#as if its an attack on our daily habits for anyone else to like. do smthing else.

[moodr1ng]

also im so sorry to be that guy but the whole "europeans are weird for this" "americans are weird for that" shtick is so tired already why do we spend so much time online just being annoying abt mundane random shit that people elsewhere do. is that doing anything for anyone. does anyone give a shit

[itsclydebitches]

Rewatching RWBY there's this chilling lack of empathy through the volumes that I used to just wave off. Yang has no empathy for Tai, Blake is just entirely about what Blake needs, Weiss almost kills a woman at a party and her takeaway is 'my dad is mean so I'm going to run away'. Qrow sinks hard into depression in vol. 6 and Ruby's reaction is to yell she's never needed him. No one has EVER helped a civilian. It's so prevelant. Knowing how 7&8 go really changes the earlier writing.

I think there was a great deal of well-written empathy in the early volumes — after all, this cast was designed as the kind, well-meaning heroes — but that care was expressed almost solely within the group itself. Ruby sits by Jaune in the hallway and says "Nope!" to his self doubt. Weiss offers Ruby a hand up after she fails to kill the death stalker. Yang seeks out Blake and gets her to open up about what's bothering her. Now, I want to emphasize that there's nothing inherently wrong with this. It actually makes perfect sense. These are our main characters and they're written as peers co-habiting the same space. Of course whatever emotional growth we get, which automatically includes moments of compassion, would be directed towards each other. Similarly, the dynamics originally introduced — that of teachers and parents — likewise (rightly) puts the burden on the adults to provide the comfort, not the other way around. Port snaps Weiss out of her arrogant mindset. Ozpin reassures Ruby about her leadership worries. Tai is there to support his daughter when she's recovering from a lost limb. That's the natural order of things, so to speak.

The problem, to my mind, begins to occur when the group exits those dynamics. They're no longer students, they're licensed huntsmen. They're no longer kids, but equals who never needed adults in the first place. They're no longer doing things for themselves and their friends on personal downtime, they're doing them for the community at large as a profession (to say nothing of the world-altering war they've insisted on shouldering responsibility for). That's what a huntsmen is meant to be, a defender of the people, not someone who uses that power for personal interests alone. All of this is a huge change from where we started out: cutesy kids going off on comparatively low-stakes adventures because one or more of their teammates are invested, only just beginning to realize that they're signing up for a job where their desires come second (that fireside conversation at Mountain Glenn).

This change invites — demands, really — that the audience read them differently too. Qrow's spiral in Volume 6 is a good example of this. If Ruby is demanding to be treated not just as an equal in terms of maturity and experience, but also as the primary leader of this group, then the viewer expects her to treat her uncle as an equal too, not dismiss his hardship. I've seen numerous fans defend that arc with some version of, "He's her uncle. He's supposed to take care of her. He's failing" but that, according to the show, is no longer the dynamic. Qrow is now just a member of Ruby's team, someone she's responsible for as their leader. It's easiest to see the problem if we switch out Qrow for any of the other members. If Blake developed a drinking problem, do we think Ruby would just shout at her until she magically got over it? If Jaune endangered the group, do we think they'd all be angry about it, rather than trying to figure out the source of what caused the mistake? We don't even need to think hypothetically for that one because we saw it on screen. Jaune attacked Oscar and drove him off, not just threatening him, but arguably endangering the whole team by requiring a search party. Fans have long insisted they had to steal that airship right then because being in Argus was too much of a risk, but if we buy that reading (which I personally don't, but), then that means Jaune made things exponentially worse by forcing them out into that super dangerous city, rather than allowing everyone to stay hidden inside. He made a massive mistake which, according to the logic of Qrow's arc, should be met with frustration, disdain, and eventual demands to get over his anger at Ozpin or ship out. But, of course, he received nothing but concern. Yang was worried about him, not Oscar. The search becomes about his grief for Pyrrha and his team's willingness (as well as Pyrrha's family member) to provide more comfort. Suddenly, the tendency to express care solely towards those within the group becomes a flaw the story won't acknowledge.

And then it spirals. The thing to remember is that no single act here is bad on its own, especially when we consider that yes, we want flawed characters. Rather, it's about the pattern. Ruby is allowed to get mad at Qrow for his behavior and chuck her scroll in frustration. She's human. I'd be crazy frustrated too. However, if Ruby is meant to be written as a caring, sympathetic character, she should not only respond to the situation with frustration, yelling, a refusal to listen, and demands that he follow her lead, no questions asked. We can, and should, acknowledge that Weiss was the victim during that party. Her father was hurting her, the woman was beyond insensitive, Weiss was triggered in regards to a horrific event, and her power acted on its own. However, if we want to write Weiss as a compassionate, mature huntress to-be, she should acknowledge that she nearly killed someone — even an asshole someone — and vow to work on her control because she's not willing to put someone in danger like that ever again. Both of these moments have a "They could have been handled better" response attached to them — the former more-so than the latter imo — but these moments are made far, far worse due to later events in the show, events where the characters are cruel without any justification attached. Weiss didn't mean to attack that woman, but she did mean to ignore Whitely and threaten him with her weapon. So once we see that, it informs our understanding of what came before it. "Oh. The fact that Weiss never reacted to nearly killing someone isn't just a bit of missed potential, it's an early indicator that she... doesn't seem to care. If she endangers people, threatens people... that's fine with her." The group has a right to be frustrated with Qrow. The group did not have the right to magically steal Ozpin's entire life story, assault him, and blame him for the world's problems until he felt his only course of action was to run from them. So when we see that it becomes, "Oh. The fact that the group treated Qrow so poorly isn't just a one-time mistake born of a stressful situation and young adults being out of their depth in regards to alcoholism. They really will just abandon anyone the moment they start making mistakes." Anyone outside of their group, that is.

To say nothing of how all of these moments interconnect. Yang's recovery isn't just about getting used to not having an arm, it's about getting used to having a new one. Weiss' party isn't just about nearly killing someone, it's about not committing manslaughter because someone else stepped in. The Volume 6 arc isn't just about trying to escape with the Relic, it's about trying to get it somewhere safe. Fans frustrated with Ironwood's treatment don't harp on these details out of some desperate attempt to make him look good post-murder spree, rather, they recognize that he's a character that's been around since nearly the beginning, originally written as a good guy, and thus has accumulated a number of key connections with the cast. So when none of those connections are acknowledged during an arc about trust... that makes the group look very uncaring. Yang doesn't care that he gave her the arm, Weiss doesn't care that he saved her from hurting/potentially killing someone, Qrow doesn't care that he's trusted Ironwood for years (in a rival-bros way) and that they've been heading towards him this whole time. And when Ironwood begins to spiral, they don't do anything to try and help him, let alone acknowledge that their own choices, that lack of trust and empathy, had a hand in getting them here. "But it's not their responsibility to fix him!" Isn't it? Even a little? Just as human beings seeing an ally struggling under horrific decisions and circumstances? Sure, they don't have to try... but that doesn't make them look very heroic to my mind. And we can't even shrug that off by simplifying things with, "Well, Ironwood is evil now so who cares about him." They simultaneously don't care about finding Qrow who is missing, then captured. They don't do anything to try and find their missing teammates, with the exception of sending May to do it instead. They don't help the army fight off the grimm. Don't try to make sure Pietro and Maria had portals to escape through. Barely hesitate when the newly resurrected characters goes, "Kill me. That's the easiest thing for everyone." And these are just a few of the big ticket moments. It doesn't even begin to cover all the details we get that paint a picture of, "Wow okay. They just really don't care about people outside the group, huh? I mean, they say they do, in a life-or-death way, but they're not putting forth effort to show it on a daily basis."

And if you pick up on all that, if you acknowledge how much the group has changed based on where they started out, you might wonder when in the world that started. Surely we didn't just flip a switch around Volume 6. So you re-watch early stuff and, sure enough, there are moments that feel like setup for what's to come later. Not intentional setup (quite obviously), but a lack of care towards details across the series that, once the dynamic changed, became far, far more pronounced. Characters should be at least somewhat recognizable from start to finish, especially characters who have only experienced about two years of in-world time, so if we now get to see Ruby blandly commenting on all the people who are dying, or Weiss using her weapon as a means of coercing her little brother into doing what she wants, or Yang and Jaune dismissing Ren until he gives in to their point of view... we're going to look for the beginnings of that behavior early on. As you say, we were able to wave all those little details off due to a number of important factors. Now though? Now they feel like they hold a lot more weight, simply by virtue of that early material proceeding what we have now.

[littlemisspascal]

The Last Mandalorian

Chapter One: The Warrior in Carbonite Part 3

Fandom: The Mandalorian / Pedro Pascal

Eventual Pairing: Din x Togruta!Female!Reader

Word Count: 4,320

Rating: G

Summary: A series that is a mixture of Mandalorian, Star Wars, ATLA, and my own imagination. The Imps have seized control of the majority of the galaxy, including your homeworld Shili. You and your sister Ahsoka have developed a daily routine despite the stormtroopers keeping your village imprisoned. One morning you make a startling discovery that will change the course of your lives forever.

Warnings: I don’t know much about starship mechanics so probably nothing in this is accurate but it’s fanfiction people so cut me some slack please, reader gets a nickname 🥳, plot plot plot, discussion of loss of loved ones, worldbuilding, dialogue heavy, this is a slow burn but it’s also ridiculously self-indulgent so I’m including as many cute getting-to-know-you scenes as I can, reader is 17 and Din is 19 so I’m going to warn this as underage even though nothing sexual or even vaguely romantic happens in this chapter.

Author Note: Thank you anyone and everyone who has read even a sentence of this story! Special thanks and love to @dindja for creating this stunning, fantastic, amazing piece of fanart for me 💖💖💖 I still can’t believe how perfect it is. I mean, I’m such a sucker for pinky promises it’s not even funny and this is just beautiful 😍😍😍

Part 2

Cross-posted on AO3

For as grand and wide-reaching as the Galactic Empire has become in its ten years of existence, it had relatively small beginnings. A group of radical Force-wielders banded together under the leadership of an old, beady-eyed man named Sheev Palpatine who believed it was his divine destiny to seize control of the entire galaxy, rewriting the ancient laws to match his own beliefs. His cult, the Sith Order, gained attention by attacking Jedi temples, capital cities, places with large populations until every corner of the galaxy had heard of them. Most regarded them with fear, but over time they began garnering a startling amount of followers who were discontent with the status quo and willingly drafted themselves as soldiers in Palpatine’s fight for control.

At first everyone in your village thought Palpatine and his cult of followers weren’t worth worrying about—after all, Shili was a peaceful planet that never drew much attention to itself. But within the first year of its inception, the Sith Order captured Ryloth and the similar peaceful characteristics between the Twi’lek planet and Shili were too glaring to overlook. A seed of anxiety took root in every Togruta’s mind after that, and continued to grow with every planet seized as the years progressed.

