#we just see the ones who made the internal calculus that saving people was more important. have you ever been forced to choose btn values | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

strsburn · 2 years

Text

temporary fix | p. peter (18+)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. 18+ CONTENT

pairing - tasm! peter parker x female reader

synopsis - peter is willing to be anything for you, even if all you need is a temporary fix

see also - in which you are partnered with peter for a project but find yourself studying something else

warnings - unprotected sex, praise kink, dirty talk, choking kink etc.

notes - i am filth. also thank @scomphh for the Inspo! uhm yeah so basically andrew garfield has me in a chokehold and this will definitely be one of the dirtiest things I've written, therefore if you're a minor DNI, at all, seriously

ALSO, ALL CHARACTERS ARE IN COLLEGE. AND OVER 18

tagging - @wint3r-h3art @softholand @tmholland @taissafarmigasgirlfriend

Chemistry was not your thing.

Sure, you could handle basic math, even the occasional calculus assignment, but Chemistry was just entirely out of your element and it showed.

You were hanging off the edge of a C- at the moment and you were really not in the best mindset to retake the course if your grade went any lower. Hence your relief when the class had been assigned a project and you were paired with Peter Parker, the smartest in your grade.

"Hey." You greeted the brunette who nodded his head in response to your greeting, his fingers fidgeting with his backpack straps as you took a seat next to him.

You could see a slight flush to his cheeks and gathered that not many people conversed with him which explained his awkward fidgeting and lack of eye contact.

"So, meet at my place at four for the project? My parents aren't home until late so we can get a head start." You offered after a few minutes of silence.

At your words, Peter's head shot up, eyes meeting yours for the first time.

"U-uh, yeah, that- that sounds good." He nodded his head eagerly, glasses slipping down his nose which he cutely pushed back up.

You smiled and held a hand out which he dumbly slapped in a lame low-five. You held back a snort.

"Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"I kinda need your phone number to text you the address."

You could practically see the embarrassment roll over him in waves as he snatched his hand back as if he was burnt, moving to dig in his jacket pocket as he produced his phone.

He slid the phone to you, fiddling with his glasses this time as you entered your phone number.

You dialed your number from his phone, ending the call and saving him to your contacts just as the bell rang.

Handing him his phone you grabbed your bag and swung it over your shoulder as you waved coyly, "Later Parker."

You stood in front of your bedroom mirror with a nervous frown plastered on your face as you studied yourself.

Truthfully you knew nothing would happen and it was just a study date but you wanted to at least look presentable as you couldn't help but admit, peter parker was indeed attractive and you knew you weren't the only one that felt that way.

Pushing your hair back from your face, you made sure your room was tidy and nothing embarrassing was sticking out just as the doorbell sounded.

Entering the foyer, you opened the door, surprise decorating your face as a bouquet of slightly wilted flowers greeted you, a shy Peter behind them, sans glasses. You internally pouted, you thought the glasses made him even more irresistible.

"Uh, hi. These are for you. They were nice, but uhm, they got smashed in my backpack on the way here. I'm sorry." He blushed, hiding behind the bouquet.

You grinned, taking the flowers from him and giving them a whiff as the scent lingered.

"Thank you, Peter. Here, room is this way. I'll be right there, let me just stick these in something." You told him, pointing to your room. He nodded and headed that way, curious eyes studying the walls as he walked.

You hurriedly grabbed a vase from under your sink, filling it slightly with water and laying the flowers in there as you headed for your room, nerves filling you.

You shut the door behind you softly as you watched Peter sit on your bed, fingers fidgeting with his sleeves as he looked around at all the posters decorating your walls, giving away a bit of your personality.

"You good, Pete? Need anything?" You asked as he snapped from his stupor, brown eyes meeting yours. He shook his head mutely and you smiled, moving to sit beside him as you grabbed your binder with the syllabus for the assignment inside.

"Okay so, any ideas for what we should focus on for our project?" You asked him.

He lit up suddenly, eyes excited as he began to ramble about the subject he loved, his hands expressing his theories and you could only focus on his lips as he spoke, eyes dazed.

You tried your best to dismiss the attraction you felt towards him but it was futile as your eyes only drifted back to his lips, failing to see as he tried to regain your focus.

A hand waving in front of you, caused your mind to snap back to reality as you grinned sheepishly at him.

"Hey, you okay? Am I boring you, I lost you for a minute there." Peter spoke up, voice teasing.

You shook your head, deciding to be up front as you were shitty at lying and he definitely knew something was up.

"Do you know how sexy you are? It's driving me insane because I can't even focus on anything other than your lips and how badly I want them on mine." You admitted, expecting to be embarrassed as he no doubt was only being nice and not at all into you.

You couldn't contain the soft gasp that left your lips as you were pulled close to him, your legs straddling his as he pushed the books from the bed, eyes suddenly intent.

You felt his breath hit your face lightly, smelling of peppermint as he watched you, the both of you waiting for the other to make the move.

"Is this okay?" He questioned, eyes hesitant as his grip on you tightened.

You nodded rapidly, desperation peaking at your center as you felt your panties dampen, your clit being rubbed against his jeans, causing a delicious friction that left you needy.

"I'm going to need you to use your words, pretty girl." He scolded, his index finger and thumb coming up to pinch your lower lip.

"God, yes." You choked out, the words coming out jumbled as your brain short circuited at his touch.

At your approval, he leaned forward, his fingers letting go of your lips as his mouth replaced them, the chaffed skin of his lips causing a new sensation as you gripped his hair between your fingers.

You let out a whimper as his tongue evaded yours, his fingers moving to play with the ends of your sweater.

You pulled back, yanking at his shirt as you removed your hand, your frustration evident as his buttons refused to cooperate.

He chuckled, hair messy from your wandering hands as he gently removed your grip from his clothes, his hand removing the shirt in one fluid motion, the action causing some of the buttons to fly off, though neither of you cared much.

You followed his lead, ripping your shirt off and sending it to a corner of your room.

His hands found the clips of your bra and smoother than you thought, he removed it, sliding the straps down your shoulder as he bit his lip, eyes admiring every part of you.

He cupped your chest, the roughness of his hands causing you to moan as he tugged on your nipples, eyes watching for your reaction.

"You have such pretty tits, baby. Can I have a taste?" You struggled to answer him as his fingers brought you close to the edge, a fact he knew, as he waited patiently for you to answer him, fingers not ceasing their movements.

"I asked you a question, angel."

"Yes." You moaned out, fingers searching for something to hold on in the throws of your pleasure.

"Yes, what? C'mon, you can do it, pretty girl." He tested.

"Yes, you can touch me, wherever you want, please just do something." Any other time you would have been embarrassed, but at this moment you could only plead for him to bring you pleasure, all your inhibitions pushed to the back burner of your mind.

Deciding you had enough teasing, Peter removed his fingers and leaned down, bringing your nipple into his mouth, at the sensation of his warm mouth on your tits, you moaned, head falling back as he lapped at both breasts, dividing the attention between them.

Peter couldn't believe his eyes, there you were, his crush, writhing beneath him as he brought you to the edge. He felt pride swell in him as he was the one responsible for getting you like this.

"Fuck." He mumbled when your eyes rolled back, your body spasming from just his tongue on your tits alone.

You panted as your orgasm coursed through you, your body shuddering as the whispers of your climax faded, leaving you sweaty and yet greedy for more.

You realized you had somehow ended on your back, Peter now atop you and you felt your cheeks warm as you realized you had come so easily just from a touch.

Covering your eyes, you groaned as you heard Peter laugh softly at your sudden shyness.

"No, no, none of that pretty girl. Do you know how hot you looked just now, coming from just my mouth?" He praised, gently removing your hands from your face.

You blew out a breath of air, smiling shyly as he leaned down to connect your lips, a groan emitting deep from him when you nibbled on his lip.

You tilted your head as he trailed kisses down your neck, nipping teasingly at your collarbone. He trailed down the valley of your breasts, licking a nipple before continuing on.

Your breath hitched in your throat when he reached your clit, blowing teasingly on it, the cold air causing you to whimper at the sensitivity.

"Look at this pretty pussy, is all this for me?" His voice was laced with awe as he brought his index finger and dipped it in your wetness, tentatively.

You gasped, legs beginning to shake in anticipation as he explored your folds with his fingertips, so close, yet so far from where you needed him most.

"Peter, please, please, please.." You trailed off, tears forming at the corners of your eyes in frustration.

"I got you, pretty girl. I got you." He affirmed, sitting up he shrugged his pants off along with his briefs, his cock tapping his abdomen softly as it leaked with precum.

The sight brought another desperate moan from you as he tugged at it, his hands spreading the cum around his tip messily.

He brought it to your clit, prodding at your entrance gently as if in a trance, dipping the tip in slowly before realization highlighted his features.

"Wait, I don't have-"

You cut him off by pulling him closer, your nails digging into his biceps as you held on, at the end of your rope.

"I'm on the pill."

He nodded shakily, breath catching as he finally entered you, a high pitched whine leaving him as your wetness enveloped him.

The sound sent a thrill up your spine and you let your head fall back as you succumbed to the pleasure.

"Shit, y-you feel so good, baby. So tight." He trailed off, thrusting experimentally to see how you responded.

When your face twisted in pleasure, he picked up the pace, your hand reaching for his which he obliged, intertwining your fingers wordlessly.

"Look so good, baby. So pretty for me." He mindlessly muttered, abs tensing as he grinded with every thrust.

You could barely form a thought as your mind was ablaze with only him, you felt every ridge of his cock as it brushed your walls, the tip touching the deepest parts of you, nearly in your cervix.

You clenched around him with a gasp when his tip hit your g-spot, your legs spasming at the feeling.

"Right there, baby. You need me right there." He noticed, grabbing your legs and folding them back, he thrusted deeper, his pelvis rubbing your clit, furthering the stimulation.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Peter!" You shouted, his pace quickening with every grind of his hips.

You reached up and pulled him into a messy kiss, a trail of your saliva, connecting him to you, strangely, only furthering your arousal.

Peter pulled back from you suddenly, causing you to frown before he suddenly placed a hand on your throat, squeezing lightly, you let out a pornographic moan, mind ceasing as your vision blurred around the edges.

"Look at me, angel. Wanna see you when you cum." He pleaded.

You forced your eyes open, meeting his gaze as he watched you with adoration.

He grinned at your submission and squeezed harder, not enough to hurt you but enough that you felt your climax at the edge, your need for his permission, leaving you to pause.

Seeing the desperation in your gaze, he brought two fingers to your clit, rubbing rapidly, his own expression, pained.

"It's okay, pretty girl. Let go for me, wanna see you cum all over my cock." He coaxed gently. At his words you let go, body tensing as every nerve you had felt on fire.

Your vision went dark as you clenched around Peter, the tighteness of your grip on him causing him to gasp as he shot his seed into you, cum painting your walls, deepening your climax.

He rode out your highs, thrusting slowly as he jerked from the sensitivity on his cock, your mixed release seeping from your cunt.

He pulled out from you softly, pressing a kiss to your sweaty hairline as he mumbled that he would be back.

You closed your eyes for what felt like hours, when mere seconds went by, before a warm touch on your clit caused you to jerk in surprise.

"Shh, it's okay, pretty girl. Just cleaning you up." He voiced and you smiled at the gesture, as he finished cleaning you and himself before putting the towel in your dirty hamper.

You watched as he stood by your bed, clothes in hand, very obviously not wanting to go, but sure that this was just a temporary fix, one you were sure to forget.

Smiling weakly, you held a hand out to him as he grinned adorably, letting his backpack and clothes fall to the floor carelessly.

He climbed in next to you as you cuddled into his side, tired from your excursion, as you felt your heart trip in it's chest for the boy you found yourself catching feelings for.

He easily slid his arms around you, resting his head into the crook of your neck as you both lie contented in silence.

"We are so doing that again."

He laughed tiredly ar your words, his eyes closing as he allowed his breath to mimic yours.

"Anything you want, pretty girl. Anything you want."

#andrew garfield #tasm #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #this is filthy #tasm peter parker #lemon #help #not the 2012 terms smh #graysonshaven

3K notes · View notes

apparitionism · 4 years

Text

Run 2

Other than a few select details—and the overall conundrum of the appropriate role(s) for technological advances in sports—this story is entirely fantastical. Very little of what I’m describing works in the real world as I’m pretending it does here. Of course very little is working in the real world as it usually does right now, so why should this be any different? Honestly, I don’t know what I’m doing. More than ever, I’m writing words down solely to write words down, and I can’t get any sort of tone to cohere, and while I’m sure it would be nice to be inventing calculus or writing King Lear, sometimes all that’s even vaguely achievable in the creative (or “creative”) realm is some poorly constructed fanfictional narrative about too-springy shoes. Which began in part 1.

Run 2

The man sitting next to Helena Wells in first class—his window 5A to her aisle 5B—was a talker. He was in sales, he began explaining the very moment he sat down, and his three vodka tonics over the course of the 90-minute flight did nothing to slow the torrent of information he felt compelled to convey to Helena about the endlessly fascinating (to him) world of medical devices. And the sale thereof. Helena could have informed him, a bit, about certain likely future directions of that field, for Helena knew a bit about a great many fields, but she kept her own counsel. He said nothing of consequence, and she did not feel any need to expend energy on him, even as little as it might have taken to freeze him with a look. “Mm hm,” she would say, when he paused for breath, and after every such interjection, off he would go again.

Not until the end of the flight, not until she had already risen to pull her bag from the overhead, did he bother to ask, “And what do you do?”

Helena smiled a smile that showed only the biting edges of her teeth. “I win.”

She did indeed win. More precisely, she negotiated deals to the best advantage of those who employed her, so her newest position, with the Zelus athletic corporation, suited her competitive nature perfectly. She found it delicious to be facilitating the endeavors of, and even working with, athletes, for they were straightforward, unabashed in their desire to show that, on a given day, they were better than any competition they faced.

Helena did, however, envy them their openness about that desire, their freedom to be visibly coldblooded. While ideals of “good sportsmanship” did keep most athletes from dancing on their enemies’ graves, that sportsmanship at base required going all in to win, and showing it. In Helena’s bailiwick of corporate dealmaking, on the other hand, every position had give; every outcome reflected some of that give—that is, some loss—on each side... or at least, it did so externally. Every party might in fact achieve their desired outcomes, but regret was what one had to perform.

From this, Helena knew that no person or business or any other entity was ever as strong in their supposed stance as they claimed to be. And oh, how they did claim: so many ways there were to righteously say “this far and no farther.” And then so many ways to try to save face when that crumbled to “perhaps, in fact, just a bit farther.”

Where Helena excelled was not in nailing down the finer points of contracts, but rather in discerning weak points and, on their basis, obtaining agreements in principle into which her opposition needed to enter—and out of which they could not wriggle—without causing public embarrassment or shame. She relished in-person meetings, for physical presence could serve as motivation when recalcitrant parties needed goading, or cover, to make the required concessions. Particularly when Helena gave every indication of being entirely willing to walk away. And to talk about having done so.

“Here, ultimately, is what I must have from you,” Helena would say, at an appropriate point, to some such reluctant interlocutor. And then she would, often, present an outsize “ultimate” ask.

Her counterpart would, naturally, be nonplussed, and would sputter something such as, “We can’t afford that!” or “That’s unreasonable!”

Helena put the theatrics undergirding face-to-face to good use: she was quite practiced at engaging in a lengthy process of standing up and restoring implements to their appropriate places in her attaché. “Then I suppose further discussions will be unproductive,” she would say as she carefully housed a pen, her telephone, and various other assorted technologies in zippered pockets. “Such a shame, when I’m sure you could summon some extra effort.” She would, on occasion, sigh.

Observing this production, observing its “finality,” her counterpart would waver. Then would come the beg of “Wait, wait.”

Helena would, of course, wait as requested. As she did so, she would begin to muse, aloud, something along the lines of a quiet, “I might be willing to offer certain... considerations...”

Eventually an agreement would be reached, one in which she would have given up no more than she was authorized to concede, and usually far, far less.

Requesting the moon, being ready to bark about not receiving it, and then yielding some sweetener, was not her only tactic, but it was consistently—surprisingly consistently—effective.

The additional leverage provided by Zelus’s money, prestige, and international reach in such situations was gratifyingly robust. It had made this new position singularly attractive, to start, and would, she hoped, make it satisfying, both in the long term and in the short-term highest-of-stakes dealmaking on which she was about to embark with AAI.

She was licking her chops at having been tapped for these talks, though she knew that Dan Badger—Saint Dan, as he was known at home, with a nationally uncharacteristic lack of irony—would not sully his ethically pristine hands by engaging in them. He had underlings for that. Speaking to Zelus would imply that he spoke to Zelus, and thus that he might be influenced by—that is, that his principles might fall victim to—the company’s money, prestige, and international reach.

Funny that anything of consequence in her life would come down to Saint Dan... but she had no need or time to concentrate on that now, what with her flight with Mr. Medicaldevices, what with getting herself to her hotel and then to AAI’s headquarters.

“I win,” she repeated aloud, as a firm reminder to herself, upon exiting the elevators on the 40th floor to confront the winged AAI logo on the wall of a large lobby. She wasn’t nervous as such, but the initial conferences involved in any such negotiation, particularly one like this with such enormous repercussions, did tend to make her feel as if she were being put through qualifying. As to whether she would qualify, there was no doubt. But having to do so was an annoyance.

“I win,” she said again, as she realized, after some purposeful striding through hallways, that she had no idea where she was, or where she was supposed to be. How could she have been so foolish as to have misread the COO’s office number?

Well. She was considered a shark, was she not? So she kept moving, entering the nearest office space, determined to push her way to a righted course. Someone would know where she was meant to be. She found herself in a large area featuring several desks, at the nearest of which sat a womanly figure, her back to Helena. She had long, dark, curly hair. Helena had once upon a time been dramatically drawn to women—well, be honest: one woman—with long, dark, curly hair... she tried not to be, anymore, but here she was again, drawn, as if no one else were present in the space. She tapped the woman’s shoulder and received an annoyed response, and upon hearing it, Helena thought, Wait...

Then the woman looked up, and Helena thought, Oh no, followed swiftly by, Myka.

She could not summon a single word to say. Judging from Myka’s wide eyes and unmoving mouth, neither could she.

As they gaped at each other, Helena’s thoughts galloped along: She hasn’t changed. She looks like herself. She still has that whorl of hazel in her eyes...

She tried to shake herself back to sense by noting that people’s eyes didn’t change color over time; of course the hazel would still be there. The hazel and the green and the lashes that overswept them both...

“Lost,” Myka at last said, lighting on what Helena vaguely remembered was a word she herself had said.

“Lost,” Helena affirmed. It was all she could do to utter that syllable, even though, standing here, staring at Myka, she felt no longer lost at all. Or perhaps she was lost again, or lost anew, lost as she’d been, nearly two years ago... the distance between then and now had not been sufficiently impressed upon her until this moment. You are different now, this reminder of emotional depth and breadth told her. You are intentionally different now.

A man seated near Myka said, “Call me crazy, but I think you two know each other.”

The ensuing silence stretched into near-insurmountability.

Then: “Yes,” Myka said.

Helena was surprised that she would acknowledge it, but she had, so: “Yes,” Helena echoed.

Nothing else happened.

“Okay,” the man said. After a moment, during which Helena and Myka continued to stare at each other, he said to Helena, “Um. New lady Myka knows, what are you doing here?”

Helena found something like her voice. “I’m from Zelus,” she said.

“When you say it like that, sounds like an alien planet. How many suns does it have?” he asked.

Whoever this was, he was good at breaking tension. Helena coughed a little laugh and said, “You see my healthy tan.”

“So, zero,” the man said. “Mykes, you never told me you knew an alien from a system with no suns.” Then, to Helena, “Okay, alien from the planet Zelus, how can we help you? But I’m not sure I believe you’re from there at all. Don’t they make everybody wear the gear? Where’s your headband or whatever?”

Helena laughed a bit more strongly, this time at the idea of herself in a headband. “Your COO can attest. I have an initial appointment regarding what to do about the shoes. The Deceits, that is.”

The man snorted. “Trust me, we know which shoes need something done about ’em. But anyway you took a major wrong turn at the elevators.”

“Did I?” Helena resumed staring at Myka. Wrong turn? The turn I took was in no way wrong. Or it was, because I am seeing a sight I never thought to see again, and it is reminding me of things I cannot bear to be reminded of.

“You want the bigwig offices. Other side.”

“Do I?” Helena asked. I don’t think I do. I think I want to take up residence right here... or rather, in the past. The part of the past that involves this person who is right here.

“Yeah,” he said, but a bit heavily, as if he had heard her thoughts and wanted to honor them. “Because we’re just certification and compliance.”

In response to that, Helena could think only, Of course you are. Or rather, Of course she is.

