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96thdayofrage · 3 years

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What is Critical Race Theory?

Basically, Critical Race Theory is a way of using race as a lens through which one can critically examine social structures. While initially used to study law, like most critical theory, it emerged as a lens through which one could understand and change politics, economics and society as a whole. Richard Delgado and Jean Stefancic’s book, Critical Race Theory: An Introduction, describes the movement as: “a collection of activists and scholars engaged in studying and transforming the relationship among race, racism, and power.”

Kimberlé Crenshaw, one of the founding members of the movement, says Critical Race Theory is more than just a collective group. She calls it: “a practice—a way of seeing how the fiction of race has been transformed into concrete racial inequities.”

It’s much more complex than that, which is why there’s an entire book about it.

Can you put it in layman’s terms?

Sure.

Former economics professor (he prefers the term “wypipologist”) Michael Harriot, who used Critical Race Theory to teach “Race as an Economic Construct,” explained it this way:

Race is just some shit white people made up.

Nearly all biologists, geneticists and social scientists agree that there is no biological, genetic or scientific foundation for race. But, just because we recognize the lack of a scientific basis for race doesn’t mean that it is not real. Most societies are organized around agreed-upon principles and values that smart people call “social constructs.” It’s why Queen Elizabeth gets to live in a castle and why gold is more valuable than iron pyrite. Constitutions, laws, political parties, and even the value of currency are all real and they’re shit people made up.

To effectively understand anything we have to understand its history and what necessitated its existence. Becoming a lawyer requires learning about legal theory and “Constitutional Law.” A complete understanding of economics include the laws of supply and demand, why certain metals are considered “precious,” or why paper money has value. But we can’t do that without critically interrogating who made these constructs and who benefitted from them.

One can’t understand the political, economic and social structure of America without understanding the Constitution. And it is impossible to understand the Constitution without acknowledging that it was devised by 39 white men, 25 of whom were slave owners. Therefore, any reasonable understanding of America begins with the critical examination of the impact of race and slavery on the political, economic and social structure of this country.

That’s what Critical Race Theory does.

How does CRT do that?

It begins with the acknowledgment that the American society’s foundational structure serves the needs of the dominant society. Because this structure benefits the members of the dominant society, they are resistant to eradicating or changing it, and this resistance makes this structural inequality.

Critical Race Theory also insists that a neutral, “color-blind” policy is not the way to eliminate America’s racial caste system. And, unlike many other social theories, CRT is an activist movement, which means it doesn’t just seek to understand racial hierarchies, it also seeks to eliminate them.

How would CRT eliminate that? By blaming white people?

This is the crazy part. It’s not about blaming anyone.

Instead of the idiotic concept of colorblindness, CRT says that a comprehensive understanding of any aspect of American society requires an appreciation of the complex and intricate consequences of systemic inequality. And, according to CRT, this approach should inform policy decisions, legislation and every other element in society.

Take something as simple as college admission, for instance. People who “don’t see color” insist that we should only use neutral, merit-based metrics such as SAT scores and grades. However, Critical Race Theory acknowledges that SAT scores are influenced by socioeconomic status, access to resources and school quality. It suggests that colleges can’t accurately judge a student’s ability to succeed unless they consider the effects of the racial wealth gap, redlining, and race-based school inequality. Without this kind of holistic approach, admissions assessments will always favor white people.

CRT doesn’t just say this is racist, it explains why these kinds of race-neutral assessments are bad at assessing things.

What’s wrong with that?

Remember all that stuff I said the “material needs of the dominant society?” Well, “dominant society” means “white people.” And when I talked about “racial hierarchies,” that meant “racism.” So, according to Critical Race Theory, not only is racism an ordinary social construct that benefits white people, but it is so ordinary that white people can easily pretend it doesn’t exist. Furthermore, white people who refuse to acknowledge and dismantle this unremarkable, racist status quo are complicit in racism because, again, they are the beneficiaries of racism.

But, because white people believe racism means screaming the n-word or burning crosses on lawns, the idea that someone can be racist by doing absolutely nothing is very triggering. Let’s use our previous example of the college admissions system.

White people’s kids are more likely to get into college using a racist admissions system. But the system has been around so long that it has become ordinary. So ordinary, in fact, that we actually think SAT scores mean shit. And white people uphold the racist college admissions system—not because they don’t want Black kids to go to college—because they don’t want to change admission policies that benefit white kids.

Is that why they hate Critical Race Theory?

Nah. They don’t know what it is.

Whenever words “white people” or “racism” are even whispered, Caucasian Americans lose their ability to hear anything else. If America is indeed the greatest country in the world, then any criticism of their beloved nation is considered a personal attack—especially if the criticism comes from someone who is not white.

They are fine with moving toward a “more perfect union” or the charge to “make America great again.” But an entire field of Black scholarship based on the idea that their sweet land of liberty is inherently racist is too much for them to handle.

However, if someone is complicit in upholding a racist policy—for whatever reason—then they are complicit in racism. And if an entire country’s resistance to change—for whatever reason —creates more racism, then “racist” is the only way to accurately describe that society.

If they don’t know what it is, then how can they criticize it?

Have you met white people?

When has not knowing stuff ever stopped them from criticizing anything? They still think Colin Kaepernick was protesting the anthem, the military and the flag. They believe Black Lives Matter means white lives don’t. There aren’t any relevant criticisms other than they don’t like the word “racism” and “white people” anywhere near each other.

People like Ron DeSantis and Tom Cotton call it “cultural Marxism,” which is a historical dog whistle thrown at the civil rights movement, the Black Power movement and even the anti-lynching movement after World War I. They also criticize CRT’s basic use of personal narratives, insisting that a real academic analysis can’t be based on individually subjective stories.

Why wouldn’t that be a valid criticism?

Well, aren’t most social constructs centered in narrative structures? In law school, they refer to these individual stories as “legal precedent.” In psychology, examining a personal story is called “psychoanalysis.” In history, they call it...well, history. Narratives are the basis for every religious, political or social institution.

I wish there was a better example of an institution or document built around a singular narrative. It would change the entire constitution of this argument—but sadly, I can’t do it.

Jesus Christ, I wish I could think of one! That would be biblical!

Why do they say Critical Race Theory is not what Martin Luther King Jr. would have wanted?

You mean the Martin Luther King Jr. who conservatives also called divisive, race-baiting, anti-American and Marxist? The one whose work CRT is partially built upon? The King whose words the founders of Critical Race Theory warned would be “co-opted by rampant, in-your-face conservatism?” The MLK whose “content of their character” white people love to quote?

Martin Luther King Jr. literally encapsulated CRT by saying:

In their relations with Negroes, white people discovered that they had rejected the very center of their own ethical professions. They could not face the triumph of their lesser instincts and simultaneously have peace within. And so, to gain it, they rationalized—insisting that the unfortunate Negro, being less than human, deserved and even enjoyed second class status.

They argued that his inferior social, economic and political position was good for him. He was incapable of advancing beyond a fixed position and would therefore be happier if encouraged not to attempt the impossible. He is subjugated by a superior people with an advanced way of life. The “master race” will be able to civilize him to a limited degree, if only he will be true to his inferior nature and stay in his place.

White men soon came to forget that the Southern social culture and all its institutions had been organized to perpetuate this rationalization. They observed a caste system and quickly were conditioned to believe that its social results, which they had created, actually reflected the Negro’s innate and true nature.

That guy?

I have no idea.

Will white people ever accept Critical Race Theory?

Yes, one day I hope that Critical Race Theory will be totally disproven.

Wait...why?

Well, history cannot be erased. Truth can never become fiction. But there is a way for white people to disprove this notion.

Derrick Bell, who is considered to be the father of Critical Race Theory, notes that the people who benefit from racism have little incentive to eradicate it. Or, as Martin Luther King Jr. said: “We must also realize that privileged groups never give up their privileges voluntarily.”

So, if white people stopped being racist, then the whole thing falls apart!

From your lips to God’s ears.

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obae-me · 4 years

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A Taste of His Own Medicine- Lucifer

I’d like to do one of these for each of the brothers because they’re all whiny babies who need to be taken care of. This one is based off the Daily Chats where Lucifer falls ill.

Lucifer was the first in the household to catch it. He had shown symptoms a few days before; not having the energy to scold Mammon, almost losing his balance while going up the stairs. It concerned you. Everyone else didn’t seem to notice, but you knew something was off.

You decided to go ask him what was wrong that night, and had even had made some of his favorite tea. You went straight to his bedroom and knocked on the door twice. No answer. His Study then, perhaps. So you headed there, passing the shelves of dusty tomes to see that the bookshelf that served as his secret entrance was wide open.

“Lucifer?” You called. He preferred when he could grant access other than anyone just waltzing in themselves. There was no response to your announcement. “Lucifer?” You asked again, your voice slightly louder. You couldn’t help but peek inside. Instead of behind his desk in his overly grandiose chair, Lucifer was on the ground, surrounded by what should’ve been a stack of papers, but now was a scattered mess on the floor.

Gently putting the teacups aside, you rush to him, moving him onto his back so you could better look at his face. You shouted his name in an attempt to wake him. “Lucifer!” He didn’t move. His cheeks were stark red while the rest of him was deadly pale. You checked his breathing, constant, luckily, but shaky. You placed your hand on his forehead, feeling his skin burning. Your hand drifted down to his cheek as you caressed his face.

You fumbled for your D.D.D. desperately hoping that Beel would pick up quickly. Beel was probably more dependable when it came to Lucifer than any other brother. You didn’t want to risk anyone else taking advantage of him like this. Besides there was no way you could drag Lucifer up to bed alone.

“Oh, [your name], you called at a good time. I’m getting ready to order food since the kitchen is empty. What do you want? I’ll get it for you?” Beel sounded like he was still in the middle of chewing, which probably meant he just now emptied out the kitchen. Now wasn’t the time to worry about that though.

“Beel please come down to Lucifer’s study, I-I need your help, Lucifer he’s...not well.” Your voice shook slightly. You’d hid the fact that he collapsed to save some of his pride.

Beel’s tone went more serious, he swallowed whatever food he had left. “I’ll be right down.” He hung up.

Now that Beel was coming to help, you felt a bit more relaxed. You put your D.D.D. back into your pocket, and knelt beside Lucifer’s head. You carefully lifted him up and put his head in your lap, brushing away the hair that was now starting to stick to his skin. You’d never seen him like this before, and was sure that Lucifer would rather die than look this way. Nevertheless you couldn’t help but pet his head.

It wasn’t too long before Beel came in, messy crumbs all over his shirt as he left in a haste. Once he saw the state Lucifer was in, he looked over his shoulder. “Mammon is busy arguing with Levi, and I’m hoping Satan is in his room. Let’s get Lucifer to bed quickly.” He came over and quickly lifted his elder brother up off the floor. You were always amazed with how strong Beel was. “Why don’t you go ahead of us and meet me in his room?”

You nodded, and quickly bolted to the end of the second hallway where Lucifer’s room was. You looked around for anyone before opening the door and heading inside. You let the entrance open so Beel could easily come right in, and then you headed to the bed.

It was extremely large, entirely unnecessary for one person, but was a perfect fit for the Demon of Pride. You took one corner of the silky sheets and folded them aside. Then you waited. And waited. Until after what seemed like much too long (but was probably only a minute) both brothers entered the room. You got up and quietly shut the door behind them while Beel placed Lucifer on the bed.

“What do we do now?” You asked. “Should we call a doctor?”

Beel shook his head. “We can’t. We leave him alone and he’ll probably call someone when he wakes up.”

You blinked, not being able to process the words ‘we can’t’. “W-what do you mean?”

“One of the house rules, if Lucifer ever gets sick we have to leave him alone. Even just the fact that we brought him up here might get us in trouble.” Beel looked a bit downtrodden.

You stammered over your words. “That’s the most ridiculous and hypocritical rule I’ve ever heard!”

“It’s mostly to keep Satan and Mammon away.” Beel explained. He shrugged. “I’ll go keep watch over this room, maybe if you take care of him, [your name], he won’t be as upset.” With that he left, however you could still hear him outside the door, already munching on something.

You nervously paced. Taking care of him sounded easy in theory, but in actuality you had no idea how to take care of a demon. Would it be the same as a human? Probably not but that was all you knew how to do, so it had to be better than nothing, right? So you left the room for just a moment to grab a few things. A glass of water so he could stay hydrated and a bowl of cold water with a soft rag to bring down his temperature.

When you came back to the room, you breathed a slight sigh of relief. Lucifer was sitting up slightly in bed, looking disoriented. “Oh thank goodness, Lucifer are you okay?”

His head swung around at you. “[Your name], what’re you doing in here?” You placed the cup of water in his hands and the bowl on the table in the middle of the room. You got the rag cold and damp.

“Do you not remember?” You asked him, coming over to put the rag against his face, but he swatted the rag away, and forcefully put the glass back in your hands.

“Enough of this fussing, there’s no need for it. I don’t know what got you to think you needed to come in my room but it’s about time for you to leave.” His tone was stern but his words didn’t have the usual sharp impact they did when he was upset.

You frowned. You couldn’t tell if he was unaware he collapsed or just glancing over the fact he did. Either way he was lying about being alright. You decided not to bring up the study situation for his pride’s sake, but even with your two ordinary human eyes you could tell that he needed to be looked after. You’d defied him before and haven’t died yet, so what was doing it one more time going to do?

“I’m not leaving.” You told him. He didn’t like that. His eyes went narrow and air around him grew even hotter.

“Would you like to say that again? I hope for your sake I misheard you.”

“I’m not leaving you right now, Lucifer.” You stood your ground. Lucifer clenched his jaw and stood up. Too quickly. He lost his balance and fell to his knees, clutching tightly the only thing keeping him from falling over. You. He had his face buried in your shirt, his breathing now ragged. You hated seeing him like this. Again you ran your hand through his hair. Even him just being this close made you hot, he was a burning furnace. “You’re not well, Lucifer, and I know you won’t ever admit it so you don’t have to say anything. So let me take care of you. You take care of everyone else, so when you can’t even take care of yourself let me take care of you. Please.”

He didn’t respond, he just kept his face hidden. His grip on your clothes getting tighter. You bent down to grab one of his arms to help him get to his feet. He refused to look at you. You helped him get his coat, vest, tie, socks, and shoes off, and already he looked better without all the layers. When he got back to bed he turned away from you. Sulking and defeated probably. You tried hard not to smile, he would absolutely kill you if he knew you thought he was being cute.

You pulled the blankets up to his neck, and placed the rag on his forehead. Then you went over to one of his record players, scouring through his large collection until you found the record that he told you was a favorite of his. You put it on, making sure the music was loud enough to be heard but not enough to bother him. It started with a soft piece, something calm and beautiful. Hopefully it would help him relax.

Lucifer already had his eyes closed again, the red in his cheeks gone down just a touch, but enough to make you feel a bit better for his condition. Since you had just had your hands in the water, they were cool to the touch, so you gently brushed them against his cheek again. This time he moved his head to melt into your touch. He grabbed your sleeve, now looking up at you with an expression entirely different than just a few minutes before.

“Please...don’t leave tonight.” His voice was soft and hush, almost as if he didn’t want to hear his own words.

You rubbed his cheekbone with your thumb. “Don’t worry, I won’t. Sleep now.”

He shut his eyes and with a large shuddering sigh seemed to drift back to sleep. You took the rag, it already warm, and you touched your forehead to his. “Sweet dreams.” You whispered.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x mc

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drabbles-of-writing · 4 years

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Okay now you have to tell us what the siblings did to the Blight manor.

SOMEONE ASKED!!

well, first of all, they tear that bitch to the GROUND. it was during the first four years when they raid the place to grab Amity’s stuff and Dip Out. whole family was there while the parents were out at some meeting. came back to rooms on fire and over half of their belongings missing. they fixed it all up, obviously, but it was a HUGE talk for a while.

but what I really meant was when the twins inherited the manor. Something happens to the Blight parents, haven’t decided on if the bitches just died or moved away, and they suddenly own their old home. They rip out anything that has anything to do with their parents, change color schemes, furniture, all that and either chuck it in the trash or the darkest depths of the basement and set it ablaze. Burning the past away motherfuckers. And then, when all that’s done, they change the name. They thought about it for a while and eventually decided on the name; the Raven House. It was a joke between them, and also to tick off Lilith, but the name stuck. They even gave her a tiny picture above the door to solidify it. Eda still insists the Owl House is better than any big manor.

Once everything is finished and the manor is re-made, the ex-Blight’s all come to an agreement on what to do with it, since they all already had their own places and didn’t feel like moving into the house they were abused in. They say a final ‘fuck you’ to their parents and make it one big safehouse. By which I mean it’s like a shelter. Kids or young witches and humans alike (though the humans are just kids wandering by after getting in a fight with a monster or the older graduated kids when they need a little assistance) can come and stay in the Raven House to be safe and secured for however long they need.

Barcus is in charge of the place, and he looks after any kids who come along no matter the background. Some kids only stay for 24 hours, others stay for months, sometimes a few years, on end. These are typically kids who have nowhere else to go or are on the run. We’ve got kids from the Isles, stowaways from other islands and even The Mainland, kids escaping abusive homes, orphans, kids who just need a break after getting lost/hurt nearby, the works. It’s a well-known place that’s completely free, since the Blight’s and even Lilith on occasion pay the taxes for it. It’s sweet for Barcus because he’s supplied with everything for free, but also hell because he has to deal with a bunch of kids on a daily basis. Luckily for him, he likes kids.