The Decimation of Alderaan didn’t start as a tragedy, believe it or not. The Mandalorians, Jedi, and Alderaanians combined their numbers in an all-out fight against the Sith Order. It was the largest battle ever fought in the history of the galaxy, thousands of souls willing to die to defeat Palpatine’s followers. For the first three days of warfare, the fight seemed to be in favor of the allies with many noteworthy Sith members reportedly killed in the fray, such as Palpatine’s second-in-command Dooku and lethal Zabrak assassin Maul. You remember there was a sense of hope felt within your village as everyone listened to the news reports blaring across the Holonet. A belief that things were finally, finally going to return to normal after so much chaos.

But on the fourth day, the Sith Order brought their own ally onto the battlefield.

At the time there wasn’t a name for the droids that slaughtered every opponent they faced. They were described as indestructible, unharmed by blasters and the intense heat of Mandalorian flamethrowers. Not even lightsabers could damage them. The allies didn’t stand a chance, brutally murdered one by one, their dying screams echoing across the Holonet, forever haunting listeners far and wide.

The Dark Troopers were unleashed upon Mandalore afterwards and out of the ashes rose the Galactic Empire, except, in a twist nobody—not even the Sith Order—saw coming: Palpatine died before taking on the title of emperor, passing away in his sleep. A mediocre ending for the monster who permanently altered the foundations of the universe. One of his loyal followers from the cult’s early beginnings took control in his place, a vile man with a penchant for spilling blood and a deceptively bland name: Gideon.

Only seven years-old then, you didn’t understand the unbalance in the Force your aunt kept referencing. You didn’t understand the meaning of the word genocide either. But you did understand the galaxy would never be the same ever again, and the lesson was only further established as truth when the Imperials seized your village. 

There is no normalcy to return to anymore.

And as long as Emperor Gideon remains in control, there is no future to hope for either.

__

Silence reigns in the aftermath of Maar’s explanation as the long list of tragedies hangs heavy over the four occupants. There is tension in the air as you await the Mandalorian’s response to the extinction of his people, whether that be an outburst of anger or tears, and each passing minute only intensifies the nervous energy thrumming through your veins. Your leg starts to bounce restlessly, a bad habit you have had since childhood.

The Mandalorian stands eerily motionless. Your eyes keep flicking from your lap to his visor though you know it is rude to stare. His helmet hides his expression, but you don’t need to see it to know he is floundering right now, mind scrambling to piece together all the details thrown at him. From personal experience, you know the loss of a loved one hits like a tidal wave, hitting you over and over again until you must decide if you are going to stand up or surrender to drowning. Grieving the loss of your parents is the hardest experience of your lifetime to date.

But this...this is vastly different. The Mandalorian didn’t just lose his loved ones. He has lost his friends, neighbors, comrades, acquaintances, everyone all at once. This loss isn’t a tidal wave. It is a kriffing avalanche, burying him ten feet under in total darkness, and there is no one he can count on to save him. 

Finally, after the longest five minutes of your life, he shifts, resting his hands upon his belt with an unexpected air of seriousness. “I need to go.”

You frown, head tilting. That is his reaction?

“Go?” Ahsoka echoes, sounding as incredulous as you feel. “Go where?”

“To look for survivors,” he answers, blunt and harsh, the words forced through clenched teeth. 

Ahsoka is struck silent, and you feel your heart break on his behalf. Your mother’s stories about the Mandalorians had always included, one way or another, their lifelong bonds with each other. You had felt those ties when you had connected with the Mandalorian, believed for a moment as strongly as he did that his fellow warriors would come search for him, that his absence would be noticed and missed amongst them. And here he is now, still desperately clutching to them, unable—or, perhaps unwilling is more apt—to believe a stranger telling him those bonds have been cruelly severed. 

“What you need is to rest,” Maar says, gentle yet firm, letting her authority as the eldest in the room seep into her tone.

He shakes his head, not backing down. “I’ve been asleep for ten years. I don’t need any more rest.”

“Your ship, it, uh,” your shoulders hike up defensively when his visor snaps in your direction, pinning you with its blank stare. Clearing your throat, you continue with a slight grimace, “It’s going to need some repairs before it can take off. I can help you fix it.”

Ahsoka looks over at you in surprise, and then in worry. You don’t blame her, especially since the offer had slipped out without you consciously meaning it to. Once again, the Force is calling the shots and you are just along for the ride, a passenger in your own body.

He considers you for a long moment, then asks, “What do you know about the mechanics of a gunship?” 

If anyone else had asked you that same exact question, you would have bristled at their condescension and retracted your offer in the next breath. But with the Mandalorian, there isn’t even the slightest hint of patronizing courtesy. It is a serious question prompted from genuine curiosity.

You sit up straighter, smiling at him now. “Enough to confidently say I’m your best shot at getting off the ground.”

__

“What’s your plan, exactly?” Ahsoka asks you, braced against the wall with one eye on you and one on the Mandalorian across the garage, patiently waiting for you to finish assembling your tool kit. 

“Huh?” You reply distractedly, trying to decide if you should bring your carbon chisel or not. 

“You don’t have one, do you?”

Not. There are bigger concerns than a bit of carbon scoring. You move to grab your favorite screwdriver with a tapered socket, only for Ahsoka to snatch it away, holding the tool hostage.

“Hey!”

“Have you thought about what you’re doing?” Ahsoka asks slowly, staring you directly in the eyes. “Once you fix his ship, he’s gone. And he’s taking our best chance at escaping Shili with him.”

A quick glance over your shoulder shows the Mandalorian studying the scattered BB unit parts on your workbench. You are missing a few vital components needed in order to bring the little droid back to life after a stormtrooper shot a plasma bolt through it for accidentally bumping into his leg, and haven’t had any luck convincing the village traders to track them down for you when they went to the capital. 

“We can’t keep him here against his will,” you manage at last, turning back to your sister. “Otherwise we’re no better than the Imps.”

When Ahsoka doesn’t say anything, you shrug a shoulder, adding, “Besides, I think I’m supposed to fix it for him. The Force seems pretty insistent about it.”

She makes a face at that. “I liked you better when you ignored your Force instincts. You didn’t make me worry as much.”

A laugh escapes you, embarrassingly loud in the otherwise quiet space, and your cheeks immediately start burning. Ahsoka’s lip twitches like she wants to smile, but instead she schools her features into a blank expression when the Mandalorian’s head turns at the sound. Only once he diverts his attention elsewhere again does her stare lose some of its intensity, looking less like she wants to dissect him beneath a microscope. You can practically see her protective-older-sister-instincts buzzing, reacting to the warrior’s presence. 

As much as he is a chance at providing an escape, he is also first and foremost a complete and total stranger. Even worse, he is a complete and total stranger who knows how to handle weapons. 

“I’ll be fine, I promise.” You squeeze her arm reassuringly. “Shouldn’t take longer than a couple of hours. You’ll be so busy smoothing the Elders’ ruffled feathers you won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Ahsoka finally relinquishes the tool, exhaling a quiet sigh. “You shouldn’t make promises you don’t know for certain you can keep.”

__

Walking side by side with the Mandalorian in silence isn’t awkward, per se, but it definitely isn’t comfortable either. He is close enough your arm keeps accidentally grazing against his, the cold brush of metal against your skin startling you each time. You would have considered his nearness strange if you hadn’t heard Ahsoka threaten to castrate him if you wound up hurt before she sent him flying at the juni tree branch outside your window with an unnecessarily strong push of Force. 

To his credit, the warrior handled her rough treatment with the same ease he has handled everything else thrown at him. You are beginning to think Mandalorians don’t just wear beskar—they are made of it too. Other than the few glimpses of frustration earlier in Maar’s office, he keeps his cards close to his chest, impossible to read. 

He watches everything though, reacting to the slightest of movements and sounds. Constantly alert. You are certain he is watching you right now, despite the fact his helmet is facing forward, your nerves prickling in response to the sensation of eyes upon you.

To your surprise, he is the one to break the silence first. “You sneak out often.”

It is a statement, not a question. 

You suppose the dots are easy enough to connect to reach that conclusion. Still, the certainty in his voice has your heart skipping a nervous beat. He hasn’t even known you a day and yet he is privy to secrets no one outside your community is aware of. “Yeah,” you nod your head after a brief lapse of silence, “Ahsoka can’t train in the village. Not with the stormtroopers around.”

“Has your village tried to run them out? Fight back?”

It is only because you know he is just trying to understand your village’s predicament with the little bits of information he has that you don’t snap at him for being so insensitive. He has no idea what these past five years have been like for you all. No idea the amount of losses and sacrifices the community has suffered. 

Your grip on your tool kit tightens. “I was twelve when they came. The community is mostly traders and hunters, not trained fighters. The few weapons we had were nothing compared to their blaster rifles, but some of the adults tried to defend the village, including our parents. They...” You swallow, or try to, at least, your throat suddenly dry as sand. “Our aunt looked after us until last year we woke up one morning to find a note she’d left to join the rebellion. We haven’t had any contact with her since.”

The Mandalorian’s gloved hand brushes against your knuckles. This time you think it might have been on purpose.

“I lost my parents as a child, too. There was a riot and they died protecting me,” he offers his own private details with the same reluctance as one volunteering to have their teeth pulled out. “The Mandalorians took me in, raised me as one of their own.”

You say nothing about the way his breath slightly hitches when he says Mandalorians, appreciating his openness as it puts you both on somewhat equal footing with each other. 

“I owe it to them to look for survivors,” he tells you, and your montrals detect the quietest hint of a plea in his voice. 

“I understand,” you answer, keeping your tone light to preserve the fragility of this moment. This kind of situation doesn’t happen often—two strangers on the same wavelength, exposing their vulnerable underbellies, desperate to be heard and yet skittish at the same time—and it is oddly therapeutic. 

A decision is made right then and there in the span of a heartbeat. And even more significantly, it is 100% your own choice without any intervention or manipulation from the Force. 

You stop walking, causing the Mandalorian to halt as well. He scans the area for a threat, then visibly jerks when he turns back to find you have your hand held out towards him, pinky raised high, reacting as if you are pointing a weapon at him.

“I don’t understand,” he says, blunt and almost suspicious sounding. Are you just imagining it or can you actually hear him frowning? “What are you doing?”

“Haven’t you ever made a pinky promise with someone before?”

“...A what?”

You snort, ducking your head to hide your smile, and then reach for his hand. Surprisingly, he doesn’t protest your touch.

“A pinky promise,” you repeat as you make his hand form a fist, curling his fingers towards his palm, and then adjust his pinky so you can wrap yours around it. He watches the whole process wordlessly. “It’s a sacred vow shared between two people. The Elders say once it’s sworn, the promise can never be broken.”

