one point that I collapsed on the floor, only to be yelled at because they didn't have time for “these games”. It was not a game. So when I came home I was not only messed up physically but also mentally. I had experienced trauma and had a lot of healing to do. Anyone who knows that the path to healing from trauma is not an easy one, because you have to remember, feel, process and grieve - and I had gone to great lengths to avoid such things, I still get flashbacks and it remains one of the hardest things I have ever had to get through.
[image description: On a blue plate there are many layers of soy curls, vegan cheese, beans, salsa and a vegan burger with lettuce on the side. The colors are red and orange and beige and brown and green ]
That said, one of the many good things about being home (besides being in a safer environment) was that I was able to eat whatever I wanted - within the realm of my allergies and dietary intolerances. At first I was concerned that going vegan “too quickly” might be too much of a shock for my body which was already pretty messed up at this point in time. In addition, one doctor had told me that eating soy might exasperate my thyroid issues, and so part of me felt scared about returning to tofu. I was also experiencing these really strong cravings for salmon that I initially didn't understand. What if I can't be vegan for medical reasons and if I stop eating fish I'll get even worse? I realize now this thinking was partially rooted in trauma. With trauma responses, you experience really intense depression, intense anxiety, so making changes (even good ones) can feel incredibly overwhelming. But at one point in my recovery, as I started to heal, I reconnected to the realization that the salmon I was eating was not just “food for my consumption” but this was a being, this was a life that was not mine to take. And when I reconnected to that, I cried. That like me, this was a life that deserved freedom and safety. But furthermore I realized I don't need to eat the fish anymore. I am no longer in survival mode. I am safe now and I can let it go. So, I looked for other sources of Omega 3 (hemp hearts and jackfruit according to the internet) and it felt safe to make the change.
[image description: Photo of my lunch consisting of orange carrots slices of green zucchini fairly medium sized white beige I guess butter beans and pieces of vegan chicken that looks pretty realistic on a blue plate and towards the side you can see a bit of my silver fork ] Just as it was important for me to honor the life of the fish, it was also important for me to honor my feelings on the matter and what was needed to feel safe. Instead of just trying to ignore the feelings or even chastise myself for having them in the first place. My heart is vegan, why am I craving salmon?! I honored those feelings and looked at why I was having the craving in the first place.Turns out as my body was quite malnourished from my time in the various institutions, I needed more calories, more iron, omega 3 and protein than what I was eating as my body needed to heal. Once I ate more of what was needed, the cravings went away. It was never that I wanted salmon per se, but rather that my body just wanted the nutrients that salmon had.
[image description: A photo of various Frozen snacks on a blue plate. There are pieces of vegan chicken and oven baked fries. ] RELATED: For The Planet’s Sake: Unpacking Common Reactions To The Word Vegan RELATED: Is Veganism Ableist? A Disabled Vegan Perspective Last week was the first week since I’ve been home that I was fully vegan. I am feeling better physically (as my body tends to feel better when I eat a fairly whole foods vegan diet, It has a hard time absorbing nutrients from animals, so I tend to do better plant based.) I am also feeling better emotionally. I am still healing from the trauma which is a work in progress. I’ve been having an increase in flashbacks since becoming more involved in #FairPay4HomeCare but I try to do something in the morning and then leave it alone for the rest of the day in the name of self care, and honor the feelings in between. But I am also getting involved with activism again, starting to create again, listen to music more and reconnecting to my passions and living accordingly to what I feel in my heart - which includes veganism. And this is key – to know how to feed my soul, nourish my body, especially as I continue to heal and fight with my people to remain free. For in the end, we all just want to be free.
[image description: Esther the wonder pig is half sitting on her bed and half on the floor. She is smiling and hanging out with her best friend Phil the dog ]
#vegan#veganism#disabled vegan#for the animals#for the planet#ableism#disability#trauma#oppression#our homes not nursing homes#fair pay 4 home care#trauma responses#punching down#our struggles are connected
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
We All Want To Be Free: Disability, Veganism, Oppression & Trauma
In my experience when you're disabled (and proud #represent ) but require home health care services, it seems like you can't go 6 months without having to fight against cuts in funding, Which means, that every damn year, we are fighting against attacks (from democrats and republicans) on our literal freedom. Do you know what it’s like to fight to not be forced from your home and into nursing homes & institutions? It’s exhausting, its terrifying and it’s normalized. As of early April 2022 I have been signal boosting #FairPay4Home Care, which works to solve the home health care worker shortage crisis by ensuring a fair wage (not poverty wage) for HHC workers, More workers in the HHC industry, less disabled and/or seniors forced from our homes. Our struggles are connected.
[image description: black background. In the center is a woman of color. Her curly hair is gently blowing in a breeze. She is looking at the camera with a certain quiet strength. The text around her reads as follows: On the left, in large white font “Disabled people exist” There is then a upside yellow L shape that underlines the text but also brings the eye down to the text below it which reads “within every marginalized community” then the text on the upper right reads “so when they go after the rights and freedom of disabled people, it's an attack on us all.” All the text is in white, except that last line ] Getting involved in the movement has been simultaneously fulfilling as I am currently mostly bed bound (though working on getting stronger) and sometimes feel isolated from the world, so it has been nice to feel apart of something bigger than myself and my friends. But at times it was also triggering (in the actual psychological sense of the word, not as in a synonym for merely bothered as it's often misused). No one deserves to be forced from their homes against their will and into institutions, where daily life is a dehumanizing assembly line. And that’s just when we’re not in a pandemic. When we are, such places can be a literal death trap and nightmare.
An experience, I unfortunately know all to well, as I spent several months in three different nursing homes from October 2021 to January 2022. Not only was I malnourished, not only did I at times experience abuse and neglect, but as I mentioned in the previous article which was somewhat controversial, I (like many of those stuck in institutions) was not able to remain vegan.
RELATED: Legitimate excuses to not being fully vegan?: What my animal rights activism got wrong. (said article) And because at that point, I had already lost far too much weight as it was in these various hospitals and institutions, I had little choice but to consume animals like chicken and fish. And at first it broke my heart more than I can say, but like many toxic experiences that occurred during that time, my way of getting through things was to shut down as I was essentially in survival mode. And it got to the point where I was so closed off emotionally, that after a month, I ate chickens and fish without much of a thought. To be clear I didn’t take pleasure in it. I didn’t take pleasure in much during that time. It was eat or starve - so I ate. But I never felt good about it. I just shut down from those feelings of sadness, the knowledge that I am eating a fellow being. Nope not a being. Just food.
[image description: Photo of my lunch on a blue plate. The pieces of green beans are a vibrant green and the chickpeas are this beige yellow as is the toasted which is more of a beige. ] In a way, it kind of reminds me of before I went vegan. Not that I was in a place of trauma but I was never fully comfortable with eating animals but I would shut down that part of myself because I was told we need to eat them or we’ll get weak (aka the protein myth). But it never felt right to me. RELATED: How Does Trauma Effect the Brain?
When I got out of the nursing home, my health was not stabilized.In fact it was worse. I had actually gotten covid while I was there, because at first there was one case, then there was a whole floor of covid, and then it was on three floors of covid (including the floor I was on). And still the owners of the nursing home kept accepting new people even though the staff was already overwhelmed and burnt out and could not keep up with the numbers that we had. In many cases, sometimes on a daily basis, the staff punched down. I remember being so dehydrated at one point that I collapsed on the floor, only to be yelled at because they didn't have time for “these games”. It was not a game. So when I came home I was not only messed up physically but also mentally. I had experienced trauma and had a lot of healing to do. Anyone who knows that the path to healing from trauma is not an easy one, because you have to remember, feel, process and grieve - and I had gone to great lengths to avoid such things, I still get flashbacks and it remains one of the hardest things I have ever had to get through.
[image description: On a blue plate there are many layers of soy curls, vegan cheese, beans, salsa and a vegan burger with lettuce on the side. The colors are red and orange and beige and brown and green ]
That said, one of the many good things about being home (besides being in a safer environment) was that I was able to eat whatever I wanted - within the realm of my allergies and dietary intolerances. At first I was concerned that going back to vegan “too quickly” might be too much of a shock for my body which was already pretty messed up at this point in time. In addition, one doctor had told me that eating soy might exasperate my thyroid issues, and so part of me felt scared about returning to tofu. I was also experiencing these really strong cravings for salmon that I initially didn't understand. What if I can't be vegan for medical reasons and if I stop eating fish I'll get even worse? I realize now this thinking was partially rooted in trauma. With trauma responses, you experience really intense depression, intense anxiety, so making changes (even good ones) can feel incredibly overwhelming. But at one point in my recovery, as I started to heal, I reconnected to the realization that the salmon I was eating was not just “food” but this was a being, this was a life that was not mine to take. And when I reconnected to that, I cried. That like me, this was a life that deserved freedom and safety. But furthermore I realized I don't need to eat the fish anymore. I am no longer in survival mode. I am safe now and I can let it go. So, I looked for other sources of Omega 3 (hemp hearts and jackfruit according to the internet) and it felt safe to make the change.
[image description: Photo of my lunch consisting of orange carrots slices of green zucchini fairly medium sized white beige butter beans and pieces of vegan chicken that looks pretty realistic on a blue plate and towards the side you can see a bit of my silver fork ] Just as it was important for me to honor the life of the fish, it was also important for me to honor my feelings on the matter and what was needed to feel safe. Instead of just trying to ignore the feelings or even chastise myself for having them in the first place. My heart is vegan, why am I craving salmon?! I honored those feelings and looked at why I was having the craving in the first place.Turns out as my body was quite malnourished from my time in the various institutions, I needed more calories, more iron, omega 3 and protein than what I was eating as my body needed to heal. Once I ate more of what was needed, the cravings went away. It was never that I wanted salmon per se, but rather that my body just wanted the nutrients that salmon had.
[image description: A photo of various frozen snacks on a blue plate. There are pieces of vegan chicken and oven baked fries. ] RELATED: For The Planet’s Sake: Unpacking Common Reactions To The Word Vegan RELATED: Is Veganism Ableist? A Disabled Vegan Perspective Last week was the first week since I've been home that I was fully vegan. I am feeling better physically (as my body tends to feel better when I eat a fairly whole foods vegan diet, It has a hard time absorbing nutrients from animals, so I tend to do better plant based.) I am also feeling better emotionally. I am still healing from the trauma which is a work in progress. I’ve been having an increase in flashbacks since becoming more involved in #FairPay4HomeCare but I try to do something in the morning and then leave it alone for the rest of the day in the name of self care, and honor the feelings in between. But I am also getting involved with activism again, starting to create again, listen to music more and reconnecting to my passions and living accordingly to what I feel in my heart - which includes veganism. And this is key – to know how to feed my soul, nourish my body, especially as I continue to heal and fight with my people to remain in our homes. For in the end, we all just want to be free.
[image description: Esther the wonder pig is half sitting on her bed and half on the floor. She is smiling and hanging out with her best friend Phil the dog ]
#vegan#disabled vegan#vegansim#for the animals#for the planet#disabiility#fair pay 4 home care#our homes not nursing homes#ableism#oppression#trauma#trauma healing#trauma responses#punching down#our struggles are connected
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Lebanon. Always weirdly eager to be worse than everybody else
Aid and support for Lebanon follow massive blast in Beirut. A massive explosion at the city’s port on Tuesday left at least 135 people dead and 5,000 injured while hundreds more are still missing. The blast caused widespread destruction, displacing some 300,000 people according to UN estimates. UNHCR said some of the severely affected areas included neighbourhoods that hosted refugees and that it had received unconfirmed reports of several refugee deaths. Many of Beirut’s intensive care units were already near capacity with COVID-19 patients before the blast put three hospitals out of use and damaged two others. UNHCR said it would expedite its efforts to expand hospital bed and ICU capacity. The agency is also making its in-country stocks of shelter kits, plastic sheets, and other relief items available for immediate distribution and opening its reception centres across the country for critical cases. The explosion came at a time when Lebanon was already in the midst of a severe economic crisis that had pushed many Lebanese and refugees deeper into poverty. The port where the blast occurred was the main entry point to the country for many essential supplies as well as food aid for the region. The World Food Programme said the damage was likely to exacerbate the country’s already grim economic and food security outlook.
We have been watching, in horror, the devastation and despair caused by a vast explosion in Beirut. Our team has been wading through the hundreds of conspiracy theories that are swirling around the internet, as some use the disaster to pursue their own political aims.
• Feeding the conspiracies are unanswered questions about how ammonium nitrate, which is banned in Lebanon, got to Beirut port and was allowed to stay there for six years in violation of the nation’s law and all public safety procedures.
• We tracked down the producers of the ammonium nitrate in Georgia, who sold it — in an apparently legal transaction — to an explosives factory in Mozambique. The trader and owner of the ship that carried the cargo is a Cyprus-based Russian businessman who has now been questioned by Cypriot police. According to the crew, he ordered the ship to change course and sail to Beirut instead of continuing to Mozambique. “I don’t know how he got the permission to dock in Beirut with that illegal cargo,” the Russian captain of the ship told Russian website MediaZona.
• Negligence and corruption are the known causes. This disaster couldn’t have come at a worse time for Lebanon, which, before Tuesday’s explosion, was already in the throes of overlapping economic, political and public health crises. One likely effect of the blast, according to health professionals in Beirut, will be a worsening of the coronavirus pandemic. Virus monitoring has already halted. We have more below, so keep reading.
BEIRUT
EU HELP: European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen pledged some €33 million for “first emergency needs, medical support and equipment, and protection of critical infrastructure” during a call with Lebanese Prime Minister Hassan Diab on Thursday, according to a readout from the Commission. She stressed that the EU attaches great importance to “the unity and stability of Lebanon.” Verbatim, and good luck: “She emphasized that this tragic moment for Lebanon should be the occasion to unite all political forces around a national effort to respond to the many challenges the country is facing,” the readout said.
Translation: The hope in EU capitals is that Tuesday’s massive explosion in Beirut would make the need for reform obvious to all, including the Lebanese elite and those profiting most from the power-sharing arrangements among them. Recent protests suggest that trust in the old system of distributing power according to religious proportional representation is dwindling.
A more pressing question for both world leaders and Lebanese locals: How can any authority allow highly explosive material to be stored, unprotected, in a warehouse for years, leading it to blow up the homes of 300,000 people, killing at least 145 and wounding thousands more? (Overnight, Lebanese security forces used tear gas against protesters, who accused the government of negligence.)
MACRON SPELLS IT OUT: French President Emmanuel Macron delivered a stern warning along these lines to Lebanese leaders after landing in Beirut on Thursday, saying that other than emergency humanitarian aid, there would be no international money without sincere reform. Macron was the first world leader to visit Beirut after the explosion.
This is noteworthy: “Lebanon is facing political and economic crises and an urgent response to this is required,” Macron said. “If reforms are not made, Lebanon will continue to sink,” he added, referring to the energy sector, public tenders and corruption. Later in the day, Macron announced he will organize an international aid conference in the coming days to raise funds — but aid would go directly to NGOs and the people who need it, he said, implying it would circumvent the government in order to avoid corruption.
Deadline: “It’s time for responsibility in Lebanon,” Macron said at a press conference at the end of his visit. “We raised funds in the past, but we can only do it if the Lebanese authorities take their responsibilities to allow us to fully help Lebanon.” Macron gave the country’s leaders until the end of the month to begin a reset of the political system, reports Rym Momtaz from on the ground in Beirut — her must-read dispatch here.
IS LEBANON THE NEXT MIGRATION CRISIS? Hundreds of thousands are now homeless, and the country has the highest per-capita concentration of refugees in the world already — more than 1 million Syrians live in Lebanon. A question asked by some of the few officials at work in Brussels over the past couple of days is whether this might turn into a migration issue for the EU, Jacopo Barigazzi writes in to report.
