#and how we want to enact those changes so we can actually work on BUILDING something

[brokenorbornthatway]

Man it drives me up a wall to come across an anti saying shit like "but the slendermen incident" (whatever that is/was), "but people who emulate fictional serial killers", but but but whatever people who saw something fictional and used it to justify their bad choices.

Just.

You do realize that none of that takes away from the fact that fiction isn't real and the rules of reality should not be imposed on fiction right? People do absolutely horrible things to each other for more reasons than either you or I could possibly think up. Someone choosing to enact something awful they read in fiction isn't any different than someone choosing to do something awful because they read a news article about it.

Think about that for a second. People absolutely have emulated serial killers that they heard/read about from the news. So then, by anti logic, would the solution be to never talk about serial killers on the news ever again in case someone uses it to justify hurting someone else? I sure fucking hope not.

The problem isn't with the news and it isn't with fiction. The problem lies with the people who actually commit the heinous acts and societal issues we have that make it so easy for people to feel for whatever reason that they can and should turn to committing real acts of violence.

Working as a culture to destigmatize having violent thoughts and urges, educating from a young age about these thoughts and urges (and what do about them if you feel them or think someone else is), and providing ample resources for healthy non harmful way to embrace those thoughts and urges would go soooooooooooo much further than arbitrarily trying to police things that are only tangentially related to the core problem.

Honestly, it's my belief that almost (we won't say every because nothing is a monolith) every human alive has violent thoughts and urges to some to degree. We are still animals. We are highly intelligent apes, but apes nonetheless. Look at the violence in other apes and in beings all throughout the animal kingdom. We still have the instincts/genes/biological coding that drives us to hunt, kill, fight for territory, attack any possible threat, do whatever it takes to stay alive and sometimes these instincts+our intelligence lead to people wanting to or causing harm. Some people, for a myriad of reasons, struggle more with violent thoughts and tendencies than others.

I just think if we embraced and acknowledged violence as part of our nature on a foundational level and gave people the tools to handle it without shame or causing harm, there would be a massive reduction in violent crimes. This is done a little bit through things like contact sports, fighting sports, violent fiction and video games, etc, but I think proper education about why people want violent things in the first place would make a huge difference.

I just wish antis would stop pointing the blame of people who do violent things "because fiction told them it was ok" on fiction and point it at the people doing the violent things and the society that allows it instead

-an annoyed researcher

[space-blue]

Hi, I love a lot of your meta and analyses. Especially for Arcane. One thing that's bothering me is what exactly was Silco's reputation among the Lanes in act 1? It's odd how Vander seems to say he's worse than enforcers, and Benzo even calls him an animal and immediately tries to charge at Silco after Grayson's death. But we know that Silco only became this ruthless AFTER his attempted murder by Vander. So during the old times when Vander and Benzo knew him, Silco was apparently a "weak man" who wasn't nearly as violent as Vander. So what gives?

Sure, the "animal" line could just be because of the brutal way he killed Grayson and the enforcers, but idk, the way he immediately charges Silco no questions asked seems to indicate something deeper. It's funny too, because Silco murdered only the enforcers that were arresting Vander, and didn't even want to kill Vander until he rejected Silco's plan and refused to join him. So if Benzo just stayed calm and kept his hands to himself Silco would've probably kidnapped them both. Hell, without Benzo's murder hanging over Vander's head, maybe he could've even be persuaded to rejoin Silco for another try at revolution? But the story needs him to refuse, so ofc Benzo had to die.

I'm just wondering why exactly, if Silco was known as the less violent one before Vander tried to kill him, then why do Benzo and Vander in act 1 treat him like he's been a devil the whole time. Did they maybe catch wind of his unpleasant activities while he was underground and building his revolution plans?

Hi Anon! What a great ask! And thank you, you make me blush. It's nice that my horrendous Arcane brain rot actually serves some purpose somehow x'D

This is a very good question and a difficult one—because of the writers. I'm not sure if they really know or care to make sense of Silco and Vander's past. The timeline is shaky and vague. I think they were happy to leave things quite mysterious. Some of us desperately try to unravel it, but the bulk of viewers took it all at face value and concluded that Silco is a horrible man who did horrible things.

This is not me bashing other fans, all theories are valid, but I must admit sometimes I wonder if the Arcane writers managed to convey their point across. Because I've seen quite a few people theorise that Silco did something truly horrible and 'deserved' to be killed by Vander, despite the lack of evidence or accusation, or the show going to great length to harp about Vander's potential for change, of his "monster within" who caves in skulls with his fists.

(Not to mention the casual fans who thought the sun shone out of Vander's ass because they couldn't see past Vi's pov and didn't do dozens of obsessive rewatches like yours truly).

My point is that their relationship is pretty complicated and there are plenty of dissenting theories. And I think a lot of people go one way or the other precisely around those moments you mention. I'm going to give you my theory, but it's very fanon. I'm genuinely a lot less certain about this than some of my other meta. It's just what gels for me considering how I interpret the rest of the show.

I'm going to put this under a cut, because there's a lot!

What exactly was Silco's reputation among the Lanes in act 1?

I don't think Silco was weak. That's him reframing his trauma. Not just weak physically (like obviously he could never fight Vander off fairly), but for having trusted him. Weak for not seeing the betrayal coming, and not coming on top of that conflict. He calls his old self weak because he must believe in his own progress, his own resurrection into a being who can enact his plans at last. 

I think Silco was a beacon of hope and zealotry. I think he was a propaganda machine. Young Silco united a lot of Zaun under the banner of his dream. He probably worked hard, and led the movement. From the way their dialogue goes, the accusation of betrayal, saying "I trusted you", and the manner of Silco's attitude around Vander, I'm of the (generally not that popular) sentiment that Silco was the leader of the early rebellion, and that Vander was his follower. Most likely his right hand man.

In fic I've theorised that Vander, who tells Vi he used to always be so angry and violent, didn't have a channel for said violence until Silco gave him structure and a purpose. Directed that violence at Piltover, at creating (read, carving out) the Lanes.

Which, FYI, are NEVER clarified. We don't know if it's a business model or a territory or both. Writers truly don't care to explain it.

Anyway, Silco speaks of "our dream" and then uses "brother" with a LOT of irony laced in, in reply to Vander's own use of the term. They used to be brothers in arms and Vander believed in that dream. We also know that Vander used to fight for the cause and claims he's "not that man anymore".

He basically was fighting for team Silco—team Zaun—right until the day of the betrayal.

Then we're told by Vander that Silco had his respect, the Lanes' respect, "but that... was never enough for you". We're also told by Sevika that Vander created the Lanes.

This suggests to me that Silco and Vander created the Lanes together. 

I assume that over time Vander started seeing Silco's plans as too greedy, while leading the Lanes seemed ideal. 'Good enough', if you will. Vander is small minded where Silco is aiming for the sun. One wants too little and the other too much. Silco says they 'shared a vision, dreams of freedom, not just for the Lanes but for the whole of the Underground, united as One'. They used to dream of Zaun together... And then Vander realised Silco would tear the Lanes apart if it would serve his purpose (to attack Piltover). 

I think he didn't believe it'd work (and given what we see of Piltover vs. Zaun before shimmer, it might not have), and realised he wanted to rule the Lanes. Vander would now see Silco's dreams as too dangerous.

I know some people in the Zaundads community who theorised that Vander was influenced in turning on Silco by Benzo or others. It's not my prefered theory.

I think Vander wanted the Lanes for himself, and knew that Silco was too zealous to ever stop. We don't know why he got so (intimately) violent. Why they were in the Pilt. We see Vander first very cold, slowly drowning Silco, then very hot and brutal, once he's been hurt. I think he was very different indeed from the genial Vander we know in arc 1. Young Vander is the guy who carved the Lanes with his fists. The guy who built the reputation old Vander still coasts on. A guy known by foreigners! In short, it doesn't really help to look at him through the old Vander lens. He did what he did..

And THEN, he hid the (most likely black and contaminated) wound from Silco's knife. While Silco wears his scar unashamed for what must be a decade or two, Vander has his arm constantly covered. This speaks of shame to me. We know he had regrets too :

Truly a young, impulsive, violent man, who rushed into a bad decision and has regretted it since. I can picture a young Vander missing his best friend, his guiding light, and yet finally becoming the leader he wanted to be. Curtailing Silco's uprising entirely and settling, at least until his own revolt. 

We know there was only one time where the rebellion went ahead, and that was well after Silco left. Vander, to the assembled Lanes people, says "we crossed that bridge once before". It's the era where he still had Silco's respect, but was immediately followed by his pact with Grayson. Which Silco knew of.

Sorry... I'm rambling to try and get all the details in... Almost there.

Finally we come to Vander holding his (shamefully hidden) wound and saying "there's worse things than enforcers out there, we both know that."

And I'm not sure WHAT HE MEANS!! Like, this is not proof he knows Silco is alive. My personal feeling is that Vander believes there's a chance Silco might be alive, but he's not actively taking precautions like that's a possibility. Silco's attack wouldn't have come out of left field and taken them so completely by surprise otherwise.

There are plenty of things worse than enforcers. Including himself!! He could mean competing chembarons. He could mean someone wanting his seat. He could mean anything, it's infuriating. 

Anyway, I think Vander came back from the Pilt with a bad stab wound and a story. I think he told everyone that Silco attacked him and died. That he turned traitor. Or any other bullshit story. But I believe he did what any new illegitimate ruler does, and shat all over Silco's reputation. Or else cried some crocodile tears over him and called him dead. But Silco never stepped back into the open, so Vander making him persona non grata is more likely. 

Whatever the case, Vander had completely taken over the Lanes by the time Silco was in good enough health to show up.

Did they run into each other? Did Vander scare him off again? I'm not sure, but I don't think so. Vander looks way too shocked when he realises who's showing up at the murder party. This isn't the expression of someone who is used to thwarting schemes. This isn't the Batman's face when the Joker appears with mischief around a street corner.

Meanwhile, why would Benzo react so negatively to Silco? The well respected man who was betrayed (a fact Vander owns up to and APOLOGISES for), who was half drowned and mutilated by Vander's hand... Yet Benzo immediately calls him an animal (which, you're right, could be in reaction to stepping into a mass killing—which, fair), and tells him to "crawl back into whatever hole he came out of."

I feel like this is the reaction of someone who thinks "wow, it's the cunt who harmed my bestie 20 years ago and (insert Vander's lies about him). Who knew he was still alive?"

Meanwhile, Vander looks like it's judgement day. I think he has excellent reasons to be afraid. He stole the Lanes, destroyed Silco's dreams, ruined his rep, drove him out of the Underground... and somehow Silco stayed under the radar all this time? And now he's got killer monsters? Of course he'd be scared. Vander knows how intense Silco used to be, and knows how guilty he himself is. I think he believes all bets are off. Precisely because Silco never had a reputation as a weak man. 

I mean, consider! If Vander was mega violent under Silco's guidance... If they built the Lanes together... If Silco was the leader who helped Vander redirect his rage... Then Silco clearly didn't mind being extremely violent. He didn't mind unleashing "the Hound" on the people who stood in the way of Zaun. 

((I think Silco's "weak" narrative is a self soothing framing device. That he's recontextualising himself, making a philosophy of life. After all, he tries to use these same terms to speak to Jinx about her own trauma, while failing to grasp that while he was at his weakest, Powder was at her strongest. His personal motto of letting the weak die doesn't work for Jinx.))

It's very revealing that Vander says "Benzo stay back!" and Silco says "you never did know when to walk away." Like if he'd stayed back and then walked away, he'd have been fine. I fully agree that this tells us that Vander thinks Silco is only after him. That he wouldn't kill Benzo needlessly. Needless deaths were probably never Silco's style, as someone wanting to 'unite' the Underground. And after all, he's not even here to kill Vander, but to recruit him.

So, yeah... In conclusion (at last lol) 

Silco was never weak, simply too big a dreamer, someone who wouldn't surrender his lofty ideals for the reality of being one of the most powerful men in the Undercity. Ultimately he got in young Vander's way. Vander impulsively sacrificed Silco for his own desire to rule the Lanes. Then he turned around, shameful and regretful, and lied to everyone about it as he usurped Silco's place and became the Lanes' sole leader. 

(I personally theorised in several fics that the last Drop was actually Silco's, and that Vander took over it after the betrayal, partially explaining why Silco never leaves the place after his own takeover. Complicated feelings + it was his and fuck Vander lol)

I don't believe Benzo or Vander have any clue about Silco's plans, and simply react based on what they know and imagine (Benzo based on whatever Vander told him, and Vander based on how fucked he has to be and how insanely dedicated Silco must still be). I believe Vander has a lot of double agents in his midst (Sevika, Syd), and people who've been keeping tabs on him for years. 

Counter-argument : Marcus says he spoke to one of Vander's "old friends" and that he "wasn't always so peaceful". You could think this may have tipped Vander off... But how many people did he leave behind or crush when creating the Lanes? How many people hate him for leading the failed uprising? I think it's still plausible that Vander doesn't suspect Silco's involvement. 

Vander just lacks cunning. Another final argument for him being totally clueless is that he had a direct line to Grayson, and a quick, 'Hey, okay I'll tell you who stole your stuff' pointing fingers towards Silco would have entirely solved the situation for him.

Yet he never is shown to consider it. 

PHEW. I think that covers it?? I think I covered every point? At least that's how I interpret this situation, even though it relies heavily on my own fanon readings of the timeline and a lot of other details. 

If anyone disagrees with this, or wants to double down, as always go crazy. I love me a meta pile on. 

[ocean-in-my-rebel-soul]

Today, members of my queer community met up for our weekly coffee social.

I was incredibly talkative, telling my stories, listening to others' stories, generally connecting.

"I'm sorry for being so talkative today," I said, as it isn't my usual behavior. "There's just a lot going on politically and I'm a nervous talker. It's nice being around y'all today."

On of our members, who isn't on Facebook and so missed the discussion of the upcoming anti-gender affirming care act coming into law, asked, "What's going on?"

And so I told them.

We discussed it for the last twenty minutes or so of the social. We talked about the possibilities and fears that other clinics and providers will be enacting some pretty tough policies to align with the law before it comes into power, the likelihood of our trans care doctor leaving, and what it will look like for our trans community who is on HRT or otherwise is using medical intervention in their transition/trans journey. We're scared, nervous, wary, alarmed, all those things. If that clinic is gonna watch our doctor so closely from now on, who's to say our hospitals who have gender care services won't be taking similar policies on board? What are we going to do for medical care?

We talked about what possible resources might be available, including seeking care through clinics/providers in neighboring friendly states. If they have a license to practice in my state, it might be possible to receive medical care, but it's a bit of a longshot, and of course everyone's individual needs, if we are able to sort out finding providers who can prescribe for us despite the law, would dictate how often they'd have to go out of state. It will be a tricky process, and expensive both in time, effort, and money, I warned.

But our communities are only as strong as the work we put into them, and we have to build the community we wish to live in.

We have to accept and examine the system for what it is and what it actually does, not what it wants to do or what good intentions it might have had in the beginning. Our state legislature might say it values individual liberties, but that has been proven demonstrably false time and time again, and the sooner we accept that it doesn't actually value liberty for all, the sooner we can attack. Capitalism might say it rewards individual hard work and merit, but it rarely does. We have to accept that these systems do not support the individual, and so then we can work together to change it. Wishing it were better and holding onto the good intentions a system might give lip-service to does nothing and, in fact, will only hinder progress.

We have to put the work in.

"Next month is Pride," I said before we cleaned up. "We have a lot to fight for; always have, and will for a great while. We can party now because we have come a long way, but we have to remember: Pride is a riot."

[fandomsoda]

I am. So tired of being a modern day youth.

Everything is taking a turn for the worst. There’s wars, genocides, injustice, people losing their rights, everything. That has always been a thing, this is absolutely nothing new and I am not going to act like it is anything new. It’s all too familiar and built into this fucked up system. It’s a feature, not a bug. But there’s an uptick in things now and a lot of other factors make it feel like these things are building up to something. And they are.

We are reaching the tipping point where it will just be revolution or die, basically. And we have no idea what that revolution is going to look like. We have no idea what we will lose, what we will have to be prepared for. Other than societal collapse, of course. Because it’s been made clear that the people in power would rather kill us all than ever throw us a proper bone. People are working 3 jobs and unable to afford rent, do you understand how sick that fucking is?

And it’s not like our parents care, they don’t care, they’re either neutral or in favor of this shit and those who do care are in the minority. Most of us are still just children. But now it’s almost only the children and young adults who have the power to stop this mess. I am expected to go through school, continue my day-to-day while innocent civilians are being bombed and the world is on the verge of societal collapse. The earth is dying too. It’s… awful.

and let me be VERY clear: hope is not lost. Do not be a doomer. There is still time and opportunity and space to enact change. We can do this. But…it also won’t be easy. I have no money, school eats up all of my time, I cannot go out and do things or organize or protest, nor do I even have the proper rights to do so because kids are not seen as full human beings under the law or society itself. Getting a job feels unattainable due to my disabilities. And… I’m also not physically nor mentally capable of handling the harsh conditions that will accompany this revolution. I know that fighting and standing up is the right thing to do, and thus I will do it if I have to, but it will not be easy and damn am I scared.

And with this fear, this mental incapacity, I’ve been dissociating and losing myself in media and fiction and reality is blending with unreality and my brain is just desperately trying to keep me sane and somewhat happy and in the process making me feel like everything around me is a construct of my own mind, and while I try my best to do what I can to aid the real world, I am struggling with whether it is real or not.

And I’m… lucky, honestly. I’m very privileged, I am very well off, I have a stable home and food and everything. And therefore my suffering is nothing in comparison to those actually experiencing the brutality. And at the same time it’s still torture to be trapped up in this ivory tower when I want to be out there helping and fighting and doing what’s right. I want so badly to do the right thing, to help people, to use my privilege for good, but I am physically unable to as I can’t go anywhere but home and school nowadays. And I wish that earning a better tomorrow was easy, but it’s not.

Hope is not lost, but the path to greatness is not pretty. And I love humanity, but damn I hate the world we live in right now. And I have it pretty good, but damn, I am tired. And I can only imagine how tired the people who are actually struggling are. They are the ones who matter here at the end of the day. Not me.

[jonathankatwhatever]

I spent the evening, including at the laundromat, working on D0 to D1 structure, trying to create again what we already did to see if it holds together. The basic idea is that any End is constructed. And that 0Space exists on this side of the construction not on the other side, meaning in the permutation realm or whatever we call that which doesn’t explicitly resolve. As in, the appearance of a defeat which reverses to victory or vice versa clearly invokes the spectre of the outcome which doesn’t actually happen. The idea is these are only possible because existence which actually happens, and thus the Register of Actualities concept, is constructed out of Ends, not out of D0 but of D1.

This is the weirdness we’re trying to explain, that D0 is ephemeral, that it exists as the 1-0Segment which is invisible or nearly so in the Actuality. Or rather, we see absences and presences but within our Euclidean conceptions, and thus not the D0’s. So if I have 2T, then of course we see 1 and 0 and 0 and 1. And if we look at each T, we see the same because because any T has an internal and an external perspective. You can locate that to the Bip of a person, and then you see how the person changes relative to the internal core, good and bad, and at some level without judgement.

We’ve done this before: the string of 0’s hidden in the string of 1’s. That is, there is a 0 behind each 1 and we can see them when we count modularly. As in 1-0-1 is also 1-1-1 where the central 1 is 0-1-0. And so on. That is skip 1 counting. It’s Alternation. Taking turns. Cooperatively. And competitively. Exchanging the lead, the point, the touch, the impact.

If I reach for a higher better version of you, answers come.