He cocks his head, skeptical. “Never?”

“Never,” you reaffirm with a nod. Licking your lips, you look at his visor, right where you instinctively know his eyes are staring back. “I promise I’m going to help you. No matter the odds.”

And something leaks into your voice then, something resolute and binding and otherworldly. A tremor shoots down your spine, too quick for you to make sense of it.

Your sister’s words echo in the back of your mind, ‘You shouldn’t make promises you don’t know for certain you can keep.’ 

You try to pull away, self-doubt gnawing a hole in your stomach, only for the Mandalorian to wrap his pinky tighter around yours, holding you still. A gasp escapes your lips, muffled by the bleeding sincerity in his voice as he swears:

“I promise I will be there when you need me. No matter the odds.”

And although your sister could undoubtedly provide you with a long list of reasons why you shouldn’t, you believe his promise to be true.

__

The Mandalorian heaves a heavy sigh at the sight of his crashed ship. 

“I can’t do much about the landing gear,” you inform him, believing honesty to be the best policy for cases like this. “And I brought some foam-jet for the cockpit viewport, but it’s not a permanent fix. You’re going to have to find someone offworld to replace them.”

“Right,” he agrees absently without turning his eyes away. It occurs to you then that this ship is the closest thing to a home he has now. One of the few precious relics from his past he can still physically cling to. 

“Does your ship have a name?” you ask.

He looks at you, as if coming back to self-awareness, and answers, “Razor Crest.”

A good name, you think. Strong. A bit mysterious. Just like its owner.

You nod decisively. “I like it.”

His modulator crackles faintly, a quiet noise produced from a sudden exhale of air. You blink at the unexpected sound, surprised to realize you recognize it. A laugh. The Mandalorian just laughed at something you said. What is next in store for you? Are akul going to sprout wings and start flying?

He steps around you, heading for the side entry door still open from yesterday with its ramp laying on the ground, pebbles shifting noisily beneath his boots with each step. You don’t realize you are staring, oddly entranced by the swish of his cape and his purposeful strides, until he calls out your name to ask if you are coming.

You nearly drop your tool kit in your haste to follow after him into the Crest’s interior, ignoring the flaring heat radiating from your cheeks. 

For the next few hours, you and the Mandalorian work in companionable silence, engrossed in rerouting wires and welding damaged components with your trusty hand torch. The gunship is older than you initially assumed, perhaps even as old as yourself, and you idly wonder if the Mandalorian found it in a scrapyard somewhere or maybe inherited it from another Mandalorian. You notice the way he handles each piece with an experienced and respectful touch; the same kind of care someone reserves for their most cherished possessions. Anyone with eyes can see how much he loves the Crest just by watching him.

Once you have finished sealing the numerous cracks dissecting the cockpit’s viewport like a spiderweb with foam, you approach the Mandalorian to see his progress on returning power to the dashboard. He is on his back beneath the steering controls, rearranging a mess of wires, and barely acknowledges your presence when you squeeze yourself into the tight space next to him.

“The red wire goes before the white one,” you point out, noticing the mistake immediately. “Fire hazard.”

He pauses, looks at where you have gestured, and corrects his error without criticizing your intervention. You bite back a smile, pleased to be heard. Within your community, even though you have proven your skills time and time again, some of the villagers, usually men, don’t always adhere to your advice, thinking you are too young and too female to know about technology, until they inevitably make their problems worse for themselves and come back to you with their metaphorical tail between their legs. 

You help him reattach the cover plating once he has finished, screwing the bolts back into their corners, and then watch, fingers crossed, as he attempts the ignition sequence, flipping a series of switches.

None of them light up with even the faintest flicker of life.

“Dank farrik,” he growls under his breath, slamming a fist upon the console.

You take a tiny step forward, hesitant to direct his frustration your way. “Can I try?” 

He tilts his head, probably thinking he knows this ship better than anyone and if it doesn’t work for him then you aren’t going to have any luck either.

Eventually he steps back with a shrug, uttering a simple, “Sure.” 

Although you can’t remember the last time you were on a ship, it doesn’t take long to refamiliarize yourself with the various controls and screens once you take a seat in the pilot chair. When your hobby for fixing broken machines changed into a passion you wanted to pursue as a future career, you started memorizing any reading material you could find on the Holonet, including the flight manuals for different classes of starships. You flip through the stored information in your mind about gunships as you press a few buttons on the panel overhead, trying out different sequences for a response.

When your third attempt fails, you bite your lip, racking your brain for a solution. You think about Huno’s kitchen droid and how you had been on the verge of ripping off one of your head-tails trying to repair it after one of its fuses blew, causing it to malfunction. Your tools and knowledge hadn’t been able to fix it in the end. It had required a special remedy to bring it back to life.

You lay your palms flat on the console, just as you had held onto the droid’s square torso. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the Mandalorian fidget, as if he wants to come closer but is hesitant to crowd you. You ignore him, pressing your fingertips harder against the metal, visualizing in your mind the unseen gears, cables, and components stiff and powerless. You imagine the parts working properly, a current of electricity running through each wire, life ultimately returning to the entire ship, and whisper under your breath a request to the Force.

“Please work, please work, please work…”

An invisible pulse of energy burns down the length of your arms and discharges through your fingertips, strong enough you jerk backwards against the seat. Every button and screen on the dashboard lights up all at once, beeping with alarm at being so rudely resurrected.

You sit there helplessly, stunned and breathless, hands twitching in your lap. The kitchen droid hadn’t required even half as much energy to restart, barely a pinch. Now your body feels like you have been thrown against the electric fence a dozen times. Wordlessly, the Mandalorian comes to your side to help, punching buttons and turning knobs until the alarms quit blaring. A distant part of your brain thinks the Razor Crest as a whole seems strangely soothed by his presence, not quite as cold and dark, but it is hard to follow that train of thought due to the distracting pain throbbing along your temples.

“That’s quite a spark you’ve got,” he says, not unkindly or accusingly, just a statement of the obvious. He looks down at you, not outright asking for an explanation, but giving you the opportunity to open up if you wanted to.

“Yep, that’s me,” you reply, forcing a cheerful smile, praying it doesn’t resemble a grimace. “Sparks Tano at your service.”

He chuckles again, oblivious to how your heart stutters at its raspiness. “Thank you, Sparks. I appreciate it.”

“Well, we’re not done yet.” You rub at your temples under the guise of adjusting your headband. “I need to take a closer look at the engines before we attempt flying out of here. I—”

“I’ll do it,” he cuts in, already heading for the ladder. “You stay here, see if you can update the navicomputer settings.”

You know he knows that updating the navicomputer is child’s play for you. Clearly you aren’t as great at concealing your pain as you thought you were and this is his way of giving you a break. A small part of you is irritated at being treated like a porcelain doll, but you push those negative feelings aside as quickly as they develop. Your aunt always used to remind you and Ahsoka it was okay to accept help when it was offered, that needing support didn’t in any way make you weak. 

“Hey, wait a second,” you call out as you spin around in your seat, freezing him right before he disappears from view into the hull. He holds onto the ladder, waiting patiently for you to continue.

“Back at Maar’s place you didn’t introduce yourself and it’s weird just calling you Mandalorian in my head,” you say, awkwardly drumming your fingers on top of the armrests. He doesn’t answer, eliciting a sigh from your mouth after a drawn-out beat of silence. “What’s your name? You do have one, right?”

“I do, but I can’t tell you it,” he admits at last. “By Mandalorian Creed, only other Mandalorians or my riduur—my spouse,” he corrects, seeing your confusion, “are allowed to know my name and see my face. This is the Way.”

He doesn’t linger to hear your response, dropping down into the hull with a resounding thud. You slowly turn back around, staring absently out the glass. Every culture is unique, including your own, but you think there is something especially interesting about the Mandalorians’. It sounds like a lonely existence, only able to show your face while in select company. What would have happened if he had been unconscious and you had slipped the helmet off his head? What consequence would he have faced? 

And if there truly aren’t any Mandalorians left besides him, his spouse will be the only one to ever know him completely. It almost sounds like a love story, if not a little bit heart-wrenching. 

Two high-pitched dings from the console jerk you out of your thoughts with a wince. You look for the source, finding the radar lit up and actively scanning the area, and bristle when you see a pair of red dots moving across the screen. 

Not even a minute later you are sprinting out of the cave, ignoring the Mandalorian’s alarmed shout from the roof of the Razor Crest. They’re early, you think with panic, looking towards the sky where two starships with Imperial logos are heading straight for your village. Why have they come back so soon?

You push your legs to run faster, your surroundings a blur beyond the trail in front of you, but the effort is meaningless. You won’t make it back home before they land.

And when your absence is noted, bloodshed is not a possibility. 

It is a guarantee.

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[arbenia]

The other day on the BBC news I saw a young, educated and eloquent Serbian woman speaking about the life of ordinary citizens under the NATO bombing. The Serbian citizens are afraid, she said. Normal life is more and more difficult. There are power cuts, and people are forced to go several days without access to the Internet. There is also a cigarette shortage. But yes, they are trying to live normally. They go to work, they shop, and they sit in cafes. Of course, the bombing turned the Serbian citizens against NATO, not against Slobodan Milosevic. After all, “bombs are dropping from the sky.”

Clearly, this young woman, like so many Serbs, does not want to understand that her country is at war. They still seem to be thinking, What has all this to do with me? I know this mechanism of denial, because I have seen it before. Serbs by and large ignored the wars in Croatia and Bosnia. It was always happening somewhere else, to somebody else, and they were not involved. It was the Serbian army, the police, the paramilitaries, but not them, the ordinary citizens. But now, when it is happening in Serbia and affecting all of them, they are still somehow surprised.

The young woman on TV used the expression “Serbian citizens,” but her use of this phrase suggested that these Serbian citizens are people struggling to maintain the normality of their daily lives. By “Serbian citizens” she evidently meant only Serbs. Others–that is, Albanians–are simply never mentioned in that context. Their problems are not addressed, by her or other Serbs. In the perception of ordinary Serbs, Albanians are not included in the category of Serbian citizen and therefore are absent from the language as well.

Why? The problem is that Serbs–or anyone else, for that matter–cannot identify with the suffering of others if they are not able to see them as equals. In Yugoslav society Albanians were never visible. There was no need to construct their “otherness”–as, for example, with Jews in prewar Germany or recently with Serbs in Croatia. The Albanians were never integrated into the country’s social, political and cultural life. They existed separately from us, barely visible people on the margins of our society, with their strange language that nobody understood, their tribal organization, blood feuds, different habits and dress. They were always underdogs. What was their place in the Yugoslav literature, in movies and popular culture? What famous Yugoslavs were Albanians? Because of that estrangement, not many voices were raised in protest during the past ten years, when Albanians in Kosovo lived practically under apartheid.

