#why do you want your whole face just out there making facial recognition software's job easy anyway?

[chalkrevelations]

I really need all y'all to get your vaccines, put on your masks, wash your hands, and stop touching your faces.

Between Covid, flu, and norovirus, I am so done at work. And if the Trump administration is going to bury health info, I'll tell you from the trenches bedside in acute care.

VACCINES. SOAP AND WATER. MASKS.

N95 for pref - this is better protection from the flu. Although any masking would be better than none.

[argylemnwrites]

Fight or Flight - Chapter 11: Weighing

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Heir (canon divergent from the end of book 2)

Word Count: ~3300

Rating: PG-13 (language only)

Summary: Six days since The Walker Absconding

Author’s Note: This series follows the Walkers, their friends, and Cordonia as a whole after they flee the country with their daughter during Barthelemy Beaumont’s attempted coup. To catch up on this series, check out it’s masterlist. (link can be found via my bio - sorry, Tumblr is once again not putting my posts with links in tag searches)

Rashad sighed heavily as he sat in a chair that was much too big behind a desk that was much too formal in an office that was much too stuffy. He’d agreed to be king-regent because he knew Liam was backed into a corner, and that his previous turns as legal counsel to both the palace and the Beaumonts made him the only obviously neutral party in the nobility. But not even one week in, and he found himself wishing he’d refused the appointment. He missed his job, his duties, his office, and that didn’t even touch on the mess he’d been handed.

It’s not like he wasn’t used to complicated and stressful work. But at Sloan Enterprises, it was work he was passionate about, work that he found stimulating and enthralling. Now, he was engulfed in so many decisions ranging from the banal to the insane. It was work he honestly wanted no part of, but that hadn’t exactly been an option.

His goal had simply been to get through the social season and reach the Conclave without rocking the boat, so to speak. Keep Cordonia on a steady course until someone who wanted the title of monarch could assume it, then return to his life as quickly as possible. But that had rapidly proved to be an impossibility. He’d already had to initiate a treason and kidnapping investigation, strip a duke and duchess of their titles, and postpone the social season. He’d done more in a few days than he’d hoped to do during his entire “reign.”

Now, he was facing numerous protests across the country that he had no idea how to handle. He wasn’t some verbose, eloquent speaker. Any speech from him was unlikely to quell citizen unrest. But in the past 36 hours, he’d watched news coverage of five different protests from five different groups. There was the group that called themselves the True Cordonians, a collection of traditionalists who had always opposed Drake and Riley and their connections to the United States, who were upset that the “traitorous” Walkers hadn’t been found yet. Counter-protesters to them had popped up in front of the Valtoria estate, denouncing the kidnapping and treason charges. That group hadn’t named themselves, but “She’s their kid” had become their rallying cry. Then there were the protests in Lythikos that called for Olivia’s installation as the “rightful regent” as well as a pro-Beaumont group that had come out in support of Barthelemy in Ramsford following his exclusive interview with Ana de Luca. And of course, the Liberation Core was using all the turmoil to spread their anti-monarchy message. Even if Rashad had been confident in his abilities to give a national address, he was completely unsure how to find a message that would even partially unify all those opposing groups.

All he wanted to do was to leave as little of a mark as possible as a ruler and to hand off the crown with Cordonia in a stable position. But it was rapidly seeming like those goals were mutually exclusive. And as loathe as he was to make big decisions, hiding away in the palace and letting the country fall to pieces was not something he could do. He needed to steady the ship, so to speak. And that’s why he was meeting with Lady Hana today.

Almost on cue, he heard a sharp tap on the main office door. After a second, Stefan entered, bowing his head slightly. Liam had offered to let his personal assistant stay on and help him with day to day tasks and the basics and essentials of the role. Rashad wasn’t naive enough to think that Stafan wasn’t essentially spying on him and reporting back to Liam, but he’d needed all the help he could get, and Stefan had proved invaluable, preparing daily briefings and news summaries, so he’d kept the man on his staff.

“Your Regency, Lady Hana is here for her appointment.”

“Thank you, Stefan. Send her in, please.”

A few moments later, Lady Hana entered, bowing her head slightly.

“Good afternoon, Your Regency.”

“Same to you, Lady Hana. Please, have a seat.” He gestured to the chairs in front of the desk. He was well aware this was probably awkward for her as well. She had probably been in this same office not that long ago with Liam behind the desk. 

“Thank you,” she said with a little nod, smoothing her skirt before she sat down.

“So, I figure we better get right down to business.”

“I’ve told Bastien and the investigators everything I know, but I can-”

“No! Not that; I know you’ve already given your statement. I wanted to talk to you about Valtoria.”

Hana was still and silent for just a moment before nodding crisply. “Very well. I would appreciate if I could have a day or two to move my belongings out of the estate.”

Rashad grimaced. This was so uncomfortable. “No, you misunderstand me, Lady Hana. I wanted to discuss whether you were open to accepting the title of Duchess of Valtoria.”

Her eyes widened at that. “Me? As a duchess?”

“Yes. You’ve been living there for about a year and a half at this point, and I am guessing you have served as an advisor to Lady Ri- er, the previous duchess at various points.”

“Well, yes. But it was really nothing.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

She gave him a little smile at that. “Why are you looking to appoint me?”

Rashad figured he had better level with her. She wasn’t going to respond well to flattery she found insincere. “There is too much instability across the kingdom at the moment. Too much is unfolding, and the citizens are rightly unsettled. You are a known presence at that duchy, and you are more than qualified to hold the title. You stepping into that role would help reduce the sense that everything is changing. I might not be able to keep Lythikos and Ramsford calm and peaceful, but if I can give Valtoria some sense of stability, that would be a start at least.”

“I don’t know. This seems like a gigantic call for you to make while you’re…”

“A placeholder?”

“I didn’t know how to phrase it politely,” she said with a little smile.

“That’s quite alright. To answer your question, I’m not sure if this is the right call, but it seems like a natural place to start. You know the people of Valtoria. You’ve lived there and you’ve served them and the country as a whole well. You have the skills and talents required for the position, and professional recruitment is one area I actually do have some experience, so I am confident you would do well in that role. But the choice is yours, of course.”

He watched her swallow, trying to read her expression, but her face wasn’t giving much away. He had no idea what she was thinking, but after a few seconds of tense silence, she nodded. “Alright then. If it’s what the citizens of Valtoria need, I’d be honored to accept. 

With that, she stretched her left hand across the desk, so Rashad grasped it firmly. As he pulled out some of the paperwork he’d prepared in hopes that she agreed and started going over some of the logistics, he hoped that his first major decision as regent would be one of his only major decisions. The fear of public scrutiny already loomed large in his mind, and this was a decision he was actually fairly confident in. Sadly, he was a realist, and he knew things were likely to get worse before they got better. All he could do, though, was keep trotting along, trying to get the country through the next couple of months relatively unscathed.

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

Riley let out a groan, dropping her head into her hands. “Drake, this fucking sucks.”

“Yeah, it does.”

She glanced out the window, almost feeling like she would see a drone with a little camera courtesy of Amalas just peering into their room. Was she using drones? Did she have spies tailing them? Was she just scanning publicly accessible photos tagged in Greek cities with facial ID software? Did it even matter? The end result was the same. Someone she wasn’t sure she could trust knew where her family was, and that was mad nerve-wracking.

Riley glanced back down at Drake, who was sitting on the floor with Bridget, keeping her from using the dresser to pull up to standing. She’d discovered how to do so this morning, and she kept wanting to repeat it, but the last thing they needed was for her to pull the dresser down on top of herself. It made Riley think about all the furniture around their private quarters that Drake had bolted to the wall in preparation for this milestone. None of that would matter anymore.

For the moment, Bridget was distracted with a pile of blocks she was putting into a pillowcase over and over. Riley knew she would return to trying to escape Drake’s reach to try out her new skill soon enough, but for now, at least, she was safely and happily playing. 

Riley and Drake had been discussing what to do next for hours and hours at this point. They had called Olivia earlier, and after some back and forth, Drake and Olivia had both seemed confident that Amalas wasn’t actively following them and didn’t know their location beyond the city. After all, she had been eager to contact Olivia with her intel, and it seemed like too much of a coincidence for that call to come just a few hours after they had spent any real time out in public since their fleeing was common knowledge.

The best guess Drake had was that they had been in the background of someone’s Pictagram post or some shit like that, and that Amalas was just constantly running some sort of facial recognition program constantly on posts tagged with various cities in Greece. After all, she had to know they were trapped in Greece at this point. If they attempted to cross the borders, they would have to show their ID cards and they would likely be arrested on the spot.

Even if Amalas was just aware of their general location, it still was concerning that she was devoting that much effort to keeping tabs on them. But what actions they needed to take next were unclear to both of them. Hence them talking around in circles for hours and hours, just waiting for some idea that felt better than all the crappy ones they’d both thrown out there. 

“I just don’t like sitting around with her knowing where we are, Drake. Even if she doesn’t know the exact details.”

Drake glanced up at her and gave a little shrug. This wasn’t the first time she’d expressed that sentiment. “I don’t like it either. But there’s no guarantee things will be better if we move on to a new city.”

“Olivia said that she’s trying to use us as leverage. How does that sit right with you?”

He shot her a clearly annoyed glare before looking back at Bridget, emptying the pillowcase for her to start filling with blocks again before he said, “It doesn’t fucking sit right with me. But we need to think long term here. We will need to find places to stay for at least a couple of months. That’s the earliest the Conclave can happen, and the charges won’t be dropped before then. We’re also going to need food and warmer clothing when it’s not the middle of summer, and that beater of a car is not going to hold up forever. We need to be frugal and cautious now.”

Riley knew he was right. Her instinct was always to scramble and react, often impulsively. If they kept following her lead every step of the way, they were probably going to make things harder than they needed to be. And she did appreciate that Drake was trying to put more thought into concrete plans. Both of them drifting along without a clear plan, complacent beyond belief was how Bridget was named heir and they found themselves in this situation in the first place.

“Are we even going to have enough money to get us through the next couple of months?”

Drake let out a sigh and shook his head.

“How long?” Riley asked, scrunching her eyes closed as she braced for the answer.

“Three weeks, more or less, if we keep our expenses like they have been.” She opened her eyes and locked them on his. His shoulders sagged and his eyes were sad and heavy, like he was somehow letting her down by telling her the honest facts.

“Drake… How are we going…” she trailed off, unable to finish her thought.

“I’m gonna need to pick up some odd jobs or something, find a way to make some money.”

“How are we going to do that without any ID we can show or anything. I mean, Amalas is out as a source of forgeries at this point, so unless-”

“Olivia told us she was going to poke around, see what she could do. Hana has our passports, so that’s a start at least.”

“I don’t know. I just… I hate this. Everything we have to do feels like it’s gonna get us caught.”

Drake ran his hand over the stubble on his jaw. He hadn’t shaved this morning, and in all the time she had known him, Riley could count the number of times he hadn’t shaved on one hand. She wondered if he was trying to grow a beard to make himself less recognizable or if he had just been too stressed and sleep deprived to bother today. She knew he wasn’t sleeping well.

“I don’t know how to fix this perfectly, Riley. I just don’t.” He looked so dejected, placing his chin on his bent knee, so Riley slid off the end of the bed and joined him and Bridget on the floor, threading her legs under his raised leg in hopes of conveying some degree of comfort.

“Well, we’re just going to have to make a decision and not look back here. And it looks like the two least bad options are to either stay hiding out here for as long as possible and hope that Amalas doesn’t go blabbing, or move on to a new city and hope she doesn’t find us there and that it isn’t too much of an expense to do so.”

He nodded, reaching for her hand. She grabbed on tightly, threading their fingers together. Maybe it was for the best they were both mad conflicted here. It allowed them to really decide on their next move as a team.

“I know I’ve been kind of reluctant to head to a new city, but one thing that is worth considering is that if we went to a bigger city, I might be able to find some under the table work. Day labor, that sort of thing. Plus…” he trailed off and shook his head a little at that, so Riley pushed on.

“What?”

“Well, we have a better chance of finding someone to do a forgery for us in a bigger city, too.”

“You think we should just find a random stranger to forge us passports with new identities?”

“We might have to. I hope Olivia can come through for us, but I’m not counting on that. She’s not going to risk her reputation and good standing to really put her neck out there for us. It’s one thing to keep our location a secret, it’s another to draw attention to herself by asking a lot of questions about how to fake a convincing Greek passport. So if she isn’t able to help us, we’re probably going to have to find someone to do it for us at some point.”

“I thought you said the bigger cities would be the first place they would try to track us.”

“Yeah, but it’s been a few days. They are probably broadening their search at this point. I feel like that risk isn’t as bad as it used to be.”

“So are you saying you think we should head out?”

He paused for a moment and swallowed roughly, running his free hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I think we could stay here for a little while longer and wait to see what Olivia can do for us about fabricated identification, or we could cut our losses and start trying to plan for that on our own. I don’t exactly like either option, Walker, but I think those two I could live with. Where are you at?”

She bit her lip, trying to figure out what was best. She wished there was a clear sign that one option was better than another, but there just wasn’t. They were going to be gambling here no matter what, and while she normally loved a good game of poker, the fact that the stakes here included the safety of her daughter and her family left her feeling sick to her stomach.

“I guess I don’t trust Amalas knowing even our general location.”

“Even though…,” Drake started, taking a deep breath and giving her hand a squeeze before he continued, “even though you thought she might be a good resource for us yesterday?”

Riley opened her mouth to snap back at him, frustrated that he seemed to be trying to trap her or accuse her or something, but she stopped when she saw the look in his eyes. He was afraid of her. She’d never seen that look directed at her before, not quite like that. Sure, she’d seen him upset and terrified, but she had never been the source of it before. So she swallowed down her instinct to lash out and defend herself and let out a little sigh. She’d put him through enough with this whole fugitive status already, and she didn’t want him to feel like he couldn’t be honest with her, couldn’t challenge her. They had always pushed each other, even before they were together. She couldn’t risk losing that now.

“The situation has changed,” she said, trying to keep any defensiveness out of her voice. “If she’s putting the effort into keeping tabs on our whereabouts, she has something up her sleeve, and I don’t trust her. It was one thing when I hoped we might be able to leverage some juicy info and future political favors, but now… I just don’t think we’re going to be willing to pay the price she wants.”

Drake nodded a couple of times before he said, “Okay, so we’re moving on then?”

“If you’re okay with that.”

“As long as we go to a bigger city, I’m okay with it.”

She gave him a little smile and reached up to cup his cheek with her free hand. “Got a place in mind?”

“If we’re gonna do this, we might as well commit. I say Athens, unless you-”

But she cut him off, shaking her head before leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Drake.”

“You don’t need to thank me. I’m-” he started, but threw himself to the side and grabbed Bridget who was crawling over to the dresser, tugging her into his lap. “Oh no you don’t, Peanut.”

Riley felt her lips widening into a genuine smile, a feeling that almost felt foreign after the past several days. But her family was here, and they were all just doing the best they could. Even if it all fell apart, at least she could take comfort in that fact. So for now, she just took in her husband and her daughter sharing a normal moment, happy simply to be together.

Permatag:  @walkerswhiskeygirl​   @riley--walker​  @bebepac​ @ravenpuff02​ @oofchoices​ @octobereighth​ @drakewalker04​ @kimmiedoo5​  @mfackenthal​  @thequeenofcronuts​  

The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir: @iaminlovewithtrr​ @ao719​ @mskaneko​ @katedrakeohd​ @jovialyouthmusic​ @marshmallowsandfire​ @axwalker​ @kingliam2019​ @sirbeepsalot​ @texaskitten30​ @princessleac1​ @ladyangel70​ @dcbbw​ @yaushie​

Drake x MC: @no-one-u-know​ @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria​  @iplaydrake​ @gibbles82​ @drakewalkerisreal​ @notoriouscs​  @drakesensworld​ @drake-colt-lover-99​

Fight or Flight: @masterofbluff​ @burnsoslow​ @bobasheebaby​ @shz256​​

[lovelyirony]

I just came here to say, can you imagine after endgame Sharon finds Nat's white suit in her belongings and decides to wear it and make it her own as a reminder of what she lost and what is left to fight for?

When Sharon Carter first came to SHIELD, she wanted to be just like the other agents. 

And yet that was hard for her. It was hard to act like every other agent because she wasn’t like the other agents and they knew it. 

She had someone in the organization before her. That’s why she was Agent 13. There were always members of family, but it was usually only the agents that either posed an individual danger or a family danger that got the number. 

In the first two weeks, the rookies had figured out that Sharon and Peggy shared the same harsh gaze when they were frustrated. 

