#yes big corporation dodgy

[commissionsdarian]

No that sucks

Ok firstly, fuck you

[auspicioustidings]

141 fighting each other to be the one whose lap reader sits on during a meeting or smth

CONGRATS ON 1kkkk

Thanks <3 Please find silly nonsense below!

Tomfoolery Senses

Words: 1k

CWs: Slightly spicy but nothing explicit

Honestly you shouldn’t even be on base, not with your knee being how it was. It was annoying as hell that the recovery time meant you were out of the field for the foreseeable, but they still needed you. You may not be able to run around with a gun right now, but tactical was always your strong point anyway so for now you attended meetings and made plans.

You walked into one such meeting and your tomfoolery senses immediately went off. There were too many glinting eyes for them not to have pulled something, and when you went to sit down you nearly laughed out loud at the bloody audacity. No empty seats. Strange since there should be some, almost as if someone had relocated them beforehand specifically for some ridiculous purpose.

“Ye can sit here bonnie!”

It took a moment for your brain to catch up. Soap was very much patting his lap in excitement. The last time you had ended up in that man's lap his hand had wandered during the entire meeting. You recalled being a mess by the end of it and Soap being very much like the cat who got the cream about it because he knew it meant when he followed to your room like a puppy you would let him in.

“Move your arse MacTavish, I’m injured and I need the seat.”

“Wouldnae dream of it! As ye’ll recall, I also have a dodgy knee. Only right for us tae stick together.”

“Surely you’re not asking them to sit on your dodgy knee then Johnny? Come on sweetheart, right here.”

You gave Ghost a bemused look. Soap you expected this from, but him? Actually no, you had very much been overwatch for 141 missions, this is exactly the kind of nonsense you expected of this idiot.

“Now I would love to, but weren’t you just telling me about your bad back? I seem to remember something about needing me to massage it. It would be irresponsible of me to risk making it worse.”

“Your massage fixed it right up actually" he replied, large hand patting thick thigh in further invitation.

You rolled your eyes. Your “massage” had lasted about a minute with you sincerely giving it your best effort before he had pinned you down and given you a very thorough massaging of his own. Only that one had done the opposite of fixing your back, if anything you'd say he had in fact blown it out.

“That so? You were complaining about it right before they walked in” Gaz said, smug as anything even while Ghost glared over at him.

“He's a lying git luv, obviously just looking to get a gorgeous thing in his lap. My lap, however, is neutral.”

You knew for a fact his lap was not neutral, not one bit. His lap was very much the kind of lap that you found yourself bouncing on anytime he got you alone and charmed you right into it. You could be in the middle of a training exercise, fully in the zone, and next thing you knew you were stuffed full of Kyle bloody Garrick in the middle of a safehouse where anyone could wander in at any moment. It wasn't like you were a big risk taker, but he could make you think anything was a good idea.

“A veritable Switzerland I'm sure.”

“Safest place to be really.”

“Look me in the eye and say that with a straight face then.”

Soap and Ghost groaned in tandem as you made the mistake of looking at Gaz. That bloody sunshine smile could sell ice in the Arctic and as such everyone usually avoided eye contact when they knew he wanted something. Charisma score above 20 that boy. Honestly these fuckers were the worst, but oh Gaz's big brown eyes were just smiling so gently at you and surely he would never do anything untoward. How could you look at this man and think he would ever manipulate you?

“Corporal, come ‘ere, that's an order.”

Gaz's sunshine expression turned to one of wry disbelief. He had been so close, you had been about to take a step towards him. It was awfully unsportsmanlike for Price to pull rank, something Gaz would be holding against him.

“So much for honour.”

“Cheeky fucker.”

“Just taking the piss Captain.”

It wasn't completely unfounded for Price to use his rank to get what he wanted when it came to you, it was why usually the others would try to get you away from him. Ghost did it sometimes too if he wasn't there and the Sergeants were. Although he didn't use it quite as thoroughly as Price did once he got you alone. The Captain was always happy to give you orders if only so he could punish you when you bit back, which you did often. Not because you enjoyed the punishment, that certainly wasn't it. You could not supply another reason, but that was besides the point.

“Well I suppose I have to since you're the Captain, unless there was someone that technically had more authority to give me orders” you said with a grin.

“Come on now pet, don't be like that, just come sit and we can start the meeting hm?” he said, using that voice that was right in the middle of soothing dominance and rough command in a last ditch effort.

“Of course Captain, just want to clear it with command first.”

Price sighed, glancing over and seeing that he had lost the fight when he was met with Kate's sly little smile. She was often your saviour when it came to these men. It helped that her and her lovely wife were both sweet on you. They had invited you round for dinner once or twice, and suffice to say the very delicious home cooked meals were not the only thing getting eaten. If there was one thing the men in the 141 hated more than losing to one another, it was losing to Laswell. She was always so annoyingly smug about being your favourite.

As you settled right down in her lap and both the meeting and Kate's hands gently massaging at your waist started, the 141 collectively thought that next time they'd better bring you a damn chair.

[breezypunk]

Through The Years

Bakkers - 2069 (19 Yrs Old) Certified Dumpster thief.

At 2 years old, Vaughn was adopted by the Bakkers clan. Never knowing his own parents, and barely seeing his own sister even though she was adopted by the same clan, Vaughn was pretty much on his own. Even though he made a new found family with his clan, he was always the type of person who preferred independence. He never liked being around huge crowds, and was known for lurking in the shadows and doing his own thing. Although he liked his privacy and alone time, he was always there to help out anyone who needed it and was a very positive influence on the clan, and they knew they could always count on Vaughn to be there whenever they needed him. Until than of course, you could find him roaming around the desert, and local rest stops dumpster diving like the little dirt boy he is.

Street Rat - 2074 (24 Yrs Old) Certified Rat Man

After escaping the Bakkers in his early 20′s, Vaughn made his way to Night City, where he met and confided in fellow street kid, Jackie Welles. Jackie gave him a job, and a new life to live after the hell he went through with his old clan. Vaughn knew he could trust Jackie with his darkest secrets, and felt thankful for having a true friend through his hardest times, but just like how he was growing up, Vaughn preferred to roam the back alleys and live in tents rather than homes. Even after Jackie offered him a room with a comfy bed, Vaughn’s life even in Night City, it didn’t change much.

Rebellious Merc - 2077 (27 Yrs Old) Certified Wannabe Bad Boy

Konpeki did more than kill him literally, it destroyed him emotionally. His anxiety was worse than it had ever been, and now that he had Johnny Silverhand nagging him in his mind 24/7, Vaughn needed something to get him away from his thoughts, and Johnny’s. He looked for local Fixer’s to do dodgy merc jobs for, even if it meant doing unthinkable things, killing and torture were his specialties. He had no remorse, nothing could stop him either, although somewhere deep down inside, he knew what he was doing wasn’t who he was. He was filling a void, and it’d take a very big positive change to help him stop coping.

Netrunner Era - 2078 (28 Yrs Old) Certified Night City Legend

That positive change came in the form of a new found family. After figuring out a way to live with the chip inside his brain, and knowing both him and Johnny would survive, Vaughn was finally able to breathe. Of course he wasn’t out of the woods yet when it came to danger, it always found him. But he found a new way to keep himself and those he loved safe. Netrunning was a passion of his, he found the time to get good at the skill, eventually becoming one of the most well known netrunner’s in Night City. Hating guns, and only being good at throwing knives, using quickhacks was probably his best trait at getting rid of the bad boys. Way to make a name for yourself, kiddo.

Aldecaldos - 2080 (30 Yrs Old) Certified Friend & Lover

After being asked to Join the Aldecaldos, Vaughn was terrified. He was honored, but scared. He had such a bad experience when he left the Bakkers, they weren’t accepting of him, but the Aldecaldos were, and it took Vaughn a while to realize how much of a family clan they truly were. Knowing this was a once in a lifetime chance to finally be happy, he grabbed Takemura, the absolute love of his life, and hauled ass to the badlands to join a group of individuals who wanted to give Vaughn and Goro the life they truly deserved. No more sadness, no more hate, no more loyalty to a corporation meant to destroy you. Vaughn was finally happy, and didn’t have to worry about whether anyone truly cared about him, cos he was cared for more than he could possibly imagine.

--

Yes this is a long post, sorry. I saw some people doing this a little while ago, and thought I’d jump in a little late. Vaughn is very precious to me, so I wanna be sure to do him justice. To those who did the “through the years” posts, thanks for the inspo. ♥ Happy Male V Monday!

[hatchetfieldtheories]

melissa and nora went enemies to lovers

Part Five of the CCRP Boss Melissa series? Don't mind if I do. Links to the previous parts of this are in my pinned post.

Sure, they know CCRP is dodgy. Most residents of Hatchetfield are vaguely aware CCRP are not just some vague corporate building, doing some vague corporate stuff. Too much weird stuff goes on there. But for the most part, the citizens of Hatchetfield have enough going on, and they turn a blind eye - if it isn't hurting them, it can't be anything bad. Right?

What the people of this small town aren't aware of however, is that its not the only shady business around them. They should really cotton on to it - no-one ever goes to Beanies for the coffee - the coffee is awful, the baristas either rude or off in their own worlds, and sometimes they just sang at you, which to be honest, was mildly disturbing. Yet it was almost always full. Full of business men, who, though regulars in the town, none of the residents could place their faces.

This is becoming quite long - more under the cut

Six years ago, Nora was excelling in her molecular biology class at college. Always in the top two students, and always with her hand up, eager to answer all the questions the professor threw at them.

The issue was the other top student in the class. Melissa.

They were always vying for the top grade in class assignments, and to firmly get on Nora's last nerve, she never saw Melissa do any work. She was never in the library, she never answered questions in class, and she always seemed a bit surprised when the professor reminded them to hand their assignment in at the end of the day. Yet, each time, the top two grades belonged to them - and sometimes Melissa was number 1.

Melissa equally hated Nora. The campus busybody, always poking into her business trying to find out what she was up to.

"Why don't you ever work in the library."

I don't think what I'm working on is particularly library friendly.

"Mind your own business."

It carried on like this the rest of the year. Nora working her ass off and never seeing Melissa doing anything. Them arguing and yelling at each other for the most trivial of things, usually prompted by Melissa scoring a superior grade, or Nora almost finding out too much about Melissa's secret life.

Thank god, they both thought, as soon as I graduate I won't have to see her anymore.

---

Four years ago, Melissa had been in the planning stages of CCRP. She had the plans down - create a vague business model, something solid enough to not raise questions, but simple enough that it wouldn't need a very big on the ground work force, once well established, hire the right scientists for the experiments.

She was looking through her paperwork, looking at the list of hires - people she had been informed knew the work - and wouldn't question the... ethics... of it - when a name jumped out at her. She hadn't met with any of the hires - she had people to run her ship for her, choosing instead to be the faceless boss. But she may just break that rule for this employee.

"So, you're the one running this morally dubious operation?"

"You spent all that time back at college wondering what I was up to - do you feel better now you know?"

"Not particularly - why did you want to see me anyway? My understanding was the mysterious boss never saw any of their hired help."

Melissa smiled - "my plans are foolproof to ensure we will reach our goal. But..." she leaned towards Nora, as though scared someone would overhear them. "I am just a bit stuck on one last detail. Think of it like... a watch tower, I guess. I need someone out there, watching the residents, watching my workers, as well as being an inconspicuous place for my visitors to sit, and observe."

Her smile widened.

"Most importantly, I need someone I can trust running it."

---

"You want to turn Beanies into a singing coffee shop?"

"Yes."

"Ok, talk me through this one - how is a singing coffee shop inconspicuous?"

"That one you want to keep a close eye on - Peter... Patrick... Picasso?"

Melissa sighed at her partner. "Paul."

"Him. I watched him when our student baristas performed the songs from one of their musicals outside the shop last week. He looked terrified."

Nora had been in her element. She had joined CCRP as a molecular biologist, and wasn't initially pleased when she essentially became a coffee shop owner instead, but she had found she had a knack for it. Plus, her work spying on the residents of Hatchetfield, and more recently, Paul, had meant that she got to have regular meetings with Melissa. Over the years those meetings had gone from strictly professional, to... well sometimes professional. When she looked at her partner, she found it hard to believe she once hated that brilliant mind. She grabbed her love's hand, turning it over in her own, an unconscious habit Melissa had noticed when Nora was particularly excited.

"All I'm saying - if you want to find out what makes him tick - stick him in a musical. Well, a musical coffee shop anyway."

Ask: Send me a ridiculous Hatchetfield Theory, and I will make it make sense... or turn it into an almost mini fic apparently.

[walled-flwr]

NATIONAL CITY DREAMS

[15 years into a Supercorp future... Kara and Lena are married with two children, 14 year-old daughter Athena Danvers - Luthor, and 10-year-old son, Leo Danvers - Luthor. Kara is still National City's hero and is head of Cat Co., Lena runs L Corp and is the most successful woman on the hemisphere. The kids are growing up, but there are some challenges to raising a Supercorp family]

LENA

I'm running late again. Damn it! I type furiously on my pad, keeping a surreptitious eye on the digital clock. I can't miss dinner for the fourth time this week. I know Kara says she understands (and she is the most understanding wife a woman could have), but I don't want this to become a pattern. Athena just shrugs - she's too cool for words and emotions - and goes back to her computer. Leo - my sweet baby boy - I can feel his heart break every time I cancel.

Edge International has been dodgy, what else would I expect? My phone rings, once, twice. I try to ignore it and focus on work so I can close this chapter for today, but it's my personal line. It could be Kara checking in. I pause in my work and look at the Caller ID.

Headmaster Sheffield, St. Genevieve's Prep.

I frown. Why is the kids' principal calling me? Has something happened to Athena or Leo? Hurriedly, I hit answer and put the phone to my ear.

"Headmaster Sheffield," I say, trying to keep my voice level. "Is something wrong? Has anything happened to Athena and Leo?"

Sheffield clears his throat. When he speaks, it's measured and cool. "In a manner of speaking, Mrs. Danvers Luthor."

I wait impatient him for him to get to it.

"Athena and Leo have been in an altercation."

My eyes widen and I groan. Not this again, I think. Athena has been having problems at school, and sometimes, she lashes out. This is a first for Leo, however.

I clear my own throat. "Altercation? I'll need you to be more specific."

"She punched a girl in the face. Miss. Somers needed medical attention for her bloody nose."

"And you're sure that this was Athena's fault?" I ask, immediately defensive.

"Mrs. Danvers Luthor, there were witnesses. Athena threw the first punch. You'll need to come and collect them both. They've been suspended for the rest of the week."

"What was Leo's role in all of this?" I pinch my temple, bracing for the worst.

"Apparently, he attacked a student who was trying to intervene, as well as using despicable language. We don't tolerate that here at St. Genevieve's Prep."

"Of course." I get to my feet, and snatch my handbag. This isn't how I envisioned the day going, but my children need me.

"Your wife has already been notified. I'd like to have the two of you in here tomorrow morning for a P.T.A conference to discuss Athena and Leo's future at our establishment." And with that, he hangs up.

I'm pensive on the drive across town to Athena and Leo's school. My first instinct is to be angry, disappointed. Being a Luthor means Living under a microscope. Kara and I sat Athena and Leo down as soon as they were old enough to understand. Because you're a Luthor, everyone automatically expects the worse from you. Hell, their uncle and grandmother are supervillains! Luthor's have to be careful, methodical, and most of all, cool. Brawling is unbecoming of Luthors. In the midst of my annoyance, I hear Kara's voice. She's gentle and understanding, and loving. Kara doesn't expect perfection, but humanity. She'd be upset, understandably, but she'd also listen to our children.

I channel my wife's positive as I drive into St. Genevieve's Prep. I spot Athena and Leo sitting under the statue. Athena, my beautiful girl, with her golden hair and thoughtful brown eyes. She is currently cradling Leo's dark head in her lap, and looking distastefully to where a group of girls have gathered to whisper.

Poor babies, I smile. But they're my babies,and I have to protect them. Leo spots me first and runs to hug me tightly. He buries his face in me and I squeeze him back. I love how he's never ashamed to show his affection, and I dread the day when he's grown up.

"Darling," I kiss the top of his head, and he looks up at me with those hazel eyes. "What have you been up to, little rabble rouser?"

Leo says in earnest, "I was protecting, Athena, Mom. That's what we do, right? We protect each other."

I smile, and kiss his forehead. "Of course, Sweet boy. We protect each other. Go on, in the car." Leo obeys, and I face Athena who's looking unsure. She looks so much like Kara, the angelic trusting face, but she's like me in so many other ways. It's not easy being a Luthor in high school, I know that from personal experience.

Athena lifts her chin as she comes to my front. "If you're going to tell at me, Mom, just get it over with."

I sigh and shake my head. "It's easier to yell and blame than to talk about how we're feeling."

Athena frowns. "OK, you're sounding like Mom."

"Good or bad?"

"I don't know..." Athens tucks a lock of her blond hair behind her ear and shuffles her feet. "I wasn't planning on hitting her, Mom. Ally was just saying all of these horrible things, dumb tabloid lies about you and... I just got so..."