For the older generation, the only visible Albanians were people in white caps coming from Kosovo to their cities to cut wood in the winter. For my generation they were people selling ice cream all over Yugoslavia. They spoke our language with a funny accent and never could pronounce “lemonade” properly. They lived among us, but we chose to ignore them. If we did happen to notice them, we despised them, laughed at them, told jokes about them. I never had an Albanian friend in Zagreb. No one I knew married an Albanian. But the difference between Croats and Serbs was that Croats did not really have to deal with the Albanians; we had no Kosovo.

It was clear that they belonged to a different category from Serbs, Croats, Macedonians, Montenegrins or Slovenes. Serbs could even fight a war against Croats, but they never perceived each other in the same way they both perceive Albanians. The prejudice against Albanians can be compared to that against Jews or blacks or Gypsies in other cultures. Today every Serb will tell you that Albanians multiply like rabbits–that this is their secret weapon in the war they are waging against Serbs in Kosovo. This is not nationalism; this is more or less hidden racism.

The woman on the BBC the other day may be only an ordinary person, but there are other Serbs who should know better and who can’t use the excuse of innocence so easily. They are the people in the opposition. But all one hears from them is their lament about the destruction of democracy and civil society in Serbia. The NATO bombing is to them a savage attack, a terrible act of aggression against a sovereign state–they all use the language of Milosevic’s propaganda. There is “the other Serbia” they say, a better Serbia of the brave people who fought Milosevic all along.

Surely there is another Serbia that will surface once Milosevic is gone. And surely everyone can understand that opposition people are afraid now. One is tempted, however, to ask, Exactly what opposition, what civil society, what “other Serbia” are we talking about? The one that for more than a decade was not able to produce a democratic alternative to Milosevic? The one that never established contacts with Albanians from Kosovo in order to work together for the common future of both nations? If the opposition, political as well as intellectual, ever had anything in common with Milosevic, it was in its attitude toward Kosovo. Kosovo Albanians were a litmus test for the opposition all these years, and they always failed it. Now they are engulfed in self-pity.

An open letter from Vladimir Arsenijevic, a young Serbian writer of some renown, circulating on e-mail, is a striking example of this invisibility of Albanians. In his answer to a friend from Zagreb, who reproached Serbs for their lack of remorse over the situation of the Albanians, he wrote: “On account of lack of pity for the fate of Kosovo Albanians, I know (from my own experience–and I know that I have no bad feelings whatsoever directed toward anybody, least of all Albanians) that it is very hard to care about somebody else’s problems if you are personally experiencing major problems of your own at the same moment. There is no favoritism in this society. Everybody is too busy surviving here to be able to feel any remorse…. Remorse is a privilege of the well-nourished, clean and civilized. And we are all Albanians here. All of us: Serbs, Montenegrins, Hungarians, Slovaks…. Poor, underfed, degraded, oppressed. And I mean ALL of us, even those who have supported Milosevic with all their heart through all these years of terrible hell.”

There is something almost obscene in this sudden “visibility” of Albanians, in the Serbs’ desire to achieve the status of victim through this kind of identification. Albanians remain an abstraction, an empty notion with no real substance, used solely as a means of adding visibility to Serbian suffering, thus denying the Albanian identity once more. I can see this young writer sitting at his computer (there must have been no shortage of power then) in his Belgrade apartment: He sends his e-mail letter, checks the latest war information on the Internet and goes to bed. Meanwhile, his Albanian counterpart, with whose suffering he identifies so much, sits in a tent somewhere in Albania or stands in the mud, waiting to cross the Macedonian border. His house is burned down, his computer–if he ever had one–has been taken by Serbian paramilitaries and he doesn’t know where his family is.

If the young writer considers himself an Albanian, why is he not fleeing to Macedonia or Albania as well? How cynical–or young or innocent or perhaps stupid–do you have to be to say that? It is as grotesque as if the Germans, after World War II, had said, “We were all Jews.” After all, had they not suffered occupation, bombardment, rationing?

The writer means to say that if the Serbs are victims, then how can they possibly have anything to do with the responsibility for this war? Or for the Milosevic regime? War goes deeper than bombardment, and the more we pretend it doesn’t concern us, the more it invades us. War is destructive of the human soul. It corrodes human beings, bringing out things we didn’t know about ourselves. And when he says that remorse is a privilege of civilized people, he puts himself and his nation on the level of people without pity. He is justifying the inhumanity of his people, and that is terrible.

This is what the war is doing to the young writer. But like the woman on the BBC, as well as ordinary people and opposition intellectuals, he is not able to realize that. Precisely this denial, blindness, unconscious racism and cruelty toward other human beings, this lack of remorse (but no lack of self-pity!), is what war is doing to Serbs, and it is much more devastating than NATO bombs. Living with Milosevic’s regime and the war for so long takes its toll. It has changed Serbs in the past ten years, and the rest of the world is witnessing this only now, still puzzled and bewildered by it. It is hard to understand that our acquaintances, our lovers, drinking buddies, philosophers, our once dear friends, are different people. It is even harder to understand that they themselves let that change happen.

`(Slavenka Drakulic, a Croatian-born author, is a Nation contributing editor. Her latest book is A Guided Tour Through the Museum of Communism.)

[abused-sides]

Looking [Roommates AU]

Trigger warning: This au follows most of the sides in the aftermath of surviving abuse (domestic, parental, etc). In this particular fic it’s only implied, but it’s an instrumental part of the story and if that bothers you, then please not only scroll past this fic, but block my blog as well.

More tws: Homelessness, homeless shelters, sleeping outside, paranoia, house-bound, anxiety/overwhelmed, malnourishment, let me know if i missed anything 

Genre: ??? Virgil escapes and Patton interviews him to move in 

Ships: Endgame romantic intruloceit, romantic prinxiety, queerplatonic royality

Wc: 2541 

A/N: I promise I’m getting to your prompts I love you guys

Virgil laid flat on his back, eyes fixed on the familiar water stain on the ceiling. 

It’d been there since he moved in, three years ago. He hadn’t noticed it right away, instead focused on exploring all the rooms, thrilled about all the space he would have. He wished the house was smaller— Wished they lived in an apartment. He certainly would have more free time. 

There were four spots in the house Virgil hid the money, and he never visited the same one too often. One was tucked inside an empty spray bottle with all of his cleaning stuff, under the kitchen sink. One was slipped between the bedspring and the mattress, on Virgil’s side. He’d never felt a lump or anything, but he was terrified his boyfriend would somehow feel it in his sleep and find the stash. 

Another was hidden in a plant pot under Virgil’s favourite window, buried under the dirt in a plastic bag. The last was tucked into Virgil’s wallet, which he hadn’t touched in three years. No need for a wallet when you don’t leave the house, and your boyfriend pays for everything with his card. 

His boyfriend had been gone for hours. He’d be gone for several more. Virgil wasn’t sure why he hadn’t left yet, why he did his daily chores and then just laid there, hoping the water stain would grow and spread and swallow the entire house. 

He wouldn’t get another chance like this. Not for years, probably. It was the exact opportunity he’d been waiting for. 

So why couldn’t he do it?

He squeezed his eyes shut as they welled with tears. He imagined his boyfriend getting home with his gifts and false compassion, imagined having to spend another several years as his property, with his dull life of cleaning and not much else. 

He pushed himself off the ground and headed for the window that looked out the front yard. He dug under the daisy growing in the pot, spilling dirt all over the immaculate carpet, ripping up its roots and petals, and grabbed the first stash. 

Once he started, he couldn’t stop. He flew through the house to grab all the money and put his backpack together, and then skidded to a stop in front of the door. He swallowed. He was going to throw up. 

He reached blindly for the coatrack, his fingers wrapping around the soft fabric of his boyfriend’s hoodie. He pulled it on and threw the door open. He didn’t think to close it as he stepped out onto the drive, almost disassociating. All he’d felt under his feet for three years was carpet and tile and hardwood. He hopped off the driveway into the grass, and then the sidewalk, and then the road. 

He took in a shuddering breath, pulled his hood up, and ducked his head as he headed for the nearest train station. 

The ticket stole most of his money, but it didn’t matter. As long as he got to the city, he would be fine. He could figure it all out from there. 

He sat alone on the train, wanting desperately to sleep but instead sitting straight up, never resting from his constant patrol. A lady sitting across from him at one point offered to buy him something to eat, but he refused. 

The train stopped in the city’s station close to midnight. Despite him saying he didn’t need any help, the lady guided his shaky self down the steps, and patted his back. 

“Where are you headed?” 

Virgil swallowed. “Um…”

“Do you… Have family in the city?”

He shook his head. He didn’t know where his parents were. 

“Here, let me see your arm.” 

Virgil was hesitant, but carefully rolled his sleeve up. The cool tip of her Sharpie scribbled over his pale skin for a moment, and when she finished, she’d mapped out the directions to a few homeless shelters. 

“They should be able to help you if you don’t have anyone else,” she said. “They can feed you, too. You should eat.”

Virgil’s face turned red. “Okay. Uh, thank- Thank you. Thanks.”

She smiled and squeezed his shoulder, and then she was on her way. 

Virgil spent the next few weeks hopping around homeless shelters. Most of them only allowed a few days’ stay at a time, and he was forced out after breakfast early in the morning. Occasionally, he had to find alternative places to sleep, resorting to behind closed stores, alleyways, fire escapes— Anything he could find and be relatively certain he wouldn’t be caught. 

Most days spent in the city were unproductive. He was overwhelmed, not sure what he wanted, what choices he even had. The stark difference of the empty house he spent three days in, the loudest sounds being traffic outside or his music, to plunging himself deep in the middle of something that was constantly alive, constantly busy, was… 

Overwhelming. 

He was at a cafe, his current favourite place in the city because they let him stay as long as he wanted and gave him free water, when he saw the ad. 

THREE ROOMMATES (MALE) LOOKING FOR FOURTH 

The three of us are currently struggling to make rent, and we have a spare bedroom. Rent would be approximately $575/month. Two of us work from home, and they’re very loud. One of them only works from home part-time. 

Attached was a phone number to call for an interview. 

Virgil asked the girl behind the counter to borrow her phone, and dialled the number with shaking hands. 

“Hello?” 

“H-Hi.” Virgil cleared his throat as his voice broke. “Um, I saw your ad?” 

“Oh! Awesome! When are you free for an interview?”

“Any time, but…” He swallowed. “I’m… I’m just a little, uh, short. I only have about $490 left. But- But if I just had a place to stay, I could-”

“Hey!” The boy sounded concerned. “Hey, hey, calm down. We can still do the interview! Everyone here is struggling, we get it. Besides, you’re our third applicant, and the other two are… Not favourable. So if you nail the interview, and we don’t get too many more applicants, I’ll try to convince my roommates. Where have you been staying?”