Reality check: “The country was already facing an economic, social and political crisis and it is likely this situation will result in increased tensions between host communities and refugees — and make refugees more vulnerable,” Camille Le Coz, policy analyst at the Migration Policy Institute told Playbook. But “so far, no information indicates that more refugees will decide to head to Europe — and it is likely that most of them cannot afford the journey,” she said.
Corona makes it all more difficult: For the local population, “as a result of the economic crisis, a number of Lebanese have tried to move to Europe,” said Le Coz. But even before the explosion, reports indicate that even those who have European passports face increased difficulties — because of border closures, and because a Lebanese banking crisis and restrictions on cash withdrawals have made it hard to access savings.
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
Special Delivery – A Books of Binding Short Story
Cian woke in the dark to an urgent rapping on his bedroom door. Winter’s low voice carried through the wood. “Cian, we’re on.”
Cian sat up in bed, trying to parse that. On? On what? English wasn’t his first language and sometimes idioms — he hoped it was an idiom — tripped him up. He pulled his jeans on and made his groggy way across the spacious room to find Winter on the other side of his door, dressed in her usual loose dress and cardigan, her purple bag over her shoulder and her surgical bag heavy in her hand. She hadn’t taken the time to put her hip-length white hair up in a bun, and it rode one shoulder in a careless braid.
She was lovely.
He pushed his own long, sleep-tousled hair out of his face. “What are we on?”
A small, exhausted smile played about her lips, and he wanted to kiss her until the shadows under her ice-blue eyes faded away. “’On’ means it’s showtime,” she explained, not terribly effectively. What was a ‘showtime?’ “We have a delivery to attend. Corinne’s started bleeding heavily, and Doc says she can’t stop it.”
Cian’s brows shot to his hairline. The Lion Queen? Oh shit. “Is it the placenta previa? She’s five weeks early.” Which wasn’t too terribly early for a human or a vampire, but with a therian’s five-and-a-half-month gestation it could make things complicated.
Winter nodded. “Which means that either she got pregnant during an earlier heat than we thought, or the placenta’s started pulling away from her uterus, which I think is the more likely. Either way, I suspect we need to deliver the baby tonight. If she’s having contractions it will tear the placenta apart, leading to hemorrhaging. Now, you get dressed, and I’ll wake up Etienne so he can drive you out to Xanadu on the motorcycle. I need you at the top of your game, and making you ride with me in the Bug with its old steel chassis won’t help with that.” She sighed. “I really do need a new car.”
Cian shuddered at the thought of riding in the Bug. He’d ridden in more than one older model vehicle and gotten sick in the process. He was sidhe, though, and not a lesser fae, so sick was the extent of it. A lesser fae might come away with more serious injury or even death. The little pixies in the gardens here on the Point avoided Winter’s vintage car at all costs. “Yeah, a new one would be good. Maybe we can go shopping for one this weekend?”
Winter gave him a tired smile, but tired as she was it still reached her eyes. Cian couldn’t have said that only a few weeks ago. “Yes, maybe.” She checked the time on her phone. “We need to head out as soon as possible. Doc is perfectly capable of performing a c-section if she needs to, but I’d rather be there in case things get complicated. I’ll meet you in the foyer in five minutes.”
Cian shut the door as Winter moved toward Etienne’s room and turned to get ready. It was just the three of them rattling around in this huge house, where once there had been dozens of wizards, all part of the extensive Mulcahy family. He could tell that Winter liked having the company, and he liked it, too. So did Etienne.
Long hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, worn boots and a new sweatshirt against the mid-November chill, his silk-lined riding chaps to protect him from the Harley’s frame, and he was ready to ride as soon as he got his helmet and riding jacket together. Worry for Corinne dueled with excitement. This would be his first time attending a birth. He’d assisted Winter with several surgeries already, but Corinne was the community member closest to delivering and currently the highest-risk pregnancy. She was also one of Winter’s closest friends, and Winter said she felt better knowing he would be backing her up with his healing gift. Cian was happy to help.
Etienne was still putting his auburn hair up into a ponytail in the high style he preferred as he hit the stairs and nodded to Cian. “Get your things. It’s going to be a cold ride, even for you.” His red plaid overshirt was slung about his neck and the new black gun rig for his old Glock jostled lightly against his chest with each stairstep he took.
Cian stood at the bottom of the double staircase beside Winter and watched the faerie knight descend, his bootheels thudding softly on each wide tread. He waved a hand indicating the Glock under Etienne’s left arm. “Expecting trouble?”
Etienne smirked and pulled on the overshirt as he touched down from the last step. “Always. This is Seahaven, after all.”
Winter shook her head and offered a rueful smile but didn’t disagree. “I’ve got the car loaded and ready to go. Be careful out there. The roads might be a bit slick after that rain.”
Etienne’s smile stretched into a rake-hell grin and Cian felt his belly flop. By Dagda, Etienne had a sexy smile. “A little rain isn’t going to stop us. Now, let’s go help Corinne.”
Cian handed Etienne his helmet and his old worn leather coat before getting into his own, new, silk lined coat. Winter’d had it made for him when she’d noticed he was showing about an inch of wrist below the cuff of his old one.
Winter hitched her bag up higher on her shoulder, determination showing in her eyes. “Okay, let’s do this.”
The rain had subsided to a sprinkle, which did nothing for making the ride out to Xanadu any safer. Etienne sat a little higher in his seat, vigilant, and managed to avoid most of the puddles.
Most.
Cian tried to ignore his cold, wet boots as the three of them pulled into the covered Xanadu employee parking lot, Winter leading the way in her yellow Bug. They were met at the back entrance to the primary hotel that crowned the largest island in the resort complex. Corinne owned all of the islands in Eriksson Bay, and employed both the dolphins and the selkies as well as her entire large pride of lions. Scores of humans worked in the park, too, but they were offered only limited access. No need for some curious teenager to die just because they got a peek behind the Veil of Secrecy.
Santiago, Corinne’s husband, mate, and Chief of Security, waved as they approached the private elevator. Worry etched deep lines into his brow, cutting into his light brown skin. Cian noticed that he’d shaved his head, but it was already showing fine stubble with the force of his therian regeneration. “Winter, thank god you’re here.” His English was flavored with rich Cuban Spanish, as were most of the lions he had brought with him from Miami to merge with Corinne’s lioness-heavy pride.
Winter offered up a confident smile and gave the Lion King a quick hug. “It’ll be all right. I can get little Bella out in under a minute if I need to.”
Cian knew that Winter’d had to perform emergency c-sections in the past and knew what she was doing. Therian couldn’t get sick or infected, but they could develop conditions that put a pregnancy at risk, like Corinne’s placenta previa. Most therian lived on the edge of society, victims of poverty, abuse, and malnutrition. Pregnancy loss and high infant mortality were common.
But that wasn’t a concern with Corinne tonight. The Lion Queen led one of the biggest groups in Seahaven and was one of the most powerful and wealthiest therian on the West Coast.
Santiago ushered the three of them into the elevator and swiped his resort ID through the reader, granting them access to the private floors and the penthouse where the pride lived. “Doc says Corinne and the baby are both holding steady, even with the blood loss. She’s got both of them on monitors.”
Winter looked to Cian. “With heavy bleeding, what is keeping Corinne and Bella stable?”
Cian thought about that for a moment. “It’s Corinne. She’s strong enough that her healing ability is regenerating blood before she can lose too much, so Bella isn’t being stressed.” He paused. “Yet. There’s a limit to how long her body can heal itself and maintain the baby at the same time. She’s burning through an incredible amount of calories, and once she’s depleted, she’ll be vulnerable.”
Winter smiled her approval. “Excellent. You’re picking this up quickly.”
Etienne looked pleased but said nothing.
Santiago listened intently, tension singing across the backs of his hands, stress making his dark-eyed gaze intense. “But you can save her — save them — can’t you, Winter?”
Winter exuded confidence even as Cian could feel her exhaustion through the veil of his healing gift. “I’m here to fight. We’ll get Corinne through this.”
They exited the elevator one floor below the penthouse where Corinne and Santiago lived and travelled at a brisk pace past closed doors and the soft sounds of sleeping lions until Santiago pushed open a set of frosted glass doors at the end of the hall.
Doctor Gloria Park’s domain.
Glass, chrome, and bright lights, the small clinic and surgery suite gleamed like a shrine to modern medicine. Winter’s backroom clinic was smaller and homier — and a lot busier — but Cian could tell by the way she glanced around that Winter admired it and all of the shiny toys Doc had to play with.
Cian had to admit that he did, too.
“Doc, they’re here.” Santiago raised his voice just enough to be heard on the other side of the two frosted glass doors that bracketed the main room of the clinic.
Doc emerged from the door on the right, butting it open with a hip, her gloved hands marked by blood and ruddy betadine. A bloody streak smeared wet across her white coat at the waist, but she ignored it. She flashed a quick smile of greeting at the new arrivals, her slightly hooded eyes crinkling at the corners and tugging at her small epicanthal folds, her short, no-nonsense, black hair tucked beneath a surgery bonnet. “Excellent timing. I’m prepping Corinne now. How do you want to do this?”
Winter took her surgery bag from Etienne and began moving toward the surgery suite. “I think we should first administer my painkiller potion, and then once it kicks in, we can take a closer look.” She gestured to the blood on Doc’s coat and hands. “Is that all hers?” In any place other than Seahaven that might have been an odd question, but Cian was quickly learning that chaos seemed to reign above all, here.
Doc made a short shrugging gesture. “This time, yes. Contractions started about an hour ago.”
Winter nodded, all business. “Then we’ve got no time to waste. Santiago, do you want to come in and keep Corinne company?”
Santiago smiled, visibly relieved. “Si. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
Etienne crossed his arms and leaned a hip against a table. “I’ll wait out here. Haven’t attended a birth in a while, but I bet it’s going to be crowded enough in there as it is.”
Winter flashed the faerie knight a warm smile of gratitude and pushed through the door, Cian close behind her, Doc and Santiago bringing up the rear.
The surgery suite was small, but airy and brightly lit. Corinne sat reclined in the center of the room, gravid belly painted a lurid yellow-red with betadine, long red hair tucked into a surgery bonnet to keep it out of the way, full lips looking pale. Even still, she was glamorous. She opened her eyes as they entered the room, and she smiled a tired smile. “Hey there.”
Winter returned the smile with one of her own as she pulled out a surgery bonnet for herself and passed another to Cian. “Ready to have a baby tonight?”
Corinne chuckled softly and reached out for Santiago’s hand as he reached her side. “You have no idea. But someday you will.”
Winter’s smile turned a bit wistful. “Maybe.” Cian wanted to hold her, just for a moment. He knew she expected to die young, like the rest of the Mulcahy line. She was the last.
Cian found a chair and brought it to Santiago so he could sit at Corinne’s head.
Santiago took the seat and stroked Corinne’s forehead. “Mi corazón.”
Winter tucked her long braid into the surgery bonnet and Cian followed suit. “This is going to go very fast. Your contractions tore the placenta and that’s what’s causing the bleeding. It’s still a total occlusion, still entirely blocking the cervix, as we saw on the ultrasound during your checkup last week.”
Corinne gave a single nod, exhaustion and worry etched into the corners of her eyes. “Did I do something wrong? She’s so early.”
Winter shook her head no and dug into her surgical bag. “Sometimes babies just come early. Nobody’s at fault.” She looked at the monitors showing both Corinne and the baby’s vitals and Cian followed her gaze. Both were holding steady so far. “But Bella’s at a good weight. She should be fine. And your strength is keeping her that way. But I still want to get her out with all speed. We need your bleeding to stop.” As she spoke, she pulled a tumbler from the bag, filled it with cool water, and added three drops of light blue potion, drops that never quite mixed in, instead swirling about like whisps of metallic smoke. “Here, drink all of this down as fast as you can.”
Corinne took the tumbler and knocked it back, then locked her jaw as her entire body shuddered. “Good lord, what was that?”
Winter retrieved the tumbler before it ended up on the floor. “Painkiller potion. It will last for a few hours. It also gives us the ability to go in after little Bella without you feeling any pain and without giving you enough human anesthetic to knock out the Fifth Fleet.” Cian knew from Winter’s explanations that therian could burn through human drugs at an alarming rate. Only magical solutions could withstand their incredible metabolisms.
Corinne shuddered one more time, and then leaned back with a sigh and closed her eyes. “Oh. Oh, that’s much better. Thank you.”
Winter gave her friend’s hand a squeeze. “Good. Now let’s meet your daughter and get that bleeding stopped.” She shrugged out of her sweater and pulled a couple of scrub tops out of the surgery bag, handing one over to Cian. “This is going to be pretty straight forward,” she began to explain, mostly to Cian. Doc already knew what she was doing. “Cian, I want you as tech on this so you can get as much experience as possible. You’ll suction the amniotic fluid out of our way, and I’d like you to use your touch healing to tack Corinne back together once we deliver the placenta, so she heals correctly. Corinne is strong enough that she’ll probably heal faster than I can suture her. Doc, if you can keep the incisions open long enough for me to go in and get the baby and the placenta, we can get her delivered in the next few minutes.”
Doc gave a thoughtful look at her queen’s belly and then to the monitors. “I think that’s reasonable. The bassinet’s already warming, so you can just plop the baby in there while you deliver the placenta and we get the bleeding stopped, and then as soon as the umbilical cord stops pulsing, we can cut it.” She cast a grin at Santiago, who was massaging Corinne’s temples. “Feel like cutting the cord?”
A smile spread across Santiago’s handsome face. “Si. I thought that was just a TV thing.”
Doc let out a soft chuckle. “No, it can be a dad thing, too. Bella’s welcome to the world.”
Winter handed Cian a clean absorbent pad, and he replaced the blood-soaked one beneath Corinne, tossing it into the operating room trash with the rest of them. He could only thank Dagda that she was a therian, and a queen. A human would be in dire straits by now.
Doc lifted an electrocautery scalpel from its tray, the steel glinting under the bright lights, a long wire stretching to the base of the machine beside her. “Ready when you are.”
Winter explored Corinne’s belly, feeling out the position of the baby within. “She’s breech, which is normal with placenta previa. First incision down here, across the lower abdomen, and then we very carefully cut into the uterus.”
Doc snorted. “Don’t teach me to suck eggs, kid.”
An amused smile tugged at Winter’s mouth. “Yes, ma’am. Cian, get ready with the suction, please.”
Cian flipped the machine on and held the wand at the ready, tucking himself against Corinne’s side opposite of Santiago so he could both reach and stay out of the way. He’d done this in surgery with Winter before. There had just never been a baby involved. It didn’t make him nervous, though. Winter had faith in him.
Winter shifted just a little to the side to give Doc more room. “All right, let’s do this.”
Doc spread her fingers across Corinne’s lower abdomen, her hands rock-steady, and made the first deft incision, a tiny whiff of smoke rising as she made the long cut, stopping bleeding before it could start, exposing the flesh of Corinne’s uterus. “Get the retractors ready,” Doc murmured to no one in particular.
Winter reached around her and picked up the two steel retractors, looking for all the world like salad tongs to Cian’s mind. He’d used them before, but the first impression was always the lasting one.
Doc carefully centered her scalpel and indicated a small band of muscle just to the side of her hand. “Pay attention to this, Cian.” Her voice was low with concentration. “Corinne is a lioness, and her uterus works a little differently than a human’s. Instead of basically just being nestled in place by the other abdominal structures, it’s held in place at two points, acting as shock absorbers. She’s built to hunt and fight while pregnant.” Doc shifted the position of her scalpel. “We don’t want to cut those, so we’re making a bit of a smaller incision instead.”