She hadn’t seen Myka... since.

Helena’s then-employer had been looking into the acquisition of a company. Helena was sent to visit that company for some days in order to see what best face it could put on for an acquisitive outsider... and what could be extrapolated from that about its value. The books were being gone over by others, and they would provide useful quantitative data on corporate health, but Helena’s nose for frailties was unsurpassed.

All the meetings she attended were watched over by a rotating cast from the legal department. Those types always thought themselves hawklike, their senses finely tuned so as to correct any employees’ statements that might give Helena the wrong impression. Helena was fully prepared for whatever “clarifying” interruptions they would offer.

She was not at all prepared for their intern.

“This is our 3L from Stanford,” said one of the lawyers, explaining that intern’s presence at one such meeting. “Myka Bering. She’s trying corporate on for size. We’re hoping it fits.”

Helena took Myka Bering’s hand for what was meant to be a simple business shake. But at the touch, something happened to her breathing: in-out became out-in, and she coughed. “Sorry,” she said, then coughed again. “Does it?” she asked, sounding nothing at all like herself. “Fit, I mean?”

“Still trying it on,” Myka said, and with a little duck of her head—she was tall—she stepped away, toward the back of the room, a movement that said I know what my place is here.

Helena knew what her own place was, and she tried to occupy it appropriately, sitting in a position of significance at a not-quite-sturdy conference table. Yet throughout the meeting, her attention was drawn to Myka, who was not at the table but in a chair against the wall, drawn to her serious brow-furrow as she took notes. At one point, Myka looked up from those notes, meeting Helena’s eyes, and after a blink of connection, she performed the duck of head again.

Helena spent the remainder of the meeting hoping that some similar blink would reconnect them... well, not only hoping, but also attempting to magically will or engineer it into happening. She took no notes of her own, and when she saw blank paper in front of her, once the meeting’s participants were released at its end, she had to acknowledge, certainly to herself if no one else, that she had been thrown entirely off her stride.

That wouldn’t do, so she had to do something about it.

For a day and a half, the “something” she did was “ignore it aggressively.” If she concentrated solely on the professional tasks at hand, she would surely forget the stumble Myka had brought to her breath. She would surely forget that blink of connection and would give up wishing for it to be repeated. Surely that was what would happen.

As a strategy for regaining her stride, aggressive ignoring was unsuccessful.

Helena then told herself that if she sought Myka out, that if she talked to her one-on-one, whatever momentary spell had been cast would surely break. Myka would show herself to be merely a law student, and Helena could... put her in perspective. She made a plan to catch Myka at the end of the day, which would allow her to dismiss this spell for the mirage it was and start fresh the next morning. Surely that was what would happen.

As a strategy for breaking the spell, seeking Myka out was unsuccessful.

Myka was exiting her small closet of an office when Helena approached her, ready to say a simple “hello” and inquire about her internship. But when she was once again the focus of Myka’s attention, Helena was barely able to choke, “The other day. In the meeting.” (She could not even say, “The meeting about,” because she did not know what should follow “about,” because she did not know what the meeting had been about.) She continued, inadequately, “I... noticed you.”

“I noticed you too,” Myka said. “I mean, you did sit at the big table. At the front. And you did some talking.” Helena did not remember doing any talking. “So of course I would have. Noticed.” Playful? As if she knew that Helena had wanted their eyes to meet again. “Plus we were introduced. Before it.”

If Helena had known she needed to brace herself against so much today, she might have been able to do it; her spine might have remained straight. Instead it bent her body toward Myka’s so that she could murmur, “Would you... would you want to have a drink with me tonight?” Bent so she might now magically will or engineer her into saying yes.

Myka didn’t say yes. What she did was lean back a bit and give Helena a look of appraisal. What followed was a surprise: “When was the last time you had a meal cooked by someone you know?” she asked.

The seeming non sequitur was strangely calming, and that calm gave Helena space to consider how to respond. She contemplated a boastful answer, one that might remind both herself and Myka who they were in relation to each other: “Certain restaurateurs with Michelin stars know my name and have recently cooked meals for me.” She then pondered an attempt at humor: “The chef at my hotel knows that I’m demanding when it comes to room service.” No, the latter was asinine. And the former made her sound like... well, it made her sound too much like the person she wanted to be most of the time, the person whom others feared. She didn’t want Myka to hear that. As it happened, she wanted, uncharacteristically, to tell Myka the truth. “I can’t remember,” she settled for saying.

More appraisal, as if Myka had been waiting for Helena to decide on an approach and now was deliberating in advance of her verdict on the choice. And Helena’s breathing might have faltered in response to Myka, but Myka’s, here in response to Helena, was resolute, measured. Helena watched her body inhale and exhale, once then twice, two very full breaths. Then Myka said, “I do want to have a drink with you. But I think you should let me cook you a meal instead. Or also. Nothing fancy; all I’ve got is some pasta and cheap wine.”

She could have said she had stale saltines and grape juice. Cardboard and lukewarm water. All Helena wanted was to be in her presence. You really shouldn’t do this, some vague conscience-voice said, altogether inadequately.

TBC

In place of a tag essay: This is a short part because my ability to sustain thoughts is limited. But did you see the reveal coming? I thought I leaned on it so hard in the first part, but maybe I should have leaned harder... anyway, I’m going to try to get better, structure-wise, going forward, but that is going to depend very much on the state of the world. With regard to that state, I want to say out loud that everyone in the Bering & Wells community is precious to me. Precious. So please stay as safe as possible: wash hands, physical distance, stay home if you can. And if you’re on the front lines, doing essential work, my gratitude is boundless.

#bering and wells #Warehouse 13 #fanfic #Run #part 2 #AU week

45 notes · View notes

fandom-necromancer · 4 years

Text

045. Part 3

Not as already said, this will now be a four-parter XD This got a bit longer than thought, so the real fluffy stuff wil come next chapter. But this is the happy ending chapter. Still, head the warnings, please, the bold ones are for this chapter!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900, Hannor/Hancon | AU: Reverse AU

(Warnings: android being shipped off to Cyberlife for analysis of deviancy, loss of privacy, loss of control, most think the android is dead, Grieving Character, Trauma because of past mistakes(low), Canon-typical violence)

[part1] [part2] [part4]

Everything in Gavin had told him to run, when he followed the Cyberlife security staff down into the labs. He didn’t want to think about what would happen to him down here. But he knew he couldn’t run. They didn’t know he was a deviant for sure. He would play the machine for as long as possible and maybe, just maybe they would think their little deviant hunter had made a mistake and send him back. Send him back to the precinct, back to his Richard.

So, when they told him to follow, he followed. When they told him to remove his clothing, he did. When they told him to step up onto a platform, he obeyed. He held still as they connected the diagnostic wires to his ports and started to boot up the terminals in the labs. Two guards were positioned at the door, two lab technicians took over. One tapped away at the keyboard, the other one stepped up to him. ‘Status report, GV200.’ Gavin let his old programming take over, having never deleted it in order to keep up his disguise. ‘Checking internal hardware. All biocomponents functioning. Hull compartments 24 to 27 compromised, Thirium tubes 73 to 76 and 136 to 138 damaged, damage temporarily repaired by handler Detective Richard Anderson. Wiring in compartment five compromised, short-circuit possible. Reason of damage: Gunshot. Checking software status. Mainframe functioning. Personality matrix functioning. Free space on memory core: 32 petabytes. Mission log ready for download. Software instability at 15%. Status report end.’ Of course that was a lie. His instability was through the roof, deviancy had changed his code to the point his diagnostics wouldn’t even recognise a single stabile fragment anymore. But hopefully the technicians would never see that. ‘Hmm. Sounds fine.’ The other technician shook his head. ‘The HK400 makes no mistakes. Maybe it is lying.’ ‘Can they lie?’ ‘Deviancy makes them able to disobey, I don’t think it would be too far to lying.’ ‘So, a deep system diagnostic then?’ ‘Yeah, would at least tell us the truth. There is no way it could fool the program.’ ‘Sounds like an early coffee break. How long does that shit take?’ ‘If we are thorough, twelve hours.’ ‘They will give us another task then. How about we use our time here to repair it first, then let the diagnostic run over night?’ ‘Yeah, better that way.’ Gavin felt relieved. He wasn’t yet prepared to feed the diagnostics routine lies. They were right saying it was hard to fool, but not impossible for a deviant. He would have to come up with a believable story. He couldn’t just alter his memories, as they could recognise his lie when comparing it to the police report. But when he lied about his base programming interfering when saving Richard, it could be enough to let them belief it was a normal malfunction. His base programming consisted of basic moral values: Not letting humans come to harm, not letting one die when they could be saved, not killing a human, not using weapons and a lot more. If he fed the diagnostics a fake conflict between base programming and his orders, maybe it would be enough for them to shrug the whole affair off. He prepared everything, before the command could be spoken. ‘GV200, go to standby.’

When he awoke the next day by a manual reboot, the damage was gone, and pristine white hull spread where blue-caked scraps had been. As he accessed his logs, he found the diagnostic had been run during his “sleep” and immediately he wanted to know the results. ‘Maybe HK400 really made a mistake?’ ‘It can’t be, he can’t make mistakes.’ ‘Well apparently he can. The thing is a fine little robot, doing what it was ordered to do. I mean, yeah, given orders have higher priority than base programming, but there were other cops that got their criminal, if I remember correctly? I mean, maybe GV knew this and the base programming took action? These things are so complex, who knows how they work in these extreme situations? Maybe it was a glitch. The diagnostics came back negative, that is all we need.’ ‘I would agree, normally. But what do you think the boss will say, when we send it back and it was a deviant after all? With them popping up everywhere Cyberlife is facing a huge image crisis. I don’t want to be fired over one damn robot.’ ‘So a reset to firmware?’ Gavin would have nearly screamed. Everything, just not a reset! He would rather be dead than lose his memories of Richard. ‘Maybe not yet. If it is deviant, we would lose the chance to see how the virus works.’ ‘So, what will we do then?’ ‘I’ll look into its memories, you can run some tests later.’ ‘Fine. I’ll go up then, look into that new shipment.’

The following hours Gavin had to endure the human poking around in his memories. He had stuffed everything regarding Richard back in some other system the man wouldn’t access in the process. The technician didn’t have to see them kissing or doing more… private things. Unfortunately, Gavin hadn’t been as thorough removing them, because the technician realised something was missing. So, Gavin had to restore them, as he run some program to recover them. At least that gave Gavin enough time to alter his mission logs and add orders from Richard to download a Tracy routine and do these things. It felt immensely wrong, but hopefully the technician was weirded out enough not to look into them too much. In the end he did, but Gavin still felt naked and violated, knowing this damn human knew so much of their very private, very personal life.

At least his actions covered his deviancy. As the other technician came back, he was only eager to tell him of his discovery. And of course, show it again. Sick phck. ‘Well, talk about abusing work equipment.’ ‘There really are weird people out there.’ ‘Well, I wouldn’t say it’s not understandable.’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You know the Eden-club?’ ‘Don’t tell me you-‘ ‘Hey, I wanted to try it out, okay? If they can compete with the-‘ ‘Aren’t you married?’ ‘Hey, it was for science, okay?’ ‘Hmm, wait till I tell your wife.’ ‘Fuck you, better tell me if it’s deviant or not.’ ‘Not that I know of. This fucker told it to download Tracy-programming for this shit and ordered it to do it. All other memories are as expected from a cop android. You can try now.’ ‘Alright.’

Gavin had been disconnected from the rig and was ordered to follow the tech again. Both guards joined them, walking behind him. Gavin wanted to turn and get a look at them, wanted to know how much of a fight they could put up should this all go south. But he couldn’t. He was a machine now. He had to stay in character.

He was led to a different room, more of a hall. The technician ordered him to stand in front of a table and laid a gun on top of it. ‘Take it.’ Gavin looked at him and forced his LED to spin yellow, then red. ‘I can’t.’ ‘I ordered you. Take it.’ ‘I am not allowed to use or have weapons on my body according to Cyberlife guideline 145.926.’ ‘Okay, imagine this: A fellow officer is held at gunpoint by a criminal. They have lost their weapon. What would you do?’ ‘I have to prevent the human from harm and if not possible minimise it.’ ‘How would you do that?’ ‘Apply non-lethal force to disarm the criminal.’ ‘You can’t reach them in time.’ ‘I would take the bullet.’ ‘You can’t reach them in time. You have the gun in front of you like now. You could shoot the criminal.’ ‘I am not allowed to let a human be harmed or harm a human.’ ‘Yeah, but the cop will die then.’ Gavin again hacked his LED to turn yellow for a long time, then red. ‘Why can’t you decide?’ ‘My moral base code is conflicting with my orders.’ ‘And how would you act in the heat of the moment?’ Gavin let his LED stay on red, then flicker yellow, then blue. ‘If there is no other option I would use the gun, but aim to cause minimal harm. I would try to shoot the gun itself, or according to the trajectory in case of a miss, at the arm.’ There was no way his programming would have told him that. But if the “error” was reproduceable, maybe it would be filed as just that and not a sign of deviancy. ‘But that would be a violation of the rule to not use weapons’, the technician commented. ‘According to my moral programming a human life is to be saved unless impossible. If nothing else is available, the gun would be the only option. I am not allowed to let a human come to harm. The harm of dying is graver than the harm of non-lethal actions.’ ‘So this is just felicific calculus?’ ‘I am authorised to use this moral guideline in cases of emergency.’

‘And?’ ‘Well I managed to recreate its dilemma.’ ‘And?’ ‘The thing talked fucking philosophy to me.’ ‘Kamski?’ ‘Sounded like fucking Kamski code. Chloe was still involved in creating this model.’ ‘Fuck, that explains why it showed pseudo-deviancy.’ ‘And why Hank made a mistake.’ ‘Fucking Kamski, really.’ ‘Did they order a new android?’ ‘The precinct? No.’ ‘Did they want this one back?’ ‘Not that I heard of. But it could be they are just busy with the whole RK200-thing.’ ‘Deactivate it then?’ ‘Yeah, shut it down for the time being. If they want it back after this whole spiel then we can reactivate it.’

Gavin was relieved on the one hand. His plan had worked, he had successfully fooled all diagnostics and the humans. If they deactivated him now, he would wake up when all was over. Regardless of whether Marcus won or failed, it was only a matter of time until he would get back to the precinct. Back to Richard. Finally.

The deactivation countdown was welcome for once. When he woke up, this bad dream would be over.

His internal clock told him he had been deactivated for nearly a month. He looked into the face of the same technician, who seemed excited. ‘GV200, open compartment twelve.’ ‘Do you know what you are doing?’ ‘Of course, lab three told me. We have to look into Array Nine. If the processor there is burned the fucking thing is a deviant.’ Gavin had to open the compartment, but he knew this would be the end of it. And it had looked so good too! The technician reached into his chest and pulled a few wires to the side to access Array Nine in his back. Gavin shivered at the touch, what made them both flinch, but he couldn’t hide it. He stood completely still afterwards, convincing the technician to continue. He found the little board and tried to get a better look. ‘Motherfu-‘ Gavin closed his compartment, not caring that he would hurt the technician in the process. His arm was caught in his closing chest-plates and he screamed in shock more than pain. ‘Let me go, you fucking deviant! Let me go! Louis, deactivate this asshole!’ Gavin grabbed the tech by his throat and ran, hearing the rig groan at the tension behind him before snapping him back. With all his anger he shouted at them: ‘Phck you all! Let me go back to the police, I did nothing wrong! I saved my phcking partner. I want to see my-‘ [Emergency shutdown active.]

Richard was on his feet watching the soldiers be called off. He couldn’t believe it. ‘Connor! Connor come here!’ ‘I’ve seen it! It’s awesome!’ ‘Do you know what this means?’ ‘The next few weeks will be chaos?’ ‘Gavin!’ ‘Shit. Richard, I’m so sorry.’ ‘No, he has to be still alive!’ ‘Rich, I don’t want to-‘ ‘Connor. We have to go to the precinct!’ ‘Now?’ ‘Yes now. Come on! Get your stuff, get Hank and-‘ ‘Hank isn’t here.’ ‘What?’ ‘He’s… there.’ Connor pointed to the TV. He send me a message so I knew he was okay, he was at Cyberlife and-‘ ‘Has he seen Gavin?’ ‘I don’t think he looked for him, he had a revolution to win I-‘ ‘He must have seen him. Come on, we’ll call him on the way.’

Richard was out of the door immediately and Sumo was about to follow him equally excited although not having the first clue what was going on. Connor managed to pull him inside without being pulled by the dog himself and hurried to get his keys. It was good to see Rich back on his feet, but what did he thought would happen? Fowler couldn’t just raid the Cyberlife tower.

‘We have to raid the Cyberlife tower!’ Connor stood in the back of the room, covering his face with his hand. ‘Richard, what the hell?’ ‘Please, Jeffrey, listen to me!’ ‘It’s Captain Fowler.’ ‘Captain Fowler, then. We have to save the androids still there.’ ‘Why?’ ‘They are people now.’ ‘And?’ ‘And they are held captive there.’ ‘Any prove for that?’

It was silent, until Hank stepped forwards. ‘Captain, it is true. I freed a lot of androids but not all.’ ‘You freed…’ ‘It was on the news, sir, I don’t think I can keep it a secret for long anyways.’ ‘Wait, are you-‘ ‘Yes.’ ‘Goddamnit, this job will kill me’, Fowler sighed. ‘What- Why is that so important to you all?’ Richard and Hank spoke at the same time: ‘I made a mistake.’ ‘I want Gavin back.’ Fowler looked at them, tired and exasperated. ‘You know what, I don’t care. It’s your case now. Bring me enough evidence and I’ll grant a mission.’

Richard never worked this hard in his life, even spent most of his days with the HK400, who had taken his time to apologise for him dooming Gavin. The man had nodded and apologised from his side too. He shouldn’t have reacted this harshly on someone forced to act this way. They needed a full week to gather evidence, but in the end, they could get a warrant and two weeks after the incident with Marcus, they had planned a raid to save all remaining androids inside Cyberlife.

Richard was quick to volunteer being with the SWAT team and Hank and Connor followed to help lead the androids out to Marcus’ team who had helped speeding things up with the warrant. Richard had problems holding back not to just run to the labs as soon as he learned their position. They moved slowly, getting out every android. Most factory fresh, some detained deviants to investigate. But the further they moved down, the less androids they found, and Richard’s heart ached with it. What if, after all this, after all hoping and fearing and worrying, Gavin was just dead. Decommissioned. Dismantled. Reset. He didn’t think his heart could take it. ‘We’ll find him’, Hank reassured him, and Connor laid a hand on his shoulder. And they continued their way down, two SWAT officers following.

It was a few hours later when they forced open a door to a lab and there was an android hooked to a diagnostic-rig that looked worn, as if the android had struggled against the confines. It was a familiar android, although Rich was focussed on the gaping hole in his chest and cables and biocomponents spread out on the floor, dusted. ‘Gavin?’ He stormed in, only slowing steps away from him to gently cup his face and lift it. Dead eyes looked up into nothing. ‘Gavin?’, Richard repeated worried, brain not really catching up. ‘It reads something of forced shutdown here’, Connor mumbled, wiping dust from the terminal next to it. He tapped at the screen and looked over to Gavin. ‘I can’t reactivate him.’ ‘That’s because of the biocomponents here’, Hank explained, kneeling down. ‘They are his. Maybe they pulled them out to hinder him from reactivating himself.’ ‘Can you repair him?’, Richard asked. ‘Of course. Will be quicker if you helped me.’

They took their time, slotting everything back together, sealing tubes and searching for spares when the components had simply been ripped out forcefully. Long enough for the two SWATs to take their leave and join the others. Meanwhile Connor clicked himself through the terminal. ‘Weird. It seems he convinced them he wasn’t a deviant.’ ‘That had been his plan. To be send back to work.’ ‘Well, something went wrong.’ Hank sighed, brushing past some cables to check their integrity and revealing a small board. ‘They found his array Nine.’ ‘His what?’ ‘It is part of the mission log. It decides which mission is of higher priority and forces and android to obey, if you want to skip a lot of technical stuff. Our simulated emotions are part of it too. They are simplified reactions to outside actions and help to decide what to do. Too many emotions cause the chip to fry and apparently that’s all what it takes to grant us freedom.’ ‘Okay, they found out he was a deviant. Why ripping out his biocomponents?’ ‘Rich, you know how Gavin can be’, Connor stepped in. ‘Cornered like this and desperate… Maybe they were scared?’ ‘No matter what it was’, Hank concluded. ‘We can soon ask for ourselves.’ ‘He’s booting up!’, Connor announced, and they stepped back.

