#They are looking for concessions. They are looking to better protect workers here and now within the system that currently exists

[prolibytherium]

bro so many people on here are under the impression that strikes are a burgeoning communist revolution it’s killing me

[cal-writes]

felt like sharing something from my drafts. bits of an au where nami and zoro met before either of them knew luffy. dunno if i’ll ever make it into a whole story but enjoy this bit 💁‍♀️

He looks much softer in the light of a tavern, with his hair sticking up wildly, skin glowing with sweat from the humidity in the room but his eyes stay sharp.

“Why are you really following me around?” He asks, nonchalant and Nami has to force herself not to flinch. Cocks her head in question instead. “Did I kill your brother or something?”

She laughs, a little nervous. “What do you mean? It is so dangerous for me alone out here, you saw what happened with that pirate.” Nami says, hunching in on herself so that she looks small and frail. Roronoa hasn’t responded to her flirting so playing into the protective instinct seems to be the better option. It had worked on the pier but now his gaze remains hard.

“The pirate you stole from?” He asks and Nami stills. Her eyes flicker to the exit of the bar. Its crowded here tonight, getting out fast would be difficult. But Roronoa doesn’t appear to be threatening. His eyes are calculating, curious and a little bored, maybe. He kills pirates for a living and on that alone he is a lot better than most people she knows, even if he has the reputation of a demon. So she drops the act.

“How did you know?” She asks, leaning back and crossing her legs, her glass rising to her lips.

“Idiot had his name stitched on the purse.” Roronoa says and snorts. He empties his glass in three long gulps, wipes his mouth with his arm. “And your hands.” He adds, gesturing to them with his chin. “Scars underneath the callouses. Not really the kind of thing you get by accident and you’re not built like a farmer or factory worker. I bet you know how to fight too.”

The blood rushes in her eyes before she reigns herself in, floor shifting underneath her. It really isn’t her day. She needs to control the situation and fast. She smiles, inclining her head before she sets her glass down. She leans forward and motions for Roronoa to come closer too. He does so reluctantly. One green eyebrow rising to his hairline.

“Fine.” She says like it’s a concession he’s hard won. “I’m not quite helpless, despite my display today. But it’s been a rough few days and I wasn’t at my best. I’m sure you can relate.”

Roronoa huffs. “I’m always at my best.” He says and shows his teeth in a smile that's meant to be threatening and Nami has to resist the urge to roll her eyes.

“Well, I’m not. Sometimes it would be nice to have someone else watching my back.” She says and Roronoa frowns. He doesn’t ask further so she takes that as an invitation to continue. “I think it would be beneficial for both of us to travel together, at least for a little while.”

Roronoa snorts and leans back into his chair before crossing his arms and Nami takes the opportunity to motion for the waiter for another round of drinks. “If you want to hire me as a babysitter-”

“No, not hire. A partnership, of sorts.” She says, smiling sweetly. He squints at her in silence as if he’s trying to figure her out, only distracted when the waiter plops a new glass in front of him. It softens his suspicion immediately and Nami briefly wonders how this man had managed to survive until now if he was so easy to bribe.

“What do I get out of this partnership?” He asks after a big gulp. Foam from the beer clinging to his upper lip, making him look ridiculous. “Not seeing the benefits here in dragging you along.”

“No need for dragging and as you said, I can protect myself.” Roronoa’s brow rises again. “Usually.” Nami adds and shrugs. “I steal from pirates, you kill them. I take their stuff and you their bounty. Everyone wins.” She says, clapping her hands together like it’s a done deal while Roronoa looks at her unblinking for an uncomfortable amount of time. “What?”

“Still waiting for what I get out of this.” He says and this time Nami does roll her eyes.

“You’re not from around here, are you? Considering how long it took you to find a tavern.”, she says and Roronoa presses his lips together, briefly looking away. “I happen to be a fantastic navigator and I could help you find more lucrative targets than our friend here.” She says and kicks the burlap sack containing the decapitated head sitting underneath their table.

Roronoa looks past her, eyes roaming over the crowd as if assessing them for danger, his fingers drumming on his half empty glass, leaving tracks in the condensation. Nami sips some more from her own drink. She has made her pitch. It would be good to have Roronoa as an ally for a while. Based on reputation and his display tonight, it would at least get her a few nights of carefree sleep. And perhaps, easier pickings in the future, meaning she could get her payment to Arlong even sooner. If Roronoa refuses, she can always just follow him without his knowledge. Being a vulture might be less honorable than a thief but she isn’t exactly in this for honor. She’s a thief out of necessity and ease. Nobody said she had to struggle more than she needed to.

“To what end?” Roronoa asks eventually, eyes still far off in the distance.

The question makes her blink. “What?”

He glances at her from the corner of his eyes. “Are you trying to archive something? Stealing from pirates?”

Her shoulders pull up and for a brief ridiculous moment she wonders if he had read her mind. “What do you kill pirates for?” She snaps back.

He shrugs with one shoulder. “It’s something to do.” He replies and his tone makes her bristle. As if killing people is just nothing. Something to do, he says, like reading a book on a rainy afternoon. Before she reminds herself that he’s not killing people but pirates.

She swallows her defensive retort. “A girl’s gotta eat.” She says.

Roronoa hums. “Fair enough.” Is his easy reply and once again, Nami finds herself off guard. He sniffs, swishing the liquid around in his glass before finishing it. “We’ll see how it goes. Just don’t get in my way.” He tells her and Nami ignores the sudden rush of satisfaction overcoming her. She can’t allow herself to be too pleased with herself. Roronoa is still a threat, even if he seems like a decent enough person.

She smiles and taps her glass against his empty one in a belated toast. “Don’t get in mine.” She says with a wink, he doesn’t react. “Where are you headed next?”

part two

[simplysnaps]

Sorry if this is a dumb question but as someone who's kinda dreading the career they went to school for (I went for art) and kinda just wants a stable desk job with benefits now: do you have any advice on how someone looks for them? Like, what even IS a desk job? (Again sorry if this is stupid but I have deadass no clue how or where to get a job that's not retail 🥹)

I've gotten a few asks like this, so I figured I'd answer one for everyone. The short answer is: No, I don't have a magic bullet that will land you a desk job making $50k/year with a 401k and benefits. I wish I had an answer, I wish there were safeguards in place that protected everyone from asking a highly unqualified 24-year-old girl for career decisions. I wish you all could get/have what you need. But since y'all asked for my advice, here's what I have to offer. Once again, I am just some girl, I'm not a business-god:

#1: The website I found my job on is https://otta.com/. It's a great place to find jobs in the tech field. It's where I found the job I'm currently working at!

#2: It's easier to find a job when you have a job. I know this seems like old-fashioned advice your racist uncle gives you at Thanksgiving, so lemme reiterate it as a socialist trans girl you follow. This advice is TRUE. You are less desperate and less inclined to make silly decisions/concessions if you're currently employed. Our existing system is literally designed from the ground up to exploit desperate workers who are given the decision to either work or DIE, so yes... In our current system, being employed PERIOD is preferable to not being employed. There will always be someone to work harder for less compensation, so you have to make yourself "worth something" by having additional options. This is fucked, and I wish it weren't the case, but the way to gain "capital" as an employee is to have mobility and options. Be in a position where you're able to tell someone "No, I'm better than that. I'll find something else." If you're not in that position, I'm truly sorry. I wish I had more advice for you. Like I said, I'm not an expert at job-matching, I'm just a girl who's been asked by dozens of people at this point for direction.

#3: Be kind to yourself. If there's anything I've learned in the last year+ of therapy, it's that we have to be kinder to ourselves. None of us are "where we want to be." Trust me, I know. I was in a terribly abusive situation far too recently, but now it feels like such a distant dream. So if you're currently in that position, I have a few things to say to you: Firstly, it gets better. I know that feels like something better-off-people say to us just to make themselves feel better, but I can personally confirm this. Unless you're literally dead, there is the possibility that things get better than they currently are. It can happen. I was once hopeless, thinking life could never get better. Now I'm financially independent with savings and a nice apartment. It's POSSIBLE. If it can happen to me, it can happen to you. Just try to believe it can. Secondly: Be willing to endure the shit jobs until you find a job that you can actually tolerate. Endure/tolerate are two entirely different things. I once endured my job. Now I tolerate it. Do you think I love working customer support? No! But I'm fine with it! I like it some days! That's what's important! Just... not wanting to unalive yourself at the end of the day!

#4 is for the folks who can MOVE: I can't relate to this one as an asthma disabled gal, but I have heard that it's quite simple to "sell your body" for money. This isn't sex work, it's actually factory/shipping work. If you're able-bodied and can work exhausting hours, maybe consider a job at a FedEx joint, or an Amazon warehouse. Like I said, this isn't advice for getting a great job, it's advice for getting enough money to survive. If you are physically able to lift/move stuff without collapsing/dying, maybe consider this option! It is grueling and draining, but it pays a fat check for the damages. This isn't ideal for the long-term, but can serve you well for a hot minute if you have the physical health to survive it.

#5: Just hang in there. You're beautiful, and I know everything feels like hell at the moment, but please trust me as someone who's been there that it can get better. It did get better. Someday, everything you're enduring will be a story you tell your loved ones, a tale of what you used to endure. It will show them where you came from, but it won't be where you are. You can beat this. You will beat this. I know you can, because I truly believed I was doomed to my place in the world. I hope you understand that I'm not a grifter, I'm not trying to sell you a magic solution to your problems. I'm openly admitting that I cannot help you. But what I can offer is a promise that it can get better. Not that it will, but that it can. And that's worth pushing through, right? I know it can, and I know it will. The alternative is death, which is oblivion anyway. That means, statistically, it must get better! Otherwise it'll be "nothing," which is null and void!

So get out there, champs! Or hang in there! Either, or! Try to focus on #1, it's the most important! I love you all.

[stardew-vxlley]

petrichor

summary: you and shane are just a couple of good friends, going to the movies together. it’s the middle of autumn and an unsuspecting thunderstorm brews outside, bringing a surprising twist to the friendship. 

pairing: shane x farmer 

word count: 1573

requested by: @zelandiangelo​ 

warnings: mentions of suicide, swearing

It wasn’t strange for you to ask Shane to the movies. You did it so often, it became a regular thing the two of you did together. Despite the talk of the town, there wasn’t anything hidden beneath it at all. Shane was your closest friend in Pelican Town, everywhere you went, he wasn’t too far behind. And you knew he loved movies. Once the JojaMart closed down and they built the movie theater, Shane wasn’t as concerned about losing his job anymore. 

“I hear they’re playing It Howls In The Rain again,” Shane excitedly said as the two of you walked together to the movie theater. “It’s the perfect day for a scary movie.” 

You lifted your eyes to the grey clouds forming in the sky and nodded in agreement. “I don’t think it’ll rain though. The forecast this morning said it would be just cloudy.” 

“I like the rain,” Shane said, guiding you up to the ticket counter. “Do you have the tickets?” 

“Right here,” you said as you pulled them from your pack and slid them across the counter. “Two for It Howls In The Rain, please.” 

After you received your ticket stubs, you both entered the warm lobby of the theater. The buttery smell of popcorn permeated the air as the two of you stepped up to the concession stand. You looked over to Shane, who was already eyeing the mini pizzas in the display oven, drool practically dripping all over the tiled floor. 

“Two mini pizzas, please,” you asked the woman at the counter. “And a Joja cola, too.” 

As she disappeared to prepare your order, you casually leaned against the counter and watched Shane stare hungrily at the hot dogs turning lazily in their rotisserie. When you chuckled in amusement, he looked over at you with a frown. 

“What are you laughing at?” he said, leaning next to you. “I wouldn’t stare at them so much if they didn’t make them look so damn delicious.” 

“I already ordered you a pizza,” you laughed. “Are you saying you want a hot dog too?” 

“I wouldn’t decline,” he said pointedly, earning another laugh from you. It echoed through the empty lobby, until it was interrupted by the concession worker who had returned with your food. 

“Here,” you said as you placed one of the pizzas in Shane’s hands. “Eat this, and forget all about the hot dogs.” 

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he said, his mouth already full.  You both walked to the usher waiting by the theater entrance, who showed you to your seats. As the previews played, you saw Abigail and Sebastian filter in and sit a few rows in front of you. You nudged Shane with your elbow, and jerked your chin in their direction, waggling your eyebrows suggestively. Everyone in town knew those two were crazy about each other.

“Took them long enough,” he whispered, and you erupted into giggles. Abigail glanced over the back of her seat, noticed it was you, and waved cheerfully. 

You returned the wave, and pressed your lips together to keep from laughing again. The lights in the theater dimmed, and you settled into your seat comfortably. As you munched your pizza, you felt the warmth from Shane’s arm nestled beside your own on its armrest. You wanted to just curl up underneath it and watch the movie like that, but you quickly shoved the idea from your head. No--you couldn’t do that to your friendship. It had been so perfect for so long. 

“You okay?” he murmured, leaning over to speak it to your ears only. 

“Yeah,” you lied, smiling. “Why?” 

“You got that wrinkle in your forehead,” he said, taking another bite of pizza. “You know, the one you get whenever you’re thinking too hard about something.” 

You stared at him, taking your bottom lip in between your teeth. A lock of his hair fell into his eyes, and you resisted the urge to reach up and move it back for him, wondering how soft it felt underneath your fingertips. 

“Oh, it’s starting!” Shane whispered excitedly, and the movie reel began to start. 

But you could barely focus on the images flashing across the screen, even after you turned your attention away from his beautifully curious eyes, the stubble on his cheeks that made him look rugged and handsome, or his biceps that flexed underneath the sleeves of his hoodie every time he shifted in his seat. 

“Are you even watching?” his hushed voice pulled you from your thoughts, and you immediately blushed in embarrassment. God, if he only knew what kind of things you had just been thinking about him. 

“We’ve seen it already,” you whispered back, trying to focus on literally anything other than the way his cologne was clouding your better judgement--you were unable to run away from the thoughts running rampant in your mind. The movie ended and the lights turned back on. You watched Sebastian help Abigail to her feet, keeping his hand tightly wrapped around hers. 

You and Shane began walking out of the theater. You were barely hanging on to what Shane was saying about the movie as the two of you passed through the lobby and out into the chilly autumn air. 

“Are you sure it won’t rain?” he asked, looking up at the clouds. 

You shrugged. “The forecast said it wouldn’t, and they’re usually not wrong.” 

“Hm,” he hummed in agreement. 

It wasn’t until you reached the edge of town when you felt the first fat droplet of rain hit your cheeks, causing you to look up at the sky in surprise. Another one pelted your forehead, and then another, and another--until the downpour was so relentless that it turned the whole world grey. Shane laughed and took your hand, pulling the already soaking wet hood of his sweatshirt up over his head. 

“No rain, huh?” he yelled over the storm as the two of you ran through town and towards Cindersap Forest. 

“Hey, I’m not a licensed meteorologist!” you shouted back, trying to shield your eyes from the rain. 

His laughter filled your veins with sunlight, despite the heavy downpour. He pulled you underneath a large oak tree, its red and orange leaves protecting you both from the storm. Reaching up and yanking back his hood, his dark violet hair hung in wet curls around his flushed face, an amused grin stretching from one ear to the other. 

“What are you smiling at?” you asked, hating the feeling of your soaked clothes against your skin. A violent shiver escaped you as you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to get warm. “Why can’t we just go into the ranch house?” 

“Isn’t the storm beautiful?” he asked, standing at the edge of the tree. “Destructive, but so beautiful. Kind of like people.” 

“What do you mean?” you asked softly, dropping your arms and standing beside him. The last time you were caught in the rain with him, he had been contemplating suicide at the edge of the cliff not far from where you stood now. 

“For someone who’s destroyed so much,” he murmured, watching the rain fall, “I think I’ve done a pretty good job building something with you.” 

It sounded like he was talking mostly to himself, and you were just there to listen. Slowly, but with no hesitation, you slipped your hand into his, giving his fingers a reassuring squeeze. He sighed with relief and content, squeezing your fingers back. 

“We’ve come a long way,” you said quietly, and he chuckled. 

“Yeah,” he said, turning to face you. He didn’t let go of your hand. “We have.” 

You watched a raindrop slide down the side of his cheek and disappear beneath the collar of his shirt, but his eyes remained on you. 

“What?” you asked him, feeling your pulse quicken. 

“Fuck it,” Shane said, “I don’t care anymore.” 

“Fuck what--?” you managed to get out, but suddenly his hands were cradling your cheeks so softly and tenderly, his lips moving closer and closer--

And he was kissing you. In the middle of the rain, underneath a dripping oak tree. And it felt right. Electricity was shooting up and down your spine, making you feel as if you could just lift off of the forest floor and begin floating upwards towards the clouds.

Your arms snaked up to wrap around his neck, deepening the kiss. His hands slid down from your cheeks to encircle around your waist, his fingers splayed out across your hips, fingertips digging into the soft flesh. His mouth was incredibly soft, tasting of rain and love and desire. You were pressed so tightly against him that you were curved with his body, each of you trying to get even closer to the other. 

All too soon, he broke away with a heavy breath of excitement. He still held you close to him, but leaned back just enough so he could look at you in his arms, eyes alight with happiness. He sighed in satisfaction before gently tucking your head beneath his chin and wrapping his arms around you. The rain subsided to a slow, gentle drizzle, but the two of you stayed locked in each other’s embrace, swaying to music only you could hear, knowing that everything had just changed on a drastic scale...but everything would be alright. 

Because you had him. And he had you. 

So in that moment it was just you, Shane, and the rain. 

[writing-in-april]

Gutter Balls

Franklin x Male Reader (MGG Character from Beginner’s Luck)

This is my birthday present to @clean-bands-dirty-stories​ !!!! Happy Birthday love you and your stories so much!!!! They requested this from me a little while back and I thought it would be a nice birthday surprise!

Summary: While meeting up for a friendly game of bowling with Franklin’s team, some very rude people at the alley decide to tell their opinion about yours and Franklin’s relationship. 

A/N: Hey Hey loves, here’s my first x male reader!! I’m very excited to have more inclusive options on my blog for a wide variety of readers. I am female myself but, I know how much people who love MGG struggle to find x male or x GN fics. If you have any requests for x male or x GN readers send them my way! Also if you have any ideas on how to improve my writing please feel free to shoot me a message or an anon! Also I did try to make the dialogue funny from the main characters so I hope I did ok on that lmao—Hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: Homophobia, Swearing, Violence (the people definitely deserve it though) Not a warning but this does End Happy!

Masterlist Word Count: 1.3k

Being Franklin’s boyfriend was like a dream. We were still deep in the honeymoon faze even after being together for 4 months. When I was with him everything seemed perfect like nothing could go wrong.

Now it was time for me to finally meet up with his team for the first time at the bowling alley. I had met them all before but, not as Franklin’s official boyfriend. I honestly don’t know what I was worried about, they had been our biggest supporters. We both almost lived at the bowling alley with my job at the concession counter and his obsession to be the best bowler in Little Falls. We made eyes at each other for months before Franklin made the first move. Honestly, I’m pretty sure Franklin’s team would’ve locked us in the back room of the bowling alley if we hadn’t admitted our feelings to each other.

—-

My nerves over hanging out with the team were definitely unsubstantiated. Everything was going smoothly, they all were warm welcoming especially Pamela and Judith.

Beth was a little more wary of me. She kept commenting on the fact that Franklin was special and that I should watch my back. I think she’s just being protective of him in her own way. (But she still kinda scares me)

Bomber I think was confused at first as to why I was there, she kept asking me to refill her drinks until Franklin and I clarified again that I was here to bowl with them. (Not that I was very good at it)

Everything was perfect.