"Angry?" I finish and she nods. "You're a Luthor. I know all about that game." I pull her in for a hug,and kiss the top of her head. "My beautiful, brave super girl," I say, and hear her sniffle. "You do your best not to make waves, but I'll never be angry with you for standing up for yourself. Ok?" Athena pulls back to look at me. Her green eyes are damp and she smiles. "What do you say to some Big Belly Burger? And all the ice cream we can gorge ourselves on?" My daughter grins and nods, before walking to the car.

I smile, feeling easier. There'll have to be a stern talk later, but for now, I just want to enjoy my children. My phone rings, this time it's Kara.

"Crisis Averted, Mrs Danvers Luthor," I say as I pick up. I hear Kara's laugh in the other end. "I knew I could count on you. What was it?"

"Long story short, our kids were doing what Luthors do best."

"Raising Hell?"

"While defending each other," I add. "I'm taking them out for some burgers and ice cream. Can you get away for some time?"

Kara groans in distress. "I had an impromptu session at the DEO. I can't get away."

"It's OK, Darling," I say, looking back at the car. Athena and Leo are joking around, and I smile. "I haven't had alone time with Athena and Leo in a while. I'll seize the opportunity."

"You're a great mom, Lena."

"I take inspiration from you," I smile. "I'm sorry I've been AWOL, Kara. You save the world, run Cat. Co and still make it in time for dinner and bath, I'm in awe of you."

"Kryptonian DNA."

"I love you, Kara."

"Not as much as I love you," she says, her voice lowering.

"Not possible," I murmur. "But, I'd like to show you just how much I appreciate and cherish you. What do you say to a weekend in Helsinki? Just the two of us?"

"Lena," Kara gasps, and I feel her brain working overtime. "But ..."

"Elizabeth hasn't seen Athena and Leo in months. I'm sure the kids will love some Midvale time. And what good is both of us being the heads of multinational corporations if we can't take some very much needed boss time off?"

"Lena, you're amazing. Yes."

"That's all I needed to hear," I grin. "I promise--"

I'm interrupted by the sound of a car horn. Leo is in the driver's seat looking very impatient.

"You owe two hungry kids some Big Belly Burger," Kara teases me. "Better get to it."

"See you at home?"

"Sure. I love you, Mrs Danvers Luthor."

"I love you, Mrs Danvers Luthor."

[olehistorian]

PHYLLIS Logan is only minutes back from New York where the actress has been promoting the new Downton Abbey movie. The national station PBS has been beaming out interviews across the nation, given the series about toffs and toff-servers has been such an success in the classless land of the free.

Logan’s voice is soft and a little subdued. She speaks in thumbnails, not given to flourishes at all. I factor in that the expansive, often dramatic language of hyperbole was spoken by very few in Renfrewshire in the 1950s and 1960s (yet actors tend to be more effusive). And I factor in jetlag of course.

But then again, perhaps there’s a little more of her laconic head housekeeper character Mrs Hughes in Phyllis Logan than we’d suspected? “Well, I can be a bit snippy, a bit terse,” she offers, smiling. “But only to my nearest and dearest.” Would Kevin (actor husband Kevin McNally) agree with that? “Probably,” she says, dryly.

Logan’s thoughts on the Mrs Hughes comparison continues: “She was written down in the script, of course, but I like to think I gave her the legs to run. But when you play a character there are always elements of you in that person. You can’t completely step away from yourself.”

Downton is a phenomenal television success story. The series, which began eight years ago featuring the Crawley family and their legion of servants, began with the Titanic going down, and has covered plague, rape, murder, interwoven with romance, often crossing the class barriers.

Logan’s character was voted No 1 Ever in a 2014 Radio Times poll; no mean feat given the subdued nature of Mrs H, a woman to whom flashes of excitement are to be discouraged as much as relations with those upstairs.

Yet, the original script described Elsie Hughes as a Yorkshire woman. Logan reveals it was only when the casting directors heard the Scot’s natural voice that they asked her to read in her own accent. “I was happy when she was cast as a Scot. She had that Scottish bluntness and I felt right because I have known women like her.”

During the six series of Downton, Mrs Hughes negotiated Branson the chauffeur’s assassination attempt, Carson’s Spanish flu and helped Ethel with her illegitimate Upstairs son, Charlie. The psychologist with an apron also sorted out Thomas’s homosexuality. And although she fell for Mr Carson, (or at least lurched slightly in his direction) it took a bit of persuasion before she agreed to a “full” marriage, where he would make occasional visits downstairs.

“We all know those types,” grins Logan. “But what’s nice about her is she does have a sense of humour. And she’s quite forward thinking. She’s a republican, and has a socialist bent to her for sure.”

Does Logan have left-wing sympathies, considering her late father, an engineer, was a trade unionist? She deflects by referring to Mrs Hughes. “She was of a different type. She knew people were thrown into a caste system but had to make the best of it.”

Yes, but what about you, Phyllis? Did you feel working class containment in Johnstone, where most people’s horizons didn't stretch beyond Rootes car plant or the local carpet factory (where John Byrne took inspiration for The Slab Boys – Logan appeared in the sequel, Cuttin’ A Rug)?

“You just accepted the way things were,” she says, sounding ever so Mrs Hughes. “I never thought I’d break out and become posh. But I did think it would be nice to spread my wings a little.”

Just a little? She smiles and adds: “But I didn’t audition for some of the big London drama schools. I thought that was a step too far for me at the time so I went to Glasgow.”

Not a risk taker. Not a wild child. But very, very good at what she does. Despite her careers teacher declaring the teenager was wasting her time with acting, Logan picked up the James Bridie Gold Medal at the RSAMD. On leaving she landed work at Dundee Rep and worked continuously throughout the 1970s and 1980s with the likes of Borderline Theatre. Real talent was revealed. Yet few would have expected her to land the role of Britain’s most popular posh totty in dodgy antiques dealer series Lovejoy.

Aged 30 in 1986, Logan walked into an audition room as Lady Felsham. Logan’s Lady had a cut-glass accent, spoke authoritatively of renaissance art and invoked a world of stately homes and castles. But in reality, Logan’s only castle connection was her housing scheme, Johnstone Castle, where the recognised art on living room walls was a classic Sara Moon picture. This new cut-glass accent had somehow emerged from a world where ginger bottles were a form of currency.

Logan’s clever deception (aided by being forced to speak RP at drama college) revealed that you don’t have to be a loud extrovert to be emboldened enough to convince you are actually blue blooded: you just need to be talented. “I can’t believe looking back now that 20 million were watching us on Sunday nights. The show was so huge.”

Many other drama successes followed such as Mike Leigh’s Secrets and Lies. But did she feel Downton would be the massive success it became? “I read the scripts and loved them. And when I heard Maggie Smith and Hugh (Bonneville) and Penelope (Wilton) were on board it looked good. Then we signed an option for three series but there was always the chance it could have gone down the pan after one.” Her voice lifts. “And then six came along.”

Did this kill the fear, the insecurity that comes with being an actor waiting to be hired? She answers indirectly. “It used to be that you always knew that when one job was finishing another would be on its way. But that seems to be far less the case these days. That’s why it was great having that guarantee of six months' work each year. And each time it was like going back to school after the summer holidays and seeing your friends.”

Logan seems the worrying type, so why volunteer for a life of insecurity? “And rejection,” she adds in soft voice. “And I’ve had a certain amount of that.” She thinks for a second and makes a dramatic statement that seems out of character. “You know, I wanted this part in Downton so badly I think I might have given up [acting] had I not got it. I don’t often feel that. Usually I have a what’s-for-you-will-not-go-by-you outlook.”

She laughs and allows herself a little flightiness: “Somehow I felt, ‘This is mine! It’s meant to be.'" She then contains herself and becomes more Mrs Hughes. “No, I felt I’d like to give it a bash.”

Logan certainly didn’t get into acting for the glory. She doesn’t seem to be consumed by ambition or the fripperies of acting success. She had genuinely forgotten she’d won a Bridie Gold Medal, and mention of her Bafta for Another Time, Another Place, (the 1983 Scotswoman falls for Italian POW tragic romance) doesn’t swell her head in the slightest. What she does want, however, is to act. All the time. In all the best roles.

“I just wanted to be the best I could. To find the truth in every role. You don’t think about awards. Acting has been the only thing that remotely interested me since I played Mary in the Nativity play at primary school. Then at Johnstone High I’d join every club that had anything to do with acting and take trips to the Citizens'. I’d be in any play going, starting in the chorus and working my way up to playing Polly in the Boyfriend.”

But, of course, there have been set backs. “My dad [David] didn’t live to see me graduate, [he died, aged 59] and that was a real shame but my mum would come and see all my shows.”

Logan’s voice becomes more upbeat as she tells of how her mum and aunt landed roles in one of her films, when the actress appeared in a drama set in Spain, The Legendary Life of Ernest Hemingway (1989). “My mum Betty and my auntie Margaret came on set to have a look around, and they were asked if they wanted to be extras. They loved the idea of this, and were dressed up as posh ladies with big frocks and they had all the make-up done.

“But it was a night shoot, and the second night as they should have been getting picked up they declared, ‘Oh, pet, we don’t think we’ll bother tonight.’ I thought ‘Have you never heard of continuity? Do you know what this means? I had to tell the director they’d both eaten something dodgy.”

Betty and Margaret clearly weren’t captivated by the acting world. Logan herself once claimed she wasn’t captivated by actors. She said she wouldn’t have one in the house, that they were vain people. But then she met McNally while filming the 1993 miniseries Love and Reason and they fell in love and married.

“What I meant was I’d never get together with one,” she backtracks, grinning. “But in a way it makes real sense. We know the business. And we can help each other. Recently, Kevin was doing three episodes of the missing Dad’s Army scripts (playing Captain Mainwaring) and I read lines with him every night. It meant I got to play every other character in the cast.” McNally must have found it a delight, given his wife’s talent. (She slips into a remarkable Clive Dunn/Corporal Jones voice. “Don’t panic, don’t panic Mr Mannering.”

But if all that sounds a little perfunctory, Logan, who lives in west London, once declared: “There’s an excitement in discovering that you can still fall in love when you’re an ancient old trout.”

There’s little doubt the relationship really works. But the Mrs Hughes cross voice emerges when I ask if Pirates of the Caribbean star McNally, who has appeared in Downton in the past, playing Horace Bryant, has a role this time around? “No, he does not,” she says emphatically, (subtext: he’s had his shot and should be thankful, a sentiment which sits neatly against her husband’s quote of the time: “Phyllis said it was like take-your-husband-to-work day.”

Was she a bit territorial? “Yes,” she smiles. “I was thinking: ‘You don’t get me a part as Johnny Depp’s mother and take me to the Caribbean. So why are you here?’”

What of the Downton film, set in 1927, two years after the end of the series? It transpires tiaras and silver will be polished until they sparkle. “We get a visit from the King and Queen (George V and Queen Mary) and there’s a bit of friction between the Downton team and the Royal household staff. Mr Carson (now on gardening duty) is begged by Lady Mary to help out. The cavalry ride into town!”

And, of course, there will be lashings of scandal, romance and intrigue “that will leave the future of Downton hanging in the balance,” says the official movie site.

But what of the future for Phyllis Logan? Despite running up continuous film and TV series, success, from Taggarts to Rab C Nesbitt, from the more recent The Good Karma Hospital to Girlfriends – and attracting great crits for her West End role earlier this year as Patricia Highsmith in Switzerland – she certainly has Elsie Hughes’ worry gene.

Logan’s run, she feels, could end at any minute.

“It’s a snakes and ladders life,” she says in Mrs Hughes' tones. “Your career can be going really well and suddenly the snake appears. But I guess I’ve been lucky because I persevered.”

Nonsense, Phyllis. Talent kicked in. You don’t get Bridies and Baftas and almost continuous work for perseverance. “It’s lovely of you to say so, but I’m not sure that’s really the case.”

Downton Abbey is out on September 13

[whumpersworld]

Misery and Intrigue

pt. 1 of my box-boy series I have planned, this follows Daniel and his experience not only with Kneeel, but with pet ownership in general.

started by @sweetwhumpandhellacomf and I'd love to get on on the box-boy masterlist @shameless-whumper

prev | next

It had taken a lot of strength to get past his intial nerves, you know. It was an ordeal for him to, an effort; opening the again site that is. It was hard almost for Daniel P. Boyce, the nearly twenty-five year old. He had heard whispers, praising the company on the street, and others joyously exclaiming how much they adore their 'pets', but they had money you see. They had an excess of it, and it took months to save up for the amount needed. Well, for what he wanted specifically. There was no way he was going through some dodgy company no matter how many couplons he has gotten sent. He did have a well paying job, any was lucky enough to be able to work from home, thank god; comumute was hard considering his whole situation with his legs, he just didn't consider himself rich. Rich people bought what they wanted when they wanted, they didn't have to save for anything. Yes he was a bit bitter, but enough of that.

Kneeel, a lesser known but highly praised company caught his eye when he was looking into where to buy his pet from initially. Their products were photographed like models and advertised like dogs, intimate bits artistically covered by the company logo and a description of their best qualities below their photographs. It was interesting, shoping this way. It felt casual though, too casual almost, like he wasn't buying a human pet and was simply purchasing the designer shoes they were wearing. It eased his conscience still and allowed him to shop freely.

His eyes were drawn to a lanky redhead girl and he clicked into the arrow beside the first picture which showed him another photo, this one was a close up of her face. She had a deep cupids bow and her face was absolutely littered in freckles. She was sweet looking, and also a hard pass. He wondered if there was a filtering option, there were too many women being advertised and he simply was not interested. He hummed gleefully when he found the filtering options, of them there were plenty. 'Helpful, user friendly.' Dan chided internally. He designed websites you know, and couldn't help but praise the features of those he was pleased with.

Within the filters there of course was one for separating the men by use, one for both sexes likely but once again, he had no interest in what the Women Of Kneeel had to offer. He needed someone who could assist him properly. Dan couldn't have told you what that meant at the time but he knew after looking through those made for physical assistance that the athletically built 6'3" blonde 49021 was practically made for him. Catalog shopping was easier, Dan thought, it made it easier not to obsess over every aspect of the babes appearance. He looked fine, he looked better than fine to be quite honest. Dan knew that no man like this would never lay his eyes on him naturally.

Looking through the boy's bio was interesting. Of course there was no listed reason for way he had be previously refurbished but it did give him an idea of what he was like, you know, before. He was going to be an EMT, studying really hard. Life had other plans and harsher things to throw at him. He's lost everything. That of course wasn't in the bio, Dan just knew, he knew what it was like to be poor and desperate but he had never sunk that low. Not that the big bad corporate slavers would want him, him being crippled would likely make it hard to kneel. The man shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, things were good now. They really were. He lived in a beautiful condo and had a fantastic job as a software developer he pumped out content like know ones business and he deserved this damnit. He deserved to have someone take care of him like he needed taken care of, he's suffered long enough. The loneliness, the hurt, the physical pain, it could all be avoided now, he'd have someone to help him and thank God for that, truly.

"49021, what are we going to do with you? Pretty boy, nice rack." Daniel joked to himself. He noticed that his original distributor was listed as Whumpee Barn and he cringed and bit his cheek, it'd be a risk. He heard good things about Kneeel, maybe they were good at retraining. Whumpee Barn was dreadful, not only with their shipping but lacked the ability to create a blank impressionable slate. They always left something desperate and quietly violent, ready to strike. Quite frankly he was scared of violent. Quietly, or otherwise. Calling him fragile would be an overstatement but out of his chair he'd be rendered stationary and if 49021 decided to wail on him he'd be an easy target.

"He wouldn't have a reason to." The man uttered his broken thought. He wouldn't abuse him you know. He planned to treat him, just about standardly. He couldn't think of much that the boy wouldn't be able to do, that he would be forbidden from. Going outside without him at his side, probably. Going through the fridge without permission. Watching television without permission. He could read! Books that Daniel provided and specifically handed to him.

He felt like he was moving too fast, getting way ahead of himself, he hadn't even ordered him yet. Fake shoppers didn't get the luxury of fantasizing. He went about the process of ordering, finalizing it his brain that this was actually happening. He had specific training in mind, mostly regarding how he should be handled. He could get around just fine on a wheel chair, but the thing is, he was extremely busy with work, or passion projects when wasn't working. He really was a busy body, pushing himself for no real reason other than that's how he liked spending his time. He didn't have the time to cook for himself, to tend to his plants, he felt like he wasn't managing the house as well as he could, he wanted someone who could do that for him.

He also wanted company and was sick of making conversation with nothing. He had friends but they rarely visited, always wanted to FaceTime. He hated FaceTiming. He wasn't the most confident in his appearance, especially after depriving himself from sleep because making his way to his bedroom was too much of an ordeal.

He folded his hands on his desk, looking over his filled out form, quite pleased with everything. He was going to be emailed by a respondent who'd look over his requests and have a conversation with him about how his disability impacts him and what they should be aware of. Oh, and they'd give him an estimated time of arrival.

Within the next twenty minutes he was greeted sweetly by an email from a Dab Grier. Daniel was surprised by the email because it didn't feel like a copy and paste. The way it read felt like it was written by someone fairly young, but don't mistake that for meaning it wasn't well written. He replied with more information about his legs, and his needs, and how he didn't want them to rush to make sure he was trained properly. Dab shot him an email less than ten minutes later like he was waiting for him. It made him feel heard, and like his money was in good hands.