Course some witches or humans don’t understand Barcus, so he always has a chalkboard and chalk around his neck that he can hover in the air with his magic to write to the kids and help them learn how to understand him. If they can’t read, he usually has to call in one of the other kids in the House to help him out. No matter how long a kid stays, they are asked to carve their names on a large stone outside the manor. It used to be a statue in the front lawn the ex-Blight kids knocked over and left there, but it was repurposed. It’s littered with names and it’s not uncommon to find Barcus staring at the names or teaching some kids to read by having them read the names off the stone.

Now, the manor is big. It can easily house multiple packs of kids. But the thing is, it only has 6 bedrooms, and Barcus uses one of the smaller ones. Of course multiple kids could live in the same room, but there are some that need it more than others and aren’t comfortable with other kids. So the bigger bedrooms are saved for those kids (unless there’s an open spare one in which case it gets SWARMED) or Barcus asks the new kid to set up their stuff anywhere in the house, so long it didn’t interfere with others. Which leads to kids sleeping and hanging out in....interesting places. There’s always someone living in one of the bathrooms, three kids minimum at all times squirreling away in the closets (small and large), there’s a pile of pillows and blankets in the second dining room where kids hang out under the table, the big hallways have sleeping bags in them, some kid hid in one of the larger kitchen cabinets just because she could, there are SO MANY in the basement and attic, the library has all the nerds vibing on the bolted-down wall shelves and balconies, and one madlad set up a hut on the roof. Barcus isn’t happy with any of these but he supposes so long they don’t hurt themselves or own up to it being a bad idea later, he’ll deal with it.

They also offer to send plenty of these kids to school (usually Hexside but sometimes others), but there are a few who refuse it and Barcus homeschools them. The rule of thumb with anyone who stays in the Raven House is that you WILL be smothered in an intense amount of Found Family and you CANNOT stop them. It’s a mad house and it’s glorious. They have their own kinds of memes and vines in that house and it’s law that if someone says “pubby” then EVERYONE in the vicinity has to tackle Barcus in a cuddle pile.

Others of the Owl Family often drop by as well. The first few times were a mess cause Barcus had to explain this was his family and no you don’t have to come down and say hi if you’re uncomfortable but please stop losing it every time Edric comes by we know he’s a fashion extraordinaire please- Camilia is one of the most common visitors, and the kids call her Aunt Camilia (a name she would vividly remember from her time in the human realm) and she teaches them all how to cook and tell them stories from the human realm. Barcus is very thankful because he needs one stable adult to help him with these kids. All the ex-Blights visit as well, though Amity slightly less because she’s so busy. Edric arrives just to show off, and Emira is a lot more refined n checks in on the kids, since her job is a children’s health care worker. Granted, Barcus does a pretty good job of being their therapist, he got a degree for a reason. Amity is a treat visit, because there’s always someone who knows she’s the Empress’s advisor and they all gawk at her for a minute before realizing she’s a shy dork n have fun info dumping on her bc she listens to them with rapt interest. Gus is a fun show, often taking down notes of the theatre kids and showing off his illusion magic, acting as his own little inspiration to them by being one of the best in his grade despite being significantly younger. He also tells his theories of the human realm which are still off and need to be corrected by Camilia. Willow is a lot more sweeter n is like the grandma who gives you too much candy but is also not afraid to beat someones ass. She’s one of the few adults All the kids respect. Luz is fun because she gives adventures and shows off a lot. And kids are always in awe at her tattoos and scars. Of course, Luz still has dumbass ideas every once in a while and ends up getting kicked out early in her visit on occasion. She showed kids how to swallow a light spell. Lilith shows up at least once a month for a little bit, and the kids always LOSE IT. At first it was genuine shock but eventually they just did it for fun because they knew it made Lilith embarrassed. Eda...god Eda is a visit kids are either excited for or dreading, depends if you can put up with her energy. Eda usually shows up when she’s bored, hiding from the cops or needs to steal something from the Raven House. She’s the weird eccentric grandma of everyone and she adores the kids. Her showing up often either ends in something catching on fire or a couple of kids getting in trouble with the law, which Eda or Barcus can easily snatch them out of. Y’all know of the Life Changing Field Trip With Zuko? Eda has a very similar thing where she grabs a gaggle of kids and takes them on an adventure, but it usually ends up looking like chores. Either way it ends up in either giving the kid some Advice they needed or just changing a way they think based on the adventures they get up to. When she gets much older and crankier, she slows down a bit but never stops having bad ideas or advice, but it’s a lot easier for the calmer kids to talk to her.

Barcus keeps all the trinkets the kids give him and holds them in a special room only he can access, like the passageways in Hexside. He cares about all the kids who come to the Raven House, even if its only for a little while. He’s still a dog at heart. A lot of kids he hears from a few months or years after they leave. They’ll call or show up and tell him how they are. And whenever they do he makes time to sit down with them with tea and listen to all they have to say. Even if they only visit once, he’s glad to see them. But, of course, there are the kids he never hears from. The ones who don’t want to, the ones who are too busy, the ones who moved off the Isle and elsewhere, the ones who get lost out there in the world, and the ones who have died. But Barcus almost never learns what their fate was. He’ll have nights where he sits in his room filled with trinkets or by the rock with names and wonder what happened to them, and hoping that they’re okay and happy. But he doesn’t have time to think about that. He has new kids coming in all the time, he should focus on them, not the past. That’s what he tells himself.

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elencelebrindal · 3 years

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Time to ramble about Shun

Sooo... you said you wanted my rambling to become reality. Here I go.

Shun not holding back for the whole series would have been a disaster for our dear villains, let me tell you. But let’s go in order. And I mean, from training to Hades. Obviously, this completely disregards the fact that Shun was Hades the whole time, because if I am to take that into consideration everything would end before starting. Small disclaimer, this is mostly anime-based. I’ve read the manga, but my memory is so bad in remembering what was just manga and what was just anime, and I have a better memory for the anime. Also, this is going to praise Shun a lot. No, not because of my undying love for this character, but because logically speaking, he’s freaking powerful; this young man stood against a god that was possessing his body, dammit.

Now, his training. Of course, I won’t even imagine Shun actually going to Death Queen Island, mostly because it was Ikki, and not him, the reason why he went to Andromeda Island instead. What we know, is that Shun nearly awakened his Seventh Sense there and then, when he donned the Cloth for the first time. And we know that he won the right to the trial after winning a fight against his “rival”. But, before winning, he took a good beating, because he held back. What would have happened, in the eventuality that Shun did not hold back? Well, probably just quicker access to the trial for the Cloth, but also... this might be the only time Shun not holding back would have affected him negatively. What if he, by not holding back, lost his right to the Cloth? Andromeda is famous for her sacrifice, after all, not for her brave charging into battle. This is mostly my own idea about it, because of course Shun was destined to become the Andromeda Saint, but luckily he held back, and only fought when he needed to.

That aside, now it’s time to tackle all the positive things that could have happened had he not held back.

Galaxian Wars / Black Saints Arc (forgive me, I forgot the actual name)

We had a taste of how smart and capable Shun is during his fight against Jabu, but all of that was thrown away thanks to Ikki’s appearance. Now, this doesn’t mean than Shun completely lost his competence, but he definitely held back for the sake of his brother. This is obvious when we take into account the fight they all have against Ikki, when Shun tries to help his brother rather than stop him. We already saw how dangerous Shun can be, when he faced Black Andromeda, so it’s easy to understand how much easier it could have been for the Bronze to stop Ikki if Shun was there to actively help against him. Sure, he helped in the end, but he was probably the only one (at least at that point, because remember, he was the only one to have almost awakened the Seventh Sense) capable to stand his ground against Ikki. Seiya’s success was more plot than skills, honestly speaking. Shun could have been infinitely helpful, at least in making sure they earned a faster victory with less blood spilled. To me, what we know about Shun’s power (though it’s only revealed later) makes it that he has a huge advantage that is ignored because of 1. Shun’s personality and 2. what’s needed for the plot and what was known of the plot. You all know he’s my favorite Bronze, at this point, but following a logical reasoning I cannot find something against this.

On a side note, can you imagine how fast he would have destroyed Black Swan, if only he used his brain and not his heart? Considering the outcome of his fight against Black Andromeda, and his knowledge about Hyoga’s techniques (which are kinda imitated by Black Swan), it’s not difficult to imagine he would have won. He wouldn’t have done as good against all of them together, at this point of the story, but a one vs one fight would have definitely seem him victorious.

Silver Saints Arc

I have no clear memory if that Docrates mess is in this arc or the one before it (the Italian division is a bit different and it confuses the hell out of me when I have to switch), but let’s put him here. Because come on. Shun getting thrown around like a doll? Yeah, no. Docrates might be a powerful - and not so brilliant or likable - warrior, but to the point of overwhelming a Saint like Shun with so much ease? I hardly believe it. I can believe Shun having a hard time against him, especially considering how they won that fight. Full power, I think Shun could have helped way more. I’m not saying he could have defeated a beat like Docrates all by himself, not at that point. Hyoga’s help was crucial for him to actually deal an effective blow. But I’m pretty convinced they could have had a bit of a better time - especially Saori - because power makes the difference, even if it’s not enough to turn the tide without aid.

Continuing with the same arc, we have another example of Shun being extremely competent and showing how strong he is when he doesn’t hold back. How long did it take him to completely obliterate a Silver Saint? Not even enough to appreciate how badass he was. It didn’t seem forced at all, more importantly! Most times, especially with Seiya, their victories seem so... well, convenient that it’s hard to believe they’re actually strong enough to beat their enemies. The plot armor around them is stronger than their actual armor, from time to time. This fight against Dante, instead, felt completely genuine. Shun and Ikki beating so easily two Silver Saints seemed incredibly normal and realistic, rather than feeling forced by the plot. Of course, all the other characters have their genuine moments (yes, even Seiya), but I wanted to point this out for Shun in this particular instance because it’s necessary to understand how underrated he is.

Sanctuary Arc

Moving on, we have what I like to call “Shun could have choked Saga to death and ended the entire Sanctuary Arc in less than five episodes”. Listen, does it seem so unreasonable? If it does, remember how Shun (with Ikki’s help, this is not something I’m ignoring, I like Shun but I don’t play dirty here) used his chain to break free of the Other Dimension (a place that’s supposedly impossible to leave? Hello????) and literally reached Saga where he was sitting. What the hell, are we just ignoring the fact that he legitimately broke into the throne room of the most protected place of the entire Sanctuary, stole Saga’s cheap-looking trinkets, and shattered his control over him? For god’s sake, I’m SURE he could have at least managed to try and kill Saga where he was. I’m aware he had no idea what the hell was going on, but had he used a bit more of his cosmo? A bit more of his concentration and intelligence? To me, it seems really weird that he only properly awakened his Seventh Sense so late in the arc. If Seiya was able to screw the plot over and get his precious Seventh Sense so early and easily, why wasn’t Shun given the same opportunity? Well, I know why, plot and everything, Shun’s actual power was still very much a mystery, but I’m going chronologically, and by logic. And what logic tells me is: Shun should have awakened his goddamn Seventh Sense there, realized he was stealing costume jewelry from the Pope, and at least knocked him out for the next couple hours. For as much as i like joking about it, I know Saga is smarter and stronger than the average guy, Shun wasn’t going to be able to strangle him with the chain. But a good old pointy cosmo-powered chain to the forehead, well... come on. Would have been hilarious, other than useful.

For the rest, the arc was pretty amazing. His sacrifice for Hyoga? Yeah, he wasn’t holding back there. And the fight against Aphrodite we all know how incredible it was.

Something I’m going to point out is how much Shun held back against Leda and Spica. That was all his personality, but he was able to defeat both of them in a couple seconds as soon as he used his true power. I don’t really want to count that as holding back, but I have to. Because he was keeping his strength low, and it counts. That was a time loss that could have been avoided.

Asgard Arc

Now this, this makes me mad. As soon as Shun leaves canon territory, it gets turned into this weak warrior with no desire to fight. Either that, or he gets to fight but accomplishes little. And this is exactly what happened in this arc.

By now, we know how lethal Shun can be, and we know he awakened his Seventh Sense. It’s not theory anymore, it’s not fan wishes anymore, it’s Shun with one more sense to deal with. And what happens? They give him the fight against the only enemy his goddamn chain doesn’t want to hit. Of course he gets that, and that his - actually beautiful - personality refuses to fight and instead insists on diplomacy. Now, I loved that. I love how Shun tries to find a peaceful way around the war. But, once again, this is not the point of my rambling. The point of my rambling is: Shun shouldn’t have needed Ikki to come and save the day. Let’s take away Mime’s tragic backstory for a second, and let’s put Shun in the “classic” mind of a Saint; fight the enemy to the death, or die trying. Shun would have won without any help. Sure, Mime is powerful, but Shun is as well. And we know that Shun is capable of facing enemies that use music as a weapon (as we learn later, in the Poseidon Arc). Also, I’m pretty positive he has control over his chain, is not like the chain is going to ignore him like that. That weapon has a mind of its own, that’s true, but seriously speaking Shun has to be able to control it more than the chain controls itself. That, and Shun himself refused to recognize Mime as an enemy. Without holding back, Shun would have seen him as a proper enemy, and fought with no chain deciding “oh no no no, this is a friend!” like an overly friendly puppy. Wrongfully, maybe, because as we learned Mime was, in fact, not a real enemy, but that’s not the point.

Syd doesn’t really count. Shun was actually standing his ground against him, and incredibly well. The reason Shun didn’t win right there and there was not him holding back, but the plot advancing and throwing Bud at him. I don’t know how high I should hold this opinion, though, because to me it seems a bit weird that Bud is so powerful/stealthy that no one realizes he’s there. I’ve been skeptical about him, especially considering how he incapacitated freaking Aldebaran, but it is still a good reason for Shun not having won the fight. Stealth can be more effective than raw power, sometimes. Though, I believe Shun (and Aldebaran, for what it counts) should have been able to sense him. What, they’re going to show us the Saints can sense any kind of cosmo approaching them or far from them, but not realize that there’s someone right behind them ready to strike? Eh, it’s bizarre.

Poseidon Arc

Right off the bat, he got his moment to shine against Io. THAT, my friends, was incredible, and if Shun didn’t hold back - because he did, to avoid killing him, bless his merciful soul - Io would have died pretty easily. Shun claimed his rights as Gold Saint, there, didn’t use all his power, and still beat the everloving soul out of him.

Also, the fight against Sorrento? Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. I literally have nothing to say, he had a reason to hold back there, and I will not give him a forced victory. Sorrento was on his level, and even though I think the Nebula Storm would have killed him (remember, that technique keeps getting more and more powerful the longer it’s used), they were pretty equal. Shun didn’t hold back, save for when he understood what the hell was going on and got an ally.

What I didn’t like, however, was how harshly he was treated when Poseidon was the threat. Damn, I’m not saying he should have been able to face a god, not without a Gold Cloth and not alone, but jeez, he ended up being completely ignored. Like “wait, I’ll help!”, and then poof. Disappeared. But in this instance, not holding back wouldn’t have made much of a difference. Unless you want to be 100% full of logic, and use the fact that Shun was already a vessel for a god, there’s no viable excuses for him to be able to fight a god on his own. Not at that point in time, and not in his conditions. Things work only if they can work.

Hades Chapter

I don’t have much to say here. Shun was incredible, he fought without holding back for almost the entire series, and showed an almost merciless side. A good handful of that behavior was Hades, if we go by how Shun was portrayed beforehand, but I like to believe he finally got his time to shine and acted competent again. After hall, he had his angry moments back in the classic, they were no different from this chapter.

What I will say, however, is how they diminished him in Elysium. Because let’s face it: a Saint that not only survived one of the most powerful gods ever possessing him, but also tricked and held him back, had every single right to be powerful enough while wearing a God Cloth to obliterate Hypnos from the face of Elysium. How are you telling me to believe that the same person that defeated the god of the Underworld just... fell asleep against a minor deity? He was the first to get his God Cloth without the plot aiding him (yes, I’m still salty about Seiya), yet he did nothing, and got defeated by Hypnos like he was a weak little boy. I understand he’s a god, but Hades was worse! I’ll tell you what would have happened. Shun would have sent Hypnos’ sorry ass back in the void he deserved to be in (I actually like Hypnos okay, Shun doesn’t) without batting an eye. Surely someone that was able to withstand Hades’ power - and overwhelmed it, even if for a short time - could resist some minor god’s power.

To conclude, on the same not, Shun should have definitely punched Hades in the face. He was probably the only one strong enough to do so, aside from Athena. And probably the one with the right to do so, also.

This is probablt the stupidest rambling I’ve ever wrote on this blog, but I regret nothing.

#saint seiya #i cavalieri dello zodiaco #los caballeros del zodiaco #os cavaleiros do zodiaco #knights of the zodiac #andromeda shun #rambling

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strawberryjamsara · 3 years

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Do you have any predictions for how Chapter 3 will play out? :D and what are your thoughts on the CH3 dummies? I think smth is gonna happen with Hinako but I do not know what

I’ll start with the dummies

Kurumada- I can’t quite get a read on him. He seems easily distrustful, almost on the same level as Hinako, and he stands as the second highest placer in the game next to Sara, yet died in his first trial. His distant attitude and refusal to open up draws parallels to Keiji, but unlike Keiji, he doesn’t make shows to gain trust. He’s very open about who he is. I’m also curious what his backstory is. He states that he got into trouble with police a lot, which considering the fact he has the darkest skin in the game, and the fact that this game really does say ACAB a lot... I feel like that’s going to come back. He does seem to be opening up with Qtaros help, and I’m interested to see more of him.

