#Machine learning to discriminate

[firefox-enthusiast]

I really really hate hate hate conglomerates and monopolies, and I most assuredly loathe that the faceless entities hafe only automation for enforcing their terms of service and no button or contact info to talk to a human.

"we employ a mid sized city in our community centers around the world and we'd never give you a chance to talk to a human."

"sorry if being cut out from what is functionally our society is an inconvenience, hope you get well soon"

"also did you read the terms? Oh you did, well your content violated our terms of service anyway "

"you want to appeal? We can give you the option but we are not going to make sure the option is accessible, you can't expect us to offer you a choice AND make sure it is working for you"

"🙃"

[marvelsmostwanted]

There are people – some in my own Party – who think that if you just give Donald Trump everything he wants, he’ll make an exception and spare you some of the harm. I’ll ignore the moral abdication of that position for just a second to say — almost none of those people have the experience with this President that I do. I once swallowed my pride to offer him what he values most — public praise on the Sunday news shows — in return for ventilators and N95 masks during the worst of the pandemic. We made a deal. And it turns out his promises were as broken as the BIPAP machines he sent us instead of ventilators. Going along to get along does not work – just ask the Trump-fearing red state Governors who are dealing with the same cuts that we are. I won’t be fooled twice.

I’ve been reflecting, these past four weeks, on two important parts of my life: my work helping to build the Illinois Holocaust Museum and the two times I’ve had the privilege of reciting the oath of office for Illinois Governor.

As some of you know, Skokie, Illinois once had one of the largest populations of Holocaust survivors anywhere in the world. In 1978, Nazis decided they wanted to march there.

The leaders of that march knew that the images of Swastika clad young men goose stepping down a peaceful suburban street would terrorize the local Jewish population – so many of whom had never recovered from their time in German concentration camps.

The prospect of that march sparked a legal fight that went all the way to the Supreme Court. It was a Jewish lawyer from the ACLU who argued the case for the Nazis – contending that even the most hateful of speech was protected under the first amendment.

As an American and a Jew, I find it difficult to resolve my feelings around that Supreme Court case – but I am grateful that the prospect of Nazis marching in their streets spurred the survivors and other Skokie residents to act. They joined together to form the Holocaust Memorial Foundation and built the first Illinois Holocaust Museum in a storefront in 1981 – a small but important forerunner to the one I helped build thirty years later.

I do not invoke the specter of Nazis lightly. But I know the history intimately — and have spent more time than probably anyone in this room with people who survived the Holocaust. Here’s what I’ve learned – the root that tears apart your house’s foundation begins as a seed – a seed of distrust and hate and blame.

The seed that grew into a dictatorship in Europe a lifetime ago didn’t arrive overnight. It started with everyday Germans mad about inflation and looking for someone to blame.

I’m watching with a foreboding dread what is happening in our country right now. A president who watches a plane go down in the Potomac – and suggests — without facts or findings — that a diversity hire is responsible for the crash. Or the Missouri Attorney General who just sued Starbucks – arguing that consumers pay higher prices for their coffee because the baristas are too “female” and “nonwhite.” The authoritarian playbook is laid bare here: They point to a group of people who don’t look like you and tell you to blame them for your problems.

I just have one question: What comes next? After we’ve discriminated against, deported or disparaged all the immigrants and the gay and lesbian and transgender people, the developmentally disabled, the women and the minorities – once we’ve ostracized our neighbors and betrayed our friends – After that, when the problems we started with are still there staring us in the face – what comes next.

All the atrocities of human history lurk in the answer to that question. And if we don’t want to repeat history – then for God’s sake in this moment we better be strong enough to learn from it.

I swore the following oath on Abraham Lincoln’s Bible: “I do solemnly swear that I will support the constitution of the United States, and the constitution of the state of Illinois, and that I will faithfully discharge the duties of the office of Governor .... according to the best of my ability.

My oath is to the Constitution of our state and of our country. We don’t have kings in America – and I don’t intend to bend the knee to one. I am not speaking up in service to my ambitions — but in deference to my obligations.

If you think I’m overreacting and sounding the alarm too soon, consider this:

It took the Nazis one month, three weeks, two days, eight hours and 40 minutes to dismantle a constitutional republic. All I’m saying is when the five-alarm fire starts to burn, every good person better be ready to man a post with a bucket of water if you want to stop it from raging out of control.

Those Illinois Nazis did end up holding their march in 1978 – just not in Skokie. After all the blowback from the case, they decided to march in Chicago instead. Only twenty of them showed up. But 2000 people came to counter protest. The Chicago Tribune reported that day that the “rally sputtered to an unspectacular end after ten minutes.” It was Illinoisans who smothered those embers before they could burn into a flame.

Tyranny requires your fear and your silence and your compliance. Democracy requires your courage. So gather your justice and humanity, Illinois, and do not let the “tragic spirit of despair” overcome us when our country needs us the most.

Sources:

• NBC Chicago & J.B. Pritzker, Democratic governor of Illinois, State of the State address 2025: Watch speech here | Full text

• Betches News on Instagram (screencaps)

[macmanx]

Artificial Intelligence is advancing at a pace faster than anyone could have previously predicted. Legislators across the planet race to keep up and protect us from what they refer to as ‘Nightmare Scenarios’ - Here are 6 of those situations.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Reverse engineers bust sleazy gig work platform

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/23/hack-the-class-war/#robo-boss

A COMPUTER CAN NEVER BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE

THEREFORE A COMPUTER MUST NEVER MAKE A MANAGEMENT DECISION

Supposedly, these lines were included in a 1979 internal presentation at IBM; screenshots of them routinely go viral:

https://twitter.com/SwiftOnSecurity/status/1385565737167724545?lang=en

The reason for their newfound popularity is obvious: the rise and rise of algorithmic management tools, in which your boss is an app. That IBM slide is right: turning an app into your boss allows your actual boss to create an "accountability sink" in which there is no obvious way to blame a human or even a company for your maltreatment:

https://profilebooks.com/work/the-unaccountability-machine/

App-based management-by-bossware treats the bug identified by the unknown author of that IBM slide into a feature. When an app is your boss, it can force you to scab:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/30/computer-says-scab/#instawork

Or it can steal your wages:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

But tech giveth and tech taketh away. Digital technology is infinitely flexible: the program that spies on you can be defeated by another program that defeats spying. Every time your algorithmic boss hacks you, you can hack your boss back:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/02/not-what-it-does/#who-it-does-it-to

Technologists and labor organizers need one another. Even the most precarious and abused workers can team up with hackers to disenshittify their robo-bosses:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/08/tuyul-apps/#gojek

For every abuse technology brings to the workplace, there is a liberating use of technology that workers unleash by seizing the means of computation:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/13/solidarity-forever/#tech-unions

One tech-savvy group on the cutting edge of dismantling the Torment Nexus is Algorithms Exposed, a tiny, scrappy group of EU hacker/academics who recruit volunteers to reverse engineer and modify the algorithms that rule our lives as workers and as customers:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/10/e2e/#the-censors-pen

Algorithms Exposed have an admirable supply of seemingly boundless energy. Every time I check in with them, I learn that they've spun out yet another special-purpose subgroup. Today, I learned about Reversing Works, a hacking team that reverse engineers gig work apps, revealing corporate wrongdoing that leads to multimillion euro fines for especially sleazy companies.

One such company is Foodinho, an Italian subsidiary of the Spanish food delivery company Glovo. Foodinho/Glovo has been in the crosshairs of Italian labor enforcers since before the pandemic, racking up millions in fines – first for failing to file the proper privacy paperwork disclosing the nature of the data processing in the app that Foodinho riders use to book jobs. Then, after the Italian data commission investigated Foodinho, the company attracted new, much larger fines for its out-of-control surveillance conduct.

As all of this was underway, Reversing Works was conducting its own research into Glovo/Foodinho's app, running it on a simulated Android handset inside a PC so they could peer into app's data collection and processing. They discovered a nightmarish world of pervasive, illegal worker surveillance, and published their findings a year ago in November, 2023:

https://www.etui.org/sites/default/files/2023-10/Exercising%20workers%20rights%20in%20algorithmic%20management%20systems_Lessons%20learned%20from%20the%20Glovo-Foodinho%20digital%20labour%20platform%20case_2023.pdf

That report reveals all kinds of extremely illegal behavior. Glovo/Foodinho makes its riders' data accessible across national borders, so Glovo managers outside of Italy can access fine-grained surveillance information and sensitive personal information – a major data protection no-no.

Worse, Glovo's app embeds trackers from a huge number of other tech platforms (for chat, analytics, and more), making it impossible for the company to account for all the ways that its riders' data is collected – again, a requirement under Italian and EU data protection law.

All this data collection continues even when riders have clocked out for the day – its as though your boss followed you home after quitting time and spied on you.

The research also revealed evidence of a secretive worker scoring system that ranked workers based on undisclosed criteria and reserved the best jobs for workers with high scores. This kind of thing is pervasive in algorithmic management, from gig work to Youtube and Tiktok, where performers' videos are routinely suppressed because they crossed some undisclosed line. When an app is your boss, your every paycheck is docked because you violated a policy you're not allowed to know about, because if you knew why your boss was giving you shitty jobs, or refusing to show the video you spent thousands of dollars making to the subscribers who asked to see it, then maybe you could figure out how to keep your boss from detecting your rulebreaking next time.

All this data-collection and processing is bad enough, but what makes it all a thousand times worse is Glovo's data retention policy – they're storing this data on their workers for four years after the worker leaves their employ. That means that mountains of sensitive, potentially ruinous data on gig workers is just lying around, waiting to be stolen by the next hacker that breaks into the company's servers.

Reversing Works's report made quite a splash. A year after its publication, the Italian data protection agency fined Glovo another 5 million euros and ordered them to cut this shit out:

https://reversing.works/posts/2024/11/press-release-reversing.works-investigation-exposes-glovos-data-privacy-violations-marking-a-milestone-for-worker-rights-and-technology-accountability/

As the report points out, Italy is extremely well set up to defend workers' rights from this kind of bossware abuse. Not only do Italian enforcers have all the privacy tools created by the GDPR, the EU's flagship privacy regulation – they also have the benefit of Italy's 1970 Workers' Statute. The Workers Statute is a visionary piece of legislation that protects workers from automated management practices. Combined with later privacy regulation, it gave Italy's data regulators sweeping powers to defend Italian workers, like Glovo's riders.

Italy is also a leader in recognizing gig workers as de facto employees, despite the tissue-thin pretense that adding an app to your employment means that you aren't entitled to any labor protections. In the case of Glovo, the fine-grained surveillance and reputation scoring were deemed proof that Glovo was employer to its riders.

Reversing Works' report is a fascinating read, especially the sections detailing how the researchers recruited a Glovo rider who allowed them to log in to Glovo's platform on their account.

As Reversing Works points out, this bottom-up approach – where apps are subjected to technical analysis – has real potential for labor organizations seeking to protect workers. Their report established multiple grounds on which a union could seek to hold an abusive employer to account.

But this bottom-up approach also holds out the potential for developing direct-action tools that let workers flex their power, by modifying apps, or coordinating their actions to wring concessions out of their bosses.

After all, the whole reason for the gig economy is to slash wage-bills, by transforming workers into contractors, and by eliminating managers in favor of algorithms. This leaves companies extremely vulnerable, because when workers come together to exercise power, their employer can't rely on middle managers to pressure workers, deal with irate customers, or step in to fill the gap themselves:

https://projects.itforchange.net/state-of-big-tech/changing-dynamics-of-labor-and-capital/

Only by seizing the means of computation, workers and organized labor can turn the tables on bossware – both by directly altering the conditions of their employment, and by producing the evidence and tools that regulators can use to force employers to make those alterations permanent.

Image: EFF (modified) https://www.eff.org/files/issues/eu-flag-11_1.png

CC BY 3.0 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/us/

[universalrainbow]

If Toy Player brought the group their own file, does it change how they see them? Learning that they were an adult, and technically an employee? Or is that info not all in the file?

"Wait, you weren't an orphan??.... there's a gift shop??... Over a SANDWICH?!"

Playtime doesn't discriminate in its cruelty, it's just that orphans are easier to get away with. If they made too many adults disappear, people ask questions.

The smaller toys take it at face value. But doey, dogday, and kissy read through the rest of the file. at first when they saw toy player was an employee. Doey has to take a break to get himself pulled back together. The other two are confused. Did player not remember being who they once were? If they worked here why were they so nice? But once they all calm down and read the rest of the file. Things start to click into place.

Age 18, {still basically a kid themselves. still in high school.}

Parents : none,{ if the parents had died a bit earlier player would have been a member of the orphanage}

job before experimentation: gift shop employee.

reason for experiment: The idiot took the wrong sandwich. They were studying for a test the previous night and brought their own. But due to this sleep deprived state, ate another employees sandwich. Said other employee flew into a rage and pushed them down the stairs. Due to unfortunate events, they went over the railing and fell into a toy machine.

The three feel awful for toy player. You weren't a planned experiment you were like jack. Doey now feels a type of connection to toy player but also very distraught at how similar you are to him. Toy player had also been there for weeks now, helping, playing and keeping safe haven safe with their presence alone. Many of the ferals already know of toy player and their lack of fear to the doctor or yarnabey. Doey for a while avoids toy player out of betrail (kevin) and bad memories (jack)

dogday tries to keep the peace. and kissy starts randomly hugging toy player.

overall They are both horrified and kinda miffed that what had caused toy player to loose their life was a sandwich.

[lillaydee]

Shhh!!! Part 4

Celebrity!Joel Miller / F Reader

A reluctant celebrity contractor who has closed his heart for love meets a celebrity-hating Cafe on Wheels owner...

She HATES him. Thing is, he couldn't get enough of the coffee she makes...

Tag List:

@kirsteng42 @peelieblue @harriedandharassed @joelalorian @vickie5446 @inept-the-magnificent @maried01 @brittmb115 @peedrow @lovefreylove

Let me know if you would like to be added/removed from the tag list.

Dividers by the awesome @saradika

Header by Moi cause I learned how to use Canva! Yay me!

WARNINGS: Grumpy Joel (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Celebrity Joel Miller, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, I'm Bad At Tagging, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Jealousy.

SERIES MASTER LIST

Part 3

***I'm not a Barista, and I do not live in the US, much less LA. So please excuse any mistakes i might make regarding coffee and its prices yeah?***

“Okay. Work… please work…” Joel mumbled to himself, rubbing his hands together, the lack of caffeine for the past two days not exactly helping. He was standing in his kitchen, facing the 20 odd years old coffee machine he had just spent two whole days fixing. The repair this time around took a bit longer than the previous attempts, his fingers were a bit shaky. Not because of caffeine withdrawal or anything. Those damned parts were too fucking small and fiddly. His fingers were too big. They’d obviously gotten way bigger than they were the last time he fixed the machine. Fingers do that after six months, right?

To top it all off he didn’t exactly sleep well these past three nights. Tossed and turned for no reason whatsoever. His mind kept replaying the fact that you somehow managed to be so sweet to that annoying girl and then turned around and raged at him like that. He went there to apologize, to tell you he was sorry, and instead, he was met with hostility. Okay, he did bark at you, yet again, but he was pushed into it. That damned annoying girl, the grumpy guy, damn Tommy. He did nothing wrong. And what did he get for trying to be nice? You charged him 40 bucks for coffee, your sweet, smiley face darkened for his displeasure.

That, and the fact that he was in deep shit with Ellie, and somehow, Sarah too.

He went to pick her up the evening of the robbery, relieved to have the paperwork for the season over and done with, looking forward to relax and spend more time with Ellie, only to find her already waiting for him in the parking lot, face like thunder. Turned out grumpy guy from that morning was the TA in her class, and he had gleefully told the class that Lily had given pompous, self-important, ‘I’m a celebrity I get to cut the line’ Joel Miller exactly what he deserved after he barked at her for trying to give him a free cup of coffee, and then had the gall to be all appalled when she overcharged his millionaire, entitled ass.