He was satisfied getting off his computer that night and heading to bed, after getting the photos of his boy off the internet and saved to his phone of course. He just wanted to look at him some more, it wasn't weird. He would partially be his romantic companion, at least that's what they called it. Boytoy was more accurate really. Dan wasn't sure what he wanted out of the relationship but, being held would be nice honestly. Now that he was in bed he could help but fantasize about those arms around him. He suddenly had a pit in his stomach, a feeling of longing. He couldn't remember the last time he was held, it really had be a while huh. Since Seth. Since he tore out his heart with his huge fucking hands of his, and his strong grip. How he pierced him with his eyes as he said he couldn't do this anymore. How he kicked his chair away from the couch and called him pathetic. He rolled back as he walked out the door, taking none of his belongings, but still. Dan was pathetic, and it was scary. He almost regretted ordering help, he really was defenseless.

He couldn't think about that now, not before bed. Wallowing was detrimental to a good night's rest.

[awed-frog]

When you say romance should be 18 and over do you mean the brand of romance we know today (aka toxic) or romance as a whole? If we wrote healthy romance aimed at younger crowds or presented unhealthy behaviour as unhealthy behaviour in regular romance (for older crowds) would that be a good solution?

Well - I see three questions here, all of them incredibly complex and beyond interesting: should art be political and is censorship ever a good idea and also is the romance genre okay? The answer to all of them, in my opinion, is ‘no but’.

1) Should art be political?

The stupid thing is, art is inherently political, whether you want it to or not, but art that’s deliberately political tends to be awful, and that’s a universal truth both for left-wing stuff and for right-wing stuff. When you willingly create political stuff, what you’re crafting is propaganda, and proganda is generally sad and bad. I guess there is propaganda that’s also good art - Victor Hugo’s The Man Who Laughs comes to mind - but the problem is, not all of us are Victor Hugo. 

That said, since whatever we create is political (because man is a social animal) and will have some kind of moral message, yes - ideally we want more art with an ethically ‘good’ moral message than we want garbage, because art (and here I include everything: books, movies and so on) is perhaps the most effective and impactful mind-shaper ever. That’s why Disney is doing its very best to be a monopoly, after all. But: I don’t have a good solution for how to ensure art is nice. I think art is nice when artists are nice, and artists are nice when they grow up in good, healthy societies. So the more a society rots from the inside out, the more likely it is you’ll find art that’s also rotten. I mean, while romance as a genre was always a bit dodgy (see below), what that article was talking about - the rise of the possessive, violent boyfriend and domestic abuse as the great love story - is sort of a recent phenomenon, and goes hand in hand with the deterioration of women’s rights in (Western) society. 

(As an aside, I’m not sure I agree (young) women are necessarily misogynistic for reading crap like Fiftfy Shades: I think (young) women are exhausted. Fifty Shades is, more than anything, an ode to undeserved capitalism - the only kind that seems open as an option today. After all, we know trickle-down capitalism doesn’t work and most of us will toil and toil for very little; Christian Grey is the antidote to that, the guy who shows up, basically kidnaps you, and smothers you in a life of riches for which the only thing you must do in return is give up. Having someone else decide on your job, your car, your possessions and clothes, where you’ll live, what you’ll eat and when, whether you’ll take birth control (lol: obviously not), when you’ll see your friends and family plus when and how you’ll orgasm - what women tried to escape for generations is suddenly the dream for many of us - not because of any new political ideology, but because we’re beyond tired. Women, like men, are now crushed in a neverending cycle of bs, underpaid jobs, and are apparently fed up enough in taking responsibility for anything that not only romance and ‘superhuman’ characters are booming, but a very specific kind of subset of that: essentially, slave fics. 

Just give up your agency, and you’ll be taken care of and cherished - forever.

I understand a kink is not the same as your actual political opinion, but still - I’m not enthusiastic about this trend, and I’m even less enthusiastic when it gobbles up young women who haven’t had time to experience real life relationships.)

No, I think that in the end, the answer is - if you reverse the rotting of society, automatically - statistically - you’ll get healthier artists and a healthier audience. So, really, the fight is always the same: better paid jobs, better (and free) schools, more opportunities for continued education of any kind, more democracy and transparency, more green spaces and better living conditions.

2) Is censorship ever a good idea?

Sadly, no. You’d think the logical conclusion of what I just said would be, ‘In the meantime, let’s ban the most dangerous stuff’ or something, and while part of me is tempted to support that, censorship has a way of ending very badly no matter how good and noble your intentions are.

(Self-censorship should be more of a thing, though: not everything that goes through our minds deserves to be seen and shared.)

What sucks at the moment is that on the one hand, capitalism is operating its own censorship; and on the other, its desperate search for new markets has led to a disastrous disintegration of actual human interactions.

So, problem one is that we only publish and market what makes a lot of money, and while that’s normal, to an extent, the result today is that everything is ‘almost the same’ as the previous thing (think sequels, prequels, remakes, obnoxious book covers for books that are basically all the same). So if ‘asshole boyfriend who beats you up’ suddenly makes money, it becomes very hard to escape the trope, because what will be offered to you everywhere is exactly that. This was less of a thing back when our main sources of entertainment were shared (movie theaters, the one family TV, school libraries and so on); now, it’s an epidemic, and as we see with Youtube algorithms, a dangerous one, because this obsession with watching and rewatching ‘almost the same’ inevitably leads to more and more extreme stuff.

Meanwhile, problem two is that the more tailor-made our entertainment is, the less we connect to real people. I know I sound about 90 here, but when all family members are glued to a different screen - mom watching the 50th remake of Eat, Pray, Love, dad down the rabbithole of lizard conspiracy theories, big brother now exploring some milk&peanut butter weirdness on Youporn and younger sister 30 fics deep into Stucky high school AUs - what do they have in common? What do they talk about? What can they even learn from each other? Until recently, and for aeons, fiction was shared, and its primary goal was to form a connection between group members. Now, that’s gone. We destroyed it, without even realizing what we were doing, in the space of twenty years. And yeah - I know you can create new communities, but a) these communities are virtual (which means, for the most part: not real) and b) they tend to connect like with like, which is comforting, perhaps, but not very useful. The whole point here is that we need to learn how to feel empathy and trust for those who’re different, and build a community with them - instead, what the internet is doing is isolating us inside our little bubbles, so much so that any minor disagreement is now seen as good reason to break off contact.

Censorship, however, doesn’t solve any of this. For starters, we need more regulation on how big corporations can get, what social media companies can and can’t do and who can access what kind of material. And it’d be great if we could all unplug a little, but uh - fat chance of that.

3) Is the romance genre okay?

Again, just my opinion, but personally, I mistrust it. There are no romance books for men? Instead, books for men feature a Main Character doing stuff and improving himself while accidentally meeting a Sexy Lamp he can go home to at the end of the story. And, well, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but isn’t this a healthier way to look at life? While good relationships are very meaningful (or even the most meaningful) part of any human life, if your goal is to get them, they won’t grow right. You shouldn’t be hyperfocused on finding love; I think it’s much better to be like Main Character: you work on your drawing skills, try a new sport, read poetry, defeat evil Russians, thus developing inner happiness and self-confidence, thus leading you towards towards a partner who’ll fall in love with who you are - not a partner who was looking for some empty shell to fill with their own expectations and preferences.

And I know - romance books and movies are full of exciting non-romantic events and stuff - but still, the fact they’re classified and intended as romance does imply that finding a romantic partner is the ultimate goal. Which, I don’t know, I don’t think it’s healthy, and is a particularly inappropriate message for young women. After all, why is it okay that young men are encouraged to go on ghost hunts, study dinosaurs and save the world while young women are taught to wait around for a broken (possibly violent, but it’s not his fault) bad boy only they can fix? It’s messed up, is what it is, and I may be extreme here, but even the tamest, sweetest romance revolves around the same message: that you’re not complete on your own, and that you should focus on relationships as a way to become a better, happier human being. 

Now, as much as I love this quote -

“It is what you read when you don't have to that determines what you will be when you can't help it.” — Oscar Wilde

- obviously there’s no direct cause-and-effect here - you don’t read one book and become a mindless Stepford wife - so I’m not saying, ‘no one should read romance ever’. It’s just - as I said in that other post, we should all enjoy diverse stuff. Read your romance novels, but also read the classics, read some philosophy, a random poem, a badly-written thriller - read Stephen King, read how the OED was written, or a Wikipedia article on the French resistance - anything and everything. Because of capitalism, because of this push towards personalized entertainment, we’re being forced and pigeonholing ourselves in smaller and smaller cages, and the worst thing is - we’re comfortable inside them, because this is the awful truth: cages are comfortable, and that’s why we need to get out before we forget what cages are for.

[As a final point: you say ‘if we wrote’, does it mean you’re an aspiring writer? If so, you shouldn’t worry about any of this. You write what you want, you write the stories you want to read. Just remember to get out of your cage as well - experience, discover, grow, read, dare - and then put all that into your books. I’m sure they’ll be great, whatever your favourite genre.]

[hymn2000]

Ideal Confusion - MCU AU Fanfic - C3

(Title subject to change)

Story summary: Giving into the constant pressure from the press, Tony decides to put a rest to the rumours that Peter is his biological son - once and for all.

Previous Chapter(s): 1 2

Part of my Frostiron and Spiderson series.

Warnings/themes: family, family stuff, adoption, DNA test(s), pressure, peer pressure, social issues, mentions of alcoholism, mental health problems, potentially some minor medical inaccuracies, mentions of corporal punishment

You can also find me on AO3

Chapter 3 - Off My Back

-

Tony forgot to set an alarm, and as a result woke up late the next day. He went into Peter’s room and gave the boy a shake.

“Wake up, chick”

Peter stirred. He woke up and rubbed his eyes.

“Hi... What time is it?”

“It’s half eleven, chick”

“What?! Isn’t it Tuesday?!”

“Yeah, I forgot to set an alarm” Tony said. “I guess we both needed that lie in. What do you wanna do?”

“Um... I don’t really know”

“Do you wanna stay home today? You’ve already missed basically the whole morning”

“I don’t know. I think maybe I should go”

“Alright kiddo” Tony said. “Well, we’ll get you something to eat and then we’ll get you to school in time for afternoon lessons. Ok?”

“Is that ok? I mean, it’s only two lessons, so you’ll have like less than two hours at home before you have to come back again”

“If you wanna go to school, you can go to school. It’s only a ten minute drive. So what do you wanna do?”

“...I think I should go to school”

“Ok” Tony said gently. “Come on then; let’s get you some lunch”

-

Tony dropped Peter off at school armed with a note detailing a forgotten medical appointment to excuse his lateness (“A little white lie” Tony had said), just in time for afternoon registration. 

“Where were you?” Flo asked. “We were worried! You could have at least texted”

Peter took out his whiteboard. 

Doctors appointment

“Oh right” Flo said. “Well, are you ok?”

Peter nodded.

“Oh good. Well, I’m glad”

“Me too” Millie said. “We need you next lesson anyway: you’re in our assessment group”

-

Peter regretted going to school, and it was plain to see from the way he slammed the car door behind him when Tony picked him up afterwards.

“Alright, don’t break my car!” 

“I wish I’d just stayed home” Peter spat. “What a waste of time!”

“Oh oh, sounds like you didn’t have a great afternoon”

“No, I didn’t, and I don’t want to talk about it”

-

Loki and Tony sat down with Peter later that evening.

“I think you need to tell us what’s bothering you” Tony said. “You’ve been funny ever since I picked you up”

“I just had a rubbish afternoon. Can’t we just leave it at that?”

“Well, why was it rubbish?” Tony persisted. “Couldn’t you have talked to the bunnies about it?”

“No, because they were a big part of the problem!” 

“What do you mean?” Loki said.

“Millie was being a cunt”

“PETER!” Tony shouted. “How dare you?! Haven’t we talked about using that word?”

“I don’t care!”

“Well, you should, and you definitely will when I’ve washed your mouth out with soap”

Peter growled. “Go away then! If it’s that much of an issue, just leave me alone!”

“Hey, you don’t get to call the shots around here. We-”

“GO AWAY!”

“Peter, stop it” Loki said. “You shouldn’t use that word; you know that. Come on; we just want to help. What happened at school?”

“They were both being so unreasonable! I mean, it was mainly Millie, cos Macy is still ill, and Flo had a music exam so she wasn’t there most of the afternoon. But Millie just seemed to be going out of her way to get to me”

“In what way? Was it because of the news story?”

“Bits of it, but she was going on about yesterday, saying I got that detention on purpose, which I did, but she said it was because I was being evasive and wanted to spend time with Malaki instead of her and the other two, and then she said Malaki was gonna ruin me if I wasn’t careful, and then she got onto the news story and she thinks, she thinks it’s true, the stupid bitch-”

“Peter” Tony said in a warning tone.

“Well, she is! And so we got into an argument about that, with her throwing all those ‘facts’ from the telly and papers at me, as though she knows my life better than I do, and then I was like, well, what does it matter? Because I’m still a step ahead of her, cos her dad hates her and never wanted her in the first place, and he’s an abusive bastard, so I bet she wishes she wasn’t really his, and-”

“Peter, that’s so bad” Loki said. “You can’t say things like that”

“Well I’ve already said it, so so what? But anyway, she got even more cross with me, like all upset and stuff, and then she tried to make a point and she snatched my whiteboard pens so I couldn’t say anything back while she made a point, and then we got into a fight over the pens, and then she was like, I’m not talking to you until you apologise, and then I was like, I don’t care. I’m not the one who needs to be apologising: she is. So then she stopped talking to me, which is fine, because she was doing my fucking head in-”

“Enough of the swearing, Peter!”

“Just let me speak!” Peter snapped, scowling at him. “So anyway, she stopped talking to me, so I guess we’ve fallen out. And she’ll tell Flo and then Flo will probably turn against me too, cos she’s known Millie way longer and stuff, and she seems annoyed at me too. At least she’s talking sense about the news story stuff though. But then, but then in class we were discussing like, media and news and tabloids and stuff, and like, everyone was looking at me, and the teacher was trying not to look at me, and it was all dead awkward”

“I see” Tony said.

“It was a bloody nightmare and I’m never going back. Now I feel like I really do need to see a doctor: I feel like my blood pressure is sky high, and my back’s doing that weird hurty thing it did when I had shingles. I wanna see uncle Bruce. I’m going out”

He stood up to go, but Tony and Loki both caught him with an arm round the stomach and sat him back down.

“Woah now, not so fast” Tony said, putting an arm round his shoulders. “I get it; you had a rubbish afternoon. But that doesn’t mean you can just never go back to school, and it’s no excuse for your dirty language. I’m still in half a mind about how to punish you for that”

“Now, now, Tony; he’s upset” Loki said. “Now, darling, I know it’s horrible. Do you really feel unwell, or is it anxiety?”

“I don’t know!”

“Alright, keep your voice down!” Tony shook his head. “If you really feel that bad, maybe daddy can give you a little check over”

“I want uncle Bruce”

“You’re asking a bit much, kiddo”

“HOW is that asking too much?! He’s round here every week anyway”

“Alright, alright” Tony sighed. “I’ll give him a ring”

-

“Hey, uncle Bruce”

“Hey kid” Bruce said, closing Peter’s bedroom door behind him. “Tony said you requested me specifically”

“Mm”

“What’s up? This big news story getting to you?”

Peter nodded.

“I get it, kid. I know what it’s like having nasty stories about yourself in the news...” he sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed and opening his bag. “Take your hoodie off”

Peter did as he was told. He watched carefully as Bruce pushed his sleeve up and slipped a blood pressure cuff over his arm.

“I know you’re not a fan, but Tony said I should give you a full MOT while I’m here”

“What do you think?”

“About what?”

“About the news story. About... me and dad” 

Bruce looked at him. Peter was keeping his eyes on the blood pressure cuff. Bruce looked back at what he was doing.

“Well” he said, squeezing the pump to tighten the cuff round the boys arm. “I’m sure Tony would love to have been the one responsible for bringing you into the world” he was quiet for a minute, getting his stethoscope and pressing the chest piece against the inside of Peter’s elbow, listening, and counting. “...He’s not your real dad. Your biological dad, I mean. I think you know that”

“Yeah, I know” Peter said, breathing out and rubbing his arm when Bruce took the cuff off. “I guess a lot of this stuff in the news is kinda like, planting doubt in my mind or whatever”

“Dodgy news people will do that to you” Bruce said. “Can I listen to your chest?”

Peter nodded. He stayed quiet while Bruce checked him over with basically every piece of portable medical equipment known to man. 

“Have you got an ECG machine in there?”

Bruce laughed slightly. “I almost considered it: there’s some of the portable ones paramedics use at the office. Give me your hand again”

Peter let Bruce check his blood sugar.

“Is that everything now?”

“Yes” Bruce said. “Unless... Can I take a blood sample?”

“Why? What are you gonna do with it?” Peter asked defensively. “You’re not gonna do a DNA test, are you?”

“No, of course not. Believe it or not, I don’t really have access to that kind of thing, especially not without written consent from your parents. I was just going to send off for some routine checks”

“I’d rather you didn’t”

“Ok, I won’t force you. Keep pressure on that finger”

Peter nodded, watching Bruce packing up his stuff.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Go for it”

“Do you think people are inherently violent?”