Virgil hesitated. “Kind of, um, all over the place. The- The shelters, mostly.” 

“Hmm,” he hummed gravely. “Okay, are you free in an hour? I’m home, so if you want to bang out the interview today, we can!” 

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Really? Uh- Yeah. Yeah, I can get there. Um, what’s the address?” 

When he arrived at the apartment complex, he wanted to throw up and go back to the shelter. Images of Patton laughing at him, or harassing him, or attacking him were the mildest thoughts to run through his head. 

But this was his best option. 

He knew that. 

He had to go inside. 

He took in a shuddering breath. He had to go inside. 

He walked inside. 

Virgil was afraid of elevators, so he took the stairs, only half procrastinating. Patton and his roommates lived on the fourth floor. By the time he arrived, his thighs burned and he was a little out of breath. He looked down at himself and cringed— He was so skinny, mostly just bones, and pale. He looked like he crawled out of a cave. He wore his boyfriend’s now dirty hoodie and jeans that hadn’t been washed in a week. 

How the fuck was he supposed to land this interview? 

He forced himself to push forward, though, and when he knocked, he barely heard it. The door flew open and Virgil barely managed not to jump back. The boy on the other side had golden-brown skin and big, round green eyes. His dark hair fell in messy curls over his forehead. His apron, covered in flour and cocoa powder, followed the swell of his round belly. 

“Hi!” He stuck his hand out. “Virgil? I’m Patton!” 

Virgil shook his hand with a loose grip and stepped inside when gestured. Patton pointed out the table while he hung up his apron, and Virgil nervously lowered himself into one of the old, chipped wooden chairs. Patton came to sit across from him with a warm smile and a sheet of paper. 

“Okay, so I just have a few questions!” He said cheerily. “Don’t let yourself get too nervous, this is hardly formal, I promise.” 

Virgil nodded. 

“Okay! First question: How long would you be staying?”

Virgil blinked. “Uh… I’m not- I’m not really sure. As long as possible, I guess. Until I get back on my feet and some time after that, if you all are still here.” 

Patton scribbled his answer down. “What do you like to do in your free time?” 

Virgil spent an embarrassing amount of time thinking about that question. Did cleaning count as free time? No, that was basically his job. Better refer to it as such. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and stumbled out, “Well, uh, I guess- I guess I listen to music a lot. I gardened sometimes with, you know, those tiny plant boxes?” 

He gasped, and for a terrifying second, Virgil thought he’d somehow offended him. But then Patton pointed to the right, into the living room. Along the sill of the huge window were several of the exact planter boxes Virgil’s boyfriend bought for him. 

“That’s awesome!” Patton gushed. “You’d be able to help us take care of them! They die a lot. We’re planting a lot of strawberries right now, are you any good with them?”

Virgil nodded. “Y-Yeah, I grew tons of strawberries.” 

Patton grinned ear to ear and furiously scribbled some things down. Virgil relaxed a little. “How clean are you? Are you good at cleaning up after yourself?”

Virgil was nodding before he finished speaking. “Yeah, I’m really clean. I spent a lot of time cleaning before I left, so it’s, uh, pretty much habit not to leave a mess around.”

“How would you feel about a chore chart?” Patton pointed to the fridge behind Virgil. Stuck on the front was a large sheet of paper split into three columns, with the headings PATTON, LOGAN, and ROMAN. “Logan made it, and he’s pretty strict about everyone sticking to it. It basically just splits our weekly house chores down the middle, with small accommodations depending on what job everyone has. On paper, I have the least amount of chores because I work the most hours, but a lot of those are cleaning, anyway.” 

Virgil shifted nervously. Would they let him off by saying looking for a job counted towards those hours? Otherwise… He’d be doing a lot of cleaning. What if I trick myself into thinking leaving was a waste of time? 

“I can do that.” He was surprised at how confident he sounded. 

“Great! How often do you cook? No one’s required to cook a certain amount a week or anything- You don’t have to cook at all, if you don’t want to or can’t -but we eat a lot of family dinners so it’s evened itself out so far naturally.” 

“Yeah- No, I can cook. I have a few recipes pretty nailed down so, uh, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Virgil’s body was alive with adrenaline. Was he doing well? He thought he was doing well. Patton looked happier and happier with each answer, so he had to be doing well, right? 

“Along the same line, how do you feel about sharing?” Patton bit his lip. “We understand that everyone has their boundaries, but we’re all pretty close. If you moved in, someone might dip into your groceries by accident, and borrow something without asking. We’d never go into your room without asking, but, well… Yeah, we have boundary issues.” He giggled nervously. 

Tightness expanded in Virgil’s chest. “That’s fine,” he managed. 

Patton frowned. “It’s okay if you’re not. If you’re the right fit for us, we’ll just have to be more careful. You’d just have to forgive a few slip-ups while we adjust.” 

Virgil nodded and forced his voice to steady. “It’s fine. I promise.” He’d just keep everything important in his room- It’s not like he had more than a backpack’s worth right then, anyway. 

Patton nodded slowly and wrote down his answer. “Okay… Um, what’s your sleep schedule like? Roman and Logan both get up pretty early. Logan’s really quiet, but Roman’s really… Not, so if you’re a light sleeper and you sleep in like a normal person, his singing might get on your nerves.”

“I’m fine with that. I, uh, my sleep schedule’s kind of all over the place, so I don’t think it matters?”

“Okay! How has it been lately?”

“Well, uh, the shelters kick us out pretty early, so my sleep schedule probably coincides with Roman’s.” 

Patton nodded. “Do you have any pets, or plans to get any?” Virgil shook his head, and Patton made a noise of disappointment. “How often do you get drunk?”

Surprised, Virgil admitted, “I’ve never gotten drunk.” 

“Oh!” Patton blushed and laughed. “Do you plan on changing that any time soon? Was it a rule, or?” 

“It wasn’t a rule, I just… I don’t know, there was never too much alcohol around. I don’t plan on getting into the stuff, no.” 

Patton nodded and mumbled, “Good.” He straightened up. “Are you still friends with your old roommates?” 

Virgil folded his hands in his lap, squeezing tight. “No?” He stammered, “Is, uh, is that bad?”

He shook his head. “No, not necessarily! How many roommates have you had?”

“Well, there were my parents, and then my boyfriend.” 

“That’s completely understandable,” Patton promised. 

Virgil tipped his head to the side in confusion. Even the part about his parents? He didn’t assume Virgil was some ungrateful, heartless monster? 

“And, um, I’m sorry about this-” Patton looked at him guiltily, “-but I do have to ask… How would you be paying the rent? Would you be able to put down a deposit?”

Shit. Fucking hell, this was going bad fast. “I’m not really sure yet? I- I know that’s bad, I just- Uh, well, I have been looking, I promise. I’ll get the first job I can. I promise.”

Patton held his hand up with a frown. “Hey, it’s okay. I know, you’re in a rough spot right now. It’s okay. You said you’d be a little on the first month?”

Virgil swallowed and nodded. “I can give it to you now, though.”

Patton laughed nervously. “Uh, no, that’s okay. Please hold onto that. If we accept you as a roommate, we’ll take it then, okay? Don’t let someone pre-emptively take your money.” 

Virgil blushed. “Okay.”

Patton wrote something down, then looked up and asked, “Is there anything else I should know?” 

He thought for a moment. He was sure there was something he should tell them, something they were obligated to know before they agreed to live with him. Plenty of ideas ran through his head in his boyfriend’s voice, but for whatever reason, he didn’t think those were appropriate to voice. 

“No,” he settled on. “Not that I can think of.” 

“Okay.” Patton smiled and set the paper down. “We’ll get back to you as soon as possible.” 

Reblogs > Asks > Likes 

Also, for anybody who isn’t aware, I have a ko-fi where I’ll write you 300 words with your prompt for one coffee 

[runner5ive]

And the award for the most popular request goes to..... Radio Cabel!

I hear Zoe's name and I have a primal need to give her ALL THE FRECKLES!

This one is for @indelible-colouring-markers @roamingneverland and @running4chaos 💕💕💕

If you’d like to request something please go here to see who’s who! I’ve had a few requests so far and I’m starting to work through them, but there’s still plenty of characters available 💕

Info below the cut for neatness 🥰

Radio Abel - No Spoilers

The very start of Five’s life at Abel, before they really knew anyone else, Five had Radio Abel. 

It wasn’t that there wasn’t anyone who was willing to try to be friends with Five, but they were mute, and no one knew at this point that they knew BSL because... well, Five didn’t expect anyone else to know it. In Mullins, no one had really been bothered about learning either, so they had sort of accepted that it would be the same in Abel.

So, whilst everyone else would spend their evening in the rec room together, Five would take their headset and a transmitter, go and sit in their bunk, and listen to Jack and Eugene’s show. And for a while, they didn’t feel so lonely. 

The moment Sam realises they know how to sign, the loneliness is eased tremendously, and Five finally begins to mix with others. But Five is always fond of the show, and listens almost daily. Even if it’s just old reruns, it’s comfort for them. 

The first time they meet Jack or Gene, its after a decontamonation shower. They’re rubbing their hair dry on a towel, heading to the mess hall, and suddenly Jack has seized them.

“You’re the new runner! How about an interview for the listeners?” 

Five is stunned. It takes a moment of confused silence for Jack to realise: “ohhhh, so you’re like mute mute!” Gene, of course, is wondering how the hell he had fallen for someone with quite literally 0 braincells. 

Still, Five is a little honoured. They find Sam, drag him to the radio shack, and the interview goes ahead with him translating for them.

After that, if Jack and Gene ever catch Five leaving the comms shack, they’ll come them in and ask them to pick the next song for the listeners. 

Eugene makes the mistake of criticizing Five’s choice in song one day. He groans and says it’s the worst song he’s ever heard, how could they like that rubbish? Five looks at him for a moment, then smirks, and switches the song to the actual worst song ever, ramps up the volume and switches the music to Abel’s tannoy system so the entire township can hear it. 

Three hours. Three hours it goes on for. For hours, all anyone in the town can hear is Disney’s ‘It’s a Small World’ on loop. The boys try everything to change the song, to get it off the tannoys, but nothing they try works. Five doesn’t turn it off for them until Gene apologises and promises never to criticize again. 

After that, Janine decides that Five is not allowed in the radio shack ever again. They are banned. That doesn’t stop them from breaking in constantly. Jack and Gene have no idea how they do it. 

Five is not good with mental health stuff. Anyone else's, they are fine. They know what they can do to help. They know who to fetch if they can’t do anything. But their own mental health? They’re particularly bad at dealing with it. They don’t tell anyone when they’re starting to feel panicky, when their chest is tightening, or their heart racing. But Radio Abel: that always helps. They go to their bunk, put their headphones on, and close their eyes as they listen to the boys. It helps to ground them.

