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justauthoring · 4 years

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To Be Loved (1/?)

Prompt: Perhaps, you understand Harry Potter better then anyone else. Perhaps, it’s why, when your eyes meet his for the first time, you feel an instant connection. Perhaps, it’s why, you love him.

Based off of: The Harry Potter Series Pairing: Harry Potter x Black/Tonks!Reader, slight Fred Weasley x Black/Tonks!Reader A/N: So here it is!! The very first part!! I really hope you guys enjoy the series because I am so incredibly stoked for her -- specifically movies POA, GOF, and OOTP!! I have so much planned, lol.

Also, Fred won the voting poll -- meaning, Y/N will have a small bit of romance with him, before she eventually ends up with Harry.

Chapters will also be longer after this one, but I felt an introduction was needed, so it’s a tad bit on the short side.

“Lupin, I... we...--”

There’s an echo of silence. Andromeda finds herself unsure of what to say, or rather, how to say it. Her mind was fuzzy with great confusion, her chest tight with fear. She could hardly believe it -- how could it... it couldn’t possibly be true.

Her husband seems to understand her meaning though, understanding the thoughts that race through her mind. With a brief glance her way, taking in the lost expression in her eyes, Ted swallows thickly before glancing over to the young man sat in front of him. He looked tired, terribly so. He looked misplaced, as if he didn’t belong where he was sat; uncomfortable too. His eyes were dull, no light in them, no spark of joy.

Ted didn’t blame him. This man had lost four friends in one night. This man had lost his happiness completely. The dull look in his eyes was an understatement of what he’d endured, witness and gone through.

“It’s true then?” Ted asks quietly, not really sure how else to phrase the question. He felt like he was walking on eggshells, not wanting to set off either of those sat around him, but desperate to know the truth. “He... really did do it?”

He doesn’t have to say a name for Lupin to know who he’s talking about.

“It would seem that way,” Lupin whispers, voice gone, faint, cracked. Ted regards him carefully, with a watchful eye, but also, pity. Understanding of something he didn’t truly understand. He had no idea the severity of how the young man must be feeling, and in all truth, he didn’t want to. Ted had been friends with him too, but not like Lupin. “He’s being sent to Azkaban.”

“What about the boy?”

It’s the first coherent and full sentence Andromeda has managed to find herself able to speak. It’s the first time she’s felt she’s been able to find her voice again. Her eyes flicker to Lupin’s and hold his own scared and sad ones firmly, worry in her gaze for that young baby. The Boy Who Lived. The boy who no longer had parents of his own. The boy who was alone in this world.

“Dumbledore says he’ll be staying with the next of kin,” Lupin explains, voice numb. “Lily’s...--” And he chokes at the mention of her name. “Lily’s, uh, sister and her husband. The have a child Harry’s age.”

Ted nods, makes the most sense. Of course, he didn’t know what Lily’s sister really was like.

Lupin did though.

Andromeda’s head turns, glancing up at the stairs of her house, to where you lay, peacefully asleep. She’d put you asleep herself not an hour ago, held you in her arms when the world had seemed alright. She’d told you that your father would be back soon, that daddy was coming to see you. At the time, it’d been true. Now, Andromeda felt like nothing but a filthy liar.

Turning back to Lupin, her mind set; “we’re keeping Y/N.”

“D-Dromeda--” Ted stutters, appalled by her words. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel the same, he didn’t want to give you up either. Not with everything that’s happened. Not after your father...-- But, he didn’t know if it was their place to be making any demands. He didn’t know if they’d be allowed to keep you.

Andromeda’s fierce and determined eyes fall on her husband. “She belongs with us.” She says, voice firm and raising slightly with distress and plea. “We’re her next of kin. We’ve already taken care of her this much. She needs to be with us, she needs a sense of familiarity. I won’t just pass her off like some trophy for the winning and I certainly won’t let my family have her.” Then, she turns to Lupin. “We’d take great care of her. We already have. We’d raised her loved. Adopt her so she’s really part of the family, last name and all.”

“Dromeda,” Ted hisses lightly, placing his hand over her own, squeezing it tightly. “Lupin’s her Godfather.” He turns to Lupin, whose yet to say anything. Or really even react. “Y/N belongs with him just as much as us.”

There’s an air of silence. Both Ted and Andromeda turn to Lupin, waiting, expecting.

Shifting in his seat, Lupin leans forward, clasping his hands together on the table. A small, almost thoughtful smile curls onto his lips as he keeps his gaze lowered. “Sirius named me her Godfather,” there’s a pause at the sound of his name. “It’s true. And I love Y/N like my own daughter. But, you,” and his eyes set on Andromeda specifically. “Will raise her better then I ever could.”

Andromeda eases, and a small smile curls onto her lips. Ted seems a bit more reluctant.

“Are you sure, Lupin--”

Lupin nods. “I have one request however.”

“Anything.”

“I’d still like to... visit her.” Lupin whispers, body tensing as his vulnerability shines through. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to see Harry because Dumbledore would like him to grow up away from magic. But... I couldn’t bare to...” And he doesn’t finish, not sure how to.

Andromeda reaches across the table, taking Lupin’s hand in her own, which elicits a soft gasp of surprise from him, before she squeezes it firmly. When Lupin meets her gaze, her eyes are warm and inviting, and despite everything she’s found the strength to smile. “Of course,” she whispers with certainty, “you can visit Y/N anytime. Our home is yours.”

Lupin nods, smiling his thanks.

They finish the night off with a promise from Andromeda that she assures Lupin that Ted and her will take great care of Y/N. Lupin has no doubt that they will. Sirius had left you with them in the first place, as protection from everything. And even now, after everything, Lupin is assured he’d never cause harm to you. Never you.

Ted and Andromeda Tonks home was the best home for you.

He makes his way up the steps, wanting to say farewell one last time because it might be a bit before he can see you again. He creeps into your room, making sure to be extra quiet when he sneaks past the Tonks daughter Nymphadora’s room, slipping into your own. A sense of ease floods him at the sight of you, peacefully sleeping away. Your tiny little thumb was in your mouth and your H/C hair came out in wisps around your head.

But Lupin knew, if you’d open your eyes, he’d see Sirius staring back at him.

Lupin finds himself then, glad that you’re asleep.

Leaning over the edge of your crib, the tips of Lupin’s fingers ghost across your skin softly, touch gentle, eyes adoring as he smiles faintly down at you. The smile doesn’t reach his eyes, but, he does find himself at peace with you. An innocent baby who had no idea what your own father just done.

“Your father wasn’t always like this,” Lupin whispers, wistfully. “There was a time he...he--” And he can’t finish. It’s too painful. Memories of his friendship with your father, with James and Peter too... it hurts too much that words can’t even properly explain it.

“I’ll see you soon, Y/N. That’s a promise.”

When he’s making his way out the door, bidding farewell to both Andromeda and Tonks. he finds himself making one last request. “Don’t tell her about Sirius. No one really knows he even has a daughter.” And at the confused and baffled expressions he receives, he adds. “At least, don’t tell her the truth. She doesn’t deserve to have that weight placed on her.”

Sirius Black’s daughter; just as crazed and evil as he is.

Sirius Black’s daughter; a murderer for a father.

Sirius Black’s daughter; hated by everyone because he killed James and Lily Potter.

You don’t deserve that.

And Andromeda and Ted have no reason to argue. Because he’s right.

11 YEARS LATER

You wake with a start.

Today’s the day.

Jumping up to your feet, you hastily start to get ready. Your feet bounce with each step you take and you can hardly contain yourself as you start rushing about your room, trying to brush your hair and teeth at the same time. Trying to pull on your shirt while washing your face.

You can hear the distant sounds of pots and pans downstairs and know that breakfast is being made. But even as your stomach rumbles in hunger, you find you don’t really much care about whatever’s being made for breakfast that morning. Because, today’s the day.

You come bounding into the kitchen, a knowing smile on Andromeda’s face as she hears your racing footsteps come barreling down the stairs. Ted smirks behind his coffee cup as you come running into the kitchen, breathless, your hair a knotted mess upon your head, the sleeve of your sweater hanging off your shoulder.

“Good morning, darling,” Andromeda greets with a light laugh, quirking a brow over at you as you take a seat at the kitchen table. She places the prepared plate of food before you, before turning to do the same with Ted, who presses a grateful kiss against her cheek in response, before moving off to grab a plate for herself, not saying anything else.

Your eyes watch her carefully, anxious.

“My God, Y/N,” begins Ted, setting down the paper he’d been reading to glance over at you, feigned shock plastered on his face. “You can barely keep still in your own seat. Is there something on your mind?”

You huff at him, shaking your head. How typical of him to forget. “Today’s the day!”

Teasingly, Ted glances back at Andromeda, who, like him, feigns understanding.

“What’s today?”

You only shake your head again, choosing not to answer -- they should know -- and exasperated with them as you take a big bite out of your toast, As you quickly sip some orange juice, you turn your attention back on them. “Has the post come yet?”

“Oh!” Andromeda calls, setting down her plate before walking back over to kitchen counter to grab a handful of letters. “Thank you for reminding me, darling. I’m expecting a letter.”

Me too. You watch carefully, food forgotten, as she stifles through the handful of letters, leg pouncing with anticipation.

It has to be in there. It has to be in there.

But it isn’t. Andromeda goes through all four letters in her hand and not one of them is for you.

Your heart falls with devastation, plummeting to the pit of your stomach as your shoulders slack and you glance down at your lap. You almost want to cry you’re so disappointed. But today was supposed to be... It should’ve come today...

“What’s the matter, Y/N?” Ted questions, taking another sip of his coffee. “Were you expecting a letter?”

With a moan, you nod, poking at your food.

“Perhaps a letter from... Hogwarts?”

You raise your head, eyes flickering upwards as a bright, big smile curls onto your lips when you see the letter levitating before your eyes. A glance back at Ted and Andromeda and you can tell, if it hadn’t been obvious before, that they’d been teasing you purposely and with a roll of your eyes, you quickly snatch the letter, practically ripping the envelope open.

You open it with with eager eyes, barely able to contain your happiness as you begin reading aloud:

Dear Miss Tonks,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall. Deputy Headmistress.

Your excited eyes fall on your adoptive parents. “It’s true then?” You question, voice pitching, hopeful. “I’m going to Hogwarts? Really?”

Laughing, Andromeda nods. “Yes, it’s true, dear.”

A squeal of joy leaves your lips and you practically hug the letter tight to your chest, eyes clenching shut in joy. You’ve only ever heard about Hogwarts from your parents and your sister, Nymphadora, who had graduated not that long ago. They were all in separate houses, and every story they told you, you held on tightly to, absorbing it with great fascination and interest for the day you finally got to go yourself.

And it was really happening!

“I wonder what house i’ll be in,” you wonder aloud, voice soft with curiosity, nervous eyes peeking over at your parents. “I wonder who my friends’ll be.”

“I do believe the Weasley’s youngest son starts his first year this year too,” Ted offers, nodding to himself as he smiles over you. “I’m sure you and Ron will be able to help each other out.”

You smile, nodding. “And the twins too! They’ll be in their...” You pause in thought for a moment, before grinning. “Third year!”

“Yes,” Ted laughs, nodding. “The twins too. They’re quite fond of you.”

A small blush comes to your cheeks.

“And,” Andromeda moves to add, meeting your gaze firmly. “We’ll support you no matter what house you end up in. I was in Slytherin, Ted, Ravenclaw and Nymphadora in Hufflepuff.” She pauses, before a thought occurs to her. “And then, Lupin was in--”

“Gryffindor!” You answer for her, smiling big. “Ooh! I’ll have to send him a letter, tell him i’m going to Hogwarts. He’ll be so happy. Do you think he’ll be proud?”

“Of course he will.” Andromeda smiles, “maybe he can take you shopping for your school supplies.”

Biting your lip, you set down your letter. “Do you think he will?”

Ted shrugs. “I don’t see why not.”

“I’m sure Uncle Lupin would love too.” Andromeda assures you, before her eyes fall on your plate. “Now, eat, darling. You’ve got a busy few days ahead of yourself, what with starting Hogwarts and all.”

Your stomach rumbles as Andromeda finishes, and you comply without complaint, moving to finish your breakfast eagerly. But still, even as you eat and the two of them chatter off absentmindedly, all you can seem to focus on is Hogwarts. On what you have to expect. All the wonderful new things you’ll learn...

You hope you’re Gryffindor like Uncle Lupin. He also told you that your father had been Gryffindor, and even if your father would never be able to tell you, you’d do anything to make him proud. Plus, almost all of the Weasleys are Gryffindor’s too. You’d love to be in the same house as Fred and George.

Slytherin would be cool too. Especially since your mom was apart of it. So would Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.

But Gryffindor... to be closer to your dad...

That’d be nice.

Let me know what you thought?

TAGLIST: @storiesbystarlight - @scattered-mood - @tinymidgetsstuff - @itsfangirlmendes - @im-a-totally-random-person - @slytherinwriter618 - @bloodorangemoonlight - @subjecta13-thefangirl - @areallydrypie - @euphorictulip - @missmulti - @tinytommyshelby - @you-bleed-to-know-youre-alivee - @divergenttributerunnerslytherin - if you’d like to be tagged, just send me an ask!

#Harry Potter #Harry Potter imagine #Harry Potter x reader #Harry Potter rewrite #Harry Potters series #TBL #To Be Loved #Harry Potter and the The Philosphers Stone #Fred Weasley #Fred Weasley imagine #Daniel Radcliffe #Daniel Radcliffe imagine #Daniel Radcliffe x reader #imagine #imagines #my fics

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gillian-greenwood · 3 years

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My Episode 7 Predictions!

Mother of God! How have these weeks passed by so fast?! I've decided to share what I think will be answered tomorrow night and some of the fates of our beloved characters! The series has gotten off to an even bigger success than it's predecessor and EVERYONE'S talking about it! Without further ado, let's see what I'm predicting!

Who's H/fourth man (or woman) and will we find out?

The question that's on the nation's minds. That has been boggling us since 2017... My personal prediction still stands as CC Philip Osborne, however... I think he's purely sitting on his arse and pulling the strings, whilst others are doing his dirty work. Those people are Patricia Carmichael: who in all honesty I'm manifesting isn't actually bent but is so career driven and a bit of a lick arse that she's just taking orders and not questioning anything, plus she doesn't think much of Ted either... I have joked that she's been shagging Osborne on the side which would be quite funny. I also believe Buckells has been Osborne's true scape goat for years. Someone as laid-back and unpassionate as Buckells is easily manipulated - I mean how the hell has he become a super? As Steve rightfully says, he couldn't order a piss up in a brewery. Seeing the connections go well back into the early noughties whilst Buckells was part of an oasis tribute band, it's an easy conclusion to make. Lastly I will mention Thurwell, now I think Thurwell may have been more involved on his own doing anyway but I think he'd still been pretty busy doing things on behalf of Osborne up until his alleged death in sunny Spain (Belfast but shh). I know a lot of people still think Buckells, some reckon pas-agg Pat is the top woman... and a few still think our beloved Kate is 'H'.

Now the other part of my point is actually finding out... I think us as viewers will certainly know the identity of this mysterious individual. But, I think we'll find out in the very last few seconds and poor AC12 won't be any the wiser which will open up the foundations for a possible series 7. I think a lot of things will be answered for us viewers but not everything for the characters. I know that if they had a series 7 there would be an other primary focus but I just think it would be clever. Just like how we found out as viewers at the end of series 1 that Dot was a wrong'un.

Is Thurwell really dead?

I'm still very amazed by the whole induction of Jimmy Nesbitt as a series of photos. I know we were supposed to have a secretive guest actor appearance and I believe it was Robert Carlyle's name floating about which would have been insane! But that moment we saw Jimmy, I yelled at the screen. So, this answers the question of seeing a character that had only been mentioned previously - which has been very much hiding in plain sight. Even with a rewatch, I had forgotten about Thurwell and therefore hadn't even considered him. But, I did mention the list from series 3 which did loosely tie in. Anyway, when we learned that Thurwell and his Mrs were now dead and clearly had been for a while - it was cleverly shot so we didn't see who it was, only the Spanish Police's word. You know, I think if we were to get a series 7, Thurwell could appear and he's in fact not dead. It's very rare you get a very well known actor in for something so small without it leading to bigger things. Although, they got Andi Osho, a very much loved comedian in purely for archival photos and videos... I do feel that Thurwell could have easily been on the other end of the fake MSN, and doing Osborne's dirty work - especially with the Spanish connection. In a BTS photo we have seen a clue to a piece of paperwork regarding a time share (Spain mentioned) in front of Kate which will likely have a connection to Thurwell and Spain. I think he's possibly still alive but we'll see...

Joanne Davidson

Kelly Macdonald has been welcomed with a very warm reception. Wow, her connection to Tommy Hunter (albeit disturbing, homozygous DNA... nasty business) was not something I ever expected although I guessed very much so when we learned of the DNA match with a nominal. Would I define her as bent? I mean in layman's terms, yes she is. However each guest star has had a very complicated relationship with the definition - all have done dodgy things and usually for good reason... But I do sympathise with her because of her background, born into trouble, it was very hard to escape - even if her mum took her to Scotland for a life away from it all. From the very start of her career she was doing the OCG's bidding and it transpires she was in the police on Tommy's orders - so very much another caddy. I do feel Jo had always wanted to be a good person and do right and in some ways she did - however she's in too deep. Next I'll mention her relationship with Kate and it's something I'd never have predicted. A lot of suggestive and sapphic behaviour from the off. Now, I do think Jo cares deeply for Kate and has developed strong feelings - and I think Kate deep down has also but I don't think anything will happen sadly. And that's more for the fact that they had run out of track before they could even get going as so much has happened. Kate's gonna save Jo when her transport gets ambushed, that's a given... but I don't think we'll see anything happen that we want to happen. I hope I'm very wrong and we get something but with the hour we've got I don't think it'll be the case. And as for her fate? I think she'll survive. Guest leads usually die, eventually... with the exception of Roz who's serving time with one arm in Brentiss. Giving how unfortunate her life has been from her conception, I think it'll do her justice to escape with her life. Witness protection? Hmm perhaps... Although I think she's done enough dodgy stuff to warrant a prison stretch. Will she be instrumental in revealing who the fourth dot is? Well yeah actually, I think she grew up thinking Thurwell was her dad... and of course having connections to both Osborne and Buckells. Jo joined the force just before the turn of the millennium so would have been a copper when the Lawrence Christopher case occurred in 2003. Even though not directly working with them, I'm sure she knew what was going on and would have come across Osborne and Buckells at that time. I have a strong inkling that she knows exactly who she's been talking to and has been under their wing since the start. If she dies I will be gutted.

Kate

Where are we going with Kate? Well she's just killed Ryan (lawfully) and has gotten away with it. But Carmichael isn't thick... and nor is Steve and Ted. They all know but I think that'll be that for now. For ages I thought she was gonna D word but I think she's gonna be alright now. I hope that somehow she gets back into anti-corruption permanently because that's where she's best suited. I'm shocked that she hasn't had a glass box spectacular - my predictions for her to be accused of being bent and all that were way off the mark... and not a single mention of the two dying declarations... With only an hour tomorrow and so much to deal with, I guess that's not going to be mentioned. And Kate ain't gonna be sanctioned either. But, there's always opportunity with a series 7... She'll definitely be back in AC12, interviewing... I can't see all the BTS photos being Jed Herrings. But we'll see tomorrow!

Steve

Poor Steve eh? He's not had an easy time of it. Addicted to painkillers as I rightfully predicted, unable to trust his gaffer, torn on a transfer and a up and down friendship with his 'mate'. Oh and the car, actually let's not talk about the Mazda... Anyhow I believe that Steve will talk about his back and recent struggles with meds after a lot of emails from occupational health. Will he get pulled off the job at the last second because he didn't book an appointment... yeah I think that might happen and Kate takes his place or something. But there is a counsellor or something credited so I'm pretty certain on that. Will he lose his long overdue promotion? It's possible! I don't think the test was going to come back as a fail but more of a cause for concern - just that the levels of codeine etc in his system was higher than it should and it would be best advised to talk to someone. We haven't seen much pill taking going on since the drugs test so has Steve been going cold turkey? Or have they just veered away from that part of the story? In all fairness he's appeared fine with his back since the Windermere convoy - he ran across an industrial estate... I mean. I hope Steve gets a glimmer of hope and happiness because he rightfully deserves it. Ever since the start he's had his fair sharing of aggro and he deserves a break. I do think however he may be partly responsible for nailing the final nails into Ted's coffin - especially after he discovered the 50K up Merseyside and the truth from Lee Banks. I think he could be potentially happy with Steph, it would be nice for something to happen with them but we'll see. Steve needs a big hug.

Ted

This is going to pain me saying it. But, I don't think Ted is going to make it to the end. His retirement is inevitable. I can see the argument of the retirement being rescinded if they unmask the fourth dot etc and solve stuff but realistically, he's past retirement age. He's so focused on getting to the end of this marathon that I don't think he will see it through and know who it is - because he'll... yeah I don't need to say it. How? I've been saying his heart is gonna pack in. He's going to be in deep trouble over that 50k because Steve and Kate know the truth. But why would the likes of Carmichael find out... Well we've seen a clue of 'definate' on some paperwork - I reckon Ted by coincidence also makes this spelling mistake often as it is one of the most commonly misspelt words and therefore will be in the 'H' running again - he wont be 'H' as I reckon Osborne makes the same mistake... He alleges he misspelt it cos he studied the texts carefully but I think he spelt it how he usually would. They'll all go down the wrong path and accuse him which will lead to his ultimate downfall. Another little teaser is Steve appearing to listen to Ted's 2019 glass box spectacular however notably Carmichael says AC12 interview and not AC3... so mixing two different interviews to tease us? Maybe Ted might feel he has no choice but to sacrifice his career for the truth. However it all gets too much. Lies cost lives... I can't see Ted going on from beyond here and Ted was always supposed to be a minor character until he was very well received by the audience and he was made a main character. Realistically, his story is told and he's at his endgame. I hope he survives, by god I do... He's one of the most loved fictional characters at present. But I have a really bad feeling and I'm worried! It seems a total Jed thing to do for Ted to meet his end without ever finding the truth... seeing that's what his heart has been set on for about four years... I'm sorry to even be going there but it's what I think will happen. And I want to be wrong.