Mai-Ms Tsurugi, please marry me. But jokes aside I love Mai. I like the “seemingly dumb and ditzy character is actually pretty hyper competent” trope and she’s really cute and pretty and I am gay. Part of me wonders what will happen when she wakes up in 3-1B. She might be the link that unifies the humans and the dummies touched that Qtaro spared her, or she might side with Hinako. It’s hard to tell with her because she keeps her cards very close to her chest, clearly smarter than she looks, and able to get the jump on Qtaro and be the first dummy to take action against her partner. Of course, she’s also a person who was dropped into a bad situation, just like everyone else in the game, so I don’t want to judge her too harshly. I’ll just say she’s an excellent dame and I want to bake bread with her.

Ranmaru- Eugh... I’m gonna be honest and say I don’t like Ranmaru. He has the personality of unseasoned chicken. We really don’t see much of him, and his only significance seems to come in what he means to Sara, and whether she sees him as a friend or not. I find him very uninteresting and ran//Sara is in no way my thing.

Hayasaka- this man is the embodiment of “I have a wife and a kid and a mortgage and if I drop a bag of my favorite chips on the ground, I don’t cry about it.” Honestly, I find his constant quips and panic funny, and I definitely think he’s going to become a keystone in the plot what with his connections to Asunaro, and knowledge of Sara’s history. I definitely think keeping him alive is going to be a huge factor on the story. Also I love his relationship to Gin. Especially when he starts trying to impress him, like a lame dad trying to be cool. He’ll probably turn out to be a good character once the game is finished.

Anzu- CLOWN GIRL! Yeah I love Anzu. She’s ditzy, and cute, and shy, and fun loving and like, what more do you need to love her? Also... once again, I want to comment on her percentage and how she beats out a lot of adults with her standing. It’s been theorized by a friend of mine that she’s the back up high school girl in case Sara loses which is FASCINATING. Like with Kurumada, Anzu is hard to get a read on. It doesn’t seem like she’ll be as important as Hayasaka, but I can only hope that she’ll get more attention as the story goes on, I want a reward for keeping her alive!

Hinako- Gaz Membrane. Okay jokes aside Hinako... fascinates me. I’m not on board with the theory that she’s not the real Hinako and is just a fake planted among the dummies because of the painting and the victim video like one... why make an obvious difference to the real Hinako if you want her to blend in and two, I don’t think her being happy in the moment of her death means she was always gunning for it. It’s normal for people with suicidal thoughts to still fear death. Like, it’s very common, no I am not talking about myself what do you mean? Anyways, Hinako’s acceptance in her final moments could easily be for the act she didn’t have the courage to do herself. And I think her current attitude matches that. She’s jaded. Violent. Clearly not a happy person. Okay, I’m getting off track let me talk about her character. I’m definitely sensing a tragic backstory with her. Her violent tendencies, her suspicion of others, it’s going to be for a reason. I do hope she gets redemption because she’s just a child, and no child should ever feel the way she seems to constantly. Her acceptance of death is... depressing. She seems to fight vehemently for it, a sense of looking out for No. 1, but there’s clearly no motivation within her too. She has eye bags, a blatant cynicism to her, who hurt you child, TELL ME? But yeah, I really like Hinako.

Well that’s the dummies. Now for how the chapters routes will go...

Well, the Kanna lives route is definitely going to be our access to the “true ending”. There’s going to be a successful escape, and we might not even have a main game. There might be multiple endings and some might go badly but it’s clear the game wants to set the emotion route as the happy ending. Though part of me wonders... maybe it’ll leave a few questions unanswered? Because hear me out, hear me out. This is the EMOTION route. It’s not going to matter what answers there are, just coming out with everyone, and beating the forces that put them there. Maybe just one of the endings ends like that. There will be multiple after all.

As for the Shin lives route... I see no happy endings in sight. The endings I foresee for this one are Shin getting his revenge, and in the case that the player avoids the game over and leaves him choking on his blood and still cursing everyone, so much of a desperate vile monster at that point you feel nothing but disgust, then I see it ending with Sara, queen of the death game, killing the rest of her allies in and taking her place on the throne of Asunaro as it’s heiress. I’ve seen some people throw around ideas for a Shindemption and happy ending in this route and as much as I’d like that to happen, and for there to be a Sara and Shin friendship... yeah, it’s not happening buddy. But I do hope Shin gets to be the one to kill Midori in this route. He deserves it.

#your turn to die #kimi ga shine #hinako mishuku #anzu kinashi #shunsuke hayasaka #mai tsurugi #naomichi kurumada #kanna kizuchi #shin tsukimi #sara chidouin #ask

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scripttorture · 3 years

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I was reading through your tags, and I came across your discussion of the Milgram experiment. I had no idea it was so poorly conducted, in high school psych people always talked about it like it was the final word on the matter. It’s actually great to hear people did argue with the authority. Anyway, I do have a question about the difference between torture and abuse. You reference torture leading to communities for both victims and torturers and abuse not (at least, not the same way). 1/2

2/2 How important is this idea of “competing communities” to the reality of torture (not the legal definition so much, but the practical effect it has on the world)? And how important do you think it is to reference/display/show that in a story? I want depict torture accurately in my novel -thanks to you- and while it’s legally torture, there’s no discussion of community there, and I want to make sure I don’t exclude it if that’s important. Thanks for your help! I’ve learned a lot from you.

I think this is where my lack of a psychology or sociology degree is a disadvantage because I’m not sure if you’re talking about an established theory and if you are it’s not a theory I’m familiar with.

Given that I think the most helpful thing I can do is talk about what these communities can look like and the place of these communities in fiction.

I’ve gotten to a point where writing about these sorts of communities and the effects on communities, on generations, is quite instinctive. I don’t remember ever having to actively look it up as a separate thing and that’s partly because I grew up outside of the West surrounded by people from different parts of Asia. It’s a lot easier to grasp what these things look like when you’ve seen it, even if it’s at a remove.

The reading I did which touched on the topic immediately made sense, because I could tie it to people and places I knew. To the fallout from the gulf wars and the partition of India and Pakistan sheering in two (hell Bangladesh because that was a mess). These things cast long shadows.

All of this means I might struggle a bit to explain some of this. So I’m sorry if this gets a bit messy.

Communities of torture survivors will look different depending on the situation in your world. Some important questions to consider when building this into the story are:

Is torture still going on in this place?

Are the people who ordered/allowed torture still in power or has there been a regime change?

Are the survivors still in the country where they were tortured?

Are the things they were arrested for/accused of still crimes?

If there’s been a regime change or torture has become less common what happened to the former torturers?

If the survivors are in a different country what are their material circumstances and how welcome are they?

What practical means of support do the survivors have?

If the atrocities are no longer happening how much time has passed?

Communities of genocide survivors in Rwanda (who have remained in Rwanda) will look different to Rohingya survivors who have fled to Bangladesh. Communities of people tortured for being queer look different in countries where homosexuality is still illegal compared to countries that have legalised it.

I’m not a sociologist so my opinion on why that is just opinion. But we can still use the examples above to illustrate a little of what I’m getting at with the bullet point questions.

A large proportion of Rwanda’s genocide survivors returned to their homes or at least their home country. A lot of the genocide was carried out by ordinary people. That means that the people who attacked, tortured and tried to kill them were often neighbours and acquaintances.

A lot of these people still live in quite close proximity to the individuals that attacked them. I think Rwanda did it’s best to try and get justice for as many people as possible but logistically some estimates say around a million people were culpable for the genocide. A lot of people were never arrested and the trials of the 100,000 or so people that were, were slow and not always fair.

Rwanda also had a change of government so the people heading the genocide trials and reorganising the country were not the people in power at the time of the genocide. (Not trying to say the RPF didn’t commit crimes too. But a change from the government that was torturing to new leaders tends to give people more confidence that the crimes of the former leaders will be treated seriously.)

Contrast this to the situation many Rohingya are in today.

I don’t think it’s controversial to say that the majority no longer live in their home country. There were an estimated 1-1.3 million Rohingya in Burma before the ongoing genocide. It isn’t clear how many people have been/are being killed but there are thought to be between 700,000 and a million Rohingya refugees in Bangladesh today*.

The people responsible are still in power and there’s been no move to hold anyone accountable. There have been a couple of moves to return Rohingya to Burma, and the Rohingya have refused saying they’d be killed.

Bangladesh… has not done a particularly good job of supporting the refugees. But they’re also a poor country dealing with a sudden influx of hundreds of thousands of people.

These two situations have led to different different communities and different community pressures.

I feel like I need to be a bit careful about what I say here as obviously I’m not part of either community.** I don’t want to put words in their mouths.

My impression is that of communities of Rohingya survivors in Bangladesh things are still incredibly tense. Their general situation is unstable. The violence that drove them from their homes continues and the people responsible are still in power.

My understanding is that there’s less community focus on healing and rebuilding and more focus on survival. Because unfortunately that’s the situation they’re in.

My impression is that there’s been a lot more effort towards rebuilding and healing in Rwanda. Things like these counselling sessions and concerted efforts to reduce ethnic tensions do seem to have helped people move forward.

Obviously the fact the Rohingya genocide is still happening and that Rwanda has had years to try and help survivors means this isn’t really a fair comparison. But the point here is to illustrate differing situations.

To me the words ‘competing communities’ implies a situation where communities of torturers/former torturers and survivors are in close contact with each other. That’s not always the case. Survivors may end up in a different country. Torturers might be part of an occupying force that leaves- You get the idea.

When these communities are living in close proximity there are still a lot of factors that can influence how they interact. Regime changes, justice and reconciliation efforts, support for mental health problems can all make a difference. Education and jobs can also make a difference.

I’m honestly not sure whether de-radicalisation programs have ever been attempted for torture specifically.

What I’m saying here is that (while I doubt a torture survivor is ever going to get along with someone who personally tortured them) I have heard stories where towns and villages containing a mix of people who were victimised by a regime and people who supported it have reconciled and been able to exist as a community. Even though some members of the community are never going to like or trust each other.

Communities of torturers are… a lot more volatile. Rejali describes the toxic sub-culture torturers tend to build up in a lot of detail. It isn’t clear if this carries over into life after torture.

The impression I get from interviews with torturers is that while the attitudes and beliefs may carry over former torturers don’t seem to stay in contact with each other. The group seems to form on the job and then fall apart without the job to hold them together.

Now there is not a lot of research on torturers. So I honestly can’t say this is true. It’s a pattern in interviews but a dozen interviews do not a statistically relevant study make.

I can confidentially tell you that most former torturers report social isolation after they stop and they seem to have difficulty forming and keeping relationships. It also seems likely that they have a high turn over rate (regimes can periodically purge them and their mental health problems can easily get them fired or reach a point where they quit.)

So when I say ‘communities of torturers’ I’m mostly talking about numbers rather then an organised social structure. My impression is that apologists are more likely to do the work of organising then torturers.

I’m going to try and bring this round to the question of what role communities and communal support can play in stories.

Personally I think it’s something I’d like to see writers try to tackle more often. Especially since community can add a lot of depth to characters.

I don’t think it should be considered essential to a narrative involving torture though.

Torture means a large number of victims and communities of survivors. But not every survivor is going to be connected to those communities. Most Rohingya people have ended up in Bangladesh but not all of them have.

Thinking about the victims of police torture in Chicago in the 80s, most of them were black and/or homeless. Given that particular segments of the population were targetted I think these groups could have processed this as a communal experience etc. But someone from a group that was less regularly targetted might not have had a way to access either community of survivors.

Some victims end up isolated because they aren’t believed. With the rise in clean torture it’s become more common for things like ‘You weren’t tortured, you’re a spy and you gave them information willingly’ to be used to discredit survivors.

And some victims end up isolated because their particular pattern of symptoms makes it hard for them to socialise.

Some people just fall through the cracks. Some communities refuse to talk about or deal with torture when it’s happening around them. This… is not particularly healthy but it can come from a place of wanting to protect a survivor and reduce the risk of harm, especially if torture is still happening in the area and the people that ordered it are still in power.

Isolation is a real problem. It is the experience of a lot of survivors. Especially at first. I don’t think there can be anything wrong with trying to portray that.

Showing communities won’t work in every story. They take time to establish, demand more characters and when poorly handled they can steer the narrative away from the plot.

However they can also bring some much needed relief to dark stories and create a lot more opportunities to show the variety and humanity of survivors.

I am a little biased here. I love stories about people connecting and supporting each other in difficult circumstances. Including a community element is a very easy way to do that in a story.

The kind of community your survivors characters have should be something that grows from the circumstances of the story.

In a world where the Evil Empire was ousted survivors might feel able to meet in public to share their experiences or help each other. In a world where the Empire is still in power any meetings would be smaller, secretive and fraught with risk. Characters who have fled the Empire might find they have an easy connection to everyone else who’s fled. Regardless of where they come from.

Is this something prior generations have had to contend with? If these things have been going on longer then there are more likely to be established community structures to support survivors even if it’s ‘smaller’ things like gifting neighbours meals.

At the end of the day I think the details should be decided by what the story needs, what adds to it. Sometimes a community for the survivors characters will do that. Sometimes it won’t.

I hope that helps :)

Available on Wordpress.

Disclaimer

*Some will have fled previous conflicts and have been in Bangladesh longer.

**For those who don’t know this already my parents are English and Greek-Cypriot and I grew up in Saudi Arabia near Bahrain.

#dreaming-in-circles #writing advice #tw torture #tw genocide #writing survivors #writing torturers #writing recovery #torture and communities #torture survivors and relationships #attitudes towards torture survivors #mental health #factors that affect recovery #recovery #torture survivors

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thewalkingfanfictions · 4 years

Text

Softly, Barely a Whisper -- Daryl Dixon x fem!reader (part one)

Softly, Barely a Whisper — Daryl Dixon x fem!reader (pre apocalypse) (part one)

Part One/ Part Two/ Part Three

Description: (Name) moved in with her uncle, the Sheriff of a little town in Northern Georgia, to escape an abusive household. While living with her uncle, she meets Daryl, a redneck with a heart of gold and a life very similar hers. Fluff and angst and awkward shy Daryl Dixon ensue.

⚠Warning⚠: great amounts of bad language, past mentions of abuse, past mentions of rape, there's probably more, this'n's kinda a mess. Don't read if you get triggered easily.

Genre: angsty fluff?? Hurt/comfort?? I've no idea. Is awkward Daryl a genre?

Pairing: teen!Daryl Dixon x teen!fem!abused!reader

A/N: hey, sorry I've been gone for forever, I suck at commitment. I also suck at naming things, hence the title. I wrote another long motherfucker of a "oneshot" and therefore am breaking it into chapters like I did with Impromptu Cuddles, so look out for the other chapters soon enough. Enjoy.

Words without A/N: 3242

<—————————————>

"Sure thing, Daryl. You can use whatever ya'd like, just make sure you put it back afterwards. The doors unlocked and yer more than welcome to go in for a drink or anythin' if ya need it." Bill Coleman, or Sheriff Coleman, as most knew him by, called out as he moved to open the door to his cruiser.

The Sheriff was an interesting character to the youngest Dixon. He had hardened features and a voice like a gravel truck that immediately implied a harsh disposition, his eyes were constantly squinted into a look that resembled judgment, and the vibe he gave off was just generally unpleasant; but, in all reality, Bill Coleman was probably the gentlest man Daryl had ever met. He understood the workings of the Dixon household without ever having to be told, and did what he could to make life any bit easier for the teenager. Whether that be arresting the senior Dixon whenever he found possible, or offering Daryl a place to stay in his home over the weekend. Bill was, all in all, a genuinely kind human being. Something, Daryl found, was rather rare in his life.

But, even though the Sheriff had his trust, and he knew the Sheriff trusted him the same, it still came as a bit of a shock to him to see the officer willingly let him, a Dixon, have open access to his house while no one else was home.

Everyone knew not to trust a Dixon. Nobody in the town was willing to make eye contact with him, let alone trust him to their house and belongings while they were away. Will, his father, had done a fine job of destroying the family name in his drunken escapades, and his brothers addictions did nothing to help. This, combined with the confusion and disbelief that coursed through his system, explained the gawk the boy's eyes held as he stared in awe at Mr. Coleman's retreating figure.

This had to be some kind of trick, right?

"Oh," the Sheriff called. There it was, the part where he'd laugh it off and say "just kidding. Like I'd let a freak like you into my home without supervision."

Once again surprising the young man, his expectation was the farthest thing from what the greying man actually said.

"I fergot ta mention my niece, my sisters kid. She'll be here soon enough, gets off work in a half hour or so. She's been stayin' with me since, ah–" he trailed off a bit, one leg up in the cruiser, the other still planted firmly on the ground as he looked at Daryl over the door's window, looking mildly uncomfortable "–well, she's jus' stayin' with me. She's real sweet, you'll prolly get along with 'er. Jus', eh, just be soft, ya hear? She's a bit skittish, and real shy, too, so don't be too offended if she avoids ya, she don't mean it rude like."

And what on earth could he mean by that? The avoiding that he'd done when describing why she was here, what had happened that he didn't want to talk about? Daryl had a few theories already.

"'Till later, Daryl. Take care, and remember what I told ya, boy." With a wave and a caring (or warning, he could never quite tell with the old man) smile, the grizzled man pulled out of the small driveway and onto the road leading out of the trailer park to go do his civic duty, leaving a still heavily confused, and now slightly concerned, Daryl Dixon standing outside of his garage.

This man, knowing his family's history with bad habits, was not only willing to let the teenager into his home without a watchful eye, but was also perfectly okay knowing he'd be there, alone, with his (skittish and shy) niece?