I had even gotten a strike!

That was until Franklin gave me a small peck to congratulate me for my strike.

Some assholes that we’re fully taking advantage of the cheap beer that was sold at the bar decided that they wanted to voice their opinions on our relationship.

“Hey- we don’t like your kind here even if you are a God at bowling!” A greasy haired man with a mullet shouted out obnoxiously at us drawing the attention of the entire alley. Franklin was about to whip around to say something but I decided to pull him into a hug instead as a subtle way to calm him down while simultaneously telling the group to fuck off and mind their own business.

“It’ll be ok Frankie, I promise.” I said while rubbing circles on his back trying to soothe the rage I could sense bubbling up from him. It’s not that I didn’t want to respond myself but, I was worried that Franklin would get into too much trouble if he retaliated. He was known for his fiery temper when someone angered him, “Let’s just ignore him and finish the game off strong. I think it’s your turn next.”

He nodded slightly after pulling away from me and moved away to grab his ball for his turn. But, not before shooting a not so subtle glare at the men at the counter.

The rest of the team were hyping Franklin up extra, especially Pamela, for his turn. My heart swelled at the sweet gesture of support from them, they loved to see Franklin happy and successful even if he was a little much at times.

My happiness was quickly squashed by one of the other douche nozzles deciding to chime in a rather crude slur at Franklin just before he let go of the ball. The ball slipped out of his large hands at an awkward angle and shot straight into the gutter making my own rage start to boil over.

I shot a quick glare at the group of them and an especially pointed look at my co- worker, silently begging her to kick the assholes out of the bar. Even though she didn’t like my new boyfriend (she said he acted like a gremlin) my co-worker Rebecca was shooting me a sympathetic glance. I knew she was shy about confrontation though I wished she would just grow some balls and kick them out.

Franklin’s face had gone as red as the scarlet bowling ball that I held in my hands ready to hand off to Bomber for her turn. I walked over to him to try to calm him down again and tune out the slurs that were now freely coming from the three douche canoes.

“I’m gonna show them what happens when someone better then God lays into them.” He spat out in a deadly tone. If a glare could kill I’m sure the three men would be dead from the one that was peeking through his clear frames.

“Franklin- stop it’s not worth it if you get into trouble, they’re just a bunch of drunks. Rebecca will kick them out soon I’m sure-“

A loud squeak fell from my mouth cutting off my train of thought when Franklin suddenly had his lips on mine. Franklin was always a little rough when we made out but this was different. It was hard, passionate and like Franklin was trying to mark me as his territory to everyone no matter what stupid slur came out of whoever’s mouth. I almost forgot that we were standing in the middle of a quite crowded bowling alley until I had to come up for air. But, that was only for a short moment before I was pulled in by another kiss.

I opened my eyes to get a good look of what was going on behind me once I found my bearings. I smirked into the kiss at the funny sight I was witnessing.

Franklin had his large middle finger pointed upwards facing behind him at the 3 assholes at the bar.

“Y’all suck and you ain’t shit!” Pamela was shouting and had now taken a defensive stance, standing on top of one of the rickety plastic chairs while adding her own two middle fingers to flash at the dicks.

Bomber looked like she was ready to explode like dynamite. She was muttering words under her breath while grabbing a few bowling balls that I’m pretty sure she was planning on chucking at them.

Beth was cracking all her knuckles and putting her hair up into an obnoxiously short and high pony tail with a dark look on her face.

Judith was the most calm out of the group saying a prayer off to the side. But, from what I could hear she was asking the lord to forgive her for curb stomping some bitches.

Bomber was the first to charge at the group with two pink and purple bowling balls. Which, was funnily enough enough of a threat for the three guys to rush out of the bar. They tripped out, obviously inebriated, while Judith and Beth joined in on the chase following Bomber with Pamela trailing behind with some pretty solid trash talk.

“You’re a bunch of gutter balls!” Pamela shouted out as they pushed the glass doors open, with one of the drunks falling onto their face before scrambling away.

I was now laughing into our kiss along with Franklin, glad to see them get their comeuppance. Franklin’s were arms wrapped around me in a deep embrace that I never wanted to escape from, they were soon joined by the rest of the team coming in for a group hug. I felt fully welcomed and accepting onto their team, even though I suck at bowling.

[misrihalek]

This is for one person in particular. Well, maybe two people. 

...I wasn’t good for you, was I? 

You found me at a pretty low point of my life, I’ve said that before. I was trying to do what the world told me, trying to be a good little boy, get that job, earn my place in the world and...I failed. I was lying on a bed in a house in the suburbs, flatmates fighting in the ungodly hours of the morning, desperately trying to escape from the world. That was how you found me and for some reason you saw something worth a damn. 

And then I proceeded to bleed you dry. I didn’t know how to get myself out of my hole and so I just started dragging you down with me, using you as just another means of escape and demanding so much of you...far too much. How many times did you lament that your love wasn’t enough to help me stand on my own two feet? How many times did you think that you were inferior because of it? Did I make you hate yourself because of my failures? 

That’s not to say that it was all bad: we wouldn’t have lasted as long as we did if we didn’t click on some level, after all. The talks we had, the things we shared between us...it would be disrespectful to say that they meant nothing: maybe their value to us makes this whole thing worse in retrospect, who knows. What I do know is that, even if only ashes remain now, you were the best friend I ever had: you were kind, funny and passionate and your presence in this world stood in defiance of the forces that sought to bring you low. You fought for your right to exist, so maybe it makes sense that you waited for so long for me to do the same. I’m sorry I let you down. 

That’s the crux of the matter, isn’t it: why didn’t I leave that hole that I found myself in? I can blame outside forces (and I often did), but the fact of the matter is that I just didn’t know how. I didn’t know how to be the person that the world demanded of me and no-one seemed to be able to tell me, so somewhere along the way I just grew comfortable in that wretched hole, at home in my misery. I started pantomiming my own life, living as if death would never come and not really living in the process, and it was this awful piece of theatre that you ended up being an unwilling part of: despairing about the future that I couldn’t see and slowly wearing yourself away. I imagine the tipping point came after those three weeks together ended and you saw how little things had changed. 

Those three weeks...before long it will have been two years since that trip to see you and it’s...weird to think about. I know that time has lost a bit of its meaning since then, but even then it’s hard to believe that it was really that long ago. I still remember the elevator up to your apartment, walking to the tramlines and going to that one tea shop - and you bet your ass I remember that hike uphill to the castle. The emotions have faded over time, but I have no qualms in saying that those were quite literally the best days of my life: I know that the word “literally” has kinda lost its meaning in this day and age, but I can confidently say that no experience before or since has compared. So why didn’t it change anything? Why did I go right back into my hole when I got back? 

I don’t think either of us knew at the time, but come a few months later it didn’t matter all that much anyway. You found someone else and left and, now that I look back, I really can’t blame you for trying to find a less bleak fate than what was in store for you. I remember you saying to me how scared you were of a future where you had to support the both of us: why wouldn’t you be? I had demonstrated no ability to be a functioning human being and I would have inevitably become a burden...well, more of a burden. What kind of future is that, for either of us? And so you left to find a brighter one. 

It was ugly and painful and I have no doubt that it still hurts you, just like it does me. For a decent amount of time I was blinded by my own pain and I said things that I can no longer stand by in good conscience: I blamed you for how things had gone and eventually cut you out of my life so I could best deal with my wrenching sorrow. To some degree that action has proved successful: being able to live without having reminders of my failures at the forefront of my mind has let me claw back pieces of myself and move forward with my life, even if it has taken some time. I cannot however defend the reasons why I did it though, born as they were from an inability to reflect on my own deficiencies. 

It turns out that there might’ve been a reason for that inability, actually. You remember me talking about my Asperger’s Syndrome diagnosis? It was something that I got told about as I was growing up and it was basically conveyed to me as a low-strength form of autism, something fairly surmountable in comparison to the more traditional forms. Last year though, I found media that suggested that Asperger’s Syndrome was a less-than-credible condition from a doctor that quite literally collaborated with Nazis and further research revealed that the term was no longer in official use. I talked to my mother about this and she casually dropped into conversation that I was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. 

ADHD! So many goddamn things clicked into place once she said that and I imagine that the same might be happening for you right now. No wonder I had so much difficulty functioning in that job, how infuriating it was to focus on things, how I would sally forth into different trains of thought mid-conversation. My mother’s general mistrust of the medical system also meant that I’d been dealing with these things all my life without any sort of medication, the usual way that other people with ADHD make themselves co-operate with the strictures of society. No wonder things went to fucking pieces the moment I stepped into the real world. 

I’ve had to do some serious thinking since then, not least of all about my future. I tried to keep on the jobsearching grind for a while after that bombshell dropped, but after months of no luck I snapped and decided to take an alternate route, one that I couldn’t consider while we were together. Since then I’ve moved away from home and I’m studying to maybe one day be a social worker: to one day have the tools to help people like me, people stuck in their own holes and unable to get out without the helping hand of someone who understands what they’re going though. No doubt you’d say that you’re happy for me and I don’t doubt that statement: you’re a better person that I was and even through all this you’ve wished no ill towards me. You’re a good person like that. 

These days I’m doing decently okay: I’m living with 3 flatmates who I get along with pretty well and my studies are progressing as they should. I’m trying to write a bit more as well, although about the only thing I’ve done lately of any tangibility has been...well, this. Even with the progress I’ve made, what happened between us still bobs to the surface from time to time and I have to process things all over again: it gets easier as time marches onwards, but that doesn’t mean that it’s easy. That probably explains why I reacted so violently to the message you sent me, among other things. 

What I said there was true: I can’t face you while things are the way they are. I’m not strong enough to watch you be happy with someone else, because it’s a reminder that I can no longer elicit that same joy from you: a reminder that our time has passed because of my failures. It’s knowledge that hollows me out from the inside. I tried to be strong - tried to ignore that hollowing out and remain friends - and failed over and over, coming close enough to nothingness to feel it encroaching on my soul, so now I put up my walls to protect it.

I need to be okay. And I can’t do that with you around. It’s an awful thing to say and you don’t deserve it, but it’s the truth. Once more you suffer for my deficiencies as a human being. 

I’m sorry that I couldn’t be the person that you needed: I guess the deck was kinda stacked against us from the beginning, considering what I didn’t know about myself and, y’know, the whole long-distance thing, so don’t go thinking that any of this was your fault. You remain one of the best people I have ever met and I am eternally grateful for the time we shared together: do not doubt that you are worthy of love, even in your lowest moments. You’re a damn good human being and you deserve to have good things happen to you, better things than me. 

I imagine you’re expecting me to say this, but oh well: I’d prefer it if you don’t send me a response to what I have written here. Beyond just safeguarding my own wellbeing, I’ve been meaning to write this for a long time now and what you see is pretty much every single thing that I can conceivably say in regards to all that has transpired between us. I don’t really have anything else to say and after this I will hopefully not think about this so much anymore and get on with my life. I would implore you to do the same. 

I wish you all the best. 

...

...there’s a small piece of me that doubles back on what I’ve written here, seeing if it can instill its will within the paragraphs wherein it can wend its way to you. It’s the piece of me that still loves you, that holds out hope that I may one day see you again and that we can rediscover what was lost. It tells me to leave my heart open to the opportunity, to hope against hope that things change. This last paragraph is my concession to it in the vain hope that it’ll finally fucking shut up.

[jade4813]

Like Moths to a Flame, Chapter 9

Fandom: North and South

Title: Like Moths to a Flame

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: John/Margaret

Synopsis: “I hope you realize that any foolish passion for you on my part is entirely over.“ Margaret decides to confront John about his unjust judgment of her character, but the two have always been drawn to each other, and things quickly get out of hand. In the aftermath, she agrees to marry him to satisfy propriety, but she cannot forget how ready he was to believe the worst of her. Can love survive without trust, or will the two find a way to work through the misunderstandings that have plagued their relationship from the start?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Until he met Margaret, John had never given much thought to marriage, other than to occasionally acknowledge he would one day be expected to enter into the institution. With so much responsibility to assume after the death of his father, he’d wasted little time imagining the type of lady he might one day take as a wife, and less time still pondering how such an arrangement would impact his life. Such concerns, while admittedly important, had fallen to the wayside in light of more immediate concerns, until they rarely crossed his mind at all.

Until her. Until Margaret. Though he could not now look back and identify the single moment when he first loved her, his attachment to her was undeniable, fixed, and constant. It might always be hoped that marriage should bring felicity to the involved parties, but in the privacy of his own heart, John felt he was likely happier than most, for few other men could be as fortunate in choice of bride or as unwavering in depths of love as he.

His only concern, in those first few days of married life, was that Margaret would not count herself quite as fortunate, not having the same manner of attachment. However, he was pleased to see that she seemed content in her choice of groom, and he strove to undertake any manner of activity that might please her.

Her initial shyness in physical matters quickly gave way to enthusiastic engagement (although he’d never forget that first, scandalized protest: “John, it’s the middle of the day!”). As her reservations faded, her playfulness increased, and he risked tardiness to more than one appointment due to her reluctance to let him leave her side, as well as his own unwillingness to do the same.

So it could be comfortably said that married life treated him well, and he hoped, at least, that it was equally as kind to Margaret. He had one initial reservation, early on, that she might not be as she seemed. The moment came upon her receipt of a letter from her cousin, Edith. After relaying the details of some ridiculous scheme to him over breakfast – the details of which had long since escaped his memory – John had remarked that Edith was a fortunate woman, thinking of her near scrape.

In response, a wistful expression overtook Margaret’s face as she remarked, “Indeed. She and the Colonel are very much in love, and she’s fortunate to find someone who can be so forgiving of her failings.”

John had watched as her attention fell to her plate, where she poked dispiritedly at her breakfast, the happy mood broken, and he’d wondered if she regretted that she had not married for the same reason. The moment soon passed, however, and the felicity between the newly married couple was quickly restored, leaving little more than a shadow in his own mind as evidence it had ever existed.

And so, secure in his own happiness and confident in hers (being, as he was, willing to do whatever he could to ensure it), the newlyweds’ happiness was only marred by the increasingly strained financial situation at the mill. Although John tried to protect her from such concerns, the stress of the situation weighed on him and took him away from his bride more often than he would have wished.

One evening, he returned late from work to find Margaret at her dressing table, putting the final pins into her hair to ready herself for dinner with Fanny and Watson. His sister had invited the family to dine with her that evening, which John suspected was due more to a desire to show off her newest furnishings than any filial yearning. She loved them all, in her own way, but she had never been overly susceptible to sentiment.

Exhausted by the day’s exertions, he lingered in the doorway, content to do nothing more than gaze at his wife, but he was drawn to her side when she threw a smile at him over her shoulder. “How do I look?” she asked coquettishly, and he found himself entranced by her smooth, pale shoulders. He had seen her in this dress once before, at his mother’s last dinner party, and it had been all he could do that evening not to pull her in his arms and press his lips against that skin bared so tantalizingly before him.

He gave into that temptation now, bending to press a kiss against the curve of her shoulder, but Margaret caught his arm and drew him down to her instead, until he was on one knee at her side. Cupping his face in her hands, her expression was grave as she stroked his cheeks with her thumbs in a slight, comforting gesture.

“You’ve been working yourself to exhaustion lately. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Touched by her concern, he leaned into her embrace and murmured, “This trouble at the mill will pass.” He hoped it would, at any rate. “Having you here with me is enough.”

Margaret was unwilling to be so easily placated. “But is there anything I can do at the mill? I’m not afraid of hard work, you know.”

Grabbing one hand gently in his own, he pressed a kiss against the inside of her wrist. “There may be,” he acknowledged, moved more than he could express that she’d taken an interest in the mill on his behalf, and not solely on behest of his workers. “Let me think on it tonight, and we can talk about it tomorrow.”

She looked so grave, so serious. While her concern over his wellbeing sparked hope in his breast that she was not indifferent to him, he didn’t wish to cause her concern, and so he remarked lightly, in an attempt at levity, “But only if you promise you won’t cause any mischief or encourage my workers to rise up in a revolt against me.”

For just a moment, he feared she might be affronted by his remark, but she quickly alleviated any concerns on that score. “No serious mischief, I assure you. Only the occasional minor act of rebellion,” she teased him in return. Growing more serious, she confessed, “I know it’s expected that I play the role of obedient wife, but I hope you’ll forgive me if I speak my mind when I think it necessary.”

The thought of her holding her tongue caused him wry amusement; Margaret’s opinionated nature had vexed him in the past, but he wouldn’t love her if she were anything other than she was. “Of course. I hope we can grow comfortable enough with each other one day that there should be no need for secrets between us. Should I take this to mean you’ve already planned your first mutiny?”

She looked troubled at his words, but she shook her head and reassured him lightly, “Hardly a full-scale insurrection! I’ve just been thinking. I know it isn’t possible now, but when matters at the mill are resolved, I intend to speak to you about raising your workers’ salaries to what they were a few years ago, at least. It would make them more comfortable, and that would make them more productive and increase their loyalty to you.”

While John would have resented anyone else’s interference with his affairs, he respected Margaret’s opinion at least enough to entertain the suggestion. There was logic to her argument, at least, although he was hardly in a position to enact the measure at the present time. “Perhaps,” he conceded, promising, “When the bank loan is paid in full, I’ll give your suggestion its due consideration.”

Her joyful smile was more than sufficient recompense for this concession, although there remained a shadow behind her eyes, and he reached up to brush a stray lock of hair off her cheek. “Does this mean you no longer consider me the overbearing monster you once believed me to be?” he asked, wondering how she could be ignorant of the feelings in his heart, betrayed as they were by the tenderness in his voice.

“I never thought you a monster!” she replied in faint protest.

Her obvious oversight made him smile. “But you did think me overbearing?”

She scowled at him in mock affront. “Well, perhaps a little,” she allowed. Her hands became restless, one rising to brush the hair off his forehead as she continued in a less playful tone, “I may have misjudged your character at first, but I’ve long since come to realize the depths of my misunderstanding. I suspect I think better of you than you realize.”

His heart began to race as hope settled in his breast, refusing to relinquish its hold upon him. He felt he could barely breathe as he asked, “Does that mean…do you think you might come to love me?”

The warmth in her eyes gave him momentary hope that she might one day return his affections, but he watched as an expression of such horror overtook her countenance that pierced his heart. “Oh!” she gasped in alarm, her eyes wide in mortification. “I—”

Suspecting she was searching for the words to reject him without causing undue injury or offense to his pride, and eager to make amends for his overstep and distract her from the unwelcome imposition of his feelings, he forced a smile. Sliding his hands under her skirts, he attempted to divert her attention to a less controversial subject. “We have some time before we should leave, after all.”

Margaret appeared surprised, and she sucked in a deep breath when he lifted her leg to brush a kiss against her bare skin. If she couldn’t accept his feelings, he could only hope she would believe that he had always intended to refer to the physical act of love rather than some deeper emotion. Whether she believed in his fiction or was merely happy to pretend in order to prevent awkwardness between them, she seemed willing to play along.

“John!” she gasped as he ducked under the heavy fabric of her skirts, rubbing his cheek against her leg, but she didn’t draw away. On the contrary; she placed her palms upon the mound of his head through her skirts and held him in place, even as she remarked, “We’ll be late!”