“That’s a strange question” Bruce said, setting his bag aside and sitting down across from Peter. “I think maybe people were more violent back before modern day civilisation, but I think it was for survival. Modern day people don’t really need that type of survival instinct so much anymore, so maybe that’s why they hold back on their strength. Babies and little kids don’t know their strength, but older people probably learn to reserve it so much that they don’t really know it either

“Ok”

“Why? Have you been feeling violent lately?”

Peter looked at him.

“I’ve caught you, haven’t I? I’m an expert on that kind of thing, sadly”

“...Sort of. Not violent, exactly, just... I don’t know, angry. I keep getting all annoyed. I’ve had a lot of fights recently”

“Because of the news story?”

“A couple of them, but not all of them. Some of these fights were before”

“You’re a superhero in your spare time, kiddo. Do those fights bother you?”

“They’re not the same” Peter sighed. “They’re like, a justice thing, not a personal thing”

“I see. And I take it these personal fights are bothering you?”

Peter nodded. “It just kinda happens. Like, it’s all words at first, but then I lash out before I know what I’m doing. It’s weird, like someone else takes over my body”

“I know what that’s like”

“Mm... How do I stop it? You’re a doctor; you know how people work. How do I stop being violent?”

“I don’t think it’s violent. I think you’re just defensive, reacting instinctively, perhaps because of your heightened senses and your stress. I don’t think it’s violent unless it’s vicious. Have you been vicious?”

“I... I don’t think so. I don’t mean to start it or hurt people, and I’m not being malicious. It just keeps happening”

“It’s probably just personality clashes, stress, your illnesses, and hormones” Bruce said. “Happens to most people at some point. Talk to your therapist about it”

“I... I don’t see a therapist anymore”

“Really? Why not?"

Peter shrugged. “You’ll have to ask dad”

“Did you take a disliking to Miss Marns?”

“No; I really liked her. We had a rapport after all that time talking” 

“Maybe you should see her again. It’s good to talk these things out”

“Yeah, I want to... How do you deal with it? Like, staying calm when you’re angry?”

“Kid, I’m the worst possible person to ask about this. If I get too angry, I turn into an enormous green rage monster, remember?” Bruce laughed slightly. “I work in a different way to everyone else on that matter”

“Yeah, I guess so”

“So, what do you think it is?”

Peter shrugged. “What you said, I guess”

“You wanna say something else, don’t you? I can tell”

“...Elton John talked about the Dwight Family Temper in his book. It was like, genetic, the way his bloodline got cross, kinda thing. I’ve never heard of there being a Parker Family Temper, but maybe there is. I never knew my parents properly, and May didn’t really speak about them much, but maybe...”

“Maybe” Bruce nodded. “You know, it could be environmental, too. I know what Loki was like back you were first getting to know him, and I know he still has his moments. Tony can be a right wanker at times too, especially when he gets angry and kicks off. I know they’re pretty calm most of the time nowadays, but you can see where I’m coming from, can’t you?”

“Yeah, especially with dad. Howard Stark was a cross person too, right?”

“I don’t really know. I get the impression he wasn’t very nice behind closed doors. Tony doesn’t really talk about him much”

“Mm... Yeah, he never talks about him to me either”

“Maybe it’s a good thing” Bruce said, standing up. “Try some deep breathing exercises. Or do that thing Tony does where he counts to ten in his head when he’s stressed. This is probably just a phase, kid”

“Yeah, we’ll see” Peter said, pulling his hoodie on. “So, what’s the verdict?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, your MOT. You’re fine, kid. Your pulse was pretty fast, but it calmed down pretty soon. Just anxiety. Everything else looked ok”

“Nothing wrong with my blood pressure then?”

“Nah, nothing wrong with your blood pressure. Although...”

“What?”

“Can you take your shirt off?”

“I’ve only just put my hoodie back on!”

Bruce sat back down close to him. “Are you alright with me touching you?”

“You’ve been prodding me for like, twenty minutes” Peter said. “Go for it. Just don’t go clipping more stuff onto me”

“Deal” 

Bruce pulled Peter’s shirt and hoodie up. He was gentle with him, but the way Peter reacted when he touched his stomach was a little strange.

“Did that hurt?”

“No...”

“Don’t you like your tummy being touched?”

“Not really” Peter mumbled.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t. It even makes me feel weird if my parents do it, even accidentally. It just makes me feel all funny”

“Huh. Strange. Well, I can’t stand people touching the veins on my wrists. We’re all built a bit differently” 

He continued checking him over, and then pulled his shirt and hoodie back down and sat back.

“...What?” Peter said, looking at him sceptically.

“You’re a lot thinner than last time I had to check you over. You’ve definitely lost weight”

“So?”

“So, do your parents know?”

Peter shrugged. “I doubt it. They’ve had a lot go on in the past year. I don’t think me losing a couple of pounds is gonna be at the top of their agenda”

“This is more than a few pounds. How much have you lost?”

“I don’t know! I don’t weight myself. Get off my back”

“You might not be his biologically, but you seriously take after Tony. You’re so much like him sometimes”

“I’ll take that as a compliment”

“Do that” Bruce nodded. “He’s a great man”

“You’re really sure about him not being blood, aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah. Listen kid; your dad and I are close, and we talk. Even when he was drunk, he put something on the end of it, and he always did it himself so he knew it wasn’t tampered with. Besides, imagine if you were a girl, and you slept with a high-profile celebrity and then found yourself pregnant. You’d be straight down the closest newspaper. If you were his, he’d’ve found out when you were still just a fetus”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right... Hey, uncle Bruce, can you do me a favour?”

“What?”

“Can you get me out of school tomorrow?”

Bruce laughed. “No way, kiddo! My New Years Resolution was not to tell any more lies, even white ones”

Peter sighed. “Well, it was worth a shot”

“Get your little red suit on and go swinging through town for a bit. The adrenaline will do you good”

-

Bruce bit his thumb, listening to Tony speak.

“So you’re really not going to do a DNA test?”

“No! I’m not giving those bastards the satisfaction! I thought you’d understand”

“I understand your stubbornness” Bruce said. “I just think doing the test could be beneficial”

“What, just to give us a piece of paper telling us what we already know? I didn’t make that kid, and everyone knows it”

“You know as well as I do that lots of people believe the rumours” Loki said.

“So?! We know it’s not true, and that’s the important bit, right? I don’t need the test to tell me that”

“No, but maybe having the proof on paper to give to the press would get them off your backs” Bruce said.

Tony hesitated. “It’s still giving in to their pressure though, isn’t it? Besides, what is there to stop all these DNA companies from fudging the results?”

“Do you know how these DNA tests work, Tone? They’ve gotta test 21 genetic markers, and it’s all detailed in a spreadsheet report with all the tested markers, and a column for the alleged father and a column for the child, and it’s all got to be done by a proper laboratory. They’re credible companies, you know”

“How do you know so much about it?”

“It’s a basic fact, Tony. I read it ages ago” Bruce said. “These companies would have to do a lot of work to produce fake results, and if you did a retest with another company and they got discovered, it would destroy their business. Some of these companies charge big money for their paternity tests: it wouldn’t be worth it for them to fudge results just to be part of a newspaper scandal. Besides, if you made your results public and they weren’t fudged, they’d still be a big part of the story, and get more business through being credited. Sorry, Tony, but I think you’re just being paranoid”

While Tony was busy staring at him, Loki responded.

“Banner is right, darling. Faking results wouldn’t benefit anyone”

“Well, what does it matter? I’m not doing a DNA test”

Loki sighed. Tony looked at him, and at Bruce.

“You can’t do one behind my back, either”

“We wouldn’t do that, Tony” Loki sighed. “You know we wouldn’t”

“I know. Still, I’m done talking about this” he picked up his mug and took a drink. “...So what’s the verdict on the baby? Find anything?”

“His obs were all fine” Bruce said. “His anxiety was playing up which made things a little wobbly at first, but he’s fine, mostly”

“Mostly?”

“Well... Have either of you seen him without his shirt lately?”

Loki and Tony exchanged a look.

“Why?”

“He’s looking pretty thin, like, almost worryingly so. He’s a lot thinner than he was when I gave him that check up a couple of months ago after that fall he had. Had you noticed anything?”

“He hasn’t been eating properly for a while” Loki said. “He’s been ill a lot over the past six weeks or so. It’s impacted his appetite”

“Yeah, he hasn’t been eating much. It’s like he doesn’t really feel hungry much”

“What’s been wrong with him?” Bruce asked.

“Just general illnesses” Loki said. “Nothing serious. He’s been doing better recently though, so hopefully his appetite will improve soon”

“I see. Well, I just wanted to make sure you knew about it”

“We’re fully aware” Tony said. “You can’t bring that kind of stuff up with him though: he just thinks we’re overreacting and accusing him of having an eating disorder”

“Oh right” Bruce said, surprised. “Is that... Is that something he’s struggled with in the past?”

“Not exactly” Loki said. “He’s just a bit sensitive about that kind of thing. He’s had some body confidence issues before”

“Poor kid. I swear we didn’t care when we were that age. Kids these days worry too much” Bruce said. 

“Our kid certainly does” Tony sighed. “Where is he, anyway?”

“I told him to go out in his little supersuit”

“Oh” Tony said. “Well, at least he’s getting some fresh air and exercise”

Bruce laughed. “That’s such a dad thing to say”

“Well, what can I say? I am a dad!”

“That’s one word for it” Loki said.

“Oi!” Tony smiled at him. “You’re not funny”

“This news story seems to be affecting him badly” Bruce continued. “Fights at school, all the uncertainty, the anxiety flare up...”

“Yeah... Well, fights at school aren’t just because of this” Tony said, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s still so different to a lot of those kids. I think they clash. It’s usually the same couple of kids he fights with”

“Are you still considering home-schooling?”

“Yeah, definitely” Tony said. “I think it’d be good for him. You know, comfortable at home, one-on-one tutoring. I think it’d work well for him. It’d work for practical reasons too, like not having to do the school run”

“What about his therapist?”

“Oh, he doesn’t see her anymore, hasn’t done for a while”

“Why?”

“He was doing well. He said he didn’t really need therapy anymore”

“I see”

“He’s made good progress. Still, homeschooling would take more stress out of his life, I think”

“Mm...Have you told him yet?”

“No, it’s still just between me and Loki” Tony said. “It’s still just an idea”

“Well, I guess you’ve got more important things to be thinking about” he said awkwardly. “So, what are you gonna do about this news story?”

“Wait for it to blow over” Loki said.

“Aren’t you going to release a statement?”

“Marco tried to get me to do one” Tony said. “I couldn’t think of anything to say other than ‘fuck off and mind your own business’, so we decided it would be best if we scrapped the idea”

“No kidding”

“Ignoring it is easier said than done, but it isn’t impossible” Loki said. “I’m happy to sit back and act like it doesn’t concern me”

“With all due respect, it doesn’t really. No one’s accusing you of being his biological father”

“That’s because I’m a god, darling” Loki said. “And I don’t look like him. Tony does”

“It still concerns Loki: he’s part of this family” Tony said. “People have been asking stuff down the hospital too”

“Wait a minute” Bruce said. “Loki, was Peter born at your hospital?”

“Haven’t the foggiest”

“Wait, just a minute”

“You’ve already said that” Tony said.

“Shut up, Tony. No, I’ve had a thought” Bruce said. “You don’t need a DNA test to prove you’re not his biological father”

“I know that” Tony said. “That’s what I’ve been saying”

“I know, but this is different. This is something else you could use to prove he’s not yours”

Loki and Tony looked at him. “What?”

“His birth certificate. Just dig that out and use it as proof. People might still have their gossip-based reservations, but it’ll have his parents names on it. Where do you keep it?”

Loki and Tony looked at each other. Tony bit his thumb. Bruce looked at them.

“You’ve lost it?” he guessed.

“We never had it” Tony mumbled. “Why would we? He lived with his aunt up until the explosion. It would’ve been destroyed in that”

“...But surely you would have needed it since?”

“He already had a passport, which was here, and we used a copy of the adoption certificate when we updated his name on it”

“But what about the adoption?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you need it when you adopted him?”

Tony shook his head. “No. Not personally, anyway. I think they maybe did for the legal bits, but our lawyer and people working with Li Allen took care of that bit. We just filled in the forms and did the meetings. There was a bit saying if we didn’t have a birth certificate to attach, to just put the place of birth, which we did. There was a bit saying they needed us to attach his dead parents death certificates, and obviously we didn’t have those. Not really any of our business. Maybe the lawyers and stuff got those, and his birth certificate. I don’t know. If they got the birth certificate, we never saw it. Adoption certificates replace them anyway, legally, so we didn’t need it” he looked at Loki. “That’s right, isn’t it?”

Loki nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“It was such a long few months. You know we had to let the local council know first, and then we had to wait three months before we could do our court application. We let them know before telling Peter, actually, just in case. We just wanted it done, but it took quite a while. At least he was already living with us. You know you’ve got to have them living with you for ten weeks before you can apply for the adoption court order?”

“Yeah, I think I’ve heard that”

“It was actually so much more difficult than we thought it would be. We read into it before pitching it to the kid, obviously, but there’s so many forms. We had so many afternoons sat with our lawyer going through rules and how to fill in all the forms and apply for the right things, and then actually doing all those forms and applications and stuff. It was pretty tough. It started to feel like they wouldn’t let us adopt him, even though there was no evidence to the fact”

“I can remember you being stressed about it at the time, and I remember seeing the stack of forms you had to send with the paperwork too. And I remember doing that reference”

Tony nodded tiredly. “It was a lot of work”

“The adoption certificate doesn’t have details of his biological parents on it, does it?”

“No” Tony said. “They never do. Like I said; they replace the birth certificate”

Bruce sat back, sighing. “I think you should request a copy of his birth certificate, if you’re not doing a DNA test”

“Why? We don’t need it. I don’t have anything to prove to anyone. The papers will move on at some point, going after some other story. If the only reason to get the birth certificate is to give it to the press, it’s not worth getting”

“I wouldn’t argue any further, if I were you” Loki said. “It’ll be like talking to a brick wall”

“Exactly!” Tony exclaimed. “Thank you, darling”

Bruce sighed, but nodded. “Well, I respect your decision. I don’t have kids, so I can’t really say what I’d do in your situation”

“Thanks, mate” Tony flopped back in his chair, draining the rest of his drink. “If there’s one thing about being a parent that I think I can transfer...”

“Oh, do share” Loki said.

“I love that kid more than anything else in the world, and I’d protect him with my life. Including from the press. I’d happily punch a reporter in the face to keep them away from my boy” Tony said. “I don’t care that we’re not blood related: he’s my son, and that’s more than I ever deserved to begin with”

*

[jamesginortonblog]

James Norton and Juliet Rylance lead the cast in McMafia, the BBC and AMC’s global crime drama about a family of Russian ex-gangsters struggling to stay respectable.

Langleybury House, a splendiferous stately home on the outskirts of London, oozes opulence. The drawing room boasts a set of matching statement chandeliers and enough oil paintings to fill several rooms at the National Gallery. There are two classical columns in the middle of the room and a gigantic marble fireplace across one wall. The room screams megabucks.

When DQ visits, however, ‘megaroubles’ might be more accurate, as the sumptuous home is doubling as one of the residences of the fictional Godman family, a clan of former Russian gangsters who have made serious money from illicit activities around the world.

When you look around their home and eye items such as the incredibly ornate drinks table – where surely they only mix White Russians – your first thought is, ‘Who says crime doesn’t pay?’

On the back of their dodgy dealings, the family have turned respectable. They have whitewashed their stained past and become a worldwide corporation, with a lucrative franchise on every continent. They are the McMafia.

This sweeping new eight-part drama, also called McMafia, is produced by the BBC, AMC, Cuba Pictures and Twickenham Studios and distributed by BBC Worldwide. It’s adapted by Hossein Amini and James Watkins from Misha Glenny’s bestselling 2008 non-fiction book, McMafia: Seriously Organised Crime.

The story centres on Alex Godman, played by James Norton with the same suavity he brought to the role of another powerful and charismatic Russian, Prince Andrei in War & Peace. Now an upstanding businessman, the English-raised Alex has spent his entire life attempting to extricate himself from the tentacles of his family’s mafia history. Forging a legitimate business as the head of an ethical hedge fund, he is trying to escape his background and build a law-abiding existence with his girlfriend Rebecca (American Gothic’s Juliet Rylance).

But when the Godmans’ criminal legacy comes back to haunt them, Alex swiftly becomes enmeshed in a sinister underworld and is obliged to reassess his values in order to shield those he loves from peril.

This ambitious thriller investigates how the rise of globalisation has dramatically narrowed the gap between the corporate and the criminal. When businessmen and gangsters wear the same hand-made suits and inhabit the same first-class lounges, how can you tell the difference?

Amini, who previously wrote the highly regarded screenplays for The Dying of the Light, Jude, The Wings of a Dove, Drive and Our Kind of Traitor, takes a seat in the luxurious mansion to explain what drew him to McMafia. “The book is factual and there are no storylines as such, but what was really exciting is that the world Misha’s book painted was so interesting,” he says. “It was such a potentially exciting canvas. The book gave us great characters and a great world, and it’s easy to invent scenes for that.”