Maybe the old man is finally losing it, he thought.

Still in shock, the young man turned on his heel, and began the short trek back to the shedd to continue working on the pickup that he had been working on fixing up. Though it was really nothing but a shell sitting on bricks right now, he knew that someday it'd be his pride and joy.

Some uncounted amount of time later, Daryl was finally pulling himself out from under the hood. His throat itched with dryness, and he was covered in sweat from the never-ending harshness of the Georgian sun, but, nonetheless, he couldn't help the little spike of pride that ran through him as he looked down at the beginnings of the new-made guts of his pickup. Allowing himself the luxury of a small smile, he decided he'd finally take the old Sheriff up on his offer, and moved to head into the house to grab something to wet his throat, and maybe even a rag to wipe off his face, if he was feeling risky.

He found, upon entry, that the house was relatively clean. Cleaner than it had been the last time he'd been in there, at least, and only as clean as an old trailer house could really get.

Still, where before there had been newspapers scattered, now there were none, and in place of the cluttered kitchen was a clean countertop and a basket of fresh apples. He didn't dwell on it a whole lot as he moved to the sink to fill up a plastic solo cup, though he did wonder if Bill would mind if he stole an apple. The young Dixon couldn't really remember the last time he'd eaten.

Filling his cup, he was quick to chug it down, the cold a dramatic (but welcome) shock against the harsh dryness of his throat. He let the water run into the sinks basin as he filled the cup up again, again, and then one more time, and only on his fifth return to the water did he realize the difference in sound. A few inches of water was backed up in the bottom of the sink, refusing to go down the drain like it should, and completely changing the sound the water pouring from the faucet made as it headed downwards.

Quickly setting the cup aside and turning off the faucet, he watched the water make its incredibly slow decent into the drain, and decided he needed to pay back Sheriff Coleman's hospitality. It was the least he could do, after all.

Opening the doors that lead to the plumbing beneath the sink, Daryl set himself to work.

~~~~~~~~~~×~~~~~~~~~~

"Good night, (name)!" Mr. Sennet's overly cheery voice called to the young woman as she moved her way through the front doors of the diner.

Calling out a quick goodbye to him as well, she hurriedly climbed into her rig. A shitty little Honda though she was, she still got the young (name) from a to b, and (name) would be forever grateful to her uncle for gifting it to her.

Dusk was just beginning to settle as she took off towards her new residence, and she worried slightly if her uncle would be angry that she was out later than usual. The diner had been busier tonight than normal, and instead of getting off at seven, as per usual, it was now closer to nine.

Taking a calming breath, she reminded herself aloud:

"He's not like they were, he won't be mad at you. He's not like them, he won't be mad."

Though she really did believe it, she still repeated it aloud to herself the entire way back to the house, as if she thought she could will it into existence if she hoped hard enough.

It was silly, she knew, but she didn't really care. After all she'd been through, she thought she deserved a little self reassurance.

The drive to her new home was short lived, though she didn't much mind. She hated to be alone now, it gave her too much time to think, and far too much time to overthink. A regular pastime of hers, it seemed.

It was odd, really. Before, when it was just her and the chromed glass house and the bruising voices, before she was taken away by her uncle, she loved to be alone. She cherished the times of peace she had between the hurt. Now, if she was alone for more than thirty minutes, it was likely she'd be found having a mental breakdown in a bathtub.

But, enough of the depressing stuff.

As the scarred girl pulled into the driveway, she didn't notice the second pair of tracks that accompanied her uncles, as she was far too wrapped up in her head. Something she'd be sure to kick herself for at a later date. She didn't notice the single light that was on in the kitchen, either, nor did she pay mind to the tools that lay neatly around their box as she passed the shedd that functioned as a garage, and she simply put the shell of a pickup truck that sat just outside off as another of her uncles pastimes. Opening and stepping through the front door, she didn't even notice the smudge of mud off the sole of someone's shoe that was left on the carpet.

She did, however, definitely notice the way the hair on the back if her neck stood to attention at the sound of a voice that most definitely wasn't the Sheriffs cursing angrily from the kitchen. Metal clinking to the ground and a tapping on something that echoed like tubing followed behind the exclamation, and (name) felt herself seize up in fear.

"It can't be them," she reminded herself silently, "it isn't them, it can't be."

Swallowing her fear, trying desperately not to let the tears that branded the backs of her eyes build enough to fall, (name) forced herself to move farther into the room, grabbing the aluminum baseball bat that resided behind the door and dropping her bag by a table near the door as she did.

Thinking back to the little bit of self defence that Bill had taught her upon her moving in, she pulled the bat to her side to keep it close enough that no one could easily pull it from her grasp, but could still cause some damage if shoved forwards hard enough.

Sneaking around the corner of the refrigerator that hid the person from view, she took a deep, calming breath before poking her head around to take a peek.

He was young, she could tell, likely not much older than herself. Shaggy, brown-blond hair nearly reached broad shoulders, and even though he was hunched over beneath the kitchen sink, she could still tell he was much larger than her. Muscles flexed under a sleeveless button-down shirt as he twisted a wrench against the plumbing under the basin, grunting lightly as he did.

He didn't seem like he was there to cause trouble, she figured. Who in their right minds broke into a house just to fix their backed up sink? Oh dear, maybe he's not in his right mind? What if they sent him and he's here to kill the girl? What if he was there to bring her back to them somehow? But they were away, they couldn't hurt her, could they? Even from the depths of prison, or the entrapment of the psych ward, the girl didn't really doubt that one of the two could get a word out to have her hurt (killed?) for getting them put away. She was going to die now and she wouldn't even be able to fix the meatloaf that she had planned for tonight's dinner. She felt her body begin to tremble (or perhaps it was already, and she only just then noticed) and her eyes glazed themselves with tears, to her dismay.

Could she swing and knock him unconscious? Could she at least discombobulate the man long enough to escape? Could she really even hurt somebody like that?

Before she could come to a decision, however, the decision came to her.

Away in the living room, a phone rang. The shrill tlrrring! making both bodies jump slightly, and causing the boy bent beneath the kitchen sink to take notice of young (name).

Blue eyes widened as he caught sight of her, baseball bat clutched in hand, and he threw himself backwards and away, slamming his body into the ovens door. Instinctively, his arms moved to guard his face and torso.

"Fuck! Fuckin' hell, girl!" The loud exclamation startled the girl, and she jumped again, shoving against the refrigerator hard enough to make it rattle dangerously.

~~~~~~~~~~×~~~~~~~~~~

Fixing the plumbing turned out to be far more difficult than Daryl had originally assumed. The bits holding the stuff to the things was rusted on, making it difficult to loosen the thingy mabob and clear anything clogging the that thing.

Putting all of his focus into wrenching the bits away from the stuff, Daryl completely failed to notice the other presence in the room with him, and when the phone in the other room shocked him out if his thoughts, he found his mind immediately assuming it was his father standing there with a weapon in hand.

As his back hit the oven and his arms moved to guard his head, he caught full sight of the person, and quickly came to realize his mistake. His heart beat harshly against his ribs, and he couldn't help but exclaim his dislike for the situation.

"Fuck! Fuckin' hell, girl!"

At his shout, the girl flinched away from him so harshly that he thought the refrigerator was going to come crashing down on top of him, and he immediately felt guilty, for some odd reason.

She looked absolutely terrified. (Eye color) eyes big as saucers, glazed with fear and glossy with tears, shaking hands gripped the metal of the baseball bat so hard her skin turned white, and her entire body was shaking like a leaf. Her eyes never left his form as he slowly stood up from the ground, one hand still held out in front of him, whether to ward off an attack, or to show he meant no harm, neither really knew. The girl was down right terrified of him, and he hadn't so much as said a word to deserve it yet.

This had to be the niece the Sheriff was talking about, he decided. The scared look she was giving him as she slowly backed away from him made him feel downright awful, and he knew he needed to do something to show her he meant no harm. So, remembering her uncles words, Daryl worked to make his voice a bit less gruff than usual, and tried to keep the edge out of his tone.

"Uh-uh, I ain't here ta hurtcha, girlie–" she took another quick step back "–I'm a friend of Bill's. I was jus' comin' in ta get a drink, I ain't here ta hurtcha."

There was far more that could be said, he knew, but words never really were his forté, and he wasn't sure how much he could talk before he made her more uncomfortable. However, the little bit that he had said, mostly naming her uncle, he thought, had made her shoulders un-hunch a bit, though she kept her distrusting posture. Smart girl.

Slowly lowering the bat until it pointed at his chest she grabbed it with both hands and hesitantly backed out of the kitchen, beckoning him to follow her. Keeping him safely at the end of the bat, and moved to pick up the still-ringing phone and gingerly press it to her ear, her eyes never leaving him, and the bat never wavering (though it did shiver along with her tremors.)

Her eyes relaxed a bit more at the voice on the other end of the line, and though Daryl couldn't much hear the words that were being said—aside from the mumbled tone—he could still tell it was the sheriffs deep voice that spoke.

"Yeah? Uh-hm, good, I uh, I guess... I did. Of course," as she spoke to the formless voice, Daryl couldn't help the small spike of fear that ran up his spine. What if the Sheriff didn't want him there now that he'd scared the girl? He had warned him, he thought. What if Bill made him go back to his shit-hole house and wouldn't let him come back again? This place was one of the few he had to escape that hell, he didn't want to lose that. What if the officer freaked and called Daryl's dad to come pick him up? He'd have hell to pay if he let that happen. He was sure he'd end up with a few more scars at least if his dad were to find out that someone knew of what went on behind closed doors. The Sheriff, no less. What if he–

His spiraling thoughts were disrupted when he caught the sound of his name coming from the other end of the phone line and immediately tuned back in.

"Uhm, uh, yeah, I–I guess. I mean, yeah, yes, he's still here... Oh, no, he's, uh, he's been nice enough," was she even still talking about the red-necked youth? "Yes, of course it's okay, uncle Bill. Sure-sure thing, yeah, that's okay with me. I was thinking about making meatloaf tonight, anyway, that usually makes enough for more than just you an' me."

Wait, what?

The girl had lowered the weapon, though she still kept a tight grip in it, and gave him a shy, almost apologetic smile, before finally letting her eyes dart away. Daryl stayed frozen in his spot. What was even happening?

"–oh," she suddenly looked dejected at whatever had been said on the other side. Scared, almost. "Yeah, no, no, that's-that's okay, uncle Bill, sure thing. It's okay, promise," she suddenly donned a small smile, and though he knew imediately that it was fake, he still found himself startlingly light-of-breath at the sight.

"Yeah, of course, see you tomorrow, uncle, stay safe." Tomorrow? What? Why was all this so confusing to the youngest Dixon? Why was the disappearance of her smile making him feel so hollow?

The sudden change in the expression that the smaller figure wore was dramatically startling to Daryl. Going from sad and scared and sorry and a bit regretful to blushing and wincing and all together uncomfortable in the blink of an eye, the girl shriekingly exclaimed:

"Uncle Bill! No! Ew, gross! Don–Don't say things like that, ya nasty!" Daryl couldn't help but find her blush and stutter quite endearing.

Even from the few paces away that he was, he could still hear the loud laugh that erupted from the other side of the phone.

"Alrigh–alright, uncle Bill," the girls face was still flushed intensely, "I'm hanging up on you now... Yeah, yes, okay—thanks for that." She winced again at whatever he'd said, and she somehow flushed even harder. In a softer voice, now, "I'll see you tomorrow, then. Stay safe." Her last words were barely a whisper.

Slowly pulling the phone away from her ear, the girl placed it gently on the receiver before turning to glance at Daryl, though he took note that she never once fully looked at him again.

"I'm, uhm, I'm sorry," she whispered, grimacing softly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~×•×~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#young!daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #pre apocalypse daryl x reader #daryl dixon x reader fluff #daryl dixon x reader angst #daryl dixon x reader hurt/comfort #daryl dixon x female reader #softly barely a whisper

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burlesque-articulation · 3 years

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Alright, I pulled out my corkboard and red string again, this time in hopes of dissecting the MAG timeline to see if there is anything there to support my fan theory of:

~Could Jurgen Leitner be Martin’s Dad~

And so far, signs point to a solid "it could be possible”. So in lieu of this, I will be presenting all my evidence with exceptional bias so it better illustrates my desired outcome. Okay? Okay! Let’s get into it.

Let’s begin with 1985, when Jurgen Leitner supposedly begins renting an office in Pall Mall, central London. Presumably this is just where he sets up an office, and not the actual location of the Library, which isn’t something we get-- anyways, getting sidetracked, uhhh.

Right, we know, vaguely, that Martin was born in 1987, two years after Leitner would have set up shop in Central London; and interestingly enough, in that same year of Martin’s birth, Leitner attempted to hire some people to dig a big ol’ hole in the floor of his office to lead into the tunnels built beneath the building. And this could just be wishful thinking, but I believe it is implied that these tunnels connect to the other tunnels of Millbank Prison. Interconnected, and with many exits leading to various parts of the city. Basically, a needlessly intricate means of escape (I guess balconies and back doors just didn’t exist yet, you know) should shit get real. Anyways, the point I’m trying to make, is that it would make sense for Leitner to suddenly be very interested in having direct access to these tunnels from his main office after receiving news that he’s a father, or whatever. Or maybe it’s just because he’s always been a loser that loves vibing in tunnels.

[Obligatory readmore, because this shit gets long, and even more ramble-y. Also I’m not sorry, because y’all are more than welcome to continue scrolling past this mess]

Alright, now fast-forward to 1994, the destruction of the Library. At this point in time, Martin would have been 7. Now hold up! According to the Magnus Archives Wiki, Martin’s father abandoned the family when he was 8 or 9; so isn’t that a whole in the theory right there? No. It’s not. Because the only thing that is implied about Leitner around 1994, is that he went into hiding after the destruction of the Library. At no point is it implied that he even left the country (or even London, but like, I refuse to believe he’s that stupid; even if that alternative is hilarious). To set up my point, I’m going to shift the focus onto Martin now, and what his life might have been like when he was younger.

So, by present events (present actually referring to like, pre-season 4, actually), Martin’s mother is in a care home in Devon. Could be because care homes are cheaper there, or something, I have no idea. Honestly people in my family don’t live long enough to ever even consider this option, so I don’t know how assisted living works at all lmao. But let’s say, for simplicities sake, that Martin actually just grew up around Devon; and I’m throwing a dart at a map and declaring Plymouth as the city he grew up in. Anyways, why does this matter? Because I do in fact believe that Leitner is stupid enough to think that changing which county he lives in counts as being in hiding. And he gets maybe one (1) good summer with his family before the weight of his sins bare down on him, and he realizes that staying in one place really isn’t an option. So maybe he tries travelling around a bit; but inevitably he always ends up coming back to Plymouth. It takes him a year, maybe two, to finally realize that this won’t work forever. His habits are too predictable, and what’s this? The mother of his child is getting sick; and her condition only seems to worsen over time (you know, like how it usually works when someone is taken ill.); and Leitner gets it into his head that he could be the cause of it; so what is the safest course of action, but to completely abandon his family? Surely things will turn out for the better for them all if he were to just... disappear. To cut ties entirely, so as to make sure no one ever comes after them in an attempt to get to him.

And that worked out fucking great, didn’t it.

Bunch of unimportant stuff happens, and eventually Martin ends up dropping out of school, presumably only a year early from graduation (weird but fine); and it’s safe to assume he eventually ends up traveling to London in hopes of better job opportunities. Plus, if he’s gonna be lying on his CV, probably better to head out of county to some place where no one knows him from anywhere to begin with, right? That makes sense, and none of you can say otherwise.

And where does he find himself sliding into a new job position? Oh, that’s right; at the Magnus Institute. In the Library. I’m just saying. I am just saying, that’s a little interesting. I mean, he lied about having a degree in parapsychology on his CV; so if Bouchard really wanted to play along like he thought the CV was entirely legit, it actually would’ve made more sense to put him in Research, or even in Artefact Storage with a degree like that. But nope, Bouchard put him in the Library. Though, I guess we don’t know exactly what all might’ve been on Martin’s faked CV. But I swear to god, if we get bonus content that’s just Martin’s faked CV and it even hints at him working at a “family library/bookshop” I will spontaneously combust.

Regardless, in 2009, supposedly (according to the wiki), Martin began working at the Institute. Personally, I always thought he started working there in 2010, but that doesn’t matter. I actually like 2009 better, because then a year later, Leitner apparently begins working with Gertrude Robinson. Which I find interesting. I mean, really there’s no reason for them not to work together, I just find the timing of it interesting. Of course, Leitner (in MAG80) alludes to the fact that Gertrude was likely only working with him because there was a lack of anyone else around. But that really only explains Gertrude’s interest in Leitner. What attracted Leitner to the Magnus Institute in the first place, I wonder? Aside from the fact that it’s essentially the Library of Alexandria of research on the Entities.

But Leitner had managed to stay out of public eye for about 16 years, why would he chose right around then to start playing peekaboo with the Beholding? Rhetorical question, of course. Y’all should already know exactly where I’m going with this line of questioning. Martin. Martin is what lead Leitner to the Institute, and to Gertrude. Dude just wanted to check up on his son, and now he’s just as trapped as everyone who works for the damn Institute because of all these weird rituals and shit. Plus maybe there was another reason why Leitner went through so much effort to help Gertrude, even putting himself on the line for it; and I think we can all agree that Leitner is a pretty selfish dude who’s only real character trait is being like a fucking cockroach. Straight up, the only way to kill a cockroach is to beat those suckers until they pop like a fucking pimple-- sorry, I’m actually getting ahead of myself, I don’t want to talk about that yet, um.

