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dailyunsolvedmysteries · 3 years

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The Finders Cult - CIA Connections?

On February 4, 1987, police officers in Tallahassee, Florida were alerted by a female caller about six filthy and unkempt children playing in a park. The caller further stated that the children appeared to be under the guardianship of two well-dressed men. The Tallahassee police learned that the two men were Douglas E. Ammerman and Michael Houlihan, both of Washington, D.C. They were arrested for child abuse. Several days later, a $100,000 bond was placed for both men. Originally, Ammerman and Houlihan (real name later discovered to be Michael James Holwell) claimed that they were transporting the kids to a school for gifted children in Mexico. However, this story did not adequately explain why the six children were found unwashed, covered in bug bites, and practically starving. Later the police contacted the mothers of some of the children, with most admitting that they had voluntarily given their children over to Ammerman, Holwell, and others.

On February 6, the Metropolitan Police Department in Washington, D.C. conducted a search of a warehouse in Northeast Washington. Inside investigators found evidence of cult activity and “brainwashing.” More to the point, the warehouse, which according to eyewitnesses was frequented by well-dressed men despite being in a notoriously rough neighborhood, included wallet-sized photographs of prepubescent children naked and participating in occult blood rituals. The U.S. Customs Service also became involved as there was evidence of the group being involved in the production and distribution of child pornography.

The first reports in all the major U.S. newspapers at the time disclosed the fact that the Finders were headquartered in Culpeper, Virginia on a 90-acre farm. The reports also suggested that the group’s membership included approximately 40 people. Finally, prior to the case in Tallahassee, MPD officers reported that cult rituals were taking place near the 3900 block of W Street NW, and the evidence for this included eyewitness accounts and the discovery of several stones formed in the shape of a ceremonial circle.

Despite all of this reporting, on February 10, 1987, Police Chief Maurice T. Turner, Jr. of the MPD claimed that there was no evidence of ritual abuse or other occult activity in regards to the Finders organization. Similarly, police in Tallahassee told the media that the six children had not been kidnapped and had not been participants in any kind of ritualistic abuse. The speed with which the public narrative about the Finders changed raised more than a few eyebrows.

Prior to the quick shutdown of the case, news reports in February 1987 claimed that one of the goals of the Finders was to “wean” children away from their parents. Pettie, whose nicknames included “The Student,” “The Stroller,” “The Game Caller,” and “The Pathfinder,” forced his female followers to initiate sexual relationships. The children from these encounters would be given communally to group. Pettie, a veteran of the US Army and Air Force, would help raise these children to be tough and self-sufficient. These clues initially led police to believe that the Finders were a survivalist group.

One of the more unusual aspects of the Finders case is the repeat connections to China, especially Hong Kong (then a British colony). A search of the van found at the original scene in Tallahassee included a Chinese-English dictionary, while the computers found in Washington, D.C. included correspondence between members in China, Hong Kong, and the United States.

In a strange interview reported by the Associated Press on March 23, 1987, Robert Terrell told the media that “This is farewell from the Finders, we’re breaking up. You won’t hear from the Finders again until the Chinese are running Hong Kong”. This cryptic statement did not garner much attention back in 1987, but given the group’s strange connections with China (including basing their “philosophy” on Lao Tse), many Internet sleuths now think it likely that the Finders were buying and selling child pornography as well as children from shadowy concerns in Hong Kong.

It is worth mentioning that the computers uncovered in Washington, D.C. also showed communications between members in Europe, Japan, Africa, and South America. The fact that the group also seemed interested in terrorism, including terrorist tactics and how to create bombs, has never been fully explained.

One persistent investigator was Skip Clements, a resident of Stuart, Florida and the man who made a major trade deal with China in the 1990s to be the sole exporter of Florida oranges to the world’s largest nation. According to Clements, the Customs Service dropped their case against the Finders at the behest of the CIA. Clements has stated time and time again that the CIA was using the Finders as a front to train special agents.

Clements proved persistent, and in November 1993, the Department of Justice sent out a memo requesting that the Finders be re-investigated to see if they had any ties to U.S. intelligence. U.S. Representative Charlie Rose (D-N.C.) even met with Clements to discuss the case. Another politician, Representative Tom Lewis (R-F.L.), used the Finders case to draw attention to the fact that the Customs Service’s Child Pornography and Protection Unit had seen its arrests fall by a fourth between the late 1980s and early 1990s.

One of the original investigators in the case, Special Agent Ramon J. Martinez of the Customs Service, re-emerged in 1993 to suggest that his case had been deliberately suppressed by the FBI and the CIA. Martinez echoed Clements in saying that he believed that the U.S. intelligence community was involved with the Finders.

When the Finders case was reexamined in 1993, several former members of the cult came forward to talk about their horrifying experiences. Some claimed that the group used extortion and blackmail to stop members from leaving, while others claimed that the group regularly used arson to keep members in line or seek retribution. These accusations were backed up by evidence from local police reports all across the country. Others made the shocking allegation that members of the group posed as babysitters across the country in order to kidnap children.

Just when renewed attention was being focused on the Finders, the group seemed to disband for good. The same group that the FBI considered dangerous and guilty of “obtaining children for unspecified purposes” seemed to melt away by 1996.

#the finders cult #cults #unsolved mysteries #true crime #crime

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makaylajadewrites · 3 years

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Almost Heaven

Summary: “You’re a very fascinating man, Spencer,” Hotch said simply in response, a suggestive message going unsaid. Reid frowned a bit, looking down to see that his wine was already more than halfway gone. When did that happen?…

This wasn’t mindless sex. This was love, existing between the two of them at degrees unquantifiable by mere human tools. It was perfect, and Spencer tried to imagine the rest of his life without experiencing this moment.

Pairing: Hotch/Reid

Potential tws: Smut, unrequited love, cheating/infidelity, angst

Word count: 3727

Read on AO3 here

Hotch had been staring at him all day. He could feel those dark, dangerous eyes tracing the shape of his figure while his nimble fingers worked over the map, pushing in color-coordinated thumb tacks. Red for dumpsites, blue for locations of interest, and black for local hotspots. That was only relevant because their four victims all happened to be teens and young adults, so by determining where they spent most of their time, they might be able to determine the common denominator between each victim.

But he couldn’t concentrate with Hotch’s constant and unwavering gaze. It was enough to make Reid somewhat uncomfortable, and the squeak of weight lifting off of a chair was enough to send a shiver up his spine. He didn’t look back, trying to keep his attention on the map in front of him when Hotch came to stand directly beside him. The lack of space between them was anxiety fueling for Reid, and he slowly turned his head to acknowledge his superior with a quirked brow, though the way his bottom lip caught between his teeth didn’t go unnoticed.

Hotch eyed him with an intense, yet oddly expressive look, and it sent a shiver directly down his spine. “Sir?…” he questioned, his voice cracking from his nerves. They had both been making predictions and voicing theories, and the sudden change from Hotch was a little disconcerting for Reid. He didn’t let it show though, save for the apparent confusion on his face which Hotch barely even paid attention to.

“I have a proposition for you, Spencer,” he said out of the blue, and Reid jerked his head upwards in surprise towards his unit chief, the mere two inch height difference now seeming bigger than ever. He felt small, insignificant beside his superior, but the eye contact between them never wavered.

“A proposition?” he parroted, feeling his heart racing in his chest now, faster than ever before.

“Yes,” Hotch confirmed, his voice low, enough to make Reid aware that he was being quiet on purpose. “After this case… We should blow off some steam together. Maybe some drinks at my place,” he suggested, and Reid swore his eyes had bulged out of his head from the shock of the statement, and a familiar tingling built up in his stomach.

“Wh-Wha-Sir, th-that’s… we can’t—“ Reid’s incessant rambling was cut off by a finger pressing to his lips, and Hotch acknowledged him with a strangely humored quirk of his lips and rise of his brows. Spencer felt his cheeks burn, and the blush on his face and neck was prominent. “Reid, if we aren’t at work, we can be friends. You’re friends with Morgan and JJ right?”

“And Penelope and Emily…” he hummed in embarrassment, and the chuckle that rumbled above him was uncharacteristic enough for Spencer’s eyes to fly upwards again.

“Exactly my point. Relax, it’s not worth stressing over. You can always say no, of course,” Hotch reminded gently, his hand gently coming up to cup the curve of Reid’s elbow, and Spencer couldn’t help the instinctive flinch at the unexpected contact, but Hotch’s hand didn’t move and he felt an odd sense of calm from its stabilizing hold. He nodded and swallowed nervously, forcing a smile on his lips since it was very difficult to tell a man like Hotch no.

That lingered on his mind all day, and Reid found himself both nervous and excited at the prospect of spending time with a man like Hotch.

Spencer had known he was abnormal for a long time. Ever since he was a kid, really, since he had never been able to fit in with the others. But that probably had something to do with the age gap between him and his peers, because while Spencer was barely on the cusp of puberty, the teens in his graduating class were nearly full grown adults. They had explored their sexuality, grown into themselves and expanded on their ability to network with others. But Spencer? Spencer was still just a child; he had no idea who he was yet, despite the fact that he could solve the most complicated of equations within a matter of seconds. He was inexperienced even now at the age of twenty-four. He had never kissed anyone before, not a man or a woman.

Aaron was definitely handsome to Spencer, even if he was ten years his senior and, most importantly, married with a baby. But growing up the way he had, he was more accustomed to spending time with people who were older than him, which probably explained why he found older people more attractive. They were mature, grown up, and much more responsible than young adults like himself. Even he was an old soul, preferring a good book and a cup of coffee over blinding club lights and sickly sweet alcohol.

Spencer, despite his participation in sexual activities, liked to identify himself as bisexual. The older he got though, he realized he had a lean towards men over women. Women were pretty, men were handsome, but something about being with a man seemed more appealing to him. A lot of women were attracted to the typical alpha male, and Spencer was honestly no different. He found Derek attractive for one, but they were better off as brothers than lovers. Besides, Derek was as straight as they came, and he couldn’t possibly hold any interest in men, least of all Spencer Reid. But Aaron? Aaron Hotchner was on a whole other level. Even if he was married.

That was probably why Spencer had been able to convince himself that spending time with Aaron might not be so bad. He sat in his car, parked across the street from the Hotchner house while scrubbing his sweaty palms over his dress pants. He still had on his clothes from work that day, although his sweater vest and tie were absent and currently on his bedroom floor. His coat was wrapped around himself, his thick glasses perched on his nose. He was biting his lip, gnawing the sensitive flesh between his teeth while staring at the lighted porch, noticing that only one car was in the driveway - Hotch’s car. This was beginning to look more and more like a suggestive escapade, and he was growing anxious.

