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vampireinterview · 3 years

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It has come to my attention that some of you have not been made aware of the fact that Plato was well known for being a Destiel shipper, in addition to the fact that he also wrote some philosophical works on the side. Let me explain.

Plato was an Athenian thinker whose real name was Aristocles (Plato most likely comes from the Greek word for ‘broad”, he might have been so jacked that people nicknamed him for his wide shoulders, which is irrelevant to the topic at hand but I’m collecting receipts on my hypothesis that all hellers are physical beheamoths). His work regarding the philosophy of love can be interpreted through the lens of the Deancas love story, which can potentially lead us to discover the very essence of what makes Destiel so impactful and universal, so bear with me, I’ll make it as introductory as possible.

Plato’s Symposium is a dialogue which contains the philosopher’s basic view on what love can be. The influence of the aforementioned text has been so strong that even those of us who are blissfully unaware of its contents have heard of the concept of “platonic love”. It is with great disappointment that I have to inform you about the fact that the way in which the term is colloquially used can be considered quite removed from the core idea of what Plato’s love is supposed to be about. Commonly people utilize it to refer to a non-romantic and non-sexual emotion towards an individual. However, even though the extrasensory love was the end goal, it was never too far distanced from the earthly, carnal desire that was supposed to lay the foundation for greater experiences.

One of the most illustrative elements of the Symposium is no doubt the Love Ladder metaphor (also known as Diotima’s Ladder of Love, the Scala Amoris); Plato believes the act of loving to be a part of the process of initiation into the non-material world of ideas. Every step of the ladder helps one approach the transcendence of one’s soul, and so we can single out six steps to immortal absolutes:

1. The first step is developing an appreciation for a particular person. It’s a very much carnal (though not necessarily conventionally sexual) desire for beauty of a specific individual. According to Plato only through the love of the physical can one love the non material. The visceral infatuation with another’s body is often strongly rooted with the self-hatred of one’s own aesthetical poverty: within the carnal love we seek to find that which our own body lacks. The desire between Dean and Cas doesn’t have to be seen as strictly sexual, as the appreciation of beauty does not warrant a conventionally erotic subtext. This sort of fascination with the flesh is most noticeably highlighted in the many “eye sex” scenes in seasons 4-5, and is later brought up by Hester:

The very touch of you corrupts. When Castiel first laid a hand on you in Hell, he was lost.

2. The second step stems from the appreciation for all physicality derived directly from the love one has for the lover’s form. It’s fleshed out any time Dean finds beauty in the dark times, where he would have never found it before or when Cas sees humanity through the lens of the love he has for the beauty within Dean Winchester. This step is all about finding the allure in everybody, not in spite of but rather because of having fallen for a specific person’s material form.

3. The next step is a love which transcends the physical and teaches an individual to feel affection towards the souls. The attraction one can experience in relation to that which is non material is precisely what takes the function of the driving force behind both Castiel’s and Dean’s decisions in season 6 and onward (arguably even much earlier for Cas? or even Dean? Maybe we’re talking about season 4?). As evidenced by the apparent lack of attraction Dean experiences towards Jimmy himself, he must have already moved on to this stage (the Cas he loves is not just the vessel he inhabits). Castiel on the other hand feels heavily infatueted with Dean’s spiritual allure (even when he’s physically on the verge of a breakdown, he’s still beautiful, still Dean Winchester).

4. It is only then that one can find love for the institution. If one worships souls, then one also has to worship the product of those souls: and, sure enough, loving humanity led Castiel to love its structures and ethical systems and be willing to die fighting for them. In the later seasons he exhibits fascination over all the little rules that guide an average human’s life (which is especially fleshed out in his season 7 dialogues, where he contemplates all the small details of the societal structure, ie: how important is lipstick to you?, maybe the human institutions should ban its production). Same can be said of Dean: the customs and traditions of other people are subject to his affectionate protection in the later seasons, which sets s6 and onwards Dean apart from the early seasons Dean who cared mostly about his blood relatives. The found family arc was for him a process of growing attached to the order of life which was previously foreign to him, and him learning to navigate functioning within a big family structure and an organization (the last one is physically manifested by his move from a chaotic life spent at random motels to living at the bunker, property of the institution of Men Of Letters).

5. Then comes the deep appreciation of knowledge. Now, it is widely disputed whether what Plato meant should be strictly narrowed down to just one kind of knowledge (in many English translations you might encounter the word ‘science’, though used in the ancient sense). The process of gaining knowledge is often equated with the understanding of ideas in Plato’s work, therefore we’re going to stick with that. The act of loving the process of discovering both the external and the internal world is a strong factor which pushes Dean to self examination, or the examination of the inner psyche. It is that pursuit of knowledge that is the very coronation of his entire character arc: the realization of his role within the story (”I’m not the ultimate killer”) which was directly derived from the act of loving Cas.

6. The final stage of platonic love is reaching the love of the very concept of Love. Once again, interpretations vary, but for the sake of the argument, I’ll clarify that: the discussed kind of love transcends both the body and the soul. An individual is in love with Beauty, not just one of it’s physical or spiritual manifestations. In my opinion, this stage is extremely well depicted during the 15x18 confession scene, for it is a kind of love achieved by Castiel. He is no longer just in love with the body or soul of Dean, he’s also in love with the sole idea of loving him. He quite literally states that he’s fallen in love with the idea of just being, just saying it, just falling in love.

Upon achieving this state, he transcends his material conditions both by leaving the human world (his move to another dimension - the Empty - could be just an illustrative manifestation of the transcendental move of his essence) and giving birth to a new world order. The way in which he later on goes to rebuild Heaven and give birth to a completely new, structure of the universe is in line with a concept that Plato ties into the finale step of the Ladder - pregnancy of the soul. At one point in Symposium he describes Diotima saying that:

That in that life alone, when he looks at Beauty in the only way that Beauty can be seen--only then will it become possible for him to give birth not to images or virtue (Because he’s in touch with no images), but to true virtue (Because he is in touch with the true Beauty).

What is the christian equivalent and personification of the true idea of Virtue if not the abstract concept of Heaven? The moment Cas creates a new portrayal of Virtue he finishes the Ladder. It could also be argued that the true pregnancy of the soul was actually finished when Jack ascended to the status of God: an entity which belongs to the realm of ideas and is perfect by its very nature is birthed through Castiel’s love (which can be traced back to the feelings he has for Dean Winchester).

And it is the fact that Dean’s arc got stuck on the fifth stage of the Ladder that causes me so much pain. He dies before transcending and experiencing the non-temporal and non-relative feeling of love that one can gain only through the admiration of beauty itself. His life was cut short and his soul has already left the mortal, physical world, therefore he is forever unable to experience the feeling of loving Love and Virtue so much that his soul gives birth to an unbreakable idea.

In conclusion: if you ever see somebody say that Dean and Castiel’s relationship is platonic, just agree. It is very much so platonic in the sense that through their carnal and spiritual desires they’ve manged to (nearly, in Dean’s case) transcend their material conditions and reached the divine aspect of ideal Beauty and Virtue, rooted in a love that’s so deep that it’s perfectly able to redefine the structure of one’s existence.

tagging some people who have vaguely expressed interest in acquiring the third eye:

@cryptcas @futureheadnerd @doctorprofessorsong @sinnabonka @theangelwiththewormstache @absoluteheller @fivefeetfangirl

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poetrusicperry · 3 years

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the poets and their first summer jobs

i’ve seen some discourse about how rich all the boys/their families are, and of course there would be like very little reason for them to work, but i couldn’t help wondering who would do what for their first jobs (summer jobs bc they couldn’t work while they’re at school). andddd that led me to writing this lol

neil: so neil would have like absolutely zero time for a job between all his normal coursework/extracurriculars and his summer classes (”you know me, always taking on too much”), but i guarantee you he would still take the time to get a job and have his own money to do with whatever he chose. mr. perry wouldn’t care much because it showed neil “taking initiative” or whatever. neil would likely work at a diner as either a bus boy or a waiter. he’s super personable, so he’d always strike up conversations with people sitting at the counter, and he’d get loads of tips bc he’s cute (: he’d bring his summer school work with him to do during lulls in business, which his boss didn’t mind because it’s neil and everyone knows how responsible he is. the poets would come visit him pretty much every day (to eat, see neil, and escape the heat in the air conditioning), likely taking up a whole booth, and making an absolute mess of the area. charlie would be making spitballs, aiming at cameron and knox every time (earning a “charlie, knock it off, i told you three times already! so mature of you, really.” from cameron) and meeks/pitts would try to see how many straws they could connect to make “ultra straw.” todd would come hang out at the counter when neil was closing, admiring his pretty bf as he worked (’: neil would always make todd a chocolate milkshake with whipped cream and rainbow jimmies on the house, claiming, “we have to empty out the ice cream machine anyway” (but really he’d take the cost out of his paycheck, just wanting to make todd happy). his boss would hire him back every summer, loving how much business neil drove in (even if the poets made a mess every time they hung out and ate) and absolutely adoring how much effort neil put into what anyone else would seemingly call a “meaningless” job.

todd: you can’t tell me that todd wouldn’t look forward to working. especially during the summers, it would get him out of the house and away from his parents judging his every move. being the shy introvert he is, he’d likely do things like mowing lawns or gardening for people around his neighborhood. minimal interactions, but still decent pay (as all the people in his neighborhood were likely super rich and could afford to pay him well). the poets’ parents would hire him, after much convincing from their sons (”todd’s just trying to make some money, dad. please?”) and todd would appreciate this more than they ever knew. he’d become super familiar with flower types and he’d become a lot more nurturing after taking care of plants and grass for multiple summers. he’d keep a little journal or notebook with drawings or sketches of the flowers he’d taken care of, complete with descriptions and magazine/newspaper clippings from his mom’s better homes and garden subscription (a lot of his poetry would become nature-related as well). it would be his late night project, or something he’d do if he couldn't sleep (which was pretty common for todd). he’d call neil on the phone some nights and just gush about all kinds of flowers or tell neil how he accidentally got stung by a bee and cried about it because he knew the bee would die (all the while, neil would be listening so intently, taking note about which flowers were todd’s favorites for future use (’: the calls would have to be pretty planned, bc if neil wasn’t working, he was doing school work, or his parents were keeping an annoyingly close watch on him. but sometimes neil would call him impromptu and that made todd just the happiest little camper ever). todd’s nails would be really short (he’d cut them really often because he doesn’t like the feeling of dirt under his nails), which means he couldn’t bite his nails anymore, causing him to pick up a new anxious habit of biting the inside of his bottom lip ): overall, though, todd would like his job, and even find pleasure in being surrounded by little flowers all day. also if/when neil ever got the chance, he’d absolutely tag along to see his sweaty boyfriend in action (come on, neil would go absolutely nuts for todd in a cutoff shirt, 5″ inseam shorts, and converse mowing a lawn looking all manly and tough).

charlie: obviously, charlie wouldn’t need to work because of his financial situation, but his mom would 110% make him get a job just so he wouldn’t be around the house causing trouble/bothering his siblings for fun (”i’m hosting a lot of book club meetings for the country club this summer, i can’t have you putting spiders in the ladies’ hats again, charles”). similar to neil, mr. charlie dalton would work his summers at an ice cream/custard stand. he’d have to wear a white, short sleeve button up, a red and white striped apron, and one of those white, rectangular hats (his least favorite part HAHA, stating, “my hair is one of my best features and this just takes it all away. it’s unfair.”). the poets would visit often, both for ice cream, but primarily to give him a hard time about his uniform (”i’ll give you twenty bucks to wear this on our first day of classes” meeks would tease, completely gobsmacked when charlie showed up to their first chemistry class in his uniform, earning lots of demerits, but also twenty dollars). charlie would hate it at first, but obviously he’d adjust, being the extroverted/personable person, not taking himself too seriously and being one of the best ice cream slingers anyone had ever seen. he’d give the cute girls (and boys) extra scoops of ice cream for free, winking as he handed them their orders. like neil’s boss, charlie’s boss was even more thankful for charlie’s presence because they’d likely be raking in at least triple the income they would in a summer without him. he’d become a sundae expert, spending many dead poets meeting making them for his friends while they read poems and stories. that being said, he’d come to hate eating ice cream, publishing an article in welton’s honor demanding that they remove ice cream from their dessert menu (yes, almost exactly like the “girls at welton” prank, but he’d make the call collect this time. mr. nolan would be fed up to the point where he wouldn’t even punish charlie physically, just suspend him from rowing [which charlie wouldn’t mind at all HAHA]).

meeks & pitts: after their hi-fi success and the fact that they are seemingly inseparable, they both sought out jobs at the local radio station where they were hired as interns/assistants, running errands and picking up coffee or lunch for the station. but sometimes, when they worked pretty late, the night shift dj would let them pick the records and show them how everything worked (: after nights like that, meeks and pitts would go to one of their houses and add modifications to their hi-fi radio, staying up all night modifying and researching (by the end of the summer, they had made another hi-fi (portable) and their og hi-fi would have been morphed into a huge nationally reaching radio that they keep in the cave (since it would be disallowed in their room at welton). another job that the two of them would have would be answering calls for the station about song requests. with this knowledge, charlie and the other poets would hang out at someone’s house, calling and requesting the same songs over and over and over again. their biggest task for the summer would be organizing the shelves with all the records into alphabetical order (”duh, we should go by first name, meeks. which other way would it be” pitts would argue, only to find out that after they had spent about three weeks alphabetizing by first name, they were supposed to go by last name. “now who’s the idiot?” meeks would jeer, beginning to pull the records off the shelves). they’d also learn a lot about music from their night shift coworker, which would help in their quest to woo some ladies the following school year.

cameron: cameron liked spending his summers doing research projects for fun and just reading a whole lot, so you can imagine his displeasure at when his parents asked him to get a job (presumably to help with paying for his schooling). while upset about it, he wouldn’t complain, and took it on the chin, understanding the reasoning. he’d apply to a couple places, but ultimately end up as a grocery store cashier/stock boy. much like charlie, he’d have the same kind of uniform, but with a green apron instead. he’d spend most of his shift ringing people up at the register, being friendly and personable (something no one ever really realized about him !!). the poets’ moms would always see him and choose his register on purpose, using it as a chance to catch up or tell him to tell his parents that “the overstreets say hello!” or “mrs. anderson says hi!” pitts, meeks, and charlie would utilize cameron’s position at the supermarket to buy nudie magazines unembarrassed/slightly illegally HAHA (”come on, cameron! it’s not like you won’t be included in seeing them next year, too. we bring them to the meetings, you know that!” charlie would say, leaving cameron at a loss, reluctantly scanning the magazines and bagging them as pitts and meeks sniggered). charlie would wave, blow him a kiss, and wink as they left, “love you, richardddd.” sure enough, the magazines would make an appearance during the following school year and cameron was glad he had decided to let them buy the magazines lol.

knox: out of all the poets, i feel like our knoxious would be the least inclined to work (yes, even less inclined than charlie). his parents wouldn’t even make him get a job because he simply didn’t need to, but to everyone’s surprise, he would volunteer at the animal shelter. the poets would later find out that it was a great way to meet girls (which is why he did it lmfao so they endlessly goaded him about it). charlie would visit often, and even took a rescue puppy home, much to charlie’s younger sister’s delight. charlie even wanted to start volunteering at the shelter to also meet girls, but he was too busy at the ice cream stand (plus, he had really grown to like it there so he didn’t want to leave). another effect of volunteering made knox super interested in zoology and animals, which brought out a newer, more nurturing/caring side to him, and who knows, maybe he’d go vegetarian somehow. he’d want to pursue a career in animal science or becoming a veterinarian, but mr. overstreet was hellbent on knox taking over the firm, so it seemed like a pipe dream. knox would continue to volunteer at the animal shelter, well into his career as a lawyer, and would even go to veterinary school in his 30s (when he was a nationally famous, established lawyer) to get certification to work with animals in a broader way (:

hope you guys liked these. it was pretty fun to write, and i'd pay such good money to see neil, charlie, and cameron in their uniforms (and todd, but that’s neither here nor there). happy thursday !! let me know what you guys think of these <3(:

#dead poets society #dead poets in nyc #dps #dps headcanons #neil perry #todd anderson #anderperry #neil and todd #charlie dalton #richard cameron #steven meeks #gerard pitts #dark academia #headcanon #angelina writes

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kaijusplotch · 3 years

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Hunter is Not Ready for Omega to go Through Puberty

Debating on if i should publish this to AO3 or not? Either way, have Hunter having small crisises of the heart when Omega reaches puberty. Everyone discovering something about Crosshair. And generally the Bad Batch having DAD feels.

Hunter was worried. Omega had been miserable with stomach pain since early that morning; practically living in the fresher. He looked through every medical pack they had but Tech had said they were portioned out for adult clones and their strength could hurt more than help.

So, Hunter got hot packs ready and dimmed the lights of the bunk room. It hurt him just as much to know that he couldn’t help her more than just to be there for her until they could get some more appropriate medicine.

“Hunter…?”

He looked up from where he was trying to look up how to treat stomach pain and his heart dropped. “Omega? what’s wrong?”

“I’m bleeding...down there.” Omega’s face was beet red and there were tears in her eyes as she stood awkwardly near the door of the fresher.