“Fanny will wait,” he murmured, scraping his teeth against her inner thigh. Her slight moan of pleasure was enough to drive him onward, and he occupied himself beneath her skirts until the chiming of the clock recalled the pair to their appointment. John’s body protested the rude interruption, but he was charmed by the brightness in his bride’s eyes and the flush on her cheeks, which spoke to her own smoldering desire. At least she had been adequately diverted from dwelling upon the words he’d so foolishly spoken, and he intended to resume his attentions to her later that evening to ensure that the memory dared not reenter her mind.

In the meantime, he turned his own thoughts to more repressive matters as he willed his blood to cool before the sight of his current state scandalized his dinner companions.

“Does that mean…do you think you might come to love me?” The words replayed themselves over and over in Margaret’s mind as she prepared herself for the day ahead. “Does that mean…do you think you might come to love me?” In her preoccupation, she stuck herself with a hairpin and winced, forcing her mind back to more mundane matters. Yet the memory of his softly spoken question the night before continued to plague her thoughts.

“Does that mean…do you think you might come to love me?” She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, striving to quell the mortification that arose within her at the memory. It was not the question that elicited such chagrin but the answer that had hovered upon her lips in return.

“I already do.” Her heart had been ready to confess to the feelings that her head had long been determined to deny, and Margaret had only swallowed the words at the last moment. That they could have crept upon her so thoroughly in defiance of her own awareness astonished her, but the certainty with which her heart had answered horrified her.

She loved him. When had the attachment first taken hold of her heart? For how long had she been living in denial of her own feelings?

Of course, it was not the usual nature of things, to meet such tender feelings with dismay – certainly not when the recipient of said feelings was her own husband. However, in the matter of Margaret and John’s marriage, things were not so simple. Margaret loved him, it was true. She loved him – the thought brought such a mixture of joy and alarm that it nearly made her lightheaded. But while they had not spoken of her presumed lover – secretly her brother – since their engagement, she had no cause to believe he’d changed his mind about her.

It would be the easiest thing in the world to force a change of heart from him. All she had to do was to reveal the truth. Doing so would undeniably alter his opinion of her, but it would do so without resolving her fundamental concern. Relating the whole truth to him now would justify his trust in her now, but it would not compel it in the future. And, regardless of her own tender feeling for John, Margaret knew she could never be truly happy in her marriage if her own husband couldn’t claim to truly know or understand her. If she told him the truth now and forced his concession of her own blamelessness (at least of the charges that had been placed upon her doorstep, though she had courted danger in urging Frederick return in defiance of the charges against him), she would never truly feel the assurance of her husband’s faith in her character and person.

But what was she to do? Carrying this secret in her heart grew more trying by the day, John’s coincidental use of the word mutiny the night before nearly sending her out of her own skin. His assertion that there should be no secrets between them had caused such a swelling of guilt in her own heart that she’d longed to tell him all. Her heart and her mind were at war, locked in a skirmish that she’d just come to realize had been waging for far longer than she’d ever suspected.

She loved him. It was still astonishing to her that those feelings could have crept upon her without her knowledge. Lost in her thoughts, she hardly registered the words her mother-in-law spoke as they took a tour of the mill, looking for ways that Margaret could lend assistance to her husband’s enterprise. Almost against her will, she found herself watching for him, scanning the crowd for his familiar – beloved! – figure and face.

She nodded at something one of the workers said, though she had no idea what it had been, as her eyes drifted up to the landing above. And there she saw him, as she had on that very first day. John. Her John. Her husband.

Their eyes met, and Margaret held her breath, unable to breathe from the twisting in her heart at the sight of him. So tall and commanding. She had once thought his features so remote – even severe – but now she knew the way they could soften with a smile. She’d once thought his eyes cold, but now she knew the only thing warmer was his touch.

If she reached out her hand to him now, would he come to her? Perhaps he would. He had always been there for her, even when another man would have turned away. When her mother was dying, he’d sent fresh fruit even after her rejection of his hand, demonstrating a level of thoughtfulness and compassion that had shamed her for her treatment of him. And when the man who had accosted her brother was found dead, not only had he chosen not to betray her lie in professing she hadn’t been on the train platform that evening, she had no doubt he’d spoken with the eyewitness and encouraged the recantation that had ended the matter. In doing so, he had betrayed his honor and fundamental sense of honesty on her behalf.

But it was not for the services done to her that she loved him. It was for his person. There were two sides to him – the hard Master and the devoted husband – but Margaret no longer struggled in reconciling them. She had once thought him proud, even arrogant. She had even once thought him unfeeling, but she’d come to understand the truth of his character long before, and well before their precipitous engagement. He could be hard, but he was never unscrupulous. He was honest in his dealings, his genuine care and concern for his workers hidden beneath a stern demeanor and a veneer of sound business acumen.

She loved him. She loved him. She loved him! She’d begun to wonder if it was possible she’d come to love him long before their marriage or even before their engagement. Had she loved him when she’d crept to his office to confront him about his callous accusations against her? Her behavior that evening had been so uncharacteristic of her, something she’d recognized even at the time but had refused to dwell upon for explanation. Had it been heartbreak, more than anger, that had propelled her to his doorstep? It certainly seemed likely that her attachment, hidden even from herself, had compelled her to kiss him that night. Let alone…well, everything that came after.

Oh, dear. Her newfound revelation couldn’t come at a worse time, and it was causing her to make a fool of herself, staring at her husband like a moon-eyed calf, for all the world to see. Tearing her gaze away from him at long last, she attempted to fix her attention upon her beleaguered mother-in-law, whose single-minded purpose could not be dissuaded by young love, particularly when she was likely skeptical of its existence. And rightly so, for hadn’t Margaret once openly scoffed at the notion of John’s attractiveness to the fairer sex?

What a fool she had been! What a fool love was making of her now! Her heart longed to lay itself at John’s feet, urging her to confess her feelings to her husband in the hopes that affection wasn’t just something he requested but something he offered her in return. More, that genuine attachment underlay his honorable intentions in offering for her. But that brought back the undecided question of his faith in her.

“Does that mean…do you think you might come to love me?”

She loved him, and so she owed him the truth of what he had seen that night on the train platform. If only there was a way to first assess whether he had succeeded in his efforts to grant her the wish she’d made of him before their wedding: that he find it in his heart to trust in her once more. As much as she loved him, any lingering doubt on that score would tear her up inside.

Pretending to attend to the task at hand, Margaret dutifully fell into step behind her mother-in-law, continuing her tour of the mill’s needs. But as she walked away, she couldn’t resist one last look over her shoulder at the imposing figure on the overlook above, and the face that had somehow become so dear to her. Her John.

For the sake of their marriage, for the sake of her own heart, she would find a way to restore his faith in her. Somehow.

[saharamae21]

Never Ran Smooth (Part 6)

Hey guys! SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING! I’m in the middle of moving at the moment and it’s been hard to find time! Also sorry to anyone who got a message from me, my account was hacked...

Anyways here is part six! | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Seven |

__________________________________________________________

Take pains. Be perfect.

I walked with Kie to grab some sodas from the concessions stand. I could feel the childish grin plastered on my face as I skipped a little.

"Someone seems awfully chipper," an unnerving voice rang out. Rafe, Topper, and Kelsi stood proudly in front of us.

"Move," I said confidently, trying to get past them.

"That's no way to treat your escort," Rafe mocked, grabbing my arm in the process. I twisted uncomfortably, trying to free myself from his grasp. Then he looked at Kie. "Tell your boy that we know what he did."

"Sorry, what boy are you talking about?" she replied, clearly not interested in what he had to say.

"Uh, he'll know," Rafe said, finally releasing my arm.

"Bye," Kie said, giving him a glare. "Douche."

I laughed at her comment and rubbed my arm a bit. I've known Rafe my whole life thanks to my brother, but he's going off the rails as of recently. I barely recognized him anymore.

"Just saw Rafe, and he said, and I quote," Kie started, immediately catching Pope's attention. "Tell your boy that we know what he did."

I watched as JJ and Pope bickered back and forth a little bit before stealing glances at Rafe and his friends.

"If that doesn't work, I got this," JJ muttered a little too loud and patted his bag. I hit him quickly.

"You did not bring a gun here!" I whispered. "JJ, so help me God, what did you guys do?"

"It's fine. Don't worry about it," he said. Sometimes it's easier to just drop the subject, rather than to keep reaching for answers you weren't going to get.

About halfway through the movie I hear Pope and JJ bickering back and forth. I walked as both of them got up, saying they had to pee. I looked nervously at Kie, but she reassured me that they were going to be fine. Kie knew them both better than I did, so I just sat there quietly. After a few minutes, I noticed Kie looking around.

"Where are they? Do you see them?" she asked me. My breath hitched as I noticed Topper and his posse was gone. "Shit..."

We both got up and ran behind the screen. Kie was clutching JJ's bag. My heart felt as if it stopped when I saw what Rafe, Kelse, and Topper were going to Pope and JJ. I watched as Kie went running toward Topper, trying to get him off of Pope.

"Rafe stop it!" I yelled and ran, grabbing his arm before he could swing again. He flailed his arms wildly in an attempt to get me off of him. "Get off him!"

Then I felt his elbow collide with my cheekbone and I went down. I fell directly to my butt and began to cry. I've had the same reaction to getting hurt. My brother was often rough with me growing up and my only reaction was to bawl, no matter how childish it seemed. Seconds after I got hit the screen erupted in flames.

"Shit, Rafe. You hit her," Kelse said.

"C'mon, let's get out of here," Topper said and the three bolted.

I watched as Kie, JJ, and Pope kneeled down in front of me. I sniffled and held the side of my face. I kept trying to hold my tears back, but nothing would work.

"Let me see," JJ said, carefully moving my hand away from my face. "Shit, Sav. That's gonna turn black."

"I'm fine," I said with a sniffle. Kie helped me up and brushed me off a little bit. "We should leave before the cops come." "I'll walk you home," JJ said, giving me a small smile. I said my goodbyes to Kie and Pope before walking awkwardly with JJ. He walked quickly, avoiding eye contact with me the whole time. Why did he offer to walk me home if he wasn't going to say anything. "Hey..." "Yeah?" I asked. This is it Savannah. He's going to tell you how he feels!

"Kie told me you guys heard me when I said I wasn't into you," he said awkwardly. I watched him push his hair back and stop for a second. He blocked my path, determination filling his face. "I just don't want you getting the wrong idea. You and I aren't going to happen."

I stared up at him because that's all I could do at that moment. I felt my heart shattering into a million pieces. He averted his gaze from me and stood in front of me awkwardly.

"Listen, I'm sorry if I came across in a different way, but you and I will never work out. I just don't want to lead you on," he said while staring straight into my eyes. "I'm just a flirt by nature. And at one point I thought maybe I was into you, but that idea is long gone. Plus I think I kinda like someone else."

I just nodded and swallowed hard. "Yeah, okay. Friends?"

"Friends," he said.

We walked the rest of the way in silence.

***

A day has gone by since JJ walked me home. At first I thought I was going to die because that's what your first heartbreak does to you. However, when it came down to it, I felt a sense of relief. Maybe JJ wasn't meant to be my first love. He meant so much to me as a friend, that losing him completely was worse in the long run. I came to the conclusion that I wasn't going to be awkward or immature and let this one thing affect how I acted with him in person. I gathered up all my courage and headed out towards Heyward's.

"Hey Savannah," Pope's father greeted me as I walked up. I smiled and said hello back before making my way inside. I took a seat at the counter and watched the shop flood with workers. Pope noticed me and smiled.

"Hey Sav. Gnarly black eye," he said, tossing me a peach. "Fresh from Savannah."

"Thanks," I said. In the background of the commotion I could hear Heyward talking about Pope and how proud he is to be a finalist for a scholarship. "So what's it like being a genius?"

He stared at me for a second, debating how to answer the question. "Well, it has its perks. It makes my parents proud of me. It also gives me an opportunity to make something more of myself by going to college. I can't help, but to think it took something from me though. Like maybe I'd be better with girls if I could shut my brain off."

His glance went to Kiara. I smiled as if I had just learned a secret no one else knew. "How long have you liked her?"

"As long as I can remember," he said, defeatedly. I patted his shoulder and looked at Kiara too.

"She's great, isn't she?" I asked. I watched as JJ joked around with her. "She's cool and confident. Everything she does is right. She doesn't care what others think of her."

Just as I finished my thoughts I heard Heyward come in. "Hey, Pope, someone here to see you."

At that moment, the world had stopped. Deputy Shoupe walked in with a paper in his hand. Pope was shaking. "Evening officer."

"I have an arrest warrant for felony destruction of property," I watched as Kie and JJ ran over. Everything seemed to go in slow motion from that point on. We all followed him out and tried to understand the situation. Then, as Pope was about to get into the car, JJ burst out with emotion.

"It wasn't him," he yelled. "It was me. He tried to talk me out of it, but I was mad because he'd just been beaten up. I was so sick of those assholes from Figure Eight that I lost my shit. I can't let you take the blame for somethin' I did. You've got too much to lose."

I could tell by the look in Pope's eyes that he did it. I could see the regret and the guilt building up inside of him. I looked over at JJ and saw a sad glint in his eyes. He was smirking, feeling proud that he was protecting a friend. I was frozen in shock at everything going on. And just like that, he was gone.

I watched as Pope threw his hat and ran inside. Kie followed closely after, but I just stayed out there. It's hard when you feel two ways about something. I know JJ would be mad at me if I went after him. He would feel burdened if I used my family name as a way to get him out of this. He would push me away further because of the gap in status. That didn't stop the feeling of affection for him. I wanted to be someone he could trust, someone he could rely on. I wanted to be someone he could love. I finally walked inside and sat down besides Pope.

"How are ya holding up?" I asked him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He just shook his head, unable to look at me. "Don't blame yourself, Pope."

"Why did I let him take the fall for me?" he asked. The guilt that laced his voice broke my heart. I know he meant it in a rhetorical way, but I had to answer.

"Because he loves you," I said with a soft chuckle. My heart ached a little. I've never had someone care for me like that. "He loves you so much that he would give up everything he has so that you can have the world and more."

Pope smiled for a second and lifted his head. The tears in his eyes seemed less and less as the seconds passed. I looked down at my hands and twiddled my thumbs around as Pope said thanks to me. Hearing words of praise always made me uncomfortable.

"Hey Sav?" I heard Pope's voice ring out. "Why do you hang out with us?"

"Well," I thought for a second. "I've never had anyone care about me. My whole life has been a competition with my brother. Even now it feels like my brother and I are pawns on my parents chess board. They only care about the piece that will make them the most money later on in life. When I saw you guys hanging out, I always thought to myself: Wow, I want that. I want someone to care for me unconditionally."

I felt my shoulders sink a little and this time Pope put a hand on my shoulder.

"Should we go see how JJ is doing?" he asked. I nodded and off we went.

The jail wasn't a spot I was too familiar with. The light blue and white cars lined the street in front of the building. I felt an uneasy feeling as we made our way inside. I couldn't help wondering what the damage was and how this would all unfold. Kie strutted confidently up to the front desk and told the secretary that we were looking for JJ Maybank.

"He left a few minutes ago," she answered politely. "His dad picked him up.

I watched as Kie and Pope exchanged a look of horror before silently bickering about what to do. My eyes remained on the secretary though.

"Do you know what will happen to him?" I asked. The lady nodded.

"He has a court date set in a few weeks and he will have to pay back the damage that was done to the boat," she said. My heart dropped. Topper's boat was worth at least $30,000. He would never be able to pay that off. In the bottom of my heart, I knew he wouldn't want me to meddle. I knew he would never ask me to get involved. I wanted to though. Even though he didn't love me, even though we were barely friends, I needed to do something.

I paced around my bedroom, trying to find the right words. My blush pink gown swayed with every step. Then I heard the knock.

"Hey sweetheart, what did you need?" my dad asked with a worried look.

"I never ask you for anything," I started. My voice shook with every word. "I never do, so please this one time do what I ask. JJ, he g-"

"Savannah," my dad said sternly. "First, wasting your time with the pogues, getting a black eye, and now this? I already know what he did. I already know what kind of boy he is. I never said anything before because I didn't want to upset you, but this is too much!"

"He's not like that Dad!" I bursted out with emotion. "Just listen to me. This will ruin his life, I need to help him!"

"You have a black eye because of him," I could sense the tension.

"I have a black eye because of Rafe!" I yelled. "Rafe is the one who hit me. Rafe is this horrible, manipulative, prick that deserves everything he's going to get! Dad, JJ didn't sink that boat. He's covering for someone. Just help him, please. He doesn't have that money and it's going to ruin his life."

I felt a stinging on my cheek. I couldn't even process what had happened. My mother who had heard the commotion and rushed into my room to see what was happening gasped loudly. She rushed to me and put her hand on my cheek.

"Nicholas!" she screamed. I placed my hand to my cheek, the cheek my dad had just hit.

"Do you think 30,000 dollars is nothing, Savannah?" he had resentment in his voice. He turned and walked out of my room. As soon as he was gone, I sank to my knees. I sat there and for the first time in my life, there were no tears. I had gotten hurt, but no tears came out.

_________________________________________________________

Tag List: @jjmaybangme

[ollieologys]

Hey could you please write something for the reader where she is a fan of Tom and the other avengers actors and she wakes up in a different place (turns out she got teleported to a different universe) and sees Tom walking around and she goes Tom? But really it’s peter And the other avengers come and they r all confused and try to help her back to her universe im so sorry if this is hard to understand 😬

Title; Peter Holland

Summary; You never thought you’d meet Tom Holland, and you never thought you’d meet Peter Parker, either. But here you are.

Words; 4k

Pairing; Avengers x Reader, Peter Parker x Reader

Warning; far from home spoilers! and minor swearing because.. it’s me lol

Notes; thanks for the request! this is kinda like my summertime (with you) series, but different, so go check that out! love u lots also, lets just assume that everybody was okay after civil war and the snap hasn’t happened or anything and domestic!avengers is alive and well.

     “I literally want to strangle Mysterio. Like, genuinely strangle him.”

Evening overtook the city as you left the movie theater, smiling gently at the concession worker and thanking her for providing you with delicious popcorn. You had just seen Spider-man: Far From Home for the fifth time - this time with your best friend - and still couldn’t seem to fathom how Peter was going to handle this newfound trouble.

Thankfully, you had the internet to discuss your concerns. And, of course, how amazing Tom Holland looked in his most recent stand-alone movie. That you saw five times. Because, why not?

Your friend laughed at your protective nature and draped her arm over your shoulder, stumbling down the sidewalk to your car.

“You know, Y/N, maybe you should like - make an Anti-Mysterio blog,” She suggested with a laugh. You rolled your eyes, a smile creeping on your face.

“You know what?” You tested her, eyes daring. “I just might.” She laughed at your declaration and opened the passenger door. Somehow, you always ended up leaving the theater with this conversation rising. You’d been a massive fan of Tom ever since he appeared in ‘Civil War’ a few years ago, and had followed his career ever since. You had grown to love his portrayal of Peter Parker and would gladly argue with anyone who challenged his acting.

While driving her home, you daydreamed what meeting Tom would be like. Maybe you’d be vacationing in London - freely roaming the streets and searching for anything familiar when suddenly you bump into his chest and spill your coffee. You’d apologize profusely, bending down to pick up the now empty cup, and your fingers would touch, and he’d fall in love with you instantly. Tessa would cuddle at the edge of your shared bed, you’d follow him on press tours, and he’d introduce you to his family. Your best friend would be your maid of honor. Everything would be just perfect.

“Uh, hello? Y/N?” She snapped in front of your face, and suddenly you jumped and gripped the steering wheel. “What?” You questioned, looking at her.