Joel couldn’t get a word in edgewise to defend himself, Ellie was furious that he had, yet again, embarrassed her by being rude to ‘sweet, wouldn’t-hurt-a-fly Lily’ who was kind enough to hire her. He’d had it then. He wasn’t an idiot. He googled the price of a shot of espresso that morning, unable to believe they would cost that much. They were less than two dollars a shot, and that was at really fancy, high-end cafés, even in an expensive city like LA. There were places that sell them for less than a dollar a shot. You had not only offensively overcharged him for each shot, but you also made it very clear that you hated him, and for that, he had to pay you an extra ten bucks for your troubles.

He was angry at you, really angry. You charged him that much money simply because he was a celebrity. That’s discrimination, plain and simple. He couldn’t see you doing that to some rude, homeless dude. You took advantage of the fact that he had money.

But try as he might, he couldn’t deny the fact that he had contributed to this hatred of yours. He was rude to you. Twice. So, he rationalized your anger and robbery as a spur of the moment retaliation, and he was ready to let it go. But when Ellie came in hulking about his treatment of you, that anger came back. He might be an asshole, but he didn’t mean to be, not that morning, he really didn’t.

The rage he had managed to supress came bubbling back up and he told her she couldn’t work with you anymore. No daughter of his would ever work for a robber, he said.

“Joel! You can’t do that! She needs my help!”

“Oh, that’s rich. She needs help to rob people? She only makes coffee for a living, for crying out loud, how hard could it be? I can do that with my eyes closed. She did just fine before you started working for her, she’ll be fine doing all her robbing solo now. You are NOT to talk to her again, you understand me?”

Ellie stopped walking, turned around, got something out of her pocket and placed it in Joel’s hands. “She said she would apologize to you in person, but in case she didn’t see you…” and then she turned around and went into her room.

Ellie slammed the door to her room so hard Joel swore the water in the pool rippled. He looked in his hand. 40 dollars. He never told Ellie how much you charged him for the coffee. So this money really was from you.

He could hear Ellie call Sarah on speaker phone, neither bothering to keep their voices down as she complained about him controlling her, how it wasn’t fair, Sarah in disbelief he would do that to you, of all people. The gasp Sarah let out when Ellie told her his remarks about you ‘only making coffee for a living’ was enough to make him wince, pressing his ear to the door to listen to her response.

Sarah told Ellie to take her off the speakerphone and go outside to her balcony to speak.

His calls to Sarah went unanswered.

Damn it.

The next day, in an effort to coax her, Joel asked a quiet Ellie if she could take the day off from work. He could pick her up at noon, maybe they could go have lunch together? Just the two of them? Maybe a movie after? No, she said, she’s working. He’d have to drag her out of your truck to get her to leave. Good luck doing that without someone getting it on camera. He didn’t have to pick her up either. She’ll Uber, she said, before slamming the door behind her.

Joel sat in the truck for quite a while, fingers drumming on the steering wheel, contemplating whether he should go and see you, wait for the coast to be clear, and really apologize. Maybe he could get that cup of coffee while he was there. He’ll even pay the 40 bucks again, to show you he was serious about apologizing.

But the longer he sat there contemplating, the less courage he had to go to you. He had met you three times, he froze the second time – seeing as your ready smile disappeared as soon as you saw him - not that he could blame you. He should have let you cool off before going over then, perhaps you wouldn’t have been so mad at him still if he had waited a few days before trying to apologize? And he managed to bark at you during the other two meetings. What if he did that again? And maybe his nerves would settle by then, he would make sure he was not annoyed at anyone or burdened by the worry that his daughter had gone missing before he went to see you next.

But he really wanted coffee. Not necessarily the ones you make, of course, but he was not looking forward to find parking during rush hour. He’ll just have to fix that machine. He could do without coffee for a day.

He disassembled the old machine and laid out the parts one by one, cleaning everything, taking notes on what needed replacing, making a list of what to get. He got everything he needed to get and picked up a still angry Ellie, who spent the rest of the day in her room, not speaking to him.

The next day was spent reassembling everything. New wiring, new everything. It took him so long he was nodding off by the time he placed the finished product on his kitchen counter, going straight to bed, hoping that he would at least get some sleep after two sleepless nights.

He didn’t. And now he really needed that coffee.

“Please work… please… I need this. Please…” he said over and over as he filled the filter with coffee, closed the lid, poured in the water and placed the pot on the warmer plate. Ellie came out of her room and poured herself some milk and some cereals to eat dry. She watched as her adopted father rubbed his hands together over and over before finally flicking the switch on, and the coffee maker came to life – well, at least the red light at the bottom of the thing lit.

Joel flicked the switch at the bottom of the machine.

The kitchen was silent for a few seconds. Joel couldn’t breathe. Ellie stopped chewing in anticipation.

The hiss came, and the next thing they knew, coffee began dripping into the pot, and the aroma of coffee began emanating through the kitchen.

Joel whooped. Ellie rolled her eyes and texted Sarah – ‘He got it to work again’.

They were still not speaking, but both were now staring at the coffee pot as coffee trickled steadily into it, Joel with a satisfied grin on his face, relieved that he could now get coffee without having to pay a small fortune to some fancy café, or a disgruntled small business owner such as yourself. Ellie was just amazed that machine refused to die, to be honest. She respected the determination that old machine had. Damn. That’s good quality machinery.

Joel turned around, struck by the silence in the kitchen, usually filled with the crunching of dry cereal. Ellie didn’t even look away, her lips turned down while her head nodded slightly, clearly impressed at this feat. He turned towards her, wanting to clear the air off the discomfort this silent fight over the situation between him and her boss once and for all.

* Hiss… crackle… hiss… POP! *

The house went dark, save for the morning light coming from outside through the curtains. The machine was smoking. Joel rushed to pull the socket out of the outlet.

‘Nvmnd, it imploded’ Ellie’s fingers quickly texted, stuffing the last of the cereals into her mouth and downing her glass of milk before placing the dishes in the sink.

Joel sighed. “Why wouldn’t you work???” he grunted at the machine.

“I dunno. Maybe cause it’s ancient?” Ellie snarked, going to her room to get her bag.

Joel poured whatever was in that coffee pot into a mug, desperate for coffee. Two days without coffee. He was dying. He took a sip, and immediately spat it back out into the sink, wiping his mouth of any remnants and gargling the taste away.

Sarah and Tommy were right. Heck, even Ellie, who had never drunk a drop of coffee in her life was right. That machine produced shit coffee. That was too bitter. Burnt. He hadn’t noticed before. He was too used to it, having consumed coffee it brewed for over 20 years.

Well, shit.

He stared at that still smoking machine, his head down. He cleaned the area quickly, wiping that machine down. He went to the utility room and reset the breaker, coming back out to a waiting Ellie. She didn’t say anything, but she could see how down he was that the machine broke, yet again. He grabbed his wallet and keys, put his shoes on and went into the garage. As Ellie closed the door to leave, she couldn’t help but notice he didn’t move the machine to the garage as he usually did when it broke, leaving it at its usual spot.

Joel didn’t speak throughout the journey to the rec centre. Ellie found herself worrying, despite her determination not to forgive him so easily.

‘He’s too quiet. I’m worried. I think the machine breaking again broke him,’ she texted Sarah.

‘Call me when ur alone’ Sarah had texted back.

Ellie grabbed Joel’s hand as she opened the door when they’d arrived, giving it a squeeze, earning her a small smile from the man before leaving. He watched as Ellie walked to the truck, no class today. She just wanted to work, determined to get that car. Joel contemplated going with her for a cup. He still hadn’t had his coffee. And going three whole days without one was definitely going to push him over the edge. But even he could tell that today was not a good day to go see you.

It’s stupid, he knew that. The machine was over 20 years old. It first gave out maybe ten years ago, but every time it did, he managed to fix it. Tommy, Angela, both had gifted him coffee machines for Christmas and birthdays, but he had always given them away, preferring to use the one he already had.

When he moved to this house all those years ago, the machine was the first thing he brought in. Every time it broke and got fixed, the time it took between working and  breaking again got shorter and shorter, and today, it broke in less time than it took to make a full pot. A record by any means.

Laura hadn’t been a coffee drinker. And Joel couldn’t function without a cup every morning. Earlier in their marriage he had basically gotten by on instant coffee, and was fine with it, until Laura presented him with that machine he had kept to this day. He still bought that brand she had bought with the machine, ground coffee rather than instant ones.

She was his first love. Before her, girls were flings and one night stands, nothing more. He was 19 and still enjoying his life as a young man. She wasn’t interested in him at first but relented and agreed to go out on a date with him one day. She got pregnant when he was 20, and they got married immediately. He got a job, she stayed at home with Sarah when she was born. They didn’t have much, but they made do. He was happy.

And then, just a week after his birthday, his boss came, tires screeching to his worksite – she had been in an accident. She didn’t make it.

His world crumbled that day. And that coffee machine was the one birthday gift he had ever received from her. So he kept it, a reminder of his one and only love life, a life he didn’t want to relive. It hurt too much. But now, even he was sure that machine was dead. For good. And he was scared. Worried, that that reminder of that life he had was now gone. It made his heart beat uncomfortably, made his breathing feel off.

Maybe he just needed coffee. That ought to get his bearings right. But going to see you for a cup in this state of mind wasn’t a good idea. So he decided to brave the morning traffic and get a cup of coffee from one of those fancy chains, just to ease his craving.

He drove over, parked, and stood in the ridiculously long line, a hat on his head, keeping his eyeline on the floor, praying that he wouldn’t be recognized. He finally got to the counter, the barista asking him at least three times if he was sure he wanted six shots of espresso. He nodded and gave the boy his card and waited for his order. When it was ready, he picked it up and went inside his truck to take his drink in peace.

It was good. Certainly much better than that travesty he had somehow thought was great coffee for more than 20 years. Certainly eased his caffeine fix.

But something was missing.

He kept waiting for that feeling he had when he first took a sip of the coffees he had gotten from you. That calm, comforting feeling that made him feel all warm and fuzzy and cared for, but it never came.

Well, he thought, that was to be expected, really. The machine he held on to for over 20 years just died, maybe for good, so perhaps he wasn’t feeling too soft today.

A package arrived for Ellie that day. He didn’t open it, but when he told her about it that evening, she said it was something she ordered a few days ago. She needed it for work, and oh, by the way, she was working the next day.

“Tomorrow’s Sunday,” he protested. He was already annoyed she chose to go to work on a Saturday, but being alone at home had actually helped him calm down about the coffee machine. He had hoped they would be able to spend time together. Maybe go shopping for a new coffee machine.

“There’s a charity thing going on tomorrow, for homeless kids. Lily is open most Sundays anyway, so she’s participating. There’ll be a crowd. I want to help her. Please? That truck is her only source of income, she needs the money,” she pleaded.

Joel sighed. Fine. But next weekend, we spend some time together, okay? Deal, Ellie said.

“Ellie, it’s almost seven. I thought you said you needed to be there 730?” Joel knocked on her door.

No answer.

“Ellie?”

No answer.

“I’m coming in,” Joel opened the door and walked in, Ellie bundled up in bed, sweaty and feverish. Joel immediately sat next to her, hand feeling her forehead. Shit, she was burning up.

“I don’t feel too good,” she croaked.

“Well, okay, you stay home and rest. Where’s your phone? We can text Lily and tell her you’re not coming.”

“No Joel, she needs the help. Her coffee grinder is broken. I need to help her grind the coffee. I even ordered one to help her. She wouldn’t have time to grind and make the drinks at the same time. I need to help her.”

“Well, you’re in no shape to help anyone right now. No, you’re staying in bed.”

“Can you help her, Joel? Please? She needs the help! Just grind some beans for her and put it in the container so she could just scoop some up to make the coffee with. Please? You don’t even have to stay long. Just fill the container. And then you could come home. Please? I’ll owe you one. Please Joel?”

If there was one thing about Joel Miller, he was a secret softie at heart. There was no way he could withstand pleas from his girls. All they had to do was say please, and he would cave. So, from the very first plea, he knew he would be spend the day grinding coffee beans. For Ellie, of course. Anything for Ellie.

“Fine, but you stay home and rest, okay? I’ll get you some Tylenol.”

“It’s okay, I’ve already taken some. Go. She’ll be waiting,” she said, pushing him off the bed a little.

She waited until Joel left to get rid of the hot water bottle she had hidden under the blanket.

You were getting the truck ready for the day. There was an event today, just a friendly soccer match between some local teams. As per every Sunday you opened, you were just doing a half day today. There was laundry to be done, some greasy Chinese you planned to order and a nice book you just got with your name on it. You had just emptied one container of coffee beans you had freshly roasted this very morning into the grinder and were getting another out when hurried footsteps approached.

Weird, you thought. It’s 735. Who was here this early? You don’t open until 8 on Sundays. The match wouldn’t start until 9.

Oh God it’s him. Oh, wait, this is good. You can apologize to him now. You had felt bad for doing what you did on Wednesday, but he hadn’t shown since. This was your chance.

Wait. Was he carrying… a coffee mill? A classic one at that. The ceramic kind. With the manual handle on top and the wooden drawer at the bottom. The one your Dad had on display at his cafés. He was half running, climbing straight into your truck, apologizing for being late, asking you where he should set up.

You just stood there, your brain trying to catch up with what the heck was going on. He placed the mill on the counter nearer to the door, asking you if that was okay? Would he be in your way? You shook your head absent-mindedly, still trying to figure out what was going on.

He reached for an apron behind you, immediately putting it on and tying the strings behind him, taking the container of coffee beans from you, pointing to the other empty container you just emptied, asking you if that’s where the ground coffee should go? You didn’t even have time to answer, he immediately scooped some beans out and placed it in the bowl, immediately grinding the beans as fast as he could, telling you that Ellie was sick, so he was here to help instead. He hoped that was okay? He won’t be in your way, he promised.

He was grinding the fourth batch of beans when your brain finally caught up, and you put your hand on his, stopping his actions. He looked at you.

“What is going on? Why are you here? I hope Ellie is not too sick, but I wasn’t expecting her today.”

He looked confused. It was only then that he looked around, realizing that there were not many people around.

“She… told me to come in her stead… she said there was a charity event today? That you’d be extremely busy. And that your grinder was broken, and you needed her help to mill some beans?”

You looked at him as if he was speaking gibberish.

“There’s a friendly soccer match at 9, but… other than that… and also…” you took a step back and turned the knob on the grinder. Within seconds, the doser was filling up with freshly ground coffee.

You looked at him, who was now sweating slightly from his milling efforts, looking confused as hell. He suddenly took a deep breath, closed his eyes and held up one finger at you, taking his phone out and dialling, his face as stern as only a father’s could be.

“Ellie! Pick up! What the heck is going on? You just wait, young lady! You wait ‘til I get home. You and I need to have some serious talks!” He hung up, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Look, Joel, I’m sorry you had to come all the way here. I swear I know nothing about this. I’m sorry you spent all that effort milling. Shit, are you okay?”

He looked at the ground coffee he had already placed in the container. “Can you use this? Did I damage your beans?”

You laughed a little, “No, it’s just unnecessary labour, that’s all. I’m sure you would rather sleep in, today being Sunday and all.”

He leaned on the cupboard behind him, his size making your truck look like a toy. He rubbed his face, shaking his head, trying to understand why Ellie had lied to him like this. And now she was not picking up his calls. He wondered if she was even sick. Wait… she bought a coffee mill just to send him here to use it? Did she concoct this whole thing? For what? His head was spinning so much he had to bend down a little to catch his breath. You slid a stool over to him, placing your hand on his shoulder, asking him to sit down.

“You okay?”

He nodded, sitting down, rubbing his face again. “Thanks for asking,” he mumbled. He took another deep breath.

“Lily, right?”

You nodded.

“Could I please trouble you for a cup of coffee? My machine is broken. Again.”

You smiled, of course, you said. You turned around and began making his coffee, using the ground he had just milled. He should be able to enjoy the fruits of his unnecessary labour, you joked, earning you a smile from him. When you finally handed him his cup, he got his wallet out of his pocket, and you waved him off. It’s on the house, Joel. Don’t worry about it.