Hunter’s mind went to static. What did that mean? Was she hurt? Had she gotten hurt and he didn’t notice? His heart started to race and he got up and walked over to her.

Omega had gotten taller, her clothes from Kamino no longer fitting properly. Tech’s spare blacks were at least somewhat useful but still too big in some places even being the shortest of the Batch. She was growing fast, like all clones, but differently too. Her hips were wider for sure, but it could just be because of the mutations.

“Are you hurt? I...I don’t understand,” Hunter said, hands on her shoulders as he tried to hide his fear from his voice and face.

“Um…” She whimpered and looked away biting her lip. “I ah...I’m not hurt, my stomach hurts but I’m bleeding. Not a lot, but I don’t know either.”

“What’s going on?” Crosshair asked, walking in with Tech behind.

Omega blushed and looked away, fidgeting with the oversized top of her blacks. “m’bleeding….”

“She says she isn’t hurt, but the stomach pains are still there.” Hunter explained turning to Tech.

“She is nearing seven, she’d be going through one of her first large growth spurts. Perhaps a hormonal issue?” Tech asked, grabbing his datapad.

Hunter nodded, looking up as Crosshair patted his shoulder.

“I’ll take care of this,” Crosshair said with a slight twitch to the corner of his mouth; his version of a smile. “C’mon kid, let’s go to the fresher.”

“Ah! Found something, Sargeant,” Tech interrupted, dragging Hunter’s attention back.

“What is it? What can we do?”

“She’s going through puberty, as expected. Except...it’s different for females…” Tech looked a little pale as he read his datapad. “They have...ah...oh. Menstrual cycles begin during this time which can cause them to shed the lining of their internal reproductive organs.”

Hunter’s eyes went wide. “What? Is it dangerous?!” Hunter grabbed at the pad, although Tech snatched it back.

“No, at least it shouldn’t be. It happens monthly, along with mood changes, stomach cramps and some skin issues. Well at least that’s the same as it was for us,” Tech muttered. “She will need supplies but…I’m not sure how best to handle this, Hunter.”

Hunter rubbed his face and swallowed. “I’ll try to contact Rex. Ashoka was a teenager with him during the war, he’s got to have some kind of advice.” The door to the fresher opened and Hunter turned around, watching as Crosshair had Omega tucked up into his side. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I’m going to take her into town.” Crosshair tossed Omega a poncho and put on a jacket and hat for himself.

“Are you sure? We haven’t completely figured out what-”

“I’ll handle it, Tech,” Crosshair hissed with a significant look. “We’ll be back in a bit.”

Hunter furrowed his brows, but Omega was leaning into Crosshair with a smile. It would be good to let Crosshair have some time with Omega and vice-versa. “Be careful. Have your comms open.” he advised.

“Yes DAD,” Omega sighed, rolling her eyes with a smile as Crosshair chuckled softly.

The door closed behind them and Hunter groaned. “I think my heart stopped.” He leaned against the wall.

“Your fine. Just like every other time she’s called you a variation of ‘father’.” Tech pushed his goggles back up on his nose. “I’ll see about trying to find a secure line to Rex.”

“See if we have any contacts to Cut too. Maybe Suu can help explain things?” Hunter suggested looking at Tech, lost and worried. His mind was still racing on how to help look after his ad. No he was not ever admitting that to any of his brothers that he subconsciously called Omega his ad.

“I’ll get right on it. I’m sure she’ll be fine,” he reassured as he walked back toward the cockpit.

Hunter spent the entire time waiting for Crosshair and Omega to return trying to get in contact with Rex or Cody. He chewed his lip as he was met again with nothing on the comms.

Echo walked in and sighed. “I’ve been trying to hunt down Cut and Suu but I can’t get any trace on the shuttle they took. Sorry, Hunter.”

“No, no it’s not your fault.” Hunter frowned and leaned back in his chair. “I should have asked them more before we left.” He scrubbed uselessly at his face and snarled. “I’m supposed to look out for her and I don’t know how to help her!”

“Hey, none of that.” Echo’s voice was firm and Hunter was a little surprised. His newest brother was rather quiet but apparently when he had something to say he would say it. “You’re doing everything you can. We all are. Omega will be okay, plenty of girls go through the same thing. We’ll adapt.”

Hunter smiled a bit. “Just like Saw said. It’s what we do best. Still want to help her feel better.” He glanced at Echo who smiled in return.

“You sound a lot like an ori’vod.” He gave a small shrug, flexing his prosthetic wrist slightly. “Just need to find out what she needs. For now, we can be there for her. She’s family.”

“Yeah, apparently Crosshair had an idea so hopefully he is able to help.” Hunter stood from his chair and stretched slowly. “How’s the upgrades Tech made?”

“Great, actually. Nice to have two hands again. Means I can give Tech a run for his money at Sabacc night.”

“Good luck with that,” Hunter laughed.

“Hey, if I can win against Cross with one hand, I think I stand a chance with two.” Echo grinned. “Maybe we’ll teach Omega next time,” he said just as the ship door opened.

“Teach me what?”

Hunter smiled in relief as he saw Omega walk in, looking a little better and holding a bag on her shoulder. “How to play Sabacc. I don’t think Tech would go easy on you, so maybe I’ll let you watch my hand next time we play. How’re you feeling?”

“Better. Cross got me some stuff.” Omega smiled, not looking as pale as before.

“I didn’t forget you guys either,” Crosshair added as he tossed a bag of items at Echo. “C’mon, kid. Let’s put this away in the fresher for ya.”

Hunter watched as Crosshair led Omega back into the bunks and relaxed. “What’d he get?” He turned to Echo.

“Food, mostly,” Echo laughed. “And other supplies. Oh, caff, keep this away from Tech. New whet stone, always useful since Wrecker loses his.”

“I do not!” Wrecker said, coming up from below deck. “Omega back? Is she feeling better?”

“Seems to be, Cross took care of it, somehow.” Hunter shrugged.

“She’s going to lay down for a bit,” Crosshair added, closing the door to the bunks behind him. “The cramps are better but she’s worn out. Try to be quiet if you need to go in.”

“How did you know how to help her, Crosshair? Tech is going in circles about what kind of information is anecdotal and what is actually medically necessary.” Echo sighed in exasperation. “It’s giving me a headache second hand.”

“I went through the same thing when I was her age.”

Hunter stared at Crosshair as the information slowly processed in his brain. “What?!”

“Quiet! don’t wake her up,” Crosshair hissed back before deflating. “If we’re going to have this discussion, let’s do it away from where the poor kid is sleeping.” He rolled his eyes and skulked off toward the small kitchen and eating area.

Hunter walked in and sat down across from Crosshair, watching as he kicked his feet up on the table chewing on a toothpick. “So what did you mean you went through the same thing? I don’t remember anything like that.”

Crosshair sighed and waited for everyone to sit before replying. “You don’t remember it because it was in the middle of the night in our eighth year.”

“That could be...what happened though? I mean...you-”

“Look like any other male clone,” Crosshair interrupted Tech. “I know. But I’m not. I had bad cramps and woke up in the middle of the night. Bled all over my bunk and was scared shitless. I ran off to the freshers with everything and tried to wash it.” Crosshair frowned. “Skirata must have heard me and found me.”

“What happened?” Hunter tensed, ready to get a plan to hunt down the trainer from Kamino.

“He helped me.” Crosshair shrugged. “Helped me get cleaned up, took the bedding to get washed and got some supplies from another trainer for me.”

“I remember that night!” Wrecker said. “I woke up and was wondering where you were,” he added with a frown. “I was worried.”

Crosshair laughed softly. “I was fine. Ended up with Skirata helping me out with medical and the Long-necks removed the ‘unneeded’ mutation.” Crosshair gave a sarcastic air quote.

“So...you’re female?” Echo asked before blushing. “I don’t mean to insult you or anything,” he added quickly.

“Genetically yes, I think the medics said that I've got an extra X. so XXY? I don’t know. Doesn’t mean anything to me now.” Crosshair pulled his feet down. “Doesn’t affect my work so I don’t care.”

“What can we do to help her then?” Hunter asked, leaning against the table as he took everything in. Crosshair’s genetic identity didn’t mean anything would change. He was still Crosshair’s ori’vod nothing would change that.

“First thing’s first, don’t make it a big deal; for EITHER of us.” Crosshair stared down Wrecker and Tech the most. “Second, she’s going to have cramps and mood swings so don’t take it personal. Third, the choco in the ship is GOING to disappear, don’t fight her on it.”

“Doesn’t sound too different from a standard cadet’s first growth spurt,” Tech commented as he made notes. “We can start to get more supplies for her, new clothes so she feels comfortable.”

“Yeah, she doesn’t look too comfortable in yer blacks,” Wrecker snickered. “Maybe we should think about getting her armor too! She’s already been doing great with her electro-bow.”

Hunter sighed and leaned back, biting back a groan and the ache in his chest of Omega growing up too quickly. “She...she isn’t ready for armor.”

“She’s the right age to start, Hunter. We all started with training armor at seven,” Echo advised, leaning up against the door frame. “We could do the mandalorian thing, have her started with a pauldron, and chest piece.”

“I really don’t want to think about that. She’s too young to be putting on armor and...and fighting.” Hunter stared at the ceiling, brows furrowed as he tried to control himself. “I don’t want her fighting. She’s just a kid and...and she deserves something other than the same shit we grew up with.”

“Careful, Hunter,” Crosshair flicked his toothpick at him. “Your buir is showing.”

“Shut up!” Hunter snapped and glared, hackles raised; although he really didn’t know why. Maybe because he was afraid Crosshair would accuse him of going soft again. Although that wasn’t exactly Crosshair before.

“Honestly, We’re all showing our buir tendencies.” Echo said with a small smile. “I understand why you don’t want to have her go through the same things we did, Hunter; but she won’t. We’ll train her. We know what not to do from our own experiences. She’ll be fine.”

Hunter frowned and leaned forward again. “I’ll think about it. For now, let’s just try to make her comfortable. Growth spurts are never fun.”

#The Bad Batch #Omega The Bad Batch #Crosshair The Bad Batch #Hunter the Bad Batch #Tech The Bad Batch #Echo The Bad Batch #Intersexed Crosshair #Wrecker The Bad Batch #Omega going through puberty #Periods #menstration #Menstral pain #Star Wars The Clone Wars #Star Wars The Bad Batch #Star Wars Fanfiction

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cristalconnors · 3 years

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TOP 20 SONGS OF 2020

20. “BELOW THE CLAVICLE”- EARTHEATER

“The meaning hasn’t come up yet. It’s still under the surface below the clavicle.”

It isn’t just Alexandra Drewchin’s ear splitting soprano when she hits that impossibly high B, practically shrieking out the “cle” syllable of clavicle, though that’s undoubtedly when I first knew that Eartheater’s avant folk was for me- it’s also the cinematic, lush strings, both bowed and plucked (is that acoustic guitar or harp? I genuinely can’t tell), deepening and complicating the sonic texture of Drewchin’s study of parsing through emotions you aren’t ready to make sense of yet.

19. “PUSSY TALK”- CITY GIRLS, FT. DOJA CAT

“This pussy so ghetto, this pussy speak ebonics”

“WAP”’s funnier, classless Irish twin, though it’s important to note “Pussy Talk” came first. Yung Miami and JT enlist Doja Cat to expound on everything their pussies deserve and will absolutely settle for nothing less than. And why should they when they’re spitting out verses this inspiredly hilarious with such confidence and flow?

18. “LICK IN HEAVEN”- JESSY LANZA

“Once I’m spinning, I can’t stop spinning...”

Jessy Lanza is talking about losing your cool, letting your emotions get the best of you and lashing out instead of letting cooler heads prevail, but when that earworm of a chorus hits- “once I’m spinning, I can’t stop spinning” - I can’t stop spinning. I’m that woman on the single art, a wine mom lost in the delirium of the dance floor and in Lanza’s hypnotic, fragmented rhythms.

17. “GASLIGHTER”- THE CHICKS

“Boy, you know exactly what you did on my boat!”

“Gaslighter” finds Natalie Ames and her Chicks at their most simultaneously ruthless and ebullient, ripping Ames’s ex-husband Adrian Pasdar a new asshole and ratcheting up the righteous anger of “Goodbye Earl” tenfold, channeling it into a glorious wall of sound in what might be their most rousing, emotionally resonant chorus in their storied career.

16. “HANNAH SUN”- LOMELDA

“Hannah do no harm...”

While “Hannah Sun” begins as an exquisitely observed rumination on grappling with long-distance, pining for someone who’s a continent away, it gradually becomes clear that Hannah Read blames herself for putting the distance between her and the subject of her longing, and that the distance isn’t strictly literal. Skittering synths (or is that distorted flute?) complicate and enrich the texture of the song, allowing it to build organically and stunningly towards a heartbreaking plea to herself- “Hannah, do no harm.”

15. “FIRE”- WAXAHATCHEE

“And when I turn back around will you drain me back out? Will you let me believe that I broke through?”

When I’d drive back and forth between Dallas and Austin over and over again when I was in college, I’d often get off I-35 past Waco and take the back roads through towns I’d never heard of, the sun setting spectacularly behind the titular hills of Hill Country that were beginning to roll out in earnest. I think about that a lot when listening to “Fire,” a song dripping in rural Americana that was, unsurprisingly, inspired by a road trip. We’ve probably all been Katie Crutchfield as she crossed the bridge into West Memphis- alone in the car, awed by the simple beauty of the American countryside, making speeches to ourselves about our past mistakes and figuring out a way forward.

14. “3AM”- HAIM

“On the screen and in my jeans, just make me feel good.”

On an album full of genre departures and decidedly darker themes than we’ve typically heard from Haim in their near decade of syncopated bubblegum pop rock, “3AM” stands out not only as their most effective stab at pastiche, slipping into the trappings of contemporary R&B with shocking ease and gusto, but also as their most unabashedly fun track in their entire oeuvre. “I think you can hear the amount of joy and laughs we had making this song” Alana Haim tells Apple Music, and you absolutely can.

13. “QADIR”- NICK HAKIM

“We’re sinking down a hole without thinking about our loved ones who might be shrinking...”

I often wonder if I’m putting enough effort into maintaining my relationships with friends I don’t see regularly, who live several time zones away, living their own lives while I live mine. When the thought of sustaining simple correspondence becomes overwhelming, it’s easy for months to go by before you realize you haven’t spoken to one of your closest friends. “QADIR” plays less like a eulogy for a friend gone too soon (though of course it is that) than a plea to the listener to put in the work. It’s worth it. You never know when it’ll be too late.

12. “LEVITATING”- DUA LIPA

“Glitter in the sky, glitter in our eyes shining just the way we are.”

Just a few bars of that delightfully bouncy, extra-terrestrial beat is enough to launch me into space. It’s so refreshing to hear a song that remembers that pop is supposed to be joyful and is best when it’s a bit silly. When discussing this track with Apple Music, Dua Lipa cites Austin Powers as inspiration, elaborating that “if I do a video for this, Mike Meyers has to be in it.” Can’t you just see them together, performing a farcical pas de deux of seduction like the spiritual successor to “Beautiful Stranger?”

11. “RIQUIQUI”- ARCA

“Love in the face of fear! Fear in the face of God!”

Arca’s made a career of harnessing chaos and somehow making sense of it. On an album that finds her embracing more traditional, accessible song structures, “Riquiqui” is a reminder that even when working within an AB structure, she’s still breaking rules left and right and having a blast doing it. She’s also never sounded so ferociously empowered in either her femininity or in her Venezuelan identity, rattling off local colloquialisms with affection and verve without a second thought as to who’s going to understand it.

10. “FANTASY”- AGAINST ALL LOGIC

“I think about you all the time...”

Or, the musical embodiment of this gif:

When Nicolas Jaar’s tormented synths and crunching beats give way to Beyoncé’s unmistakable alto, it is indeed quite the shock. But should it be? Even if 2017-2019 finds him ditching the dancefloor in favor of more severe, unforgiving soundscapes, his already varied career has shown us nothing’s off limits to him. So why not reinvent Beyoncé’s iconic “Baby Boy” into an industrial, vaguely sinister certified bop that arguably surpasses the original?

9. “PEOPLE, I’VE BEEN SAD”- CHRISTINE AND THE QUEENS

“If you disappear, then I’m disappearing, too.”

“People, I’ve been sad” plays out with the vulnerability and intimacy of a tumblr text post you put out in the middle of the night, only to hastily delete later when it gets no notes. It forgoes flowery language in favor of just getting to the point. “I’ve been sad.” Héloïse Adelaïde Letissier blows up this deceptively simple sentiment with richly layered textures and a big screen gloss not to offer any remedies but instead to offer solidarity. We’re all in this hell together.

8. “DESCRIBE”- PERFUME GENIUS

“Can you just find him for me?”

Mike Hadreas has never sounded so hopeless. Utilizing harsh, rattling guitar that would make Kevin Shields swoon, he conveys the experience of being so estranged from happiness and joy that you need to rely on others to describe the sensation to you. But how, when exploring darker textures than he ever has before, does he make despondency sound so divine?

7. “4 AMERICAN DOLLARS”- U.S. GIRLS

“No matter how much you get to have, you will still die and that’s the only thing.”