We just located D0 existence in ordinary reality. And D1 as connections which are Ends, so we have multi-dimensional depth in Ends. Multi-dimensional identity. I thought for years that was a joke, but it’s the exact correct choice of words. It’s literally identity over dimensions.

Further, the basic tools are blunt. Halving/Doubling is everywhere because anything which roots, anything which can be a root, connects to an nSquare. So a 2Square is then literally the orthogonal to a unit gs. The next tool is SBE and that has a bunch of meanings and uses. One of those is Triangular.

Part missing in my head is connecting the little hat. So we have D1 out of 2D0. A D1 is directional: if viewed from one End it’s a 0 and from the other it’s a 1. A 1-0Segment, by contrast has an orthogonal connector at each 0 which brings in a 1 at each End so we can build space in between and across the orderings this makes possible.

——————

I have no memory of posting this so I’ll keep going. Still 5 Dec 2023. And I’m still working on understanding something which won’t quite take words but which seems very deep because the immediate next thoughts are about how higher dimensions enclose the limited existence, the finiteness inherent to D3-4//4-3 structures. That’s an issue, a big one: what exactly is a good notation for talking about Things? Things are the tangible and related intangible structures. We can define the Boundary of a Thing, and how Things generate internally and how they behave in relation to other Things. In other words, like the title says, we construct objects in dimensional structure and we describe their operation.

All of that refers to D-structure, and I’m thinking we need some notation to describe a tObject together with its related iObjects in D-count terms. The idea is any tObject can be located using 3 dimensions and those translate into D3. I think the simplest way to express that is the midlines.

I want to get into that. There’s something really interesting in that. I’ve been working on the little hat and midlines enact the little hat. We did this many times. If you take a 1-0Segment, which means a D2, then you have a halfway point which acts as a reflector to count 1, and the equivalent count of 1 is the 3rd End, which becomes an End, meaning a D1 because there is a joining of the 2 D0’s which characterize the flailing arms. The flailing arms are permutations within the Boundary, or rather up to its inner edge.

To repeat, the arms idealize to the Boundary edge, which is the limit to 1Space. That leads to the wonderful realization of this evening’s walk, which was really cold, which was so simple I was sure I could easily remember it but which of course I forgot until now, that D0 is relative. D0 is relative because of, oh dear no, not a MuDi. I was so embarrassed by that notation. A MuDi is a multi-dimensional identity, meaning the identification of a specific location in D3-4//4-3 Space. As I remember, we did call this grid squares Space, and worried about how to type that because it looks weird as gsSpace, but there it is: D3-4//4-3 and D4-3//D3-4 together makes gsSpace.

There is another factor: D6 and so on. That deflects me. I got totally lost thinking about what it’s like to be in you, not to see what you see but to experience the physical sensations of your physical self. I ate some jam and it got me giddy with jokes and I’m hoping as the sugar wears off I’ll pick up something of the D6 Space’s description. It’s the SBE2 of D3, but that’s not totally it, because any bT has the associated 3fD, and that means it is shared by 3D6 Hexagons. But those are Hexagons of bT’s, which means a single Hexagon can be counted in various ways. Like 6 around or 18 per or 12 segments and thus 24 if you go both directions. We did this work: the Hexagon counts D24. Oh, but here’s a more basic way: each 1-0Segment is D2, so we count D12 along the outer ring and D12 across the spokes, so D24 is now simpler. Much relief. This makes a lattice. I’m trying to get into that. I’d love to be able say exactly how this encodes. I can see it as vectors, but I’m not sure.

So, we have the 3 wheels turning behind the scenes of D3. Is it then accurate to say D6 or is it more like D15 because it looks like D18 subtract the D3 of the bT. It’s really that D6 is relative because there are 3. Yes, and this is at the heart of conundrums, like the angel and the devil on the shoulder, because one way to look at this is from the perspective of the midline, of the Observer along that line, which draws as above.

OK, so there are 3 of these. And the 3 form the Bip, right? Except it’s Triangular. I’ve never had this straight in my head. In the usual drawing, a gs generates at gs(m) and gs(n), meaning the D0 and D1 layers (which link over layers in skip count). That’s important: the Bip generates over layers, meaning there’s an alternating I//I process. But what about this in Triangular? It’s where D3 and 3D meet, right? So the inescapable conclusion is that this Triangular and thus Hexagonal generation is the Bip existence of the D3-4 object. That is different from the generation of a gs, but they come together because each of the fD attached to any bT locates on midlines which generate the actual gs’ Bip.

Wow, honey, I can’t believe I got that! This has been excruciatingly difficult and there it is. Simple and neat.

You know what bothers me about Showgirls? It’s a male movie trying to present from a female perspective but not getting it, so it does off as louche and leering. The substance is obvious, like the scene where she does a full Tarantino style beat down, but it’s incoherent in perspective the same way that Flashdance was. A welder by day, dancer by night. The female relationships seem like they’re male relationships in women’s bodies, complete with the kissing. Why do men think they can write this kind of material?

I did some really hard eye and face contractions today. I see a huge difference around my eyes, like they’re younger, with that intensity. These are not easy to do. Some are really hard to get started, hard to get contracting in an order which rolls it up, which organizes the movement so it can be extended further and further. Trying to stretch out every dead spot.

You have my best feelings. You might not believe the version of you it took to generate this solution. You are the most remarkable person.

[jakegooglyeyes]

Hey, the thing about the ao3 "censorship" it's not actually censorship. She's trying to remove the p*do stuff. That's not censorship.

Okay, I'll try to explain this as clearly as I can. But this is the only time I'm going to explain this. Other people have said enough about why this person's platform is alarming. This is really long, and I hope you'll care enough to read it.

tldr: I and many other Chinese, SEAsian, or anyone who live under heavy-censorship laws recognize her rhetoric and dog whistles, please do not dismiss our fear as overreacting when we say she is pro-censorship.

Also please forgive any mistakes I made, English is not my first language.

Firstly, let's take a look at what Tiffany G said in her chat:

Well, I think a lot of external people are very concerned about the fact that some works contain child pornography, pedophilic content, and other illegal content. If possible (this is not entirely possible after I chatted with people from PAC though), I am interested in providing extra help to the PAC team and Legal team to update the ToS and policies on those.

OK this is a follow-up to the last question – people think we host child porn content and such things. This issue is actually closely related to the incident when our service is banned in my home country. It might also be helpful to clarify that to the public. I am not an expert but look forward to discussing it more with respective committees.

She never clarified what other "illegal" content is. If you're familiar with China's censorship laws, illegal content includes anything from NSFW (depicting intimacy below the neck), LGBT in all rating, things that lower morales and promote nihilism (violence, tragedy, horror, talking about corruption of authority, painting law inforcement in bad light, you name it). So aside from underage content, what else does she consider "illegal"?

In her follow-up answer, she twisted the fact, claiming that it was banned for cp and such things (once again, never clarify what "such things" was). Except it wasn't, it was banned for hosting sexual content, and, you guessed it, lgbt content.

About the incident that got AO3 banned in China: This user summed it up quite well

As I have mentioned before, AO3 is no longer accessible in my home country due to some incident related to a piece of pedophilic work that is posted at AO3. This makes users very difficult to read and write with AO3. When I was reading the comments about the incident, a lot of people seemed to have a negative opinion about us. So, I think there is at least something we can do to help build a better image for us in my home country.

This is naive as best, China is very clear on what they deem unacceptable, and unless somehow all nsfw, lgbt content is removed, the "image" WILL NOT get better. If she genuinely wants to build a better image of AO3 in her home country, getting rid of underage content is like scooping water out of the sea with a spoon.

One more extra point, let's take a look at her language:

I support 100% “maximum inclusiveness of content”, yet there is always a boundary to everything. Since OTW is already an influential org, we need to protect our image and hold a better image to the public. I want the public to think of us as an inclusive and socially responsible community.

For someone who is familiar with Chinese fandoms, or know how China's censorship laws work (or any retrictive censorship laws in general), all the phrases in bold are familiar dog whistles used by the govt when they enact these types of laws.

The nuances might be lost to you if you aren't used to these types of pro-censorship language, but if you do, this is how they target lgbt content and sexual content. Starting with something everyone agrees is bad, then linking that too queer/sex positive people.

While we’re on the topic of sex-positivity, there is the question about misconception people have of AO3 and how to change that misconception, this is what she chose:

I have been a user of AO3 for a long time. And as a person who reads and writes stuff from Asia, I noticed a lot of people including myself (before) only used it to post stuff with adult content. It is still only used as a substitute for many people. I think we should change this. Fan fiction has all kinds not only just the adult content. And also yes people think AO3 is the only thing we have. We should definitely let them know about our other projects.

It's factually wrong to say users only use AO3 to post NSFW content. However, even if it was. What is she planning to do to CHANGE what content is put on the site? And also why is it a problem if people think AO3 is for porn unless porn is a bad thing?

Even if I were to agree with you that we should remove underage content, I simply couldn't help but see she meant more than just pedo stuff. That comes from my experience with pro-censorship language and how censhorship NEVER STOPS at what they start with.

Secondly, just like many others, I strongly believe in 2 things: 1. There is a difference between real life and fiction, 2. Fiction censorship destroys creative spaces.

If you argue that fictions involving minor is equal to actual cp, then where do you draw the line when fictional things = real life crime? Are horror movies equals to superstition practices? Will violence games and movies be banned because it contains murder? Is BDSM the same as torturing people (sure they both consent but the act caused real pain)? I understand you find certain things appalling, but that's what tags are for. You can block what you find unacceptable.

Censorship has never been a good thing. It's too much of a slippery slope. Let say you ban underage tag, and the rape tag for good measure. Done! The next person comes and says there shouldn't be NSFW content because children might be using the site too, it can be used for grooming children. Well, it makes sense, let's ban that too. Then the next person comes along, they say they find LGBT content unacceptable and you need to accomodate their freedom of religion, it makes them uncomfortable so it needs to go so they can browse the site. Then, another one comes and said violence in writing leads to violence behaviors (because remember, we've already established that fiction = reality). When is this going to end? The site can be free from censorship and everyone chooses what they want to see and not see, or it starts censoring things and has to keep up with anyone who wants to stop certain content.

So, are some content bad? Yes. But my stand is to let people have that creative space, that you can always filter things you consume, and that fiction is not the same as reality. I don't think banning underage content is her only goal (or her entire belief) and this person raised too many red flag for someone who live under extreme censorship laws and is familiar with Chinese fandoms scene.

Edit to add one final point: censorship does not always guarantee to remove the things you want to remove, take a look at Tumblr, visual porn is still everywhere; in fact, once authors choose to not tag things anymore fearing their work will get removed, the censorship system fails, the filtering system fails. And you’re left with one option, nuking an archive whose sole purpose is to just be a library of things people write.

[mariaiscrafting]

political science nerd coming in w thoughts on anarchy on the dream smp

no one asked for it, but here I am to rant about and overanalyze how different characters on the SMP relate to anarchist beliefs

anarchy is, basically, not just wanting to live without government, but wanting to live without the unjust social hierarchies set up by government. 

technoblade, for example, made sure that part of his manifesto states no one will be forced to fight against their will; on the other hand, under a government, everyone is expected to fight for the nation’s agenda - ranboo was expected to follow the butcher army, eret’s knights are expected to fight for the dream smp, etc.

tubbo is probably the best example of someone non-corrupt who is simply diametrically opposed to anarchist beliefs. he is not just representative of the government because techno uses him as that villanious figurehead. tubbo genuinely believes that society best functions under leadership that can be provided by government; but with leadership, comes unjust hierarchies. tubbo wants leadership because he thinks society is most stable and able to function properly when there is a leader at the top to oversee society, people working under that leader - as executioners, enforcers of the law, an administrative body, etc. - and the citizens that live under the government. the creation of hierarchies isn’t inherently a bad thing, in tubbo’s mind; it’s actually necessary to ensure civility and stability.

another person who wants government, but for selfish beliefs that aren’t really against anarchist theory itself, is quackity. quackity benefits from those unjust hierarchies enforced by the existence of a government. his position as vice president or on the cabinet gives him power - soft power, as in, influence over the leaders (getting close to schlatt via romance, manipulating tubbo to follow his plans), and hard power, as in, the authority to make laws and enforce them when he sees fit. quackity wants government not because he thinks it’s necessary for society to function properly, like tubbo, but because he is one of the privileged few who benefits from the power government provides. he would be anti-anarchist simply because anarchists threaten the systems that provide him with power.

eret is... interesting. he seems to understand that the ways governments have functioned in the dream smp and l’manberg have been flawed and actually detrimental, in the long-run. while tubbo still believes in government because the concept makes logical sense to him, so he wants to keep pursuing the experiment until it works out correctly, eret has seen how governments have failed and might want to give up on the concept. eret said that he only wanted to be king because he thought his kingship would allow him to change people’s lives for the better. these are the words of a benevolent leader who thinks their position of power could be enough to dictate people’s lives and steer them towards improvement. but because his kingship never had enough authoritative power - that is, it was never truly seen as legitimate to the people, besides his knights - he never was able to fully harness it to enact these improvements. so now he’s left empty and directionless; the functions of his government were never fulfilled and cannot be fulfilled, so what now?

phil’s pull to anarchism is pretty straightforward. he witnessed how government and the yearn to regain a position in government drove his son to madness, driving phill to kill him at his behest. he’s also a witness to l’manberg’s relentless pursuit of “justice.” for the l’manberg cabinet, a criminal needs to receive retributive justice at all costs, no matter the perpetrator’s current character or actions. phil sides with techno because he’s against this idea of retributive justice - an eye for an eye, a murder demands the death of another. he knows who techno is as a person - someone who combats their own bloodlust everyday, someone who struggles in social situations and with peer pressure - and he knows that techno has changed in his ways, and for phil, that’s enough. he doesn’t think justice needs to be enacted as long as the friend he is defending is not the same person who enacted whatever crime was committed - an ideology directly in contradiction with most governments, which usually enact retributive justice under their justice systems.

ranboo’s character is more a critique of the loyalty governments demand from their citizens, than anything else. governments are created within society under a contract (yay, bringing in john locke into this minecraft roleplay analysis, we love to see it): citizens give up some of their alienable rights in exchange for the protections that come from living under a government. in l’manberg, one of the expectations of this contract is that, if ranboo wants to be included among the citizens of l’manberg and take shelter in its buildings, he is expected to follow their doctrines and join in their cause. but ranboo doesn’t like choosing sides; that is, he doesn’t like showing exclusive loyalty to just one person or group of people - including governments. ranboo thinks loyalty should lie with whoever that individual chooses to trust - the people who show you kindness and mercy and companionship. he doesn’t believe in loyalty towards a nation or even a collective group based on the sole nature of that group; that is to say, just because you are a citizen of x place, doesn’t mean x place should expect your loyalty. does that make him an anarchist...? i’m not totally sure.

[antoine-roquentin]

“The federal budget assumes the government will recover 96 cents of every dollar borrowers default on,” Mitchell wrote. This banker, Jeff Courtney, put that figure closer to just 51 to 63 cents.

Now, for a private lender, like a bank, this projected shortfall would indeed be a ticking time bomb. The bank might be in danger of insolvency (unless, of course, it was rescued by a federal government that could give the bank an emergency cash infusion and take those bad loans off its hands). But there’s no real danger of a federal Cabinet-level department becoming insolvent. The Treasury Department is already in the habit of making up the Education Department’s budgetary shortfalls.

So what is the problem again? Typically for a news outlet like the Journal, the story describes this potential shortfall as what “taxpayers” would be “on the hook for,” but obviously, we all know that that is not how federal budgeting works. Taxes could rise for certain people for certain reasons, but no one will receive an itemized bill for this uncollected debt. And as for that large, catastrophic number ($500 billion!) that might never be paid back, it amounts to less than one year of a national defense budget that “taxpayers” are similarly “on the hook for.” (The Journal’s editorial board recently complained that the Biden administration’s proposed 2022 $715 billion Pentagon budget, while an increase in real terms, nonetheless represents an unconscionable decline in the defense budget as share of gross domestic product. “Taxpayers” are not mentioned in the editorial.)

Democrats helped sacrifice a generation of students to the deficit god, in exchange for meaningless numbers in a report.

The story, then, is that the government might not collect some debt, even if it currently pretends, for budgetary reasons, that it definitely will, and, as a result, the deficit may rise to levels higher than the current estimates predict. For a committed conservative, such as DeVos, that situation is inherently scandalous. For everyone else, that could only ever become a problem in the future, and only if that future deficit has some negative effect on the overall economy, which is not very likely considering the entire recent history of federal deficits and economic growth.

That state of affairs may explain why articles like the one in the Journal so often invoke “taxpayers,” as if everyone would have to write personal checks to cover the Department of Education’s shortfall: because without imagining taxpayers as victims of government deficits, it’s hard to point to anyone actually harmed by a government department giving unrealistic estimates of future revenues.

Except in this story, there are actual victims: the people who hold debt that the government doesn’t realistically expect to collect in full but who are bled for payment regardless. As Courtney’s report found, because of the importance of these loans to the department’s balance sheet, the government keeps borrowers on the hook for the loans even if they will never be able to repay all of the money they owe, often by placing borrowers on a repayment plan tied to their income. (As the economist Marshall Steinbaum has explained, the “income driven repayment,” or IDR, program is framed as a means of helping borrowers, but in reality, it “exerts a significant drag on their financial health, to no apparent purpose” by forcing them to “make less-than-adequate payments for many years before their debt is finally cancelled.”) The victim of such a scheme isn’t taxpayers, it’s debtors.

There’s one particular portion of The Wall Street Journal’s story that the public should treat as a moral and political scandal (the emphasis here is mine):

One instance of how accounting drove policy came in 2005 with Grad Plus, a program that removed limits on how much graduate students could borrow. It was included in a sweeping law designed to reduce the federal budget deficit, which had become a concern in both parties as the nation spent on wars in Iraq and Afghanistan and as baby-boomer retirement was set to raise Social Security and healthcare outlays.

A key motive for letting graduate students borrow unlimited amounts was to use the projected profits from such lending to reduce federal deficits, said two congressional aides who helped draft the legislation.

Each change was publicly justified as a way to help families pay for college or to save the taxpayer money, said Robert Shireman, who helped draft some of the laws in the 1990s as an aide to Sen. Paul Simon (D., Ill.) and later was deputy under secretary of education in the Obama administration.

But how agencies such as the Congressional Budget Office “score” such changes—determine their deficit impact—“is a key factor in deciding whether a policy is adopted or not,” Mr. Shireman said. “The fact that it saved money helps enact it.”

To explain this more plainly, Democrats helped sacrifice a generation of students to the deficit god, in exchange for meaningless numbers in a report, because CBO scores are more real to senators than flesh-and-blood people.

This is the sort of depravity that deficit obsessions produce. The Iraq War needed to be “paid for” with the future earnings of students who, lawmakers imagined, would eventually be rich, even as many of the same lawmakers voted to cut taxes on already-rich people. Now the debt of the still-not-rich students can’t be forgiven because of its importance to the federal government’s predicted future earnings. And politicians and commentators in thrall to deficit politics still paint the situation as a morality tale, in which the borrowers are irresponsible for having the debt and the government would be irresponsible to forgive it. After all, think of the poor taxpayers.

The early days of the Biden administration led some to believe we were finally free of this incoherent political mode, where dubious predictions in CBO reports dictate the limits of the politically possible and determine who will be arbitrarily punished for the sake of limiting the size of a program in a speculative 10-year budget projection. The proof that Democrats had learned their lesson was one major piece of legislation, the American Rescue Plan, designed to respond to a unique emergency.

More recently, the administration, and some of its allies in Congress, have signaled strongly that they’re returning to the old ways. The American Prospect’s David Dayen has reported that the White House is determined to “pay for” its infrastructure plans, and Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen is apparently leading the charge to ensure the infrastructure spending is “offset.” This will have the likely effect of limiting the scope of the plan, once again sacrificing material benefits for the sake of estimates and predictions from the CBO.