The Iranian-British filmmaker continues: “I’ve always loved the gangster genre, but even shows like The Sopranos, which I loved, are all about the end of that genre and the end of the gangster. They told us about the death of that in the 1990s.

“But then I read this book, and it was all about how gangsters were being reborn globally. Suddenly the triads were dealing with the cartels who were competing with the Russian mafia. It was like Game of Thrones with mobs.”

The authenticity of McMafia is underlined by the fact the producers insisted Russian actors played Russian characters, Israeli actors played Israeli characters, and so forth.

Watkins comments: “There was a big conversation we had with AMC and the BBC first off, which is that I didn’t want to do that thing where, not naming any other productions, you cast a big-name British actor to play Alex’s Russian dad.

“It feels false straight away – I can smell it. It’s costing us quite a lot to fly all the actors in, but it’s worth it in terms of the reality it gives. When you’ve got four actors from Tel Aviv playing a scene in Hebrew, you can’t fake that.”

The director, whose other works include The Woman in Black, Eden Lake and The Take, adds that this approach has enhanced the verisimilitude of the project. “It’s fantastic, because as a director you want truth. This is not about heightened drama, it’s about truth. It’s about understated performance, and I think some of those European actors really bring that. I don’t know what’s in the water, but it’s really amazing. Less is more.”

The Russian cast members have clearly relished the experience of working on a British drama. A big star in her own country, Maria Shukshina plays Alex’s Russian mother, Oksana. “I’m very happy James is now my son,” she says, laughing. “He has a big following in Russia, a lot of fans. When I was coming over here, all the ladies were telling me to say ‘Hi’ to him and saying, ‘Give him a hug.’ So I said, ‘Of course!’”

Shukshina says she has found very little difference between the shooting techniques in the UK and in Russia. “It’s absolutely the same, apart from the lighting. It’s a lot darker on set here, there’s no light. It’s only natural light, really.

“I gave a Russian doll to the director of photography as a celebration of International Women’s Day and now he puts up a light panel when they’re doing wide shots of me – I know what I’m doing!”

Filmed in no fewer than 11 countries (including the UK, Russia, India, Israel, Turkey, Qatar and Croatia), the project is conceived on an epic scale and Watkins has evidently had to summon up great depths of energy to make it.

He spent seven weeks just filming in India, for example, and has also been leading the McMafia crew all over London. “We’ve shot in the Sky Garden at the top of the Walkie-Talkie building [the distinctive skyscraper officially named 20 Fenchurch Street] and we had a huge Russian banquet scene in the Victoria & Albert Museum. We’re trying to use London as this city where anybody can buy their way in.”

Norton, who has also starred in Happy Valley, Black Mirror, Grantchester, Lady Chatterley’s Lover and Life in Squares, pulls up a seat beside the filmmakers and chips in: “When we talk about the Mafia, it is so tied up with those portrayals that we’re so used to in The Sopranos and The Godfather. But what’s so lovely and fascinating and so relevant about this story is that it shows how the mafia is a totally new phenomenon.

“It’s now a globalised corporate entity. It straddles all these different countries and financial systems. It’s no longer just a protection racket. It’s the Panama Papers, it’s corrupt presidents and prime ministers, it’s even in the possible link between the Kremlin and the White House and how that’s facilitated. That was a real eye-opener for me, and I hope that’s what the show will reveal.”

Another intriguing aspect of McMafia is the fact that even though Alex is very much an anti-hero, viewers are – almost in spite of themselves – still drawn to the magnetic central character. Watkins describes him as “The Russian bear in the bowler hat.”

So is it a case of ‘the devil has all the best tunes?’ Norton believes it’s more nuanced than that. “It is fascinating, and it’s kind of sexy and empowering because there is this whole underworld of people who don’t abide by the rules and do what the hell they want – and it’s exciting. You get seduced by it, but you’re never quite sure how much you’re being seduced.

“Alex convinces himself that it’s about protection and survival, but there’s another side to it, and the beauty of Hossein’s writing is that he and the audience are never quite sure. Each choice Alex makes – is it to do with survival or is it a bit more to do with the fact that he just wants to go deeper and deeper and gather more control and money? So, McMafia is brilliant because it’s never about villains and heroes – it’s all about that wonderful mess in between.”

Before he is called back on set, Watkins expresses his hopes about what viewers will take away from McMafia. “You look around you and realise crime is everywhere. The point of the book and the series, really, is that it’s invisible, but that it’s all around us. We’re all, in some way, complicit. If someone buys a fake watch, say, they’re part of the problem.

“Or look at illegal labour. That affects people in ways that they don’t necessarily realise. McMafia is about the blurring of those lines between governments, corporations, intelligence, police, criminals. Particularly in a ‘post-truth’ world, people aren’t clear what those boundaries are.”

The director continues: “I think McMafia is very timely. For me, the best drama has some kind of grip on the world and touches on that. I hope that it’s not only entertaining, but also that on the way home, or in the pub, people talk about it. It’s not Chekhov, but you’re hoping it has something that has a little bit of grit.”

Amini closes by homing in on one tiny detail in McMafia that underlines the authenticity of the drama. “Misha told us about a gangster whose hobby is going to dog shows. I could never have invented that.” Did that make it into the series? “Yes, it’s in. You can’t ignore a thing like that.”

[margsld]

Outlander Epi 3.02 Recap

Surrender your link to a decent Barber for 6 years....

This week’s cracking episode is written by Anne Kenney.  It jumps between the two centuries quite a bit, so stick with me.

With Jamie back from Culloden and red coats on the prowl, Jamie’s having to hide in a cave. Local gossipers assure the red coat patrols that Red Jamie is in the area and also a weird guy going by the name of the Dun Bonnet. (The Dun Bonnet is a real tale of a Jacobite who hid his flaming red hair under a hat as a way of ye olde camouflage.)  It doesn’t work quite so well with our hero as you’ll soon find out watching this episode.

Lallybroch is always a symbol of home and there is nothing more domestic than seeing the kids playing outside the house.  Fergus, Rabbie McNab and wee Jamie Murray are heading to the Doo Cot (Dove Housing facility) to try to locate a pistol that Ian Murray had stashed there after Culloden.  The boys find it and as boys do, boast about their wartime frivolities and other boyish bullshite.  Redcoats take that opportunity to arrive for a quick raid so they hustle the gun back to its hiding position and go to see what’s amiss at the house. Captain Samual Lewis of his Majesty’s 10th Dragoons says he’s looking for Ian’s brother-in-law aka Jamie Fraser, aka Red Jamie, aka Dun Bonnet, aka not here, we swear it. They threaten to hang anyone who harbours a traitor.  He also offers a reward but they all plead ignorance.  Fergus winds up the nearest nasty red coat Corporal McGregor, as they whisk Ian Murray away under arrest.  That’s not ominous at all, is it?

Speaking of looking for needles in a haystack, we then catch up with the human haystack of red hair, the Dun Bonnet himself.  He’s a graduate of Catniss Everdeen’s school of Archery and makes short work of a big stag that he’s nicknamed Frank for some reason.

Arriving back at Lallybroch with his kill, he mistakens Jenny for dream Claire.  Jenny scolds him for being creepy.  Amen sister, grab some scissors ay?  He dumps the enormous carcass for butchering, a symbol of his current level of happy as Jenny carries on telling him the daily news; Ian’s been arrested again, Mrs McNab needs servicing etc.  Fergus wants to butcher the deer then the whole red coat garrison but we all know that won’t work.  Kids!  Jamie is intent on making venison steaks and continues his mute party of one.  Frustrating sibling moment.

Claire is having her own party of one back in Boston.  She is fantasising about a giant fuzzy peach and practising her yoga breathing skills so as not to wake a hard working Frank.  She is so thoughtful.

Baby Bree is learning to roll over like a good puppy while Claire catches up on her bible, The Globe.  Ireland has become a republic, free of British rule.  This is a nice nod to Caitriona being Irish and also a kick that Scotland still hasn’t reached this milestone, aka Culloden failed reminder.  Frank, wrapped in just a towel( interrupted showering by a dodgy boiler ) comes to see his clever daughter playing puppy and the three have a sweet family moment.  Claire is turned on by his nudie run and wishes that towel didn’t just accidentally fall to the floor on his way to fix the boiler.  Didn’t we all.  Just a week peek at that lilly white butt, cmon!

Skulking is Jamies new skill and he tip-toes through the woods to his hidey-hole when Fergus drops in for a cuppa and wee chat about how to use this silly pistol. Fergus is deluded that he can protect all of Lallybroch with it and Milord is not happy.  Fergus accuses him of being a coward and Jamie tells him no more fighting.  To keep an eye on things, Jamie pops into check out the ledgers at Lallybroch and Mary McNab hopes this is cave-speak for “Lets go on a date” but they are sidetracked when Jamie hears Jenny screaming from the house.  Dinna fash, the latest bairn is coming early. 

The wee neds, Fergus, Rabbie and wee Jamie spot a messenger of death - a Raven and go and get the pistol to dispatch it back to a Game of Thrones set.  Completely forgetting all reason and the fact that nearby red coats have ears, they shoot the bird.  Jamie is so cross it makes him actually speak and Mary pops in as she so annoyingly does this whole episode to announce the baby is fine and takes the gun.  She scolds them for what is probably the millionth time.

Jenny loves seeing a baby in Jamie’s arms and it reminds her he is practically a virgin again.  She downloads the Lallybroch Tinder app and creates him a profile under the handle Cave-dwelling Dun Bonnet.  Red coats arrive of course, to search for the weapon in the house.  Jamie has the baby and quickly hides in a spare room. Yes, its odd they didn’t check that room but testosterone. They question Jenny, still in her post-birth glow and tear the room apart.  She lies to them about the baby dying when it’s missing from the room and they demand to see the body.  Mary who is channelling a missing Murtagh or McGyver, pops up again to save the day and hands the pistol over, confessing it was her dead husband’s and she was killing the blasted Raven.  Happy they had the pistol at last, the red coats leave.  Jamie returns the baby to his mum with a big sad face again.  (Fun Fact: Laura O’Donnelly used her own newborn in this scene so that is why the breastfeeding is so real!)  Nice touch.  Jamie is finding all this red coat business a bit of an annoyance and Jenny says this new Captain won’t give up till he’s hanging from a noose.   

Claire is still on the high speed train to Hornsville and decides she misses her husband. Which one, Claire?  Hmmmm?  She wakes Frank who, like a good M16 agent is ready 24/7 for action but misses her ambiguous husband reference and dutifully lets her ride his pony.  Sharing is caring. Giddyup Claire.

The Redcoats finally return Ian Murray back to Lallybroch like a sack of spuds and he ignores their repeated requests to turn over Jamie and tedious threats of getting his whole family by saying “It’s been a lovely visit gentlemen” and heads inside to meet his new son. 

Fergus watching on, decides to take matters into his own hands (no pun intended but it works for me, if it works for you) leads them on a wild goose chase tour of Lallybroch estate.  He confronts them and taunts them that he’s far superior to them and the music turns ominious and most know bad things are coming next.  They chase him and he taunts them continuously.  Jamie is checking his traps and hears them but can’t reveal his position to help. He quietly pleads for Fergus to stop taunting and watches the next bit unfold in horror with the rest of us.  *hides behind cushions/hands/whisky glass  The red coats corner Fergus and Mr Meany Pants McGregor, hell bent on blood lust, lops off Fergus’s tiny left hand.  Its excruciatingly real to watch and we are all glad not to have lived through those times.

The red coats leave Fergus alone to bleed out and Jamie swoops down to stem the blood flow with a torniquay belt, just like Claire showed him many times.  Just for fun.  Or maybe not.  I digress. 

He whisks poor Fergus back to Lallybroch where Jenny praises him for saving him.  He feels guilty though and loses his shit, ugly crying all over Jenny like there’s no tomorrow. 

Later, when he gains back some grumpiness, he visits Fergus to remind him that there is something left to fight for.  Fergus sees his old Milord back and hope has returned to Lallybroch again.  Fergus is relieved by the promise Jamie made him in Paris that if he ever lost a hand in his service, then Jamie would provide for him for the rest of his life.  He has in one swipe become a man of leisure.

Meanwhile....

Frank and Claire are busy entertaining Jerry and Millie from next door.  They introduce them to the delights of Eton Mess and how to kill a bottle.  This show is so brutal. Poor bottle.  RIP Wine.  After, Claire is in the mood for much more than a nightcap and entices Frank to the carpet before the fire.  Frank isn’t one for being swept up in the moment and questions Claire mid-thrust as to why she isn’t looking at him.  He cruelly stops before Claire can get to orgasm and he tells her “When i’m with you, i’m with you but you are with him”.  Like that’s such a bad thing Frank!  Not the best end to a fun night. Silly relationship etiquette.

Ian explains the downside of losing a limb to Jamie.  He tells Jamie the pain of losing a part of you that’s lost. Claire was his heart.  Jamie realises that he’ll never get over Claire like Ian and Fergus will never get their limbs back. Jamie also notices the slashed Fraser crest which was a result of a recent red coat raid.  He knows they will never stop wanting him as he’ll never stop wanting Claire.

At first Jenny is not happy with Jamie’s idea to turn himself in but they are all tired of the red coat dangers and his lack of grooming.  With the thought of having the reward to help them survive, de-stink the house and Jamie in a nicer prison not hung, they agree to go ahead with the set up.  Sounds easy, right?

Mrs McNab has an itch to scratch before Jamie gets sent to Ardsmuir resort and turns up to give Jamie his last supper in the cave.  And by supper she means a good hair cut and shave - Hallelujah, Angels sing!!!  He pops down the stream to wash and comes back to find her in her shift and he’s no dummy when it comes to women in shifts and presumes that Jenny set this up.  Mary rejects his theory and says she wants a hot scot in her cot and it’ll maybe see him through a few years in prison.  Everyone knows you don’t get sex in prison, right?  Jamie confesses it’s been a while between drinks and she’s gentle about it, mopping up his tear for his long gone wife.  Must be emotional having women throwing themselves at you all the time.  Plus everyone looks shaggable by cavelight. 

Claire decides it’s time to do something more to make her feel whole.  She missed lancing festering boils and so decided to become a surgeon.  She arrives for her first day in Anatomy class and of course scores a chauvinistic, racist lecturer who declares having her and a negro make them very modern.  Other students arrive and give her the cold shoulder like she just gave Season 8 spoilers to Game of Thrones.  In walks the ‘negro’ and he takes a seat beside Claire.  He introduces himself as Joe Abernethy and they instantly connect.  I love him already too.

Bree has decided to help her parents marriage by sending cryptic messages through her toy bunny but likes to mix things up, by hiding said bunny first.  Agent Frank is all over this new kid-code but Claire just chalks it up to childhood and goes to bed.  The camera pans back and to my horror we see they are now sleeping in single beds.  Flatmates.  Ugh.  Ring the marriage-is-dead alarm. Oh boy.  Goodnight indeed.

Jamie arrives at Lallybroch and pretends he has arrived home.  The red coats leap out of hiding and he pretends to be furious and shocked with Jenny.  Jenny’s heart breaks visibly, as do ours as she plays along, receiving her reward money.  Jamie is chucked in the prison cart like sack of dirty laundry.  Which he is because, Cave dwelling is not for the fainthearted and Lynx commercials.

Claire is out walking and comes across a busking piper piping a familiar Scottish tune and she can’t walk past without giving him some money.  I could have sworn she mumbled something about “giving him more if he was wearing a kilt” but I could be wrong.

The end.

[textualdeviance]

Re: that last reblog about false neutrality: YES. Balance is bias. Facts always lean toward one side or another, and any news org pretending otherwise is gaslighting you. 

My J school taught exactly that principle, thank goodness. Unfortunately, a lot of reporters--particularly in TV news--don’t have journo backgrounds that include this kind of training, nor have they had proper training in copy editing and fact checking. Way too many of them are just talking heads with a generic communications degree, if that. Used to be everyone in news had either a J degree or rigorous training, but once the big corps with their profit-driven agendas started swallowing up local radio and newspapers and running big cable news nets, journalistic integrity got thrown out the window in favor of the 1980s version of clickbait.

Because these supposed reporters are not fully educated, it’s assumed that they don’t have the skill and wisdom to make a judgment call about what facts are and who is most able to provide them. Thus the practice of getting quotes from all sides of a story, and then laying them out with (supposedly) equal weight, and letting the audience decide who’s right. Problem is: The audience mostly isn’t qualified to make those judgments, either, plus they look up to reporters as people who know more than they do, and thus they expect that the news will reliably tell them the truth. So if some jackass on Fox includes quotes from a Flat Earther in every story about NASA, they assume that reporter is telling them that the Flat Earth Society is every bit as qualified to tell the truth about Mars as an astrophysicist from the JPL. Adding confusion: The editorial and “debate” segments/shows that don’t frame themselves as different from straight news reporting. Used to be people knew that commentary and opinion pages weren’t the same thing as reported news. Now no-one has any damned idea what’s actual news and what’s just someone bloviating or a couple of people yelling at each other for the WWE version of reporting. After about 30 years of this, millions of people are no longer able to determine who’s a properly qualified expert and who’s completely full of shit, and an entire generation of news consumers has no fucking idea what’s real and what’s not.