They scorned her, leaving her to fend for herself. 

“You got in because of Carter,” they sneer. “I’d rather have someone who actually earned their spot.” 

“Even if that did happen, do you think my aunt would’ve let me into this profession if I wasn’t as skilled as you?” Sharon fires back. “I can finish this mission in twenty minutes on my own if I really wanted to.” 

“Then do it,” Agent Riker bites, smirking. “Go ahead and prove yourself, Thirteen.” 

Nineteen minutes and twenty-two seconds. 

And she does it all in a white t-shirt and jeans, the worst outfit that could’ve been. 

“So what, you’ve proved yourself,” they shrug. “Doesn’t make a difference to us.” 

So Sharon scraps the idea of having people who are friends at work, friends that she can talk to and go to the bar with after work. 

And then she does perhaps the ballsiest move. 

She orders a custom white jumpsuit. 

The SHIELD tailor laughs. He’s an old man who goes by the name Joe. 

“You’re crazy,” he tells her, sweeping a measuring tape across her shoulders. “Maybe they need a little crazy.” 

Sharon nods, looking at herself in the mirror. 

She shows up to work in white, ponytail out of the way. 

Fury gives her a look. 

“Really, Thirteen?” 

“Everyone’s already criticizing,” Sharon answers. “Why not get some for the suit as well?” 

White really is her color. It’s what she’s known for, and a lot of agents still criticize her for it. 

“You trying to show off even more?” one sneers. 

“Why would I have to after your last mission?” Sharon answers sweetly. “It’s clear to me that you obviously need more tips on how to be inconspicuous.” 

It’s bitchy. She knows that. But she also can’t be bothered to give a shit if they’re judging her by family and not by skill. 

And then Black Widow. 

Natasha Romanoff takes one look her and scoffs. 

“Got something to say?” Sharon asks. 

“I don’t get the white suit.” 

“You will,” Sharon responds. “Just wait.” 

Romanoff hears the rumors. Sharon Carter only got into the organization because of her connection to her great-aunt. 

“You really think SHIELD would be that stupid?” She asks Agent Riker. “To hire an agent off a basis of family? I thought they hired people smarter than you.” 

Sharon’s surprised. 

She also makes her first friend. 

Natasha Romanoff is deadly, has horrible humor, and wears fun socks after Sharon takes her to get some color in her wardrobe. 

“You cannot tell anyone,” Nat makes her swear. 

“Who is there to tell?” Sharon asks, grinning. “Besides Clint.” 

“Clint doesn’t count, I’m not even sure if he’s human. He ate a paper plate because he was too tired to differentiate it from the pizza in the fridge.” 

“I love that man,” Sharon deadpans. “I think if I ever dated men, he would be my type.” 

Natasha laughs. 

They’re friends. Sharon’s there with coffee in the rough mornings and Natasha is there with words that have lost their edge as she sheds her reputation at the door. 

- 

The Avengers is a new thing for Natasha. She loves it because she tells Sharon that it makes her feel like she finally has a family and she’s doing something that’s worthy. 

Sharon ignores the jealousy and envy and sadness burning in her gut as she takes a sip of her wine glass and asks Natasha how it is working with Captain America. 

(She knows who he is. She’s always known. But that kind of connection is one that she’s not sure she’ll ever flaunt because Steve does not know that she knows Steve.) 

Natasha gets more involved with the Avengers and still texts Sharon, but she knows. This friendship is fading and Sharon turns back to a white jumpsuit lying on the couch when she gets home and gets out of her shower. 

Natasha can’t make it to lunch. Or dinner. And their shopping trip gets cancelled by an Avengers mission. 

Then Sharon loses SHIELD, which in some cases was everything to her. It’s the last connection to family, to a place where Sharon did what she did best: her job. 

And now it’s razed to the ground and the Avengers are still there and Natasha--

She has her hands full. 

Sharon bitterly looks up at the sky to see the Iron Man armor and for a brief moment, hates the team that has taken her friend from her. 

But Sharon has shit to do. She has to decide if she wants to work for the FBI or CIA, and which one can offer her more security. 

CIA agents don’t give a singular shit if she came from SHIELD or what her last name means. They’re mostly concerned with making sure that the Congress and the Senate don’t fuck everything up and that they catch whoever the hell is eating all of the leftovers on the third floor fridge. 

Sharon gets paid for this. Real, actual money. 

And they know that she’s good and they send her on protection missions and she misses Natasha’s calls and she doesn’t feel quite bad about it. 

It’s when she’s assigned to survey Germany because some idiot used facial recognition software and Steve’s making boneheaded decisions that she reconnects with Natasha. 

“Your hair got longer,” Natasha says. 

“Nice of you to notice,” Sharon says tersely. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re about to be in? You won’t be able to go anywhere.” 

“Anywhere, really?” Natasha asks, amused. “I’m sure I can think of someone who would welcome me back with open arms.” 

“Clint doesn’t count,” Sharon fires back. 

“Not who I meant.” 

“I know exactly what you meant,” Sharon says. “No calling, no plans, all of it cancelled. You’re a family kind of girl, Nat.” 

“You’re part of it.” 

Sharon turns, incredulous. “Really. You’re doing this now?” 

Sharon knows Natasha like she knows her apartment. She could walk it with her eyes closed. And she knows that Natasha is never this open, not in public. 

“Either you’ve changed how you approach your emotions or you’ve gotten sloppy in how you manipulate people,” Sharon says, casual as can be. “I know that you want to go against this. I understand that because chances are later on down the road this will blow up in your face.” 

“And now you’re going to pretend like you didn’t slip that file to Steve?” Natasha accuses. 

“I slipped it to Steve because as much as I don’t like this, I don’t want an innocent man to die,” Sharon hisses. 

She has her white jumpsuit. But she hangs it up in her closet because for something like what they’re planning, she can’t afford to be in white. This isn’t like the twenty minute missions. 

And then it gets more serious and she’s fighting like hell against Thanos and his aliens and the fact that everyone is gone. 

But not Natasha. Not she’s still on this earth and Sharon knows it kills her because she’s never thought she was enough for that. 

They make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and sit on the floor in a sunroom. It’s a beautiful day, probably one too beautiful for how many memories they both hold. 

“I don’t know if it’ll be okay,” Natasha says. Her voice is thick with unsaid and unheard emotion, and Sharon pulls her into a hug. 

“It might not be,” Sharon says quietly. “But we’ll have to keep going anyway.” 

So Sharon is introduced to Steve, the guy with a beard who still keeps fighting and looks at Sharon as if he’s expecting someone else. (She pretends like she doesn’t know what he’s doing.) 

She starts looking at sightings and patterns and helps people who she’s never met help keep the world safe. 

Natasha and Sharon tell stories to each other of people they’ve known. Sharon listens as she grieves and Natasha finds out that Sharon’s own family has been gone. 

They spend Christmas together and Christmas kind of sucks right now because everyone is crying and the only thing that’s sold out at stores are tissues. 

Sharon wonders if Tony got dusted. No one knows. He was up in space and they haven’t found him yet and she can’t say it doesn’t hurt. 

But then. He comes down in his spaceship, Carol Danvers finding him on the verge of death. 

He can’t stand the sight of Steve, and Sharon can’t say he blames him. She’s in charge of getting him to in-house care and making sure he doesn’t stray off the nutrition goal. 

Pepper and Rhodey sit by his side all the time and they give Sharon looks because she’s Tony’s cousin but not really, not in the sense of a traditional cousin. 

She met him that one time when he was probably a little bit buzzed, definitely over having small children look up to him and ask if they can have him play, and probably brushed her off. 

Or something. 

He’s angry with Steve and tells Sharon right off the bat that he refuses to have anything to do with what’s going on. 

“This is my second chance and as shitty as it is for all of you, I’m keeping it,” Tony says firmly. 

Sharon says okay because she really can’t blame him. 

(Not when six months after he gets back and gets himself better, Pepper announces that she’s expecting.) 

Sharon visits often. She brings Pepper her first supply of diapers and formula and Pepper smiles and says she’s welcome for lunch if she’d like. 

Natasha doesn’t talk to Tony. Sharon thinks she kind of resents her own position in this whole thing, but Tony nods to her and they understand each other on a level that’s changed. 

“Do you think you’ll ever want a family?” Natasha asks one night. They watch the stars and come up with new names for them and sometimes talk about emotions. Like tonight. 

“I’m not made for that,” Sharon says. “Work and all.” 

“Me either.” 

Sharon looks at her. 

“No, you are. Because you care so much. You just learned it a little bit differently. You’ll get your family, Nat.” 

Natasha gives her that pained smile, the one that holds so much wisdom and hurt in it, and they drink their beers in silence as Sharon contemplates the next mode of questioning that doesn’t have to do with loss or the future. (Possibility: cats.) 

And then Scott Lang makes a fucking appearance. They’re not sure how, but he gets out and starts rambling about time travel and they take it to Tony who says “no thank you and goodbye” and Steve tries to get him to help but he won’t. 

(It’s bitter in Sharon’s mouth, but it’s the kind of bitter you understand that you can’t spit out.) 

Natasha thinks about all the people that are lost. 

Sharon asks Scott how well he can do math. 

Tony passes along a note, and it seems that Scott gets it, because they’re going to time-travel. 

Clint and Natasha leave together, because they’re like two peas in a pod. 

“I’ll see you soon,” Natasha says, grinning. Her smile is so nice. 

“You better,” Sharon teases. “We still need Margarita Mondays.” 

And then Sharon is also gone on a mission to go see her aunt and see Steve witness what he’s lost. Sharon looks at a young picture of her great-uncle. 

“She had a good life, didn’t she?” Sharon murmurs. “She got to have somebody she loved and she got to have kids.” 

“Yes, yes she did,” Steve says quietly. 

It’s heavy for him but he relaxes and they run into Howard Stark, who doesn’t quite understand why Sharon’s there but doesn’t really push it because he’s excited for a new baby. 

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for that baby,” he says with a gentle smile that’s so fake Sharon can’t believe it. 

So she says something. Because she can’t keep her mouth shut. 

“You practice that every night in front of the mirror?” 

Steve scolds her, but she thinks it’s worth it. She can’t wait to tell Natasha. 

- 

Natasha doesn’t come back. She died for a fucking rock and Sharon breaks because that was her friend. That was someone that she would’ve given the world for, and now she won’t get to tell her about her sick one-liner or about how time travel kind of feels like you’re going on a loopy roller coaster. 

She’s gone. 

But then Sharon can’t focus on it because she has to fight against Thanos who apparently is from a different time zone and has come to destroy everything again, and Sharon really can’t let Tony do his whole “self-sacrifice” shtick he pulls. (Jesus, if he couldn’t have just pulled a Dean Martin maybe they would’ve had televised roasts instead of a universal fight...) 

Tony doesn’t die. She doesn’t think he deserves that. But he falls to his knees, the stones fading, and she’s holding him to stabilize him as he falls and his family comes and he gets rushed to the nearest medical facility Dr. Cho can find. 

And Sharon is alone. 

She doesn’t particularly like being alone in this instance but sometimes you have to be because those are the cards out of the deck. 

So she helps relocate families, tells those who were gone the news, and buys herself a pint of ice cream. The news is talking about all these new accommodations and what it’ll do to the price market. She finds that she doesn’t much care and she thinks that all those conversations will be a thing of the past. 

And there things to go through. Things from the dead. Clint has his family to focus on, and so it is up to Sharon to get Natasha’s things. 

Then she finds it. 

A white jumpsuit. 

Natasha had called Sharon’s “stupid” for years, with no real explanation to why except for the fact that she would get caught easier. 

(“Maybe that’s my intention,” Sharon says, body leaning in too close. “Maybe I want to get noticed so that I can get it done quicker.” 

Natasha gives her a dim smile. 

“Doesn’t always mean you get the job done as quickly and efficiently as possible.” 

And then Sharon didn’t ask her about that. Figured it wasn’t her place.) 

A white jumpsuit is something she didn’t know connected them. And she remembers having her own, but this one...this one has to be used. Has to be reinstated because someone needs to carry on who Black Widow is. Or rather, who Natasha Romanoff was. 

It’s a slow start. But Sharon starts wearing the white jumpsuit that’s a little bit loose around the shoulders and looks for criminals, because god knows there will be a plethora of those. 

Bucky and Sam join her in this. They were both gone and still look stupidly gorgeous, although Sam has the shield because Steve has decided it would be utterly convenient to go on a little time travel trip. 

(Sharon’s not sure what’s up with that, but so long as she doesn’t start remembering a Great-Uncle Steve, she’s fine with it.) 

It’s hard, definitely. Because sometimes she pulls out her phone to send something to Natasha, and she’s...well. She’s not there. 

Sharon will sometimes wear her old jackets with outfits and cry, but she still has the memories. 

A cute white jumpsuit can’t hurt either. 

[atamascolily]

lily liveblogs “terminator: dark fate”, part 3

Sarah Connor knows how to make an entrance.

(parts one and two)

This is in the trailer, and it's just as epic here. The focus on her boots. Then rising up to her face--complete with bulletproof vest, shades, and GIANT GUN as she opens fire. YASSSS, MY QUEEN.

The human-looking part of the Rev-9 runs for Dani but Sarah shoots him off the bridge before he can get her, then drops the gun, switches to AN EVEN BIGGER GUN and fires at the skeleton who is doing that same inhuman back arch to lurch to its feet, and he goes flying in an explosion and lies still. Then she tosses THAT gun away, and goes to peer over the edge for the first half, where the Rev-9 is impaled and twitching and already regenerating. Then she tosses the grenade over the edge, says "I'll be back," in a badass monotone and walks away as Grace registers wtf just happened and pulls Dani away from the explosion, shielding her with her body.

Sarah pulls out YET ANOTHER GUN as the grenade explodes, and keeps on walking without breaking stride. FUCK YEAH.

"Who the fuck is that?" Dani rightly asks.

"I don't know," says Grace, who is hyperventilating and red in the face, and quite deservedly tired. "But we have to move!" And she runs to pick up Sarah's discarded gun and steals her SUV. I’M HOWLING.

Dani is like, "maybe we shouldn't steal this scary woman's car," and Grace is like, "gtfo or die," and they drive away. Sarah is about to dispatch the REV-9, but sees them driving and stalks off in a huff as the REV-9 re-congeals out of the fire.

(I honestly wonder what would have happened if Sarah had taken the time to dispatch the REV-9 ‘properly’ but then this movie would be very, very short, so I’ll give it a pass.)

Grace is dehydrated. Dani's have a breakdown. Grace breaks the news that her father is dead. "It needs physical contact to copy people and they don't survive." Is that an inherent part of the process?? I don't think so, because the T-1000 copied Sarah and she was fine, it's just because they usually KILL THEM AFTERWARDS, it's not a REQUIREMENT or anything. But I give Grace a pass for not going into the details because Dani is already traumatized enough. 

The skeleton stalks down the highway past a dude who looks SO CONFUSED while EVERYTHING IS ON FIRE and the fleshy-looking part starts walking in front of the skeleton and then they MERGE holy SHIT THAT'S CREEPY and there's STILL NO EXPRESSION on his face OH MY GOD.

Grace starts crashing (physically), which is bad because she's driving, so they almost crash for real. Grace faints, so Dani has to drive, oh, wait she can't, yep that ended badly. Dani stalks off to go to the police, while Grace is SO RED and can barely walk, until Grace explains that’s such a bad idea, and all the cops will die. She ends up putting Grace in the back seat and says she'll figure out the driving bit, FUCK YEAH. did I mention I love her?

Grace robs a pharmacy for her meds, much to Dani's surprise and chagrin. Grace collapses, so Dani has to grab the gun before anybody else can and finish the job to get them out. PLEASE NOTE THIS IS THE FIRST TIME DANI HAS HAD THE OPPORTUNITY TO SHOW REAL AGENCY*, AND SHE MAKES THE CHOICE TO SIDE WITH GRACE INSTEAD OF LETTING THE AUTHORITIES TAKE HER AWAY. The assistant helps her haul Grace out, and Dani makes a split second decision to trust him which turns out to be justified, because he doesn't try to hurt them.

[[*ok, technically, she showed agency before when she made the decision not to go to the cops, but there’s a big difference between that scene and pulling a fucking gun on innocent people during a robbery. And she only has like a second to decide if she’s gonna do it or not, vs. the conscious deliberation in the previous scene. This is the moment where Dani’s all-in, the moment where there’s no going back.]]

Sarah Connor is waiting for them outside. FUCK YEAH. and she is PISSED. She takes Dani's gun -- "give me that before you hurt yourself," as Dani just fucking STARES.LEGEND.