The Biden administration seems to be determined to go about this without violating its pledge not to raise taxes on any American making less than $400,000 (a threshold meant to define the upper limit of “middle class” despite being comically higher than the Obama administration’s similar $250,000 limit for tax hikes). It has floated increasing IRS enforcement and raising the capital gains tax for the wealthiest Americans. Both are fine ideas. But the best thing about taxing the rich is not that you can use their money for infrastructure, it’s that doing so reduces their political and economic power. That’s also the reason why it’s so difficult for Washington to do it.

The complete incoherence of the current Democratic position on spending and deficits is summed up well in another Wall Street Journal story, where Montana Senator Jon Tester was quoted saying, “I don’t want to raise any taxes, but I don’t want to put stuff on the debt, either.… If we’re going to build infrastructure, we have to pay for it somehow. I’m open to all ideas.”

“Open” to “all ideas” but unwilling to tax the rich, and unwilling to allow a CBO report to show a larger deficit as a result of needed spending: This is more or less precisely the dynamic that led student loan debt to explode in the United States, and it’s the zombie worldview that threatens any chance of this government averting a multitude of political, economic, and ecological disasters.

[kumaradosha]

I’m seeing a whole lot of bad takes and ignorance of past/present content and lack of critical thinking or ability to understand character motives regarding this most recent Dream SMP lore. So please, allow me to lay down some facts, some sense, and also some speculation of my own. This’ll be really rambly, because I’m tired, and I want to say a lot. Rewatching ALL the streaming perspectives now, my thoughts start here:

Considering Sam doesn’t want to enter the cell to dirty his hands himself, he clearly has some aversion or moral qualms about torturing prisoners, but Quackity has convinced him to go along with it. Quackity spends a lot of time before he goes into the cell repeatedly making sure Sam won’t have a change of heart and intervene, which indicates Sam probably has some misgivings. Quackity feels he has to remind Sam that this is for the greater good and to stand back and let him do his thing and that this will probably be the last time. These are all reassurances and instructions that would not be necessary if Sam were known to be totally cool with it all already.

Sam believes the stringent measures Dream put in place for the prison are just desserts for him to suffer, but Techno doesn’t deserve the same cruelty, because Techno didn’t enact those rules. And that’s why Techno gets baked potatoes from Sam, and Dream doesn’t. Sam clearly believes this harsh treatment is justified, because Dream was going to do it to someone else. He thinks he’s being just. Of course, allowing the torture, though not his idea and not really comfortable to him, was still crossing a line, considering physical torture was not something Dream did to his victims (and besides, there’s the argument that not everything a criminal has done is morally correct to be done to the prisoner regardless). That, he was convinced, was for the greater good, to get the revive book. Quackity manipulated him; he thinks he’s doing what’s best, but no, of course that doesn’t make him right or his hands clean.

Sam wanted the dog dead because it’s a security risk, especially with Quackity entering the cell with two other people. He killed it later for the exact same reason. Y’all act like nobody else has ever killed an animal in Minecraft RP; get it together. Is Sapnap also evil? Tommy? He killed his own cat. Random animals are not treated with the gravity you guys are giving them; it makes no sense to call out this one time.

When Techno raised the point that he would be fine if Quackity killed him, because Dream could just bring him back, Dream countered with his warning that Techno doesn’t want to experience death, judging by how messed up it made Tommy. What motive would he have to argue that, aside from actually caring about Techno’s well-being? If Dream was only thinking of himself, he would benefit from Techno being willing to die and be brought back to life by him, giving him an easy reason not to give the resurrection knowledge to Quackity. I honestly can’t think of a reason he would argue other than the fact that he doesn’t want Techno to die even temporarily or experience death--that he cares. Interesting...

Dream hiding in the escape tunnel to make it look like he disappeared too was 5,000 IQ, but he didn’t do it just to be silly or smart. Quackity literally threatened to kill Dream when he came back. Dream HAD to pretend to disappear, because he was legitimately in fear for his life. You saw how terrified he was when Sam found him, how he just immediately begged him not to tell Quackity. He was afraid Quackity would come back and kill him before Techno managed to come back and break him out. He believed that would be his fate and had to make a last ditch attempt to avoid that outcome.

Phil confirmed on stream that the blueprints Techno was led to via coordinates are for the prison. Not Tubbo’s missing nuke, like I’ve seen speculated.

“Steve is your polar bear” was written on stream during the “Prison Podcast” Technoblade lore. This is not a mystery. Dream said he wrote it down when Techno started talking about Steve rescuing them.

If Sam doesn’t approve of Quackity killing Dream, why doesn’t he just tell Quackity Dream is still in the prison but not allow Quackity in anymore? Quackity needs Sam to lead him inside, to let him in. Since when did he have any power against Sam to force him to let him in? I don’t understand why Sam has to keep it a secret just to keep Dream alive. Just don’t let Quackity into the prison anymore. Clearly it was a bad idea, since all these security risks happened while Quackity was getting a free pass to not follow the rules of the prison.

Dream casually walking in the way of Sam’s pickaxe to disrupt his swing once Sam almost had the bell broken gets me every time.

The rapport between c!Dream and c!Sam in prison fascinates me. Clearly Dream is much bolder with Sam than Quackity and still seems to trust his sense of duty to a degree. Sam is also more malleable, convinceable, his fatal flaw being actually listening and talking to Dream, even after it clearly messes with him psychologically. He let Quackity manipulate him, too, and he compromises too much. That might seem weird to say, considering the harsh conditions he has Dream in, but. He does give in to a few things.

I’m wondering if Dream wanted to go to the courtyard hoping it was less secure and easier for Techno to break him out of.

Sam has no reason to lie and gaslight about Dream being the one to suggest raw potatoes and sealing up the courtyard. That’s not in his character to do. So clearly Dream suggested these things. In fact, we have proof. Search for the clip of Dream revealing a teaser for future lore, with him telling Sam the hole in the courtyard ceiling for the light is a security flaw. He straight up says that. Update yourselves. Furthermore, are the recordings we have of Dream suggesting nicer features for the prison even lore? Are they in-character, or was it cc!Dream and Sam making plans? I’m genuinely asking, because I don’t remember/am not sure. In any case, clearly the plans changed at some point, and they were Dream’s idea.

Dream said he didn’t realize how bad it was until after he experienced it. This could very well be a lie. However, it could also be a wake-up call. We just don’t know. Dream clearly possesses low empathy, and every person at some point doesn’t fully realize how poorly another being can feel in a bad situation. Sometimes it actually does take experiencing it yourself to realize how it feels. People can do cruel things to others before the empathy fully clicks. It is possible that Dream really does only now understand how harsh his plans were. Unfortunately, it’s just as likely he doesn’t care and is pretending to, because he has a history of acting, lying, and manipulating. We just do not know, and I think that’s part of the fun, the speculation. Note that none of this is excusing what he’s done; that bores me. I just like understanding characters and their psychology and motives.

Sam is ASKING if Dream had this prison built for Tommy. He is suspicious that that is the case. Dream did not TELL him this, because OBVIOUSLY Sam would have absolutely nothing to do with building a prison he knew Dream meant for Tommy. So no, Sam thought it was for something else. And guess what? It was. Back during the disc war finale stream, Dream told Tommy and Tubbo that the prison was originally intended for someone else (maybe multiple people, the number was not specified), but that he changed his mind and would now put Tommy in it (ha ha punny). Tubbo asked who it was originally intended for, and Dream wouldn’t tell him, preferred to keep it a mystery. Dream had zero reason to say this if it weren’t true. In fact, it would have been more impactful to pretend (or admit) he intended it for Tommy all along. Think of the horror, or even the betrayal finding out Sam, his friend, helped make it. So yes, there is every indication that it is the truth--Dream meant the prison for someone else at first.

And Dream didn’t argue with Sam’s accusations, because why WOULD he? If he didn’t tell Tubbo who it was for, he wouldn’t tell Sam now. Plus, he wouldn’t want to argue with Sam, make him more heated and less sympathetic, and risk him deciding to tell Quackity Dream was there after all. Dream has no reason to speak up. Let Sam think what he wants. Dream’s silence does not mean confirmation. This is not a new thing with him. He keeps things mysterious, and there is a lot about his planning and mindset he does not disclose.

Now, whether Dream made the prison harsher before or after he decided he wanted Tommy in it is up for speculation. We don’t know that timeline.

Anyway, Sam’s speech about Dream getting what he deserves is really delicious. All these people out here mocking Dream fans for Dream still being in prison (like Techno’s not imminently coming to break him out, hello?) and being told off by Sam, yet plenty of us are enjoying it, too, like?? Bruh, what kind of Mary-Sue-touting asshole likes characters who are flawless who never go through strife? Can’t be me. I love watching my favs through triumph AND despair, so this is all just a win for me, thanks.

It is possible to sympathize with a bastard who is highly flawed and wrong AND to understand his motivations without justifying his actions AND to realize he deserves punishment (though to what degree I don’t care to argue). All the black and white morality and taking one extreme stance of “this character is perfect!” OR “this character is wholly evil and only ever does things to be sadistic!” and polarizing the community is cringe, yo. You need to calm down. Enjoy the ride or like...get off?

Anyway, Dream is my favorite, Techno is my second favorite, I adore Sam, I really enjoy Quackity, and the SMP wouldn’t be the same without Tommy. So much love for all of this creative work and its creators. I’m having a blast.

[hey-hamlet]

*slides in on socks* hey can we hear more abt that bnha cult au, the one where bc mido is quirkless and the cult town thinks hes better for it

So I’m probably going to be too lazy to actually write that as a full fic, so lemme go find my brainstorming and yeet it here for you all! Under a read more bc this is long and messy.

The whole fic takes place over either 1 or 1.5 months

Quirks = route of evil, those without powers are closest to the divine's intentions and anything subverting them from that should be expunged. Closer to normal you look = purer you are. Izuku is considered near gold standard excluding his green hair

2000 people in the town - 82 are quirkless (marked with a band - where? Wrist, neck or?)

Global quirkless pop = 20% but japan is 5%, much much lower in Izuku's generation, movement has been around since the dawn of quirks - infanticide

100 people statistically would make sense but rate of quirkless births vs quirkless people is very different as many die due to poor patient care

Some members of the town are the grieving parents of people who's quirkless children were killed as doctors didn't listen to them - some of the first people izuku meet

"Hizashi's family" Invite izuku over - they aren't related, it's part of a plot where they look at quirk records to invite the quirkless to join. Those who do not are disposed of in the woods.

The quirkless are treated like royalty, free food + other stuff

Anyone not on board is killed - settlement is new but buildings are old - the prior town was chased out/killed to make room for the cult. They used to meet in normal churches but quirkless supporting cults were cracked down on so they relocated into the woods by taking over a town

Start the fic w izuku getting off the train, Town is called Rishi, based the town off Nanmoku

Mum: Miyatani Haiyu Dad: Miyatani Juzou Daughter: Miyatani Kei

Need a very secretive, insular vibe - the place has no wifi, a church radio station and a townhall

Timeline

Arival Bakugo and Izuku take the train, Bakugo is there bc his mother told him to go: Inko was worried about sending Izuku off alone so she offered up bakugo to play guard dog. Bakugo is pissed. 

Bakugo will have a blow up about being there pretty early, izuku will try and soothe him which will only make him angrier. Is shinsou there? 

Shinsou is coming as well, but later > originally going to meet up w izuku for the first time (shitty foster parents) but wants to shield him from bakugo. Izuku just wants to sleep.

Golden band for the quirkless (ribbon?) “in our town we value good fashioned hard work so we like to give back to the quirkless, this little band lets everyone know the folks we should give a little more to”

Look around town, Izuku alone (shinsou there tomorrow >> all three staying at an inn)

Meet the family, bakugo pissed right off and they talk some smack about him while izuku flounders. “bet he’s got some flashy quirk, huh? Seems like the type. Makes me sick, thinkin they're better just cause they’re -”

Bakugo goes straight to his room to be a piss baby, izuku looks around. They are setting up for a festival. A group of kids teases another with a visible mutation, she cries, izuku tells the kids off and they scatter, she says some concerning stuff izuku is concerned. 

Izuku eats dinner w the family, they talk about how they think he’s gonna like it there, the little kid is cute.

Shinsou rolls into town, they go for a hike, its pretty chill - they have a picnic n shit they have dinner w the family 

Back to room (share one), izuku fiddling w the radio to find mic’s show, find the town’s own radio, they listen: something about  someone being brought into the fold, visitors in town to be treated kindly, a reminder of a church service that week “Hold fast to your faith, the world may slip a little further each day but we shall fight together to bring our faith outwards and bring purity back to the world” 

“Wow that was weird” “Wanna do some research?” “Fuck, sure.” 

They run into bakugo at breakfast, izuku mentions the show and bakugo kinda nods, “you heard it too?” “yeah. Fuckin weird” “We were gonna do some digging -” “Fuck off, I don’t need you two messing with my shit, I’ll look into myself.” “That was almost polite for Bakugo, huh?” 

Maybe timeskip to end of week? 

With the family, doing arts craft with the daughter. Shinso is sleeping off a migraine. They mention church vaguely in the background and Izuku tries to look like he's not listening in.

The daughter brings it up to izuku and the family chuckle and say he’s free to come if he wants but there is no need to rush him.

They eat lunch, the family kinda advertise the town to him, talk about the nice quirkless girl down the street his age, how rare it is for quirkless people to be born in this generation. Izuku vaguely thinks about how nice it would be to live there

Church that night, izuku looks in on shinsou to see he's still sleeping in the dark, goes to bakugo “look i know i’m sorry but they’re having church tonight and i know you were a little interested and i was gonna go anyway -” “I’m coming with because otherwise you’ll be useless.” They decide to sneak around to listen “I was kinda -” “yeah, sure” “wait but -” “oh fuck off, it rubbed me the wrong way too. The weirdos might talk different if they know we’re there.”

Bakugo throws a darker jacket at Izuku, he slips on a beanie and they head out into the woods, walking through to reach the back of the church. They wait 20 minutes after it was supposed to start and creep out, they listen in. 

“We will purge the impure our streets, we will stop this blight and, we will enact god's wrath and spare the pure, letting relieve the purity of the past. We will strike them down in his name, let them know we are his wolves let loose upon the blinded sheep.” 

Bakugo grabs izuku’s arm, they are both pale. They go to run, and a metal sheet falls down. The preacher goes quiet and someone a few people stand and the two of them book it as fast as they can.

They get back to the inn and have a minor freak out, they wake up shinso and they are like “oh shit, oh fuck.” they decide they need proof bc the pros will never listen to them, they become baby detectives 

Bakugo going off at izuku and having the shit scared out of him by a local, izuku steps in and the local backs down instantly, all smiles

One part of the story involves them running through the festival, changing clothes and masks as much as the can to escape the people chasing them.

The cult have a gas that is toxic to anyone with the quirk factor and intend to release it all across japan, starting with their own town. The climax of the story see’s Izuku going it alone through the facility, dead and dying bodies around him, looking out for any quirkless members that will stop him as he tries to find the locations of the canisters containing the gas. 

Aizawa and Nighteye are in the town as well, Bakugo and Shinsou run to them crying ab how Izuku is all alone and they think he’s going to die and oh god they can’t even help him - 

The dumb comedy throughline in this AU is Aizawa and Nighteye have to fake having crushes on each other to explain why they are hanging out so much in secluded areas. They both hate this very much. 

Izuku, who recognized the two heroes On Sight, is having a minor crisis about them both being here and apparently getting handsy behind a 7/11.

[ashandboneca]

Paganism’s problem with racism

Let me make myself very, very clear: Black lives matter. I am not here to take up space and talk about my white feelings about the #BLM protests. But I 100% support everything the protestors are doing, and I 1000% support defunding the police (like actually dismantling the policing structure, not just clawing back funding). If you want to help and can’t protest, donate to bail funds and the NAACP. Donate to your local Black Cultural Organization. Uplift and elevate black voices, and call out your racist fucking uncle.

Okay. Strap in, this is gonna be bumpy, and long.

I am so unbelievably disappointed, but so massively not surprised at the response of many during this incredible time of revolution. I am disappointed in the pagan and witchcraft community for continuing to excuse and practice cultural appropriation, including ATR and Voudou. I have seen some NASTY arguments and racist backpedaling.

I am also, as someone who reads a lot of books, am really pissed off at most of the occult publishers right now. Let’s talk about why, one by one:

Llewellyn: Llewellyn as a publisher makes a lot of money from white folks writing about ATR and cultural practices that don’t belong to them. They spent Blackout Tuesday promoting their own magazine and events, and did not mention #blm in any capacity until JUNE 11. They made the following statement:

“Llewellyn Worldwide stands together with all those who have been working tirelessly to enact the changes needed to eradicate racial injustice and systemic racism here in our hometown of Minneapolis-St. Paul, across the country, and around the world. We are, as we have always been for our 100-plus years, deeply committed to elevating a diversity of voices and to act as a conduit reaching and teaching their respective audiences. We stand with our employees and authors, our local community, and our readers, who are united in the effort to build and sustain a more inclusive world. However, words are often not enough, and we are looking at what we can do better as a company. Inspired by the progressive work of our late President and Chairman Carl Llewellyn Weschcke, we have recently donated to the NAACP, and to “We Love Lake Street” and “The Hamline Midway Coalition” - two organizations working to rebuild the neighborhoods and cities our company and our employees call home. We hope that our small steps for change join with many others to create a large and lasting global footprint for generations to come.“

Which is nice, I guess. But unless you’re changing your practices and publishing more books by BIPOC authors and stop letting lily white men write about African diaspora traditions, it’s performative as hell. I mean, The money is nice, but how much did this multi-million dollar publishing house donate? $100? We don’t know because they didn’t tell us. Be accountable, and if you’re a multi-million dollar company that is HQ in Minneapolis, show the damn receipts.

They also had some horrible comments on their FB page stating that occult subjects are generally white. Wow.

Red Wheel/Weiser: I was pleased to see they’ve been promoting Lilith Dorsey’s work, as of June 10, as she’s a black author who writes about Voodou and ATR. They generally have a more balanced catelogue, and most of the books written about Voodoo and ATR are by actual BIPOC practitioners. However, they’ve made no mention of #BLM specifically on their social media, which is disappointing. I think in these times, you need to be very clear, very direct about your support. I wish they would just come out and say they support black folks and support organizations that help people fighting for rights.

Troy Books: They haven’t been active on social media since April.

Anathema Publishing: Very active promoting their own authors, but nothing about what’s going on in the world. Their stance is completely apolitical (which is BS).

Moon Books: They don’t seem to have any social media I can find, but their website says nothing.

Three Hands Press: Not active on social media since 2016, nothing on their site, and all of their authors are white.

Scarlet Imprint: Active on social media, nothing mentioned.

Avalonia Books: Active on social media multiple times a day, nothing mentioned.

I’m sure I missed some publishers, but this is a big chunk of them.

So, why is this a big deal?

It’s a big deal because it means that the majority of the information going out (specifically by Llewellyn) about ATR and Voudou is being written by white authors. It means that what should be a black led discussion about their diasporic traditions is a white led discussion. It’s a big deal because many BIPOC don’t feel at home in the pagan community, and are often told things like ‘you should just practice things from Africa’. It’s a big deal because white people have already done enough to silence and obfuscate black voices, and the last place we should be doing this is in our spiritual communities, which are supposed to be built on understanding and acceptance.

Now is not the time for pretty words and fence sitting. You are either unequivocally behind Black Lives Matter, or you are complicit. You need to directly, loudly, and authentically support BIPOC fighting for their rights. You need to join the fight.