“I said goodnight, you little shit,” she laughed, your face still puzzled as you returned from your land of dreams. She opened the car door, leaning down to give you a final wave goodbye. You waved with a smile, wishing her sweet dreams before driving home.

You made sure to quietly close your front door - the resident just beside your apartment always slept early, and he hated loud noises waking him up - and slowly stripped yourself of the trash from the movie theater before falling into your bed. The clock read a quarter past eleven.

Just as you were about to fall asleep, the notification sound of your phone went off. You groaned, tossing and turning to get to the sleep-depriving device. Your annoyance turned to joy as you saw Tom had posted a picture on Instagram, which turned out to be a selfie from the set of Far From Home. Your heart swelled, admiration for the actor filling your chest as you drifted to sleep. 

The next morning, your routine hadn’t changed much. You got ready for the day with your phone in your hand, scrolling through your social media to catch up on what had happened while you were asleep. Surprisingly, no messages showed up. You hadn’t thought much of it, though. It was a calm Sunday - your friends were most likely asleep still.

While you didn’t work on weekends, you decided to bring yourself out of your house and into the city that was New York. Just for a short stroll, you told yourself. You’d take the Manhattan-bound train and eat at your favorite cafe, or perhaps go visit your friends. Either way, you wanted to get out of the house. Daydreaming was always better while you were in motion.

While sitting on the train, you scrolled through your playlist of seemingly endless songs and waited for your stop to be announced. By now it was just past one, and you couldn’t choose a song to listen to. Even so, your regular Sunday morning changed drastically when you finally decided a tune and looked up from your phone.

There stood, quite literally in front of you, Tom Holland. He wore a plaid dress shirt with a navy blue sweater over it, white earbuds sat still in his ears, a Jansport backpack over his shoulders. You wondered why no one else on the train noticed, or why he was here so casually. 

Your stop was announced. You stood, and amazingly, Tom got off the train as well. Your heart pounded against your ribcage, the crush you had developed over him quickly arising, and you remembered how your dream of meeting him was nothing like this. Suddenly, you realized you had just been standing there and watching him make his way up the stairs and into the streets.

“Fuck,” you whispered to no one in particular. “Okay, relax. Just go ask for a picture and try not to die.”

You whispered quiet encouragements to yourself up until you tapped his shoulder. 

“Uh, yes?” Tom turned to you, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. You mouth ran dry, fumbling with the phone in your hand. It was almost as though you had forgotten your name. “I was wondering if I could get a quick picture with you?” Your voice was soft and polite, eye contact unbreaking. He wasn’t with family or friends, so there was no harm in asking for one picture, right?

Seriously, how was New York not freaking out over the fact that they were breathing the same air as Tom Holland?

He looked at you, confused. “I’m sorry,” He started, turning fully towards you. “I think you have the wrong person.” You shook your head, looking down. Now, you weren’t one to pry - especially on your celebrity crush - but was he genuinely trying to play off the fact that he wasn’t an actor belonging to one the of the largest franchises to exist?

“Tom Holland, right? You’re an actor for Marvel.” You stated questioningly, doubting yourself. Maybe he was a lookalike.

“No, I’m not,” He says, clarifying your confusion. “My name’s Peter.”

You blink. Once. Twice. Three times and shake your head. Had he just said his name was Peter? “Peter?” You repeated him, glaring lightly. “As in Peter Parker?” His eyes widened slightly. He sized you up, possibly to see if you were some sort of threat, but his senses hadn’t gone off in any way. 

“How do you know that?” He demanded, his voice grew to become defensive. In an instant, your heartbeat had no longer sped up from the fact that you were standing in front of your celebrity crush, but rather from the concept that he might not be your celebrity crush. Of course, that was a long reach. If this were Peter Parker standing in front of you, you were undoubtedly dreaming. Then again, everything felt so incredibly real. Lucid dreams you had before hadn’t even felt this real.

You began to consider the possibility that something happened. You didn’t quite know what - because you swear it was just confirmed that a multi-verse was in fact not real - but something must have happened. Tom – or Peter – didn’t seem to be joking when he established his real name. You began to wonder how much power you possess. Not superpower, but the power of knowledge, as you knew exactly what happens in the Marvel Universe. If you told him too much, you could mess up his entire world. 

Then you realized that sounded absolutely insane. You were definitely dreaming. Nonetheless, you needed to get out of the dream before you say something you shouldn’t. So, you ignore his question and ask your own. 

“What year is it?” You lowered your voice, careful as to not let passersby hear your unusual question. 

Peter’s face became increasingly puzzled, but he answered nonetheless. “It’s 2019. You didn’t answer my question, though - how do you know my name?”

You nodded to yourself, not bothering to answer quickly. If it were 2019, that means that Thanos hasn’t happened just yet. You were almost entirely sure that the Avengers had moved upstate, though. 

“Listen, Peter,” Your voice took more initiative as confidence flooded your system. You were almost sure you were dreaming, but you knew exactly what you needed to do to wake up. “I need you to take me to see the Avenger’s upstate. Like, right now.”

His mouth parted, shocked. Questions and ideas poured into his mind, and he looked side to side before stepping towards you. “How do you know my name, and who are you?” He questioned you more, and the proximity to him allowed a blush to form on your cheeks.

“I promise I’ll answer your questions if you just take me to where I need to go,” You promised.

He refused. “I’m not taking you anywhere.”

You sighed as he turned away. You knew he wouldn’t merely forget you, probably do some research on who you are and find absolutely nothing, so you chased after to him and pulled his arm toward you. He opened his mouth to say something before you interrupted.

“I know you’re Spider-Man.” You whispered.

His eyes widened more, and he checked to see if anyone had heard you. Then, he stepped backward and let out a nervous puff. “I-I’m not Spider-Man.” His voice sounded the exact same as to when he told MJ the same thing, and you mentally laughed to yourself. He was the cutest boy on the planet. Or, in your dream. Or in fiction. You weren’t quite sure.

“You don’t have to lie. I’m not gonna say anything, trust me,” You thought back to Mysterio and glowered at the thought. That dick. Then, you thought back to Mysterio’s claim of the multi-verse. Peter loved that theory, you remembered, and he accepted it with open arms. Even if it was made up, you knew it would be the only explanation to get him moving. Nonetheless, Peter was hesitant to accept you as anything but a threat. Despite his senses quiet as ever, you still knew his only secret, and he didn’t even know who you are. 

“Please,” you begged, your voice wavering. He could feel your sudden fear. “I don’t think I’m in the right place, and I need your help getting home.” Peter’s face softened as you spoke. No matter what, he always wanted to help people. You seemed to already have the ability to hurt him, but you didn’t, and your heart ached at the idea of how trusting he was. Even so, you felt grateful for his help.

With his new-found information, he walked with you back to the subway, and you began your journey to was what you assumed his apartment. You quickly realized you would have the pleasure of meeting Aunt May - but you decided to introduce yourself formally. You didn’t want to freak him out or anything. 

You told him all about your life. Where you lived in New York, where you went to school, how much you loved your best friend and how much of a fan you were of him. You decided not to talk much about Tom Holland - you thought about how you would feel if someone described your life as merely a movie they watched whenever they felt like it. Peter listened intently, taking note of your unusually quick heart-beat and flushed cheeks as he sat just next to you. 

He walked you up to his apartment, and you soaked in the scenery as best you could. After all, it wasn’t every day something like this happened. Even if you didn’t quite understand what this was. Peter told you little about himself, but you didn’t need much anyway. 

He pushed the door open softly, calling out a greeting to May. She popped her head out from the kitchen and waved. “Hey, Peter, I thought you just left?” She asked, stepping out in full as she noticed you. “Oh? Who is this?” She asked. You stood in awe of the apartment - everything appeared the exact same as it had in the movies. Peter answered for you, noticing you examining the apartment.

“This is Y/N, she’s a new transfer student from school, and we ran into each other.” He lied easily. Probably from all the practice with lying about being Spider-Man - even if May knew now. 

“Actually, May, we aren’t staying long. I’m gonna introduce her to Happy.” Peter stated, looking back at you for reassurance. You quietly nodded your head with a smile as your gaze shifted from Peter to Aunt May. She indeed was a beautiful woman. 

“Oh, oh, okay,” She smiled, nodding her head back to you and moving back into the kitchen. Peter brought you over to the couch and sat with you, pulling out his phone and calling Happy. You sat beside him quietly, heart calmed. Everything felt so real. The feel of the couch, the smell of Aunt May’s cooking, and Peter’s Queens accent flowing through your mind. 

You overheard Peter telling Happy he needed him here as soon as possible - describing the situation as ‘dire’ and ‘urgent.’ By now, Happy took Peter seriously, and soon enough, you were in the back of an infamous Audi and driving two hours to upstate New York. 

Peter sat on the opposite of you in the backseat. You hadn’t talked much - not past introducing yourself to Happy and smiling knowingly as he briefly greeted May. Peter didn’t make much conversation, either. You hoped he wasn’t too concerned with trusting you so quickly. He should work on that, in your opinion. Before it’s too late.

Eventually, you were given a guest badge by the receptionist and soon stood in an elevator with Happy and Peter. Soft elevator music played while your shoulders barely grazed Peter’s arm. He looked at you silently, and you returned his look with a smile that whispered: thank you. 

The moment the doors opened, your heart drop. 

In all their glory, the Avengers were sprawled across the living space as though they were one giant family. Natasha and Steve sat on the couch with a bowl of popcorn as their attention laid on the movie in front of them. Bucky and Sam sat on the floor, talking amongst themselves quietly. Bruce and Tony were on the other side of the room in the kitchen as they engaged in conversation. Pepper and Wanda seemed to be preoccupied with something on a 3D table but occasionally glanced at the TV. Thor was there as well, even with his brother Loki, and they watched the movie intently as though the plot was more intriguing than being a literal God.

They were entirely domestic. 

Your eyes seemed to be blown out of their sockets. Not only were you in the presence of superheroes and Gods, but you were in a completely different universe than what you expected. Peter noticed your tensed form and laid a hand on your shoulder. “Hey,” He whispered comfortingly. “You’re fine. They won’t hurt you or anything.”

You nodded, a frown formed on your face. Despite your worries, Peter’s comfort helped more than you had expected. A blush rose to your cheeks again. God, was this really the time for your inevitable crush on Peter Parker?

Tony turned as the three of you stepped out of the elevator. He noticed Happy and Peter first, greeting them with a warm smile before his eyes landed on you. His smile faltered slightly - he was confused. “Who’s this?” Tony asked, motioning towards you with the butter knife he held in his hand. The Avengers turned at the question, and you swore you almost passed out. You gasped lightly as Peter grasped onto your hand.

“This is Y/N, she needs some help.”

You sat quietly in the conference room just down the hall from the living room. You and the rest of the Avengers sat around the oval table, most eyes on you and Peter.

“So, you’re from another dimension?” Rhodey confirmed, his arms crossed skeptically. You nodded slowly, looking at Peter for reassurance. He nodded with a smile, and instantly, you felt at ease. “I think so,” you said, even though you were lying. This was clearly a dream - not another universe, or dimension, or Earth. “Honestly, I think I’m dreaming.” You admitted, the admiration of the world’s greatest heroes sitting in the same room as you flowing through your chest.

The team stayed quiet, questioning the truth of your words. Even though they had heard of unusual circumstances, you showed up out of nowhere. Trustworthy wouldn’t exactly be the word they used to describe you. You knew that, they knew that, and everybody knew that.

“Listen–” you started hesitantly, hoping they’d listen. “I know that I’m a stranger, and you have no obligation to help me, but I really want to go home. I don’t know how I got here, or why I’m here, or anything else - but I do know that I’m not meant to be here right now and that you guys are the only ones who can help me.”

The team looked amongst themselves, and not even Tony - the most talkative - spoke up. Your stomach dropped in fear of rejection, and for the first time since you had woken up, you were genuinely afraid that this was your fate. Unexpectedly, Steve spoke up.

“Y/N, we are obligated to help you - and we will. You did the right thing by coming to us,” His voice was stern, but a soft smile rested on his face.

Nat spoke up next as Bucky and Sam nodded in agreement. “Steve’s right. You’ll get home safe, don’t worry.” Your smile widened at that, and you gripped Peter’s hand tight and quietly thanked him as Bruce and Tony began to speculate how to get you home.

Hours passed. You explained over and over how your day went before you went to sleep, what you were doing before you went to sleep, and how your morning went when you woke up. Peter was beside you the entire time, and eventually, the team broke off to take breaks while Bruce continuously worked on getting you home. Despite wanting to keep your knowledge of their lives quiet, you couldn’t help but bond with the heroes as you sat amongst them comfortably. 

While you hadn’t had much alone time with any of the, you managed to give them words of encouragement you knew would benefit them further down the line. You told Bucky that he and The Winter Soldier were not one and that no matter what anyone said, it wasn’t his fault. You promised Steve that it’s okay to move on in life - not mentioning a name, but he knew what you meant. You went along in almost a circle formation and uplifted the team the best you could.

You had gotten attached, and a part of you felt sad imagining leaving.

It had gotten late. Just five minutes after eleven, and the team was ready to go off to bed. Though the group jokingly protested, Peter suggested you stay in his room for the night. There was a bed-like couch in his room anyway, and he had no problem sleeping on it. You protested, insisting he take his own bed, but he refused. Eventually, you complied and allowed yourself to relax. 

Just as everyone planned on going to bed, Rhodey spoke out with an idea.

“Wait, you said that you woke up here, right?” You nodded in response, glancing at Peter before shifting your eyes back to Rhodey. “So why don’t you just go to sleep at the time you went to sleep last night, and then you’ll wake up back home?” The team, not for the first time that day, responded with silence. You nodded your head slowly, looking at Bruce to see his reaction.

“Well,” Bruce stated, “It’s worth a shot. I’m not getting far in my research anyway.”

You agreed to try it out, noticing it was almost time for you to fall asleep. Luckily, you could feel yourself tiring out. “If this works, thank you all for being here with me. I’ll miss seeing you - I mean, I will, but not– you know what? I’ll just leave it at that,” You laughed, as did the rest of the team, and as they all departed for the night, they either patted your back or hugged you full on. 

Peter showed you to his room, and you appreciated how much quieter it was upstate than in the city. You sat on the edge of his bed, watching as he pulled a spare blanket from the closet and took a pillow from the bed. 

“Peter,” You muttered, your body exhausted. You suspected it was your atoms acting up from being in a different universe. Possibly - this still may very well be a dream. 

“Yeah, Y/N?” He asked, turning toward you. For a moment, you didn’t respond. Peter looked at you, expectantly. Deciding to break your rules slightly, you stood and walked toward him. Your eyes met his, and your heart exploded in your chest. He was so cute, especially in the moonlight. 

“I just want to say thank you,” Your voice was merely a whisper, and while he responded that it was no problem, you weren’t finished. Your heart ached as you thought about what was possible to come for him. After seeing how the Avengers were with each other, you weren’t entirely sure if the timeline would play out the same anymore, but you knew that Peter would eventually face obstacles alone and he’d need someone there for comfort. It was naive to think you could be that person, but you wouldn’t mind leaving an everlasting mark on his conscious. 

“I want you to remember that everything will be okay.” Slowly, you stood on your toes and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek. Even with the minimal light, you could see the blush on his cheeks matching your own. You smiled and almost felt yourself tear up at the thought of never having this experience again. Not many girls back home could say they kissed Peter Parker. 

Peter smiled, pulling you into a hug. “I don’t know you very well, but I’m happy I met you.” You hugged him back tightly, feeling his warm body against yours and doubted that this was ever a dream. Nothing could feel this real and be a dream, and so while you finally let him go and lie down in the bed that he insisted you take for the night, you smile to yourself.

Your phone dings, but you don’t check the notification. Instead, you look out onto the field and slowly close your eyes - a part of you wishing to go home, and another begging to stay.

You were awoken to the sound of a new notification, and the bright light of the sun streaming through blinds. A groan left your lips as you tossed and turned. Eventually, you grasped the phone beside you and scrolled through the number of notifications you had.

All of them were missed calls from your best friend, your family, and hundreds of text messages. You sat up abruptly, taking in your surroundings and calling out for Peter. You quickly realized from the honking horns and the small room that you were back home, and from the sudden amount of notifications, you realized that you were just back where you needed to be.

Thoughts swarm your mind. You wondered how long you had been gone, and you felt terrible for how much concern you most likely caused your friends and family when suddenly you thought back to the night before and allowed a smile to grow on your face.

“I kissed Peter Parker.”

-

Notes; honestly that was really long and not very romantic, but I hoped you enjoyed anyways

general taglist:

@devin-marie , @imagine-lovebug , @nedthegay , @magicalturmoil , @poc-gotbang , @zabdisamor , @romance-geek , @hollandshearteyes , @jackiehollanderr , @etudaire , @spiderperalta , @mapreza1

peter parker taglist:

@really-lucas , @exquisitebts , @pastelastronomy24 , @eridanuswave , @snowxbarryxendgame , @s-ecret–garden , @obsiidio , @lost-in-translating , @awokenfandoms @estate-euphoric , @night-girls-world , @notanicekid , @guccixuxi ,

[etraytin]

Quarantine, Day 104

June 23

My entire body is miserably sore tonight, and almost all I did today was sit in a folding chair. For fourteen hours. Election Day, you beacon of democracy, why must you hurt me so? This was my third election as a poll worker and I'm really starting to get a feel for it now, but I'm still not smart enough to bring a damn butt cushion along, so what good am I? Today was strictly a Republican primary for non-presidential races in my district, so it wasn't exactly a barn-burner. We ended up getting 286 voters between 6am and 7pm, plus another thirty or so people who came to the wrong precinct and had to be steered elsewhere. That's about a 13% voting rate, fairly normal for us for a primary from what I heard. The Democratic primary back in March was better attended, getting over 400 voters despite Democrats being a significant minority around here, but it was a presidential primary and also before the world blorped. 

The Democratic primary this year in VA was on March 3, nine days before Day One as measured by this journal. We were already aware of coronavirus, of course, and social distancing and handwashing were on everybody's mind, but nobody was even taking the possibility of lockdown too seriously yet. Our only concession to the looming crisis was several bottles of hand sanitizer added to the precinct supply kits. Today, on the other hand, we were in full COVID survival mode. We had an entire duffle bag full of protective equipment, sanitizers and disinfectant, plus a whole set of protocols to follow, and they were terrible. At the start of the day, they made pollbook workers (those of us who sit in the front and get people checked in) wear both masks and face shields, which is extremely uncomfortable especially if you wear glasses. We also couldn't touch anyone's ID, so when I took off my glasses in order to be able to see, I had to stand up, lean over and squint every time to read the names. It wasn't til around 9am that we got a nurse from the health department in to be our, ugh, I don't remember what it was really called, but she was our COVID babysitter. She said that if we weren't going to be moving around a lot and we were distanced from each other at our computers, we would be pretty safe with just a mask or a face shield. The day got considerably easier after that. But we had distance lines on the floors, boxes and boxes of pens to hand out, and we had to remember to disinfect the door handles frequently so they didn't get all plaguey. And of course there was no potluck, which was extremely sad. A frozen dinner of sweet and sour chicken just isn't the same. 

Even though we didn't have very many voters today, it was an important election because it is a dry run for November. During the presidential election, we will not have the luxury of a slow start and time to get used to new procedures. We had to look at today amongst ourselves and with our health department observers and decide what worked and what didn't, what ought to be changed before the general election and how to streamline things to make them work better. The biggest and best suggestion I heard was giving us plexi barriers at the pollbooks. This would not only lessen our need for uncomfortable PPE during an already grueling day, but if we blocked off the computer table, we wouldn't have people putting their crap down on the table and possibly infecting one another that way. We're also going to need a much longer pollbook table so we can have at least three computers going with all of us six feet apart. Two pollbooks is plenty for a primary, but even in last year's off-year November election we had moments when three pollbook workers were going  full speed. Trump v. Biden is going to bring all the voters to the yard, I am fairly sure. 