Miscellaneous Predictions

I want to round this all off with other little points. Carmichael won't be bent, maybe still involved with anti-corruption, you love to hate her, there's so much more they could do with her character. I don't think Steph's dodgy at all, she's just a widow whose been helped out by Ted in an unlawful way. I think her and Steve would be well suited. I hope Chloe will get to the end and continue on in anti-corruption, she's got a lot of potential. If Osborne isn't sussed, I reckon he'll still be CC. DCC Wise isn't bent either, just getting on with her job. But if Osborne does get caught and I'm wrong, there will be a lot of chaos for both him and Wise. Farida gets out of jail and starts afresh. Buckells I reckon will get out but won't be apart of the police force anymore. Lomax isn't bent, just a regular cop trying to get the work done. The rest of Jackie's remains will be found under the workshop floor, maybe with someone else? God knows who. Or maybe with some evidence that helps lead AC12 on the right track. Steve will still be an officer and Kate will be back where she belongs. There's probably more but my head hurts.

Will there be a series 7?

Yes.

Thank you all for reading my jumbled thoughts all packed into a text post. I'm nervous but excited for tomorrow night's finale. Let's see if I get anything right... probably not...

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wecantseeyou · 3 years

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a word on color - how line of duty series 6 uses wardrobe color to frame narrative (pt 3)

Author’s note: this is Part 3 of this essay. For Part 1, read here, and for Part 2, read here. I apologize for the mad low-quality screen grabs in these posts, but the streams I have access to are not good, and the BBC makes it damn hard to use a VPN to access content. This part covers episode 4, because it’s already clocking in at 3k words (and the whole thing is over 10k). Will do my level best to have an analysis of 5 and 6 done by tonight’s episode, but timezones are a bitch. Again, American here and therefore likely missing cultural context. Also again, fully unedited.

Thank you for so many kind words on the other posts. Anticipate a conclusion of sorts to this essay on Monday (if I can get my hands on a stream quickly).

EPISODE 4

Episode 4 opens in the middle of our favorite type of scene - an MIT briefing. With Buckells’ arrest, Jo has been made acting DSI, and she makes her debut in a navy suit with a green sweater over a grey shirt. She notes that they have to consider evidence trails that have been overlooked, and as she says they have to look at a potential burglary, note the cut to Ryan. Jo then invites Kate, wearing her now classic orange and navy striped sweater and navy suit, up to go over the information recovered from the missing files regarding the robbery. After the briefing, Kate asks to look more at the firearms used in the robbery that derailed the Banks arrest, which Jo agrees to and offers to file the correct paperwork.

Jo’s outfit in this scene is indicative of the truth behind her actions. The score and framing of the shots in this scene are intentionally made to make the viewer suspicious of Jo, but in reality the suspicion should fall on Ryan. Despite the danger to herself, Jo is encouraging the transition of the inquiry toward the robbery because she knows there is a thread of truth there. One could assume she has no choice but to continue down this path because of AC-12’s investigation into Buckells, but given her position of authority she could have continued to stonewall the investigation and didn’t. While she may be forced to interfere later, she’s setting the MIT investigator’s on the right path.

Kate’s outfit, per usual, plays into her combined desire for justice and her allegiance to Jo. She’s a good detective - she knows there’s a connection between the botched robbery and Gail’s murder, and she knows it’s the firearms. Jo also demonstrates that she’s on the straight and narrow by generating the action, further confirming to Kate that she was right about her boss.

Next, we see Ryan the Bent Bastard Pilkington watching Jo walk into work, a mirror of the multiple instances in previous episodes when Jo was watching Kate. The audience is supposed to make this connection, of course, to play into suspicions against Jo, but there is a key difference here. Jo actually sees Ryan watching her - he wants her to see it. When Jo was watching Kate, she always made sure to look away, even when Kate had clearly seen her. Those looks weren’t a threat - they were Jo wrestling with something, which we begin to see more clearly in this episode.

Donned in her best blue coat and a blue scarf, Kate meets Hastings to discuss Pilkington. Ted wants to bring him in immediately, but Kate doesn’t think it’s time yet and convinces him not to. They briefly discuss her move to MIT and how his behavior affected her decision to transfer, which she admits is true. Up to series 5, Kate tends to have a fairly black and white morality with a very strong sense of justice. It’s what makes her such a good undercover operative. It’s why she can have the moral high ground in her conversation with Ted and he agrees with her - she’s often right.

AC-12 interviews Buckells, and because Jo has expertly taken advantage of his vices, ambition, and stupidity, the former DSI is arrested for perverting the course of justice. (By the by, this is an incredible legal term, much better than obstruction of justice, the US term.) Steve, as always, pushes him hard, but doesn’t seem to fully buy into everything he’s being accused of. This is actually shown in his outfit, a grey suit with white shirt and green tie. The green tie, while a cool color, shows that he is not fully aligned with AC-12 in this moment.

We see this disagreement spelled out in the narrative text immediately afterward. Kate and Steve meet at night in a car park, and Steve shares his belief that Buckells isn’t the man they're after. Kate disagrees, believing that Buckells plays the stupid card on purpose. Steve also floats his suspicions about Jo again, which Kate quickly shoots down. Steve thinks Jo is manipulating Kate and pulling the wool over her eyes, but Kate thinks it’s Steve who might be reading too much into things. Steve is in the same outfit he wore during the Buckells interview, and Kate is in her navy coat. In this case, Steve’s outfit represents his disagreement both with AC-12’s view of Buckells and with Kate’s view of Jo. Meanwhile Kate’s outfit represents her surety that Buckells is bent and Jo is anything but.

Later, Kate and Lomax go over the firearms reports between the robbery and Gail's murder. They believe the guns were workshopped, and are therefore untraceable, but Kate has an idea: talk to one of the robbers about their guns. Kate’s genius is on full display, putting her on the path toward the truth, and her outfit reflects that: a navy suit with a blue shirt buttoned all the way up.

Kate, still in her all blue ensemble, and Lomax interview one of the suspects from the armed robbery at the bookie about the firearms they used, and discover the boys were offered a set of workshopped guns that they refused. To Kate, this confirms an OCG connection between Gail Vella’s murder and the armed robbery. Jo, dressed in a grey suit and black turtleneck, watches the interview from another room, anxiety plain on her face.

That anxiety stays on Jo’s face all the way through to when she’s peering through the bushes by Farida’s house, where Steve rolls up to chat with Chloe in a navy suit. Chloe shares that forensics have picked up many DNA samples from Farida’s home and are sure to have results soon. I genuinely can’t make out what Jo is wearing in this scene, so I won’t jump to conclusions and analyze further.

After visiting the crime scene at Farida’s, Jo returns to her home in a grey coat, yellow sweatshirt, and red shirt. As she sits at her table, she removes a blue scarf from around her neck. She checks the OCG messaging service from her last message, and is worried by the lack of response. Her desperation gets the better of her - she wants out. She angrily says so, and when there’s no response throws the laptop to the floor.

The choice to put a blue scarf on Jo that she removes is a very deliberate act. As she shits down at the computer, Jo must put away her true nature and her good heart to engage with the OCG. She is literally removing her sense of justice, leaving only her corrupt actions - the yellow sweatshirt and the red shirt. But there she sits, in her blue-draped home. Trying to push her true self away is not enough - her heart wins in the end. She can’t keep betraying herself and the people she cares about anymore.

But she knows it isn’t that easy.

Meanwhile, AC-12 calls Kate in to update her on surveillance placed on Ryan Pilkington, who is following Jo. This startles Kate, and tells them she was with Jo at the time Ryan was following her. This piques Steve's interest, but he doesn’t immediately comment on it. He does however suggest Ryan is actually meeting with Jo, not spying on her, but Kate shoots him down again. "You got evidence of that?" she asks. This hostility toward her former partner catches Ted's interest. Kate thinks they should warn Jo about it, but Hastings disagrees because they lack information and doesn’t want to risk tipping off Jo if she and Ryan are working together.

The clothes in these AC-12 team meetings are interesting, because they place both Kate and Steve on the side of truth. Kate in her blue jacket and grey shirt, Steve in his navy suit and grey shirt. They’re wearing mirroring costumes in part to highlight their disagreement - visually connecting them in the face of their growing tension about Jo’s loyalties. But their coordinated looks also serve another purpose: they’re both right. Yes, Jo is working with Ryan in the sense that Ryan is present at MIT to intimidate Jo into continuing to do the OCG’s bidding. And no, Jo isn’t bent, at least not intentionally - there is goodness in her heart despite the ways in which her actions have gone against that, and Ryan is a threat to her well-being. Our favorite detectives may be at odds, but at the end of the day they’re on the same page.

There are a number of Steve scenes here, but all you really need to know is that he’s going to save the world via waistcoat.

Kate following Hastings’ instructions last about as long as it talks the gaffer to say ‘I’m in the business of nicking bent coppers.’ She and Lomax inform Jo about the results of the interview with the armed robbery suspect, who described seeing weapons like the one that killed Gail Vella at the workshop. Kate dismisses Chris, and speaks to Jo on her own, and interestingly specifies that it isn't personal, it's work. She mentions her apprehension about Ryan, and warns Jo that Ryan has been spying on her. Jo asks how she knows, and Kate, the good UCO she is, lies and tells her she saw him at the pub herself. Kate implores Jo to be careful and heed her warning about Ryan, saying, "look Jo, I don't want to worry you, but it's a trust issue." Cue Jo putting her hand on Kate's arm in a callback to the handhold (which Kate reciprocated). Before we can really see Kate's reaction, she pulls back as officers approach where they’re standing.

Despite Kate directly contradicting AC-12’s orders concerning warning Jo, her navy suit and blue shirt tell us that she’s doing what she believes is right. As we’ve seen time and again, Kate doesn’t believe that Jo is bent and that Ryan is a threat to her safety, and as I’ve discussed before, she is right. Her decision to tell Jo also gives her an out - one which Jo attempts to use later, with sadly no success. Jo’s black turtleneck and grey jacket both shows how Kate has misinterpreted Jo’s relation to Ryan (though not his threat), and the conniving part of her personality. Jo is an incredibly calculating individual, and she knows Kate has just given her an excuse to get rid of Ryan, both helping herself and keeping up appearances that she isn’t associated with the OCG.

A quick word on the arm touch here - Jo is again doing two things here. Jo is walking doublespeak. Her words have two meanings, her clothes have two meanings, her actions have two meanings. The arm touch is a nonverbal thank you to Kate for telling her. It’s also the first act of intimacy between the two women since Jo began to pull away after the reservoir incident. This is Jo offering an olive branch for a problem Kate isn’t even fully aware exists.

Immediately after Jo and Kate’s conversation, we see Jo sitting in her office, watching Ryan. She calls him in, and lets him know that she's going to have to let him go due to budgetary constraints, though she'll keep his commendation originally from Buckells. As I mentioned before, Jo saw Kate's information about Ryan to be a way to get rid of him, both protecting herself and validating her in Kate’s eyes. But of course, nothing is that simple. He gives the most chilling look back at her, calm as can be, and thanks her.

Kate looks on, and reassures Jo with a nod that she's done the right thing, which the boss tentatively returns. Kate is pleased because Jo listened to her warnings, but Jo is terrified because whatever she knows she’s made a mistake.

Back in AC-12 land, Chloe and Steve interview Jimmy Lakewell, who agrees to be an informant. Cue the OCG ambush and Steve sniping someone from several stories up with just a handgun while laying down (I don’t usually have to suspend my disbelief quite so much for this show…). There isn’t much to say about this part beyond Steve wearing the traditional AC-12 cool tones.

Later, Jo returns home for the night, still dressed in a grey suit jacket and black turtleneck, and just as she’s about to walk in, the Bent Bastard puts a gun to the back of her head. “It’s that easy, Jo.” This is the first time the audience directly sees the threat to life that Jo is under from the OCG. Before this, we’ve mostly just seen the consequences to her personal life, through Farida, and her clear discomfort with her own actions. Now we see what actually makes her so fearful, the reason for car park panic attacks and 5 locks on the door - if she doesn’t do the OCG’s bidding, she will die.

It’s the confirmation the show has been teasing all through this point, in Jo’s clothes and apartment, but intentionally obfuscating through tense music cues and intimidating camera angles. Jo is not bent because she’s a bad person - she’s doing bent things to save her own life.

Back at the Hill, Jo is waiting outside for Kate to come in. She’s standing above Kate on the stairs wearing a grey coat, navy suit, and grey turtleneck. Kate approaches wearing a cream sweater and her navy coat She asks for an update on the armed robbery inquiry, which hasn’t progressed particularly far. Kate takes the opportunity to ask about Ryan, and Jo tries to tell her he's fine and that there aren’t any OCG links. When Kate pushes, Jo threatens the DI by mentioning her own suspicious behavior when it came to the incident at the reservoir. "Drop it, Kate. That's an order."

This scene is notable in a few ways. First, this is the second time where Kate and Jo have disagreed and Jo has pulled rank to end the discussion. The first time was after the Terry Boyle interview where he nearly revealed who the real killer of Gail Vella was. In both instances, Jo knows Kate was on the right track but uses her position as the boss to stop her. This is quite different from the Jo who wants to see Kate at the weekend. Second, I want to comment on the camera work here. When the two meet on the stairs and discuss the firearms tracking, they remain in the same shot walking together. Once Kate brings up Ryan, they stop walking and move into over the shoulder framing. This serves to visually represent the way tension is increasing in Jo and Kate’s relationship. When we first met them, they moved together, often in sync (“great minds”). Now, we more frequently see the shots separating the two women, showing the growing distance resulting from Jo’s actions and Kate’s instincts. (COVID-19 shooting protocols probably also add to this, but we can’t theorize otherwise because we don’t know how the look of the show would’ve been under different circumstances.)

The other thing to note here is, of course, the wardrobe choice. Now, one would expect that as the tension grows between the two women and Jo continues to put walls up to distance herself from Kate, their wardrobes would reflect that. And in some smaller moments, they do. But for the most part their wardrobes when together remain much the same. In fact, this scene puts Jo in a very similar turtleneck to the one she wears in her first scene with Kate, and Kate is wearing the exact same yellowish sweater. Jo, dressed in cool tones again, is playing the part of the bent cop, keeping Ryan in MIT and threatening Kate. But as we know, there’s more to this than meets the eye. She’s keeping Ryan around after he threatened to kill her, and she’s threatening Kate to keep her away from Ryan - to protect her, in Jo’s own twisted way. Meanwhile, Kate is concerned for Jo’s safety, clearly evident in her just barely warm toned sweater, but she’s confused because she knows for a fact that Ryan is bent - why would Jo keep the man who’s been following her around? What is she missing? This detective’s instinct in Kate, the one that tells her Jo is good and not bent but something is wrong, is encapsulated in that navy coat, the uniform of AC-12.

We then see another piece of the puzzle that the show has been hinting at for some time, though is still not revealed in this episode. Chloe comes to Steve with the DNA results from Farida Jatri’s house and she’s confused. Steve, dressed in his level best navy suit, light blue shirt, and red tie, reads on and a look of shock comes over his face. Going slightly out of order in what is the final scene of the episode, Steve and Chloe bring this news to Hastings and it’s revealed that Jo’s DNA was a partial match for another DNA sample, one of a known criminal. Thus it’s revealed that Jo Davidson is in it a little deeper than anyone could have suspected.

The preceding scene is at the Hill, where we see Jo standing outside looking off into the middle distance with a blank stare. She’s wearing an outfit we’ve seen her in numerous times so far, perhaps most notably with Kate for the first ‘date’ at Frederico’s - a navy suit with an orangish brown sweater. She seems lost in thought when the door opens and Pilkington walks out to her. He asks if he’s heard the news about the dead inmate at Blackthorn prison - James Lakewell. A look of recognition passes her face as she asks, “What was the cause of death?" And in a truly terrifying callback to episode 2, Ryan responds, "Being a rat, ma'am."

Now, this threat from Ryan is interesting. It’s the second threat in as many scenes between the two, and it’s quite a bit different from a gun to the head. Obviously, Ryan is playing the role of the dutiful OCG plant, an ever-present eye on Jo’s actions, but the fact that he’s warning Jo against being a rat specifically raises an eyebrow. Though we don’t have immediate textual evidence here, and neither does Jo, I actually think this is a warning about her relationship with Kate. We see this fairly clearly in the next episode with the OCG’s fear of AC-12’s investigation and Kate’s role in it, and I think Jo suspects much the same. In the next episode, Jo is not merely distant with Kate, she’s openly hostile to her more than once. She isn’t just stepping away from Kate, she’s full on pushing her away. I believe that has to do with this warning from Ryan - she can’t let her relationship with Kate put her life in danger, and she can’t let Kate fall into the same fate.

This explains many of her actions in episode 5, and the central dilemma that leads to the fateful lorry park.

#line of duty #steve arnott #jo davidson #kate fleming #flemson #kate x jo #lod spoilers #line of duty spoilers

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leah-halliwell92 · 4 years

Text

Romanian Rhapsody

Summary: Almost two years before Dracula awakens, Dr. May Van Helsing is abroad gathering her own information on the legendary vampire. Years have passed since Jonathan Harker’s visit to what should be the ruins of Castle Dracula. Years since the village people have spoken or even warned anyone away from it. What will May find the deeper she digs into the Count’s home?

Previously:

May shrugged not knowing what to think, “I don’t know and right now I don’t have time to worry I’ve to undo what she and her team have done to my domain.”

Sam and Raven shared a look but understood where she’s coming from so let her be. It had been two years so there are things that need to be put to rights.

Chapter 1 – Chapter 2 – Chapter 3 – Chapter 4

Chapter 5

A couple of days later, May found herself breathing a sigh of relief as she slumped backwards on her chair. Because she’d finally managed to get all the records and files in order, the physical files were all in their respective homes, the more sensitive ones have been put back in their locked cabinet, for these she made a note to change the locks and keep the spare key close.

Raven and Sam had been running themselves ragged along with her when it came to not only organizing the archives room but also the area in general. Just as lunch rolled around, Sam and Raven walked in take away bags in hand.

“I know you don’t condone eating real food in here but I’m in no mood to deal with the likes of one Dr. Jack Seward today,” Sam said as she took a seat in one of the spare chairs in May’s office.

“What did he do this time?” May asked as she picked up the containers that were respectively filled with wonton soup, white rice, stir fried vegetables and Mongolian beef. Luckily the trio likes the same Chinese food, sharing between them is no issue.

“You know that girl from accounting?” Sam asked with a hum.

Raven and May nodded at this as they began to eat.

“The little bugger decided to bad mouth me in front of her and now she refuses to go out with me,” Sam seethed as she too served herself a plate.

The trio sighed heavily at this.

Jack seemed to make it his life mission to drive them mad whenever they don’t do as he orders them to. He had Zoe around his finger, Bloxham is cow that has her own agenda, and the rest of the foundation bar a select few follow his lead as if it were the most natural thing in the world all because of what she and her friends do for and in the foundation.

“Why the hell did I decide it was a good idea to have a crush on him?” May groaned.

“Because at first glance he is smart, looks to be sensitive, is cute and so happens to work where you work,” Sam listed off nonchalantly.

Raven nodded agreeing with Sam’s list before saying, “And then he let his colors show, saw an in to the archives through the crush you have for him and abused that thinking he could get away with it.”

“Which lead to me leaving for two years to move my delusional ass on from this pointless crush,” May said with a shake of her head at her own naivety.

“Don’t,” Sam said voice firm.

“What,” May said with brows raised.

“It’s not naive to hope,” Sam said still firm, “It’s not naive to want to have something good in your life and it’s not naive to hope to find it where you work...i.e where you spend most of your time as it is.”

May nodded numbly taking in what her friend had said. Sam’s right, to be naive is one thing and to be hopeful is another, it irked her some to see she still needed to learn the difference between the two.

The trio continued to eat in silence enjoying the when Raven groaned nearly spilling her food as she did.

“What?” Sam asked curiously.

“Did you both forget what today is?” Raven asked incredulously.

May and Sam exchanged puzzled look the latter giving their friend a shrug.

“Its Valentines Day weekend,” she said still shocked that she’d forgotten.

May groaned loudly as Sam looked like she at the canary.

“Zoe’s probably not going to be here for too long,” Sam said knowingly.

“The foundation will pretty much be empty bar the stupidly thin skeleton crew,” May added with a nod.

“And I need to get Eva something,” Raven said with a sigh.

“Hey do you still have that coupon I gave you for that place down the street from me?” Sam asked as if she’d gotten the best idea of the year.

Raven nodded with a blush.

“Let’s go and see what they have then,” she said with a wiggle of her brows, “You’ve been whining about not having a proper toy to have with your wife for ages. Maybe it’s time for that dream to come true.”

May laughed at the look on Raven’s face and said, “Come on Rae, you know she’s right.”

Raven huffed a laugh and nodded along with her friends.

The day progressed with a buzz that hadn’t been there before for May. It now carried with it an energy she wished she could ignore. Alas, she’d do as she’d always done and keep moving forward.

She was on her last break of the day when Sam sent her a text that both Jack and Zoe had been to the archive and taken with them a couple of files each to the cage floor. A welcomed and appreciated heads up from Sam May had to say. That’s how the dance went between Zoe, Jack and her. Avoidance is the best factor, or so they have said.

She went to her office her break no over to see which files were missing. She rolled here eyes at the selection and wrote them down on a sticky note to take up with her when it was her turn to grind the midnight oil. May didn’t like working nights, she hated it, but it beat seeing the lust sick fools on the streets trying to flirt their way into her bed. No matter how many times Sam has sad a one night stand is not bad idea depending on one’s mood.