Cut to them driving through town with Grace sprawled in the backseat with her head in Dani's lap as Sarah drives, and her sunglasses are reflected in the rearview mirror. Dani claims she's just Dani... a nobody, and Sarah says she's got to be somebody for them to send whatever Grace is to protect her. Then she asks for Dani's phone and tosses it out the window.I cannot believe Dani didn’t see that one coming, but she’s had a long day.

Cut to a hotel room, dropping ice cubes on Grace, like you do. "We should have done this in the bathtub," Dani complains. "Have you SEEN the bathtub?" Sarah retorts. Also: a fuck-ton of Lay's potato chips.

"I keep my cell phone in a chip bag. The foil blocks the GPS so they can't track me." CHIP BAG. THE PUN HERE.

"I'm wanted in a couple states," Sarah admits. "Fifty, actually." (she means US, I assume, I doubt she's a wanted felon in Mexico, but...).  

"Why ten bags?"

"Because I really like potato chips." I'M HOWLING.

(are there costcos in Mexico? Just saying.)

Dani grieves over how her father and brother will die unmourned and unburied and you can see the blankness on Sarah's face, how that's so far removed from anything she's ever known for decades. "Funerals don't help them and goodbyes don't help you. You just have to learn to live with it."

Which is a) the truest advice Sarah knows, and b) SO FUCKING SAD THAT IT'S COME TO THIS OH MY GOODDDDDDD.

Sarah pumping Grace with meds and just figuring it will all work out is so in character, and also a nice contrast to her first introduction to battlefield medicine under the bridge in T1. How far she’s come...

Time for a flashback from the future while Grace is unconscious and dreaming!!

God the future war scenes are so bleak and awful and barren and boring to me I can't believe people want a whole film like this, especially when we already know that humans win and the Commander can’t die, so there’s not a lot to milk for suspense.

The Rev-7 bursting out of another Rev-7 is so fucking CREEPY I can't even--

Hey, Grace is rescued and I love the medic (a black lady!) and Grace volunteers to be an augment! I legit thought she was going to say "tribute," lol.

...I don't understand how augmentation works, though. How can they have surgery so good and so clean when everything else is rubble? Are they literally cutting apart Terminators and wiring them into Grace? WHERE DO THEY GET THE PARTS?? I WANT TO KNOW and I don't think this movie's going to explain.

Sarah wakes up Grace by pointing a gun at her and gets disarmed, having locked Dani out of the room, but Grace lets her back in. Sarah's look is withering: "Sometimes, mommies and daddies have to have grown-up discussions." I'M HOWLING. EVERYTHING LINDA HAMILTON SAYS IN THIS MOVIE IS GOLD. Also, I like how neither Dani nor Grace denies this. Maybe they’re just too stunned? I know I would be. 

(also notice how Sarah’s not smoking?? I guess potato chips are the new cigarettes)

Sarah explains some things. Her expression when Grace says she's never heard of Skynet--"Good."--is PRICELESS.

"Where's your son now?" OW OW OW OW OH MY HEART

"I hunt Terminators." RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINNNNNNNNNE AAHHHHH "And I drink til I black out."

Oh, Sarah. I'm so sorry. so so so sorry.

I'll have more things to say about the digital trail later, so this is just a placeholder for now.

That moment where Sarah puts her shades on. Hot damn. Interview and openness OVER indeed.

Grace threatens Sarah, who is unimpressed. "Great! I drive." DRIVING AS A METAPHOR, Y'ALL.

"Legion...an AI built for cyber warfare."

I've seen people pissed that Skynet was erased and replaced by a similar-but-different AI and maybe it's because I love parallel universes and AUs so much, or maybe it's because the Terminator movies represent our relationship with and fears of technology, but I think this was a valid choice and I approve. Because, as Sarah points out, "Those assholes never learn." No. No, we don't.

Sarah pulls off her shades to admit she gets texts from someone she doesn't know, WHICH IS FURTHER PROOF THAT THE SUNGLASSES REPRESENT SHIELDING FROM EMOTIONS/VULNERABILITY, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

Grace hacking Sarah's phone -- "future shit"-- is hilarious, thank you very much, and I love that the PHONE CONTINUES TO BE A TRACKING DEVICE THROUGH ALL THREE FILMS BUT FOR ENTIRELY DIFFERENT REASONS. But won't the gov't/terminator/somebody find her through it now that it's out of the chip bag??? How is she getting texts if her phone is always in a chip bag? When is it safe for her to take it out??

Grace has tattoos on her body - "in case I can't remember shit" AHHAHAHHAHAHA, that's hilarious.

Sarah was on America's Most Wanted?? I bet she was. She should add that to her resume, lol.

Ohhh, that's clever that the same plot device gets them to both Carl and Sarah. I like it.

crossing the border is not this easy, but I don't think American audiences can handle that level of realism, and this isn't that kind of film, so... *shrugs*

The Rev-9 is in the data center and it's so creepy. All he has to do is plunge his hands into the cables, and... facial recognition software does the rest. (I don’t think it’s ever stated directly, but I headcanon that LEGION IS A ROGUE AI MEANT TO CONTROL PEOPLE BASED ON FACIAL RECOGNITION SOFTWARE, so it's totally in keeping with its nature.)

On the train, Sarah is eating potato chips. LOVE IT. I don't even like potato chips, per se, but it's a fun character detail and more culturally acceptable than smoking in films these days (the irony!)

flashback to bby!Grace seeing the plane crash and I'm all like I'VE SEEN THE TRAILER, I KNOW THAT'S CHEKHOV'S FLIGHT 3000 TO FORESHADOWING, more plane crashes are definitely coming.

Because the Terminator films reflect our own fears back on us, it's interesting to see how those fears have changed. Now the end of the world is more complex - technology suddenly going dead, then launching nukes and EMPs, THEN world war - fighting over food with humans WHILE being hunted by Legion. It's the same in outline and yet different from Skynet's quick and dirty nuclear war.

Sarah interjects to guess the leader of the Resistance is Dani's son, which is a) a reasonable guess under the circumstances and given the history of this franchise, and b) political commentary about what many Americans fear, namely non-white "Mexican" (as a catch-all term for anybody brown) immigrants and their children coming into their country. It also makes the inevitable subversion--that DANI is the leader, not some man--so much more pointed when it comes, as the franchise critiques ITSELF. still, I kinda wish they dealt with that here, instead of later, though. 

Sarah also makes the "Mother Mary" comparison, which is so funny given the obvious overtones to her own son (his initials are J.C.!) and lampshading the fact this is the first time in-universe that anyone has mentioned the parallels.

Now they're off the train and in a truck, with Dani's head in Grace's lap, yay parallels. Poor Sarah is probably wishing Kyle had been augmented, then maybe he could be there too (why is Michael Biehn not in this movie?? sob).

I'm not sure how the REV-9 just up and assumes they're going to Laredo just because that's where the train goes, especially since they then jump off the train for this... side-quest? What's up with that?? Does the train not go to the border?  

Oh, okay, this is where her uncle lives. Dani tries telling him the truth. It goes poorly. Grace slices a fly in half. Wow.

It's nice to see a black guy and an Asian dude on the border, but my relief lasts for ten seconds because they get sliced up by the Rev-9 posing as a woman of color, oi...

still creepy when he merges with the machine, and how does he know what he's looking for on the panopticon? can drones see faces at that distance? Can he?? I'm so confused.

Of course he tells the Border Patrol that Grace, Dani, and Sarah are members of a drug cartel and sets the authorities after them...

Of course there's a door underneath the wall. of course there is. Random dude goes first, which means he is dead meat. Oh, there was an ambush, but Dani makes the decision they're going to surrender, so I guess no one's dying here?

Sarah is lying to the authorities about being related to Grace, because of her medical condition. Good for her.

Grace senses the drone about to kill Dani and moves to save her! I guess it's going to take the Rev-9 a while to figure out she's not dead?

Dani is in detention and sounds like a crazy person trying to explain the truth. By the way, SETTING THIS SCENE AT THE BORDER CROSSING IS HELL OF A POLITICAL STATEMENT, FYI.

Grace is getting medical care, and they find her drugs. "Nice body search, fellas." Of course, they figure out she's an augment...is this going to influence the future in the same way that Cyberdyne’s discovery of the T1′s head and arm influenced Skynet??

Sarah and the other dude who got picked up with them have a plan. Good.  Let the ass-kicking begin.

[hillywooddestiel]

The Retreat Chapter 20

Characters: CEO!Bucky x reader, Natasha

Warnings: Angst, again (sorry) and language

Word count: 2k

Description: Y/N Y/L/N: determined business woman, sought after by most businesses, creative visionary for advertising. She has it all. Or so she thinks. Life has a way of kicking you sideways when you least expect it, want it or are in anyway prepared for it. Numerous times. How can Y/N remain from cracking under the pressure when her career isn’t the only thing on the line and everything isn’t all that it seems?

A/N: I remembered that it is Thursday. Yay. So a lot is about to happen and I hope you are prepared. Enjoy(?) xx Series Masterlist Marvel Masterlist

Story:

India lifts the red roses up to my eye level with a toothy smile, taking a half step towards me as an offering. When I don’t take them the smile falters ever so slightly and she slowly lowers her arm to her side.

“It’s good to see you, you look great. You always did.” She laughs a little at the last part as she reminisces our failed shit-show of a relationship as if it ended on amicable terms which- news flash- it did not!

“What are you doing here? Leave a shirt behind or something?” I snarl. She may not have come for a fight but I didn’t get to do this. I didn’t get to tell her everything I felt because of how she just cleared out and left- I want to scream in her face in the way she never let me.

“I thought we could try again. We can get past what happened, it’s us!”

“Are you for fucking real?” I scoff, “You walked out on me without a reason and think you have the authority to come back here demanding I take you back because this is fixable, because ‘it’s us’. Either you take me for an idiot or are one yourself.”

“I was wrong to leave. I thought it was best for us but I’ve been so miserable without you Y/N/N.” India smiles a hopeful smile as she speaks. Note the lack of an actual apology. Almost on the point of laughing from the ridiculousness that is this situation, I tip my head back and walk a few paces on the spot. Meanwhile India just stays put smiling by my front door preventing me from just heading inside and locking her out.

“Please leave. Just go and don’t come back.” I step aside to make a path to the stairwell. India moves towards it but it quickly becomes apparent that she’s actually aiming for me and I freeze on the spot.

“Tell me right now that you don’t want this.” she says breathily, her face ridiculously close to my own. Is that alcohol on her breath?

“I don’t want this India. Now go!” I look up into her eyes defiantly and keep steady, my resolve unwavering. Go me! She doesn’t move though, not to leave the building. Her face gets closer and her lips purse in order to kiss me but I react too quickly for her, turning my face down and to the right to look at her shoes. Her sneakers. Black converse with scuff marks on fabric and discoloured laces… and splashes of red paint on the toes.

It was her! India painted my door. India called my phone. India sent me the photos. India is my stalker! It was all her.

“You! You’re the one who’s been stalking me! Don’t try to deny it, the paint is on your shoe.” I push her gently away from me as I make my accusations. Her demeanour immediately switches to something far more sinister as she starts to laugh.

“You always did have an eye for the details didn’t you?” She asks rhetorically- now it’s her turn to walk around on the spot with one hand running over her face and through her hair. “Yes, it was me. Well, not all me. We hired a PI to take those photos and follow you around with that fool of a CEO you work for. I never would have pictured the two of you together until I had the photographic proof. The idea was to get you to dump him so we could carry on our jobs but you just wouldn’t do it so, we had to take drastic measures.”

“What are you talking about.” I whisper, frightened.

“I’m not a fucking therapist, am I? We work for HYDRA Technik. They found openings to gather intel on Barnes and Rogers so put us to work undercover, lucky you.” I can’t believe what I’m hearing- it’s insane!

“Wait… who’s we?” 

“Caroline! Thought you’d have got that one by now genius. They hired her when she first started dating Barnes, paid quite the hefty some for that gold digger but she’s been invaluable. Your face was a real picture at the gala by the way.”

“Wha- You were there?!” Caroline being a lying, backstabbing spy comes as no surprise to be honest but I think if my ex was at a party, I’d have seen her.

“That man didn’t back into by accident you know. We had to get you out of the way so Caroline could get Barnes distracted. It was supposed to end with the two of them getting back together but the real outcome was so much more enjoyable.” India grins like the cheshire cat. It was all a ploy and not Bucky’s fault at all. He really was telling the truth. This is the most messed up story I’ve ever heard and it just makes me feel violently ill- mine and India’s relationship was never even real! Much of the last year of my life wasn’t real. Is she even really a lesbian?

“Why would you-”

“To get back in position you dumb bitch! You were never meant to work it out but I guess that’s not going to happen now. Because of you, things are a little more complicated.” India snarls. I only just manage to duck in time as she makes a swing for my head.

Bucky’s POV

“What do you want Caroline?” I pace around the window of my apartment, whiskey in hand and a frown on my face. She saunters in, gently leaving her bag on my couch and taking a seat as though she still lives here. Her whole demeanour is completely wrong for this situation; she’s too calm, too relaxed, and there’s something else too as if she knows something that I don’t and it’s right there just under the surface. What does she know? There’s always something with Caroline, it's never just simple and straightforward. That’s partly why I was relieved when things ended- the mystery and the games draw you in but I’m too old for those games now. Y/N is exciting in a whole new way, a good way. And she doesn’t mess with my head.

“You and I both know the answer to that one Juju. This isn’t over, it never was. We’re so perfect for each other and we shouldn’t let all of that perfection go to waste now, should we?”

“Like I’ve told you before, you screwed it up. And I’m glad, thankful even! Because of you, I have Y/N and I could not be happier.”

“Y/N… So that’s who you’re new little fling is. It’s sweet of you to consider the aesthetically less fortunate.” Her voice is sweet but her words are twisted and borderline evil-villain-like. Wait,

“How did you know I’d moved on? No one did- have you been following me?” Her smile falls from her eyes leaving a creepy, empty expression behind, I think I’ve found what seemed wrong before.

“I… No.” She stands up having regained her smile although it is clearly fake. She knew about me and Y/N, who knows for how long, meaning she knew exactly what she was doing when she came to see me at the benefit and she knows what she’s doing now.

“Have you been following me Caroline?” I clench my fists and step over to where she is now pacing. She swallows hard, maybe from fear or the guilt, her tough shell showing cracks like a porcelain doll.

“I didn’t follow you.” I hear the tremble in her voice. Liar.

“If you didn’t, who did you pay?”

“Nobody, JuJu I swear I didn't-”

“I'll only ask one more time, Caroline. Who did you send to follow me and Y/N?” my contained rage causes me to shake, nails digging into the palms of my clenched fists. For a moment, she doesn't answer, remaining poised and staring me down. But those cracks just can't hold.

“He was just some PI, I don't know the details. India did all of the planning and stuff, I just did as I was told.” She tears up, turning away to dab at her eyes.

“Wait, India as in Y/N’s ex India?” 

“Yeah, she hired me to work with her.” Caroline fishes a packet of tissues from her purse and blows her nose loudly. India was working with Caroline, that fact makes no sense in its own.

“But why? Who were you working for? India was a therapist!” I look to her, completely confused, to see her touching up her smudged makeup around her eyes- it's all image with her! 

“I haven't a clue what she did, I just know HYDRA Technik were the ones paying for it all.”

HYDRA! Those backwards bastards are behind this?! I've heard of them using desperate and, more importantly, illegal measures to get ahead in the technology game. They've never come close to our own sales before, something to do with a bug they never fix in the voice and facial recognition software, but if they've been spying on the competition they might just have an edge with their upcoming releases. Hell, they may even take over the whole market! And what about Stark industries? Do HYDRA have people on the inside in Tony's offices too? Do I warn him? He may be my enemy but I wouldn't wish the theft of work on my worst enemy, especially not HYDRA with their ways of working. God damn my conscience, I'll call later.

“If you were working for HYDRA why did you come back, Caroline? Not get enough info to please your bosses?” I focus back on the problem at hand, that problem being Caroline. She's dry-eyed and back to picture perfect. That being said, her perfect image is significantly tarnished in my eyes now knowing what she's done.

“India told me to, it's her you should be asking all of these questions. In fact, she's probably at Y/N’s little apartment right now.” she admires her nails, waving her hand around when mentioning Y/N.

“She is? Why?”

“That was the whole idea… I get back with you and she gets back with Y/N. It really wasn't meant to go like this, who knows what they're going to say back at the office.”

“I hope I'm not too late…” I mutter to myself whilst grabbing my jacket and phone.

“You're going?!” 

“I have to do something!”