He needed to get himself together.

This was just two friends hanging out after work, having a few drinks, doing guy things.

That was all it could be. Hotch wouldn’t cheat on his wife and Reid would never let it get that far.

With a deep breath, Reid got out of his car and stepped foot on the porch, his trembling hand wrapping against the mahogany. God, he was nervous, more nervous than he should have been, and he was afraid of embarrassing himself in front of Hotch, a man he found both attractive and admired deeply. This was a terrible idea, but he didn’t have the chance to back out, because soon, the door opened and there stood Aaron, as casual as could be, wearing a pair of jeans and a dark, v neck tee shirt.

Spencer felt like a fool, more than he ever had in his entire life. He was so insignificant compared to Hotch, even now, outside of work hours. Hotch was a handsome man, married with a kid, he owned a house all his own, a nice car, and still, he could look at Spencer and make him feel things he had never felt before. It frightened him a bit, and it made him somewhat worried about what was to come. He paled in comparison to Hotch, and Reid was definitely feeling that now, dressed like he was while Hotch was as comfortable as could be in normal out-of-the-office attire. He should have just left when he had the chance, just drove away and gone back home where he felt safe in his little bubble with a book and—

“Come inside,” Hotch said as friendly as could be, the ghost of a smile touching his lips. Reid’s lashes fluttered in slight apprehension, but he entered the house and stood awkwardly in the foyer while Hotch closed the door behind him. “I have bourbon and wine. The wine is Hailey’s, but she won’t mind,” he said dismissively, and Reid watched incredulously as Hotch strode across his living room in the direction of the kitchen as if this were the slightest bit normal.

“I-I can do a glass of wine…” he settled eventually, Hotch’s inquisitive stare meeting him from the kitchen.

“Good. Make yourself comfortable,” Aaron said calmly, and even though his nerves were on high alert, Spencer did just that. He slipped his coat off before sitting on the couch, holding it awkwardly in his lap while he waited tensely for Aaron to return. Alcohol was definitely sounding better and better. He needed something to help him relax anyway. Aaron eventually came back, carrying two glasses; wine and bourbon. Spencer took the wine glass hesitantly, and the second their fingers brushed together he felt a spark shoot up his arm, but he knew it had to only be him since Aaron didn’t react at all.

“I’m surprised you came,” Hotch said, sitting beside him on the couch, angled towards him with one of his legs crossed over the other. He regarded Spencer with an expression that was not unkind. In fact, it lingered somewhere near fondness and warmth. Spencer took a sip of the wine, hoping that one drink alone would settle his nerves some.

“Me too, actually,” he murmured rather embarrassedly, and Hotch let another rare smile form on his lips. Spencer smiled back shyly, reaching a hand up to push his bangs back, even though they seemed quite fixed, over his forehead.

“I’m glad you did though,” Hotch countered, and Spencer gulped down another drink before even bothering to think of a response.

“Why?” he questioned then, turning his upper body to face Aaron, his brows raised a bit since he genuinely was curious as to why Hotch would want to spend time with him of all people. It seemed to him like Hotch would have a much more enjoyable time with someone like Gideon, but for some reason, he was interested in Spencer. He didn’t quite understand it, and regardless of Hotch’s response, he doubted he ever really would.

“Do I have to explain my every motive to you?” Hotch said almost teasingly, and Spencer was realizing how much he liked to see him smile. He looked down and shrugged a bit, a smile lingering on his own face.

“I guess not. I just never would have imagined you would willingly want to spend time with me. Not many people do,” Spencer explained briefly, as deprecating as it was. But it was the truth, and Hotch must realize how odd it was for him to spend time with the young doctor outside of work.

“You’re a very fascinating man, Spencer,” Hotch said simply in response, a suggestive message going unsaid. Reid frowned a bit, looking down to see that his wine was already more than halfway gone. When did that happen?…

“Am I?” He asked, his voice a bit quieter. He looked up towards Hotch again through his dark lashes, and Hotch’s hand slowly came over to rest on his thigh. And the worst part was that it wasn’t unwelcome either.

“You are,” Hotch clarified, his own voice dropping as that hand slowly slid up and up and up to the juncture of his hip and thigh, and then back down to his knee where it squeezed just slightly. Reid’s eyes followed the movement very closely, his tongue flicking out over his lips. He downed the rest of his wine, and Hotch’s hand gently took the glass from him, setting it aside in favor of touching Reid again.

“We shouldn’t, Hotch,” he said, finding his voice eventually even if it was nearly a whisper. His hand came over top of Hotch’s on his leg, but Hotch didn’t waver at all. “What about Hailey?”

“What about her?” Hotch murmured, and the young doctor gasped in surprise as Aaron’s lips attached to his neck, suckling gently and trailing kisses up to the curve of his jaw, nearing his chin.

“She’s your wife,” Spencer reminded through quiet hums, and Hotch’s hot breath exhaled over his collarbones as he sighed.

“Forget about her,” Aaron murmured, rising his head up and cupping Spencer’s cheek with a warm palm. “Only think about me.”

The second their lips connected, Spencer felt all previous apprehension and hesitance leave his body. He was caught up in a whirlwind of desire and Aaron Hotchner, and although it scared him, he couldn’t back out now. This was happening, and Spencer was enjoying it far too much to even think of pulling away now. Hotch’s lips were warm against his own, and despite his own inexperience, he was guided through his first kiss very carefully and slowly, and he never knew that it could be that nice. “Come here,” he heard in a whisper, and Spencer instantly slid closer, Aaron’s hands leading him gently on top of him. Spencer’s legs straddled Aaron’s lap, and he looked down from his newly elevated position at Aaron’s face. Aaron looked more pleased than ever, his dark eyes locked onto his face while his hands found purchase over his bony hips.

A hand rose to his chin, gripping it gently and bringing him down so that their lips could meet once more. It was brief at first, just a gentle pressure, but soon it turned into something much more. Reid shuffled above Hotch as they kissed, and he moaned into the other man’s mouth as their hips slotted together, their arousals evident to one another. Hotch pulled back slowly, not saying a word as a hand danced down the column of buttons on his shirt, and one by one, they were undone and his chest was bared. Spencer shivered at the warm hands that touched his cool skin, and he felt more alive than he had in a long, long time. A muted moan burned in his throat as fingers flicked over his nipples and pinched the sensitive buds, and Aaron rumbled in laughter beneath him. “Sensitive, hm?” He murmured teasingly, and the younger man bit his lip, nodding his head frantically.

“A-A little…” Spencer confessed embarrassedly, his hands gripping onto Hotch’s shoulders. Hotch didn’t respond immediately, running his fingers over every inch of his torso before stopping suddenly. A hand came to his neck, the thumb brushing over his jaw.

“Bedroom?” He suggested, and despite the moral contradiction raging on inside of Spencer’s head, he nodded his head.

It felt wrong, to be laying half naked in Hotch’s bed where he slept with his wife. But his mind was taken elsewhere as a hand swiftly undid his pants and slipped inside to pay attention to the heat built up in his groin. Spencer moaned as that hand cupped his arousal, and he gazed up at Hotch, pupils blown wide with lust and kiss-swollen lips parted erotically. Hotch must have liked what he saw, because he loomed over him and bowed his head for their lips to meet once more, his hand fondling his cock through the wet fabric of his boxers.

“Oh god,” Spencer heard himself breathe, the friction of his boxers over the head of his erection enough to send him over the edge. He whimpered, evidence of his climax now coating the inside of his boxers. His face glowed red in embarrassment, but Hotch didn’t view him with any negative judgement. Instead, he smiled and slipped his hand out of his pants, stroking down his side and letting his fingers dip into every indent of his ribcage. Spencer panted quietly, looking away to hide his shame.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“Don’t apologize,” Hotch said without missing a beat, licking his lips, “You are gorgeous, Spencer.”

Spencer’s eyes widened a bit, and he grasped onto the front of Hotch’s shirt to drag him upwards, craving his attention once more. He had yet to initiate a kiss on his own, but he did this time, and while it was a bit sloppy, it was still passionate. Hotch didn’t seem to mind either, moving to take off Reid’s pants and soiled underwear. He pushed them over the edge of the bed before returning his focus to Spencer’s now bare body. They both moved back from the kiss, and the young doctor pouted a bit beneath Aaron, his lanky legs spreading almost on instinct while his arms dropped to rest over his head. “I don’t like being the only one naked,” he hummed, and Aaron chuckled, leaning in to kiss his cheek almost affectionately.

“I guess we’ll have to change that then,” he mumbled, sitting up on his knees between Spencer’s thighs and slipped his shirt off over his head, his toned abdomen making Spencer feel so small yet again. Hotch’s pants and underwear soon followed, and Spencer bashfully looked over Aaron’s body, his own insignificance shining through to him, although he didn’t bother to voice it. It was too humiliating, and he was just glad that Aaron didn’t seem to think of him that way.

“It’s never too late to say no, Reid,” Hotch reminded him gently but sternly, running a hand up his leg, from his calf to his thigh, and letting it rest there steadily.

“I don’t want to say no,” Spencer admitted, and that was enough for Hotch. He reached over into the bedside table, withdrawing a gold-packaged condom and a bottle of lube. Hotch wasted no time in squirting the lube over his fingers, smirking slightly at Reid as they slipped between his legs. A digit circled his puckered entrance and Spencer gasped at the sensation, looking up at Hotch nervously. Hotch didn’t say anything, but he made sure to maintain eye contact between the two of them. Spencer realized then that this was so much more than a measly one-night stand. This was genuine affection, and Hotch’s gentleness and concern for his wellbeing made him aware of that. That didn’t mean this was any less wrong.

A finger slipped in slowly, twirling against his tight walls in hopes of helping him relax. Spencer took a deep, shaky breath, exhaling slowly to aid that process, and soon, one finger turned into two. Aaron’s other hand had raised to his cock by then, pumping him slowly while his fingers scissored open his hole. Spencer was not a quiet man in bed, he had learned. He was very vocal, very responsive, and that seemed to egg Hotch on more.

A third finger breached his entrance soon thereafter, a breathless moan passing Reid’s lips. Hotch brought one of his legs over his shoulder, pressing kisses to the side of his kneecap while his fingers slid in and out of his ass with audible wet noises. Before Reid could slip over the edge again, Hotch’s hand stilled and he withdrew his fingers, his tight body barely letting them go. Hotch leaned down to press their lips together once more, their foreheads knocking together gently. “Are you ready?” Aaron asked in a whisper, and Spencer quickly bobbed his head yes without even considering the consequences. Aaron made him feel real, and he never wanted that to go away.