May spend the rest of the afternoon compiling the pieces she’d gathered from her study of Castle Dracula to be added to the already existing file originally put together from what the late Mr. Harker had told the nuns at the monastery. She’d found she had to correct somethings here and there but most of the stuff already on file fit the information she’d gathered. She’d thought about giving Zoe their great-grandmother’s notes and diaries but decided against it. Because as much as she wanted to blame her death on Dracula, she felt there was more to this than what they’d been led to believe.

Jack had been down here and there trying to charm files out of her. Having had enough she’d rejected his advances and demanded he go through the proper channels to gain access to the files he was requesting. The pinched look on his face told her enough. But like hell would she be cowed because he didn’t like it when people told him no.

“Don’t you need a slice of humble pie,” Sam said as she sauntered in looking more than ready to leave the foundation for the night, “Zoe sent me to tell you she’s looking for you.”

Jack seemed to have an uncanny resemblance to Percy Weasley with how he glared at Sam but did as bid and left.

“You sure you want to stay?” She asked May once Jack was out of earshot.

May nodded and said, “Better here than out there. Stupid prick wants to use my crush for him to get what he wants when Lucy is doing just that.”

“Except unlike Lucy, you won’t spread your legs for just anyone,” Sam said knowingly.

May grinned at that and nodded.

“Seriously though, are you sure? I could cancel and we can have a night laughing at violent slasher movies?” Sam said worried for her best friend.

“Don’t worry about me Sam,” May reassured, “Better here where there is quiet than out there. Plus if Zoe needs me I’ll already be here so I won't have her nagging about not doing my work.”

Sam nodded not convinced but let things be. She bid May good night and made her way to the elevator to head home. She saw Zoe and Jack talking quietly to each other on her way out.

“She needs to do as she is ordered,” she heard Jack say derogatorily, “She’s a pencil pusher there to give us the files we need and put them back.”

“She’s more than that Jack–”

“No Zoe don't give me that,” he snapped, “You don't even believe that yourself and you know it. She’s nothing but a glorified secretary.”

Sam stopped at that and turned to face the couple.

Zoe caught the heated look Sam was sending them and at least had the decency to look ashamed.

“She’s your sister,” Sam said voice ice cold, “You’re supposed to defender against pricks like this like she's done for you on so many other occasions. Do you really doubt her so much that you’d fail her in this manner?”

Zoe paled at this knowing Sam is right before finding a certain spot on her shoes very interesting all of the sudden.

“And you,” she said looking to a now nervous Jack, “What’s the matter? Can’t have the one you want so you bully the one that’s had it for you since we began working here? How much more cowardly can you get?”

Turning back to Zoe she said, “You know it’s times like this when I realize that even Ted Bundy would have been a good bloke to date for your sister compared to this clown, good night.”

00//00//00

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#dracula #dracula bbc #dracula netflix #dracula 2020 #sister agatha van helsing #zoe van helsing #may van helsing #dracula x oc #agatha van helsing #claes bang #dolly wells #claes bang fic #dracula fic

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mtvswatches · 4 years

Text

Wynonna Earp 3x04 No Cure For Crazy

Click here for previous recaps!

Stray thoughts

1) Did that… did that tree just fucking walk?

Is the tree possessed by Dolls or something? Why is a tree helping Wynonna and Doc?

And why is Peacemaker not working?

3) Okay, the trees are fucking bleeding and this dude just called it “a murder tree” and what the actual fuck!

4) So… the “fire” never really happened, it was just a Black Badge cover-up for the massacre. I really want to see where they go with this whole backstory they’ve given Nicole because so far? Not into it.

Nicole does make a good point of asking Waverly why she hasn’t talked to her mom yet to figure out who her parents are. She seemed quite intent on figuring it out last season, and here she has the perfect opportunity to have every answer she’s looking for, and she’s not taking it? Waverly is anything but a chicken, so I’d figured she would confront her mother head on but I guess she’s been conveniently written OOC so that the writers can keep this mystery going for a while. I hope they don’t stretch this for too long, though.

5) Why did Nicole randomly and carelessly throw the ring in the middle of the forest? Huh? That’s also kind of OOC? Wasn’t she talking about disposing of it carefully two minutes ago?

6) MORE OF THIS, PLEASE.

7) And more of this.

8) Okay, so Waverly IS going to see her mother, she just didn’t disclose that bit of information to Nicole, why? She just made this big speech about not keeping secrets from each other… or is it that she wasn’t planning on seeing her mom until Wynonna brought it up and basically set it all up for her?

And suuuure, Mama is doin’ just fine!

9) So, Wynonna couldn’t shoot Peacemaker because she ran out of bullets, which is a more logical explanation than what I was expecting. I don’t know why but I just assumed Peacemaker had magical ammo and it didn’t require reloading? Anywho, look at these two idiots flirting with each other and basically dry-humping…

10) SHIT. That was a low blow.

But how fucking adorable is it that he’d taken the time to buy - or build! - baby Alice a crib? My heart!

11) Why was their mother so intent on Waverly never finding out where she was or seeing her? And what’s going to happen when Waverly does…? There must be a reason. It seems she was trying to protect them.

12) Why are they giving me so much Doc/Wynonna in this episode? What’s going to happen? (Listen, I’ve grown up watching Joss Whedon shows, I’m conditioned to believe that happiness is followed by utter and complete destruction and mysery!)

13)

NICOLE: Can we talk? It’s about Nedley.

WYNONNA: Not again. How many more plungers do we need?

14) Wait, did I forget that Jeremy was gay or they haven’t mentioned it before? Because I’m all for it, and especially about the way it was casually brought up in conversation because it’s not Jeremy’s single defining characteristic.

15) I guess the mother-daughter reunion is happening sooner than expected, since Waverly was contacted as her last known emergency contact.

16) Jeremy is totally vibing with this Robin dude who found the murder tree and they’re making silly tree puns and it’s gay heaven, I love it.

17) Well, that couldn’t have gone any worse…

And yet, I can’t help but feel she means something else? I still feel she’s trying to protect Waverly.

Something happened when Waverly touched her, too, and then she kept saying “she’s unbound, she’s loose, kill the demon.” Waverly of course assumes her mom is referring to her as “the demon”, but I have a feeling she’s talking about an actual demon.

18) I really felt for Nedley when he admitted he’s tired of covering the supernatural shit up. Man, I hated him on the first episode of the show and now I’ve really grown to like him? And Wynonna suggested he should step aside and let Nicole take charge, and he’s actually considering it, and I’m here for Sheriff Haught.

19) Listen, I’m not usually into Gay, meet Gay, now get together because you’re the only two Gays so therefore you must be attracted to each other and date, but… I’m really liking the Jeremy/Robin interactions so far? They’re really cute!

20) And now they’re two gays who have zero idea about the woods lost in the forest and they found the stairway to heaven…

21) Mama Gibson is not messing around.

22) Ah, great, the idiots who let a dangerous convict escape have now locked Wynonna up. Marvelous.

23) Damn, Waverly keeps thinking her mother wants to kill her and that she called her a demon, but I just fucking know she’s talking about a literal demon that’s probably threatening Waverly’s life, that’s why she’s kept away from her.

24) Wait, what?

NEDLEY: Michelle didn’t go to prison because she burned down the barn. She went because her youngest daughter was in it.

Her youngest is Waverly? So did she try to set Waverly on fire? I have a hunch she’s possessed.

25) Oh, dang, Doc is hearing a baby’s cry in the woods. Of course, this is a trigger for him, he’s thinking of Alice, and he’s being lured into the woods.

26) Major Spike vibes in this scene…

27) Hm. Bulshar just tried to strike up a deal with Doc – he’ll give Doc reprieve from the knowledge of his miserable destiny if Doc does his bidding. And Doc was really contemplating accepting. Don’t be weak, Doc. Come on. There has to be a way.

28) So, this fucking corrupt guard suggests they should just off Wynonna and write it off as if Michelle murdered her own daughter when she was trying to escape. And of course, he’s a fucking revenant. It’s definitely going to be interesting to see how Wynonna gets out of this one while handcuffed and without Peacemaker…

I mean, she was fucking tasered and yet…

QUEEN.

29) Nedley, my heart. He’s so heartbroken over this.

NEDLEY: Well, I got a call to a situation at the Earp farm. By the time I got there, the barn was lit up like a torch. You... somehow you escaped. I mean, you were covered with soot, you were crying, but you were unharmed. WAVERLY: And my mother? NEDLEY: She was... locked in your daddy's patrol car. She set the fire. But she was no murderous sociopath. She was Michelle Gibson. Rodeo spitfire. The wild heart and loyal soul of Purgatory. Even the thugs and the dimwits drank to her. With her. They loved her. Look, she wasn't herself that night. She kept... she kept insisting that... that she was trying to vanquish a demon. WAVERLY: A demon she thought was... me. NEDLEY: Well, that would explain The occult nonsense that Ward saw plastered all over the barn before she lit the match. Did you believe it? That was Ward's interpretation. Look, your pop was my boss, so... And I know... I know I should've been braver. I should've defended her. But... I booked Michelle like I was told to. God, this just keeps getting worse. I've been trying to make up for it ever since. I kept watch over you. I tried to set Wynonna on the straight and narrow. That didn't work out. And when I became Sheriff, I pulled the report. I didn't want anyone seeing it.

30) Why would Wynonna let the revenant in on the fact that she got a kid? I mean, wasn’t the whole point of sending Alice away to protect her from the likes of him? I get that she used that bit of information to distract him, and yeah, she did this later…

…but maybe don’t go talking about your child out loud around the enemies?

31) Why is he coughing dirt? Is he going to get gay-buried before he can be allowed to actually gay?

32) Now Waverly is listening to her mom’s tapes with a psychiatrist or therapist or something, and yep, I’m still convinced she was possessed or something and the reason she was trying to stay away from Waverly is because she wanted to protect her. As she was talking to the therapist, she said “Shut up!” or something like that and she was clearly talking to someone else who was not there, like someone who might be in her own head or that only she can see. Someone or something that might be using her to kill her own daughter. The question is, who and why? Is it Bulshar manipulating her the same way he tried to manipulate Doc? Or is it something else altogether? And why is this something or someone so intent on killing Waves? What is she? What kind of role is she supposed to play in the grand scheme of things for this evil entity to want her dead so badly?

33) Okay, theory confirmed, Doc just heard a third, infernal voice on the tape.

34) Oh shit, is history going to repeat itself?!

Yep, there was an actual demon in serious need of a facial and makeover.

35) Bye bye Robin, I guess?

36) Who the fuck is Jolene and why is everyone acting like Stepford Wives? Is this some sort of Ted/Dawn scenario?! And why is it that, in a supernatural show, this is by far the creepiest thing I’ve seen?!

37) So, I’ve got a lot of questions. First of all, I want to know more about the murder trees. How do they come to be? Are they inhabited by serial killers? We saw the face in one of them, and they can actually walk and move around, but why do they bleed? Is it like their victim’s blood? Also, who the fuck is Jolene? I mean, I know she’s probably the demon that showed up in the barn, but what’s her deal? What does she want? I mean, she didn’t kill Waverly, and instead she’s feeding and glamouring the whole group… to do what? Where was Robin taken? Can we please not do the whole bury-your-gays trope? I expect better of this show. Will Doc accept Bulshar’s deal? Please don’t, Doc. And what is Waverly?! That’s the biggest question of all, so I’m guessing the answer will be delayed till the season finale.

That was yet another fun, exciting Wynonna Earp episode, setting up a lot of stuff for the season, I guess. And I want answers!

38) Hope you enjoyed my recap, and, as usual, if you’ve got this far, thank you for reading! If you enjoy my recaps and my blog, please consider supporting it on ko-fi. Thanks!

#Wynonna Earp #Waverly Earp #Nicole Haught #Doc Holliday #Jeremy Chetri #Wynonna Earp 3x04 #WE RECAP #recap #No Cure For Crazy #mine #WE 3x04

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raywritesthings · 4 years

Text

Wrong Road to the Right Place 19/?

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Oliver Queen, Laurel Lance, John Diggle, Ted Grant, Thea Queen, Tommy Merlyn, Moira Queen, Malcolm Merlyn, Walter Steele, Felicity Smoak Pairings: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Summary: Laurel finds herself curious about the marks Oliver showed her that night in his bedroom - and the tattoo on his left shoulder stands out in particular. When she discovers its meaning, she finds herself questioning everything she knows about the man she doesn’t want to admit she still loves. *Can also be read on my AO3 page*

Oliver sat, pouring over pages and pages of notes, schematics and documents. Five years’ worth of them, and yet it seemed unreal.

“How does a person sleep at night, knowing they’re planning that?” Digg asked behind him, not for the first time. “He must not even see them as people.”

The enormity of it was crushing. A whole neighborhood. Potential casualties in the hundreds, maybe a thousand. Everyone in the Glades, the people who came to the Verdant, the Big Belly Burger where Carly Diggle worked and Laurel’s office all gone in a single act of terror. That was what they were up against, and without the aid of some mystery man concealing his face Oliver would never have known until it was too late.

The worst part of it all was that while these were files originating from Malcolm Merlyn, they had come from a different source: his mother.

“She knows about all this...how could she…?”

He didn’t finish the question because he already knew the answer. Him, Thea, Walter. And there was maybe the one spot of good in all of this, because Felicity had been able to find the reason why his step-father had gone missing. But it also told them that Malcolm was a man of his word who would follow through on the threats that he made.

The door to the base opened and Laurel hurried down. “I got your text. What did we find out?”

“See for yourself,” John answered. Oliver left his seat to let her read over the most relevant pieces. He could tell as each new part of the plan was processed just by the paling of her cheeks and the growing horror in her eyes.

“Does he have the bomb?”

“Not according to the latest status report.”

“Then it’s still at Unidac.”

He nodded.

“That might be our best shot, Oliver,” said John. “If we can get into Unidac and destroy their work, that sets Merlyn back months. Maybe years.”

It was a solid plan with only one flaw. “Unidac was bought by Queen Consolidated. Not Merlyn Global.”

“Malcolm probably wanted to cover his tracks. It would’ve looked suspicious for Merlyn Global to suddenly acquire a tech company,” Laurel pointed out. “And it gives him cover for if the police were to look into anything.”

“Exactly.” If he went into Unidac tonight, Laurel’s father and his people would be asking his mother questions. She would be the one implicated, not Merlyn. Exactly as the businessman planned, no doubt.

“Oliver, I know this isn’t easy, but she is involved,” Diggle pointed out. “If Merlyn does go down, she’ll be going with him. He’d make sure of that.”

“I know that, I just—” He didn’t know how to articulate his feelings. His father was far from perfect, Lord knew, but she was his mother. And everything she had done was for him and his sister. Could he turn around and condemn her?

Without the hit on Laurel, it would have been a resounding no. But now?

“Malcolm still has a hostage,” Laurel said. “Your mother’s documents wouldn’t have Walter’s location, but is there some lead we could follow to get to it?”

Oliver shook his head. “If there was, she would’ve followed it.”

He was paralyzed on all sides by indecision. Acting on the Unidac intel put Walter’s life in jeopardy, but could they wait to find Walter before acting on the information they had?

“Maybe instead of following your mother’s leads, we follow her,” Digg suggested. Oliver looked to him with a frown. “You told her I was reaching out to some contacts, right? You say to her one of them got back to me and said they found Walter dead. She goes to Merlyn and tries to call the whole deal they got going on off. He’ll have to give her proof he’s still alive.”

It was a risky bid, but he could see where it was going. “We trace that proof.”

His friend nodded.

“Okay, but after we rescue Walter, what if Merlyn decides your mother is a leak?” Laurel asked. “He could move this Markov device to another facility or change up his plan entirely.”

“Then we strike in two places at once,” Oliver decided after a long moment. “Digg will get into Unidac while I get Walter. It’ll have to be simultaneous.”

“Two solo missions at the same time. Won’t be easy,” Digg remarked.

“That’s not even everything,” Laurel added. “I just filed the deposition against Edward Rasmus before your text came in. He’ll know there’s a case against him now.”

“And so will the Bratva,” Oliver finished for her. This was not good. Obviously, Laurel couldn’t have turned that family away. Scum like Rasmus deserved to be prosecuted for stealing from the innocent. But it complicated things.

“I’m worried about them,” Laurel said. “If Rasmus has ties to the mob, what’s to stop him or them from sending someone to enforce the Moore’s silence?”

Nothing was the answer to that and they all knew it.

“Walter and Unidac will be time-sensitive,” he told her. “We have to go there tonight.”

“Of course you do.” Laurel took a breath and said, “God, everything’s moving so fast.”

“If it was one thing at a time…” He didn’t like the idea of splitting his focus, of worrying about two separate dangers not just to his family but the people of the city. If it was a choice between Laurel and others, it was one he didn’t want to make because he knew which he heart would choose.

But she shook her head. “I’ll talk to Ted, see if he has any advice. You shouldn’t be anywhere near this case, anyway, or the Bratva might suspect the Hood has ties to us.”

It was the same rationale for why he hadn’t gone to the drug deal with the Count in his vigilante persona, and it was just as crucial now.

“Be careful wherever you go now. They’re going to have their eyes on us.”

Laurel nodded. “That goes for you, too.”

Oliver couldn’t help a smile. It had been a long time since anyone who knew what he was capable of had bothered to worry about him.

“So we all know our plans of action,” Diggle said. “This is gonna really play our hand. I know Felicity thinks this information is genuine, but do we know we can trust it?”

It was something that had been niggling at the back of his head as well. Oliver didn’t like relying on others in a mission, especially when he didn’t know them. And if there was maybe the faintest chance that the information was bad, that they would be acting falsely, that his mother was still, perhaps, somewhat an innocent even after all she’d done…

He turned to Laurel. “You spoke to him.”

She took a breath, and he could see her visibly steeling herself. “Yes.”

If it were any other situation he might have laughed. Laurel was all heart, and it showed on her face. “You know who he is.”

“I do.”

“You do?” Digg echoed.

Laurel raised a hand. “But I made a promise. He wants to keep his anonymity for now. I don’t want to scare him off.”

He tried to tamp down a frustrated reply. Who could be so important—

And then he knew. Or he thought he did, because it had to be wrong. How and why would he have—?

He had to be sure. “You trust him.”

Laurel nodded. “Completely.”

“Well,” Oliver said, a million questions buzzing in his head. “That’s all I need to know.”

Laurel closed her eyes. “He’s going to kill me.”

“You didn’t break your promise,” he assured her.

“Hold on, now you know who this questions guy is?” Asked John.

“Yes, and we can trust him.” He said nothing else under Diggle’s scrutiny, which he could tell the other man was annoyed by.

“I don’t think it’ll take much,” Laurel assured their friend. “He’ll have to come back here if he wants the information we had decrypted anyway.”

“If this ends up being some kind of trap,” John began.

“It won’t be.” Oliver checked his watch. “If we’re going to do this, I need to go speak with my mother.” It was not something he was looking forward to; he hadn’t actually seen her since they’d moved out of the Manor. A part of him worried he would give himself away.

“I’ll call Felicity,” said Diggle. “She’s gonna need to track whatever tech Merlyn uses to prove he’s kept up his end of the deal.” He moved off to the other end of the base as he got out his phone.

Oliver turned back to Laurel. “Tommy.”

She shrugged, her lips curving in something like a smile. “I was just as surprised as you are. I guess he got tired of being the last one to know everything, so he did some digging himself.”

Oliver nodded, trying to process the idea. True, Tommy had done some extraordinary things in the past — a trip to Hong Kong came to mind, which he guiltily set aside — but to turn to illegal methods like this?

“I have been a bad influence on both of you.”

“Now you sound like my father,” Laurel pointed out. “I think this city’s been the biggest influence on all of us.”

That certainly held true.

Laurel stepped up closer. “I’m sorry I couldn’t just tell you myself.”

But Oliver shook his head. “I understand.” Laurel and Tommy had a bond, one that had been forged stronger over the years in his absence. He couldn’t fault them that. “If it had been me in your place, I don’t know that I wouldn’t have agreed to the same terms.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing we know each other so well.” Laurel’s smile faded. “After tonight, things are going to get more dangerous.”

“They will.”

“I should warn my father. I just don’t know how to do that without...without telling him everything. Which is impossible,” she added before he needed to.

He didn’t have advice but he could provide assurance. “You’ll find a way.”

“You should talk to Thea,” she told him. His lips pulled into a frown. “Ollie, there are potentially huge changes about to happen in her life and to the people around her. She should be at least a little prepared.”

He knew she was right. “I just want her to be safe.”

Laurel stepped up closer to him. “And she will be. We’ll make sure of it.”

He sighed, taking Laurel’s hands in each of his. “I don’t know how everyone I care about comes out of this. On the island, that was something that happened, too.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed, thinking of Shado. “I didn’t think I’d have to make those kind of choices here.”

“I’m sorry. But we’ll make them together.” Laurel went up on her toes, to hug him rather than kiss him, which he found he truly needed more. When she pulled away, she cupped his face. “Just one thing at a time. We all know what to do.”

He nodded. “Talking to my mother. Not exactly an easy task considering.”

Her lips curved in a wry smile. “Tell me about it.”

“Oliver, ready to go?” John called out.

“Yeah,” he answered back. Laurel let him go, and he headed out to the car. Oliver did his best to try and forget the rest of their plan in the moment; right now, he needed to be convincing despite the confusion and disappointment he felt towards his mother. He needed to lie as effectively as she’d been lying to him.

The gates of the Manor shut with finality as the car went up the drive. John stopped the car momentarily in front of the house and pulled away once Oliver had exited. Inside, he found his mother and Thea just sitting down to dinner. His sister looked up with surprise giving way to happiness. “Ollie!”