Y/N’s POV

India's fist collides with the plaster where my head was as I fall back into the pot plant by my door toppling it over, soil and leaves going everywhere. Rest in peace Planty, sorry for forgetting to water you so often. Heart thumping, I barely have time to get back up before India is doing it for me, yanking me by the lapels; man she is strong! With my toes barely touching the ground, she holds me up with an arm across my throat, my windpipe squeezed tight. 

“S-st-op… p-leas-se…” I sputtering, rapidly running out of oxygen.

“Sorry my darling but we can't have you talking now, can we?” Her smile is sickening, twisted- has she done this before? These hands that used to touch me so lovingly will now be the cause of my death. Poetic? I hate poetry. Using all of the remaining energy I have, I kick and punch and scratch and fight to stay alive. She must be immune to pain as she doesn't react to any injury I inflict. The edges of my vision go black and fuzzy, hot tears running down my face. Strangling takes a while doesn't it?

“Ahh!” I squeak in pain as India increases the pressure on my neck. The agony is never ending and I feel like my spine might just snap in two- I kind of wish it would so this ordeal would just be over. 

“You should be happy Y/N/N, you always did want to spice things up between us.” India sneers. I feel the last dregs of energy leave my body, my grip on her arm going limp. At least the pain is numb now.

[camgirlsurvivalguide]

Camgirl 101 - 2019 Edition (The Absolute tl;dr)

I wrote the first “Camgirl 101″ nearly 6 years ago - wild to think that so much time has gone by! So much has changed about this industry, and yet in many ways, so much has stayed the same. Since my initial “How 2 Cam” post is a tad outdated at this point, and since I have the time to kill typing away on tumblr dot com today, I figured I’d do an abbreviated, updated 2019 edition of the basics of the basics of webcam modelling, as well as my top tips and tricks to making the most out of your initial push as a camgirl.

What site should I cam on? The site I cam on is MyFreeCams, but there are other popular sites out there, such as Chaturbate and Nood (just to name two of many, many more). I would suggest sticking to sites that have been established for a while to be on the safe side, as many new sites are opening, but not all actually attract much in the way of traffic. MyFreeCams is female-only, where Chaturbate allows males and trans performers as well. Nood is a higher quality streaming platform, but you’ll need to be OBS savvy before starting, so it’s better for people who already know what they’re doing, at least to some degree.

Because I work exclusively on MFC (and have been doing so for the better part of six years), the advise I give is specifically about MFC. While most general advise can be extended to other platforms, things like payment processing and technical support I know nothing about outside of MFC. 

What do I need to get started as a cam model? You’ll need a steady internet connection, a webcam, some sort of a lighting source, and yourself. You do not need fancy equipment, a perfect cam space, a complicated profile or an ungodly amount of self confidence to get started - while these things can help, they’re not required, and are things you can amass over time as you become more established.

How do I make money? Camgirls on MFC make money in tokens. One token = $0.05USD earned by a model. You make money by persuading paying patrons, known as Premium Members, to tip you tokens. Payments are processed on the 1st and 16th of each month, and can be sent to you via cheque, wire transfer, or through third parties. I advise you choose cheque or wire transfer, because third party payment processors have been notoriously unreliable over the years. For US models, you can also have your income direct deposited. For international models (aka anyone outside the US), you’ll either need to ‘make payout’ for a wire transfer, which is earn a minimum of 20,000 tokens ($1000USD), or you can opt for a cheque in the mail for free after earning a minimum of 400 tokens ($20).

Camgirls do not get paid hourly. All earnings come from tips. 

What can I do to encourage people to tip or talk? Generally speaking, you entertain. Camgirls entertain by engaging in conversation, showing off their bodies, stripping, and doing live masturbation or sex performances, in addition to selling homemade content, whether in the form of videos and photos, or over apps like snapchat. The best way to increase your odds of making money is to make people like you. For this, you’ll need social skills, physical attractiveness, patience, and business savvy. While it may seem simple, this process is incredibly dynamic and complex; for this reason, I (nor anyone else) can tell you with any guarantee how to make money. My best advice is to read this blog for inspiration, watch cam models to see how others are doing it, and then most importantly, try it yourself. There is only so much you can learn by watching and asking questions: the rest you will have to figure out as you go. 

Do I have to show my face? Yes. You cannot wear a mask, or hide your face; it’s against the Terms of Service of the site, and you can’t build relationships with human beings when you have a bag on your head. That’s just not how it works.

Do I have to get naked or masturbate? No! You don’t. While these things are definitely the norm on the site, there is no rule that says you have to get naked on MFC. You can literally log on and just stare at the camera, unmoving, silently, for hours on end if you want - no one will stop you - it just obviously wouldn’t be particularly entertaining, and would be unlikely to make you much money. If you choose not to strip, or choose to restrict your stripping to certain environments (only in private, only with certain people, only at certain price points), you’ll have to figure out how to entertain in other ways. I would like to highlight that this is not only something non-explicit models have to figure out: the best of the best on the site do far, far more than just strip. Sexuality is part of it, but not the whole story.

How often should I cam, and for how long? The most successful models on MFC tend to rely mostly on the support of their repeat customers, known as ‘regulars’, for the bulk of their income. Making regulars is an important part of camming, because members who return again and again build a relationship with you, and those who have supported in the past are more likely to support again in the future (a psychological concept known as the ‘foot in the door’ phenomenon). Rooms that have groups of returning regulars are also more attractive in a community aspect, because the members aren’t only returning for the model for a sense of togetherness and familiarity, they’re also there to talk with their other member friends. 

In order to build a base of regulars, you should aim to cam relatively consistently, and at somewhat similar time slots. There are no real “best times” to cam - the best times to log on are times where you can expect yourself to be the most consistent over the long term. This way, people know where and when to find you. As far as how long your cam shows should be, this is up to you for the most part. I prefer to cam between 3 and 4 hours at a time.

What is camscore? Camscore is a rating system that is based off of tokens earned per hour. Every new model starts with a camscore of 1000, and depending on how many tokens she makes each hour, her camscore will either raise or drop. The goal is to make as many tokens as you can an hour so that you can raise your camscore - this will sort your icon higher up on the main page, making it more likely that random passerby’s will see your room and hopefully enter it. While camscore is important, it isn’t the only way that members find model’s rooms. For the first six hours of broadcast time (NOT account life: broadcast time, as in time actually live streaming), models are given a ‘new model’ badge on their icons, which can attract members to check out the room. While ‘sort by camscore’ is the default settings for members, they can also choose to sort by other styles, meaning a low camscore isn’t always a low placement on the page. Lastly, models can use social media to boost their visibility. All that said, a low camscore can make things increasingly difficult and frustrating for a model; please read here for more details on overcoming low visibility:

http://camgirlsurvivalguide.tumblr.com/post/169514561900/how-to-overcome-low-visibility

Will camming hurt my chances of getting a vanilla job? Depends on the job. There is always a chance that the people you know will find out that you cam. The best things you can do are weigh your options carefully before starting, geoblock any areas that you don’t want watching you (you can block regions from accessing your cam, but this doesn’t protect against VPNs, and doesn’t stop people from taking screenshots or recordings of your streams and uploading to other unblocked sites), and take caution not to use the same photos connected to your real name as you do for camming - but there is no way to ultimately protect yourself from the stigma of sex work. Facial recognition software is becoming more accurate each and every month, and I feel that soon, programs like google image reverse search will be able to quickly and easily pull up any and all profiles connected to certain faces; take that as you will. 

Do camgirls pay taxes? Yes. You are in charge of your own business, including filing and paying your own taxes. This is different in each country/region, but it’s a good idea to save 30% of everything you earn for tax purposes. Hire a tax accountant to do it for you properly so you don’t get audited.

Do you have any additional tips to share? Why yes! Yes I do. Here are some miscellaneous shit knowledge that I’ve picked up over time. Enjoy.

- I cam using a mac. Before I cam, I’ll often take 10 to 15 cute selfies using the photobooth app, which I then quickly edit using VSCO cam on my phone. I upload these to an album on my MFC Share (the content hosting ‘store’ page that MFC has) so I can sell these cute photos to people for cheap. Often I’ll make a monthly selfie album that I upload photos to as the month progresses, which encourages members who purchase it early in the month to keep checking back for more photos. It’s a good way to hype myself up and feel cute before cam, while also creating content to sell that fosters the building of my regular base. 

- Also with respect to camming and my mac, if I do something sexy on cam, like a strip tease or a bath show, I’ll hit record on my photobooth app while I’m streaming to record my webcam’s output. I can then edit this footage after I log off cam to sell for cheap, or to give to members who contributed toward my goal or something. 

- It’s good practice to reply to all offline tips. While I might not reply to video or photoset sales through MFC share all the time (sometimes my inbox gets super busy), it is important not to let offline tips go unnoticed. Appreciating people’s tips makes them want to tip again. Ignoring them makes them not want to return. 

- Do not just sit on your phone when you’re bored on cam. Get up, dance around, show off your body, talk to yourself about nothing. You’re not there to be entertained (although it’s fun when you are, of course) - you’re there to be entertaining. Shake off the anxiety and shake ya butt instead.

[raywritesthings]

Dear Friend, 9/9 (at least for now)

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Laurel Lance, Oliver Queen, Quentin Lance, Felicity Smoak, Thea Queen, Ray Palmer Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: When Felicity decides to get serious about Ray, she knows it won’t be a good idea for Oliver to be hanging around. So she turns to the world of online dating to keep him distracted. Unknown to the both of them, over the summer Joanna had set Laurel up with an online dating account in the hopes that her friend could move on from past failed relationships. There’s only one way this can end. Notes: So ultimately I have decided to go with the shorter ending. I'm sorry if that disappoints some people, and I'm not opposed to picking up this idea for some League-related shenanigans at some point down the line as some have suggested, but as it stands I'm just not going to have the time to devote to drafting a whole new section just yet, and I don't want to leave people hanging. I've just accepted an internship for the summer that starts next week as well as working on two summer courses, so I know it would be taking too much on. I already have enough trouble updating my other WIPs regularly as it is. So I hope you enjoy the resolution to this silly online dating idea I had, and thanks so much for reading it! *Can also be read on my AO3*

Quentin shouldn’t have been surprised Laurel would be the one sent to pay him a visit.

“You know this is a frame job,” she said, pacing back and forth. She was still in a dress from that wedding she’d been at, her clutch resting on his desk. “And just like Pike did all those years ago, you are misinforming the public to suit an agenda.”

“Alright, the difference between then and now is that then we had ready proof this Dark Archer was a different guy,” he pointed out. “These arrows turning up are the exact same as our vigilante friend.”

“Sarcastic as you’re being, he is your friend. Sara’s death doesn’t change that. Alright? You can be mad at me for asking him not to tell you, but you know him suddenly switching back to killing makes no sense.” Laurel crossed her arms, as best as she could while wearing a cast over one, and added, “And why would the rest of us let him?”

“Good question. I should probably find that out.”

Using her distance to his advantage, he snagged the clutch off his desk.

“Hey!” She took a step forward but made no move to restrain or strike at him. Some things were still off limits between them, it seemed.

Quentin ignored her protest and left his office, heading up the stairs to the labs. He walked up to the first occupied desk he saw and slapped the cell down in front of the occupant.

“My daughter’s phone. I gotta know who she’s been in contact with, any suspicious activity.”

That got him a bewildered look. “From the ADA?”

“Just do it. Off the books.”

To his credit, the CSU Tech got to work, typing away while Quentin paced.

After a few minutes, he spoke. “She’s logged a lot of activity on a dating app.”

Quentin blinked. “Dating app?”

“Yeah. One of those anonymous ones. She’s been trading a lot of messages with one profile. Handle is KingOfSurvival.”

An anonymous app. Simple, but it made sense.

“Alright, good work.” He took the phone and clutch back down to his office where Laurel was waiting, her eyes only narrowing as he set the phone down on the desk between them.

“You went through my phone?”

“This how you’re communicating?”

“It’s how most people communicate, isn’t it?”

“You know what I mean. The Arrow.” He tapped the phone again. “You’ve been using an anonymous app to get in touch.”

Laurel made a face, and not the guilty kind. “What? No.”

“Then who’s this King of Survival?”

“I can’t believe you.” She snatched the phone off the table. “You had no right to go through my messages.”

“Come on, Laurel. You’re not gonna tell me you’ve been using this thing to date.”

“I was — it’s none of your business. But it was not about the Arrow,” she insisted with a glare.

“Then why the app? Who’ve you been talking to? Who is this guy?”

“What has you so interested?” She fired back. “I thought we weren’t close anymore?”

“Damnit, Laurel! I- I care about you, you have to know that.” Even as he said it, he knew he’d done little to assure her of that over the years, and a part of him deflated. Angry as he had been that she had held onto the truth about Sara, was it worth her not knowing how he felt?

He glanced back down at the phone again and frowned. “And I definitely care if you’re on one of these apps talking to complete strangers. You have any idea how dangerous these things are?”

“Dad—”

“Could be anybody on the other end,” he carried right on. “A scammer, a violent criminal—”

“It’s Oliver!” She burst out, then continued on a sharp laugh, “Okay? Because it always is! I’m always just so stupid.”

Quentin wondered if he’d somehow missed a part of their conversation. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how Joanna set me up with that app so I could meet people and try to get over my seriously bad choices, except Oliver was also on the same app and of all the people in Starling City with which I could have connected with, I ended up talking to him,” his daughter said. “And I’m talking about how he invited me to be his date to, as it turns out, John and Lyla’s wedding, but I turned him down because I still didn’t think I was ready to get over my ex — who is also Oliver — and now he knows everything.”

Quentin wasn’t the Captain for nothing, but it was taking everything he had to make sense of this. “You got an app to try dating strangers, but instead of a stranger you met Queen on here instead?”

She gave a helpless shrug. “Pretty much.”

“Well- well what was he doing on here?”

“Apparently Felicity made him join. I don’t know,” she groaned, dropping into his chair. “It wasn’t like we were actually dating. Just talking and giving advice...about me. I was talking him through how to deal with me. Great,” she muttered through clenched teeth. “Maybe I should thank you for saving me from the most mortifying night of my life.”

Right, the case. The thing they should be talking about. The thing Laurel was so sure he was wrong about — because she knew, didn’t she?

Quentin felt a strange calm wash over him as everything was made clear.

“He’s the Arrow, isn’t he? Queen.”

She looked up, eyes wide. “Why would you think—”

“Because it’s always him.”

It was always Laurel, actually. She should have been all the evidence he ever needed.

His daughter shook her head. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Yeah, you did.” And if she did, that meant something, too. For however much she loved that idiot, she’d never lie for him about this.

Quentin braced his hands on the desk and leaned forward. “Laurel, give me the proof he’s not the one out there killing these people. Show me I’m wrong.”

Laurel held his gaze for a long moment. Watching him, judging him maybe. At last, she said, “He was at John and Lyla’s wedding tonight. Plenty of witnesses. He couldn’t have done this, whether he’s the Arrow or not.”

“And he is, so there’s more going on here,” Quentin finished. “Never can be the simple answers.”

“I know that there are people dead, but we need time. He already has a good idea of who’s doing this and why. It’s the League.”

“Sara’s League?”

Laurel nodded. “I should have told you everything. I’m sorry, daddy.” Her eyes looked a little wet, but she wasn’t crying. Still, Quentin felt an ache in his chest that had little to do with his health.

He walked around the desk. “Whatever he’s planning to do, it’s gonna need to be quick. We can’t have this going on.” Then he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay? This app stuff, Queen, you seem a little rattled.”

“I’ll be fine,” she promised. “We have things to do.”

“Yeah, but after?”

An officer knocked and then stuck his head in the doorway. “Captain, Ray Palmer is here saying he has evidence of the Arrow’s identity. He wants to press charges against Oliver Queen.”

Laurel’s head hung down as she sighed, and Quentin grimaced. “You wanna take this one?”

“Yeah, put him in interrogation. Do not give a statement to the press.” His daughter marched to the door, ready yet again to defend Oliver Queen’s lack of innocence.

Quentin didn’t know what to make of half of tonight’s revelations — the online dating thing most of all — but he sure hoped Queen appreciated just how much she was willing to do for him.

—-

In the end, it was Ray Palmer’s tech that saved them.

Laurel had to stay on the sidelines thanks to her injury as Oliver walked Ray through fighting a metahuman that had popped up in the middle of all this. It was better, really, that she was out of the way. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle fighting with him out in the field at the moment, even if he was just a voice in the ear.

Ray returned to their base after flying Deathbolt to Central City. He was going someplace the others called a pipeline, which Laurel had some misgivings about, but for now it had to be low on the priority list.