It was more painful than Spencer had remembered. His body fell apart in Aaron’s hands, his walls stretching around the other man’s cock as he bottomed out within him. Spencer was already a panting mess, their eyes never straying from one another.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Hotch breathed against his lips, giving Spencer all the time in the world to adjust the intrusion. Spencer had no idea sex could be this good, but Aaron’s constant praises probably had something to do with his new realization. They lazily kissed each other while giving the pain time to subside, and when it did, Spencer’s hand came up to Hotch’s face. The older man instantly moved to press his face further into his palm.

“Move,” Spencer breathed, and Hotch’s hips instantly began to rock back and forth at a slow, steady rhythm, his cock slipping in and out of his body with little resistance. This wasn’t mindless sex. This was love, existing between the two of them at degrees unquantifiable by mere human tools. It was perfect, and Spencer tried to imagine the rest of his life without experiencing this moment. His lips parted, moans slipping from him effortlessly as Aaron picked up the pace, moving much quicker than before and essentially turning Spencer’s brain to mush. This was almost heaven, and even though he was being fucked by a married man, he wouldn’t have it any other way, because this was close as he could get to heaven.

“Aaron… Touch me Aaron,” he begged in between his cries of pleasure, his voice reaching octaves unheard before. Aaron’s hand wrapped around his weeping cock once more, and that was pretty much the breaking point. Less than two minutes later, he was coming hard, sobbing out loud as his release spurted over Aaron’s fingers and onto his own belly. Hotch continued his own movements, gradually growing sporadic while his own grunts and groans grew in volume. Soon, he reached his own climax, milking himself in Spencer’s tightened passage for several thrusts. He pressed kisses across Spencer’s face, their lips meeting on several occasions until he rode out his orgasm, slipping out unceremoniously. He rolled the condom off of his softening cock, reaching over for a few tissues to clean up his younger partner.

He laid down after and gathered the younger man in his arms, a hand rubbing up and down his back. “Good… That was really good,” the older man murmured lowly into his hair, now damp with sweat. Spencer was faced with the realization of his actions, his eyes wide and watery, the emotions coming in shockwaves. Despite this, he huddled further into Hotch’s chest, the older man falling asleep shortly after. The overwhelming feelings of guilt and despair manifested in his very being, tightening his throat and collapsing his lungs until he was caught in a silent fit of sobs besides his temporary lover’s sleeping form.

This wouldn’t last.

It wouldn’t be forever, but perhaps it was never meant to be.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #heid #hotch x reid

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saitamaandmanakoblog · 3 years

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Manako’s PTSD: The Hero Training Test: 2/2

ZombieMan didn’t know why, but she got the distinct impression that the monster was apologizing for something more than her breakdown. Regardless, he wasn’t about to let his coworkers see her like this, so he took an alternate route to Doctors office.

“Oh dear.” She said the moment she saw ZombieMan with an injured monster passed out in his arms. The monster had a death grip on him even though she’s asleep.

“Testing accident ended up triggering some sort of flashback.” ZombieMan explained. “She didn’t recognize me, and asked if her gang is ok.”

She thinks that I was Mikey and asked if Foapy,MooMoo And Vend was ok.

“Strange…” Her brows furrowed before she turned to tend to his injuries. Manako was barely able to tear the monsters from his arms, and when he did, the she whimpered lightly.

“Mmm She seems very attached to who ever is making her feel safe.” “That’s probably because Saitama always has Bright Light in his pouch.”

“I have to inform the other minister about this development.” He sighed. “Call me when she wakes up. If she’s still in the flashback, I should be able to bring her out of it unless Caped Boldi is here.”

“Right. Thank you for the heads up.”

With that, ZombieMan closed the door behind him. Ugh, today was mess up already. He shook his head. He still had to deal with SweetMask. But first, he needed to inform the other Staff of the now obvious PTSD that Manako had. Ask how Saitama deal with her all the time.

He sent off a quick text to his coworkers. Luckily, it was most everyone’s free period, so Silver Fang, Agoni, the Bearded Workers, The Branch Operator, Bespectacled Workers and Console Operator were all in the Staff Room. He’d have to inform Sekingar of the situation later.

“ZombieMan ? What’s wrong, I thought you were observing the heroes?” Sekingar eyes flashed in concern when he noted the dust and blood on his outfit.

“There was an incident. SweetMask disobeyed a direct order and used an attack of lethal force on Manako.” The room stiffened. “She’s fine. Somehow Bright Light managed to dodge the collapsing building , but her leg got hit pretty badly. She’s in the Doctors Office, now. But the attack triggered a flashback. I was only barely able to pull her out of it.”

“A flashback?” Silver Fang asked in concern.

“She was talking about hearing ‘Mobs’ nearby, and her eyes were tracking invisible enemies. Bright Light was so quiet I almost didn’t find her. But she seemed to recognize me as someone else.” His brows knitted together in concern.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Sekingar asked.

“That’s the thing. She called me ‘Mikey’, and only reacted when I called her by her given name.”

“That’s… strange.” Agoni conceded.

“She also asked about ‘Foap’, ‘MooMoo’, and Vent’.” ZombieMan looked at Silver Fang and Sekingar, She came back to herself before she passed out, but if anything happens again and I’m not around, I think you two could manage to pull her out of a flashback if Saitama is not around, also maybe King too but he’s outside with the other heroes.”

“That’s actually very concerning, having to have Bright Light call me by her friends name.”Unknown scratched her head.

“Do you two know her outside of Hero Work?” Silver Fang asked.

“Yes, we befriended each other after I helped her down from a tree.”

(Manako was being bullied and got hang by a tree, while Child Emperor ask ZombieMan for help.)

“I think we should all keep a closer eye on her. Any idea what specifically triggered it?” Staff A asked.

“Ah… maybe I can answer that question.” TG said, coming into the room. ZombieMan glanced at the clock—it was already the end of the day. “Before the start of the match Bright Light came up to me and confessed that she had bad reactions to crashes and loud noises. I assumed Bright Light was uncomfortable, and said that she was going to talk to Mike or Saitama at the end of the week about it. She wanted to switch partners, but…”

“But you made her face SweetMask anyways.” Silver Fang pinched the bridge of his nose.

“How irresponsible.” Agoni tutted. “Didn’t you read the Hero’s Handbook?”

“Handbook?” TG questioned, causing the entire room to groan.

“Here.” Zekingar chucked the handbook almost hitting his face. “Certain staffs or Ministers is required to have that memorized before even setting foot in a Hero Training Test Room or some certain kind of Office .” He crossed his arms.

“Page twenty-five talks about what to do when a Hero who’s suspected of having a traumatic experience in the past confesses a possible trigger.” Zekingar stated dryly, sending TG a mild glare of his own. “In short, you excuse a hero from the situation that could re-traumatize them, and inform their homeroom coworkers privately before informing the rest of the staff.”

“In this case, you would’ve given her a different opponent and kept a closer eye on him while she observed SweetMask’s fight.” Silver Fang stepped in. “Immediately after the test, you would’ve informed me or someone else of the situation, before I informed the rest of the staff to prevent re-traumatizing her.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” ZombieMan sighed. “You can apologize to Bright Light later after Miss.Doctor and Saitama have cleared her. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a rebellious brat to discipline.” He paused in the doorway. “Silver Fang , I think you or Zekingar should go see if Bright Light is okay. She’ll probably respond better to you two than anyone else right now.” He sent them meaningful looks and the two smiled.

“I’ll go. The Little monster is growing on me.” Silver Fang grinned, heading out the door, closing it behind him with a soft click.

“I’ll inform King” Silver Fang sighed.

“Thank you.”

Time Skip

ZombieMan sighed as he watched SweetMask leave the office. His punishment was light, in Agoni’s opinion, but there wasn’t much they could do for a 1 S Class Hero. So he’d be on restriction for 3 weeks. Allowed to participate in his concert activities while attending Spas when ever he likes.

He looked up when the door opened. Child Emperor had wanted to speak with Manako regarding the incident, and had Flashy Flash and Silver Fang accompany him up to the office. He was bandaged, and had a light scratches, but looked fine otherwise. He looked a little tired, but that was probably from the stress of the crumbling building while Flashy Flash tried to save both of their lives.

“You feeling better?” ZombieMan asked, and the monster nodded. He didn’t miss the way kid relaxed when he saw Manako sitting there. The boy was unusually attached to Bright Light, and once of his life he couldn’t figure out why.

“Welcome, Child Emperor. Please have a seat.” ZombieMan motioned, and Silver Fang stood to leave.

“A-actually, You three can stay if you want?” Bright Light spoke up, and Flashy Flash sat back down. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. He saw the expression mirrored on the other two heroes’ faces.

“I understand that you had quite the experience today. I wanted to apologize for you getting hurt.” ZombieMan said.

“Oh, that’s not your fault. SweetMask’s always has a strong hate towards Monsters off handedly. “I’d have to be more careful if I’d had new who I was sparing, but that’s my fault for not doing my research.”

ZombieMan stared. This monster is surprisingly mature.

“Either way,” Silver Fang, handing a cup of tea to the monster, who took it gratefully. “I’d like to know what exactly triggered your flashback earlier. To prevent any future setbacks, and to keep you on the right track, you need to inform us of any major trauma in your past.”

“W-wait… you mean I’m not getting kicked out of the Hero Association?” She blinked in shock.

Child Emperor startled. “Of course you aren’t.” He stated. “Bright Light, nine out of ten heroes have PTSD or something similar. It comes with the job. To disqualify a hero hopeful for something you’ll likely get anyways is illogical. But we can help you with it before Saitama picks you up.”

She relaxed substantially, and Flashy Flash wondered if that had been weighing on her this entire time. Was she worried about Saitama getting worried?

“I’m sorry. I just…”

“It’s okay, Bright Light . We’re here to help you.” Silver Fang spoke up, and Bright Light sent him a small gentle smile. There was a tinge of sorrow there, though, and he noticed that Manako’s hands are shaking grasping her outfit, like she’s trying to not feel uncomfortable or Nervous.

“I… Part of it is collapsing buildings that reminds me of collapsing caves sometimes. And the smell of decaying bodies… and unfortunately, the burning smell of used TNT 🧨 and whatever else was in a cave mines happened to smell similar enough to, um… well… a building or loud noises and screams but that barely triggers me sometimes.”

Dead bodies?! Child Emperor stiffened, along with the other heroes. What kind of situation had this Monster been through? As far as he knew, The Monster Association must have mess up Manako a lot…, and also the part that it’s hard to find good information or records indicating anything about Monster Association.

Though it was possible that something had happened during that time where the whole world didn’t know about the monsters existed and then no one bothered to document it due to her being a Monster status in the current society. As much as Silver Fang hated it, some people just didn’t care about the civilians monsters who was not part of the evil Monster Association. Also the part that 3/100 monsters are evil instead of good ones like Manako, good monsters barely exist.