Leitner’s biggest character trait, and on some level, character flaw, is his Self-Preservation instinct. When the going gets tough, his own health and safety comes first. But maybe he gets a bit sentimental in his old age, and maybe he struck a deal with Gertrude; if he helps her stop the Unknowing, (or actually I think it would’ve been the Dark’s ritual first), she will bring his son down to the tunnels so Leitner can see how he’s grown, and maybe even talk to him. I just think that would be interesting character motivation; because at the end of the day, it’s still a pretty selfish motivation. But at this point, Gertrude’s only other option for help is a teenaged Shadow the Hedgehog wannabe; so she’d likely agree to just about anything for the extra pair of hands. And given what later happens in regards to the Dark’s ritual, which then results in Gertrude’s death; Leitner gets scared back into his hole in the ground.

But hey, I guess things actually kind of worked out for ol’ Jurgen. Because like a year later, his son* (*allegedly, according to apparently no one but me) starts living in the Archives. It’s like he’s living in his son’s basement, he can just pop up for tea and say hi whenever. Maybe complain about all the bugs that keep crawling around. Or not, because Jürgen Leitner is a coward. But I 100% would not put it past him to shuffle his old bones up into the Archives to stand creepily at the edge of wherever Martin was sleeping and angst quietly at the sight of his son. It’s creepy, funny, and sad. Basically a peak TMA scenario right there.

Then Leitner gets brutally piped by Bouchard. Actually, can I say it like that? “Piped” isn’t some kind of... new-age slang for something, is it? God, I hope not. Anyways; Leitner isn’t just beat upside the head with a length of pipe, but literally pulped by Bouchard (or at the very least implied so), in a way that makes identifying the guy difficult enough that he remains a John Doe straight up until Elias confesses to the murder. Now, obviously there are plenty of reasons for this; given that both Daisy and Basira are familiar with the name Leitner, so presumably other sectioned officers would be as well; so there was at least a slim chance that whatever officer got sent to the Institute upon the discovery of the body might just recognize Leitner immediately. But, and sorry to sidetrack here, but there was just one thing that really stood out to me about Martin. One thing that always stuck with me, that for some reason was the main thing that made me thing Leitner could’ve been his dad.

Martin looks like his father, whoever that may or may not be. It is explicitly canon, that Martin looks like whoever his dad is. So wouldn’t it be better safe than sorry for Bouchard to beat Leitner to a pulp wherein no one could easily discern any major features of him once he was found. After all, it would make things rather messy and a bit too complicated if everyone who saw the body was like, “wow! That looks just like you, Martin.” So really, it’s for the best that not only did Bouchard kill Leitner, but he thoroughly did so.

And so, I will end this already way to long of a ramble with the one thing that solidified me on this theory, and Spoilers for Season 5 of MAG, but... In MAG181 Salesa says, “Now you mention it, you actually remind me of Jurgen a bit. In his younger days of course.” to Martin. Of course, Martin did just shoot out a snappy one-liner about books, but... it’s the clarification of Jurgen “in his younger days”, that gets me. Mikaele could just have easily said something about Martin just “sounding” like Leitner. But the way this reads, and how it’s spoken, even, it seems more like someone that might’ve been looking at Martin for awhile, squinting at him as if he’s seen that face somewhere before, and then right when Martin mentions books, it finally clicks. After all, it would’ve been almost 20 years, or possibly more, since Salesa would have left Leitner’s employ.

So yeah, I admit this theory has a much weaker backbone then my Banks/Folger post, but... I just think it’s neat. And it’s another one of those things that actually doesn’t have any affect on the major plot whatsoever. I dunno, maybe it was meant to be some sort of subplot early on that got ditched or something? Point is, that’s all for now, and with any luck, I will never post another crack theory again, and the TMA tag can be safe from my ramblings once more.

#burl posts #the magnus archives #tma spoilers #tma fan theory #martin blackwood #jurgen leitner #no editing; we post rough drafts like idiots #also i didn't actually write this with nearly as much bias as I intended too #i'm too facts-based; and the moment i try saying something that isn't absolutely factual #i'm too quick to add a ''this is only alleged we have no canon proof''#did the same thing with my last redstring theory #i actually think i might start calling my tma theories ''pink-string nonsense'' because it's less #red string means; IT HAS TO BE TRUE IT DEFINITELY MAKES SENSE #whereas pink string is more; IT COULD BE TRUE BUT REALLY I THINK IT WOULD JUST BE NICE/COOL

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thedinanshiral · 3 years

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Dragon Age 4 Short Stories

To celebrate Dragon Age Day 2020 with us, BioWare surprised everyone with a new version of the Dragon Age site and 4 short stories and illustrations. These short stories are heavily related to some chapters in Tevinter Nights.

The Next One

Tells us of Grey Warden Lwrence who’s already in the Deep Roads for the Calling, and despite his condition continues to fight, even as he could be about to die, when he hears someone in danger he goes to the rescue and this catches the attention of a spirit of Perseverance. The spirit takes possession of the body just long enough to save a dwarven girl and a sort of promise is made, that in return she saves the next person who may need it. The Grey Warden dies, Perseverance returns to the Fade, and the dwarven girl , Evka, becomes the Grey Warden from Tevinter Nights’ “Hunger”.

Ruins of Reality

Strife, whom we previously read about in Tevinter Nights’ “Three trees to midnight”, is in the Arlathan Forest, witnessing some sort of anomaly that defies his perception of time and space, and possibly of himself, as he tries to find his way in a maze where he can watch himself from moments ago heading into the same trouble he just barely got alive from. Holding a magical journal, a relic of Clan Morlyn that writes its own entries, trying to follow directions to find a powerful artifact, he finally reaches a point of reference, a Ghilan’nain statue holding a crystal halla figurine. Irelin shows up and both realise what they’ve been experiencing is very old magic, ancient. The shapeshifter turns into an eagle and takes the figurine while Strife has no option but to play bait to dangerous sylvans, and once the figurine is gone the forest suddenly, eerily, returns to normal.

The Wake

In this story we meet again some of the many Crows Tevinter Nights introduced. Viago and Teia from Eight Little Talons (previously from the comic Deception), and Illario from The Wigmaker Job. The latter is drunk and the other two are trying to get him away safely. Someone important, someone dear appears to have died and they were just at the wake. Illario laments the death of his cousin Lucanis, and drunkenly reminisces and tells anecdotes until his fellow Crows put him to bed.

Minrathous Shadows

At an unidentified establishment, a magister lady is playing cards when a man sits at the table. The magister identifies him as a Templar based on his appearance and he joins the game, taunting the magister on her low bet as the dealer hands the cards. The Templar is named Tarquin, and he rises the stakes with a ledger that he implies contains information implicating this magister to the Venatori. She denies it, of course, and carries on with the game. Tarquin doesn’t have a winning hand -he wasn’t really there to play cards- so when the magister wins the hand, she tries to teach him not to threaten her. Magic begins to gather at her fist but is suddenly countered, nullified, and then she notices the dealer; shocked, she seems to identify them as “the Viper”, and claims they’re supposed to be “just a tale”. When Tarquin is about to leave the magister asks him who are they, what do they want, is it gold? Is it power? The Templar tells her they are the Tevinter they forgot. What could they want then? From behind the magister, the dealer put up his hood. “Everything.”

While the first three short stories call back to Tevinter Nights in both location and characters, Minrathous Shadows, with Tarquin and the Viper -and whatever tale is spun around that name- are new elements, and i’ll get to that soon.

As these are very short stories i’ll try a quick anaylisis.

The Next One: serves as a sort of “origin story” to Warden Evka, and also illustrates how spirits can work. Spirits are drawn, not only to where the Veil is thin or where there’s blood and violence and negative emotions and desires, but also to good intentions, hopes and values. Perseverance lends its force to Warden Lawrence when he, fatally wounded, still wanted to fight to save one more life, and when that last and desperate goal is achieved, Perseverance leaves.

Ruins of Reality: The journal from Clan Morlyn sounds suspiciously similar to the Emergent Compendium, a tome that writes itself found at the Black Emporium in Act 3 of DA2. As described in the codex entry, it produces pictures and lines of gibberish, which are writen in a cypher; the last entry recorded is in reference to Fen’Harel. So to have the elves Strife and Irelin searching through an enchanted Arlathan Forest for a powerful artifact using a journal that one day started writing its own entries, well, there’s got to be something there. Specially considering as well the illustration that accompanies this story, where Strife is seen wearing clothes with suspended metal golden triangles much like one of the concept art pieces (that i insist could very well be ancient Elves and/or temple guardians.. Arlathan Forest has to have a temple or two)

The Wake: personally i loved Lucanis Dellamorte and refuse to believe he has died before we got to see him shine in 4K. He was the grandson of the First Talon, leader of the Antivan Crows, and he was most likely set to follow in her steps and become First Talon himself eventually, but that’s not a fate he desires and there’s no denying Grandma Dellamorte, so...he could have easily faked his death in order to escape that. And the reason Illario is so broken about it is because in order to make it safer and more believable, he wasn’t informed of the plan. And this is the theory i’m running with until and unless BW reveals something different. Viago and Teia are suspiciously unaffected by the loss of Lucanis and we could say maybe they didn’t know him enough to care, but i’m saying maybe they know he’s not really dead.

Minrathous Shadows: Tarquin is a templar and we know Templars in Tevinter are little more than law enforcement, they lack the templar powers their counterparts from the South have, which would explain the contempt the magister woman has for him on sight. A Tevinter Templar is hardly a threat to the power of a Magister, that’s why in response to his threat she attempts to strike him with magic she knows he can’t fight back. But she’s stopped by this other new character. Someone who the magister points out should be “just a tale”. And i suspect this would make the Viper a Templar who can actually counter magic, something that by all means seems is not allowed to exist in Tevinter. She was just accused of having ties with the Venatori, going against current Tevinter law, and maybe thinks she can get away with a bribe, but that won’t cut it. These new characters now claim to be “the Tevinter you forgot” and want “everything”. There are easily more than one way to read into that. Can’t be the Venatori, they were all about returning to past Imperium glory which was lost, not forgotten. No, what we get in this story tastes more like a claim for justice, like what the Tevinter the Magister, the powerful and self-absorbed, have forgotten is everyone else. I think this Viper and Tarquin could be part of a rebellion that’s been brewing in Tevinter for quite some time. Maybe they work with the Lucernis, maybe they are part of the Lucernis themselves, or belong to a different faction, but seems they’re ready to take the Magisterium trash out. Another possibility is they are Siccaris, Tevinter spies, working for the goverment cleaning house, the mention of complicity with Venatori being considered treason by the government adds to this. Either way, colour me excited about these two. Last note here, while we have nothing on the Viper but the name, Tarquin’s name has appeared before in lore, in a codex entry from Inquisition titled “Shriek”, as an entry in the Blighted Codex, a collection of studies on Darkspawn kept in the Imperial Library at Minrathous and accessible only to the Magisterium. Tells the story of the son of a Magister named Tarquin who was the sole survivor of a darkspawn attack on his unit. He was shocked, speechless, having nightmares, eventually improving only to speak the word “Shriek” over and over again. There’s no indication of when this recorded darkspawn attack took place, could have been centuries ago. And really all we can get for sure from this is that Tarquin is a Tevinter name.

That’s it for now, please correct me if there is something about the Viper somewhere, i’m really not finding anything (other than vipers being snakes and snakes being symbolically smaller dragons and both snakes and dragons being literally on the Tevinter flag)

#Dragon Age #Dragon Age 4 #DA short stories #Tevinter #short notes she said #quick analysis she said #and writes a wall of text for two hours

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mca-attack21 · 4 years

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Mystery Bullet Part 3

This is the third and final part to this series, thanks for joining me on the ride! Part 1: Here Part 2: Here

The phone rung a couple of times before Sherlock answered. “Awh John, you’re missing the fun.”

“She’s okay, just had a bad reaction to the antigens in the blood they gave her during surgery.”

“Did they give her the wrong blood?”

“They claim they didn’t, but that is the only thing that makes sense.”

“Oh, that’s brilliant! The bullets weren’t made of ice, they were made of blood. That explains everything.”

“I’m not sure I follow,”

“Think about it the bullet disappeared. She had a bad reaction to antigens. Ice wasn’t dense enough, but the blood would be perfect. Someone used human blood to create a projectile that when froze with liquid nitrogen and shot by pressurized air would resemble a bullet. It wouldn’t leave an exit wound and would dissolve. It also explains why she said the wound site was cold.” Sherlock explained.

“She’s awake now, you should come and see her. She’s asked about you,” John replied.

“I’m glad she is okay, I will come to visit when I have solved the case” Sherlock replied.

“Sherlock, she is still in critical condition, you do understand that right?”

“The auction is tomorrow, we are running out of time,” Sherlock answered before hanging up.

John wanted to call him back, but he knew that it was no use. He instead went into your room and sent Molly home for the night. When you woke up he explained what had happened and Sherlock’s blood bullet theory.

“Have you found the paintings yet?” you asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The real paintings are still in the Museum somewhere. There is too much traffic, extra security, and outside security cameras for them to have been removed. None of the other security cameras were tampered with and no other guards were affected. It had to be an inside job because someone walked in and out of that well-lit room without drawing suspicion and left the same way. They had to be in there well before they actually shot the security guard. Between that and the looping footage, I would assume that the guard was in on the heist and then was double-crossed. Regardless, there is no possible way that the art was removed it is somewhere in that room. I called the art restorator that you met, he said that he would meet with me to check over the paintings. He wanted me to come in that night, but I told him it would have to wait. Oh my god, it was him!” you realized.

“How so?” John asked.

“He knew that I was on to him and he knew you and Sherlock wouldn’t be home. He had access to the facility and no one would question where he was going. He has worked at the gallery for a while and would have had plenty of time to plan everything out.” you explained.

John was laughing and pulling out his phone.

“What?” you asked.

“You are insane, that is what. I need to get normal friends,” he answered.

“Is everything okay?” Sherlock answered.

“Yes, but you need to go to the museum, I’ll meet you there.”

“Why?”

“Because Y/n solved the case and we need to go pick up the paintings and culprit. I’ll explain when we get there. Call Mycroft.” he said and hung up.

“Okay now, you are going to lay here and rest. No exceptions. Sherlock and I will come by when it’s over and we will see what we have to do to get you out of here. Is there anyone you’d like me to call?” he asked.

“Nope, I think I’ll take a nap. Be careful,” you answered.

Sherlock and John went to the museum. It didn’t take them long to discover where the real paintings were being hidden. They then went to Dr. Argonza’s office, to no one’s surprise he wasn’t there. They did find a cryogenic dewar which could have easily been used to store the blood bullets. There was an airbrush and pipe that Sherlock was sure could provide enough velocity to cause the injuries. The entire rig would easily fit under a coat and be hidden. Sherlock filled his brother in and together they came up with a plan to switch the duplicates back with the originals and wait for Dr. Argonza at the auction where they would pick him up.

Convinced that not even Mycroft’s men could screw this up, John and Sherlock prepared to leave. John had them stop by the flat to pick you up some spare clothes for your return trip. He was surprised to see that Sherlock had cleaned up the blood and everything from his experiments earlier that day. He was glad that this was almost over and that things would soon be back to normal.

When they arrived at the hospital they were told visitation hours were over and made some type of excuse using their “badges” to get passed the nurse. John led the way to your room and Sherlock followed. They were surprised to hear talking from your room. That surprised turned to concern when they realized that your door was locked.

Meanwhile:

You were tired and understandably so. But how were you supposed to get any sleep when nurses were constantly coming in and poking and prodding you. This nurse was different, you hadn’t seen him yet. He came over and prepared to inject another medication into your IV.

“I had my last round of medication an hour ago,” you spoke confused.

“This is a post-op Antibiotic, Doctors’ orders,” he said nonchalantly.

“Which one?” you asked painfully forcing yourself to sit up to get a better look.

“Carbenicillin? That can’t be right. I have a severe reaction to Beta Lactums.” you explained.

“Hmm, it doesn’t say that in your chart,” he replied before injecting it in.

You immediately tore out your IV and tried to hit the Nurse call button, shouting for help.

“Shut up! Shut up!” he shouted coming over and placing his hand over your nose and mouth forcefully. You tried to fight against him but your body was too weak and the fear was taking over.

“If you would have just stayed out of it, none of this would have happened. I didn’t want to kill you, but you’re too much of a liability now,” he explained.

You were beyond scared now tears running down your cheeks. You fought against it with everything you had but it was too much. The burning in your chest took over and the black circles grew.

That is when Sherlock and John burst through the door. Sherlock ripped Dr. Argonza off of you and threw him on the ground. You gasped and struggled to breathe. John had him at gunpoint until security was able to collect him. Even then, he waited with him until Mycroft showed up with his men to take him away. Back in your room, the nurses had kicked Sherlock out so they could thoroughly check you over. You were understandably a mess and demanded AMA forms. You gave them no choice and fought through the pain to remove all of the monitors that were hooked up to you. You sat up sheepishly and started putting on the clothes that John had brought. The nurses tried to reason with you, but you weren’t having it. That is when one of them decided to let Sherlock in to see if he could talk any sense into you.

“What is it that you think you are doing?” he asked concerned.

“I’m leaving. Are you going to help me?” you replied clutching your head.

“Y/n, you can’t leave. You need to stay here and let them take care of you, you’re in no condition to go home” he tried and then he saw something that shook him; you started crying.

“I can’t stay here, please don’t make me stay here” you cried.

He felt like he was entirely unequipped to handle this situation and wished that John was there.