“Hey, Speedy,” he replied in a far more subdued tone, his eyes quickly finding their mother again. She looked far more reserved than Thea by comparison, almost afraid.

If she was afraid, it was because she knew that in setting an attack on Laurel, she had put them on opposite sides. And she didn’t even realize what she might have to fear from him — if she were anyone else.

Oliver let that conflict within him fuel his performance. “I have some news. It’s about Walter. Um, Mr. Diggle heard from some of his contacts in the CIA…”

Thea gasped as he trailed off. When he glanced up at his mother again, the shock on her face looked completely genuine. She looked to be buying it.

When it changed into anger, he knew she had.

“No. No, that’s impossible.”

“I’m sorry, mom,” he said, some part of him still aching at seeing the distress he was causing her.

“Whatever Mr. Diggle’s contacts told him, it’s wrong.” She stood up, striding from the room.

“Mom!” Thea called.

“I’m going to sort this out, sweetheart. Stay in the house, both of you.”

Oliver kept his gaze down until he heard the front door open and shut. Then he started to leave as well.

“Ollie!” Thea shot up out of her chair and ran to intercept him. “Where are you going?”

“To follow mom,” he answered truthfully. “Just to make sure she’s okay.” That part was the lie. “Do what she says.”

“But—”

“Please, Thea,” he said. He could see the worry and the frustration in her eyes now. Laurel was right; his sister was struggling to understand what was happening all around her. “Just for a little longer.”

With that nebulous promise — to her and to himself — Oliver got on his bike to follow his mother to Merlyn Global. Once his surveillance tech got Walter’s location, it would bring him one step closer to tearing Malcolm’s plans for the city and for his family down.

And potentially one step closer to tearing them all apart.

—-

Ted got out of the ring just as he noticed Laurel approaching at a fast clip. She wasn’t dressed for boxing, either.

“Do you have a minute?”

“Sure.” Ted walked them back to his office. “Alright, what’s happened now?”

“I filed the deposition against the businessman the Bratva are tied to today, which puts the family in danger. I was wondering if tonight, I could bring them here to hide out.”

“While you do what?”

Laurel shrugged. “About the only thing I can think of. Tell my dad what’s going on so the police can set up a sting operation.”

It was the responsible option at the least. He might have even been inclined to agree with it a few months ago. But he couldn’t help asking, “And what happens to you?”

“Well,” Laurel began before taking a deep breath. “I’m probably going to be answering a lot of questions about my connections to the Bratva.”

“Which may get back to the boyfriend.”

“I would never turn him in.”

“Yeah, but if your father’s anything like you, he’s a smart guy. He can put two and two together.” Ted frowned in thought. “I’m not sure I like Robin Hood. He’s a little too eager to dish out capital punishment for one thing. But I worry even more about what might happen now in his absence.”

Like it or not, the Hood was an established presence in Starling City. His capture would cause a power vacuum, and there could be far worse waiting to fill it.

“I don’t know what else to do. Rasmus and the Bratva have to be stopped, but the Hood has a different mission tonight.”

“Important?”

“Absolutely,” Laurel said with such conviction it was striking. Ted wondered...but no, the less he knew, probably the better. The deeper he got into this, the more likely he was to end up back in the fight himself.

But was that such a bad thing?

He had hung up his suit for good after Isaac had gone too far and a man had ended up dead. It had seemed the right thing to do at the time. But if he could save lives now by putting it back on, what other choice did he have?

“Okay, then here’s what we do,” he said at last. “Moving the family is only going to alert these guys that you’re ready for them. We’re going to have to set a trap.”

“With the family as bait?” She looked pained even saying it.

“It’s risky, but from what I know of the mob, they’re only gonna send one guy. Make it look like a burglary gone wrong. I can handle one guy.”

Laurel blinked in shock. “You would?” When he nodded, a smile lit up her face and he thought she was barely holding back from hugging him. “Ted, thank you.”

He shrugged. “I’m not in the business of letting good people suffer. Now, do you have their address? If we’re gonna do this, we need to know the terrain. And make sure they’re ready to move the minute anything starts.”

Ted closed up the gym early and went with Laurel to scope out the family’s small home. There were a few different points of entry which might make things tricky, but he had a feeling the hired gun was going to come through the front door. There was a spot he could wait between two houses across the street that allowed him a view of the front and one side. It would have to do. Laurel and he parted ways, her to get the family ready and him to prepare.

He returned under the cover of darkness in his old suit. Putting it on felt like donning a second skin for the first time in so many years. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it. Ted watched and waited. Stakeout had rarely been his style, but he was willing to do it to keep a family safe. Eventually, his patience was rewarded.

An otherwise unremarkable looking man with a closely shaved head and dark skin came walking down the street. He held a briefcase and little else. Still, he set off the warning bells in Ted’s head, and he’d learned years ago never to ignore them. When the man approached the Moore’s front steps, he knew his suspicions were right.

Ted crept from the shadows, light on his feet as he approached. His mark tensed, so he figured it was best to go for broke.

“Scuse me,” he called out. “Pretty late, don’t you think?”

The man whirled around, and Ted was forced to dive into a roll to avoid the bullet that came from the briefcase. Clever disguise. This guy had brought a gun to a boxing match. Normally, that’d decide things right there. Not against Wildcat.

He was back on his feet and leaping forward before the man could take better aim, delivering an uppercut with his leading fist while his other hand ripped the briefcase from his opponent’s grasp.

The assassin fell back against the door but quickly got his guard back up. A fighter, too. Good. Ted was ready for a fight.

They regarded each other. In the ring, he might have tried getting the man circling, but he wanted his focus away from the house and the movement going on inside.

There was a small trickle of blood leaking from a corner of the assassin’s mouth, but his eyes were practically gleaming. “Even if I’d expected a vigilante, this would be a surprise.”

“That’s the idea.”

“I’m intrigued, but since you’ve seen my face, we’ll have to skip the pleasantries.”

They both flew into action, Ted landing a flurry of blows. He could tell the man was straining to reach the briefcase, but he kept him boxed in on the front stoop. As long as this was a fistfight, he had the upper hand.

His opponent got in a lucky jab, and Ted grunted, staggering back. He’d been slacking, apparently. Training would have to be stepped up, for him and his student.

Just as the man made to lunge for the briefcase a few feet away, the door flew open and a nightstick came down on the assassin with a sharp crack. He went down like a ton of bricks, revealing a person in all black from their boots to the mask they wore over their eyes and the knitted cap hiding their hair. “You alright?” Laurel asked.

He relaxed his stance. “Sure.”

“You didn’t think I was just going to watch, did you?”

“Guess not. Where in the hell did you get that?” He asked, gesturing to the nightstick.

“Borrowed it.”

“And I suppose you borrowed the mask from your boyfriend?”

“Nope,” she answered lightly, coming down the steps. She took out a pair of handcuffs she had clearly liberated as well and snapped them over the assassin’s wrists. “This one’s mine to keep. Now come on, the Moore’s alerted the authorities.”

Before he knew it, his student had looped her arm through his and they were quickly making their way from the scene. In an alley, Ted pulled back his cowl and she took off the hat, her hair falling down around her shoulders.

“So, any pointers?”

Ted smirked. That enthusiasm was good; it would be invaluable after a time, when the work eventually might take its toll. Nobody could force themselves to be out here unless they really believed in it.

“Why the hat?”

“Had to hide my hair somehow.”

“Do you?”

She raised an eyebrow.

“This is gonna sound crass, but one of the best weapons you have at your disposal is looking like a woman.”

She crossed her arms. “That did sound crass. Want to qualify your statement?”

“Look, I know better than to think this way, but plenty of guys out there are gonna think they can go easy on you because they’re arrogant. It’s your job to teach them otherwise.” That got a grudging smirk out of her, which he returned. “So forget the hat.”

“Don’t I need something to cover my hair?”

“Who says it has to be your hair?”

She didn’t miss what he was saying. “A wig.”

“Might even help throw the police and anyone else off your trail.”

Laurel nodded.

“One other thing you’re gonna need. A name. Especially since you’re planning on working with a partner.” Ted still had his misgivings about the Hood’s harsher methods — he’d never wanted to cross that line himself — but seeing as Laurel had explained a bit of her boyfriend’s background he could understand it a little better. It helped that since she’d joined up with him, the archer’s body count had significantly dropped. Maybe once she was out in the field officially, they could get that down to zero or damned close.

“We’ve been talking about that,” Laurel told him on a sigh. Something about it indicated she hadn’t found one she liked yet. “How’d you pick Wildcat?”

“My fighting style, mostly. It’s how people described me. That plus I’m a southpaw, it fits. What are your boys calling you?”

Laurel snorted at his description of her partners, then admitted, “Pretty Bird, for the time being. It’s kind of an inside joke,” she added at his raised eyebrow.

“Well, you have any particular liking for birds?”

She shrugged. “Not exactly. My dad got Sara a canary one year for her birthday, and it just drove us all nuts chirping away...but maybe that’s what I want to be.”

A canary, ripping through the criminal underbelly and sounding her song of warning in the Glades, Starling’s proverbial coal mine. Not a bad idea. And as he looked over her dark attire, it hit him: “Black Canary.”

Laurel looked at him, a light in her eyes. It was the right one, and they both knew it.

They found themselves at the halfway point between his gym and Queen’s club, meaning they would go alone the rest of the way.

“Well, I’d say we can consider this good work tonight. Now we just gotta prepare for your boyfriend’s associates once they realize they’ve been crossed.”

“If only that were all,” Laurel said grimly. As she walked away, Ted found he really wanted to ask what that meant, and what he could do.

He smirked at himself. So much for giving this life up.

—-

John felt an uncommon bout of nerves as he stopped the car outside of Unidac Industries’ facility. He’d been on far more dangerous assignments, both in Afghanistan and for the Hood’s mission, but this was the first time he was really going out solo as himself.

Or the self people would hear about on the news, rather. He checked again that the helmet Oliver had rushed to have custom made for him was in place, then got out of the vehicle.

It had been a simple matter to have Felicity pull up Unidac’s blueprints, so he knew exactly where to avoid cameras and the sight lines of any guards as he approached the building. John drew in a deep breath, then unholstered the weapon at his side.

He turned and kicked the front door in, firing off two shots at the guards sitting at the front desk.

“What the—” They each slumped over, out cold for the next half hour or so.

A woman passing down the hall screamed and dropped her coffee mug. It shattered on the floor, followed by shouts of surprise and alarm throughout the building as John quick-marched down the hall.

“I’m not here to hurt anybody,” he said. “Just keep out of the way.”

He’d armed himself with a tranquilizer rather than his usual gun. For one thing, that weapon was registered to John Diggle, and for another, he wasn’t interested in permanently injuring these scientists. Even if they did know what they were doing and what it was supposed to lead to, he figured the police and the courts of law could deal with them. He was only here for one thing: the bomb.

With the security guards taken out, the remaining scientists that tried to put up any resistance were easy pickings. They weren’t trained soldiers or battle-hardened insurgents, at any rate. John cut a swift path into the lab said to house the Markov device.

He paused in the doorway. “Damn.” The thing was huge!

But fortunately not armed yet when he checked it, so he sent it toppling to the ground. The casing cracked on one side and some of it dented inwards. John reached in to rip out wires and smash any small parts he could find. Then he picked the whole thing up and dropped it again, this time cracking it in two.

He threw a chair through a bank of computers and servers along one wall as well for good measure. He hadn’t permanently hurt anybody at the facility, but he didn’t mind trashing their stuff. Served them right. John wondered with amusement what Oliver would say about the insurance bill that was no doubt going to end up on his mother’s desk after this. If his mother would even be sitting at that desk for much longer.

“No, no! What are you doing!” An older man hastily pulling on a lab coat rushed in, probably summoned by the alarm.

John raised the tranq gun and fired, watching with only the slightest wince as the man crashed to the floor seconds later.

“Believe it or not, this is for your own good.” Or the city’s good, anyway. This guy probably lived in some McMansion outside the city limits and didn’t know anybody in the Glades.

John turned to go when he spotted some files lying open on the workstation next to where the device had been sitting. He picked them up, but sirens had him quickly racing out the door.

He only just got out of there in time and thanked every deity known to man he wasn’t stopped by any cop cars on his way back to the base. He found it empty; Oliver and Laurel were still preoccupied with their own tasks, then.

Mission accomplished, he felt his heart rate slow down as he set the helmet aside and began flipping through the documents he’d stolen. John wasn’t naive enough to think these were the only copies Unidac had, but it might help to have as few in circulation as possible.

As his eyes scanned the text, they widened. “Oh, no, no, no.”

The door to the base opened above him, and two sets of boots descended. “I’ll tell you after we get you over to see Walter,” Laurel was saying. She’d started pulling her mask off and Oliver had his hood down.

“Does it still let me call you Pretty Bird?”

“Shut up.”

“Hate to interrupt, but we got a problem,” John said, turning to face the pair with the file in his hands.

Oliver and Laurel exchanged a look, the easy humor leaving their expressions and postures. Oliver stepped forward. “Did you destroy the device?”

“Yeah, the one that was there. But this file I grabbed says it was one in a set.”

He watched both of them pale. “How many more?” Laurel asked.

“One, according to this.”

“My mother’s files—”

“Must not have been updated or Merlyn was keeping the second one on a needs-to-know basis, and she wasn’t needs-to-know. Oliver, it doesn’t say where the second one is.”

He watched his friend grit his teeth, his hand clenching around his bow. Laurel reached out and took his free hand.

“Ollie, we still have time. We can find it.”

“Merlyn will know about Unidac once the news covers it, if not before. It’ll be a race against the clock, for him and us.”

Oliver’s phone buzzed on the table where he’d laid it. John leaned over for a look. “It’s Thea.”

“You have to put in an appearance at the hospital,” Laurel reminded him. “I can stay with John. I probably should—”

“I’d prefer you with me,” Oliver admitted, then clamped his lips together as if he could take it back. It was clear he was rattled and feeling vulnerable, which he hated being.

“Then I can do that,” Laurel assured him, not even missing a beat. “Let’s get changed.”

She headed for the back of the base and Oliver followed. John set the file back down, taking out each individual page to spread out on the table.

Device 1 of 2, pickup by client, was the original line that had caught his eye. Beneath it was written Device 2 of 2, assembly on site. But where was that site?

He looked up when the two returned in civilian wear.

“I’m gonna keep studying this thing, see if there’s any clues that might indicate where a second one could be stored.”

Oliver nodded on his way out. “Send photos of the file to Felicity to get a second pair of eyes.”

“Right. Hey, is that family alright?” He remembered at the last second.

Laurel threw a smile over her shoulder. “Fine, thanks to Wildcat.”

John nodded. It figured that of all the gym trainers Laurel could have picked, she stumbled on the one with a vigilante past. Made him wonder what her — and Oliver’s, apparently — connection was to this questions guy as well.

None of those things were his priority at the moment. They had a ticking clock that in only a short time could become very literal.

—-

Laurel hung onto Oliver as he navigated their way through the streets on his bike. Not only was it for her own safety; she liked to think of it as the hug he didn’t feel he could ask for right now.

In a few minutes, they would be face-to-face with Mrs. Queen, where she could see plain as day just how little Laurel had followed her request. Laurel wasn’t sure what she thought about the Queen matriarch anymore. Yes, Malcolm Merlyn was a dangerous man who had proven himself capable of following through on his threats — the Gambit was only one example — but to know the older woman was perfectly aware of his plan for the Glades and was doing nothing about it, to know that she had somehow made peace with the idea of all those people perishing...it was unthinkable to her. She could only imagine the turmoil Oliver had to be in over it.

They parked and followed Thea’s directions to the room Walter was resting in. The rest of Oliver’s family was already inside, and Mrs. Queen’s smile froze as she caught sight of Laurel.

“Oh.”

“Mr. Steele,” Laurel greeted instead, knowing now was not the time. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Thank you, Miss Lance.” He was thinner than she’d last seen him all those months ago at the Queen’s Christmas party, but fortunately looked otherwise unharmed in the physical sense. “I’m very glad to be among familiar faces again.”

Oliver reached out to clasp Walter’s shoulder briefly, choosing to speak with his actions rather than his voice. It was probably for the best.

A soft tapping on the doorway distracted all of them. Felicity Smoak stood there, a bouquet of flowers in one hand.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt a family thing,” she immediately excused.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Mrs. Queen asked.

“A friend,” answered Walter.

Felicity smiled and stepped up to set the flowers down. “I just wanted to welcome you back, Mr. Steele. But I should get going, because of, um, work I need to be doing.” Her gaze darted to both Laurel and Oliver before she made a swift exit. Laurel gave her the slightest nod as she went.

“So, Ollie and Laurel started dating again,” Thea said to break the tense silence that ensued.

“Well, congratulations to both of you,” Walter said.

Laurel managed a smile. “Thank you. It’s been...interesting.”

Oliver raised both eyebrows at her. She raised them right back.

“Right, well. We should probably let you rest, Walter,” Oliver said at last. She could tell by the line of his body he was incredibly uncomfortable in the cramped space trying to maintain all the lies in front of his family. Laurel slipped her hand into his and followed him to the door.

They nearly crashed into Malcolm Merlyn on the way out. Laurel couldn’t quite stop the slight jump at his presence.

“I’m sorry,” Merlyn said with perfect politeness. “I just heard the news. Walter, so wonderful to have you back safely.”

Laurel felt the grip Oliver had on her hand tighten to an almost painful degree. She squeezed it back, knowing exactly how angry he had to be right now as she felt rather the same.

“Thank you, Malcolm.”

“I truly hate to interrupt, but I hoped to borrow Moira for a few moments,” Merlyn continued. Now even Thea frowned. “I’ll be sure to return her as quickly as possible.”

Mrs. Queen stepped away from Walter’s bedside. “I would hope so.” Laurel had to move back against the door as she passed. Up close, she could make out the same lines of tension in the mother that were present in her son.

Oliver led her out into the hallway, watching Malcolm and Mrs. Queen disappear around the bend in the hallway. “He won’t do anything to her,” he muttered, and Laurel knew the assurance was for his own sake as much as hers.

“Of course not. It’s too obvious. Either he wants to know if Walter said anything incriminating them or it’s about Unidac.”

Oliver let out a sigh but almost immediately stiffened; a different Merlyn was making his way down the hall towards them.

“Hey, I saw on the news. Walter’s back?” Tommy was facing Oliver straight-on but his eyes kept darting to her. Looking for information.

“Yeah,” Oliver replied, his eyes closing for a moment. She wondered if he, too, was blaming himself for this; the three of them had done everything together. Was Tommy following them into this life because of that? “And we need to talk.”

Laurel tensed. Since Oliver had guessed the truth, she had been hoping this confrontation would be much more private. It took them a few minutes to find a secluded corner of the hospital.

“Tommy, what are you doing?”

Their friend blinked, then gave a disbelieving laugh. “Really, you’re gonna give me the lecture?” He turned a betrayed look on her.

Laurel raised both hands. “He guessed.”

“You didn’t have to tell him he was right!”

“Keep your voices down,” Oliver instructed, his voice turning sharp. “Your father and my mother are in this building, Tommy, and if they find out what you’ve done—”

“So you got it decrypted. What’s my father’s plan?”

“We can’t discuss that here,” Laurel stated. “It’s too sensitive, and you’re going to want somewhere private to yell.”

He eyed her warily. “It’s that bad?”

“Worse.” She was sure, as much as Tommy had disliked his father for as long as she’d known him, even he wouldn’t be able to imagine what Mr. Merlyn had planned.

“So when can we talk?”

Oliver shook his head. “There’s nothing to talk about. We’re handling it.”

Tommy scowled. “You wouldn’t even have the information you do if I hadn’t gotten it. It was sitting in your house the whole time, Ollie, but I was the one who risked my butt getting it for you, so I think I have a right to it.”

“We have a lot going on right now.” She could see Oliver’s frostiness for the shield it was. Part of it had to be the hurt he still felt at Tommy’s initial reaction to his secret identity; the other part, she suspected, was him trying to push his best friend away to keep him out of it.

“Like what?”

“Like the Russian mob,” Laurel admitted freely. This was her problem, after all. “They wanted to use me to help one of their associates. I didn’t do what they asked, so now it’s just a matter of time.”

Tommy swallowed. “They’re going to come after you?”

She nodded.

He looked between her and Oliver again. “You’re going to need help.”

Oliver glowered at him. “Tommy, you’re not a vigilante by your own admission.”

“Well I’m your — I’m something, alright!”

Laurel stepped between the two of them before they could really get started again. “Look, Tommy’s right in a way. If the Bratva is sending their own after us, we need all the help we can get. But not from you,” she added to her friend. “You’re untrained, like I said before.”

“Alright, I get the message,” he grumbled a bit, embarrassed. “Got a recommendation for me?”

“Diggle.”

They both blinked in surprise at Oliver.

“Your sudden interest in physical training would raise eyebrows if you did it in public. Digg can get you started on the basics...if you really want some part in this.”

The two friends stared each other down for a time. “Look, I’m still not sold on this whole vigilante thing. It’s not — it shouldn’t be necessary. But, your mom said whatever dad’s doing is for my mother,” he confided in them. Laurel started in surprise. How would destroying an entire neighborhood be in the name of a humanitarian like Rebecca Merlyn? “After he tried to shut down her clinic, I don’t trust him with her legacy. I have to stop him. And you have to stop him for your dad,” he said to Oliver, who nodded. “So then, after that, we’re done, right?”

There was a terrible silence. Laurel looked to Oliver and found the same uncertainty.

Tommy hung his head. “We’re not done.”

“You can be,” she told him gently.

“Yeah, that’s kind of the problem of being a friend to somebody,” he told her. “Makes it hard to sit at home when you know they’re out there risking their lives like a pair of lunatics.”

Laurel couldn’t help a light laugh. Even Oliver wore the hint of a smile though his eyes remained on the ground.

“If I can’t help you with the Bratva, then what kind of help are you going to get?”