Meg Remy picks up where she left off on “4 American Dollars,” reviving the subversive pastiche she mastered on In a Poem Unlimited, this time harnessing the power of funk to dismantle the fallacies we’re taught about the virtues of capitalism. Heavy stuff, but Remy makes it less didactic than joyous, ensuring the listener will be singing “I don’t believe in pennies and nickels and dimes and dollars and pesos and pounds and rupees and yen and rubles” until they start to wonder if maybe they shouldn’t, either.

6. “STUPID LOVE”- LADY GAGA

“I freak out, I freak out, I freak out, I freak out!”

Due to a healthy spirit of contrarianism mixed with a touch of internalized homophobia and genuine bafflement at her universal appeal and praise, I was a proud Lady Gaga hater for as long as she’d been a cultural entity. I just didn’t get her at all and loved that about myself. Annoying, I know. 2020 was the year I was finally ready to let that all go. Just before the world fell apart in March, I was out at Flaming Saddles (RIP) with friends the night this song came out and by the sixteenth time it played, I understood why it was inducing such hysteria. This was a cultural shift. After a frustrating near-decade of Gaga subverting expectations so thoroughly that she was actively working against her strengths and sabotaging her cultural ubiquity in the process, coupled with the most frightening era of political upheaval in our lifetimes, she was finally ready to save us and be Lady Gaga again. Booming synth, drag sensibilities, absurd thematic conceits- all was right in the world. For the first time in a long time, people had something to be hopeful about, and as I danced that night, I felt that hope, too.

5. “SHELLFISH MADEMOISELLE”- RÓISÍN MURPHY

“How dare you sentence me to a lifetime without dancing?”

As soon as that bass starts (the funkiest bassline in the history of music?) it’s like Róisín Murphy’s snake charming oboe, coaxing even the most stalwart curmudgeon onto the dancefloor and keeping them there, dancing frantically and involuntarily like the citizens of Strasbourg in 1518, trying their best to keep up with Murphy who isn’t even breaking a sweat, commanding the masses with a sultry remove, beckoning you closer, pulling you inexorably deeper into the mass of gyrating bodies and whispering in your ear “come and have a dance with yer mum.”

4. “PARTY 4 U”- CHARLI XCX

“I only threw this party for you...”

As PC Music / Bubblegum Bass / whatever you want to call it enters its second decade, Charli XCX proves not only that there’s still new textures to explore within it, but also that no one can exploit its artifice to get down to emotional truths like she can. How can she make something this slick sound so vulnerable? “I only threw this party for you” she croons over and over again over glorious syncopated synths that build exquisitely, reaching their climax only to immediately fall away, until it’s just her and her trusty autotune, pleading with the subject of the song to just come to the damn party. But they won’t, of course. They never do, do they?

3. “WAP”- CARDI B, FT. MEGAN THEE STALLION

“I want you to touch that lil’ dangly thing that swing in the back of my throat!”

Sometimes you just immediately know you’re living through a significant cultural moment. No, not COVID. I’m talking about the experience of hearing Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion’s instant classic “WAP” for the first time, a titanic meeting of the minds that finds both of them at the apex of their cultural influence and at their most undeniable. Can the argument be made that these two aren’t the two best rappers in the game right now? How could you hear this inspiredly filthy sex positive juggernaut, where Cardi and Megan are trading the sickest verses of their careers, and not think these two deserve the world?

2. “KEROSENE!”- YVES TUMOR

“I can be your baby in real life, sugar. I can live in your dreams.”

If the 2010′s were all about the pop-ification of all music, trading in live instrumentation in favor of polished synths, 2020 forcefully announced the return of the electric guitar when Yves Tumor and Diana Gordon’s back and forth lustfully submissive declarations of desire suddenly gave way to that nasty guitar rip lifted from Uriah Heep’s “Weep in Silence” to announce yet another cultural shift in a year chock full of them- rock and roll was, indeed, here to stay.

1. “I WANT YOU TO LOVE ME”- FIONA APPLE

“I move with the trees in the breeze, I know that time is elastic.”

We live and we learn. Years spent soul searching and on self-discovery shape us into better, smarter people, progressively knowing and understanding ourselves and the world around us more and more clearly, but Fiona Apple knows that none of that can quell the ferocious desire to be loved by someone. By anyone. By you, whoever that is. We can know that time is elastic and that when we’re gone all our particles will disband and disperse and then we’ll be back in the pulse, and we can know that none of this stuff actually matters, but still- we want, we want, we want.

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lilfellasblog · 3 years

Text

King Roman and the Fake Harem

Summary: King Roman has enemies directly outside his walls, pressure from inside his walls to get a harem, and no solution in sight. Until he sees the solution has been right under his nose the entire time. This is the story of how an aroace King gets a harem of advisors.

A/N: If you liked this, please reblog. It is the only way to help this fic reach a wider audience.

TW: Two brief instances of sexual harassment, one instance of groping, swearing (because Virgil), and people sneering at sex workers/ presumed sex workers.

Word count: 2385

AO3 here!

Fic Masterlist here!

King Roman sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Ugh, give me a few hours to think of something,” he groaned.

His lead advisor that he’d inherited from his father, who Roman refused to refer to as anything but Orange, protested “But sir, we need a decision soon. It’s already been a week since enemy troops positioned themselves just outside our walls, and we’ve done little besides ask them to leave. That, on top of your lack of harem-”

“I’ll have something for you in two hours, regarding the troops,” Roman said, waving Orange away.

Orange huffed and spun on his heel, leaving the throne room grumbling. Roman brushed a hand over his face. A week into being king and the enemy decides to attack? The nerve!

“You know, if you roll out the catapults to the front gate, that would take care of the troops outside the walls on that side, and then you could concentrate your archers on the rear of the kingdom walls.”

Roman looked over to the side of his throne. Sir Virgil had been his best knight, until he’d been shot by an arrow that had permanently damaged his shoulder. That was 4 weeks ago, he was still in a sling, and ever since he’d been released from the medical wing he’d been making his lack of work everyone else’s problem.

Roman raised an eyebrow. “And just how would you propose moving the catapults from the armory down 100 feet of stairs to the front entrance, hm?”

Sir Virgil shrugged. “Ramps.”

Roman stopped short. Oh, he’s smart. “...very well.” He appraised Virgil. He’ll never be able to be a knight again and he needs something to do, and he’s not too unfortunate-looking… “How would you like a job?”

/////

Virgil adjusted the silks that hid exactly nothing of his upper body so they’d sit comfortably over his still-bandaged arm and shoulder. He was about to join his first ever advisor meeting, and he was beyond nervous. He’d been rather enjoying his life as the first member of Roman’s harem (that so far hadn’t even resulted in a single flirtatious remark, which Virgil wasn’t complaining about but he was certainly confused by), and he didn’t want to do anything to fuck it up.

“Ready?”

Virgil jumped and hissed through his teeth as his shoulder was jostled by the sudden movement.

Roman was frowning. Before Virgil could apologize, Roman asked, “Are you alright? I can have a healer come over. If you’d prefer to sit out this meeting and rest, that would be a more than acceptable course of action.”

Virgil was stunned. “Huh?”

Roman nodded at him. “Your shoulder, it seems to be causing you pain.”

“Oh! It’s not too bad, I’ll be fine. Still getting used to not moving it too much.”

Roman laughed. “Yes, that I have been witness to. Are you ready?”

“Yeah. Do I need to walk, like, meekly or whatever?” Virgil asked, cheeks already heating up at the future humiliation.

A look of disgust came over Roman. “No, I wouldn’t expect that of anyone under my employ.”

Virgil let out a breath. “Alright, cool cool.”

The meeting started out as expected, a few snickers from his former co-workers who were still knights, but nothing Virgil couldn’t ignore. Virgil recognized Orange by his blaze orange ensemble that hurt his eyes (no wonder Roman refused to give Virgil his actual name). When it came time to discuss military tactics, Roman spoke first.

“I would like to introduce my military advisor, Sir Virgil. Sir Virgil, if you would, please announce your strategy for driving off the enemies.”

Before Virgil could get a word out, Virgil’s former boss blurted out, “You’re trusting your military strategy with a common whore?!”

Virgil levelled him with his best death glare. “Call me that again and I’ll cut off your balls and shove them down your throat.”

Only Virgil was close enough to hear the King swallow his laughter at the general’s paling face. Roman cleared his throat and spoke.

“To answer your question, yes. Sir Virgil, if you wouldn’t mind continuing?”

Virgil smirked. “Gladly.” For the next 20 minutes, Virgil confidently discussed his strategy with the catapults and archers, fielded questions, and specified the ideal placements. As the meeting drew to a close and Roman went to do the obligatory schmoozing with top leaders (Virgil noticed with glee how the military personel scrambled to get out, supposedly to “update the troops”), the Lead Advisor of Common Education approached Virgil. Virgil did the customary respectful bow, which the advisor returned.

“I trust King Roman is treating you well?” he inquired, blue eyes sparkling from beneath a sandy fringe.

“Yes, very much so. This fucked up rotator cuff is the best thing to happen to me,” Virgil internally winced at his choice of words. Gonna have to work on that.

The advisor just laughed. “I suppose it must be! Surely, being part of a harem is much more comfortable than being a knight.”

Virgil shrugged, and winced as he once again forgot about his injured shoulder. “Yeah, it is. I’m just glad I can help in some capacity by being a strategic advisor.”

“Yes, yes, that must be quite fun for you,” the advisor purred. Virgil bristled at his condescending tone. “Do let me know if you require more… attention than what King Roman provides.”

Virgil wrinkled his face. He focused on Roman, and heard his attention was on Orange who was insisting that one person could hardly be considered a harem. “I think I’m good.”

“Oh, of course, of course, but do keep me in mind.” And before Virgil realized what was happening, the advisor had patted his ass.

Virgil used his good arm to grab the man’s offending hand, twist him around, bring him to his knees, and place a foot on the middle of his back.

“Ow! You stupid whore, get off-”

“What is the meaning of this?!” King Roman thundered.

Virgil released the advisor. “This guy was perving all over me, and I get I’m part of a harem but I don’t stand for that shit.”

“It was just a love tap!”

King Roman’s face was red with anger. “Sir Virgil, he encroached on your person?”

“Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”

“You are relieved of your duties.”

Virgil sagged while the advisor smiled smugly. Welp, the grapes and silk were fun while they lasted. “Yeah, okay.”

Roman jerked back a bit in confusion. “What? No, you,” he glared at the now-ex-advisor.

The advisor was aghast. “Excuse me? How dare you!”

“How dare you, touching a man without his consent and then having the gall to speak to me in such a tone!”

Virgil was in too much shock to process the rest of the conversation. He came back to his senses just outside the medical wing. Roman was instructing the doctor to recheck Virgil’s bandages as they didn’t seem to quite hold his shoulder still, and sighed in relief when he caught Virgil watching them.

“Virgil, there you are! Are you alright? Say the word, and I’ll arrange for you to speak with our mind doctor.”

Virgil blinked a few times.

Roman turned back to the doctor. “Could he have gone into shock? Does he need-”

Virgil shook his head to unfreeze his brain. “No, I’m fine. I’ve had people trying to kill me, part of the job, I’m okay.”

King Roman furrowed his brow. “Are you sure? Truly, if you need to talk to someone-”

Virgil held his good hand up. “I’m fine, promise. I’ll talk to someone later if I need to.”

Roman sighed in relief. “Thank goodness. Oh! The military is deploying your strategy as we speak! I thought I’d let you know before the good doctor looked you over.”

“Dope! Wait, what?”

King Roman was walking away. “I’ll see you once you’re tended to!” he called over his shoulder.

“What are you talking about, my shoulder… actually kinda hurts, okay fine.”

/////

One successful defeat of an opposing military later, and Roman had removed yet another advisor from his circle for creepy behavior.

“Hey Princey, I appreciate you defending my honor and shit, but that was the Lead Advisor of Trade,” Virgil began.

“And I’m better off without him!” Roman declared.

Virgil scratched his chin. “I mean yeah, but also you have a trade meeting with neighboring kingdoms coming up in a week, and two days after that you have an internal trade meeting with surrounding villages and the farmers within the city walls.”

Roman started stretching his arms and back in a way Virgil had identified meant he was stressed. “And there has been even more talk of my small harem, which does not bode well for external negotiations,” Roman murmured to himself.

Virgil shifted. “Yeah, that. Why don’t you just have your new advisors be part of your harem like me?”

Roman paused. “That’s… brilliant! Thank you Virgil!”

Virgil shrugged. “Yeah, no problem. It’s a pretty sweet gig. Although I don’t know why you haven’t-” he cut himself off with an awkward cough.

King Roman looked distinctly uncomfortable. “I’m afraid I’m not… particularly interested in those activities. I apologize if I’ve disappointed you.”

Virgil let out a breath. “I mean, I’m kinda relieved, not that you’re not hot! But I’d rather not break my two rules.”

Roman preened at the compliment. “What are your two rules?”

“Don’t shit where you eat and don’t fuck where you work.”

“Ah.”

“Look, there might be enough time to get someone else up to speed before the trade meetings. But you’ll have to choose someone quickly.”

Roman sat down in his throne and looked skyward in thought. “Are you familiar with Patton Hart? He’s already organized the internal farmers into their current union. What of him?”

Virgil remembered running into him right after a difficult mission and somehow ending up with a bag of tomatoes, a bag of bell peppers, and strict instructions to bathe and sleep. “Yeah, he’s a good guy.”

“How do you think he’d do as an advisor?”

Virgil didn’t have to think for long. “I think he’d be awesome. Want me to talk to him?”

“If you’d be so kind. And please assure him that his role would be strictly as an advisor.”

Virgil smirked. “You mean a shirtless advisor.”

Roman turned beet red, and Virgil cackled.

/////

Before Virgil knew it, the harem quarters weren’t so lonely. Patton had agreed to join, very happy with the wardrobe and quickly making a name for himself. Patton had, in turn, recommended Logan Logos to replace the other creepy advisor. Logan had run a very successful pre-K Montessori program before joining the palace harem, and he fit in with the rest of the advising circle well, already creating reforms to account for diverse learning styles. In fact, Virgil had noticed that the advisors who weren’t part of the harem started taking him and Patton more seriously once the proper and strong Logan had joined them.

The day of the inter-kingdom trade meeting had come, and Logan and Virgil would both be attending along with Patton. Everyone was nervous about how the sweet and gentle Patton would do at such a fierce and antagonist event.

Virgil’s shoulder was out of the cast and sling, although it was still tender. He clapped a hand on Patton’s shoulder. “Go get ‘em,” he said, trying to be encouraging.

Patton flushed. “Thanks Vee.”

The meeting began, along with the customary hour-long political niceties, and finally it came time for the trade advisors to speak on their leaders’ behalf.

Virgil ground his teeth at the open snickering of Patton’s garb, and he could tell Logan and Roman were feeling the same way. Patton, however, seemed to be unaffected by it all. As expected, the Kingdom of Fiery Fields spoke first.

“King Roman, we propose a 5% increase of taxes for the crops we export to your kingdom, lest we cease all wheat exports to you.”

“You may call me Advisor Hart, and for what reason? We already pay you 12% more for your crops than other kingdoms.”

The platinum blonde man stared at Patton with haughty hazel eyes. “Because, Advisor Hart,” he sneered. “our crops are unmatched in quality!”

Patton nodded his head. “Fair point. I suppose you won’t mind a moratorium on all exports of our steel to your kingdom then?”

It was as if all the air was sucked out of the room.

Platinum Blonde was outraged. “You wouldn’t!”

“Actually, we would. You are now meeting with the new King’s new advisory circle, and we won’t stand for pointless tax increases that a review of the books show only go to pay the noblewomen you’re cheating on your wife with,” Patton stated, smiling sweetly the entire time.

Half of the trade advisors around the table laughed, while the other half gawked. Platinum Blonde backed down, and the trade meeting lasted for only 2 days instead of the typical 3 since Patton effectively shut down any ego-based bullshitting that occurred.

/////

Virgil and Patton were taking turns trying to toss grapes into each others’ mouths, laughing, while Logan pretended to be irritated by their antics. The doors opened suddenly to show Orange, in his eye-burning all-orange ensemble.

“Hiya!” Patton chirped, hiding his own discomfort. They were all intensely disliked by Orange, who seemed to blame them for Roman not being interested in sex or romance.

Orange sniffed. “Advisor Logos, the noble King would like to extend his congratulations on the tax reform that redirected many of the fees of our noblepeople to educational supplies.”

Logan nodded at him. “Thank you. I’m quite proud of that myself and am very glad it came to fruition. Was their anything else you required, Advisor Wrath?”

“What?!” Virgil and Patton shouted at the same time. They whipped their heads over to Orange.

“No. Good day.” With that, Orange - or rather, Advisor Wrath - left their room.

Virgil and Patton turned back to Logan, who was seemingly reading again.

“Dude what the fuck-”

“How the heck did you know?!”

Logan just raised an eyebrow while continuing to read. “I have a way of finding things out,” he said, looking up for a second to smirk at them before going back to his book.

Virgil and Patton decided to not test Logan’s abilities.