“No, please, I insist,” he said, taking his card out. “Can’t have you losing 40 dollars every time I get coffee here.”

You laughed, embarrassed by his teasing. “I’m sorry about that. I just… I guess I had enough of people treating me like shit just because they are someone, or merely for the fact that I serve them coffee, you know? Just because I am not famous and I make coffee for a living doesn’t mean I’m below them, you know?”

He nodded, hand still holding his card out to you.

“Really, Joel, it’s okay. It’s on the house.”

Joel felt bad. “Please, I can’t do that to you. This is how you make a living. Please let me pay.”

You smiled, “Joel, I won’t go bankrupt just because I gave you a cup of coffee. Don’t worry. Keep it. I insist.”

He finally relented, stashing the card back into his wallet, and finally taking a sip.

There it was.

His eyes closed, that warm and fuzzy feeling was back, spreading into his bones. He suddenly felt calm, safe, protected, cared for. His breathing eased, his body relaxed, an unwitting smile gracing his features. When he finally opened his eyes, your smiling face greeted him, and his eases heightened. His mood just… lifted. For the first time in a long time, he actually felt happy, and it had nothing to do with Sarah or Ellie.

“Hey Lil?” Tony from the next truck’s voice chirped. “You open? The baby was up all night and I need coffee the size of my head.”

“Yeah, sure. Is he okay?”

“He seems okay, just fussy. Babies, you know. Er… Lil, customers starting to line up, that okay?”

“Give me a minute, okay? Still setting up,” you told them, an apologetic smile on your face. They nodded, asking you to take your time. People have started arriving for the tournament, and you haven’t quite finished setting up.

“Can I help? I’m here and all…” Joel got up, taking another sip of his coffee before placing the cup on the counter, rolling his sleeves.

“You don’t have to, I’m okay, really.”

“Let me help. I stalled you, let me do the easy things. Please. It’s the least I can do. Free labour for the lady I was rude to, please? Take it as a first step to the many, many apologies I plan to seek from you.”

You contemplated for a while, before asking him to take the orders. You gave him a quick tutorial of the till, and he tried totalling six shots of espresso, keying the price into the reader and tapped his card on it, grinning at your annoyed expression that he managed to pay you despite your protest. It’s confirmed. Six shots of espresso did not cost 40 dollars, he told you, raising an eyebrow cheekily.

You rolled your eyes and told him to ask you if he runs into any problems.

“Yes Ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat at you.

You handed Tony his drink and flipped the closed sign to open. Joel stood at the till, smiling at the first customer in line, who immediately recognized him.

“Oh my God! You’re Joel Miller aren’t you?”

“Sorry, you must have me confused with someone else. I’m just Joel today, may I please take your order?”

Part 5

[such-expensive-mistakes]

Superpham AU (part 6)

Masterpost

Lois prides herself at being good at rolling with the unexpected. Unfortunately, all of her experience with aliens and supervillains and magic has not prepared her for Danny.

Danny has a disconcerting habit of dropping disturbing or traumatizing information in an off-hand way, seeming to not even realize the implications of his own words. It started with what he said about the dimension he'd grown up in discriminating against people with powers, then with what he'd said about the red son and the lack of superheroes, but it just keeps happening.

Lois tries not to call attention to it, because she prefers it to the alternative, which is Danny shutting himself up in his room and refusing to talk to any of them.

Lex Luthor is on the nightly news-- as he so often is-- and Lois has to explain the man's many crimes to Danny. (No, Jon, it is not a rant.)

"Oh," Danny says. "He sounds like Vlad."

"Vlad?" Lois asks.

"Yeah, Vlad Masters. He's my godfather. He's a total fruitloop who wanted to marry my mom and make me his son."

Lois carefully does not react. She wants Danny to tell her things. She wants to know what his life was like when she wasn't in it. "That sounds..."

"Yeah, he tried to clone me. Well, I guess he succeeded, but none of them were stable except for Ellie, and she wasn't really that stable to begin with."

"Ellie?"

"Yeah, short for Danielle. She went by Dani-with-an-I for a while, but she decided she wanted her own name."

That is not the part Lois was looking for clarification on. She goes with it anyway. "Tell me about her," Lois says, and tries not to be concerned about Danny’s descriptions of a teenage girl who apparently lives and travels on her own because she doesn't like to be stuck in one place. Ellie doesn't even get the full benefit of being quarter Kryptonian, living in a world with a red sun.

The four of them are sitting down to dinner-- pizza again; one of them should probably cook sometime this week, but Lois and Clark are both on deadlines-- when Clark asks Danny more about his adoptive family, the ones he grew up with.

He looks sad, the way he always does whenever his adoptive parents come up.   Lois can hardly blame him, when he lost them in such a sudden and traumatic way.  

"They're scientists," Danny says.  "Or they were.  They studied, um, the Ghost Zone and the things that live there.  They didn't really understand it at first-- they thought all the-- um, everything from there was evil and needed to be killed, but they learned they were wrong eventually."

Lois meets Clark's eyes and knows he is as concerned about what happened before that 'eventually' as she is.  Still, neither of them comment, not wanting Danny to clam up again..

Jon, however, has no such reservations.  "That's really messed up."

Danny shrugs.  "Yeah, kind of.  They came around, though.  And I think they blamed themselves for how bad the GIW got because they were the ones who designed the weapons."

"The GIW?" Lois asks, instead of what she really wants to know, which is: Your adoptive parents designed weapons to be used against beings from another dimension??? Did they know what you were? 

"Guys in White," Danny says.  "I don't think that was their real name, but they were from the government."

"Your parents built weapons for them?" Clark asks, his tone deceptively light.  "I thought they were scientists."

"They dabbled in a lot of things.  But they were fantastic engineers."  Danny segues into a story about some of the modifications his adoptive parents made to their car, which is a topic only slightly better for Lois's heart.

Later that night, Lois is sitting in bed, checking her emails on her phone, when Clark sits down next to her and turns on the white noise machine they keep on the nightstand.  (It's the only way to have private conversations when your child-- children-- have super-hearing.)

"I'm concerned about Danny," he says.

"No shit."  The more Danny tells them about the dimension he grew up in, the more Lois hates it.  "But there's nothing we can do now except be there for him."

"I know people who have traveled across dimensions, you know," Clark says.  "I could always ask for a favor."

"You won't," Lois says.  "Because if you do, I'm going to end up committing felonies in another dimension."  

Clark smiles humorlessly. "What makes you think I wouldn't be there with you?"

"Because you're a better person than I am."  Clark never believes her when she says that, but it's true.  Clark is a fundamentally good person.  Lois tries to be a good person, but there's a reason she's not a superhero.  

-----

Kon intended to stop by Metropolis several days ago.  Or at least call Clark back.  But he’d gotten sidetracked by an earthquake in Southeast Asia, and then by Dr Light causing problems in California.  

He gets a few hours of sleep back in Smallville, then remembers that he’d planned on dropping by Metropolis and meeting Danny days before.  He walks the last few blocks to Lois and Clark’s house— flying would be way too noticeable in their neighborhood— and lets himself in.  He walks up to the living room and spots Lois there, furiously typing on her laptop.  

Kon is man enough to admit, at least within his own head, that Lois kind of intimidates him. Sure, Clark is physically stronger, but there’s an intensity to Lois that Clark lacks.  She glances up at Kon, and even though she’s smiling, he still feels pinned under her gaze.  

Kon shifts uncomfortably, reminds himself that unless he turns into a corrupt businessman or something, he’s not actually in danger from Lois Lane.  

“You here to see Danny?” she asks.

“Yeah.”  Kon shoves his hands in his jacket pockets.  “I figured I should probably meet him.”

“He’s in his room,” Lois says.  “He’s not… It’s not a good day, but maybe he’ll talk to you.  He hasn’t exactly gotten the chance to be around anyone his own age since he showed up.”

Kon knocks on the door to Danny’s room.  

“Come in,” a voice calls from inside.

Kon’s first thought is that he looks more like Clark than Danny does.  Stupid; of course he does.  He’s Clark’s clone.  But then, Jon resembles Clark almost as strongly as Kon does, so maybe it wasn’t a completely stupid thought.

Danny is sprawled on his stomach across his bed, phone in his hand.  There’s a video playing on it— someone talking about the history of the Justice League— but he’s ignoring it, watching Kon with a wary expression.  The room is still as bland as it ever was; other than the clothes tossed haphazardly on the floor, there’s no sign a teenage boy lives here.

“I’m guessing you’re Kon?” 

“That’s me.”  They stare at each other awkwardly for a moment.  

“Have you actually seen any of Metropolis, or have you just been hanging out in here?” Kon asks.

“Lois took me shopping for some stuff,” Danny says.

“Okay, no,” Kon says.  “You have got to get out of this house.”  

“You don’t even live in Metropolis,” Danny says.  

Kon shrugs. “Doesn’t matter; I’ve spent more time here than you.” There’s an old-school arcade he’s been to a handful of times, and a couple of places to eat.  Anything has got to be better than Danny hanging out and brooding in this sad bedroom by himself.

It's a warm day outside.  The sun shines down on the two of them as they walk in near-silence toward downtown.  The awkward silence doesn't quite break until they're at the arcade, competing on an old racing game.  

"I don't think we have this one in my dimension.  The other dimension.  Whatever."  Danny says.

"Yeah?"  Kon speeds ahead of Danny in the game, just in time to cross the finish line.  Danny groans.

"Yeah, but this world doesn't seem to have Doomed, either," Danny says as they start another race.  "There's a lot of little differences like that."

"That's gotta be weird," Kon says.  

"Yeah, Clark kind of freaked out when I told him the sun there was red."

Yeah, Kon can see why.  They talk more as they play more video games, and Danny tells Kon about his friends and what they'd do when they were hanging out in his hometown of Amity Park.  The main people he talks about are his best friends, Sam and Tucker, and his older sister, Jazz, but he mentions a few others.  

"Wait, who is Ellie again?" Kon asks, after Danny shares a story about a prank she pulled on another kid at Danny's school.  They've left the arcade, and are hanging out at the diner a few blocks away.  It's not the coolest place-- in fact, it looks like a grandmother decorated it-- but Clark introduced Kon to it, and it has great food.

"Oh, I didn't tell you?" Danny asks.  "She's my clone."

Kon chokes a little on his soda.  "You have a clone?"

-----

Danny is probably being paranoid.

Scratch that, he's definitely being paranoid. Lois and Clark have been nothing but nice, and they're clearly used to weird things happening. Like, even aside from the whole alien superhero thing, Lois just saw a kid fall out of a portal and decided to help?  Plus, Clark is an actual superhero.  

Even his— the Fentons came around on the whole “ghost powers” thing.  Eventually.  But he’s gotten used to hiding, to trying to blend in.  

(And what had them accepting him done for them in the end?  They’re dead, the GIW killed them.)

He’d rather hide than suddenly discover that Lois and Clark aren’t cool with their long-lost son being half dead.

Some of his powers he can pass off as Kryptonian— super strength, flight, enhanced senses.  He knows Lois saw his ghost form, and though she hasn’t asked about it, he’s pretty sure it’s just a matter of time.  

These thoughts circle through his mind over and over, only leaving him temporarily when he’s hanging out with the Lane-Kents.  

His bio family.  

That’s not much better, though; there’s a sadness in Lois and Clark’s eyes whenever they look at him, although they try to hide it.  Jon just a kid, and clearly doesn’t know what to make of the whole situation.  Lois keeps saying they are going to introduce him to more people, especially people his own age, but Danny shies away from that.  He doesn’t want to meet more people.  He doesn’t want to get comfortable here.

Still, he’s glad he came out with Kon.  An afternoon of videogames and greasy food hasn’t solved any of his problems, but it’s a nice break, and Kon has already promised to introduce Danny to his friends— a whole team of teenage superheroes.

“I can’t get over how many heroes there are here,” Danny says.  “Like, why do you even need that many?”  Sure, it would have been nice to have some more backup when he was Phantom, but in this world there seems to be at least one superhero for every major city, plus some extra.

Kon shrugs. “Natural disasters, alien invasions, supervillains, street crime… No one can handle all of it.”

Out of all the things he’s encountered so far in this dimension, this might be Danny’s favorite.  Even more than the proven existence of aliens.  Back home, Amity Park needed Phantom, even if they hated him.  But the world here doesn’t need Phantom.  

It’s kind of freeing, and Danny hates it.  He doesn’t want to like anything about this dimension more than his own.  

Would it really be that bad?  You might be stuck here forever, a little voice inside his head whispers.  

He ignores it.

[katethetank]

Slowly Learning that Life is Okay

Chapter 1 - Take a Chance on Me

Rating: 18+ minors gtfo Plot: Eddie Munson was never supposed to be an Omega. After a late presentation heat, his entire life falls apart. Getting a job as a nanny for a single Alpha dad turns his life around in ways he never thought possible. Chapter Summary: Eddie has an unexpected lifechanging experience. Down on his luck, he takes a job as a nanny only to find that his new boss is not what he thought. CW: Mentions of poverty, secondary gender discrimination, alcohol consumption, brief mention of panic attack Tags: Alternate Universe - modern setting, Omegaverse, Alpha!Steve x Omega!Eddie, slight age gap, eventual smut Word Count: 2.6k (Chapter title taken from ABBA's "Take a Chance on Me")

Masterlist>>Chapter 2

This wasn’t supposed to happen to him. He was supposed to skate by all the societal bullshit, fly under the radar, not have to adhere to the patriarchal rules. He scoffed at the designation roles that always took precedence over gender roles, even though those are bullshit too. Spoke out about the unfairness of societal expectations even though it didn’t affect him. 

Now? Now he doesn’t have a choice. Now he’s a slave to the machine that he rebelled against and has no power to fight it. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Eddie Munson was never supposed to be an Omega.

When everyone was presenting in high school, he managed to dodge it all, never presenting. He was a Beta and he was goddamn thankful for it. He wasn’t forced into a box. Nobody could tell him what he was or wasn’t allowed to do, what kind of job he could have, or dictate his hobbies. Being a Beta meant freedom. 

That all changed in the span of a weekend.

The first cramp hit him at the end of a long day at the garage. He chalked it up to the questionable sandwich he got at the gas station during his lunch break. He rushed home to his shitty apartment as the cramps got worse and what he thought was a food poisoning fever set in. Bursting through his door, shaking from head to toe, he stripped off his greasy coveralls and tried to cool his body down in the lukewarm spray from his rusty shower head.

It only provided a temporary reprieve. He collapsed in bed, sweating, cramping, and aching in a way he never felt before. When he took stock of where the ache was coming from, that’s when he realized what was happening.

A presentation heat.

By the time Monday morning rolled around, his entire life had changed. Not to mention his body. It was bad enough that he had entirely new plumbing down there, but seeing how much his dick had shrunk was a real kick to the ego. When he showed up at work with his coveralls fitting just a little differently, he had hoped it would go unnoticed. 

But Eddie Munson has never been lucky.

As soon as he walked in the open bay, all the Alphas he worked with snapped their heads up. He didn't account for the fact that he now had a scent that would tip anyone off. His boss already didn't care for him, even though he was one of the best mechanics in his crew. He took one whiff of Eddie’s new scent, screwed up his face, and told him that he’d have to find work somewhere else. Didn’t even give him his final pay and sent him packing.

He spent his first day as an unemployed person drinking the last of the cheap beer in his fridge and trying to stave off a panic attack. To say he was broke was generous. The rent for the shithole he lived in took up most of his paychecks. He got by on poverty meals his uncle taught him when they lived in the trailer park together. Had a shitty phone he got second hand for cheap because it was an old model and the screen was fucked up. Any extra money he had, he either sunk into his van or used to get more ink on his skin. 

He was poor, yeah, but he was content with it. He was free. Free to work as a mechanic and get tattoos and play in a band. One presentation heat later and he lost all of it. Fired from his job. Kicked out of the band he started because Omegas aren’t allowed to play shitty music on shitty guitars in shitty run down clubs. He’s also got outlines of tattoos on his arms and legs and back that he was planning on getting filled in when he had the money. 