“It’s okay Y/n, everything is going to be okay. Just lay back down.” he tried.

“I want to go home Sherlock, I’d rather die there than stay here,” you sobbed.

He went over to your side and did something that was very rare for Sherlock, he gave you a hug.

“I was so scared” you revealed.

“I know, I’m sorry. It’s over now,” he soothed.

“I can’t stay here, Sherlock,” you added.

“I know, we’ll figure it out. Just relax,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry,”

“You have nothing to be sorry for Y/n, just lay back down until John returns,” Sherlock instructed taking a seat next to you. It wasn’t long before you fell back asleep. And shortly after that both John and Mycroft walked in.

“What is all this?” John asked referring to you sleeping in your clothes and not being hooked up to the machines.

“She doesn’t want to stay here. She signed AMA’s and tried to leave.” Sherlock informed.

“Well she doesn’t get a choice, she needs to stay and be looked after,” John replied.

“You know, I have never seen her cry before today.” Sherlock whispered, “She literally said that she rather die at our flat than to stay here.”

“We can’t take care of her in this condition,” John reminded.

“Mycroft, do you think that I can cash in a favor?” Sherlock asked acknowledging his brothers’ presence for the first time.

“You are running low on those, what do you want this time?” Mycroft returned.

“The VIP suite here until Y/n can safely check out,” Sherlock replied still not taking his eyes off of your sleeping form.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said as he exited the room.

“We almost lost her three times today John,” Sherlock realized.

“She’ll be okay though, and that’s what counts,” John reminded.

The next two days were spent in the VIP suite of the hospital. Sherlock refused to leave your side even though you told him it was okay. The Art Gallery covered the entirety of your medical expenses as compensation for you saving the auction. When you were finally allowed to go home, you were ordered to take it easy for a week. Sherlock refused to take any cases during that time, which was quite out of character. This mystery was one of the few which never made it on the blog, and that was okay.

#sherlock #sherlock holmes #sherlock bbc #sherlock benedict cumberbatch #sherlock imagine #sherlock imagines #sherlock series #sherlock x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock holmes imagines #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes series #john watson #john watson imagine

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and-then-there-were-n0ne · 4 years

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I have been trying to write something about separatism almost since my first dawning of feminist consciousness, but it has always been for me somehow a mercurial topic which, when I tried to grasp it, would softly shatter into many other topics like sexuality, man-hating, so-called reverse discrimination, apocalyptic utopianism, and so on. What I have to share with you today is my latest attempt to get to the heart of the matter.

[…] The theme of separation, in its multitude variations, is there in everything from divorce to exclusive lesbian separatist communities, from shelters for battered women to witch covens, from women’s studies programs to women’s bars, from expansion of daycare to abortion on demand. The presence of this theme is vigorously obscured, trivialized, mystified and outright denied by many feminist apologists, who seem to find it embarrassing, while it is embraced, explored, expanded and ramified by most of the more inspiring theorists and activists. The theme of separation is noticeably absent or heavily qualified in most of the things I take to be personal solutions and band-aid projects, like legalization of prostitution, liberal marriage contracts, improvement of the treatment of rape victims and affirmative action. It is clear to me, in my own case at least, that the contrariety of assimilation and separation is one of the main things that guides or determines assessments of various theories, actions and practices as reformist or radical, as going to the root of the thing or being relatively superficial. So my topical question comes to this: What is it about separation, in any or all of its many forms and degrees, that makes it so basic and so sinister, so exciting and so repellent?

Feminist separation is, of course, separation of various sorts or modes from men and from institutions, relationships, roles and activities which are male-defined, male-dominated and operating for the benefit of males and the maintenance of male privilege–this separation being initiated or maintained, at will, by women. (Masculist separatism is the partial segregation of women from men and male domains at the will of men. This difference is crucial.)

The feminist separation can take many forms. Breaking up or avoiding close relationships or working relationships; forbidding someone to enter your house; excluding someone from your company, or from your meeting; withdrawal from participation in some activity or institution, or avoidance of participation; avoidance of communications and influence from certain quarters (not listening to music with sexist lyrics, not watching tv); withholding commitment or support; rejection of or rudeness toward obnoxious individuals. Some separations are subtle realignments of identification, priorities and commitments, or working with agendas which only incidently coincide with the agendas of the institution one works in. Ceasing to be loyal to something or someone is a separation; and ceasing to love.

[…] Most feminists, probably all, practice some separation from males and male-dominated institutions. A separatist practices separation consciously, systematically, and probably more generally than the others, and advocates thorough and “broadspectrum” separation as part of the conscious strategy of liberation. And, contrary to the image of the separatist as a cowardly escapist, hers is the life and program which inspires the greatest hostility, disparagement, insult and confrontation and generally she is the one against whom economic sanctions operate most conclusively. The penalty for refusing to work with or for men is usually starvation (or, at the very least, doing without medical insurance); and if one’s policy of noncooperation is more subtle, one’s livelihood is still constantly on the line, since one is not a loyal partisan, a proper member of the team, or what have you. The penalties for being a lesbian are ostracism, harassment and job insecurity or joblessness. The penalty for rejecting men’s sexual advances is often rape and, perhaps even more often, forfeit of such things as professional or job opportunities. And the separatist lives with the added burden of being assumed by many to be a morally depraved man-hating bigot. But there is a clue here: if you are doing something that is so strictly forbidden by the patriarchs, you must be doing something right.

There is an idea floating around in both feminist and antifeminist literature to the effect that females and males generally live in a relation of parasitism, a parasitism of the male on the female… that it is, generally speaking, the strength, energy, inspiration and nurturance of women that keeps men going, and not the strength, aggression, spirituality and hunting of men that keeps women going.

[…] The parasitism of males on females is, as I see it, demonstrated by the panic, rage and hysteria generated in so many of them by the thought of being abandoned by women. […] If it is true that a fundamental aspect of the relations between the sexes is male parasitism, it might help to explain why certain issues are particularly exciting to patriarchal loyalists. For instance, in view of the obvious advantages of easy abortion to population control, to control of welfare rolls, and to ensuring sexual availability of women to men, it is a little surprising that the loyalists are so adamant and riled up in their objection to it. But look.

The fetus lives parasitically. It is a distinct animal surviving off the life (the blood) of another animal creature. It is incapable of surviving on its own resources, of independent nutrition; incapable even of symbiosis. If it is true that males live parasitically upon females, it seems reasonable to suppose that many of them and those loyal to them are in some way sensitive to the parallelism between their situation and that of the fetus. They could easily identify with the fetus. The woman who is free to see the fetus as a parasite might be free to see the man as a parasite. The woman’s willingness to cut off the life line to one parasite suggests a willingness to cut off the life line to another parasite. The woman who is capable (legally, psychologically, physically) of decisively, self-interestedly, independently rejecting the one parasite, is capable of rejecting, with the same decisiveness and independence, the like burden of the other parasite. In the eyes of the other parasite, the image of the wholly self-determined abortion, involving not even a ritual submission to male veto power, is the mirror image of death.

[…] There are other reasons, of course, why patriarchal loyalists should be disturbed about abortion on demand; a major one being that it would be a significant form of female control of reproduction, and at least from certain angles it looks like the progress of patriarchy is the progress toward male control of reproduction, starting with possession of wives and continuing through the invention of obstetrics and the technology of extrauterine gestation. Giving up that control would be giving up patriarchy. But such an objection to abortion is too abstract, and requires too historical a vision, to generate the hysteria there is now in the reaction against abortion. The hysteria is, I think, to be accounted for more in terms of a much more immediate and personal presentiment of ejection by the woman-womb.

[…] Male parasitism means that males must have access to women; it is the Patriarchal Imperative. But feminist no-saying is more than a substantial removal (redirection, reallocation) of goods and services because Access is one of the faces of Power. Female denial of male access to females substantially cuts off a flow of benefits, but it has also the form and full portent of assumption of power.

Differences of power are always manifested in asymmetrical access. The President of the United States has access to almost everybody for almost anything he might want of them, and almost nobody has access to him. The super-rich have access to almost everybody; almost nobody has access to them. The resources of the employee are available to the boss as the resources of the boss are not to the employee. The parent has unconditional access to the child’s room; the child does not have similar access to the parent’s room. Students adjust to professors’ office hours; professors do not adjust to students’ conference hours. The child is required not to lie; the parent is free to close out the child with lies at her discretion. The slave is unconditionally accessible to the master. Total power is unconditional access; total powerlessness is being unconditionally accessible. The creation and manipulation of power is constituted of the manipulation and control of access.

All-woman groups, meetings, projects seem to be great things for causing controversy and confrontation. Many women are offended by them; many are afraid to be the one to announce the exclusion of men; it is seen as a device whose use needs much elaborate justification. I think this is because conscious and deliberate exclusion of men by women, from anything, is blatant insubordination, and generates in women fear of punishment and reprisal (fear which is often well-justified). Our own timidity and desire to avoid confrontations generally keep us from doing very much in the way of all-woman groups and meetings. But when we do, we invariably run into the male champion who challenges our right to do it. Only a small minority of men go crazy when an event is advertised to be for women only–just one man tried to crash our women-only Rape Speak-Out, and only a few hid under the auditorium seats to try to spy on a women-only meeting at a NOW convention in Philadelphia. But these few are onto something their less rabid compatriots are missing. The woman-only meeting is a fundamental challenge to the structure of power. It is always the privilege of the master to enter the slave’s hut. The slave who decides to exclude the master from her hut is declaring herself not a slave. The exclusion of men from the meeting not only deprives them of certain benefits (which they might survive without); it is a controlling of access, hence an assumption of power. It is not only mean, it is arrogant.

[…] When those who control access have made you totally accessible, your first act of taking control must be denying access, or must have denial of access as one of its aspects. This is not because you are charged up with (unfeminine or politically incorrect) negativity; it is because of the logic of the situation. When we start from a position of total accessibility there must be an aspect of no-saying (which is the beginning of control) in every effective act and strategy, the effective ones being precisely those which shift power, i.e., ones which involve manipulation and control of access.n.

[…] When our feminist acts or practices have an aspect of separation, we are assuming power by controlling access and simultaneously by undertaking definition.

[…] The powerful normally determine what is said and sayable. When the powerful label something or dub it or baptize it, the thing becomes what they call it. When the Secretary of Defense calls something a peace negotiation, for instance, then whatever it is that he called a peace negotiation is an instance of negotiating peace. If the activity in question is the working out of terms of a trade-off of nuclear reactors and territorial redistributions, complete with arrangements for the resulting refugees, that is peacemaking. People laud it, and the negotiators get Noble Piece Prizes for it. On the other hand, when I call a certain speech act a rape, my “calling” it does not make it so. At best, I have to explain and justify and make clear exactly what it is about this speech act which is assaultive in just what way, and then the others acquiesce in saying the act was like rape or could figuratively be called a rape. My counterassault will not be counted a simple case of self-defense. And what I called rejection of parasitism, they call the loss of the womanly virtues of compassion and “caring.” And generally, when renegade women call something one thing and patriarchal loyalists call it another, the loyalists get their way.

Women generally are not the people who do the defining, and we cannot from our isolation and powerlessness simply commence saying different things than others say and make it stick. There is a humpty-dumpty problem in that. But we are able to arrogate definition to ourselves when we repattern access. Assuming control of access, we draw new boundaries and create new roles and relationships. This, though it causes some strain, puzzlement and hostility, is to a fair extent within the scope of individuals and small gangs, as outright verbal redefinition is not, at least in the first instance.

[…] It is our experience in the movement generally that the defensiveness, nastiness, violence, hostility and irrationality of the reaction to feminism tends to correlate with the blatancy of the element of separation in the strategy or project which triggers the reaction. The separations involved in women leaving homes, marriages and boyfriends, separations from fetuses, and the separation of lesbianism are all pretty dramatic. That is, they are dramatic and blatant when perceived from within the framework provided by the patriarchal world view and male parasitism. Matters pertaining to marriage and divorce, lesbianism and abortion touch individual men (and their sympathizers) because they can feel the relevance of these to themselves–they can feel the threat that they might be the next. Hence, heterosexuality, marriage and motherhood, which are the institutions which most obviously and individually maintain female accessibility to males, form the core triad of antifeminist ideology; and all-woman spaces, all-woman organizations, all-woman meetings, all-woman classes, are outlawed, suppressed, harassed, ridiculed and punished.

To some of us these issues can seem almost foreign… strange ones to be occupying center stage. We are busily engaged in what seem to us our blatant insubordinations: living our own lives, taking care of ourselves and one another, doing our work, and in particular, telling it as we see it. Still, the original sin is the separation which these presuppose, and it is that, not our art or philosophy, not our speechmaking, nor our “sexual acts” (or abstinences), for which we will be persecuted, when worse comes to worst.

- Marilyn Frye, Some Reflections on Separatism and Power in The Politics of Reality: essays in feminist theory (1983, Crossing Press)

#marilyn frye #some reflections on separatism and power #separatism #the politics of reality #politics of reality: essays in feminist theory

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zen-garden-gnome · 4 years

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REALLY investigating the debate over vaccines (from a lay-person’s perspective).

I want to unravel some things about the vaccination debate, following days of research into the matter. It wasn’t enough for me to know how I felt, already. I didn’t think my personal relationships had to suffer maximally in order for me to live honestly. So I decided to dig in and make myself more knowledgeable, and to let myself empathize with more people. There was so much to cipher through and it took so much time that I had to take notes to help keep things connected. The process reminded me that the internet is not as easily traversed for all its users, and that in the end, the “vibe” one picks up decides a lot of what we’re willing to follow any deeper (particularly, whether or not we even notice a “vibe” in the first place). Zooming way out also reminded me of just how many “entry points” there are for this subject, and helped me empathize with a lot of people. It turns out, “anti-vaxxer” is a term applied to people across a pretty wide range of subtly differing perspectives. I think we can all agree that the despair and disgust and distrust the world is experiencing won’t improve if we can’t get our attention back, ‘cause that’s largely what this is about. We are inundated with so much manipulative information that we struggle to steer our attention toward the core values that we mostly share, which takes us further and further away from each other’s realities. We know less and less about each other but think we know so much more because we’re surrounded by manipulative/self-preserving chatter.

I wanted to cut through the noise and show where some things connect, and where some others only appear to. For anyone who knows there’s a lot going on but doesn’t know where to begin approaching it. For anyone who feels on the fence in any way. For anyone who feels isolated by their view of the circumstances. For anyone who struggles to understand why so-and-so would think such-and-such. For anyone who thinks they already know. For anyone with even a passing curiosity. And of course, for myself. I’ve worked to collect and organize this for all and anyone. I do my best to stay objective without pretending I don’t have my own opinions. My research wound up focusing on a few key people and their research, the theories that have arisen, the science used to address them, and the demographics who are the most moved by it all. This is an entire research paper and I had no idea it would go this far when I started.

Judy Mikovits is a former medical researcher and current anti-vaccination advocate. She has some valid criticisms of how the US government handled the release of treatments for HIV and for the poor ways people treat their immune systems. She claims in her book (and in a viral video that recently hit the internet at the kick-off of the COVID-19 pandemic in the US) that Anthony Fauci barred her from continuing her research at the National Institute of Health (he denies this). She refers to the COVID-19 pandemic in quotes ("pandemic"), refuses to wear face masks, and discourages others from doing so because she thinks that taking care of one’s own immune system and cleanliness is all she should need to do, by her own words. Vaccines (and just temporarily breathing in more of one’s own carbon dioxide) aren’t worth the risk, she says. Mikovits has spoken at numerous anti-vaccination events and her retracted papers are frequently referenced in their propaganda (and there’s no denying it’s propaganda).

When she was a virologist and medical researcher, Judy started working to uncover viral causes of diseases when she was hired by a couple whose child had Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and wanted to find the cause. The work she published in Science magazine about proposed retro-viral causes of CFS in 2009 was retracted when peers from 9 separate labs failed to get the same results and negated her findings (and when two of her co-authors reported that their patient samples had been contaminated by the virus in the lab, as opposed to the virus already being in the samples). Two years later she was fired from her job over the quality of her work and control of her lab samples, which seems relevant considering the apparent reason why her 2009 results were supposedly wrong. She was arrested and tried for stealing lab equipment and documentation when she left. She returned some of the lab notes and the criminal charges were dismissed.

Judy continues to reference her outdated research to this day (the research about specific retroviruses causing some specific diseases). Now she’s using her debunked data to fire up her main argument: that up to 30% of modern vaccines are “contaminated” with retroviruses and the government is trying to cover up a dangerous problem with its vaccines, putting everyone at risk (especially young children who get a large host of vaccines in a relatively short period of time).

This was where I knew I had to learn more about how viruses and vaccines interact with our bodies. A retrovirus is commonly called an RNA virus, which is a virus that uses a host cell to replicate its viral RNA as DNA. This is the opposite of what DNA viruses do, which is to use the host cell to replicate their DNA as RNA. An RNA/retro-virus also has a type of enzyme that allows it to insert its new DNA into the host cell’s DNA. This altered genetic information can lead to increased erroneous cell production, which increases the likelihood of developing cancer and other diseases depending on where the viral DNA is injected into a host cell’s DNA. Whatever gene is changed may cease to function, leading to disease. For example, HIV is a retrovirus that results in a syndrome that makes one prone to all kinds of diseases.