#sanders sides #roman sanders #aroace Roman Sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #Sanders sides fanfic #Sanders sides fanfiction #patton sanders #ts sides

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

Note

I always find it strange how often I see people criticising James Ironwood for bringing the Atlas Military into Vale for the Vytal Tournament. Forgetting that one, the Vytal Tournament is an international event that houses who knows how many people from across Remnant that are in need of proper official protection and not what are essentially the equivalent of hired mercenaries. And that two, Blake Belladonna, did pretty much the exact same thing. She, along with Ghira and Kali Belladonna brought hundreds of barely trained civilians into Mistral, the supposedly second most racist nation mind you, to fight against what is basically a terrorist attack on Haven. Honestly, most people who hate James probably hated him from the very beginning, ignoring any good he did. Simply cause he’s military.

The argument — and I see these exact words a great deal — is, “Ironwood brought an army to a peace festival. He’s always been a bad guy in the making.” This, like so many other interpretations of RWBY, is technically a truthful statement, making it easy to miss that the spirit of the statement isn’t truthful. They’re missing the second half of our context: “Ironwood brought an army to a peace festival because he’s knows they’re not actually at peace.” That’s the difference between a guy who brings an army to a peaceful celebration because he’s paranoid and wants to exert unnecessary control over the event, and a guy who brings an army to a peaceful celebration because he’s one of a handful of people who know they’re secretly at war. A war he has just learned it picking up again. You can make anyone’s action look simplistically evil if you withhold enough information. “They punched me!” with an implied “For no reason other than that they’re awful” is very different from “They punched me!” followed by an admission of, “Because I attacked them first.”

This is the heart of Ozpin and Ironwood’s disagreement in Volume 3. You can’t convince the world that a war doesn’t exist and do everything necessary to prepare for an attack. Either you play at peace and risk everyone’s safety, or you prepare and you risk their panic. What’s particularly interesting to me though is that the fans who argue that Ironwood has always been a dictator in the making simultaneously seem to dislike Ozpin, yet both of their actions are intimately tied up in one another’s. I’ve personally never thought that telling the world about Salem was a smart move, just given how many people have reacted negatively to that information, but we nevertheless have to acknowledge that Ironwood is only “bringing an army to a peaceful event” because of Ozpin’s secrets. So if fans hate Ozpin for his secrets, why aren’t they sympathetic towards what those secrets have encourage Ironwood to do? If the world knew about Salem, they’d also know there was only peace between the kingdoms, not the kingdoms and Salem, and they’d likely understand why an armed force was necessary. They’d arguably have wanted one. See: the cheering over the paladins, Ozpin jumping on using the army since they have one now, hiring people to guard the train, Blake’s solution being to lead a quickly formed army into Haven, etc. The fandom ignores that armed forces were, for the vast majority of our story, presented as both necessary and wanted. Hell, I’d argue that’s still the case. If we erased Ironwood’s military from the story under the argument that it’s intrinsically bad, then Atlas is gone. Salem would have overrun the city and decimated the civilians with no opposition. The argument is that the military is unnecessary because we have good hearted individuals to defend the people instead, but where are they now? Most are dead thanks to Lionheart’s actions, those remaining are far away, and those here hung out in a mansion trying to decide if they would fight. The dialogue says, “Soldiers who follow orders are bad, be more like the huntsmen who decide to help out of the goodness of their hearts” but the plots says, “Those soldiers kept a kingdom alive when our supposed heroes decided not to help.”

To be frank, at this point the concept of our group being the “simple souls” to contrast the evil military man is absurd. They went to an institution to train as soldiers — in everything but name — so that they could impose safety and law on the world through the use of dangerous weaponry, many of which are a type of gun. They accepted official licenses for this career, gifted to them by a military general. They became a part of that military for a significant length of time. They achieved their goal prior to this by stealing and utilizing military property. And despite what some in the fandom may say, the group is no more of a democracy than the Ace Ops are: everyone follows Ruby’s orders. Again, a general in all but name.

Ironwood is a bad guy now. He has been since he shot Oscar with (I think) a clear intent to kill. I’m not disputing that and, to be frank, I have a great deal of criticism for militaries in the real world and in many other forms of media. However, I’m constantly surprised by the fandom’s simplistic “Of course he’s bad, he’s military” take when the show was not critical of the military until Volume 7 and our heroes have far more in common with that evil military than they do differences. Whenever I hear, “Ironwood brought an army to a peace festival” my brain immediately goes, “And Ruby stole from, then attacked, someone she was at peace with. Then attacked others rather than accept accountability for her actions. Blake raised an army because she deemed it necessary. Everyone is using upgraded military tech to win their fights. Everyone carries licenses given to them by a commander.” Ironwood is evil because of the actions he’s taken now — murdering people, threatening to bomb Mantle, etc. Ironwood is not evil because he made use of organized forces with deadly weaponry to protect the people. If that’s our standards for evil here (in the show, crucially, about fighting monsters that are a constant threat) than our whole cast is “evil” too. The image of Ruby pointing her gun at Cordovin to get what she wants and the image of Ironwood pointing his guns at the Ace Ops to get what he wants is not nearly as far removed from one another as they should be. The fandom is just very good at coming up with excuses for the cute girl threatening people.

Honestly, there’s a whole other essay there about the importance of character design and the influence that has on how forgiving we are of their actions. Ironwood is a white passing man with a serious personality and half a metal body. Ruby’s design emphasizes that little girl look, is the second youngest of our group, and frequently has moments where she’s made out to be adorable. It’s no coincidence that the fandom has an easier time shrugging of her — and her friends’ — displays of violence. All of which is a great example of why you should plan out your story themes ahead of time! There is a fundamental problem with, eight years in, pushing an anti-military message when you’ve already designed your world around military necessity, made your heroes a part of those institutions twice over, and began all this with the idea, “What if a 15 year old had a high powered sniper rifle and was given free reign to decide how she’ll use it to protect the public? Would that be cool or what?” RWBY began as “Teenagers are given fantasy guns to shoot monsters, how epic” and has now tried to become, “Teenagers are given fantasy guns to shoot monsters attacking their home, how horrific. This is an institutional problem that, if we kill this one guy, will instantly be solved.” That really doesn’t work.

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 8 #mymetas #Anonymous

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aviya932 · 3 years

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I’ve been thinking whether to write it or not. On one hand this is super important, on the other hand people don’t really care and I’ll probably get hate for it. But this has to be said and I’m gonna do it. This is really long but if you really want to understand what is happening in Israel right now- this is it

I live in Israel, and for the last 48 hours we have been under rapid missile attack. Hamas, which is a terror organization, have been shooting constantly at civilian cities and houses, while at the same time there have been various riots in mixed cities- by which i mean cities that have both Jewish and Islamic population- that in normal days live in co-existence. You have to understand a couple things right now before you come at me:

I don’t talk about high tension cities such as Jerusalem. This is Lod, Ramle, Jaffa and Haifa among others. Those are cities that truly are peaceful 90% of the time and I will talk about Jerusalem and Gaza so just stick with me.

THIS IS NOT A POST ABOUT WHOSE LIFE IS MORE IMPORTANT OR VALUABLE!! Living in Gaza sucks under normal circumstances but living in Sderot is not much better. There is no competition on misery and trust me as a person that actually live in Israel and knows what it’s like here on the day to day that we are well aware on how it’s like in Gaza.

this site REALLY likes to talk about experiences and how when you live through a unique event no one can talk for you about that because they don’t really know what its like. so right here right now it is my experience. You are welcome to ask follow up questions, you may send me a message to learn more or to disagree with a certain point. But if you don’t live here, even if you are from a neighbor country, then you don’t know what’s it like and i wish to god you will never know.

I don’t have all the articles right here with me, because most of the are in Hebrew and I’m writing this really quickly. So if there is interest I’ll give references and I’m really sorry for any typos here.

Here is a brief timeline of Monday, April 10. I’ll try to stick to as many events without being partial, and for contest there have been two major events on that day:

It is still Ramadan- which means that religious Muslims were on temple mount.

It was also Jerusalem day- which I have no idea how to translate but celebrates the liberation of the Jewish people and the old city from the Jordan army, and is an Israeli holiday in which it is custom to go to Jerusalem so there were a lot of Jewish people at the Kotel.

There’s a neighborhood in eastern Jerusalem called Sheikh Jarrah, in which there is an ongoing legal fight over ownership and governance. On April 10 there wad supposed to be a sitting in court about evicting Arab familiars. It was decided to postpone because of the tension but there has been many rallys over the topic.

During the Ramadan there has been a lot of tension, so the Israeli police have declared that no Jewish person will get on temple mount at that day. it made people mad, since it is a sacred location for us as well, and some groups have threatened to climb anyway. As far as I know no Jew have managed to get there, since things escalated quickly. Like i said, this month was very tensed, and when the cops hears that the Muslims in Al-Aqsa Mosque were hoarding stones they have decided to go inside. this was at about 08:30-09:00 AM. Since the mosque is right above the kotel this was very worrying but during the chaos there have been injuries- 21 cops and dozens of Palestinians. Stun grenades and stones. Hamas have given an ultimatum- either the cops get off the mountain by 18:00 or they shoot rockets at Jerusalem, which at the time is filled with as much Muslims as Jews. During the day there have been terror attacks against Jews that came to the city for celebrations and for the flag parade that was planned to start at 16:00 and to end at the kotel. there was a lynch against 3 Jews at sha’ar ha’ariot (lion gate. a lynch that was depicted by the media as the drivers’ fault and as a running over. the truth is that the driver tried to escape the stoning, hit a cement half wall and continued to be hit until a cop came to his rescue) and a 7 month old girl was hit at the head by stones.

by 18:00 Hamas fired 3 barrages toward Jerusalem. And this is the part when i can tell you first-hand. because I was there, because I could not believe that they will shoot at their own people. There were SO MANY PEOPLE at the time from BOTH SIDES. this is a precedent- until then every single shooting was aimed at Jewish city and never at Muslims.

HAMAS SHOOT AT CIVILIANS IN JERUSALEM, A CITY THAT IS CONSIDERS HOLY FOR EVERYONE, DURING THEIR OWN HOLIDAY. THEY SHOT MISSILES AT A CITY IN WHICH MUSLIM ARABS LIVE. THEY SHOT BECAUSE THE POLICE WERE TRYING TO STOP MUSLIMS FROM THROWING ROCKS AT JEWISH PEOPLE WHO DIDN’T EVEN TRY TO GET ON TEMPLE MOUNT. AND YOU KNOW WHAT THE WORST THING IS? THE FACT THAT INTERNATIONAL NEWS IMMEDIATELY STARTED BLAMING THE ISRAELI GOVERNMENT AND POLICE AND COMPLETELY REMOVED ANY RESPONSIBILITY FROM HAMAS AND THE GOVERNMENT IN GAZA. It’s so so easy to blame Israel because Israel is more organized, because our government, while being mostly useless in the last year since we had 5 elections, is built by the peoples’ choice and not by fear, because Gaza is an underdog and we feel for the underdog- and for good reasons. Do not think for a moment that we don’t feel sorry for the people in Gaza. They live under a terrible government that cares more for the Palestinian agenda than their civilians, most Shekels that the Israeli government is transferring won’t reach the people and instead will be taken by Hamas to build bombs, guns, and tunnels. Hamas needs the people to stay underdogs. They will use them as human shields for as long as it gets them sympathy, they will take every opportunity they have to blame Israel and the media is giving them exactly what they want every single time- even Israeli media will twist facts and stories to sound more progressive and ‘woke’ and politically correct. so here are facts for all of you

while it makes me sound like a five year old it’s still true that this time Hamas shot first and unsolicited.

every country that has missiles shot at will, and has the right, to defend itself.

is it okay for civilian casualty? NO. Absolutely no. But don’t any of you dare to use that as a reason for Israeli cruelty. Hamas have sot over 1,000 rockets in the last 48 hours. IDF has attacked about a 150 locations. Hamas is shooting wildly at cities and homes without care who they hit. IDF is targeting senior Hamas figures only. Hamas is shooting from homes and streets. every IDF base that has weapons in will be located outside of civilian location.

IDF is using the “Roof knocking“ technique, and has been using for years. for those who don’t know it- IAF is dropping a non-explosive bomb- a smoke bomb that makes some noise- on top of any location they will hit to inform every single person inside that they need to get out. Only after a few minutes’ waiting will they hit for real. When Hamas is telling us when they will shoot it’s nothing like that. They don’t warn-they threat.

6 Israeli people have died so far. 2 of them were Muslim Arab-Israeli. They do not care who they hit.

the people in mixed cities have been rioting nearly nonstop for 48 hours now while attacking their neighbors, while burning synagogues, cars, homes and restaurants. One of my best friends lives in Lod. they have curfew from 20:00 today until 04:00 tomorrow. Her situations terrifies me more than any bomb because those are people who lived there for years.

not every Muslim and Arab is to blame, and blaming everyone is wrong. BUT ignoring what is happening right now is naive. Do not be blind and do not believe every single thing the media tells you. There are countless videos were Arabs fake death. where they dress as soldiers to fake scenes, where they openly teach their children hate and where their leaders openly lie on live television and get caught.

most of the time people lie because they really believe it, but that only serves the disinformation. Sometimes good intentions only cause more pain and hate.

Israel is not without blame. no one is without blame because life is not a book- there are no 100% good people and a 100% bad people. Life is complicated and so are people and political situations. You have to criticize your sources, and if they paint one side as good and one as bad then you should stop reading them. there are Israeli extremists as well, and far-right movements scare me as much as any Arab riots but no one is working in a vacuum.

the numbers are very different for many reasons. The death and casualties in Gaza is larger for many reasons, but I’ll focus on the most important ones. first, the IDF is more organized and so their bombs are stronger and more advanced. Second, Hamas is intentionally stationed in neighborhoods, schools and hospitals for human shields. third, Israel is using everything they can to protect its’ citizens and pays fortune on Iron Domes. Hamas does nothing to protect the people, and they have the money for that if they wanted since the receive money from Israel, the UN, and various different NGOs. If you don’t bother to protect your own how can you blame others? when people in Israel get hurt because they don’t have shelter they blame our own government.

right now everything here is a mess, and people from outside do not help when they only spread rumors and hate. You don’t live here? you have no clue what is happening. pray for all of us, but first educate your self and read more than one source of news for god sake. If you want the full picture you must read right-side news AND left-side news. Try to understand what is true, try to understand what is an exaggeration, try to understand what both sides are experiencing and don’t just assume that you are the smartest, most educated person just because you support the ‘right’ side. There is no right side. Only A side. So try to stand with us. Stand with Israel and have as much compassion for us as you have for Gaza. We are heading toward a civil war that will not hurt only one side, we have been living like that for years so trust me when i tell you that everyone is tired of how things are. We want peace but we don’t really see it happening anytime soon.

and for the love of god, don’t just send hate. I care about opinions, i want to think about stuff that i haven’t mentioned and to learn from others. Hate comments will not help either of us and will only keep us where we are now, and you trying to hurt me will honestly achieve nothing and will be kinda boring. Sorry for being so blunt but it’s the truth.

#Israel #jewish #jew #ישראל #arabs #jerusalem #ירושלים #standwithus #zionism #ציונות #יהדות #muslims

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silkling · 3 years

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Silkling, I really love your writing. Could you please write a TFA fic of Isaac and Bulkhead bonding over growing up on farms?

You know, I always forget Bulkhead grew up on a farm. But I would be thrilled to! I hope it’s to your satisfaction!

———————————————————————————————————

Bulkhead was painting again. That in and of itself wasn’t something new. He painted a lot. What made this time different was that he was alone at the base. Sari had taken the others to something she’d called a “theme park”. He didn’t understand exactly what a park had to have to be called a theme park, but she’d told me it usually involved lots of things called “rides” and lots of games. He also didn’t understand how a ride could be fun, but then again he didn’t know what a ride was. He had a feeling that the way Sari used it, these “rides” weren’t the kind of ride that was defined by the dictionary definition of the word. She had also, helpfully, said that theme parks were always popular and the funnest part of the “rides” was the screaming. He had opted out at that point, being more confused by what exactly that weird park entailed. So, here he was. At the base, alone and painting with peace and quiet.

He rather liked it, actually. He knew Bumblebee didn’t understand, but it was moments like this Bulkhead found himself really getting Prowl. Stillness and quiet could be nice, sometimes. He was intending to do a big project today, wanting to take advantage of the rare peace to be found in their make-shift home. The others had said they’d be gone all day. He wasn’t expecting them back till close to sunset.

So when he heard a voice from the front of the base, he was rather startled. Thankfully, he didn’t ruin his painting as he jerked, and he sighed in relief before dropping the brush in the water pot. Then he turned to the voice, head tilting as it called out again. Oh, wait. He knew that voice! The large bot lumbered towards the unexpected guest, and as soon as the smaller form came into view his engine let out a soft churr of greeting.

“Hey, Professor Sumdac.” he said contentedly. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

The human had turned at the sound of approaching pedes, his gaze locking on the Autobot at the soft rumble of his engine. He blinked rapidly, not having expected the largest of their alien guests to be the one to greet him. He would have thought it would be Optimus, or perhaps Bumblebee. Still, it wouldn’t do to be rude. He may have had more humble beginnings than most of his wealth, but his mother had taught him manners and he intended to use them. Besides, Bulkhead had been polite enough to come out and greet him, even though he was technically intruding on the gentle giant’s own home.