But no, Omegas aren’t allowed to get ink put in their skin because of the stupid fucking rules put in place by a society that values them as lesser. Sees them as weak. Incapable. Only suited for careers in caregiving because that’s all they’re good at, right? Nurses, teachers, nannies. 

Eddie bailed on college. High school was hard enough, he wasn’t going to subject himself to more torture by the American education system. He’s got no degree to fall back on. Can’t walk into a hospital or school, hat in hand, begging for a job. 

It’s been two weeks since he got booted from the garage. His funds are dwindling and rent was due yesterday. He hasn’t been able to find a job anywhere that will be enough to afford his rent, let alone everything else. And to add insult to injury, he’s been told by several people who rejected his application that his scent is less than pleasant. Acidic they said. Bitter he’s been told.

Yeah. He is fucking bitter. Everything is going to shit and he stinks on top of it. Great.

Now he’s got to spend some of the last of his money on scent patches so he doesn’t bomb another interview. 

He found a listing online for a full time nanny position and figured he might as well shoot his shot. He doesn't exactly have experience working with kids, but he likes them just fine. Always got along with the ankle biters running around the trailer park and would babysit from time to time for extra cash. Those skills have got to come in handy, right?

He looks at the ad again before he gets into his van.

Single Alpha parent seeks full time nanny for son (4) and daughter (3). Cooking skills preferred but not required. Needed for weekdays 8am to 5pm with flexibility for evenings with overtime pay.

The salary offered isn’t quite what he was making at the shop, but the promise of overtime would be enough to pay the bills. He called the number listed and the woman who answered was able to set up an interview the same day.

He pulls up to a luxury apartment complex and lets out a low whistle. This place is definitely a step up from his little shoebox with water stains on the ceiling and what’s probably lead paint flaking off the walls.

After getting buzzed in and taking an elevator to the top floor, he realizes he’s grossly out of place. His jeans, t-shirt, and leather jacket seem to clash with the swanky decor and he’s only in the hallway. He would have worn something nicer if he knew how upscale this place was. As if he even owned anything nice to wear in the first place. So far, this isn’t going well. 

He approaches the door and hesitates, running his fingers over the patch covering his new scent gland on his neck. He only feels slightly better knowing that his scent won’t kill his chances before his wardrobe does. With zero confidence, he raises his fist and knocks.

A moment later, the door opens and he’s faced with an Alpha woman in what he would call a power suit, sporting a dirty blonde bob and surprised smile. 

“Oh! Hi! Are you…Eddie?”

“That’s me! And you must be Robin?”

“That’s me!” She extends her hand and he shakes it politely, hoping he didn’t blow this already based on looks alone. “Come on in, and we can get started with the interview.”

Well, she didn’t tell him to get the fuck out, so that’s a good sign.

He crosses the threshold and takes stock of the space around him. The apartment opens up into the living room; high ceilings and stark white walls, basic sleek looking furniture, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. 

He doesn’t have much time to gawk at the view before Robin is escorting him into the kitchen and gesturing for him to take a seat at the table. The whole place smells like fresh baked bread, or some kind of pastry. It makes the otherwise sterile space feel a little more homey.

He takes a seat at the kitchen table and Robin plants herself across from him with folders and an open notebook. She picks up her pen and clicks it a few times as she settles in.

“So, let’s get started with the basics. Name?”

“Eddie Munson.”

She writes it down in the notebook. “Age?”

“Uh, twenty two.”

That gets added under his name. “Designation?”

Eddie pauses. He hates even saying it. Tasting sour on his tongue, he quietly answers, “Omega.”

She adds that under his age. “Bonding status?”

“Sorry, what?”

Robin looks up from her notes with a blank expression. “Bonding status. If you’re bonded, it can be a concern that your mate might take issue with any possible trace of another alpha’s scent on you when you return home.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Uh, no. That’s a non-issue,” Eddie replies, waving his hand dismissively.

Robin adds it to her notes. “Previous employment?”

“Thatcher Tire and Auto.”

She stares blankly at him for a moment. “Secretary?”

Eddie shifts in his seat. “Mechanic.”

Robin looks surprised and confused. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t realize they hired Omegas there.”

“They don’t.” Eddie suddenly finds the surface of the table fascinating, unable to look away.

“Oh…ok. Um. What experience do you have in childcare?”

Eddie nervously clears his throat. “I uh…used to live in a small neighborhood growing up. Lots of kids running around. I’d babysit whenever I could.”

Robin is quiet for too long. Eddie finally looks up from his staring contest with the woodgrain and meets her eyes. Her brows are furrowed and her pen is hovering above the page.

“Eddie, I’m sorry, but I’m confused. You somehow worked as a mechanic despite your designation, and you don’t have any professional child care experience? Why did you apply for a nanny position?”

He sighs heavily and leans forward on his elbows. “Look. Robin. Can I level with you?” She nods her head and he continues. “Up until two weeks ago, I was a Beta. I had a steady paycheck, could afford rent, was able to do whatever the hell I wanted. Sorry for swearing. Then out of nowhere I had a presentation heat. At twenty two years old! In a matter of days, I lost my job, lost my last paycheck, lost my band. And now if I can’t find a new job, I’m going to lose my apartment, too. My entire life has gone to shit and this is the first interview where I haven’t been rejected immediately. I hate to sound desperate, but I am. I know I’m probably the least ideal candidate you’ve met, but considering how badly I need this job, I guarantee you I’m the most dedicated. I’ve got everything to lose. And I know! I know it doesn’t help that I haven’t worked with kids before, but I’m good with them. I swear. Please just…just don’t write me off, ok? Give me a chance.”

Robin sits back in her chair and chews on her pen. She’s just staring at him. Eddie’s nerves are shot and he’s about to just get up and bolt when she leans back in and writes some notes down.

“You’re lucky I’m desperate, too. It’s been like a revolving door of nannies around here and if I have to do one more interview I’m going to pull my hair out. So. Just a couple more questions and I think we’re set here. Can you cook?”

Eddie nods with wide eyes. “Yeah! Yeah, I can cook.” It’s not a total lie. He cooks, it’s just probably not the kind of stuff people in high rise apartments eat.

“Excellent. And…you’d have no problem working here? In the apartment?”

That’s a fucking weird question. “Um. No? This is where the kids would be, right?”

Robin smiles, looking relieved. “Yes! Yeah, of course! Great! They should actually be back any minute now. They were bouncing off the walls today and had to get some wiggles out at the park. They’re not monsters, I swear! Just a lot of energy.”

Eddie chuckles, he can relate. “Yeah I bet. Two kids, right?”

“Yes! Oh my god, sorry! Yeah, Ben is 4 and Charlotte is 3.” Robin pulls a packet out of the folder and hands it to him. “I’ve got all their information right here. Food preferences, daily routines, nap schedules, their likes and dislikes. Plus emergency contact information and the name and number of their doctor.”

Damn. She’s fucking organized. “So…is this your way of telling me I’m hired?”

She smiles wide and holds out her hand for him to shake. “Welcome aboard!”

He takes her hand and gives it a firm shake. He can’t fucking believe he got the job. Finally his luck seems to be turning around. “Thank you, Robin! So much! I can start right away, whenever you need me to.”

Behind him he hears the door open and two small voices giggling.

“How about now?”

Before he can answer, the thumping of two sets of feet get louder, and suddenly Robin has two tiny people hanging from her.

“Can we have a snack?” the little boy asks. He’s got dirty blond hair and big hazel eyes, which are pleading up at Robin. Those things are weapons, he just knows it.

“Yeah, snack!” the little girl parrots. Her hair is a little lighter and her eyes match her brother’s. These kids are adorable, and Eddie bets they get away with murder.

Robin shushes them and tells them, “In just a minute, first I need to introduce you to someone.”

Both sets of cow eyes turn and look at him, apparently just now noticing that there’s another adult in the room. Eddie smiles and waves awkwardly. 

“Ben, Charlotte, this is Eddie. He’s going to be your new nanny.”

Charlotte eyes him warily for a moment, and Ben doesn’t hesitate to use those pleading eyes again. “Hi Eddie! Can we please have a snack?”

He chuckles and turns his attention to Robin. “Your kids are adorable! Show me where the snacks are, and I can help them out.”

Robin pales for a moment. “Oh! Shi-um…shoot. I guess I didn’t clarify. They’re not my kids.”

Eddie furrows his brows and is about to ask what the hell she’s talking about when the door opens again, and a man’s voice calls out.

“Sorry Rob! Mrs. Miller stopped me again when I got out of the elevator and was talking my ear off. Did you want to order Chinese tonight?”

Robin looks at Eddie and smiles. “Not my kids. His kids.” She leans over to shout through the doorway past Eddie’s shoulder. “Steve! Come meet your new nanny!”

Eddie turns to the sound of footsteps coming closer and freezes when he sees his new boss. A third pair of hazel eyes are staring at him through the doorway and Eddie can’t breathe. Steve, was it? Is fucking beautiful. Soft looking brown hair, square jaw dusted in a bit of stubble, moles dotting his slightly tanned skin, beautifully shaped lips. From where Eddie’s sitting, he looks tall and broad. Fucking rugged but also polished. 

Something between his legs throbs and he’s suddenly reminded of his new plumping and that he’s gotta keep this shit in check so he doesn’t soak his fucking jeans just looking at this man. 

This man who is his boss. For the job he just got.

Not for the first time in his life, Eddie can’t help but think to himself I’ve made a huge mistake.

Masterlist>>Chapter 2

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Taglist is open! Any likes, comments, or reblogs are greatly appreciated!

@mrsjellymunson

[shy-nightmare]

The Toonz Twins: Toontown Sleuths

Chapter Thirteen: Paint and Tears

Summary: The time has come to learn the truth about the Twisted Toonz Twins with a bucketful of paint and tears.

Credit for inspiration goes to @imaginarytoon1, author of “The Birchwood Twins: Toontown Investigators” and @its-metal-mistress, author of “Bendy and the Ink Machine: Learning How to Live”. Please check out their own wonderful content ^^!

PLEASE READ THE FOLLOWING WARNINGS. THIS IS THE SADDEST AND DARKEST CHAPTER I HAVE EVER WRITTEN 💔💔💔. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THE FOLLOWING TRIGGERS YOU.

Special Guests Tags 😊: @marinerainbow, @slashingdisneypasta, @weaselnerd, @spookiifi, @lastofautumn , @amberfox232. Please give a special shoutout to our new guest, @heartsissopure! 🥳🥳🥳

WARNING: This chapter contains graphic violence, murder, heavy angst, death, gore, mentions of imprisonment and slavery, domestic and child abuse, Toon and hybrid Toon discrimination, attempted murder. VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED

The twins teleported out of Toontown and arrived at the corner of the Terminal Bar Station. Despite Tom’s enhanced healing abilities, Twyla insisted that he’d receive medical attention. Tom tried to protest, but a glare from Twyla Toonz was enough to make any tough bastard weak in the bladder. And that does not exclude her brother either. So the gang leader sighed and swallowed down his pride, allowing himself to be escorted to Dolores while his right arm hung limply around his sister’s shoulders.

Luckily, the bar was nearly completely empty, save for a couple of regulars. Dolores looked up from the countertop while cleaning a glass shot, expecting new customers. However, she almost dropped the glass and her blue eyes widened in alarmed shock seeing Tom all bruised and bloody. She quickly regained her composure and turned to her customers.

“Bar’s closed. Everybody, leave.” Dolores calmly addressed the men, though her tone was enfolded with a soft but firm authority. When they just sat there and gave her confused, albeit a little drunken-irked looks, her lips pursed. “Do you have corn in your ears? Bar’s close! Get out! Don’t make me grab my bat!”

This time, they got the message. The dreaded mention of her bat sent all of them scurrying down the stairs, barely acknowledging the twins’ presence. Once the bar was now void of customers (and potential snitches), Dolores sprang into action. She turned to the lower shelves behind her and pulled out a medical kit before she scurried out of the bar and hastily walked towards the secret rotgut room.

“Bring him here. Last thing we need are witnesses and some hunk-hunting floozies.” She told them, placing her hand on the handle. Looking over her shoulder, she caught Twyla raising an eyebrow, and the bartender scoffed, “You think I gotta deal with just booze-guzzling bums? This is a bar, you know.”

Twyla shrugged her shoulders in response. That’s a fair point.

She carefully walked her brother towards the rotgut room just as Dolores pushed the secret door open. As expected, Roger’s head poked out while greeting his saviors with a smile. “Hiya, again—SWEET SUFFERIN’ SUCCOTASH!!!” his cheerful expression dropped instantly, and his sky-blue eyes bulged out of their sockets in stricken terror. He didn’t hear Dolores shush him, instead he could only gape at Tom’s injuries as the Toon duo entered the narrow room. Dolores had to retreat to ensure all doors and windows were locked and secured while Twyla helped her brother towards the bed.

“I don’t need no babysitter,” Tom grumbled lowly, “I can do it myself.”

Twyla lightly smacked him by the back of his thick-furred skull. “Tom, you’re bleeding and covered in bruises. Plus, I just watched you get stabbed multiple times while muzzled and handcuffed to a chair.”

“He got what?!” both Dolores and Roger cried out shrilly. Roger took a few feet back, giving Dolores enough space to grab a nearby stool and pull it towards the bed. “Jesus Christ, what the hell happened?!” she demanded.

“Doom caught us sneaking into the club, and the weasels tried to get us to talk.” Twyla explained, taking off her hat, unbuttoning her blazer and setting it to the side. “Fuckin’ bastards.”

“But what about Eddie? Where is he?”

“We weren’t able to get him out,” the she-wolf Twisted Toon shook her head, sighing in remorse. “He’s still in Toontown.”

“Fuck.” Dolores hissed softly to herself, but the twins caught up on the worry in her tone. But they didn’t have time for that. She quickly put on a fresh apron, and instructed Tom, “You might wanna take your shirt off.”

He sighed. He’s been through this so many times, but he still complied. Despite the stabbing pain on his chest and shoulder, he was able to remove his jacket and unbutton his dark dress shirt with little difficulty. He pushed the sleeves back with his muscled shoulders, exposing his form. Unlike Twyla, who covered hers with an eerie emblem of tattoos, Tom’s muscular body was embellished with scars. Pale gray scars scattered his body like constellations of war, and each one held a grim story like his sister’s. Battle scars, claw marks, bullet wounds, etc.

Dolores opened the lid of the kit, revealing the contents she would need to heal Tom. Twyla peered into the kit, arching a brow. “Is this…a Toon medical kit?”

“I did say this is a bar, didn’t I?” The twins glanced up at Dolores, and she knew they didn’t buy that half-hearted rhetoric. “All right, all right. Before shit went down, Eddie would sometimes request my help to heal Toons who got themselves pricked while he took their cases. I’m not racist.”

“Thank Walt for that,” Roger wiped off the sweat from his forehead.

“Which one is first?” Dolores asked. Tom pointed to the angry red slash trickling down his chest. She sighed, pulling out a clean washcloth and a small bottle of peroxide. “You ready?”

Tom nodded, bracing himself.

The bartender, who was now apparently a nurse, carefully poured small doses of anti-infection liquid and set the bottle down. She gently held Tom’s left shoulder and began to dab him. The male Toon wolf growled in responsive pain, inhaling deep through his nostrils before exhaling slowly to calm himself. Still stings like a bitch!

Twyla watched the lady nurse her brother, covering her mouth to hold back the sob clogged in her throat. This is all her fault. She should have used her invisibility power to take out the weasels and get the guys out of their headquarters while she clearly had the chance, regardless of if they had enchanted weapons or not. They couldn’t be Monster Toon hunters, though. They lacked finesse, expertise, and perception.

And the judge…she will murder him too. Maybe she’ll dip him in the same vat he used to brutally murder that Toon shoe in cold blood. She’ll repeat the same slow, agonizing torture he bestowed upon that poor shoe. La giustizia è meglio servita con la vendetta. Justice is served best with vengeance.

She saw Roger taking a cautious step towards her and offered a comforting hand. He slightly recoiled, ready to pull away if she denied the gesture. But she relaxed and thanked him with a kind smile, giving a slight nod of her head.