Felicity greeted her boyfriend with a congratulatory kiss for his first official try at being a vigilante. “You were great.”

“Well, thanks to Oliver, I was. I’m glad I didn’t end up getting my day in court after all.”

“The public is still looking for you to catch the Arrow,” Oliver reminded him.

“I know. But I’m prepared to go to the mayor myself and explain I was mistaken. The Arrow is not our enemy.”

“But someone pretending to be him is,” Laurel said, mostly to herself, but the others all turned. Oliver’s look seemed particularly intense. Laurel stepped forward. “We need proof of that to take to the mayor, not just our word.” Ray couldn’t rely on a preexisting relationship like she could with her father. And just like he’d used the proof of her chat conversations with Oliver, they needed something concrete as well.

“What kind of proof are you talking about, Laurel?” Oliver asked.

She kept her eyes on Ray. “What about your facial recognition software?”

“I thought you said it wouldn’t stand up in court?”

Laurel waved a hand. “I said that to keep Oliver out of jail.” At Oliver’s look in her direction, she ducked her head slightly. “And we’re not talking about court, we’re talking about public opinion. So do you think you could pick up one of the fakes on it?”

“We would need it to match to someone actually on file,” Felicity informed her. “Considering the League recruits all kinds of people from all over the world—”

“They do have somebody,” Oliver interrupted. “Maseo Yamashiro. He worked with ARGUS in Hong Kong. The CIA would have him on file.”

“So my facial recognition software could pick him up,” Ray concluded. An excited smile lit his face. “Alright, I’ll do a sweep of the city right now! And stop him from murdering anyone, of course.”

“Don’t engage the League, Ray,” Oliver cautioned him. “Even with my help, it would be a near thing.”

Ray’s enthusiasm dipped only slightly, but soon he was putting his gear back on and leaving the base.

“God, I hope this works,” Laurel muttered under her breath. She felt Oliver’s hand brush her arm and jumped. He looked away and walked back over to the station where the connection with Ray was set up, in case he was needed. Laurel looked down.

A silence filled the base. As was common, Felicity broke it.

“Is everything okay? I mean, obviously, not everything is okay right now, but we have a plan for the major thing. I meant the earlier thing.”

“What earlier thing?” Laurel asked.

“Well, you kind of ran out of the reception, and then Oliver followed you,” Felicity explained. “And we’ve been pretty busy since, but nobody’s really said what that was about.”

She looked between the two of them, expectant. Oliver was devoting an intense amount of study to the tech on the table in front of him, and Laurel dropped her gaze to the floor.

“It was nothing, really.”

“Okay.” It was fairly obvious her friend didn’t believe her. “Just, things got weird after I brought up Oliver’s online dating, and if there’s a problem, I’d prefer—”

“There’s no problem,” said Oliver, tense. Laurel couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t look at anyone.

The door to the Verdant opened and Thea came down the steps. “Ollie, I’ve been texting you all night. Did you figure out if Laurel — oh.” She stopped and gave an awkward laugh. “Hey, Laurel, how’s, um, things?”

“Things? What things? What was he supposed to be figuring out?” Felicity was speaking in near rapid fire now. “Why does everyone know what we’re talking about except me?”

This was unbearable. “We were on the same dating app,” Laurel said, then pressed her lips together.

“You were both on the same app? Well, how did you know — oh no!” Felicity was gaping in horror. “I mean, not, no, you know, just — what are the odds of that? I guess not astronomical considering your similar lifestyles likely contributing to your profile answers and since the app takes proximity into account, and you two are, you know, close — proximity-wise. I- I did not intend for this to happen.”

“Felicity, I have a visual!”

“Who? What? Oh!” It took a couple panicked turns back and forth for Felicity to grab up the comm to respond to Ray. “I’ll run it against ARGUS and see if you caught Maseo.”

“Good.” Oliver still had his focus on the table. Thea was watching her with open sympathy. Pity, even.

Because of course this was more embarrassing for her than him. Oliver had had plenty of relationships or attempts at them since he left her after the Undertaking. What did Laurel have? Nothing, and as soon as she tried, guess who had turned up? And even then, she’d turned him down for him, which was undeniably pathetic. She couldn’t even be angry at him, because it was her choices and her feelings that had gotten her into this mess.

Abruptly, Laurel turned and made for the steps. “Let me know if you need anything.”

It wasn’t as though she could fight. And John and Lyla would be more useful once they returned from their honeymoon for making a deal with the CIA. She was just useless, as per usual.

She’d already lost her online friend by declining his invitation to meet up, yet somehow she felt even worse now knowing he was never real in the way she’d thought. All those confessions she’d made...how could things possibly go on between her and Oliver when he knew the truth?

—-

Oliver winced as the door shut behind Laurel. She wasn’t happy. Truthfully, he still didn’t know where he landed on the issue.

He had thought he was taking the steps to move on properly this time, even if it hadn’t worked out. But if anything, it turned out he’d gone in the complete opposite direction. And despite what she had claimed about him on the app, Laurel seemed more miserable after finding out the truth than anything. So where did that leave things?

“I’ve sent the match to the CIA to confirm, and Ray tipped off the mayor’s office that an attack was heading their way. Can we say power couple?” Felicity’s enthusiasm was only partially forced; it was clear she was trying to tough it out through the awkwardness.

When he didn’t acknowledge her question, she slumped a little. “Oliver, I’m sorry. I swear I had no idea Laurel was on that app.”

“And I had no idea you were,” Thea added to him. “What exactly just happened there? Because it sounded like—”

“I was the guy that Laurel was talking to,” he confirmed. “Not that either of us knew that.”

“He also asked her out, which she said no to,” Felicity said. “Something about another guy.”

“Who is you.” His sister didn’t even ask, just stated it as fact.

And sure, Laurel had never used his name, but… “Yeah.”

“Oh.” Felicity blinked. “Well that simplifies things, doesn’t it?”

He gestured to the stairs up which Laurel had disappeared. “That didn’t look simple to me.”

Thea scoffed. “Just look at it from her point of view for a second, will you? She’s gotta be, like, super embarrassed.”

“Mortified, even,” Felicity agreed with a nod.

“Look at it this way,” Thea continued before he could even open his mouth. “She’s just found out that she confessed her feelings for you to you, and that you asked out another woman at the same time.”

“But I was asking her out!”

Felicity pointed at him accusingly. “Ah, but you didn’t know it was her when you did.”

“But I should have,” he realized. Oliver took out his phone and scrolled back through the messages. Laurel was in every one of them; her heart and voice and soul could be felt in every line when he really looked.

Maybe that was why he’d fallen.

He was in love with Laurel, that much was clear. Whether he knew it was her or not, he always ended up in the same place. Home. And judging by what she had written, he just might still have a welcome there.

But he frowned as he looked back at the computers. “The League is still out there.”

“We’re still waiting on a response from the CIA,” Felicity said. “I can send you any updates.”

As much as the leader in him wanted to remain at the base, he could recognize that times like these were exactly what a team was for. “Thank you.” Oliver reached for his jacket and pulled it on, then paused before leaving. “Really, thank you.”

If Felicity hadn’t been so determined to get him trying to see other people, none of this would have come about. He would have never known.

She shrugged. “This was not at all the plan, but I should have figured it’d end up this way. Try not to screw it up this time.”

“Right, go, go, go!” Thea only barely held back from physically ushering him to the door.

Oliver got on his bike and made the relatively short drive, finding himself like so many times in front of Laurel’s apartment door. Was this really happening? A part of him was still reeling.

He knocked, and it was several long minutes before the door was pulled open. Laurel had already changed into what looked to be her sleepwear underneath a bathrobe, and her expression was less than enthusiastic.

“Please tell me you didn’t come here to check on me.”

“Not entirely. Can I come in?”

Wordlessly, she stepped back and let him through. Oliver stood in her front hall, looking over her dejected appearance. “Are you okay?”

Something not really a laugh bubbled out of her. “I don’t know. There are things that I wrote, things that I told you on that app, that I never meant for you to know. And now it’s just out there.”

He could understand that. Some of the day to day frustrations and even his sense of doubt about the mission, those weren’t things he would be all that comfortable with anyone knowing with context. Laurel was one of a very few in that regard. Most of the profile questions and answers she was already aware of by virtue of knowing him so long, but it did bring one of their earliest conversations to mind.

“You, um, you came out as—”

“As bisexual, yeah,” she confirmed in a low voice, her eyes anywhere but on him.

“If that’s how you feel, I’m not gonna judge you for that. None of us would.”

“But you’re probably wondering if this is something new or me trying to be Sara.”

Oliver said nothing. He couldn’t deny that a part of him wondered. That was probably wrong.

“If anything, her coming out made me more comfortable seeing myself that way. I mean, on some level I knew I’d thought of women as attractive before — but usually I was already dating or not really in the right place to be dating. I never really knew until last year how my father and everyone would react so…” she trailed off with a shrug.

“And then when Sara did come out you were worried people would think you were copying her,” Oliver finished for her.

Laurel nodded with a grimace. “People figure there can only be one per family. And I didn’t exactly see myself dating ever again, so there didn’t seem to be much point talking about it.”

Her good arm was folded over her chest and gripping her shoulder. She was making herself smaller, he realized.

He wasn’t sure exactly what his thoughts were on the matter. He had always assumed he knew everything there was to know about Laurel — but then again, this didn’t change who she was as a person anymore than the color she chose to dye her hair did.

“I’m sorry you felt you couldn’t talk about it, and that I found out without your permission. I think — no, I’m sure Sara would have been happy to know.”

Her lips curved up in a smile that still conveyed a sort of sadness. It was the eyes. Laurel could never hide how she was really feeling with them. “Thank you.”

But it wasn’t just her own feelings she was talking about not wanting him to know. Something that she’d written was standing out now in particular. “You weren’t sure if I hated you or not.” He remembered her venting to his online persona, that she wished her friend and ex would just make up his mind one way or another.

“I don’t really believe you hate me,” Laurel said immediately.

“But I haven’t made it easy to maintain that belief.” He was so stupid. In his mind, it was so clear how he felt about Laurel, but whenever he tried to put it into words or actions, it always went awry. Except on that app. There, anonymously, he had been clear.

Oliver took out his phone and glanced down at it. “I think we needed this.”

Laurel raised an eyebrow. “We needed to lie and keep more secrets from each other?”

“Neither of us was intentionally lying,” he pointed out. “But what I mean is that this, it gave us a clean slate. A way to talk to each other without everything else getting in the way for once. I didn’t know how badly I needed that.”

He’d missed it, too. Talking to Laurel, just being open and honest. Since getting the app, he’d been making strides to do that in person thanks to her own advice, and in a way it had worked the same in reverse.

“And now that everything is back in the way?” She glanced up at him. “You said you needed to move on, Oliver.”

“Because I thought that was best. I couldn’t even imagine you might still have feelings for me after everything,” he admitted. “And my attempt to move on was to ask you out, so I think that says something.”

“It says I did a really good job at hiding the worst parts of myself.” Laurel turned and retreated further into her apartment.

But Oliver couldn’t leave things there. He wasn’t giving up this time. “You were yourself. And you’re more than the worst parts of you, Laurel. If you believe there’s any good qualities to me, then you have to know that’s true.”

She stopped, and he walked up to her.

“I took a chance and opened myself up to a stranger. Not because she was a stranger, but because she felt familiar. She felt like a friend who cared for me and helped me to be better. And I couldn’t believe that I could have found that in another person that wasn’t you.” He allowed himself the smallest smile as Laurel watched him. “Maybe a part of me knew it from the start.”

Laurel’s eyes were shining as she said with a hitch to her breath, “I didn’t let myself even dream it was you.”

“I know.” He reached out slowly and cupped her face with both hands. “I’m sorry it took me so long to realize.”

He leaned in and brushed his lips over hers, warm and open. It was more like breathing each other in than kissing, relishing the little touches they’d denied themselves for so long.

Laurel’s eyes were closed as he nuzzled at her cheek, and her uninjured arm had wrapped around his back. “I’ve missed you. I missed talking to you the last few days.”

“You mean online?”

She nodded. “Mm-hm. I’m so glad I didn’t break some poor guy’s heart.”

Oliver muffled a laugh against her neck. “That makes two of us.”

His phone buzzed, breaking the moment. Oliver checked it and found a text from Felicity.

ARGUS said thanks for the tip and that they’re handling it. Going home with Ray.

“What’s up?”

His eyes left the screen. “Your idea to get ARGUS involved paid off. The Arrow’s off the hook.” The last bits of worry and tension eased as he said the words aloud.

Laurel let out a breath and smiled. “That’s great.”

“Yeah.” He made to put his phone away but stopped and got it out again.

“What are you doing?”

“Turning this off.” He grinned up at her. “We don’t need it anymore.”

He drew her back in towards his chest as she giggled, though those faded away as he renewed his attempts to re-familiarize himself with her mouth. Oliver couldn’t think of the last time he’d felt this carefree and happy, but the memories that immediately came to mind had this same woman in common. His oldest friend; his online friend; the woman he loved. Dinah Laurel Lance was all that and more.

He was so lucky.

[junker-town]

Reviewing every Stephen A. Smith performance on ‘General Hospital’

Affairs, murder, things of that nature.

Stephen A. Smith is, for better and worse, an icon of the sports broadcasting world. His unquestionable love of the Knicks, nuclear hot takes, and passionate rants have made him a staple of television for almost two decades. But, there’s a not-so-hidden secret life to Stephen A. Smith you might not know, or appreciate — his recurring role on General Hospital.

Smith has played the recurring role of “Brick” on the show since 2016. In, quite possibly, the greatest piece of irony in pop culture, Brick is a “computer and surveillance expert.” Which, if you don’t know why that’s funny, you haven’t seen this tweet.

TAke a look, y'all: IMG_4346.jpeg

— Stephen A Smith (@stephenasmith) May 27, 2015

Brick serves the Corinthos-Morgan mob family as an advisor, helping criminals avoid detection by the feds, and making them aware when the heat is on. He’s also involved in some of the most incredible plot descriptions I have ever read, courtesy of the General Hospital wiki.

“Sonny catches Brick up on how Julian bombed the Floating Rib because he was working with Cyrus. Brick says he can find Julian using facial recognition software. Later he discovers Julian is in Secaucus, New Jersey where he is waiting for a bus to Montreal, Canada. Sonny and Jason head over to catch him.”

January of 2021 marked Brick’s triumphant return to General Hospital, and with it Stephen A. Smith. I thought it was the perfect time to take a stroll through history and appreciate the acting prowess of one of America’s best-known sports personalities.

Episode #1.13526 (3/31/16)

The only scene with Brick opens with him checking his phone and saying “Damn, they lost ... whoa I didn’t see that happening,” which is obviously a nod to his sports background. But, what’s the context here? By the lighting it looks to be mid-afternoon. Did Brick wait all day to check the score of a game that happened the night before? It can’t be a Saturday college game, because they’re talking about meeting with the district attorney, which I can’t imagine would happen on a Saturday.

Opening writing aside, SAS is pretty okay here. It’s still hilarious that he’s a computer expert, but he seems comfortable in the role.

Episode #1.13623 (8/16/16)

Sonny Corinthos meets Brick in what appears to be a hotel room. They’ve barely said hello before Brick starts asking Sonny if his wife, Carly Corinthos has been talking about him. Now look, I get the whole “shoot your shot” thing — but this is the wife of a mob boss. Stephen A. Smith basically insinuated that he’s having a relationship with a mob boss’ wife, TO THE MOB BOSS.

The thrust of this scene is Sonny asking Brick if he has a discreet, loyal team who can keep tabs on Julian Jerome. Another mobster.

SAS does a fine job being a smoldering, intense computer expert whose ability is beyond question.

Episode #1.13738 (2/3/17)

This is the tour de force performance of Stephen A on GH. He gets two scenes, the first is a simple meet and greet with Jason Morgan and Curtis Ashford, who needed help with a problem.

The second is where things get spicy. Brick shows off a watch he created that has a voice recorder in it, but also some sort of “alert” system that lets you know where there are wire taps and wireless cameras. He doesn’t explain how this system works. Brick says you just need to “wave it around” and it will pick up RF transmitters and recorders. Curtis says “that’s alright, where’d you get something like that?” and Brick loses it.

Tense music enters. Stephen A. Smith furrows his brow and begins needling Curtis with questions about why he’s asking. Clearly he thinks Curtis is an undercover agent. Things are smoothed over before they come to blows, and Brick shows off a comically large camera.

Brick insinuates you can use the tiny shotgun mic on the top to hear a conversation taking place blocks away, through glass. He calls it a “laser mic,” which to be fair exist ... but they don’t look like a microphone.