‘-Love! I will go back to him, you phcking-‘ Gavin stopped screaming, to look around, blinking. ‘Phck, this shit is confusing’, he muttered, before his eyes fell on Richard. ‘Nines!’ He wanted to sprint forwards but was pulled back to the rig. ‘Oh, Sorry!’, Connor called, frowning at the terminal. Hank stepped next to him and pointed to a small button. ‘This one.’ Connor blushed and pushed it, disconnecting the rig from the android, who practically fell into Richard’s arms. But the man didn’t seem to be that stable, because he sank to his knees, holding Gavin. The GV in turn held him and no one dared to move. No one except for Hank, pulling Connor out of the door.

‘You… You came back!’, Gavin finally spoke, sobbing blue tears. ‘You came back for me!’ ‘I promised you, haven’t I’, Richard answered, voice trembling and threatening to break. ‘I told you I would come, no matter what.’ ‘Did we win?’ ‘Yes. Marcus, he won. You are free now.’ ‘I can come back to the precinct?’ ‘I’ll do you one better, my love’, Richard said, standing up and carrying the android in his arms no matter the weight, just to press him nearer. ‘You can come home.’

[>next part]

20 notes · View notes

imagines-dreams · 5 years

Text

Your Mentor(s) - Tom Holland Imagine

Rating: G

Warnings: not that much Tom, but it’s cute and fluffy

Summary: Stacy meets her biggest hero while interning at Stark Industries. / It's a wrap on Gwyneth Paltrow, so it's your last day to give her a gift, to thank her for being an amazing Pepper Potts.

Word Count: 2201

Notes: So, it’s now a series, because even though I have a standardized test in four days, i still have ideas for this insane ideas

Part 1

~ - ~

You stared at the calculations given to you. Your internship at Stark Industries was basically two things. Shadowing amazing scientists and their respective projects, and going over their calculations and conclusions to double-check simpler things before sending it to a team to be triple checked.

But… something wasn’t right. The data was inconsistent. Even accounting for the differences in the subjects before testing, the data was inconsistent. You spread them out on your desk and stared at all of them. You double-checked your calculations. You checked them again. By the sixth time, you came up with the same numbers. Something was off.

You brought the data set to the lab and stared at the displayed holograms. The new piece of biotech your team was working on was a vibranium-based mesh that would theoretically be used as a permanent mesh that’s used in surgeries.

There were a total of twelve possible designs, each a different thickness and a different denseness of mesh. Supposedly, with the incorrect data you held, the thinnest and most dense mesh would be best, but that didn’t make any sense. If vibranium mesh was too dense, the cells would take in vibranium and try to spread it out when too much is inside a person.

A too dense mesh should be absorbed by the cells around it and therefore disintegrate, becoming a temporary mesh when it should be permanent.

You gulped and checked the simulations. Something was off with the “successful” trial of mesh. You turned the hologram of the bunch of cells and the mesh. Mesh looked fine. Set to the thickness and denseness that was set in the paper.

The cells, though, were acting strange. You brought up the codes for the cells’ behavior. Structure of the cell, first. Movement of the cells, next. Last, how the cell reacts to outside stimuli. That took up most of the code. “Jocasta,” you said into the air, “bring up a notepad and write what I say, please.”

The friendly Stark Industries AI responded politely, “Of course, Ms. Stacy,” and followed your instructions.

You read each line of code and said what each line was for. Then, you found it. A mistake! “Jocasta, highlight line 351 and inform Dr. Singson that the vibe mesh trials have been incorrectly coded, resulting in uncharacteristic cellular behavior.” You stuck out your tongue and zoomed in on one of the trials. “Specifically, the cells don’t sense a difference in concentration of vibranium outside the cell and inside the cell.”

A few seconds later, Friday announced, “Dr. Singson is currently unavailable, but his associate Dr. Hansen is coming up to check on your calculations.”

“Dr. Hansen?” You haven’t met that doctor. You straightened out your outfit and prepared yourself for the introduction. After a few cycles of deep breathing, a man, you were guessing Dr. Hansen, barged into the lab. “Who are you?” he asked.

You smiled and held out your hand. “Good evening, my name’s Gwen Stacy, and I’m an intern here.” You pointed at the simulations. “I was-”

“Intern?”

You blinked a few times. “Yes, Stark Industries hires high school and college students to-”

“Right.” He stared at your notes. “You’re authorized to access these?”

“When needed,” you explained. “I’m the first person to check Dr. Singson’s calculations before sending them to-”

“Me.” Dr. Hansen shook his head. “I can’t believe Dr. Singson allows the intern to check his calculations,” he muttered.

Anger bubbled in your gut, but you pushed it as far down as you could. Dr. Hansen was Dr. Singson’s associate, and you couldn’t insult him. You weren’t going to lose your internship.

“What classes are you in, little girl?”

You inhaled through your teeth. “Currently a sophomore at Townsend, taking Advanced Calculus, AP Comp Sci, and AP Bio.”

“Hm.” The man sighed. “I don’t see anything wrong here.”

“Then, you’re not looking.” You cleared your throat and tried your best to keep your voice level. “The vibe trial with dense mesh doesn’t take into account that cells can sense vibe concentration inside and outside the cell. Cells would absorb the vibranium, and this should be a permanent mesh, not a temporary one.”

He raised his eyebrow at you. “How do you know about a cell’s reaction to vibranium?”

“Since I’ve interned here for one and a half years under Dr. Singson and took a specialized course on vibranium along with the rest of the team.” You smiled. “Also, I’ve sat in on a video conference with Wakanda’s head of research as she explained vibranium’s properties.”

“Excuse me?”

You sighed. “Dr. Singson,” you greeted.

The younger doctor smiled at you. “I see you’re discussing our conversation with Princess Shuri. Enlightening, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, its was. I can’t thank you enough for letting me sit in that day.”

“I guess my team and intern are now American experts in vibranium.” He walked to your side and looked over your notes. Without looking at Dr. Hansen, your boss said, “You can go now, Doctor. Stacy and I got it handled.”

You smiled at Dr. Hansen. His mouth was a tad open, and you were almost worried he would catch flies. Instead, you pointed at the door. “There’s your exit.”

You didn’t even watch him leave. After all, you had work to do it. After twenty minutes of correcting the code and running simulations, the door opened again. You almost groaned at the thought of seeing Dr. Hansen again. Thank whatever god there was that Dr. Singson said something first.

“Ms. Potts! What a pleasant surprise.”

You nearly choked on air. Ms. Potts? As in the Pepper Potts? The assistant turned CEO of Stark Industries? The woman who killed the terrorist Aldrith Killian? That Pepper Potts? You wiped off dust from your lab coat and tried your best to not look like you were screaming on the inside. When you turned around, you nearly squealed. It was her! It was Pepper Potts! Red haired, high heeled, power suit-wearing Pepper Potts!

“Dr. Singson, I just wanted to pop in and see what’s going on. Dr. Hansen was complaining about an intern?”

Just like that, your excitement died.

Dr. Singson shook his head. “Oh, it’s a misunderstanding. Stacy here, caught a mistake in my work, and Dr. Hansen incorrectly disagreed.” He motioned to you. “This young woman saved our trials.”

Ms. Potts smiled at you and held out her hand. “Pepper Potts. A pleasure to meet you.”

You nodded. “Yes, uh, trust me, the pleasure is all mine.” You shook her hand. “Gwen Stacy.”

“Of course. Daughter of the Captain, right?”

You gulped. “Yep.” That’s what you were known for. “That’s me.”

The CEO blinked a few times. “Actually, I believe I remember your application. Very impressive essay and proposal. And now you're exceeding expectations here with Dr. Singson.”

Astounded, the only thing that left your lips was a stuttered, “T-Thank, uh, yes, thank you, Ms. Potts. Thank you.”

“Did Dr. Hansen bother you?”

You shrugged. “Not too much, you know? Just standard, uh, confusing with my status and, well how would you say-”

“Sexism?”

You inhaled through your teeth. “Possibly,” you added. "Why?"

She tapped a few things on her Stark-issued pad. "We've had a few minor complaints, but not to worry. I’ll sit down and talk with him personally. Should at least be able to make him take a few seminars before coming back to work. And don’t worry about him. I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you again, ok?”

You nodded. “Ok!”

“Great.” She smiled. “You know, we could use more people like you here. If you ever have any trouble, don’t hesitate to ask me.” She nodded at your mentor. “Dr. Singson.”

“Always a pleasure, Ms. Potts.”

And just like that, she was out of sight, and you were practically vibrating with excitement. You met Pepper Potts! And she liked you! And she complimented you! And she sided with you! “Impressive,” she had said. Impressive! Not only that, but she wanted more people like you at Stark! You couldn’t wait to tell your parents.

“That’s a wrap on Gwyneth!” A round of applause came up from the entire cast and crew. “Thank you, everyone! Let’s move on.”

You were whisked off stage to wardrobe where you changed back into your clothes. Your next set of takes should be after at least two hours, so you could comfortably lie in your trailer. As you planned out your relaxation, you caught Gweneth Paltrow and her team.

You couldn’t help but smile.

Jacob told you that Gwyneth had memory problems. It wasn’t that noticeable until she forgets a name or is under the spotlight. Because of that, you made sure to always work your name into the beginning of the conversation, just in case.

She has been so nice to you. You couldn’t ask for a better actress or person to act as your mentor, and if you could make her life just a little easier, it was almost like thanking her for recommending you and being such a great actress to work with.

Speaking of! You almost forgot the present you got her! “Sorry, excuse me,” you rushed to grab your things and get to your trailer. You grabbed the bouquet of origami flowers and card and found Ms. Paltrow in record time. “Gwyneth, excuse me.”

Her team dispersed to let you through, and the woman smiled at you. “Hello,” she said softly with a kind smile.

“Just a gift from me.” After she took your presents with a soft gasp, you curtsied with a giggle, “Your humble co-worker, (Y/n) (Y/l/n).” You shrugged. “I hope it’s an ok gift. I wasn’t sure-”

“They’re lovely,(Y/n).” She gently plucked one of the paper flowers and tilted her head. “Who did you buy this from?”

“Oh, I made it,” you said. “Tried something new.”

“Recyclable,” she commented.

You nodded. “And they will never wilt.”

She laughed, and you could swear your heart swelled, and you were floating on air. Robert was right. Having Gwyneth Paltrow on set was distracting. She was too entrancing. Not just because of her beauty, even though yes, that, too, but because she has this neverending optimism and air of grace about her. When you grow up, you wanted to be like her.

“It’s very sweet gift.” She handed it to someone on her team. “Can you put this in my trailer, please?”

“Of course, Ms. Paltrow.”

“Thank you.” She sighed. “Mind if I give you a hug?”

“Not at all!”

And so, she took you into her arms, and all the soreness and little annoyances of the day slipped away, and you relaxed into her embrace. Yes, there was no better woman to be your mentor. You were so lucky.

Tom and you were in your trailer, watching Gwyneth’s interview with Jimmy Kimmel for one of her non-Marvel movies. You couldn’t stop smiling, because god, you really knew that woman. You knew someone on tv who was being interviewed by a famous late night show host.

Tom laughed. “Close your mouth, darling. Catching flies and all.”

“Sorry.” You shook your head. “Still surreal.”

“Yeah.” He handed you the popcorn bowl.

You gladly took a handful before handing it back to him.

“So, I heard you have been receiving presents on set?”

“Yes, I do! I’m proud to say that most sets I step foot on, that we act like a family.”

“Yeah, we’ve heard that the newest member of the MCU-”

“(Y/n).”

“Yes, her!”

You choked on your popcorn. “What?!”

“Yeah, we’ve heard you’ve taken her under your wing. Is that correct?”

“Yes, or I’m trying to.” Gwyneth laughed. “Whenever I can, she’s just a really talented actress. I can see her going far in this business.”

“Oh my god,” you mumbled. “This is how I die. From compliments.”

Your friend laughed. “Shut up! I’m trying to listen to our mom.”

“My mom!” you argued. “Now, sh!”

“So, she gave you a present?”

“Yes, she did. And I kept it. Or part of it, anyway.”

“Yeah, you actually sent us a picture.” Jimmy Kimmel took out a picture of one of your paper roses and the envelope with the card on a windowsill. “She bought you some paper roses.”

“She made them!”

“She made them?”

“Yes, can you imagine? She’s so sweet. I keep it as a little reminder for myself.”

“Of what?”

Gwyneth smiled. “Of the family I have on set, and the admiration I have for our next generation.” She leaned in close and stage-whispered, “She’s one of the best.”

“That’s it! I’m dead!” You fell right onto the cushions, feeling like everything was turned to jelly, because oh my god, Gwyneth Paltrow, the Gwyneth Paltrow, complimented you and called you one of the best, part of her on set family!

“Still not used to it?” Tom asked sarcastically.

Heat crawled up your neck and into your cheeks. You covered your eyes with your arms. “Shut up, you movie star!” You threw a pillow at him. It was satisfying.

Then, you went right back to your soft cushions and muttered, “Gwyneth Paltrow knows me. And likes me.” You brought a pillow to your face and screamed into it.

#tom holland imagine #mcu imagine #marvel imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman homecoming fanfiction #spiderman far from home fanfiction

13 notes · View notes

darkmindsthinktwistedthoughts · 5 years

Text

Devil’s Temptation pt17

Warning: Mod Styling warlords, Strong Language

Masterlist

---

Chapter 17 – Masterful Lessons

Tower after tower of blinking lights and electric clicking sounds. It was just a massive dense digital rainforest of mainframe computing. Sasuke actually enjoyed this aspect of his job more than the weapons. He never liked fighting, he did, however, see the need to raise arms when protecting someone he loved. Kenshin had taken him in after seeing potential in him, although he was never told exactly what that potential was.

His family wasn’t part of the crime world both his parents and grandparents had been in education. At some point during university, he was forced to drop out due to lack of funds and that was when the trouble started. Looking back, it was a hard introduction to the underworld.

---

Loan sharks. The bottom feeders. His parents had agreed to be guarantors on a loan for a friend who later turned up dead. Dead or not a loan is a loan and the debt collectors wanted the money. Sasuke was home when they broke in and went for his mother and sister. He jumped in before he could think and protected them. His father came home later to find a battered and bloody Sasuke being tended too by his mother. Desperate for help Sasuke informed them he’d find a job that would help and he would take on the debt. He didn’t want them targeted again.

Sasuke walked through the white marble entrance into the Uesugi buildings, clutching his CV in his hand. Kenshin was passing by the reception on his way back from a meeting when he collapsed. He was white as snow and getting colder with each passing second. It was his quick thinking that prevented him from slipping off the mortal coil completely before an ambulance could arrive. Sasuke often wondered if there was such a thing as fate. Something that tied others together through the threads of time. After receiving medical treatment in hospital Kenshin sought him out and offered him a job.

“Mr Uesugi. I am no fighter, Sir. At best I have a very basic level of understanding of self-defence.”

“But you have formidable analytical skills and your grades in other areas such as calculus, economics and electronics could prove to be useful to me. Are you aware of what I do?” Kenshin addressed the young Sasuke.

“I’ve heard rumours.”

“Then I shall add an ability to listen and show discretion and caution to your list of merits.” Kenshin approached the young man from behind his desk, locking Sasuke in his sights. The only emotion the man exuded was determination. “I am not asking you to fight just stand by my side and learn, follow orders and as for the rest… I’ll train you myself.”

He felt a small sense of dread rising within him at accepting such an offer but he also knew he needed a job. He needed to help protect his family. Swimming in the same lake as Kenshin Uesugi would not just kill all his birds with one stone it should set him up with a way to take down the scum at the bottom of the barrel and help protect others from the same fate.

“Then I am in your care.” Sasuke bowed.

---

Yukimura entered the room behind Sasuke a large tool bag in hand, putting it down on the ground with a thump that brought Sasuke back to the present. Mitsunari trotted in after carrying the laptop and several hand-held circuit readers, nearly dropping them as he stumbled.

“Oops… Oh! Thank you.”

“No Problem.” Sasuke caught the tech in his hands before they had time to tumble to the ground.

“Why are we doing this and not just you know…” Yukimura asked as he made tapping fingers on invisible keyboard gestures “Digi stuff?”

“Digi stuff?” Mitsunari inclined his head.

“You’ll have to excuse Yukimura Mitsunari. Technical terminology is time-consuming jargon to him.” Sasuke explained as he removed some blueprints from the tool bag and the other men gathered next to him to look at the map of circuitry.

“Is that meant to be a dig at me?”

“Of course not. I admire your honesty and straightforwardness it saves time.” Sasuke was nothing if not completely honest as well. It was one of the things that Yukimura liked about him. That and the guy seemed completely useless when it came to lying.

“So, we are looking for what? A wiretap or something?” Yukimura looked from the coloured lines on the blueprint to the towers in the room. Talk about a needle in a haystack.

“Not quite. From observations on the code streams I’ve seen, there was nothing to suggest that the IP had been jacked by an outside location.” Sasuke calmly explained details as simply as he could.

“Someone did something on the inside?” Mitsunari ran his fingers over the information laid out before him, his purple eyes dilating as he scanned the new information.

“Yes, I believe someone has placed a separate server in here and linked that to the internal mainframe network.” Sasuke began calculating sections of the mainframe mentally. “In that case, they wouldn’t need to hack just access their own server in order to access the files they wanted.”

“Wait. If it isn’t hacked what the hell set off the alarms then? I mean if it was all linked up and they didn’t have to hack, it shouldn’t have set off the alert. Right?” Yukimura was even more confused. You wanted action he could do that you wanted strategic planning and plotting that was always Shingen’s domain.

“I think it comes down to timing. A few days ago, the monthly maintenance occurred. After that, all main server passwords were changed automatically by predetermined algorithms. If the additional server was added before this and the ones doing that didn’t know…”

“All it would take is for them to attempt access with an old password claiming to be part of the system for it to flag up a problem.” Mitsunari cut of Sasuke seamlessly. It was like looking at two people sharing a brain and saying the same thing. Yukimura had to work hard to suppress the urge to hum the theme from the twilight zone.

“Ok… well let’s find this thing.”

---

A battered, oxidized business sign welcomed the car's arrival with its pealing lead paint. Shin could say one thing about this city, it provided convenient secluded locations for work.

Shin opened the driver’s door and grimaced as his clean black shoes touched the dirty and neglected ground in the abandoned factories forecourt. Great… just great. Clicking the fob on the key he popped the trunk and was happy to see the human cargo was still out for the count. Shin bent down slipping one of Mitsuhide’s arms over his shoulder and then after shifting the weight a little grabbed a leg and draped the prone form of Mitsuhide over his shoulders. You are heavier than you look Mr Akechi.

It took around an hour to set things up. The facilities weren’t exactly as clinical as he would have liked but they would work. Industrial looms sat in inches of dust, old textile fragments hung from the air like long forgotten flags on a battlefield. Discarded bobbins and other bric-a-brac scattered on the ground like a storm had passed through. He located a room towards the back of the building that was stable and clear enough for him to work safely. After making sure Mitsuhide was “comfortable” and secure he set up his tools on a clean sheet near his soon to be very helpful guest.

Time ticked by slowly and he watched as the crucified figure before him started to stir back into life. They were testing things with little movements that could have easily been missed if you weren’t paying attention. The rattle of the metal behind them was the last sound he needed to hear that told him they were truly conscious.

“I see you’re awake.”

---

The drug haze was lifting from his mind a little as he allowed his eyes to adjust to the bad lighting around him. He didn’t think he would be alone so the sound of a voice talking to him from the gloom was not shocking. It would have been stranger had he actually just been left alone to dangle. Looks like the fun has started. Let’s see who has the stronger hand.

“Ah, I see I have finally got you where I need you.” Mitsuhide’s voice was a little strained. It was to be expected he hadn’t used it since being drugged and he was tied up at present.

“Isn’t that what I was meant to say next?” Shin asks chuckling a little at the ridiculousness of the claim. He had been a little further away in the room sitting on a foldable chair, drinking tea from his thermos patiently waiting for Mitsuhide to regain consciousness.

“Not if you knew what I do.” A wicked smile that almost seemed to glow in the darkness spread over Mitsuhide’s face. Fake it till you make it.

It was unnerving. Shin knew this game, it was a mental game of chicken. But what if it wasn’t a game? People normally beg for life or to make whatever it was you were going to do to them quick. That was standard response in this situation and he had been prepared to listen to that. Have I truly missed something? He seems far too sure of himself to just be playing games.

“Talk is cheap and in a short while you won’t be talking much longer.” Shin spoke levelly as he moved a little closer.

“Now who’s saying who’s lines? Ha-ha and to think I thought you were a Pro. I overestimated you. You’re nothing but a rank amateur at this.” Mitsuhide persisted with his taunting. Shin’s eyes were glancing around discreetly as he tried not to show what he was doing. He was curious, he was interested… he was starting to second guess himself. Good. I can work with that.