After fifteen more minutes, Dolores finished wrapping the layer of gauze around Tom’s chest and taped a small padding on his injured shoulder. “That should do it.” she sighed with exhaustion, getting up from the stool and walking over to wash her hands. As she dried them with a towel, she acknowledged Twyla’s concerns. “He should be able to sleep it off, but make sure he changes his gauze and cleans his wounds.”

“Thank you.” The wolf girl nodded. Dolores returned her nod and left the Toon trio. Tom sat up straighter while minding his injuries, gently placing an ice pack on his bruised scarred eye. “You all right, sis?”

No. Yes? Maybe? Fuck no. Twyla couldn’t choose any one as an answer, so all she could do was let out a heavy sigh. That seemed to be enough for him.

“Sorry. I should’ve known better than that.” The leader reprimanded himself. He let out another hiss of pain as he gently applied more pressure on the black eye. He is going to shoot that pink-clad, Brooklyn bastard weasel’s eye out the next time he takes a swing at him! Or maybe he’ll gouge both out while his boys watched.

Suddenly, Twyla’s head snapped up like she had forgotten something and looked around the lower corners of the room, looking for an outlet. The boys watched her with confusion, but she ignored them. After she found one and cleared some stuff away, she manifested herself in a Toon-Tornado and revealed a sizeable table with an uplifted chair. The table was set with computer software and technology decades beyond the time period’s enhancement, consisting of a desktop computer, a scanner, a tablet, and an active stylus pen. On the far end of the table held a science kit holding multiple beakers and flasks. Twyla found a chord and knelt underneath the desk to plug in the outlet. Light blue luminescence glowed from the screens. “Yes!” she fisted.

“Oh, boy! What is all this neat stuff?” Roger asked, curiously inspecting the other Toon’s equipment. He peered at the glass beakers close enough to morph his face and made various goofy faces.

“It’s my old forensics kit.” Twyla smiled proudly, pulling out the small baggie of the yellow paint.

“Forensics? Ooh! You mean that criminal science stuff?”

“Yep. Took three years of it in high school.” It had been a while since she last used her old tools. Originally, she took the class as an opportunity while taking chemistry for educational purposes…as well as rising above the ranks she and her brother were more or less “placed” in the hierarchical standards of their former—and good-ridden—“classmates” and those sick, uncaring fuckbag teachers.

“Sooo….” The Toon rabbit cocked his head innocently, scratching his head. “Why does she need this stuff?”

“It may help prove your innocence and find the fucker who killed Acme,” Tom answered, watching his sister pull up a microscope and set up the stage controls once she scanned a printed photograph of the rope that was used for the safe. While she waited for the photo to pop up on her screen, she carefully applied a tiny amount of yellow paint on the glass clip and slowly slid it across the specimen stage beneath the lens. Twyla pulled the chair and took a seat, then she peered into the eyepiece tube.

“Hmm…” she hummed thoughtfully. The whole room was quiet, save for the soft humming of the computer. The dark-haired Toon forensics specialist slightly adjusted the stage controls and sharpened the focus, then after another minute of silence, she let out an exasperated sigh. “Well, shit.”

“What?” Tom’s brows slightly rose, and Roger’s ears lowered.

“This guy certainly ain’t no amateur,” his sister replied. “The paint is too cartoonishly drawn to be the dry, hardened flanks of man-made paint. Roger, did you by any chance, accidentally lose your glove on the night of the murder?”

“Hmm. Let me think,” the accused murderer rubbed his chin, his long ears gearing up. Then, he perked up. “Yes! I did! I had to escape through Jessica’s dressing room window because I heard Bongo coming. My glove must have slipped off.”

“And the killer must have found the glove and used it to frame you.”

“Exactly!” Roger agreed, “See? I told you guys! Boy, I can’t wait to see the look on Eddie’s face!”

“Yeah, and he owes me $20 bucks.” Tom snickered.

“Santino will have to be notified, as well.” Twyla mentioned the other man. That is, if the forensics team in this decade aren’t able to find enough evidence to prove Roger innocent.

Ding!

All three heads turned to the computer. The scanning procedure was now complete. Twyla whirled her chair back and touched the mouse, inspecting the contents of the photograph. The size was 9x11 in height and width, giving a promising view of the traces of paint on the rope. Twyla gave the mouse a couple of clicks, before zooming in on the rope. She studied the paint long and hard, her amethyst eyes inspecting with deep scrutiny. The paint was indeed Toon paint, but it was the fingerprints she focused on. The ridges were curved, the valleys were horizontal, and the core point was at the sole center. Nothing like a rabbit. Or a…

Twyla’s jaw dropped in shock. “Wait a goddamn minute.”

“What? What is it?”

“Guys, come here.” Twyla gestured with a manicured claw. The boys hurriedly walked until they stood on each side. “Look at the fingerprints. The killer was wearing Roger’s glove, but the size of the fingers is too realistic in bone texture and proportion. And Roger only has four fingers. The killer has five.”

Tom’s eyes widened, and his jaw dropped too. “Holy fuckin’ shit.”

“What does that mean?” Roger asked, perplexed.

“The son of a bitch is a human.”

________

Dawn rose early the next morning.

It took full convincing, but Tom eventually assured his concerned twin sister that he was recovered enough to go out and find Valiant. He did, however, remind her that somebody needed to stay and keep an eye on Roger besides Dolores. That, and he didn’t want her to be on the risk of getting Toonnapped by Doom’s bastard boogle again.

The ink-furred Toon heard a Toon alarm clock ringing, confirming that he was getting closer to the Mount Hollywood Tunnel. Thankfully, the green shrubbery near the lamp post was dense enough for him to hide without getting spotted. He quickly blended in the dark shadows, and slowly pulled out his revolver just as he heard an echo of giggling and laughter.

Suddenly, Eddie flew out of the tunnel with the burlap sack still over his head, roughly tumbling over the ground as he landed. A moment later, the weasels stepped out of the tunnel, and they were carrying…paintbrushes? Psycho zigzagged around, holding a Toon bucket of paint. 

An uneasiness clenched Tom’s chest. What the fuck did they do to Valiant?

“Kinda stubborn, wasn’t he, Boss?” Greasy snickered, struggling not to laugh.

“Pig-headed, I’d say.” Smartass agreed, winking at his psychotic comrade. His boys trailed after him, laughing wickedly. “I think it’s safe to 'presume' he got da message.”

“You already slayed it, Boss!” his right-hand cackled, roughly nudging Psycho. Smartass gestured to them to follow back into the tunnel, but to Tom’s confusion, Greasy stayed behind. He waited until they were out of earshot, and he looked around the valley. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted in Spanish.

"¡Lupita, mi amor, si estás aquí, tu jefe testarudo está ileso! Le acabamos de dar... ¡Uh, un trabajo de pintura!"

Tom growled with hot anger, his blood boiling from hearing the perverted weasel giving his sister a pet name. But just as his wrath took over his conscience and cocked his gun, he heard the Hispanic gangster shout again but with more urgency.

“Y por favor, por el amor de Dios, ¡sal de este caso mientras puedas!”

Tom’s brows rose up in surprise. What did he mean, “get out of the case while you still can”?

He waited until Greasy eventually turned around and ran off to catch up with the pack, and Tom ran out of his hiding spot to get to Eddie.

“Wha?” the disgruntled detective flailed his arms, “Who’s there? Twyla, is that you?”

“Wrong twin.” Tom responded, taking a few steps back while holding his hands up.

“Tom? Will you get this sack off my head?!”

“Oh yeah, sure.” His assistant replied. Eddie leaned down slightly, and Tom pulled the sack off…and his jaw dropped to the ground.

“Oh, my God.”

“What?!” Eddie exclaimed, feeling his chest clench.

The Toon shook himself and tried to calm his boss. “Boss, try to stay calm.”

Despite his attempt to ease his frantic nerves, that only seemed to distress Eddie even more. He touched his face, but he felt something else on his face instead. Something living, breathing, and not human. His face paled, and his heart froze in horror. “Oh, God!” He pulled on the pig mask’s ear, and it snapped back. “Ow!”

“Boss. It’s gonna be OK.” the grizzled detective didn’t seem to hear his Toon employee and continued to touch his painted face. His hands trembled with a growing dread and bemoaned again. “Oh, no! I’VE BEEN TOON-AROONED!” He screamed and ran like his life depended on it.

“Valiant! Wait!” Tom cried out. He turned back to give the empty tunnel a low growl, then ran to catch up to Eddie before folks report seeing a terrified man wearing a Toon pig mask running around town like a dancing headless chicken.

Twyla

“When are they gonna be back? I’m booooooorrrrred!” Roger whined dramatically.

Twyla sighed, knowing that being locked up in a rotgut room for almost a whole day was starting to get to him. “Sorry, Roger. But we can’t take any risks with the judge and his goons huntin’ our asses.”

As soon as Tom left after breakfast, Twyla created a Toon-drawn bathroom with a shower and sink to freshen up. Instead of getting dolled up in a gangster outfit, she decided to return to her roots and wear her casual gothic biker attire, which consisted of an embroidered sweetheart threaded in black velvet and dark jeans. She laid her beloved jacket on a coat rack she found and sat down next to Roger before resting her face in her palms in exhaustion. Fuck, now she knew how her parents felt hiding from the cops back in their prime.

Tom

“Mr. Valiant?” a sultry voice called to Eddie. “Mr. Valiant?”

The boys quickened in freshening up and put on clothes before leaving the bathroom. Tom walked behind Eddie and saw a red-headed beauty checking her reflection and painting her lips like she was some sort of model.

Tom’s ears lowered, and his dark fur bristled. “What the hell are you doing here?” he snarled menacingly, taking one step forward. “You just sat there the whole time and watched us get our asses tossed and didn’t even bother to help us! What the fuck?!”

Jessica answered but didn’t spare the two a glance. “You got the wrong idea about me, boys. I’m a pawn in this just like Roger. Can you two help me find him?” she applied another layer of lipstick, “Just name your price and I’ll pay it.”

“Yeah. I bet you would,” Eddie said bitterly. He didn’t forget about her either. “You gotta have the rabbit to make the scam work.”

“No, no, no!” Jessica responded, surprising Tom with the little crack in her voice. “I love my husband. You got me all wrong.” She placed her gloves hands on her swaying hips, taking a stroll that would make a siren turn green with envy. “You don’t know how hard it is…looking the way I do.”

“Yeah, well…” Eddie spoke in a trance, like he did the first night he saw her. “You don’t know how hard it is being a man…looking at a woman looking the way you do.”

“I’m not bad,” Jessica looked over her shoulder, “I’m just drawn that way.”

Twyla

Twyla was reviewing the evidence she managed to dig, holding a tablet while drawing a sketch of the photograph on her tablet. She liked to sketch while passing the time and felt like it was important to do so for the photograph.

“Hey, Twyla?” Roger asked.

“Hmm?” Twyla set her supplies down and turned her attention to the Toon rabbit.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask,” he cast his gaze down at the floor, his blue eyes filled with hesitation. He’s got something on his mind.

“…Why do you not talk as much?”

Tom

“You still haven’t answered his question,” Eddie’s frown deepened, joining Tom on his skeptical glare. Dolores was never like this. She never plays mind games on him with her own beauty and charm. She’s more of a diamond in the rough. Tough and gritty, but sweet like caramel beneath her quirky snark. “Why didn’t you stop them?”

“He’s the judge of Toontown, for God’s sake,” Jessica reminded him, her unveiled emerald eye flickered a small flame of anger. “And those weasels will do whatever the hell he says just for their own sick kicks!” she exhaled a quick breath, running down her hands through her waistline to regain her composure.

She then turned her gaze to Tom and alluringly ambled to him. Her icy green eyes thawed just a layer and pursed her full red lips in a small pout. “I’m not a murderer. Please, Mr. Toonz.” How did she even know his name? “You must believe me. We Toons got to stick together.”

Despite her captivating charm, Eddie was not going to let her win Tom over. He got in between the two Toons and lightly pushed the younger investigator away. “Right, like you expect us to buy that shi—”

“You’ve got some fuckin’ nerve.”

Bewildered, Eddie and Jessica turned back to Tom whose face was darkened by the brim of his fedora. For a moment, they couldn’t see his eyes from underneath his hat, but they could see the hateful grimace and his furry fists clenched so tightly, his knuckles turned white. Suddenly, Tom whipped his head back up and the two of them flinched. A dark mass of ink was dripping down the left side of the Toon wolf’s face, and inky raindrops trickled from the tips of his rugged, pointy ears. A resonant, spine-chilling growl rumbled from his chest, but it was his eyes the startled them the most. The white sclera of his orbs faded from white to solid black, and his pie-cut eyes sharpened like two swords forged in fire and dipped in blood. Filled with fiery, ice-cold unrestrained hatred.

“T-Tom?” Eddie stuttered, his body frozen with confused horror.

The gangster didn’t seem to notice his boss and only took an enraged step towards the singer. “YOU’VE GOT SOME FUCKIN’ NERVE! YOU DIDN’T STOP BONGO FROM SLAMMING MY SISTER AGAINST THE WALL HARD ENOUGH TO CRACK HER SKULL IF SHE WAS A HUMAN! YOU DIDN’T STOP THOSE WEASELS FROM POUNCING ON ME AND FORCING A GODDAMN MUZZLE IN MY FACE BEFORE THEIR BOSS STABBED ME! THE TEACHERS DIDN’T STOP THOSE OTHER BASTARD KIDS FROM TAUNTING US ABOUT OUR LIVES AS HYBRIDS, ABOUT THE SHIT WE’VE BEEN THROUGH, ABOUT OUR PARENTS’ DEATHS!!!”

The sound of his raging, beating heart was deafening. Everything hurt so much as a violent flood of memories drowned Tom until he could barely gasp for breath. Screeching, buzzing and drumming memories whizzed around in his head like murder hornets. He ran his claws deep into his scalp, desperately finding some sort of sensation that could bring him back to reality. He forced himself to take deep, albeit shaky breaths while he waited for his ink to dissipate. It had been a long time since his anger or occasional panic attacks got out of control.

It wasn’t until a few minutes later when he regained control of himself, and his stomach churned from everything he’d just said. Fuck, he never meant to open that can of worms in front of two strangers. He looked up to meet the other two’s gazes, only to meet their looks of confusion, shock, and growing trepidation.

“What…what are you talking about?” Eddie asked.

Twyla

A sharp pang of unforgotten sorrow pierced the Toon ravenette’s inky heart, and Twyla’s ears lowered.

Roger knew he must have crossed a line and quickly apologized, “Wait, wait! I’m so sorry! You don’t need to answer, I didn’t mean to upset—”

To his surprise, a tired chuckle cut him off.

“Heh, it’s the first time anyone asked and sounded so sincere.” Roger looked back at the vigilante, raising a confused brow at her unexpected reaction. She rubbed her arms like she was hugging herself, and her enormous tail curled around her chair to rest on her boots. But it was her crescent-fallen, down casted gaze that startled Roger the most, and her orchid-painted eye was dewy with so much sadness.

“…I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble to anyone close to me.” Twyla sighed and began to tell her story. “Our parents died when we were pups.”

Roger cupped his hands over his mouth, blue eyes wide. “What? No!”

Twyla didn’t say anything, only grabbing her lighter and placing a black cigarette between her lips. She lit up the tip and blew a small puff of smoke. “I guess I’d say this tale starts a few years back. Once upon a time, in the city of Chicago, there was a Toon wolf named Tiziano Toonz who lived a life of crime. But he wasn’t like other Toons. He wasn’t even like other horror Toons.” She took a puff, continuing, “Some Toons are brought to life. Others are born through birth. My father…he was created by the leader of a powerful, extremely ruthless mafia through cartoon logic…and magic. Powerful, dark magic.”

“Dark magic?” Roger asked, then his eyes went wide like saucers. “You mean he was a…?”

Tom

“A Toon demon?” Eddie exclaimed. Jessica’s jaw dropped, horrified beyond comprehension and unable to speak due to the shocking truth.