What do I suggest? Start putting pressure on these publishers to uplift and promote BIPOC voices. Speak with your wallet. But truly? Read more writing by BIPOC. Follow people on here like @witches-ofcolor​, @borinquenaqueer​, @hellboundwitch​ and @blackwitchspace​. Read more blogs from folks like Bri the Hoodwitch, Crystal Blanton, and Black Witch. Elevate those voices and really, really listen.

AND TELL OFF YOUR RACIST UNCLE.

[itsclydebitches]

None of them liked Ironwoods growingly tyrannical actions, it's the whole reason Ruby lies to him, he looked shady as hell. They are shown very clearly uncomfortable with what he's turned Atlas into in the First episode. It's just that at the end of Volime 7 he crossed the line.

The key words there are “first episode.” I’ve mentioned on other posts that if the plot had simply continued the forward momentum of the group being disgusted with Ironwood’s choices and working against him (hiding out in the city, gathering like-minded allies, etc.) then we would have been golden. Ironwood is Volume 7’s antagonist. There, done. The problem is what starts in the second episode. Our basic events are as follows:

The group (and audience) learn that Ironwood has arguably justified reasons for everything “shady as hell” that he’s done. The embargo? They are at war with Salem and people have been stealing resources since our introductory trailers (Blake). Soldiers in the streets? That first episode showed that grimm are attacking defenseless civilians and, if the soldiers hadn’t been there to fend the grimm off prior to Penny’s arrival, they likely would have died. Taking resources? That’s to re-establish global communications and enact a plan to stop Salem for good, freeing the world from the danger she presents. 

However, they’re still morally gray choices which our group could have opposed… but they didn’t. They join Ironwood as public allies (standing with Clover and Penny against Robyn), as Inner Circle allies (they learn all of Ironwood’s plans—and we learn that he never lied to them), as huntsmen (it’s his power as general that gives them their licenses), and as fellow soldiers (they are indistinguishable from the Ace Ops in the missions they conduct). Now toss in a bunch of other connections like living in his academy, taking his weapon upgrades, and carrying the Relic. They might not like his actions, but they’re certainly doing everything possible to support and reap the benefits of them. 

Ruby does lie to him… which two in the group oppose (however lackluster that was). Yang and Oscar both question the wisdom of doing the very thing they punished Ozpin for. Ren also develops a strong (if quiet) alliance with Ironwood that will carry into Volume 8... until his semblance changed and he forgot about it. 

During all this there are efforts—mostly through Nora—to condemn Ironwood for his choices. How can you continue to hurt the people like this? Same answer as above: because he believes a short-term struggle is worth the long-term victory. Nora doesn’t agree… but Ruby, the leader, does. She pushes Ironwood to finish Amity somehow.

Which is an incredibly strange stance to take considering she knows that amassing a world-wide army will not defeat Salem. If the group wants Ironwood to stop hurting Mantle, all they have to do is tell him that Salem is immortal… but they don’t. They let him continue under this false belief, despite having more information about this war than he does and despite that information being the key to stopping the harm he’s enacting.

The arc of the volume is not the group choosing to trust Ironwood and then realizing he actually isn’t trustworthy, it’s the group (or rather, Ruby) deciding not to trust Ironwood and then realizing he is trustworthy. We get that climactic scene of Ruby and Oscar simultaneously realizing they should tell him about Salem and Oscar apologizing for keeping that secret in the first place. 

 Note that this occurs after they’ve talked him into telling Mantle about her. So not only is the group not made up of mindless subordinates being ordered about by a powerful general—it’s their advice Ironwood listens to—but now they’ve put an entire city in the position they were in during Volume 6. We’re told, via Ozpin’s arc, that telling people about Salem without including the issue of her immortality is a horrific thing to do. Those like Qrow have supposedly “wasted” their lives fighting an impossible war and the fandom has argued strongly that Ozpin has manipulated everyone involved in this fight by not giving them the full picture. Yet now, the group has spent months keeping that information from Ironwood when his questionable choices are based on that ignorance, and they’ve talked him into telling half his population that Salem exists and they should rise up to fight her… but not the pesky detail that she’s immortal. They did to Ironwood and all of Mantle exactly what Ozpin did to them.

Immediately after hearing that they’ve kept this secret from him the entire time they’ve been here (which he takes very well) Ironwood captures one of their main villains, loses his arm in the process, learns that two in the group have outright betrayed him to a political enemy, learns that despite all their best efforts Cinder has just waltzed into his office, learns that Salem herself is on her way and their defenses are already gone, knows that everyone is exhausted from a major battle… so when he decides to take all of Atlas, the majority of Mantle, and the Relics/Maiden they have to try and get out of Salem’s reach… Ruby says no. What’s her plan? She doesn’t have one. You’re just not allowed to leave.

The problem with the writing is it wants us to believe two contradictory things at once. Looking back, Ironwood is meant to be seen as an unambiguously bad guy in Volume 7, which we know because of scenes like Winter’s fight wherein she condemns him for everything he did in Volume 7, not just Volume 8 stuff like threatening to bomb Mantle. Yet at the same time, we’re simultaneously meant to believe that the group is made up of unambiguously good people who function as direct contrasts to Ironwood. Given what we got, these two things cannot coexist! Either Ironwood was a good man who the heroes backed for an entire volume and there’s no acknowledgment of that, or Ironwood was a bad man… who the heroes backed for an entire volume and there’s no acknowledgment of that either. If the group’s defense is, “We knew he was shady as hell. We knew what he was doing was wrong. We knew he was the bad guy here… but we still helped him maintain power, forward his plans, and reap the benefits of the flawed system for months on end”… that’s really bad. “I supported, assisted, and benefited from the guy who was shady as hell, but that’s fine because I felt uncomfortable about it the whole time” is not the hot take the fandom wants it to be. We cannot make these broad, sweeping statements about how the Atlas military—merged with its huntsmen—is an Evil Thing and then show scenes like, say, Jaune using his military grade huntsmen license to convince a bunch of civilians to follow his evacuation plan. The heroes cannot be Good and Pure while supporting the supposed villains and their systems; or, the villains cannot be purely Bad and Evil if they’re supported by the heroes.

The reality is that RWBY is badly written and this sort of simplistic, inconsistent writing doesn’t lend itself to a topic as complex as this one. To be frank, we don’t even know enough to make informed decisions about these actions because the world building is nearly nonexistent. What are these “resources” and how are the resources to patch a hole in the wall the same as the resources used to make Amity Tower into a world-wide communication device? How much power does Ironwood actually have and what other decisions has he made that impact Mantle? We never hear about any policies to explain things like the poor conditions, or the slum areas with the faunus. Why are the civilians so against the soldiers patrolling when we don’t see them abusing the public in any way, but we do see the grimm threatening them on the regular? Why does Ruby want Amity built so badly—willing to hurt Mantle to do it—when she knows a bigger army isn’t the answer/that telling people about Salem has almost always led to panic and betrayal? Is there really any difference between huntsmen and soldiers here? And if the answer is, “Yes. Huntsmen aren’t beholden to any power. That’s a good thing because following orders is Bad. They do what they think is best” than what are we supposed to make of someone like Rhodes who, apparently, did what he thought was best? If he’d been beholden to some superior there might have been a system in place to help Cinder. As it was, he was left to his own devices and a lot of fans are furious with the solution he, as one flawed individual, came up with. We simply don’t have a good picture of this world and when we do, things constantly contradict. It’s good for huntsmen to make their own choices, but only when Ruby does it, not Rhodes. It’s bad for heroes to keep the Salem secret and tell lies to their allies, but only when Ozpin does it, not Ruby. It’s bad for someone to try and save who they’ve got, but only when Ironwood does it, not Ruby, who apparently left Atlas after failing to create portals for her Uncle, Robyn, the Ace Ops, Pietro, Maria, and an entire army.

The way that the fandom gets around these problems—because too few are willing to just acknowledge that they are problems and RWBY is shoddily written—is by simplistically comparing RWBY’s military to a real world one. I cannot tell you how many posts I’ve come across that amount to, “Imagine thinking the teenage girls are the bad guys when a military general is right there, being a military general 😒 ” Those posts imply that fans like me are too stupid (too brainwashed, too close to “bootlickers”) to be critical of the military, but I assure you, that’s as far from true as can be. Those posts are trying to conflate real life politics with a fantasy story whose world looks nothing like our own. The is not a question of being critical of the military, it’s a question of being critical of RWBY as that fictional text… and that fiction never established any of the military problems we deal with in the real world. It might have (very easily), but it didn’t. Is Ironwood leveraging his people to conquer others or go after wealth? No, his world has literal, unambiguously evil monsters to fight. Does he amass power out of a desire to control the people? No, he lays out his exact thoughts on how these measures will help protect against those monsters and a witch. Does the military abandon its soldiers after war, leaving them with few resources and fewer prospects? No, we never see anyone struggling in that manner and one of the most prominent tragedies—Yang losing a limb—is answered by Ironwood personally sending a replacement to her home. Is the military at least built around propaganda, painting civilians an inaccurate picture of Freedom and Glory to convince them to fight? No, we see no propaganda, Ironwood—since Volume 2—has been focused on replacing people with robots and our entire story is built around one child’s desire to fight the exact same battle. Why do you want to be a huntress, Ruby? Because I want to help people! And that goal is never painted as a naïve outlook that Ruby becomes disillusioned with. Posts like the one mentioned above bank 100% on the reader mapping real life military criticism onto RWBY… rather than actually looking at the world RWBY built, what choices the characters make, the amount of information we’re given (little), and whether that in any way reflects our current, political problems. It doesn’t. 

I’m never going to pretend there weren’t problems with Ironwood’s decisions. In fact, I love that this was actually a conflict in Volume 3 that gave both sides a fair shake: is it better to scare people and have an army at the ready to defend them, or is it better to keep them in the dark and potentially be defenseless? Ironwood’s kind heart bumping up against extreme measures is what made him compelling, especially when the story was having him grow in the “right” direction (AKA, listening to Ozpin). His treatment of Penny is another big issue, creating a whole ass person to serve as a military defense tool. That’s horrifying! So he’s absolutely had his problems long before the writing had him turn into a trigger-happy murderer, but part of the issue here is that the writing doesn’t acknowledge those problems in other characters. If Ironwood is “shady as hell” for forwarding a military agenda and using military resources… then so is Ruby, the leader who backed that for months. If Ironwood is “shady as hell” for funding the creation of a person to defend his kingdom… then so is Pietro, the scientist who not only built Penny, but came up with the idea in the first place. He’s not some defenseless victim who was forced by the evil Ironwood to create something morally reprehensible, he suggested it! The same way Winter wasn’t some defenseless victim who was forced by the evil Ironwood to go along with these plans. She supported them, agreed to be his Maiden, and was the first to suggest martial law! Yet Ruby, Pietro, Winter and their like are all presented as unambiguously Good People, whereas Ironwood is presented as the unambiguous Bad Guy—and when a lot of fans went, “But you’re not writing him like a Bad Guy? Especially when we compare him to the heroes?” we got his sudden, OOC murder streak in Volume 8. But it doesn’t work. Either the group is made up of morally gray/bad people because they did the things our antagonist Ironwood did, or Ironwood is not the morally gray/bad person the show insists he is (prior to Volume 8) because he did the same things as our heroes. You cannot give us that plot, those choices, that agency and insist on both at once. This problem has existed ever since we got an entire volume about how simplistically evil Ozpin is for keeping this secret… only for Ruby to immediately turn around and keep it herself, with no acknowledgement that either a) Ozpin wasn’t the bad guy then or b) Ruby is as bad as he is. But the show wants Ruby to be the Good Person in every situation, no matter how much she models her behavior after those she deems her enemies, and Ironwood’s arc only increased that problem tenfold.

[toflyandfall]

I just saw a photo of "What persona. Dick Grayson isn't a mask. Not like Bruce Wayne is" from Detective Comics #725 and I find it interesting that Dick and the rest of the bats, with the exception of Bruce, don't wear "masks" per se. They are who they are with or without the domino mask/helmet. The only time I can really think of Dick faking things is when he pretended to be an incompetent BPD cop. How was he able to avoid creating and living, half the time, through a "persona" like "Brucie"?

Oooh, this is a lovely, meaty question.  There’s a lot more analysis of Bruce than I planned because let’s be real, it’s kinda weirder for a guy to run around with half a dozen personas than for someone else to run around as himself.  I hope you still find it interesting, but if you want to skip straight to the more Dick-centric stuff, head under the readmore.

A simple but significant factor is that Dick thrives on the company of people in a way that Bruce does not.  I suspect if you talk honestly to many introverts, you will find they too have an extroverted ‘mask’ they put on to the larger world, though probably not quite so extreme.

Another factor is that the civilian social circles Dick and Bruce travel in are vastly different.  Though they each have a reason for being in those circles, that difference itself enables Dick to escape much of the scrutiny that Bruce’s public identity undergoes, because he doesn’t frequently associate with the much more media-hounded elite.

An interesting thing here is that the large difference in social circles between their civilian lives is actually caused by their own personal similarities: they are 100% committed work-a-holics.  It’s just that they have differing civilian approaches to their goals.

I want to start with Bruce because as you point out, his use of persona is distinct among the bats and his reasons for using them in part explain why Dick and the other bats do not.

Bruce is a child of privilege, he has always lived a lifestyle of privilege, regardless of the tragedies that have occurred during it, and his default view of the world, through no fault of his own, is natively that of the extreme upper class.  This drastically influences his perspective and approach to change, and changing the world is his perpetual goal, the reason he put on the suit in the first place.

Bruce works a top-down society approach toward systemic change, and he works it all the time.  This is actually my favorite but woefully under-emphasized part of him: he is not just someone who punches people on the street ‘for justice’, he uses his company, his money, and his social position toward substantial systemic change. This post does a wonderful job covering the ways he does this through his corporations and personal wealth, as does this one.  I cannot recommend either enough because I constantly want to push even the most casual Batman fans to understand: Bruce Wayne is not just a violent punchy puncher man.  He is a traumatized person genuinely trying to use all his resources including himself to make the world safer.

Detective Comics #725

Bruce has many personas he maintains, and he uses all of them according to what suits his need--Batman for places the law can’t go, Bruce Wayne the CEO pushing for systemic changes, Matches Malone for street information, and Brucie the society high roller for society information and social influencing.  He is rarely ever not in a persona and simply ‘Bruce’.

His top-down perspective of enacting change are what dictated the usage and necessity of these personas. He has the means and capacity to basically disappear from society if he so chose--he in fact does so to train during his younger years so successfully they don���t even know how long he was actually gone. 

The Batman Files

So he doesn’t need the personas.  Not Bruce Wayne, CEO, or Brucie, or any of them really, to protect his identity.  That tells us that Brucie is a deliberate choice he made at some point.  He could have been a recluse billionaire Batman indefinitely.  Even though he fully has the status and means to not maintain a job or a persona or, let’s be frank, a life outside the mask at all, it’s his own work-a-holicness that led to the creation of his public personas.  He’s an obsessive strategist, so if Brucie is a choice, that leads us to why?

Bruce does many philanthropic things with his money, but he isn’t the only rich person around, especially not in a city as old and corrupt as Gotham.   But he’s one of the very few ones doing good with it.

The comic you mentioned has a very beautiful moment where Bruce touches on that, and in full context you can feel how consumed he is by this goal of creating the Gotham his parents would have wanted.  Batman mentions he never sees himself in that place, and the morbid interpretation is that the city kills him before he reaches it, but the hopeful interpretation is that in that shining city, Bruce Wayne and Batman and Brucie and all his masks will no longer be needed.

Detective Comics #725

Back in the old days they’d call it noblesse oblige: the inferred responsibility of privileged people to act with generosity and nobility toward those less privileged. Thomas and Martha Wayne ingrained this feeling of responsibility into Bruce by example, and as all things related to them, he obsesses over it.  It urges him to fulfill expectations within segments of society he finds onorous for the betterment of society as a whole in order to carry out their unfinished works.

Enter Brucie.

Brucie serves a two-fold purpose.  Since Bruce has chosen to maintain personas among society, it becomes a false face to justify any oddities Batman might bring into the life of Bruce Wayne by setting himself up as a eccentric, popular social scion.  But that persona itself also allows him to manipulate the upper crust of society.

I have some insider perspective on the kind of society events Brucie attends.  They’re all about the who’s who of making connections, name-dropping and networking, and unspoken class-based elitism.  Charity events among the upper class have these things at the forefront and the cause is the background.  You don’t get your hands dirty, you don’t go out and make change yourself, you pay money to be socially seen and sometimes it happens to go towards a philanthropic cause.  If you want to raise money from the rich and keep people with deep pockets coming in the door, you have to have social currency yourself. This is where, and why, Brucie comes in.  I believe Brucie ws crafted to maintain Batman’s cover but still attempt to carry on his parents’ legacy to grease the wheels of the rich in the directions he chooses: one of generosity towards those less privileged. 

Superman/Batman #51

The inevitable flaw of Bruce’s approach to his personas and their philanthropy is that in a city rife with corruption, money distributed from the top has many opportunities to disappear well before it reaches the bottom.  As in many of ways they are complements to each other, Dick’s approach balances that out, because his approach to helping his fellow man starts out at the street level...literally.

Nightwing #153 (Nightwing: The Great Leap)

Dick, we know, does not come from privilege.  His mother was from a middle class family before she joined the circus, and despite being world famous athletes, most circus workers are lower to middle class.  The people he grew up with, was comfortable with, were all working folk who expected everyone to pull their weight right alongside each other.  He enacts this everyone-together approach in almost all aspects and phases of his life. 

Batman #615

Even once he had settled into being Robin and adapted to living at the manor, he didn’t feel belonging to a culture of privilege, materialism, or high society. He preferred shotgun in the limo to chat with the driver to riding fancy in the back.  Once he was able to start making his own decisions about where and how he lived, despite having both Bruce’s money and then later inheriting a substantial amount of his own, he chose mostly lower-class communal places.

Batman Black and White #6

Dick also doesn’t see the value of throwing money at a problem when there is an option to fix it with his own hands.  We see this frequently, from building his own car instead of buying a finished one or outsourcing the work, to deciding the best way to clean out the BPD was to start at the bottom and work his way up (literally), to quitting college because his classes never got prioritized over crimesolving.  Most of his day jobs ended for similar reasons. 

Nightwing #153 (Nightwing: The Great Leap)

Despite the showmanship training, he gravitates away from spotlight on the rich and wealthy, who are notoriously the kind of people who do not get their hands dirty or go out and take care of things themselves, and prefers to find or build communities around the kind of people who do.

Finally, Dick is an extrovert.  He doesn’t need to act extroverted as Brucie does because he is extroverted.  He likes people and likes being around people.  Whether by conscious choice or not, he tends to put himself in situations where he is surrounded by people in nearly all aspects of his life.  He chooses apartment buildings whose occupants frequently pass each other on the stairs; jobs that involve interacting with many co-workers, patrons, or students; and collects superhero teammates like Boy Scout badges.  And all of these behaviors come very naturally to him.  

He doesn’t need a mask or a role or a persona for those kind of interactions; his mask is pre-supplied as “neighbor” or “co-worker” or “teacher” by the situations he puts himself in.  It helps make him an exemplary leader, because just by acting authentically to himself, he automatically builds up little communities around him any time he arrives somewhere.

Bruce, on the other hand, is an introvert.  For him, interacting with people isn’t easy, automatic, or comfortable unless it has a purpose, but as a strategist, he knows the necessity of human interaction as a catalyst to achieving dynamic change. So he adapts personas to suit people’s expectations.  Extroverts have more social currency; the life of the party can generate more resources than a brooding wallflower.  