“Amateur! You dare call your captor that, in your position? Clearly, we both overestimated each other. I always thought you were smart.” Shin lost his perfect composure. In all his years in dispatch, working in the shadows cleaning the path for his employer he had never been so disrespected. Really Mr Takada something as small, as your captive taunting you, is enough to make you crack?

“Let me explain for the benefit of the class.” Mitsuhide grinned devilishly and dipped his face down. The light caused deep shadows to fall over his features, his yellow eyes glowed as he watched the other man. It all looked… unnatural. “You try this in my city, in my playground with no clue of what you are doing…”

“Why you little…”

“Ah ah ah. I’m talking. You will wait till I finish.” Mitsuhide interrupted Shin and held his control over the conversation easily. Pausing for a few seconds to revel in the other man’s agitated confusion. “There’s a good boy. Well now. By the condition of this place and the direction of the light coming you could have only brought me to one of two buildings. But knowing an amateur this is probably the old carpet factory.”

Mitsuhide was bluffing. Bluff a bad hand and see if it's enough to make the challenger raise his interest and take the bait. He had always had a way of making things sound believable and worked it to his advantage. You can fake mostly anything if you have a basic knowledge on it. You just had to use the right words and have the ability to keep your nerve while acting confident. When playing games, it was a boon. And there is no bigger game than one where your life is forfeit. The fact was this building was one he was intimately familiar with, he had used it himself many times. If you had just travelled a little further and gone to the storage and loading areas you would have seen it. You would have recognised… this is my playroom… my dungeon. But you didn’t, did you?

“How?... not that it matters. You know where you will die.” The hesitation in his voice was telling. Shin was definitely feeling like he had missed something vital. He had moved back again and was roaming his eyes around as if he thought he would see a clear indication that way of what was going on.

“Ah ah ah I’m still talking!” Mitsuhide kept his captor’s attention from wandering in a direction that could work logically. Distractions. They could be simple or they could be hard but ultimately a distraction is a distraction, and they can cost you dearly.

“Why does it feel as if we have reversed roles?” Shin muttered to himself, bringing his hand up to the back of his neck and rubbing it. This should have been simple. It should have been easy. Everything was planned… everything had been thought out and arranged. He had taken everything into account. Except for the victim. The infuriatingly calm, goading man before him. This whole situation was wrong, but Shin couldn’t think clearly long enough for him to make any of it make sense to him.

“On with the lesson. You tie me to a…” Mitsuhide gave a little wriggle as he once again tested his own position. “closed elevator gate and by the feel of it… oh yes…. Mhm…. you used plastic ties on my wrists.” He kept his expression the same, head angled to the side as if he was still checking details. His feral grin frozen in place. If Shin had been closer, he would have seen Mitsuhide’s eyes starting to dilate. The pain of being suspended, the uncomfortable biting sensation digging in his wrists from the cable ties. I really hate to admit it to myself, but this does feel exceptionally nice… No that can wait for another day. A different path to entertainment and pleasure has presented itself.

Shin noticed the change. It should have been minor but to him, it was as clear as the traverse of the night into day. That guy is so calm. I seriously feel like I’m missing some-… wait, is he enjoying this?

“And you left my legs unbound? Tut… tut. Although I would say that is ok, as long as you don’t intend to get closer than ten feet now that I am aware that I can move them.” As Mitsuhide spoke Shin stepped back a couple of feet without even realising he was moving. “Second mistake.” Mitsuhide’s head snapped up. A movement that was so sharp and sudden that it made Shin jolt.

“Another? What?”

Panic. That was what that foreign feeling was inside him now. His organised attack. His well thought out plan. All of it falling apart and failing him and he couldn’t see how. The barbed tongue of the viper before him had laced his words with such effective poison that he didn’t even realise the control he had lost until it was completely taken from him. This was not good at all. Shin looked over and the rippling chill that was filling him moved like a flash freeze in his system. His gun, his tools… all of them cleanly and meticulously laid out for use. All of them were around twenty feet too far away for him to reach. Shit…

“This elevator is more than seventy years old and the gate likewise. An amateur would put a brand-new lock on such a gate to keep it closed I… oh, look how confused he is at this simple comment. Did you figure out the problem yet?... No? ok, looks like a demonstration is in order as you still don’t seem to be getting it.” Mitsuhide chuckled sinisterly in the darkness. It was worse than any horror film audio Shin had heard. It travelled in the air, clinging and sticking to things, bouncing off them only to echo more. “Right, are we paying attention?” Shin didn’t move. He couldn’t in the same way he couldn’t look at anything else but the malignant and terrifying spectre in front of him. “What happens when a new solid reinforced metal strikes against an old rusted piece of metal?”

“It… It breaks.” Shin answered rather like a programmed doll. There was a brief moment of triumph in his voice as he got the right answer but it was washed away by a wave of anxiety as he looked at the new Yale lock hanging like a wish token in a temple on the gate.

“Correct” Mitsuhide cried out as he managed to swing his legs to the side and kick off from the solid wall.

The stress and pressure of such a sudden movement caused the padlock to snap the rusted metal it was on, breaking its hold on the gate and making the hinges weaken. The binds on his wrists twisted into his flesh drawing blood. But that was only a momentary euphoric agony as the gate began to concertina and snap shut behind him. The folding metal cleaved the plastic ties from him as it went.

Gracefully Mitsuhide landed softly on the ground just in front of the gates behind him. Hinges giving out finally causing the rusted metal to frame him like corroded wings. “As I was saying. I have you exactly where I want you. In a locked room where I have access to the only escape route.” Shin stood there in awe. He had never seen that. Never had a meal turn on its plate and fight back. Never seen someone look as inhuman and wild as Mitsuhide. “And would you look at that? You even laid out all these charming little toys beside me.”

Mitsuhide felt a familiar thrill straining within him. He could drink until his body passed out and never feel this kind of intoxication. His voice was low and growling, his movements were smoke edged with lethal intent. You broke the chain. You fed the beast. Time to pay the price.

“Well, Mr Takada… Are you ready to play a game?”

---

24 notes · View notes

purplesurveys · 5 years

Text

458

Did you do anything stupid/anything you regret today? So far, no. I always end up doing something stupid at least once a day so I’m just waiting for that to happen.

Do you trust your doctor? We don’t have a family doctor but I like to think I can trust whichever doctor that winds up giving me a checkup.

Have you ever switched primary care doctors? ^

^If yes, what was the reason?

Do you ever sleep on your bedroom floor just for fun? No, the floor is too hard. Sleeping on the floor is reserved for emotional breakdowns.

What's the last thing you regret spending money on? A really bad bowl of ramen at Podium. Backstory time!!! So I never liked ramen until a few weeks ago, when my uncle brought me to Mendokoro Ramenba, which is the restaurant that people say is the best ramen place in the country. And people weren’t lying, because it really was a fucking good bowl. Made me cry. Anyway, after that, I kinda increasingly had a craving for ramen and tried out a couple of other places that served it. The ones I’ve had so far just reinforced my dislike for ramen, because every other bowl I’ve tasted so far (other than the one my uncle brought me to) was terrible.

So, idk. Either ramen is really just not good–at least for me–or Mendokoro gave me extremely high standards when picking ramen.

Do you have a youtube channel? I have one but it’s only for subscribing to channels and so that YouTube can personalize my home page according to my interests.

^If so, how many subscribers do you have? 0.

What color are your nails painted currently? If I had a dollar every time this question appeared on a survey...

Are you worried about your current financial situation? HAHAHAHA YES. Internship is DRAINING MY WALLET. I work in Ortigas, which is one of the busiest business districts in the metro. And understandably, they charge for everything. Park for five minutes? Pay up. Wanna use the bathroom? Pay up. Are you just standing aimlessly? Pay the fuck up. The last one was a joke but you get the point. Anyway, so I pay P200-P250 ($4-$5) for parking from M-F and it leaves me with little to no savings at the end of the week. I also had to stop buying food out because I had to resort to getting meals from the house.

Yesterday I was desperate to reward myself so, with P350 left in my wallet, I bought a burger from my favorite restaurant that costs P350 exactly. I didn’t care anymore. I wanted to buy something that wasn’t a parking fee, so I said fuck it. This is the one thing I hate as an unpaid intern and I can’t wait til it’s over.

What was the last thing that made you cry? Gab and I had an honest conversation last night that lasted until 1 AM, and we both cried.

Do you know anyone who's had a stillbirth? I don’t think so, no.

Who was the last person you know (or that you know of) that died? Kaye’s dad.

What are you looking forward to doing tomorrow? Resting, napping, sleeping. Maybe a little work here and there but I’ll be asleep for the most part.

What store did you shop at last? My girlfriend and I stopped at Filbar’s to look at Funkos and (for her) GoT stuff.

Do you need a new phone? I’m a little materialistic so I’m always wanting a new phone hahaha but no, I really don’t need a new one; my iPhone 8 is working just fine.

What's something you are behind on? SOCIAL LIFE

Name someone who has it worse than you. I don’t like this question :/ It’s a little narcissistic for me.

Do you wish you were rich? Duh, don’t we all.

Do you miss someone who treated you horribly? Nope.

Would you rather get a big tattoo or small tattoo? Small one. I used to think I can handle big tattoos though.

Are there any redheads in your family? We don’t even have brunettes nor blondes. The day we discover a redhead in the family is the day the world ends.

Do you identify as a supernatural being..i.e., unicorn, alien, goddess...?

Do you block a lot of people on Facebook? On Twitter, yes. I’m not into the Facebook culture much so I’ve never felt the need to block someone there.

What's one thing you are tired of seeing or hearing about on Facebook? Fucking Bible quotes. It’s made worse because they’re always used by hypocrites. Motivational quotes with generic graphics are just as bad.

What is a secret you have? Stared at this question for like 7 minutes only to come up with nothing haha. My secrets are either too private or too uninteresting to count as secrets.

Do you wait until the last minute to do laundry? My mom does it every Friday so that she doesn’t get behind.

Do you have any big regrets in life? Not big ones, just mini regrets here and there. And I try not to have them in the first place because I hate being stuck in a place when I could’ve just moved on and accepted my mistakes already.

What color is the sweatshirt you wear the most? Navy blue.

Do you consider yourself athletic? Not really.

What's one thing you are not? Good in calculus.

Has anyone ever bullied you while you were grieving a loss? No, but I’d be so pissed off if that happened. Like I’d have no time feeling victimized – I’d just go right ahead and be furious that someone would do that.

When was the last time you went to the doctor? Three years ago, when my school required me to get scoliosis stuff settled before they admitted me to freshman status.

How many pills do you take every morning? Zero, unless I wake up with a headache in which case I’d take one.

Do you own a designer purse? Yes.

Which twin is your favorite: Niki or Gabi? ?

Do you know anyone who is colorblind? I don’t think so.

Which YouTuber do you feel like you relate to the most? Dan Howell, and how timely considering the video he just put out after more than a year :3

List three people you hope to meet in Heaven. If it ends up being real, I’d like to meet my great-grandfather and my ancestors who founded the province of Bulalacao.

When was the last time you cleaned your room? Last April. I had a lot of time on my hands then. It’s gotten messy again though so I’m itching to clean it up.

Do you have a prayer partner? No.

When was the last time you went to church? Last Sunday. I’m going again tomorrow -.-

Do you know what you're wearing for the 4th of July? I don’t care for another country’s Independence Day. Especially a country that’s bullied my own for decades.

What was the last parade you went to? Last June, when we went to the Pride March.

Have you ever been in a parade, and if yes, doing what? We were...celebrating Pride?

What is your favorite ride at the fair? I can’t handle a lot of rides, but I do love the octopus. It’s a ride that resembles...well, an octopus, and its arms go up and down and go around fast.

Do you wish you had someone you could trust? I already do.

Do you want a dog that looks like you? I’d rather not have a dog that looks like anyone.

What theme do you want for your wedding? No theme. I just want it to look elegant, classy, and classic.

What theme would you choose for a baby's nursery? I don’t think I’ll know until I’m actually getting a kid. Right now though I’m leaning towards a space/stars theme. Or animals.

What color would you paint a baby girl's nursery? Pastel pink.

Does your first crush know that he/she was your first crush? No. I never told her and I probably never will. It’s just the timing’s been lost forever hahaha.

Do you know your first crush's middle name? Her second name is Louise, but I forgot her maiden name.

What is one thing you are scared of? Setting my kitchen on fire while cooking.

How far away do you live from your favorite park? I live in the Philippines – the government does not give a shit about public places other than malls. We have no parks other than Rizal Park, and that’s 1-1.5 hours away.

What is the last thing you missed out on that you wanted to go to? My org’s alumni homecoming party last February. That day was also mine and Gab’s anniversary. I missed out on both because my dad had booked a trip that weekend.

Do you have a secret nobody knows? Yes.

Who do you wish were your best friend? I already have my two dream best friends.

Who do you wish you could go on another date with?

Name a celebrity who has your natural hair color. Vanessa Hudgens, and that’s because she’s half-Filipino haha.

Which family member did you get your height from? My mom.

What color was the last popsicle you ate? I haven’t had a popsicle in a hot minute. I had a Cornetto yesterday though! It was chocolate flavored, so it was brown.

Do you feel stupid regularly? Of course.

How do you love yourself when you feel stupid? I don’t.

What's a great piece of advice you've heard? Too lazy to rack my head for past advice I’ve heard.

Do you like your butt? Yes.

What style of wedding dress do you want? I want something Audrey Hepburn would wear and a dress that would suit a small-chested frame.

What does your dream house look like? Minimalist, square-shaped, large windows, predominantly white.

List ten girl's names you love. Olivia, Amelia, Mia, Harper, Isabella, Ava, Scarlett, Charlotte, Elizabeth, Julianna.

List ten boy names you love. James, Jacob, Luca, Julian, Liam, Mason, Miguel, Andres, Luis, Matteo.

Who was the last friend of yours to have a baby, and what's the baby's name? None of my friends have babies but I do have batchmates from my senior class who’ve already had their own. I don’t remember the names but I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t want it aired out either by their random classmate that owns a secret survey Tumblr blog either.

Are all of your friends having babies right now? I just said none of them are.

Who is the cutest baby you've seen on social media recently? Olivia and Amelia Manzano-Reyes!!! Yeah, the mom basically has the same taste in names as me :/

Do you know anyone who's given birth to twins? I know sets of twins, but I don’t know the moms who birthed them.

What's your biggest regret? I don’t really like dwelling on regrets so I always come up with nothing when asked this.

#survey #surveys

3 notes · View notes

catsnuggler · 6 years

Text

I’ve said something to this effect before, but I’m not really sure science is my passion. I love science, it’s good, it’s useful, but I don’t feel a burning passion for it.

The history is basically this:

All throughout childhood, I thought science was cool, and I wanted to be a scientist one day.

I took AP Chemistry in my senior year of high school and got a 2/5 on the AP test, and even though I got an A in the class iirc, that AP score demoralized me into giving up on science. I didn’t know that the AP test was scored competitively.

I was informed later in my freshman year of college that the AP test is scored competitively, so in all likelihood I probably understood the concepts well, just not as well as my classmates. I therefore had some potential, I just needed to work for it.

Starting earlier in my sophomore year, I finally took science classes again. Chemistry, specifically. In fact, the only other college-level science class I’ve taken/am taking is a biology class I’m taking this quarter. I started off doing well in the first quarter of chemistry, because most of it I’d already learned; barely passed the second quarter; and am having some trouble this quarter, though arguably not quite as much. Still, it’s demoralizing. I just don’t feel the drive.

Of course, I have to be scientifically-minded about this. There are several manipulated variables, one of the greatest being my mental health. I’m a lot better now, but still obviously not completely fixed, and just because I’m no longer losing my composure and will by the day doesn’t mean I’m suddenly going to be a good student of any class.

That being said, I did well in my other classes, even when my mental health was on not even ropes, but a strand of horsehair. Military history? B. Calculus I? B. Communications? Almost a 90%, it was 89.95%. International Relations? Piece of cake, that was an A. Those last two I took while taking that first college-level chemistry class, though. Yet the rest of the data still supports me - especially because, if you knew my International Relations/History of War professor, you would know I really earned those grades. Not that he’s a hardass, he just doesn’t put up with bullshit. He’s actually a swell guy, and I wish I could have taken another class with him this quarter, but I had different requirements to fill.

I think politics is really more my passion, honestly. Political science, history, heavy social sciences like those. And yet, I don’t spend much of my time reading books on those subjects, even though I own plenty - not many, as in I don’t have like 30, I don’t think it’s even 20, but probably close, but plenty - of political books. Plenty of books on Marxism, communism, socialism, anarchism - and I’m not getting out of the computer chair to read those books, even though I keep complaining about how I want to learn more.

Perhaps the problem is I spend too much time online. I can see why I do, too. I’ve felt alone my entire life, because I have been very alone for most of my life, due to various factors, all stemming from my dad keeping me on a tight leash. I have comparatively little opportunity to meet up with people outside of school, since I don’t have a driver’s license and I still don’t even have a cell phone - yeah, I know, and trust me, this is very much to my chagrin - and combine this with the fact I don’t really have a lot of experience of what it’s like to go hang out with friends just to hang out, thus I always feel awkward about it, and the fact that my area is very conservative, meaning there are few leftists, anyway, I’m able to contact in the area; combine all this, and of course I prefer to talk to people online, at my computer, sitting down for hours on end, hardly even getting my work done let alone reading books, even for pleasure. Also shit tends to happen when I’m gone too long, and my dad angrily regrets me not being home to fix his problems when aforementioned shit happens. So this is also a very big variable right here.

I know this is really out of order, but a big reason I wanted to get back into chemistry, and biochemistry specifically, after I overcame being so demoralized about it in my freshman year of college, was because of my mental health. I felt extreme guilt for my past with certain people, and I wanted to go into medicinal biochemistry so I could one day, even if it was on my deathbed, hope to forgive myself of it. But I got confronted by some of those people, actually, and told to move on and forgive myself, and with their blessing, I have.

Regardless, medicinal biochemistry might still be better for me than political science for a couple reasons:

Not that professors are good for nothing, they’re certainly good for a lot of things, but what material good am I doing if I become a political science professor? It would have to be done on my own time, outside of my demanding profession.

The previous is assuming capitalism doesn’t die in my lifetime, and I become a professor and, on the side, try to convince some of my students to join the movement. But suppose capitalism gets taken down in my lifetime, by the time I’m, say, 35. Suppose that for a minute. Suppose that, after a successful, almost unbelievable, as-ideal-as-reality-can-get overturning of capitalism, and the installment of stateless communism, some people still need to learn what the new system is about, and of course we can’t just forget about the old thought-systems, right? All the ideologies which competed against the revolutionary one, all the ideologies which inspired it. People have got to know these things. However, even considering useless jobs, such as stock market trading, landlording, and other useless purely capitalist jobs would be gone, the unfortunate thing is the number of people working will be lower, because sadly, people will have given their lives to uproot capitalism. If I’m a political science professor, I’ll still have to be that, but what will I produce to make up for the lost producers? What if I could have helped produce medicines, instead? Goodness knows some research could be lost in a revolutionary period, as well - perhaps some medical firms might even destroy their research, if their bourgeois bosses are really that selfish, rather than let the proletariat have it so the medicines can be made for free instead of for profit. Someone - many someones - will have to recover that lost progress, because medicine is a neverending battle. Slack too long, and plagues ravage the land. That can’t be allowed to happen. This is another reason I’m still considering medicinal biochemistry. I need to produce something after capitalism dies, because who knows if just one scientist can make the difference between the splendor of friendship and labor, versus dig the graves according to your ability, fall in them if you need a new grave because guess what, the plague just took you too?

I know it’s paranoid, but I can’t help but think about this. It’s a long ways off, but I want to prevent as much death as possible. Well, if you want to be really technical, slow down as much death as possible, but dying of old age is obviously different from dying from a major disease at 48, 27, 6 years old, maybe even newborn. I’m not worried about redeeming myself anymore, I’m just very farsightedly wondering if what my passion is will really be more important than what difference, even if minuscule, I could make in saving lives, if one of my worst fears comes to pass.

It’s a good thing that I’m going to get my AA then postpone going to uni til I’ve lived independent for a few years and saved up enough, because I’ll need those years to reconsider which path in life I need to take.

4 notes · View notes

newstfionline · 6 years

Text

How journalism got so out of touch with the people it covers

By Sarah Jones, Columbia Journalism Review, Spring/Summer 2018

To become a journalist, Rajaa Elidrissi knew she would need a strategy. Growing up in a low-income household in Elmhurst, Queens, she started collecting clips at age 13. “I went to a high school that was not a high-ranking high school, and I was pretty aware that it was really hard to get into a good college,” she explains. After graduating in 2016 with an anthropology degree from Wesleyan University, she knew she needed to be practical--she couldn’t afford to take an unpaid internship; she had to start working--and looked for where the jobs were. That year, the jobs were in video. Currently a producer for CNBC, Elidrissi is on a secure track, for now at least. But if the industry should pivot away from video any time soon, she’s ready. “I see a lot of jobs for social media editors,” she says, so she’s started studying content analytics tools. She knows she has to stay smart and keep moving if she wants to continue as a journalist.