Fast forward to the intarweebs age, and now news has been fully democratized. In many ways, this is a good thing. If everyone has access to a wide-distribution platform, it’s harder for gatekeepers with bad agendas to suppress a story that makes someone in power look bad. (This is part of why people who love propaganda want to kill net neutrality--if you can make it impossible for the plebes to load the pages with real news, it’s easier to control that flow.) Unfortunately, this also means that every dipshit with an axe to grind can call themselves a reporter and insist that their stories be taken just as seriously as ones from actual journalists. See Alex Jones. See Breitbart. See Young Turks. See U.S. Uncut. See the myriad sites run by homeopaths and other “natural” scammers passing off anti-science woo barf as legitimate information. Bald-faced lies are now being framed as fact, and far too many people have absolutely no clue they’re being lied to.

So how do we fix this? Well, it’s actually pretty easy:

1. Support your local newspapers and public radio.

As long as your local paper isn’t run by a massive conglomerate like NewsCorp or Gannett, chances are good it’s doing some decent reporting. If your local big metro paper is shit, look for ones from smaller cities nearby. Many of the weeklies are doing pretty good, too--even the ones that are part of the Village Voice parent company. Figure out who owns it, who the EiC is and what their background is, and then pay especially close attention to stories written by staff reporters (rather than wire services, freelancers, or stringers.)

Subscribe, if you can, or at least pay for a paper copy. If you prefer to get your news in digital form, turn off ad blockers when you go visit the paper’s site, so they can keep making enough money to pay their reporters and editors.

Any local radio that’s affiliated with NPR is probably a good bet, too, especially ones run by colleges. Donate to them if you can. Ignore virtually all talk radio. It’s an absolute cesspool these days.

2. Support the best of the national/international news orgs.

While they do have a slight liberal lean these days, the WaPo is one of the best national-news sources out there. I’d trust them over almost anyone else, including the NYT. For now, NPR is a close second, but whether that lasts depends on how much Trump fucks with it. For wire stories, take anything by the AP with a grain of salt, and pay closer attention to anything from Reuters, the BBC and Al-Jazeera. Many international papers also have good reporting. If you can read another language, look for stories from Der Spiegel, Le Monde, etc. If you’re looking at the U.K., be aware that they have some absolute shit there--ignore anything from the Sun, the Daily Mail or the Telegraph--but they have some good ones, too. The Guardian is particularly reliable. In Canada, the Toronto Star and Vancouver Sun are pretty good.

Some magazines are also good, and because of their longer lead times, you can often get far more in-depth reporting than the constant flow of glorified headlines you see elsewhere. Many of these have a strong East Coast flavor/bias, so keep that in mind, but for the most part, stuff from the Atlantic or the New Yorker is reliable. Ignore the big weeklies, though: Time, Newsweek, etc. They’re every bit as useless as anything else you’d find in a dentist’s waiting room.

3. Ditch ANYTHING that doesn’t do its own reporting, or doesn’t pay reporters.

News aggregators are the scourge of journalism. If the site you’re on is simply repackaging or doing commentary on stories that someone else reported, stop going there. This doesn’t include blogs or other places that are specifically designed for doing news commentary--and are upfront about that--more just the places that link to someone else’s story in the first graf, then have three more grafs paraphrasing or spinning what was in that story, and calling it reporting. That is not reporting. At all. If the person on the byline didn’t actually talk to any of the sources in the story, it’s not real news. It’s clickbait.

Likewise, some places may have a bit of original reporting, but because they don’t pay their freelancers, they should be ignored. HuffPo is particularly bad about this. They’ve even gone so far as to try to justify this by saying that paying their writers would introduce bias. HOLY CRAP NO.

4. Do your own leg work.

The ramp-up for this can be painful, but it pays off down the road. When trying to decide whether a given news org is worth your time, do some research on it. Find out who owns it, how long it’s been around, etc. Get some background on the EiC. Read some of its editorials to get a feel for where they lean. Look at some of its staff-written stories and see who they use for sources and how they frame quotes. See if they follow up any dodgy quotes with other sources refuting those. If a source seems questionable to you, go look them up, too. Could be that the head of Scientists for a Better World is actually some anti-vax crank who lost his medical license and is now operating a cult out of a strip mall. Some of the worst groups out there have names that sound legit--they do that on purpose to sow confusion. Make note of the icky ones, and avoid any news orgs that use them as sources. Also, see how often they run stories that read like slightly edited press releases. If they’re way too excited about some company or product or person, they may have literally just copypasted from docs they got sent by some PR hack. While press releases are useful for getting quotes or initial information, they have to be followed with real reporting.

Also: Don’t rely on your friends or family to give you reliable news (unless they happen to be journalists!) I’m sure Aunt Sadie is a wonderful person and means well, but if she insists that the article she read about how vaccines are dangerous is the gospel truth, chances are good you shouldn’t trust most of what she says about other news. There are a fuckton of well-meaning-but-misinformed people out there, and while they may be good sources for news about your cousin’s graduation, they shouldn’t be relied on to tell you a damned thing about what’s going on in Syria or whether the county water board has been taken over by corporate stooges.

(This caveat includes me, BTW. If all this seems like horseshit to you, feel free to look me up, too. I don’t expect my words to be taken on face value, and I’m happy to be transparent about my background and perspective.)

After a few weeks of doing this kind of investigative digging, you should be able to determine which of your potential news sources is going to be the most reliable, and you can then follow them on Twitter or FB or--gasp!--even buy their dead-tree editions if they have them, and rest assured that what gets in your face is going to be good information. Try to have at least two or three that you regularly follow. Getting a variety of angles is always a good thing, and some places are especially good for one subject or region, but not necessarily useful for other things.

The only way we get better, more reliable news is to pay for what’s already good, and stop giving money and clicks to the bad stuff. All news has to rely on revenue these days, so money alone doesn’t make a news source bad, but if you dry up the cash flow for the shitty stuff and start dumping it on the good stuff, we can eventually get news media back on track. To get good news, you have to be a good news consumer. Working for responsible journalism is a job for all of us.

[alienonion]

You’re Amazing!

short little thing i wrote about the recruitment of Lucio to Overwatch 

slightly based off kin memories 

“…ou diD WHAT?!” the voice just outside the door startles him fully awake. Lúcio blinks and glances around him quickly, taking in the featureless gray room. He can’t remember how he got here, or where he even is. He swears he was just walking back to his flat. Not a lot to see here either, so no clues as to where he is. He’s sitting in his chair (but not restrained, so he doesn’t immediately panic) at a desk with another adjacent to him. A glass of water sits on the corner that he doesn’t touch.

Whoever screeched is still talking, and he has to strain his ears to hear more through the door. “…really think….one for this….not…. ‘cuse me? Poster child? Why I oughta-“ somebody else speaks for a moment, before the first voices sounds right outside the door. “Fine but you owe me one.”

He flinches when the door opens and the woman steps inside, looking put off but quickly rearranging her features to look less so. She smiles at him before talking.

“Hello Mr. Santos. How are you today?” her accent is much more obvious now that her voice is clear. Lúcio leans back, feeling weird about being addressed so formally.

“I dunno. What time is it?”

“About 10:30, give or take.” She sits down in a chair across from him.

“Still Friday?”

“Mhm.” Shit, this meant he hadn’t been out of it for more than five minutes (give or take).

“Did you use a teleporter on me?”

She pauses. “You’re as smart as they think, I see.” She adjusts the orange glasses on her nose before continuing. “Yes, we used a teleporter of sorts on you. Scrambles the mind if you’re not used to it. Sorry.” She smiles apologetically. He almost believes her. “Though I suspect that was their intention, to scramble ya a bit.”

“What d’you mean?”

“Weeell, if this meeting doesn’t go how they want then it’s kind of important you don’t remember specific details about it ‘an all.” He leans back, squinting.

“That’s… really suspicious, I hope you know.”

“Yes, I’m aware of how dodgy this all is. I was, err, just now upset with my partner for the teleportation thing. It was rude of her.”  

“I heard. So what is this ‘meeting’ about?” Lúcio asks, using finger quotes and raising a curious eyebrow.

She smiles again and holds out one hand to him, an invitation to shake. “My name is Lena Oxton.” He shakes it warily. The name is very familiar but its origin seems just out of reach.

“Lúcio.” It doesn’t matter that she obviously already knows this.

“A pleasure.” She takes a breath and begins to type on a device on her wrist.

“What’s that?” Lúcio leans forward slightly before a holovid appears from the top.

It flickers once before playing the video. His heart stops beating and feels like it just sunk into his stomach. Eyes wide while he watches the video from the Vishkar Corporation.

He watches himself in the video, hood pulled over his face but definitely him, while he dropped himself from the air vent out of screen and paused before the room of equipment. On screen, he began frantically typing at the panel at the side, code after code, he can still remember the patterns now. Just like a song. A beat he’d come up with to memorize them. He temporarily forgets to be alarmed as he’s thrown back into the memory.

Then the security failed, right when he remembers he was about to panic. The lights go down and his shadow stepped across the room and grabbed the device, tossed it into his backpack, then pulled himself back up out of the air vent.

The video clip changes to him at the head of a mob, tearing apart the inside of a building with his music pulsing out of the device. Modified, painted, but still the same device. It ends and Lúcio is brought back to the present.

“That’s you, isn’t it?”

“How did you get that video? The security should’ve shut down, been inoperational, you can’t-“

“My partner for this assignment retrieved it. I doubt I could follow her even if she tried to explain how, but rest assured, it wasn’t easy. She was bitter about some kind of obvious solution for days.”  

“You can’t prove that was me. It couldn’t have been me.” He’s not panicking, but he is definitely considering how he can fight his way out. “I was at a concert, I can’t even walk, so I don’t know what-“ she holds up a hand to stop him, face calm.

“First of all, you aren’t under arrest or in trouble, so you can calm down. Second of all, you basically confessed already, not that that’s important it’s just funny. And third of all,” her eyes brighten and her grin reaches both eyes. “I don’t know why you would want to say it wasn’t you, because it’s incredible!”

He’s clearly taken aback. “What?”

“Lúcio, you’re incredible!” she repeats and flick to replay the video. “Look! Look again! You’re walking, climbing on legs you built yourself,” he glances away at the wheels on his chair. Her enthusiasm is so passionate and enthralled, he wishes he were wearing the armored pieces now. “So you could steal, then modify a complicated weapon into a speaker system to help the people you cared about! And I haven’t even touched upon the planning and hacking skills you would’ve needed to teach yourself just to get the weapon!”

He falters under her praise. People dote on him, and yeah, he has fans but… he’s never met someone who actually understood the lengths he’s gone to. Nobody’s ever payed enough attention.

“They’re… my family. So what?”

“So, did you really think nobody would find you out about it?” his eyes jump back to her face, only to see she looked mischievous, not threatening.

“Uhm…”

“You have a gift, Lúcio, an amazing talent for mechanics, you can and want to use it to help save the world. And we want that, too.”

“Who… who is ‘we’?”

She pauses to take a deep breath. “My name is Lena Oxton. But I suppose only superfans will know that.” She awkwardly scratches her cheek, hesitating. “I’m… more commonly recognized by my callsign, Tracer.”

Lúcio’s eyes widen in disbelief. No. No way. No freaking way in hell. She can’t actually be serious. There’s no way she’s-

“Seven months ago, there was a recall for Overwatch. We’ve since been rebuilding without the support of the national governments to fight the second omnic crisis as well as terrorist organizations that seek to cause panic and chaos. I’d say they’re trying to rule the world but that feels a bit melodramatic.” Tracer giggles once, but stops upon seeing his unchanged expression of awe.

“Lucio, we’re building a new generation of Overwatch.” He finally blinks and refocuses on her words. “And we want you to be a part of it.”

He’d figured as much. Hearing it out loud didn’t make it sound less crazy. If someone had told him earlier that he’d be recruited for freaking Overwatch itself (or hell, that Overwatch even still exsisted), he’d have called them insane. And this, this is insane. He never would’ve dreamed something like this could come of his infiltration stunt.

Tracer has stopped talking, politely waiting for his answer. Waiting for anything, really. He quickly tries to compose himself enough to formulate a response.

“W-uh… why m- no… who… else have you considered for this ‘new generation’?”

“Well we’ve got a few options that we’re going to look into. A few war heroes and a scientist or two. Probably a couple’a criminals as a way to get them off the streets.” Her eyes darted to the side mischievously while she said the second part.

“Like who?”

“Well let’s see…” Tracer tapped on her wrist device again, quickly scanning for the right command before the whole thing flickered off and back on again. She spared an annoyed look behind her before reading off the list that had appeared. “There’s a woman named Hana Song in Korea… An assassin in Japan called… Shimada? I hope I’m pronouncing that correctly. A pair of nutters in Australia that we’re tracking down as we talk, mmm and a few others whose names are listen under ‘classified until further notice’, which probably means they’re people we want to recruit but haven’t been able to get close to yet.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah, it’s so exciting! I’m apparently the ‘friendly face’ that is assigned to convince them to join us,” she leans forward in excitement, like she’s telling a close friend about a fun day, completely relaxed. “That means I get to see all these amazing heroes first, it’s incredible!”

“Sounds like it.” Something about this woman doting on these amazing people while she herself is internationally recognized as a super hero of the world just makes Lúcio’s head spin. How had he been technically famous for years now and never consider that people like this were as human as him?

“We’re getting off subject, though. I need your answer. If you need some time to think about it, that’s fine-“

“Can I still do music?” this isn’t something he would need time to think about.

“I- yes of course! While we keep stationed on our home base in Gibraltar, we try to keep some semblance of a normal life. Some of us even have close friends and families.”

“Really?”

“Yepp! Additionally, those of us who want to stay off the grid, do. So any charges that might pop up against you in regards to your… uhh… crime, we can make disappear at will. AH! Um, not that I’m using that as bribery or anything it’s just a perk!”

“Well now you got me interested. What other ‘perks’ are there?” Lúcio leans forward too, lazily smiling.

“Hmm well, we get instant and free medical treatment, curtesy of our very own witchdoctor, supplies and materials for anything your little heart could wanna build, OH! And we have big planes that can take us all over the world undetected, though I suppose in your line of work you get to go all over the world anyway.”

“Sounds great, now what’s the catch?” she falters at this.

“Catches…” she glances away, seemingly struggling to find downsides. “Well… you can’t tell anybody about it, unless they’re close family and they swear to secrecy too, uhm… you regularly risk life and limb to protect people and places from deadly super soldiers working for our enemy forces… oh! And the food there is kind of terrible.”

“Really? Is that all?”

“It’s like astronaut food, canned stuff and perishables are a rarity.”

“No I mean, is that really all you want from me in return?” he stares at her seriously, expecting her to give up and admit they want something from him he’d be less than willing to give up.

She chews her cheek for a second. “I feel like you’re expecting me to make you give up information about other freedom fighters or give up fame or something but… really that’s not what would happen. We want you to fight alongside us for a better world. We would trust you with our secrets and responsibilities as you would with yours. I suppose that’s the catch, then. You have to trust us a lot, even if sometimes they seem like they don’t trust you back.”

She said ‘they’ that time. Not we.

Lucio turns a serious look on her. “If I agree to this, I want you to promise that no matter what, should I be needed back home, I can come back for them. The people here are my family, and I won’t abandon them for anything.”

“Are these your conditions for joining?” Tracer is beaming again.

He raises an eyebrow. “…yes.”

“That’s all?” she mirrors his look but with a taunting smirk.

“…uhh and I don’t want to miss concerts.” She doesn’t stop smiling. “And… I get to bring my own food without obligations to share.” She giggles.

“Well then, Lúcio, as representative for the Overwatch Agency, I hereby agree to your conditions.” Tracer stands up, grinning from ear to ear. She sure likes to smile, despite her official tone. She straightens and offers a hand to shake. “Welcome to the team.”

Lúcio looks from her to her hand, and he, too, smiles, before accepting the handshake and, he figures, his new role in saving the world.

Holy shit, he can’t wait.

[thewrosper]

What Does Franklin Templeton Shutting Down 6 Debt Funds Mean for the Investor and Industry?