Radio New Tomorrow - Season 2  spoilers

When Five finds themselves as a refugee in New Canton, Five finds themselves panicking. There’s nothing but confusion about the attack on Abel. Sara’s probably dead. They’re in the middle of the enemies territory The last they heard of Sam or Janine was before the rocket launcher attack. As far as they’re aware, everyone is dead. They can feel themself panicking. So they find themself a quiet corner amongst the hubbub, switch to Radio Abel... and are met with nothing. Error tones. And a replay of the attack. The explosion. Five feels sick. 

And then comes Phils voice.

They hear static-y sounds of Jack and Gene’s voices coming through but they tell themselves that it’s just old footage. They yank their headset off at these points and waits a few moments until they hope it’s tuned out again. 

Five resents Phil and Zoe for the longest time. They continue to tune in out of habit alone. But its not Jack or Eugene. Five has no way of contacting Abel, and no one is willing to do it for them. They’re stuck in another place where not a soul can talk to them, and once again they’re alone. 

One morning, after doing a few laps around New Canton, they tune into Radio New tomorrow... and hear Jack and Gene’s voice, loud and clear and alive.

And then Five is racing to New Canton’s radio shack. The moment the doors open, their hands are signing so quickly. Phil and Zoe have no clue what the hell is happening or what they want. But Five pushes past them and sends ‘Its a Small World’ over to Abel before either of them can pull Five away. 

Once dragged away from the controls, Five FIGHTS to get back, and Phil and Zoe are shooketh.

Phil: “Who the hell is this- this goblin in our shack! OUCH! THEY BIT ME!”  

J&G: “HOLY COW! THAT’S FIVE!” 

After Five is given a stern talking to how they can not bite people with things the way they are, Jack and Gene keep the communication private between Zoe and Phil between songs. Five’s scrawling questions onto scraps of paper (Phil’s notes) and they get a message across. Five almost cries when they tell them that everyones okay. Sam, Janine, Max. They’re alive. 

Five goes to the radio shack whenever they need send a message to Abel. Sometimes, they even get to talk to Sam. But Zoe and Phil are particularly bad at learning BSL. Maybe its because Five doesn’t have a translator. How the hell do they not know the sign for Abel Township yet after Five has used it so many times? It’s frustrating. But Phil has started hiding his notes.

Knowing Jack and Gene are alive and as well as they can be in the apocalypse, Five begins to warm to Phil and Zoe. They think their bickering is funny. 

Plus, it’s quite sweet to hear the four of them get close. 

Five adores playing with Zoe's cats. Sometimes, when they're at New Canton, Zoe will just... Find Five there with her pets. She doesn't mind, as they seem to like them, and she learns of cat related signs from that.

Phil is still salty for a while that Five bit him. But Phil has a kind heart. He trades for a notebook and a pencil so Five doesn't scrawl over his notes again, and when they show up to contact Abel he always puts the kettle on and provides them with biscuits.

After they hear there's been some bad missions, Zoe and Phil always plays Five's favourite songs. Or at least songs that Five had ended up dancing around like a kid in their radio shack. This all amounts to them both having that moment that everyone who meets Five has: wait this lovable kid is THE Runner Five?!?!!

They're glad to return to Abel when they do. They'd wanted nothing but to be able to go home the entire time they stayed at New Canton. But when they visit, it's nice to see Zoe and Phil around. And they always seem somewhat pleased to see them.

[finleyjayne]

EXTRA

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

A/N: Hey guys, I know y’all don’t know me but I’m going to be trying to post some of my fan-fiction. It’s both exciting and scary, please reblog, share. I’m going to be trying to write a little blurb every day for the month of April. If you have any requests please send them my way and I’ll try my best. Thank you in advance. If you want to follow me for ONLY writings my writing blog is @finleyjaynewriting. 

Warnings: Angst, Panic Attack, Self-deprecating thoughts

Summary: You are a part of the Avengers family but it’s sometimes hard to keep yourself from falling into bad habits that you thought you kicked when an essay question from your last college English class causes you to backslide. It’s a good thing your boyfriend Bucky is there to rally the troops and remind you that you are loved, even when you decide to run around the tower in a cape. 

picture credit goes to: Marwan & Khaled Couture Fall/Winter 2019 

Originally blogged by @fashion-runways​

You had been sitting here, staring at your outline notes, grading rubric, and notebook for over an hour. And you still hadn't a scrap of what to write. The list of adjectives on the page getting fuzzier as you tried to decide whether or not they fit you. Or if they were something that your friends, team-members, or family would use to describe you.

 If there was one word to describe you, you'd like to think that it was intelligent. But seeing as you live in a tower with not one but two geniuses and three supersoldiers who have heightened cognitive functions, it was terrifying how stupid you feel on the daily. Even with your triple-majored ass, you were on the lower end of intelligence. 

 Okay, so the people around you wouldn't call you the smart one in the group. What about determined. I mean, it takes a substantial amount of determination to get three master's degrees at the same time in five years. Tapping your pen against your chin as you think, you shake your head. Yeah, no, not when compared to Mr. I-can-do-this-all-day. 

 Sam is the compassionate and supportive one.

 Natasha is independent and fearless.

 Bucky is strong and loyal.

 Bruce is sweet and patient. 

 Wanda is attentive and courageous.

 Tony is eccentric and a genius.

 Steve is gentle and determined.

 Clint is funny and hardworking (even if he tries to play it off).

 Gods, this assignment is going to be the downfall of my perfect 4.0 GPA. You think to yourself, slamming your head onto your notebooks. Why did you have to take English? None of your majors were English oriented. Music, Engineering, and Chemistry. No  English, no need to know how to write a complete sentence. No need to write 2 pages on what your friends consider you using one word. You should know, you've made it 97% of the way through all three majors without taking a single English class. The most writing I had to do was my dissertations, which had nothing to do with this useless "self-expression piece."  The prompt doesn't even make sense! Write 1000+ words on a single word. How is that logically not just busy-work? 

 Just as your eyes and sinuses start filling with the feeling of hopelessness, Bucky comes waltzing into the tower's library with his book of the week. 

 "Heya dollface. Taking a nap?" He calls, the chuckle entwining into his voice in that perfect way it does. 

 And that's all it takes for your body to unleash the body-shaking sobs. The soulful wail that tore through your chest and out your trembling lips was nothing like you'd ever let anyone see. Especially not your team. You were already the weak one. You didn't need them to think anything less, but after comparing yourself to them for the last two and a half hours, you couldn't keep your self-deprecation locked in its cage anymore. 

 Seeing you this way was terrifying for Bucky. He had never seen you cry anywhere besides on stage. Not when you had been on the Mission from Hell. Not when you were hormonal, and Clint stole your heating stuffy. Not even when you were grieving the loss of your ex-girlfriend. So now having your usually bubbly, determined, happy-go-lucky self in a full breakdown was new territory for him. 

 "Woah," he said, eyes widening as he stared. "Hey, hey, hey, it's okay, doll. If anybody deserves a nap, it's you." He comforted as he took giant steps to your chair. Lifting you effortlessly and positioning you into the cradle of his arms as he took a seat in the large Papasan chair to the side of your chosen workspace. Holding you in a tight embrace like you did when he was having a hard time with his anxiety. 

 He focused on breathing evenly and keeping his heartbeat in check, knowing that if he didn't stay calm, the situation would escalate into something worse. Shushing you and rocking you as he observed the table for anything that could give away why you were crying. Bucky knew better than most about your anxiety and depression. He had asked you once how you knew so much about helping him during one of your many cuddle sessions. You had just said that you were working from your own encounters before you changed the subject.

 Though he didn't know everything, Bucky did try to help you as much as he could, especially as your friendship turned into something more. Still, he couldn't see anything that would cause you to become this upset. Usually, you would complain about your English assignments as you hyper-focused on them. Giving up on figuring it himself, he turned back to his distraught girlfriend, who was fighting to control her emotions in his arms. 

 "Babygirl, can you match your breaths to mine? Come on. Breathe in, hold, breathe out." He whispered, holding her tighter to him as she shakily followed him through the exercise a few more times. "Good, now what has my BAMF girlfriend distressed. Who do I need to take care of?" 

 You could feel the seriousness in his voice before you could see him through your tears. "Nobody, it's not a big deal. Just a stupid essay for English."

 "Don't give me that shit, Y/F/N Y/L/N." Bucky cuts off your excuses sternly. "You rarely cry, which, no matter how much you fight it, is unhealthy." Before you could even open your mouth to argue, he had a gentle, calloused finger on your lips. "Not going to remonstrate this. You are clearly upset, you are not okay, and that is okay. I just want to know why so I can help you more fully." He says, lifting his finger from your lips to tuck a few strands of your hair from your face.

 Sighing, you look down. "It's just this essay, I have to write about one word that my friends use to describe me. I ended up spiraling while trying to find a word that would be mine when all the ones I usually consider myself are more aptly displayed by somebody else. Honestly, I don't know why you keep me around. I'm pretty average." you admit, curling in on yourself as your tears gather again. 

 "Hey, none of that printsessa." He scolded you softly. "You are important to us. You are smart, fun, and inspirational. You are the reason we aren't at each other's throats. You are the instigator of too many of our team-building exercises. You single-handedly instigated the reconciliation between Steve and Tony." He started, giving you a smirk as you begin to scrunch your nose up. Tears were forgotten.

 You really didn't like it when he made sense when you were upset. It made feeling bad really hard. The worst part; Bucky damned well knew it. "But, you're biased, Bucky."

 "Maybe I am, but I also know you. And if I heard you correctly: It doesn't say one word YOU would choose to call yourself, but one word WE would define you as. Therefore, you shouldn't be wondering what words we would use. You should have gotten up and asked us. Or even better, you should've texted the group chat and asked! Then you wouldn't be here sending yourself into a hate-spiral, doll." Bucky reprimands softly. Determined to get rid of the lies that your mind is spewing at you, just like you do for him. 

 "I don't wanna bother you guys with my stupid homework. You guys didn't sign up to be pestered by my lack of self-mediation." You grumble huffily, knowing full well you are acting stubborn.

 "If you won't help yourself. I guess it's up to me to help you." Bucky states, standing up with you still cradled snugly in his arms. 

 "BUCKY!" You admonish, clinging to him at his sudden movement. "At least let me walk. I'm overwhelmed and sad, not crippled."

 "What's to say, I don't just wanna carry you? Huh? Also, you're holding me just as tightly love." He smiles brightly at you, kissing you briefly before turning back to the exit. Book, schoolwork, and his original objective forgotten for his new mission. He was going to find his doll her confidence again, with all the positive affirmations that should've been her first thoughts.

 Once settled in the elevator, Bucky looks up, "Hey, Friday, can you take us to Tony, please?" After confirmation from the resident AI, he sets your feet on the ground from the bridal carry he's holding you in but keeping you close to him. "So you need one word? What is your plan?" 