Elidrissi’s calculus is familiar to me--coming from a low-income background, I entered journalism by looking for where the jobs were. I graduated from a blue-collar public high school in Appalachian Virginia, and attended a conservative Christian college because, with scholarships, it’s where I could afford to go. To get a job out of college, I deliberately built a skill set to supplement a résumé deficient in elite degrees or high-profile internships, and became a social media editor--Elidrissi’s backup career--and eventually, a staff writer. From where I sit, I don’t know many national journalists who have a background like mine. In fact, the industry sometimes seems designed to keep us out of newsrooms altogether.

Differences do separate me from Elidrissi. My parents aren’t immigrants, and I don’t belong to a cultural or religious minority; overall, society placed fewer obstacles in my path. But anyone coming from a low-income background runs similar mental calculations: How do we get into journalism? And if we do get in, how do we afford to stay in? Your background shapes your path into your chosen field. And if your background includes poverty, that path contains boulders.

The first hurdle was paying for college. So I studied very hard. I got scholarships. I worked two or three jobs to pay the bills while I was in college,” says Sarah Smarsh, a Kansas-based independent journalist who has been covering class, inequality, and red-state politics for 17 years. Smarsh comes from a working-class family, and she knew that just making it to college signaled the start of a longer battle. “I didn’t know anyone in a newsroom who was picking me out of the pile for an internship,” she says. “I convinced newsrooms to bring me in as an intern.”

“I would say the second hurdle was social capital,” she adds. “Even though I made it to college, I still didn’t possess social capital.”

Like Smarsh, I knew I had to earn scholarships, and once in college, I quickly learned that my Walmart wardrobe set me apart in all the wrong ways. To achieve social mobility, the poor must culturally assimilate. You have to dress a certain way, speak a certain way, and get to know certain people. The third is impossible unless you accomplish the first two goals. Even if you manage all three, you may not experience true social mobility. Assimilation may grant you a certain degree of social capital, but social capital does not inevitably bestow its financial equivalent. Real capital--wealth--remains the surest way to survive journalism’s fluctuations. But by entering journalism at all, low-income people agree to extend their precarity for an indefinite term.

Smarsh felt that precarity keenly when she went freelance six years ago. “I had no savings and no family financial cushion to lean on. I didn’t have a bread-winning husband,” she explains. “It was just me, and literally nothing in a bank account. Hustling. Sending pitches. Being uninsured.”

Possession of a “cushion”--wealth, again--can become necessary to stay in the field. To shore up their positions, some would-be journalists go on to advanced degrees. A lack of social capital means a need to take on debt, just to get to square one. “As a black woman, I didn’t have a choice not to go to J-school--and that’s a sentiment shared among many of my classmates. Journalism is an industry rife with nepotism, where career trajectories are determined more often by the people that you know rather than the quality of your work,” notes Slate’s Rachelle Hampton. After paying her way through journalism school at the University of Kansas, Smarsh also took on debt to earn an MFA in creative nonfiction writing from Columbia University. “That might seem foolish to someone who even grew up middle-class, because of the risk inherent in taking on such debt to enter a field that hardly assures the sort of income that’s going to pay it off,” she says. “For me, in the context of poverty, it was like I had nothing to lose.”

Getting that first job is a partial victory. There are bills to pay afterwards, and collectors don’t care about your prose. But let’s say you get that first job, and then a second. And let’s say, for argument’s sake, you keep going, and now you’re based in a national newsroom or some other big-name outlet. You could cover pop culture, or review books, or turn numbers into charts. You’ll still be an outlier, working a newsroom that may consistently miss the class angle to stories, if it covers class at all.

A 2013 study by the Pew Research Center’s Journalism Project found that in 52 major newsrooms, poverty accounted for less than 1 percent of coverage every year from 2007 to 2012. “Journalists are drawn more to people making things happen than those struggling to pay bills; poverty is not considered a beat; neither advertisers nor readers are likely to demand more coverage, so neither will editors; and poverty stories are almost always enterprise work, requiring extra time and commitment,” Dan Froomkin wrote for the Nieman Center. Journalists who cover class exclusively tell me they sometimes have to convince editors that their stories are even newsworthy.

“I have heard so many times: Where’s the surprise?” Gary Rivlin, author of Broke, USA, says. In Rivlin’s telling, editors frequently want a sensationalistic angle if they’re interested in the story at all. “I try to tell stories of payday lending. The only way to sell a story of payday lending was a contrarian take that said, well, it’s actually a good thing. The only problem is that it’s not a good thing. It’s a rip-off.”

Other journalists say they’ve had similar difficulties placing pieces on class and poverty. Smarsh tells me she’s woven a class sensibility into her work since her first days in a newsroom more than 15 years ago. “When I started being more pointed and overt about class, even five years ago, I had a hell of a time getting the pieces picked up,” she says. “And interestingly, I found that what editors at top US outlets turned down, almost inevitably a top British outlet would pick up.”

“It became such a pattern that I did develop a little bit of a theory that the UK has centuries on us, as a society or as a political unit, in reckoning with the concept of class and in finding a language to discuss it,” she adds. “We are in a country that has been telling itself, falsely and hypocritically, since its very foundation, that this is a country where your economic origins do not determine the outcome of your life.”

Smarsh’s statement seems obvious: I know from life and from reporting that American society is boldly, unrepentantly rigged against its most marginalized members. But this fact, while clear to me, may not be to everyone else. America is wedded to the myth of its own greatness. It insists it has created a meritocracy, which it sustains through the power of assertion. This has a knock-on effect: Journalists inhabit a skewed society, and not all of them realize it. The industry therefore suffers from structural inequalities that reflect its surroundings. Women, people of color, and people with disabilities are relatively absent from newsroom leadership for the same reasons they are relatively absent everywhere. These absences impact coverage in every respect, and poverty reporting is not exempt.

Barbara Ehrenreich, author of Nickel and Dimed and Fear of Falling, tells me that even with decades of experience, she’s always found it difficult to convince editors to cover poverty. And when outlets do assign a piece, financial hardship can complicate the reporting process. “I got an assignment from The New York Times in 2009 to write a series of essays about the effects of the recession on people who were already economically struggling,” she explains, “because at that time, the typical Times article was about people who had to drop their private pilates class.” So Ehrenreich hit the road, collecting stories from working-class Americans across the country--only to encounter a financial roadblock.

“I realized I was not going to make enough money from my payments from the Times to cover my expenses,” she continues. “My next great realization was that the only people who get to rage about poverty and economic hardship are people who are not experiencing it, who have some kind of buffer and savings.”

Jenni Monet, an independent journalist who covers indigenous stories, got her start working in a tiny newsroom in the Four Corners region, where covering Navajo tribal events was part of the daily beat. “It wasn’t until I started working in places like New York City [that] I started to see the extreme disconnect that exists,” she adds. “It’s realizing the enormous amount of explaining involved.”

Those failures became particularly clear during the 2016 coverage of the Standing Rock Sioux Reservation’s protest of the Dakota Access Pipeline. “Here you have the largest indigenous-led movement of our modern time,” says Monet. It started with an environmental agenda deeply rooted in race-based politics that dealt with segregation, that dealt with cyclical poverty based on government decisions that have gravely affected tribal communities for decades.

“And guess how the media responded?” Monet asks. “At first, they didn’t show up. When they finally did, it was all novelty-based. Look at this camp, they have teepees and kitchens and they cook and it’s cute!” Standing Rock, as Monet recounts it, was a missed opportunity for the national press, an inevitable failure for such a whitewashed industry, whose coverage of the intersection of race and poverty is uneven at best.

Journalists who aren’t from low-income backgrounds aren’t necessarily hostile to the poor, but class prejudice can manifest as a form of blindness. Based on my own experiences and the experiences others related to me for this piece, simple ignorance is much more common. It’s more that certain experiences, like poverty, are opaque to people who have not lived them.

In the lead-up to the 2016 election, journalism’s class blindness showed everywhere: Story after story reinforced Trump’s self-appointed role as the champion of white working-class America. The vast majority of Trump voters, as we now well know, boasted an income of $50,000 or higher. Suburban America is Trump Country. Though there have been some corrective pieces, the average Trump Country profile still stars low-income whites--who, shock of shocks, still support their candidate, no matter the swing in the news cycle. These profiles don’t produce any real news, and they don’t bring readers any closer to understanding the reasons for Trump’s victory, more than a year later.

For once, it’s not so difficult to convince editors to cover poor people. But meanwhile, the other true stories of working-class America struggle to break through the noise.

It’s hard to see how this will change as long as Trump is the most popular hook. The stories of the poor possess their own texture and weight. Poverty is a series of surprises, most of them horrible; life, for the poor, means careening from one plot twist to another while the world looks straight through you.

It shouldn’t be this way. These stories deserve everyday attention for what they tell us about the cracks in America’s façade. Make it easier for poor folks to enter your world, and we’ll even tell those stories for you. We’re resilient, after all, and we make damn good journalists.

#journalism #reporting on poverty #journalists and class

2 notes · View notes

drawingconclusions · 3 years

Text

NURSING HOMES & ONCOLOGY

It's disgusting to see Governor Andrew Cuomo's response concerning the nursing home fiasco that he initiated in March of 2020. On top of a book he published last year touting his self-proclaimed leadership skills during the pandemic, it was reported that New York was weighing legislation that detains anyone in the state deemed a public health risk. (Perhaps the Cuomo brothers should be the first ones detained under this law, considering Gov. Andrew Cuomo signed the order to send coronavirus patients into nursing homes and Chris Cuomo was waltzing throughout New York without a mask when he had been diagnosed with Covid-19.) And we've seen some of the health officials involved try to shift and juggle the blame. But I wonder, did any of these nursing home centers that were ordered to receive coronavirus patients attempt to warn & contact the families of the elderly residents in their facilities? Did any of them perform their due diligence and give families the options of moving out their relatives, knowing how dangerous & fatal Covid-19 was to older people? If not, then in my opinion, the nursing home centers are also liable for these tragedies.

Unfortunately, I've had some experiences with the medical industry, and I've been hesitant to share them in order to avoid looking like another cry-baby blogger. But at this point I regret not writing about some of the relevant experiences, wondering if maybe families would have been more cautious (and yes, less trusting) in the above cases. And about four months ago, something came up to bring all these memories back to the forefront of my train of thought again. Now, I'm not a doctor and I'm not offering health advice here, and the following doesn't deal with a situation quite comparable to the ones faced by seniors in coronavirus-afflicted nursing homes. Nevertheless, I hope at least some of this can serve to help others avoid some the pitfalls in the medical industry, especially as more of these centers open up to business as usual.

The debilitating nature of cancer can leave a person in the emergency room & consequently in some type of physical rehabilitation program. Certain nursing homes not only provide long-term stays for senior citizens, but they also provide those physical rehabilitation programs for recovering cancer patients. One of the things the nursing homes will mention is a contract, and you should be especially on your guard for locations will have the same contract for both temporary and long-term residents. If you're comfortable reviewing these type of documents, that's fine; if not, consult an appropriate lawyer. Be on the lookout for a clause that allows the senior center to, in effect, seize your relative's assets or the funds in his or her bank accounts to fulfill the center's payment obligations. With a relative who was a temporary-stay recovering cancer patient, a lot of these clauses shouldn't have applied, which is why I found it so weird that the nursing home provided one blanket contract for all its residents. (It's probably part of their business plan, hoping that most families will just sign-off without reading through it…) Anyway, we crossed out the clauses that weren't applicable and turned in the contract, & lo and behold, I think it was the next day that the manager & at least one physical therapy staff member said it was time for our relative to be discharged! To be fair, our relative had been recovering there for several days already, and we had been told we could take our time to review the contract we were given. But the timing of the discharge seemed quite suspicious to say the least. And considering we often had to chase down nurses to provide medicine to our relative or to provide changing duties, we were almost glad to leave the nursing home. We had been doing a much better job of this at home anyway.

If a nurse (in this case, she was a contract worker from a local health care center) is assigned to take blood tests from your relative on a daily basis, do your absolute best to have a copy of those test results sent to your family doctor or to some doctor that you trust. Yes, there's likely a staff doctor at the nursing home who is supposed to review the bloodwork, but in our case, when we finally did leave the nursing home, we later found out from another health provider that our relative was near death from dangerously low sugar levels. Yet no one at the nursing home told us anything about this or did anything about it despite the daily blood testing!

You'll likely come across some good oncologists & hospital staff. But you'll more than likely also come across others who are arrogant, incompetent, & outright in the wrong industry. We spent every moment with our relative, whether in the hospital or in the emergency room or in the nursing home. The only time someone wasn't right by our relative's side was during an invasive procedure or when one of us went to get a snack at the internal cafe/restaurant. And it just so happens that whenever we did step out even briefly, that was when a hospital doctor or a physical therapist quickly entered and basically threatened our relative, saying they had to power to keep her there or discharge her.

If you ever have an appointment with an oncologist who cancels your relative's appointment (thereby delaying much-needed treatment) simply because your relative opted out of receiving all the recommended procedures, then run, don't walk, away from that oncologist. If you suspect a cancer specialist of calling for a hospital procedure that seemed extraneous, then get a second opinion, as we did. It turns out the so-called procedure didn't require sedation and could be conducted in office without an out-patient hospital stay.

If you do happen to have a bad experience with one oncologist or health professional, don't bring all that baggage to your next appointment with a new doctor. Even if they keep pressing you about why you switched oncologists, I recommend keeping your answer short & objective, because it's likely local health practitioners may be friends, collaborators, or sometimes even lovers. And if you strike a nerve with a negative assessment of someone who may potentially be their colleague, you may experience an immediate change in disposition from the new health provider. Such as a disturbing urgency to have your relative sign a "Do-Not Resuscitate" order, or later, an unwillingness to treat your relative's infection. It shouldn't be that way. Doctors are supposed to commit to saving lives and doing no harm, irregardless of their personal feelings, but reality is often far removed from that.

Fortunately, health insurance was not one of the problems we encountered in the midst of all this. In fact, it was a blessing, as any inquiries we made were met with responsive people, and the insurance company eventually paid every portion of the bills they were responsible for (with the exception of one from a radiologist who had changed his tax-ID, resulting in a bill that was eventually taken care of, but took some haggling…) So get good health insurance. I realize it can be more and more expensive for adults to get individual health insurance, but for seniors there are some excellent supplementary health insurance programs that provide excellent coverage. It's true that some extremely new or groundbreaking treatments may not be covered by insurance or they may require an approval process that a terminally ill patient can't afford to wait for. But all in all, health insurance wasn't one of the problems in this journey.

At some point, there seems to be a concerted effort to transfer a patient out of in-home care (where life-saving treatments are provided), to hospice care (where the priority is to keep the patient comfortable in the end stages, yet no further attempts are made to heal or solve the cancer). Yes, I realize that not all cancers can be treated or brought to remission, and I also realize that here on earth, death is a part of life. But what I don't appreciate is the "culture of death", as some call it, that exists in certain aspects of the medical field: Such as when an emergency room "doctor" questioning our desire to continue further treatment & care for our relative declares right in front of our elderly relative, "She's going to die anyway..", when an oncologist refuses to treat your relative's infection or sign off on simple antibiotics for it, causing her to have to be rushed to the emergency room in a weakened state, or when the profound incompetence of those at the nursing home directly cause your relative to lose the will to live.

Again, certain cancer tumors can often cause internal bleeding in patients and the daily loss of blood can leave an individual very weak. As such, having multiple doctor visits in sequence can be problematic, and even moving a patient can eventually require special care. If ever you have a terminally ill loved one, especially one in the end stages of cancer, be sure to tell the firefighters/EMTs/paramedics about the condition of your relative. Yet even after you intentionally take time with the paramedics to clarify this, if they do nothing to stabilized your loved one, he or she could be dead before they even exit the house with your relative on the gurney. So please consider whether or not moving your loved one is worth the risk.

And I could keep going about various related issues: 1) There are radiologists, who although they're likely familiar with extremely complicated math & calculus in order to plan pinpoint radiation treatments, they seem to be lacking in some basic medical knowledge. One radiologists wanted to proceed with radiation treatments even though our relative had a fever at the time. Most people know that if at all possible, you have to be at your strongest when undergoing debilitating radiation. Another different radiologist didn't listen to our relative's request for medicine to treat a basic recurring infection when she recognized all the signs of it. As a result, this basic infection progressed and our relative ended up having to go the emergency room in an incredibly weakened condition. 2) Sometimes aspirin can cause internal bleeding in certain people who take it on a continual basis. And I read that some individuals have a genetic predisposition to developing cancer when taking aspirin. So if you do take aspirin every day, you might consult with your family doctor about the possibility of doing regular tests to see if you are losing blood/developing anemia. 3) While our relative was getting ongoing blood transfusions to deal with the internal bleeding, I read an article that some in the gay & lesbian community who were donating blood to blood banks were demanding that the usual one year testing period be waived in their cases. It makes me wonder if the movement is really about understanding & tolerance or if it's about something else. 4) If you do have a low red blood cell count, it might not be a good idea to listen to a nutritionist who advises you to stop eating things such as red meats considering your dietary needs as a cancer patient.

And now you might begin to understand why I believe you have to be your own advocate when it comes to the American health care system. Now I'm not calling for some kind of preferential treatment based on "critical race theory" in medical fields like oncology or senior care. The problems we experienced were in part experienced by Caucasian people, as well. Part of the solution is hiring people of the right caliber with an inherent respect for people & life. And when those in the medical industry do commit crimes, malpractice, or otherwise hurt patients, make reporting of all medical violations to state medical boards a requirement, not a voluntary act on the part of health care practitioners. Patients need to be able to clearly see the history of their prospective health care providers. And it should likely be much easier to sue oncologists & nursing home employees. That might cut down on some of the arrogance in those fields. It might also be a good idea to have radiologists who have been out of medical school for some time to take refresher courses about basic medicine. With only two exceptions, every time we spoke with hospital supervisors or a health providers co-workers, they mindlessly sided with the offending practitioner. I don't know if it's a front to prevent lawsuits or if management really isn't interested in fixing problems within their departments. And you wonder why a local gynecologist was recently arrested for committing hundreds of unnecessary procedures, despite attempts by even other health workers to report it to supervisors. Perhaps health insurance companies could play a stronger role in cooperating with patients to avoid unnecessary procedures, as they have a vested interest in cutting down on this type of waste & fraud. Of course, not every medical worker we encountered was difficult. In fact, there were receptionists who truly cared about the people who walked in the door, and a group of nurses who brightened our relative's day every time we encountered them. A nurse or two even saved & prolonged our relative's life with timely advice given.

You might think this is my attempt to get all of these people indicted or into legal trouble. As I've said before regarding matters of justice & grievances, who is there to report to? And this isn't about holding on to grudges against those who were unprofessional or others who blatantly committed malpractice. Yes, it's true that I'm not writing about this topic from any notes of mine. Unfortunately, it's all from my memory and I could provide names of those involved, as well. But let me share a helpful insight Pastor Charles Swindoll once gave about the life of Joseph in the Old Testament. After Joseph had suffered betrayal and incredibly unjust treatment, God raised him up and blessed him with a wife and family. Take a look at Genesis 41:51 (NIV) - "Joseph named his firstborn Manasseh and said, 'It is because God has made me forget all my trouble...' "

Apparently the human mind was made for a capacity for memory, and that includes both good and bad memories. In this lifetime you will experience loss, injustice, and unfair treatment at some point. It's bound to happen in this broken world. In light of this, it's our responsibility to forgive those who wrong us, but only God can bring the healing in our lives and make us truly forget that pain. Now of course, we don't want to ever forget our fallen loved ones. Their memory will live on through our collection of photos, through our writing, and most importantly, in our hearts. But for all those who have lost loved ones throughout this pandemic and as a result of numerous injustices, I pray that you would experience the fullness of God's healing in your minds & hearts that only his presence and love can bring.

0 notes

gotgifsandmusings · 7 years

Text

GoT 7x02 Musings

My initial reaction to “Stormborn”

Oh man! Bryan Cogman did the best with what they gave him but boy did I feel sorry for the guy for trying to patch up at least 3 years of sloppy writing and worldbuilding. His exposition fests were more organic than “the biggest forces in the North are the UMBERS and the KARSTARKS and the MANDERLYS” so snaps there, but it’s hard to reconcile everything against the massive inconsistencies at this point.