Anyway, we closed the polls at seven and were out before eight this evening, which is pretty good efficiency for us. And no discrepancies in our numbers, yay! Good job, doughty pollbookers! We had a couple provisional ballots that had to be cast because people got absentee ballots thinking the polls might be closed and then lost them, and a couple of people who brought in their absentee ballots and spoiled them in front of us so they could vote in person. We learned all kinds of stuff about absentee ballots today that have never really come up in previous years! That'll probably be useful for November too, honestly. If we can just figure out how to do a safe potluck, we'll really be in business! 

[fuelcut]

Silicon Valley’s imaginary Q2 2020 earnings call

[switch to long version]

CEO, MEGA TECH CORP - Hello everyone. These aren’t normal times. We’re not going to talk about our 10Q on this call. We’re here to talk about the next 10 years. So if you’re here for DAUs, ARR or CPC, you can drop off now.

We’ve been doing a lot of thinking about the race, health and economic crises our country faces. Over the last few weeks, I’ve asked our exec team to leave their homes, their [Zoom alternative] calls and their DoorDash deliveries to join protests and explore our community through new eyes.

What we now see - more clearly than ever - is that our entire company, industry, and Valley - are built on flawed foundations. A flawed social contract.

We can no longer just focus on the magical software bits and hope someone else figures out racial equity, employment, climate and health. This is Joel Spolsky’s Law of Leaky Abstractions on the ultimate scale. The abstractions are failing - and we’re seeing bugs and unintended consequences all around us. And the more we invest to deal with one-off bugs, the more likely we are to calcify change and imprison ourselves inside a failing stack. It’s like we decided to build the world’s notification service on Ruby on Rails - or building an iPhone competitor on Windows CE. Fail Whale everywhere. Unfortunately, America’s democratic institutions are in poor condition. They are struggling to deal with inequality let alone looming environmental disaster.  A polarized electorate - particularly at the national level - leads to populism and makes it hard for these institutions to execute meaningful, long-term plans.

We talk a lot about speech, misinformation, fairness of targeted ads etc. But it’s becoming clear that UX, linear algebra/training data and monetization in our products is just the tip of the spear to address polarization. We believe polarization is a product of the underlying conditions of civil rights, education, health and climate debt that affect Americans differentially based on race, wealth, neighborhood and region. 

So will today’s peaceful protests for racial justice expand into tomorrow’s revolution(s) for economic freedom? If you don’t think things are bad now, think about what happens when the stimulus checks run out. Take a look at the amount of debt in the public sector, use any imagination about COVID, work out what happens to their tax base / pension returns and consider the impact on public services, public servants and their votes.  MMT better be a real thing. Maybe we didn’t start these fires, but that refrain won’t save us when the flames come our way.

We’re done debating why we need to act. It’s clear America needs our help. Let’s talk about how we’re going to rise to the occasion. Our mantra will be “internalize, innovate, institutionalize”.

First, we’re going to internalize our problems. I’m here to tell you that issues of racial and economic justice are not just moral issues but they’re financial issues. Racial debt, education debt, health debt, climate debt  will hit us harder and harder each year.  (By the way, revolution probably won’t be great for your DCF models.) So we’re going to recognize these off-balance sheet liabilities - which amount to a few hundred billion in the US alone over the next 10 years for a company at our scale. You should assume other CEOs are thinking the same things - even if it takes them a few more quarters or years to say it.  

Second, we’re going to innovate against these systemic problems - but our only shot at making progress is if we realign the entire company’s mission to address them. This is not about optics. This is not about philanthropy. This is not another bet.  We have no choice but to put all our chips behind one bet - America - at least to start. It's the country that backed us in the first place, it's where most of our people are and most of our profits. The job for our existing products, platforms and cash flows will be to advance four areas: place / race, skilling / manufacturing, health / food and climate / mobility - starting in America. The board will measure me based on job creation and diversity.  It should go without saying that we’re pausing dividends and buybacks for the foreseeable future. Every dollar will serve our mission. Every senior leader will need to sign up for our new mission - and those who choose to stay will receive a new, back-end loaded, 10 year vesting schedule.  We want them focused on the long-term health of society - not the whims of Robinhood day traders or strengthening the moats of existing products. We will need to invent entirely new ways to operate and ship products. As Joel Spolsky said, “when you need to hire a programmer to do mostly VB programming, it’s not good enough to hire a VB programmer, because they will get completely stuck in tar every time the VB abstraction leaks”. We need engineers, designers and product managers that will look deep into the stack, confront the racial, job access, health and climate debts that our products, our companies and our communities are built on top of.   This is not about CYA process to protect cash cows or throwing things over the fence to policy. We will need to innovate across technical, cultural and organizational lines. This requires deep understanding and curiosity. Systems and full-stack, not just pixels. This will bring more scrutiny to our company - not less.  Change must not be the burden for only our Black employees or other subsets. Everyone must be on board - so for the next 12 months, we’re giving folks a one-time buyout if they want to leave.

Third, we can’t do any of this by ourselves.  The problems are too big. Our role will be to provide enlightened risk capital (from our balance sheet or by re-vectoring operating spend) alongside R&D, product, platform leverage to help leaders and innovators pursue solutions in these areas. We will work with our peers and the public sector wherever possible - buying/R&D consortia, public-private partnerships, trusts, etc. Collaboration is the default, not the exception. But the new era and landscape demands that we explore institutional models beyond global capital/startups, labor unions, NGOs or government. We need models that can more flexibly align people and purpose, that innovate on individualized vs. socialized risk/reward - and that ultimately help build and sustain local, social capital. It’s difficult to say what these will look like - but increasingly figuring this out will be existential for our core business. Right now, it doesn’t matter if you’re designing the best cameras in Cupertino or the best ways to see their snaps in Santa Monica - we’re all just building layers of an attention stack for global capital. Our Beijing competitors have figured this out. ByteDance is already eating our lunch. They’re using the same tech inputs as us - UX, ML and large-scale systems - which are now a commodity - but with vastly lower consequences for the content they show - creating a superior operating / scaling model. They’re not internalizing social or political cost. What we need in this era is the accumulation stack - where each interaction builds social capital.  This is not about global likes. This is about local respect. We’ll create competitive advantage when we build products that reach across race / economic lines to harness America’s amazing melting pot and do so in ways that build livelihoods / property rights for creators and stakeholders.

With this operating model in place, we’re committing to fundamental change in four areas:

Place & Race - Over the next 10 years, 100% of our jobs will be in diverse communities that embrace inclusive schooling, policing, housing and transit policies. (Starting tomorrow, we’re putting red lines on our maps around towns with exclusionary zoning.) This is not about privatizing cities or an HQ2-style play to extract concessions. This is about investing our risk capital and our reputation to innovate alongside government. How do we bring world-class education to neighborhoods with concentrated poverty? What is the future of digital/hybrid charter schooling? Unbundled public safety? We’re done with de facto segregation. We’ll embrace “remote-first” with physical centers of gravity as a means to this end. The Bay will become one physical node alongside several others (e.g. Atlanta, DC, LA) creating a strategic network to develop diverse talent across the country. We’re going to coordinate our investment with leading peers - since after all, this isn’t about cost or cherry-picking. It’s about broadening our country’s economic base.

Skilling & Manufacturing - We’re going to 10x the tech talent pool in 10 years - by inventing new apprenticeship models that bring women, minorities and the poor into the workforce. We’ll start with our existing contractor base, convert them to new employment models with expanded benefits and paths for upward mobility. Next, we will invent new productivity tools for all types of workers - from the front office to mobile work to call center - that brings the power of AI and programming to everyone. These will be deeply tied into new platforms for work designed from the bottom-up to build social and financial capital for individual workers and teams. Last, we’re setting a goal to manufacture most of our hardware products - from silicon all the way to systems - entirely in the US in 10 years. This will require massive investment, collaboration and innovation. It may require a revolution in robotics - but we will pursue this in a way that makes the American worker competitive - not a commodity to be automated away. If we’re successful, the dividends of our investment here will have massive spillover benefits to every other sector of manufacturing in the US - autos, etc. - including ones we have yet to dream up.

Health & Food -  We’re not going to tolerate a two-class system for healthcare. As we convert our contract workforce to new employment models, we’ll innovate on the fundamental quality/cost paradigm. This may feel like a step down but it will put us (and the rest of society if we’re successful) on a fundamentally better long-term trajectory. Can we use AI to help scale the reach of community health workers? Can we help them create co-operatively owned care delivery orgs that offer new ways to share risk and support behavior change?  Local, social capital is critical. Food is part of Health, and we’re going to innovate there too. Free food for employees is not going to come back post-COVID. Instead, we’ll use our food infrastructure to bootstrap cooperatively-owned cloud kitchens. We’ll provide capital to former contractors - mostly Black and Hispanic - to invest and own these. We’ll build platforms to help them sell food to employees (partly subsidized), participate in new “food for health” programs and eventually disrupt the extractive labor practices we see across food, grocery and delivery.

Climate & Mobility - Lastly, we’ll be imposing a carbon tax on all aspects of our own operations - which we’ll use to “fund” innovation in this space - with a primary focus on job creation. This is an area where we’re going to be looking far beyond our four walls from the beginning.  As a first step, we’re teaming up with Elon and Gavin Newsom to buy PG&E out of bankruptcy and restructure it as a 21st century “decentralized” network of community utilities.  It will accelerate the electrification of mobility - financing networked batteries for buses, cars and bikes along with charging infrastructure - and lead a massive job creation program focused on energy efficiency. It will use its rights of way to provide Gigabit ethernet + 5G to everyone - which will help people and help fund some of this.  Speaking of mobility, private buses aren’t coming back after COVID. Instead, we’re teaming up with all of our peers to create a Bay-wide network of electric buses (with bundled e-bikes) that will service folks of all walks of life - including our own employee base. Oh and one more thing - we’re bringing together the world’s most advanced privacy/identity architecture and computational video/audio to bake public health infrastructure directly into the buses. For COVID and beyond. None of this is a substitute for competent, democratically accountable regional authorities. This is us investing risk capital on behalf of society - with the goal of empowering these authorities.

Open technology for global progress - While we have to prioritize America given the scale of problems, the intent is not to abandon the rest of the world or hold back it’s progress. We feel the opposite - that over the coming decades each country’s technology sectors will thrive. To get there, we will continue to invest patiently - hiring, training, partnering, investing and innovating - but with a clear north star to help each country develop local leaders in new areas. Long-term, we’ll continue to contribute open technology that others can build upon.

America should be the proverbial city on a hill for everyone - not a metaverse for the rich with the poor dying in the streets. We don’t have much time so we’re getting to work now. See you next quarter.

[razieltwelve]

Briefing (Final Rose AU Snippet)

Note: This is set in the Tifa/Lightning/Fang/Summer AU.

X     X     X

“You know why you are here, right?”

Averia nodded at her mother. “It’s about Elsa, isn’t it?”

“Under normal circumstances, a princess would not be attending Beacon Senior Academy. If she wanted training, she would be receiving it personally from elite tutors while still residing in her home kingdom. Elsa, however, was adamant on receiving a proper education as a huntress, with all that implied.”

“Understood.” Despite being a single word, Averia’s approval was obvious. Elsa did not simply want to be coddled. She wanted to become a proper huntress, and that was worthy of praise in Averia’s eyes. Indeed, she expected nothing less from her friend. 

“Of course, she would never have been allowed to attend Beacon Senior Academy in the first place if we had not been willing to make certain… concessions.” Lightning sighed. “Given the prestige her attendance brings, to say nothing of the funding and naval assistance her kingdom has agreed to offer, we agreed to certain requests they made.”

“I assume that is at least partly why she is on my team.”

“Correct,” Lightning said. “We would most likely have placed her on your team regardless due to the personality and power fit, but her parents wanted a guarantee as well as assurance that you would personally see to her safety if necessary.”

“I see.”

“You and Elsa have continued to correspond since we last visited Arendelle. You are, quite possibly, her best friend. There is no one here at this academy that she would trust more than you. You will also be her team leader. I think it’s safe to say that if you give her an order, even one related to her personal safety as a princess, she will obey.”

“And having someone with Saviour in close proximity to their daughter would soothe her parents’ worries, correct?” Averia asked.

Lightning nodded. “Like it or not, our family is the most prominent family of huntresses in the world, and the Semblance we share is one of the most powerful in history, some would say the most powerful. Appearances and power matter. You are widely considered to be my ‘heir’ whatever that might mean, and your power is without question.” Lightning’s lips curved up into a small, proud smile. “I would bet on you to beat any student at Beacon Senior Academy even though you’re only just about to start your first year here. You have access to the second level of Saviour, and the third will not be far. If something wants to hurt Elsa, it will have to get through you, and there are very, very, very few things that can manage that, to say nothing of the support Elsa herself could provide in battle.”

“I would take care of her regardless of what her parents asked,” Averia pointed out. “She is my friend and my teammate. I refuse to let any of them come to unnecessary harm.” It went unspoken of course that trying to prevent them from ever getting injured would only hamper their growth, but Averia would not hesitate to step in if she thought they had bitten off more than they could chew.

“There was some concern they might ask your sister to help with this…”

“Ruby is fifteen,” Averia said bluntly. “I have every confidence in her abilities, but she’ll have enough on her plate leading her own team for the first time.” Like many of the advanced students at the Junior Academy, Averia had already led makeshift teams on missions. Ruby did not have the benefit of so much experience. Averia would not allow her younger sister to be overburdened due to the political machinations of others. “It wouldn’t be fair to ask her to do this. She also doesn’t know Elsa as well as I do.”

“Indeed.” Lightning nodded. “Those were my exact thoughts. Your sister is talented, but she is still very young. I would like to hold her back until she’s seventeen, but…”

“Your analysis concluded it was better to let her proceed.”

“Yes.” Lightning nodded. “It did. As for Anna, Elsa’s younger sister, she would also like to attend Beacon Senior Academy…”

“Diana, right?”

“Yes. She fits Diana’s team well, they get along, and Diana has more than enough power to ensure her safety. Anything that can get through Diana would have no trouble getting through any other team we put her on.”

“Politics is aggravating,” Averia remarked.

“Yes, it is, but it is part of the world we live in.”

“I assume Ruby will be getting Weiss Schnee then.”

Lightning nodded. “Correct. The Schnees are an extremely powerful and influential family, and Weiss has incredible potential. They all but demanded we put her on your team, but Ozpin put his foot down. He didn’t want to have two VIPs on the same team. When they found out, the Schnee pushed to have her on Ruby’s team. Refusing would have been seen as an incredible insult given our family’s prominence and Ruby’s status as a prodigy.”

“Then give her Yang as well,” Averia replied. “Weiss appears to be an ideal support type with some room to grow into a highly capable of melee type and a devastating ranged attacker. What they need is some who can draw enemy attention and keep it. Yang would be ideal, and she and Ruby already like and trust each other.” It went unspoken that Yang was one of the people that met Averia’s exacting standards when it came to her younger siblings. Yang could be trusted to protect Ruby if necessary and support her position as team leader. She would also tease Ruby mercilessly, but Ruby would survive. Probably.

“I’ve already put her on Ruby’s team,” Lightning said. “For those exact reasons.”

“Dare I ask who the fourth member will be?”

“Blake Belladonna.”

“Of Menagerie?” Averia raised one eyebrow. “Isn’t she a princess?”

“Technically, no. Her parents rule Menagerie, but they haven’t styled themselves as royalty. However, Blake is very, very good. After the… downfall of the White Fang, her parents took steps to develop their own, highly skilled armed forces whose loyalty and honour they could trust. Blake has been training with them for years. She is already at an advanced level in terms of her combat abilities, even for Beacon Senior Academy.”

Averia almost rolled her eyes at the mention of the ‘downfall’ of the White Fang. They’d had the audacity to bomb one of her Tifa Mom’s establishments went it was undergoing construction back when Averia had been only a few years old. Her parents had responded by attacking the White Fang directly. The campaign had been short, bloody, and decisive. Dropping Ragnarok through the roof of the White Fang’s last stronghold had brought an end to the White Fang and prompted Menagerie to develop its own, professional armed forces instead of relying on zealots and extremists.

“What do the simulations say?”

“Your Aunt Vanille and Diana have run the numbers. Blake is the best fit out of the remaining students. It was either going to be her or Jahne.”

“Give me Jahne,” Averia said. “Ruby’s too nice to deal with her all the time.”

Lightning laughed. “That’s probably true, and Elsa could use some practice dealing with someone like Jahne. At least she isn’t quite as bad as Jihl.”

Averia’s sighed. “Yes, there is that.” In all honesty, she liked Jahne, but then again, she also found all of Diana’s plotting and scheming adorable. There was probably something wrong with her, now that she thought about it. “Is there anything else I should know about?”

“Keep an eye on Team JNPR.”

“Oh?”

“It’s one of Ozpin’s projects,” Lightning said. “The leader, Jaune, is an interesting case.”

“And by interesting?”

“Frankly, he shouldn’t be here if we look solely at his grades and transcripts, most of which are fraudulent. However, Ozpin has pinpointed him as a person of great potential, and Yeul has peered into the future. She concurs it would be advantageous to allow him to remain. However, he may need assistance from time to time.”

Averia nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on it.”

“He has Pyrrha Nikos on his team, so he should survive without too much difficulty simply due to her prowess. She is not someone who would allow her teammates to come to harm. However, he will need help when it comes to leadership, strategy, and tactics. If he approaches you, at least hear him out.”

“Then I hope he is a hard worker,” Averia replied. “Because if I’m going to help him, I won’t do it in half measures.”

“I would expect nothing less.” Lightning glanced back at her notes. “One last thing…”

“Oh?”

“Try to keep your schedule flexible. Atlas has some… work they need done, and either you or I will likely be the ones to do it. Given my current schedule…”

“Of course,” Averia nodded. “Will I be working with one of their specialists then?”

“Your point of contact will likely be Winter Schnee.” Lightning smiled faintly. “Don’t worry. She’s one of James’s finest which means she may be a stickler for protocol, but she is also going to be highly competent.”

“I see.” Averia nodded again. “Then I suppose I should get going. Aunt Vanille and Diana are running another ‘killer robot apocalypse’ simulation, and they want me to examine the safety protocols they have to identify points of inefficiency.”

“You know, they could simply stop building killer robots if they want to avoid accidentally causing a killer robot apocalypse.”

“They could,” Averia replied. “But we both know they won’t.”

X     X     X

Author’s Notes

Behold the intrigue that goes on behind the scenes! As members of a super prominent family, Averia and Ruby are in high demand as team leaders. Of course, things can get complicated. Luckily, Lightning is up to the task of juggling everything, and there’s no one she trusts more out of her children than Averia to handle this side of things. After all, they’re both killer robots.

You can find me on fanfiction.net, AO3, and Amazon.

[thepoliticalpatient]

My views on 2020, pt 2: the candidates

This is the second and final part on a series of posts I’ve been writing about the politics of 2020. The first one discussed different healthcare proposals and is located here. This one will be about the Democratic candidates for president.

TL;DR: I like Julián Castro the best, but if the primary was today, I’d vote for Elizabeth Warren. I also like Kamala Harris and Bernie Sanders.