Cian nodded, absorbing the lesson. “Will the baby still fit through?”
Doc nodded. “It’ll just be a tighter squeeze, but she’ll be fine.” Doc deftly nicked the edges of the first incision, pushing against Corinne’s healing ability. “Cutting now.” She pierced the uterine wall without hesitation, drawing another long, bloodless, horizontal line across Corinne’s abdomen.
Immediately a tiny foot appeared, pressed against the intact, translucent amniotic sac. Winter smiled as she applied the retractors. “Very nice.”
Doc grinned. “It’s what we do. Ready to catch?”
Winter nodded. “Trade you.”
Doc and Winter traded tools in a dance born out of years of practice. Doc had been Winter’s primary teacher as she learned trauma surgery, after the death of her Aunt Curiosity.
Winter cut into the amniotic sac with a delicate touch, careful of the moving baby beneath. Cian shifted behind her, suctioning fluid as best he could, until Winter slipped her hands inside and began to ease the baby out.
Corinne’s eyes widened. “Oh, that feels weird. How does she look?”
Winter slipped a hand further into Corinne’s uterus, sloshing fluid over her wrists and onto the pad. “Well, all I see right now is her little butt, but her head is coming free… right… now.”
Corinne raised her head, eager for a peek. “Can I see her?”
Winter mopped the tiny baby’s face off with a pad that Cian handed her, suctioned her little nose and mouth, and held her where Corinne and Santiago could see just in time for Bella to raise her first vigorous objections to being pulled from her warm retreat. Winter beamed. “Look what you two did.”
Santiago’s eyes reddened with joy and he kissed Corinne’s cheek. “She has your hair, mi corazón.”
Corinne grinned, unable to take her eyes off the baby. “She’s beautiful. Just beautiful.”
“And messy.” Winter handed Bella off to Cian, who wrapped her in an absorbent pad and carried her to the cozy bassinet. She was so tiny, and so fierce. “Let me finish this with Doc and Cian’s help and then she’s all yours.”
***
If you like this story, check out our other free short fiction and all things Seahaven at https://www.aelowan.com.
#The Books of Binding#therian#lion#wizard#fae#sidhe#childbirth#pregnancy#placenta previa#premature baby#premie#Winter Mulcahy#Cian#Corinne Lyons-de Vera#Santiago de Vera#Doc Gloria Park
4 notes
·
View notes
Link
I missed this because it came out just before Christmas, but the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (i.e. the Vatican) has come to the same conclusion as the US Conference of Catholic Bishops (and pretty much everyone else who knows the doctrine of cooperation with evil): it’s morally licit (allowed) to take the existing Covid vaccines, despite their use of aborted cells at various points, so long as we choose the least ethically compromised option that’s reasonably available to us. They also point out, more forcefully than others (I’m talking to you, America magazine), that it is not required that anyone take a vaccine; however, if you decide not to, you have the obligation in justice to wear masks, wash your hands, and otherwise consider the common good by reducing the danger that you might pass the disease to others.
A standard part of the cooperation in evil analysis is that one should also avoid giving the impression that the evil act is somehow good. That would suggest that all of us have the obligation to indicate in some way our objections to the use of cell-lines from aborted fetuses. The CDF doesn’t emphasize this as an obligation for all, although Dignitatis Personae 35 (cited in n. 1) strongly argues that those who work in pharmaceutical companies and especially those working on vaccines have a duty to advocate for ethical practices, which “require[] every doctor to commit himself to absolute respect for human life and its sacredness.”
Full text (it’s short) below the break.
Note on the morality of using some anti-Covid-19 vaccines
The question of the use of vaccines, in general, is often at the center of controversy in the forum of public opinion. In recent months, this Congregation has received several requests for guidance regarding the use of vaccines against the SARS-CoV-2 virus that causes Covid-19, which, in the course of research and production, employed cell lines drawn from tissue obtained from two abortions that occurred in the last century. At the same time, diverse and sometimes conflicting pronouncements in the mass media by bishops, Catholic associations, and experts have raised questions about the morality of the use of these vaccines.
There is already an important pronouncement of the Pontifical Academy for Life on this issue, entitled “Moral reflections on vaccines prepared from cells derived from aborted human fetuses” (5 June 2005). Further, this Congregation expressed itself on the matter with the Instruction Dignitas Personae (September 8, 2008, cf. nn. 34 and 35). In 2017, the Pontifical Academy for Life returned to the topic with a Note. These documents already offer some general directive criteria.
Since the first vaccines against Covid-19 are already available for distribution and administration in various countries, this Congregation desires to offer some indications for clarification of this matter. We do not intend to judge the safety and efficacy of these vaccines, although ethically relevant and necessary, as this evaluation is the responsibility of biomedical researchers and drug agencies. Here, our objective is only to consider the moral aspects of the use of the vaccines against Covid-19 that have been developed from cell lines derived from tissues obtained from two fetuses that were not spontaneously aborted.
1. As the Instruction Dignitas Personae states, in cases where cells from aborted fetuses are employed to create cell lines for use in scientific research, “there exist differing degrees of responsibility”[1] of cooperation in evil. For example, “in organizations where cell lines of illicit origin are being utilized, the responsibility of those who make the decision to use them is not the same as that of those who have no voice in such a decision”.[2]
2. In this sense, when ethically irreproachable Covid-19 vaccines are not available (e.g. in countries where vaccines without ethical problems are not made available to physicians and patients, or where their distribution is more difficult due to special storage and transport conditions, or when various types of vaccines are distributed in the same country but health authorities do not allow citizens to choose the vaccine with which to be inoculated) it is morally acceptable to receive Covid-19 vaccines that have used cell lines from aborted fetuses in their research and production process.
3. The fundamental reason for considering the use of these vaccines morally licit is that the kind of cooperation in evil (passive material cooperation) in the procured abortion from which these cell lines originate is, on the part of those making use of the resulting vaccines, remote. The moral duty to avoid such passive material cooperation is not obligatory if there is a grave danger, such as the otherwise uncontainable spread of a serious pathological agent[3]--in this case, the pandemic spread of the SARS-CoV-2 virus that causes Covid-19. It must therefore be considered that, in such a case, all vaccinations recognized as clinically safe and effective can be used in good conscience with the certain knowledge that the use of such vaccines does not constitute formal cooperation with the abortion from which the cells used in production of the vaccines derive. It should be emphasized, however, that the morally licit use of these types of vaccines, in the particular conditions that make it so, does not in itself constitute a legitimation, even indirect, of the practice of abortion, and necessarily assumes the opposition to this practice by those who make use of these vaccines.
4. In fact, the licit use of such vaccines does not and should not in any way imply that there is a moral endorsement of the use of cell lines proceeding from aborted fetuses.[4] Both pharmaceutical companies and governmental health agencies are therefore encouraged to produce, approve, distribute and offer ethically acceptable vaccines that do not create problems of conscience for either health care providers or the people to be vaccinated.
5. At the same time, practical reason makes evident that vaccination is not, as a rule, a moral obligation and that, therefore, it must be voluntary. In any case, from the ethical point of view, the morality of vaccination depends not only on the duty to protect one's own health, but also on the duty to pursue the common good. In the absence of other means to stop or even prevent the epidemic, the common good may recommend vaccination, especially to protect the weakest and most exposed. Those who, however, for reasons of conscience, refuse vaccines produced with cell lines from aborted fetuses, must do their utmost to avoid, by other prophylactic means and appropriate behavior, becoming vehicles for the transmission of the infectious agent. In particular, they must avoid any risk to the health of those who cannot be vaccinated for medical or other reasons, and who are the most vulnerable.
6. Finally, there is also a moral imperative for the pharmaceutical industry, governments and international organizations to ensure that vaccines, which are effective and safe from a medical point of view, as well as ethically acceptable, are also accessible to the poorest countries in a manner that is not costly for them. The lack of access to vaccines, otherwise, would become another sign of discrimination and injustice that condemns poor countries to continue living in health, economic and social poverty.[5]
The Sovereign Pontiff Francis, at the Audience granted to the undersigned Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, on 17 December 2020, examined the present Note and ordered its publication.
Rome, from the Offices of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, on 21 December 2020, Liturgical Memorial of Saint Peter Canisius.
Luis F. Card. Ladaria, S.I., Prefect
+ S.E. Mons. Giacomo Morandi, Titular Archbishop of Cerveteri
[1] Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, Instruction Dignitas Personae (8th December 2008), n. 35; AAS (100), 884.
[2] Ibid, 885.
[3] Cfr. Pontifical Academy for Life, “Moral reflections on vaccines prepared from cells derived from aborted human foetuses”, 5th June 2005.
[4] Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, Instruct. Dignitas Personae, n. 35: “When the illicit action is endorsed by the laws which regulate healthcare and scientific research, it is necessary to distance oneself from the evil aspects of that system in order not to give the impression of a certain toleration or tacit acceptance of actions which are gravely unjust. Any appearance of acceptance would in fact contribute to the growing indifference to, if not the approval of, such actions in certain medical and political circles”.
[5] Cfr. Francis, Address to the members of the "Banco Farmaceutico" foundation, 19 September 2020.
#covid vaccine#cooperation with evil#cooperation in evil#catholic moral theology#congregation for the doctrine of the faith
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
I’ve been debating doing this for several days, but I didn’t want to because there’s so much judgment attached to it. But I am at a point where I have no other choice, so fuck it.
Back in October I got really sick and had to go to the hospital a few times. My leg was infected for the 34th time, but it was the first time on my other leg. (It’s always the right one.) Being as sick as I was, I also got bronchitis and had a facial infection because of an allergic reaction to the medicine I got for the leg infection.
My insurance has waited with sending me the bills until the new year started so that I have to pay most of the bills myself.
I live on benefits (am legally unable to work atm), I don’t get enough money to support myself, but I managed to make it work for several months, despite living below the poverty line. Don’t get me wrong. I have a roof over my head and I know how lucky I am in that regard.
But with end of the year bills, being sick and our energy companies throwing up the prices, I didn’t get the amount of money back I was hoping for at the end of the year. (I tried to do that by keeping off the heating off all year.) Which means I am now behind one month on paying rent (450 euros) and having to pay over 300 euros in medical bills.
I can show proof of all these things and will happily do so in private messages. Just ask me.
If there’s any way that you can help me, that would be greatly appreciated.
My PayPal is: paypal.me/Annejoke and my Ko-Fi is: https://ko-fi.com/deliriouscomfort if you don’t trust any of those pages I can also give you my bank account number but I’d rather not publish that one on the internet.
I’m really sorry to have to do this and really appreciate anything you could throw my way. If you can’t help, which I also understand, can you help me by boosting this post?
Thank you.
115 notes
·
View notes
Text
Wave a Magic Wand Over this World
First of three fics for @heamarvel‘s Hallmark event prompt 11, in which Tony wonders if his relationship with Steve moved too fast:
“Don’t bring Steve,” Sunset says. “He’s boring.”
“Don’t bring Steve,” Ty says. “He won’t understand.”
“Don’t bring Steve,” Justin says. “He’s holding you back.”
And Tony tries to argue. He likes Steve, he wouldn’t have married him if he didn’t. But as it becomes more and more apparent that his friends don’t like Steve and Steve doesn’t like most of his friends (with the exception of Pepper and Rhodey, both of whom live out of the state), he stops asking his husband to come along. He wouldn’t say that it bothers him exactly. He doesn’t expect Steve to ask him to come along when he hangs out with Bucky and Sam (neither of whom much care for Tony) and he knows that spending all of their time together isn’t healthy for their relationship. It’s just that—
Well, it does kind of bother him a bit.
Maybe it’s that, when he goes out with his friends, they spend so much time bashing on Steve. He tells them to stop, and they do for a bit, but then they pick it right back up after Tony’s got a few drinks in him and isn’t entirely thinking clearly and so doesn’t have the wherewithal to tell them to stop again. Maybe it’s that, most of the time, when he goes back home, Steve easily disproves whatever his friends were saying about him. But sometimes, Sunset says that Steve’s boring and Tony goes home and crawls into bed beside Steve and Steve says that he wishes Tony wouldn’t drink so much. Sometimes, Ty says that Steve won’t understand and Tony looks up from babbling about his thesis to see Steve staring into the distance with glazed eyes. Sometimes, Justin says that Steve’s holding him back and Tony thinks about how his patents and the money left to him by his parents are the only thing keeping them from sinking below the poverty line.
Sure, Tony was the one who had encouraged Steve to leave football behind and go into art. He was the one who’d seen that Steve was miserable playing sports, seen that his passion lay in painting. He was the one who’d urged Steve to quit the team, change his major.
And maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if they didn’t fight all the time. But they do. Steve and Tony are two very opinionated people, who rarely share the same opinion—at least, not on the important stuff. They’re always on the same wavelength about the important stuff. But they don’t want to eat at the same places or watch the same movies or go to the same places. For god’s sake, they don’t even have the same friends! Isn’t that supposed to be the hallmark of a couple, that they share the same friends? And they’re both so terribly passionate that their differing opinions lead to knock-down, drag-out fights that end in either Steve or Tony sleeping on the couch before the other one gets too lonely in their bed.
They never say that they’re sorry. It’s just not something that they do. Sometimes, Tony wonders if it would be better if they did. But they’re both too proud to admit that they were wrong, so they just say that they’re lonely and they go on from there.
Tony doesn’t even know what set them off this time.
No, that’s not true. He knows exactly what set them off. They’d been decorating the tree. Every year, no matter how busy they are, they always decorate the tree while some sort of Christmas movie plays in the background. They’d left it late this year until Christmas Eve. It had been Tony’s turn to pick the movie, except when he’d turned on Die Hard, Steve had groaned.
“Die Hard isn’t a Christmas movie,” Steve had said.
Tony had maybe gotten a little too deep into the eggnog and so he’d childishly insisted, “Is too,” and the fight had gotten worse from there.
Steve had yelled. Steve never yells—he knows how much Tony hates yelling—but he’d yelled today. Tony had flinched, the way he’d always done when people yelled, and the ornament in his hand had dropped from numb fingers and broken neatly into nearly a dozen pieces. It had been one of Steve’s, an ornament from his childhood made by his late mother. Steve had been furious, had accused Tony of taking such good care of everything that belonged to him but never of Steve’s things. It had gotten worse. Steve had raised his hand too quickly, too sharply. Tony knows—he knows—that Steve would never hit him but in the heat of the moment, when he was already thinking of Howard, he hadn’t thought. He’d just reacted and so he had flinched back and raised his own hands to protect himself.
The look in Steve’s eyes had gone from fury to horror so fast. He’d started to stammer something out; what, exactly, Tony doesn’t know because he’d fled the apartment.
And now, hours later, he’s sitting in a bar pouring out his sorrows to the bartender, Louis or Lockley or—he peers closer at the nametag—Loki. He feels like he’s burning so he presses his glass, cold from the ice, to his forehead.
“Maybe I made a mistake,” he mutters. “Maybe we moved too fast.”
Loki hums and sets another drink in front of him that Tony promptly knocks back. “Would you do it differently?”
Tony stares at him. “What?”
The bartender gives him a very thin smile. He says more slowly, “If you could do it over, would you do it differently?”
“I heard you the first time,” Tony snaps. He thinks about it. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. How do I know it would be better?”
A shrug. “You wouldn’t. That’s the game, I suppose.” He sets one more drink down in front of Tony. Tony goes to grab it like he’s done the last five but Loki catches hold of his wrist. “Don’t drink it yet. You need to think about this. If you tire of that life and wish to come back to this one, you’ll have to find me again.”