Dragonstone

This show made me feel something, guys. FEEL something!

Yeah, I mean the MissWorm scene, as I talked about last night. It was tasteful, the shooting was explicit without feeling voyeuristic, and even though I think it went on a hair too long, everything about it worked—especially where they were both coming from and the amazing acting.

If one or both of them dies, I’m going to…idk, devote my life to talking about what a bad show it is?

Then there was everything else.

Hey pro-tip: if you have to exposit about the name of the episode IN the episode, it’s probably not a worthy name

I think it’s great that there was actually continuity. Deadpan questioned why Varys Marx was there since he, you know, tried to kill her. Tyrion was pissed off at Faullaria for murdering Madison. It was almost intrigue!

But all of it was short-lived. Varys goes on and on about how his allegiance is to the realm, but then ends with a shrug of “I choose you” for ~~reasons~~ (without ever clarifying what he saw in Viserys when she asked him), and Deadpan decides that he’s nifty to keep around for equal ~~reasons~~. Because he secured her an alliance with people who murdered their own family?

Tyrion and Faullaria wasn’t even given 10 seconds of consideration though. Tyrion was pissed but oh well. Dems da berries.

Mel popped in, and I got super distracted by the cinematography for some reason. It was like I could see their pores or something. But I did have to appreciate Missandei dropping the language knowledge on us about how it could be the “prince or princess” that was promised. She’d have a field day with the King James Bible.

Anyway, most of these scenes didn’t land because it quickly became the Tyrion Lannister is Gr8 show

He knows about Jonny and it’s his opinion that matters on it

He presents the entire plan about Deadpan’s military moves even though this is the first time we see her meeting with her allies

She parrots him in anything she adds, which is little

Yeah, I know he’s a Hand, but this just fits into the overall pattern of Deadpan’s infantilization.

Also this plan sucks. Like, super sucks. It just felt like them going “okay there’s no way Deadpan wouldn’t cream the Lannisters, so let’s just…have them arbitrarily split up troops so they can have a major force taken out and a reason to not be immediately successful.” Go take Casterly Rock. Maybe it’ll be another empty castle!

“Be a dragon.” Yahhhhhhssss empowerment!!!!

Winterhell

Oh, was there not enough praise for Tyrion on Dragonstone? Don’t worry, Jonny and Sansa get to talk about how great he was too

Ngl, I forgot Davos existed as a character on the show still

It is so damn stupid that Jonny didn’t meet with Sansa beforehand to discuss how he’s going to travel to Dragonstone and put her in charge. She brought up legit concerns, and basically it paints a picture of disarray and incompetence on Jonny’s part that has his lords shouting down his decisions every day

Also now the Northern Lords Remember? About the Mad King? But not about the Red Wedding and the Boltons’ assumed role in it? Or their fealty to the…ah forget it

Honestly if I were Sansa, I’d coalition build and take charge of this shit, because Jonny is going to get all their asses killed.

And the crypts scene. God. Neither Jonny nor Batfinger had a reason to talk to one another, but they still went down there so…Batfinger could say he thought Sansa was hawt. All for the result of “no she’s MY property.” Yum.

Hogwarts

There’s a possible cure for greyscale but rather than testing it more, the leper colony system was set up??

This also just made me wonder why Jorah didn’t lop off his finger when this first happened. JonCon had a specific reason for not doing that, and for wanting to see the invasion through, and because it’s an INTERNAL DISEASE, amputation wasn’t a sure thing anyway.

But no. Flaying works.

Gonna be honest, I have major medical squicks, so I couldn’t really watch this scene. I’m sure it was intriguing.

Arya

Love that Arya seemed apathetic about meeting up with Hot Pie again. Like…what the fuck, she was being so rude! Are we supposed to think she’s feral? But then, the too-feral Nymeria wouldn’t go with her because “that’s not her” (this was in evidence), so Arya is soft for wanting to go back to Winterhell? WHAT IS HAPPENING

Honestly, no clue what they were going for. I’m not convinced Maisie Williams knew either.

What a CLEVER way to save on the CGI budget.

Cheryl’s Landing

By the way, it is such common-knowledge that Cheryl blew everyone up that even HOT PIE knows it, but yet people are still giving her the time of day?

And I could totally have bought Tarly picking her side out of his extreme hatred for non-Westerosi (Dothraki) like he had for Wildlings, literally his ONLY DEFINING TRAIT, but they didn’t even mention that! They said he was undecided?

Then why did you schlep down there with Billy Bones? Just to hear her out?

Is Olenna serving as Lord Paramount officially, then? And Deadpan’s dragons seriously don’t change Randyll’s calculus?

Balerion’s skull was not as large as I imagined, but I actually think Cheryl having an anti-dragon bow mostly works. And could help save on even more CGI costs!

Yallaria and Euron the Burninator

Okay the Sand Fakes are officially the worst characters written in the history of anything ever. Glad they’re super mean to each other to the end.

Yallaria didn’t live up to the hype. I mean “foreign invasion” is just…oh my god what the fuck did I just watch. And it was so obviously written by a straight dude, I can’t even begin to describe. Pure swill for a titillating trailer shot, and I’m not crying it was interrupted

I couldn’t see or follow this battle at all. Euron had fireballs and was an OP fighter, a la Ramsay being armorless and surrounded by a field of corpses in 5x10. Nifty.

This was so obviously just “we need him to capture Yara and Faullaria” (and I’m assuming they think a unique death will be dramatically satisfying for Tyene) that it was hard to be invested in anything

Aaaand once again Theon’s PTSD is framed as a horrible negative and what a shit how could he leave his sister like that and oh my god didn’t he go back to being the old, useful Theon? Just. Icing on the craptastic cake. What a horrible fucking pattern, and it’s just. It’s not okay.

Top 3 nitpicks:

Let’s take Casterly Rock by the sea!

The magical greyscale cure

Deadpan’s peeps not knowing about the massive iron fleet? Or maybe Euron magically knowing that Deadpan’s peeps were heading to Dorne over Cheryl’s Landing?

I guess it wasn’t like...that bad? I mean it wasn’t Season 5 or 6 level. But idk, I’m just having trouble seeing many positives, even when Cogman did what he could to create a sense of continuity and meaning. Am I alone with that?

#stormborn #episode musings #got 7x02

75 notes · View notes

timalexanderdollery · 5 years

Text

These senators are going after the biggest climate villains in Washington

Sen. Sheldon Whitehouse (D-RI) questions Andrew Wheeler during his confirmation hearing to lead the Environmental Protection Agency on January 16, 2019. | Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images

Sens. Whitehouse, Heinrich, and Schatz discuss how to hold the Chamber of Commerce accountable.

On Tuesday, November 19, the Chamber of Commerce will meet to discuss its climate policy approach. It has prompted renewed pressure from a group of Democratic senators for the Chamber to play a more constructive role. I discussed their criticisms of the Chamber and other business trade groups in June, when this piece was originally published.

Business trade groups are known for throwing their weight around — and getting their way — in Washington.

The US Chamber of Commerce, the National Association of Manufacturers, the Farm Bureau, the National Federation of Independent Businesses, the American Petroleum Institute — these names strike fear in the hearts of members of Congress. They have enormous, well-funded lobbying arms and links to dark-money groups that can mobilize against any politician who crosses them.

Among other things, these groups have helped completely block climate policy at the federal level. In 2009, the Chamber of Commerce claimed to Congress that “warming of even 3 [degrees] C in the next 100 years would, on balance, be beneficial to humans.” And it has backed its denialism with money and lobbying. In 2017, NAM helped convince Trump to begin the process of pulling out of the Paris climate accord.

But the ground is shifting beneath the feet of the Chamber of Commerce and its cohort. More and more corporations are cleaning up their energy use and supply chains and lining up behind climate action.

Photo by Brendan Smialowski/Getty Images

Thomas Donohue, CEO and President of the US Chamber of Commerce.

In 2009, Apple left the Chamber of Commerce over its position on climate change, along with Nike and several other high-profile companies. Since then, at least 13 more large companies have followed them out the door. Under mounting pressure, the Chamber of Commerce has recently softened its stance on climate change, claiming to be a partner in the fight, not a denier. Through its Global Energy Institute, it released “cleaner, stronger” energy agenda, which was mostly about staying the course on fossil fuels, along with some hand-waving about “innovation.” The National Association of Manufacturers has adopted similar rhetoric.

For now, it is widely seen as a smokescreen. The leadership of these trade groups is dominated by fossil fuel money and loyal to the GOP. The Chamber of Commerce employs a revolving roster of ex-GOP congressional aides and, as of 2016, directs 100 percent of its election spending to Republicans.

The big trade groups are coming out of alignment with their own members on climate change. And a group of Democratic senators, spearheaded by Rhode Island’s Sheldon Whitehouse, wants to highlight that growing tension, making sure that every member of these trade groups knows the effect they are having on federal climate politics.

.@USChamber puts member corps out front, secretly takes $$$ and orders from fossil fuel, plays members for chumps. Don’t be a corporate chump for @USChamber climate denial! #ChamberofCarbon

— Sheldon Whitehouse (@SenWhitehouse) May 24, 2019

I recently chatted with Whitehouse, along with two Democratic colleagues in the Senate, New Mexico’s Martin Heinrich and Hawaii’s Brian Schatz, about the role trade groups play in climate politics and what might be gained by increasing the political pressure on them. (Our conversation has been edited for length and clarity.)

David Roberts

These trade associations have been lobbying against progressive priorities for a long time. What’s new?

Sheldon Whitehouse

What’s new is that climate change has reached an unprecedented level of priority and popular interest. And with that, corporate America has made a fairly significant move toward getting serious about it. That has exposed a rift between the direction of a great number of the corporate members of the COC [Chamber of Commerce] and the Chamber itself.

It looks to us as if the COC is no longer representing its nominal corporate board. My suspicion is that one of the reasons they don’t reveal their funding is that they’re taking huge amounts of secret money from the fossil fuel industry to become its front group. Between service to the fossil fuel industry and properly representing the corporate members of its board is a fissure we want to expose and exploit.

What do the @USChamber and @ShopFloorNAM have in common? They’re 2 of corporate America’s top lobbying groups. And they’re both leading the charge to stop Congress from combatting the climate crisis and saving our planet. https://t.co/AKQFeXQl39

— Elizabeth Warren (@SenWarren) May 29, 2019

Martin Heinrich

This younger generation of millennials has created a situation where most of corporate America understands the reputational risk of denying or delaying action on climate. That has not caught up with the Chamber, and that mismatch has allowed us to drive a wedge.

David Roberts

The Chamber has lost members, for instance Apple and Nike, over its position on climate before. Do you know of other members who are making noise about this issue now?

Brian Schatz

We believe there is an ongoing rebellion among Chamber members. Some of them are going to be more public about it than others. But the bottom line is, some of these companies — for commercial reasons, or ecological reasons — are no longer comfortable funding the primary actor against climate action, even as they tell their customers that they are reforming their supply chain.

If they’re doing minor things internally on the one hand, but funding the organization that is most effective in preventing federal climate action on the other hand — they know this situation cannot stand. So some are pushing the Chamber to reform its position, and some are just simply cutting ties and deciding they don’t need the Chamber anymore.

No threat poses a greater danger to our planet than climate change We need all hands on deck—federal, corporate leaders, municipalities, global effort—to meet it head-on And that includes the Chamber of Commerce and the business community#WorldEnvironmentDay #ChamberOfCarbon pic.twitter.com/76CbTRRUxf

— Chuck Schumer (@SenSchumer) June 6, 2019

David Roberts

How much power do the Chamber and NAM [National Association of Manufacturers] still have in Washington? Does the power match the myth?

Martin Heinrich

That’s what we’re trying to test here, right? There’s a lot of inertia in decision-making in Washington, DC. There are always powerful interests that continue to have power as incumbents long past when structural changes start to occur in the country. So we have to test that.

Brian Schatz

The Chamber has spent $150 million on congressional races since the Citizens United decision. A lot of that spending has targeted Democrats specifically, but also, they make ads about carbon taxes. They make ads about climate action. They are not just theoretically opposed to doing the right thing, they are spending money where it counts and attacking the people who attack the climate problem.

Sheldon Whitehouse

If you’re a Republican, all five [of the major trade groups] are telling you the same thing, which is, don’t touch climate change, don’t limit carbon emissions. And the two worst, according to Influence Map, are the Chamber and NAM.

So I think it will be very consequential if the two worst obstructors on climate change can be forced by their own membership to change their position and go from being enemies to allies.

Want to know why Congress hasn’t done a thing on climate for 30 years? Look at the record of @USChamber, better called #ChamberofCarbon: pic.twitter.com/ezZXBT2UVj

— Sheldon Whitehouse (@SenWhitehouse) May 7, 2019

David Roberts

The chamber has been making conciliatory moves on climate change, at least talking about it in a more sensible way, and even putting climate-forward businesses out front to speak for it. It seems — and you could say this of the GOP as well — to feel some pressure to move on this. How seriously should we take these rhetorical shifts?

Brian Schatz

I think they are going to see how little they can get away with doing. Our job is to make sure that actions follow the words.

Changing your congressional testimony or the climate section of your website is not a significant move unless it’s an indicator of a real shift, and we have no reason yet to believe that they’ve changed their calculus. That’s why we’re going to keep pressing.

Martin Heinrich

One of the things all of us experience here on the Hill is, corporations will take a position that nominally may be good for the country and the planet, but they won’t always make it a priority. We know what it looks like when they come in and start seriously lobbying for a set of policies. And we’ve just never seen that for climate action, even when the rhetoric has been there.

David Roberts

There seems to be a critical mass around climate action in the corporate world — lots of big names and big initiatives. Are those climate-conscious corporations collaborating and lobbying? Are they a force in DC?

Sheldon Whitehouse

It’s just begun, so it’s a little hard to tell. You’ve got the four food companies that have agreed to lobby for a price on carbon. You’ve got Microsoft, which has followed them and stepped up. You’ve got some strong signals out of the Climate Leadership Council. And you’ve got the Climate Dialogue Group of 13 CEOs.

CEO Climate Dialogue

Companies and organizations involved in “climate dialogue.”

I think it’s a good, strong signal that those things are starting to happen. But when push comes to shove, the Chamber is here lobbying day in and day out. And it backs up its lobbying with electioneering muscle. And it’s interconnected with climate-denying groups that it can launch at candidates.

So the companies that want to participate in trying to get good climate legislation out of Congress need to understand how mature, powerful, and remorseless the opposition is.

Martin Heinrich

All those other businesses are finding their footing on this. They want to know, what is the social impact and pushback from their colleague corporations of taking this new leadership position? We’re in a very unsettled time right now, but I think it’s also a very important time for the right feedback loops to occur, to allow for some real leadership positions to develop and solidify.

from Vox - All https://ift.tt/2Ohy5dW

#Vox - All

0 notes

corneliusreignallen · 5 years

Text

These senators are going after the biggest climate villains in Washington

Sen. Sheldon Whitehouse (D-RI) questions Andrew Wheeler during his confirmation hearing to lead the Environmental Protection Agency on January 16, 2019. | Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images

Sens. Whitehouse, Heinrich, and Schatz discuss how to hold the Chamber of Commerce accountable.

Business trade groups are known for throwing their weight around — and getting their way — in Washington.

Photo by Brendan Smialowski/Getty Images

Thomas Donohue, CEO and President of the US Chamber of Commerce.

.@USChamber puts member corps out front, secretly takes $$$ and orders from fossil fuel, plays members for chumps. Don’t be a corporate chump for @USChamber climate denial! #ChamberofCarbon

— Sheldon Whitehouse (@SenWhitehouse) May 24, 2019

David Roberts

These trade associations have been lobbying against progressive priorities for a long time. What’s new?

Sheldon Whitehouse

— Elizabeth Warren (@SenWarren) May 29, 2019

Martin Heinrich

David Roberts

The Chamber has lost members, for instance Apple and Nike, over its position on climate before. Do you know of other members who are making noise about this issue now?

Brian Schatz

— Chuck Schumer (@SenSchumer) June 6, 2019

David Roberts

How much power do the Chamber and NAM [National Association of Manufacturers] still have in Washington? Does the power match the myth?

Martin Heinrich

Brian Schatz

Sheldon Whitehouse

So I think it will be very consequential if the two worst obstructors on climate change can be forced by their own membership to change their position and go from being enemies to allies.

Want to know why Congress hasn’t done a thing on climate for 30 years? Look at the record of @USChamber, better called #ChamberofCarbon: pic.twitter.com/ezZXBT2UVj

— Sheldon Whitehouse (@SenWhitehouse) May 7, 2019

David Roberts

Brian Schatz

I think they are going to see how little they can get away with doing. Our job is to make sure that actions follow the words.

Martin Heinrich

David Roberts

Sheldon Whitehouse

CEO Climate Dialogue

Companies and organizations involved in “climate dialogue.”

So the companies that want to participate in trying to get good climate legislation out of Congress need to understand how mature, powerful, and remorseless the opposition is.

Martin Heinrich

from Vox - All https://ift.tt/2Ohy5dW

#Vox - All

0 notes

gracieyvonnehunter · 5 years

Text

These senators are going after the biggest climate villains in Washington

Sen. Sheldon Whitehouse (D-RI) questions Andrew Wheeler during his confirmation hearing to lead the Environmental Protection Agency on January 16, 2019. | Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images

Sens. Whitehouse, Heinrich, and Schatz discuss how to hold the Chamber of Commerce accountable.

Business trade groups are known for throwing their weight around — and getting their way — in Washington.

Photo by Brendan Smialowski/Getty Images

Thomas Donohue, CEO and President of the US Chamber of Commerce.

.@USChamber puts member corps out front, secretly takes $$$ and orders from fossil fuel, plays members for chumps. Don’t be a corporate chump for @USChamber climate denial! #ChamberofCarbon

— Sheldon Whitehouse (@SenWhitehouse) May 24, 2019

David Roberts

These trade associations have been lobbying against progressive priorities for a long time. What’s new?

Sheldon Whitehouse

— Elizabeth Warren (@SenWarren) May 29, 2019

Martin Heinrich

David Roberts

The Chamber has lost members, for instance Apple and Nike, over its position on climate before. Do you know of other members who are making noise about this issue now?

Brian Schatz

— Chuck Schumer (@SenSchumer) June 6, 2019

David Roberts

How much power do the Chamber and NAM [National Association of Manufacturers] still have in Washington? Does the power match the myth?

Martin Heinrich

Brian Schatz

Sheldon Whitehouse

So I think it will be very consequential if the two worst obstructors on climate change can be forced by their own membership to change their position and go from being enemies to allies.

Want to know why Congress hasn’t done a thing on climate for 30 years? Look at the record of @USChamber, better called #ChamberofCarbon: pic.twitter.com/ezZXBT2UVj

— Sheldon Whitehouse (@SenWhitehouse) May 7, 2019

David Roberts

Brian Schatz

I think they are going to see how little they can get away with doing. Our job is to make sure that actions follow the words.

Martin Heinrich

David Roberts

Sheldon Whitehouse

CEO Climate Dialogue

Companies and organizations involved in “climate dialogue.”

So the companies that want to participate in trying to get good climate legislation out of Congress need to understand how mature, powerful, and remorseless the opposition is.

Martin Heinrich

from Vox - All https://ift.tt/2Ohy5dW

#Vox - All

0 notes

shanedakotamuir · 5 years

Text

These senators are going after the biggest climate villains in Washington

Sen. Sheldon Whitehouse (D-RI) questions Andrew Wheeler during his confirmation hearing to lead the Environmental Protection Agency on January 16, 2019. | Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images

Sens. Whitehouse, Heinrich, and Schatz discuss how to hold the Chamber of Commerce accountable.

Business trade groups are known for throwing their weight around — and getting their way — in Washington.

Photo by Brendan Smialowski/Getty Images

Thomas Donohue, CEO and President of the US Chamber of Commerce.

.@USChamber puts member corps out front, secretly takes $$$ and orders from fossil fuel, plays members for chumps. Don’t be a corporate chump for @USChamber climate denial! #ChamberofCarbon

— Sheldon Whitehouse (@SenWhitehouse) May 24, 2019

David Roberts

These trade associations have been lobbying against progressive priorities for a long time. What’s new?

Sheldon Whitehouse

— Elizabeth Warren (@SenWarren) May 29, 2019

Martin Heinrich

David Roberts

The Chamber has lost members, for instance Apple and Nike, over its position on climate before. Do you know of other members who are making noise about this issue now?

Brian Schatz

— Chuck Schumer (@SenSchumer) June 6, 2019

David Roberts

How much power do the Chamber and NAM [National Association of Manufacturers] still have in Washington? Does the power match the myth?

Martin Heinrich

Brian Schatz

Sheldon Whitehouse

So I think it will be very consequential if the two worst obstructors on climate change can be forced by their own membership to change their position and go from being enemies to allies.