So, it boils down to just a few elements: Dick believes in living and interacting at the street level to accomplish the things that he wants to, and he is extroverted enough that the level of social interaction that entails is not a burden to him.  He surrounds himself with the types of people he is more familiar or perhaps more comfortable with, which happens to keep him further out from the media’s eye than associating with the upper crust does. The lower profile is more incidental than intentional, but it lessens his need to have a cover story for every single bruise and lets him get away with even less of a ‘persona’.

Bruce, on the other hand, is introverted and follows a more classist view that systemic change needs to be effected from the top down.   His personas are more of a self-assumed duty than a necessity, as a way of trying to carry out his parents’ legacy.  Any of his children could have chosen to follow his path in business or the high society limelight, but the sense of obligation toward it is something personal to him that most of them don’t share.

[jonathankatwhatever]

It’s 27 Feb 2023. Struggling to finish the thoughts from last night about the relation of the gamma and zeta functions. I’m seeing something but it is resisting coming in to the light. Remember worrying about the degree of difference between in to and into?

I think the hiding idea is that you find the logarithm effect within the gamma that is the denominator in the first level n!/log(n). And that transition to an integral means the division of complex space, as opposed to cutting up an Extent. That is, if you represent 1/n as a series of steps away from an End, meaning you add 1 each time, then you get - no, it can be simpler: go out so the grid expands with a border of 1, just as we’ve been generating, think f1-3//3-1 all the way through, and that means you can add 1 + the infinite grid next to it. This can then be treated as inverting in the reciprocal form so all the combinations go into the 0Space calculation. It’s visually that we determine a 1/n and add that to the attached 1, and do that for each possible, which is multiplicative because the process was division.

I did not expect to be doing this, but I’m very glad we did, because that proved to be a huge relief. I had a tickling thought that we needed to demonstrate e visually using the latest understanding, but it wasn’t anywhere near the front of my mind. It’s come up because this visualization needs this skill, yet another example of how this work is clearly completing itself.

My issue seems to be fading as I realize I grasp this visually. This means 0’s of polynomials in complex space. The reasoning is becoming clearer because I’m mapping to gs now, just like last night when we mapped a gs prime so the Injection process works as a pump. I can see the sexual imagery in that, which is good because it needs to literalize, and the reason it need to literalize is MM, the motive mechanism, which creates potential within a Thing and among or between Things. Wow.

Need a break.

————-

To continue with the grid squares, since we’re expanding the grid with a border, which is inherent in the axis line ‘anyway’, we get the mechanism for the flickering states, which is that this communicates across the grid. That is typically sK because we build the grid typically counting out zK. So across sK, there is a 1-0Segment in which the 1 attaches at either or both or neither End. This enables Recombinance because once the arrangement is there, meaning the count, then it fills or fits through Dimensional Reduction. Thus the note about 0’s in complex space: solutions scale.

This is very interesting but demanding work.

————

While playing piano, thank heaven for that working, I realized that I was applying these lessons and that my conception of tonality was changing as this happened. But what was happening? One is that I started to hear tonalities as Pathways, meaning I took the idea that each key has its natural melodies and saw that enacting, which enabled me to play those through the process by which my hands connect to the tones so the Counter for that, and thus that Observer, generate music, actual music.

Another is that I was seeing key changes in different ways, including as parts of the conversation, of the melody, when it needs something out of that key to fit. That is again because the Observer is working and the imposed melody, fitting to the actual playing, requires this adjustment to work. Dimensional Reduction, expressing through the pathways to my hands, to my eyes, to my ears, to my posture, to the movements, like I’m a puppet dancing with notes coming out.

All of those connections within me occur up to the boundary of my actions. And of course, each part to the boundary. So, what is the boundary?

————

My mind keeps wanting to say ‘1Space’ is at the boundary, because the Ends which appear, which are ‘visible’, which are tObjects, is where the complexity reduces to 0, meaning whatever doubt or ambiguity is contained in the field behavior, meaning the object, like a sandwich or a note or a bullet is a tObject, and a tObject’s definition includes that the complex field becomes invisible, meaning the axis shifts and the Fan(shuts) to Register that Actuality as a D3-4 existence. Thus stuff can accrete and come apart and tumble, and each of those has a boundary, and each of those states is where the Fan(shuts) to Register that Actuality. Use of Fan(s) was to connect the open position of grid squares to the ‘closed’, to the compression to a line and thus to an End (or Ends).

Getting there.

—————-

In the shower, I felt it all coming together again. The image was clear, but it did not last. I could see how Pathways on the complex plane generate vast counts, and of course, all the modularity inherent in factorial located to an identified location or End. So the space is ‘warping’ into view, if that’s a decent word. I mean I’m seeing how each End - and I saw it again, some touching the iObjects related to the tObject, like varying degrees of a close call, from an asteroid you didn’t see not hitting the planet to a bike missing you by inches. I need to take a walk.

——————

You handle being female better than I handle being male. Of course, I’m twisted left to right to left, a Winding, and really a good example of the dimensionality of Between, if you take the Ends of left, then a lifetime of right, which can be compressed to a Counter, and that compression and expansion - which, btw, makes me queasy to visualize - brings different composite images to life as each pump takes its Pathways up to the level where I can see stories open up. So this happens all the time, and this is an edge case example.

Happens all the time. Infusion. Injection. I confuse them. The main idea is the pump because that unifies a lot by allowing grid squares to function in layers.

The hugest realization of the day keeps flying out of my head. I can’t bring myself to finish a thought about the pump, though I guess we just did by describing it as the compression to the Counter, which is a counting of the 1-0Segment. That is why or rather how we deal with Counters all the time, the dimensionality is compressed, is present but in ways that have to be captured, like in ambiance or other revelation of some of the dimensions involved. Compression to the Counter is a consequence, almost an artifact in a sense, of the fit as D4-3 threads meet D3-4 threads to make an Actuality. This connects to the big idea, which just swung by again, that the boxes, the structures, all exist. That means we don’t identify 7 dimensions, but rather that there are 7gs, arranged as they can be, and that these boxes fill, meaning we don’t have to imagine shifting this box to here and that to there to change the order, but rather can look at the permutations and what might fit.

————-

As that sinks in, I’m seeing big simplifications in groups because a gigantic amount of machinery is necessary to describe the other side that fitting process, meaning this side, the 0Space side.

[mamahersh]

The Road to Hell (is Paved with Good Intentions) Chapter 3

“Season 8 was well underway, and the server’s first conflict is bubbling just under the surface. But BDoubleO can’t worry about that right now because he has an Etho to find so they can work on the Horse Course together. However when Xisuma calls a surprise server meeting on behalf of EvilXisuma, BDubs gets his answers about where Etho’s been in the worst way possible.”

(CW: angst, blood, gore, torture)

Chapter rating: M

Back to BDubs and friends

Welcome back to my first attempt at Ethoslab angst! Time to find out why EvilX is being evil lol. Sorry again if any of the characters are OOC, though as stated on the box, EvilX is going to be fairly OOC. If y’all have suggestions or feedback, feel free to come and say hi!

P.S. I got my inspiration for this fic from this fic over here! Give them some love too.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 4

“ETHO?!”

BDubs was having a waking nightmare. He had to be. This was so far out of left field, he legitimately was having problems processing whatever this was.

Here he was, standing with Doc and Beef, watching a screen with their final NHO member beat to hell and back sitting in a chair next to EvilX. Not only that, but Xisuma himself had been acting so weird up till now, and now he seemed to be just as confused as the rest of them. He could hear Iskall and Grian already going off on Xisuma (which honestly he would normally be over there right along with them), but from the looks of it, Xisuma seemed to have no idea what he just did. Which was a whole thing to unload later, because right now he didn’t like what he was seeing on the screen. 

To start, Etho didn’t have his mask on. BDubs had never seen Etho without his mask, never. He knew Beef had more than likely seen Etho without it, but that was one of those things all the Hermits had never brought up. You just didn’t ask Etho to take off his mask, and he never removed it. Also, BDubs was absolutely horrified to realize that not only was Etho chained to the chair with cuffs that looked like they were spiked inside the cuffs, but he also had stakes in his arms to keep them completely immobile. Plus, Etho was still conscious, though how much so was difficult to discern from the TV alone. And they had no idea where Etho was. They didn’t know where Etho was, and they were about to watch him probably get even more hurt. BDubs was about to pop a blood vessel, mark his words. 

“Beef. Beef, we don’t know where Etho is,” pleaded BDubs to the open air as he continued to stare at the screen. He felt a solid hand on his left shoulder, and a slightly leafy one (as only creepers could have) on his right.

“We know BDubs,” replied Beef, gripping onto the shorter one in a vague hope to comfort them both. “God, I know.” Doc gave a quiet hiss of agreement, clawed grip a bit too tight to be comfortable.

While the Hermits devolved into chaos, EvilX had stood patiently beside his captive till in a brief lull in shouting he called out, “HERMITS!” Suddenly, the group was silent, all members anxiously awaiting his words. “I hope you are all doing well in your various business ventures, but we have called you together today for an important step in my business empire!” BDubs could not let this stand.

“OY!” Suddenly every eye was turned to BDubs. EvilX looked stoic as always, expression impossible to see beneath his mask. The rest of the hermits were in various states of confusion and worry. “Now you listen HERE, you… you OAF! What do you think you’re trying to pull?! This isn’t a business deal, you’re holding Etho hostage and- !!!” Suddenly he was cut off by a worried looking Doc covering his mouth.

“Please BDubs, just a bit longer… we need to find out why first,” mumbled Doc.

“I-I must agree with BDoubleO, EX.” There was Xisuma, finally speaking up. “What you’re doing here most assuredly doesn’t seem like a business deal.”

EvilX chuckled as he placed a hand on Etho’s head and gripped his hair. “Oh, I assure you all, this is a business deal. A very pivotal one as well.” Evil X gestured grandly as he spoke with his free hand. “You see, Derpcoin has hit a plateau. A major roadblock if you will. Some of it is due to inaccessibility in the markets, you know who you are who don’t allow Derpcoin in your shops.” Here EvilX paused, the mild grandiose gesturing stilling to allow him to give a meaningful stare at the camera. Then he continued. “I tried peaceable means of convincing you all to use Derpcoin. In fact Etho here was having productive discussions with us about potentially expanding into Iskall’s prismarine business.” BDubs glanced at Iskall to see a conflicted expression on his face. “But, he had his doubts, and so he was planning on going the route of Boatem.” The air became tense as the Hermits waited with baited breath for the inevitable. The Boatem Crew in particular looked ill-at-ease, Grian’s feathers fluffed and Mumbo looking like an anxious puppy beside him. “So in response, I decided to enact a new plan for Derpcoin expansion. If you all do not accept Derpcoins in your markets:” EvilX suddenly pulled at Etho’s hair, lifting his head at an awkward angle and digging the spikes in the collar into the back of his neck. He barely let out a whimper. “I’ll make an example of Ethoslab.”

Understandably, the Hermits burst in furious bickering, not the least of which was the Boatem crew arguing heatedly amongst themselves. BDubs wanted to yell and scream; preferably at EvilX, though Etho was a close second. What he would yell at Etho for was undetermined, but he was ready to give someone a very loud series of rebukes. However, all 3 of the remaining NHO members had in one way or another ceded to EvilX’s Derpcoin cult. They had heard about Boatem being a diamond exclusive economic zone, but never in their wildest dreams had they thought this would be the end result of any of their choices. To be honest, BDubs now felt dirty accepting Derpcoin. If this was what it meant to use it, he wanted no part of it. But now, not allowing Derpcoin would lead to EvilX doing something terrible to Etho.

“Well Hermits? Will you allow Derpcoin in all your markets?” Seemed like EvilX had become impatient with them. And now all the server was staring directly at the Boatem crew because they all knew who it was EvilX wanted a response from. Mumbo, who was the most nervous, yet also CEO of their megacorp, was pushed to the front of their group. He stuttered for a few moments, looking just as terrified and lost as everyone else in the group was feeling.

But before Mumbo could say anything, they could hear Etho say, “D-don’t do it.” EvilX slowly turned his head towards Etho.

“Would you like to repeat that Ethoslab?” Never had BDubs felt so helpless. It was like watching a trainwreck in slow motion, knowing that at least one person would die in the process but there was not a single thing he could do to change it.

EvilX slowly let go of Etho’s hair, and went back to crouching, though now slightly to the side so the camera could see everything that they both were doing. Etho, meanwhile, glared at EvilX the entire time, and finally huffed out, “they shouldn’t do it.” EvilX didn’t do anything, so Etho kept going. “You and I both know there’s more t-to this than what you’re asking.” BDubs could see how nervous Etho was, how his hands spasmed and the rest of him was set more still than stone. BDubs could also see that EvilX had a knife in his hand, and he looked about ready to use it. 

“Etho!” BDubs shouted, and lurched at the screen in a failed attempt to stop the inevitable. Just as he called out, EvilX stabbed down into the meatiest part of Etho’s thigh, and left the knife there. Etho threw his head back and grit his teeth, moaning through them as he seemed to adjust. The rest of the assembled Hermits let out various noises of shock and dismay; a particularly angry screech came from Cleo, and BDubs could hear Doc angrily hissing to himself behind him.

“Let that be a lesson,” said EvilX, standing back up and turning back to face the camera. “Now, with no further interruptions,” he took a moment to turn his head back towards Etho in a meaningful gesture. “I would like your answer.”

BDubs felt his heart sink as he watched a furious flurry of whispers start up in the boatem group again while Mumbo looked uncharacteristically serious beneath all the anxiety. Mumbo pushed out from the group, though Grian latched onto his suit jacket; whether for moral support or to try to pull him back in was unclear to BDubs. “We have an answer for you.” BDubs felt Beef come back beside him to grip onto his shoulder. “We…” Everyone seemed to hold their breath, or maybe that was just him. “... will NOT accept Derpcoin as a legitimate form of currency in our shops.” He felt his breath leave him. His feelings were mixed up in a boiling stew, though if he had to pick a predominant one, it would have to be dread. “We can’t justify allowing the use of alternate forms of currency until there is a transparent, stable conversion rate between them and diamonds; as well as a way to easily convert the currency to diamonds. If people on the server want to use derpcoins at our shops, they should be able to exchange them for diamonds so that we are all aware of the actual value they are using in our shops.” Mumbo deflated a bit after he had said his piece, almost seeming to fall back into Grian’s white knuckled grip on his suit. They all knew that he had doomed Etho. BDubs could feel Beef behind him getting tenser, and he thought that if he looked behind, he’d see the rage building on the alien face.

“He did not just sacrifice Etho for his shopping district,” muttered Beef from behind. “He absolutely did not just sacrifice Etho to guarantee a profit for his fucking mega-corp.” BDubs heard a whirr of machinery, and Doc hissing behind him, “Beef, you know why he did it. Etho himself didn’t want them to give in to EX’s demands.”

“That doesn’t make it right, though!” angrily whisper-screamed Beef.

“Will you two just drop it?!” exclaimed BDubs, turning around to them both. Doc and Beef both looked mildly shocked and embarrassed. “There are bigger things we gotta deal with, like trying to save Etho from whatever horror show EvilX has cooked up right now!”

A sudden laugh from the screen shut him down however, as EvilX faced the camera. “Oh please. By the time you find me, I will already be done! But how about a challenge then?” EvilX gestured at the surrounding stone on his end of the screen. “I shall give you an x coordinate, and you can have Etho back once you find him! However, at least one of you has to stay back and watch, and I’ve messed with the respawn mechanics. Now, you respawn where you die, and you only come back with two hearts. I think you can connect the dots. And remember, I am doing this, because the kiddie gloves are off. You forced my hand. I would never have done this if you had just accepted Derpcoin when I offered it to you.”

“And now,” with a flourish, EvilX brought up his communicator and typed a quick command into it. “You can find me at x=537.” 

BDubs frantically tried to remember coordinates, but his usual estimations were falling through his brain like sand through his fingers. “Say, that’s not too far from our base!” called out Stress, Tay and False nodding along beside her. “We could start at my base and work out from there perhaps?” Suddenly it seemed like every hermit was piping in. 

“I’m fairly certain the Goatem Pole is by those coordinates!” called out Impulse.

“My base is nearby as well!” called out iJevin.

“Our base is along that axis as well!” called out Cleo, Joe looking ill-at-ease beside her, though nodding along.

“Fucker couldn’t make it easy, could he?” mumbled Beef, glaring intently at the screen. It’s a point somewhere along the longest axis of the island with the most players situated along it, realized BDubs a moment too late. It would take them hours to search along that x coordinate.

“I’ll stay,” called Mumbo, an odd mixture of sheepish and serious sounding. “It was my choice that put Etho into this situation, so I will stay to see the consequences of my actions and be with him the best way I can be.” Here Mumbo looked fully ashamed. “Plus, I will be the first to admit I am not good at finding my way around, muchless finding a hidden bunker.”

“I’ll stay with you,” stated TFC from the opposite end of the crowd. “I’m not in my prime anymore, so I would be best with those staying behind with Etho.”

“I’ll help with the search,” said BDubs, unable to contain himself any longer. He wanted, no needed, to find Etho, and the only way he could do that would be to go with the search group.

And after a bit more haggling, the groups were divided up as to who would stay, and who would go.

Going was the gals, BDubs, iJevin, the Boatem Crew minus Mumbo and Scar, Beef, Ren, Horsehead Farms, and Welsknight

Staying was TFC, Xisuma, Mumbo, Scar, Joe, and Doc.

With that, BDubs and the rest of the search party shot off, plan set up and in motion; and all BDubs could do was hope they wouldn’t be too late.

[slothgiirl]

the trash pile: alex turner x reader

The cybernetic augmentation juts out from her temple, leading down to her chin, the metal a dull grey. Nothing says belter more than slap job augmentations, Alex thinks as she smiles at him, reaching out with her hand to him.

He takes it.

She's pretty from what he can see from the dim yellow lights in the club. The augmentation somehow complementing her already well formed cheekbones. A mess of bleached blonde hair falling down her shoulders.

And she's already offered, dragging him out onto the floor shamelessly. He'd rather dance with a beautiful woman than stand around drinking and having to listen to all his friends talk about people, things, he's unfamiliar with.

They've moved on.

The floor flashes bright blue to the beat of the music. Too loud to carry a conversation. Too loud to think. Alex can finally stop overthinking, what he's done since he landed on Tranquility base six hours ago.

Her touch is solid and confident, hands on his shoulders as she laughs, one hundred percent in the moment. He doesn't think he's ever been like that. Her ease is as natural as Alexa's charm.

His gaze flickers back to the table they'd been sharing, but they've dispersed into the club. He can't see a trace of any of his friends. Matt had long since left, having a ceremony to wake up for. "Tomorrow," he'd grinned, promising a night of debauchery.

"Hey," Taylor calls into his ear, bringing his attention back to her, blue eyes like the sky back on earth. None of the gaudy recreations of sky broadcasted through the colonies. Mars was said to not even bother, letting it's people grow up with an orange sky.

She smiles, tilting her head, before leaning in.

And wow, Alex really has been alone for too long, as her lips on his send his heart beat into a frenzy. Blood rushing in his ears like a teenage boy all over again. It isn't real, but he thinks in that second he loves her.

Alex always has been a romantic.

They leave the club together. The corridors are still red for the night. The one thing he hadn't missed. Even Ceres had better artificial lighting mods.

"I've got to go to work," Taylor tells him bluntly, "but you should give me your number. I think we could have a lot of fun together." She looks at him with hopeful eyes, biting her lower lip. He wants to kiss her again.

But, he'll be gone the day after tomorrow. The entire base holds too many ghosts for him to feel entirely comfortable. It makes him keep looking over his shoulder, expecting Josh or Julian. Two people he's long since lost touch with.