“Mostly, the biggest thing is silent or being alone when I don’t feel safe.” She spoke quietly, and Silver Fang noticed it now. He shifted in his seat. He did that in Hero Meeting, too. The monster was always making some kind of small, quiet noise. “The silence with the following creepy sounds or threatening sound are the worst. They tend to scare me or send me into…”

“Flashbacks.” ZombieMan finished for her.

“Yeah. So you saw that?” She winced.

“Yes. Nobody else did, But you did call me Mikey thought.” Manako flinched lightly.

“I-I’m sorry, sir. I meant no offense.”

“I’m not offended, just curious.”

The look on the Manako’s face told him that she was embarrassed, and ashamed. But her eyes told Silver Fang a different story. Grief, regret, anger, loss. The emotions were overwhelming and Flashy Flash looked away, feeling like he was violating some part of the monster privacy just by reading Manako’s eyes. It’s not a open book 📖 but he did catch a few things from that look.

“Can you explain what kind of experience brought on this trauma?” ZombieMan asked gently.

“I…” The monster looked out of the window beside Child Emperor for a moment, and ZombieMan was briefly afraid that she’d fallen into another flashback. “I lost some humans or Monsters very dear to me. It when the Monsters Associated found out that I was being friends on the enemies side… there was this terrible silence afterwards…” She gently touched her right arm. “I’ll never forget that screams. I had to choose to ditch the plans or continue plan B since she wanted to distract the others, but…” Manakos hand clenched, and ZombieMan knew what had happened. Manako had been forced to choose between two options that were precious to her. Likely, if Manako had stayed and ditch plan B and try to help the other, all of her gang would be dead. This Monster was way too young to have an experience like that. To have to make that kind of choice…

Child Emperor looked ready to cry, and Silver Fang looked heartbroken. Even Flashy Flash looked mildly disturbed, though he quickly masked it before Manako could notice.

At the very least, Bright Light already had what it took to be a Hero/Sidekick , of that ZombieMan was now certain. Not many people could even make that kind of choice. Flashy Flash took a moment to digest this information.

“Thank you for telling us, Bright Light.

Are you getting help for your trauma at least?”

“I was going to go visit them in the end of the week, after the test.”

“Good, you’ll start those meetings tomorrow during your free time, then.” ZombieMan smiled. “Now, on to the topic originally scheduled for today—the Hero Test.” Manako relaxed almost completely.

If Silver Fang hadn’t seen how tense she was a minute ago, he wouldn’t have suspected anything. It was like she flipped a switch. Manako was way too good at hiding trauma. Looked like the staff needed to up their game.

Before he can say anything else someone Knocked the door 🚪.

“Can I come in? I’m here to take my friend home.”

“Yay! Saitama your back!

Manako ran up and jump to hugged 🫂 Saitama in happiness.

“It’s nice to see you again Saitama.” Silver Fang said in relief.

“Bye everyone!”

Saitama put Manako in his pouch and left with a wave 👋.

....

“I wanted to know how did Bright Light got that Smoke Screen Bomb.” ZombieMan said in disappointment.

The End

#saitama #opm #one punch man #manako #Saitama&manako

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hayleyarts · 4 years

Text

Broken Without You (Jasper Hale x OC) | chapter 1

Author’s note: Hello! i don’t normally post that many stories or much on here but I’ve been working on a Jasper Hale fan-fiction to try and redeem him and show my favourite cowboy vamp some love. Anyways, this story contains swears and will have some graphic scenes referring to mental health and past trauma. I’ll give more specific warnings where they apply. Also, each chapter is inspired by some music; so if you want to listen to that particular song while you read, you can but you don’t necessarily have to :)

Summary: Eleanor Rae lives in a town where there are seemingly no secrets, but what happens when a certain vampire takes an interest in her. She’ll soon find out she’s not the only one with secrets. Will he be able to put her broken pieces back together? Can she fix him in return?

Word count: 2334

Read Part 2 Here

Track 01 - Eleanor Rigby by Alice Cooper

Forks, Washington; the rainiest town in the United States. The benefits of living in a rainy town is the fact that the forests nearby are some of the greenest you’ll ever see. The cons of living in a rainy town as small as this one is how there are no secrets; everyone knows everyone for the most part. Therefore, when people see me: Eleanor Rae, they immediately know my back story. Of course, you’re not from Forks, so how would you know who the hell I am, or what my story is.

The Rae family, also known as my mother Cecilia and myself, lives in a small cottage on the edge of town. Our small, 2-bedroom place is just close enough to town to be considered still in Forks, but with the town being so small, you’re simply ten minutes from all needed amenities. One such amenity is the hospital that my mother works at and the high school I’ve been attending for 2 years. At school I’m known as the strange girl with headphones glued to their head. Everyone has stopped trying to talk with me and try to become my friend, because I’m just ‘too weird’. Outcasts in small towns are rare; no secrets are allowed. Thus, why I envied the Cullen family.

The Cullen’s were a family that became the talk of the town since freshman year of high school mostly because they broke the unwritten rule of small towns; they had secrets. No one knew what these secrets were, but everyone knew there was something they were hiding. The patriarch was the best doctor Forks has ever seen; Dr. Carlisle Cullen. He and his wife manage to take care of six adopted teenage kids; who in their right mind would do that to themselves? Their kids are a completely different anomaly. Even though they are all adoptive siblings, they happen to look extremely similar; blemish free complexion, model-like beauty, and this sense of grace that normal teenagers definitely don’t have. The thing that bothers me the most is that after a year or so, everyone stopped paying close attention to the strange family, but I didn’t. I mean, it’s hard not to when they’re all so beautiful, especially the brother with the wavy golden hair that frames his face perfectly. He was the one I was the most drawn to, and I don’t really know why. There was something about his presence that calmed me; God I wanted to talk to him. But how does one speak to someone as gorgeous as Jasper Cullen?

I climb out of my Jeep, my feet planting on the cement of the parking lot. I look up at the building, sighing softly to myself; Junior Year of high school. A lot of people tend to stress about senior year, but to me, junior year is the one that matters. You need to figure yourself out because next year you’re applying for colleges. If you don’t have yourself figured out before senior year, then you’re royally fucked. I take my time to cross the lot before entering the school; the white tiled floor already scuffed from the various footwear. The lockers remained the same, even some of the posters on the walls were the same. The only thing that really seems to change is the people; some with different haircuts or new clothing. Different people smiling and laughing with new friend groups, some people missing because they moved during the summer. Growth spurts from the now sophomores, and then the completely new group of people that no one from the older grades recognized; the new freshmen. The one thing that stayed the same among the students, is no matter how much they laughed and joked with their friends; at the end of the day, we’re all lonely people.

I follow the flow of people as I make my way to my first class of the day: history. I always dreaded history class because of the teachers that usually instruct the class. Why is it that every boring and/or almost ready to retire man teaches history class? If someone exciting taught the class, I might actually like it more. I arrive to the room, flags of various countries littered over the open door and students were already finding their seats. Luckily the seat in the far back corner by the window was vacant; that’s where I always try to sit. I like that seat because its far enough back that if you doze off in class no one really notices, and if you want to zone out rather than listen to the teacher, then you have the window to stare out of.

Once I sit down, I take the time to pull my supplies out of my bag. All I tend to use is a notebook and pens while everyone else pulls out tablets and laptops; call me old-fashioned. I flip to a fresh page in the notebook when a voice pulls me away from my task. The accent clearly southern and extremely polite.

“Excuse me ma’am, is anyone sitting here?” I look up and I’m immediately met with the eyes that resemble the most expensive topaz gems; glittering underneath the fluorescent lights. He raises a brow as he gestures to the desk adjacent to me, “Ma’am?”

“Yeah… sorry,” I blush, snapping out of my daze, “There’s no one sitting there, go ahead.” He smiles at my answer as he makes himself comfortable, or well, as comfortable you can on a plastic chair. He pulls out his own notebook and pens, preparing for the class that’s about to begin. I couldn’t help myself from admiring his movements. His pale hands move with more grace than I could ever; placing the pens gently down on the wood of the desk, making sure they were ready when needed to take notes. My eyes didn’t stop there; they wandered from his hands to his choice of clothing. It’s not every day you get to sit this close to a member of the Cullen family, I plan on taking advantage of this rare moment. His clothing was simple but coordinated; his grey sweater with brown buttons matching the brown colouring of his dress pants. The one thing that stood out was his choice of footwear: cowboy boots. They were legitimate brown and black leather cowboy boots, and damn did they look worn in.

I snap my eyes away from him before he could notice my staring, paying my attention back to the rain falling outside. Its then when Mr. Henderson stomps in the room and slams his folder down on his desk. He seemed about as thrilled about the first day of school as everyone else in this room. He began his lecture the same as every other first day lecture; the expectations of the class, the policies and rules and what he expects from us as students in his class. This isn’t what I dislike about the first day of school, what I hate are the icebreaker activities that the teachers force you to partake in.

“Okay class, for the rest of the period I’m going to have you and someone next to you discuss the answers to these various questions.” His monotone voice explains while handing out a worksheet covered in various questions. Students quickly pair off, some actually participating in the exercise while others begin discussing what they did during the summer.

“Would you like to be my partner?”

I raise a brow at the southern voice breaking my observations, “What?”

“For the exercise?” He mimics my expression.

“Right… sure.” I blush, chuckling awkwardly.

“I’m Jasper, by the way. Jasper Hale.” He smiles politely.

“Hale?”

He chuckles, “Yeah, my sister Rosalie and I kept our last names.”

I nod, taking in the new information. I had no idea that he had a different last name. I always assumed that because they were adopted by Dr. Cullen, they all had the same last name.

“I’m Eleanor… Eleanor Rae.” I smile, turning to face him, “But my mom calls me Ellie.”

“What do your friends call you?” He raises a brow.

“Um… I guess Ellie?” I shrug, “I don’t really have any friends.” I look down at the worksheet, reading through the questions. Most of them were related to history class, some were about life goals, and school related questions.

“You don’t have friends?” I glance up at him as he asks his question, his brows furrowed.

“Not really. I like to be in my own little world I guess.” I shrug, “Kind-of similar to your family in that way.”

“How is that similar to my family?”

“Well, you and your family keep to themselves, so do I.”

He chuckles, shrugging, “I suppose,” He looks down at the questions, reading the first one off, “What are your goals for after school?”