“Good afternoon, Bulkhead. It is very nice to see you. I apologize for the intrusion, but I was looking for Sari. You wouldn’t happen to know where she is, would you?” he asked hopefully.

Bulkhead only blinked a few times, looking a little surprised. “She took the others to something she called a theme park. I stayed behind. Screaming for fun doesn’t really…sound good. I’m surprised she got Ratchet to go.” he paused. “Actually, that may be because I’m pretty sure she has blackmail on him.” he added, as if to himself. Then he seemed to remember the point of the question, and he frowned at the older human. “She didn’t tell you?”

“That she’s going to a theme park or that she’s blackmailing senior alien robots?” Isaac said dryly. “She told me neither of those things.”

Bulkhead smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, Professor.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. I’m certain she would have found a way to the theme park either way. I do wish she would stop skipping her lessons, though.”

Bulkhead blinked. “I suppose. You’re very patient with her. On Cybertron, if a youngling consistently misbehaves than their creators wouldn’t be as patient.” he said offhandedly.

Isaac blinked. “Youngling? Is that your word for a child?” he asked. Then the second part of the statement caught up. “Ah, pardon me for asking, but what are “creators”? I was under the impression you are living robotic organisms, not built by someone else.”

Bulkhead hummed. “Yeah, youngling! I’m one, technically. Though I’m closer to being considered a fully grown mech than Bumblebee. I’d be considered the equivalent of a 16 year old human?” he said, running the calculations in his head. “Yeah, somewhere in that range. Bee is the equivalent of a 13 or 14 year old.” He was pretty good with math. His numbers were mostly right, or at least close enough for his point to be understood.

Isaac was staring. “You and Bumblebee…are not yet adults?” he seemed stunned.

“Nope!” Bulkhead was cheerful. “Bossbot and Ratchet are. Prowl is too, I think? He’s really private but I’m pretty sure he is. He’s older than Bossbot is, anyway.” he smiled, humming to himself. “I actually think Prime is only just considered a proper mech? Like, uh….between 19 and 21 in humans terms?” he tapped his chin with a finger, only just then noticing the open mouthed gape the professor was sending him. The large bot squirmed, uncomfortable. “Professor?”

Isaac snapped his mouth shut with a audible click, then shook his head. “You and Bumblebee-“ he cut himself off, shaking his head again before he kept speaking. “You are not yet adult on your world?” he repeated, still internally flailing over that revelation.

Bulkhead blinked. “Well, no.” he said, tilting his head. “Why?”

“Because if you’re still so young you shouldn’t have been allowed off the planet!” Isaac answered, his hands flapping with his distress.

The Autobot frowned. “Well, I’m close enough to being an adult that I’m considered capable of any type of non-combatant work. When I flunked out of the Academy that left space bridge repairs.” he said. “My creators were fine with it cause they were sure I’d be staying in Autobot space territory, and since they know how well I know space bridges they weren’t actually worried about me being in danger.”

“What about Bumblebee? You said he’s even younger than you!”

“Ah….” Bulkhead hunched his shoulders. “Bee, um. He doesn’t have creators. He wasn’t cold-forged, which means he wasn’t just placed in a protoform after Vector Sigma spat out his spark, but he was a abandoned at a Youth Center as a sparkling. A, uh, a baby.” Bulkhead explained awkwardly. He squired at the probing stare. “Please don’t make me explain Cybertronian reproduction differences. Ask Ratchet.” he said desperately. He did not want to have that discussion.

Isaac sighed. “Oh, very well.” he agreed. He didn’t want to make Bulkhead uncomfortable, after all. “So, creators…I gather they are the equivalent of human parents?” he tilted his head. “Would you mind telling me about yours?”

Bulkhead perked up. “Yeah!” he confirmed. “My creators were real proud when I joined the Academy. I’m lucky they weren’t disappointed that I flunked out. They understood.” his gaze went soft and fond. “I do miss them. I know they were a little sad I didn’t want to continue on with the family business like my older brother, but…” he shook his head. “Breakdown didn’t mind staying at the farm. I always wanted more.” he sighed. “Roadbuster and Beachcomber, my creators, were just happy I was getting the chance to do something I wanted.”

Isaac stilled. “Farm?”

“An energon farm!” Bulkhead supplied cheerily. “The farm was built on top of a really big underground energon spring. Our job was to extract it, purify it, then refine it into different grades and types of energon to be shipped out to the rest of Cybertron.” He shot a fond look around the building. “This place reminds me of the energon refinery on the farm, actually.”

Isaac blinked. “You grew up on a farm.” It was a statement.

Bulkhead frowned. “Didn’t I just say that?”

Isaac smiled. “I grew up on a farm as well, Bulkhead.”

The Autobot’s eyes quite literally lit up at that little tidbit, and he shot a glance at the small lounge area they’d put together. “Sit?” he asked hopefully. “I’d like to know about earth farms.”

Isaac nodded, leading the way and taking a seat on the himself couch while Bulkhead sat himself on one of the odd tire seats. “It was a dairy farm, primarily.” Isaac smiled. “My family raised cows for their milk and sold it to stores and at farmer’s markets.” he sounded fond as he reminisced. “We also made our own cheeses. I still have the recipes!”

Bulkhead tilted his head. “What happened?”

“I…” a pause. “I was always good with machines. I suppose that I, like you, wanted more. So I went to school for robotics and then, well…” he put out his arms. “Here I am.”

Bulkhead hummed. “…I miss the farm sometimes. Even if it was annoying to have to get up so early.”

“Ah, yes. Early mornings.” The human groaned. “I remember those. I despised them. Especially when I had cleaning duty for my morning chores.”

Bulkhead made a look it disgust. “Tell me about it. Cleaning out the energon purifiers and refiners was the worst job on the farm, but I always got stuck with it cause I was the youngest.”

Isaac hummed. “I remember the smell, even years later.”

“I remember the slime.”

He paused, unsure if he wanted to know. “…slime?”

Bulkhead nodded. “Yeah, see, when energon is being refined and when it’s being purified, the process involves removing unwanted contaminates or components at a base level.” he tilted his head. “The finished product comes out looking fine, but then it leaves a very thick, sticky slime on the insides of the machines that has to be cleaned out.” He grimaced. “I really preferred the work of extracting the raw stuff from the spring. It was really hard and labor intensive but at least it wasn’t slime.”

Isaac found himself grinning. “I was much the same with the cows. I detested mucking out the barn, so much so that I would prefer to do twice my share of the milking. That was dull work, but at least I could plan out blueprints for my projects in my head while I worked.”

Bulkhead found himself humming softly. “I liked the farm. I would have been happy there, I think. But…”

“It wasn’t what you wanted to do with your life.”

He grinned. “Yeah.” he paused. “I do miss the songs, though. And my brother, though Breakdown is probably annoyed that I missed so many calls. I miss my creators too.” he frowned. “I hope they don’t think I’ve offlined. I was in stasis for a while.”

Isaac softened, sighing and feeling something fond well up in his chest. “I’m sure they held out hope. Speaking as a parent…well, I don’t think I’d ever stop hoping if Sari were to go missing.”

Bulkhead glanced up, then smiled faintly. “Thanks, Professor.”

“You mentioned something about songs?” he asked with a smile in return, hoping to shift to topic in order to cheer up the green bot.

“Yeah!” Bulkhead brightened. “My creators had old songs that were passed down from their creators, and that they taught us. Whenever we were all working together we’d sing!” he seemed fond as he recalled the memories. “It was always really nice. When we were singing, I almost wouldn’t mind cleaning duty.” he shuddered. “Almost.”

Isaac barked a laugh. “I see! My family never had any songs, but we had recipes we shared and cooked together. We would all make dinner together after a hard day’s work. Those were my favorite moments of the day.” he sighed.

“Your parents must be proud of how far you’ve come.” Bulkhead mused.

Isaac smiled sadly. “They’re dead, Bulkhead.”

“Oh…” he reset his vocalizer. “I’m sorry.”

The human sighed. “It is alright. I have had time to mourn and grieve. And you are right. They were very proud. My father was proud even when I left the farm. He was happy to see me trying to pursue a better life. My mother was disappointed that I would not carry on the family legacy.” he sighed and tilted his head up. “But she did come to terms with it. In the end, she was happy for me and proud of all I’d accomplished.” He glanced at the Autobot, considering. “I own the farm now, though I no longer work there and I have far fewer cows. One of my cousins stays there when I am not to take care of the few cows there are, and I return with Sari during holidays sometimes.” he shot Bulkhead a warm grin. “In fact, I was going to bring her there again for the upcoming Fourth of July. Perhaps…you would like to come as well? I can show you life on a human farm in person.” he offered.

Bulkhead almost seemed to vibrate with glee at the prospect. “I’d like that a lot, Professor! And hey, if you’re ever on Cybertron, I’ll show you may farm!” he said brightly.

Isaac laughed, loud and free. He doubted that he’d ever see the alien planet, but the sentiment was still very nice. “I’d like that very much, Bulkhead. Thank you.”

Just then, he heard the sound of approaching engines, and when he looked towards the door he realized he could see the sun setting. Goodness, he and Bulkhead had been talking for hours. As the other bots stopped and transformed, Sari hopped out of Bumblebee before he did so and froze when she saw her father.

“Uh, hiiiiii, dad!” she squeaked.

Isaac sighed. “Sari, you should have told me where you were going! I was worried about you!” he scolded. “Come, we’re returning home. It’s getting late and I have the feeling you haven’t had proper food all day.” he said.

“But dad-!”

“No buts! The car is outside. Go, please.”

She groaned and grumbled, but after a quick goodbye to the others she obeyed.

Isaac turned to Bulkhead, smiling. “Thank you for taking the time to talk to me, Bulkhead. I enjoyed it.”

Bulkhead, for his part, merely beamed in response. “You’re welcome! I had a lot of fun! It was great to learn more about you, Professor Sumdac!”

Isaac smiled. “Please, Bulkhead. You can call me Isaac.” he said warmly.

The Autobot blinked a few times, and before smiling even more brightly. “Right. Isaac.”

Isaac grinned in response. The young bot’s joy was positively infectious. “I would enjoy talking further another time, Bulkhead. For now, I must take my leave. Goodnight!” he said, before walking out the door.

Bulkhead waved. “Goodnight, Isaac!” he called.

When the sounds of the human car had faded into nothing, Bulkhead turned to find everyone else staring at him. He smiled at his teammates, standing from his seat. “Hey guys! Did you have a good day?” he asked. Then he realized he had forgotten his painting. “Awe, scrap. You can tell me about it later! I have to go!” And then he was gone, hurrying to see if his art couldn’t be saved.

Even if it couldn’t, he didn’t mind. He’d gained a new friend today, and that was worth a thousand paintings in his optics.

Back in the main room, Bumblee could only stare after his friend. “Uhhh…what was that all about?”

———————————————————————————————————

And there it is! I hope you liked it! I gave Bulkhead a family because I wanted to, and yes his big brother is Breakdown. That means his brother-in-law is Knock Out. Ratchet is horrified when he learns this. Roadbuster and Beachcomber are very worried for their youngest. They were told he’s dead but like Isaac said, a parent never stops hoping. The team is currently very confused about what they just witnessed.

Also, poor Ratchet. Sari will never let go of her blackmail on him. How does a child get blackmail on a millions-of-years-old giant alien robot? It’s Sari. You could tell me she convinced Megatron to agree to peace purely by annoying him and I’d believe you. I love her. :D Anyway.

Until next time, folks!

#silkling request fics #request fic #tfa #transformers animated #tfa bulkhead #bulkhead #isaac sumdac #Professor Sumdac and bulkhead bond!#they’re both farm boys at heart!#Breakdown is mentioned #he’s bulkheads brother #friendship!#also please forgive my copious use of personal headcnons in this #bulkhead is a sweetie!#he’s just baby #maccadam

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hearteyes-for-killmonger · 3 years

Text

Chapter 11: The New Deal

Letitia was murdered in cold blood and little ol' me was bitter about stolen lotion. How cold.

I wondered why no one on campus that I know had told me about what happened. I called Natalie but she too was shocked by the terrible news.

"You and I have to look out for one another," was what she said as I completed my nightly routine.

"Sounds great and all, but that's what I thought we'd been doing."

We were supposed to be watching each other's backs since we're all women of the sun, golden godesses and highly sought after in the most sordid of ways. Unfortunately.

"Girl, if a wayward negro or redneck casper freak wants to shoot my ethereal ass, what exactly are you going to do about it," I ask wanting a genuine answer. What could she possibly do? Meaning well doesn't keep you alive when your enemies are determined.

I'm Gemini, angel of lust. I have an army of enemies.

Once off the phone with Natalie, I call my loyal steed, Keon, to make good on his offer of purchased security. I need that extra lock installed and whatever else he'll foot the bill for including pepper spray and a switchblade. The sooner the better.

I sigh tiredly as I fall across my bed, thinking at least I've got this beautiful clean new comforter set without the juices of myself and other people splashed all over it. It's bad for my skin to lay on filth.

"Not again," I sigh as the phone rings from my bed and after letting it ring twice, I check to see who's calling. It's the Professor, poor lil Tink. I think I'm proving to be a little too much for him.

"It's near midnight Stevens. My office hours are 9 to 9."

"You a slippery little thing, it's tough to get hold of you."

"I'm a busy woman," I shrug.

"I'm a busy man, yet somehow I still find time.. Come in to my office now, we have things to discuss."

I check the time on my phone. It's 11:47. Our deal ends tomorrow.

"There's nothing productive to discuss at midnight, Professor.. and I take your exam tomorrow."

"Academia never rests, Ms. Miller. I expect you to arrive within 20 minutes. I'm being gracious considering this call is for your sake."

"How? What did you want to discuss? We could do this over the phone. Professor? ...Hello?"

He hung up.

Oh he's such a bitch for this.

Rolling out of bed, I remove my rollers, fix my hair, and redress into pink sweatpants and a white halter top. Obviously I love pink.

This time, I'm ready. I pack a little purse with antiseptic throat spray, two condoms just in case, and a cloth.

I wear my white converse and a thick coat of gloss. It takes me the 20 minutes to get there to his office suite in the science building. Of course the offices are otherwise deserted because it's after midnight. His yellow artificial light is the only light streaming into the hall of offices.

I step into the doorway and there he is typing on the computer, gold-rimmed glasses sitting on the edge of his nose. He's sharp in his tailored grey plaid combo with his burgundy button down and silver watch. I can see the definition in his arms. As for his right hand where he wears his ring, I can picture it around my neck. I clear my throat and he looks up.

"Have a seat," he points me to the chair before his desk. I sit and sling my purse on the floor next to me like before.

"I recall I sat in this very chair when I gave you some of the most heavenly head you've likely ever had." His dick is beautiful. The flashbacks make my mouth water. "I wanna suck your dick again," I smile watching as his eyes remain on his computer screen as if he doesn't hear me. It only makes me want him more. "You know I can make you see stars."

He turns the computer screen to me so suddenly that I'm taken aback. "Your grades are in jeopardy. Look at your projected GPA."

"You aren't supposed to have access to my grades in other classes," I stir watching the screen. I wonder his relationship with the other professors. "Besides you said it was handled. You know.. when I gave you the super-glyuck 5000?"

Again he removes his glasses, folds them, lays them on the desk as is his habit, and reclines in his seat, hands folded.

"About that. There were certain criteria in place that you failed to meet, Ms. Miller. You knew the rules."

"Wow. Okay, I'm having difficulty taking you seriously after seeing you in such a drastically different light.. Suddenly I'm Ms. Miller again? I thought that was only for show. Professor.. and Criteria?"

"Yes, Ms. Miller," his eyes shine. It's on purpose. He goes inside of his drawer to produce a manilla folder which he hands to me as though he's serving a court document. When I open it I stare at it.

"List of infractions," I read aloud as I scan the numbered list of sins I've committed against this man along with a count of times I have committed them. Ignoring his call, failing to appear when summoned, hanging up on him, arriving to class tardy, arriving fully clothed, and a variety of other things he has never once mentioned. "Seriously?"

"The deal was.. you'd answer my calls, appear when requested, come to class on time and prepared, come to class the way I request."

"Half naked.."

"The way I request," he reiterates. I can't help but laugh. This looks like a contract of sorts which reminds me of my dream. "In return for obliging said requests until your exam date, you were set to receive a high A in each of your courses. You failed to meet that criteria and now.." he gestures to the screen, "The deal is off."

"What? You can't do that! Why didn't you say something? I thought you were--"

"I know what you thought.. I warned you there would be consequences. It could've been so simple for you," his head shakes as if it's a shame. I'm sitting bolt straight.

"No!" I lean forward with my hands on his desk. His brow raises. It really was the perfect deal. I've dreamed of scenarios like this. I really did want to play along, especially with him. "I was waiting on a punishment from you all this time but not like this, I wanted--"

"A funishment?" The humor in his voice is faint but I don't miss it, he's enjoying my misfortune. "What you wanted is irrelevant. I said you'd recieve a punishment if you failed to comply.. You failed to comply."