"I'm actually not staying that long," he admits as she leads them through the corridors. Alex can still recognize the alcoves he and Matt would take smoke breaks in. Which turn would lead them back to the lifts. Another life.

"That's a shame."

He chuckles. Before his mind catches up with his tongue, "wait, did you say you're going to work now?"

"Yeah. Its so fucking boring," Taylor says, stopping besides the lifts. "Coms graveyard shift." She rolls her eyes.

"I don't blame ya," he admits. Alexa had worked the coms. She'd always complained about having to go thirty seven floors below, bundled up in jackets. Since it was less populated, the government enacted more energy saving features.

"Maybe we'll see each other again in the drift," she grins suggestively, right as she steps into the lift.

Alex watches the doors closed, before he turns around, deciding to go find an open store. He could go for some more coffee while he's here. Maybe even stock up on it. It shouldn't be hard. The Base wasn't a residential area. Tourists were coming and going as well as SFN members.

There was the launchpad.

He lets himself wander. Too buzzed to be as tired despite the early call time he has in the morning. It would be just his luck to miss Matt's big promotion because he'd overslept after having traveled a month to be here.

It's not hard to find an open bodega. The open sign flashing green in the dim of the night.

Maybe he should've gotten the night vision implants after all. Miles never shut up about it. How easy it was to make his way about different colonies even during night cycles. And you could only tell if you were looking for the little silver ring around the iris.

Alex slips inside, making a bee line for the food. It's been hours since he last ate. At this point a cup of noodles and instant coffee sound like a dream. He gets the little powdered donuts as well. Then goes for the liquid milk creamer.

Who knows when he'll next have that option. No one had yet to figure out how to increase cows milk production in space. And powdered never tasted the same.

He looks at the fruit. Incredibly overpriced since it's a bodega. But apples and oranges. . .Alex could still remember the taste of fresh squeezed orange juice his mother would make. She'd cut them all open, let him squeeze the juice out before sucking on the pulp.

Alex grabs the smallest oranges.

There's no reason not to splurge. He has the money for it. And work is never hard to come by with his skill set. There's a large market for the skills SFN ensigns have, but most of those ensigns just stay with the navy.

He turns to go pay for his small haul, but the sight of a woman staring out of a faux porthole stops him in his tracks.

Her profile could not hide how beautiful she was, her gaze caught by the live feed of the earth on the other side of the moon. Romantic dark eyes gazing into the side of the bodega, her questionable egg salad sandwich forgotten in her hand. The bump in her prominent nose only served to make her profile more striking.

"That's not actually the earth," Alex starts gently, catching her attention. "Ya know." She turns to him, trying to hide the fact that she'd jumped, startled by his presence. And doing a damn good job at brushing off the surprise.

He was right. She's beautiful. Well formed full lips. Her dark hair tucked a braid, looking better in trousers and patched up hoodie than most people could dressed to the nines. Her shoes stick out from the casual ensemble, patent red leather with a split toe. There's the hint of dark circles under her eyes, probably from a missed nights sleep.

And a scattering of light scars like stars by her left cheekbone.

"I know," she responds, "I just never thought I'd ever be this close to the earth."

"You could take a trip to the other side and see the real thing," he muses, unable to hide the longing in his voice. Alex knew in his bones he'd never step foot on earth again. Never walk the streets in Sheffield or London again. But he couldn't help but wish for a miracle.

She shakes her head, the warmth in her eyes receding as she closes herself off. "Can't. Have to meet with a friend and then go back."

"Must be a good friend if you've come all this way."

She shrugs noncommittally, "He's more of an acquaintance of a friend. I've never actually met the man. But things being as they are," she explains, "it's best done in person."

Alex is now intrigued, a red flag raised in the back of his mind that still flies away information happening in the corner of his eye just in case. It makes him a damn good private investigator. "Mysterious."

"Forgive me for not spilling all my secrets to a stranger," she notes, arching a brow.

He can't help but chuckle. "Ya got me there love. Let's try something else."

"Like what," she asks, the corners of his lips turning up.

"How are you finding our moon?" The moon might not think it was the earth's, and the government sure wasn't, but the moon still spun around the earth the way it had for millions of years.

"Disappointing," she admits, frowning, "Ceres is livelier. And would it kill them to use brighter lighting?"

"Austerity measures," Alex shrugs. It had been the answer for as long as he'd been alive.

"From what," she asks, tilting her head, a smirk forming on her lips, "there's no war or reason for shortages."

"Just repeating the party line," he admits.

"Well," she raises her sandwich like a sad little white flag, "I've got to get going. It was nice meeting you."

"Can I get your number?"

Surprising him, she shakes her head, "No. I doubt we'll ever meet again. I don't plan to stay on the moon for long."

"Lucky for you," he counters, following her to the sales woman, built like a rugby player, "I'm not from the moon. So there's hope yet for our paths to cross."

She snorts, digging around her pockets for money, slowly building up a pile of change to pay with. "Let me guess," she says knowingly, as her eyes look him over, taking in his hair now curling past his ears, the navy blue sweater and white shirt combo that had felt smart earlier but had wrinkled in the course of the night. "you're from earth."

Alex answers bashfully, "born there." He always felt like apologizing for having been born on Earth. For having spent his childhood breathing in air without a care. For not knowing how precious an atmosphere was.

"Well I don't plan to go to earth," she trails off, waving her receipt away.

"Neither do I." He hands the lady a bill too large for what he's bought and follows her out the door, not bothering for his change. "But I take it there's no way I can convince you to give me a number?"

"None."

"How about a name," he offers. Alex had not seen one person that he'd bothered to chase in years. And here she was, indulging him as though he was a stray puppy she had fed once and now followed her around in hopes of more scraps.

"Yours first," she snipes back, not missing a beat.

"Alex." He doesn't ever bring up his last name. Too much weight. A famous family. And an infamous past. Being just Alex was a luxury.

"Tisiphone."

A name fitting for someone born in the jovian system. Maybe even Dione. But Dione, while a newer colony, wasn't bloody awful for someone to want to leave. It had to be-"Titian," he guesses. The wild west of space. SFN cadets hated getting assigned there. Johanna had said the worst part was the perpetual twilight.

Too many crevices to hide in.

"Yes," she responds, "and hopefully never again."

"If we ever meet again," the romantic in him already imagining them crossing paths in a Callisto settlement, planting trees for the rest of their lives and learning to work wood, "can I take you out for a cuppa?"

Tisiphone laughs, smiling tight lipped, "If it happens then I'll say yes earth boy."

** ** ch 2

The ceremony drags on.

They all sit, gathered around the Kennedy Hab, the first large permanent building on the dark side of the moon. The benches are as uncomfortable as ever, as Alex gazes down at a sea of navy uniforms all with various ranks on their right shoulders. He's seated right next to Alexa. The boys down there somewhere with Matt.

It's an SFN event so Alex's paranoia is right for once. The second glances the captains and commanders threw his way were knowing. They recognized him.

It sets his teeth on edge.

Alexa pats his knee, comfortable around him despite their shared history. Johanna besides him with her fiancé. They both keep glancing at each other, infinite in their whispering. He wants that.

"I'll throw hands at anyone who says anything," Alexa reassured him. Looking especially nice in a long red dress. She's not single. But it clearly isn't serious enough if she didn't bring him along to celebrate her friends.

"That would make it worse," Alex responds, keeping his gaze forward, careful to keep his face neutral. It usually wasn't a problem. That being his default expression. But this was bringing up events from his past he's long since buried.

"Derek was supposed to be here," Alexa says to try to distract him, "you would've liked him. Life of the party. Miles and him had a one night stand and now we're all friends."

"Well that's not saying much considering Miles will sleep with anything."

She laughs, "True. But even Nick gets jazzed to hang out with him and you know how hard it is to get close to Nick."

"He's just careful about who his friends are," Alex acknowledges. Unlike Nick, Alex was just terribly bad at opening up.

Nick was just picky. "That says something good about little old me." Alexa twirls her hands over her head. Sticking her nose in the air. "Not such a mess after all."

"You've never been a mess," he tells her, watching as they begin to call up all the newly minted commanders. Matt shouldn't take long. H being closer to the front of the alphabet.

"Yeah but I've never been particularly good at anything but charming my way into things," she shrugs shamelessly. Alexa wasn't the type to lose sleep over her insecurities.

The Admiral present at the ceremony, Marcus Kapoor, speaks clearly over the microphone, "Commander Matthew Helders."

Alexa and Johanna both stand up, yelling, "congrats!" Alex claps as loud as he can for a beat longer than the rest of the room as Matt shakes hands with the Admiral.

Alex remembers his own ceremony seven years ago now. It had been a smaller affair. His entire career accelerated by his talent.

He swallows back the bitter lump that forms in his throat. There's no reason to cry over spilled milk, his father had often told him back on earth.

Try telling that to anyone who doesn't live on earth: most milk is powdered in space.

He finally lets his eyes search through the crowd, trying to spy the man who'd once been his great mentor and friend. But if Julian is present, Alex doesn't see him among the uniforms. He's sure that he'd know Julian anywhere. His hair perpetually sticking out wildly like he'd just woken from a nap, streaks of color running through.

It was a welcome sight from the mandated navy and neutral colors the SFN preferred. Everything was done to keep the SFN neutral, trying to avoid any conflicts between the colonies. And especially between Mars and Earth.

Unable to wait, Alex asks Alexa, "did Julian come?" Julian and Matt had never been as close as Alex had been to the older man, one of the rare people to turn down a promotion. But Alex thinks Julian still would've come and cheered Matt on.

Drinking at bars until morning talking about life and chatting about their mutual obsession with vintage terran music cemented friendship like nothing else.

She frowns, lines forming between her brows. "Captain Casablancas?"

"Yeah," Alex nods, a nervousness creeping into the lining of his stomach. Julian had also been the only person present during the incident that had chosen not to testify. If he had, Alex had agonized long hours over that large IF, he'd probably have been given a far harsher sentence.

And it looked like the man had finally accepted the rank of Captain.

Alexa places her hand on his arm, doe eyes settling on his, before gently attempting to break the news, which given what she was saying, was impossible to break gently. "You haven't heard?"

"No."

"Julian's dead Alex," Alexa explains, her hand anchoring him to reality, even as his world lurches, "some accident with a faulty seal."

Fuck.

What the bloody hell!

Alex clenches his jaw. Julian deserved more than dying in a preventable accident. He was, and remained the only person to have jumped tracks at the SFN, going from maintenance to exploration.

"I'm sorry," she tries, patting his arm with her hand. "I know you two were close. This is sort of the worst way to hear the news isn't it?"

"How long ago," Alex asks in lieu of responding to her. Julian. Alex could hardly call him a friend anymore.

By the time he'd worked up the courage to message the man, Julian hadn't bothered responding at all. A cold message that Alex could understand.

He hadn't tried to contact him again.

"Three weeks."

Alex nods, fixing his gaze on the stage. The names being spoken, called up on stage, meaningless now that Matt had gone.

He'd been traveling to the Base.

No one had bothered to tell him.

They make their way down to Matt, navigating the crowd who are also here to celebrate their relatives and friends. Alexa led the way, cutting through the crowd like a knife through butter.

Jo and her fiancé hold hands. His eyes never leave her form as she leads on.

Alex frowns.

He'd thought. . .he'd thought, when Matt had first met him upon arrival at the base's landing pad, that he could slide back into his old life. Pick up where he'd left off. Maybe get a job here permanently.

Alex hadn't realized how lonely he'd been until he'd sat around and watched all his friends eat and drink. Easily communicating with each other they way only tightly knit groups of friends could. Finishing each other's sentences.

They had once been like that with Alex. But years in between meetings left him out of the loop. It didn't help that he had chosen to self isolate. Choosing to take jobs that left him without a permanent home, spending his free time tucked into various hotel rooms.

"Alexander Turner," a voice calls out.

He turns, faced with a black woman in a sleek khaki green suit, a moon police officer uniform. Her hair is as sleek as the press of her suit. Dark curls dusted with grey hairs.

"Yes," he asks, halting with great hesitation. The last time he'd dealt with the moon police, they were ensuring he was under house arrest during his trial. For his safety they'd told him over and over.

"I'm Major Gabriela Moss," she tells him, sticking her hand out with great formality. "If you'd please come with me," she continues, as he shakes her hand. "There's a job I'd like to discuss with you."

Swallowing any nervousness he has, he nods. How bad could it be? Probably some white collar crime that the police don't want to deal with. Alex could stock up on lots of coffee with the money. "Lead the way."

She takes him to the precinct, located next to the base. Tranquility Base fell under SFN jurisdiction. But the residential areas ringing the building were left to the MP 505 precinct.

Her office is just like every other police office. Bright disorienting lights. Cream walls, with no decor. A desk bolted down to the floor, in case the artificial gravity malfunctions. And a photo of her wife and kids tilted just out of his view.

"What's the job?" Alex wonders if some idiot tried to rob the casino that was right within the base’s building. Trying to steal from SFN was asking for it.

"A man was found murdered in residential bloc 571 this morning," she explains, lighting up her monitor. A photo of an older man with a walrus mustache came up on the screen.

"Isn't homicide your department," Alex asks, twisting his ring around his finger.

"Usually," Major Moss admits, back straight, hands on the desk. "But this man had a false identification bracelet. According to our records he was born on the Moon. But when my officers requested his file from the Bloc listed, nothing appeared."

"You think he was hiding?" Only criminals bothered to falsify ID bands. But why the moon? He could see why a fugitive from the law or a crime boss would come to the moon, but to stay here this long?

Even earth was easier to get lost in, among billions.

"Yes," she surmises, "and for quite a few months. How he's gone undetected this long is a mystery."

"So you'd like to save your skin and sweep this all under the cover." Alex can see a coverup as it happens. The MPs would be humiliated at having let a fugitive run wild for this long.

But, he probably wasn't a criminal if he spent this long without so much as a word. Probably fleeing loan sharks back on some asteroid. Maybe from Titan.

The murder must have landed yesterday. Within the week at most.

"Will you take the job on," Major Moss asks, "there's more information I have if you agree to take on the case."

Alex sighs. He's intrigued. But taking on this case would mean spending more time on the moon which is both a good and bad thing. He hasn't had a proper chat with any of the lads since he last saw Matt on Vesta nearly two years ago now.

But he isn't exactly at ease this close to SFN. At least in the belt, there's lots of stations with little to no navy presence. Callisto's base was generally isolated from the rest of the population due to the way in which the colony on Callisto had developed.

A man's dead.

And from what he can tell, Major Moss would be more than happy for the case to go cold and never have to explain to her superiors how a man went undetected for so long.

But why bother?

Alex can't understand why the man needed to falsify his identity only to sit around. Unless he wasn't a criminal but innocently caught up with the wrong crowd.

It happened easily enough.

"Why me," Alex asked, still considering how suspicious it looked that the MP were giving away a case just because of the implications the man's murder had. The IDB read Sidney Trojan which made Alex laugh a little inside. Whoever had made the ID had a certain sense of humor. "I'm sure you've read my record by now."

Major Moss nods, leaning back in her metal chair, "Mutiny and treason are certainly high charges. But Mr. Turner, If I am being frank, I am more concerned right now with keeping the peace in my precinct. The last thing I want is any belter extremist to start making baseless accusations about how someone who is more than likely one of their own was treated."

"I'm not a belter." Alex had spent enough time among belters to know, no matter how much time he spent on Vesta or Pallas, he'd never be one of them. Being born and raised there was what made you a belter for the rest of your life. Johanna never bothered to hide the augments along her spine, jutting out like filled out ports. Held her chin up proudly despite the harassment she got, and proceeded to destroy them all in combat training.

"But you have spent time among them," the woman argues, revealing how little she knows and understands about belters. Major Moss had probably never left the moon. Never spent time amongst people in the belt, in the places the SFN never went. "My men are mostly from here or earth. You're my best option."

He resists the urge to roll his eyes. It didn't seem like a trap to lock him up after all these years. Just a very ignorant MP major trying to do her job. "Alright," Alex nods. "Show me the surveillance tapes."

The older woman smiles, but no warmth reaches her eyes, a picture of cold professionalism, as she ignites the screen. The tapes start playing almost immediately. The night vision casting everything into grayscale in the corridors. The older residential buildings hadn't anticipated the amount of people that would live on the moon, the walkways connected the blocs only fitting three people at a time, a nightmare in an emergency. They were colorless concrete slabs, the metal having long gone dull.

Time stamped to 05:46 am.

A single figure appears, walking into bloc 571, looking like any person would after a long shift. In jeans and a loose hoodie, holding a very sad convenience store sandwich. A profile he wouldn't soon forget, complete with split toe boots.

Tisiphone.

Alex tries to justify her appearance. The death hadn't happened until 7 am. She must've been meeting her friend in one of the habs in the bloc. But he'd never been one to discount a coincidence.

It seemed that they would be having a chat sooner than anticipated under less than favorable circumstances. He just had to track her down.

His eyes watch the screen as the time ticks by, creeping closer to the time of death.

She claimed to be here to visit a friend which could very easily have been a lie to cover up meeting her potential victim. Tisiphone hadn't been here for very long, no one would willingly choose to eat convenience store sandwiches if they'd spent time here to get other food. Alex wasn't discounting the possibility of her commitment to looking inconspicuous at 5 in the morning, but then, if Sidney Trojan had feared for his life there would've been a struggle.

Someone would have heard in those older habs.

The time stamp reads 6:24am.

Tisiphone leaves the bloc, taking the passageway leading back to Tranquility. Mr Trojan would still be alive. Did she have an accomplice? Or is Alex making the wrong connection.

The time stamp reads 7:46 am. Mr Trojan would've been dead by now.

7 am was hardly the time for a murder to be committed. People going to work. So many witnesses. They must have been desperate. But the tapes proved useless to narrow down any suspects. Too many people, a perfect crowd to hide in. So there was that advantage. As well as, "I need all the records of the passenger manifests arriving for the last three days on the dark side of the moon and today's departures."

"Alright," she replies, holding out her hand.

Alex hands over his com. Letting her synch it up to her system and sending the files over.

"Good luck Mr. Turner."

This time, Alex does roll his eyes as he leaves her office.

Tisiphone had claimed to be from Titan, so that's the first thing he checks. Three days sound about right. He also highlights any belter arrivals. But apart from one family two days before, no one has come from the belt.

He finds the name he's looking for. Tisiphone Velazques, arriving from Hygiea the same night he had. Born on Titian twenty two years ago according to her IDB. It said a lot about how pathetic Alex was that he was currently finding a potential date on a suspect list.

She might still be innocent. But she was the only lead.

If she's a criminal, she'll be staying off grid, not wanting to leave her IDB just anywhere. But, being through, Alex checks Tranquility Hotel anyways, sending a message.

Want to surprise my girlfriend T. Velazques. It's our anniversary and I got back from a trip into Tethys four sols early. Has she checked in yet?

People were really stupid and easily fooled. Alex had learned that in the last few years.

Then he checks his messages. Twenty seven texts from his friends. Two missed calls from Matt. Shit. He'd forgotten all about Matt.

** *** ch 3

Matt clasps an arm over his shoulders, "I'm sorry I didn't say anything about Julian. I thought you knew and didn't want to talk about it."

Alex considers coming clean, but decides letting Matt think this is about Julian is easier. "No one tells me anything anymore."

The taller man sighs, "you must think I'm a wanker for not even telling you. Julian always asked me how you were doing you know."

Alex shakes his head. "I tried-It doesn't matter anymore. I just think it's bloody awful to have died so young in an accident of all things."

"The idiot engineers better have been court martialed," Matt comments, as they follow behind their friends to a bar in the casino. They've all been casting looks towards Alex when they think he's not looking, like he's a bomb about to go off.

Things can never go back to the way they were.