Curtis says “almost everything” repeating back Brick’s assertion of what the microphone can hear, and Brick is furious again for being questioned. He cools down, Sonny thanks him for the gear. Brick tells Sonny “don’t thank me, just get the person who killed your son.”

And scene.

Episode #1.13920 (9/26/17)

Brick makes a short appearance with Sonny to discuss a mysterious Russian phone call the mob boss received. Brick tells Sonny he was given a name of who made the call, Piotr Boronsky, a man related to a mysterious “Patient 6,” who is a man with no face ... or something.

Episode #1.13927 (10/5/17)

Another short appearance to offer an update on his findings about the call. Stephen A. Smith is just given tiny bit parts during all this to just offer updates. However, Carly (who remember, Brick thinks has a crush on him) asks Brick to follow her son’s girlfriend.

Episode #1.13934 (10/16/17)

Brick is back baby, and this time he has a lot more to say. Brick arrives at Sonny’s house to tell him his phones have been tapped with sophisticated software so good that not even Brick can crack.

Also he flirts with Carly ... again, in front of the mob boss himself. Brick is fearless.

Episode #1.14158 (9/6/18)

In perhaps the biggest demotion in soap opera history, Brick returns to fix Sonny’s dad’s cell phone. He also flirted with Carly again.

Episode #1.14257 (2/1/19)

Months after fixing a cell phone, Brick returns in the opening scene of the show. Major step up for Stephen A. Smith. Meeting with Sonny, he is a confidant as Sonny explains the difficulties of putting his father in a nursing home.

A big screen time day, Brick has more scenes — this time getting to business. Sonny wants Brick to find his missing son, which you’d think might be how you start the conversation. Everyone is very calm about it all, like child vanishings are common.

Brick says Sonny doesn’t just need a worker, he needs a friend. Just a powerhouse performance.

Episode #1.14366 (7/5/19)

Now a master of the soap opera “smoldering eyes,” Brick meets with Sonny, despite his busy schedule, to talk about something very important. Sonny wants Brick to forge documents so it looked like an orphan from Turkey was really his long lost cousin.

The best part of this is EASILY when Stephen A. Smith hears the last name “Cerci” and immediately knows this is a Turkish name.

At this point I’m wondering what skills Brick doesn’t have. He can supply surveillance equipment, has a crew of guys on call to handle wet work, he can make someone a U.S. citizen with the snap of his fingers, AND he can fix your elderly father’s cell phone. Everyone needs someone in their life like Brick.

Episode #1.14369 (7/10/19)

Brick brings the forged documents back to Sonny. He’s done it all. Brick has made a fake birth certificate, social security card, driver’s license — what a guy. Jason is there for a meeting with Sonny, and casually asks “So, who’s getting a new identity?” Brick hits him with one of these.

Episode #58.54 (9/3/20)

This is the moment every soap opera actor dreams of. Stephen A. Smith gets to drop the big reveal of the episode. An older man is hiding out at a nursing home, doing puzzles with the elderly and generally being a nice guy. Just as Sonny starts talking to him Brick enters and hits him with the big line.

“From you Mr. Renault ... it’s impossible to believe.”

HELL YEAH BRICK GET HIM! That’s not a kindly old man, it’s notorious drug dealer Cyrus Renault!

Episode #58.57 (9/9/20)

Brick turns up at a bar where Carly is having a drink. He once again flirts with the wife of the dangerous mob boss who he works for. At this point Brick and Carly have been flirting on and off for four years.

Episode #1.14690 (12/16/20)

Brick meets Sonny in Brooklyn and offers his condolences for Dev’s death. Dev is the orphan he forged documents for 18 months earlier. So, to condense the timeline a little, a 16-year-old orphan survived perfectly on the streets of Turkey, was brought to the U.S. and died just over a year later.

This kid wasn’t just killed, he was BLOWN UP IN A BAR EXPLOSION. AN EXPLOSION THAT WAS CAUSED BY A BOMB. Yet, the feds have no involvement in a bombing. Instead it’s on Brick.

Brick has a plan, because he always has a plan. He’ll use facial recognition software to find the bomber using social media photos.

Episode #1.14709 (1/14/21)

Well, now Sonny is dead. There’s a lot of murder in this show. Brick turns up at a bar to talk about Sonny’s death with Jason. It’s at this point Jason asks Brick for a favor, which he’ll do gladly because Sonny was his BFF.

Brick is tasked with learning everything he can about the Novaks, a dangerous rival crime family. Brick is a step ahead, and tells Jason that the Novaks are bringing product into Port Charles! GASP!

Brick enters the warehouse with Jason and it’s full of bodies! The pair retreat to the bar before drug dealer Cyrus Renault shows up.

Episode #1.14710 (1/15/21)

The scene with Jason, Cyrus and Brick continues. Cyrus says they need to work together to fill the void left by Sonny. In what are supposed to be real-time minutes, Brick moves from telling Jason they need to lay low, to telling Cyrus they went into the Novak’s warehouse and found a bunch of bodies — because he is very bad at laying low, despite being an all-time brilliant fixer.

I don’t know much about soap operas, but I know Brick is the greatest character of all time.

Soap opera acting is what it is. In order to find all the scenes with Brick I had to watch a sickening amount of General Hospital, and to his credit, Stephen A. Smith holds his own with everyone else on camera.

Where he really shines is the material though. Brick is both the best, and worst character in history — which makes him the best. He’s an expert at discretion, except when it matters most. A master of computers and technology, who is so important to a crime family that he will brazenly flirt with the mob boss’ wife in front of her husband without any repercussion.

You know you’re in too deep when you become invested in a soap opera storyline. All I need in this world is for Brick and Carly to hook up, because they genuinely seem to like each other. Now that Sonny is dead that window is open, and I’ll keep watching to find out.

God help me.

[iatethepomegranate]

Homecoming Chapter 18

@prettybeefballs @iontorch @darkmagicianknight

The whole fic is a sequel to Human Connection (can be read as a standalone, but character personalities make more sense if read together)

All chapters

Read on AO3

Pairing: DickTiger

Rating: Mature

Length: 5.8k (this chapter)

Summary: The interrogator has a few tricks up his sleeve.

Notes: More torture. Mentions of a real technique but the one actually shown is a machine I made up.

Chapter 18

Dick was relieved to find Tiger was put back on caretaking duties. However, he no longer hung around once his job was done. The most he touched Dick outside of medical necessity was to squeeze his hand. They couldn't risk Bannon walking in on them again.

Bannon pushed the both of them even harder in interrogation. He still favoured electrocution and other methods that didn't require physical force. Maybe he didn't want to give Tiger a chance to hold back. Each session stretched longer than the last.

Dick needed this to end.

After one particularly packed day—Dick now knew what waterboarding felt like, and wished he didn't—Tiger still came to fetch him late that night.

Dick barely held back a groan. “What now?”

“Bannon needs you upstairs,” Tiger said dully, securing cuffs around Dick's already raw wrists. Even the loosest setting Tiger dared use felt like burning against his skin.

Tiger escorted him out of the cell block and into the facility proper. Helena was waiting by one of the doors in the world's most boring hallway.

“One of Dr Netz's machines is in there,” she warned. “It never made it past the prototype stage. It was designed as a torture device that left no lasting effects, but every test subject has suffered long-term physical ailments if used too long. So don't be a smartass.”

Just one more day, Dick reminded himself. Tomorrow, his family would arrive and they would get out of here. He had to keep himself in one piece for the occasion.

“You seen this thing before?” Dick asked Tiger, who shook his head.

They stepped inside. Helena didn't follow.

The machine took up most of the room, with big metal boxes of computer shit, a vertical gurney covered in straps, and an enormous control panel manned by Bannon and one of Netz's scientist protégés. Gloria hovered near another panel that appeared to be a heartbeat monitor.

“Strap him in,” said Bannon. “Tightly, if you please. We wouldn't want our friend hurting himself, now would we? And don't forget the electrodes.”

Dick was already worn out from three torture sessions during the day. But he couldn't do anything about it, so he let Tiger lead him to the gurney, dodging electrodes and metal spikes and other nasty shit. Tiger helped him step onto the platform and pulled the straps tight across his body. Dick's arms were trapped by his sides, which immediately freaked him right out. The scientist stepped forward to attach some of the electrodes to Dick's temples, which didn't help matters.

Tiger and the scientist retreated behind the control panels, leaving Dick up there alone. A glass dome slid into place around the lower half of his body.

“This machine is designed to help interrogators extract information,” Bannon said. He nodded to the scientist and the machinery inside the dome began to whirr and shift. A metal spike pressed against Dick's thigh and other, more blunt metal arms followed suit, creeping him the fuck out and they hadn't even done anything yet.

“The machine is primed for stage one, sir,” said the scientist.

“His vitals are up and running,” Gloria added. No hiding how much the machine freaked Dick out, then.

Bannon placed one hand on the control panel, leaning into it with a locked straight arm, and smiled up at Dick. “I have been very patient over these past few days. Despite your resistance, you have provided useful information. However, the questions I wish to ask now, I expect you will not answer without additional persuasion.” Bannon's shoulder gave an audible pop as he leaned more deeply into his hand. “Now, first question. Spyral had a file containing identifying information about the superhero community. It is missing. What have you done with it?”

“Nothing,” Dick answered. Helena had removed it herself. She probably had a copy as insurance, but Dick didn't know for certain.

“Are you sure?”

“I never witnessed him accessing such a file,” Tiger supplied.

“Perhaps he did so without your knowledge.” Bannon nodded to the scientist, who pressed a button.

Dick's head split with pain and he flopped against the restraints. His vision burst and suddenly everything was too bright and loud and he was drowning in it. Beeps turned to screams, whirrs into roars. If he could've covered his ears, he would have.

And then it stopped. He sucked down huge lungfuls of air as his head throbbed in protest.

“That was just a taste of what this machine can do,” said Bannon. “Now what did you do with that file?”

“Nothing.” Dick's voice cracked on the word. If his hands were free right in this moment...

“Again,” Bannon said to the scientist.

It was worse this time, sharper, louder in his head, coursing throughout his whole body. Somehow, it tipped over the brink, and suddenly it dimmed, quietened, but then there was a sharp pain in his thigh and he was back. He hadn't escaped. The metal spike had jammed into his leg, injecting something that forced him awake.

Fuck it. He screamed.

The room was pulsing, turning, blurring, burning. This wasn't Spyral. This was hell. He had died and gone to hell.

And then it stopped. Tiger's eyes were boring into him, but that was the last place he could look right now. The metal spike detached itself from his thigh, which fucking hurt.

“I'll ask again,” said Bannon.

“I had nothing to do with that file, you fucking asshole.”

“Then who removed it?”

“I don't know.” Now he was lying. If Bannon wouldn't accept that, maybe he'd have to lie again, pretend that he actually did delete the file. Claim it was gone and there was nothing anyone could do about it. That was only if he had to, though. Bannon would take far too much pleasure in punishing him for that. And he couldn't even pass out to get away from it because of whatever drugs had been in that spike-needle-thing.

Bannon watched him for a long moment, but then shrugged and moved on. “Very well. Turn the machine up to the next level. This next question will require more persuasion.”

“Remember you can't give him another dose of the wakeup drug for another four hours,” Gloria said. “The side-effects would make him incoherent until the original dosage stops taking effect.”

“Is the calibration complete?” Bannon asked the scientist, who nodded. “Good. Now, Nightwing. Owing to the fact our superhero files were stolen and our technology hampered, identifying you and your Gotham compatriots has proven quite difficult. You're going to help me with that.”

Like hell, Dick thought. He kept his mouth shut. Tiger had raised his eyebrow behind Bannon's back. It wasn't exactly a secret the Gotham vigilantes kept their identities particularly close to their chests. Asking one of them to give up that kind of information would be less productive than talking to a brick wall. Dick had plenty of experience with that, having been raised by a brick wall himself.

To be perfectly honest, Bannon probably just wanted an excuse to fry Dick to within an inch of his life, if not further.

The man's smirk was enough to inspire pacifists to declare war. “Now, where shall we start? Ah, yes. Why exactly does your face not exist to facial recognition software?”

“Uh, because that'd defeat the purpose of the whole secret identity thing?”

“How did Batman manage to infiltrate every piece of this software I have encountered?”

“Because he's Batman.” Any futher explanation would require digging into Wayne Enterprises, Bruce Wayne leveraging his connections with other companies that produce that kind of software, and the Justice League's space station that had technology designed to detect when a member of the community was at risk of exposure.

Bannon nodded to the scientist and the pain drilled into Dick's skull all over again. Light burst in his vision, which didn't help one bit.

“How has Batman gotten his hands on the software?” Bannon asked once it had stopped.

Dick took a few deep breaths before he could answer the way he wanted to. “Because he's a technological genius you can never hope to match. Ask him if you want the details. I just reap the benefits. Next question.”

Bannon eyed him for a solid minute. Dick didn't give him the satisfaction of breaking eye contact.

They moved on. “Very well. Next question it is. How many vigilantes affiliated with Batman reside in Gotham City?”

“I don't talk to everyone. I couldn't tell you.” This was true. Dick had a rough idea, but there were a few part-timers and newer heroes he didn't know very well. And Catwoman was anyone's guess regarding what side she was on.

“With your friendly reputation?”

“That was before Spyral, buddy.”

“Do you really expect me to believe you don't know who is operating within your own city?”

“As long as Batman knows, fine by me.”

“So Batman's word is law? That's how it is?”

“Obviously.” Dick wasn't quite picking up on the point of this line of questioning, but he couldn't tell if that was the lingering pain or Bannon being particularly squirrelly.

“And you have never disobeyed his orders?”

“I disobey a lot of people.”

“Does he know you're here?”

Ah. So that was the point. He wanted to know if Batman was about to mount a rescue.

“He forbade me from coming,” Dick said, which was somewhat accurate, even if Batman had ultimately relented.

“Does he know you ignored his orders?”

“I don't know. I don't usually tell people I'm about to disobey them.” Hopefully the vitals Gloria monitored wouldn't give away the lie, given the torture had probably thrown them off already. She certainly wouldn't tell Bannon if they did, but he could always look for himself. And then they would all be in trouble.

“And what exactly did you intend to do here?”

“I had received assurances that Spyral was heading in a less shitty direction. I came to see for myself. We all know what happened next.”

“And how likely is it that Batman is going to appear on our doorstep?”

“No idea. As much as I'd like to live in a fantasy world, it wouldn't serve me well to pretend he knew I'd been captured at this particular location.”

“If he did know, it wouldn't serve you well to tell the truth, would it?”

“I don't know what to tell you, man.”

“Maybe more persuasion will help clear up your confusion.”

It was longer this time. The pain, which had been concentrated in his head, exploded downwards into his neck, his already overtaxed shoulders, his chest, legs, feet. Everywhere. His teeth were fucking rattling.

Hell, they were screeching, right there in his mouth. It was all too bright, too loud, too sharp. A monstrous merry-go-round of pain and noise and light and death, whirling faster and faster and he screamed and screamed and begged to get off the ride.

His head was going to explode or his neck would snap or he would burn from the inside out—eyes popping, eardrums exploding, throat tearing—until there was nothing left but a smoking skeleton and then—only then—would he know peace.

“Enough,” said Bannon. The pain stopped. “Now, tell me the truth. Does Batman know you are here?”

That last bout had left Dick physically shaken, his stomach staging a protest. He swallowed against it. “No.”

“Do we need to go another round?” said Bannon. Tiger twitched, just a touch, beside him. Neither of them could afford the truth to come out. No matter how much he had to endure, it was better for Batman to be able to infiltrate the facility as planned than it would be for Dick to be in fighting shape. They could work around his condition, but Spyral anticipating the attack would leave the whole plan in shambles and then Dick would never get the fuck out of here.

The scientist adjusted the settings on the control panel once more and the machine began a deep, bone-rattling hum. Dick had to endure this.

He had to.

Hours later, Gloria tended to Dick, who had finally lost consciousness, in the cell. Tiger didn't want to leave.

“I've got this covered,” Gloria kept telling him. It didn't help.

Dick hadn't changed his answer, not even when Bannon changed tactics, leaving the machine running and swearing only to stop it when Dick provided the answers he wanted. Alia's imminent return had made him desperate for have something to show for the days of having a captured vigilante with no directorial oversight. Eventually, however, even the wakeup drug waned just enough that it couldn't stand against Dick's body trying to protect itself and he had passed out. There were perhaps two more hours until he could be dosed again, but it was late at night and there were preparations to be made for Alia's arrival so Tiger sorely hoped they were done with this.