“Um…” I furrow my brows thinking about the question. What are my plans? I haven’t really started thinking about where exactly I’ll be in roughly two years; after graduation and when I’m supposed to have my life figured out. I hope one of my goals for after I graduate would to attend college and take classes in psychology or philosophy; wanting to learn more about myself in the process. Another goal I eventually want to accomplish is leaving this small town; starting a new life in a new town where no one knows who I am, maybe take some time off and travel the world. Of course, I don’t say any of this to him, instead I respond with, “Probably go to college or something. Get good grades, you know?”

He nods, “That’s what the teachers want us to say.” His face slowly forms a smirk, “I feel like there’s more you want to say.”

I roll my eyes, my own face phasing into a smirk, “Maybe,” I lean closer to him, “But I’d like to hear your answer first.”

He chuckles, “Well, one of my goals is to settle down eventually. Find someone who understands me.”

I blink, “How romantic.” I reply sarcastically with a chuckle.

“Don’t judge darlin’.” He chuckles along with me. His pet-name catches me off guard, the southern drawl dripping from the word, “Now, give me your real answer.”

“Well I’d love to travel, and maybe start a new life somewhere.” I shrug, “Some place where no one knows everyone else.” I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest.

“And you judged my answer.” He raises a brow playfully as I blush.

“Well, both of our answers were cheesy,” I glance back down to the paper with a sigh, “These questions are also lame and cheesy.”

“Then let’s make our own questions.” He retorts, “What…” he pauses to think then continues his question, “What is your favourite movie?”

“Really?”

Jasper laughs, “It’s a valid question. Mine is Pride and Prejudice. Either that or The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.”

I chuckle, thinking about his answers. They’re both older movies, and one an even older novel. To be honest, those movies seem to match him perfectly. He seems like a gentleman kind of guy, and extremely old fashioned in his mannerisms and in the way he speaks. Not only that, but the western matches his god-awful cowboy boots.

“Well, probably Jaws or The Breakfast Club.” I shrug, “I’ve seen both of them too many times to count so they’re probably my favourites.”

He nods at my response, “Both excellent movies. Very different though.”

I blink, “Well, your mood changes therefore the things you enjoy watching or listening to at any given moment doesn’t necessarily stay the same.”

He narrows his eyes at my words. It was like he was surprised by my answer, and that he knew something I didn’t know. He didn’t say anything to my answer, but I could tell he wanted to. He fell silent as the class continues to have their various discussions; his golden eyes shifting from group to group.

“What’s your favourite colour?” His eyes snap back to me at my question.

“It changes all the time.” He smirks, his answer mimicking mine from previously.

“Well what is it today?” I smirk back, raising a brow. I watch as his eyes look around the room, as if to find the answer throughout the room.

After what feels like hours, his eyes finally land on my own, “Probably green.” I blush, looking away from him, letting my dark hair fall in front of my green hued eyes. I didn’t know why he was trying to flirt with me, I mean… I’m me. Why on earth would Jasper Cull–Hale want anything to do with me? “What’s your favourite?” He tries to get me to look back at him.

“Red or burgundy.” I mumble, glancing up at the clock; only five more minutes of class left, and, in this moment, I wasn’t sure if I wanted these last five minutes to last forever, or be finished in seconds. Jasper makes me feel differently and I’m not sure if I can pin-point why.

“Why those?” He raises a brow. I’ve never pondered why I liked the warm colour before. Maybe it was because it symbolized various emotions like passion, love or anger. Maybe I liked the colour red because when I wear red garments of clothing, it complements my pale complexion well. Or maybe it’s because it reminds me of the red flowers in my mother’s garden outside our cottage home; roses, dahlias, and peonies planted in various patterns.

When the bell rang, signalling the end of class, I only then realized that I didn’t answer the question; thinking of an answer quickly as I gather my supplies so I could move to my next class in my schedule, “Probably because it’s familiar.” I mumble as I leave the class. I only take a moment to glance back at him momentarily; seeing his confused expression before I join the sea of other students in the hallway.

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #jasper hale #jasper hale x oc #jasper hale fanfiction #twilight renessaince #twilight reimagined #writing #creative writing #fanfiction #oc

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ammunitionist · 4 years

Text

hi gay people! more andyeddie fic from me. i wasn’t inspired enough to illustrate a scene again, so i offer just a lazy graphic this time. enjoy!

“I never liked church.”

Hillbilly cracks an eye to see Ack Ack looking up at the moon, arms crossed over his chest. Something like a smile has the corners of his lips twisted upwards. He seems almost amused by the confession, unbothered at the least. “My parents would pale to hear me say it, but I can’t honestly remember a single time I woke up on Sunday with anything but obligation to get me out of bed.”

[whole fic under the cut | ao3 link here]

“Do y’ever think about God?”

The sentence is offered up late, asininity excusable as a symptom of their shared exhaustion. Hillbilly has that habit, unfortunate though it may be. While unaffected by most things that would lay an average man flat, Edward Jones is still mournfully human, and therein left to flounder in the hands of fatigue.

The words come out in a quasi-slur, his lips obeying him to their barest capacity, like they truly do not care whether or not he’s comprehensible. His head is an iron weight against the palm tree behind him, dragging him down into what he could only imagine to be blissful respite. He can’t bend, though-- that would be equal parts unbecoming and dangerous.

“Not any more than I have to, Lieutenant.”

Ack Ack’s response is, as most things about him are, measured to the tenth. He can’t possibly feel any more awake than Hillbilly does- though the two of them can’t collectively muster up ten hours of sleep since landing on Peleliu, Hillbilly easily has the larger slice.

“Why do you ask?” the blond follows up, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. It reminds Eddie remarkably of his childhood, of being sat bashfully on the couch, of being expected to submit his childish transgressions for their according switch-to-the-back.

He grunts, noncommittal, letting his eyes fall shut and carry him away for a mere moment. This close to sleep, anything more than blinking drags his whole consciousness down the curve of his spine. Something akin to vertigo hits when he forces them open again, his head lurching forward like he’d somehow been knocked upside the skull.

“Nothin’,” he manages, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Jus’ been thinkin’.”

“There hasn’t been much time for that recently,” Ack Ack comments, his head momentarily dipping between his wrists. His blond hair flashes silver in the moonlight, and Hillbilly has an odd momentary glimpse of what he would look like as an old man. Still handsome, probably, with those blue eyes and that genial smile. Age couldn’t take much from those who have in excess. “What with the- you know.”

Eddie nods wearily. He knows exactly what Ack Ack is referring to. Neither of them want to go through the complete inanity of repeating it. War in shorthand, Peleliu in more detail, crossing that airfield under duress with no water if they really want to waste their breath. Still, Hillbilly doesn’t bother with the reiteration. They were both there for it anyway.

“I been thinkin,” Hillbilly starts again, because he’s just too tired to keep his goddamn mouth shut. “Thinkin’ ‘bout the place I went as a kid.”

“The church?”

Eddie nods again. His mouth’s just slightly dry, but they finally have water again, so it’s no transgression to reach for his canteen and bring it to his lips. The liquid sounds strange, a loose hollow noise inside the metal container, but it’s the taste that he notices more. The same metallic taste of military water, consistent for nearly a decade of service. Wars change, enemies change, but the water and the bullets-

They just don’t bother to make them any different.

“It was- it was near the edge’a town.” he manages, images from when he was young barely impressioned on the inside of his eyelids like faded photographs. “Big white thing. Ugly as sin, ‘s funny as that is.”

Ack Ack sits back against his pack, arms crossed over his broad chest. He hasn’t said anything, and he hasn’t looked away, so Hillbilly takes it as an audience. He doesn’t really expect Andy to give a shit about what he’s saying- he really doubts it makes any sense anyway- but those blue eyes are still on him, so he keeps going.

“My old man grew up w’ our preacher. Made everything worse, in a way.”

The second sentence slips out unchecked. Made everything worse, implying that it was bad in the first place. Eddie’s almost too exhausted to catch it, but once he does, the little shock of adrenaline is the only tick he needs to send his brain into overdrive. There’s no virtue in worrying- Ack Ack has long since passed knowing and moved into participating in Hillbilly’s sin- but for a moment, exhaustion makes him forget his audience, and the repercussions are there before he can reign himself in. His heart rails against his ribcage hard in the second before he can contain it, traitor as it is. He expects to look up and find his display utterly foreign to Ack Ack, spread out open and messy like a dissected, rotted corpse.

Instead, Andy shifts backwards and nods, understanding, like his daddy was an Appalachian fire-and-brimstone drinker just like Eddie’s. Hillbilly squints and tries, hard, to imagine Andy growing up where he did, with a father just like his. A shock of blond hair bobbing up and down in the churchyard, too thin and straight to cover the bruising on his browbone. His curls may be a bother sometimes, but at least they were dark enough back then to blend in with bloomed flesh. As long as he kept his head down in school (which was fine, he didn't pretend to be smart back then either) and in church (s’ respectful, anyway, keep yer goddamn head down in the Lord’s house) nobody asked little Eddie Jones what on earth happened to his eye.

“I never liked church.”

Eddie blinks. He had never processed the ability to dislike church outright. Sure, nobody liked it, but you went and you shut the hell up about it. You let Father Fucking-Whoever get up in your face, spittle flying, and tell you and yours that being a queer meant going to hell. You took it.

“Huh,” Hillbilly says. He can’t muster anything else.

“You asked about God, though.” Ack Ack readjusts his head to be looking at Eddie, the tiredness in them manifesting in a gaze that seems to almost look through him. “Why do you want to know if I think about God, Hillbilly?”

He feels pinned. There’s nowhere to run, and the adrenaline from earlier had more or less banished the true exhaustion from his system. The question was stupid when he could blame it on fatigue, but now he had to answer more or less lucid. Cruel fates, or something.

“B’cause I do.” he confesses. The words pour forth in sick gospel. “I do, n’ I know he hates me.”

Andy frowns, like he can’t fathom someone hating Hillbilly for any reason. It stings, in some strange way.

“Why?” he asks, in a hushed tone that makes Eddie’s blood run molten for just a split second.

“Oh, I think you fuckin’ know.” he shoots back bitterly. Ack Ack isn’t stupid. He’s been an active participant in the reason Eddie will inevitably end up down below for months now, though he can’t quite fathom a man like Andy joining him there. That doesn’t matter, though- they’re both fuckin queers, down to the bones of it. Faggots are sinners and sinners go to hell. It’s primary school logic.

The silence that follows almost makes him want to apologize. He slides his eyes shut and waits for the inevitable reprimand.

Instead, the quiet sound of movement warns him just before Andy is settling at his side. His head tucks tidily away in the joint between Eddie’s jaw and shoulder, and Eddie’s not fag enough to say it fits like a puzzle piece, but he definitely, definitely has to stifle the thought.