They get a few pitchers of beer. Singing Matts praises at every sip, taking the piss about how he's going to be the worst commander ever. Alexa's boyfriend, looking tall, dark and handsome, slips into the conversation with ease while Alex, drinks and checks his phone for a response.

"Alexa's boy toy," Johanna mutters under her breath to Alex. "Does the books for one of the gambling halls."

Alex nods. But finds he doesn't care. All that earlier anxiety about his leftover feelings for Alexa, his first love, gone when he realizes there's no sting as she turns to kiss her boyfriend.

He looks down at his com, refusing a refill of beer when he realizes the hotel's written him back. With a digital key and their congratulations. There goes the supposed privacy and protections hotels were supposed to offer their clients.

But this meant he was now leaning to Tisiphone being innocent. But he could tell she was connected to Mr. Trojan somehow. A gut feeling that t9ld him he was barking up the right tree. She might be able to tell him who would want the old man dead and why.

Alex excuses himself from the celebration, pointedly ignoring Nick's suspicious gaze as he leaves.

He stops and picks up a bottle of wine and a quart of strawberries, each the size of his smallest nail with a hint of red at the tip, just in case anyone in the hotel decides to verify any of his information. He can play the part.

Alex presses the elevator up to floor 10, brings up the key on his com, when the machine asks for verification.

The doors slide shut and Alex tries to formulate a plan.

He can't frighten his only suspect-link to the crime. A man was murdered and if he doesn't solve it, justice will never be served. It's his good conscience that's going to get him in trouble all over again.

The hallway is empty.

A tacky red coat of paint that's made worse by the orange lighting. The crimson hue edging towards black. Hardly a happy atmosphere.

Alex runs his hand over the rail, a vestige from the days before antigravity, as he makes his way to room 1004.

Unlike the lobby, the floor is still metal plates welded together. Shiny compared to the rest of the place.

The casino had seen better days.

And more occupied days.

Hesitating outside the door, he places an ear near the seal, hoping that Tisiphone isn't there. It would give her the advantage if she turns out to be the murder.

Better for her to be out. Gives him a chance to look around.

He takes a deep breath and unlocks the door with the key. It slides open smoothly, revealing mustard walls and a plush navy carpet flecked with gold. There's a small bed on one side of the wall, a black backpack laying carelessly on it.

The small cabinet looks untouched, but Alex still goes through every drawer, making sure he misses nothing, peaking into the bathroom and combing the medicine cupboard.

There's a needle and dental floss. A complimentary bottle of toothbrush tabs laying in its side.

Needle and floss.

For an injury, Alex surmises. Perhaps a fresh one that Mr Trojan had managed to inflict while defending himself? It wasn't the easiest way to treat an injury, but it was the way to go if you didn't want to draw any attention.

He slips back into the small main room, and begins to go through the backpack. It looks standard issue, the fabric a vegetable leather nylon mixture that wouldn't be out of place in an SFN pack. But he doesn't recognize it from any planetary police force.

Inside there's a plasma gun with two full charges. Shrapnel in a jar. An extra shirt along with a lined jacket, also black. And a small copper data box.

He checks the jackets pockets, finding two extra IDBs. Both blank.

It's all very incriminating.

And he didn't think to bring a gun along himself.

Alex removes the charge from the plasma gun, using the pillowcase to ensure he doesn't wipe away any fingerprints, tossing both of the charges into the bottom drawer of the cabinet. And leaves the gun on top of the blanket.

Then he takes a seat and waits.

No one would leave a gun with no plans to come back and get it. Plasma guns were hard to come by. Especially for civilians on the right side of the law.

It was just his luck that the first woman he feels any connection with, ends up tied up in criminal activity.

The whoosh of a door sliding open jolts him out of his thoughts.

Alex sits up straight, deciding he looks less confrontational if he's sitting down. Besides, years of training haven't left. His body still remembers combat maneuvers. He still wakes up at 0600 and goes through basic training like clockwork.

Even when he goes back to sleep right after.

A red boot steps inside.

Tisiphone holds a brand new pair of ear pods, still in their case. The moment she spots him sitting casually in her bed, her almond eyes narrowing in suspicion. Her grip tightens on the case, before she schools her features carefully blank.

In better lighting, the scars marring her cheekbones are more prominent. Flecks of silver against honeyed skin.

"'ello again," Alex says, giving a small wave, strands of his hair falling into his eyes with the movement.

She frowns, crossing her arms defensively in front of her. "Why are you here? Who even let you in?"

"I asked nicely," he explains, "terrible hotel service if you ask me. But as for why I'm here, you wouldn't happen to know who Sidney Trojan is?"

Tisphones lips form a tight line, her stance edging dangerously close to someone expecting a fight. Weight distributed well between her legs. "He's dead isn't he. Someone killed him."

" 'fraid so," Alex nods.

"Who do you work for?" Her eyes scrutinize him, as if waiting for him to strike.

Alex raises both his hands up in the air. "No one. The MP of the precinct where Mr. Trojan lived asked me to take the case on."

She doesn't move. "Earth then? Or some secret division of the SFN?"

It was a popular belief that the SFN held a secret military division. Especially among belters and martians.

"You don't seem surprised to hear he's been murdered," Alex observes, not missing a thing, trying to steer the conversation back on track.

"Lots of people wanted him dead."

Tisiphone must have decided he wasn't a threat. She takes a step closer, waking into the bathroom and grabbing the meager supplies, tossing them into her bag, unbothered by Alex's presence right next to her. He's incredibly aware of the small distance between them as her hands make quick work of packing, ignoring the wine and fruit he'd brought: the small distance between her hands and his thigh.

But he doubts that there's a chance in hell she'll go out with him after today. She has the same determined look on her face Johanna had right as she'd punched him day 1 of hand to hand combat. A woman who doesn't take anyone's shit.

Alex snorts, "mind telling me who wanted him dead?"

"SFN. Earth. Mars. The Children of Prometheus. Park Vader's cronies back on Titan. Maybe even Park himself. Take your pick."

"Why," Alex can't help but ask, standing up as she slings her bag over her shoulder. If he lets her walk out now, he'll likely never set eyes on her again. And she has become his only connection to this man's murder.

He can't just let her go.

"He knew too much," Tisiphone shrugs.

"I can't just let you disappear," Alex tells her, sliding between her and the door. It was a dangerous position to be in. He keeps his hands up, trying to reassure her.

"Whoever killed Ivan is going to be after me too," she states, weighing her options.

"Let me help you."

She laughs humorlessly, "I'm long past help. I’ll only drag you down. And you seem like a nice enough man despite everything."

"Despite being born on earth," Alex guesses. War hadn't touched the system in a hundred years, yet there was a lot of bitterness from the colonies over earth. Over the imagined bountiful resources. The air, breathable unlike in so many other places.

He'd lived in enough places in the system to know that it was hard living in every corner of the solarium federation.

"Good bye Alex." Her dark eyes hold his gaze, waiting for Alex to step aside. He isn't sure how long her patience will last.

"If you leave the moon now," Alex threatens, "I'll have no choice but to find you suspect under the circumstances."

Tisiphone glares at him, "are you an officer? Am I under arrest?"

"No."

"Then you have no jurisdiction," she counters.

"But I was able to find you. I'm the only person who could've made that connection." Her shoes had given her away. Too distinctive for anyone trying to hide out, Alex notes. "Everyone else would've written you off. You played the part of a tired commuter perfectly. Your face isn't visible enough for facial recognition. And the timing is wrong."

"So you have to know I didn't kill him," Tisiphone observes.

"I do." Alex nods. "And I also know that you came here for a reason. I'm willing to bet it's why Ivan is dead now. Help me catch his killer and get some people off your back."

“Why do you care so much about him? He’s just another nameless belter to you people.”

He shakes his head, “because a man’s dead. He deserves justice.”

"How do I know I can trust you," Tisiphone asks, her knuckles relaxing their grip on her bag.

"I could've arrived here with the MP," Alex states, "but I'm here all on my own. Because I believe you're innocent."

She sighs. "Alright. I'll stay. But only for another twenty four hours. That's all I can give you."

He can work with that.

"Okay now let's get out of here. If I can waltz right in so can whoever killed Trojan."

"Ivan," Tisiphone corrects. "His name was Ivan Schlossberg."

"And is Tisiphone your real name," Alex asks.

She doesn't meet his eyes.

** ** ch 4

His hotel room is on the top floor. A half circle window looks out into the expanse. The grey panorama, flattened by robots, is broken up by the tops of other bloc, jutting out of the landscape like hills. The sun is the only recognizable feature in the sky. All the other stars and planets are too distant to be visible.

But Alex has the map of the system imprinted into the backs of his eyes. He could tell where earth and mars fall, navigating by stars like explorers of old, even with the slight changes that arise depending on where you were in the system.

Tisiphone looks out into space, eyes full of stars, as Alex interrogates her.

"Why would the UN or Mars be after Ivan?"

"I already told you," she responds evenly, her gaze still fixed on outer space, a melancholic quality that held none of the wonder people usually had when staring into the stars, "he knew too much."

"About what," Alex presses. Earlier she had named all the major players in politics. That which all SFN members despised because it made doing their job a nightmare of red tape.

Tisiphone looks over at him, turning her whole head towards him. "He was involved with the children of prometheus. Selling information. And Park doesn't like when his people decide to leave him."

It didn't take a genius to know what kind of information would be of value to the children of prometheus. "And your mutual friend."

She swallows thickly before answering. "Told me to find Ivan. That he could help me. I don't know anything more than that. Ivan was going to leave the moon with me and explain this later."

Alex doesn't believe that for a second. Tisiphone wouldn't have left so easily that morning if Ivan hadn't given her something. But he also knows when to let things go. "And why would they also be after you?" The usual targets for the children of prometheus were high ranking UN members or members of the Martian Presidium: the operating companies on the belt that treated their workers as expendable.

Tisiphone was none of those.

She takes a seat on Alex's current bed, her knuckles white as she grips the covers, studying the much more pleasant purple carpet. Not as matted or stained as the one in her room.

Her now shoeless feet revealing mismatched socks.

"I saw something I shouldn't have seen." She bites her lip as her eyes water. Alex forces himself not to look away, wanting to give her privacy. "Someone killed my friend and covered it up. And now they want to kill me."

He takes a step towards her, kneeling down in front of her seated figure, "I'm going to help you."

"You can't help me." Tisiphone shakes her head, looking straight at him, "you can only buy me time."

She flips through the stations as Alex combs through the flight records once more. He's isn't looking for random thugs. If this is a high profiled cover up the way she is alleging, then he needs to find a slicker cover.

He checks for any terrans that've landed here in the last few days. Any native mooners with no permanent address on record: the types of people that would easily fly under the recons. The least likely to be scrutinized.

Alex finds three profiles that fit the description. Two had arrived together under the IDBs Gemma and Nick Ryan. Siblings on vacation from earth.

They were passingly related, the same brown coloring. But Alex's searching gaze found no similar features. The bone structure was all wrong. Gemma's strong, squared. While Nick had a delicateness to his features that was absent in Gemma's.

They had the look of UN division operatives. A learned blankness that helped them slip from memory.

The third was on a flight from Ceres. An older asian man: Hugh Shen. There was no way he was born on the moon and had no records of living here. Alex knew most people born on the moon didn't chance leaving.

Opening for new immigrants were few and far between.

Then there was an oily quality that reminded him of many UN cogs that surrounded his mother like gnats.

In order to be sure that they are division members, Alex'll have to go to the scene of the crime. He knows the UN’s playbook. The methods that division uses. Growing up around his mother, he couldn't not have learned something.

Though Penelope Turner was an idealist, she was willing to do what was necessary to get the job done. It's why she was such an effective politician.

He coms Major Moss, letting her know he'll need access to Ivan's hab.

"Stay here," he tells Tisiphone. "Help yourself to anything I've got."

"Anything," she asks archly, "because I could run a bath. Never had one of those."

"Then by all means," he shrugs. The water bill was bound to burn a hole in his pocket, but going through life without knowing the laziness that baths inspired was no life at all.

She rolls her eyes, shamelessly combing through Alex's meager possessions As meager as hers really. Though he didn't have the excuse of being in hiding.

Alex takes the plasma charges with him.

Major Moss, along with another woman of medium build and asian descent, meets him at the entrance to bloc 571, the white paint having long since peeled off the metal walls. The orange lights flickered, needing replacement, as he walks beside her into bloc 571. He can hear the pressure seals around the door, as it slides open, letting them inside.

While the oldest blocs on this side of the moon, their shortcomings in cramped corridors were nothing compared to the space of the older habs.

Unlike Tranquility base, and the rest of the blocs on the moon, the lights inside bloc 571 were LED and white, the costliest to maintain. A knot of tension eased up in Alex's shoulders. His mind, despite the years in space, always unconsciously yearned for earth's natural light.

"This is officer Cong Xi," Major Moss says blandly, "she'll be taking you through all our available evidence. We're receiving pressure to wrap things up as quickly as possible. There are lots of people who want to move into a hub as spacious as this."

Alex snorts. That's what they cared about.

Cong nods, smiling warmly at him as she drinks coffee from her hot pink tumbler. "Nice to meet you Alex Turner."

Which meant she'd been briefed and knew all about him. There was probably a non-SFN version of his file on her com as they spoke.

Alex had never gotten the chance to read his file after the trail. His dishonorable discharge had left him without any credentials to ask for his file without heavy redaction if he got any response at all. He'd have asked his parents if he hadn't been a coward and taken the first ship to Vesta, hell bent on drinking himself to death.

"Likewise," he responds, realizing he's waited a beat too long to respond.

With that said, the Major turns on her heel, and leaves.

"Shall we," Cong asks him, waiting for him to follow. How did such a pleasant person end up working for the MP? Had to be an idealist. Or hadn't been working for long.

He nods.

Alex takes in the bloc.

The floors dull from nearly four centuries of feet walking over it. Not a scrap of white paint left. But the walls are covered with green plexiglass, an attempt to make up for the lack of actual greenery that hadn't been planned for in old models. Even Pallas had some weeds growing among the tangle of wires.

Each door is painted a different color, giving the neighborhood character. Ivan's hab is red, with a pattern of florals overlaid.

Officer Cong hands him shoe covers and a pair of gloves, "standard procedure," she tells him with a tinge of apologies interwoven in her voice, before she unlocks the door, letting them both inside.

Like most crime scenes, the place is covered with tape and plastic to preserve the integrity. But Alex can see the coziness that Ivan Schlossberg had built inside his hab. A glass top table with mismatched but colorful plastic chairs. Books covering a side table ranging from subjects like "Bloom: a guide to space plant maintenance," to "Catching Fire."

His desk is covered with bits of computer parts. Motherboards and processor chips. Different size screens, some with cracks.

This was the picture of a man who believed himself to be safe. He wasn't planning on running at the drop of a dime. So how had they found him?

Tisiphone had entered first.

Why not kill them both at once?

Or had they believed them both to be inside and cursed themselves when they realized the girl had gotten away?

As Alex looks about the room, noting no signs of struggle, Officer Cong studies him. Her gaze curious.

The mess of computer equipment makes Alex guess that Ivan tinkered with it to communicate with whatever group he was working with, likely using it to hack information from earth and mars. The rudimentary nature of his devices would have confused the much more advanced systems Earth relied on, massive data banks in the tundra chugging along. Ivan would've also had the flexibility of pulling the system apart and rebuilding it with different bits of code each time.

A waste of time, unless you were an old man with lots of time on your hands.

His collection of parts would've been written off as eccentricity.

"You can ask," Alex finally says, when he gets tired of the awkward silence.

"Are you really the mutineer?"

It was much better than being asked if he was that traitor. Particularly bitter belters had taken the liberty of making his days hell in the beginning, knowing he wasn't about to go get help from the SFN.

He nods, looking back at the door. Division wasn't above using chemical weapons. The seals on older habs built with the care of spaceships, no one outside this hab would've noticed. "The one and only," he finally says.

While there were lots of people who had problems with the SFN, it generally wasn't seen among rank and file members.

Cong hums, slurping her coffee.

Alex peels back the plastic over a particularly large pile of electronics, his eyes searching for something small, like a computer chip or drive that would be overlooked to the untrained eye. Toxic gases needn't be in large doses to pack a punch.

"I remember the trial on the net," she comments, "it was all my parents could talk about. My whole family really . . ."

A glint of copper catches his eye. Alex keeps his face neutral, letting Cong ramble on as he plays at looking at the body outline on the couch, as if he could magically find a guilty dust bunny, slipping the casing into his hand for later.

"-guess I was too young to care about that. Too caught up with boys and the latest hairstyles."

Alex nods, trying to pay attention. But with that casing, he's sure it was division. Certain mixtures created the same symptoms in the body as a heart attack. Given his age, it created the perfect cover.

But why come in and stab him after?

Who were they trying to frame-

They were after Tisiphone.

She had led them to Ivan, Alex's thoughts come together, each piece falling into place. They had watched her since she arrived. Which meant they knew she was headed to the moon, hence the two early dispatched division agents, purposely waiting for her to leave before killing Ivan, making sure she'd be the only suspect.

But their plan had gone to the pits.

They hadn't planned on Major Moss trying to burry the case. Or that Alex would be called on.

Instead of an easy frame job, it was a cold case waiting to happen. An MP officer would've just taken Tisiphone in. Assumed that the time of death was off due to some lab error and closed the case. But their plan had gone sideways.

"Find anything," Cong asks him suddenly, having given up trying to chat when it became obvious he wasn't listening. Though why he would make small talk about the event that had sliced his life into two distinct parts, he didn't have the foggiest idea.

Alex shakes his head, "thought the scene might hold a clue." He stands up straight, faking the appearance of disappointment channeling his mother's face when he'd come home with an F. "Whatever crime boss hired the hit must've hired a couple of top notch lads."

"Oh well them," Cong continues, holding up her com for him to read, "Major Moss needs us to come in. Apparently there's been a new development in the homicide."

Alex's chest tightens. God he hopes they haven't found Tisiphone dead. Or arrested her.

No. There's no way. He'd already be under arrest for harboring a criminal. No amount of goodwill would keep him out of prison this time.

Alex had to continue under the impression that she was fine. Because no one else had linked her to this case. No one had any reason to suspect her of anything at all. "Led the way then love."

Cong, like most girls (and some boys) since Alex had turned sixteen, blushes pink, before stepping around him and leading him back to the precinct--and to Major Moss's office.

The division agents who had landed on Tranquility base as siblings named Gemma and Nick, introduce themselves as, "Agents Barnes and Khan." They're already seated in front of Major Moss, only confirming Alex's conclusion.

The capsule in his pocket feels like a block of lead, weighing him down.

There's no way they know he knows.

Except they've been tailing Tisiphone since she landed. They might already know she's sitting in his room.

He needs to get off the moon. Alex had promised Tisiphone he'd keep her safe. And this case had just gotten much bigger than a homicide.

It was the type of cover up that required a neutral party to uncover. A High ranking SFN member that would do the right thing. Unfortunately Alex had learned the hard way that organizations were never as impartial and righteous as they claimed to be.

Bloody hell.

In between two impossible choices, giving Tisiphone up or calling his old mentor Vice Admiral Homme, he wasn't sure which was worse. Would Josh Homme even care?

Or was the UN's influence great enough to buy Homme's cooperation?

"I understand that Major Moss has made the mistake of handing a homicide to a private investigator," Agent Barnes says, smiling brightly as if she hadn't just flung shit at Major Moss, who to her credit, didn't even flinch.

"I'm the private investigator," Alex responds evenly.

"They've just finished informing me," Major Moss interrupts, smoothing down the lapels of her pants suit, "that they've identified the culprit."