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

We have a lot of great Democratic candidates for president, and a lot of not-so-great ones. My mind isn’t made up, but I’ve been paying close attention and I have pretty strong leanings by this point.

One of my guiding notions in making this decision is that I want a candidate who will aim high, but who knows how and where to compromise.

To elaborate, the political reality is such that I don’t expect a Democratic president to be able to pass something like Medicare for All as written now, even if we win big in the Senate. I don’t think we’ll probably win a supermajority in the Senate (60 seats), which would be required to pass a major healthcare bill like this without Republican support. Even if we did scrape 60 seats, we have some very centrist Senators like Kyrsten Sinema and Joe Manchin who are likely to vote against a radical bill. The only shot we’d have would be if we first overturned the filibuster, which itself is not a vote that I see succeeding.

But....I still want a candidate who’s going to aim high. And the reason for this is precisely because I understand that concessions are going to have to be made when any policy proposal hits Congress. Wouldn’t it be better to start with a fairly radical bill and compromise from there, rather than starting with something that’s already a compromise and having to make further concessions? This is why I’m unimpressed with candidates who are aiming low by saying “let’s just add a public option” and other centrist platforms. For me, this rules out candidates like Joe Biden, Pete Buttigieg, and Amy Klobuchar.

This principle has also caused me to be somewhat less concerned about candidates running on policy platforms that I consider imperfect. For instance, while I see a lot of flaws in Bernie’s Medicare for All bill, I think the chances of it actually passing without major amendments are approximately 0%, so I’m not holding it against him as much as I might otherwise.

What does concern me about Bernie is his general attitude of purity or bust. For example, he has refused to support a House bill that would strengthen the Affordable Care Act,1 citing his belief in Medicare for All as the only path forward on healthcare. This leads me to be unsure about what he would do in the not at all unlikely scenario in which Congress manages to pass a healthcare bill that is good - in the sense that it improves upon the current system in some way - but is not the sweeping, revolutionary reform that many including Sanders want it to be. Would a President Bernie Sanders veto that bill? I’m not confident the answer is no, which makes me uncomfortable, as someone who greatly appreciates the protections provided to me by another bill that has been criticized as not doing enough or not being ideologically pure - the Affordable Care Act.

I’m getting too bogged down on the negatives here - to be clear, I would be thrilled to cast my vote for Bernie Sanders in the general if he got nominated. But we have another viable candidate with revolutionary vision and who better aligns with my views, and that is Elizabeth Warren.

My favorite thing about Elizabeth Warren is that she is a policy wonk. She thinks deeply on issues and comes up with very detailed plans. While her Medicare for All plan has flaws, I like it a lot better than Sanders’ version of the same. My previous post laid out some of the differences between them and why I prefer Warren’s version. In particular, I like that Warren has released plans about how she would pay for and transition into Medicare for All, which other candidates have not done at a level of detail that convinces me they’re taking it seriously (except perhaps Kamala Harris, who I’ll get to in a minute).

Of course, healthcare is not the only policy topic that matters to me, and I also love many of Warren’s other big ideas like a wealth tax, universal child care, etc.

Also, as a resident of Massachusetts who has spent a lot of my time since 2016 at protests in the Boston area, I can vouch that Elizabeth Warren shows up when it matters. I particularly remember sitting one pew behind her in the Arlington Street Church at a Black Lives Matter event in late 2016 or early 2017. It didn’t seem like she was there for publicity - she just showed up and....listened.

She is not a perfect candidate or human. I don’t like her handling of the Native American debacle. I have seen evidence that she has tried to do right by the Native community in the time since, listening to them about the issues that affect them and taking subsequent action.2 But I’m far from an expert on this topic.

Of the other major candidates, I also like Kamala Harris. I like her healthcare plan even though it’s a bit more moderate than the ones proposed by Warren and Sanders, preserving a role for private insurance in the long-term and using a 10 year transition3. I was turned off by the way she waffled on healthcare in the early debates, but she eventually cleared it up by releasing her plan. She’s whip-smart, great on her feet, and would make Donald look like a child in debates. I’d be very happy to vote for her in the general as well.

But my absolute favorite candidate is Julián Castro. The only reason I didn’t mention him sooner is that I don’t expect him to be in the race much longer given that he is polling badly and has no longer qualified for debates. Julián won me over for two main reasons. The first is that he is consulting with thought leaders in the healthcare and disability rights community to formulate his platforms.4 For me, this creates another level of trust in his platform, knowing that it is informed by the input of those closest to these issues and not just outside “experts.” Other candidates may be doing this as well, but Julián is the only one I know of for sure, and it shows.

Julián has released a sweeping disability rights plan that would increase funding for the education of disabled students, put an end to subminimum wages for disabled workers, increase the availability of accessible housing, and so much more. Importantly, it would remove the asset limit on Supplemental Security Income (SSI) - right now, if you have over $2000 in assets, you cannot collect SSI, which prevents many disabled people from having any hope of living outside of poverty. This cap on assets also prevents SSI recipients from being able to marry without losing access to their SSI in most cases. Julián’s plan would also increase the amount that SSI pays out. It is a really good plan that would materially improve the lives of millions of disabled people across the nation, and as far as I know, no other candidate has released anything that resembles it at all.

If the primary were today, I would really, really want to vote for Julián - but I probably would not, knowing that he doesn’t stand a chance of winning at his current polling numbers. It’s a shame that we use a voting system that forces me to think about “gamifying” my vote in this way. I would probably vote for Elizabeth Warren instead.

You don’t have to agree with me, but I hope you can appreciate my perspective! Still open to having my mind changed before Super Tuesday.

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

1 https://youtu.be/LbXuAsLQZJs

2 https://newsmaven.io/indiancountrytoday/opinion/representative-haaland-and-senator-warren-the-federal-government-has-a-responsibility-to-write-a-new-chapter-in-the-story-of-its-government-to-government-relationship-with-tribal-nations-XCguhzHqIkiUNhbKXPNvvg/

3 https://medium.com/@KamalaHarris/my-plan-for-medicare-for-all-7730370dd421

4 https://twitter.com/mattbc/status/1174067652798664704

5 https://issues.juliancastro.com/equality-for-people-with-disabilities/?source=medium

[queen-scribbles]

At All Costs

For @pillarspromptsweekly fill 98: Reputation. Broke out Josetta again and regret nothing. Title is the name of the quest, because I couldn’t think of anything better.

---

She was late. Josetta cursed under her breath as she hurried through the streets toward Ondra’s Gift. She hadn’t been late once yet the whole time working for Mestre Verzano. Tempted as she’d been a time or two--it had to be the most mind-numbingly dull job in all Defiance Bay--she had been raised to keep her word. And even if Mestre Verzano wouldn’t care, Liena almost definitely would, and Josetta had no desire for a black mark on her record.

She neatly dodged between people, silently thanking Hylea at least the Gift wasn’t as busy at this hour as Copperlane or Brackenbury. Despite her best efforts, however, Liena fixed her with a chastising look when she swept  through the door.

“Oversleep, did we?” she asked blandly. “I warned you all the midnight oil you burn would catch up to you.”

Josetta rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I was awake in plenty of time. The delay came from spilling my breakfast all down my front because I tripped over a loose board. Had to change, ac? And then got caught by the bustle and crowds I’m usually early enough to avoid...” She ran one hand over her braids, even though she knew all seven were still firmly done from last night. Nedra had helped, and old as the woman was, her braids were still top-notch.

“Since it’s the first time in nine months, I won’t mark it down,” Liena conceded with a small smile. “You are a hard worker, Josetta, and more reliable than most.” She snorted and jerked her head toward the back room. “The old man’s so distracted today, he likely won’t even notice.”

“Agracima, Liena,” Josetta smiled in relief. She hung up her cloak and hurried to the warehouse stockroom, russet skirt swirling around her ankles.

Mestre Verzano was standing in the stockroom, calling out directions to the other workers as he played with his dinged up old pocket watch. He definitely seemed just as agitated as Liena hinted, and indeed didn’t even acknowledge Josetta as she passed on her way to the accounting stations. “...should be here by now....” he was muttering.

Bennet flashed a knowing look, and his lips curved in a smirk when he saw her.  “I keep telling you South Alley’s faster, Jos.”

Josetta rolled her eyes. “Ac, because nothing would happen to a woman alone traveling that route.”

“Not during the day,” Bennet clarified, nudging his spectacles higher on the bridge of his nose. “I’m not saying it’s a good path home, just that during daylight hours there’s enough kith you should be safe, but not so many you’re late for work. Just keep it in mind for emergencies, is all I’m suggesting.”

“Suggestion noted,” Josetta said crisply, settling on her stool. “What are we working on this morning?”

“Bills of lading.” Bennet gave her an exaggerated smile as he passed over a thick sheaf of parchment. “Have fun.”

It could be worse, she reminded herself as she scanned the cramped or near-illegible rows of handwriting that covered the pages. You could still be at that tavern. Or working for the seamstress. At least here there’s sunlight and no one pinching your backside. It didn’t mean the morning’s work would be any more fun, but the perspective did help.

Josetta had been at work for a couple hours, carefully copying lists of goods received and their value to the company records, when Mestre Verzano had a visitor. There was only one reason--well, two--he would have visitors at the company office, and the tan, rough-clad elven woman definitely didn’t look like a Trading Company representative.

“Merla,” she hissed.

Bennet looked up from his ledgers at her quiet oath and groaned in disbelief. “Is he at it again?”

Josetta nodded, rubbing her eyes as Mestre Verzano made brief small talk with the elf before handing her a small bag. “Postenago’s going to get himself killed and we’ll be working for the Doemenels before the month is out.”

“With your dreams, I wouldn’t have figured you for such a pessimist, Jos,” Bennet said dryly as they watched the elf leave. Mestre Verzano approached one of the warehouse guards and murmured something to him.

“There’s nothing pessimistic about knowing how the world works, Bennet,” she sighed. “Side dealing around a crime family always catches up to you. And the Doemenels have already given him several warnings. Knowing what comes next is no more pessimistic than knowing what Nedra’s serving for dinner tonight.”

He shrugged and grunted a concession and they got back to work.

---

It was only an hour, maybe a little more, before the elf returned with friends at her back. “Care to explain why the Doemenels want you dead?” she asked, loudly and without preamble. “What the fuck did you have me do?”

Josetta and Bennet exchanged a look and slid  off their stools, edging closer to the doorway so they could hear.

Just in time to see Mestre Verzano’s eyes widen as he tugged on his beard.  “They were there? I was so careful. they shouldn’t have known, how did they know?”

The warehouse guards tensed at his agitation, a few laying hands on weapons as slow, measured footsteps approached.

“Maybe you were right,” Bennet muttered. Josetta tossed him an almost sarcastic smile in response. 

The footsteps were not one of the Doemenels. They belongs to a tall, imposing woman Josetta vaguely recognized. She was a mes Rèi; god-touched, member of the Five Suns and the only connection the ducs bels deigned to keep with Mestre Verzano. usually bringing reprimands or warning. Today she paused in the doorway, arms crossed as a darkly humored smile tugged at her lips. “Ah, is this your last day among the living, Verzano?”

“Impeccable timing, Tella Pallegina,” Verzano managed, voice shaking as he turned from the elf. He wrung his hands and held them out pleadingly toward the paladin. “Please, please, the Doemenels, they are after me! You must stop them!”

She snorted, golden eyes flickering disdainfully. “I must? No, no, Verzano. The Republics only considered you an investment worth preserving based on your success.” She looked around the half-empty warehouse as if to underscore her point. “That success hinges on your cooperation with locals. Such as the Doemenels. As you have lost that...” She fixed him with a meaningful look that tied Josetta’s stomach in knots, “you have also lost the favor of the ducs.”

So much for this being a respectable job, Josetta groaned inwardly.

“Even assuming you got out of this alive, they are done with you,” Pallegina continued. “There are much more important issues in Defiance Bay than rescuing a man who threw himself overboard.”

“Per complanca, Pallegina!” Mestre Verzano cried, falling to his knees. “You can’t mean... Whatever shame I’ve brought on myself, I don’t stand a chance against the Doemenels, you know this! Surely you don’t intend to watch your countryman cut down like a dog!”

Pallegina simply stared at him, one brow arching in disdain. “A dog would die with more dignity, I think. You know where my orders come from, ac? Why waste your precious remaining breaths trying to change them instead of crying for mercy to the one person here who may grant it?”

Her gaze and Verzano’s--as well as Josetta and Bennet’s--went to the rough-looking elf, who had been watching the whole exchange with an expression Josetta couldn’t quite read on her face and arms crossed. With attention on her now, the elf shrugged and exchanged looks with a couple of her companions.  “Sure, I can do that. Got no love for the fuckin’ Doemenels, an’ they don’t scare me.”

Pallegina snorted. “You have some saint looking out for you, Verzano. Just don’t come knocking at the embassy after she saves your sorry hide.” With a final dry smirk toward Mestre Verzano, she turned on her heel and strode out.

Josetta bit her lip. If the Doemenels were coming here, perhaps it would be wise for her and Bennet to hide. True, the scrapper elf and her motley collection of friends looked capable of handling anything thrown at them, but regardless of circumstance, the Doemenels were... not fond of witnesses. She turned to make the suggestion--

And found a gleaming dagger mere inches from her face, held by a dark clad thug standing over Bennet’s crumpled form.

“Scream an’ you’re dead,” the thug warned just above a whisper. “Keep quiet, maybe you an’ you friend here walk away alive.”

Josetta nodded, lips pressed together, relieved by the tacit confirmation Bennet was currently just unconscious. She backed against the wall to be out of the way as another thug followed the first one in. Both moved toward the doorway as a voice Josetta recognized as one of the Doemenel children rose in mock surprise.

“What a shock to see you here,” the Doemenel jibed, her tone dripping honey.  “You hardly struck me as the type to run a charity, protecting weak old fools from the fate they’ve earned.”

Josetta hesitated briefly before peeking around the door frame, her curiosity getting the better of her. The elf’s group was half a dozen against twice as many Doemenel thugs, not to mention the daughter of the house.

“However,” the Doemenel said with a cavalier shrug as she drew her rapier, “if you want to die with Verzano, it makes no difference to me.”

The elf grinned and cracked her knuckles. “That assumes I’ll be the one fuckin’ dyin’, prissy-britches.”

The room erupted into violence after that. From where she cowered, Josetta didn’t see who moved first, or most of what followed. Except Mestre Verzano yelping and scuttling for cover behind a shelf. That she saw clear as day.

The fight didn’t last long; even outnumbered the elf and her compatriots ripped through the Doemenels. (It helped, Josetta was sure, that one of their number was a wizard.) After it was done, the elf wiped down and sheathed her sabres, raking hair out of her face with one hand as she gestured at the bodies  with the other. “Make sure they’re actually fuckin’ dead an’ check on the warehouse staff while I settle things.” She turned toward the trembling Mestre Verzano as her friends carried out her instructions.

Josetta scurried back from the door, uncertain why the possibility of being caught there made her feel guilty. Maybe it was just her sisterly instincts chiding her for not staying with Bennet. Maybe she was just used to organizations that didn’t want witnesses. Whatever it was, she’d made it all the way back to her unconscious friend before a blonde-furred orlan popped her head in, teal braids swinging with the motion, and spotted them.

“Hey, you alright?” the orlan asked as she stepped into the room. 

Josetta tried not to stare at the blood spattering her armor as she nodded.

“How ‘bout your friend?” the orlan pressed, raising an eyebrow toward Bennet.  “What happened to him?”

“Knocked on the head,” Josetta said, voice only shaking a little as one hand fumbled to grasp her necklace for comfort.

“Ah. Well, I think I can help with that.” The orlan stepped closer. “I’m Keya, I helped the Watcher protect Verzano just now. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I’m not afraid,” Josetta said, hating that the tremble picked that moment to get worse. “I’ve never... I just...”

“First time watching people die?” Keya said sympathetically.

Josetta just nodded, hand wrapped tight around her necklace. It was technically true.

Keya knelt next to Bennet and pulled off her gloves to start feeling for a bump.  “That’s always hard. Hopefully, since you don’t seem intent on becomin’ a hardened warrior, it’ll also be the last.”

Josetta nodded again. She didn’t trust her voice, which Keya seemed to understand.

“Here we are. Niiice goose egg, but he’ll be fine,” Keya promised. One hand lingered on the bump behind Bennet’s right ear. “Shouldn’t be any lasting damage.”

“Thank you,” Josetta mumbled. She didn’t have many friends here, and the thought of losing one was... unappealing, to put it mildly. She spotted his spectacles and reached over to pick them up, wincing at the crack across one lens.

“Here.” Keya pulled a small bottle out of a belt pouch, full of a deep blue liquid.  “Have him drink this when he wakes up, it’ll help. Especially if he’s out much longer.” With that, she pushed to her feet, pulled on her gloves, and headed back out to join her companions. Josetta heard muffled conversation for a few moments, then they left.

A couple heartbeats later, Liena leaned around the doorway. Though she was making an attempt to seem collected, Josetta could see in her eyes how rattled the other woman was. She paled, ever so slightly, when she saw Bennet. “I’m sure it comes as no surprise, but Mestre Verzano has decided to close early for the day. You are free to leave whenever you wish.”

Josetta glanced at Bennet, rested one hand protectively on his chest. “I’ll stay until he wakes.”

Liena shrugged and deposited her keys on Josetta’s desk. “Lock up when you go, and I will expect them back tomorrow. Corés.” She was gone before Josetta could echo her farewell.

Josetta could still hear people moving around in the main room; probably workers hauling off the dead. She was perfectly content to stay exactly where she was--though she did shift enough to rest Bennet’s head on her leg rather than the floor.

Eventually the sounds of clean-up faded and the others workers tramped out. Bennet finally stirred just as the last echoes of footsteps faded.

“Took you long enough,” Josetta tried to joke as he blinked hazily up at her, her fingers pausing in their repeated tracing of his spectacle frames..

“...Jos?” Bennet frowned, tried to sit up, but didn’t get very far. He relaxed back and pressed the heels of his hands over his eyes. “....owwwwww”

“Oh, here.” She helped him sit up--her leg was falling asleep, she needed him off of it--and handed him the potion Keya had given her. “Drink.”

Bennet frowned at it, as if trying to focus. “And this is...?”

She really didn’t like how groggy he sounded. “It’ll help your headache, do you really care?”

He snorted softly and popped the cork. “No.” After he’d downed it, he blinked again and looked around on the floor.

“Oh, here.” Josetta handed him his spectacles. 

Bennet scowled at the cracked lens, and for a minute, she thought she might actually hear him curse. But he just sighed and slid them on, eyes almost crossing at the effect of the crack. “Thank you.”

It took a few minutes for the potion’s effects to kick in, but at that point, he was able to get to his feet. First leaning heavily on his desk, then trusting his own balance. Josetta insisted on walking him home. 

“In case you have a dizzy spell, or lose your balance, or something, ac? You don’t need anymore hits to the head today, aimico,” she said as she locked the door behind them.

Bennet rolled his eyes but didn’t fight her. “I didn’t even need one.” He fell in step beside her.

Josetta laughed.”True.” She tugged his arm so they skirted a pothole. “If your head still aches come morning, stay home. I didn’t see how hard he hit you, but you were out quite a while. Injuries like that can be serious, from what I understand. You need rest.”

“And possibly a new job,” Bennet said dryly. “Excitement like this is liable to drive Mestre Verzano clean out of the Dyrwood.”

“Liena’s been angling to take over for months,” Josetta pointed out. “If he does leave, she’ll just step in.”