Tom nodded.

“Yep. And I don’t mean it rhetorically, or poetically, or metaphorically, or any other fancy way. He was a real, living Toon demon straight up, created from a spell of infinite darkness and the blood of Lucifer Morningstar himself.”

An intense moment of silence descended upon them. Tom took that as an opportunity to predict what their next reactions, or movements, would be. Which, he predicted, didn’t take very long.

Eddie and Jessica were both equally dumbfounded beyond belief and stricken with a massive wave of horror leagues above description. It was kind of funny, seeing two people, a human and another Toon, dumbstruck and scared shitless at the presence of a Toon made through the darkest forces of creation, or the possibility of said creation ever occurring. Both of them were extremely pale beaded with sweat, and their eyes were wide with an increasingly intense storm of terror and trepidation as they finally began to grasp the reality of not just the twins’ existence, but the realization that if demon Toons exist, so do other monster Toons. In the minds of man, the possibilities are endless.

Tom couldn’t help but smirk at the looks on their faces. It was his father’s favorite thing in the world, the face of someone afraid of imagination—and death—in the eyes of a monster or a Toon. No matter what species they are, everyone makes the same one without fail. Not a lie to be found or a shadow of a doubt, a face that is genuinely honest.

As much as he’d love to stay and revel, he has a story and a case to finish. 

“But that’s not the real issue here. The mafia may have had more control over the city than any other gang had, but they were losing a bloody battle. And even if there wasn’t a crime war, the city was still a living hell for Toons. All kinds of corruption happened like it was a fuckin’ every other day; blackmail, embezzlement, mass extortion, kidnappings…slavery and senseless slaughter. Their boss, Maximus Artino,” he bit his tongue to hold back the bile at the mention of his….grandfather. “Used to be a cartoonist before he turned to crime, and seeing how much he was losing, he got desperate. One night, under the light of the full moon, he created a model sheet of my father’s and brought it to a machine he personally built and brought several ingredients he needed for the spell. His spell worked…”

Tom’s lips curled into a sinister grin. “But at a terrible price.”

“As soon as Tiziano was created, he caused one hell of a massacre. He killed everyone that night. The guilty, the innocent, it didn’t matter. He drowned them with his ink, tore their corpses to shreds, hell, he even ripped their heads off all at once.” He sighed, smiling smugly like an old soul fondly reminiscing about a happy memory. “I’ll never forget how many times he told us that story before bed.”

Twyla

“But even though he killed all of them, Artino managed to immobilize him.” Twyla’s grin dropped, “And instead of putting him down, he used our father as a superweapon to win the war and kill the other mafia. Soon after that, he grew his empire back and continued his operations with Dad’s uncooperative help.”

“I remember hearing his screams every time he had a night terror. The things Artino did to him, the unimaginable pain and suffering he put him through while he was chained, beaten, and tortured.” Her voice darkened, laced with black wrath. “He was forced to take on missions, mostly assassinations and other executions. His imprisonment lasted for thirty years until…”

“Until what?” Roger asked, speechless.

Another smile, but much warmer, etched on her face. “Until he met Mom.”

Tom

“Her name…was Vesper. A woman you do not want to fuck with. She sang in one of the biggest nightclubs in Chicago since the Ritz, but she wasn’t a ditz who puts up with someone else’s bullshit. Not even the customers.” A snicker managed to crack Tom’s morbid mood, “Shit, I’ll never forget this one time when a guy had too much to drink and tried to sneak his hand up another lady’s skirt. Mom saw the whole thing, marched over, and crunched his hand so hard his bones turned to dust! Ha-ha, and then she stomped on his crotch hard enough to break his pelvis and she yelled, ‘SUCK ON THAT, DICK!’”

That managed to make Eddie laugh, despite his initial shock of his employees’…secret. “She sounds like one hell of a dame.” He chuckled.

“Yeah, and I can easily break your skull too if you’re not careful.” Tom playfully jabbed his boss’s chest, but the message was crystal clear.

His face became a grimace, “But like Dad, she was locked in a cage too.”

Twyla

“Not only was the nightclub she worked at very popular, but it also brought in the wrong crowd to do ‘business’ with the manager.” The Toonz sister flexed her two fingers with emphasis on “business”, her stomach clutching with repulsion. “And because she was a Toon drawn to sing in his nightclub, the manager often at times ‘advertised’ her to other human men as a treat if you catch my drift.”

“Disgusting!” Roger exclaimed, his furry face scrunching with complete horror and disgust. He couldn’t imagine how awful her life was before she met their father!

“I know, I know.” Twyla sighed with a nod. “Bein’ treated like a sex object is definitely not something women should go through while pursing that kind of career, whether they’re human or not.”

Her disposition changed again, trading her snarls for a smile that eventually turned into a dry, wicked chuckle. “But don’t worry. Here comes my favorite part.”

She smoked, “They met one night at Le Nocturne, and they just like, Zinged!”

“Zinged?” Roger tilted his head confusedly.

“They fell in love.”

Roger’s blue eyes changed into hearts, and his ears curled over to form a great, big heart which made Twyla chuckle again. “It was love at first sight. Or should I say, at first fright.”

“Like Snow White and the Prince! Anthony and Cleopatra!” Roger sighed dramatically, trailing off. He clasped his hands together, “Romeo and Juliet!”

“Oh no, no, no, no.” Twyla shook her head, amused. “Not like those two. The love Mom and Dad had for each other was unlike anything you’ve ever seen.” She smiled wistfully, “A love, one born of pure light, shining in the darkness of the universe brighter than a whole galaxy of stars kissing the night sky as they painted their world black and red. Like a beautiful nightmare emerging from a dream’s shadow, and a beautiful dream born from the womb of a nightmare. Their love isn’t something many could comprehend. A love, born through darkest desires and twisted temptations warped by the chains of despair and madness, that’s the kind of love they’ve had for each other.”

She carried on, “But you see, Roger, Mom wasn’t just a prisoned singer. She was also…” she smiled proudly, “a witch.”

Roger’s eyes widened, bewildered. “You…you mean, a real witch?”

“Mm-hmm. While Artino thought he could create a Toon made through the Devil to do his bidding, Mom’s creator, Cassius Lemaitre, thought he could create a horror Toon associated with darkness, temptation and desire, just so his “nightclub” could become popular and he’d gain wealth beyond human imagination.” She scoffed, rolling her eyes, “Tch. Stupid greedy bastard.”

“Anyway, during her imprisonment, Mom started to learn and create spells using grimoires, spellbooks and even her own model sheet Lemaitre thought he could hide from her, knowing that one day she will break her chains and escape that hellhole. But despite her best efforts, Lemaitre was infuriatingly smarter than he’d let on and it got to a point where she had to play pretend and act like she didn’t know who, and what, she really was. And so, she played that game until that night at Le Nocturne and…”

She cast her gaze down, her tale slowly trailing.

“And what?” Roger asked after a moment, minding himself of Twyla’s pace.

The ravenette finally answered. “And the Hellfire Bellum of Testaments. When Mom and Dad began meeting in secret, they found a way to defeat their tormentors and end theirs and other Toons’ suffering. Eventually, they came up with a plan, but Artino and Lemaitre found out, and there was a massive, bloody war between the creators’ allegiance and our parents. Metal and ink tore through flesh, leaving a trail of bodies until the Second City was stained blood-red. The war was endless, until the final night of battle at St. Patrick’s when Mom and Dad lured them into a trap. And they took their sweet time repaying those fuckers for everything they had done to them, let me assure you.”

Her lips stretched in a wide, demonic grin, “Their blood spilt like they spilt my parents’. Their screams were like a wonderful symphony of death, chaos, and divine vengeance. Mom and Dad even broadcasted the whole ordeal like their own little cartoon, to show Chicago that a new era had begun. A bright future for themselves, for each other, and their people. And to show humans that their love and power must never be challenged.”           

Tom

“So they fell in love, got hitched, and had a red wedding. It’s amazing what you can do with your creators’ blood if you’re out of paint.” Tom chuckled, finishing his parents’ tale. He spotted Eddie and Jessica who both gave him an uneasy look.

“What? You gotta appreciate the work of art in horror industry!” Tom shrugged his shoulders, defending his parents’ behalf.

“If your folks worked in a horror cartoon studio, this story would be ten-fucking-times less creepy.” Eddie grumbled, his gut clutched with the remnants of distress.

“No sense of humor?” Jessica arched a brow, though she wasn’t not freaked out by the gory details of the twins’ parents’…love story.

They waited for Tom to continue. “So after the war and their creators’ “disappearances”, they took over and became the King and Queen of Chicago. What was once a purgatory had become a safe haven for Toons and their families living in the city, our city. A prosperous kingdom far greater than any other crime boss, even Capone himself. In one night, Hell became Heaven.”

Kinda ironic, hearing that the Devil of Toonkind was a hero, Eddie thought. But for once, he made no comment.

Twyla

“When they discovered they were pregnant, our parents were over the moon. They didn’t think it was possible to birth kids, not that they didn’t try.” She left out the part about interspecies couples struggling to create a child, because of how horrendously biased her science teachers were when she first learned about born-Toon biology. Not only were the other kids cruel to her because she was a hybrid, but the adults made their disgust towards Toons like her and her brother very clear. And some of those adults weren’t humans, they were Toons too. She could remember their words stinging like a thousand bees, calling her names like “ugly ill-bred freak”, “abomination”, and “monster” behind her back.

“Twyla?”

The ravenette wolf was brought back to reality, and she turned to catch Roger’s concerned look. “Oh, right!” she forced herself to smile, but her lips ached from how heavy her smile was. “Now, where was I?”

Tom

“For a moment, everything was perfect.” Tom’s wistful smile darkened to a grimace. “And then that moment ended.”

The air was now thick with tension. Eddie and Jessica could see a chink in the Toon demon’s armor, and a small drip of ink returned. But this time, it was not from anger. He crossed his arms, pressing his claws on his sleeved arms hard enough like he was pushing the pain out of his core while he kept his head down. His face was set, but a tiny wobble shook his lip. The two knew better than to press forward, despite the uncomfortable silence.

After a long moment, Tom finally gathered enough strength to drop the bomb.

“They were murdered.”

Twyla

���What?!” Roger kept his voice soft for Twyla’s sake, but there was no mistake hearing the wave of unimaginable horror. “What happened?”

“At first, we thought it was a fire that killed them.” Twyla admitted; it is true that the twins and everyone else thought that natural fire that potentially burn Toons to death. And, to her understanding, natural fire was the only other element that could cause hazardous harms to Toons besides Dip-injected man-made weapons, and of course, the Dip itself. But Toon deaths caused by fire rarely occurred…unless the fire was infused with that very same, toxic green liquid comprised of Toon-killing elements. “But that’s the main reason why I took chemistry and forensics. I learned that fire can be lethal to Toons if properly mixed with Dip and chemicals used to create fire. The same thing applies to explosive compounds, grenades and even a holy nail if you’re aiming from a safe distance.”

Roger’s heart dropped to his stomach, and so did his ears. “So, i-it was arson? A holy nail? Is…is that how they…?”

He couldn’t bring himself to finish.

Twyla responded with a grim nod, swallowing the angry sorrowful wobble down her throat. “The Holy Nail of Helena killed my parents. And to add salt to our wounds, the castle was hosed with holy water and gas bombs full of bloodroot, a cherubic kind of root that is so potent, it can put even the strongest of demons into a coma. The bastard used enough bloodroot to ensure our family’s entourage of top soldiers wouldn’t survive.”

The Twisted Toon demoness shut her eyes tightly, shoving those memories, those painful nightmares, out of her mind with such brute force. And yet, it was too much. Remembering was too much.

The first gas bomb broke the window, sending the first wave of panic in her little heart. The rising cacophony of screams ringing her ears like blaring alarm bells as her father roared orders, it hurt so much. So much fear and chaos. Her mother got the twins to safety out of the window, and the last thing she ever said to them was, “I love you.”  

“Twyla…” Roger whispered, horrified. He couldn’t believe the twins who graciously promised to help him, lost their parents to such a horrific tragedy. “I am so sorry.”

“Thank you for your condolences,” the hybrid Toon demoness thanked him, “But that’s not all what happened.”

She took a long inhale of her cigarette, breathing in as much calm as the tobacco and nicotine can offer for the next part of her story. Smoke escaped her lips, “We…we had an older brother. His name was Darry.”

Tom

“Darry?” Eddie arched a brow, sharing a glance with Jessica. “Who the hell is Darry?”

“A dipshit who was related to us by blood,” Tom’s grimace deepened, his ears lowering from the memory of that bastard. “And…our former guardian.”

“So,” Jessica asked, wary caution in her tone, “It was just the three of you.”

“Unfortunately.” Tom caught an increased look of alarm in their eyes, and he sighed. “Twyla and I may be demons, but he was a monster.”

Twyla

“By the time the fire happened, Darry was already settling on his own and had dreams going to college. I guess I don’t need to tell you what happened after that.”

It took a moment, but when Roger put the pieces together, he nodded solemnly. “He had to give it up to take care of you and Tom.”

“Mm-hm.” Twyla hummed, her heart heavy with a pang of guilt for the trouble she caused him, despite everything that happened. She can still remember watching him brood in the kitchen, the table scattered with bills to pay and holding onto his beloved college flyers as a somber reminder of his crushed dreams. Crushed by her. “Things were fine living with him at first. We lived in a rough part of town, so he had to teach us how to be smart whenever we’re outside and he wasn’t there to protect us.”

“Why wouldn’t he be there with you?” Roger asked, a frown grimacing his usual cheerful face. The eldest brother’s absence didn’t sit well with him.

“He worked a full-time job, and sometimes he’d have to take double shifts. It’s not his fault Chatham’s got some of the worst economies in Chicago.” The Toonz sister responded, shrugging. “And since our shitshow of a school refused to send a bus for us, we had to maneuver our way back home without gettin’ jumped.”

“What?” Roger’s blue eyes flared, “They can’t do that! That’s illegal!”

“Illegal, but not uncommon.” Twyla sighed bitterly, before continuing, “But despite all of that, Darry stuck around to take care of us. I mean, why wouldn’t he? We were all he had left…and he was all we had left.” She trailed off, feeling a great apprehension clutching her chest and anxiety striking her nerves.

Roger sensed the girl’s hesitation and chose wisely to wait until she was ready.

“But…a few years later, he changed.” Taking a deep inhale of tobacco, she breathed out. “My mom’s been around long enough to see what men become when they drink. She said, ‘They think they’re made of stone until they ask for a drink. Give him a shot, and he’ll crumble faster than fragile glass’. I’ve come to learn folks only become one of two things when they’re drunk. Vulnerable prey, or angry beasts. And Darry…”

Tears pricked her eyes. Her voice cracked. “He…”

Roger’s ears lowered further, but his eyes widened in concern. “Twyla?”

The princess didn’t make eye contact with him. Her throat was burning with red-hot pain, and her eyes stung with tears she hid with her hand while an armor-piercing bullet shot her heart. She would never forget the things he said to her, the awful, horrible things he said to her. Even though they were true.

It should have been you. IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN YOU!!!!  

“I…I only wanted to help him.” Twyla finally spoke, her voice broken with grief. “But that only made him worse.”

Tom

“Darry went downhill fast after that.” The gunslinger crossed his arms. “He started drinking.”

While he was telling his story, the two could only stand there and listen without saying a single word. Unbeknownst to the demon Toon, Eddie was grimly tearing his own ass a new one. He helped a couple of Toons get out of bad situations when their creator or someone they lived with started to get nasty whenever they’d got drunk. He himself was drinking around two Toons, two scared kids, and never once picked up the signs. What the hell was he thinking?

Next to him, Jessica watched Tom with a stoic, grim look. She’s seen it happen to a lot of women. She doesn’t even need to ask him what happened to his brother. She knows exactly what it was like to live with a man consumed by anger and alcohol.

It turns them into beasts.