Agent Barnes nods, then proceeds to do the very Earth thing of pulling out an actual paper file from a jacket and displaying it on the desk. "A career criminal from Titan named Tisiphone Velasquez. We believe her employer to be some drug lord that Mr Trojan was a long time customer of. When he got clean and moved to the moon, well. . ." Barnes trails off leaving a dramatic pause before clearing his throat, "Titian didn't forget his debts."

Ivan's hab was not the home of a drug user. Or a recovering drug user. He'd never been to Titan, to the city under the ocean, but he knew enough about drug lords to know that they had more to deal with than a customer with lots of debts on a colony as secure as the moon.

But Alex can see Major Moss eat up the story, her eyes gazing over as there's one less problem for her to deal with.

"Well Mr. Turner," Major Moss turns to him, "It looks like your services are no longer needed. I'll wire you the payment promptly. Meanwhile I'll circulate the perpetrators photo and have my officers be on the lookout."

"We will be taking custody of Miss Velasquez," Agent Barnes interrupts, "she has insider knowledge of a crime ring we have been monitoring for years."

"Of course," Major Moss responds, already typing out the paperwork.

He has to get off the base. He has to take Tisiphone far from here.

Alex turns to leave, reaching the door before he hears Agent Barnes mutter pointedly under her breath, "It's a wonder Ambassador Turner hasn't resigned out of shame. No clue how he can show his face in public."

Agent Khan coughs to hide a snigger.

A muscle in his jaw twitches. It's bait. And an obvious one at that. He has more than a few scars to prove how stupid responding to it would be, but they did just insult his mother.

"What did you just say," Alex asks through clenched teeth, not turning back to look at them, robbing them of the satisfaction. Mentally, he counts to ten.

He's not going to give them an excuse to place him under arrest.

Tisiphone is counting on him.

The fact that they're baiting him instead of just following him back to the hotel room is a good sign they don't know he's hiding Tisiphone. He tries to concentrate on the and not the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

Tisiphone.

Her petite figure sitting on his bed, scrutinizing everything with an arched brow. The look in her eyes as she'd stared with a refugee's longing for their ancestral home at the image of earth, the green returning to the land after hundreds of long reclamation projects initiated by the UN.

"Nothing to trouble yourself with Alexander Turner," Agent Barnes replies patronizingly, "There is no further use for your services here."

Alex clenches his jaw, and walks out the door.

He lights a cigarette as he makes his way through the dim corridors, the orange fading into scarlet, stopping only to pick up supplies he imagines needing as they travel to space together. Not all at the same store.

Alex will have to get everything out of her, if he's going to throw in his lot with her and hope they get to the bottom of the conspiracy before they're arrested and killed. Or just killed.

What could be bad enough that the UN felt it necessary to send division agents after a woman?

The problem is the IDB has been made.

He's going to have to hope she can get another one quickly. Tisiphone, whose name is more than likely not Tisiphone as all, wouldn't have survived this long is she was stupid.

Fuck.

He really should just turn her in. Or give her a heads up and be on his way. Alex could be on Pallas in four weeks, having the most questionable weed in the system, laced with the hell knows what. Take a case every now and then. Finally make his way out to Titan.

Logan had been his favorite western growing up. Right after The magnificent Seven. He'd made Matt have stand offs against him for days after seeing it, pretending he could manipulate metal. And Titan was the new wild west of space. And still people flocked out to carve their little piece of real estate.

Humanity is ever expanding.

Alex has to press the lift button twice, cursing and lighting another cigarette when the lift's lighting system dies as he ascends up, connecting with Tranquility's passageways.

More than once, he has to stop himself from glancing over his shoulder, sure he'll see an Agent following him. Hugh Shen had been absent from their little meeting. But that didn't mean he wasn't still skulking about.

Even the air changes from the corridors to the base. It's drastic compared to Ceres where the air quality is shit everywhere you go. The base has crisp clean air that didn't leave you all cotton mouthed for the wrong reasons.

From there it's easy enough to head to his room. Alex is already flicking through the net, looking for tickets to the belt. Or maybe they should go to Callisto. It was famous for being a no extradition zone: refusing to acknowledge any authority other than theirs and SFN's by extension. The relative safety was tempting, but he couldn't plan until Tisiphone told him everything she knew.

Alex wasn't stupid enough to think she wasn't holding something back. Her earlier explanation had been as vague as she could manage given the circumstances. He had no clue who her friend was. What she had seen other than a wrongful death.

There had to be a reason behind the coverup after all.

No government went around coverup murder for no reason. It just wasn't economical.

"You have to tell me everything you know," Alex tells Tisiphone in what he hopes is a commanding voice, as he tosses his bags on the bed, plopping down. His only shortcoming as a commander had been the complete and utter lack of confidence he had when giving orders. "Division has just shown up and thrown you under the bus."

Tisiphone's hair hangs down, damp as she listlessly scrolls through the catalogue of music offered by the hotel. She flinches at his words. "I should've left when I had the chance," she tells him harshly, uncurling from the settee and moving to grab her things. She jams her feet into her boots in one swift motion, clearly having been ready to make a run for it at a moment's notice.

"You're right," Alex tries, taking out the gas casing, ensuring the glint of metal catches her eyes. "It's a coverup."

"Obviously," Tisiphone scowls.

"I'm sure they've circulated your IDB by now," he continues, "they wanted to frame you for Ivan's death. I want to know what you saw so I can help you."

"Why so they can kill you as well," Tisiphone shakes her head, "No. . .no."

"What's so important that Division would risk breaking the treaty of Schiaparelli for," Alex asks, rubbing his temples. He wasn't a politician. The inner workings of government fell to the wayside of his thoughts.

There had been no major battles fought in a hundred years but relations between colonies were always fraught with tension over resources. Those skirmishes were usually fought in the Solarium Federations regulatory body, but Alex wasn't naive enough to discount the darker talk of division--their tendency to enhanced interrogation.

"Why do you want to help me so badly," Tisiphone counters, hands on her hip, glaring down at him as if he was the reason that Division had found her at all.

"Someone should," Alex shrugs, peering up at her. The line of her body fell naturally into a defensive stance, something that could only be so natural if she'd started training when she was very young. Tisiphone wasn't an innocent civilian, but she still didn't deserve to be disposed of. "And if I don't, they'll probably kill you and throw your body in some incinerator."

"Or they'll kill us both," Tisiphone replies archly.

"I'm offering you my help if you want it."

She peers down her nose at him, her lips pressed into a flat line, the slim line of her jaw fitting in perfectly with her feline features: a cat deciding if batting the toy was worth it. Turning on her heel, stepping into the bathroom, Tisiphone orders him to, "strip."

Smart girl.

It doesn't keep the burn from making its way up his neck as she turns the refresher, the low static drowning out any background noise as she takes a seat inside the fogged glass.

Alex kicks off his boots, gratefully that he'd actually kept up with his fitness all these years as he pulls his shirt off. There's still bruising in the crook of his elbow. He doubts she misses it as she stares up at him. It's a rush of relief when he notices the scarlet on her cheeks. This is embarrassing for both of them then, as he unbuttons his trousers, before taking a seat in front of her.

"Division blew up my crew." She starts with, staring at a spot behind him, her eyes welling up with tears. "They launched a missile and it tore their ship apart." She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, shaking her head, "I'm sorry I just. . .let me start over."

"It's okay."

"Shut up Alex and let me tell this in a way that makes sense." She swallows thickly. Taking a deep breathe during which she closes her eyes before continuing. "My name is Vera Albaicin. I'm an agent of the Guoanbu. Sixty eight sols ago my crew was handpicked to participate in an interplanetary task force with the UN. It was supposed to be an easy retrieval mission. We met up with the other crew. Everything was normal."

T-Vera closes her eyes, her hands closed tightly by her sides, trying to suppress the shiver that runs down her spine. Alex wants to offer comfort, but he isn't sure there is anything he can do to make things better in this situation.

"I took an EMU suit to-it was a strange ship. More like a capsule or probe. I had just made contact when my ship was hit." She shakes her head, a desperation in her eyes at the helplessness she must keep on feeling. Not having been able to do anything to save her crew. "Space. They died in seconds. The thing is. . .the only people who would've known about the mission were the UN and MPC. Earth and mars."

Alex nods, trying to probe her as gently as possible because there is still one unanswered question, "how did you know to find Ivan."

The UN and MPC must have decided that the knowledge was better off lost after having sent a retrieval team. Something they didn't want anyone to know about it. That fact that mars and earth had cooperated at all was throwing Alex off. Weapons would make sense if it was just mars or earth. But together?

Vera shakes her head slowly, her gaze meeting his, an intense anger to their depth he had not seen before. She was digging because she was fucking mad. This was a woman seeking justice. "I can't."

"Vera," Alex utters, unable to look away, trying her real name out on his tongue. "My name is Alexander Turner. I'm kind of famous for breaking the law," he finished with a self deprecating smile.

Usually, the last thing he wanted a potential date to know was his past.

Her eyes widen, her whole body freezing up as she takes in the new information, pursing her lips in an attempt to suppress a telling gasp. But instead of recoiling in disgust as he expects her to, Vera reaches for her neck, revealing a necklace obscured by her hoodie. It's a cheap metal thing that must be of sentimental value.

She doesn't stop there, thumbing the ring at the end of the chain before meeting his gaze once more. This time there's no hard glint to her cognac eyes, but a woman at last having caught on to a life preserver. "Julian-Captain Casablancas told me to find Ivan. Trust no one-trust no one but Alex Turner," Vera admits, unable to hold his gaze. "He must have known what was coming."

It's a ring he recognizes well, a twin to his own commander ring. The classic exploration insignia: the atom. Every detail identical for Julian and Alex had received their rank at the same ceremony, only Julian had been eight years older. Already the man Alex wanted to be: wanted to be with. The man had inspired camaraderie the way a good leader should, and clearly he had managed it in a martian girl as well if she had come all this way on his word alone.

"Can I," he motions, aware of the closing distance between them. Between him and Vera. Vera. He had to get his head around that one. Same woman, different name.

No. Not the same woman.

This woman was a martian secret intelligence agent. Not some naive little girl.

She nods, closing her fist around the ring before yanking the chain in a quick motion. It snaps off. The sound like the hull of a ship nearing the end of its lifetime, creaking. Then drops the ring into his outstretched palm.

Without Alex having to prompt this time, still caught up in seeing Julian's ring, still warm from Vera's body heat, in his hand. Julian hadn't responded to Alex's messages. He'd assumed it was because of Alex's past, but now he was left to wonder if Julian had wanted to protect him by keeping away from him. Keeping whatever he'd gotten caught up in that had killed him away from Alex. Vera adds, "I was confused why he'd told me that, given me his ring as I got into the EMU suit but. . .Ivan told me that he was just the messenger. He'd worked for so many sides not asking questions. Earth, Solarium, Mars. They were all the same to him. So he decided that the children of prometheus had a point and got in contact with them. Relaid information. Ivan-he was going to tell me more."

But he'd died.

Vera looks at him meaningfully, "but he did manage to give me the coordinates that he was given by his CoP contact. In case he ever needed a safe house or extraction."

"He never-," Alex begins to ask, not taking his eyes off the ring. In his hand was proof that Julian had been killed.

"He never met his contact," Vera confirms. "But they're on Callisto. Some hippie hub." She rolls her eyes and what a martian thing to do. Look down on every colony not hell bent on terraforming.

Alex turns his gaze on her once more, seeing her in a different light for the first time. Trying to spot what made her a martian. As if he could spot in vitro augmentation just by looking her over.

But all he saw was a petite woman with a hollowness under her eyes. Her full lips pressed into a grim line. Hair slowly drying into waves, catching the light like oil on water. Despite Alex's new information about Vera, he was no less drawn to her.

There was no sadistic edge that spoke of oprichnik operatives who the Martian People's council refused to acknowledge existed despite all the mounting evidence about their methods.

His gut was telling him that Vera was telling the truth.

"One thing though," Alex points out, taking off his own ring for the first time since he'd first received command rank, a command long since stripped from him, and sliding Julian's ring on his finger in its place as he stands up. His mind was made up. He was going to help Vera uncover this conspiracy. Clear Julian and Vera's name. And maybe, just maybe, reclaim some respect on his name.

"What?"

"You said earth and mars sent you," he says gently, having encountered enough martians to know how loyal to their colony they were otherwise known as having bought into the propaganda, "but Division killed your crew.. ."

"Yes," Vera nods, tapping her foot on the floor.

"Then wouldn't both earth and mars have sent the missile that killed your crew? Or wouldn't have mars already used this as an excuse to advance their agenda?"

"No," she supplies, refusing to even contemplate the idea that Mars would've been complicit in such an act. "The Guoanbu wouldn't have killed their own. We're-they're not like that."

“Vera," he sighs, "there's nastiness under every corner, no matter how nice everything is on top you know."

She shakes her head again, averting her gaze, There wasn't much to look at on the walls, but she was making due.

"Let's just find ya another IDB and get to Callisto-"

There's a knock at the door.

Alex and Vera trade wide eyed looks, having taken the plunge off the same cliff with nothing but a string of brand new fucking trust between them. A dead man's word to go on.

Fucking hell.

Matt and Nick flank each side of the room's door. Nick's stone face offsets the mixture of parental concern Matt's features contain, sighing at Alex's appearance, sticking his head out the door. Vera hiding next to the door, alert to every word.

He has to wonder how good her hearing is. Martian's always messed with embryos biology, designing the next generation to be fitter. Could she hear down the hall? What the people in the next room were saying?

Matt steps forward, "jesus fuck mate," he shakes his head. "Can't respond to a bloody com now Alex."

"I told you I got a job," he protests, trying to remember if that was true. His friends had fallen to the bottom of his priorities quickly. Alex had a habit of self absorption with whatever obsession came his way. It had made him a terrific ensign, practicing the same maneuver for hours until he could do it with his eyes closed.

"No," Nick corrects, not bothering to move the curls out of his face, watching him carefully, "you didn't."

Alex sighs, but doesn't budge. They mustn't see Vera. Soon her face will be plastered all over the net as a manhunt begins. Her IDB must already be flagged for travel.

He had to make his rightfully concerned friends go away and quickly.

"Al," Matt levels with him, "I asked you to be here because you might as well be my brother. I knew when I did that it would mean coming back to the moon. That it would bring up a load of shit for you."

"We're worried about you mate," Nick explains. "You're still here. You won't talk to any of us."

" 'm fine," Alex mumbles, unable to hold eye contact with either of his friends. He looks at his shoes as he realizes how unfair he's been to them both in the last two days.

This trip was supposed to be about Matt.

He shouldn't be here worried that Alex finally went off the rails.

"Alex," Matt utters, placing his hand on the door frame, leaning in close to Alex. "You know you can talk to me. I don't care what you did or why."

"Really," Alex tries, because as much as he'd like to have this long overdue discussion, finally get to explain why--no one had ever asked him why, they'd just condemned his actions as w r o n g--he has to get Vera off the moon. "I'm fine. Just been in me head."

"That's what I'm worried about," Matt responds, eyes locked onto his, as if Alex could disappear at any moment. "You've always been in your head too much Al. And it didn't matter when I knew you were looking after yourself. Had me and the lads with you but-Alex you looked like utter shit back in Vesta last time I saw you, hopped up on who knows what."

Alex swears internally. They really knew when to pick the worst moments. He was actually doing good. "I know. . .," he tries to find the words that don't require him to have an emotional breakdown in Tranquility Hotel, aware Vera's listening in, "it's been rough. Some days worse than others but Matthew," he whines, "I really am good."

"For how long though," Nick counters, crossing his arms against his chest. It was a good point but Alex really hadn't been in the dark lonely place in months. Maybe closer to a year now. Progress.

Something about waking up missing shoes and jammed into the seediest by corners of an asteroid had lit a fire under his arse about moving on.

He hadn't even hit the agents earlier. They would've deserved it but who gives a shit. Alex will always be a mutineer but at least his hands were clean. His conscience is a white pearl like a meditating bodhisattva.

"Can we just go inside and talk man," Matt pleads, his shoulder resting against the door, clearly seconds away from shoving his way in.

Guilt wells up in his mouth. Despite having every reason to say no, Alex wants to say yes, the word making its way to the tip of his tongue at Matt's insistence.

It was Matt and he was Alex and he couldn't just deny him like this after everything.

Terrans were only allowed one child.

The law didn't keep Matt from being his brother any less.

"I can't," Alex sighs. "I just-you've given me a lot to think about."

Matt rolls his eyes, hurt flashing through his features as he takes a step back, "bullshit."

"Just open up the damn door Alexander," Nick tries, clearly having had it with trying to do things the nice way, realizing Alex wasn't going to budge on his own. "We're ya friends."

"It's been six years Alex," Matt added. "I thought you'd want to talk by now."

Alex shakes his head, "it's not always a straight line."

"Let's have this conversation inside," Nick insists, "who knows when you'll be around next Al. And now Matt has a command. . ."

Matt shoves his way in.

Alex had forgotten how hot headed he could be. The foil to his cool and calm temperament: translating Alex's lit to others. Not that Alex had much trouble verbalizing, necessity being the mother invention. He no longer took hours to get a sentence out of his mouth.

"Matt!"

"Don't Matt me Al," Matt retorts spying Vera in seconds, who's already fallen into a defensive stance.

Matt brings a hand to his face, pinching his nose bridge, before heavily sighing, "You've got to be kidding me Al. You're hiding a murderer now."

"She's no-"

"I didn't kill anyone," she tries, folding into herself, trying to appear smaller and innocent than she actually is. Vera tries to play at being Tisiphone once more. "It's all a misunderstanding!"

"Then turn yourself in," Nick challenges, closing the door behind him.

"Al," Matt says, placing his hands on Alex's shoulders, "what the hell are you thinking mate! They're going to lock you up for this and not even-"

"Matt," he interrupts, "trust me. I'd love to have a nice long chat but things have gotten. . .complicated and-it's safer if ya don't know. Just. . .trust me."

Matt stares back at him, mouth drawn. An entire childhood together on earth, their toes digging into the soil, tracking mud all over the floors. Later a shared adolescence, their accents charming the girls and boys at school, Matt doing all the talking and never leaving a painfully shy Alex behind.

He nods. "You better come back because we're having this talk even if I have to go visit you in prison."

"There are things far worse than prison," Vera unhelpfully points out, tugging on her jacket over her hoodie, the collar lined with actual animal fur. Given the martian rationing system, it was an untold luxury for Vera to own a leather jacket with fur at all. "I'd even take death over enhanced interrogation."

She pretends to tremble with fear, "anything but gravity."

Alex snorts in spite of the dark subject matter. "Not helping."

Ignoring the other two men in the room, Vera hands Alex one of the spare IDB's he'd seen in her bag earlier. Had it really been only hours ago? "Here's your IDB now. Alexander Collins. Born on Pallas. Married to Morgana Collins," she points at herself, already dispatching the old IDB off her wrist and throwing it in her bag. "Came to the moon to get married. Off to Callisto to make a living," she explains calmly.

"Short and sweet," Alex notes, looking down at his own wrist, the IDB a second skin. He hadn't taken it off since he'd left earth. Many colonies like Callisto chose to implant the ID chip.

It was the key to getting on any ship. His passport and last link to earth. His last hope at ever stepping foot on the big blue planet again, however slim.

Visas for foreigners pretty much nonexistent.

Nick hands him a swiss army laser, "I implanted mine." It's news to Alex who hadn't even noticed, Nick having always been a bit chilly, wearing long sleeves year round. " 's nice actually."

Matt dramatically covers his eyes.

Alex slices through the metal, leaving a band of unblemished creamy skin.

It doesn't last long, as Vera easily replaces it.

"You should keep it," she tells him, patting his arm like a parent half heartedly consoling their child after a pet fish dies. "We are planning on fixing things."

"Yeah," Alex answers, running his fingers over the band. He already felt less confident without it.