“I don’t think it matters what God thinks of us.” he says plainly, voice oddly quieter with Hillbilly to his back. “He isn’t going to get us for a good long while.”

Eddie can’t even grunt at that.

“And even when he does,” Andy carries on, tone slurring in the precursor of sleep. Eddie’s hand compulsively finds its way onto Andy’s scalp, wanting very little more than to compel his captain to rest.

“I don’t think you and I will be the worst he’s ever seen.”

#I FORGOT TO TAG HAHA #hbo war #the pacific #andyeddie #andrew ack ack haldane #edward hillbilly jones #fic

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jewpacabruhs · 5 years

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one of my biggest criticisms of the fandom that i feel goes ignored a lot of times is the fact that liane deserves to get fucked. she's neglected eric in all aspects ever since he was born, and has been an ACTIVE participant in his sexual abuse (ep1 where he talks about being forced to dance in front of her and a man having sex in her room). if the fandom stopped ignoring that i'd be sooo happy.

,,,,i agree w this mostly but "deserves to get fucked" was strange wording considering her,, hobbies & interests jfjdjdkf but anyway tbh even as a diehard cartman stan, i feel for liane. she's from a lower class family, might've been abused herself, definitely didn't get enough attention or had a promiscuous family member or friend she began to emulate, and at some point developed some kind of drug problem. then she fucked up and had a kid, shit happens, and now she's stuck as a single mother with too much on her plate when she seems to have a hard enough time taking care of herself, let alone eric. doesn't help that she's ostracized by the community, and her son is similarly alienated by who his mother is and who he's become.

abusers don't deserve sympathy, even ones who've been abused themselves, because they choose to spread their pain to others (though admittedly sometimes people subconsciously replicate things) - but i can empathize with liane, because she hasn't had it easy. her issues spilled onto her offspring, and it's tragic, but it's,,, well, it's life. and it's an important part of cartman that makes him all the more complex and sympathetic. i do think liane loves him, she's just selfish and immature and likely broken herself, and cartman does love her too, though i feel that as he ages, he'll become resentful towards her. they have a really fucked up codependent relationship man. tragic shit.

it does sadden me that people, especially antis, seem to ignore or disregard cartman's trauma and how badly it's impacted his current state of mind. if i can empathize with liane, people should be able to empathize with cartman, especially when he's a child who hasn't irrevocably ruined another person's life yet.

#and especially when im bad at empathy jfkskf #like yall rlly showin ur colors #kyle's not a victim ... cartman is 😔#anon #answered #csa tw #abuse tw

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annashipper · 6 years

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JT Anon - You can't actually lock babies and Alzheimers patients in rooms all day

I know that the Alzheimers anon was lying, but i just wanted to use their ask to point out why bens stories about travel and skype sessions have to be lies

So let me get this straight nonny, YOU had a dad w Alzheimers, and you sat on Skype for hours so you could catch some lucid moments? So where was your father staying? At home w your mom or in a care centre? Did you all agree to keep him locked in a room like a prisoner so you could sit and stare at him through a computer camera and “feel closer”. When was this nonny? ‘Cause you know locking away patients in rooms who have degenerative brains disorders is actually not how health care treats those issues anymore. If anything, it would have the potential to make your father worse. I won’t bore you by discussing a generalised daily activities care plan for situations like that (I’ve had family members), but I can assure you “lock in bedroom so child can stare at through skype and maybe get a few lucid moments” is not on there

Just like Benedicts stories about skype and traveling w his kids. its all not possible and its lies. We know its lies because the alternative is cruel or crazy or both

I think ben has spent so little time w babies that he really just thinks “babies = in crib all day”. I don’t think Ben realised that a 5month old baby being forced to sit either in someones lap for skype, or being confined to one room and observed through a camera for 5 hours is actually cruel. Babies have feed schedules and play schedules and tummy time and naps and have to go out for fresh air and sun and go to different environments to be stimulated. The type of parents who would keep a 5month old baby confined to a room and on camera the way ben is suggesting he did are the types of parents who would get investigated.

Was this 5month old left alone in the room to crawl around unsupervised? Or did Sophie sit in the room with the baby? Leaving the baby alone in a locked room so ben could stare at it for 5 hours is…well you get the abusive and neglectful and in need of child services picture.

Sophie sitting in the room w the baby for 5 hours? what? she doesn’t work? does she go to the grocery store? is this part of their deal, Sophie must stay in a room for 5 hours so ben can stare at his kids? does she get potty breaks? who walks these whippet dogs? do they hire help so Sophie can participate in her “sit in a room for 5 hours w cameras on her” sessions?

I mean, the only other time would be if ben was starting at his child sleeping for 5 hours at night. If thats the case, then ben is teetering on the edge of losing his mind, and I completely mean that. Any parent who has to be away from their child sitting and staring at their kid sleeping all night has something seriously wrong w them. you know it and i know. there is missing your kids, and there is mentally unstable (and before you get on my case about using these words, i whole heartedly mean it. If anyone told me they were staring at their kids all night at they slept, I would be so concerned about their mental health i would be speaking to their family members. Then again, if they were requiring their spouse to either lave their 5 month old locked unsupervised in a room so he could watch them, or sit in a room for 5 hours so he could watch them, I would have other concerns)

Finally, didn’t ben JUST say he has NEVER been away from his kids for more than a week? or a weekend?

Soo….when were these skype sessions? why? why on earth would he need these skype sessions if he was having dinner with them that night? Again, if he was only away from his kids for a few days….and what…within 48 hours had to stare at them on a camera for 5 hours..10 hours out of that 48…while working..sleeping. That would be the actions of someone in need of serious help

As far as the travelling goes, again, its just an example of it being not possible and lies, or hes cruel.

I read somewhere that Matt Damon has it in his contract that he gets to go home for 2 weeks to his kids if he has to be gone for 2 weeks. If a celebrity is having children for anything other than the People Magazine cover, thats what they do to see them

To disrupt a Childs home life, sched. comfort, safety, sleep sched etc etc. all at times when routine is super important to their feeling safe and secure and development is cruel and selfish, and frankly, just not realistic

A celebrity who has children for the love and want of children, and not as publicity stunts arrange their sched to spend more time at home. they don’t cart their kids around the globe. its so unnecessarily unkind to your kids when he has the means to adjust his life for whats best for them

Bens stories, much like nonnys dad story, are not possible and are just simply lies, because taking ben at his word is accepting that he is cruel with his children and may be not super mentally table.

I don’t believe Benedict is a cruel, selfish, erratic parent personally. Do you nonny?

J will now Skype Anna at her office for 5 hours just to stare at her working. T anon

I feel so close to you Anna…so…close *twilight theme music*

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

*nervous laughter*

youtube

Just a quick note for JT and the many people who have indicated the same notion to me about this:

“Finally, didn’t ben JUST say he has NEVER been away from his kids for more than a week? or a weekend?”

He did JT, but he specified his family started following him around the world for work after Pilo 2.0 was born last March.

The skyping sessions were before that, while he was working on Doctor Strange in 2015. Meanwhile, it’s 4-hour skype sessions and not 5. And that makes ALL the difference.

*goes back to laughing nervously and contemplating whether the laptop would burn to a fine crisp or just melt*

#JT anon

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Before GameStop, Wall Street Kid for NES Taught Gamers About the Stock Market

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If you haven’t been following the simply incredible story involving the WallStreetBets subreddit using GameStop stocks to beat hedge funds and large investors at their own game (and make a bundle in the process) I highly recommend you start doing so. This bizarre saga isn’t over, and it will likely have repercussions that will be discussed for years to come.

While many of you probably didn’t expect to learn so much about the inner working of the stock market thanks to the suddenly surging stock price of a video game company left for dead, this is hardly the first time that the stock market and video games have crashed at a strange crossroads. After all, 1989’s Wall Street Kid for the NES practically existed to teach young gamers about the stock market.

Yes, there was a stock market video game released for the NES, and let me assure you now that it is somehow far more bizarre than you’re already imagining.

Developed by technology company SOFEL, Wall Street Kid is essentially the spiritual successor to the company’s previous release, Casino Kid. Of course, while that game taught kids how to gamble, Wall Street Kid taught kids how to gamble, but with stocks.

As a tool designed to teach kids about the stock market, Wall Street Kid is lacking. The basic gameplay sees you navigate a series of menus that show you your available funds, current stock prices, advice from industry insiders, and a few helpful hints about the stock market. There’s very little actual gameplay to speak of beyond choosing which stocks to buy and sell each day while occasionally spending your money and making the most of your limited downtime.

The game tries to spice things up by throwing you price curveballs based on what you’ve already bought and sold (thus fulfilling its obligation of being a sometimes unnecessarily difficult NES game), but as long as you stick to a basic “buy low, sell high” strategy and diversify your investments a little, you should be fine.

If Wall Street Kid were nothing but its menu-based gameplay, then I’d honestly be struggling to find a reason to talk about it now even during this unique time. However, the things that make Wall Street Kid so weird and memorable are found in the surprising amount of effort that developer SOFEL put into everything besides the gameplay.

It starts with the story. Yes, Wall Street Kid has a story, and it begins when Larry the lawyer informs you that your distant uncle Benedict has just passed away (thus fulfilling the “dead relative” part of any great RPG origin story). Seconds after delivering this potentially devastating news with a smirk on his mug, he tells you that as his only surviving relative, you now have the chance to inherit over “$600 billion in assets.”

Hold up. How was that the number the developers came up with? According to an inflation calculator, $600 billion in 1989 is roughly equivalent to over $1.25 trillion today. In 1989, the richest person in the world (John Werner Kluge) had an estimated net worth of “only” $5.6 billion. What was your uncle doing? Was he actually the GDP of Taiwan in a coat? How is it even possible that a small army of people wasn’t looking for ways to turn his corpse into a gravy train the moment that he hit the floor as a result of what I’m going to assume were suspicious circumstances or the aftermath of a party on cocaine island?

Remarkably, that absurd figure isn’t the strangest part of this conversation. The lawyer goes on to tell you that in order to inherit the money, you must “prove yourself” by taking $500,000 and using it to turn a profit in the stock market. More than that, though, you’re told you must “uphold the Benedict standard of living” by “pampering your sweetheart” and “moving into a decent $1 million house.” You’ll have one month to buy the house, but ultimately, your goal is to buy a castle worth “several million dollars” that your uncle’s grandfather seemingly lost years ago when he immigrated to America. He then concludes the conversation by telling you to have “a great April Fool’s Day” before informing you that this is “no April Fool’s joke.”

While I have nothing but respect for a man who begins a conversation with “Your uncle is dead” and ends it with an offhanded “happy April Fool’s day,” I have several questions about this premise that the game doesn’t answer.