“Laurel has a teacher,” Oliver said.

Laurel meanwhile, bit her lip. “This isn’t going to help my ‘lunatic’ image, but I think we need more help than that.”

Both men looked at her.

“We need someone who’s dealt with the mob.”

Tommy stared at her blankly while Oliver gave a vehement shake of the head. “No.”

“Got any better ideas?” She challenged.

“Wait, who are we — oh no,” said Tommy.

“Well?”

Neither of them had a reply. She hadn’t thought so.

—-

Malcolm waited until he was alone before dropping his genial smile. “We have a serious problem, Moira.”

“I have no idea how any of this happened,” she denied immediately. To both his frustration and relief, he could tell she wasn’t lying; Walter’s rescue was just as much a surprise to her as it had been to him.

Still, the timing couldn’t be ignored. “We have a leak of some sort. Our Undertaking is under attack. I received a call from Unidac an hour ago. An unknown assailant broke into the facility.”

Again, only genuine shock registered on Moira's features. “Did they find it?”

“They destroyed it. That room, and nothing else.”

“They knew what they were there for,” she realized without further prompting.

He nodded. “I had our associate take the liberty of cleaning up any loose ends. The police won’t know what was supposed to have happened there.”

He was standing close enough to her that he almost felt her shudder. Malcolm smirked to himself; hardened as Moira had become over the years, she still reacted badly to the mention of violence. It was the edge he held over her.

“Does this mean our Undertaking is at an end?” There was a note in her voice, almost of hope.

“Not in the least. I had the foresight to commission a second device for our purposes,” he told her, enjoying the way her eyes went wide. “Always best to plan in redundancies in a business venture. Minimizes risk.”

“Of course.” He had to hand it to her, Moira always recovered well. “Then we move forward?”

“Naturally. It’s location will have to be moved to the central-most part of the tunnels to ensure the maximum damage to the Glades itself. The argument will have to be made to seize whatever is left of the neighborhood for the rebuilding.” It was not his ideal plan that he had been building towards the last five years but he was too impatient to commission new scientists to build a second device. So it would have to be a combination of hard and soft power that put the Glades into his hands.

“Very well. If that is all?” Moira already made to move past him, but he took her arm.

“One last thing. Should this second device be discovered, Moira, I will know you have betrayed me. And it won’t be a hostage our associate takes next time.”

He could tell by the tremble in her lips that she understood perfectly.

“Enjoy tonight with you family,” he said last, slipping through mask of respected businessman Malcolm Merlyn back on as smoothly as a glove. He stepped away from her and turned, leaving the hospital.

It had not been the Hood who had attacked Unidac. He was unsure if this was good fortune or not. A new player meant unquantifiable variables.

These challenges were a test of his conviction, he was sure. To determine that he was worthy. He would surmount them all, then enjoy the fruits of his labor made all the sweeter with every additional obstacle overcome.

#lauriver #laurel x oliver #laurel lance #oliver queen #arrow #john diggle #ted grant #tommy merlyn #thea queen #moira queen #malcolm merlyn #walter steele #felicity smoak #green arrow #black canary #my writing

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agentmarymargaretskitz · 4 years

Text

The Secret Life of Schrodinger

Happy super belated birthday to @incendiaglacies. We have such epic AUs and you are literally Gideon and I am a terrible friend for taking so long on this. But I figured you would enjoy our favorite little kitty in the Roommates verse!

It’s been too long since I wrote for this verse. Enjoy our favorite kitty and his nicknames for everyone!

AO3

Schrodinger purred happily in his sleep. He was currently dreaming about rain battering the windows of the apartment. His eyes widened as fish suddenly began to fall from the sky too. With a mew, Schrodinger began to paw at the window. They looked so tasty!

A loud blaring noise brought him out of his slumber before the blanket nearly shifted him onto the floor. Schrodinger protested, paws scrambling to hold on to anything as Mommy Prime reached out and grabbed her phone to stop the rude sound.

“Ugh,” she moaned, blinking her eyes open to see him hanging onto the blanket. “Aw, Schrodinger.”

Mommy Prime sat up and pulled him away from the treacherous ledge. Schrodinger meowed in thanks as she flopped down onto her pillow with him on her stomach. She mumbled something about wanting it to be the weekend. Schrodinger didn’t blame her. The weekend was the best time because all his mommies were home.

Soon, loud music started playing through the wall, signifying Playing Mommy was now awake. Mommy Prime groaned and pushed him down gently so she could get up. She and the other three mommies had to get ready for their jobs. He had come to notice an awful lot of work went into being a human. Being a cat was much easier.

At least it was easier now. A few days after he’d opened his eyes, he’d been put in a cardboard box with his other siblings. One by one, they had all been taken except for him. Then one rainy day, Mommy Prime had found him with Playing Mommy. That’s why she was Mommy Prime. She had found him first. The other three were mommies with names of what they did best with him.

As Mommy Prime kept getting ready for her day, Schrodinger slipped out of the room and padded towards the kitchen. Playing Mommy was making her way to the bathroom and stop to scratch him behind the ears. He circled her legs once before dashing into the kitchen where Cuddle Mommy was waiting by the coffee pot. When she saw him, a smile lit up her face.

“Morning, Schrodinger,” she cooed, picking him up. “How are you?”

He mewed that he was good and a little hungry as she stroked his fur and scratched his ears. When she hit the tickle spot, he wiggled a little and purred loudly. All his mommies gave him good cuddles, but Cuddle Mommy gave him the best ones.

Food Mommy stumbled into the kitchen, stretching out her arms and yawning. “Morning, Lily.”

“Morning, Gideon,” Cuddle Mommy smiled as she set Schrodinger down on the floor. “Coffee’s almost ready.”

“Yes,” Food Mommy sighed, bending down to the floor. “Did she feed you yet, Schrodinger?”

“I’ve been up ten minutes,” Cuddle Mommy groaned as a song started playing faintly. “Hang on, that’s my phone.”

He and Food Mommy watched as she ran back to her room, a small crash soon following. The cat winced a little.

“No sense in waiting,” Food Mommy shrugged as she went to go get his food.

Once she had given him breakfast, Food Mommy poured herself a cup of coffee and put a pan on the stove. She got an egg out of the fridge and moved over to her open laptop. Schrodinger eyed the stove, hoping that she’d remember it soon. More than once, she had started a fire and he’d been scooped up as they evacuated the building.

Just as the pan started to smell funny, Playing Mommy skidded into the kitchen. “Gideon!”

“Wha- oh,” Food Mommy’s face fell as Playing Mommy turned the stove down. “Whoops.”

“You can make toast and that’s it,” Mommy Prime lectured, now coming into the room. “Remember?”

“I’m going to sign up for a cooking class later,” Food Mommy pouted as she put the bread in. “I’ll make something without causing a fire or it tasting like soap and prove you all wrong.”

“Okay, Gideon.”

Cuddle Mommy reentered. “Is the coffee ready yet?”

“Yes, here you go, Lily.”

“Thanks, Cait,” Cuddle Mommy took a long sip from the mug Mommy Prime offered her. “Okay, now I’m a little more ready for the day.”

Playing Mommy took the egg from Food Mommy and cracked it in the pan. “Who was that on the phone?”

“Ray. He was asking if there was anything he needed to bring tonight.”

“Just what we told him,” Food Mommy answered. “Everyone has their stuff. All he needs to do is get here on time.”

Cuddle Mommy nodded and pulled out her phone to text him a reply. Schrodinger ate a bit of his breakfast as he watched them run around to get ready for work. Food Mommy had everything of hers in order. Playing Mommy nearly forgot her tablet before she left. Meanwhile, Cuddle Mommy and Mommy Prime were nearly late leaving for work when the former couldn’t find where her notes she’d made the previous night were. But eventually, they all made their way out of the apartment.

Now it was just him.

~~~

For a few hours, Schrodinger basked in the morning sun. The windows in Cuddle Mommy’s room were the best for sunbathing before noon. When he didn’t feel like laying around, he found one of his toys and started chasing it through the apartment. Tiny Human had given it to him for Christmas, a very kind gesture. Schrodinger hoped he’d come by with Beardy Human and visit soon.

It was maybe noon when he decided to go and pay his friends a visit. There was a window in Mommy Prime’s room that was always cracked open on sunny days leading out to an old fire escape ladder. Schrodinger sauntered into her room, delighted to see it was open a bit. Jumping onto the ledge, he moved the window up enough so he could squeeze out onto the escape. As long as he got back before the mommies came home, he could go wherever he wanted on this side of the building.

He bounded up the steps up to the fire escape just above the one he’d come out on. Schrodinger leaped onto the garden box and started batting at the top of the open window. Inside, a tabby cat hanging over the sofa lifted her head. She yowled to the other cat in the apartment before bounding over to the window.

“Hey, Cleo,” he greeted as she settled on the table by the window.

“Schrodinger,” she purred. “How are things downstairs?”

“My mommies are good. How’s your human?”

“He had another bad date,” the other cat who lived there said as he padded up to the window. Apparently, his name was supposed to be a pun, but Schrodinger didn’t understand what was so funny about Ted Meowen.

Schrodinger pouted. “That’s sad. I hope he finds someone like my mommies did.”

“But none of your mommies are with anyone, are they?” reminded Cleo.

“They won’t say it, but I know they will be.”

Ted stretched out. “Well, hopefully our Gary finds one too. He’s a nice human.”

“Yeah, he’s always kind when he catches me up here.”

“Except you need to be careful of the window box,” Cleo warned him. “He still thinks it was one of us who stepped on the basil.”

“I said I was sorry!”

“Humans don’t speak cat,” Ted grumbled. “It’s such a flaw. All those languages they can learn and they don’t even bother with cat.”

For another hour or so, Schrodinger caught up with the two cats since he heard rain was coming the next day from Playing Mommy. He would not likely see them tomorrow since it would be the weekend, so now was the time to get into socializing. When he’d first moved here, he’d spent a week exploring the apartment before realizing there were other cats in the building! Cleo had been the one to venture out of her apartment and find him in his. Ever since then, they’d gone back and forth between their floors, talking about their humans and how hard it was to care for them.

Conversation wore out eventually between the three of them. Schrodinger bid Cleo and Ted farewell before scampering back down the stairs to his floor. As he landed on the metal, he noticed something on the stairs leading downward before he recognized it. His ears flattened against his head as he hissed at his nemesis.

“Go home, Fang!” he warned.

The other cat looked up at him. “Get off my stairs.”

“They’re not your stairs! They belong to everyone.”

“You better get off, nerd cat.”

Schrodinger laughed. “Or what?”

Fang snarled and started bounding up towards him. Realizing he was in trouble, Schrodinger made a beeline for the open window. With a mighty pounce, he sailed through the open space he’d crawled out of. He stood on his hindquarters and pushed the window back down with all his strength. Fang nearly lost his whiskers when it slammed shut in front of his face.

It wasn’t kind, but Schrodinger stuck his tongue out at Fang. His mothers set the example to be petty. He was just impressionable.

~~~

Family dinner night was tonight, which meant that his mommies and all their friends would be coming over for dinner. It also meant that Schrodinger would be subjected to watching all his mommies be in denial that they were in love with their friends. At times, it was agonizing. He would rather get into a fight with Fang sometimes. That was how painful it was to watch.

Cuddle Mommy got home first and Schrodinger made sure to greet her properly. She laughed as he circled around her legs while she tried to get off her shoes. Finally, she picked him up and brought him over to the couch for cuddles. Schrodinger nuzzled her cheek and listened to her babble away about how it felt good to be home, how she’d missed him, and how much there was to do that night.

Mommy Prime came shortly after her with Fun Human, the one who’d given him his name. They had needed to go back out to pick up something from his apartment, so they had dropped Cuddle Mommy off first apparently. There was still lots of cooking to do for that night, so Cuddle Mommy had to go and pitch in. Schrodinger was sad about that part, because it meant no more cuddles.

They were all working on getting ingredients together when Playing Mommy waltzed on in with Sneezy Human and Dog Person. When Sneezy Human started sneezing, Mommy Prime told him they had extra allergy medication just for this sort of thing and that Cuddle Mommy would be happy to help him find it. Before she could protest, the two were pushed off to the bathroom to get it. Schrodinger purred as he watched them to go. Maybe they’d finally get together tonight.

Beardy Human and Tiny Human came in a while later, the former bearing a tray of cupcakes. As soon as Tiny Human came in, Schrodinger bounded up onto the couch so the little one could see him. He squealed and ran towards him while Beardy Human reminded him to say hello to everyone else. Two more humans came in as the others started preparing the meal and Tiny Human played with him. He didn’t see Vet Lady and Coffee Human as often as he saw the other humans, but they usually came with the humans that were a couple.

“Sara and Leonard have their own plans?” Playing Mommy asked them as Schrodinger chased after a ball Tiny Human had thrown.

Coffee Human and Vet Human exchanged a look before the former answered. “Yeah, although we’re expecting Sara to come back with something special tonight.”

“No way!” Sneezy Human, who was a lot less sneezy now that he had dealt with his allergies. “She’s totally going to say yes, right?”

“Of course, they’ve been together for ages,” Cuddle Mommy scoffed as she picked up a pretzel. “That’ll be exciting.”

“Definitely,” agreed Vet Lady. “Anything new with you, Rip?”

“Uncle John’s coming!” Tiny Human piped up, having grown bored waiting for him to come back with the ball. “Right, Daddy?”

“Who’s coming?” inquired Food Mommy, who came in the apartment at that moment holding a stack of mail. Schrodinger took the chance to bound into the room to greet her and curl around her legs.

“An old friend of mine,” Beardy Human explained. “He’s thinking about moving into the city. Interesting guy. A bit of a magician. Although I might have to get out the swear jar for his visit.”

“But weren’t you telling me that Jonas’s first word was…”

“Yes, and I don’t know if I was the one responsible or John.”

Tiny Human frowned. “Daddy, what was my first word?”

Beardy Human’s cheeks reddened as he scratched the back of his neck. “One you weren’t supposed to know.”

“Like the ones you say sometimes and tell me not to repeat?”

Mommy Prime snorted into her glass of water. Dog Human was trying hard not to smile while Beardy Human nodded and put his hand over his face. Food Mommy patted his shoulder.

“Yes, Jonas, it was.”

Schrodinger wondered if it was the bad word Playing Mommy had screamed when the fire alarm woke her up a month ago. Then he remembered that he had left the ball behind when he’d gone to greet Food Mommy. So he went to go and get that so Tiny Human would play with him some more.

~~~

Eventually, all the humans managed to get their dinner finished and sat down on the couches and chairs to eat. Schrodinger lay down next to Playing Mommy and Vet Lady, leaving now and then to eat from his own bowl. He half-listened to the conversations about the two missing humans and other human things. Playing Mommy began to give him scratches after finishing her meal.

Dog Person got up to go to the bathroom at the end of the meal. Playing Mommy left soon after because she needed to go find something from her room. Fun Human winked at Mommy Prime, who rolled her eyes. Schrodinger didn’t think anything of it.

Then he realized that Playing Mommy was taking a while. Schrodinger climbed to his paws, stretched out, and sauntered in the direction of her room. Her room was mostly tidy, but sometimes it did get a bit out of sorts. Perhaps his eyes would be better to find what she was looking for. Then she would be happy and probably give him more scratches.

“…hear us.”

His ears perked up. That was Playing Mommy’s voice coming from her room.

“We should go back soon. They’ll notice we’re gone.”

That was Dog Person’s voice. Why was he in Playing Mommy’s room though?

“Cisco and Ray are locked in a debate over science fiction, which will drag in Lily and Gideon and eventually Jonas,” Playing Mommy replied. “They won’t notice we’re gone, Oliver.”

“Mmm, you make a very persuasive argument.”

Schrodinger frowned. Why weren’t they with the rest of the group? What were they even doing in Playing Mommy’s room? Family dinner nights always meant everyone had to be together. Mommy Prime said so. Maybe they were bored of the living room? What if Playing Mommy and Dog Person wanted a change of scenery? That was why Schrodinger liked to leave the apartment.

Suddenly, there were strange noises coming from the room. Peeking in, Schrodinger saw them kissing.

Wait a second…he had heard the humans talk about Playing Mommy and Dog Person before. He’d wondered himself why they’re weren’t as coupley as the other humans who weren’t here. But now they were coupley! And Fun Human had recently told Mommy Prime that they should try and set them up. Now there was no need for that! But how could he tell them?

An idea came into his kitty brain. Scampering back to the living room where the humans were still locked in a debate on Star Wars and Star Trek, Schrodinger crept up to where everyone had left their shoes. He picked up one of Dog Person’s shoes in his mouth and began to run towards Playing Mommy’s room. The other humans shouted from behind him. Like he had hoped, they did follow after him all the way into Playing Mommy’s room.

“Schrodinger, come back with Oliver’s shoe!” Sneezy Human called out from behind the door.

The cat dropped the shoe in front of his mommy and Dog Person to make his presence known. Then he swiped at Dog Person’s leg as he kept kissing Playing Mommy when he didn’t get his attention.

“Hey!” Dog Person exclaimed, breaking the kiss.

“Oliver?” came Cuddle Mommy’s voice. “Wait a second…”

The door swung open to reveal the rest of the roommates and their friends. Playing Mommy removed her hands from Dog Person’s shoulders quickly.

Schrodinger sat back and watched things unfold.

Coffee Human blinked. “Felicity? Oliver?”

Playing Mommy blushed. “Uh, hi all.”

“You’re in your room,” stated Cuddle Mommy. “With Oliver. And you had your hands on him.”

“Did I? Well…ah…”

“Are you guys kissing again?” Tiny Human asked them.

“Again?” Fun Human’s eyes lit up. “Are you two finally together?”

They exchanged a look before Dog Person frowned at him. “What do you mean ‘finally’?”

“Well, you two have obviously had an attraction to each other for as long as we’ve known you, Oliver,” Food Mommy explained, as if it was simple. “We were just waiting for you two to wake up and realize it too.”

“And now you have!” Mommy Prime finished brightly. “It’s about time.”

Playing Mommy grinned. “This isn’t our first time getting together. We’ve been dating for a little while.”

Vet Lady raised an eyebrow. “How long is a little while?”

“More than a month.”

Fun Human whooped and turned to Mommy Prime. “I told you that there was something going on two weeks ago and we could give them a push! We could have found out sooner, Cait!”

Mommy Prime heaved a sigh. “Okay, yes, you were right, Cisco. But I’m not going to invade my roommate’s privacy.”

“So you two are together,” Sneezy Human put his hands over his heart. “That’s so sweet. And…sorry for barging in on you two.”

“Well, we do need to rejoin everyone at some point,” Dog Person shrugged, casting a look towards Schrodinger. “Guess it took the cat give us the nudge to get back…and tell you all about us.”

Schrodinger tilted his head smugly as Playing Mommy picked him up.

“You rascal,” she teased, giving him his well-deserved scratches. “Busting us like that. But I forgive you.”

She carried him out of her room with Dog Person and followed the others back to the living room when Coffee Human screeched.

“LOOK!” she squealed, turning around and waving her phone in front of them. “Sara said yes!”

“Leonard proposed?” Beardy Human gaped, getting a nod from Coffee Human. “Oh, they better come to me for a wedding cake.”

“Kendra, let me see!” Food Mommy pleaded. “I need to see it to believe it.”

Coffee Human passed the phone around, drawing out lots of excited noises from the humans.

“Aw, this makes me so happy for them,” Mommy Prime cooed. “I hope I find love like that one day too.”

“Same here,” Food Mommy nodded.

Schrodinger was pretty sure he was the only one who saw her glance at Beardy Human after saying this. He was also the only one to see Beardy Human glance at her after she had looked away.

~~~

Within two hours, the guests had left the apartment. Beardy Human and Tiny Human had been the last ones to leave. Schrodinger entertained the little boy while his father helped clean up from the dinner. After they left, his mommies began to get ready for bed. Schrodinger bounded onto the couch, tired from the long day. With a yawn, he settled down for the night.

He didn’t know how long he was asleep for before the footsteps woke him up. The cat climbed up onto the edge of the couch to see Food Mommy entering into the space of the living room and kitchen. She turned on the light and took a seat at the kitchen table for a moment, then opened a cupboard to retrieve a bar of chocolate. When she turned back towards him, Schrodinger saw that she looked sad and a little scared. That wasn’t right at all for her!

“Meow!” he cried out, hurrying over to curl up at her feet. Something had to be wrong with his mommy if she looked like this.

Food Mommy turned her head down to look at him. Alarm shot through the cat when he saw the tears running down her face. Heaving a sigh, she lifted him up in her arms and cuddled him close. Schrodinger let her bury her face in his fur and rubbed his neck against her hair. He didn’t like when any of his mommies were sad. They needed cuddles to not be so sad.

“Oh, Schrodinger,” Food Mommy yawned, lifting her head and setting him on her lap. “I’m glad you’re still awake.”

He mewed as she picked up an envelope and sheet of lined paper. “How do you tell your friends you finally found your father-”

That was hard for sure. Even if he could communicate with her, he wouldn’t know what to say.

“-and that he’s in prison?’

So this was a very human problem he could not solve. He would rather fight Fang.

#legends of tomorrow #the flash #arrow #roommates au #gideon #caitlin snow #felicity smoak #lily stein #schrodinger #cisco ramon #ray palmer #rip hunter #jonas hunter #oliver queen #olicity #incendiaglacies #happy belated birthday #i am sorry this took so freaking long #i probably owe you a raising jemma fic too

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john-cardoza · 5 years

Text

Reality is Shattering

After a musical apocalypse Paul would like to think he can handle anything life throws at him, but this is weird and slightly terrifying. Because, when you pull a pin on a grenade you are supposed to die. Right? You aren't supposed to be sent back in time, or to a different dimension, or put in a really weird dream. None of those things should happen, but at least one of them definitely is. Read on Ao3.

I don’t like musicals!