He releases Tony’s wrist. Tony grabs instantly for the drink. He doesn’t know what Loki’s talking about and he doesn’t really care. He just wants to forget that the last several hours happened so he tips his head back and swallows the drink in three gulps. It tastes different, burns different, and the way the light caught the liquid was odd but he’s more than a little tipsy by this point and the comparison doesn’t register in his befuddled mind.
Loki’s smiling sharply at him. Tony doesn’t register that either. “So is Loki like a family name or something?” he babbles. “Like the god of mischief, right? What kind of—“
He doesn’t get to finish his question as Loki snaps his fingers and the world dissolves around him.
Someone is knocking on his front door.
Tony groans and slowly blinks his eyes, immediately throwing his arm over his face. Someone—Steve probably—left the curtains open last night and the morning sun is streaming through the windows. He rolls over closer to Steve’s side of the bed.
“Steve, honey, can you get—" He stops and then props himself up on his elbow. Steve’s not there. In fact, Steve’s entire side of the bed is cold. He sits up further. He doesn’t know this bedspread. Where’s Steve’s mother’s quilt? Did he—is this someone else’s—oh god, he couldn’t have.
He throws the sheets off of himself and breathes a quiet sigh of relief that he’s still in his clothes. He takes another look around the room. It’s still his bed, still his dresser, the closet’s still in the far corner, and above him—yep, still the same old water stain. But he’s missing Steve, missing Steve’s things. The quilt’s the first clue but the easel under the window’s gone too and the jewelry box on the dresser. The painting Steve had done of a sleeping college-aged Tony’s been replaced with a photograph of the Brooklyn Bridge.
The knocking on the door gets more insistent. “I’m coming, for fuck’s sake!” he shouts.
There’s a pause before the next knock. Then—“Anthony Edward Stark, that had better not be you!” Pepper yells back.
He strides to the door, ignoring the pain in his head, and flings it open. “Who else would it be?” he asks, completely nonplussed.
Pepper’s all but vibrating with anger. “You promised me,” she snaps. “You told me you wouldn’t check yourself out of rehab again.”
That gives him pause. “Rehab?”
“Yes, Tony. Rehab.” She pushes past him and drops a stack of paperwork on his kitchen counter.
He’s still stuck on—“Like rehab rehab?”
She glares at him. “For the third time this year. I get that your ‘friends’ like to go out partying but do you have to go with them?” He can all but hear the air quotes around “friends.” He tries to move on from the rehab thing though he’s still turning it over in his brain. He’d only ever been to rehab once, during the first few months he’d been with Steve. Steve had said it was the scariest moment of his life, seeing Tony in the hospital because he’d given himself alcohol poisoning. Tony had poured every drink in their apartment down the drain the next day and then checked himself into a clinic. He still drinks but it’s nothing like what it used to be. Three times in a year is… a lot and doesn’t make any sense.
He glances at the paperwork. “What’s all this?” he asks, trying not to sound as lost as he feels.
“For the board meeting tomorrow,” Pepper says brusquely.
“Board meeting?”
The angry line between Pepper’s eyes disappears. Her frown now is more concerned than upset. “The end of quarter report?” she asks. “Tony, are you feeling okay?”
He can’t let her know that he has no idea what she’s talking about. “Are you sure I have to be at this meeting?” he asks, brushing off her other question. He thinks it’s a much better idea that he stays home tomorrow and try to figure out what’s going on.
Pepper snorts. “You’re the CEO. Yes, you have to go.”
That can’t be right. He’s not the CEO of anything. He’s a grad student, living off of what little bit of money his parents left him after they died until he can get access to his trust fund. He’d let Stane take SI in return for being left alone for the rest of his life.
“Oh. And why are you dropping off my paperwork?” he asks, hoping it’s not a weird question.
Pepper frowns again. “How much did you drink last night? It’s my job, come rain or shine or even Christmas.”
It’s Tony’s turn to frown. “I made you work on Christmas?”
“It’s okay,” she assures him though the twist to her mouth says otherwise. “Not like I have anywhere else to be.” She straightens the stack on his counter. “Those need to be signed by tomorrow. Will that be all, Mr. Stark?”
This, at least, he knows. Obviously, it means something different in this world—universe—whatever. But back home it’s an inside joke. “That’ll be all, Miss Potts.”
She bows her head and starts to go.
“Pepper,” he says suddenly. “What happened to Steve?”
“Steve? Do I need to track someone down for an NDA?” she asks.
He shakes his head. “No. Sorry. Why don’t you take the rest of the day off?”
She smiles. Tony gets the oddest impression it’s a rare thing. “Merry Christmas, Tony.”
The moment she’s gone, he dives for his tablet. It’s a lot sleeker and more technologically advanced than what he’s got in his world. In fact, it kind of looks like something he’s got in planning stages right now. He flips it over to see SI’s symbol adorning the back. That would explain it he supposes. It’s his idea put into development. He flips it back over and powers it up.
He starts with SI. There’s a wealth of information on what happened four years ago when Howard and Maria Stark. He reads headline after headline: “Prodigal Son Comes Home,” “Obadiah Stane Arrested for Murder,” “Tony Stark Heads Stark Industries.” He’s more hesitant to search for Steve but he does.
To his immense surprise, there’s just as much information about Steve as there is about SI. Steve, it seems, didn’t quit playing football. He’d been recruited right out of college to play for the New York Giants and never left. It doesn’t seem right. Surely, someone must have seen how miserable Steve was playing football but when he turns on his TV, there’s Steve giving an interview with Jimmy Fallon about his latest season.
Steve’s smiling but he looks absolutely dead behind his eyes. It’s clear that he holds no love for the sport no matter what he says.
“Oh Steve,” Tony murmurs, utterly heartbroken. Steve had loved being an artist and Tony had loved that Steve had loved it.
He resolves to figure out what’s going on, not for himself but for Steve. He knows that he doesn’t deserve his husband, knows that Steve’s far too good for him, but Steve doesn’t need to be in a world where he’s this miserable.
But before he can really get down to research, his phone rings. He debates picking it up. As soon as it stops ringing though, it immediately starts again.
“What?” he snaps into the phone.
Justin Hammer’s smarmy voice comes through the speaker, cheering, “Tony!” Tony’s never much liked Justin, too sycophantic for his tastes. But he’d come with Ty and Sunset and Tony does like both of them so he’s stuck with Justin.
“What do you want?” he says wearily.
“Heard you got out of rehab. Good, good,” Justin simpers. “Listen, me and the gang—you know, Ty and Sunset, maybe a couple other people—are going out tonight. You’re coming with, right?”
Tony frowns despite knowing Justin can’t hear it. “Don’t you have other people to hang out with tonight?”
“No. Why would we?”
“It’s Christmas,” he says slowly.
Justin laughs like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “Such a kidder!” he says to no one in particular. “We’re better than that, Tones.”
Automatically, Tony says, “Don’t call me that.” No one calls him Tones, except Rhodey. Not even Steve calls him that.
Justin just laughs again. “This is why we’re such good friends.” Tony gags. “So listen, Ty’s got a new bar for us. Totally not our usual style but he says the waitresses are tens all the way.” And then he hangs up before Tony can tell him no.
He wants to tell him no. He does. He’s been thrust into a new world with new rules, a world without Steve in his life—and god how much that hurts—and he wants to take the time to ease his way into it. But he wants to know who this Tony Stark is, this Tony Stark without his Steve, without his great love. This Tony Stark who relegated his Pepper to a mere assistant. This Tony Stark who’s in and out of rehab. He wants to adjust to a life without Steve but he wants to know who he’s become more.
~
Maybe it’s because he’s thrown off balance that he sees it this time. Maybe it’s because there’s no Steve to be a buffer here. But he sees it now and he wonders how he could have ever missed it.
How could he have missed Sunset’s cattiness? “I love your dress!” she gushes to a girl at the bar, who glows with a compliment from the Sunset Bain, and then promptly turns to Tony to tell him how ugly she really thinks the dress is, no matter if the girl can hear it or not.
How could he have missed Justin’s lechery? Justin leers and touches and grabs for what isn’t his and the waitresses shy away but it doesn’t stop him. Why would it? He’s rich. They should be grateful they’re getting attention from him at all. Or, at least, that’s what he sulkily tells Tony after the owner comes to tell him to either sit his ass down or get thrown out.
But worst of all, how could he have missed Ty’s…everything? How could he miss Ty putting drink after drink in his hand? How did he miss those dark blue eyes watching him hungrily? He feels…slimy every time Ty’s eyes linger on him.
It’s then that he realizes—Steve’s not the one holding him back. These three are. He’d be willing to bet just about every last penny that he has that they’re the reason he’s spent so much time in rehab.
“I can’t do this,” he says suddenly and stands.
“What?” Ty says and stands with him.
Tony takes two steps away from them. “I can’t—I don’t—" He stops. “I’m going home,” he says firmly. And he is. He’s going to find that bartender—because it has to be him who put him here—if it’s the only thing he does this Christmas.
Ty tries to walk with him but Tony backpedals away quickly. “I can get back on my own,” he assures them.
He’s not entirely certain about the last part but he’s far more certain that he doesn’t want Ty anywhere near him when they’re on their own. He doesn’t know if Ty would actually try anything. He hopes not. Judging by that hot gaze though, he’s pretty sure that he would.
He turns and starts to make his way out of the bar but stops almost immediately. It can’t really be, can it? There’s no way that Ty actually picked this bar, this one out of the thousands in New York. But there’s no denying that raven black hair and flashing green eyes. He gets closer to the bar, hears Ty shouting after him that he’s an alcoholic, which is certainly true in this universe. He’s got no intention of buying a drink though.
“I don’t know what you are,” Tony snaps, “but you had no right to do this to me.”
Loki sees him approach and smiles smugly. “What do you think?” he asks, not even bothering to deny it.
Tony sneers at him. He’s sure that there are universes out there where he never even meets Steve and does perfectly fine. But he lives in his universe and in his universe, he has Steve and the truth of the matter is—he doesn’t want anything else. Sure they fight but he loves Steve dearly, certainly more than he loves anything else. He thinks that, if he were to be rid of the poisonous influence Ty and company have become, he’d probably be a lot happier, a lot more content. Steve should have been enough for him and he doesn’t know why it took him being thrown into another world for him to see it.
“I hate it,” he says flatly. “Send me back.”
Loki nods absently. “You’ve made your decision, then?”
Tony’s nod is a lot more decisive. Loki holds up his fingers and snaps them.
~
Tony doesn’t even wake up. One moment, he’s in the bar talking to Loki and the next, he’s standing outside his apartment. He goes to unlock the front door but it doesn’t click when he turns the lock. It isn’t locked. Cold fear sluices through him. This isn’t like when Tony was growing up; he doesn’t live in a great section of town anymore. But he has to know what happened so he pushes the door open.
“Steve?” he calls softly.
The lights are still on. The ornament is still broken on the floor. The only thing that’s changed is the absence of Steve’s jacket from the hook by the door and his keys from the bowl in the kitchen. He tries to call his husband but immediately hears the phone ringing from the bedroom so he hangs up. Steve didn’t even take his phone. He must have left in a hurry.
Tony’s pretty sure he knows where Steve went.
Or, at least, he hopes. It would be pretty shitty for him to come back after this whole thing only to realize that Steve’s gone out to Sam or Bucky’s tonight instead of out looking for him.
Best he can do right now is wait. He takes another look at the broken ornament. It’s not so bad as he’d first thought. There’s a lot of pieces but none of them are little and they’re all pretty straight cracks. With a little bit of superglue, he’s pretty sure he could fix it enough so it doesn’t even look broken. He sits down to start repairs, ending up so engrossed in his work that he doesn’t even hear the front door open, just that it closes. Instantly, he looks up.
Steve looks utterly wrecked. Red-rimmed eyes, hair so tangled it looks like a bird’s been nesting in it, the whole works. He’s gaping open-mouthed at Tony working on the ornament.
“Hello,” Tony says quietly.
Steve abruptly shuts his mouth and runs his fingers through his hair, messing it up more. “You came back,” he says hoarsely.
Tony quirks his head in confusion. “Why wouldn’t I?” he asks honestly. Yeah, he’d mused to Loki about whether they’d moved too quickly but he’d never once entertained the thought of not coming back.
Steve huffs out a laugh but it comes out entirely unamused. “Why would you?” he counters. He looks down at his feet and takes a deep breath. “Sweetheart, I yelled at you. I promised you I’d never yell at you and I did and honey, I wouldn’t blame you if—you fixed the ornament.”
The sudden subject change throws Tony off but he follows Steve’s gaze to the repaired ornament. He feels a small glow of pride as he looks at it. He knows he’s detail-oriented, that he’s got steady hands but this—this is the best work he’s ever done. The ornament looks good as new, like it had never fallen from his hand. It sits there, still sealing from the repair work, but as beautiful as it’s always been. He smiles as he looks at it and then looks back up at his husband.
“I did,” he agrees. He stands and moves to take Steve’s hands in his. They’re half-frozen. He gently rubs them to start warming them up. “Your mother made it. Of course I’d fix it.”
“But I—”
“Steve,” he says simply. Steve shuts up. He leans up on tiptoe to press a soft kiss to the corner of his husband’s mouth. “I was always going to come back.”
He’s not sure if it’s the words or the kiss that does it but Steve slumps against him, arms encircling Tony’s waist and burying his face in Tony’s neck. Tony wraps his own arms around Steve’s big shoulders, feeling him shake under him. His neck’s getting a little wet and he just knows that Steve’s crying. It’s a little terrifying. Steve always seems like this big stoic, strong type of person. It’s always Tony who’s the emotional one and, as a result, he’s never been very good at comfort but he’s going to try for Steve.
“I know we’ve had a bad couple of months,” he murmurs. “But I’m not giving up on us. We’re better than this.”
“I’m sorry,” Steve sobs into his neck. “I promised I wouldn’t yell.”
“Steve, baby, you can’t possibly hold yourself to that. We’ve got seventy years together. You’re bound to yell at least once.”
“You thought I was going to hit you.”
“No,” Tony says firmly. “I never thought you would hit me.”
“Honey, you flinched.”
Tony hesitates. “Yeah, I did,” he says reluctantly. “But that wasn’t because of you.”
“It was because I reminded you of Howard,” Steve says dully, knowing Tony so well. “That isn’t any better.”
“It’s not like I’ve been perfect! God, Steve, the things that Ty and Sunset would say about you and they wouldn’t listen when I told them to stop so I just stopped telling them and I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have let them talk. I should’ve shut them up.” He stops, realizing that Steve’s gone tense against him.
“But I’m done listening to them,” he continues quieter.
“You don’t have to ditch your friends just because of me,” Steve says, pulling back to look at him.
“They’re not my friends. They never were. I gave them passes because we grew up together but they’re as toxic as Howard was and I’m done with it.” He presses his face into Steve’s chest. “I don’t want to be around people who don’t like you,” he sniffles, starting to feel a little emotional himself. He pities the Tony Starks who don’t have a Steve in their life. Steve’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him, even if these last few months have been kind of bad.
He can hear the hesitancy in Steve’s voice when he asks, “Am I as toxic as Howard was?”
Tony shakes his head emphatically. “You’re so good. I don’t know what I did to deserve you but I’m so glad I did it.”
“I yelled,” Steve reminds him again.
“Yeah, you did. But, Steve, it’s the first time in four years you yelled at me. You know how long it took Rhodey to snap? Three days. Steve, honey, baby, we can work through this. I know we can. Come on, it’s Christmas. Isn’t this supposed to be about new beginnings and shit?”
Steve laughs, a deep rumble that Tony can feel under his cheek, and he knows that they’re going to be okay. “I think that’s New Year’s.”