In a shock move on Thursday, Franklin Templeton announced the winding down of six of its debt funds that had credit risk. The shutdown kicked in from Friday (April 24). This is an unprecedented move, one doesn’t recall this happening even post the Global Financial Crisis. The last time a scheme was wound down was when market regulator SEBI asked Sahara Mutual Fund to wind up all its schemes in 2018, albeit for very different reasons. Before anything else, to clarify, if you hold any of these funds, as has been explained, there will be no purchases and redemptions made in these funds post-the cut-off time. So, if you are an existing investor in any of these funds, this means that you can no longer redeem your money and your investment is locked in these funds, until the fund house makes further payments. Simply put, your money stands locked. You cannot access it. Purchases or redemptions through Systematic Investment Plans, Systematic Transfer Plans and Systematic Withdrawal Plans will not be allowed henceforth. The most important question for investors right now is whether there is hope of getting their money back. As the bond market comes back to normalcy and appetite returns, the fund could look to sell the assets at a reasonable value. But the bigger question  is when will the COVID-19 pandemic ease and when will markets return to normalcy? There’s also individual duration of each portfolio — the shorter the duration, the faster it could get wound up. Of the six debt funds, Franklin India Low Duration has 1.2 years Macaulay duration as of March 31, Franklin India Dynamic Accrual Fund (1.9 years), Franklin India Credit Risk fund (2.2 years), Franklin India Short Term Income Plan (2.15 years), Franklin India Ultra Short Bond Fund (0.54 years) and Franklin India Income Opportunities Fund (3.2 years). The Franklin management did point out there could be staggered payments made to investors from the wound up funds, in the form of coupon payments and maturity proceeds. It’s a small cheer, but that’s what there is at present. Is there a quality issue? For the six debt funds in question, there is basically some exposure to lower rated bonds, where liquidity is an issue. As their fact-sheet for March 31, 2020 points out: Franklin India Low Duration has 62.8% of assets invested in bonds rated below A+, and 45.76% rated AA.Franklin India Income Opportunities Fund has 63.97% in AA rated and 41% in A rated bonds.For Franklin India Dynamic Accrual Fund, 52.7% is in AA rated bonds, while 44% is in A rated bonds.Franklin India Credit Risk fund has 60% AA rated and 49.6% in A rated bonds.Franklin India Short Term Income Plan has 58.6% in AA rated and 57.5% in A rated.Franklin India Ultra Short Bond Fund has 82.8% in AA and 23.9% in A rated bonds In addition to this, all of these six funds already carry segregated portfolios — exposure to names like Vodafone Idea and Yes Bank has been side pocketed. Side pocketing allows mutual funds to segregate ‘bad assets’, essentially bonds which are downgraded to below investment grade. Last month, in March, Franklin Templeton Mutual Fund marked down its exposure to various Reliance ADAG and Essel Group companies by around 90%. “Longer than expected time to monetise assets has increased dependency on listed share collateral for recovery. All these factors were causing continued stress in the issuer groups,” the AMC said in a note at the time. A few weeks ago, as media reports have noted, liquid and other short-term debt funds saw a sudden fall in their NAVs, as yields across money market and debt papers had spiked. “Given the heightened risk aversion of banks, higher withdrawals from funds began, which led to funds selling bonds at a lower price. There is poor appetite for various debt securities and very thin volumes, and the problem has evidently accentuated for low rated corporate bonds,” one report noted. What are the bigger problems here at stake? Firstly, Franklin’s move could lead other fund houses to also look at closing down debt funds with high credit risk. This could lead to large redemptions and further accentuate the problem for low rated debt securities, making it difficult to realize the reasonable value in the near-term. Defaults from corporates issuing such bonds can be a big dampener going ahead, for the MF industry. Has the Franklin episode nuked an entire mutual fund category? Time will tell. The RBI will sit up and take notice. In 2008, in the aftermath of the global financial crisis, it stepped in to save the mutual funds industry. The central bank then opened a special window to provide banks with funds to support mutual funds. This kind of a special window may be attempted again. Will there be a shift to other assets? This is too simplistic an argument. Gold is beyond the average person’s price threshold and bank deposits are yielding nothing. It’s a catch 22 situation and that may cause a lot of resentment amongst investors. I would watch MF inflow figures over the next few months, especially on debt and liquid funds with interest. AMFI has stepped in to soothe nerves by pointing out it’s a fund-specific issue and within that very low liquidity funds. To be fair, the six schemes put together as of date have an assets under management or AUM of Rs 28,000 crore – that’s less than 1.4% of AUM of the mutual fund industry. However, there is and must be culpability on both sides. This is pretty much like investing in a dodgy small cap, hoping to see that big pop.What is not okay is the attempt at pretending there was nothing dangerous being played. Mutual fund CEOs are on business channels and conference calls, saying there’s no liquidity issue. What should they be doing? Step one, admit there was and is a problem. You cannot have a problem, ignore it till it explodes and then ask the central bank to come in and clean that mess. The RBI should not be expected to keep bailing funds out for being a cowboy. Step two, stop playing the maverick cowboy manager in the first place.When you play with fire, risk exists. Short-term gains often get painted as skill. But there’s a risk to bravado and that risk must be seen for what it is. Read the full article

[hymn2000]

Ideal Confusion - MCU AU Fanfic - C10

(Title subject to change)

Story summary: Giving into the constant pressure from the press, Tony decides to put a rest to the rumours that Peter is his biological son - once and for all.

Previous Chapter(s): 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Part of my Frostiron and Spiderson series.

Warnings/themes: family, family stuff, adoption, DNA test(s), pressure, peer pressure, social issues, mentions of alcoholism, mental health problems, potentially some minor medical inaccuracies, mentions of corporal punishment, hurt/comfort

You can also find me on AO3

Chapter 10 - We’re Crippled And We’re Dazed

-

When Peter woke up, he had a feeling things were no better than when he’d fallen asleep. Loki had gone, which was the first warning sign. The stereo being turned off was the second one.

-

Tony held Loki’s hand, but refused to look at him.

“This hasn’t really come at the best time” Loki sighed. “Are you still going to that conference tomorrow?”

“Are you still going away with Jo Jo?”

“I asked first”

“...I probably should. Pepper needs me there. Professionally, obviously...” he swallowed. “Your turn”

“...This night away is already a replacement for the ward-wide trip that fell through. You know he took that quite hard” Loki said. “It would be a shame to cancel it. But at the same time...”

“You should go. I’m gonna be away overnight anyway, so you may as well”

Loki thought for a moment. “What about the baby?”

“What do I care?”

“Don’t be like that!” Loki said, pulling his hand away. “Now are you going to talk to him or not?”

“And say what?” Tony said, finally turning to look at him. “Say; ‘hey kid, so it seems you did come from my jizz after all. Sorry I can’t remember who your mother was!’. Get real, Loki! How do you think that’s gonna go down?”

“He wants to talk to you, Tony. He needs to. He’s got a lot of questions, and I think you have a lot to answer for”

“I don’t remember the kids mother, alright? How could I? What exactly is it I’m supposed to answer for? I’m just that minority who had dodgy contraception one time, and it resulted in... that. So what?”

“Ok, so you may not have that sort of answer” Loki said. “But you can talk to him about how you’re both feeling and about what you might be thinking. You owe him that much at least”

“Why?!”

“Why?! Because he’s your son! He’s only alive because of you! You’re the reason he exists!”

Tony looked a little taken aback. “Are you shouting at me?”

“Almost! You can’t just sulk in here forever!”

“I’m not! Can’t I take five minutes to gather my thoughts?”

“You’ve had five hours!” Loki sighed heavily, irritably. “You’re not the only one going through this! You’re not the only one affected by those DNA results. You need to talk to your son!”

Tony stood up. “No. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a long day tomorrow, so I’m gonna go and pack. You should probably think about doing the same”

“But what about Peter?”

“I don’t care!” Tony snapped, and he stormed out of the room.

Loki growled in annoyance. Part of him wanted to run after his stubborn bastard of a husband and shake some sense into him. But another part of him knew that was a bad idea. 

-

Loki bumped into Peter in the corridor. He sighed and put an arm round the boys shoulders.

“Do you remember me saying that me and Jo Jo are going away?”

Peter thought for a moment. “That’s... tomorrow, right?”

“Yes, and your father’s got that conference, remember?”

Peter nodded. “Are you..?��

“We’re both keeping to our plans”

“We got... we got all wrapped up in the press and stuff. I forgot” Peter said.

Loki lead him into his bedroom. “You can keep me company while I pack”

Peter sat down on Loki’s bed, touching the black silk covers gently. He didn’t spend so much time in Loki’s room anymore, but, looking around, it looked just the same as always: the same furniture, much of the same decor, the same pictures on the walls, the big snow globe collection, the Betty Boop lamp, the old Snoopy toy on the chair by the wardrobe... There was something comforting about it.

Loki got out a small case. Peter watched him pack the usual overnight stuff, and then his pill box, and his Musselflex, and his book, and his notebook, and his holiday mug with the Flopsy Bunnies on it.

“What about your pig?”

“I’ll pack him in the morning” Loki said. 

Peter looked at the scrubby old Ikea pig lounging on the bed. He’d always like that Loki had a cuddly toy, and especially in recent times, he’d found it reassuring to know that his father slept with a cuddly toy in his arms. It made him feel better about doing it himself. It seemed to be a bit of a family thing, as even Tony was partial to curling up with a teddy bear. 

“Where’s dad?”

“Packing” Loki said, rearranging his case.

Peter stood up.

“Peter, I wouldn’t if I were you”

“But I’m not you” Peter said, and he went anyway. 

-

Tony’s ears pricked up when he heard his bedroom door crack open.

“Loki, leave me alone!”

“Guess again...”

Tony looked over his shoulder, and then turned and straightened up, looking at Peter. For a moment they just looked at each other, and then, slowly, cautiously, Peter approached, stopping a couple of feet from him. Tony reached out and gently touched Peter’s face, and then ran his fingers through the boys hair, looking at him carefully. He pulled back for a second, and then pushed the boys curls back firmly from his forehead, and looked him in the eye.

“I didn’t know”

“I know...”

Peter wasn’t sure what to do. He felt almost sick with nerves and tension, and there was the very real possibility that Tony would lash out at him again. All he really knew was that he didn’t want to leave just yet. 

Tony rested his free hand on Peter’s shoulder, and just when it looked at though he was going to pull him close, he cleared his breath and withdrew. 

“Go to bed” he said, turning his back on him. “I need to pack”

-

Peter couldn’t face going back to Loki after that, although he quite wanted to. He went to his room instead, where he threw his clothes off and crawled into bed. He wasn’t sure what to think, but aside from his mixed up feelings about what they’d found out today, he also felt like he was about to be abandoned. His parents were both getting ready for separate trips, and one night was going to feel like a long time under these circumstances. Loki was off with Jo Jo, and the thought of going with them had never crossed his mind, but Tony had said he’d see if he could take Peter along to this conference. Somehow he didn’t think that was going to happen now. He wasn’t sure whether he should pack an overnight bag or not. He guessed not. Chances were, he’d be left at home and Thor or one of the Avengers would stop over to keep an eye on him. He hoped Tony would talk to him before then, because he really needed to know how much he was allowed to share.

-

Peter slept late, and he would have stayed asleep if he hadn’t been woken up by his phone going off. He jumped considerably, and, grabbing the handset, growled in annoyance when he realised he’d accidentally set an alarm. Still, it was very nearly midday, so he dragged himself out of bed.

It wasn’t as easy as it should have been, as he was struggling to open his eyes, and his head felt funny and the room seemed to be moving a bit too much, and he felt like if he stopped moving he’d fall asleep and collapse. Despite all this, he managed to have a quick wash and get dressed. He was just about to go and find Tony when there was a knock, and his door opened.

“Oh, you’re awake” Loki said, surprised. “You need to get an overnight bag packed, chick”

“Oh!”

“You should probably get something to eat first, though”

Peter nodded. “I’m gonna go and talk to dad”

“He’s already left, sweetheart” Loki said. “I thought you knew. I thought he would’ve... Never mind; you’ll see him tomorrow, and you can ring him tonight”

Peter was quiet for a moment, trying to make sense of everything in his head.

“If he’s gone without me, why do I need an overnight bag?”

“You’re coming with me” Loki said. “Get yourself something to eat, chick. Time is of the essence”

“I’m not hungry”

Loki sighed and put an arm round him. “You still need to eat. You didn’t eat anything last night, either. You’ve missed breakfast by staying in bed so long, and I’m not going to let you miss another meal. Go and get something to eat. No arguing”

“Why didn’t dad say goodbye to me?”

“Peter, go and get something to eat”

“I said I’m not hungry!”

“And I said you still need to eat! Do as you’re told!”

“No!”

Loki sighed heavily. “Fine, but don’t blame me when you feel sick from hunger. Now pack your overnight bag”

Peter folded his arms over his chest and shook his head.

“Fine, I’ll pack for you” Loki said. “Now, are you going to get dressed, or do I have to do that for you too?”

“...I’ll get dressed”

“Good boy” Loki nodded. “Go on, then. Jo Jo will be here within the hour”

Peter dragged himself out of bed, grabbed an armful of clothes, and went to the en suite, locking the door behind him. Why hadn’t Tony said goodbye to him? He always said goodbye to him, even if he was in a rush or leaving early. He wanted an answer. He wanted to crawl back into bed, too. He didn’t really understand why he was going away with Loki and Jo Jo. He didn’t have anything against Jo Jo, but he’d never seen him outside of the hospital. He didn’t feel up to that kind of social interaction. He wanted to stay home, but more than that, he wanted his dad.

-

Loki warned Jo Jo that Peter was in a  bad mood, and Peter did a good job of confirming that statement. He didn’t say a word, and wouldn’t look at Jo Jo properly. He dragged his feet to the car, throwing his bag unceremoniously into the back foot well. There wasn’t anything important in it, as far as he knew. Loki had packed it. Peter had shoved a handful of CDs in there, but he didn’t bother looking at what else had been packed. 

“Peter, don’t throw things about like that” Loki sighed.

Peter pouted. He didn’t have anything else to throw. Besides, one little bag wasn’t exactly going to damage Jo Jo’s little Fiat Tipo anyway. He sat in the back seat, folded his arms over his chest, and sulked. He didn’t want to be there at all.

-

It wasn’t an especially long drive, but it felt like an eternity to Peter. He’d forgotten his earphones, and he couldn’t really hear the radio over the two men talking, so he had no choice but to listen to Loki and Jo Jo laughing and bantering together for the whole journey. It was uncomfortably warm in the car, with the sun blaring in on them, and he felt sick. Maybe it was also due to not having eaten, but there was no way he was going to pipe up and admit it. 

“What’s the matter, little guy?” Jo Jo said, looking at him in the rear view mirror. “You feeling a little funny? Here”

He held a bottle of water out to him. Peter looked at it distastefully and turned pointedly to look out of the window.

“Peter, don’t be rude!” Loki said. He sighed and shook his head. “Just drop it. He’ll have it if he wants it”

“Well, if you’re sure” Jo Jo said, dropping the bottle on the back seat. 

Peter knocked it into the foot well. Jo Jo didn’t seem to see, but Loki gave him a look. Peter pretended not to notice.

-

It was a relief to finally arrive there - wherever they were. Peter looked at the house when they got out of the car. Normally, he’d have been in his element. It was a perfectly normal house, not too big and not too small. A good, healthy size, with a brass doorknocker and small pointy trees in pots either side of the front door. It was detached, with it’s own little driveway - the kind of thing Peter liked. But today, he wasn’t feeling great, so he couldn’t find it in himself to appreciate the little bit of normality before him. 

“Oh, I’ve just thought of something” Jo Jo said as they got the bags from the car. “It’s only two bedrooms. One with a double bed, one with a single”

“I remember you saying” Loki said.

“Well, since we have the extra person” Jo Jo looked at Peter, who glared at him. He simply smiled, and then winked at Loki. “Looks like we’re gonna have to share tonight”

“Don’t be a fool, Jo Jo” Loki said, but he smiled. “The baby will share the double with me. You can have the single room”

Jo Jo sighed, pretending to be disappointed. “Can’t blame me for trying”

Peter narrowed his eyes at them. Jo Jo’s feelings about Loki were something of an open secret, and wasn’t a threat, but that didn’t mean Peter had to like it. 

-

Peter threw his bag down in the hallway. The house was filled with that oh-so-familiar holiday rental smell, and it made everything feel just a little bit strange. 

“Why don’t you explore the house, sweetheart?” Loki said. “See if you can work out the oven instructions”

Working out how to operate strange ovens was generally Peter’s speciality in holiday homes, but he didn’t feel like flipping through carefully laminated instructions books, so he didn’t. There was a staircase to his left, which Loki went up with his and Jo Jo’s overnight bags. Jo Jo went through the doorway on the right. Peter gave it a moment, and then followed. It was a large room, with a lounge area at the back by the French doors. The rest of the room was half a kitchen, and half a dining area. Jo Jo was busy unpacking a cooler bag.

“Do you want a drink, little guy?” Jo Jo asked. “You look a bit dehydrated”

Peter ignored him and went to walk past, but Jo Jo skirted round the counter and stopped him.

“Hey, what’s the matter? Don’t you like me anymore?” Jo Jo asked, resting a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I thought we were friends”

“Why would I wanna be friends with you?” Peter snapped, pushing his hand away.

Jo Jo laughed awkwardly. “Alright, alright. You’re a funny kid, you know”

He went to ruffle his hair, but Peter slapped his hand.

“Ow! Hey..!” 

Jo Jo sighed as Peter stalked past and went through the door into the next room. Something was definitely up with that kid. He’d never seen him like this before.

-

“Hey, Loki?” Jo Jo said when Loki came back downstairs. “Is everything alright?”

Loki looked at him. “Why?”

“I’ve never seen him act like this before”

“He’s just sulking, Jo Jo”

“Well...”

“What?”

“He got a bit cross with me” Jo Jo said. “I only offered him a drink, and asked what was the matter”

“What did he do?” Loki asked.

“Ignored me at first, and then snapped at me, and hit-”

“He hit you?!”

“Well, hit my hand away, pushed me a little. Is he just having a bad day?”

“He’s being a little chancer” Loki said. “Will you excuse me for a moment?”