First off, while I understand that they’re going for your basic Brewster’s Millions premise, that comparison doesn’t really hold up. In Brewster’s Millions, the lead character was supposed to spend a large amount of money in a short time as both a cruel challenge and as part of a lesson about how money alone doesn’t buy happiness. Here, though, the “challenge” is to make money off the stock market starting with a $500,000 loan which, despite the assurances of trust fund babies everywhere, doesn’t seem to be that difficult. If this game wanted to recreate the real challenges of playing the market, it would have started us off with student loans, a resume full of transitional jobs, and lingering anxiety that you’d honestly feel stranger without at this point.

I also have to address those real estate prices. I can only assume that developer SOFEL was trying to use large numbers in order to catch children’s attention because the implication that a $1 million house is “decent” (in 1989 as well, mind you) is a real slap in the face to this broke millennial whose chances of owning a home apparently go down with every avocado sold. While we’re on the subject, how does a man worth $600 billion not find a way to buy a family castle worth several million? For that matter, how far did his grandfather fall to go from a castle in Europe to needing to immigrate to America? That certainly doesn’t sound like he was upholding the Benedict standard.

We also have to address the premise of that “standard” you’re expected to live up to, as whether or not you’re a bad enough stock dude to buy elaborate things turns out to be the driving force of the game. Along with needing to make payments on your loans, you’re constantly asked to spend money on various items for yourself and for your girlfriend. Mostly, though, you’ll need to spend money on your girlfriend, who I honestly believe you also somehow inherited as part of this deal. In any case, young Prisila is constantly asking you for more things, starting with a $1,000 puppy. All the while, there’s the lingering threat that you will lose her love if you fail to purchase her all the things she wants.

This is one of the strange ways that the game tries to teach you about work/life balance. Along with needing to maintain a happy relationship, Wall Street Kid also asks you to participate in activities such as exercise, day trips, and shopping sprees in order to maintain your mental health. Failing to invest your time properly is as good as failing to invest your money properly, as both will lead to you ultimately failing.

That’s a lovely sentiment, but it’s contradicted by the fact that money presides over every single element of the game. Did you decide to go to the carnival today? You’re immediately confronted with the hours you lost that could have been spent playing the market. Did you fail to purchase the right gift for your girlfriend (whose full name, by the way, is “Prisila The Pricey Prima Donna”)? You’ve ruined your relationship. Fail to buy a house in month one, a yacht in month two, and a castle in month three? Hit the road, you absolute loser.

While I admit there is something tragically accurate about the idea of money interfering with many aspects of modern life, a guy telling me about the traps of greed while shouting from the top of a pile of money is a bit hard to hear properly Then again, I probably should be impressed he pulled himself to the top of that pile using nothing but his bootstraps and a large pile of money.

Also, I’m pretty sure that “Wall Street Kid” is a full-on stock scammer. Not only can you consult “Connie The Arrogant Advisor” (don’t get me started on this game’s names) for hot stock tips that often sound like a shining example of insider trading, but our “hero” is carrying a briefcase on the game’s cover that reads “Top Secret.” Is our man literally stealing classified info like the villains in Trading Places?

It all begs the question: “What is this guy going to do with $600 billion that he hasn’t been able to accomplish with a $500,000 loan?” He’s got a wife, a yacht, a home, a castle, and every commercial commodity you could imagine. What is the point of any of this?

The sad answer to that question may lie on the game’s cover which features the words “Use It or Lose It!” It’s the tragic slogan of a game that’s real message isn’t about security, happiness, or even a few of the finer things in life, but constantly moving money for the sake of the action well past the point when you’ve been able to consider what it is that you’d do with it even if you have it. It’s a truly fitting motto for a game that is so obsessed with moving the carrot every time you’re about to reach it that once you’ve caught and eaten the carrot, a mirage of it will continue to exist just outside of your reach.

Wall Street Kid probably won’t make you a stock market master, but this absolutely bizarre addition to the NES library does a fine job of showing the unbelievable greed and overwhelming odds that typically ensure that the ones who get the most out of it are the ones that had the most to start with. All the while, you’re meant to root for the man whose biggest problem in life is having to settle for the $500 puppy.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Somewhere, the Wall Street Kid is sitting in one of his castles with over $1 trillion in assets as he sharpens an ax, puts on some Talking Heads, and tells his soon to be cleaned off the carpet servants how much he misses the ’80s. For that alone, he deserves to be remembered as one of gaming’s greatest villains.

The post Before GameStop, Wall Street Kid for NES Taught Gamers About the Stock Market appeared first on Den of Geek.

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bintaeran · 4 years

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Catching Up with Beth Gibbs

Catching Up with Beth Gibbs Nina Zolotow by Beth

For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Beth Gibbs, MA, a certified yoga therapist through the International Association of Yoga Therapists and a faculty member at the Kripalu School of Integrative Yoga Therapy. I have a masters’ degree in Yoga Therapy and Mind/Body Health from Lesley University in Cambridge, MA. After years of working for media, higher education, and non-profit organizations, I’m now ‘free-tired’ and pursuing my passion of helping others (and myself) find clarity, contentment, and resilience in a complicated world. My writing includes newsletters, magazine and blog articles on the benefits of yoga, mindfulness and self-awareness. I’m the author of Ogi Bogi, The Elephant Yogi, a therapeutic yoga book for children and I’ve been writing for Yoga for Healthy Aging since 2015.

From January through March of 2020, I was busy teaching yoga, writing a book, sending proposals to agent and publishers, and in general keeping busy, visiting friends, going to art openings, reading books, posting online, eating out, hanging with family—you know, normal life.

Then BAM! Up popped the pandemic, forcing me to take a ride on the CORONA-coaster. That left me, like many of you, COVER-whelmed, dealing with CORONA-phobia, and adjusting to the three W’s (Wear a mask, Wash your hands, and Watch your distance). All my classes were cancelled. One of the studios where I taught restorative and Yin yoga sadly closed up permanently. I thought I was going to have an extended restful staycation and sabbatical from work and volunteering. Boy, was I wrong!

The pandemic hit pretty hard, pretty early in Connecticut, largely because the southern part of the state borders New York, which really got slammed. Because I felt healthy and safe, and because I have a deep interest in making sure everyone has access to basics like food, I gave my government $1,200 relief payment, plus more of my own savings, to World Central Kitchen, No Kid Hungry, Feeding America, and my local Foodshare program.

Connecticut, the Nutmeg State, is largely populated by reasonable people who listen to science. In the past seven months, I’ve seen only one or two folks not wearing masks or social distancing. As a result, we are now slowly and safely opening back up, including the schools.

Then there is the other pandemic of racial and social injustice that re-appeared in front of our eyes in the news and on our digital devices. I say re-appeared because it has never really gone away. I found myself attending a rally, writing about it, performing a piece in a local theater group’s online presentation, titled Say Our Name. I joined a group of yogis holding weekly Zoom meetings on how best to help with the DEI (Diversity, Equity Inclusion) and BIPOC (Black, Indigenous People Of Color) movements. So far, we’ve come up with four pillars to serve as a foundation for whatever we eventually build. The four pillars are:

Improve health outcomes in under-resourced communities.

Have more wellness practitioners serve in under-resourced communities.

Amplify the impact of BIPOC wellness practitioners.

Increase wellness practitioners’ knowledge and understanding of the effects of racialized trauma on themselves and their clientele.

Also, I signed the Yogins United letter to Get Out The Vote, which urges all citizens to actively participate by taking one or more of three important action steps:

VOTE: Go to Vote.org to check regularly that you are properly registered to vote, sign up for an absentee ballot, and get three friends to do the same.

VOICE: Go to Vote Forward, Engaged Buddhist, or Dharma Vote and sign up to write letters to voters in swing states. This method of peer-to-peer engagement is proven effective and we prefer letter writing to cold-calling and texting in this election cycle.

VOLUNTEER: Go to All Voting Is Local and sign up to be a poll worker. Help safeguard our electoral process and protect voters in marginalized communities from rampant voter suppression.

Somehow, I got myself drafted to participate in creating material for IAYT’s (International Association of Yoga Therapists) ethics training videos for the accreditation process. The goal is to create four one-hour videos, each one worth 1 CE (Continuing Education credit).

Then there is the personal. Definitely it was and still is a strange time, but as an introvert who is sensitive to OPE (other people’s energy), I was just fine with being home alone in spite of the lockdown, shut down, and need to occasionally quarantine. I tried yoga on Zoom but abandoned that pretty quickly for my own yoga and meditation practice.

Yoga on Zoom was not for me, but meetings that that moved from in person to virtual were another matter. I actually found myself enjoying them. In social groups it’s hard for an introvert to listen or be heard over the chatter especially when we’re trying to get our own thoughts in order. From the comfort of my couch, (no bra, no shoes, but yes, I wear pants) I know I’m seen and it’s easier to be heard.

I wrote like crazy; finished my book, moved past the rejections from the agents and traditional publishers, found a hybrid publisher that I liked and signed a contract. That’s working well and my book Enlighten Up! The Five Layers of Self-Awareness will be released later this fall. It’s a personal growth book that presents a contemporary (and often light-hearted) look at the kosha model of being human. It offers personal stories along with goals and accessible practices that can be done by anyone.

Since I had time on my hands, I used some of it to de-clutter and re-organize my spaces. I am a recovering perfectionist; dis-organization and clutter makes my skin crawl. During the process, I discovered boxes filled with stuff I wrote years ago. Honestly, I don’t remember writing a lot of it, but I liked it. I uncovered an unfinished novel and a bunch of short stories. So, I finished the novel, polished the short stories and wrote a few more. As I re-read them and began the job of editing and re-writing, I noticed that they all involved the importance of self-awareness and how that can improve a life, change a habit, and help the characters manage difficult feelings and touchy situations. Yoga, for sure!

I look forward to keeping the theme of self-awareness prominent in my upcoming posts and bringing you thought provoking information on how yoga can help us live—and age—in healthy and productive ways.

Beth's self-awareness newsletter is published six times a year. It features informative, inspiring and entertaining tips for finding clarity, contentment, and resilience in a complicated world. For more information and to sign up for the newsletter go to www.bethgibbs.com.

Subscribe to Yoga for Healthy Aging by Email ° Follow Yoga for Healthy Aging on Facebook ° To order Yoga for Healthy Aging: A Guide to Lifelong Well-Being, go to Amazon, Shambhala, Indie Bound or your local bookstore.

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wingheadshellhead · 7 years

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Hi, I love your blog! So I've been reading a lot of 616 stevetony lately, and I've noticed that in both canon and in a lot of fiction, Steve seems to really dislike Extremis (even before superior iron man). Why do you think that is? Even without looking at this with shipper goggles (which I always am), I think it's really strange that Steve has so much disdain for something that essentially saved one of his best friend's lives.