They have both been very kind to not pressure him, and after a few minutes, the Twisted prince caught up with his story. His face suddenly skewered with rage, and a monstrous growl escaped his throat. Behind him, the walls and floorboards were cast by dark shadows of ink. Eddie’s eyes went wide, immediately recognizing them as the same shadows Twyla’s wrath manifested last night back at Toon Patrol Headquarters. Jessica, on the other hand, was startled by the unsettling sight.

Before she could speak, Tom snarled. “And then that bastard started to take it all out on her. He blamed her for all his grievances, sayin’ shit like it was her fault he couldn’t make it to college, or that it was her fault his apartment turned into a shitshow when he spent all his money on the booze and didn’t pay the goddamn bills. But Twyla, bless her soul, still went out of her way to help him. Or make the burden hurt less, fuckin’ bullshit. She did most of the chores, and even started cookin’ on the stove when she was eight. Eight!”

“But no matter how hard she tried, it was like living with her was such a fuckin’ hassle to him. And he made it his sole mission to make her hurt and suffer for all his pain, not her own.” Fury boiled his ink blood like a hot, angry volcano and he clenched his fists so tightly, his claws pierced the skin of his furry palms hard enough to draw blood. “He said that she deserved the shit she put up with at school, deserved to be kicked around and treated like a fuckin’ joke.”

“But,” Jessica couldn’t help herself any longer, “If things were so bad, why didn’t anyone help you?”

“Because they’re hybrids,” Eddie responded before Tom could, and his voice was low and gruff with cold venom. “That's the thing, ain't it?"

“We tried to get help.” Tom responded, summoning the two back to him. “We tried everything we could. The teachers, the principal, we even called the cops.”

“Keep in mind the cops were the last resort, all right? Despite our parents’ intentions, they led a mafia, and both of them were killers. But we were so frightened, we thought they could help us. I mean, their job is to keep people safe, for God’s sake! Or so we thought.”

“They didn’t listen to you, did they?” his boss asked grimly.

“More like threatened to arrest us if we wasted their time again.” Tom sighed, nodding at the appalled indignance the two responded with. “I know, I know. It’s bad enough they pull this kind of shit to Toons, but hybrid Toons...” He clenched his teeth, “I don’t need to tell you how that went.”

“Oh, that is bullshi—”

Twyla

“Then one night, it got so bad we had to leave.” Twyla said, taking a sip of her glass of water. Her cigarette finally snubbed, and she tried to grab another. But Roger, who had had enough of smelling the smoke, grabbed her small pack and YEETED it out of the window far enough for her not to retrieve. Then he insisted that she’s done smoking and drank her sorrows down with water instead. Twyla tried to protest, only to quickly learn that a serious Roger Rabbit is a scary Roger Rabbit.

Yeah, nope. She ain’t fucking with that. Nuh-uh!

“We were only about thirteen when he came home. It was late past 9:00 when we should’ve already been in bed with the door locked. Tom and I were having a little argument about who’s going to be cooking meals from now on. I told him that I was more than capable of handling the stove, and I’ve done it for five years when Darry slammed the door open. God, he was a huge mess. I smelled whiskey on his breath and saw a look of fury in his eyes. He found out we called the cops on him.”

She continued, noticing the alarmed worry on Roger’s face. “As soon as he saw me, he went off. Nothin’ like his usual outbursts or his weeknight benders. He was royally pissed.”

Royally pissed was an understatement.

You ungrateful, selfish bitch. I took you in. I gave you food and shelter when no one else was gonna save your stupid, sorry ass. You would be dead on the streets if it weren’t for me. I GAVE YOU EVERYTHING, AND THIS IS THE THANKS I GET?!?!

“Tom tried to protect me, like he always does, but Darry grabbed him by the scruff and tossed him out of the kitchen. I was so scared I couldn’t even move. And then, he…” she whimpered, finally letting a few tears roll down her face.

Roger straightened his posture, shocked by how fast she was crumbling. Before he could utter a word, Twyla finally broke down. “It’s all my fault.” she sobbed. It hurt so much. Talking, crying, all of it. Her chest was heavy with the weight of sorrow she tried so hard to bury, her heart was tearing apart with grief and anguish. Her lungs burned painfully, and she couldn’t breathe from all the agony. “I should’ve done more. I should’ve kept them safe. I…”

Fighting his own tears, Roger shook off the horror he was hearing. “Oh, Twyla. Come here.” He carefully stood up from the bed and stretched his arms towards Twyla, spreading them wide open. As she’s rising from her chair however, he seemed to change his mind and decided that Twyla deserves—for once in her life—to have someone else willingly give her affection besides her brother and the others, rather than offer it. “Actually, wait. Stay there, and I’ll come to you. OK?”

Twyla’s amethyst pie-cut eyes grew tenfold in size as Roger dusted his overalls and walked towards her. As soon as she was within his range, he swept her in his gentle, soft arms and held her close to his chest in a comforting manner. If Twyla’s eyes weren’t already wide before, they sure are now.

“It wasn’t your fault, OK? Tom’s not guilty, either.” The rabbit whispered, “You did nothing to deserve it. What happened was not your fault.”

Somewhere deep in her heart, there���s this part of Twisted Twyla Toonz that she keeps under lock and key behind impossibly tall walls of ice. Roger’s kind words—his unconditional kindness—seemed to have helped him burn through Twyla’s walls and reached the very center of her dark, twisted core where the same, scared little girl hid. The more he spoke, the more ice melted…and then she shattered.

A watery sob rippled through her throat as she shut her eyes tightly. Her little nose stung and twitched as she struggled to hold back the tears that continued to build up like a dam. She tried so hard not to cry, but the years of pain, betrayal, and anguish now rushed up to the surface. Her throat tightened and clenched as another sob wracked her entire body, causing her lungs to constrict and spasm in her chest and make her feel like she was drowning.

“It’s gonna be OK, sweetie.” Roger whispered, gently running his gloved fingers through her hair, and holding her close like he was protecting her from all the monsters who hurt her. It’s been so long since an adult provided her comfort. “It’s over. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

The room was silent, save for her soft sobs.

Tom

“What happened after that?”

Tom’s breathing was shaky, heavy from grief or from rage. “He found out we got the cops involved, and he went on another bender. But it was worse than the others. As soon as he came back, shit hit the fan. He started screamin’ his ass off at Twyla, and called her an ‘ungrateful, selfish bitch’. He even said she killed our parents.”

“Excuse me?” Jessica’s eyes burned with fury, clenching her pearly white teeth.

“He fuckin’ said what?” Eddie growled, his voice scorned with rage. His dark eyes flashed like lightning and his teeth bared into a snarl while he was clenching his fists. An angry shudder rolled through his stocky body, and if he were a Toon, steam would be blowing out of his ears.

“It didn’t help that I was runnin’ my mouth, so he literally tossed my ass. I wasn’t havin’ any more of that shit, so I grabbed a lamp and smashed his head, knocking him out cold. After that, we immediately ran to our room and locked the door so we can grab whatever we needed and ditched him for good. We spent the last five years stayin’ with two Monster Toons we call family now, but I knew we couldn’t keep on hiding in the shadows, pickin’ up scraps in the city. So we decided to leave.” Tom revealed his plans, “We needed the money and we had to wait until we turned 18 and graduated, so I came up with a little gig that could get us quick cash.”

“Vigilantism,” Eddie said.

Tom nodded. “Most of our targets were the same bastards who tormented us, so the job was a lot more enjoyable.” He chuckled, “I see why you took the job, too.”

“Yeah. It’s slapstick comedy,” the grizzled detective chuckled, ignoring the icy glare Jessica gave him. If looks could kill, he would be buried six feet under.

“The day finally came, and we got emancipated not too long after that.” Tom’s grimace returned, “But…I made a mistake.”

“What happened?” Jessica asked.

A deep-seeded guilt spurned its roots in Tom’s core. “I…I thought it would be a good idea to go back and grab some more things.”

“What?!”

“Tom!”

“I know, I know,” Tom held his hands up, nodding understandably. “I had no idea what I was thinking. We needed some extra money, and I thought stealing from Darry was the best solution. I cased his apartment and figured out what days he leaves and what time he comes back. But…”

Eddie can already tell where this was going but made no comment.

“Things didn’t go as planned.”

Twyla

“You went back?! Are you crazy?!” Roger exclaimed, gobsmacked with newfound fear.

“Tom was gonna go with or without me, and I didn’t want him to be alone.” Twyla defended her brother. “So I snuck in the bedroom window while he took the other route. I packed up whatever I could find and tried to find Tom. But…Darry found me instead.”

“Oh God, no.” The redheaded Toon rabbit buried his face in his hands, dismayed. He didn’t know how much more he could take of this. But he had to know.

“What…what happened next?”

Twyla’s eyes darted to the left, and Roger could instantly tell there was something she was hiding. Some horrible. And something deep, deep in his gut told him he was not going to like it.

“Well, he…” the young she-wolf chuckled nervously. “Heh, he tried to…. kill me.”

The glass Roger was holding for her slipped out of his grasp, and it shattered. “He…what?”

“Yep. He finally lost it and tried to put me down,” Twyla’s nervous grin dropped when she saw a dangerous flash gleam in his kind, benevolent blue eyes. Uh-oh.

“B-but he didn’t actually kill me!” she waved her hands, shaking her head. “Right? I’m still here, I’m OK, and I’m here to help you. You don’t need to worry about—”

“What did he do?” Roger’s voice was completely devoid of that cute, Southern lisp she once knew. His voice was cold like ice, and each word he spoke was frigid and frosty. It was so cold, Twyla couldn’t help but shiver at how frozen the atmosphere suddenly became. What was most startling was his eyes. His bright, sky-blue eyes turned to a dark, stormy blue and a layer of icy stone hardened his orbs. She had never seen him so angry before since he found out about Jessica, and it frightened her.

“Roger, please stay calm.” She tried.

“What. Did. He. Do?” the rabbit hissed.

“Fuck. He, um….” Twyla gulped, “He strangled me, tried to shoot me with a holy Dip-barreled gun.”

Roger took slow, deep breaths. His expression was calm, if not stoic, but Twyla recoiled seeing the fire flicker in his icy eyes and saw his snow-white fur bristle slightly. He clasped his gloved hands tightly, and she could see his knuckles turn white. After a long, intense moment of unnerving silence, the Toon rabbit spoke in an eerily calm tone. “Please, finish your story.”

He didn’t even have the lisp. Fuck, he’s pissed! The Toon demoness’s pupils shrank and stuttered with a nervous nod. “Uh, s-sure.”

Tom

“I accidentally took a wrong turn and had to choose a different route to get to his bedroom. But when I got there, I heard him screamin’. I ran to the hallway and found him pinnin’ my sister to the ground in a chokehold while he pointed a gun at her face.”

“He tried to kill Twyla?!” both Eddie and Jessica exclaimed in unison, overdone by horrified shock and rage. The young gangster recoiled from the sharp volume of their reactions and the fiery anger in their eyes. He can only imagine how Adam and Echo are going to take this news when the twins find a way to contact them. Tom panicked pretty much on the spot when the two began to let out a cacophony of angry curses and snarls, and frantically flapped his hands to get their attention so they don’t alert the neighbors and call the cops. Or worse, Doom and his goons.

“Guys! Chill the fuck out! We’re bein’ chased by weasels, for Christ’s sake!” Tom hissed, ready to clasp his hands over their mouths if he needed to. Thankfully, the two managed to calm themselves and Tom let out a sigh of relief. Jesus!

“Please tell me you whooped that fucker’s ass,” Jessica exhaled, running a gloved hand through her crimson hair.

“Oh, I did more than that.” he grinned again, but there was a dark mirth in his smile. An aura of apprehension surrounded the detective and the singer, but he didn’t care. “He tried to kill me too, but Twyla pounced on him, and she slashed his throat. I looked him in the eye while he laid there in a puddle of his blood…and I killed him.”

He didn’t wait for whatever they had to say about that and went on. “And I don’t regret it. He betrayed us. He betrayed her. He left us to rot and threw us away like we were nothing! And then he tried to kill her because Mom and Dad DIED trying to protect their kids! To protect us! Funny how family don’t mean shit without love and loyalty, huh?”

The office was silent for a moment, then Tom’s ear picked up the sound of walking heels coming from outside. “I think that’s Dolores. I’ll be right back.”

He left the office and quickly walked down the stairs while straightening his collar and jacket. Fuck, that was an emotional shitstorm. He found Dolores just as she entered the building.

“Tom? Are you all right? Did you find Eddie?” the lady asked, her voice had a little panic. “Your sister told me you were going to look for him, and I just stopped by probate.”

“Yeah, he’s all right. He’s in the office right now.” Tom assured her.

Dolores nodded, then walked past him and ascended upon the stairs. The Toon’s eyes widened from the reminder that Jessica was still there, and he darted after the bartender. “Wait, hold on!” he called out, but she ignored him.

He trailed behind her down the hallway before she suddenly halted at Eddie’s door. Tom caught up…and saw Jessica’s hands on Eddie’s shoulders…..while his pants were down to his ankles.

Ohhhhhhhh shit.    

“Dabbing in watercolors, Eddie?” Dolores asked. Her tone was neutral, but her arms crossed so tightly Tom could see the veins pop beneath her creamy skin.

Eddie looked down and picked up what she was assuming. He hastily pulled them up but accidentally bumped into Jessica’s cleavage. “Sorry.” He apologized, giving Dolores a nervous chuckle.

The femme fatale paid no mind and saw herself out. Before she left, she looked over her shoulder. “Goodbye, boys. My offer stands firm. Think about it.” she said and blew a kiss for Eddie and one for Tom. The kisses fluttered like butterflies and each one landed on one of their cheeks with a SMACK.

Dolores watched her stroll her way out of the office, and once she left, the bartender whipped her head back to Eddie. “Well!” she exclaimed, storming over towards the man who Tom figured out had to be her old flame and ripped the kiss off his cheek. “Do you want to tell me what she was doing with her arms around you?!”

“Probably looking for a god place to stick a knife,” Eddie replied sarcastically.

“Come on, Eddie! I caught you with your pants down!” Dolores snapped. She whirled around and stormed off without hearing him.

[cornistasiathecoblinking]

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OCTOBER 9TH (TODAY!!!) IS THE LAST DAY THAT YOU CAN REGISTER TO VOTE IN MISSOURI FOR THE NOVEMBER 2024 ELECTION

Click here ^ to register! It's easy!

Once you're registered you can check your polling location (the place you go to vote), learn about absentee voting, the election machines, acceptable forms of ID for voting, and when polls are open on this page. After you register, I highly recommend checking in with the local county clerk's office to ensure your registration was filed properly (this can take up to 10 days, iirc) once a week or so until they confirm it.

Once you're registered you can check your polling location (the place you go to vote), learn about absentee voting, the election machines, acceptable forms of ID for voting, and when polls are open.

PLEASE CHECK BELOW ABOUT WHAT WILL BE ON THE MISSOURI BALLOT!

Ballot Measures and Issues are as follows: PLEASE READ CAREFULLY!

-Amendment 2 (Amend Missouri Constitution to: allow Missouri Gaming Commission to regulate sports wagering online) (the "sports betting" amendment)

Do you want to amend the Missouri Constitution to: State governmental entities estimate onetime costs of $660,000, ongoing annual costs of at least $5.2 million, and initial license fee revenue of $11.75 million. Because the proposal allows for deductions against sports gaming revenues, they estimate unknown tax revenue ranging from $0 to $28.9 million annually. Local governments estimate unknown revenue.

 Fair Ballot Language: 

A “yes” vote will amend the Missouri Constitution to permit licensed sports wagering regulated by the Missouri Gaming Commission and restrict sports betting to individuals physically located in the state and over the age of 21.  The amendment includes a 10% wagering tax on revenues received to be appropriated for educational institutions in Missouri. A “no” vote will not amend the Missouri Constitution regarding licensed regulated sports wagering. If passed, this measure will have no impact on taxes.

READ MOR ON AMENDMENT 2 HERE

-Amendment 3 (the "abortion amendment", removes Missouri's ban on abortion as well "require the government not to discriminate, in government programs, funding and other activities, against persons providing or obtaining reproductive health care"-full text that will be on the ballot can be found on this page under Amendment 3.