 Keeping your arms in their place around his neck, you lean your head against his secure warmth. "I don't really know, Buck. I kinda got stuck on the first step. If it was an analytical or critical styled piece, it would be a breeze, but it is supposed to be a descriptive essay. I don't know what to do with that. If it was a song, I'd be cuddled with you and my ukelele by now, putting finishing touches on the finished product. But no, there isn't any room for incomplete sentences. Maybe I'll make it a song just to spite the evil bat."

 "Hey, dollface, it's okay, I'm here to help you. Does it just have to be one word, or can it be structured for each person you know to have a different word? Remember what Peter said that one time he was working with you on Formatting? Your thesis could be something like 'I am many things to many different people and therefore have many different words that can be used to describe me. These things are A, B, C, and D. Then, you can use each term for a paragraph of fluff."

 Taking a deep breath, your lip twitches somewhere between a smile and a deep frown. "That does sound like a good idea. I don't really want to track down everyone, though. Can we get everyone into the same room and ask them as a group? It would be less hassle, and maybe we can decide on reasoning and stories to use to explain why? I really don't know how to do this without being really pessimistic and cynical about the whole thing."

 "Mr. Stark is in his lab, he is recommended that he is brought down to the commons, where I will page everyone else." Came Friday's disembodied voice. 

 "Thank you, Friday," you whispered. You weren't really sure that you were ready for this, but you know that this is the best way to finish this essay without spiraling into your self-pity again. It has to get done. Procrastination is not an option. After all, these are your friends. They don't have to know that you were bawling your eyes out about this stupid assignment. 

 Taking another steadying breath, you wipe the remainder of your tears off your make-up-less face onto Bucky's soft T-shirt, before turning out of his embrace to march confidently into Tony's Lab. "Hey Tones, your presence is required in the Commons." You call as you walk in the door. Knowing that Friday would've warned you if Tony had been in the middle of something delicate. 

 "What is it for? I want to get this sequence reconfigured. Can it wait?" Tony said, his full attention on a large display of Smalltalk equational programming floating off of his Holotable. 

 "Nope, if you don't come now, you don't get to participate, let Friday do the reconfiguration code. It will be done by the time you get back. If you come and keep your attitude to a minimum, I'll let you use me as a scapegoat for your next prank." You try to bribe when he looked offended that I'd suggest such a thing.

 "Any prank? Even if it's against loverboy?" Tony perked, throwing a truly roguish smirk over your shoulder. 

 "As long as no one is injured or harmed. But to make sure that I can cover your ass, you need to fill me in on the joke BEFORE you pull it." You say herding him away from the endless rows of code while he is occupied with his next plot. 

  When you finally make it to the Commons, The rest of the Avengers are gathered on the couches. All seemed to be in a decent enough mood. Taking a deep breath, you look to Bucky for direction on how to implement this plan of his. 

 He gives your hand a squeeze as he guides you to the middle of the sectional. Holding you from behind, he clears his throat. "Hey, guys. Thanks for coming to this impromptu meeting. I know you guys were probably doing nothing, anyway, but I appreciate you coming down here. Doll, here, needs some help from us. Well, you guys, since apparently, I am biased." His tone is light as he brings attention to us.

 You can't help but feel that knot of uncertainty come back as he speaks, though. You try your best to hide the shaking of your hands by holding onto Bucky's forarms that rest tightly around your middle, grounding you into the moment. Please just let this be quick. 

 "You are biased," you grumble. "You have to say the best things because you are my boyfriend. It makes for a skewed view on what my friends think of me." 

 "She does have a point, Buck. You tend to have neverending heart-eyes whenever anything is about her. Though that is reasonable, seeing as she is your girl. I'd be more concerned if you didn't have a shade or two of rose to your glasses." Steve said from his station in on the nearest end of the couch to the door. 

 "If his glasses are tinted any pinker, they won't be able to be seen through." Scoffed Sam from the other end of the couch. 

 "Doesn't matter," Bucky cut in before there could be any more railroading. "Y/N has an essay that she has to write but couldn't find the right inspiration for the prompt. Seeing as it pertains to our views on her, I felt it necessary to bring our expertise into the mix."

 "Oh, What's the prompt?" Bruce asked from the corner of the window seat. 

 "It's stupid, It's an essay on the word that your friends and family would use to describe you. Well, in this case, describe me." You say to the oak coffee table that separated the majority of them from you and Bucky. 

 "Doll, stop hating, and just accept the help." He whispered into your 

 "Well, you've definitely come to the right place. Come on, guys, what words describe Y/N?" Tony said enthusiastically, rubbing his hands together from the place he found next to Natasha.

 "Friday, can you make a list on the monitor, so we don't forget any?" Steve asked the AI helpfully.

 "Good idea, I'll start with eccentric," Nat stated.

 "Bubbly."

 "Funny."

 "Smart."

 "Out-going."

 "Playful."

 "Creative."

 "Hardworking."

 "resourceful, Multi-talented, Impressive."

 "Badass."

 "Stubborn." 

 Words just kept coming at incredible speed before there was a ding at the elevator. "Mrs. (Y/L/N), The package you ordered last night needs to be signed for if you wouldn't mind." Friday cut in. 

 As more words were being piled onto the TV screen, you turned toward the elevator. "It's here already??" you asked, making your way to the waiting delivery man. I quickly signed for the package before coming back to the group. Ripping into the box without care as Tony and Clint argued over positive and negative words on the list.

 Letting out an excited squeal while you pulled the long, sky-blue cape out of the box and swishing it over your shoulders, clasping it easily, and spinning in a circle to make it swish out. It was just as you imagined. Silky, soft, and absolutely perfect for everything. When you finally came back to the conversation you found yourself at the center of attention, everyone's eyes were on you in different mixes of amusement and exasperation. 

 "Where you going, Miss Bennet?" Tony laughed out.

 "What do you mean, where am I going? This is my house cape. Don't you have one? It's the latest fashion." You bite back, raising your head in indignation. "I love it, I am going to wear it. EVERYWHERE."

 As everyone's faces split into the biggest smiles, Peter walked into the room, tossing his backpack onto the floor as he took a seat between Sam and Steve. 

 "No Capes!" He said, lovingly referencing the Incredibles. Sending a ripple of laughs through the group of superheroes. "So what has you so Extra today, Y/N?"  

 "Nothing, I just saw this for sale while I was doing research for my recital dress and thought it would be nice." You respond fondly, feeling invincible in the cape. 

 "THAT'S IT! YOUR WORD IS EXTRA!" Clint said, springing from his perch. Everyone looked contemplative for a moment before nodding. 

 "Agreed. It's perfect. You give extra in everything you do." Steve said, not really getting the modern connotation.

 Even though it isn't any of the words that you thought they would choose, you can't really complain. Especially when it gives you the privilege of wearing your Couture Cape around the tower, just because you want to.

 Smiling at Bucky, you raised slightly on your toes to kiss his cheek, whispering a thank you. And with that, you whooshed off to write the worst essay in your academic career. Leaving the bickering and astounded Avengers in your wake.

[halorocks1214]

the law of action

AO3 Link

Word Count: 10100

Summary: The Law of Action must be applied in order for us to manifest things on earth. Therefore, we must engage in actions that support our thoughts, dreams, emotions, and words

Previous Parts (in order): Alan | You are here! | Virgil | Scott | Gordon

these just keep getting longer fellas i dont understand how thats possible but it is. ALSO: REMEMBER IN ATTRACTION WHEN I MENTIONED THAT THESE WERE BEING WRITTEN OUT OF ORDER. HA, UH, KIND OF AN UNDERSTATEMENT I GUESS. but its here! johns pov chapter! im pretty satisfied with it, albeit a few kinks i wasnt really able to work out, so i hope you enjoy it too!

thanks again to @gumnut-logic for the prompts! "Where?" and lightning were this fic's choices. sad to see the last ones go away, but this was still a blast so thank you once more! also, just because the prompts are gone doesnt mean this series will be too ;3

Anger was a rare emotion for John Tracy.

It had to be. When dealing with the cold hard truth of data telling them something wasn't possible or dealing with annoying people who thought they knew better than him or dealing with people panicking in his ear because nobody expected the aftershock of an earthquake to be that bad, he didn’t have a choice. There were a lot of deals in life that had to be made and someone needed to play peacemaker, even if it wasn’t deserved.

It was true that he got the least angry out of his siblings, even compared to Virgil. Virgil might not get necessarily violent like Scott did, or threw caution to the wind like Gordon, or, hell, pulled off whatever John does when someone somehow manages puts him in a bad mood, but Virgil did get angry quite a lot. He just didn’t have as many blatant ways of showing it. John, on the other hand, didn’t have a lot of ticks. Pet peeves, definitely, John was no stranger to annoyance (especially with siblings like his), but not outright anger.

That didn’t mean he never got angry. He was Tracy born and bred, so that meant one the few ticks he did have surrounded the topic of family.

Specifically, his family being threatened.

John wished he was the youngest sometimes. That meant he could say things like let Scott punch the idiot already, he’d be doing the world a favor, and not get lambasted for the immature response. It also meant he could throw tantrums to hell and back and not feel like a total loser.

Like right now for example.

“EOS, I swear, if you don’t open the elevator door for me--”

“No, I won’t.”

Unbelievable.

Groaning and rubbing his face, his hands found their way up to his forehead and through his hair, holding his bangs out of his eyes for a moment. His eyes had many emotions in them, the most blatant being this shit cannot be happening right now, “EOS, do you know you’re amazing? I don’t think I’ve said that enough.”

EOS whirled for a moment, “John, I’ve seen that grin on Gordon. I cannot believe you would stoop that low.”

The grin she pointed out fell flat off his face, “Yeah, okay, you’re right about that--”

“Like I always am.”

“--So thank you,” John was going to strangle whoever defined sass so thoroughly in the dictionary. It left a bad example, “For the reminder, but seriously, I need to get up to ‘Five. It’s… important.”

It’s been a week since Alan was taken.

They’ve exhausted all options.

The only thing that could possibly get him back to them had to be International Rescue’s resources.

But EOS over here wasn’t getting the memo. Her words had that hint of childish innocence behind it. In that way that said there was no innocence whatsoever and she knew exactly what she was doing, the little shit, “John, do you really need to, or do you want to?”

There’s the inflection that John taught her. An inhale through the nose and… Uuuugghh, “EOS, I know the difference between needs and wants, this is definitely a need.”

Another lens blink, another moment of disbelief, “It seems like you have a lot of needs, John Tracy.”

John grimaced and ground his jaw together, mumbling his grievances with the current situation, “Yeah, well, if there’s any trait I truly share with my siblings, it’s that we’re all high maintenance.” His next words were more clear and designed to get the point across, “EOS, I’m not kidding, unlock the door.”