“Tiger,” Gloria said firmly, at odds with her gentle hands probing the base of Dick's skull. “You need to report to Helena, make sure she knows Dick will be of limited use tomorrow. I'll medicate him best I can, but he will need help. The longer you're down here, the smaller your window to discuss that.”

Tiger forced a breath. She was right. With Bannon's suspicion, it would not be long before he sought Tiger out to make sure he wasn't misbehaving. It seemed unlikely Bannon knew the true depth of Tiger's allegiances, but at the very least he seemed concerned that Tiger was experiencing far too much empathy for Dick's suffering.

Helena was still seated at the desk in her office despite the lateness of the hour. “I expected you ten minutes ago. Report.”

Tiger rested his hands on the back of the nearest chair, but couldn't bring himself to sit down. “Bannon believes Batman knows Nightwing is here. Nightwing refused to corroborate that and passed out from the sustained torture. Gloria is tending to him.” Forcing himself to speak like this, like the person he cared for most in the world had not just suffered terribly before his eyes, took everything he had.

Helena drummed her fingers on the tabletop, frowning. “We will have to tread carefully, then.”

“Gloria believes his fighting ability will be limited.”

“I'll have you and Gloria help him as soon as you're able tomorrow.”

“Did you find anything useful?” Tiger didn't even try to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Using Dick's torture as a diversion so Helena could keep digging for information left a bad taste in his mouth. Allowing that machine to exist—how had Helena thought such a thing did not deserve to be destroyed?—made him furious.

“I found the automated alarm system. Batman and his allies can infiltrate the building entirely without detection. Of course, if someone sees them and manually raises the alarm, that advantage is gone.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Given we have little control over what Bannon does to—”

“The machine, Helena. That thing should have been destroyed.”

“I thought it was,” Helena admitted. “I ordered them all decommissioned as soon as the dust settled. Alia must have had access to one I didn't know about. She and Dr Netz kept many things hidden from me.”

Tiger swallowed down his anger, even though he wanted to throw something. “As soon as we have control of this place, destroy that thing.”

“I intend to.” Helena pushed back her chair. “It's late. We both need rest. I understand your frustration, but it is not productive in our current situation.”

That only made Tiger want to stab something now, but she had a point. He would just have to wait until the fight tomorrow. He could channel all his feelings into violence then.

Tiger had been neglecting his prayers these past few days, but there was still time to wash up for the final prayer of the night. He missed the peace it brought him.

There was no place of worship in this place, so he made do with his bedroom. He had almost forgotten what this was like. Slowing down, for a short time, to connect with something bigger than himself. Bigger than this whole mess they were in.

The process calmed him enough that he thought maybe, just maybe, he could sleep tonight.

Until Bannon barged in at the end, of course, like the piece of shit he was. “What are you doing awake at this hour?”

“That should be obvious, Bannon.” Tiger lifted his Quran, which he had just closed. “I have met infants with better observation skills.”

Bannon made himself at home on the end of Tiger's bed; now Tiger would officially be incapable of sleeping there. “Shall we talk?”

“Can it wait until morning?” Or until never, as Dick would quip. Thinking about him only served to bring back the impotent rage Tiger had managed to set aside. So much for peace.

“I'd prefer if it didn't.”

Tiger put his Quran away and leaned against the nearest wall. “Fine. Spit it out.”

“I understand your decision to hand Nightwing over to Spyral has put you in a difficult position.”

“I would prefer if you spoke plainly.” Tiger did not have the patience for this feigned concern and genteel bullshit Bannon liked to wear like a coat every once a while, before a shift in weather allowed him to discard it, now that it no longer served his purposes.

“You appear to feel remorse for choosing to remain loyal to Spyral rather than your lover. You have reacted poorly to his interrogations. I am concerned you will be unable to do what must be done when the director returns and provides orders regarding our prisoner.”

Tiger had to fight to keep his expression unreadable, even as his blood chilled inside him. Whether the order came immediately or not, Alia would eventually have Dick killed. Assuming the plan he had created with Helena and Batman worked, Dick would not remain imprisoned long enough for this to be an issue. But it was still a cause for concern. If something went wrong and Batman's attack was delayed too long, Dick could die. That could not be allowed to happen.

“This still does not explain why you have invaded my bedroom at this hour.” It wasn't hard to show irritation. Tiger was plenty irritated, and more.

“I think it best we put you under arrest until the boss's orders have been delivered and carried out.” Bannon plucked a keycard from his pocket. “Fortunately, I can lock you in this room rather than dragging you into a cell. You will have all your usual comforts.”

A wild thought crossed Tiger's mind that maybe he could fight and overpower Bannon right now, hide him somewhere until the attack. But Bannon had gotten the better of Tiger in their previous clashes, even when they had been on equal footing and Tiger was not chained to a wall and—he forced himself to cut that memory off before it took hold of him. Anything less than guaranteed success was too risky. So Tiger discarded the idea, for Dick's sake.

“If that is what you must do,” he forced out.

Bannon smiled benignly—when he was anything but—and patted Tiger's cheek on his way out. Tiger couldn't have stopped a flinch if he'd tried.

Tiger climbed into bed, even though he mind whirred far too fast for sleep. Perhaps it would happen eventually. All he could do now was hope Helena figured something was wrong when he didn't appear for breakfast in the morning.

Sleep did not come easily, but he found it.

And then the door creaked open, and he lost it again. Tiger whirled out of bed, seizing the nearest object—a lamp—as a weapon.

“I'm not here to kill you,” came Helena's voice, as the door snicked shut again. “Put that thing down.”

Tiger slammed it back on the nightstand. “Yes?” His patience had run out days ago, and that was before Helena had snuck into his room while he was trying to sleep. Never sneak up on a sleeping spy, even if Tiger did not consider himself much of a spy anymore.

“Gloria was coming to update you on Dick's condition,” she said. “She overheard Bannon speaking to you. We'll rearrange our plans. I'll assign Gloria to get Dick out of the cellblock as quickly as possible and meet with you at the extraction point, or on the way if you move quickly enough.” Tiger's room was on the other side of the extraction point, so they wouldn't miss each other. “She has already hidden his equipment in an adjacent cell and, if he is taken to the torture chamber, will provide him the means to free himself if Bannon attempts to kill or severely injure him.”

“How is he?”

“He woke briefly, coherent enough to understand what she said to him, but not in a condition to speak yet.” Helena pressed a copy of the keycard to Tiger's bedroom door into his hand. “Do not let them find that. Use it at 2100 hours.” When the attack would commence. Alia was expected half an hour after that. “If the time has to move forward, I will release you myself as soon as I have disabled the alarm system. Dick will need most of the day to recover enough to be worth interrogating, so he should not be in serious danger too early.”

Tiger hoped that would remain true. “Are you sure the agents we chose are loyal?”

“As sure as I can be in this business. Even if my assessment of the others is inaccurate, Gloria won't turn against me. Even if she wanted to, I know where her children live and have provisions in place should we not survive.”

Most other agents did not have loved ones who could be threatened like that. Once upon a time, Tiger had been one of them. Given what Dick had suffered because of him these past few days, maybe he should have stayed that way.

“Enough self-flagellation,” said Helena. “Go back to bed. We have a fight to win.”

Dick's head was killing him. Gloria had neglected to provide him pain relief all day, citing that it would be better if he remained useless until closer to go-time. It made sense to keep Bannon at bay, but Dick was fully prepared to jump out of his own skull. Even hearing Gloria's voice, soft as it was, had made him want to cry in agony. Sometimes Tim got these really bad migraines that knocked him flat for hours, though the severity had dropped off once he'd started taking medication—well, when he actually remembered to take it. Was this what it felt like? No wonder Bruce had benched him for a while.

Gloria's plan, as horrible as it was, apparently worked. Bannon didn't bother questioning him until well after dinner, when Gloria had finally relented and given him some pain relief.

“Where's Tiger?” Dick asked as Gloria led him—gently, by the elbow, like an old woman crossing the street—into the torture chamber.

“Bannon put him under house arrest,” Gloria said, quietly in deference to the lingering remnants of Dick's pain. “He doesn't suspect your ruse, but he also believes Tiger is too empathetic to tolerate your treatment for much longer.”

The bright lights of the chamber caused an explosion of more pain in Dick's head. Gloria led him to the chair.

“Close your eyes for a moment, dear.” The leather straps tightened around his legs. “Are these loose enough to allow for escape?”

Dick gripped the arms of the chair and kicked his legs forward, eyes open the tiniest amount to make sure he didn't hit Gloria. His ankles pulled free of the restraints. Gloria reset them and performed the same procedure on the wrist restraints until they were both satisfied he could force his way out if needed.

“Once the fighting starts, I'll come get you,” said Gloria. “Your equipment is hidden in the cell next to yours, beneath the bed. If Bannon attempts to kill or severely injure you, can you fight him?”

Days of torture, poor nutrition and yesterday's hell-machine had weakened him. But in this case, he would have the element of surprise if he played his cards right. Could he execute a headbutt without knocking himself out in this condition? He most likely would have to. He could possibly free one or two limbs before Bannon caught on, but he'd need the man distracted to do better than that.

Ideas were forming. The prospect of escape sharpened his mind.

“Yes,” he said. “Does he carry a gun?”

“Not while interrogating. He prefers a more personal touch.” Gloria smiled wryly. “I had a colleague like that once. Terrifying woman. She used to challenge the rest of the squad to fistfights. I only got out of it because I was their best medic and someone had to patch them up afterwards.”

“My kinda lady.”

“She would have hated you.”

“Some of my strongest friendships came from hatred.” The light wasn't killing him as badly now, but the throbbing was still there, an extra and unwanted heart living in his head.

Gloria shook her head at him. “I should leave. Only fight him if your life or fighting capability are in danger. Otherwise, I'll surprise him for you.” She pinched his cheek and left him in there alone.

So this was it. Soon, the fight would begin. Now he had to their endure Bannon one more time, or kick his sorry ass. Well, he had always hoped for the asskicking but he could wait if he had to.

Bannon arrived in short order, smiling as he often did. There was something particularly disturbing about it today, though. He wasn't just pleased he had a human chew toy. He was ecstatic. Hopefully not by having a human chew toy. Maybe he couldn't wait for Alia to get here. He could wait forever, as far as Dick was concerned.

“Today's a special day, Nightwing,” Bannon said fucking brightly, unrolling his leather toolkit of horrors.

“Is it your birthday? Gee, you should've told me. I would've gotten you something.” A boot in the ass, preferably. The night was still young.

“I suppose I shouldn't be surprised not even last night could fix your attitude.” Bannon plucked a set of brass knuckles from the kit. “If I could put you back in there right now, I would. Sadly, I have been informed that could kill you. Another day, perhaps, assuming the boss doesn't have something else in mind.” It didn't take a genius to figure out Alia would likely have Dick killed instead. He hadn't been a particularly cooperative informant, not with the big things that really mattered.

“Who is the boss anyway?” Dick asked. “Someone I've met before?”

“I believe you have, yes.” Bannon was outright grinning now, as he slid the brass knuckles onto his fingers. “I hear you know her quite well, actually. Or, rather, she knows you.”

Hopefully, Alia had not been exempt from the wipe that erased Dick's identity from the minds and databases of everyone who was not supposed to have that information. Hard to say. In any case, she had not shared any information with Bannon, assuming she even knew Dick was here yet.

“Now,” said Bannon, “you were very adamant that Batman does not know you are here. Is that still your answer?”

“Yes.” As if he was going to ruin everything now.

“Even now that you've had time to think about it?”

“Yes. Next question.”

“How are you feeling today?”

“Seriously?” He may as well answer. It was the easiest question he was likely to get. “My head's killing me and your voice is even more grating than usual. No offense.”

“Neck pain?”

“A little. Not as bad as the head.”

“Weakness?”

“Some fatigue. You put me through the wringer even before that machine came into the picture.” It wasn't a good idea to telegraph exactly how much that had weakened him, though. If Bannon got too cocky, he might start fucking with Dick just for fun. Or just kill him if he didn't think he was useful anymore.

Had Dick been in a better condition, he probably would've noticed the fist coming before it hit, slamming and cutting his cheek. His head pounded so violently it was as if someone was beating him repeatedly with a hammer.

“How's the head now?” Bannon didn't have a fucking reason for that one. He just did it because he felt like it.

Fuck. His vision was swimming. And he kinda wanted to throw up.

Fortunately—or maybe unfortunately—Dick was saved from answering when Bannon pressed a finger to a communicator in his ear. “Boss?”

Well, shit.

“Good to hear, ma'am. I have news. We captured Nightwing.”

Dick blinked profusely until his head cleared, just a little, and he braced his hands against the arms of the chair. If the kill order came, he would fight. Even if he'd rather curl up into a ball and cry.

“Shall I wait for your return? Okay. Will do, ma'am.” The grinned that stretched Bannon's face was the most sickening to date. “Bad news, prettyboy. The boss has decided you're far more useful to us dead than alive.” His hands came down on top of Dick's and he leaned in. “How shall we do this, hmm? Short and sweet? Long and painful? Perhaps I should fetch your lover, or do you think he sympathises with you a little too much?”

His head was just out of Dick's headbutt reach. Just a little closer...

“I suppose we could chain him up so he couldn't interfere even if he wanted to. What a tragic pair you two make. Betrayed for duty, and he can't even take pride in a job well done. I hear he used to be a fine agent, until you ruined him.” Bannon came closer. “I bet that was your plan all along.”

Dick reared back with all the strength he could muster and slammed his head into Bannon's, angling it best he could to make sure the thicker part of his skull made contact. Bannon recoiled, ramming into the instrument table, holding his nose, and Dick, his head screaming and reeling, wrenched his arms and legs out of their restraints.

He had to press his advantage while he still had one. He leapt at Bannon, ripping the brass knuckles from his slackened hand, and slammed them into his face.

Bannon got his fingers around Dick's weakened wrist and squeezed, forcing him to drop the knuckles. Dick pressed his free forearm to the man's throat, slamming his foot onto the hand on that side until he stopped trying to move it. Bannon released his other hand, choking loudly, and tried to pry Dick's arm away, but it was easy enough to shove it away with the hand he'd just freed. Dick had the stronger position, even if he was currently weaker. He pressed his whole body weight down.

But Bannon kept wriggling, coming close to dislodging him. This wouldn't have been a problem if it hadn't been for that machine last night.

Bannon managed to roll onto his stomach, but Dick stayed on him, wrapping both his arms tightly around the man's throat as he crawled on his stomach towards the instrument table, which had dropped all its implements on the floor, mostly on the other side except for the stun gun. Fuck. Dick couldn't let him touch that, but he was having little luck stopping him.

He had to think of something else. They were approaching arm's reach. Dick shifted his grip to Bannon's shoulders, his feet finding purchase on the back of the man's thighs, and shoved himself ahead, grabbing the stun gun. He rolled, clumsily, finding a kneeling position. Bannon got his hands  under the table, reaching for something that glinted.

Dick shoved the stun gun against Bannon's neck and turned it on. He shrieked, arms flailing, body shaking. Dick felt with his free hand for the brass knuckles; just as well Batman had taught him how to punch with his left hand. He turned off the gun and slammed the knuckles into Bannon's temple.

Bannon went limp, but he would wake soon enough. Dick spied a set of handcuffs that had fallen off the table. Of course, now he had to drag Bannon somewhere he could use them. The chair was closest, and bolted into the floor. Dick secured one cuff around Bannon's wrist to free his hands, and got his hands under the man's armpits. He pulled. Bannon maybe moved an inch, if that. God damn it.

Dick pulled again. And again. He was already panting from the exertion but, little-by-little, Bannon slid in the direction he wanted.

Finally, he was close enough and Dick fed the cuff around the leg of the chair before securing the other cuff onto Bannon's remaining wrist. Bannon was already stirring, so Dick staggered out of the chamber, slamming the door shut.

He leaned against it for a second, catching his breath. Gloria had said his equipment was hidden under the bed in the cell next to his. Walking those few feet had him gasping for air all over again. He knelt on the floor beside the bed, uncertain he could even get up again, and slid his hand underneath until it hit a box. He dragged it out, lifting the lid. He'd missed that black and blue.

He dressed as quickly as he could while his body—head in particular—complained about what he had just done. In this condition, he had to find help, and quickly. Was it worth waiting in the cellblock for Gloria to find him, or would it be better to head to the rendezvous and meet her on the way?

What if one of Alia's agents decided to come down here to take him out as soon as the fighting started? Surely it couldn't be long now, if it hadn't already begun.