"Do over," I blink in an attempt to compel him. "I don't care what it takes, you're going to get me those grades."

He doesn't look convinced, but I'm serious. "Do over," I urge. "It was a misunderstanding."

"Was it now," he toys. Actually I thought he was a pushover.

"Yes. Do over." He can see in my eyes, I'm serious and he deliberates.

"Hm," he pouts, luscious lips in a pensive pucker. I recall he only let me kiss him for the briefest of moments. As I watch him assessing me, his eyes on mine, I strive to do it again but for much longer. "Okay Ms. Miller. Have it your way.. But new deal.."

"Yes?" I'm on the edge of my seat ready to suck dick now. In fact, I'm going to.. either way. I'm still staring at his lips when he rests his tongue behind his perfect top teeth.

"I'll tell you in the car," he says. "I wanna show you something."

xoxo.

"Is this where you live? I don't know what I expected." Hell maybe?

"Follow me." He leaves the car and opens his gate to the backyard exposing a stone sidewalk leading up to a large shed. It's more like a smaller house behind his house being that it's well kept, attractive, and he has a key for it. My jaw drops when I look inside. He flips the lights and the room fires to life, glowing fluorescent red. I know exactly what this is..

There's a thin red rug in the middle of the floor, easy to wash. A black leather love seat. An adult swing. A twin bed with black satin sheets. A tall black dresser. A wall of tools from whips, crops, and floggers to paddles and canes. Even violet wands. I see the pulleys. The fixtures. Instantly I know he's a rigger which is perfect since I'm a rope bunny.

He loosens his tie and I grip it by the knot, sliding it up the fabric and pulling it tight against his thick neck watching the surprised look in his eyes darken to the lust filled expression I've grown to crave. His hand tangles in my hair with light tension, pulling my head back. Perfect tension.

"New contract," he says as I bite my lip, nectar stirring within my core, excitement fluttering like hungry butterflies. I needed this more I previously thought.

"Yes?" My voice is small. My eyes are hopeful.. breathing shallow. I feel needy! I need his hands all over my body, bringing me to ecstacy. I crave it. When his free hand softly strokes my cheek, I lean into it.

"You'll be my sex slave. My pretty lil slut... For the next semester."

My face drops.

"Semester," he repeats tightening his grip on my hair. The butterflies float to my nipples.

When I think about it, I will have him next semester as well as my internship. I'm excited to work CSI. A sex slave, however, is a full time job that could be time consuming. I have subs to tend to, a stage at Mickey's to dominate, and content to make. Between that, I still need to study, keep up my attendance and find the time to enjoy my collegiate experience.

"Of course you can refuse." He releases me and stands back watching the internal debate play out on my face.

"Wait," I pause him. There's something undeniable about the practiced nature of his hands. Those thick, stubby fingers know how to please, I can tell by the way he touches me. I know the difference between a man who touches for his own pleasure versus a man who seeks out mine. I miss that touch. "My grades are guaranteed?"

He nods leaning with his back on the wall and it's obvious he's giving me the space to decide. I look around the well organized room briefly appreciating the variety and aesthetic nature. I thought I had a lot of toys to play with.

"For the upcoming semester as well," he verbally confirms. His arms fold over his chest as he sighs and I picture his strong forearm locked around my chest, holding me in place as he does whatever he wants. "Consider your service your payment, Ms. Gemini."

I'm so wet.

It hits different when he says my stage name. Taboo and I love it. "It's a deal."

"Is it really," he says dully.

I blink up at him and bite my lip, bending my knee inward like a shy schoolgirl. "Your wish is my command, Professor."

This wakes him up and he emerges from his wall placement, reclaiming his position to tower over me as I look up to meet his eye. His jaw tenses then he scoffs, looking away. "You ain't ready."

"I am!" Hands on my hips, I bat my little lashes to prove it.

"Set up my phone on that tripod and press record then," he nods to the skinny black stand. "You outta know how that works.."

I fucking knew he was a subscriber to my content! I needed to publish more videos anyway so this is perfect.

"It's on," I report turning back to him and it hits me when he shifts so that we're both centered on the video that he's probably got a number of videos on the internet himself. "Request to view your video library when we're done?"

"We'll see," he winks straightening his posture. "For now..," he holds my gaze and I nod slightly, giving him the green light. "Phoebe Miller," he smirks taking a step back.. "Are you aware that you are free to leave at any time?"

"Of course, you couldn't keep me here past my will if you tried."

"And you understand as part of the BDSM community we take the motto 'safe sane and consensual' to heart."

"Absolutely."

"Are you consenting to a sexual relationship with me?"

"Absolutely."

"Are you consenting to an S&M dynamic with me.. as an adult who is into fully aware of what this entails?"

"I am. I'm ready, let's go." I reach for his tie again, but this time I only tug it gently to show my building impatience. He's got me all wound up, ready to spring and lay him out on the satin sheets as if I'm the one in the dominant role. I'm beyond ready for his suit to come off, as edible as he looks with it on.

"Patience," he whispers holding my cheek. "I want you to show me a sign of your volunteered submission. Tell me you want me to own your body, to take control of your every orgasm and push the limits of your body. Are you ready to be my slave understanding that you maintain your natural role as an independent member of society? Speak clearly for my records."

I face the camera and he seems pleased when I repeat the lines he's given. "I love the videoed consent."

"Good. Now face me."

Easily done. I spin to do just that.

"Good girl..," his chin raises and I see in his sneaky eyes, he's escalating. "One more thing," he tests tilting my chin up further. I stare him down evenly. As a fetish content maker and a domme, I don't flinch easily. "Hm.."

"Please sir, I'm ready," I confirm as his thumb strokes my chin.

"I think you might be.. Ok. Show me that you recognize your new master." He points to a spot on the red rug. "Kneel for me and present your wrists."

"Something different," I whisper.

"Nah.. This is the one," he smiles. "Feel free to say no, I can take you back. A high B ain't bad considering most my students operate at a low B."

"Hell no!"

"No?" He grins.

"Move." Brushing his hand off of my face, I back up to the rug and kneel with raised wrists. He undoes his tie and loops my wrists, completing the handcuff knot in a second flat, the free end in his hand like a lead.

"Don't worry it'll feel good to you.. to relax and let someone else take control. We'll take it easy tonight."

@Southcakmistress @im5ftbutmythroat66 @cecereads209 @just-juicee @Satabando @blackpinup22 @Cutewylie @xsweetdellzx @Ajspencer1982 @nubianbabe @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade

#original #erik killmonger #killmonger #erik stevens #erik killmonger fanfiction #erik stevens au #erik killmonger smut #black panther killmonger #black panther fanfiction #tales of a masochist

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

HASO “Leading the Witness.”

Alright guys, this is going on longer than I thought and way more detailed as well but its been interesting. Also I am sorry for the late update, my boss has me rolling quarters at work so I am trying to do that and write this in between.

Thank you to my discord member Eddi for the testing logs he wrote and that I am using as evidence in this story. He deserves all the credit for the well thought out and executed test logs.

WARNING: Graphic depictions of blood, gore, bodily mutilation and mentions of suicide. The Steel eye project development is very graphic, so if you wish to read, please skip the test logs, which will be bolded.

The room spun around him, and he took a few long, deep breaths hoping that it would stop.

He wast sure he could survive another few hours of this.

He wasn’t sure at all

He was sweating, and his body throbbed all over. Clammy hands gripped the sides of his chair as he sat straight backed in his seat. A line of cold sweat dripped down the back of his neck. Blood had long since drained from his face, and he wondered if he looked as sick as he felt half expecting the bailiff to walk over with a bucket or something. A part of him fancied he could feel every eye in the room staring at him. The prosecution was still talking, but he could barely hear them as his head spun around and around in circles, ears ringing.

The lights pulsed.

He jerked out of it as a hand came to rest on his shoulder. He looked up, confused for a moment as he tried to figure out where he was, the room was partially tilted and it took him a moment to realise that he was slumped slightly to the side. Waffles had her head in his lap whimpering very softly.

“Adam, adam are you ok, do you need to step out.”

He lifted his head and turned to look at Admiral Kelly, who now sat beside him, a hand on his shoulder.

His ears were still ringing but not enough to realise that the court had stopped.

The lead judge had held up a hand to the prosecution and was looking directly at him.

Well… at least now the blood was rushing back to his head, and he could feel his ears burning, “Is everything alright, council?” The judge asked, “Does your witness need to step out.”

The lawyers turned to look at him, hints of both concern and concealed annoyance on their faces.

They looked at him expectantly.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, “No your honor. My apologies.”

His voice was surprisingly strong for someone who felt like he was about to pass out. The judge didn’t seem too annoyed at him, and looked on with some measure of concern. They whispered something to the nearby bailiff and then motioned the council to continue.

Admiral Kelly didn’t move seats keeping one hand on his shoulder. The bailiff walked over after things had started up again and sat next to them for a moment, “If you need to step out.” He whispered, “Take the side door to your right and someone will let you back in.”

He nodded, “Ill be alright, but…. Thank you.”

The man nodded and stood returning to the front of the room.

“As you can see, their first attempts at creating a proper drug cocktail to dull the pain of direct neural interface, was a complete disaster. Dr. Gladstone, assuming you were forced to use drugs instead of subdermal implants, how would you have gone about this? What is the proper procedure dictated by ethical state law.”

“Drug trials can take months to years, we test them on animals, rats monkeys and even inject them into synthetically grown human tissues and tube grown organs before we even test on animals. Each phase of testing can take up to eighteen months in clinical trials, and if the drug proves to be wrong we start over again.”

“Have you ever done phased drug testing on human subjects.”

“No, certainly not.”

“But of course they continued. May the prosecution present Experimental log 32 for For consideration by the court.”

Experimental log #32:

Over the past experiments we have been testing multiple drug mixtures to try and reduce the pain induced by the Direct neural interface our most recent tests have involved morphine much to our resident doctors discouragement it is one of the few drugs we have found capable of suppressing the pain induced by the direct neural interface. This test involves the use of an automatic dispenser controlled by the pain sensors in the arm.

The subject, as before has been sedated for the implantation of the test augmetic. This time however the drug reservoir has a direct link to the bloodstream.

-recording break-

The subject seems to be stable and moving around without much interference, although slightly lethargic and a little dopy due to the drugs.

We made sure to remove the augmetic well before the drug reservoir ran out. This seems to be successful and stable Several more tests are to be made to confirm this before moving on to the next stage.

“Dr, do you happen to know the laws in relation to the regulation and use of morphine during testing?”

The doctor nodded, “Morphine is heavily regulated even on the research level owing to its additive properties. Only doctors are allowed to prescribe it, and even then, the morphine dosages are regulated and reviewed by an internal board of directors. There is a cutoff point for the amount of morphine allowed for personal use,and the amount of morphine allowed for medical use. This cap can be broken if the board of directors determines the patient is terminal and in extreme pain.”

“How about for research purposes.”

“You can’t research with morphine, and you certainly cannot give it to a patient with no prior history of injury, or other medical conditions.”

“Thank you doctor, the prosecution wishes to present experimental log 34 to consideration.”

Experiential log #34:

Our continued experimentation has lead to the conclusion that stronger chemicals may be required to reduce the pain, one subjects auto-dispensary caused an overdose When the subject spent some time prodding and poking at the implant site it caused excruciating pain that was responded to by the auto dispensary by flooding the body with over 500milligrams of morphine. A stronger painkiller would mean lower doses are required thus avoiding an overdose. Despite our team's medical advisors continuing protests.

Prosecution turned to the judges, “You see here your honor that instead of considering the ethical questionability of their actions, they determined to use more morphine despite the overdose and even extend the use to even more potent drugs. These are not the actions of scientists who were considering ethics, or even the value of human life.”

“Objection your honor on conjecture about the thoughts of my client.”

The judge waved a hand, “It may pass.”

The defence took a seat.

The prosecution adjusted her tie, “Three people died as a result of these tests your honor. Marvin Dess, William Moseratt and Angela Vilgrin. Not once were the tests paused or delayed. Instead, they moved onto the next phase of testing.”

Adam was starting to feel a little better now. He wasn’t sweating so much and he had finally managed to even out his breathing.

“The prosecution would like to present experimental log 28.”

Experimental log #28

Calibration of the arm mounted augmetic seemed to proceed without error or difficulty, The drugs delivered through the internal reservoir developed by Dr. Nkosi renders the subject inured against the supposed pain induced by the augmetic. The primary tests we will be administering are of the use of high strength servo motors to power the augmeitc, reducing its weight and increasing the power behind the subjects rapid motions.

-Recording break-

The Reaction of the servo motors and torsion cables was far too extreme delivering significant damage and trauma to the subject, Further testing will have to be done and fine tuning of the suits will be needed.

Adam knew what was coming and tried to close his eyes and block out the sounds as the next visual log was projected before him.

Audio-visual log transcript:

The subject appears bleary and unresponsive. The augmentic is mounted on their right arm, supposedly their dominant one according to the research notes. The subject is drawn to attention by the scientist administering light taping on their cheek. Upon raising their arm the subject appears a little shocked at the size of the augmetic and the fact it is connected directly to an external power source, questioning the scientist on this who confirms it is just an experimental version. The augmetic appears to only be active on the elbow joint. The scientist appears to be requesting the subject extend his arm in an attempt to punch an invisible foe. Upon doing so the augmetic appears to cause an extreme reaction of force, resulting in not only damage to the subjects musculature, but outright stripping the subjects muscle tissues away from the bones, the pins seem to be functioning as anchor points as the subjects skin and muscles are removed from the skeletal structure. Functionally stripping the flesh away from the skeleton in a manner that can only be described as ‘glove like’. It appears that this area also contained the drug delivery interface as part way through the emergency removal of the upper section of the augmetic, the subject seemed to come out of the semi stupor and begin to register the damage done to themselves, screaming and becoming violent. It was only after the subject was re-drugged with the remaining contents of the drug reservoir that they calmed down.

His attempts to block out the sound do not stop him from hearing the hydraulic hiss, the tight whirr, and the horrific cracking popping noise as flesh is torn from bone. The screaming echoed around in his head. His heart was beating at a million miles an hour. Sweat poured down his back and neck and in between his shoulder blades. Flashes of red sky cut before his vision, the sound of gunfire and the smell of ash.

Admiral kelly squeezed his shoulder hard bringing him back. The dog was halfway in his lap her head pressed against him, and the Bailiff from earlier was on his other side steadying him as his body seemed prone to leaning to one side.

He took a few very deep breaths.

A few of the judges were watching him, but they didn’t stop the proceedings this time. Most of them just looked like they wanted an excuse to look away.

“Your honors, this is not the last log in the series. Even after the catastrophic failure, they continue to implant the steel ee pieces onto test subjects without prior testing in a controlled environment. I believe we have been making realistic ballistic dummies for the past thousand years. I am sure there is something that could have been done.”

Adam was fading.

The lights were growing up in his vision, turning everything around him white.

The defence stood, “THe defence calls for recess, your honors.”

There was a pause, “Recess granted. You have thirty minutes.”

The room burst into a flurry of murmurs and movement. Admiral Kelly leaned forward hands on his arms, “Adam, you should get up, walk around a bit.”

He nodded and stood feeling the world tip around him as he did. With one hand he gripped heavily onto the back of the pews and staggered forward out of the room. Waffles followed after him whining and whimpering. He waved admiral Kelly off him as he wobbled his way down the hall and burst through the outside door and into open air. He took a deep long breath and leaned against the wall trying to choke down the bile that welled into his throat.

“You alright here buddy.”

Blinking owlishly, he turned to the side to see a man leaning against the wall on the other side of the door.

“You don’t look so good, Cigarette?” He asked offering a pack of the things towards him.

Adam waved a hand, “I don’t smoke but, thanks anyway.”

The man shrugged and lit up puffing a billow of smoke into the air, “You know breathing exercises.”

Adam blinked and nodded, “Yeah.”

“Don't forget to do them. It will help.”

Adam rubbed a hand across his forehead breathing slowly.

“You seem to know a lot about this. Am i that easy to see through?”

The man shook his head “I was a soldier during the panasian war, I know what PTSD looks like.”

“My father fought in the Panasian war.”

The man nodded, “Better get back inside while you still have some color, boy.”

He did as told. He didn’t know the man but something about his calm demeanor and understanding was nice, and he stepped back inside patting waffles on the head as he walked back towards the courtroom.

He sat down before anyone else was there just yet and rested his head in his hands breathing slowly and evenly. The room slowly filled up again, and before he really knew it, things were back in session.

“The prosecution would like to present Experimental log 31”

He closed his eyes and began to count slowly breathing in and out, in and out.”

Experimental log #31

This test is the first among the replacement for servo motors for hydraulics The system was far slower and makes use of a combination of fast extension pistons and slower extension ones for combination. The test is the same as before a simple arm extension in the guise of a punch. However the augmetic will also include the shoulder. We have increased the dosage of the painkiller as so to prevent the increased implantation volume from inducing a negative reaction in the subject. -Recording break-

The reaction from the hydraulics was stronger than expected, and the delay and stack up of orders has caused significant issues. A halt override taken directly from the nerve system needs to be implemented.