Want to know why Congress hasn’t done a thing on climate for 30 years? Look at the record of @USChamber, better called #ChamberofCarbon: pic.twitter.com/ezZXBT2UVj

— Sheldon Whitehouse (@SenWhitehouse) May 7, 2019

David Roberts

Brian Schatz

I think they are going to see how little they can get away with doing. Our job is to make sure that actions follow the words.

Martin Heinrich

David Roberts

Sheldon Whitehouse

CEO Climate Dialogue

Companies and organizations involved in “climate dialogue.”

So the companies that want to participate in trying to get good climate legislation out of Congress need to understand how mature, powerful, and remorseless the opposition is.

Martin Heinrich

from Vox - All https://ift.tt/2Ohy5dW

#Vox - All

0 notes

oliveratlanta · 5 years

Text

Georgia Tech’s Living Building, the Southeast’s greenest, is a marvel of efficiency and spare parts

The futuristic canopy over the 422 Ferst Drive building on Tech’s campus is an array of solar panels with water-catching components.

Now finished, metro Atlanta’s most environmentally advanced structure aims to be a self-sustaining launchpad for big ideas

It’s not every day the president of a major university stands before an auditorium packed to the walls with dignitaries and journalists, raises his arms like an inspired evangelist, points toward the restrooms, and extolls the virtues of using the toilet.

But such was the scene when Georgia Tech’s recently installed, excitable leader Dr. Ángel Cabrera helped lead dedication ceremonies in late October for The Kendeda Building for Innovative Sustainable Design—colloquially: “The Kendeda Building,” or “the Living Building”—a modern wonder amid Tech’s leafy campus that’s not satisfied with being merely the Southeast’s greenest structure.

Compostable toilets use a teaspoon of water per flush, automatically foaming to help remove waste. Toilet water is managed and broken down naturally onsite, avoiding sewers. The back wall is made of slate panels from the old Alumni House roof on campus.

Should project leaders succeed, the $30-million, grant-funded experiment will be the only fully certified Living Building south of Virginia Beach, southeast of suburban St. Louis, and east of Texas—and one of just 24 across the country. Before certification can happen, the Living Building Challenge, an international green-building program, will require the world’s most rigorous year-long process of performance evaluations. That gauntlet is expected to begin with spring semester classes, which will host everything from science to calculus at the new facility where Ferst Drive meets State Street. Compounding matters is Atlanta’s subtropical, often humid climate, where creating a comfortable, solar-powered, self-sustaining building not connected to city utilities was once thought impossible. Nothing like it has ever been attempted in this climate zone. Achieving the LBC stamp, in short, will require a logistical concert from the rooftop apiary and Big Ass Fans overhead (that’s the brand name) to complex heating and cooling systems in the floors. Oh, and toilets that don’t gulp but sip.

“You would not believe how excited we are about toilets in this building!” Cabrera was saying to the crowd, describing a structure so fresh it still smells like sawed wood, which the president calls his favorite place on campus. “Go and check out the toilet, and you’ll understand.”

A few moments later, Shan Arora, the Kendeda Building director hired by Tech to guide sustainability and programming efforts and lasso the prized certification, sounded equally amped at the lectern: “Constructing a Living Building in the South… people said it can’t be done,” said Arora. “We’re going to show the South, the Southeast, and the world that we can do it here.”

Four years ago, behind-the-scenes discussions began between officials with Tech and The Kendeda Fund—among metro Atlanta’s leading philanthropic investors, with a heart for social and ecological causes—in regards to an on-campus project that might “live” on its own. Kendeda Fund’s eventual $30 million grant covered everything from geotechnical testing to the custom furniture. It’s the agency’s largest single gift to date—and one of the biggest Tech has received in a history dating to the 1880s.

The building was situated in a way to keep one of the oldest, shade-casting oaks on campus from being cut down.

And then, in early 2018, a groundbreaking was held on what had been a humdrum parking lot, a 1.35-acre site next to one of campus’s largest old oaks. The goal: To create a building that collects all its own water, produces more electricity than it needs, and discards of waste in an ecologically responsible way.

Nearly two years later, Arora led Curbed Atlanta on a tour of the 47,000-square-foot results, all tailored to the South and surprising in their use of seemingly useless things.

The Living Building’s main entrance. Atlanta’s Lord Aeck Sargent architecture firm and Seattle’s Miller Hull Partnership led designs, with construction by Skanska.

Almost everything removed during the Kendeda Building’s construction—including the surface parking lot itself—was recycled, salvaged, or turned into a different onsite product.

The idea of salvaging is one Arora’s particularly fond of. He pointed to a granite curb near Ferst Street and noted it used to be part of the Georgia State Archives Building—downtown’s “White Ice Cube” imploded in 2017. A bench near the building’s entrance, he said, had been made from a South Georgia white oak tree toppled by a tornado. A wall of dark brick came from North Carolina, compiled from aggregate waste that typically would be bound for a landfill. A constructed wetland made of gravel near the entrance is designed to both calm humans and filter gray water (collected from faucets and rainclouds, that is), cleaning it naturally and avoiding the city’s sewers. That water was still undergoing testing last month but will eventually be used for all purposes, including drinking.

On the subject of H2O, the building is equipped to capture about 40 percent of rainfall on the property, which it directs to a 50,000-gallon onsite cistern. “We treat the rainwater to potable standards,” said Arora. “It’s the first time in Georgia that a commercial building is trying to do that.”

Elsewhere outside, triple-pane glass windows are designed to decrease solar gain in long humid summers. Towering, minimalistic support columns use less material (and thus less embodied carbon) while supporting the crowning, most distinctive feature: a huge array of solar panels capable of generating 450,000 kilowatt hours of electricity each year—or more than 120,000 hours of juice than the building is estimated to need, which should meet Living Building Challenge certification standards, and then some. Overall, the project is designed to use one-third the energy of a traditional building of comparable size.

Beyond the main entrance is the open three-story lobby, designed to encouraging idea-sharing among students. Wood from a former campus church forms the ramp at right.

“You can see the ductwork, the vents, the wires, the pipes,” Arora noted, moving inside. “If you liken this thing to a living being, you can see the building’s skeleton, its neurological, digestive, circulatory, respiratory systems—and that was by design.”

And here’s where the material trivia gets especially interesting.

Water reclamation pipes, exposed on the building’s basement floor, with a water conservation mural on the wall.

Wood boards that were pulled from a 10th Street church, razed for construction of Tech’s new police station, have created the building’s lobby ramp and decorative walls. Storm-felled trees on campus provided wood for interior benches.

In the bathrooms and showers, circa-1920 slate shingles on the floors and walls formerly acted as the roof of the renovated Georgia Tech Alumni Association building. Wood from dissembled Peach State movie sets forms the ceilings, and the sawed-off tips of those 2 by 6 boards became stairs.

The majority of wood used in the building is reclaimed from movie sets built and filmed in Georgia. More than 60 fans inside allows the building to comfortably operate at higher temperatures during summer, saving energy.

The ends of boards used elsewhere in construction form these steps.

But the emotional grand slam for most visitors, as Arora put it, is the building’s main staircase, built of heart-pine joists that’d been part of Tech Tower, one of two original campus buildings dating to 1888.

“When the most iconic building on campus needed to undergo a renovation, we could have taken those joists out and thrown them away,” said Arora. “Instead, we turned them into those stairs.”

Numerous classroom sizes dot the building, with the lecture hall (bottom right) being the biggest. The project is also pursuing U.S. Green Building Council’s LEED certification at the Platinum level.

Now finished, the building offers a 170-seat auditorium, classrooms designed to accommodate between 16 and 70 people, labs, offices, student commons, and the rooftop garden and apiary. It will have to meet 20 performance requirements—or LBC “imperatives”—for a full year to be certified as the Southeast’s first Living Building.

Project leaders expect that to happen in 2021.

“We’ll be constantly monitoring the building’s performance, making adjustments needed,” said Arora. “But as designed, we hope that all we have to do is monitor, and the building’s doing exactly what it needs to do.”

The fledgling garden on the roof, to include honey bees, will help satisfy the building’s urban agriculture imperative.

The roof has space for the Urban Honey Bee Project with seating, a garden, and Midtown views.

At the public dedication, Kendeda Fund’s executive director Dena Kimball spoke of the potentially important connection between a building in Midtown Atlanta and a warming planet, how it could serve as a blueprint for transforming construction and design practices in the Southeast while igniting young minds.

“[The building] could serve as a bridge between small, direct experiences that balance human nature,” said Kimball, “and the huge environmental problems that many Georgia Tech students might play a key role in solving.”

Cabrera, the president, took that sentiment a step further.

“This facility is a way of turning our own campus into a lab, into a learning opportunity. This is a way of inspiring new generations,” he said. “Just think about the people who are going to be taking classes here, or coming to conferences here. They’re going to be intrigued, looking around, and they’re going to use that toilet.”

View from behind the Living Building, at the dawn of a new day.

source https://atlanta.curbed.com/atlanta-photo-essays/2019/11/14/20954173/georgia-tech-atlanta-living-building-green-sustainability

#OliverAtlanta

0 notes

lefthanded-sans · 7 years

Text

Why I'll Always Scream About Mordin’s Character Arc

With the approach of Mass Effect: Andromeda, I have recently replayed the Shepard saga, and feel the need anew to scream about how much I enjoy this trilogy. One thing that has always excited me is Mordin Solus’ plot arc, culminating in his ME3 death scenes. I want to thank @peachdoxie for convincing me to garner the courage to analyze this five years after Mass Effect 3’s release. It feels wonderful to dive in with discourse about what I find an incredible, emotional, and well-constructed narrative.

Mordin’s character - and his character arc - are based largely upon his internal conflict between logic and compassion. It’s the difference between what he thinks he believes is right versus what he feels within his conscience. He has a set moral framework and strong sense of logic by which he abides, but that conduct doesn’t erase the uneasy feelings stewing inside. What is so powerful about Mordin’s plot arc is that he does a complete one-eighty, undoing his own greatest scientific achievement, in his process to find inner peace. His prior scientific work creating the modified genophage leaves him haunted with moral questions; his choice to cure the genophage brings him closure for his past. Through this, he finally finds a cause he can dive into where both his rationality and his compassionate conscience work as one.

The conflict between his head and heart is finally resolved, and he can die taking action – for the first time – with full, unfettered conviction.

Mordin’s Introduction and Character Set-Up

Lots of ways to help people. Sometimes heal patients. Sometimes execute dangerous people. Either way helps. – Mordin Solus, ME2

When Mordin is first introduced, he demonstrates an interesting duality: he is both a man of healing and a man of killing. His reputation precedes him, and Shepard hears stories about him before they meet. These stories are full of this paradox. On one side, he’s a doctor who heals people gratis in plague-infested slums and offers refuge to all sapient species. On the other side, Aria comments, “He's as likely to heal you as he is to shoot you,” and several Omega locals remark upon how Mordin calmly guns down both a gang of vorcha and a squad of Blue Suns mercs… and leaves the corpses as a warning in front of his *hospital*.

But Mordin makes clear from the start that he does not believe this paradox is paradoxical. Everything he chooses to do, he does with utmost reason and ethical consideration. He cares deeply about organic rights while simultaneously acknowledging that sometimes, to help others, dangerous people need to be eliminated. He is both a doctor and a military operative; he will do what it takes, whether it’s save innocents or murder wrongdoers. Straying from this course of action Mordin considers “naïve.” He pins the word both on Daniel when the young man says doctors should only help people, and on Shepard if she says curing the genophage will lead to only good things.

There is an initial strong confidence that Mordin holds about himself regarding his genophage work. He insists it was the best solution to everyone – krogan included – and tells Shepard, “No apologies. Did what was right. Hope you do the same when necessary.” Mordin knows he researched all possible outcomes thoroughly with his team about how to handle the krogans, and thus is able to state with unyielding conviction, “Genophage modification protected galaxy.” He even can argue this solution is merciful to krogans, too. The genophage simply establishing their birthrates to pre-industrial levels and allows the species a chance to survive.

This footage of Patrick Weekes talking about Mordin’s character hits at that very point:

So for me Mordin is two different characters. The first character is the one I was given when I came onto Mass Effect 2. And I was told he is the scientist who redid the genophage, and my initial reaction was… unrecordable… but translated roughly as, “That jerk,” because Wrex was my bro. So I had a choice. In manager speak, I had a probletunity, where I can either write Mordin as just a guy who did that and just went, “Yup, sterilized ’im,” and you know, maybe the really Renegade players would like that, but everyone else would go, “I’m never using him, he’s atrocious, he’s a war criminal, how could you do that” …or I could challenge myself more and try to write someone who saw himself as good. Some who saw himself as the guy who made the hard choice, who doesn’t take the easy way out, who doesn’t cartoonishly justify anything he did, but gets up every day, looks in the mirror, and says, “It was the right thing to do, even if I am sorry I had to do it.” So that’s what I tried to bring to him. And then the other part of it is the Gilbert and Sullivan.

It’s astonishing to see a character stand so strongly for his work… when that work is what others might consider to be an illegal bioweapon, a war crime, or even species-wide infanticide that leaves at least millions of newborns dead. And yet Mordin truly does hold that he did the “right thing.”

Sort of.

And that’s where his character conflict arises and his narrative truly begins.

Mordin’s Moral Framework

What does it matter if the ground is stained with the blood of millions? You taught me that the end justified the means. – Maelon Heplorn, ME2

One passive observation I’ve noted in fiction is that writers tend to downplay or criticize consquentialist frameworks. Completely “pure” and “good” contemporary Western culture heroes are usually more deontological in their ethical scope. I feel even Mass Effect relays internal moral vibes suggesting it’s better to avoid consequentialist choices. Thus, one thing I’ve found fascinating and attractive about Mordin is that he is someone who demonstrates a utilitarian framework.

To provide a definition: consequentialism is the ethical philosophy that the end justifies the means. Anything is morally permissible or praiseworthy if you work toward a positive end result. Utilitarianism, now, is a common type of consequentialism. Utilitarianism holds that a person should morally maximize the good while minimizing the bad and painful.

Mordin acts under the idea the end justify the means. Maelon himself says that his mentor espoused this philosophy. These ideologies are manifested throughout the games with Mordin’s words and actions. It goes beyond his choice to create the genophage. Mordin recommends dangerous people be killed if they are going to be a risk to others, be it aggressive batarians in Omega’s Gozu district or Rana Thonoptis on Korlus. He’s even fine killing Maelon. It’s pretty utilitarian: pain is minimized by culling the dangerous people who would harm others. He’s said other things that make me cock me head to one side in consideration, too; if he follows Shepard aboard the Collector vessel, he’ll call the pile of dead bodies “despicable,” but at the same time say, “This was wrong. Inhumane. Even if Collectors needed to kill for experiments, could have ended lives painlessly.” By his phraseology, it’s almost as though he’s not discarding the possibility death might be needed for some experimental cases, but what he finds objectionable is that they caused unnecessary pain while doing so.

That said, Mordin does have some “cut-off points” by which he believes something is wrong on principle. This would potentially make him fall into the category of rules-based utilitarianism, which holds that there are certain moral rules that exist because they overarchingly cause greater utility (less suffering and greater good). Mordin refuses to do experiments on species capable of calculus, for instance, drawing the line on the ground there, and also says he will never kill with medicine. He justifies the genophage in part by claiming it prevents birth rather than kills, so that still falls within his realm of moral reason.

And it is to note Mordin approaches life’s challenges through careful rationality. His choices are not based upon impulse, intuition, or instinct so much as conditioned rules, rationality, and principle. To quote this article, which I think provides an intriguing synopsis of his character:

[…] his upbeat demeanor hides a cold, calculating mind that has spent years dealing with the most difficult decisions in the solar system - decisions that Shepard is drawn into over the course of the second and third games. […] As you bond with him, he opens, and you see him dissect the terrible problems he's faced with an analytical mindset. He has done the moral mathematics - he will kill a million to save ten million - but his genophage is a slow, painful deathblow for the Krogan.

This philosophical framework usually characterizes how Mordin speaks up front to individuals. It is how he gives his official stories, justifications, and reasonings behind his choices.

But here’s the thing: even though he holds fairly strong by this philosophy, he’s not emotionally settled on all his logical points. As Shepard comes to know Mordin more, she can see within him how he is distressed by what he has done. Mordin mostly - but not completely - believes he is doing the right thing. There is a “battle between logic and compassion that lies at the heart of his character.”

Mordin’s Conscience

We all fracture in different ways. Mordin’s conscience haunted him. Maelon crossed the line into barbaric experiments. And myself, I went searching for whatever gods created the rules for this unfortunate universe. – Padok Wiks, ME3

At first, Mordin might seem like someone settled with the choices he made, grounded in what he has done. But the more Shepard comes to know Mordin, the more she sees the holes. Beneath the logic Mordin advocates is an individual unsettled with his scientific accomplishments. And really, once you know that Mordin is actually divided about his genophage research, the more you see his shaken interior emerge.

Mordin’s unsettled conscience comes out from the first conversation he has with Shepard about his modified genophage. He opens the conversation by admitting he deceived Shepard about his work in the STG; he stares out a window, not making eye contact, when he utters these words. That already speaks volumes about how he feels. “Work on genophage was more than just study,” he admits, with a vocal inflection that sounds more doleful and serious than his typical jabbering. This topic is heavy for him. If Shepard responds in a skeptical, Renegade manner, he stammers, uncomfortable, more awkward than typical. He says Shepard needs to know “What I… did,” with an inflection perhaps hinting at the guilt inside him.

The further this conversation progresses, and the more Shepard asks questions about why he didn’t take different actions, the more animated Mordin gets. His voice rises, sounding more anxious, urgent, and harsh; he paces; he waves his arms emphatically; he makes illogical half-truths; he almost sounds defensive at several points. The moments when his voice is most defensive occur whenever he tries justifying the genophage as the right choice. “Modified genophage offered best outcome,” he says, while pacing, waving his hands, and sounding extremely stressed. “Stabilized population. Avoided publicity that could incite krogan anger.” The fact Mordin gets so worked up at this moment foreshadows the agonized heart he later exposes on Tuchanka. He’s giving Shepard the logical answer with his words, but his body language and vocal inflection convey he’s not happy with his logical answer, either. This topic stresses him precisely because it doesn’t hit well on his conscience.

It’s during the loyalty mission on Tuchanka that Mordin’s discomfort really comes to the forefront. Mordin’s initial character introduction is about establishing his confidence in his logical solution for the genophage. Mordin’s character development here digs into the meat of his narrative conflict: he’s still struggling with the aftereffects of his choice. The introduction shows his head; the development shows his heart. Mordin admits it can be hard to sleep at night. He admits everyone on his team changed after they saw the impact of their work (and Padok confirms Mordin changed, too, once he began recon missions on Tuchanka). Mordin outright says the genophage project was ethically uncertain. He says he established a clinic on Omega because it’s not ethically ambiguous, but a solacing and straightforward means of helping people in his retired years. It won’t cause him the stress the genophage project has done. And science, which once held the greatest excitement and certainty for him… now cannot comfort him in his moral dilemma. Mordin dives into religion to seek out a spiritual solution to his nagging conscience.

It’s not a casual dive into religion, either. At least, that is what might be implied by what Shepard learns. The evidence almost seems to align with the idea Mordin’s religious explorations were a big deal at a critical point in his life. A younger Mordin was willing to enter a fistfight with Padok about whether or not evolution was guided by higher powers. It suggests Mordin would have probably rejected religious notions in earlier years. Yet the Shadow Broker’s information on Mordin shows that later in life, he was even interviewed about the combination of science and faith. Mordin demonstrates significant knowledge in multiple religions, mentioning salarian theology, batarian beliefs, krogan gods, Hinduism, and more Christian references than basically all the human characters in Mass Effect make. He needed to do a massive amount of soul-searching because of his work with the STG.

Even in the Tuchanka hospital, Mordin still holds by his beliefs about modifying the genophage and reinfecting the krogan. He still says it was the right choice. He speaks about it less happily, but he still holds onto that argument. Yet now Shepard can see - very clearly - how much this choice burdens him. Even the Shadow Broker notices that Mordin working with Shepard on the Collectors is an attempt to rectify himself about his past actions. The loyalty mission makes Mordin’s conscience obvious.

Regardless of how Mordin decides to handle Maelon and the research data, this adventure on Tuchanka highlights Mordin’s interior doubt. Maelon says Mordin taught him the end justifies the means - but these krogan in Maelon’s hospital deserved better and Mordin recognizes this. This adventure brings his mind to the forefront of his personal and ongoing ethical struggles. He can choose to delete the data to try to gain closure, or take it with him; kill Maelon for his unethical choices, or send him off to Omega for his own soul-searching and healing; but regardless, Mordin does not gain closure on Tuchanka. It picks at the wound that Mordin knows is not healed.