When Paul pulls the pin the world explodes. Sure it’s a grenade and that’s exactly what is supposed to happen, but something about it is weird. Instead of the burning and the pain he was expecting to feel, he’s just numb and it feels like the different aspects of reality are shattering and coming back together. The only thing he can think of is Emma. As long as Emma survives none of this matters. He’ll die and Emma will live and everything will be worth it.

The world is absorbed in a cloud of light. He can’t see the infected anymore, no Charlotte, no Bill, and no Greenpeace lady. He’s flying backwards, and just when he thinks he will land and break every bone in his body, he blacks out.

-------

Paul wakes up with a gasp. He can’t move, something is tangled around his legs, restricting his movement. His eyes open, expecting to see some kind of alien mothership, but instead it’s a bedroom. Wait no. It’s his bedroom.

His sheets are wrapped around his legs and the sun is coming through the window, just like it always is. He can hear cars and the sounds of people going about their normal days, which is unsettling. His alarm goes off at six o'clock on the dot, like usual and Paul reluctantly gets out of bed.

His suit is hanging in his closet, looking just like it always does. Except it’s on the left instead of the right. He has bagels in the fridge, though the cream cheese is expired, and when he makes it to the parking lot his gas tank is halfway full. The desk person in the apartment building says hello to him, undramatically and not trying to kill him, and when someone with headphones passes him while singing he can safely say that they are very out of tune.

Paul would almost believe that the last two days was a dream, if it weren’t for the spots of blood he found on one of his dress shirts from when Emma tried to kiss him.

Emma.

Paul doesn’t dare go to beanie’s. He even drives the extra block to make sure he won’t even pass by the front window. As much as he wants to see Emma, the idea of it terrifies him. Something is definitely wrong and he doesn’t want to drag Emma into it, maybe this was all a huge hallucination his brain had created after he blew himself up. Maybe he was actually infected, but his brain was going to be stuck in a day dream while his body did the aliens bidding. Maybe his body was out there right now, singing and dancing, and trying to kill the one girl he actually liked.

Maybe he should stop thinking about it.

When Paul walks into the office, he braces himself for the disaster that he ran from two days ago.

“Paul where is your statistical analysis?” Mr. Davidson comes out of nowhere and Paul think he might have a heart attack. “It was supposed to be on my desk yesterday”

Paul waits for the shoe to drop and for Mr. Davidson to burst into song again, but instead he just looks more and more angry the longer Paul stays silent. Paul gets the hint and realizes that he should probably cover if he doesn’t want to be fired .“Oh– yes. Yes! I have them. I’ll get them to you. Right now. Goodbye” Paul ducks into the closest elevator and the door closes on Mr. Davidson.

What the fuck is going on.

Paul doesn’t realize there’s someone else in the elevator until they speak.

“Hey Paul. I hear you didn’t get your reports in. Why is your work ethic so bad? Maybe you should try my style: just turn stuff in on time” Ted leans against the elevator railing and his hair falls in his face in that really douchebag way it always does.

All of the love Paul held for Ted is gone. (Not that there was very much) “Oh hi Ted”

“Buddy I had a wild weekend” Ted continues “I went over to Charlotte’s house and I won’t tell you exactly what we did, but I’m sure you can guess” Ted raises his eyebrows suggestively and shakes his hips.

Paul was too busy trying not to puke from that horrible image that it takes him a second to process “Wait what?!!” Charlotte he mentioned Charlotte. And he isn’t badly covering it up “Charlotte?”

“Duh,” Ted rolls his eyes “She’s good– if you know what I mean”

“But Charlotte is married” Paul slowly connects the dots “Sam, the asshole”

“Dude she’s been divorced for months” Ted looks at Paul like he’s an idiot “We’ve been fucking for twice that”

So things are different. The elevator door opens and Paul makes an escape without even looking at the floor number. He needs to be done with that conversation. Immediately.

Luckily Paul is on the right floor. He beelines for his desk and buries his face in his hands. What the fuck.

Everything is the same as it was. Except it’s not. Paul’s brain hurts from trying to figure it out. Is he in an alternate dimension? His inner nerd is excited about that theory. Or is it just a weird possessed hallucination. Did he time travel? That one doesn’t make any sense, he’s in almost the past, but it’s different than it was the first time. Maybe it’s because he blew up the meteor? It might’ve reset things, but not perfectly. Can that happen?

“Hey Paul, you okay?” Bill’s voice comes out of nowhere. God Bill. His best friend who he watched get shot in the head.

Paul jumps to his feet and hugs Bill tightly. He’d been so focused on Emma and Ted and Charlotte that he completely forget about Bill. “I’m great”

Bill seems confused about why Paul is hugging him, but he isn’t opposed. He hesitantly pats Paul on the back “Uh, Okay?”

Paul kind of feels like he’s going to burst into tears, but he doesn’t. Instead he composes himself and pulls away, like it’s normal for him to casually hug Bill. “How’s Alice?” Even if he sometimes seems uninterested in Bill’s social life, after everything he witnessed during the semi-apocalypse he needs to know. (Also he always liked Alice. It sucked when the alien possesing her body tried to kill him.

Bill’s face lights up “Actually it’s great!” Bill sits in his desk chair and rolls over to Paul’s desk “See she was supposed to go home two days ago on the bus, but she got off to go see Deb” Paul notices that when Bill says his daughter’s girlfriends name it is with less anger than usual. “So last night was talking to Alice after Deb left, and we were fighting, but then– get this Paul! She told me that she wants to live with me instead of her mother! Ha! So we talk to her mother and she objects, obviously. Because I’m a supposed Bad influence” Bill looks hurt and Paul is reminded of how much he hates Bill’s ex-wife “But Alice starts talking about legal stuff– apparently she’s been researching. And because she’s seventeen it’s her choice. So her mom agrees as long as Alice visits once a week. So now I have my daughter back!”

Paul waits a second to see if Bill is done before talking “That’s great Bill”

“I know!” Bill smiled. He leaned forward “Also she loved Mamma Mia!”

Paul froze a bit at the mention of a musical, but it didn’t seem to do anything. Part of him was still expecting this to be some bullshit prank. Like the aliens wanted to punish him because he Defied them thrice or some shit. “I’m glad”

“I’m sorry you missed it–” Paul tuned out Bill’s voice. He did not need to know the exact plot of Mamma mia, no matter what Bill said. While he was zoning out he suddenly remembered his talk with Mr. Davidson. “So then the mom’s friends all started singing–”

“Shit! My weekly report” Paul cut Bill off mid sentence.

“I did it for you remember?” Bill passed Paul the papers “Because you were sick yesterday”

He was sick? That’s weird Paul has never missed a day of work from sickness (It doesn’t count if your boss sends you home because they don’t want you to get everyone else sick). Paul took the weekly report and scanned a couple of pages. “Thanks Bill”

“It’s no problem” Bill took the report back and dropped it on Melissa’s desk where she would hopefully give it to Mr. Davidson.

“Oh hello Paul, Bill” Charlotte walked slowly and put a cup of coffee on her desk “I didn’t know you were here”

Charlotte was wearing her cat sweater, the one she died in. Shake it off Paul. He needed to stop thinking about his friends and the ways they died “Hi Charlotte” He looked Charlotte up and down, she looked the same as she had, though her hands weren’t shaking as much as usual and she looked happier. Was being with Ted that much better than Sam? Or was there something different that he didn’t know about that was putting her in a better mood. “How are you?”

“I’m fantastic” Charlotte took a drink from her cup and Paul realized that it was actually the herbal tea that everyone avoided in favor of coffee. “Ted took me on the nicest date last night–”

“Charlotte you’re ruining my image” Ted complained he leaned down to kiss her on the cheek and smiled at her in a very-not-Ted way.

“Sorry sweetheart” Charlotte kissed Ted quickly before going back to her tea.

Paul felt his eyes bug out in shock. What the fuck.

“I’m going to go get some coffee” Paul stood up abruptly. This was too weird. “At the nice normal Starbucks”

Charlotte frowned “I just made a new pot in the–”

“Nope” Paul looked around and grabbed his wallet “I have a… a gift card! Yeah, I’ll be back”

Paul didn’t wait for his friends confirmation, he just left.

------

Paul let the muscle memory take him to the coffee shop while he thought about what had happened. He must be in a hallucination. That was the only logical explanation. The real question was whether he hit his head when the blast went off, or if it was alien induced. Maybe both? Paul was regretting the fact that he never read science fiction books, maybe that would’ve given him a better idea of what was going on.

Paul opened the door to the shop and didn’t realize anything was wrong until the bell above the door went off. Instead of the small beep that happened when you walk into Starbucks, he heard the tell tale wind chime of Beanie’s. Before he could turn around and run he met eyes with the girl at the counter; Zoey if he remembered correctly. He would look like an ass if he left now.

At least Emma wasn’t at the counter. Wait was that a bad thing? What if Emma just didn’t exist in this world? Is that good or bad?

Out of curiosity he turned around to see how he ended up at Beanie’s instead of Starbucks. He realized that he had walked to the right place, but in this world or hallucination Beanie’s was right by his work and the Starbucks was visible about a block away. Paul hated this.

He tapped his fingers against his wallet while he waited in line. It would be fine, he wouldn’t even need to talk to Emma, he could be in and out before her break was over. To his horror right as he got to the counter Emma walked out of the back and took Zoey’s place.

“Paul!” Emma looked surprised “You’re late”

Paul was technically early, but enough things were already out of whack. Why would his normal coffee time be the same. “Yeah, just a black coffee”

“I don’t even get a hello?” Emma asked “You bailed on me yesterday”

“I bailed on what?” According to Bill he had been sick, but he was at least 93% sure he had actually been running from the fucking alien apocalypse.

“I had the closing shift” Emma stared at him like he was supposed to know what that meant.

“Oh yeah, the closing shift” Paul nodded in a way that he hoped was convincing “My bad”

Emma looked unconvinced “Are you okay? You always came hang out while I lock down the store and clean tables. I missed you”

“I was sick” Paul covered, that’s what Bill told him so it must be somewhat right? His heart might’ve fluttered at the fact that Emma knew him here and that he regularly spent time with her, but it was offset by the other fifteen negative emotions he was feeling at the same time.

“Why didn’t you text me?” Emma plucked his wallet out of his hand where he had been holding it in front of himself absently. “Cash or credit?”

“Cash” Paul couldn’t lie to Emma. He needed to tell her what was going on. Maybe she would know what to do. “I need to talk to you”

Emma took a five dollar bill out of Paul’s wallet and returned the proper amount of change. “We can talk tonight, I’m closing again”

“Can it be sooner?” Paul was going to explode if this went on any longer. He also did not want to go back to work.

“Emma hurry the fuck up” Emma’s boss called from the espresso machine “You’re holding up the line”

“Yes Nora” Emma rolled her eyes “You need to go, I’ll see you after work?”

“Of course” Paul took the coffee from her and left the store. That was a failure on every count. And now he had to go back to work and talk to his friends who weren’t like his friends and why was his life such a disaster.

------

After four hours of keeping his head down at work and ignoring how weird everything felt, he was ready to leave. Or actually he was ready to jump out a window, but leaving was a nice alternate. He didn’t actually know when Emma is supposed to get off work, so he just heads down to Beanie’s as soon as he can leave. Luckily the shop is empty and Emma has most of the lights turned off. He hesitantly knocks on the door and lets him in before re-locking the door

“So what did you want to talk about?” Emma asked. She was wiping down the counter so Paul pulled one of the chairs over to sit on.

“I think I’m either in a different dimension or my current life is all an elaborate illusion that the aliens who killed me came up with” Paul explained in a rush.

Emma turned around slowly “What?”

“I know you probably think that I’m crazy or high or something equally weird, but there was this musical apocalypse and I died, but now I’m back in the world where it never happened and everything is just slightly different so I’m freaking out!” Paul didn’t know what he would do if Emma didn’t believe him.

“I–” Something in Emma’s expression changed “Musical apocalypse?”

“Yes!” Paul needed her to believe him “Everyone who got infected just started singing and dancing like they were in a musical! There was actually a song here– except it wasn’t because in my world Beanie’s is in the Starbucks building– but it was your boss and Zoey and you were doing a tip song but they knew more so they just kept going, and they put blue shit in the coffee!”

Emma stopped wiping the counter and jumped up to sit on top of it. “I believe you”

“And then– Wait what?” Paul had been ready to launch into another description, but he stopped “Why?”

“I’ve been having these dreams…” Emma trailed off “I thought it was nothing, just a dream. But that; what you just described, was in my dream”

“Oh,” Now Paul was really confused “What else do you remember”

“You” Emma blushed a little “We almost kissed”

“Yeah,” Paul would regret not kissing Emma for the rest of his (Probably short) life. “So now I’m here and I’m kind of freaking out”

“You said little things are different?” Emma asked to clarify, when Paul nodded she continued “So what is different? Maybe that has something to do with this”

Paul started listing everything he had noticed throughout the day. He didn’t notice a pattern until he got to the end of the list “Wait everything is better” So far all of the weird changes had been good things that he wanted to happen. Bill got his daughter back, Charlotte was happy, and Emma was working closer to his office. Also now that he looked back on it, the coffee at Beanie’s was significantly better.

“Okay I have an idea” Emma hopped off the counter and threw her rag behind the counter “I have this professor–”

“Hidgens turned out to be evil” Paul interrupted. As much as he liked Hidgens, there was no way he would forgive him for trying to get Emma killed. Oh, and Ted.

“Hidgens?” Emma looked confused “Who the fuck is Hidgens?”

“Noted” Paul nodded. Just another thing to add to the list “Proceed”

“So anyway. She’s super into voodoo stuff. She claims I was like, an astronaut or something, in a past life? Anyway, maybe she can guess what’s going on” Emma rolled her apron into a ball and tucked it under the counter. “Professor Hill”

“That sounds like a long shot” Paul said hesitantly “But I have no better ideas”

------

Paul should’ve known that Hill would be weird. Why were Emma’s professors always weird? She was majoring in fucking botany. Shouldn’t the professors be plain, normal plant people? Hill looked like she was straight out of a scooby doo cartoon with hair that a cat probably slept in and an outfit that looked like she got lost in a fabric store from the seventies. To Paul’s horror she pulled them into her basement which had a crystal ball and four too many skulls to be average.

“Emma you brought a friend” Hill moved much closer than Paul wanted and looked him in the eye “Or maybe more than a friend?”

“Paul is having a problem Professor” Emma seemed right at home in the horror basement. She sat on the loveseat across the table and took the cup of tea Hill offered her.

“Big problem” Paul stood nervously in front of the loveseat. He was unsure if Emma wanted him that close. Emma rolled her eyes and pulled him down to sit next to her and leaned against his shoulder. Paul waved away the offer of tea and Hill examined him over her octagonal glasses. (Also what company made fucking octagonal glasses?)

“You aren’t from here” Hill sat dramatically in her chair and pulled the crystal ball closer.

“So I am in a different dimension?” Paul missed Hidgens and his extensive bar.

“Maybe so” Hill said unhelpfully (Which seemed to be a common theme) “Here can mean any number of things”

Emma nodded as though that made sense. “We want to know what happened to Paul”

HIll leaned across the table and examined Paul “Hmm”

“Emma I think we should go” Paul leaned back. He no longer cares what’s going on, as long as he never has to see this woman ever again.

“It’s amazing what dreams can bring” Hill nodded at Emma.

“What?” Emma grabbed Paul’s hand nervously. “My dreams?”

“The dreams will give it away” Hill repeated. She pushed away the crystal ball, even though she had barely used it. “That is all I can see” Hill pushed them out of her… house? Basement? Apartment? Cave?

“I never want to see that woman ever again” Paul said once the door closed. He was starting to miss the apocalypse, at least he knew that was real.

“I wish she’d been more helpful”

“At least she didn’t try to kill us” Emma laughed and Paul suddenly realized they were still holding hands. It was nice.

“Do you want to come over to my place?” Emma asked when they got in the car “You probably shouldn’t be alone”

“Sure” Paul was pretty sure he would be fine alone, it wasn’t like someone was trying to murder him. But it was sweet that Emma was worried.

------

They got back to Emma’s with little difficulty. Everything was so much easier when aliens weren’t trying to infect you and take over the world. Paul wondered what Bill was doing, a part of him, was still hoping that this was actually real. Everyone was way happier and Paul wouldn’t mind staying here forever.

“So we don’t actually know each other in your memories?” Emma asked casually.

“When I exploded we had only actually known each other for about three days” Paul didn’t think pining after Emma for a month counts.

“I must’ve really liked you” Emma reasoned. “And I never actually kissed you”

“The one time we tried you spit up blood on my face”

“I think we can do better than that” Emma grabbed Paul’s shirt to pull him in and kissed him right as the world started to dissolve.

-------

Emma came to consciousness slowly, holding on to the dream for as long as possible. Sadly enough the dream faded and Emma finally woke up. Paul’s untucked shirt she was holding became the sheets on the uniform hospital bed had been sleeping in for weeks now. The apartment she loved, though the real Paul had never set foot in it, became the dark and empty room. It was amazing the things her dreams came up with. Anything to make her believe that she didn’t lose her chance with the one guy she actually liked.

Throughout the last week Emma’s head had given her so many foolish fantasies. Fantasies where everyone was actually happy, and the friends she’d only had for a day and a half lived long enough for her to get to know them.

“Kelly get up! You’re leaving today” Emma jumped at Colonel Schaffer’s voice. The Colonel was annoying, but Emma was at least looking forward to leaving and hopefully moving on.

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la-leto · 5 years

Link

Alex Honnold, star of the Oscar-contending doc Free Solo, is perched precariously halfway up an 85-foot wall. The seemingly superhuman climber who scaled a 3,000-foot sheer vertical wall in Yosemite National Park without any safety equipment is wearing a harness and tied into one end of a rope. In the unlikely event that he falls, the man on the other end, Jared Leto, will catch him. The wall arcs up and out at a steep angle — what rock climbers call overhanging — so a climber's body is nearly horizontal to the ground. When it's his turn to ascend the wall, Leto, breathing hard, is undeterred. "Nice, Jared, c'mon dude," Honnold, 33, shouts, doling out lengths of slack in the rope. "Stay with it, I'm with you."

Unlike the many people in Hollywood who have reached out to Honnold since the release of Free Solo, Leto, who fronts the rock band 30 Seconds to Mars and won a best supporting actor Oscar for 2013's Dallas Buyers Club, has been climbing with him since 2015. Leto was working on The Great Wide Open, a series of five short films about national parks and the men and women exploring them, including Honnold. Shortly after they met, the pro climber took Leto up a classic mountain route called Matthes Crest northeast of Yosemite Valley. It was one of Leto's first climbs, and they stayed out into the night. "We were just so psyched," says Honnold. Leto, 47, remembers scrambling along a thin blade of granite toward the summit and nearly falling off. "There was one part where I grabbed on the end of a rope during one really slabby section," he says. Leto continued to climb, and his friendship with Honnold grew. "I'm getting my ass kicked," the actor says, "which is great."

Leto makes a stealth appearance in Free Solo. Early on, filmmaker Jimmy Chin's camera lingers on an unidentified man's back as a disembodied voice (both belonging to Leto) asks Honnold if he would ever consider free-soloing the 3,000-foot granite monolith that is El Capitan, the mecca of the rock-climbing world. Honnold, of course, goes on to do just that, his ascent of El Capitan's Freerider route without ropes or harnesses ranking as a nearly unparalleled feat of physical achievement. On Feb. 24, the National Geographic-sponsored team that captured the epic journey on film, including Chin and his co-director and wife, Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi, might be going home with an Oscar statuette.

Free Solo has brought a slew of opportunities to Honnold. "It's like a snowball going downhill," he says. "And the film hasn't even hit streaming yet." In November, Honnold struck a multiyear brand ambassador partnership with car company Rivian, which considers Honnold a "superuser" because he lived in a van for so long. Rivian, which markets itself as the manufacturer of the "world's first Electric Adventure Vehicles," consults with Honnold on design. On Oscar night, Honnold is expected to show up in a Rivian R1T All-Electric pickup truck — and sport a custom-made tuxedo that The North Face is having made just for the occasion. (Honnold still uses the van that appeared in Free Solo for overnight climbing trips with his girlfriend, Sanni McCandless.) He has another ambassadorship deal with Beyond Meat, a company that makes plant-based products that resemble meat. He also has shares in the company, which could yield dividends when it stages its IPO soon. His nonprofit, The Honnold Foundation, which works on solar energy and aid projects for impoverished communities in the U.S. and abroad, has seen an uptick in attention and partnerships as well.

Black Diamond and Maxim sponsor his climbing gear. A company called Stride provides him with health insurance. Italian climbing company La Sportiva offers shoes, and Utah-based Goal Zero works with him to market solar chargers for phones. He gets paid handsomely to speak to investors and corporations, often repurposing a Ted Talk he gave last year about "mastery." He'll soon become part-owner of a national chain of climbing gyms, a speculative bid on an expected uptick of interest in rock climbing. Though he's avoided the big-time exposure that comes with big-time sports brands, Honnold will almost certainly make seven figures this year and next. Says his manager at RXR Sports, Jonathan Retseck, "For rock climbing, that's pretty good."

***

One recent morning, before Leto arrived at the Sender One climbing gym in South L.A., Honnold reflected on this new phase as a half-dozen people snuck by to snap pictures of him. Hollywood, too, has shown intense interest: Honnold was game when Edward Norton's agent got in touch about the two going climbing. (They haven't yet.) He met Brie Larson, who also has climbed and was training for Captain Marvel, at an Antonio Banderas screening. "I loved Zorro as a kid, and [Banderas] was talking about one of the scenes where he was climbing on a beam and forgot to clip in, and he was like, 'It's like free soloing,' " recalls Honnold. "It was pretty classic!"