He squeezed his eyes tight shut

Audio-visual log transcript:

The subject appears to be only semi responsive, appearing to function at a 12 on the GCS, Only held there by the active responsiveness of their motor function. This appears to fade somewhat when the subject is given physical stimuli by the scientist in the form of a light slap on the cheek. Bringing the subject back to consciousness. The subject is then encouraged to make the punching action as prior experiments. The subject does so, the fast reaction of the piston seems to achieve the scientist's goal, However the long extension piston appeared to continue extending. This continued, dragging the subjects arm outwards, dislocating the subjects shoulder, then elbow as well as wrist. The subject appeared to be distressed at this, however not unduly in pain. The scientist having stepped back to observe the outcome of events. The extension of the piston continued beyond tolerable human limits. The piston continues to extend despite the protests of the subject and attempts at removing it. The extension continued forcefully separating the subjects limbs at both the elbow and shoulder joint, ripping tendon and muscle as well as ligament structures, fully separating the limb in to two parts and away from the body. It is at this point the subject began to scream in terror and panic till the researcher sedated the subject.

A door opened at the back of the courtroom as a few more people stepped out. Adam sat there on the bench, his head tilted back and staring at the ceiling breathing even and slowly as light and color swirled around them. He could what speaking, but didn’t really hear what was being said.

He just had to keep himself together.

“....Log 35 to the court.”

Experimental log #35

Continued experimentation indicates that a combination of servo motors, torsion cables and hydraulics are likely to result in the desired effect. Since the previous experiments a stop override has been implemented in to the systems. This prevents the hydraulics from continuing to extend despite the users body having ceased movement. This should result in the desired movement structures. We are moving on from the single arm testing considering the current functionality and strength amplification satisfactory. The current test is simply to get the two lower limb implants to function in tandem with walking. We have had to once again increase the level of drugs in the users system to prevent the reaction to the pain induced by the interfacing devices.

-Recording break-

While the system is capable of walking, the addition of hydraulics have caused the system to be heavier and more cumbersome than intended. Additional servo motors and possible leaf springs for artificial support tendons will have to be added to prevent the augmetics from lagging behind their users.

“Objection your honor…. The court has seen enough….. This is simply…”

“Objection denied council. The evidence stands. If you must you may leave the room.”

“But members of the audience…”

“Can step out if they need to.”

Audio-visual Log transcript:

The subject once again appears to be somewhat unresponsive. This ceases when the scientist provides a physical interaction with the subject, tapping them on the shoulder. The subject appears to be somewhat disoriented. Upon being prompted to walk the subject beings to walk without much in the way of impediment, though seeming to tug at the augments as if they are holding the subject back. The subject is then prompted to move at a might higher speed. Running if possible. The subject manages this for two steps before the continued pulling against the augmetic and movement against the interface needles appears to pull the subject’s leg free, removing large sections of the subjects muscle tissues and nerves along with it. The subject seems to be disturbed, if not in pain. Likely due to the drug reservoir and input mounted on the subjects arm. The subject however seems to be announcing that they can no longer move their legs as the researcher requested. The subject is then sedated and recording ends.

Adam is being held up again by Admiral kelly his body tilting widely sideways and he is having trouble finding the orientation of the room.”

“.... experimental log 38 as a demonstration of the scientists moving development far too quickly.”

Experimental Log #38

Increased response time in the legs combined with the introduction of support springs within the armour have reduced that movement restrictions of the armour and made it much harder for the user to ‘pull away’ from the armor, this combined with several additional straps and metal binding to keep the users legs attached directly to the augmetics have solved several of the most recent problems. The newest set of experiments are moving on to vertical movement, focusing on the subjects ability to jump and move around obstacle strewn environments.

-Recording break-

It appears the engineers did not calibrate the hydraulics and other systems to function as shock absorbers, but rather only as force amplification devices. Meaning that impact shock is taken fully by the users body, This would normally not be an issue, however with the additional force and weight provided by the augmetic seems to cause issues upon landing.

Audio-visual Log transcript:

The subject is suffering the same symptoms as prior subjects, low levels of function and unresponsiveness. Once the subject is roused from the stupor via an open handed impact to the cheek, delivered by the researcher, they are directed to attempt an obstacle course. The subject seems to have little trouble with the primary obstacles, clearing them with little effort, however their recovery from each obstacle appears to be ungainly and improper. The subject is then presented with a three meter high wall and instructed to go over it. Rather than scaling it as expected the subject simply jumped over the wall, exhibiting far more mobility and control than prior subjects in experiments. However upon landing the subjects legs appear to buckle and collapse under them, folding at several points that do not have joints. Indicating shattering of the bones. The subject seems unphased by the injury, Pointing it out to the researcher and asking if that is normal. This indicates that the drugs being used are of a high enough dosage and strength to suppress not only extreme pain but the shock reaction of the body.

He can feel another person holding him up from the other side, but mutters that he is ok when anyone asks. E just keeps counting and breathing counting and breathing knowing that it has to be over soon. He just needs to hold himself together

Experimental log #42

The final tests regarding midriff functionality have been completed, with shockingly low failure or complications compared to prior testing phases, we are putting this down to our own excellent ongoing improvements of the system. This final text is a sequential system test where a single subject will be required to use each individual part in sequence to ensure that no errors are likely to occur during the whole body testing or further complications are likely to occur.

-break in recording-

The subject suffered no ill effects due to the armour itself. However the subject seemed to become agitated and seemed to be suffering ill effects until they were returned to the augmetics. So long as prolonged exposure to the augmetics is not an ongoing factor we do not see an issue with this.

“These testings had immense costs and horrific side effects to those who participated. Many of these men and women seen here are not functional or alive to testify in court as to what happened, however, the prosecution would like to call Admiral Vir to the stand as a representative of those who could not be here today, and s a member of the steel eye operation himself to ive the court a little idea about what this experiment did to people even when fully operational.”

Adam was still feeling light headed but even then he still knew what this was. This is what he was here for. Thi was the moment he had come to be a part of, the moment that he was here to help all those soldiers and test subjects used by steel eye.

Admiral Kelly stood with him as he made it to his feet, but he brushed off her hand and walked towards the witness stand. The judge stopped him on his way up.

“Are you well enough to testify Admiral?”

“This is why I came, your honor. Even if I had to crawl through a field of glass to get here.”

The courtroom murmured as he was sworn in, and he sat down feeling the eyes of the entire room on him.

He was still sweating and light headed.

“State your name for the record.”

“Adam Allen Vir.”

“And what is your position in the UNSC.”

“I am Fleet admiral of the UNSC space armada on loan to the GA.”

“And what branch?”

“Originally the air division. I trained at the Aerial combat academy as a fighter and shuttle pilot before being a member of the crew on the enterprise.”

“And how did you end up on Anin.”

“The Enterprise was being decommissioned for some wok, so I offered to go to Anin and be part of the war effort against the Drev.”

“And as a fighter pilot, you didn’t see much time on the ground.”

“No ma’am, I was primarily air support at that time.”

His voice was strong and hard, and the longer he talked the straighter he sat. he had to do this for them. He would NOT fall apart now.

“How did you end up on the ground forces then, Admiral.”

“Volcanic activity, ma’am, they call it the dark season when ash chokes the ai miles into the sky. It isn’t safe to land a ship or fly a jet in such conditions, so my vehicle was grounded. By that time the war was going badly and they needed every man they could get.”

“Were you trained for ground combat, Admiral.”

“Yes at the academy we were trained in ground combat though not as extensively.”

“And you lost your leg to a Drev.”

He reached down hand to his leg remembering the screaming of a red sky above, “Yes, I did.”

“What happened after that?”

“I ended up in a triage tent in out forward operating base. There was no medicine because all our supplies had been used up.”

“Would you say that you were delirious during that time.”

The defence stood quickly “Objection your honor. Leading the witness.”

“Dismissed, council.” The judge said, waving a hand.

“There were no painkillers, ma’am, so maybe. If not delirious than I was at least not in a right state of mind. I remember floating halfway in between being conscious and unconscious. I was in so much pain its…. Had to describe.” His voice wavered before he had it back on track shoring it up and strengthening it with memories of the men and women waiting back at the rehabilitation center.

“And at this time you were approached by Admiral Ablemen about the steel eye project?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“And did he detail any specifics.”

He paused thought for a moment trying to remember back into memories that he really didn’t want to foster, “Not…. really. It's hard to remember but I…. I remember him saying that we could help him win the war. I remember him saying that when I woke up I would be a new man. He gave us the choice to go home or serve the UNSC one last time.”

“In your opinion, would you have said yes had you been more conscious.”

“Objection based on conjecture your honor.”

“Objection accepted.”

Adam paused and the mn let him continue, “Wat DO you remember about what happened to you.”

“I…. remember pain and….. Anger. I was never really all there during the steel eye project. I remember feeling invincible, like I could do anything but at the same time, hazy. I remember getting orders and going out, and then nothing after that.”

“Did they tell you there would be rugs involved.”

“No ma’am.”

“And after the war was over, what happened. How did all of this affect you?”

He paused and struggled to speak for a moment, opening his mouth and then closing, “I…. have never been so hopeless in my entire life. I tried to get help with the Veterans association but my claim was denied. I…. went through withdrawals…. Horrible horrible drug withdrawals where I. I was in so much pain, I just….”He paused then lifted his head to look up at th courtroom making eye contact with them. His voice was as strong as ever “I wanted to die, and I would have done it if I hadn’t had a good support system in my family. After a few months my brother got me in contact with a group of people who got ahold of my service dog, and I was able to heal.”

“Does what happened still affect you”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“In what ways.”

“I still have long term PTSD, and while it is controlled and I am no longer on medication, I still have bad days. Days where I can’t move or think, days where the quietest nosies send me into a panic.”

“Were you ever compensated for your injuries, Admiral.”

He paused again and shook his head, “No ma’am, I never received help.”

“Thank you admiral, you may be seated.”

He stood, his head was clear and his hands were dry. He stepped down from the podium with his chin raised and his back straight returning to his seat. He had done it. He had done what he needed to do and the only thing that was lft was to survive the rest of the trail.

He could do that.

He survived operation steel eye didn’t he?

So he could certainly survive this.

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wwall-archive · 3 years

Text

All At Once, This Is Enough - Ethan W..inters x Me

A/N: ~In light of the announcement I just made~! Surprise! I've been working on this. For several days. My apologies if I've seemed quiet, all my energy was going towards this! This is kind of long, but it's... actually kind of important to me, so I forgave myself on that front, haha. This follows the timeline of my RE AU, which I intend to continue writing out more in depth, in which the events of the 7th game occur and then I ignore the events of 8 even though I love it as a game because I just can't stop thinking about an average life with this man 😭 I do still intend to set this up for a bit of angst, because that just feels like how this needs to go, but it will be resolved shortly! Anyways, my over-explaining aside, I hope you enjoy the beginning of our story. More to come soon ❤️

Warnings: Vague references to alcohol. Allusions to a notable age gap. Mention of divorce. Me being intensely socially awkward.