“They take place within the same week. We might as well just roll them into one.”
Steve pulls away entirely. “They’re not the same.”
And Tony grins because he can sense the beginnings of an argument. But it’s okay because they’re going to get through this one and the next and the one after that. But first—
He darts back in and presses a lingering kiss to Steve’s lips. “I love you,” he says, leaning back just far enough to feather the words across his husband’s mouth.
Steve beams and kisses him again. “I love you more.”
“Well, I love you 3000 so there,” Tony says childishly and dances away when Steve tries to grab for him.
“Put on a Christmas movie,” Steve tells him, “and if you insist on Die Hard, then fine, and let’s finish the tree and then, Mr. Stark-Rogers—” He pauses and drags a heated gaze down Tony’s body. Tony thinks of how Ty had stared at him and how dirty he’d felt afterward. This is nothing like that. This sends shivers up his spine and makes him squirm where he stands. “Then, I want to see you put on what’s in that box you think you’re hiding under the bed.”
“Steve!” Tony squeals. “That was supposed to be a present!”
Steve looks entirely unrepentant and frankly rather smug. “Should’ve picked a better hiding place then.”
Tony picks up one of the popcorn strands and throws it at him. Steve catches it easily, tosses it aside, and then tackles him to the couch. He runs his nose along the length of Tony’s, hands fitting to the sides of Tony’s hips.
“I love you,” Steve murmurs, placing tiny kisses along his jawline. “I love you so fucking much. I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving that to you and it’ll be the best thing I’ve ever done.”
Tony hums and loops his arms around Steve’s neck. He closes his eyes, relaxes his head back into the throw pillows, and lets Steve litter kisses across his throat and what little bit of his shoulders he can reach before his shirt stops him.
“Tree,” Steve says finally, regretfully, and rolls off the couch.
“Or, and hear me out here, we could not and just go straight to bed,” Tony says, stretching. God, he’s so fucking happy. He didn’t know that just getting rid of the trash in his life could make him this happy.
Steve’s eyes catch on where his shirt rides up but he still shakes his head. “Tree and then—”
Tony hops up. He presses one last kiss to Steve’s lips and agrees, “And then.”
211 notes
·
View notes
Text
Finding You Always
Also on Fanfiction.net and A03
Chapter 219: Home Sweet Home Again
"Yes...oh Nana missed you both so much," Snow gushed, as she cuddled Hope, while Lucy sat between them.
"Yeah...so did Papa," David agreed, as he dropped a kiss on Lucy's head.
"Can we come on the next adventure, grandpa?" Lucy asked.
"Uh...well, maybe if the next one doesn't turn out to be so dangerous," he said.
"When does an adventure not turn dangerous with you two?" Henry asked in amusement.
"He has a point," Leo agreed.
"Well, hopefully you and your parents can come with us on the next trip to Boston, but we plan on being home for a while hopefully," Snow said, as she looked at her son and Elsa.
"We have a wedding to throw, after all," she said, as they shared her smile.
"I'm still the flower girl, right?" Lucy asked. Leo smiled.
"Of course you are," he replied.
"It's starting to get late, so we should probably be going," Ella said. They were all in agreement and said their goodbyes for the night.
Their three oldest children went home with their spouses, while their two youngest wanted to hang out with their new friends, JJ and Zia. With the promise that they would be home by midnight and that they stay in Storybrooke or around the reserve, which they agreed to.
That left Snow and David to their own devices and they soon found themselves enjoying a moonlit walk on the beach. They were in October now, so the air had a bite to it, but she was kept warm cuddled against him.
"No matter where we are...the stars at home are always the best. When we can see them anyway," Snow mentioned, referring to the clear night sky, which wasn't always a thing during the winter months in Maine.
"That's because it's home...even when it's below zero in the winter," he joked, making her smile.
"That just means nights cuddled by the fireplace in each other's arms," she purred. He smiled and kissed her passionately.
"Any evening with you in my arms is paradise, no matter the weather," he replied, as they shared another kiss. Before he became lost in her though, he heard a noise and his defenses kicked in, as he pulled his sword and leveled at the approaching person.
"Whoa...easy tiger, it's just me," Patricia said, as she put her hands up. He sighed and sheathed his sword.
"Sorry…" he said.
"A little edgy?" she asked.
"Can you blame me after everything we've been through?" he countered.
"Touche," she agreed.
"What are you doing here?" David asked.
"I'm sorry to intrude, but you two are really hard to get alone," Patricia replied. He rolled his eyes.
"I know, thus, why we're here...alone. We haven't been alone...in days," he complained. Snow smirked at that and Patricia shared in her amusement.
"And this won't take long, I promise," she replied.
"Days," David repeated.
"Charming…" Snow chided, as she turned her attention to the other woman.
"What can we do for you?" she asked.
"I had an unfortunate conversation with one of my superiors earlier today...on our way to rescue the two of you," Patricia said.
"What kind of conversation?" David questioned, as she proceeded to explain.
~*~
Flashback
"General Mendoza...what can I do for you, Sir?" she asked, trying to keep the nervousness out of her voice.
"You've missed three check in calls, so you tell me, Major," the stern voice replied.
"I apologize Sir...there just has been a lot happening," she replied.
"And you were supposed to keep me up to date on everything happening. I let you run your operation with this mysterious David Nolan for the last two years, because you promised big things from him," he said.
"And he delivered, Sir. In his time at the bureau, David helped me take down multiple drug cartels, bust several human trafficking operations, and countless other violent offenders," she replied.
"And you think my superiors are happy about that!?" he yelled, leaving her speechless. She had always known there was a shadow government and had once done their bidding as most in the military did. But she was about to find out just how deep it went and how pissed they were.
"My superiors do not like surprises and they also do not like when there are places they cannot control. How long have you known about this Storybrooke, Maine?" he asked.
"A while," she admitted.
"And yet we had to hear about it the same way the rest of the world did," he said.
"These people are not of this world and would not welcome leadership from elsewhere," Patricia replied.
"Then they will be made to accept it! Like the rest of the world, we must infiltrate the United Realms under the guise of peace, and gain control," he said.
"With all due respect, General, this place is not like other places in our world. They will see right through any plot or supposed gesture of peace," she replied.
"Then you must convince them that this is the best course of action. We will even praise your super agent for all the good work he did tearing down our shadow operations if that's what it takes," he said.
"They will never fully trust me. I am on good terms with them, but they have been wronged too many times. This will not end well for us if we press this," she insisted.
"Oh, that is where you are wrong. The people above me are immensely powerful...more so than either of us can imagine. They are not people you say no to!" he roared. She swallowed thickly.
"I understand that, General, but forcing this issue could be an act of war," Major Donovan argued.
"I am receiving a lot of pressure from the people truly in power in this world and they do not tolerate what they cannot control. They want all your Intel and everything you inherited from the one known as the Collector," the General said sternly.
"And if I cannot or will not deliver that?" Patricia asked.
"Then you will be court-martialed," he threatened, as the line went dead and she pocketed her phone, before going up on deck.
~*~
"I knew it...I knew that I was being used," David said, with a touch of anger in his voice.
"No...if I had truly used you, then I would have never had you help me take down all the operations that we did. It flies right in the face of what these people really want," she replied.
"That doesn't make any sense," he said.
"Okay...the people that really run things, this shadow government, are responsible for all the conflict in our world. The wars, poverty, drugs, trafficking, disease...it's created by these powerful families behind the scenes," she explained.
"There is nothing in this world that these people don't know about...until Storybrooke. Finding out that it's been here since 1983 and they had no idea...that's not something that was easily swallowed by them. They're furious," she added.
"All of this sounds like a lot of conspiracy," Snow mentioned.
"Well, there is always some truth in conspiracies...and in this case, a lot of truth," she said.
"And these people...they were all investors with Clayton?" David asked.
"Yes...he would have never gotten away with it all without help from this Underground network. He liked to make you think he had all the power. But his connection to this group allowed him that power to run his operation," Patricia explained.
"But that doesn't make sense...because Clayton knew about Storybrooke. Are you saying he kept that information from them?" Snow asked.
"Exactly that...he managed to conceal Storybrooke. He wanted it and all its power, specifically the chalice, for himself. He managed to fool them all, which let me tell you, is not easy to do," she replied.
"He almost had the Chalice...and he could have easily destroyed anyone he wanted to with it," David said.
"That was probably his plan and now they know that, he's lucky he's dead," Patricia replied.
"Damn him...he keeps haunting us, even from beyond the grave. He's probably in the Underworld right now with that stupid smirk on his face, laughing at us once again," David said in frustration.
"What can we do to stop them? I mean, that's why you're telling us, right? If you weren't on our side, then you wouldn't be telling us? Or is this subterfuge?" Snow asked, as she looked at the other woman with scrutiny.
"She's right...our darker halves wouldn't trust you further than they could throw you...and I wouldn't either, except I did work with you for two years. We did put away a lot of bad people," David said.
"We did...people I wasn't supposed to put away. We're lucky to be alive, honestly," she replied. He rolled his eyes.
"These were their worker bees and agitators that we put away, but there are many more," she said.
"So you expect us to help you take down the rest of them? You're talking years of work and even more danger to my family," David said in irritation, as Snow took his hand, threading her fingers with his own.
"I know...it's unfair, but they will stop at nothing to get into the United Realms and once General Mendoza figures out that I'm not going to play ball, I'll have a hit out on me, which means taking them out is the only way we all survive," she replied.
"What do we need to do?" Snow asked.
"I have a team in place...you've worked with a few of them. They're ready to do the leg work once we eliminate these people in power," Patricia replied.
"So we help take out Clayton's leftovers and then we're out?" David asked.
"Absolutely...and the United Realms can be cut off from the world if you two decide that's what is best," Patricia replied.
"You know that requires that you give up everything you have on Clayton's operation," Snow said.
"I'm ready to surrender it all to you now. If I don't, it might fall into their hands," she replied, as she started with something wrapped in a cloth. David unwrapped it and revealed it to be a mermaid scale.
"This is a start," he said.
"The submarine is in the Harbor and the keys are yours too, so to speak. I'll turn over everything else too," she promised. Snow and David exchanged a glance.
"Then we'll help you take these people out if you really think it can create prosperity in the world outside here. All people should have that...not just us," Snow said. David sighed.
"We'll take these people out...it's our duty as truest loves, but then we're out. The cleanup of your own world is up to you, because we still have ours to protect," he stated. She nodded.
"That's more than fair," she agreed, as they shook hands.
"For tonight...I'll leave you alone," she said, as she walked away. He sighed again and put his arm around her.
"Guess there are more adventures for us, after all," Snow mentioned slyly. He scoffed.
"I think there will always be dangerous adventures for us," David said.
"Maybe...but we'll always face it together," Snow replied, as they shared a kiss.
"Come on handsome...let's go home so we can be really alone," she said. He grinned and with arms around each other, they headed home.
~*~
Flashback
"Are you sure this is going to work?" Mendoza asked, as they prepared for a siege on the palace of Cyprus.
"Of course...you don't really think I'd rush into an armed castle unless I knew exactly what I was doing, do you?" John asked.
"I guess not...but would you mind telling me how we're getting through an army to take a soon to be King hostage?" Mendoza asked. John smirked.
"Hera has taken care of that for us with a light sleeping mist," he said.
"Hera?" he asked.
"Yes...it seems Aphrodite's stepmother is no fan of hers. She wants her happiness destroyed and in return for helping that along, we get what we want," he replied.
"You made a deal with Hera?" Mendoza asked in disbelief.
"Oh yes...and the riches that await us in this new land are hither to un-dreamt of," John replied.
"Then you have an escape plan too?" he asked. John smirked again, as there was a flash of blue and a fairy stood before them.
"Reul Ghorm," he said, bowing in respect to her.
"Your bean, Collector...make sure you hold up your end of our deal," she replied, as she gave it to him.
"Not to worry...when I'm done, Aphrodite will be a shell of her former self with her dead lover in her arms. She'll pay for whatever she has done to piss you and the Goddess Hera off and regret rejecting me for her pretty Prince," he promised. Blue smirked.
"Then safe travels and make sure it's a good show. I really want you to twist the knife in that sanctimonious little retch," Blue said. Mendoza looked at the fairy curiously.
"Why do you hate her so much?" he asked.
"The power of the chalice should be mine. Hera is his wife and I am his right hand, yet he allows such sheer power to remain in the hands of someone who has no interest in using that power for greatness," Blue replied.
"Look at her current charges. At least her first pair managed to defeat several great evils to this world like Gothel. But what has this second pair done but refuse to realize their power? It will not bode well for their future," she said ominously.
"They are fools...we agree on that," Mendoza said. John nodded.
"Thank you...and may we all get exactly what we want," he said, as she disappeared in a flash of Blue.
"How are we going to kill him? Just doing so conventionally in front of the Goddess will be useless if she can heal him," Mendoza said. John smirked.
"Not even her chalice can heal dreamshade, though I suspect after this, it will be something she ensures it can do," he said, as he showed the other man a thorn.
"Dreamshade?" Mendoza asked.
"A highly potent poison from Neverland. No one survives it outside of Pan's realm. One knick and he'll die slowly," he revealed.
"It's time," he said, as they moved onto the palace grounds.
~*~
Aphrodite appeared in the palace gardens and made her way inside Adonis' palace. She was returning from a visit with her father and was in very good spirits, knowing she was only days away from her wedding to Adonis. But she found the Throne room eerily quiet and empty.
"Adonis?" she called, but her words fell into the silence. She walked further into the room and then heard footsteps behind her. She whipped around and found John Clayton there.
"You…" she said in an accusatory tone.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"I've come to ask for a favor, Goddess," he replied.
"You will get nothing from me," she refuted.
"I figured that would be your attitude, so I have something in place to persuade you," John said, as a man she recognized as General Mendoza from the Dragon King's court came forth. But that was not the alarming part. The frightening part was that the General had her beloved held captive. He had clearly been roughed up and his wrists were shackled, as Mendoza held his sword to his throat.
"Adonis...let him go!" she cried.
"Your lover is free to go if you tell us the location of Cibola," he demanded.
"I told you...she doesn't know! If your own Queen won't tell you...then it's not information she wants you to be privy to," Adonis interjected.
"Quiet…" he snapped.
"He's right...I don't even know the exact location myself! Let him go!" she pleaded.
"And even if I did...not even I could access it," she added.
"You lie! We know the Dragon Queen has enabled access to it with the chalice, which means you are just about the only person other than her that could gain access," John refuted. She closed her eyes and contemplated her next move.
"Aphrodite don't...don't give into them," Adonis implored.
"Give us what we want or he dies," Mendoza threatened. A tear slipped down her cheek and she swallowed thickly.
"You'll need a bean," she said.
"We have one...several, in fact," John replied.
"How did you get magic beans? I thought only the giants had them?" Adonis asked.
"They do...but thanks to a friend, I was able to obtain a few without getting caught," John boasted.
"Enough...let's go," Mendoza said impatiently, as they prepared to travel to another realm.
"Stop!" a voice called, as Esteban entered the Throne room, with Zia and his most trusted adviser, Tao.
"You've committed treason against the crown, Mendoza," he accused.
"Cibola is out there and your Queen refuses to share it with the world!" he claimed.
"Cibola belongs to my people and I will not reveal it to anyone with greed in their heart," Zia refuted.
"Then he dies," Mendoza threatened.
"No!" Aphrodite cried.
"She's right...I will not let you kill him for something as frivolous as gold," the Dragon Queen agreed.
"Then tell us," he snapped.
"In my home realm, I have hidden Cibola near the lost island of Mu. On an island, shaped as a half moon, the gates of Cibola rest. It is in an ocean called the Pacific," she revealed.