Dressed and equipped, Nightwing hauled himself into a seated position on the bed, catching his breath. He was weak and hurting, but at least he wasn't bleeding profusely or anything else that indicated he was about to die. He peered into the box, where Gloria had left one last thing:

One of Batman's low-dosage adrenaline injectors. Enough to help him get past the pain, but weaker than an EpiPen, which could cause health problems if used incorrectly.

Nightwing jammed it into his thigh. It wouldn't work for long, but at least it would get him on his feet. Now, to find Gloria before someone found him.

[stephmolliex]

Review: The iPhone XS Max is what Apple has always promised the iPhone could be

After a summer of fairly accurate rumors, the iPhone XS Max has arrived with much fanfare and a proportional price. It is the ultimate expression of Steve Jobs' original vision for the iPhone without compromise -- assuming that it fits in your budget. Subscribe to AppleInsider on YouTube Improvements inside and out This is an "S" model year, and you'd think that there wouldn't be big changes. On the outside, other than the size of the iPhone XS Max, that looks to be true -- there aren't a lot of big design changes. We've still got a notch and how much of a problem that is, is an exercise for the reader, and there's still an edge-to-edge OLED screen. As with nearly everything, it's what's on the inside that matters. The most obvious upgrade to the iPhone XS Max is the new, beautiful 6.5-inch display. Colors are vibrant, videos look great even if they do either get cropped in or show black bars, and touch sensitivity is as good as ever. We got improved speakers this year, notably with a better represented 3D soundstage. When we played back music and movies, there were times we noticed a difference, and others we didn't. The biggest change to audio is probably to the quality of the speaker audio coming out of the grill positioned in the True Depth Camera. This better speaker audio comes with the ability to finally record stereo audio in videos, which is the bigger deal for us. The numbers and the specs We're getting to the same point in mobile devices that we've been on the computer side of the market for several years now. Just about anything relatively modern will accomplish nearly everything any given user wants to do. Specs aren't everything -- but are worth mentioning. Apple is generally tight-lipped about the numbers in most of its advertising and roll-out events. But, this doesn't mean that they obscure them after the fact, or they can't be measured. The iPhone XS Max has a HDR 6.5-inch Super Retina HD display at 2688 by 1242, at 458 pixels per inch. The display is also HDR, spans the DCI-P3 color range, has a 624 cd/m2 max brightness, and a 1,000,000 to 1 typical contrast ratio. The A12 Bionic is new, and it is paired with not just the flash storage in 64GB, 256GB, or 512GB, but also 4GB of LPDDR4 RAM -- a new high on the iPhone. The TrueDepth camera system, responsible for not just selfies but also for Face ID is a 7MP shooter, with f2.2 aperture. Most photography will be done with the rear-mounted dual-12MP camera system. It is improved somewhat from the iPhone X with a larger sensor leading to better low-light performance even before software assists, a f1.8 aperture for wide-angle, and a f2.4 for telephoto. The optical zoom remains at 2x, with a digital zoom up to 10x Our review unit is a 256GB iPhone XS Max in gold. Handling the iPhone XS Max How the iPhone XS Max feels in our hands is far and away the question we get asked the most. There have been jokes made about how massive the iPhone XS Max actually is. Here's the thing, though -- it's actually a hair smaller than the iPhone Plus models, but a bit more dense. Sure, anyone with a smaller hand might struggle carrying this thing about, but no more so than they might have with the Plus line of phones introduced with the iPhone 6 Plus. The weight of the iPhone XS Max is largely due to the stainless steel frame rather than the aluminum. The glossy stainless sides and glass facing sides have a somewhat slippery finish, so the weight can either give you a little extra feedback to help you hang on to it, or be a problem making it drop from a hand more often, user depending. Throwing a case on can also alleviate the slipperiness, but if you have a tendency to "go naked" and eschew protection, it could possibly be an issue. Fortunately, the iPhone XS Max and iPhone XS have feature parity, including screen quality. There is no obvious feature you get by going with the 6.5-inch iPhone XS Max over the 5.8-inch iPhone XS other than screen area. The only exception to this is Apple claiming a slightly increased battery life which we aren't really seeing in actual use, but with the ubiquity of wireless chargers and MFi battery cases, this isn't much of an issue. Unleashing the photo bug We spend an inordinate amount of time snapping pics with our iPhone. That's why an increase in quality -- any increase in quality -- grabs our attention. If you need just a few words about the camera in the iPhone XS Max it is this -- it is better than the X, but not necessarily enough to warrant a whole upgrade on its own. What is new this year, is the pixel size. On the wide-angle camera, the larger sensor is equipped with a 1.4-micrometer pixel pitch, increased from 1.22-micrometer on the year ago sensor. By increasing pixel depth by nearly 20-percent, it allows the pixel to capture more light, helping with low-light photography. Apple has also coupled the updated eight-core Neural Engine with the A12 Bionic to help master photography. Apple says that this helps with things like facial recognition, facial landmarks, and image segmentation during Portrait Mode photos. We immediately noticed quicker shutter speeds, and no lag when we went to take photos. When we shot in Portrait Mode, it was able to enable the Portrait effect quicker and identify the subject in less time that on our X. We took to the outdoors to get some sample photos and were pretty impressed. The photos look outstanding on their own, but when we compare certain ones to the X, there is both more and less difference. When we max out the digital zoom to 10X, we notice that the iPhone X actually has a bit more detail. The Neural Engine smoothing effects in the iPhone XS appear to be a bit more aggressive in an attempt to make a more pleasing picture. When you are in fact shooting something that is supposed to be a bit more sharp -- like these cliffs or a building -- you don't necessarily want so much smoothing going on. When we talked about specs, we said that these deeper pixels should help low light performance, and that appears to be exactly what has happened. Low light shots do appear a bit brighter, even when not using the flash. Speaking of the flash, that too got an update. The updated True Tone flash should help photos look more natural, but we use the flash so seldom it was hard to really tell. Looking at them externally, you notice it isn't quite as pink on the two lower LEDs, but otherwise it seems quite similar. Not all that glitters is gold There are new colors this year, which will make some people happy, but gold can be a polarizing color. Luckily Apple has kept it subtle as they have in the past. The gold coloring isn't the stereotypical vivid yellow gold, but more of a relaxed hue. It isn't quite copper, nor is it rose gold, but somewhere in between. Apple offsets the glossy stainless steel gold band with a slightly tinted back glass that looks good, even for those of us who aren't usually fans. Connectivity and charging Wi-Fi is present as always, with a 4x4 MIMO antenna. Again this is something that the utility of will depend, based on what networking environment you have. In everyday use, we're seeing better Wi-Fi connectivity, and about 50 percent faster transfers with the better antenna system, versus the iPhone 7 and iPhone 8. The entire iPhone XS family also has support for Gigabit LTE which is of varying use in the United States depending on where you live. Additionally, the iPhone XS is the first iPhone to support T-Mobile's 600MHz "Band 71" LTE which will be of most help to urban users with skyscrapers causing wireless shadows of bad reception. Practically, the Gigabit LTE is impressive from a speed standpoint. In a Washington DC suburb, our iPhone XS Max saw just over double the download speed on AT&T's network in nearly every environment. All in all, just about every user will see a speed increase from the new modem and antenna system in the iPhone XS series. How much of a difference depends on about a thousand different variables. Bluetooth 5.0 remains unchanged from the 2017 crop of iPhones. Users coming from more than a year away will see some benefits, but not loads as Bluetooth 4.2 was pretty solid in its own right. Like Apple took heat for including a 15W charger with the 12.9-inch iPad Pro, it should take the same heat for the 5W charger with the iPhone XS Max. From a cabling perspective, Apple has still refused to ship a USB-C to Lightning cable in the box. While there is some debate at AppleInsider about this topic, I don't think that the iPhone needs to adopt USB-C. The future is wireless, so instead of inconveniencing its whole user base with an intermediary port type on the path to get to that future, Apple should stick to Lightning, but adopt USB-C on the other end. This cable is already sold separately, but no reason it shouldn't be included in the box, especially on a plus-sized phone that could use the faster charging it affords. Eye to today, and the future Apple has done a great job with the iPhone XS Max. It is quite frankly, the best iPhone Apple has ever made. That statement doesn't carry much weight though, as every year Apple introduces to the world the "best iPhone" they've ever made. It is as true this year as it was last year. It still is at its core, an iPhone. If you've been fans of the iPhone in the past, you will certainly love the latest model. It has the most tech ever packed into an iPhone that, seems to be more looking towards the future rather than being perfect just today. From a usability standpoint, all the apps that took advantage of the features of the iPhone X all run here on the iPhone XS Max. They certainly load a bit quicker, but for instance, Fortnite is not necessarily any more playable here than on last year's iPhones, nor will Pages complete your task any better than it did before. The Neural Engine seems like a set-up for something. Sure, it helps take better pictures now, and we believe it also assists in parallelizing calculations across the A12 cores a bit better than previously, but it feels like untapped potential at the moment. Better Siri? Enhanced user security protections? Don't know for sure yet, but it'll be a fun ride. So, which? This is a complicated question. The iPhone XS family is a powerhouse, but so is the iPhone 8 and iPhone 8 Plus, and the iPhone X. And, frankly, the vast majority of the smartphone using population is probably fine on an older iPhone from a performance standpoint, after the release of iOS 12. Those iPhone 6 users, should they choose to upgrade, will see an amazing increase in every aspect of the iPhone, though. Users of the iPhone X will see less, obviously. Long ago, when the iPhone first launched, Steve Jobs told the world that this one device replaced many others, with a single, pocketable unit. Today, the iPhone still encompasses dozens of stand-alone devices like cameras, audio recorders, iPods, and more -- and it is rapidly becoming the device of choice for many users, with them leaving behind "trucks" like desktop computers and powerful laptops. The iPhone XS Max is an amazing device, packed with loads of technology in very much the same way the original iPhone was. It is a phone without hardware compromise, with an equally uncompromising price. Apple's iPhone XS Max is presently the ultimate expression of a single device to encompass all of your tech needs, without a briefcase full of gadgets. Rating: 4.5 out of 5 stars Deals on the iPhone XS Max If you haven't already ordered Apple's iPhone XS Max, wireless carriers are incentivizing the purchase. Want to get your hands on a new device asap? eBay sellers are also shipping units now. AT&T Wireless: Buy one iPhone XS or iPhone XS Max, get a second $700 off when you add a line. Verizon Wireless: Buy one iPhone XS or iPhone XS Max, get a second $700 off when you add a line. Or save $100 with an eligible trade. T-Mobile: Save up to $300 on the iPhone XS Max with an eligible trade. https://goo.gl/APPFM4

[and03109-blog]

Privacy: do we want it all, or just some?

              It happened – we are in that future scenario that movies loved to portray where everybody is connected at all times. We are constantly logging our thoughts, interactions, purchases, and location on the internet with little handheld computers that are almost never out of arm’s reach. This information is pretty much on the internet for good even though we try to pretend there is not permanence online. When some people have this realization, they get scared. That’s most people, actually; you’d be hard-pressed to find somebody that is thrilled about their information being online forever. This might not be the actual issue, though. I’d argue that the problem we are all worried about is whether or not people can get access to our thoughts, conversations, purchasing habits, or – worst of all – our search history. Many internet users wonder what possible good could come of people knowing all of this, but then many of those same people will argue that in certain contexts it should all be available. Do we really want complete privacy? Or do we just think we do?               First I’ll present an argument of why we don’t actually want complete privacy, citing the recent Apple vs FBI case. This took place in 2016 following the mass shooting in San Bernadino, California in December 2015. For a nation that saw mass shooting after mass shooting, this instance served as a hard blow to the already open wound we had. Arguing that it would help them find out more about this shooting and prevent future attacks, the FBI asked Apple to help them decrypt the suspect’s iPhone. Apple designed the iPhone’s operating systems to be secure to the extent that not even they could access them, and Apple would have to engineer a way in for the FBI to gain access. This would essentially mean the FBI could get in to every single iPhone, and Apple was resistant to being complicit in the breaching of all iPhone users’ privacy. While Apple and the FBI publicly debated about the ethics of this situation, the FBI found a 3rd party to take care of the job and will not share the specifics of how this was done. This was a highly polarizing issue, and just over half of the US seemed to support the unlocking of the San Bernadino shooter’s phone. Many people felt that if the right organization had access to people’s phones, something like this would never happen again. There is definitely a case to be made there, and it’s as simple as general surveillance. If we are able to add one more platform to the list in which we can intercept communications, we are much more likely to be able to prevent attacks like this in the future.  We can take this argument and extend it further to internet use in general, and what we could accomplish, or prevent, should our government have access to people’s internet usage history. Here’s another example: a child has just been abducted, and we know who took them. Now, nothing more could be done than putting out an amber alert and hoping they are spotted and reported. If the government had a means by which they could remotely access the phone, the efforts to find them would be immensely focused and much more effective.

              Now, a lighter explanation of why we don’t want privacy: ease of use. Having information stored about us online makes the entire action of going online many, many times easier. We can go to a website and already be logged in to our account, or we can go to a classifieds website like craigslist and already have our specific location put in. Shopping services like Amazon can predict what, and when in certain cases, you need to buy and give you alternatives based on your logged preferences. Spotify can recommend music to you, and Yelp can suggest restaurants that you might like. All of these services rely on you providing your information, whether it is personal information or just your habits and preferences. If we opted for complete privacy, none of this could work. Every time you visit a website or open an app, it’d be a blank slate.

              Maybe we do want privacy, though. If the government has this master key to access all of our iPhones, do we really think they can be responsible with it? Can we trust them to get it right every time? Here’s a hypothetical situation to argue that the answer to those questions is no. You are a junior in high school, and your history teacher has given you an assignment to do a report on the losing side of a war. Given that the most recent events are the easiest for you to get your head around, you decide to consider the Iraq War. As you dive into your research, you start searching terms like “weapons of mass destruction”, “Iraq”, “Sadam Hussein”, and “Hussein loyalists”. Somewhere along the line you decide it would benefit your report as a whole if you include an analysis of the opponents’ justifications of their side of the conflict. You begin to research related terms, and this sets off alerts on government computers. It just so happens that your father immigrated from Lebanon a few years before you were born, and they start to connect dots that aren’t meant to be connected. They use their software to access your phone and sift through your conversations, and they find nothing to actually imply the terrorist activity they suspected. At that point, it doesn’t matter that they found out they were wrong – they already invaded your privacy. You didn’t do anything wrong, but your information is no longer your own. The government got it wrong, and it will get it wrong again. Even so, getting it wrong won’t stop them from collecting your information.

              Again, a more relatable version of why we want privacy. Facebook has long had the capability to detect people’s faces in pictures. It will often recommend to tag somebody in a picture before you even start to type their name. In 2016, Facebook rolled out new software that has the ability to detect objects, settings, actions, and physical characteristics. Facebook runs every single photo through this software, and identifies things and actions such as people smiling, beards, people sitting down, trees, shoes, and other simple nouns and verbs. We upload pictures to share them with the people we decided to give access to through our privacy settings, but these settings cannot stop Facebook’s computers from identifying who and what is in the pictures we put online. They may have a ways to go, but Facebook is quickly gaining the ability to see who is doing what with what and where in every picture on the site. The object identification software will be able to work directly in conjunction with Facebook’s facial recognition abilities, and they do not tell us what they do with this data. I am looking forward to sharing graduation pictures with my grandma on Facebook when that finally happens, but I want that to be safe from anybody attempting to collect and log that data.

              Alright, this got long. But there’s no short way to explain this issue, and the conclusion I am trying to lead you to is that there is no right answer.  I’d argue for total and complete privacy, but I think there are instances in which government access could help us as a society. However, I don’t have enough faith in the people allowing this access to trust that they would always get it right. Maybe we could come up with a set of qualifications that a situation must meet in order for privacy to be breached, but how could we know that it would stop there. Once something is put into the digital world, it is permanent. If we come up with a way to breach a qualified suspect’s digital security, we cannot magically make that method disappear and be unusable immediately after. However, I enjoy a certain level of lacking privacy. I like opening up craigslist to spend hours looking at cars and already having my location and past searches in there. I do not think that we currently have a way to meet in the middle, and we won’t for decades to come. Unfortunately, most of the decisions made regarding this issue will likely be made for us. I’ll just have to find ways to deal with it.

 Sources: http://www.cnbc.com/2016/03/29/apple-vs-fbi-all-you-need-to-know.html

https://www.forbes.com/sites/nelsongranados/2016/03/21/how-the-apple-vs-fbi-battle-is-dangerously-polarizing-public-opinion/#656919b02f54

https://venturebeat.com/2016/08/26/facebook-open-sources-software-to-help-machines-understand-the-content-of-images/