It may come as no surprise that the man who scaled El Cap without ropes is unfazed by the pressures of Hollywood. At the climbing gym, as Honnold completes a difficult boulder problem — just slightly harder than the famous karate-kick move shown in Free Solo— he says, "I don't think any of it is that surprising if you think about it rationally. The scheduled time, the interviews, the publicists, being handled and stuff — it doesn't feel like a healthy lifestyle, but that's fine."

Of the awards-season rush, "It's obviously not how I would choose to spend my life," he says, "and the idea that freakin' actors do this for their whole careers blows my mind because it's not that fun, you know? It's really cool to meet these people that you've been inspired by, but you don't actually hang out. It's not quality time." Leto, who walks into the gym wearing a Grateful Dead shirt and black pants, adds that he lent him a tux for the Producers Guild Awards. "He could barely move in the thing, and the shoes I think were probably too small as well," notes Leto.

Since their first meeting in Yosemite, Honnold and Leto have climbed in Colorado, Nevada and in other places in California. "For the amount of time he's been doing it, he's actually phenomenal," Chin says, bestowing on the Oscar winner an even greater honor: "He's a climber."

Later, Leto, who has put on 10 pounds since playing Dallas Buyers Club's transgender drug addict, shares that the physical change is part of preparation for his role as the archvillain in Morbius, the Marvel spinoff about the vampiric character. "The world's most fearsome predator," Leto quips. Warming up on a few moderately easy routes that snake up alongside Sender One's imposing overhang, Leto adds that he hopes to pack on 10 more pounds: "It's great because I go from being very sick and very infirm to being strong and monstrous" in the movie. The friends have climbed at indoor gyms whenever the Las Vegas-based pro climber has been in town to promote Free Solo, and Honnold has been careful not to push Leto too far out of respect for his actorly obligations. "Jared's climbing is not the most important thing for him, obviously," he says, adding: "I think it would be cool to do stunts — I want to wind up as Tom Cruise's stunt double, to do climbing in a movie. Don't you think that'd be fun?" One of his early climbing heroes, a well-known Yosemite legend named Ron Kauk, climbed for Sylvester Stallone in Cliffhanger and for Cruise in Mission: Impossible II.

Understandably, most people still want to talk about Honnold's ascent of Freerider, even though his climbing career has moved on in some ways, including a record speed ascent of another route on El Cap and an expedition to Antarctica. "But then I spend all day, every day, talking about the Freerider climb, so in some ways I haven't moved past it at all," he says. "It's the first time in my life I've had that kind of weird disconnect between what I'm working on versus what I'm talking about."

He hadn't climbed outside in more than a month, and yet now, as he moves from bouldering to a few rounds on the hang bar to the overhanging wall, he seems content. "I feel surprisingly strong for the fact that I live in hotels now," he says. Honnold and a friend have been toying with the idea of attempting a route somewhere on the Trango Towers, a massif of 20,000-feet-high granite peaks in northern Pakistan that has attracted top climbers for years. "I just want to get to the top of some of the most striking towers in the world," he says. "Honestly though, we'll see if it even happens because of scheduling."

In other ways, Honnold's life post-Free Solohas mellowed. He's happily ensconced with McCandless at the Vegas home they purchased during filming of the movie. They climb together often. Co-director Vasarhelyi points out that Honnold has successfully managed to scale this emotional challenge. "They found love," she says. "It's a Shakespearean story, the little engine that could." Honnold says the emotional drama of the documentary belies a more serene domesticity that he thoroughly enjoys. "You only see a few minutes onscreen, so it doesn't show that you're living together in harmony," he says. "It only shows the moments of tension around this big challenge." Still, it seems evident that conquering the solo climb has freed up something deeper in Honnold. Whereas in the movie Honnold was demonstrably uncomfortable when hugging his friend Tommy Caldwell's kids, now he struts around the gym proudly holding Chin and Chai Vasarhelyi's daughter, Marina, in his arms. They call him "Uncle Alex."

Later, as he belays Leto, who scrambles up another route, a friend stops by to chat. Honnold asks about the friend's romantic relationship. "It's casual," the friend says. "Is it consistent?" Honnold asks, and the friend nods. Honnold thinks on this for half a second. "Consistently casual is still consistent," Honnold says, smiling. "After three great years with Sanni, I feel qualified to give relationship advice." He says he wants a family and kids of his own one day. "Are you going to let them climb?" the friend asks. Honnold doesn't hesitate. "I'm sure my kids will grow up underneath the moonboard in my home." For someone who has explored the most extreme corners of what's physically and psychologically possible, Honnold seems keen to resume a life of normal pleasures. "As soon as the Oscars are over, he's going to be itching to get in a van with Sanni and go on a climbing trip and life as usual," says Retseck. Leto reaches the top of the wall. Honnold brings him down, they laugh, and move on to the next route.

#jared leto #alex honnold #free solo #bffs #interviews #morbius

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ledonggcui · 5 years

Text

Poetry Suite A Quartet of Love and Death in the Cloud

Poetry Suite

A Quartet of Love and Death in the Cloud

1 Cloud

Clouds is of solitude that clutters

Around the night of Whole Darkness

Something is revealed a scar in the Fog

Weeping thorns are ambitious

They are transmitted over in the Air

Yellow wailing of peasant women showers purple

On the earth…

Ripples of lights expand

Solitude is not a lonely piece of Cloud in holes of smiles

Not in my pants

Facial expressions stopped our Love and Pains of Shadow

Often -----------

It appears to be the sorrow of your Childhood

Flushed and floating over the Lake of Paradise

Bouts of laughs strokes the Body

Now they are gone with the Wind and Cloud

Sinking underneath…

Blue rolls over

Lightening strikes by

Sallow

Physical draught blows towards

- @ eyes

- fair plaits shine through

- pale

you have become

Beauty in the Castle of Vampires

Ghosts trains carry the Emptiness into our Platform

That was the twightlights of a Morning

Don is Goo

Closer and closer together///

This is Now

Understanding experiences of the Spaces and

Physical magnetic fields of a snail’s pace

Urgent is our Homo Sapien’s certain qualities

Tragedies yell at the yellow killing Moon.

Urgent is the telepathic trio

Shouting and screaming and hollering

Towards the Mountains of Fountain and Pines

Our intimacy spun around an endless black holy

Hole…

Your high heels are blogged

The paradise is occasional

The Tables in the house of No. 8 … …

It meant ------- being disturbed up

Inside out

Inside on

In between…

In the cherry Blossom

- there was your lust longing

- so

- we split

The birth of Darkness we shared the Same Emotion

Smile of bitterness are the Waves of blood and flesh

The bridges has splint and sprint

Good-bye! Chives have been chopped up

Both of you in triumph and the hands that stroke through

Hills and mountains in glory, which are

Darting up up up

Resplendence

The morning light is not on the Fence

Though when evening approaches,

K is agitated

The fire is pure until now

Occasional coincidence no more in the Front

Frame is the portraiture in the Paint

Abstracted

i stomp into the maze of an animal-licking disaster

that is the overall impression

in the dream, desire upsets the satisfaction of a finding that

means losing someone or something or somehow for good

madness has bid us farewells for a while

publishing is recording in the dark

our sight-seeings were simulated vision synchronize

even when we were young

when we ate and shit

fear needs not attack us, amputate us and ambush us

that is why i am looking forward to the vacuum

limbo of no-time, non-space

there will be no tortures on the other side

though that is only an image of a maze

i enter your oval and the navel in the morning

a cave that shelter from the shower

the tangible flesh burs-ted into flames

possession is not important here

love is not important here

memory is not important here

trains of abstract thoughts wield themselves onto our vision

that is still abstract in the dim lights

a vision that is a curve becomes the cave

conceives the poetic emotion in motion

harbouring our ambiguous

rendevouz

the morning was grey

Moments of decaying firefly is over the other side of the

Ocean

At the aft a swift jump is a

Rendevouz means that Nothing’s non-action

Common news together with the Sea Wind blows over

Let’s be romantic! Years toils and peasants coils are buried in the Earth

Only the banal rodents screech occasionally ugly

In a perverse high, there was a longing for the Amour of Vertigo and Delusion

The artificial sun-light is saturated in the Sunset

Smearing the Floats

Then on this side of the Otherness…

Cloud rolls by

a blind leads a blind: the end of the age of innocence

approached...

orange haze...in the distance

groan is a daze

yet the dark cloud meshes the pleasure of words

mechanically

monotonously

it is a misread dead misconception

conceivably, boredom wrinkles

they do not snore

when you listen to the void

glaringly, you are in a trance

are we together?

matrix array

a maze

you and me are a craze

the significance of the well in the desert of h-division

is nowhere

you turn around and see

nobody

is it dead out there?

sublime

patterned

underneath the moan of the moon

dots of tinkles sacrifice our pleasure of inferno

with the crater of volcano

your megalithic compound is

squared

ritual of deities - shaving

hair grows: the longer, the slower; the shorter, the faster

white noise comes again, a mushroom cloud

let's reason the reasons

when someone is lynched

hands, thousands of hands shout: ' name Anita Buddha

mantra thinks

image stinks

as future comes as a hole not as a whore

then slow motion is shot backwards

yes, man and woman have a history of shaving: right NOW

- regenerate and degenerate -

by a sex metaphor

we interpret the same texts

- those talking asses

bomb catches up with our Brahman

some say woman is cloned from an egg

no, tomb is womb, they reckon

some try to clap their hands with one hand

no reasons, no

but the ritual of shaving in both sexes, the hair

now is a hole with a whole

intentions segment to five portraits of communist revolution

- splintered shaving heads are somewhere

the talking asses, understand?

don't you mind that you don't have a mind but hair?

claustrophobia 2

god's testicles were slashed and stashed away upstairs

we are packed like sardines into a night

train travels in vain: clicking and clanking to the black and red

utopia

no, a dystopia

three monkeys were conceived in a giant leap

industrial revolution turn us into pollution

people still rant about abortion and castration

I saw your face and I bump into a grimace

kill that dog. It will not bark

lock up those monkeys. They will not rebel

in this animal farm, I am dragged behind

the black psychic of a schooner of some queer beer

It make the nation opening up

god is alive

abattoir

having acted out to kill a MP

people start to believe a 'bad trip'

constitutional wisdom is equal to black

that is white and that is black

fallen angels are being tempted by underground

propaganda, that is:

100% beef topside mince $4.49 a kilo

chicken wings $4.99 a kilo

lamb legs $4.99 a kilo

BBQ thick sausage $1.99 a kilo

lean round steak $5.99 a kilo

tender bone steak $7.99 a kilo

corned silverside $5.99 a kilo

sirloin steak $5.99 a kilo

rump steak $5.99 a kilo

scotch fillet $9.99 a kilo

- human intestines stir-fried with a bit of red wind -

I shouted

Intellectuals are flayed

Nine peasants are roasted

As my soul is cheap in Glebe morgue

2 Wonky

mattress filth lies a mannequin

wonky laugh is however a phone number

Cadillac turns the other way into heaven/hell;

shoes hanging loose with laces disturbingly fragmented

supermarket shaver kissing a pair of knickers

dream represses a loft; Scared

only too used to be scared the Ugly

mind the deviant Decadence, someone thought

no conflicts, no tragedy

absurd-um and residue of genome ...

1838 J. Hogg wed and shed his romantic crime

'ruse of reason'...

all youngsters suspected and yet looked up to

their god-father

backwards toward the Self

other side is pointed by the lay-out of point-out;

just a pair of Reebok

high-tech is now and nay

simulacrum presents the House of Disturbance and Dis-Esriture

system fails and shut down: still files are in the Network

oblivion + ignorance = wonky

Square

skeletons are arranged in a yellow rape seeds field

retch your souls out !

growth and embrace stand still in the centre of a square

subtle reactionaries rush towards/away the deinstitution

mimic smiles are zipped up on the slits of a bald head

fuck you ! you fucking dentist

as well as the liberty of a tooth

it can not undo the knot of a square abattoir

as crimson creeps in

Patchy rains drops onto your

Corny lips

She is being panicked

The Trains of Memo-ria has run in the Mountains of

Fragmented Recollections of Hers

Inferiority and suicidal lying-down over the rails for the Trains

It has ascended over some Skills of hers

She has no sensible and sensitive passions

Only beastly-like

Only too soft for being purry cat

The self-doubt on the Podium of Monument is pretty vacant

Between the Red Walls the black remembrance and shade

Uphold themselves

The madness of yours and mine twirls high over the Autumn Leaves

They seem to be decadent and listless

There are diagnostics and symmetry

But sighs of Eminence

The ring bells of the Waif Waist starts to tumble and tinkle…

Poetic weirdness is stuck into the navel of a half crescent

Pollen blows wild

A cross

Blizzard! Stunned! By your paranoid

Numbed by your endless crimson tails

I am being tickled by your Fat bums

Flicking are you in the Flame

A 3-D picture switch to a 2-dimensional flat tron

Back and forth……

That’s it

The euphoria submerged into the dust storm of

Our desert.

Yet the whirlpool of those spirals regenerate our

Very Mirage

Disturbed is the sound that drills with our twenty-one grams of Hearts

Unbearably light and low………

In the Dark of the Hearts

wisteria melts its colour in the snow

avanlanch is not for the maniac

I squint from the dark

I see the rattling plastic bags in the caravan

I am not sure of the Together of your hippodrome

on the other side;

is just a war memorial

a view with

an Attitude

in a radical flight

Wings grow later after the delivery

still fledgling

as that is not a farewell because

we have not met yet.

rainbow testifies itself in the valley

as night approaches

what we need is a dialogue

under the blue winter sky

BEFORE it get ugly

Just when the cloud draws a sketch of Innocence and Indolence

In the dark of the hearts

Sick colours are manipulated off a Space

Whiteness stabs into a concept called Love

Violence twists the Flesh of a Child

It swallows the flagrance of the Breast Myth

Milk full-cream stalks our Flirts

Screams are sick on the Hospital beds

Screech is a dagger

Darting

Through the Room unfettered

The yellow fluids frightens the Horse tails

Copper’s baton.whistles.pistols

Kiss’s women mop up the Red dreams

Chaos expands

Ambiguity sink in the sands

Repressing the Hell of flirting

Space

It tells…

Smoked lives

Nothing new will happen

Some scattered thoughts of the No.! vision from the

Atlantis is 101

Navy man smothers the young kisses of Fear

Over herself,, monitored,, is

Money substitutes of Credits and Debts is

H/er story

A strings of histories attaches to the Kite with

Five wings of rings, which is the Olympia Uprising,

Something is left and someone is reigning

Bland is the streamline of convey belt

Bitter cave of naves

Are shone in a beam

Speaks aloud spoken

- the endless wait…

with me sitting back of the Hill

protruding into the Blackness of a swan

Estuary ~

The down-trodden and mentally disturbed youth;

Ready for a Ride into the heaven of cells of hundreds of

Years confinement with the Megalithic

Monument in the Memoria of this Lonely Planets of a

Cluster’’’

Anchored for the Karma Tantra Mundra and Yantra

It is telling something somehow in Silence

Decline and reclines of Postures are those Demons’ Dances

Spelt under the Sky we try to tell a

Story; psychic group are weary of the

Glances of those strangers

It is hard to guess –

All is too quick for a lonely gunman

The grim cloud destroy the angst-driven alcoholic

Only temporary

Transitory is the soft light mix a Fix of noisy Uneasiness

The hue is an happy face

The saturation is a skirt

Is our future a Dream?

A girl opposite to the Chord is expecting

The prelude which is the Impulse

Suddenly the Bats glide in the Night of Phantom of

Imperfections

I woke up

In fright I saw an Embroidery Silk Shoe

Please do not frown

The guilt has turned into the Water Organic

Ripples is expanding in Virtuality

In Memoria, your facet is in love with the Distance?

Of a Poetic Decease that is

Vomiting the Sorrow of Longevity

Vomiting the Yesteryear’s Shadow

Plus the menstrual blood and filth

It is not the refusal of Hate

The forms and shapes of cloud on the edge of the Sky and You

Has vapoured a red stain in the Idea

I saw you are stripped naked streaking among the Walker and Talkers

In the marble cold Square

- as Shadows of ghosts are stalking you

- since the Law is slightly different to the Morality

Then the emotional clashes mutate into the Tumour in the Brains

The lanterns burst in flames

Up to the starry sky;

Wasted, tasted…

The memories of us, now and then

It’s only 40.41.42 and 43 years

Smothered are your constant stares of Emptiness

Smirks and sleeps of a visionary Image of destitude Mist

Are gone with the Wind

It flies high

As we swam down the tide

As it was drizzling.

The method of slow discovery

I did not know why before…

The only bliss

Day in and day out…

Mistresses squeal on the Industrial Debris

The Medieval Myth somewhat has wrecked itself

Into a Rubble

Crumble and tumble so far

Night in and night out

People are gossiping the Bottom Line Murder and its Compulsion…

The Doom has its end

Currently ---

We are against the Waves of Raves of indifference

We are against the meaningless freeze of Existence

We are against ---

Life is but a course of action and no-action and non-action…

They again start to brag about the Ruse of Reason and the cause-and-effect

Trains hisses and fizzes in the Metalicaland

The invisible melody is triste of Sorrow and Pieta

Standing is the Constructed Pile Driver Machine

In far and wide footling lands in the Nightmares of Drum beats of

Cacophony

Now, the Images of a dark night has set in

Cobalt moonlight chaser the Drizzles of

Universe and the Meditation of Tranquility

I am longing for…

But It is only a course of certain kind

A Trip of hearts’ journey!

The shopping spree is stronger than the Digital Desire

People are shrieking

The pollen floats over the soil of Fences

They have a running nose

The spring’s storm is a telephone buzz vanishing in the

Voltage current of the Trams

They are vocalising

We don’t need anything

As the Cat is tasting the cans from the Supermarket

The bones downstairs connects with my Hands

There is an Entrance Door of a scene of

Resurrection

That was not a reason

Indulgence is not a justifying season

Breathing hard…

Puffs of some cuffs

The finger-nails of Positive and Negative are reduced to

Absurdity

Only the dialectic pierce is tender

Dancing full moon is fictitious seven strings

The chord is wonderful

However, their Fear and Threats, still…

Then we are all posing a gesture of Danger

Life is sweet who would wish to die?

It is the raindrops hitting the Iceberg of the Antarctica

Smile is doubt

Sometimes they need calamity

Of being Calm

Fearless flames unite our Tenderness

The realistic tradition is no infinity

The transaction monetary is not telling a Story

It is but a course

The shrunk gum of Teeth shone the Sunny craze

In the telephone rings

Sturdy shade is short

In the Sky of Sorrow

Illustrating our Rings of Survivals

The moustache and goatees don’t intent to argue with

Emptiness and Blankness

We met in between the Paranoid’s Rant, Slap-across-the-Faces and photos

Languages stresses your Rouge’n’Noir

When my field of Hearts is being irrigated

Fallacy is a Medusa shakily drifting around and around

Our regrets are the early experiences and courses of Production

3 Rant

Untitled

A free-verse rant like the freckled digits of yesteryear

The vials of your jelly, across the deck of the insidious creases

Into the hearts of your ac/dc melody

The position is upset

Down the north by south-west, that is our feet direction

While we are wasted in our heads

In the sky !

The polar magnetics attract each other as if in the

Classroom of experimental in the School

Since the steam engine and electric theories were powered

Propelled and sailed Like the dark varrukers Anarchy

Without tanks, fishes and the bullets I bitten

A belt a pistol and the graveyard’s hierarchy

The skins and records

On the turn-tables spin over since the Summer of a four

Digits

Not because we are born for the Facts of Roots

Something is pretty dry

Something is moistened

Something is deep underground,

Thick dark hair expose your Hands of Azalea Red

Butterflies flutter the Sweet Life

Only the Past of Mountains hook up the Soul

You said, my stares are a bit sore

Your perfume is smelt like a font of Phantom

Your belongings is smelt here and Now

I said something

You said,,

Withered sunflowers project over the Earth

Is the mad woman

In elongated limps mermaids by the Sea

Shells breathe

Is proportioned to the Flirt

Rifle points to the Vagina of the Girdle

That is a Desert Scenery

In vague.,

Woke up in the sirens of ambulance and Lullabies

The chords complete are curvaceous

Re-constructed sounds creates another 17

Discordant notes actions of Thoughts are another Praise Song

Beauty is unified and pulled

Beauty is not important here

This is the monologue of a clown

Olympic committee is holding a conference in Sydney

Utopia has a Gang of Five and its members

The extreme confession owns a Past

Today the weather is nice, very nice

The forecast does not predict that of tomorrow

The theory is grey; the pure is takes of some film shots

Please drink the running water after you wash your hands

It is difficult to find the Water in the desert

Although the running water is bleached,

We can release ourselves in the W.C. of the cinema

The discourse of the Power represent a few Buddha statues, bodisattvas and Dories

The operas have got its tune and beat; vacant and lonely

Criterion, critic plus the footnote and commentary are superb.

Colourful environment is beneficial to the Personal Hygiene

Times has changed and men and women are equal

Aunt Guo has just opened an Auto repair Shop

The technicians are busy working

I gave the Car to the boss to relax

Step forward a bit…

Many problems can not be solved straight away

Returning to the Grassland is not impossible

Equality is always centred ; central is -

Anyhow this is a simple fact.

Until now we chatted

There is a polluted river

Talk is cheap

Words’ goal is one.

The beast in the cage tears apart the rod

For the sake of Love and Scold

Where is the Ideal and Passion?

Lets start to mention the Fear

The smashed guitar openly announces in full mouth

This is not an unreplaced melody

Her throat was slit with a steel wire.

Gimme pleasure

Vanishing faces of red and green

The lies on the Side

Drifting away from the Shore

Of my floating mortal coil

Snoozes in the copulation of Flesh and Death

Being here and now

Redenvouz in the Other Space

I touched your lips

The facial is gone in the Morning

Endless…

Another is the trouble of another

It is just a mistake

Blinking melancholy of Lips

Kissing the stairway to the Vain Hope

My wishes are dirt cheap

With you, in the Square

Heat wobbles through your swathe of Memory

Groan,purring and growl smut the Dark

Edge that eats up the 69 poses

Waves no longer imitate the mechanic

Motions

There were no Love lotion in your

Dream

night in, night out...

day by day...