As it turns out, some vaccines do contain retroviruses! And it also turns out that that’s ok. Sometimes that’s part of the genetic material virologists are working with. Some of our vaccines are only possible with that genetic material. The presence of a retrovirus doesn’t necessary do anything to the vaccine. The vaccinations don’t infect patients with retroviruses because the retroviruses found in the vaccine are non-infectious. It’s an extremely important part of how a good vaccine functions. Viruses can cause diseases, but vaccines don’t contain live infectious material. That’s why there were no reported issues with retroviral infection by our vaccine safety systems (systems that exist because vaccines have never been perfect and always have some potential for side effects, so their risk factors are studied thoroughly). When the technology was available to investigate the retroviruses previously unknown to have existed in the MMR vaccine, they were confirmed to be non-hazardous.

Mikovits is clearly a knowledgeable professional in her field and has some valid opinions/points about health, medicine, and federal failures. But her identity seems to be wrapped up with the debunked research that changed her career, and no professional knows everything, even in their field. The wrongness isn’t my concern. It’s what she’s doing with it, and the fact that she’s ignoring the research negating her old findings.

Kent Heckenlively is the co-author of Judy's new book, and an anti-vaccination activist. The fact that he's also a lawyer really stands out to me. The founders of the Westboro Baptist Church (the "God Hates F*gs" group) are ex-lawyers who use their offensive protests to rile people up and then sue them for "hindering their rights." It's how they make their money. Anyway, Kent is co-founder of a group called Age of Autism, which claims to be dedicated to helping kids and families with autism. But as you can probably tell by the name of the group, they're much more concerned with the fact that they perceive a dangerous uptick in autism statistics (an issue that’s related much more to the evolving access and categorization of statistics and disorders than anything else). Age of Autism doesn’t actually tend to involve people on the autism spectrum in their work (other than to use them as examples), and their focus is not on helping (or even understanding) those with autism, but on getting rid of autism--as if the spectrum of conditions related to autism was a single “disease,” and as if it’s unacceptable that people exist with those conditions (more on that later).

As autism has increasingly become a recognized "condition," it's diagnosis has become more common, and because it's really only diagnosed based on social behavior, it may go unnoticed prior to ~18 months, if it’s noticed at all. Many more people live "on the spectrum" than we ever know (did you know Sir Anthony Hopkins is also on the spectrum?), and before it was more widely recognized, we had all kinds of names (and institutions) for people living with more severe effects. Kent's daughter was diagnosed with autism at around the age that she got some of her vaccines, which led the distraught father to believe it was vaccine related. Sometimes people do have mild reactions to vaccines (nothing’s perfect), and I can understand parents being scared and hurt for their children. I can also understand questioning various authorities. We know good and well that governments use poisons (Agent Orange in Vietnam), diseases (smallpox in the colonies, syphilis at Tuskegee), and vaccines as playing cards in their efforts to control people/power (we saw it again when Trump tried to get exclusive rights to the Coronavirus vaccine being researched in Germany). But lots of people see “Thing 1 Happens, Thing 2 Happens After, Which Must Mean Thing 1 Caused Thing 2.” Unsurprisingly, people can develop identities that revolve around getting rid of the "disease" of autism.

But Autism is not a disease. Autism is an umbrella term for a range of neuro divergences (to be diagnosed you have to hit like... 4 out of a possible 15 some-odd behavioral checkmarks), and issues like those relate to aaaallll sorts of things. Things that people with autism talk about often. If anti-vaccination organizations actually advocated for people with autism, they’d let people with autism advocate for themselves. Because people with autism do self-advocate, and they take umbrage with groups like Autism Speaks and Age of Autism. People on the autism spectrum often have lots to say about the agendas of these groups and the resources that are taken from the those who actually need them. From the Autistic Self Advocacy Network: “While no link exists between autism and vaccines, of greater concern is the willingness of those who promote this theory to suggest that exposing children to deadly diseases would be a better outcome than an autistic child. Vaccinations do not cause autism – but the use of autism as a means of scaring parents from safeguarding their children from life-threatening illness demonstrates the depths of prejudice and fear that still surrounds our disability. Autism is not caused by vaccines – and Autistic Americans deserve better than a political rhetoric that suggests that we would be better off dead than disabled.”

Folks on the spectrum sometimes have lots to say about the toxic living conditions of their childhoods, too. About neglect and abuse and trauma. It’s important to keep in mind that the behavioral issues tied to autism are also the behavioral conditions often tied to things like PTSD and ADHD, both of which relate to life events/patterns. As a teacher, I’ve learned a lot about the links between developmental/behavioral problems and the (dis)ability of parents to respond to their children based on their children’s needs (rather than primarily on the parent’s own traumas). For young children, especially with any kind of special need (a very broad term), simply navigating through a world that’s inflexible with their needs can be traumatic. Our environmental conditions can even effect how our genes are expressed over time (literally, sometimes time IS the trigger for gene expression). Everything is born out of its environment—out of our food, our water, our sense of security, our parents’ genes, everything.

Which brings me to one of the biggest stories in the vaccination debate: that of Hannah Poling. I bring this up because this is the one I was most familiar with, and the one I empathized with the most--particularly because there was a court case related to it. When she was 19 months old, she received 5 vaccines, and two days later her parents reported new behavior—lethargy, irritation, and fever. Months later, she was diagnosed with mitochondrial enzyme deficit (MED), which means the conditions she displayed were also contained within the autism spectrum. Her parents successfully sued for compensation under the Vaccine Injury Compensation Plan, a program started by the federal government to address public concerns of vaccine safety in light of the noise raised by anti-vaccination groups in the 80s. However, MED is an autosomal recessive disease, which means both of Hannah’s parents had to carry the gene in order for her to get it. She already had it, and either it hadn’t expressed itself yet, or her parents hadn’t noticed (or reported) the symptoms so early in her development. Indeed, the Poling case only claimed that her vaccines exacerbated her symptoms, but this raises 4 important points: 1) There’s no evidence that this is possible, and not because “no one’s looked.” 2) We should really think critically about whether or not we should withhold treatment for diseases like smallbox and whooping cough under the unfounded notion that some vaccines may exacerbate existing conditions, 3) under-reported is the fact that Hannah presented other immunological challenges prior to her vaccinations, and 4) despite a popular claim made by anti-vaccination groups, there’s actually no evidence that multiple simultaneous vaccines can overwhelm an immune system.

That last one was really important to me, because I had read years ago that a child’s immune system was potentially too underdeveloped to handle so many vaccinations. The notion seemed logical enough, and I felt awful for parents who had these real fears. But it turns out, the immune system of an infant has the potential capacity to respond to thousands of vaccines simultaneously. It has to! Babies are RAW, lol. And it turns out, medical researchers can be pretty damn thorough, so they knew this well before they were delivering grouped vaccines to toddlers. And while the number of vaccines given to children has increased, they contain even fewer antigens than they used to thanks to medical improvements.

But I have another name. Andrew Wakefield was stripped of his medical license in Britain and came to America, where he became a prominent anti-vaccination activist. He published findings in Britain in the mid 90s that claimed that measles (and “therefore” its vaccine) caused Crohn's disease, but peer research failed to repeat his findings and his claims were subsequently debunked. After shifting his focus to the measles vaccine and autism, he wound up leaving the school of medicine where he worked (under “mutual agreement” at the school's request), because he repeatedly refused to re-attempt the research which had formed the basis of his initial claims. Andrew moved to America to continue pushing his theory that measles and its vaccine caused autism, despite already admitting that it was "not proved." He's barred from practicing medicine in the UK and is not licensed in the US.

I bring up Wakefield because the fuss he raised lead scientists and doctors to look into these claims. It makes sense for these potential issues to matter to the medical community, after all. All resulting work refuted any connections between autism and these vaccines. Luckily, this work also looked into some other claims about vaccines, too, such as the concern that mercury in vaccines could cause autism or other conditions. Ethylmercury is used in the preservative thimerosal, which prevents bacterial growth in vaccines. Methylmercury (the mercury found in fish) can be highly toxic to people, while ethylmercury clears more quickly from the body--so quickly that the small quantities used in vaccines don't have time to build up or cause any problems, other than the possibility of a red rash at the injection site (and the fact that, inevitably, some people are allergic to it). However, given the rising concern in the late 90's and gradual improvements in medical science, the use of ethylmercury in vaccines was reduced in 2001, and for childhood vaccines was completely eliminated. Despite this, it remains a popular concern.

There are so many other people and cases and theories, but these seemed to be the big ones.

...But there’s one more variable I need to dissect: The general focus on eradicating autism, as opposed to supporting the autistic. Parents and their supporters are trying to find the right thing to do. It’s their earnest desire to overcome the problems they’ve been led to see, and their energy is being funneled away from them and used against all our best interests. (Perhaps it’s worth considering, too, where everyone else’s energy is being funneled these days…) For me, this is the variable that’s hardest to talk about, because it asks people to look at their own shadows with acceptance and forgiveness.

The development/behaviors of people on the spectrum aren’t necessarily “wrong,” but we’re subtly and explicitly told to see them this way. Many of these behaviors/developments are very natural responses to toxic/inhumane social and environmental conditions and expectations (some of them are even specifically considered evolutionary pros, traits that help people survive these environs), albeit at times difficult to interact with and other times self-destructive. Everything has extremes. And between environments and genetics, parents aren’t always able to recognize the myriad little things that might contribute to developmental and/or behavioral issues. Since so many of these things lie on the autistic spectrum, “autism” becomes a target in and of itself. Parents may see their children as victims of a toxic world, and they may see themselves as strong shoulders under (secretly) unwanted circumstances. Many parents also feel that “no good parent would ever feel that way, so I don’t either.” This kind of inner conflict is incredibly difficult for people to deal with, but the truth is, conflicting thoughts and emotions are perfectly normal. Emotions are valid and thoughts don’t define us. Both are fleeting. Feeling like we’re not “allowed” to feel conflicted makes us feel guilty/bitter/both. (Tested by God” and “blessed by God” have the same ring, sometimes.)

Some parents also experience guilt/bitterness over the possibility of being part of the environmental/genetic (especially genetic) circumstances that contributed to a child’s disorders. Or, guilt over having been unable to bring them into an accepting or supportive society. Plus the guilt over being sometimes unhappy with the resulting circumstances of one’s life. Guilt. Frustration. Bitterness. Sour grapes. Saving someone else from this “burden” and future children from sharing in this “unacceptable” situation becomes a righteous cause. Furthermore, in finding the person/thing to blame, they’d finally be allowed to express all that despair and frustration. The emotional attachment and roiling undercurrent is very attractive to manipulative individuals. I see it happen a lot, and I see people with autism talking about it. My heart truly aches for everyone going through this. But none of this helps the person on the spectrum. Nor does it help the well-meaning parent.

Maybe parents and supporters wouldn’t be so desperate about and fearful of autism (and vaccines) if having a child with special needs wasn’t so isolating. Maybe if our communities, institutions, and organizations focused on empowering and supporting the vulnerable, on creating equity where ever possible, autism wouldn’t be so overwhelming and wouldn’t even be as common. Maybe if we responded to people on the autism spectrum (and everyone else) as they are, instead of how we want/expect them to be, then the whole situation would change entirely.

In my research and personal interactions, the common thread among those who question the overall value and trustworthiness of vaccines is that of a “dark world” full of “bad people.” Things are so dark, apparently, that the global medical and scientific community is less trustworthy than the few who disagree with it on this particular issue. Is it any wonder? Our culture is exploitative and manipulative, and lays out a set of requirements for human value that even the neurotypical struggle to meet. We all hurt! We’re all wary! And of course we are!

But it turns out, much of the darkness we see in the world relates to what we’re looking for (or at the very least, what we’re trained to look for). In an age of endless, algorithmically-driven “information,” it’s very difficult for many folks to navigate, discern, and prioritize--especially when it’s a personal issue, making it easy to exploit our emotions. The machine keeps us fearful and hungry and separate, but perhaps we shouldn’t despair over that. After all, the active effort to keep us fearful and separate reflects our underlying nature to work together, to connect, and to grow.

Researching all this was complicated. Lots dead-ends, seemingly believable stories from once-trusted professionals, self-referential content, emotionally manipulative content, questionable authorities (authority is always questionable), and a shit-ton of complicated medical research. This is the amount of research it took for me to pick through everything. It’s no joke.

And that brings me back to the present. To the stuff happening right now. Areas surrounding anti-vaccination communities are seeing a drastic rise in diseases that had been long gone before the anti-vaccination craze. Not everyone is equally susceptible to pathogens, and our willingness to receive imperfect but well-researched vaccines is about everyone else in all communities, not just ourselves. No matter what anyone chooses to believe about the “source” of COVID-19, it’s disabling and deadly and highly contagious, and just because it may not be highly visible in someone’s community doesn’t mean it’s not ravaging other communities. As for uncertainty over the Coronavirus being “real,” if a person is only willing to believe resources calling for them to be angry and afraid and suspicious of everyone else, it seems to me that one would have to investigate their own worldview, along with one’s view of themselves and their own shadows. If one sees the world as inherently bad and humans as inherently fucked, that relates to how one feels about oneself and an incomplete notion of the lives of other people. That is the perspective of a traumatized person. Self isolation is deadly, so we ought to be wary of things that seek to isolate us. These self-isolating notions are fed back to us by the algorithms guiding our internet activity, keeping our behaviors predictable and controllable. We keep clicking and returning, fed by a sense of tragic righteousness, by the same programs designed to keep people coming back to slot machines. The internet is not a neutral entity because it functions in a capitalist, undemocratic state. It must be used carefully. The book Team Human by Douglas Rushkoff highlights the nature of these algorithms and the systems which use them. But more importantly, it also highlights the things about humans that make us lovable and forgivable. The things that make it possible to manipulate us in the first place. There’s a lot of wild shit going on, but it’s not happening because “humans are bad.” It’s happening because we live in an age forcibly ruled by the most self destructive culture/ideology on the planet. It’s the ideas, not the species. That means we have work to do. Inner work.

Sources:

https://speakingofresearch.com/2019/04/24/celebrating-world-vaccination-week-pt-3-the-post-wakefield-fallout/

https://www.pennlive.com/nation-world/2020/05/who-is-judy-mikovits-and-what-does-she-have-to-do-with-anthony-fauci-and-the-coronavirus.html

https://vaxopedia.org/2018/12/29/are-vaccines-contaminated-with-retroviruses/

https://www.nejm.org/doi/full/10.1056/nejmp0802904

https://autisticadvocacy.org/2015/09/asan-statement-on-gop-primary-debate-comments-on-autism-and-vaccination/

https://autisticadvocacy.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/07/First-Hand-Perspectives-on-Behavioral-Interventions-for-Autistic-People-and-People-with-other-Developmental-Disabilities.pdf

https://sciencing.com/differentiating-rna-dna-viruses-4853.html

https://www.motherjones.com/politics/2020/03/a-fake-pandemic-antivaxxers-are-spreading-coronavirus-conspiracy-theories/

https://www.thechildren.com/health-info/conditions-and-illnesses/q-vaccine-safer-getting-real-disease

Also so much Wikipedia.

#health #vaccines #empathy #autism #virus #society #zgg

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omgchristinahasablog · 4 years

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Feminism, Interrupted: Disrupting Power By Lola Olufemi

This is the second book written by Lola Olufemi, the former Women’s Officer for the University of Cambridge. Before even reading the first page I was excited to read this book since Lola is someone who I have looked up to for a while. I have always admired how confident and outspoken she is, qualities which I want to improve in myself. However, don’t worry, this review won’t be me fan-girling over Lola. Instead I’ll focus on what I thought about this book. I think it’s important to clarify my background: I am a medical student with hardly any knowledge of sociology (I took a sociology minor this year on health, medicine and society). I’m currently on a journey to become more knowledgeable about feminism and racism and social politics in general. This book is an excellent starting point. It offers a comprehensive and well-explained account of many major feminist concerns in the current day. What makes it stand out from other books, and the reason why I reached for it first is because that it looks at these concerns in a British context. This is important. So many books look at many social issues in a USA context, and these issues are important and are interesting to read and learn - as Lola points out in her penultimate chapter, solidarity matters:

“When we show solidarity to one another, we are demonstrating that we recognise that politics happens everywhere, at every level, in every region of the world. We break open the idea that feminism has a continental origin point; to recognise each other in struggle is to say, I see you , I understand that you have agency and because I cannot stand alongside you, I wish to bolster you from where I am.”

Whilst solidarity is important, many American issues do not easily translate into a British context especially since Britain has its own difficult and complex history to contend with. This book offers a way to bridge a gap and say to people “See! Britain is not a ‘post-racial’ society as people so often wrongly claim. Britain has its problems with race and these issues intersect with gender, sexuality, sex, migration status and other parts of women’s identities, creating a whole host of pressing and urgent problems in our society.”

Each chapter discusses the theory behind modern feminist issues. This book rejects the ideas of liberal feminism for this feminism does not account for the most vulnerable and disadvantaged in our society such as undocumented migrants, poor women, single mothers, transwomen and women of colour. Lola rejects the ideology of TERFs (Trans Exclusionary Radical Feminists). The necessity for trans- inclusion in feminist movements is apparent in the Black Lives Matter movement at the moment. Black transwomen and men are being killed at the hands of police, yet they are receiving disproportionately less media coverage compared to their cis, heterosexual black male counterparts (e.g. George Floyd).