Word Count: 1738

Tag List: (Thanks so much to everyone who wanted to be added, and as per usual, if anyone wants to be added or removed, no problem, just let me know <3) @sacredempressnatlyia @crowandking @solomates @ship-trek @nekociapek @blueberryships @ariesselfships @lysandthunder @queenvonhresvelg

~~~

As I stepped out of my car and made my way into this building, I took a moment to acknowledge to myself that I was not looking forward to the evening in front of me. Simply to brace myself, if nothing else. Sure, I didn't have anything against fancy events - I'd always actually been rather fond of getting dressed up - but the idea of being trapped in a room full of mostly strangers filled me with a level of unease only an introvert of my level could feel. I shuddered in horror at the thought of the polite small talk that awaited me.

Alas, some events were simply too large to miss, especially when they required the booking of a large venue, and so I found myself taking small, hesitant steps through the large, decorated archway that led to this event hall. I was almost certainly early, as I always was, and it was already too crowded for my liking, filled to the brim with people mingling, and a pianist on stage getting ready to play for a formal dance floor that would soon be filled as well. At least the open bar looked inviting, so I made my way in that direction, hoping it would provide me some small amount of protection from anybody who would be determined to say hello.

I reaffirmed to myself that all I needed to be here for was a quick appearance. Some brief greetings to those who extended my invitation to me, once I could find them, and then I could bolt faster than a startled rabbit. It brought me a modicum of strength, to know I wouldn't be here for too long.

As I made my way through the room, I had to admit that it was dazzlingly decorated, and I felt quite lovely all dressed up, like I adequately fit in with the impressive scenery. If there was going to be any upside to the night, I supposed it would have to be that.

It was a vaguely familiar voice calling out my name that caught my ear, almost certainly someone I had met through work. As I begrudgingly turned to meet them, I did find myself slightly recalling their face. I smiled as they approached and we shared greetings, and it was pleasant enough, even as they rushed into their next words like they knew I would exit the conversation as soon as I could in a panic and were desperate to say their piece, “Wallace, I really wanted you to meet a colleague of mine, he's a systems engineer my organization works with, I thought I could recommend him for… Oh, where did he- Ethan! Wallace, meet Ethan-”

In the following moment that I remained coherent, I was able to process two things. The first, being the features of the man before me, all short dark blond hair and light brown eyes, and slightly boyish features on a face that somehow still managed to convey his status as middle-aged, and a smile soft enough to take my breath away. Two, as I gazed upon the features striking me so, and stuck my hand out to meet his for a handshake, I became quite sure, more than I had ever been sure of most things in my life, that I was about to be an absolute goner for this man.

It took me a moment to come back to my own body, and so once I did I rushed to say, “It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr…?”

“Oh, just Ethan, please.”

“Of course. Ethan. My name is Wallace.”

“Then the pleasure is all mine, Wallace.”

The familiar voice from earlier cut in again, and I could vaguely make out something being said about a previous project that had been worked on, but I couldn't quite bring myself to tear my gaze away from the man in front of me. After a moment, to my shock, it occured to me that he didn't seem to have any intention of looking away either, nor did he seem particularly bothered by that fact.

After that occured to me and made my head spin from the sheer realization that he was content to hold my gaze, I was struck by mortification as I realized that I still hadn't dropped his hand from our handshake, and I rushed to let go. To my relief, he seemed shocked by the revelation of the discrepancy in decorum as well. In the corner of my perception, I heard a small laugh, and something like the words “I'll let you two talk!” Suddenly, fear struck me again, but this time over the thought that I would have nothing interesting to say, now that the official introduction was over, and that Ethan would depart as well.

But that didn't happen, and he smiled at me again, and in a meek tone of voice he began, “I'm sorry, I was sure it looked like you were heading somewhere before we stopped you. If it was a bother I could go-”

“No! No, I had just gotten here. Just making my way over to the bar.” I cringed at myself internally upon realizing I had confessed to heading straight for the bar as soon as I entered the room, but once again it didn't seem to bother him. His deep chuckle made my knees weak.

“Great. Don't suppose you'd want to dance with me instead?” The pianist had started to play a light tune a moment ago, and a few people had come together on the floor. I quickly thought back to the single formal dancing class I had ever taken, knowing I very well could not dance.

“I'd love to.” His smile made my mind go blank for a moment again. By the time I had come back from autopilot, we were on the floor, and he was leading me in a light, easy dance.

“How does a systems engineer learn to ballroom dance?”

He gave a small shrug, “A class or two. I needed some for… an event once.”

I laughed lightly, “Well you clearly took them more recently than me, the one and only dancing class I ever took was a one day requirement in high school. I'd be done for without you right now, I'm sure.”

“Then I'll be happy to guide you with what knowledge I have.”

Our conversation lagged into silence for a moment, and I internally kicked myself for letting it. What was I supposed to say in a situation like this?

I defaulted to the one conversation trick I had, “So, Ethan, tell me about yourself.”

He shrugged again, but he was still smiling, “Well, you know my occupation. Um, I'm 37.” I noticed him watching for my reaction on that one, but when I simply nodded, he continued hesitantly, “I'm from California.” He paused again, this time for longer, but I could tell he was simply working his way up to his next point. “Divorced, relatively recently. I'm a father, I have a little girl, Rose.” He stopped again, watching for my reaction once more. I hoped I was managing to keep my face as neutral as I felt it was.

“Wow. You're honest.”

He cringed, “Too much?”

“Much appreciated, actually.” I swallowed heavily, hoping I wasn't about to overstep or show my hand too early, and lowered my voice just a little, “Lets me know I'm not reading this completely wrong.”

He looked down at our feet, but I could have sworn I saw him break into a grin before he did.

He cleared his throat, looking up at me again, “So? What about you?”

And so I gave him the run-down on me. Occupation, location, age - I saw his eyebrows raise just the slightest at that one, but got a similar non-reaction to the one I gave otherwise - and matched most of what he told me, minus the personal bombshell. I supposed there were some things we each had yet to uncover about each other, and I was saving mine for later.

Upon the end of my self-pitch, he nodded, “Interesting.”

“Oh, is that all I get?” I did my best to make my tone playful, so he would know I was joking, but I had a feeling he would have understood me anyway even if I hadn't put in the extra effort. Our entire conversation, I had held the feeling that he was rather good at reading me already.

“You want more of a reaction, give me more to react to.” His tone was equally playful. I'm quite sure I would have caught the joke even if it hadn't been as well.

“Sir, this is still our first meeting, if you'll recall. We don't need to go dropping all our bombshells at once, do we? And besides, I wouldn't consider a rented event hall the best place for sharing all our deepest secrets, would you?”

He once again let out that chuckle that made me swear you could see the hearts forming in my eyes, and he darted his gaze around the room before meeting mine again, drawing his tongue across his lips nervously, and I could hear the uncertainty in his voice, “Then… do you want to get out of here? Go find something else to do that's better suited for getting to know each other better? Or sharing all our deepest secrets, as you put it.”

It briefly occurred to me that maybe this was a bad idea. I deeply understood the uncertainty he displayed. I knew damn well I probably wasn't in the best place to pursue this, and I had the deep, unshakable feeling that if I left this place with this man, I would be in far too deep to let go easily. I was drawn to him, even if it wasn't the most conventional, or even if it didn't seem like emotionally the most sure-fire, secure decision. Something about him signaled to me that he was probably in a very similar boat. I had a feeling we each had some emotional baggage to unpack. And besides, I still hadn't even made a round to say hello to the hosts yet, either. That was all I had even come here to do. I was supposed to have gotten here, said hello, been awkward, and left. It was supposed to have been a bad, short, night.

“Yeah, absolutely. Let's get out of here.”

#otp: all at once this is enough #my writing #okay to rb!#psa from wallace

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stillbandofbrothersthirsty · 3 years

Text

As Far As Friends Go

Summary: Emily Rooney has always wanted more than what her family wanted for her; to get married to a nice, wealthy young man and have lots of well-raised Catholic babies. So when her fiancee enlists with the marines she decides this is her chance to have an adventure before she has to get married. She finds herself outfitted with the 506th working alongside a flippant intelligence officer.

Chapter 2 (Chapter 1; Chapter 3; Chapter 4)

Nixon - September 1943 “Captain Nixon, sir?” “Hm? What?” Lewis Nixon barked. He turned to face the intelligence staff private who stood in the doorway. “Sir, I have the newest support staff member with me.”  “Who?” Nixon asked.

“Ms. Rooney, she’s being added to our staff. I gave you a memo before we boarded the train to New-.”

 “Right, right,” Nixon waved his hand, ushering the private into the large room that would serve as 2nd battalion’s intelligence HQ while they were in Aldbourne. “What did you say her name was again?”  

“Emily, Emily Rooney,” the young woman stepped out from behind the private. Nixon took in the neatly dressed young woman. Her dark red-brown hair was neatly curled and pinned back. Her full lips were painted a pleasing shade of red and, Nixon noted appreciatively, her stockings looked like real silk under the Army-issued skirt. “Ever been a secretary before?” Emily swallowed, “Well sir, I’m not a secretary, so no.”

  Nixon raised an eyebrow, “is that not what you’re here to do?”  

“No, sir,” Emily’s voice was stronger now. “I was working with the cartographers before,” she hesitated at his expressionless face, “with the O.S.S. but I told them I’d take any international assignment they have, as soon as they have it. So, here I am!” she enthused then quickly folded her hands demurely in front of her. “Did you come over on the, the uh..? “Samaria, yes sir.”

 “Uh okay, well I’m guessing you know where you’re supposed to sleep and all that?” Nixon glanced at the private still standing by.  “Yes sir.” “Okay, well I’ll let you know when I need you I guess, and when we get working on things.” “I’m supposed to start with coding and morse code instruction, sir. Or at least that’s what I was told.” “Okay, great well- I guess you can get started with the radiomen as soon as they’re done with maneuvers.” Nixon turned away, signaling the end of the conversation. “Great, thank you, sir.” Nixon waited for the sound of footsteps before looking briefly over his shoulder to watch Ms. Rooney exit with the private behind her. Nixon’s brow furrowed in thought. He opened his leather valise and dug around through various papers. Not finding what he wanted, he shuffled through the loosely strewn papers across his desk. Around him typewriters still sat in their cases, reports sat in neat but forgotten stacks, abandoned by the soldiers who were called away before they properly settled in. The Army standard organization was there, but so was the unfamiliarity of a new workspace. “Davis!” Nixon called over his shoulder. After a moment the private who had introduced Emily came in. “Sir?” he asked. “I can’t find that memo you gave me. Do we have a dossier on this Ms. Rooney or something I can look at to get a better idea of who she is?” “Yes sir,” Private Davis said, “one moment.” Davis went to a pile of stacked brown file pockets sitting on the corner of Nixon's desk. A few seconds later he pulled a neatly paper-clipped folder from one of the file pockets and handed it to Nixon. On the top page, to the left of a small black and white photo read Miss Rooney, Emily R. “Thank you,” Nixon said, his eyes transfixed on her profile. The private nodded and exited the door. Nixon sank into his desk chair as he scanned the report in his hands. 5’, 5”, Brown Hair, Blue Eyes. Fort Wayne, IN. Unmarried, no children. Previously positioned with the O.S.S, cartographers. Languages: none. Special skills: morse code, code-breaking. Education: St. Mary’s College. Previous profession: typist. Nixon scanned the report with a guileless curiosity. Interesting, he thought. What was special about this young lady? How did she find herself working first a coveted intelligence post and what possessed her to seek out a job that got her outfitted with army battalion intelligence? Nixon passed the morning getting situated. He went back and forth between meetings with other intelligence staff, Lieutenant Strayer, and Major Horton. Nixon couldn’t help but wonder what Easy Company was up to. As much as he didn’t miss being at Sobel’s mercy, he did miss being among the men. Did he miss the physical training and the maneuvers? Not a bit. But a piece of him missed feeling in the thick of things. He was so removed as an intelligence officer. He was stuck between two worlds, and he wanted to be part of both of them. Nixon wanted to be the first to know but he also wanted to be among the men he trained with. Although he served the entire 2nd battalion, he would always consider himself a part of Easy Company. Luckily, he had Dick Winters. Winters served as his bridge between the regiment and the company. Winters had also become a dear friend and confidant during their time at Toccoa. So naturally, Nixon had to fill him in on the newest member of their battalion’s staff. “So how does she seem? Fit for the job?” Winter’s asked sliding his tray in front of the mess attendant. “I guess so,” Nixon said, following behind him, “whatever that is.” “I thought you were an intelligence officer,” Winter’s shot Nixon a skeptical little smile, “aren’t you supposed to know?”  “I know,” Nixon said brashly, “I just don't know what I’m supposed to do with her.” He emphasized that last word as if Emily were a random child he was handed and told to take care of. “I’m sure you’ll get a better idea as we continue training,” Winter’s reassured him. “I guess so. Apparently, she’s supposed to teach morse code, so at least she’ll be occupied with that for a while.” Winter’s chuckled, “she’s an adult woman, Lew, and you’re not her babysitter.” “Barely,” Nixon scoffed, “she’s twenty-two.” “We’ve got a lot of men here that are younger than that.” “Sure, even so.” Nixon and Winters sat down at a long mess table. Winters pushed the food around on his tray as Nixon continued to process what it would mean to manage and work alongside a female. “I guess we’ll see,” he said resignedly.

#band of brothers #fanfiction #lewis nixon #lewis nixon x oc #george luz #george luz x oc #harry welsh #harry welsh x oc #as far as friends go #original character

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transhawks · 4 years

Text

Hawks and the Trolley Problem

I. What is the Trolley Problem?

The Trolley Problem is an ethical thought experiment, mostly testing outcomes and methods of achieving them. It goes like this:

There is a runaway trolley barreling down the railway tracks. Ahead, on the tracks, there are five people tied up and unable to move. The trolley is headed straight for them. You are standing some distance off in the train yard, next to a lever. If you pull this lever, the trolley will switch to a different set of tracks. However, you notice that there is one person on the side track.

You have two options:

A. Do nothing and allow the trolley to kill the five people on the main track. B. Pull the lever, diverting the trolley onto the side track where it will kill one person.

What is the right thing to do?

There are schools of thought that attempt to explain this problem. A common response is to divert the trolley, actively making the choice to kill one person to save five. In this scenario, you are making an active choice to kill someone for the ‘greater’ outcome, which assumes that the best outcome is to save as many as possible. We will call this choice the Utilitarian option.

The second option is to do nothing and let the five people die. Why? Because then it’s a matter of letting the trolley do what it intends to and not actually pulling a lever and condemning a person to death. By choosing inaction in order to not murder anyone, you could stay true to a moral of never killing anyone. This is the Kantian option.

Of course, the Trolley Problem is customizable - people add all sort of features, like instead pushing someone in front of the trolley to stop it, or including knowing someone in the line up of potential dead. It doesn’t even have to be a trolley - all it asks is what is the right thing to do? And, of course, what is the value of a human life.

II. What is Hawks’s Dilemma?

Hawks has infiltrated the Paranormal Liberation Front and managed to manipulate Twice into befriending him and providing him with information leading to a preemptive strike by the Heroes against the PLF. However, he feels that Twice is a greater harm than just an information source and thus has used his friendship to kidnap Twice, keeping him and his quirk away from a battlefield where he would easily be able to overwhelm the hero forces. Without Twice, the villains are far more easily beatable.

BNHA 263 ends with Hawks threatening Twice with his feather-knives and asking himself the question, internally: What is the right thing to do?

Let’s break the options down:

A. Hawks kills Twice to effectively ensure he cannot escape and help. The villains are not able to use his clones in the battle, leaving them vulnerable. Hawks ensures heroes survive the battle (assuming no unexpected things happen), and that the status quo the PLF want to topple is maintained. Low amounts of civilian casualties, hero casualties. The problems that caused this issue in the first place continue.

B. Hawks lets Twice go. Twice uses his clones to defend the PLF, ensuring more casualties for both the heroes, and possibly the PLF. Eventual massive civilian casualties. Status Quo is broken, system is broken - the problems that created this are addressed, either by further perpetuation or reduction.

There are also other factors.

Hawks knows Twice. Heroes are not typically supposed to kill villains. Hawks has referred to Twice as ‘good-natured’, and reflected it made it easier to accomplish this, yet he also seems surprised by how much Twice genuinely likes and trusts him. He also knows, on both sides, many of the people likely to die from this.

Miruko in 262 mentions that heroes hold back fighting villains - killing is not usually an action heroes are allowed or suggested to take.

And, lastly, Hawks’s choice is not solely his - up to now he has performed his duty as a tool to the Hero Public Safety Commission.

III. How the Hero System Would Tackle the Problem?

Let’s talk about what it means to be a hero.

From what we’ve seen in the manga and spin off Vigilantes, there’s an actual calculation, maybe even algorithm in how heroes get paid. It is a clearly a numerical one.

The question is how exactly should anyone looking at a catastrophe begin to count the worth of human life? We don’t have exact confirmation, but it’s likely the ‘Specialty Organization’ is none other than the HPSC, or the Hero Commission as fandom likes to call them.

From previous encounters, we know that they are utilitarian in outlook, hence the way they sent Hawks to infiltrate the League. To the HPSC, the consequences of an action matter far more than the morality of the action itself. As a organization that, then, depersonalizes choices in terms of numbers and metrics, a simple calculation that five people over one intended casualty is acceptable.

Remember, the HPSC also comes out with ranks. Heroism is numbers to their system and they got the calculation.

In Japan, Professional Heroes are officially ranked by taking in account several factors such as the number of cases solved, general popularity, and level of social contribution. (bnha wiki)

In their view, Hawks would choose A. There’s no option for him otherwise. The HPSC continues to exist as long as everyone accepts their metrics and calculations. Lives, to them, have an internal quantifiable logic. So do hero actions.

Villains do, too, but only in ‘resolving’ them. As incidences.

IV. What are Lives Worth, Anyway?

The more factors we include in this problem, the more complications. A kantian viewpoint might come from someone in the Liberation Front - Twice’s quirk is amazing and far more valuable that most quirks. If we put Twice in the Trolley Problem, it’s unlikely that the five other people would have comparable quirks. Thus, simply on that basis, Twice’s ‘worth’ would be more than the others and no lever would be pulled.

For Hawks, it would be the action itself. Heroes do not kill, and while he has been conditioned into taking the HPSC’s metrics into the forefront of his decision-making all his life, the active choice to kill Twice would have consequences.

Hawks has already shown to struggle with guilt - besides the words he said after the Jeanist incident, manipulating Endeavor into coming with him just to use him as a shield against whatever the League had did disturb Hawks, just from facial expressions. He does even question that he has to perform immoral actions in order to do as the HPSC wishes. At the same time he has generally gone along with the idea that the ends justify the means.

It’s very obvious what would happen if any of us ever encountered a “trolley problem” in real life. We would panic, do something rashly, and then watch in horror as one or more persons died a gruesome death before our eyes. We would probably end up with PTSD. Whatever we had ended up doing in the moment, we would probably feel guilty about for the rest of our lives: even if we had somehow miraculously managed to comply with a consistent set of consequentialist ethics, this would bring us little comfort. ( Nathan Robinson, Current Affairs. 2017)

As I wrote this, someone mentioned The Good Place, a show that showed explored the Trolley Problem in depth. One of the conclusions it came to is that nevertheless of the circumstances it is horrifying. No matter the ethics, faced with such a problem, most people would not come away of it well. Hawks included because he is not a machine and is capable of feeling guilt either way.

If he kills Twice, he kills and betrays a friend, and saves the lives of hundreds of thousands or millions, and betraying people he has gotten to know over the course of months. But that’s a weight he’ll have to bear for the rest of his life, if he manages to survive. He’ll have to know he did what Heroes are avoidant to do; kill.

If he doesn’t kill Twice, Twice will help lead a revolution that, while addressing many of the issues Hawks sees with society, will kill Hawks’s thousands of colleagues and many innocents in the crossfire.

V. A Different Question?

The issue then is not what Hawks does, but why he has to ask this question of himself in the first place. The thing is that there are rarely only two options in any given situation.

The thing is situations are created. And so are choices. They do not come out of thin air. They are not in a self-contained vacuum. Twice was created, and so was Hawks, and so was the Commission. The choices Hawks faces right now are not removed from hundreds of years of other decisions, and powers that enact them.

If I am forced against my will into a situation where people will die and I have no ability to stop it, how is my choice a “moral” choice between meaningfully different options, as opposed to a horror show I’ve just been thrust into, in which I have no meaningful agency at all? Let’s think a bit more about who put me here and how to keep them from having diabolical power over others. ( Nathan Robinson, Current Affairs. 2017)

The thing about ascribing morality, too, to individual actions is it misses the powers of institutional forces upon our lives. What does that look like in BNHA?

It means we see Ujiko and not an Empire AFO has been building for at least a century to make sure there are systems in place creating noumus, and people like Shigaraki who exist in this world.

It means we see Endeavor and his heroism and brilliant record and not a system ignoring that a man who bought a woman to force her to have children in a genetic experiment is now the symbol of Peace and Stability for that system.

It means we see Twice as a regrettable casualty of society whose only option for acceptance was among murderers fulfilling a murder-empire and not a consequence of both AFO’s system and the Hero System to make sure people like him have no safe place in the world.

It means we see Hawks poised to kill Twice and not the organization that bought him as a child and raised him into a soldier who has to decide whether to kill one or many.

And once you realize that none of these questions, none of these options are fair or right in these terms - not the one for many, not the sparing to absolve personal guilt, you can ask the question what is right thing to do.

What I mean is maybe there shouldn’t be heroes or villains. None of that conflict should exist. There’s no rights in either view. Yes the hero system should be eradicated. But the lack of future Shigaraki envisions, and the dystopian plans AFO and Ujiko actually have, and the Liberation Army plan for, are also wrong.

Neither of the systems proposed have the right answer or the right to posit one.

The real answers are not in the right or wrongs. They’re in every other sentence. They’re in Jirou’s encouragement of Kaminari, in Shigaraki telling the League he wants them to be happy with what they love, in Keigo’s unsure smile as Jin looks at him and tells him he’s a good person for caring for his friends. The answers are in the love that ordinary people have for each other, that no manufactured conflict and institution can quantify or destroy. And that hopefully, someone will voice this.

VI. What will Hawks Answer?

The thing about this is that we aren’t sure if Keigo will fully make a decision right now. There’s a likelihood he will be interrupted. Or he will put off his decision-making and spare Twice for the moment, delaying his choice. And that’s just ignoring the fact that there isn’t one choice to make here; no, lots of them.

However, Keigo has made one personal life-changing decision in before; the HPSC has taken that choice and removed free will from it.

Self-sacrifice, after all, is both the will of the HPSC and Hawks’s true nature. If quirks are to show us the nature of the person, why not Hawks’s feathers, deceptively soft but deadly, maneuverable and revealing, and yet, ultimately consist of him breaking his only ability to fly free until he no longer can? What’s more self-sacrificial than breaking off pieces of yourself to save others?

The Good Place has an answer to the problem that accepts that no matter the options, and the questions, someone will lose something. Die maybe. The solution is that if someone must die, why not yourself?

The one comfort is that for all the lack of choices Hawks has been given in this situation - this is the one solution he can come up with on his own.

#hawks #takami keigo #meta #bnha #bnha spoilers #my meta

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