"You'll give us coordinates and access," John demanded. Zia used the chalice to produce an enchanted map and handed it to him.
"Now let him go!" Aphrodite cried, as John nodded and Adonis was released. Aphrodite ran into his arms and she kissed him passionately. He smiled at her, before suddenly collapsing in pain.
"Adonis!" she cried, as she looked him over for wounds and lifted his tunic, finding scary black veins covering his torso.
"What have you done!?" she screamed.
"It's nothing personal, my dear...but someone ordered that he must die. I do apologize for choosing dreamshade as the method, as it's quite excruciating, but I could not have you healing him," John said, as a portal opened and they disappeared.
"Adonis...stay with me, my love…" she cried, as she tried to heal him. But nothing worked.
"Adonis…" she sobbed.
"It's okay…I love you," he rasped.
"No…I can't lose you! I can't!" she cried, as Zeus appeared.
"Father...please help him!" she pleaded.
"Oh my sweet girl, you know I would. But even dreamshade is beyond my power," he said sadly, as she held her beloved and he took his final breath. He scream rattled the walls and shook the ground beneath them, as she died inside again.
~*~
Present Day
The four of them came out of the theater and began walking along the streets of Storybrooke. It was about ten and there were still a few people out and about.
"That was a good movie," Summer mentioned.
"It was, but I have to say, all the adventures I've been on with you and this family lately kind of makes movies a little less exciting," JJ admitted.
"Yeah...we feel that way a lot. No movie can compare to our crazy lives," Bobby agreed.
"I don't know, it was pretty exciting, but then I haven't been to a theater very many times," Zia mentioned, as she smiled at Bobby.
"Um...so you wanna get some ice cream? My Uncle Dopey runs the shop," he said.
"Sure," she replied, as JJ heard his phone chime and he sighed.
"Is something wrong?" Summer asked. He sighed.
"Just Nora...live on some podcast. Probably skewing all the details of everything she just saw," he replied.
"I'm sorry…" he apologized. Summer shrugged.
"It doesn't bother us," she promised.
"I know, but she can never see the good in anything," he complained.
"It seems that way right now, but she may come around. It will just take time for her to see the truth," Summer said.
"I don't know...you don't know Nora," he said skeptically. She smiled.
"No...but I am the granddaughter of a woman that used to hate my mother with a blinding passion. If the Evil Queen can change...I believe Nora can too," Summer said optimistically. He smiled.
"Does that optimism just come natural to a Charming?" he teased. She smiled back.
"More than you know," she said.
"Except Emma and Leo have their moments of skepticism," Bobby reminded her.
"Sure, but some of that is just an extreme lack of tact, which we know comes from Daddy," Summer said, as they arrived at the ice cream shop.
~*~
"Wow...so you saw it all? A City made entirely of gold?" the podcaster questioned.
"Yes...as you can see from the high resolution photos I took. I will most likely have the FBI all over me for releasing the information and photos, but I could care less," Nora replied, as she participated in the podcast from her room at Granny's on her laptop.
"So a lot of my listeners want to know about the company you're keeping these days," the podcaster. Nora snorted.
"Let me guess, more saps obsessed with the great love story of Snow White and Prince Charming," Nora said with an eyeroll.
"There are many that have been caught up in that aspect, yes," the podcaster agreed.
"Well, they'll be happy to know that, though I don't really believe in love, theirs appears to be very genuine, to the point that I think they're both insane," Nora replied. The podcaster chuckled.
"Not a fan of true love, I see," he mentioned.
"Not even a little...and their kids are just strange," Nora said.
"But the magic...that has to be pretty cool, right? I mean, we all saw it during that insane battle," the podcaster replied.
"I suppose it's impressive, but honestly, these people are more trouble than they're worth," Nora said.
"Then you're in the camp of people that think we should fear these people. That they could bring about some kind of apocalypse on us?" the podcaster asked.
"Haven't they already? I mean, look at what happened in Seattle and then in Boston," Nora reminded.
"Fair point...they have unleashed this mysterious demon on us, after all and he already has a body count," the podcaster said.
"And that's just part of it. Apparently, Snow White has some insane doctor obsessed with her too," she reminded him.
"Ah yes...we've all read the book. I have to say, I don't think any of us would think a literary character such as Dr. Jekyll would be in hot pursuit of none other than Snow White. He has a body count as well," the podcaster said.
"Yes...and I know many are enthralled by this love story, but I think we should be asking if the possible destruction of our world is worth it for these people," Nora replied.
"Another fair point," he agreed.
"This pair does seem to go easy on some of their enemies," he added.
"Exactly...and that probably won't bode well for the rest of us," Nora agreed.
"Well, thank you for joining us tonight, Ms. Bradley," he said, as her segment on the podcast ended. But the podcaster would plug her social media and she was already lightning it up with all her photos and reporting. This was going to be the moment where her career as an independent investigative reporter took off.
~*~
Xander found himself unable to sleep and made his way down into the common room of the castle. It was taking some getting used to living in such a place, but he didn't dislike it. He was just glad his son still wanted him under the same roof, especially with how angry he had been at finding out about more of his past. As he entered though, he found that he wasn't alone and saw Thalia having a drink.
"Hey…" she muttered.
"Take it from someone who knows first hand...that stuff is not going to make anything better," he admonished.
"Your son will forgive you...but my daughter," she said.
"Our daughter," he corrected and she gave him a look.
"Our daughter," she relented.
"Won't be so easy," she said.
"She'll come around. Clayton was manipulative...and his son is the same way. That family has been manipulating this one from the moment I met him," he admitted.
"Mine too…" she agreed.
"Then let's end that now. Our daughter may be grown, but we can become a united front. She's been hurt by him too," he mentioned. She nodded.
"I'll drink to that," she said, as she finished her drink.
"I'll pass on the drink, but I'm with you. If I've learned anything from my son and I've learned far more from him than he ever learned from me, is that love heals," he said.
"And by the way...had I know about her, I never would have walked away," he added, as he left her to her thoughts.
~*~
The moment they arrived home and were in their bedroom, their passion consumed them, ensuing in several bouts of lovemaking. The fireplace burned brightly in their bedroom, for it was proving to be a cold fall night in Storybrooke, but it couldn't have been hotter in their bed chambers. Their bodies moved together in an incredible sync that only they could ever achieve. Every kiss, every touch, every movement brought pure pleasure and expressed their incredible love in the purely physical manner. The sounds punctuated that feeling of that pleasure. Limbs were entangled and lips were locked, as they found completion, not for the first time, together in the most euphoric experience possible. Their insatiable need for each other led to several comings, until they finally collapsed in sated bliss together beneath the sheets, still thoroughly entwined. Kisses were soft and caresses were intimate, as they bathed in the ecstasy induced afterglow.
"Oh baby...that was…" Snow breathed, as she rested her head against his chest.
"Yeah…we have some pretty good stamina for two people that should be old and gray by now," he joked, making her giggle.
"Well, if that was old people sex, then wow…" she joked, as they shared another smile and a kiss.
"Wow indeed," he agreed, as they cuddled together. She sighed.
"Are you worried about everything the Major told us earlier?" she asked.
"A bit...but no matter what, our love always seems to win," he said, as he kissed her shoulder.
"Mmm...after this, I think it's best though. I'm just not sure this world will ever accept us as just people. They're treating us like we're aliens or something," she mentioned.
"Yeah...even the ones that seem enthralled by our love story take it to the creepy level," he said.
"I think I'd be more than okay with staying in the United Realms once this is all over, but I know that you liked your work when you were an agent," she replied.
"I think I'll always have plenty of policing to do here in the United Realms. I liked my work, but I love being with my family and my beautiful wife more. There's nothing I'll miss out there, because everything I love is here," he promised, as he pecked her on the lips. She smiled and kissed him again, as their love consumed them once again.
~*~
"And...good morning, United Realms! It's a cool October day, which means fall is in full swing here in New England and the foliage is at its peak beauty," Le Fou said.
"In other words, Le Fou is just trying to distract you from the fact that we live in Maine and winter is coming," Goldilocks replied, as he gave off a fake chuckle.
"Aw, come on Goldie...you don't let a little cold bother you, right?" he joked.
"A little no...but Maine's winters are ridiculous, am I right people? I mean, if I had one question for Queen Regina, it would be why didn't you curse us to sunny California?" she commented, making Le Fou laugh again.
"She's got a point, but hey, there's no snow yet and that's something. Well, fellow United Realmers, our esteemed leaders have returned! Yes, they were spotted at Granny's Diner last night and as usual, they didn't come home without bringing new things with them," Le Fou said.
"Yes...and for that we go to our reporter in the field, Scuttle Seagull, who of course, isn't a seagull anymore and but still travels like he has wings to keep us all up to date on all the happenings in the United Realms," Goldilocks said.
"That's right Goldie...I'm the one that sprouted legs, thanks to the good curse, and now I am an intrepid reporter, who seeks information now instead of fish!" he joked, though it was doubtful anyone was laughing.
"Right...so what can you tell us, Scuttle?" Le Fou asked.
"Well, it looks like our esteemed leaders have gone and added an entire new realm!" he said, as the camera panned to the newest addition.
"We have been told that this is the island of Mu, which is inhabited with a mysterious tribe of people and behind that, even more spectacularly, is Half Moon Island, which is home to none other than the fabled Cibola. Yes...a city made entirely of gold," he gestured grandly.
"Wow...that's impressive," Le Fou commented.
"Yes, it's not often that Snow and Charming bring us anything but complete mayhem, but the day is young," Goldilocks said. Le Fou chuckled.
"Very true...you never know what calamity will happen in the United Realms. Moving on though, we go to the weather…"
"Ugh...seriously, these are the best reporters they can find?" Leo complained, as he turned off the television.
"Yeah...it's a lot of opinion and not so much reporting," Elsa agreed, as she braided her hair at her vanity. He leaned down and kissed her neck.
"It's good to be home," he purred. She smiled and slipped her arms around his neck, as she stood up.
"Yes...it is. I missed you," she said, as she nuzzled her nose with his own.
"I know, you showed me last night," he replied slyly.
"So...let's have an encore," he purred and she smiled.
"That sounds nice...but we have a wedding to plan," she reminded him.
"Okay...but I need pancakes first if I'm going to go through a day of wedding planning. I mean, I love my Mom, but she's probably already hired a pyrotechnics specialist to do all the fireworks or something," he said. She raised an eyebrow.
"You really think she's going to have fireworks at our wedding?" he asked.
"Uh...if we're going to get married, then we need to do it right," he replied, making her laugh and she pecked him on the lips.
"I love you...let's get you some pancakes," she said, as they joined hands and left their chambers together.
~*~
Natalie splashed some water on her face and brushed her teeth. Her morning had started out horrid, as she found herself throwing up and wondering what she had eaten to upset her stomach so much. She decided to shower and then find the kitchen for something to settle her stomach, hoping that whatever it was, passed quickly.
~*~
Flashback
After losing Adonis, Aphrodite fell into a deep depression. She spent most of her days alone in the tiny cottage outside Cyprus where she had lived before meeting Adonis. Zeus thought it would take a few years for her to come around, so he let her be mostly, visiting her as often as he could. He had sent Blue to check on her once, but that ended explosively, as his daughter still blamed Blue for leading the Black Fairy to her, which resulted in Anchises' death and the abduction of their son. He did not and could not know of Blue's real role in that, as not even Aphrodite recalled her or Hera's traitorous deeds that took place. Nor did either of them know about Blue conspiring with John Clayton and giving him the beans to escape the realm. The fall out of Adonis' demise had destroyed her and once again, he felt helpless. But this was a curse not even he could break, thus why he had charged his eldest daughter with finding a way to circumvent it. And he had hope that she was onto something. Athena was a prophesier and he only hoped a solution was bestowed upon her.
"Father…" Athena said, as she came to him on Olympus that afternoon. He continued to lament over Aphrodite and all that had befallen her. Her grief had not lasted but a few years, but hundreds now. Her second charges had been cut down in their prime and the chalice was void of champions. And he had to do something to bring her out of her misery.
"Please tell me we have hope for her," he pleaded.
"That is exactly why I am here…" Athena replied.
"Tell me…" Zeus said.
"Do you remember when Dione spoke of the eternal spark?" Athena asked.
"Yes...she also called it a divine spark. It was a prophecy she decreed about a first spark of true love. But that it would happen between two mortals before they even know each other, much less fell in love," he replied.
"Yes...they will be champions of true love and even greater than their predecessors. They will face evil like none before and win with the power of true love," she said.
"Yes…I'm familiar and if that prophecy had come from anyone other than my beloved Dione, I would have scoffed at such notions," he replied.
"The eternal spark will happen...I received the prophecy. Their time of conception is near and Aphrodite will be needed to soon guide them, from the shadows at first, of course," she said.
"She is in no state of mind to do so," he refuted.
"I know...that is why we must wipe Adonis from her memory and change her story," Athena declared. He looked horrified.
"She would never want that...you know that," he said.
"I know...but the fate of all the realms may depend on it. Because her destiny and her true love's will be entwined with this pair's," she replied.
"Why? What is different this time?" he questioned.
"Because her true love will be reborn as the twin brother of the male half of her new champions," she said.
"Why does it matter? She is just cursed to lose him again anyway," Zeus said in frustration.
"Maybe not if we play this right...my visions were clear. Her new champions may be instrumental in helping them to break the curse this time," Athena replied.
"How?" he asked.
"You know I don't have details much beyond that. It never works that way, but dark forces are already rumbling. It's almost as if they feel the light that is about to be born, which is why we must act," she replied.
"And this pair...what will make them so special?" he asked skeptically.
"Well, to start, they will have their first spark, before they even meet. He will come from nothing, but be more remarkable than any born into royalty. He will be handsome, noble, and fight for good. She will be born a princess and upon first sight of her, she will be declared the fairest in all the realms," Athena added. He snorted.
"That sounds like a curse on its own. My daughter's own beauty has caused much of the wrong kind of attention," he complained.
"And it may be. She will entrance men that already have madness in their heads, but her heart will belong only to one...her beloved. But I fear that once the evil senses their spark, they will stop at nothing to destroy this pair as they have with the previous ones. Because this one...will spell their end," Athena decreed. He sighed.
"I am almost afraid to ask, but what must we do?" Zeus asked.
"We leave her memories of Anchises and her son. As usual, when she meets him again, her memory of Anchises' physicality will be blurred. Then we erase the rest," she said.
"The rest? You can't mean…" he started to say.
"We have to, father...she must be so focused on making sure nothing cuts this pair down. In the end, the breaking of the curse will restore her memories and then her true love cannot be taken from her again," she replied.
"Then she will not know I am her father…" he said sadly.
"But one day, she will again, I promise. For now, she must believe her purpose for existence is to champion true love and this coming pair. This pair...they will change everything. They will save many, including Aphrodite and her love," she promised. He sighed deeply.
"I hope you are right...proceed with this plan," he said sadly, as he looked at his precious daughter through the viewing pool.
"Give me strength to see this through, my love," he whispered to Dione.
~*~
After breakfast, Snow and David made the dreaded, but necessary trip to the prison to make sure everything was secure with the newest detainees.
"Are you sure you want to come to the barracks with me?" he asked, as he looked over the logs.
"I am...it helps me see that the worst are where they belong, especially Blue. I have words for her," she replied. He couldn't argue with that, as he signed off on the logs, which was part of his job as supreme Sheriff. He took her hand and they took the elevator up to the top level. There were sneers from their newest residents.
"At least your new home doesn't have a bunch of deadly radiation poisoning your bodies, so you're welcome," David commented, as they passed by those cells.