(THIS HAS TAKEN ME 5 BILLION YEARS BUT HERE IT IS FINALLY)

i used to be in the same boat and automatically assumed steve’s dislike of extremis was one of those fandom headcanon things that was so commonly accepted it’d basically become fact, but it’s really, actually, all 100% canon. but the comics that deal with it happen right before civil war so i think many ppl have simply forgotten or skipped over that part of tony’s timeline.

execute program is the 6-issue arc that comes right after extremis and it’s the main thing i tell everyone they have to read if they’re putting themselves thru the ringer that is 616′s civil war. it is so so important to understanding tony’s headspace and where he’s at before the events of civil war occur.

READ EXECUTE PROGRAM. a) bc it’s absolutely crucial to tony’s side of civil war, b) the follow-through from the extremis arc is just… amazing, virtuosic. i really genuinely think it is a fascinating, excellently-written arc, c) when it gets gay it gets very gay. truST ME you do not need your shipper goggles for this at all bc guess which of the following things are canon: the sound of steve saying his voice being the only thing that snaps tony out of (likely a dissociative episode) trying to murder a villain that nearly kills peter, dyeing his hair blond when he’s going on the run, tony stopping his heart to save steve’s life. all of them !!! all canon !!!!!!

extremis is, basically, terrifying. to the average human being, hell even the average superhuman. it’s p much unfathomable the sheer level/magnitude/scope of extremis. extremis allows tony to access and control any piece of technology on earth and even in earth’s atmosphere, he can hear satellites. it’s like having the singularity as a superpower.

so part 1, iron man vol. 4 #7 (2006), opening issue and we have tony stopping a villain with lethal force, all while counting down the milliseconds and bidding on priceless artefacts.

now, avengers don’t kill. and tony doesn’t, he stops the man’s heart, then restarts it, basically performing defibrillation.

and then we get this conversation:

and after tony jets off leaving the new avengers to sort out the aftermath, we get this disturbing reminder:

a proper reread might prove me wrong but i don’t think the writers ever clarify whether this transformation in tony’s personality is due to extremis or outside manipulation (which is the culmination of execute program’s arc as i’ll go into in a bit). but when your brain is literally a machine and you Have Become more machine than human, this is the natural progression of tony’s humanity – the aspects of compassion, empathy, etc. – fading into the background to accomodate for extremis.

extremis brings out everything about tony that steve (and possibly the world) fears most. it makes him cold and calculating, and with a brain like tony stark’s elevated by the superhuman capacity to think and react at the speed of a machine, he’s unstopppable.

part 2, iron man vol. 4 #8, we have tony nearly straight up burning a man alive for almost killing peter and laughing about it.

he’s so deep in Destroy Mode that he doesn’t even register steve’s warning, and here i think he acts entirely out of instinct –– like extremis is thinking for him rather than his brain prompting him to do this.

extremis is also the cause of tension between tony and the newly-formed new avengers (one of my favorite line-ups!!), he almost gets into a fight with logan and jessica has to break them up. it turns out tony is missing time in his memory, which is extremely worrying for someone w/ his level of power…

what’s so fascinating about extremis, and why we have so much to thank warren ellis for (the writer of the extremis arc), is that it is the perfect and the most logical climax of the modern iron man story. tony’s worst villain, as we’ve known since the very beginning really, has never been anyone else but himself. and in the case of extremis, it’s a highly technologically advanced version of himself that can do and be everything he’s ever dreamed of being able to achieve vs. him.

the question extremis asks is at what cost? at what cost does technological advancement, bleeding-edge breakthroughs, and the spirit of human innovation come at? how far would tony go to become the Ideal version of himself that he sees as superior in every way? what would he sacrifice for that?

extremis represents basically the pinnacle of sci-fi tech in iron man comics, it’s why even god awful superior iron man used a 3.0 version of it as the foundation for tony’s sins. it’s the farthest point he’s ever reached, and it’s also the lowest in terms of the damage and fallout that comes from it. because ofc, tony stark can’t have nice things like this, but also bc the hubris + nature of extremis allowing its host to play god can’t exist without there being negative consequences. really b ad consequences.

huge respect to danial & charles knauf, the authors of execute program, too, because they find a way to perfectly bring the arc full circle as ellis did with his extremis. the central villain plot revolves around ho yinsen’s son. the kid hacks extremis and uses it to control tony, sending him to subconsciously assassinate a bunch of people on his kill list, i.e. a list of all the men involved in yinsen’s death. i mean like, HOLY SHIT, an iron man plot where a literal ghost from tony’s past – a direct victim of events tony was involved in, the son of the man that sacrificed his life so iron man could be born and so tony stark could live – shows up, weaponises tony’s own body + technology and uses him to murder people who are scheduled to participate in a peace summit despite the blood on their hands and the human cost of their involvement in the weapons industry.

DRAWING PARALLELS BETWEEN YINSEN’S LIFE’S WORK AND TONY’S LIKE DEATH AND DYING WOULD BE KINDER. again bc of my memory or even regardless due to constant retcons + reruns of the iron man origin story, i don’t know if it’s ever been explicitly stated before that yinsen also got into the weapons industry in order to get the funding necessary to support his other revolutionary work. but his son literally conflates yinsen with tony here, blending them into one + the same with that final panel and it becomes very obvious that at least a small part of him blames father for entering into weapons design. if he hadn’t, he might never have been captured by the the terrorist group that wanted him and tony to build them missiles.

also, yinsen + villains involving yinsen are a recurring theme in iron man history but can we talk abt the fact that tony has never ever let himself forget the man bc jesus christ

yinsen’s kid is killed by a SHIELD sniper, activating the dead man’s switch and unleashing all the peackeeping units tony built that are now compromised. now, tony’s no jean grey or wanda maximoff but if this arc shows anything it’s not to underestimate him bc intentional or not (lmao) if he put his mind to it there’s literally no limit to the damage he could do.

we see various heroes fighting off the peacekeeping units, and the new avengers are at the peace summit fighting a hulkbuster.

and here it is people !!! the 23989485th time tony kills himself so steve can live.

JUST. THE LOOK ON HIS FACE. AND THEN THIS ABSOLUTE LACK OF HESITATION:

so, yes. extremis was traumatising for pretty much every single person involved. steve has extremely good reasons for HATING extremis, even in the early stages or even if a fic is taking place before the events of execute program.

if you read the full arc, you’ll see tony running himself into the ground with his new abilities (world’s greatest multitasker can now multitask 192483958 things at once? ofc he’s going to use and abuse and exploit that), you see him spiralling and losing his grip on reality (mainly because he’s actually having dissociative episodes and losing time due to being remotely controlled to assassinate ppl but also bc of the Effect extremis is having on him). i brought up wanda and jean earlier as a casual reference but like, to put it in that kind of perspective, people just weren’t made to have this much power.

on a smaller scale, apart from eating up all of tony’s time and attention and mental health in a really bad way, it just Distances him from everyone. especially from the team. it’s Isolating, having this much going on in his brain and no one else in the world to fully understand it.

and on steve’s side, you also have the fact that tony’s genius is both one of the things he loves and lowkey resents most about him. he has this deep-set anxiety about tony with all his brilliance and intelligence leaving him behind in the dust, or worse, laughing at him and how outdated and dim-witted he is in comparison. this is steve’s version of tony’s “i’m never going to be good enough for him”, a sentiment summed up in a quote from him as early as tales of suspense vol. 2 (1995): “yes, tony stark, a man of today and tomorrow is the man i’ll never be.” he’s so afraid of being abandoned + alienated by tony’s mind and the future that tony’s worked so tirelessly to build that might render him irrelevant. he’s scared of a future where he has no purpose, but more or just as importantly, he’s scared of becoming obsolete in tony’s life, of not being needed by tony anymore. one of the things that endeared him so much to tony, and which laid the foundations of their lifelong friendship, was the fact that from Day One (1), tony made him feel At Home. he never let him feel ashamed or isolated as The Man Out Of Time, he actively worked to make steve feel comfortable and to give him the things he needed to acclimatise and to fit himself into this brave new world.

extremis undoes all of that. it propels tony so far and so fast into the future that it makes tony untouchable to steve. all of the ‘i can hear satellites’ stuff renders steve helpless and even more out of his depth than usual. it presses all of steve’s secret buttons and then some.

to sum this all up, and to finish my extra rambling abt tony bc u asked me about extremis and i couldn’t not finish with this:

here we have, ladies and gentlemen, everything u need to understand abt tony going into civil war. and it’s not on any of the official civil war fucking reading lists which really pisses me off because whether or not they did it on purpose the knaufs basically wrote all of execute program as the perfect precursor and characterisation groundwork for an antebellum tony stark.

a tony stark who was just very recently manipulated against his will into assassinating people and causing a world-threatening incident that could have resulted in the deaths of thousands, including his own friends and teammates (and the love of his life), is a very different tony stark to the one ppl see in civil war #1.

what happens in stamford was an accident, too. no one meant for that to happen. tony knows first fucking hand what that means and what it feels like to carry that responsibility and guilt. his position in civil war supporting the SHRA is not only to protect the potential lives that could be lost in another stamford incident but also to protect superhumans and superheroes from ever being exploited against their will by villains to kill and hurt and destroy.

superheroes are inherently susceptible to being used, it’s just part of the narrative convention –– a superhero is brainwashed or mind controlled or otherwise forced against their will to do something awful. and even if it’s not their fault there needs to be accountability for the victims. both the victims that suffer directly because of superhuman incidents but also the superheroes that become victims of ppl who abuse their powers. it’s abt protecting superheroes not just from civilians but from themselves. and if u’ve read a single comic u kno that this kinda shit happens way too often and way too easily.

sO YE S T hIS iS W HY. AND IT Ex PL AINS SO MUC H AND i j UST WISH P PL WOULD GODDAMN REA D THIS. LIKE EVERYONE WHO EVER WANTS TO SAY ANOTHER A GODDAMN THING ABOUT TONY STARK IN CIVIL WAR NEEDS TO FIRST READ EXECUTE PROGRAM FIRST OR PAY ME $10

anyway…………… one last time, i’m so so so sorry this took forever to get to. hope the wait was worth it!

#mod: answer #averageapplepie #stevetony #stony #extremis #text: meta #universe: 616 #comic: iron man v4 #original: meta #i'm so sorry u had to wait so long like #i should warn ppl that ever ask me a meta question that i might take half a yr to reply #......not to deter u tho bc i promise that my answer will be as well thought-out and in-depth as i can make it

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