Peter was only in the next room, so it wasn’t difficult for Loki to find him. He shut the door behind him.

“Can I have a word?”

“I don’t suppose I’ve got a choice” Peter grumbled.

Loki sat down with him. “What’s this I hear about you being rude to Jo Jo? Slapping his hand away?”

“What makes you think he’s telling the truth?”

“Jo Jo is many things, but he’s not a liar” Loki said. “Did you do it?”

“No! Well, yeah, actually, I guess I did...”

“You guess?”

“I did, ok! I didn’t want him touching me. Who does he think he is?”

“I think you’re being a little unreasonable. You should apologise”

“I’m not apologising”

“Fine, if you want to be rude and naughty, that’s your prerogative” Loki said. “We’d planned to go for a walk once we arrived. Do you want something to eat first?”

Peter shook his head.

“You need to eat, chick”

“I don’t want to! I’m not hungry!”

“Alright, alright, don’t bite my head off!” Loki shook his head and sighed. “Come on, then. May as well get a good walk in while the weather’s still good”

-

Peter couldn’t help feeling terribly like a third wheel. Loki and Jo Jo were just friends, obviously, but even so. They were busy talking and laughing together, walking ahead quite happily, like they didn’t have a care in the world. Peter wasn’t sure whether Loki was putting on a brave face, or whether he didn’t care about what they’d found out at the doctors, or if he’d actually forgotten it.

Peter trudged along behind them, hands in his pocket. It was too hot, and he felt sick and wobbly and weak, and cross. They were on field footpaths too, so his allergies were starting to play up, so he was feeling pretty miserable. 

“Hey, you know these are also known as kissing gates” Jo Jo said as they reached a stile.

This caught Peter’s attention, as it was something he remembered being told. Jo Jo went first.

“Don’t try your luck” Loki said.

Jo Jo laughed, and kissed Loki on the cheek when he was halfway over. Peter scowled. He wanted to turn back, but he didn’t have the house key, so he supposed he had no choice but to follow. He hauled himself over, and when he was stood on the step on the other side, Jo Jo kissed him on the cheek, much to his surprise.

“Yuck! What do you think you’re doing?!” Peter fumed, and gave him a shove.

It was a proper push too, and Jo Jo fell backwards and landed in the brambles.

“Oh god! Are you ok?!” Loki gasped.

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” Jo Jo said, laughing it off in his usual sunny-tempered way. 

Loki helped him up, making sure he was ok, and then turned to Peter. Peter wavered, wondering if he should make a run for it. Loki grabbed him under the arms, lifting him off the step and plonking him down on his feet on the ground.

“What are you playing at?” he hissed. “How dare you? You’d better watch your step, young man”

Peter narrowed his eyes slightly, but otherwise didn’t react. Loki fixed him with a hard look, and then let him go, and carried on walking. Within seconds, Loki and Jo Jo were chatting away like nothing had happened. Peter wasn’t sure why, but it made him cross.

-

They took a different route back, and along the way came across the stream. It was only a few feet wide, and Loki and Jo Jo stepped over without too much trouble. Peter took his hands out of his pockets and went to follow, but his foot slipped on the wet grass and he fell, landing on his hands and knees in the stream with a splash. There was half a second of silence, and then Loki and Jo Jo burst out laughing. Peter was angry already, and now he was also embarrassed, and wet, and his hands and knees hurt - so he didn’t appreciate being laughed at, and directed his frustration at Jo Jo.

“Shut up, you stupid bastard! You wouldn’t think it was funny if it was you!”

“Peter!” Loki said, struggling to stop laughing. “Don’t be so rude!”

Peter tried to climb out of the stream, but his foot slipped again, and he fell heavily and sprawled on the bank - which only made Loki and Jo Jo laugh more. Peter swallowed hard, hot tears stinging his eyes, and he reached out, grabbed Jo Jo’s ankle, and tugged. Loki managed to catch Jo Jo before he could fall. He helped steady his friend, and then turned to Peter.

“You stupid, naughty little boy! What are you playing at?” he scolded, grabbing Peter by the collar and pulling him to his feet. “You’re on thin ice, young man! Very thin ice”

Peter looked down, hoping to hide the tears in his eyes.

“You might well be ashamed!” Loki shook his head disapprovingly. “Did you hurt yourself when you fell?”

Peter pushed his hand away and didn’t say anything.

“Aww, the poor little thing” Jo Jo said. “He’s all wet. Sorry we laughed at you, little guy”

Peter knew any further kindness would cause him to break down in tears, so he ignored him. He kept his head down and wrapped his arms round himself.

“He’ll dry off in the sun” Loki said. “Let’s carry on”

-

The rest of the walk passed without incident. Peter’s clothes were still wet when they got back to the house. Loki grabbed a set of clean clothes from Peter’s bag, which remained by the stairs, and told him to get changed. Peter slunk into the downstairs bathroom and did as he was told. He felt dreadful, and his hands shook so much he could hardly do the button up on his trousers. He felt sicker than ever, and when he stepped out of the bathroom, the hallway seemed to lurch beneath his feet. Loki saw.

“Right, that’s it” he said, lifting Peter into his arms. “You’re having something to eat, right now”

“I’m not hungry!” Peter insisted, trying to struggle away from Loki. 

“You need to eat” Loki said firmly, setting him down on the kitchen counter.

“Is everything ok?” Jo Jo asked, looking up from the table.

“It’ll be right as rain as soon as we’ve got some food into him” Loki said, setting about making a sandwich for the boy.

“I don’t want any food!” Peter said, slipping off the kitchen counter.

He went to leave, but Jo Jo stopped him.

“Hey, what is it? I know you haven’t eaten since yesterday lunchtime. That’s more than twenty-four hours” Jo Jo said. “What’s up? Is it a weight thing? You know, dieting at your age can be really dangerous, especially if this is your way of doing it. You’re not fat, Peter. You need to keep a healthy weight. Ignore the papers and magazines. You need to look after yourself, kiddo. Have a little snack. You’ll feel better for it”

Peter stared at him. For a moment he was silent, and then he exploded.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?!” he shouted. “Don’t patronise me, don’t try to preach to me, don’t act like you know me or understand me! You can’t just go around accusing people of being anorexic!”

“Peter, that’s enough” Loki said firmly.

“No, it’s not!” Peter shouted. “Mind your own business! Is it not enough for me to just not be hungry? You’re interfering with stuff that doesn’t concern you!”

“Ok, little guy, ok” Jo Jo said, in a voice similar to what he used when talking to a screaming baby at work.

Peter picked up on this, and he started shaking worse than before. He opened his mouth to shout, but before he could say anything else, Loki grabbed his shoulder.

“Stop it. Jo Jo’s just concerned. Now eat this” Loki said, putting a plate down on the unit.

“I won’t! I said I’m not hungry! I don’t need-”

“Do as you’re told, this instant, young man! Or you’ll be in a whole heap of trouble!” Loki shouted.

Peter went quiet, shocked, and Jo Jo took a step back. 

“Sit at the table” Loki said in a much softer voice.

Peter nodded, taking the plate and going over to the table. Jo Jo stared at Loki. He’d heard him shout before, but never in anger. Certainly never like that. Loki gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“Don’t look so shocked” he said gently. “Me shouting will never be as scary as you shouting”

“I wouldn’t like to bet” Jo Jo said. 

Loki filled a glass with milk and took it over to the table, setting it down by Peter.

“Go on” he said, nodding toward the plate. “Eat up”

Peter glanced at him, and then picked up a triangle of sandwich and took a bite.

“Good boy” Loki said, resting a hand on Peter’s head for a moment. “Good boy...”

-

Peter felt a little better after eating. He didn’t feel sick anymore, anyway, so that was something. Loki had left the room, so he was able to eat without being watched. He went and put his plate and glass by the sink when he’d finished.

“Feeling better?” Jo Jo asked, stopping by the kitchen area.

“Don’t pretend you care”

Jo Jo sighed. “Maybe I do. You’re one of my best friends’ son. You’re a sweet kid too. Most of the time. I thought we go along”

Peter scowled at him. He didn’t need to be lectured, especially not by Jo Jo. 

“Have I done something? Is it because I was flirting with your dad?”

“You’re always flirting with daddy” Peter said. “You don’t exactly go out of your way to hide the fact that you want to sleep with him”

“Ouch!” Jo Jo said, but he laughed. “I never knew you had such a cutting tongue. Hey, you know we’re just friends. I wouldn’t interfere with any married mans relationship, least of all your dads”

“Really? Could’ve fooled me”

“You know, Peter, I like to think I’m a pretty easy-going sort of guy” Jo Jo said, tightly. “But you’re really starting to get to me”

“So? That’s not my problem. What are you talking to me for, anyway? Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“I was checking on you. Is that a crime?”

“I don’t need checking on. Piss off and leave me alone”

Jo Jo grabbed Peter’s wrist to stop him walking off. “Don’t try me, little guy. You’re just a naughty little child - and I’m not as soft as I look”

“You mean thick?”

Jo Jo narrowed his eyes. “You need to behave yourself”

“And you need to mind your own damn business, you stupid prick!”

“You know, I’m getting sick of your attitude! You need some good old-fashioned discipline, little guy”

“For gods sake, shut the fuck up!! Either go away or prove you’re not the stupid, soft, pining little twat we both know you are!”

There was a pause, in which Jo Jo didn’t seem to react.

“Well, if that’s the way you want to play this” 

Before Peter knew what was happening, he was bent over the nearest counter with Jo Jo holding him in place with a hand to his back. He was so shocked that he didn’t even struggle at first. He recovered himself a moment later, quickly looking behind him and seeing the man raise a hand.

“JOHN!”

The shout made both of them jump. Jo Jo released Peter, who scurried backwards, putting a good distance between them.

“I-I’m sorry! I don’t know what came over me” Jo Jo said. “Loki, I-”

“I heard what he said. I’m sorry. But don’t you ever lay a hand on my boy” Loki said, coming over and giving Jo Jo a quick squeeze. “Peter, apologise at once!”

“I won’t! I’ve got nothing to be sorry for!” Peter shouted. “He’s the one who went for me!”

“You’ve been pushing your luck all day, you little imp! Apologise, or there’ll be trouble!”

“No!!” Peter shouted, and he started throwing a very loud tantrum. 

Loki watched for a moment, and then rubbed the space between his eyebrows with his fore and middle fingers, and then gave a heavy sigh and straightened up.

“I’m so sorry about this, Jo Jo. Would you excuse me for five minutes?”

Jo Jo nodded.

“Right, that’s enough. Come on, Peter” Loki said, taking hold of him.

“Hey, let go! I’ve still got stuff to say!” Peter yelled.

“You’ve said enough” Loki said, and he threw the boy over his shoulder and marched him upstairs.

-

Loki endured quite the attack to his back from Peter’s fists on the way upstairs, but he bore it. Once inside the bedroom, he closed the door, set Peter on his feet, grabbed the boy by the shoulders, and gave him a little shake.

“What the hell has gotten into you?!” he hissed. “You’re behaving ridiculously!”

“I’m not being ridiculous! Why are you cross at me?! Your bit on the side was gonna hit me!”

“What did you just say?”

Peter knew that tone. He took a step back, shaking Loki’s hands off his shoulders, and wondering for the second time that day whether or not he should leg it.

“How dare you? You bad, bad boy! How dare you speak to me like that? How dare you be so disrespectful?”

Peter thought about apologising, just for a split second. But he didn’t. Instead, he shrieked and shouted, not making any real sense, and certainly not doing anything to defuse the situation. Loki stood and watched him for a minute or two, trying to work out what had triggered the days behaviour and this current major outburst. It was more than just a kiddies tantrum now.

There was a short pause in Peter’s shouts, and Loki interjected.

“What am I going to do with you, Peter?” he said. “Your behaviour today has been absolutely atrocious. I fear you’ve dug yourself in a hole you can’t get out of”

Peter started screaming at him again. After a few seconds, Loki started responding, and soon they were in a full blown argument. And it went on for a long time.

-

“That’s enough!” Loki shouted eventually. “This has gone far enough! You’ve had your say; you’ve screamed your little lungs out, you’ve been as horrible as it is possible for you to be. That’s enough! You’re in so much trouble!”

“It’s not fair!!”

“It’s entirely fair! Now stop screaming. I’m at a loss of what else to do, so I’m going to spank you. Just wait till I tell your father about this”

There was a short silence, and then Peter suddenly burst into tears and started howling. It was such a stark and sudden change in atmosphere and emotion that, for a moment, Loki didn’t know how to react. 

“Peter? Hey...”

Fully expecting him to shout and pull away, Loki wrapped his arms round the boy. Instead, Peter clung to him and bawled into his chest. Loki held him tight, and for a long while, let him wail.

“Alright. Alright. Peter, sweetheart, you’re being hysterical. You need to stop now”

“I-... I CAN’T”

“Yes, you can. You can, and you will, otherwise you’ll just keep getting worse. You have to calm down”

“I CAN’T!”

“Yes you can” Loki sat down on the bed, holding Peter close at his side. “You can. Just breathe”

“It hurts!”

“Of course it does: you’ve overexerted yourself. You’ll feel better when you’ve settled down” 

Peter managed to crawl onto Loki’s lap, straddling him so he could press up against his chest properly. Loki held him as tight as he could without hurting him, rubbing his back firmly.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart” he murmured. “I’ve got you. You’re safe with me. Shh, there now. Shh...”

Somehow, and with a lot of gulping and a little bit of choking, Peter managed to stop crying almost completely. He sniffled and whimpered against Loki’s shoulder, feeling horrible and sick and numb and scared.

“...I don’t know why all that happened”

“It’s alright; you’re calm now. It happens to the best of us” Loki closed his eyes for a moment. The boy might have stopped crying (mostly), but he was obviously still incredibly distressed. “Ok, sweetie, you’re going to feel a little bit funny for a moment or two”

Loki rested his palm against Peter’s forehead, and a few moments later, felt him fall limp in his arms.

“There now” he said softly, setting the sleeping boy down carefully on the bed. 

For a minute or two, he just watched him. He looked rather peaceful, except... Well, his face was still flushed, and there was too much evidence of tears for Loki’s liking. He went and fetched a cool, damp flannel, and carefully bathed and dried the boys face.

“What happened to you today, chick? What’s going on in that funny little head of yours?” 

He put the flannel back, and then spent a few minutes stroking Peter’s curls. After a while, he sighed, and then pressed his palm to Peter’s forehead for a few seconds. Soon enough, Peter stirred and opened his eyes, blinking a little.

“Hello there” Loki smiled gently at him. “How are you feeling?”

Peter glanced round, stretching his arms a little. 

“...Fuzzy”

“Fuzzy?”

Peter nodded. “Yep, fuzzy. But in a good way... Did I faint?”

“No, you just went to sleep for a few minutes” Loki said, truthfully enough.

“Oh. Good, I think I needed that. I don’t think I slept very well last night” 

Peter stretched a little, but stayed on his back, resting one hand on his chest and the other by his head. Loki ran his fingers through Peter’s hair, and Peter seemed to relax even more.

“...I don’t know why I kicked off like I did” he said. “It was like, it happened, and then I couldn’t stop. Like someone else was in control. It was weird. It kinda... It kinda felt like some of those outburst I had just after May died”

“I see...”

“You made me sleep just now, didn’t you?”

Loki nodded.

“Did you ever do it to me back then?”

Loki hesitated. “...Once. It was that night when you couldn’t stop, and you kept being sick...”

“Oh, I remember that one. It wasn’t even like being sick; it was like it just kept dribbling out of me. It didn’t feel like being sick, even though I felt sick, and it burnt my throat”

“You were in a dreadful state. You were dealing with... that... And you had that infection. I’ve never seen you - or anyone else, for that matter - like that. Before or since... I remember Tony crying and saying you were going to break”

Peter didn’t say anything, but he looked away.

“I don’t think you even noticed it happen. I let you sleep for the full effect of it, which is about eight hours. You needed it, and you seemed better when you woke up”

Loki took Peter’s hand in his free one, holding it gently.

“I don’t like thinking about that time” Peter said, squeezing Loki’s hand. “It’s like someone elses memories, and the ones that do feel like mine, I wish didn’t”

“Do you want to talk about something else?”

“Please. I don’t wanna get rid of this fuzzy feeling just yet. I feel good”

“I’m glad” 

They were quiet for a few minutes, with Loki still combing his hand through Peter’s curls.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, chick?”

“I’m really sorry for everything I’ve done today. I don’t know why I did any of it, and I know it was bad and horrible. I’m really- I’m really sorry”

“Thank you” Loki kissed him gently on the nose. “I’m sorry for shouting the way I did”

“It’s ok... Thanks for doing the sleepy thing to me. I feel...”

“Fuzzy?”

Peter smiled. “Yeah. But more than that. I felt awful, and then I woke up, and I felt good. Everything feels soft and warm and nice. Peaceful, yknow?”

“Good”

“Is that what it’s supposed to do?”

“If I do it like that, yes” Loki said. “Now, darling. What do you want to do? Do you want to sleep for a bit?”

Peter looked over at the window. It couldn’t be much later than about five o’ clock. He didn’t really want to waste the rest of the day. He looked back at Loki.

“I wanna go and apologise to Jo Jo”

*

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