Ambient embraces

Shout us a fairy tale of Floss

The nymphs swim and slither over

my Ocean

day in, night out...

We are together longing for the throbs of

No-space

Negation of a Non-space

Serpent's colours and shapes

Still

Mark and reveal the Images

Phenomenon, which are

Simple

Heat will be with us tonight

In your square

A Phantom in the Creek

Ye! The Phantom is at the arm's length

In my Spright the elf of Anna coles

Haunts the Bits and Bytes of the I.T.

A superhighway of Desires

Indolence is the 18 years old with a Top Gun

Crashed and smashed into the buffalo

Over the rocks of the Solitude

Yes! The Phantom is looming in the masquerade

With mercy, melancholy and magarain

A tongue licks fast on the Brim

The cloud of your forlorn eyes

Emotions of a 1967 erotica

Simply twists and turns

Only a U-turn recalls the Pieta, Vanitas and Las Vagas

Yeah! The Phantom is away on the window of the Desert

Our sorrow casts a shadow of Grimace

Over the Psyche, in the name of the Death, Poesy

Nights vapours the flies that

Sneak into our smell

Indolence is a sad washing machine

no no no

in the trenches of the gunshot wounds

remembrance is the domestic civil war

the parade of Woman's Red Brigade march into

the catwalks of Light Blue sore

such was the dialogue of Freedom Village

mayhem it was

Still reek of the disfigured and burned soldiers

Piled in the Square parade

Flag sings in the Plastic Flowers of dolls

Still aligned to the Meridian of the Zodiac for sure

Time froze till

A romp with the spectators

Is too much of a goose

Gliding into your Oblivion

Tragedy it was

Backward glances+flashbacks+demigod status

approximately equals the Sorrow

Of the Nuclear Mushroom cloud flirting

Yes it is true that love can not be borrowed

Armour it was !

no no no

in the trenches of the gunshot wounds

remembrance is the domestic civil war

the parade of Woman's Red Brigade march into

the catwalks of Light Blue sore

such was the dialogue of Freedom Village

mayhem it was

Still reek of the disfigured and burned soldiers

Piled in the Square parade

Flag sings in the Plastic Flowers of dolls

Still aligned to the Meridian of the Zodiac for sure

Time froze till

A romp with the spectators

Is too much of a goose

Gliding into your Oblivion

Tragedy it was

Backward glances+flashbacks+demigod status

approximately equals the Sorrow

Of the Nuclear Mushroom cloud flirting

Yes it is true that love can not be borrowed

Armour it was !

untitled 171108

means of engaging with human rights status quo by willingly taking over the

good intentions of neo-liberal state

it has increasingly withdrawn the focus strictly on art's content

to fill the gaps left with reasons why a number of co-ordinated donations

and freedom cultural and its destruction of its collections of

a collective concern

human rights struggles long after its occurence, its maintenance

it has been a collaboration's goal

successes thus depends on a concentrated

respects for different intents

and psyche, immersive drones of two-pieces

themselves, their own benefits

and recordings

the project really took off

what has been documented here is only scrapings

applicable to Spanish Magic and other factors

either in abundance or sadly

it zeros in on the process

not something more Spanish magic

lo-fi duo win over the sinks to heil spirits

and the missing links

rock the horse in 2008

80's might not have stood a chance

only time will tell.

to discover the tactics is to rediscover 465 of disused railway yards

of darling harbour and the sound of Sounds

unpoliced and unregulated in a way

the textures are shared

neoliberal going there

and traction of each in the glosses

an incredible band and a lots of bands

You say, I say

to pixy

mermaids swim against

the wind in the sky

along the ocean road of pains

ages of expectation lie by your side

slithering was your scarlet impressed

writhe-ring flowers had me arrested

waiting is a mind game

my heart sadden timid and tame

dance dance to the bass beats

our imaginations perform best feats

wicked are those sublime fairies

submarine seewees twist my beings hairy

wisteria creeps up your heart of walls

wedges squeeze your very angle of falls

my love cream molten away

be a smooth operator, you say

be a smooth operator, I say

YOU vibrate to the beats of a solo act

my kunadili is risen to the

swirls of an Union

twirls of the Ruptures

surrendering the surrendered

Gaze

I can feel your Cosmic Dance

Returned to the loop of a Resonance

Rotated to the Total Embrace of Succulence

Yieldingly

Peach-flowers have been

In bloom

In the fields of

Grace

In the steam there is a tune

A melody swishing in the mountains of Love

Pieta and Melancholy and

Your face

YOU vibrate to the feats of our Imagination

In this mortal coil

An act without audience

In silence

Heart against heart

Heavy pounding and thudding provoke the Providence

Of a taste

I can not yell that I LOVE YOU

Because you are so far away in the Gaze

I can not yell that I LOVE YOU dream-lover

Because you are so close in the Glaze

So its resonated again over again in our Cosmic

Dance of a trance

4 Seals

Seals of our six’n’sevens are stamped onto our vulnerable skins

Love is evolving

All we need is evoling Love

Objective in a subjunctive mood

Installed is the Object Love that circulates around

Such are your poses, your stains and pains

The florescent tubes brighten and dim the horns of the

Colourful ghosts runs

Thus, the rashes of our Spectrum rant in the Concrete Boxes

Thus, the innuendo of our Love is rejected, refused and gagged

Smouldering is our Love

…12,13,14,15…

Smoke is far away

It is destructive no more, you say

Come on

Groan and grunt were 12 years ago

Mystery was coming

Artery I felt and your veins I witnessed

Smouldering was the Past in present tense

Future is now and

Our futuristic worries smother a Thought

Mother tongue was arbitrary

So a spirit translates itself in the Court of Poetic Justice

After all it wasn’t a crime being a Smooth Co-ordinator

As we approached the Fed Square not Time Square nor the Red Square,

Fifteen degree

The funny fanny wedges away like the balloons of Orlando

So I looked back and saw a Wolf; Mum is talking again to me

Wicked laughs echoed in a Six_Dimensional Seascape

So I looked back over again

Nothing but a cat was teasing, purring and tantalizing the crowd

And the Rising Cobra

Music was mesmerising around us

They were pretty clicky

Then we tried hard to be nitty-gritty

The moon would not tell us all

Only the toad in the sugar-cane field illuminated

albatoir

having acted out to kill a mp

people start to believe a 'bad trip'

constitutional wisdom is equal to black

that is white and that is black

fallen angels are being tempted by underground

propaganda, that is:

100% beef topside mince $4.49 a kilo

chicken wings $4.99 a kilo

lamb legs $4.99 a kilo

BBQ thick sausage $1.99 a kilo

lean round steak $5.99 a kilo

tender bone steak $7.99 a kilo

corned silverside $5.99 a kilo

sirloin steak $5.99 a kilo

rump steak $5.99 a kilo

scotch fillet $9.99 a kilo

- human intestines stir-fried with a bit of red wine -

I shouted

Intellectuals are flayed

Nine peasants are roasted

As my soul is cheap in Glebe morgue

Since the trumpets and trombones were blown……

Feeling are the wings clipped as the sea-gals glide across the Y river

We went up to the balcony of the lounge

Thursday Thursday nights were the darkness of silence

After the underground had the times changed in the wind

In the names of the tainted Love

Uneasiness jumps jams and jinxes at the intersection of

A path:

Our hearts of wails remorse and wrinkles of a hidden Angst

Pumped 70 times per minute

When you rode the pony

When you were young

When we showered off the aftermath of responsibilities well-beings

And crises

It is called…

In the vicinity of our Brittle Dreams which are scaffolding a

Framework of the futuristic noisy tantrum

It was called as

The wind, trumpets and trombones were blown…

I screamed into the Void

and discovered the Real you

Reflected in the constant reminder of

a longing for the Future

Your Uranus curve girdles our special dimension

In the Cyberspace without your portraiture of a

Past

Concrete is the music

Yet the trip is beyond our Galaxy

Resonance is the sound without feelings

In the mist of our evening twilight

Here comes the rain again.

Here comes the rain again !

In the darkness of some aesthetic of Saxophone,

Surfaces of sensualities and shapes of Danger's

Freedom looms around

We will set free again

In the wildness of some kooky memories of Spoken words spoken,

Fog of uncertainties now and then...

Being affected has no reasons at all.

In our slumbers there once was a story

Not to be told

Your yellow smileys are coming as a grimace of

The pace of walking into the Unknown

A ghostly spectrum of mists in the early evenings

Looming in the Distance

Smile is your face of Flowers longing for the Radiance

Oh! Something is in the way

Our experimental stares are timid

Sonnet-Elf

The dark cloud dissolve some entities of elves

As I fainted over and over on the ground

Why don't we dance to the wild beats ourselves

Because last night I went up there but never found

Your moon-lit face was sunken in the tainted mirth

As I've been waiting for a tantalizing kiss

Yet what I am left is dull and plain piss

Maybe you know too well the ecstasy of pains of birth

As a sprinkle of morning dew will cleanse off painted filth

Since the congealed blood scarlet evokes to my lost mind

- Loneliness of longings and belongs within it dwells

With elf, nymph and pixy flying low

Advertising something special and spectacular for sell

Love's shadow of lust tilts from toe to toe

Ah! the purple haze shrouds your beguiling souls!

#poetry postmodern literature spoken words

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theliberaltony · 3 years

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via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

Welcome to FiveThirtyEight’s politics chat. The transcript below has been lightly edited.

sarah (Sarah Frostenson, politics editor): In 2016, then-candidate Donald Trump skipped out on the annual Conservative Political Action Conference, but this year he dominated the group’s event with his speech on Sunday, which marked his first major public event since leaving the White House.

[Related: The GOP Might Still Be Trump’s Party. But That Doesn’t Mean There’s Room For Him.]

Most former presidents generally take a step back from the political limelight once leaving office, but Trump doesn’t seem likely to do that. That means, in many ways, the next four years could be another Trump-fueled media cycle: centered on divisions within the GOP, with questions about how they affect Democrats’ strategy and, of course, how much the media should (or shouldn’t) be covering Trump.

Let’s break this chat into three parts:

How should the Republican Party think about Trump’s continued presence? Kingmaker? Or faction leader?

How should Democrats think about his continued role? That is, if Trump’s vision of the GOP wins out, how does that help (or hurt) Democrats politically?

And finally, how should the media cover Trump now that he is out of the White House? Are there journalistic questions of how much coverage he should receive? Or is that beside the point, especially if he runs in 2024?

Let’s start with the Republican Party. One question that is going to keep coming up is whether the GOP is divided. My question to you all is: Is it?

alex (Alex Samuels, politics reporter): In my opinion, no. The GOP is still the party of Trump, and I think his speech Sunday night proved a lot of that. What we saw at CPAC — over and over (and over) again — was a good number of politicians lavishing praise on the former president.

There weren’t any dissenting opinions, and the Liz Cheneys/Mitt Romneys of the party 1) were not invited, 2) declined to speak and/or 3) were booed at the rally by Trump and his supporters. Trump has his thumb on the scale of the party currently, and I don’t think the minority of anti-Trump Republicans is strong enough right now to fundamentally drive a wedge through the GOP

lee.drutman (Lee Drutman, senior fellow at New America and FiveThirtyEight contributor): I do think, though, that the GOP is divided in terms of policy priorities, which is why there was very little discussion of policy at CPAC. The GOP is not, however, divided in terms of whether or not Trump is still the alpha male of the party. In the absence of a clear challenger, or a clear opposition faction, Trump is still very much in charge.

perry (Perry Bacon Jr., senior writer): There are different blocs in the GOP. In my view, there are: 1) the most Trumpy people (so say Rep. Jim Jordan in the House), 2) the anti-Trump people like Cheney, 3) the rest of the people in the party, who are fairly pro-Trump but may not be totally on board with everything he says or with him running in 2024. I think Group 3 is most Republicans, and Group 2 is very small.

But, Lee, what do you think are the policy divides? That seems right to me, but I don’t know what the policies are, so I don’t know what the divides are.

lee.drutman: I think the big policy divides are over economics. There is a wing of the party, led by Sen. Josh Hawley, that very much wants to lean into being a “workers party” with higher minimum wage, strong antitrust laws, etc. Then there is a more traditional libertarian economic wing, which is skeptical of all that. These divisions are below the surface, and probably will remain so long as Republicans are in the opposition. But we could see them play out at the state level.

alex: This was an interesting read on how young conservatives are split from Trump and their elders on foreign policy, too.

lee.drutman: On one level, it seems odd that CPAC leaned into “cancel culture,” since that is nowhere near a priority issue for most Americans. But on another level, it makes total sense. It’s a purely symbolic issue that can unite Republicans, and it also taps into a kind of grievance politics that has been successful for Republicans, proving great for fundraising and engagement.

sarah: But the fact that CPAC chose to lean into “cancel culture” instead of policy is telling, right?

[Related: What Comes Next For QAnon Followers]

lee.drutman: It’s very telling. And it’s exactly what the Republican National Committee did during its convention. Everything is about conservative values being under siege and about ‘radical liberal socialist Democrats’ trying to somehow change America, and Republicans fighting back against that. It’s a classic preservation story.

But the result of that is there is no forward-looking policy agenda, or at least nothing more than a handful of Republicans could agree on.

sarah: So how should the Republican Party think about Trump’s continued presence? Kingmaker? Or more of a faction leader?

lee.drutman: I think of Trump as the presumptive 2024 nominee.

sarah: Really?! Tell us why.

lee.drutman: Well, simply because he’s way ahead in the polling, and clearly wants to run again.

sarah: Are you talking about that CPAC straw poll?

lee.drutman: I was thinking about polling after the Capitol insurrection on Jan. 6 that found that a majority of Republican voters would support him in the 2024 primary (54 percent). That was way more support than any other Republican received.

sarah: Ah, I wouldn’t put too much stock in any general head-to-head polls this far out. They’re just not that predictive. Also, this is not a scientific poll, but the fact that Trump won only 55 percent of support in that CPAC straw poll is telling. Yes, it was still far more than any other candidate, but CPAC is his core base, and yet, 45 percent of attendees said they’d vote for someone other than Trump in the 2024 Republican primary. He’s obviously still very influential in GOP politics, but I think we lose sight that we’ve still got three years to go until 2024.

alex: I’d say Trump is a kingmaker. I think a lot of this boils down to the fact that Trump supporters still love Trump. Even after Jan. 6, 59 percent of GOP voters said Trump should still have a “major role” in the Republican Party going forward.

This is a rhetorical question I have, but what’s in it for the Trump loyalists at this point? Especially those with 2024 aspirations? Take Sen. Ted Cruz, for example, who netted single-digits in the straw poll. If Trump runs in 2024, where does that leave him?

lee.drutman: I think a lot of these single-digit pollers, like Cruz, are hoping that if Trump bows out, they can be his chosen successor, or if Trump does run, perhaps his running mate. At this point, they’re in too deep to have any other aspirations.

sarah: That’s right, and I’d assume, too, that over the next four years there is going to be a tendency to dismiss the Trump loyalists as only capable of showing fealty to Trump, but I think that’s shortsighted.

This wing of the party has spokespeople. They were at CPAC (Gov. Ron DeSantis, Sen. Rick Scott), and I think are presumably testing the waters for a bid. So maybe Cruz’s big takeaway from the weekend is that he shouldn’t run 😂 Meanwhile, DeSantis might seriously want to consider a bid (he won the CPAC straw poll that didn’t feature Trump.)

Remember, a much higher share of attendees — 95 percent — said they wanted the Republican Party to stick to Trump’s policies and agenda than endorsed him running again. So his policies/approach to politics isn’t going anywhere, even if he’s not the one to carry out the message.

But let’s pivot to how Democrats think about his continued role? That is, if Trump’s vision of the GOP wins out, how does that help (or hurt) Democrats politically?

lee.drutman: Democrats are facing tough headwinds because historically, the president’s party loses seats in the midterm elections, and Republicans are about to go on a binge of passing restrictive voting rules on the state level. Not to mention, they largely control the redistricting process.

But, since Trump is broadly unpopular and useful as a mobilizing/fundraising villain, I suspect Democrats are going to lean into Republicans as the party of Trump in their messaging and spend a lot of time on what happened on Jan. 6. And this helps Democrats on the margins, by reminding modestly affluent suburban constituencies in key swing districts what’s at stake, but I’m not sure it’s enough if Republicans turn the gerrymandering/voter suppression dials to 11.

alex: If Trump is still in the driver’s seat, an argument that Democrats could use is that you can’t separate those in the party from their leader — even if you have some GOP outliers. What Democrats have long argued is that even anti-Trump Republicans can’t cherry-pick the former president’s legacy: Republicans own Trump’s policies, and that included his tax cuts, a crackdown on immigration and unsuccessful efforts to undo the Affordable Care Act. Plus, a majority of Republicans at least implicitly supported aspects of Trumpism, like his anti-immigrant sentiment and the racism on display from those who stormed the U.S. Capitol, including white supremacists.

perry: A Republican Party deeply invested in Trump is going to be deeply invested in defending “the big lie” (that Trump won) and deeply invested in trying to make it harder for Democrats to vote and not willing to accept Democratic victories. So in some ways, a Trump-led GOP is a problem for Democrats but also for those who support values conducive to democracy.

alex: I agree there, Perry.

[Related: In America’s ‘Uncivil War,’ Republicans Are The Aggressors]

lee.drutman: The “big lie” is also going to be very powerful for Republican fundraising efforts going into 2022. There’s nothing like grievance politics to shake loose the donations, and I have to wonder if that’s part of the strategy here.

alex: Another rhetorical question I have is whether Republican fundraising efforts will be different from Trump’s fundraising efforts (i.e., will someone like McCarthy have to choose between the former president, who is a great fundraiser and has a history of supporting winning candidates, and his own incumbents?).

lee.drutman: I’d bet we’re going to see the former president on an awful lot of fundraising emails from both parties over the next cycle.

sarah: With the midterms coming up and Republicans defending 20 of 34 seats up for election in the Senate, I think Democrats are eager for there to be drama in the GOP. I just question how much drama/division there really is, as I’m not entirely sure Democrats have super figured out how to run against a Trump-like candidate super effectively.

But OK, let’s pivot to how the media should cover Trump now that he is out of the White House. Are there thorny questions of how much coverage he should receive? Or is that neither here nor there — this is a former president we’re talking about — and if he runs in 2024, that is news.

alex: I think the answer here is pretty simple. We’d cover Trump the same way we’d cover any other former president: If he makes news, we write a story about it. (Or chat about it!) And so far, Trump is still doing that. I do think part of the reason we’re asking this question, though, is because Trump left a lasting impact on the Republican Party in a way we haven’t seen in former presidents in quite some time. Usually, former presidents stay out of the limelight for a bit. Trump has not. So I think media institutions are rightly wrestling with the question of “where do we go from here?”

lee.drutman: This is a really hard question. On the one hand, he is the former president, probably the GOP front-runner and, at the very least, a highly influential kingmaker, so what he does is news.

On the other hand, Trump has also cracked the code on how to get attention, which is to be always starting fights because the media is inherently drawn to conflict. So there is a challenge for the media to exercise some judgement and restraint. Some of what Trump does might be newsworthy, but a lot of it will just be trying to get attention for the sake of getting attention.

In fact, I’d argue that Trump is currently the GOP front-runner precisely because the media gives him a level of sustained attention that no other candidate gets.

alex: Yeah, Lee. There are now definitely questions like “is Trump just sucking oxygen out of the room since he’s not a 2024 candidate (at least not yet!), and “is the media covering him in lieu of covering other things, like certain policy issues?”

[Democrats Are Split Over How Much The Party And American Democracy Itself Are In Danger]

perry: Trump is a relevant person to cover, of course. But I am seeing outlets essentially designate reporters to cover Trump, and I think that is a mistake. We are already getting too much “sources close to Trump” style coverage. Take, for example, that there were days of coverage about his CPAC appearance before it happened on Sunday.

Trump is not the president — so I am not sure I need to read all about his musings or what his aides are saying anonymously. To me, the media is in danger of covering Trump a lot because he is interesting and clicky, but not really covering “Trumpism,” and I think the latter is more important.

We need more stories on how state and local Republicans with power are pushing the identity politics and antidemocraic tactics of Trump right now, and fewer stories speculating about which candidates Trump personally is going to endorse for elections happening 15 months from now.

“What is going on with the Repubilcan Party?” and “what is going on with Trump?” are related but distinct questions. I worry that coverage of the second is going to become basically all of the coverage of the first. Every conflict and debate in the Republican Party is not best covered through the lens of Trump.

lee.drutman: You’re absolutely right, Perry. But what is Trumpism? Is it just “owning the libs” and perpetuating the “big lie” to roll back democracy at the state level?

sarah: That’s such a good point, Perry. And a good question, Lee. I’m not sure we know yet what Trumpism is. It’s still being defined.

alex: If CPAC taught us anything, though, I would say that Trumpism definitely includes a pushback against cancel-culture “wokeness.”

lee.drutman: Yes, Alex, totally agree, and as I said earlier I think the anti-cancel culture is the perfect symbolic issue to unite the party, avoid policy fights and fundraise.

sarah: There’s definitely the risk of a dangerous feedback loop in covering Trump here, though. The last four years showed us that Trump’s antics sell, and as such, the media often covers him in an undiscerning, play-by-play manner, missing the larger stakes, as Perry pointed out.

Readers gain little from that type of coverage, so it’ll be a challenge in the next four years to make sure our coverage reflects more of the stakes and less of the Trump-specific drama.

#IFTTT #Politics – FiveThirtyEight #politics #538 #A FiveThirtyEight Chat

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