The logic and the compassion are still at odds with one another. In the heart of Mordin’s character development, they are at odds almost more than ever before.

It’s in Mass Effect 3 that Mordin finds a way to do something about it.

From Creating to Curing the New Genophage

I made a mistake! I made a mistake. Focused on big picture. Big picture made of little pictures. Too many variables. Can’t hide behind statistics. Can’t ignore new data. My responsibility. – Mordin Solus, ME3

Initially, it might seem as though Mordin chooses to cure the genophage because political circumstances between species change. That is his official story to Shepard, too. If she asks him why he’s so comfortable curing the genophage now, he tells her, “Never change mind. Genophage proper decision at time. New circumstances necessitate course correction.”

However, just like Mordin gives his good logic to Shepard in ME2 but internally carries an emotional perspective, so also does there seem to be more going on with Mordin’s motivations and the genophage here. Like so much of Mordin’s narrative, it’s open to implication and interpretation, but I feel as though so much points to Mordin feeling more than “new circumstances necessitat[ing] course correction”.

First, Shepard asks Mordin if there is more behind his reason to cure the genophage beyond the Reaper invasion and political changes. She suggests there could be additional personal reasons for his investment. He admits there are few salarian scientists interested in the genophage and none with the experience needed for a matter of this magnitude. And then he says, “But not about them. My work. My job to put it right, to prove I can.” He does have personal stakes.

The second point to note is what Urdnot Bakara says about Mordin. Bakara notices an underlying, unspoken motivation for Mordin tackling the genophage cure. “I sense pain in him [...]. He told me about his work on the genophage. I should consider him an enemy. Yet I think seeing my sisters and I changed something in him.”

Mordin has already been questioning his past. As Padok says, Mordin’s work on the genophage haunted him. Visiting Maelon’s hospital on Tuchanka was influential for Mordin questioning his actions more. Meeting Bakara and the other weakened female krogan from Maelon’s research is the final experience, the catalyst, for him switching to curing the genophage.

Third, Mordin lets it loose his personal for curing the Genophage in the Renegade route. Shepard presses Mordin for why he chooses to cure the genophage after defending it every conversation before now. He wheels around, uncustomarily shouts, and declares with a rare full sentence, “I made a mistake!”

Mordin chooses to leak the intel about Bakara’s fertility to none other than the Urdnot clan. He is the person who mentions the possibility of a genophage cure to the krogan, even before negotiations officially start between the turians, krogans, and salarians in ME3. He is the person who plants the idea that the genophage can be cured now to the krogan. Mordin chooses to leave the STG and help develop a cure for Bakara on the Normandy. Mordin chooses to die saving the krogan because he made a mistake.

He can’t fight back all the logic anymore. His conscience that plagued him for years was right: he made a mistake.

That’s his real, uncovered motivation.

Mordin might say he never holds regrets over past choices, but here, in the heat of the moment, he lets loose that his choice was the wrong one. Perhaps he did not have the proper data at the time, but now he shouts he made the wrong choice to recreate the genophage. Suddenly, his calmer conversation to Shepard aboard the Normandy, where he says it is, “my job to put it right,” gets understood in a fuller context. His conscience is why he’s so dogged to cure the krogan.

And then his internal battle between his head and heart ends on the Shroud. After developing Mordin and letting us know why he’s conflicted, we get the solution to his internal struggles.

THIS is why I love Mordin’s death scenes. THIS is why I adore them. It’s a beautiful character arc start to end. His character introduction lets us know he created the new genophage. His plot conflict lets us know he’s struggling about his past choices. This struggle is seeded in his divided rationality and compassion. We watch this personal struggle gets developed, exacerbated in his ME2 loyalty mission. It prompts a change in ME3 that is geared more toward his conscience. And there on Tuchanka, right before he dies... he finds resolution to what he has been fighting since before Shepard even met him.

He gets resolution to both the external genophage conflict and his internal war between conscience and logic.

Here, for the first time, Mordin doesn’t act with his logic overriding his conscience. He doesn’t act with his sentiments clouding his reasoning.

Mordin, when he dies, solves his personal problem with the genophage.

Mordin, when he dies, fundamentally impacts the future of the galaxy.

And Mordin, when he dies, finally acts with his logic and conscience working as one.

Renegade Route Death

No time to argue. Cure dispersal imminent. Must counteract sabotage. Stop me if you must. – Mordin Solus, ME3

I’m a huuuuuge sucker for betrayals and characters dying short of their culminating self-aggrandizement. The fact that you - Commander Shepard - can choose to betray and murder your own friend for his own convictions is astonishing. Despite the fact you brought him on board the Normandy to create the cure, you can turn around and gun him down for that very work. It’s so impacting we the player can choose to assassinate our dear ally. I find this the most brutal and least chill death in the Mass Effect trilogy I’ve experienced. So yeah, I like the Paragon death better (for reasons I’ll discuss in the next section), but I still find many wonderful and juicy things about the Renegade Route death. This is a great ending to Mordin’s plot arc, too, and wraps up so much about what I adore about his personal narrative.

The first thing I love I already mentioned. The Renegade route has an incredible final conversation between Mordin and Shepard. Only in this route does Mordin shout out unfettered the motivation behind his genophage cure. He doesn’t make this confession in the Paragon route... only here.

That one sentence shout “I made a mistake!” is perfect. To point out:

It’s shocking because Mordin admits he made a mistake! He has been harping throughout his relationship with Shepard that he does not have regrets and he takes charge of situations because “someone else might have gotten it wrong.” However, now Mordin turns back on everything he stood for with the genophage modification project. He even says he cannot hide behind statistics, something Shepard accuses him of doing in ME2. Here Mordin is siding resolutely, firmly with the cure and claiming he got his first choice wrong. It’s a mistake.

How the line is delivered creates additional shock and impact. It’s not his typical telegraphic sentence, deleting subject position nouns or pronouns. He say the full thing, starting with “I”. It’s not “Made a mistake.” It’s “I made a mistake.” And he says that twice.

This shout is a short resolution for what Mordin will now unwaveringly do. He is willing to die for the krogan to be cured. We now know what his heart feels.

Immediately after his outburst, Mordin explains. New data has shown a cure is a better future than the krogan retaining the genophage. Between his initial raw shout and the subsequent logical countering, Mordin demonstrates his logic and conscience are working together. He feels he has to cure the genophage because he has to fix his errors. He has to clean up his mess, which gave him so much emotional haunting in the past. That’s the compassion speaking. And he sees from the current data around him that this is the best solution for the galaxy. That’s the logic and moral philosophical framework speaking.

This is why Mordin is willing to die. He didn’t have to die to save the krogan, especially in the Renegade version of the Shroud scene. Shepard makes it clear: “Walk away or I will fire.” Commander Shepard will only shoot Mordin if he tries to counteract the sabotage and implement the cure. She’ll spare him if he steps aside. A Mordin who is working on just logic might not be resolute enough to stand his ground. A Mordin who is working on just compassion would definitely not be resolute enough to stand his ground - he’s overriden his compassion in the past for logic. But Mordin will not back down when both his head and his heart tell him the genophage cure is the correct choice to pursue.

The second thing I find fascinating is that technically Mordin is dying from the consequences of his own moral framework. There’s good reason I yabbered up top about his philosophical disposition, folks. The truth of the matter is that Commander Shepard kills Mordin because of a consequentialist framework, too. The end justifies the means. Assassinating one friend to save a galaxy is what it takes, and that’s what she does. Mordin even seems to realize this; he deduces why Shepard is threatening him, and while he insists this is his choice to make, he doesn’t seem too surprised or upset at her ethical reasoning. It’s because it mirrors what he has done so often in the past.

It’s to note Mordin never wavers from utilitarianism, either. Again, his logic and his conscience are working as one. For Mordin, it does bring the greatest utility to save the krogan. That is the best choice. He’s willing to face the consequence of dying to see that end result through. It just so happens that Shepard disagrees, and is also willing to do what it takes to get her desired end result.

And so he dies.

The third thing I adore about the Renegade death is that Mordin dies for his convictions... but he doesn’t succeed. He is cut short. He never gets his resolution. He dies, struggling, choking on his own blood, croaking out the words, “Not yet.” With his final painful breaths, he tries to save the krogan anyway.

Mordin’s character arc is complete... sort of. It’s a powerful result. A powerful moment. He spends years haunted by his inner demons about the genophage. When he finally finds how he can ease his sense of guilt while still maintaining his logic... he dies. Shepard sees to it that he never finishes his quest for internal peace.

I love how the Renegade route doesn’t let you forget the consequences of your choice. The writing demonstrates some deontological bias (they don’t rub your mistakes in your face in the Paragon route), but it’s a great sentiment. Players feel guilt even when making a consequentialist choice... sort of like what Mordin had to live with. You did what was necessary to save the galaxy. But Shepard throws her pistol aside in disgust and marches away. And while everyone else is crying Mordin as a “hero,” you are sitting there... unable to divulge to anyone else... your dirty little secret.

Paragon Route Death

That was the courage of the highest order, sacrificing himself so our children may live. A thousand years from now we’ll probably be singing songs about him. – Urdnot Bakara and Wrex, ME3

Now here’s why I celebrate the Paragon Route more than Mordin’s Renegade death (or the third option where he survives the Shroud encounter). It can be boiled down to three big reasons:

1. The narrative of Mordin’s conflict gets wrapped up beautifully. The dialogue is written for extraordinary impact to get us that sense of painful yet resonant completion. 2. Mordin dies both bravely and not bravely. His choice is brave but his body language is not. It makes it more poignant to watch him knowingly go to his death. 3. Mass Effect is a story about heroism and legendary heroes, and through this route, Mordin becomes that unforgettable hero.

There are other reasons I’m attracted to it like the music and me preferring the Paragon route as a whole, but I’ll stick with these big three points. These are of course just my opinion, but here’s why I why I feel it.

1. Wrapping up Mordin’s narrative with beautiful writing and dialogue

Mordin surviving, ironically enough, is the least resolving for me. Sure, Shepard can talk to Mordin in London and assure him he did the right thing on Tuchanka, and Mordin can go help with the Crucible... but his story doesn’t feel resolved. The Renegade death has a resolute ending... he got resolve but he failed. The Paragon death has a resolute ending... he got resolve and succeeded. But if Mordin is convinced to follow Linron’s plan and go into hiding, we don’t get closure.

What is so nice about Mordin’s character arc (compared to many other ME characters) is that his arc is integrally wrapped up with Shepard’s main story. Jacob’s or Samara’s stories in ME3 are peripheral to Shepard’s central conflict. But Mordin gets caught right in the vortex of one of the most crucial alliances in history. To lack closure in his character arc also means a lack of closure for what happens in Shepard’s experiences. If Mordin decides he’ll keep himself alive and maybe cure the genophage later, we don’t get a consummation of logic and compassion; we don’t get resolution of his internal character struggles. We don’t complete the plot arc that has been building for two games. And if Mordin decides that he might cure the genophage “later,” then we don’t get any real resolution about the fate of the krogans, either. Act One in ME3 never “ends.” It’s left up in the air, we move onto a different conflict, and we can only speculate about what the hell happens later. Nothing gets resolved.

The Paragon death, as I see it, is the ultimate resolution to Mordin’s narrative journey. It takes everything we love about him - from his odd little inconsequential quirks to the center of his character conflict - and gives us a final wrap-up. He turns about one-eighty, finds his internal peace, and becomes a hero that saves an entire civilization.

Like the Renegade death, Mordin enters this with his head and heart working as one. Here, Mordin isn’t even pressured by someone threating him. Here, he offers his own life up: it’s both the most ethical thing to do by his moral framework, and it’s the one that gives his conscience peace. And after seeing Mordin so long tormented by the genophage... we finally see this character... achieve resolution.

He implements the cure. He stops the sabotage. And when he hears the speakers announce the cure will disperse over Tuchanka... he smiles. Even though he knows he will die in the next few seconds, this is the first and last time we will ever see Mordin at peace.

Next, the writers work up the moment to Mordin’s demise in a powerful way. I’m accustomed to seeing characters die after they give their catch phrase or one final powerful quote. What makes Mordin’s death so emotional is that we don’t get one phrase by which we can remember him. The writers give us three blows with three final quotes to evoke our emotions. Boom. One fond and important memory of him. Boom. The next. Boom. And he is gone.

The first “boom” is mentioning seashells. It hurts not just because it’s a funny moment you share with him. It hurts because he’s talking about what he wanted to do after the war ended. He and Shepard both know he’ll never get to study those seashells; he’s going to die in action. This turns a humorous conversation into a painful reminder he’s walking into his own death.

The next “boom” is giving Shepard his catch phrase. She offers condolences when she sees he’s about to go on the suicide mission, but he responds he’s not sorry. “Had to be me. Someone else might have gotten it wrong.” These are his final words to her for which she will remember him. These are his intended “last words.” Note that writing writing works well in threes, and this is the third time the “had to be me” quote appears, too!

The last “boom” is when he literally dies in an explosion. The first song Mordin sings to Shepard becomes the last song we hear. And he doesn’t even finish the line. We’re deprived of the song’s conclusion. “I am the very model of a --” Gone.

That song, “I am the very model of a scientist salarian,” is the tune he sings about himself and his life’s work. It’s his favorite song to sing. It’s a cheerful summary and celebration of what he can accomplish. And here, even as he dies, even as he can’t finish his lyrics, he does the greatest and most powerful thing he has ever done. He shows exactly what a scientist salarian can do.

Just talk about the perfect way to kill a character: he dies singing.

2. Mordin didn’t die “bravely”

I’ve seen other people talk about this, too. I’m just going to link you to a wonderful analysis on Reddit and quote what I’ve seen. It speaks for itself. I don’t need to add anything to it.

It wasn't that it was a brave sacrifice. It was by definition, of course, but it was far more than that. To me, I thought Mordin's sacrifice was powerful because it wasn't brave. I'll explain:

From the moment we meet Mordin on Omega, he's described in terms of being willing to help people, but being murderously savage when he needs to be. He openly speaks about killing surrendering foes, and is generally violent in nature along with his helpful spirit. However, as you go through ME2, you realize he's more than just violent/helpful. He's a complicated person who has done a lot in his short life. He's responsible for the modified Genophage, and he's served in STG. He's obviously brilliant. He loves art, as evidenced by his singing. But when he breaks down on your mission to Tuchanka over the deaths of test subjects, you get the feeling that though he knows what he did was necessary, it eats him up inside.

When you go through ME3, he's dedicated his life to making things right. He's your mole in STG to get Eve out, and he works tirelessly to find a cure for a disease he helped create. Once on Tuchanka, he decides to give his life for the cure to occur. Here I see what's most sad about Mordin. He's not just a tough, violent scientist who is ultimately out for the greater good. As he's going up the elevator, he's visibly nervous. He takes deep breaths. Once he's uploading the cure, he's singing and his voice is wavering. Up until the moment he dies, he's exceedingly vulnerable, his voice nearly breaking. He's scared of dying, but he knows it's for the good of the krogan, and the galaxy. Few characters, with the exception of Garrus, were as stripped down in terms of their psyche as Mordin was. You met both of them and their rough exterior, but by the end of ME3 you saw the cracks and learned who they really were, what they really felt. It's pretty amazing that a video game is able to give this sort of intimacy.

EDIT: And as I'm reading this again, it strikes me: He's also afraid that his work, the genophage, might never be cured. In ME3, his slogan takes on new meaning. "Someone else might have gotten it wrong." Someone else might have tried to cure the genophage, and been unable, or wouldn't have done it fast enough. He's worried, terrified that his legacy wouldn't be working for the greater good, but working for injustice. He realizes by the end of ME2 that his work, while necessary at the time, was wrong, and he devotes his life to fixing it. "Someone else might have gotten it wrong" is his entire purpose, his fears, and his desires all rolled into one.

Characters don’t tend to die like that in stories. In the Renegade death, you get a more “typical” end - a character dying boldly for what he believes in. “Stop me if you must.” We’re used to heroic sacrifices, bravely standing there at the end of it all, in stories. We’re also used to characters screaming and dying in cowardice. But we’re not used to seeing a character heroically choosing to die while at the same time being so terrified.

That just adds an extra layer of emotions as we watch him flinch with each explosion... watch when that next explosion takes him out.

3. Mass Effect is a story about heroes

This is the main reason why I believe I prefer the Paragon route over the Renegade. As juicy as Shepard’s betrayal is, it lacks the emotional resonance of Mordin choosing to die in the tower. Sure, I love reading about players’ guilt and whether or not they can even stomach shooting Mordin... but it can’t beat the emotional resonance of a hero being made.

What made the first two Mass Effect games so exciting and resonant upon completion is that they are the stories of a hero winning against overwhelming odds. Commander Shepard manages to save Council space by defeating Saren and Sovereign in ME - something highly unlikely, but satisfyingly completed. Shepard again beats overwhelming odds in ME2 by outlasting the Suicide Mission and coming out with her team in heroic glory. It’s because Shepard manages to make it through overwhelming odds that we’re left cheering, we’re left excited, we’re left emotionally resonant. I adored the feel of besting the universe. It’s so enjoyably badass!

Mass Effect 3 is different. Don’t get me wrong - I love the game and will defend it start to end. I will defend the end of ME3 far more than almost anyone else I know. I love the whole trilogy. But upon first playthrough, ME3 can feel off. Everything feels more subdued, more weighted. There’s an overhanging sense that the ending won’t be perfect - and indeed, the ending is not optimal. Huge sacrifices are made by the end of the game, and Shepard’s final choice regarding the Reapers results in bittersweet results. It’s not the bang-and-win feel we’ve been accustomed to in the other games. It’s painfully real. The consequences bear down on us, and we don’t feel like we come out of the story heroically. Shepard doesn’t storm through the finish line... she crawls.

So even though Commander Shepard emerges a “hero” in the main storyline, you don’t feel it. You feel “wrong” because she doesn’t overwhelmingly bash down the baddies like in the first two games. Don’t get me wrong - I love bittersweet stories, too, and that’s what I usually write - but it will always feel a little “off” to me that I don’t unwaveringly save the day in ME3. And yeah, my first time I even chose the one and only ending where Shepard lives, and it still felt uncomfortable.

Because that sense of grandiose heroism gets lost in the final cutscenes, I have had to look elsewhere to get my emotional “satisfaction” and fill of heroes in ME3. The quarian and geth conflict has great moments, but because it’s such a group effort, it’s harder for me to feel as though someone like Tali explodes as a hero (she does amazing things and grows, yes, but it’s not that bang-punch-hero feel). If Mordin leaves the Shroud alive or dies without implementing the cure, we get yet another solemn bittersweet ending like Shepard’s "solution” with the Reapers.

But if Mordin dies out in a bang, I get my quota of grandiose heroism. I get that glorious vibe which made me fall in love with ME and continue to love it in ME2.

He’s staggeringly altered the course of the universe. A thousand years of krogan infertility are reversed by the same species that first maimed them. Mordin undoubtedly becomes one of the most influential individuals in the galaxy. This quirky, emotionally struggling doctor you meet on Omega turns from a debatable war criminal to an instant hero.

Krogans celebrate him. He has become the savior for an entire species. Mordin becomes a legend immediately. Krogan will sing ballads about his deeds for millennia to come. The firstborn prince of the leading krogan clan is named after him: Urdnot Mordin. That extraordinary growth of a character, ending when he a legend... it’s powerful. It’s more powerful than a betrayal. It’s more powerful than saying, “Maybe I’ll cure them later.” Here and now, we see the jaw-dropping effects of his conscience and his logic working as one.

So that is why I still scream about Mordin’s plot arc even now.

It’s incredible.

It’s exactly what I want to see in storytelling - from its solid structure, to its depth, to its deep questions, to its impacting emotionality.

The character is set up with an interesting internal conflict that has galaxy-wide implications. After watching him struggle between two sides of his psyche, he finds a way to resolve them both and do a one-eighty, undoing his own greatest accomplishment. He takes on a sense of astounding heroism in his final act and dies with “the courage of the highest order”.

Commander Shepard will always be my hero. But with how they wrote Mordin’s story, I can’t help but gape at him in awe as a hero, too.

#long post #non-UT #Mass Effect #Mordin Solus #Mass Effect 3 #ME3 #ME 3 #ME #my analysis #there Peach there you go that's the analysis it's almost 6700 words you're welcome #wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee #don't get me started on the music in that scene #or other aspects I love about Mordin #I WILL WRITE APPRECIATION POSTS #FOR ANY AND *ALL* OF THE ME DORKS <3 <3 <3 #down to Anoleis haha #seriously though if ANYONE WANTS TO TALK MASS EFFECT I *SO WILL* OKAY

53 notes · View notes