"Well, well...Snow White and Prince Charming have come upon their prisoners. I do notice there is an empty cell up here. Could that be for someone special?" Dr. LaGuerra asked.
"Another certain Doctor that continues to haunt you, fairest?" he goaded, as David grabbed him by the collar, slamming his head against the bars, causing him to cry out in pain.
"How many bones of yours do I have to break before you keep your mouth shut?" David growled, as he shoved him away.
"And for your information, no that cell isn't for Jekyll, because I'm going to make sure he ends up in the morgue. And you'll join him if you even look at her again," he warned, as they kept walking.
"Well...she is quite a vision. She seems to cast a spell wherever she goes, much like the Goddess. My father was obsessed with the chalice and Aphrodite...and later the two of you," Johnny said, as they passed by him.
"He always wanted to mix his bloodline with that of the Charming family," Johnny leered, as his eyes swept over Snow.
"That will never happen and if you keep looking at her like that, I'll gouge your eyes out," David warned, as they moved on, but Snow didn't like the smug smirk on his face.
"Well, well...the Charmings have returned," Blue said, as they arrived at her cell.
"We wanted to see this for ourselves, though I'm not surprised that Fandral bested you," David replied.
"Trust me...when I get out, I promise to make the Asgardian scum and his little waif pay," she said. She looked terrible. Her makeup had run and she hadn't bothered to wash her face of it, making her look almost comical. She wore a blue prison jumpsuit and her hair was a frazzled mess.
"Wow...you look like hell," David said in amusement.
"Oh, you'll know hell when I get this cuff off...you both will," she hissed.
"What has happened to you? I mean, you've been shady before, but this outright evil is alarming, to say the least," Snow mentioned. Blue smirked.
"Oh honey...this is the real me. But I didn't hate you when I felt the spark occur between the two of you. I saw an opportunity...two idiots to manipulate," she said.
"Well, that didn't happen and now you're going to pay for your crimes. You'll be tried in a royal tribunal and if found guilty...you'll spend the rest of your life in prison," David declared.
"Do your worst...because neither of you have the guts to sentence me to the death penalty and that means, given the chance, I will escape and destroy all of you," she promised.
"No...you won't," Snow interjected, as she looked at her husband and swallowed.
"As Queen...I have the power to up your sentence if you're found guilty and if you are convicted of treason, you will face death," Snow decided. It surprised David a little, but he knew they had been through enough to know that Blue was too dangerous to be kept alive, just like Jekyll. Blue smirked.
"There's that darkness...be careful, Snow White, or your heart will end up as black as mine. I would relish that," she hissed.
"No...never. Your sentence will be justice, not darkness. There's a difference," she said and Blue frowned.
"Kill me...and I'll haunt your dreams, Snow White! I'll help the doctor invade your mind and terrorize your every sleeping moment!" she warned, as David led her away. Snow shuddered at her words.
"I'll help Jekyll invade your mind and you'll know no peace! I'll torture you!" Blue promised, clearly having lost her sanity and he felt Snow shudder again beside him.
"Guards!" he called.
"Take her to solitary! She'll remain there until her tribunal!" he ordered, as he held Snow closely and led her back to the elevator.
"Is execution really the right decision?" she asked in uncertainty.
"Yes, my darling...she's a treasonous snake that just threatened a Queen," he reminded her.
"My Queen…" he said.
"What if she can haunt me from beyond? We've had crazier things happen," she told him.
"We will talk to Gold and Regina. We'll make sure she can't, even if we have to go visit Nyx ourselves to make sure her soul isn't allowed to run free in Underbrooke," he promised, as he kissed her forehead and led her out. He hoped that spending the rest of the day planning their son's wedding would help her de-stress and relax.
#Snowing#SnowxCharming#Charming family#OC Charmings#AU#The United Realms#original season 9 storyline#Fandral of Asgard#Rose Red#Dashing Rose#background CS#background OQ#background Rumbelle#romance#adventure#family#finding you always#the epic continues
2 notes
·
View notes
Video
youtube
2000: “Ghetto Qu’ran (Forgive Me)” 50 Cent (Trackmaster Ent./Columbia)
It’s been over a year since I teased the idea of doing a post about my favorite 50 Cent tracks, so I guess now is as good a time as ever to get around to it!
With the exception of maybe Kanye, I can’t think of another rapper with more raw talent whose career has been more disappointing. Obviously both Ye and Fiddy have been monstrously successful, but IMO they either burned brightly before descending into white supremacy apologia (Kanye) or never achieved their best possible trajectory (50). It’s not an accident to put them together in this way, either; just 12 years ago next month they faced off in what turned out to be a very underwhelming battle over whose album would sell better (this was back when album sales, not streaming numbers, still meant something). In many ways, it was a crossroads for each artist: Kanye dropped what I believe was his magnum opus, then followed it up with his fourth-best album, third-best album, and second-best album, before dropping off a cliff, while 50′s release basically removed him from the conversation about who was relevant in rap (“My Gun Go Off” and “I Get Money” are honorable mentions for the list below, but otherwise Curtis is entirely forgettable).
These days, 50 has gone the Ice Cube route and is probably more recognizable as an actor than as a rapper. So, it’s hard to remember that once upon a time he was the savior of gangsta rap and (co-)author of one of the 25 greatest albums of all time. He beat the odds to survive a shooting, link up with the two heaviest hitters (at the time) in the rap game, and even be included on some GOAT lists. He also essentially established the “flood the streets with mixtapes before your album drops” strategy of self-promotion that Gucci, Weezy, and even Drake would follow in the days before Soundcloud was the go-to resource for building a rep. He singlehandedly destroyed a rival’s career, launched a clothing line, video game, and music label, and made a halfway-decent biopic. And then... he just sort of petered out.
But! 50 is also responsible for some of my all-time favorite raps, which is why it’s so frustrating to me that he never lived up to the buzz surrounding him back in 2003. These are my five favorites, listed chronologically, with some commentary:
1) “Ghetto Qu’ran (Forgive Me)” (2000) Before the G-Unit days and before Eminem and Dre helped launch him to superstardom, Curtis Jackson was an up and coming rapper from Queens who had attracted the attention of another rap legend, Run-DMC’s Jam Master Jay. A mutual friend introduced 19 year-old 50 to Jay back in 1996, and the veteran producer/DJ gave him a crash course in how to write songs and signed him to his fledgling label. The business relationship didn’t work out, but it helped lead 50 to Columbia Records’ Trackmasters imprint where he recorded Power of the Dollar in 1999. However, this debut album would never see the light of day after 50 was shot nine times while sitting in a friend’s car and subsequently dropped by Columbia. In the wake of the shooting--and then later, after 50 blew the fuck up in 2003--it became a sort of “lost cult classic” among rap fans. “How To Rob” got the most attention at the time, a funny-yet-vicious song demonstrating 50′s hunger through fantasies about sticking up famous rappers and R&B stars (the song was also clearly an homage to Biggie’s unreleased “Dreams,” and provoked an oblique diss from Ghostface). But “Ghetto Qu’ran” has had a more lasting impact, primarily because of how it was rumored to be the source of 50′s shooting, Jam Master Jay’s murder, and the Ja Rule/Murder Inc. beef. While all of that intrigue is important to rap lore, it distracts from the fact that it’s a near perfect rap song from a technical perspective: a catchy hook, a fantastic beat and sample, an effortless flow, and a well-crafted story that is equal parts celebration of the Queens underworld and subtle shots at street legends. Seriously, this is akin to what traveling bards used to do in medieval Europe, what poets in Ancient Greece wrote, what west African griots did/do, and what narcocorrido artists do now. If you want to learn about the Supreme Team, Pappy Mason, the Corley Family, and the Rich Porter/Alpo crew in Harlem, then this is a good place to start; as 50 puts it, “consider this the first chapter of the ghetto’s Qu’ran.” The secondary title to this track--“Forgive Me”--has a double meaning now. It was initially a plea to forgive 50 for the pain he caused in his criminal life but in retrospect an appeal to the figures whose names he drops. Also, it’s interesting to listen to this first and then compare 50′s voice with the next four tracks: this was recorded before the shooting, which left a bullet fragment lodged in his tongue that affected his speech and gave him his now-distinctive flow.
2) “Heat” (2003) There are several standouts on Get Rich or Die Tryin’ (“Many Men,” “Back Down,” “What Up Gangsta,” “Patiently Waiting,” and “Poor Lil’ Rich” spring to mind, and I will always love “21 Questions” for the “I love you like a fat kid loves cake” line alone) but this one has always been my fave. It’s a perfect distillation of the image that 50 was trying to project when he burst onto the scene: a hood-hardened gangster who wouldn’t hesitate to do his enemies harm. And given his recent history, you could believe him, too! There’s really nothing about this song that should be praised in any way, but I’ve been thinking about the gravity of the following line a lot in the past month or so: “The summertime is a killing season/ It’s hot out this bitch, that’s a good enough reason.” Also, 50′s boast “the DA can play this motherfucking tape in court” *has* to be one of the inspirations behind this great Key & Peele sketch, right?
3) “A Baltimore Love Thing” (2005) The Massacre was incredibly disappointing on the whole. I can remember clearly sitting around with my friends in a dorm room at the Shoreland listening to it all the way through the day that it dropped, wanting to love it but slowly realizing that it wasn’t going to live up to our expectations. “Ski Mask Way” could be an honorable mention on this list, and “Piggy Bank” is kind of funny, but otherwise it’s a steaming pile of shit. “Baltimore Love Thing,” though, is a masterpiece. It’s incredibly dark, rapped from the perspective of heroin itself (sort of like what Nas’s “I Gave You Power” does for guns) in order to detail the destruction that addiction--and, by extension, drug trafficking--leaves in its wake. Even more fucked up, 50-as-heroin voices an abusive partner addressing a woman, threatening her should she ever try to leave him. For my money, “You broke my heart, you dirty bitch, I won’t forget what you did/ If you give birth, I’ll already be in love with your kids” is one of the coldest lines in the annals of rap, full stop. In the second verse, he switches to the flip side of an abuser’s mindset: “I never steer you wrong, if you hyper I make you calm/ I’ll be your incentive, your reason for you to move forward.” All in all, it’s a great concept song that shows off 50′s range as a rapper... and is a testament to what he could have been.
4) “Hustler’s Ambition” (2005) Goddamn, I fucking love everything about this song! The beat is fantastic (great sample, btw), prefiguring the sound on a future great mixtape from the G-Unit crew. 50′s flow here is flawless, arguably the best, smoothest he’s ever been. This was basically the “theme” for 2005′s Get Rich or Die Tryin’ film, and tells the story of his come up in the drug game (or, at least, 50′s version of his carefully constructed hagiography). The lyrics are the true gems here, so I’ll just let a few of the standouts speak for themselves:
“Check my logic: fiends don’t like seeds in they weed, shit/ Send me them seeds, I’ll grow ‘em what they need”
“I sell anything, I’m a hustler, I know how to grind/ Step on grapes, put it in water, and tell you it’s wine”
“I made plans to make it, a prisoner of the state/ Now I can invite your ass out to my estate”
“Pour Cristal in the blender, make a protein shake”
and finally
“The feds watch me, icy, they can’t stop me/ Racists pointing at me, ‘Look at *****race’: Hello!”
5) “Ghetto Like A Motherfucker” (2011) I remember first encountering this track on a Tumblr compilation (I think?) called Don’t Fuck This Up, Curtis! and allowing myself to get excited that the old 50 was back! As the compilation’s name implies, around that time 50 had been releasing a string of online-only singles that were better than anything he’d put out in five or so years, and so there was some hope that he’d soon be making a triumphant return to the rap game. Sadly, this was not to be. But I still bang this track every month or so. The idea here was that 50 had written something, set it to a very sparse, stripped-down beat, and posted it online as an invitation for DIY rap producers to play with it and layer their own compositions on top of it. In that sense, it represented a melange of rap’s earliest roots--dudes spitting over vinyl cuts in basements and parks, just fucking around and having fun--and the possibilities afforded by the digital age and rap’s embrace of online platforms for mixing and remixing material (on a side note, I like to think of this as part of 21st century rap’s “punk rock” aesthetic, and would argue that this genre has done it better than any other). As with “Hustler’s Ambition,” “Baltimore Love Thing,” and “Ghetto Qu’ran,” this track gives 50 a chance to really showcase his talents as a writer and a rapper. The lyrics are as grimy as the beat, painting a picture of urban poverty and pre-fame 50, and 50 switches up his flow at multiple points throughout. Here are some of my favorite lines:
“Slim chance I’ma go back to killing roaches/ Be quiet, you can hear the rats in the wall/ Make you wanna pump crack ‘til you stack racks”
“Dice game, shake ‘em up, praying’ for a 6/ The wolves out there hungry, they lookin’ for a lick”
“****** pissed on the staircase, in the elevator/ Now I’m pissed cuz I’m starting to smell like piss, player”
and
“All a ***** need is a block and a connect/ And a box of 9 MMs to load in the TEC.”
50′s last two studio albums--Before I Self Destruct and Animal Ambition--honestly weren’t half-bad; I would venture so far as to say that they were both better than The Massacre and Curtis. But for 50 it was too little, too late, really. Too many rappers had come along since then doing what he did, only better and fresher. This is a Migos world now; we’re just living in it. And so, I’m left to ponder what could have been.
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Peyote Petite Commissions
Hello all!
Due to life circumstances, I must open commissions.
two months ago, my mother finally left my father, a violent drunk that has abused my mother, brothers and I for as long as we’ve been family. In a rush of alcohol and drugs, he has on several occasions been violent to us to the point where we had to call the police, yet that hasn’t stopped him from continuing to use gaslighting and other verbally and psychological methods to abuse us.
My mother has tried to make ends meet, she had two jobs on top of having to take care of the whole family and with my dad refusing to help her in any way, she overworked herself. Then she was diagnosed with breast cancer and had to take chemotherapy, but that didn’t stop her from working, despite being weak and fragile. To top it all, she also needed a spinal surgery or she would have been paralysed from her chest and down. Thankfully the surgery went well, but it takes years for her body to be able to handle the everyday life as it once was capable of. Now, she is drowning in bills because she is too sick to work and is in the process of being diagnosed with both depression and PTSD - all thanks to my dad’s abuse, who doesn’t seem to understand how much he has broken his own family.This has resulted in me having to support my mother and my two brothers, despite my income being so low that I live below the poverty line. I’ve made ends meet by taking out loans to cover her bills and our medication, but I’m now in 26K debt and can hardly blame my bank for calling it quits.
I have my own struggles. I’m diagnosed with an evasive personality disorder, OCD and chronic depression (I know, quite the mouthful, isn’t it?) and while I have my good periods, I certainly have very bad ones too. It makes having a job exceedingly difficult and I can hardly blame potential employers not wanting to deal with a worker who’s 70% issues. What I get every month barely covers my rent, bills, food and medicine. I scrape every last penny I have to help my mother, which lately has resulted in me not being able to get my own medicine, pay my rent or to eat daily. Fortunately I have been able to get some of my bills postponed, while the others (like rent), I’m hoping to find the money to pay before the two payment reminders I’ve been sent runs out.
On top of that I’ve had to take in my dad’s dog (forcefully. It was being severely neglected) and I have no idea how on earth I am going to pay off the veterinary bills I’ve raked up on her. That being said, not getting her help is out of the question.
Needless to say, I can’t do this forever.
Why am I telling you all of this?
I want you to understand how desperately I have tried to sort all of this out myself. I’ve always been poor and life has always been tough, but I’m a private person and I’ve preferred to take care of myself and those around me. I try not to complain too much and I try not to depend on others. If I thought that I had any way out whatsoever, I would not be here. It is not easy for me to admit defeat, or even admit that I need help, but I do.