Do you want to amend the Missouri Constitution to: State governmental entities estimate no costs or savings, but unknown impact. Local governmental entities estimate costs of at least $51,000 annually in reduced tax revenues. Opponents estimate a potentially significant loss to state revenue.

 Fair Ballot Language: 

A “yes” vote establishes a constitutional right to make decisions about reproductive health care, including abortion and contraceptives, with any governmental interference of that right presumed invalid; removes Missouri's ban on abortion; allows regulation of reproductive health care to improve or maintain the health of the patient; requires the government not to discriminate, in government programs, funding, and other activities, against persons providing or obtaining reproductive health care; and allows abortion to be restricted or banned after Fetal Viability except to protect the life or health of the woman. A “no” vote will continue the statutory prohibition of abortion in Missouri. If passed, this measure may reduce local taxes while the impact to state taxes is unknown. --DO NOT LET THIS SCARE YOU! A YES ON 3 GIVES REPRODUCTIVE FREEDOM BACK TO THE MISSOURI PEOPLE! PLEASE PROTECT WOMAN'S RIGHT TO CHOOSE! PLEASE PROTECT THEIR HEALTH AND SAFETY!

READ MORE ON AMENDMENT 3 HERE

-Amendment 5 (allows the addition of exactly one more gambling boat license on a specific portion of the Osage River)

Do you want to amend the Missouri Constitution to: State governmental entities estimate one-time costs of $763,000, ongoing costs of $2.2 million annually, initial fee revenue of $271,000, ongoing admission and other fee revenue of $2.1 million annually, and annual gaming tax revenue of $14.3 million. Local governments estimate unknown revenue.

 Fair Ballot Language: 

A “yes” vote will amend the Missouri Constitution to allow the Missouri Gaming Commission to issue an additional gambling boat license to operate an excursion gambling boat on the Osage River, between the Missouri River and the Bagnell Dam. All state revenue derived from the issuance of the gambling boat license shall be appropriated to early-childhood literacy programs in public institutions of elementary education. A “no” vote will not amend the Missouri Constitution regarding gambling boat licensure. If passed, this measure will have no impact on taxes. -- THOUGH I WONDER IF THERE IS ANYTHING IN WRITING THAT GUARANTEES THAT MONEY WILL GO TO THE SCHOOLS?

READ MORE ON AMENDMENT 5 HERE

-Amendment 6 ("Shall the Missouri Constitution be amended to provide that the administration of justice shall include the levying of costs and fees to support salaries and benefits for certain current and former law enforcement personnel? State and local governmental entities estimate an unknown fiscal impact."

Shall the Missouri Constitution be amended to provide that the administration of justice shall include the levying of costs and fees to support salaries and benefits for certain current and former law enforcement personnel? State and local governmental entities estimate an unknown fiscal impact.

 Fair Ballot Language: 

A “yes” vote will amend the Missouri Constitution to levy costs and fees to support salaries and benefits for current and former sheriffs, prosecuting attorneys, and circuit attorneys to ensure all Missourians have access to the courts of justice. A “no” vote will not amend the Missouri Constitution to levy costs and fees related to current or former sheriffs, prosecuting attorneys and circuit attorneys. If passed, this measure will have no impact on taxes.

READ MORE ON AMENDMENT 6 HERE

-Amendment 7 (the "ranked choice voting" amendment; "make the Constitution consistent with state law by allowing only citizens of the US to vote, prohibit ranking of candidates by limiting voters to a single vote per candidate or issue, and require the plurality winner of a political party primary to be the single candidate at the general election")

Shall the Missouri Constitution be amended to: State and local governmental entities estimate no costs or savings.

 Fair Ballot Language: 

A “yes” vote will amend the Missouri Constitution to specify that only United States citizens are entitled to vote, voters shall only have a single vote for each candidate or issue, restrict any type of ranking of candidates for a particular office and require the person receiving the greatest number of votes at the primary election as a party candidate for an office shall be the only candidate for that party at the general election, and require the person receiving the greatest number of votes for each office at the general election shall be declared the winner.  This provision does not apply to any nonpartisan municipal election held in a city that had an ordinance in effect as of November 5, 2024, that requires a preliminary election at which more than one candidate advances to a subsequent election. A “no” vote will not amend the Missouri Constitution to make any changes to how voters vote in primary and general elections. If passed, this measure will have no impact on taxes.

READ MORE ON AMENDMENT 7 HERE. THERE IS SOMETHING VERY STRANGE ABOUT THE WORDING!

-Proposition A (minimum wage increase to $15/hr, by incremental yearly increases until 2026 where it will reach $15/hr) (edited)

Do you want to amend Missouri law to: State governmental entities estimate one-time costs ranging from $0 to $53,000, and ongoing costs ranging from $0 to at least $256,000 per year by 2027. State and local government tax revenue could change by an unknown annual amount depending on business decisions.

 Fair Ballot Language: 

A “yes” vote will amend Missouri statutes to increase the state minimum wage beginning January 1, 2025 to $13.75 per hour and increase the hourly rate $1.25, to $15.00 per hour beginning January 2026. Annually the minimum wage will be adjusted based on the Consumer Price Index.  The law will require employers with fifteen or more employees to provide one hour of paid sick leave for every thirty hours worked. The amendment will exempt governmental entities, political subdivisions, school districts and education institutions from the minimum wage increase. A “no” vote will not amend Missouri law to make changes to the state minimum wage law. If passed, this measure will have no impact on taxes.

READ MORE ON PROP A HERE

Practice makes perfect! Click here to view the Sample Ballot so you know what you're looking at on November 5th!

I know it seems like this is a LOT of information (and it is! I'm tired of looking at it!!) but it's *designed* to be a lot of information to scare regular folks like you and me from voting in our best interests!

THIS ELECTION IS NOT ONE TO SLEEP ON! WE NEED EVERY VOTE, EVERY VOICE TO ENSURE THE PROTECTION OF OUR FREEDOMS! PLEASE VOTE NOT JUST FOR YOURSELF, BUT FOR YOUR FRIENDS, YOUR FAMILY, YOUR COMMUNITY AND YOUR FUTURE!

WHEN AMERICA COUGHS THE WHOLE WORLD WILL CATCH A COLD!

VOTE BLUE! VOTE DEMOCRATS!

Worried about remembering everything? Take an index card and write down all the measures you're voting for! Keep it in your pocket and use it to help you remember when you're at the polls!

Worried about your conservative family finding out? That's the neat thing! They don't have to know! You don't have to tell them! It's private!

[reasonsforhope]

Determined to use her skills to fight inequality, South African computer scientist Raesetje Sefala set to work to build algorithms flagging poverty hotspots - developing datasets she hopes will help target aid, new housing, or clinics.

From crop analysis to medical diagnostics, artificial intelligence (AI) is already used in essential tasks worldwide, but Sefala and a growing number of fellow African developers are pioneering it to tackle their continent's particular challenges.

Local knowledge is vital for designing AI-driven solutions that work, Sefala said.

"If you don't have people with diverse experiences doing the research, it's easy to interpret the data in ways that will marginalise others," the 26-year old said from her home in Johannesburg.

Africa is the world's youngest and fastest-growing continent, and tech experts say young, home-grown AI developers have a vital role to play in designing applications to address local problems.

"For Africa to get out of poverty, it will take innovation and this can be revolutionary, because it's Africans doing things for Africa on their own," said Cina Lawson, Togo's minister of digital economy and transformation.

"We need to use cutting-edge solutions to our problems, because you don't solve problems in 2022 using methods of 20 years ago," Lawson told the Thomson Reuters Foundation in a video interview from the West African country.

Digital rights groups warn about AI's use in surveillance and the risk of discrimination, but Sefala said it can also be used to "serve the people behind the data points". ...

'Delivering Health'

As COVID-19 spread around the world in early 2020, government officials in Togo realized urgent action was needed to support informal workers who account for about 80% of the country's workforce, Lawson said.

"If you decide that everybody stays home, it means that this particular person isn't going to eat that day, it's as simple as that," she said.

In 10 days, the government built a mobile payment platform - called Novissi - to distribute cash to the vulnerable.

The government paired up with Innovations for Poverty Action (IPA) think tank and the University of California, Berkeley, to build a poverty map of Togo using satellite imagery.

Using algorithms with the support of GiveDirectly, a nonprofit that uses AI to distribute cash transfers, the recipients earning less than $1.25 per day and living in the poorest districts were identified for a direct cash transfer.

"We texted them saying if you need financial help, please register," Lawson said, adding that beneficiaries' consent and data privacy had been prioritized.

The entire program reached 920,000 beneficiaries in need.

"Machine learning has the advantage of reaching so many people in a very short time and delivering help when people need it most," said Caroline Teti, a Kenya-based GiveDirectly director.

'Zero Representation'

Aiming to boost discussion about AI in Africa, computer scientists Benjamin Rosman and Ulrich Paquet co-founded the Deep Learning Indaba - a week-long gathering that started in South Africa - together with other colleagues in 2017.

"You used to get to the top AI conferences and there was zero representation from Africa, both in terms of papers and people, so we're all about finding cost effective ways to build a community," Paquet said in a video call.

In 2019, 27 smaller Indabas - called IndabaX - were rolled out across the continent, with some events hosting as many as 300 participants.

One of these offshoots was IndabaX Uganda, where founder Bruno Ssekiwere said participants shared information on using AI for social issues such as improving agriculture and treating malaria.

Another outcome from the South African Indaba was Masakhane - an organization that uses open-source, machine learning to translate African languages not typically found in online programs such as Google Translate.

On their site, the founders speak about the South African philosophy of "Ubuntu" - a term generally meaning "humanity" - as part of their organization's values.

"This philosophy calls for collaboration and participation and community," reads their site, a philosophy that Ssekiwere, Paquet, and Rosman said has now become the driving value for AI research in Africa.

Inclusion

Now that Sefala has built a dataset of South Africa's suburbs and townships, she plans to collaborate with domain experts and communities to refine it, deepen inequality research and improve the algorithms.

"Making datasets easily available opens the door for new mechanisms and techniques for policy-making around desegregation, housing, and access to economic opportunity," she said.

African AI leaders say building more complete datasets will also help tackle biases baked into algorithms.

"Imagine rolling out Novissi in Benin, Burkina Faso, Ghana, Ivory Coast ... then the algorithm will be trained with understanding poverty in West Africa," Lawson said.

"If there are ever ways to fight bias in tech, it's by increasing diverse datasets ... we need to contribute more," she said.

But contributing more will require increased funding for African projects and wider access to computer science education and technology in general, Sefala said.

Despite such obstacles, Lawson said "technology will be Africa's savior".

"Let's use what is cutting edge and apply it straight away or as a continent we will never get out of poverty," she said. "It's really as simple as that."

-via Good Good Good, February 16, 2022

[leo-fie]

Translating fiction is a delicate balancing act to preserve the content and tone of a story without tripping up the reader or making it too complicated. It requires a deep understanding of both languages and how they are used, but also knowledge about the target demographic, what they are used to and what they put up with.

When translating Terry Pratchett, translators faced the additional challanges of the pun heavy humour and the half a dozen layers to each joke. The German translators (Andreas Bradhorst, Gerald Jung, Regina Rawlinson) have done a good job.

Example: In German there are 3 forms of politeness in the second person. Du, Sie, Ihr. There are complicated traditions about which to use for whom and under what circumstances. Ihr is very outdated and not used in everyday speech, but all over fantasy literature.

As it relates to Pratchett, introducing different levels of politeness into a work that (to my understanding) doesn't really have that in the original language, potentially introduces unintentional layers to the social commentary. The solution? No politeness! Everyone is just Du. Skips the issue and makes it more whimsical!

Example 2: Puns. As a rule, puns aren't really translateable at all because they rest on coincidences of speech (sun and son). There are lower level puns, I guess, which are just "character has a funny and/or ironic name". Those are no problem, just translate directly. Carrot Ironfoundersson can be Karotte Eisengießersohn and Samuel Vimes can be Samuel Mumm. But the gag that Karotte would "grow out of growing up"? No chance! So? Different gag! Karotte can "sich das Wachsen abgewöhnen" ("unlearn/break the habit of growing up"). Still funny.

Besides becoming an archivst or librarian, translation was the one thing I made actual academic steps towards. Even 10 years ago we feared that machine learning would make us obsolete. Ironically the first thing you learn about translation is also the reason machines will never be as good as a person (see above). My disabilities and the discrimination thereof made it impossible for me to persue any officially recognized apprenticeship or degree sadly. But I won't forget what I learned.

[probablyasocialecologist]

A series of advertisements dehumanizing and calling for violence against Palestinians, intended to test Facebook’s content moderation standards, were all approved by the social network, according to materials shared with The Intercept. The submitted ads, in both Hebrew and Arabic, included flagrant violations of policies for Facebook and its parent company Meta. Some contained violent content directly calling for the murder of Palestinian civilians, like ads demanding a “holocaust for the Palestinians” and to wipe out “Gazan women and children and the elderly.” Other posts, like those describing kids from Gaza as “future terrorists” and a reference to “Arab pigs,” contained dehumanizing language. “The approval of these ads is just the latest in a series of Meta’s failures towards the Palestinian people,” Nadim Nashif, founder of the Palestinian social media research and advocacy group 7amleh, which submitted the test ads, told The Intercept. “Throughout this crisis, we have seen a continued pattern of Meta’s clear bias and discrimination against Palestinians.”

[thecircularsystem]

do you have any thoughts on the take "using the word system to describe yourself is ableist if you don't have a CDD"?

It's a bullshit take, straight up, and I'm so tired of seeing it.

The term system has been around for ages, and it isn't going anywhere. It hasn't meant "specifically for CDDs" ever in its entire formation.

The term system has been used by nondisordered systems as long as by CDD systems. We just don't really know that because we didn't have the same sort of terminology we have today. Back then, we just had "person with multiple personality disorder" and "I mean, I GUESS you're a person with multiple personality diosrder."

Then the NMM happened, and endogenic systems split off from DID systems (and, yknow, endogenic as a term was popularized in the first place). And the thing is, they were already using that terminology to begin with. It just meant Someone With Multiple Personalities for a very long time, and genuinely, that describes endogenic systems better than most DID systems I know.

My thing is, ableism is discrimination against disabled individuals. And I have no idea how someone using the term "system" is fucking... unjust treatment against me. Like. What??? Bitch, I am struggling to survive, get enough money to pay for therapy, and not get misgendered at work. I do not care if someone on tumblr uses the term system, however inaccurate it might be in any situation. It does not actually impact me.

Go nuts. I don't care who calls themselves a system. I mean, I've heard people call themselves well oiled machines, but they aren't kinning Cyborg Teen Titans -- is that bad??? No, duh, of course not. People will use whatever language suits their needs. So long as communication is clear, then we all good. And if it's not clear, then fucking, IDK, ask. "It's confusing if they're a CDD system or endogenic if they say they're a system!" K. Learn how to ask. It's literally so easy.

[galaxymagitech]

I got my Hero Hardships Bingo card!

I'm really looking forward to these prompts--they're all so interesting that I don't even know where to start. "Refusing to lose hope on the hopeless" is perfect for Batman, and the Bats really need to learn some healthy coping mechanisms. Amnesia has two story arcs I could explore. "Unable to balance being a hero and being a person" reminds me of all those times Bruce tried to burn the Bruce Wayne identity and just be Batman. AAAA! So many thoughts.

[ID: 5x5 Bingo Card

Line 1: cultural mis-understanding, forgiveness/redemption, collateral damage, nothing without your powers, lotus eater machine

Line 2: retirement, costume logistics, de-aging, secrets that could damage your reputation, forced found family

Line 3: discrimination, it never gets any better, heroism is a gilded cage, unaddressed trauma, refusing to lose hope on the hopeless

Line 4: unable to balance being a hero and being a person, time loop/time travel, coping mechanisms, amnesia, don’t you dare pity me

Line 5: magical mishaps, investing too much in the job to give up now, always the disappointment, betrayal, building/maintaining a good public image]