I particularly like the structure of this book: each chapter can be read on its own. However, I do recommend reading the whole book to gain the full narrative. This book has enabled me to understand radical ideas in a truly accessible way. From prison abolition to the decriminalisation of sex work and from the removal of borders to discussions of consent, Feminism, Interrupted covers feminist issues at the level of the individual, nation state and the world. A stand-out chapter for me is Chapter 7 “Complicating consent: How to support sex workers.” Lola argues that “we must refuse the idea that consent is easy”. It’s easy to fall into the idea that “yes means yes, and no means no” but that is not how consent is in practice. A person may say “yes” when they mean “no” but the safest option for them to say is yes, or they were not fully informed and so said yes to something they were not aware of. Consent is nuanced - we need to move away from the notion that consent is a binary option. consent is not easy. Choices are often not made freely but under coercion from oppressive structures.

To conclude (as I’ve gotten tired of writing), this book is a first stop for you people on your journey towards radical feminism. I know that the combination of Black Lives Matter and the health inequalities amplified by COVID-19 has definitely created a hunger in me for books like this on social justice. I was able to access this book online on iDiscover so for other Cambridge students I would just download it from there. Otherwise, this book is available for purchase from Pluto Books.

I hope you’ve enjoyed my first book review. Let me know what you think or if you have any recommendations for books I should read. Over the summer I’ll be writing more reviews of books I read. I read quite varied books so you can expect reviews of non-fiction and fiction books covering a wide range of topics.

Anyways, peace x

#feminism #feminisminterrupted #books #book review #university of cambridge #lola olufemi #consent #social justice #race #reproductive justice #prison abolition #trans-inclusionary feminism #student #medical student #race equality #blacklivesmatter

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redfoxwritesstuff · 5 years

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Clover and Lace, Epilogue

Well, well, well. Here we are. And I didn’t kill anyone! Thank @winterisakiller for that, I assure you somehow she probably is responsible for the lack of deaths along the way. At the end of this, after the tag list you’ll find a summary for “The things you find in the rain” My next series, a Tom Hiddleston x Ofc RPF mini series.

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Epilogue: Three months later

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“Whoa, we got a knife block now? Fancy.” Bucky’s voice carried easily enough from the kitchen where he was doctoring his first cup of coffee for the morning.

“Rose brought it last night. Said she refused to use combat knives to make dinner anymore.” Their hearty laughs filled the apartment as Bucky came to sit on the coffee table with two mugs, offering one to Steve.

“Where is Rosemary anyway? Heard her last night and assumed she was staying the night?”

“Early morning meeting. She should be done in another two hours or so.”

“No wonder she crashed here last night. I’m surprised she hasn’t moved into the city yet. That drive’s gotta be killer.”

“Not too bad or so she says. But yeah, sucks for early meetings.”

“You know, we get along pretty well- me and your Little Spider.” Bucky was looking intently down at his coffee, small smile on his face. Steve was thankful every time he saw Bucky act so close to who he was before.

“I know you do. She like’s you a lot, Bucky. I’m glad you two are friends.” Something was coming, Steve could feel it. Bucky had been hinting at something for the last week. Steve was sure that Bucky was worried that he would be left behind, that Steve would move out and leave him behind. That simply was not going to happen.

“I’m just saying- don’t wait too long to move forward with her.” Bucky didn’t look up as he spoke.

“What do you mean? It’s only been a handful of months.” Steve was well and properly confused.

“I’m just saying, we eat best when she’s around feeding us.” Bucky joked and when their laughter died down he returned to his more serious mood.

With a careful smile, Bucky explained his thoughts slowly, watching Steve’s reactions to his words. Steve had to admit that his friend had valid points. His friend was right though, both their mothers would be turning over in their graves with Steve’s current arrangement and if he shared a home with her both. Again, Steve had to remind himself that it was a new time with new rules. Bucky’s idea at the very least was something to think about and as lunch approached, the idea grew on Steve.

-------------------------------------------

Standing outside the glass walls of the conference room, Steve watched her with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips even as he tried to school his face. Fury was able to work out an impressive deal for them. Both of the Ramsey twins were cleared of their crimes and Julian was in the process of transitioning his business to strictly legal avenues. Rosemary however had gone on to become a vital part of the operations quickly.

He was immensely proud of her. Even now, standing outside the room, watching her feed the agents information that they wouldn’t have had access to before. He knew she kept her web close and without her Shield would not be able to make it sing. They needed her and her ability to obtain information without raising any suspicions at all. Still her web wasn’t strictly legal and they all turned a blind eye to it. To require every transaction be detailed and explained would raise red flags and kill the web.

Steve didn’t know what the future held for them but he did know that he wanted to find out. Every moment he spent with her was a breath of fresh air. With her he found a joy and thirst for life he hadn’t had in a very long time.

Still he often worried about her. She was a target. As she became more and more valuable to Shield, the more people would consider eliminating her. Two hours away was too far. It would be better if she was closer. He could better protect her if she was closer. They could spend so much more time together if she was closer.

Again Bucky’s suggestion came to mind. Was it really alright?

The ping of his phone drew his attention from the redhead commanding a room full of agents. He was reluctant to look away from her. She was a vision with her messy red hair pulled back into a bun that did nothing to contain the curls and waves that framed her face.

The phone pinged again and he tore his eyes away from her. Two text messages came in from Agent Hill, likely at the direction of Director Fury. They were simple messages.

“Detective Mary O’Kelley has been apprehended.” The first message reads. “We’ve taken a hair sample. Please inform Rosemary that we can run a DNA test if she would like to determine relation at any time if she wishes.”

“Will do, thank you.” Steve responded only to have his phone chime again in his hand.

“Stop standing outside of conference rooms like a worried father.” Steve laughed. Of course Agent Hill and Fury would know he was here. Not much escaped them.

With the meeting finished, agents filed out of the room. Some made snide comments- someone always did. In a way, he couldn’t blame them. They had no reason to trust her. It wasn’t their lives she saved. Still, these newer agents should be thankful for the information she was able to provide them.

Somehow, the talk never seemed to bother her. She looked up from the file in her hands and when their eyes locked a radiant smile blossomed across her face. Wearing a simple black skirt, white blouse and black heels- she would look at place at any office in the city. Steve counted himself lucky that got to see her when she was in the offices but wished he could see more of her working in the middle of the night wearing an over sized shirt and comfortable shorts, legs folded under her as she sat on his bed.

“Hey.” Steve smiled as she made her way out of the room.

“I thought you were off today?” Rosemary asked as she leaned back against the glass wall.

“I am. I came to check on the team- make sure there wasn’t anything needing my immediate attention. Figured it was close enough to lunch time- maybe you’d like to get lunch?” It was cute how she still blushed talking to him.

“Steve, are you asking me on a lunch date?” She teased.

“Of course I am.”

“Lucky me.”

“I’m the lucky one.”

“Oh my god! Do you have to be so damn cheesy?” Sam barked from down the hall, wide smile on his face just the same. “How the hell did you find the one damn woman in the world that cheesy ass shit works on?”

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Steve’s hand held hers tightly as they walked down the hall toward the elevator. He was more subtended than she typically saw him and it was worrying. Was this the moment everything would finally crash down around around her?

These past three months had been as close to perfect as she had dared to dream. Sure, they didn’t get along every moment they were together. Often when they would bicker it would be over one of them taking unnecessary risks. Still what they had was more than she had ever dared to dream for. This life she had now, it was something she never thought she could have.

“Is everything okay?” Steve almost didn’t hear the her words, soft spoken as they were while the elevator doors closed behind them.

“Why wouldn’t it be? I get to have lunch with the most beautiful girl in New York.”

“You just seem… off, I guess.” Rosemary looked down at her feet, unsure if she was opening a can of worms that she would regret.

“Hey?” Firmly, he squeezed her hand in an attempt to draw her eyes to him. When that didn’t work he turned and stepped in front of her. The sheer size of him blocked her in the small space. Reaching out, he hooked a finger under her chin and pulled her gaze up to him even as he ducked down slightly, bringing himself closer to her level. “Look at me.”

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, not sure what she was apologizing for.

“I’m good. You’re good. We’re good, aren’t we?” Only when she nods does he continue. “I’m happy- happier than I have been in a very long time. It’s because of you, Rosemary.”

It was rare that he called her Rosemary and she smiled every time he did. It was a soft reminder that he saw her, he knew her for who she was. “I am too, Steve. I really am.”

“Good. Then we have nothing to worry about.” Steve didn’t let her protest or give her a chance to worry as he closed the little distance between them with a tender kiss. The elevator came to a halt as they reached the second floor.

Taking her hand in his, he pulled her out into the large room. The best way to feed agents was with a cafeteria and Shield had their own. Most days the food was decent enough. Mondays were questionable however. The running theory was that the staff resenting having to start another week of work and thus was trying to poison everyone every Monday.

By the taste of the food, Steve couldn’t say for sure that they were wrong.

While they waited their turn for the food- both thankful that it was not Monday- Steve held her hand. It was surprising for Rosemary. He wasn’t one for public affection often and even more so within the confines of Shield Headquarters.

The trend continued as they ate. Somehow, he was always touching her. Impossibly long legs had his foot brushing up against her calf under the table, his hand sought hers out repeatedly. With plates empty, Steve decided now was the time.

“Rosemary.” When she smiled up at him, he chickened out. “They caught Mary. Fury’s going to see to it she’s put away for the rest of her life. You’re safe now.” Coward. Coward. Coward.

“Safe from her at least.” Yet there was still warmth in her smile as she reminded him of the truth. Sometimes it was hard for him to remember that she still had many enemies.

“They took DNA samples as they processed her into custody.” Both his hands came to cover hers in a show of support that she really didn’t need. “If you wanted to know, to find out for sure…”

“If she’s really my sister?” The idea was something she and Julian had grappled with. If it was true, she was the reason their father killed their mother and their admittedly already poor home life spiraled into something so dark. “I want to know. I think I need to know.”

“I’ll let Tony know to run the test.” One of Steve’s hands left hers as he pulled his phone out and typed the message.

“Not Shield?” With her head cocked, Rosemary tried to understand why Shield wouldn’t be the one to run the test.

“I would feel better if Tony did it himself.” Steve shrugged and Rosemary had to admit that if she had to hear she was related to yet another monster she would rather it came from someone who had quickly become a friend.

The phone on the table chirped and Steve informed her that Tony would text her with the results within the hour.

“Regardless of what the results say, you’re still the same person.” It always amazed her how well Steve could read her. It was like for him, she was an open book. Someone saw her. Finally, someone would remember her.

After killing as much time as they could, Steve cleared the table. She Smiled as he put up their trays. It was one of the many small things he insisted on doing for her.

She had been so very lucky to have him stumble into the art show that Mrs. Jones had forced her to put on all those months ago. Now she was even more lucky that after everything, after all her secrets had come to light this amazing man was still smiling at her from across rooms room.

“You don’t have anymore meetings today, right?” Weaving his fingers between hers, Steve brought her hand up to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the back.

“Free and clear.” Standing, she allowed him to lead her toward the elevator again.

“Let’s get out of here. Go home. Bucky got a new movie he wanted to watch.”

“He won’t mind me tagging along?” It was a question she asked him often. It was never her intention to come between the friends or to force her presence on Bucky, though she liked him and even considered him a friend. Still, it was hard to tell how he felt about her.

“He likes you.” Steve laughed. They’d been over this before. “He adores you.”

In the privacy of the elevator once again, Steve wasted no time in pulling her into his chest. Strong arms wrapped around her waist while she rested her head against his chest. With her arms around his back, Rosemary listened to the steady thump of his heart. She only moved when the sound of a hammer striking metal filled the small space signalizing a text received from Tony.

“Well?” Steve asked as she gazed down at the screen.

“Not related.” The news was shocking to her.

“Are you happy?” The lack of a response worried him.

“I don’t know.” She admitted. “I guess? I don’t feel any sort of way about it. I didn’t expect that.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay to not care.” Steve wrapped her tighter in his arms. “She doesn’t matter. She can’t hurt you anymore.”

“I’m relieved.” Rosemary admitted, leaning into his chest until the elevator doors slid opened on the basement carport. “I think… I think if it came back and said she was really my sister I would have felt… I don’t know.”

“Obligated to help her?”/ Steve offered as he gave her hand a squeeze again. She smiled at what had become his way of reminding her that he was there, right there with her.

“Yeah. That’s dumb, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think so. It would make her family- at least by blood. That’s all you’ve had for so long. It makes sense that you would feel like you had to. But she’s not and you don’t owe her anything.”

“You’re too good to me.” A smile graced her face and Steve thought of how lucky he was to find a small art show four months ago in a tiny town outside of the city.

“I’ll meet you at your apartment, then?” Leaning against the side of her blue car, Rosemary fiddled with her keys.

“Actually, I wanted to ask you something first.” Steve took a deep breath and suddenly looked everywhere but at her. When the ground and ceiling grew dull, he examined his hands.

“This isn’t how I dreamed of getting proposed to.” Rosemary laughed forcefully, trying to lighten the air with a joke about what clearly wasn’t happening. He wouldn’t do that. Not in a carport at work. Not after four months. Would he?

“Oh! No! No, that’s not what- I mean, I care for you a lot. I love you but that’s just- that’s a big thing and-”

“Steve.” Rosemary tried to school the worry in her voice as she leaned forward, resting a hand on Steve’s arm. “I’m only teasing you. You’re worrying me.”

“I’m sorry. Forget it. Let’s go home?” Steve still wouldn’t look at her.

“No.” That made him look at her, finally.

“No?”

“No. Whatever it is, if you’re in knots over it you need to tell me. We said no more secrets, remember?” Guilt washed over him.

It always amazed her how hard he was, how well he schooled his expressions when working. That wasn’t the Steve she knew. Her Steve was this man in front of her, this man she had grown to love so quickly was expressive and easy to read.

Steve closed his eyes and his shoulders sagged. His whole body seemed to inflate and deflate with each deep breath he took as he tried to calm himself. Whatever he was preparing himself for, Rosemary hoped it wasn’t something that would hurt her.

“Rosemary…” When he opened his eyes, he saw worry swimming in her own. She had her lip trapped between her teeth and this time he knew he was the cause of it without any doubt.

“What?” There was a whimper in her voice and he would have given anything to turn back time and start this conversation over again. He really managed to muck this up and yet he knew absolutely no one would be surprised about it.

“Move in with me.” The words came fast, each running over the other.

“Move in with you?” Surely she had heard him wrong but he nodded. “What about Bucky? I don’t want to displace him or make him uncomfortable. I’d hate for him to think I was taking over or-”

“It was his idea.”

“Oh. You didn’t have to ask just because he-”

“No!” Steve almost barked the word, it came so rushed and loud. His hands raked through his hair as he turned from her, taking a step away only to turn back and fiercely kiss her. The force pushed her back and he had her pinned against the side of her car, not that she was complaining. The kiss ended just as suddenly as it began however he didn’t move away.

“I was scared to even think about it. I was scared I couldn’t have that.” He admitted and she understood that feeling all too well. It was one she often had herself, even now. Everything she had right now felt far too good to be true. “Bucky had to remind me that we’re not still in the 40’s. He also made a point to remind me that we both eat best when you’re over.”

“So he wants me to move in and feed him?” A small giggle slipped out of her as her hands relaxed against his chest, taking in the feeling of the worn white tee shirt and warmth that radiated off him. That did sound just like Bucky.

“Maybe.” Steve seemed to relax as his own laugh joined hers. “But it got me thinking. I stood there, watching you command the agent’s attention and I was so proud of you. Proud that you’re mine. I love waking up next to you every single morning I’m blessed to. I love coming in from my runs and seeing you. I love falling asleep with you in my arms. I love you.”

“I love you too, Steve.” The warmth in his smile could make anyone forget the flustered mess the man had just been.

“I want to have that every day. And Bucky thinks it would be great to have you with us. So, will you?”

“Steve-”

“Shit. I know, you probably need time to think. I shouldn’t- Sorry. I shouldn’t put you on the spot like this. You don’t have to answer right now. Take time, think about it, okay? The offer is always open.”

“Steve.” His jaw slammed shut. He was rambling and he knew it.

Both arms wrapped around his neck and she pulled herself flush against him. Instinctively, his hands fell to her waist as she rose up onto her toes. Softly she pressed her lips against his. With a sigh, the tension seemed to melt off of him.

“Okay. If you sure- okay. I’ll do it. I’ll move in.” Steve lifted her off her feet and spun her around. When he set her on her feet again, his lips met hers in a kiss that left her light headed and gasping for air.

Rosemary couldn’t say that the life she had was a dream come true. It was something she had never dared to dream of. It had been such a large risk when she decided against blocking his number that first night. It took her going against everything she had ever known to give him a chance and now she was so very thankful that some some small part of her refused to let him go.

Finally, she had a taste of love. It was fierce and passionate. It was warm and comforting. It was the light in the darkness. She didn’t know it at the time but love was Steve Rogers smiling at her from across a crowded cafe in a small town.

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The Things You Find in the Rain

Maggie and Evan had just married and were honeymooning in London. He was a difficult man but Maggie was a kind and forgiving soul. She loved him with all she was and when that is thrown away, not even 72 hours after they said their ‘I Do’s, what’s a girl to do? Except perhaps hit up ever bar her feet can take her to while the night sky opens up above her.

When Tom’s out walking Bobby in the rain, he’s thankful. It’s true that beast will come into the house muddy and wet. He’ll even likely make a mess. But in the rain, even fewer were out this time of night and he was allowed the simple peace of walking around the park like any other man. In the rain no one expected him to take pictures with them. No one expected him to sign anything. In the rain, no one expected anything of him.

This story has a long lead up to Tom’s involvement. Like most of my stories, it is the OC’s story and sometimes it takes us a bit to make it to our muse. I hope you fall in love with Maggie while she’s on her journey to meet Tom. Let me know if you want tagged in this or any other future works <3

#steve x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x oc #steve x oc #steve rogers x reader

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