I need to be able to pay rent, I need to be able to help my dog Mille recover from what she has been through, I need to be able to buy my most important medication if not all of it, as well as enough food to eat every day, and maybe even a fridge to put it in, would be nice.
I can offer the following:
Drawing Commissions Traditional
20USD - B&W pen and ink
30USD - B&W simple coloring
40USD - Full colored
+5USD to base price if commission has extra/complex details (i.e. washi tape, gold ink, extreme details such as scales)
+10USD for any extra characters
+10USD for detailed backgrounds (i.e. a building, scene etc.)
+shipping cost if you want me to ship the drawing to you (price may vary depending where you live). If shipping is not chosen, a scanned, color corrected version will be sent digitally.
I will not draw the following:
- Extremely violent, phobic, pornographic images
- Any kind of mental abuse depictions
Drawing Commissions Digital
30USD - Digital lineart with a few accents
40USD - Lineart and flat colours
+10USD to base price for any extra characters
+10USD for backgrounds
I also offer ko-fi commissions!
For one ko-fi, you will be sent a picture of a cactus themed chibi, with a text of your choice in the speech bubble.
For two ko-fis, you will get two. I have a total of six designs planned and I will make sure that no one gets doubles.
One ko-fi = 3USD
Procedure
Please send me a DM with what type of commission you want and with any needed information about the character, such as a profile, pictures/references etc. The more the merrier! Please describe what you want me to do regarding poses, colours etc.
I will send you a picture of the base sketch of the drawing. If there is anything you would like me to change, this is the chance to. Otherwise, if everything is ok, I will have to ask you to pay forward the amount for the commission. I ONLY accept Paypal!
Once I have received the payment, I will start working on the commission. Once finished, I will send a picture of it to you and, if requested, ship it to you once the shipping price has been determined.
Below is examples of all commission tiers, along with sketches of the planned ko-fi rewards.
Even if you do not request a commission with me, I will be eternally grateful if you reblog this. Every little thing helps. Thank you so much for taking the time to read this <3
Picture references
Traditional Art Tiers
Digital Commissions
Finished Ko-Fi Reward Example, as well as planned designs
#commisions#art commisions#signal boost#artists on tumblr#need help#peyotepetite#traditional art#digital art
39 notes
·
View notes
Text
Jaimi’s Update
5/6/19 Update
Hi All
Thank you all for continuing to share Shelk’s GoFundMe, I really appreciate it and it’s been helping. Now on to that update I keep planning and not seeming to get to.
This is a long post, so I will put it below a cut.
About Me First
So March and April were both massively long and a more then a little painful, both physically and mentally. I had a depressive spiral because of something someone said, cause even though they hadn’t meant to set one off, their word choice did not help. I got it just about under control and someone else said something that sent it right back down. I finally got it under control again, back in the slow drag of getting out of it. Not that I know for a fact it will work or not. Life is never that easy.
I spent way too much of the two months on the go, to the point where my body shut down a couple of different times and I was completely useless. At least I accomplished my goals though, even if I paid massively for them.
I have a new therapist, she’s lovely but it’s frustrating, because I did not want to be changing therapists in the middle of shit going wrong, but alas it was a thing that had to happen since my previous one is officially retired for a variety of reasons (and I hope he enjoys it too!).
Despite my best efforts, I am a foster fail again, and have a new cat, he is adorable and loveable. I’ve named him Silver for his chest and markings.
[ID: Silver the cat laying partly on the laptop keyboard]
I’m trying to figure out how to pay my electric, it’s due on the 10th, I should have made a post on it, but I’ve been more focused on making sure my sister doesn’t lose her home. Plus I was under therapist orders not to think of anything money or work related for three days during this last weekend.
Winston
[ID: Winston the rottweiler service pup laying on my lap while I pet him]
He’s doing perfect on his training, already has two of his tasks completely down, working on getting several more down.
Unfortunately, there have been several problems with store peeps despite the fact I make sure he has his harness on and his leash on that says he is a service dog. They keep making a fit over the fact he’s a rottweiler, I even had one say it directly to my face.
So I’ve ordered a bunch of business cards with the ADA online address on them, a copy of the two questions they can legally ask on the front:
Is that a service dog?
What tasks does your service dog perform for you?
On the back I put the four points people keep missing the most, copied directly from the ADA FAQ:
Staff are not allowed to request any documentation for the dog, require the dog demonstrate its task, or inquire about the nature of the person’s disability.
The ADA does not require service animals to wear a vest, ID tag, or specific harness.
Covered entities may not require documentation, such as proof that the animal has been certified, trained, or licensed as a service animal, as a condition for entry.
Michigan has a voluntary registration program but it is not required.
The last point is from the state ADA, rather then the Federal one. If I had more room, I would have included the fact it’s illegal to try and force a registration, but alas business cards aren’t that big.
I knew when I got him there was going to be questions because he’s so big, I hadn’t realized how foolish peeps were going to be over his breed.
Both his leash and harness say Service Dog on them, but because I didn’t go out and buy the specialized one, but a training harness which was a lot cheaper and works for our needs just as well, people like to question it often. To the point where I even had one person tell me to get out of the store because someone else’s dog acted up, so mine couldn’t really be a service dog. Seriously, then she tried to back it with the ADA, while breaking the first three points from the back, and then insisting that the Michigan registry is required.
Seriously, she’s one of the reasons I made the cards, right after I reported her and her boss, since she was insisting she checked with her boss, and her boss agreed. I even stressed to both the ADA and her company I didn’t want either fired, I wanted them properly trained, it should not be the customer’s job to print off the law and bring it in to make a point, just to keep shopping.
I refuse to go back to having days I can’t go to the store because others want to have a problem with my awesome boy. If they have a problem with another dog, that’s the other dog’s handlers problem, not mine. To take it out on me is unprofessional.
Shelk & Lot Rent
All of you peeps who have shared it (particularly you awesome one @noregretsnotearsnoanxieties) are wonderful! I appreciate all of the help. Shelk is flabbergasted and thankful beyond words for all the help.
Last month we were able to get $555 within the $3,600. The lot owner accepted that, which set the eviction notice back to the 15th of this month.
Right now we are at $150 this month, which is great as we are trying to get to at least $300, as that would pay at least one month. Currently she owes $3,345 between past and current due.
A wonderful peep has said they are going to try and do something mid-month after getting paid, so I am rather hopeful, and I will be continuing to share, with updates every time there is a donation.
Unexpected Meeting Kickstarter
I know I have two digital rewards to finish, I have been working on them, they will be posted by the end of this month.
I am also going to start ordering the stuff to send out to people, getting the bookmarks, magnets, posters, and other goodies ready while the book is being edited. I can happily report the first few chapters have been looked at, though I have not yet had a chance to check the edits, which is why I haven’t shared snippets yet.
It didn’t help that one of the rewards got corrupted when my computer updated in the middle of a save. Anyways, I’m excited! So bloody excited!
Converging Lives
I will hopefully be returning to updating my @converginglives blog this week, I miss being able to post stuff there plus I still have the Spring 2019 A to Z Event to finish.
I am also working on an actual website for it, which will have pretty much everything from the tumblr blog but in an organized method as I am tired of arguing with tumblr about it when making sure it’s in website format.
Fanfic
Seeking is DONE - again. This time I emailed myself the file as well as typing it in google docs. Then of course docs didn’t have the problems it had last time. After 18 months of not being able to work on it, my muse finally got on the game. I’m so bloody pleased with that. I posted one chapter tonight, next Monday I will post the last chapter.
I plan on posting the last chapter of Challenge Accepted on Wednesday as it’s done and I just need post it.
I’m planning on working on Advent, Playful Stress Relief, Blessed, and Learning to Live. Why those ones?
Advent is rough drafted out, might as well finish it. Besides, I don’t like the fact my lovely and fluff filled thing is still stuck in limbo.
Playful Stress Relief is nearly done, I think editing was all I had left on that particular last chapter to finish it, though don’t quote me. It’s been awhile since I checked it.
Blessed is calling me, though only lightly, and I’m not even sure there are peeps waiting for it, but hey whatevers.
Learning to Live got a lovely comment which made me smile, in the height of a massive episode. I am updating it for that person, hopefully it will let me get on a roll and finish my oldest fanfic.
You wanna see one of the other ones updated? Leave a comment on it, not just a “update please” but something you like, or a question, or even a smile face. Update please doesn’t encourage me, but pretty much everything else does.
Cosmos Market
This is still being worked on, for those who don’t know what the market is, here is a link to the last post made on it. I’ll probably be updating it sometime in the near future, but at this moment that is a pretty good definition of it.
I want -- need -- to get the market off the ground so I can stop needing to ask for help as I will have at least a small and stable income going.
I’m not planning on making a lot off of it, just enough to pay my base bills, which will not put me out of the poverty line. I do expect it to be a success, however I plan on putting money into my employees and building instead. My sister being one of those employees in order to help her stop needing to ask for help as well since she’s been struggling to find a job.
The market isn’t the only thing on the planner for business, it’s just the one I am focused on right this moment, though I have been eyeing my second rather heavily lately too, as it would be a much more passive situation for me to deal with.
Disability
A lot of you know that I’ve applied for it in the past and was turned down as “disabled but not disabled enough”. I have reapplied for it. Why? Because I am still disabled, and a lot of times, things are worse then they were the last time I applied.
This time I have been sent to deal with so many new doctors it’s making me want to scream. I don’t deal well with new people. Yet I have to. A lot. It’s frustrating beyond words. Still, if it helps over all, I will do whatever I must.
It’s seriously my hope to get to the point where I can put it on hold, and only use it when I have a really bad flare up. Yes, things have been closer to stable since I got Winston, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t problems going on. I had a depressive spiral that lasted five bloody weeks. Sometimes I was able to force myself to get stuff done, other times I couldn’t even get out of bed because of my mind. It’s hard to be stable with that situation going on.
Knowing my bills will be dealt with even if I can’t get out of bed would help a great deal. Far more than I really want to admit. At last, that’s the way it goes.
Links
Rather then put the links in this mess, I will make a post just for them and then add the link to it here for those who want to share it. Any sharing would be appreciated as it helps more than you would imagine.
I know a lot of people don’t have money, and while money is needed, that is not what I am asking for, all I am asking for is you take the time to share. Just a few seconds, a couple of clicks, can make a world of difference.
While a lot of the links are about me, not all of them are as I also put up links to others who have helped me and friends who are in different tight situations. I’m a firm believer in paying it forward in any way possible.
Link to Links
Previous Updates
5/1/19 & 5/3/19
4/24/19
3/9/19 & Links
3/1/19
2/14/19
1/24/19
1/16/19
1/5/19
12/27/17 & 12/28/18
12/22/18
12/19/18
12/6/18 & 12/8/18
6 notes
·
View notes
Link
Yes, it's the Spectator. You're very clever for noticing that it is a right-wing source. If that upsets you, simply Google "MAID law Canada" to choose one of around 10 million articles saying the exact same thing, from your preferred source. Good? Alright. Now, let's get to the actual point.
This is scary, real, happening, and happening to me.
I'm on ODSP, working part time, and trapped below the abject poverty line. I'm EXCITED for March 2023 when MAID laws change. I cannot wait to no longer be poor - by means of being fucking dead. That excites me.
Instead of, oh I dunno, raising it to what the government literally said was the "bare minimum to live off of" when they did CERB for 2 grand a month for 8 months, let's just make it easier for poor people to kill themselves!
Let me be clear, here: this is NOT a true slippery slope. MAID will continue to be absurdly hard to qualify for. As it is now, those with terminal cancer in agony still get denied all the time. That will not change come March.
What will change? The number of applications. Probably around 10 times more than usual. Which will lead to those in charge of those applications making errors, costing lives of those who might've gotten better.
What else? Well, we'll have some raw data to look at. Number of applicants over last year, number on ODSP, number living in poverty. And we can then point to that and say "people would rather die than live in poverty". That might do something. Maybe.
But overall? If this change causes even one single person to die because they live in poverty, that should be unacceptable to society. And I'm hoping to be that person.
The change was agreed upon a few years ago because some people have extremely bad, hard-to-treat depression and have absolutely no quality of life or likelihood of getting better. The candidate they were picturing was someone who has tried quite literally everything under the sun and shown zero improvement over several years.
There is a very simple way to make the lives of the disabled poor better: give them fucking money, full stop.
I have 2 reasons for applying for MAID: my incurable IH, and my very-curable poverty. If one was improved, I wouldn't be where I am. I can live with IH if I can afford to live. I can live in poverty if I don't have IH.
Already in the system, I'll be at the top of the list for review come March, and due to a past denial being a mental illness technicality, I will be approved.
That said, in 2024, the number of people on ODSP will be much lower. And that's a win for my government. And a huge L for society.
There is an endlessly repeated witticism by the poet Anatole France that ‘the law, in its majestic equality, forbids the rich as well as the poor to sleep under bridges, to beg in the streets, and to steal bread.’ What France certainly did not foresee is that an entire country – and an ostentatiously progressive one at that – has decided to take his sarcasm at face value and to its natural conclusion.
Since last year, Canadian law, in all its majesty, has allowed both the rich as well as the poor to kill themselves if they are too poor to continue living with dignity. In fact, the ever-generous Canadian state will even pay for their deaths. What it will not do is spend money to allow them to live instead of killing themselves.
As with most slippery slopes, it all began with a strongly worded denial that it exists. In 2015, the Supreme Court of Canada reversed 22 years of its own jurisprudence by striking down the country’s ban on assisted suicide as unconstitutional, blithely dismissing fears that the ruling would ‘initiate a descent down a slippery slope into homicide’ against the vulnerable as founded on ‘anecdotal examples’. The next year, Parliament duly enacted legislation allowing euthanasia, but only for those who suffer from a terminal illness whose natural death was ‘reasonably foreseeable’.
It only took five years for the proverbial slope to come into view, when the Canadian parliament enacted Bill C-7, a sweeping euthanasia law which repealed the ‘reasonably foreseeable’ requirement – and the requirement that the condition should be ‘terminal’. Now, as long as someone is suffering from an illness or disability which ‘cannot be relieved under conditions that you consider acceptable’, they can take advantage of what is now known euphemistically as ‘medical assistance in dying’ (MAID for short) for free.
Soon enough, Canadians from across the country discovered that although they would otherwise prefer to live, they were too poor to improve their conditions to a degree which was acceptable.
Not coincidentally, Canada has some of the lowest social care spending of any industrialised country, palliative care is only accessible to a minority, and waiting times in the public healthcare sector can be unbearable, to the point where the same Supreme Court which legalised euthanasia declared those waiting times to be a violation of the right to life back in 2005.
Many in the healthcare sector came to the same conclusion. Even before Bill C-7 was enacted, reports of abuse were rife. A man with a neurodegenerative disease testified to Parliament that nurses and a medical ethicist at a hospital tried to coerce him into killing himself by threatening to bankrupt him with extra costs or by kicking him out of the hospital, and by withholding water from him for 20 days. Virtually every disability rights group in the country opposed the new law. To no effect: for once, the government found it convenient to ignore these otherwise impeccably progressive groups.
Since then, things have only gotten worse. A woman in Ontario was forced into euthanasia because her housing benefits did not allow her to get better housing which didn’t aggravate her crippling allergies. Another disabled woman applied to die because she ‘simply cannot afford to keep on living’. Another sought euthanasia because Covid-related debt left her unable to pay for the treatment which kept her chronic pain bearable – under the present government, disabled Canadians got $600 in additional financial assistance during Covid; university students got $5,000.
Continue Reading.
Tagging: @politicsofcanada
4K notes
·
View notes