He made an ambivalent noise that was neither concession nor disagreement and they walked in silence after that until they reached Bennet’s house. Josetta fussed over him a little more--he’d tripped  couple times as they drew closer--before taking her leave. She needed a nap herself after the day’s excitement. And that’s what she did, barely even taking time to kick off her boots before she dropped into bed.

If Bennet was right, her future might be likewise uncertain. Even if Liena did take over after this mess, there was no guarantee she could salvage the floundering outpost, or that she’d want to keep the current staff if she did. But uncertainty, like many things, was better faced when well rested, so Josetta pushed it away for now as she drifted off to sleep.

---

Apparently I need to flesh out Bennet now, since he just went from a name I stuck in as one of Josetta’s friends to an actual character. Oops. My love of male/female friendships strikes again. Seriously, this was pretty much ready to go on Thursday, but then I started debating with myself whether I should give him glasses. I delayed posting for a whole day. To decide if he should wear glasses. Clearly, he’d gonna wind up more developed. xD 

[shadow-light19]

The Wolf of Lilac Lake: Dr. Redwood and Mr. Hyde Act 1

Summary: Dr. David Redwood is a well-known doctor in the town of Sleepy Peak. He lives with his adopted son, Max, and does his best to protect abused children he comes across in his profession. One day, he becomes so disgusted with corruption in the town that allows child abusers to go free that he decides to take matters into his own hands. Hyde is the worst mistake he’s ever made.

Notes: This chapter is a play. I am just pre-facing that now since the characters are a bit OOC. They are ACTING. You'll notice there are location and time notices. When you read playbooks, they generally include that before the actors' lines. Its useful for understanding the setting. For Max's bedroom, later on, I designed it similarly to Dipper and Mabel's room in Gravity Falls. Also, I want to thank everyone who has enjoyed reading this story so far. It really warms my heart whenever I see a like, comment, or reblog.

Previous Chapter: https://shadow-light19.tumblr.com/post/174189019287/the-wolf-of-lilac-lake-overcoming-demons

Next Chapter: https://shadow-light19.tumblr.com/post/175463827052/the-wolf-of-lilac-lake-dr-redwood-and-mr-hyde

Songs used in this act:

Once Upon a December from Anastasia

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KVIdK1VWmLA

God Help the Outcasts from Hunchback of Notre Dame (Esmeralda’s part only)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0pLCDnbBEk0

Good Company from Oliver and Company

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gk0dUuc5z64

David peeked out between the curtains of the camp theater stage. There was a large audience of townspeople and camper’s parents sitting on the wooden benches and eating from the little concession stand that Nerris and Ered were operating. David felt ducked back behind the curtain and started to hyperventilate.

“WHERE IS MY STAR?!” Preston screamed from backstage.

He came running up to David.

“There you are! Are you READY to start the performance? The curtain will rise in FIVE minutes.”

David gripped his shirt in nervousness. He was wearing a simple plaid shirt and a lab coat.

“I-I don’t know, Preston. Are you s-sure I’m good enough to be the lead actor? I’ve never done theater before.”

Preston scoffed, “You may never have been in a role but you have always been good at teaching it. Besides, this version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is written tailored to your personality anyways. It’s the others I’m worried about.”

Preston turned to glare at Max, Nikki, and Neil. The trio were all chatting together. David placed a hand on his Preston’s head.

“Don’t you worry about them, Preston. Nikki and Neil are really excited about this. I know Max gave you a hard time about it earlier but I’ve taken measures to make sure he does his best.”

Preston gave David a flat look.

“You mean you bribed him.”

David floundered his arms.

“I didn’t bribe him! I just offered an incentive to perform well and he excepted.”

Preston laughed.

“Don’t worry, David. Bribery is commonplace in SHOW BUSINESS! If you’ll excuse me, I must ANNOUNCE our play to our audience.”

Preston walked over to the curtain and stopped for a moment.

“Thank you, David, for arranging for the town and our families to come to the play. I don’t think I’ve ever had an audience as large as this.”

Preston walked through the curtains. David smiled at the space where Preston was before getting into place. He could hear Preston through the curtains.

“Ladies and Gentlemen. My name is Preston Goodplay and welcome tonight to the Camp Campbell Theater.”

David closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Tonight! I have a very special play for you all. My team will be performing a variation of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I call it, Dr. Redwood and Mr. Hyde! I wrote and directed this play and I am absolutely ecstatic to share it with you all tonight.”

David looked to the side as Max, Nikki, and Neil approached the side stage. Neil waved nervously, Nikki mouthed ‘You’ll be great!’ and Max smirked a gave him a thumbs up.

“And now, for the moment you’ve all been waiting for. I present, Dr. Redwood and Mr. Hyde!”

I can do this.

Act 1

*Evening in the Clinic

“Have a good evening, Mr. Everton!”

David smiled at his last patient for the day. He locked everything up before walking over to his house next door.

*Evening in the house

Once inside, he made his way down to his laboratory in the basement.

*Inside the laboratory

David liked to experiment at night in an attempt to find remedies for sicknesses that occurred in the little town of Sleep Peak. David was one of the few doctors that lived here and he always took the job very seriously.

“I have a couple hours until Max gets back from his piano lessons. Let’s see if I can get this salve for blood clotting correct.”

He worked on the salve for a couple hours and then brought it up to a mouse in a cage. He had found it that morning, bleeding out after getting attacked by some predator and tried to patch it up. However, the little thing kept pulling its stitches and the wound wasn’t clotting like it should’ve. He rubbed a small amount onto the wound using a q-tip and watched to see if it worked. The wound stopped bleeding in seconds.

“Perfect!” David cheered.

He put the salve away and stored the write-up in a binder.

“Dad! I’m home!”

David grinned and made his way upstairs.

*Inside the house

He saw his son Max setting his bookbag on the kitchen table.

“How was school?”

Max smiled and pulled out a couple notebooks.

“It was fun! Mrs. Gwen taught us all a new song and Nikki and Neil got to be in my group for a science project.”

David ruffled his son's hair.

“Well, I’m making stew tonight. Is there anything you want to go with it?”

Max hummed in thought.

“Biscuits! With butter!”

David chuckled.

“And then I’ll make banana bread for dessert. Get started on your homework for now, okay?”

Max nodded and they both got to work. The prep work for dinner and dessert wasn’t hard. As the stew sat bubbling on the stove, David pulled out the local newspaper.

Sander’s Cleared on All Charges

By Amelia Reeves

Marshall Sanders was cleared today of all charges against an accusation of child abuse. The Prosecutor, one of his family members accused the Defendant of abusing his son for his ability to perform magic and tried to gain custody. Sanders had this to say, “I never would’ve believed that my sister-in-law would have tried to take my son from me. I love Harrison very much and I hope that I have proven that to her now that she has seen the evidence. I have requested a restraining order though as I fear she may try again to take my son from me.”

The Prosecutor believed that Marshall was scared of his son for his talent in magic tricks but Marshall claims otherwise.

“I never imagined he would’ve been capable of magic but if you watch him perform, that’s the only thing it could be described as. He loves it and no one can dissuade him from his dream of performing for others.”

Marshall requested his son not be interviewed.

David frowned.

I remember that case. It was about a child at Max’s school. She had photos of bruises and everything.

“Hey, Max? How’s Harrison doing?”

Max looked up from his paper.

“He’s doing well. He was really quiet but he said he was relieved that the whole thing is finally over.”

I don’t know what to believe. I remember when I adopted Max, his own parents only received a couple years prison sentence for being abusers. It took Max being beaten almost to death for them to finally get arrested and that’s because a neighbor called the ambulance.

“Hey, Dad?” David snapped out from his thoughts and looked at his son.

“What’s up, Max?”

Max fidgeted in his chair.

“Can Nikki and Neil spend the night again this weekend?”

David frowned. It seemed the two kids were coming over more and more often.

“I’m fine with it but aren’t their parents concerned that their kids are spending the night at a friend’s house almost every weekend?”

Max bit his lip.

“If I tell you something will you promise not to tell them?”

David looked at his son in concern.

“I promise. What’s wrong?”

Max sighed.

“Nikki’s mom has been having her boyfriend come to their house every weekend and Nikki doesn’t like him. He always glares at her and makes comments about how everything would be better without her around. Her mom doesn’t care because he makes a lot of money. He’s a construction worker.”

David glared at the table.

“Tell Nikki she’s allowed to come over and spend the night whenever she wants. We have the spare bedroom and if she wants to leave anything here she can. Is Neil in a similar situation?”

Max shook his head.

“Neil’s dad and mom are divorced. They fight over him to prove who is better than the other. It makes him feel sad sometimes since he knows they are just using him to prove a point. You don’t do that though, so he likes being here.”

David turned back the stew, his good mood gone.

“Tell Neil that he’s allowed whenever as well. He can sleep in your room and I could buy a twin mattress and put it in there if you don’t mind?”

Max’s eyes lit up.

“Then we’ll be like brothers!”

David ruffled his son’s hair.

I am sick and tired of hearing about abused kids in Sleepy Peak. If no one else will help them, then I guess I will because someone fucking has to.

*Afternoon outside the house

Max, Nikki, and Neil were walking home together from school.

“You have the best dad, Max. He’s so nice to everyone!” Nikki twirled with her arms out.

Neil and Max chuckled.

“He’s gonna put a bed in my room for you Neil so that you have a place to stay whenever you want to as well.” Neil hugged his backpack in excitement.

“It’ll be great to have someone who cares so much about us. Honorary family right?”

Max and Nikki smiled.

“Honorary family forever!”

The trio walked into the house.

“Dad is at the clinic so we can go ahead and set up your room if you want, Nikki.”

Nikki squealed and ran to the doorway.

“Woah…”

The other two caught up. The spare bedroom was painted a light teal with a dark blue border. There was a simple twin bed with a brown bedframe in the corner next to a wooden dresser, desk, and bedside table. The closet was empty but had hangers on it. The bed also had a stuffed wolf on it.

“I love it!” She jumped on the bed.

“If Dad already set up your room then maybe-“

Max and Neil turned and ran to Max’s room. Nikki followed quickly after.

His room was rearranged slightly so that the two beds were on opposite sides of each other. There were two desks sitting together by the door and in between the window was the dresser. There was also a chest in front of both beds. On Max’s Bed sat a teddy bear and on Neil’s bed, there was a stuffed owl.

The kids all grabbed their stuffed animals and sat in the kitchen to work.

*Afternoon in the Clinic

David was especially attentive today. He dealt with his normal patients but whenever he worked with a child, he watched carefully for any signs of abuse or neglect. One of the children, Cassandra, seemed nervous and a little twitchy when he gave her a checkup. He saw some light yellowing on her arms and made a note of healing bruises and jumpiness. The parents looked relieved though as they went on their way. He sighed and locked up before heading home.

*Inside the house

He saw the line of shoes by the door and smiled knowing that Nikki and Neil were over.

“Hey, kids! How was school?” They all turned and rushed him.

David stepped back from the force of three kids hugging him.

“If was great! Thank you so much for the room!” Nikki jumped up and down in excitement.

Neil shyly shuffled his feet and held his hands behind him.

“And for my room as well.”

David smiled and guided them all back into the kitchen.

“I’m glad you all like it. Do you want spaghetti for dinner?”

He received a chorus of ‘yes’ and got to work.

“Hey, David?”

Nikki walked up to him.

“Yes?”

She looked at the wolf on the table.

“Since you gave me a room here, would you mind if I called you dad?”

David kneeled down and put his hand on her head.

“I would be honored.”

She smiled.

“I’m glad! I’ve always wanted a dad but I’ve never liked any of my mom’s boyfriends.”

David looked concerned.

“Do you remember your dad at all?”

Nikki shook her head, smiling sadly.

“I only have a vague memory of him. It was snowing the day he left me with my mom. I never knew why he left me but I know that he wanted me.”

She grabbed her stuffed wolf in her hands and held it close.

“Swishing pines,

Flutters of wings,

Things I almost remember,

And a song someone sings,

Once upon a December.”

Nikki twirled with her wolf, then hugs in again, swaying from side to side.

“Someone holds me safe and warm,

Traversing through a silver storm,

Smiles, tears, and comforts dance across my memory.”

She grabs David’s hands and pulls him into a dance. He lets her stand on his feet as he waltzes through the kitchen.

“Someone holds me safe and warm,

Traversing through a silver storm,

Smile, tears, and comforts dance across my memory.

Far away,

Long ago,

Glowing dim as an ember,

Things my heart used to know,

Things it used to remember,”

She steps off as David twirls her. He let’s go and kneels down again. Nikki hugs him. Max and Neil get up and hug them as well.

“And a song someone sings,

Once upon a December.”

David hugs her.

“I’m so sorry.”

Nikki chuckles softly.

“Don’t be! You’re the dad I always wanted.”

David smiles.

“I’m glad I can be that person for you.”

Neil tugs at David’s sleeve.

“C-Can I call you dad too?”

David pulled the kids closer.

“Of course! I would love to be part of your guys’ family.”

*Night in the house

David opened the door to Max and Neil’s bedroom. His sons were asleep in their beds but David could see they fell asleep talking to each other.

He quietly closed the door and moved on to Nikki’s room. She was asleep, clutching the wolf to her and mumbling about the forest. He closed the door and crept silently into his lab.

*Inside the laboratory

He cleared the table in front of him from all the chemicals that were there and pulled out a notebook. He started writing down an idea for his next creation.

Maybe I can make something that helps get rid of acne faster? Or maybe something that helps with healing burns without leaving the scars.

David wrote down several steps before he heard banging on his door.

That’s strange. Who would be here at this hour?

*In the living room, partially depicting the house and partially depicting the outside

He walked up to the first floor and opened the door.

“Hello?”

“Oh, thank goodness! Please, I need your help!” It was a frantic woman.

David noticed that she was covered in blood.

“Oh my gosh! What happened!”

The woman started crying.

“Please save my daughter! Please help her!”

David grabbed a first aid kit that he left beside the front door for emergencies, locked the door behind him, and followed the woman to her daughter.

*Inside the Midler residence

David could smell the strong stench of alcohol as he entered the house. He gasped when he saw her daughter. She was bleeding very badly in a pile of glass shards.

“What happened?” David started assessing her wounds.

“M-My h-husband drank too much and hit her with the bottle. I picked out the glass but I didn’t know what else to do.”

David picked her up and moved her out of the glass pile.

“I need a bowl filled with warm water and a towel.”

The woman ran to get the requested items and David pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol, some gloves, and some cotton balls. He also grabbed a pair of tweezers.

The woman returned and he picked out the pieces of glass that she missed and then cleaned the wounds with water and the rubbing alcohol. Once he was done, he wrapped her in bandages and picked the girl up.

“Ma’am, I need you to come with me. If this is a case of child abuse I need to report it and get you two to a safe area.”

She shook her head.

“I can’t! My husband is the principle of the school. He won’t get arrested and any charges I bring against him will probably be dropped since he knows a lot of the cops here.”

David bit his lip in anger.

“Then at least let me get you out of here.”

She started to disagree, then thought better of it.

*Inside the Clinic

He brought her to a room that had a couple beds in it and got them both blankets.

“Thank you so much, sir, for your kindness.”

David shook his head.

“This is the least I can do. I will file a report for this and hopefully, something will be done.”

She smiled sadly at him.

“I thank you for trying. I doubt anything will come of it though.”

David bade her goodnight and made the call.

“I want to report a case of child neglect. I have a little girl here who was hit with a vodka bottle that I had to tend to.”

“It’s Alison Midler.”

“What do you mean it’s probably unfounded?”

David slammed the phone on the port.

“I can’t believe they hung up on me.”

He walked outside of the clinic, knowing the woman had probably heard the conversation. It hurt to know that Alison and her mother would have to go back to their home. David ran a hand through his hair. He walked out of the clinic.

*The town with the church in the background

He walked through the neighborhood and stopped when he realized he was in front of a church. The church was always open so anyone could come in when they wanted. While David wasn’t religious, the sight of the church seemed to stir a sense of desperation deep inside. He walked up the steps and entered.

*Night in the church

The church was very simple with a small lobby, sacristy, and a large main area filled with rows of pews.

“I don’t know if you can hear me,

Or if You’re even there.”

He walked alongside the pews, brushing his hand along the armrest of each one he passed.

“I don’t know if You would listen,

To an atheist’s prayer,

I know I’ve done all that I can,

I know that deep inside.

Yet, still, I see Your face and wonder,

If you could turn the tide?”

David kneeled in front of the altar.

“God help the children,

Hungry and hurt.

Show them the mercy,

From words that are curt.”

Tears rolled down his face as he gazed at the cross of Jesus.

“God help the abused,

They look to You still.

God help the children,

Or nobody will.”

David stood and looked at the stained glass windows. The moonlight filtered softly through them.

I have done my best,

I’ve wiped their tears.

But I know of many,

Still living in fear.

Please help the children,

Neglected and hurt.”

He turned to a picture of Jesus holding a lamb and surrounded by sheep.

“Don’t You say that we’re,

The children of God.

God help the children,

Children of God.”

He turned away and walked out of the church.

*Inside the house

David walked into his house, He wanted to check on the kids and drink a cup of coffee before heading back to the clinic to check on Alison. As he started the coffee pot, he heard footsteps behind him.

“Dad?”

It was Max. David turned and got down on one knee so that he was level with his son.

“Did I wake you?” David asked.

Max shook his head. He clutched the bear he was holding close.

“Did someone need your help?”

David nodded.

“I actually am going to head back to the clinic in a moment to check on them. Are you alright here? You have Nikki and Neil now so you won’t be alone.”

Max nodded.

“I’ll be fine.”

David guided his son back to bed.

“You’re a lot like a hero you know?”

David looked at Max in surprise.

“You help people who are hurting. You make everything better. That’s what heroes do.”

David smiled at his son. He kissed him softly on the forehead and tucked him back in the bed.

“Don’t heroes have an alter-ego or disguise? Someone you wouldn’t recognize?”

Max chuckled, already falling asleep.

“You can always-“

Max yawned.

“-always make one.”

David closed the door quietly behind him, now that Max was asleep. He drank his cup of coffee and went back to the clinic.

*Inside the clinic

Alison was still unconscious but was held in her mother's arm.  David checked her vitals. It didn’t seem like she was getting better. He checked the bandages. They were stained red. He quickly unwrapped them and noticed they were still bleeding sluggishly. He applied a small amount of his salve to clot the bleeding and went to phone the nearest hospital.

“Hello? I need an ambulance. I am Dr. Redwood and a patient I have here needs more medical attention then I am capable of providing in my clinic.”

He hung up and woke the mother. David tended to Alison until the ambulance arrived. He moved aside as the EMTs carried placed her on a stretcher and carried her out. As David watched as the ambulance took off, mother and daughter inside, he prayed with all his heart, that she would survive.

*House in the afternoon

David closed up his clinic for the day. He had heard no news from Alison or the mother. He felt useless. He shook his head in an attempt to shake the negative thoughts away and went to find his kids. They were sitting in the living room chatting about the music club.

“…and I think I’m pretty good at it now,” Max stated.

Nikki and Neil laughed.

“Can we play it together?” Nikki was already pulling out her saxophone.

Neil quickly pulled out a violin. Max sat down at the piano. Neil and Max started singing.

“You and me together will be,

Forever you’ll see.

We too can be good company,

You and me.”

Neil and Nikki danced around the living room. They were all smiling.

“Yes, together we too,

Together that’s you.

Forever with me,

We’ll always be good company.

You and me, that’s together we’ll be.”

They all turned as David clapped.

“That was beautiful kids! How long have you been practicing that?”

Max looked embarrassed as he tucked his arms under themselves and looked away.

“A-A couple days.”

Nikki laughed.

“Our music teacher likes to encourage Max and Neil to sing. I think they sound really good too!”

David chuckled.

“S-Shut up, Nikki!”

Max pulled his hood up and hid his face in the hood’s collar. Neil coughed and played with his violin’s strings. David felt a strong surge of pride and affection at their banter. They were acting like siblings.

I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to any of you.

He made to ask them about their club when his phone started ringing

“Excuse me.”

He walked over and answered.

“Hello?”

“Yes, this Dr. David Redwood.”

“R-Really?”

“Yes, thank you for letting me know.”

David hung it up. He slumped over the counter and held his head with his hands.

Another child’s life taken by abusers. Why can’t this end!

David looked at his children, playing and laughing together in the living room. He remembered the day he rescued Max from his abusive parents. It had taken so much to help Max become the happy child he was today. He remembered Max’s words about Nikki and Neil’s home lives. How they were going through their own situations of abuse.

“Hey, kids. I’m gonna be downstairs. We’ll go out to the Pizza Bros. tonight for dinner alright?”

Once he received a chorus of cheers, he descended into the basement.

*Inside the laboratory

His table still had his notebook open but he quickly turned to the next page.

I can heal the pain but I can’t prevent it. I don’t have the countenance nor the power to.

He thought back to his conversation with Max last night.

Maybe I can make it? An alter-ego, a persona, someone who can deal justice to those who escape persecution by the law.

David poured over his notebook and calculations for hours, stopping once to take treat his children to dinner and help with homework. Once they were in bed, he went back into the basement and worked all night. When the sun rose the next morning, David created the serum.

[burganprell]

Welcome, Y’all

I just hate those bumper stickers popping up around Austin that say “Don’t Move Here.” Many a Facebook post expresses the same.

I get the joke, but it’s just not funny. 

This is a post about the future of Austin. It’s a post about Mayor Adler and his challenger this Fall, Laura Morrison. It’s a post in some ways about about the inevitable. It’s a little bit about Amazon, and it’s a lot about making sure Austin’s continued rise benefits everyone.

“We can only say the state of our city is strong if we are affirmatively building a future in which we preserve the soul and spirit of Austin.”

—Mayor Steve Adler

Our problems aren’t any one person’s fault, and no more the fault of a newcomer than a decades-long veteran.

If we ever stop being hospitable, we really will have lost the soul and the spirit of Austin. If we ever stop being a refuge and a block party and a march for good over evil, we really will have lost the soul and the spirit of Austin.

If we ever stop using our disposable income to vote for how we want the city to be, we will have lost the soul and spirit of Austin.

Instead of saying “Don’t Move Here” I’d rather we say what so many of you said to me when I first showed up, 12 years ago.

Welcome, Y’all.  

. . .

In fact, when we say “Don’t Move Here,” we start sounding a lot like the anti-immigration nationalists we so strongly oppose on the national stage. I’m flabbergasted by my liberal brethren regularly these days, and this is just one reason why.

Unless we are going to build a Trump-like wall around Austin, we have got to be more solution minded.

I’m not particularly interested in hearing more from complain-y do-nothings, and least of all Laura Morrison, who already had her shot at addressing these issues in her first stint on Council from 2008-2015.

During her tenure, the issues in play were exactly the same as they are today, and the progress made was to my mind and many others’ deeply unsatisfactory.

Folks like Morrison can be eloquent when talking about Austin’s problems, but remain woefully short on ideas and action.

Every single one of Morrison’s answers to a difficult question — about transportation, about economic segregation, about homelessness, about CODENext — ends up with a non-committal  “we have to strike a balance” or “we have to look at that closely” or “I think there are ways that we can grow, without doing that” — to which no specifics nor any follow-up is ever offered.

. . .

The one thing Morrison did do?

She led the anti-Prop1 PAC “Our City, Our Safety, Our Choice,” which fronted the fight against Uber and Lyft in Austin.

The net result? The Texas State Legislature overruled us and Uber and Lyft are back, more free to operate than ever before.

When meeting with technology companies and their workers, Morrison is likely to bring up her professional training as an engineer at her time at Lockheed. Don’t take the bait.

In case you have erased all memory of the ugly battle with Uber and Lyft from your mind, now is the time to recall:

Mayor Steve Adler had actually negotiated a signed, precedent-setting MOU from both Uber and Lyft that extracted important concessions from both companies, most important of all related to ensuring both driver and passenger safety. Tax revenue and data sharing were the other key components.

What caused that fight in the first place was later obscured: the rideshare-related numbers for rape and sexual assault had indisputably risen according to SAFE and our own Police Department. Folks predictably cast doubt on those numbers but they held up under scrutiny.

The philosophical argument about the utility and efficacy of fingerprinting drivers was less compelling to me personally and for many of you; regardless, Adler had solved this also. His innovative Thumbs Up! ordinance passed; a corresponding 100% voluntary identification program was to use market dynamics to incentivize validation instead of requiring it.

Alas, Council rejected the MOU, afraid to act. At the time it was much more popular to put the vote to the people, avoiding what had become a political third rail for everyone.

Uber and Lyft of course did themselves zero favors with their brash tone and dishonest backroom dealings. But I and many others were strongly in search of a workable compromise, instead of a temporary moral victory, followed by swift rebuke.

. . .

It’s really easy to fear-monger like Morrison does. “Everything’s going to change,” she loves to say. Change in Austin is not only not new, it has been constant for more than 100 years.

Morrison never goes so far as to claim she can prevent change, but it’s clear she intends to slow it down as much as possible. In the process of making her argument, Morrison enlists the typical boogeymen: real estate developers, Californians, technology companies, and businesspeople generally.

The funny thing is that those constituencies are forwarding some of the most progressive initiatives in the city, driven by a race to recruit, train, and develop talent (more on this later).

The scariest speaking point in Morrison’s arsenal? “It's time for a leader whose priority is the people who live here right now,” she often says.

The Chronicle’s Michael King was quick to pick up on this rhetoric in his interview of Morrison this past January when she first announced:

“[You make] a fairly sharp distinction between the people that live here “now” and the people that are going to live here. Does that mean people who have lived here for five years? For 10 years? Does the door slam tomorrow?”

Morrison’s response was typical: “Nobody has the power for the door to slam – if somebody had the power, would that be good? Probably not.”

Probably not?

It gets better. She continues: “the fact of the matter is, we need to make sure that we don’t turn people into losers.”

To me that’s code for protectionism, not egalitarianism. Morrison isn’t worried about the people who are already hurting. She’s looking out for folks who are not losing now, but are worried they will start losing soon.

Remind you of anyone else’s rhetoric? Shall we just say it aloud together? Is it really time to Make Austin Great Again?

I think that’s precisely how Morrison’s campaign intends to have a fighting chance against Adler.

Invoke a particular way of life, romanticize it, and protect it. Hat-tip the little guy, and act like the incumbent has a swamp worth draining. Get elected. Start governing like it’s 1980, or earlier. Most importantly try like hell to give your NIMBY old guard donors their Austin back, come hell or high water.

. . .

Here is why I am still all-in on Steve Adler and why I think you should join me by giving whatever you can to his re-election campaign.

Steve is a convener who gets things done, but who also goes out of his way to make sure others get all the credit.

Steve is not a career politician. He’s a successful lawyer and committed philanthropist who isn’t worried about optics. He isn’t afraid to stand up to Abbot, Paxton, Sessions and Trump.

In recognition of this fact and more, the Anti-Defamation League gave Steve Adler and Diane Land the Audrey Maislin Humanitarian Award last year, which is a huge honor not to be taken lightly. It’s not just another one of these nice gala things that people in power are given to curry favor.

Neither Steve nor Diane ever hesitates to speak truth to power, and it shows. They have demonstrated time and time again that they are fierce advocates for the oppressed, the segregated, the discriminated, and the powerless. Their record in these matters is substantial.

In times like these our Mayor must be incredibly effective in affairs both foreign and domestic, so to speak. There’s no one else in Austin right now who can pull off that combination without sacrificing one endeavor for the other.

And I do love it when Steve gets his lawyer on.

Whether he is fighting SB4 tooth and nail, collaborating with Judge Eckhardt to protect Austin’s right to be a sanctuary city, or leading more than 50 other cities to join us in recommitting to the Paris Climate Accord, Adler makes me proud to live in Austin and to be part of these precedent-setting fights.

Steve’s “worst” flaw is trying to pull the sword from the stone on tough issues that no one else has the courage to touch.

I can live with that.

. . .

Sidebar: here’s a good related read in case you missed it: “Why the nation’s mayors are watching Austin Mayor Steve Adler” in the Statesman.

Accomplishments: here are the Mayor’s 2017 accomplishments. It’s a big list.

Priorities: Adler’s priorities for 2018 are here.

Donate: here’s where you can give to Adler’s campaign. 

. . .

The hands down, no question, most alarming thing about Austin is that we are #1 in the nation in income inequality. That’s not a good list to be atop of.

Every other issue in my mind takes a back seat to this one.

Not nearly everyone is benefiting from Austin’s growth and prosperity. Our community is still suffering from the mind-bending injustice our leaders perpetrated way back in 1928.

And no, keeping companies like Amazon out of Austin isn’t going to help our #1 problem.

The jobs and the growth and the money that companies like Amazon and Apple and Oracle bring are not at all the problem. Folks worry about what Amazon would do to traffic, or affordability. The actual problem with these big new HQ projects is routing and bridging the opportunities they comprise to everyone in the city.

I know a lot of people who’d love to wade through traffic for an $85K yearly salary. I was at Huston-Tillotson University a few weeks ago with President Dr. Colette Pierce Burnette. Their students’ desire for tech jobs is consistent and intense, across a dozen majors.

A fix will not happen overnight, but again, addressing Austin’s intense, perverse, historic economic segregation must be our overriding priority. 

Good news: our newly-minted Master Workforce Development Plan is strong, and can serve as a reliable template for decades to come.

The Austin Monitor captures the plan’s purpose and progress in a few succinct paragraphs, for those of you who may have missed it:

At last week’s City Council meeting, a procedural public hearing paved the way for the formal addition next month of the Master Community Workforce Plan to Imagine Austin, which is the city’s plan for the next 30 years. But it’s the work being done with high-profile employers like Samsung and job training providers such as Austin Community College taking place quietly in the background that proponents of the plan expect will soon produce more applicants for positions that employers said they’re having trouble filling. The workforce plan has a stated goal of creating 60,000 middle-skill jobs in three high-growth sectors – health care, information technology and advanced manufacturing – as well as lifting 10,000 residents out of lower-class income brackets. Since the plan was unveiled last June, employers in similar industries have been courted to participate in ongoing sessions to identify the needed soft skills and common challenges that make it difficult for them to find and retain new employees. Their findings are then presented to representatives from Austin Community College, Goodwill of Central Texas and Capital IDEA to help those organizations tailor their existing job training programs to better suit the needs of the market. Thus far those workforce development programs are being funded in part with $660,000 in workforce data management contracts Workforce Solutions has secured with the city and Travis County, which includes some contributions from Google and JP Morgan Chase. Ongoing fundraising efforts are expected to contribute as well.

If Amazon can commit to helping build these kinds of socio-economic and racial bridges both notionally and materially, I want them here. And same goes for every other company considering a move to Austin, large or small.

As Mayor Adler said in his letter to Amazon as part of our response to their RFP (full text here):

Our long-term goal in Austin is to both preserve the soul of our community and make it accessible to all – even as we excel as a community that continues to attract top talent. What new solutions and long-term investments in workforce development, affordability and mass transportation might we achieve together that would not have been possible otherwise? I firmly believe that Austin and Amazon can help each other achieve solutions to our biggest challenges. Even as you assess our community’s great assets, I ask you to look at our community’s greatest challenges as an opportunity to help craft a story for Amazon and for Austin that will be told for a long time.

. . .

Now, about those complaints. Are housing prices way up? Yes.

Are folks selling their homes and moving to cheaper enclaves in the suburbs to stave off property taxes they can’t afford? Are musicians moving to Lockhart and further, in search of more room to breathe, and make art?

Absolutely. Yes. Unequivocally. And irreversibly.

Austin’s going to need to be an active and innovative partner to Pflugerville and Round Rock and Manor and Taylor and Bastrop and Lockhart and San Marcos. Austin’s going to need to continue to aggressively invest in affordable housing. We are going to have to get together at long last and pass a new land use code, too. 

Our current land use system is almost 50 years old and it’s the engine behind many — if not most — of our shared frustrations about Austin’s growth and development. Not passing a new code is not an option.

By the way, it is okay to complain about the flawed process of producing CodeNEXT, but no one should be up in arms that it’s hard to get this right. No other American city has grappled with the challenges Austin currently faces and succeeded. We are at the cutting edge in terms of defining of how modern cities can best scale.

For a super smart deep dive on this issue, read Nautilus Magazine’s “Why New York Is Just An Average City.”

We’re going to have to raise taxes too, a tough sell here in Texas, no doubt. This will most likely happen via larger and larger bond measures, with transportation and our school system remaining serially at the forefront for at least a decade. We’ve become a big American city, like it or not. It is time to acting like one too. That process starts and ends with infrastructure and education.

. . .

We are also going to have to consider community micro-bonds to fund and perhaps outright reclaim some of our struggling institutions. We are going to have to re-fund our longest-suffering school districts with private money too.

We are going to have to offer a lot more *paid* internships so that folks who don’t have “friends and family money” have equal access to personal and professional development opportunities.

We are going to have to continue being a “Kitty Hawk” for things like autonomous cars and delivery drones, no matter how uncomfortable or controversial.

We are going to have to continue fighting passionately, and standing steadfastly, as Mayor Adler consistently has, against SB4, as we are the epicenter of the nationwide fight about sanctuary cities; for the Paris Accord as a leading green, smart city; for restorative justice in our local courts and jails; for innovative, community-based policing; and against a state legislature that champions states’ right while denying incorporated Texan cities the same privilege.

And look, we have just got to vote —not just at the ballot box — but with our time, talent and money — on how we want Austin to be for years to come. Spend nights and weekends working on the causes you care about most, and spend cold hard cash on the stuff you value about this city above all else.

But of course, vote at the ballot box, too, for God’s sake. Vote again. Keep voting. Vote in the little stuff. Vote in the big stuff. Vote for fun. Vote even though it’s boring. Vote because so many others can’t.

As Beto has said more times than I can count, Texas isn’t a red state or a blue state. It’s a non-voting state. 

We are actually 51st in the union in voter turnout (that number includes Puerto Rico). Sadly, Austin is no better than the rest of our fair state in this regard. 

Travis County turnout dropped a whopping 50% between the 2016 Presidential election and last November. Some dropoff is always to be expected but wow. That’s pretty bad, friends. 

Part of it I have to think is that folks are exhausted. No doubt others underestimate the importance and effect of local politics. But what I really think is going on is that for most people, Austin is wind at our backs, and we’re too often too busy to really notice, or care. Austin protects a lot of us from a lot of things. The mandate to vote shouldn’t be one of them. 

. . .

It’s not all bad news. In fact, an incredible amount of the new has been incredibly good. It’s useful to remind ourselves of a few things.

Yes, UT is churning out high quality talent, but so are Huston-Tillotson, the Acton School of Business, St. Ed’s and ACC.

I think what Gary Keller is doing on Red River is awesome. We haven’t nearly saved live music yet, but we have the appropriate levels of panic and corresponding commitment to get the job done.

There is a ton of innovation going on in Austin around homelessness, affordable housing, tiny housing, and more. Have you visited Community First Village, which has pioneered a game changing approach to solving chronic homelessness?

Divinc is a local business incubator focused on women and people of color, and it is churning out high-quality, high-growth companies. 3/4 of the last graduating Techstars class had either a woman CEO or a woman on the executive team, no small thing sadly, in tech.

Speaking of UT, they recently hired Scott Aaronson. The university is building an incredible new quantum computing center around him, the first of its kind.

When was the last time you went to the Harry Ransom Center?  Have you been to the new Ellsworth Kelly building at the Blanton?

The New York Times called Kelly’s Austin a “temple of light” and suggested that “no contemporary artwork of this scale by a major artist has matched its creator’s initial ambitions so perfectly as Kelly’s Austin.”

In fact, the paper’s art critic M.H. Miller went so far as to conclude that:

Long the music capital of the Southwest, Austin is now also a burgeoning outpost of the tech industry. But the presence of Kelly here almost instantaneously transforms it into an important art destination, the kind of place people make pilgrimages to.

How about that?

Our new medical school and teaching hospital are out of this world. Do you know about how they have completely reimagined the clinic from the inside out? Do you know what it takes — and means — to be a Trauma 1 center?

Mueller’s a big real estate project sure, but it is also the #2 green neighborhood in the whole U.S. according to Redfin, and an exciting precedent for future development.

Do you support Urban Roots and the Sustainable Food Center? Austin Bat Cave? SAFE? UMLAUF? The Thinkery? Foundation Communities? The Trail Foundation? The Texas Civil Rights Project?

Do you know about Manor New Tech high school, where you can see the best STEM curriculum in the country firsthand?

RideAustin emerged from a nasty fight about who gets to set the rules, but it is not just solvent, but writing big checks to other Austin nonprofits every single month, $350K in total and counting.

If we are lucky, Meow Wolf makes Austin their 3rd location. Liberty Lunch is long gone and so is Las Manitas, but The Skylark is still kicking, and so is the Sahara Lounge.

Wth all the traffic and our kvetching about it, we didn’t even drop down to #2 in the 2018 best places to live. We stayed #1. Even if we slide to number 4, 5, or 6, we are in great shape compared to most cities.

Obviously, I remain optimistic. Very much so. I’d love to hear why you remain so, too.

. . .

12 years ago, when I first got to Austin, another patron at Wink one table over stood up to tell us that we were “the problem” with what Austin was quickly becoming, having overheard our table’s conversation about my recent arrival.

Which was kind of funny in and of itself because we were all at...well, Wink. On the west side of Austin, sipping fancy wine with abandon.

This conversation is not new. These sentiments are not new. Generations before us invested in the icons and institutions that make Austin what it is today, in education, the arts, business, health and more. For that they should be lauded, and hopefully their example inspires us to do the same once more.

Those generations also irresponsibly kicked the can down the road on transportation, education, systemic racism and inequality, zoning, healthcare and more. We are left today to clean up several messes we didn’t make. But let’s not spend too long lamenting  the errors of those who came before us.

I’m here for the long haul. I hope you are too. I’m glad we are talking about Amazon. I’m glad Amazon is talking about us.

I’m glad Steve Adler has an opponent. The contrast is striking, and useful because of the conversation it forces about original and modern Austin, and about complaining versus getting things done.

I’m glad we have a lot of work to do. Even better, we have the money, the talent, and the drive necessary to fix what’s broken.

I grew up in Baltimore. I love Baltimore. And it is doing better, slowly and surely. But Baltimore is not Austin, not yet anyway. Most cities would love to have our problems.

Again, we have every ability to solve what ails us. And I think we have a duty to do just that. For those of us to whom Austin has given so much, it’s time to give back.

Welcome, indeed.

P.S. 

Steve has the biggest fundraising deadline of his reelection campaign on June 30th at midnight. That’s in 6 days.

Current and potential opponents will look at his report when deciding what their next moves will be. Please help out with a donation of $25, $50 or any amount that you can.

The max is up to $350 per person or $700 per couple, as allowed by our City. Click here to donate now. 

Thank you!