EOS stood her ground, “John, you going up there is one of the most detrimental things to you’re health at the current moment. I won’t let you.”

John threw his hands into the air, “EOS, there’s are whole lotta things that are currently detrimental to my health currently happening, one more thing won’t hurt.”

EOS lens shuttered again and John felt like it was nails on a chalkboard, “You have a point, but I’ve seen you with Scott when he’s in a similar mood. Don’t you tell him he needs to take a moment and think when he gets like this?”

John groaned as quietly as possible. Not too loud, but loud enough that EOS hopefully got the point, “Yes, I do, but I’m not Scott. We are two very different people, you have pointed this out numerous times. We have different ways of handling things, this, and ‘Five is exactly how I can fix this problem.”

That was not how he should’ve worded that. Her lights flickered in sympathy, sympathy, and he knew she finally figured out what John was trying to get at, “John, there may still be a lot I have to learn, but at least I understand--”

“No, EOS!” John snapped before he could help himself. Before she could finish explaining her point of view that was most likely right, but his desperate brain didn’t want to hear it. His brain that was running on zero energy telling him this was taking too long, fix that, “You can’t understand!”

Just like that, John was reminded of why he hated getting angry.

As soon as the words left his mouth, so did the air in his lungs. Through sheer will and determination, the only thing that didn’t leave his body was the little amounts of food he ate over the past seven days, though it really wanted to. He became very pale, and EOS could detect the not-so-trace amounts of fear that fell over his eyes.

Dammit, you idiot. Months upon that past year of work were now going to go down the drain because you blew your lid just this once! First, the call with Alan, now telling the one thing that could kill you in your sleep she’ll never essentially be good enough was--

“I know, John.”

His food came back with a vengeance, but he was bullheaded as hell, and he already caused enough damage. The last thing anyone needed was to clean up vomit. It would’ve been nicer if she got angry at him. He could handle being thrown out into space. He couldn’t handle EOS admitting he was right, least of all over blatantly cruel words.

He channeled the energy his stomach wanted to use into weak words, “E-EOS, I…” What the hell was he supposed to say? Sorry surely wasn’t going to fucking cut it.

Well, whatever he wanted to cut didn’t come up, as EOS continued as if John wasn’t the worst thing on the planet, “I’ve been doing some reading. I understand that I’ll never really understand certain human-based things like you do. You, humans, have gotten close, me being one of the better examples, as long as that’s not considered bragging, but even I’m not at that level yet. But I do at least know you and your habits. I put up with them on a daily basis.”

Because if there’s anything else John needed to fail this week, it was the one promise he made to her. His promise to keep her safe, to make sure she wasn’t treated like a mindless robot by some crazy scientists ready and willing to cut her circuitry wide open like a middle-school science project. While he would never even get close to being a quote-on-quote crazy scientist, never in a million light-years, he surely didn’t follow that middle part of his promise, “EOS, listen, I--”

“Please, John,” and now she was pleading, thinking he was going to ask to use the elevator again. Thinking he wasn’t going to give up, even after all of that. John might’ve laughed if it wasn’t his fucking fault, “I’ll help look for more options if it means you’ll stay here for a little while longer. You should stay with your family. I know how they affect you in those positive ways that you currently need.”

John was abruptly aware of his heavy, almost wheeze-like breathing. If he wasn’t careful, it could delve into one whopper panic attack, which would be so great right now, “Y-Yeah, okay. They probably won’t understand the effects of gravity over an elongated period of time like I do, so I can stay and help with that, at least. Thank you.”

As John turned around, he heard EOS whisper to herself. He could blearily tell it was actually fondness that filled her vocal waves for once, but it still stung regardless, “Idiot.”

Yeah, he really was, wasn’t he.

As he helped look over his Dad’s med-scan with Virgil, when Virgil went looking for something on the other side of the room, his father whispered, “I know this is a bad question right about now, but, is there anything we can do for you? Maybe even I? You look dead on your feet.”

John could only reply to the first half of his father’s statement with a meek, “I don’t know anymore.”

---

16-year-old John Tracy was seated atop his roof, making sure he got the perfect view of the Big-Dipper.

He was hoping to spot a more exciting constellation when he first used his new telescope, but dangit! He was just so excited to get cracking right away! He just got back from his birthday party, Alan and Gordon snoozing in their rooms while Scott and Virgil secretly finished off the cake. That was okay. John was too busy focusing on his new expensive toy to worry about having any more sweets.

His dad could pull some strings when it counted.

Newest model. The only other people who have this baby are scientists at NASA. Happy birthday, John. Sorry I didn’t get you a car like Scott.

Fuck cool cars. John would be on cloud 9 for days with this thing. Scott would call him a nerd for it. Jokes on Scott, he couldn’t zoom about 10 thousand miles into space now, could he?

Right as he nailed it, the world shook. Large arms snaked around his waist and he involuntarily found himself giggling at the contact. As soon as those limbs let go, he blushed at his reaction and cleared his throat. Suddenly, the arms were an entire body sitting down right next to him, speaking with their ever-comforting burly voice, “Hiya, son, I see you just couldn’t wait, huh?”

Rolling his eyes, John turned back into his serious, analytical self once more, “Yup, this thing’s crazy. I’m glad I got out here as quickly as I did.”

Jeff simply grinned. John was always reserved, but Jeff was a good translator for all of his sons, and he could tell that John meant this is one of the best things in my life holy crap, “That’s great to hear. The look on your face when I brought this out of the closet was certainly good enough to last me a few lifetimes.”

John snorted, “I bet it was. I heard Gordon joking about it with Alan. I don’t think I need to see any pictures anymore. I have a pretty good mental image of what I looked like.”

Jeff smiled and sighed, “No kidding. “Like a goldfish with a broken jaw.” Not the most eloquent, that Gordon is.”

Laughter rang out throughout the roof, followed by a few moments of silence. Not awkward, but not really welcomed on John’s part either, “Do you…” Stop it, John, you’re asking for too much, “Nevermind, it’s dumb.”

Jeff tilted an eyebrow, “Oh, is it? I guess you would know if something were smart or dumb, so I trust your judgment.”

Dangit, Dad, why are you so manipulative, and why are you so good at it, “I don’t know. I’ve established I wanted to be an astronaut, right?”

Jeff nodded, “Mmhmm.”

John, for some reason, felt like he needed to tread carefully, “You are also an astronaut. If there was any way for you to be able to… could you… could you come up with me the first time?”

Jeff blinked in shock, and before his son could register that as disapproval, “Huh, well, that’s certainly wasn’t what I was expecting. Sure, I don’t see why not.”

Now it was John’s turn to blink, his mouth gaped, “Wait, what? Are you serious? Aren’t there rules for this kind of stuff?”

Jeff shrugged, his shoulders clearly saying rules shmules, “I’m also one of the biggest entrepreneurs on the planet itself, and one of the most renowned ex-astronauts there are. You would not believe the lengths people are willing to go to kiss my ass. Would you feel better if I pinky promised?”

John’s nose scrunched, “You can never truly promise anything, you know.”

His father chuckled, used to his son’s antics. John was reserved, remember, “Well, you boys always credited me with doing the impossible.”

John continued challenging him, “When we were all less than 10, yeah, sure. I think Alan still thinks you can breathe in space. You. Specifically. No one else. I think he said you only wore the helmet to “protect your secret so the evil movie scientists don’t take you away.””

Chuckles turned into laughter and a clap on John’s shoulder, “Well, glad to see I still got the magic touch at least.” That same arm that playfully smacked him was now wrapped around his shoulders, “Just you wait, Johnny boy, if I can’t get on that ship with you, then you bet your ass I’ll at least be the loudest one cheering in the crowd.”

Then, suddenly, John was right, like he always was.

A promise that never should have been made: broken. A wish never fulfilled.

Dad was swallowed up by the very thing John loved.

No more space stories, no more fun moon facts, there was a void in John’s life as big as the galaxy itself, and he wasn’t sure how to walk around it, or God forbid even into it.

He tried to be the healthy sibling about it. He tried so hard. Getting through high school quicker than most so he could just worry about his family. Scott and Grandma were doing their best, and in so many ways, it was enough, but even they couldn’t bear all of the stress themselves.

But then his high school graduation came and Grandma gave him one of the biggest hugs of his and her life and he realized that he would never get one from his father again. His mom leaving this world was already bad enough, but at least his dad was there and knew how to fill in the gap after years and years of his marriage with her. You didn’t marry a woman like Lucille Tracy and not fundamentally understand how the gears in her brain turned lest you were truly insane. Maybe Dad was. Certainly would explain a lot of things from John’s perspective. Certainly would explain why she married him in the first place. Crazy attracts crazy.

Regardless, the one thing closest to his mom’s warmth and care was gone, and if he spent the night of his graduation party quietly sobbing his eyes out while the others slept, well, then he was glad they kept snoring.

Try as he might, he became just as unhealthy and unbalanced as the rest of his family, but he was more subtle about it. His self-destructive ways weren’t bad if other people had them, but when it came to him, oh, he knew it was the worst thing he could do in terms of recovery. That’s probably why the rest of the family didn’t notice (Good). John was smart, he would know better. Yes, he did, which is exactly why he dived headfirst right into it all.

Focusing on college, getting up into the star-filled void closer to his dead relatives as quickly as possible, focusing on the here-and-now to make sure this shit didn’t happen again. Making sure no family went through what theirs did.

And maybe that’s why, why he couldn’t handle the touch of others wanting to comfort him. Because it reminded him too much of what they used to have, of what they used to be. Too many hugs and kisses from others might wash away what his mom’s and dad’s felt like, and out of all the things they could potentially lose from this, those were the worst possible ones.

John was a Tracy, which meant he was stubborn.

He wasn’t going to lose the last few things he remembered about his parents if he could help it.

---

It had been just under a month, and John finally got what he wanted.

And it wasn’t working like he thought it would, if at all.

He’s been on ‘Five for three days, and for just a fleeting moment, it washed away any uncertainty. He felt back in control, if only minorly, and he held the world at his fingertips once more. Too bad the world he wanted to fix was so far away it felt like it was on the other side of the frickin solar system itself.

He promised his family four days at most. Please, just one chance. We won’t know unless we try. He wasn’t sure what cracked them first, them coming upon dead end after dead end, them finally seeing reason behind John’s argument, or if they just got annoyed with the space monitor after endless nagging and relented like tired parents.

The tiny part of John’s mind that still allowed him to joke kinda hoped it was the third option. “Easy child”, pfft. John’ll show them.

Right, right, a clear head, the most focused of IR, he can’t get unfocused or go too far off track. He’s saved many lives throughout his life, all of them thanks to his level head, but right now, he was arguably saving the most important life of all, so that meant he had even more incentive to stay focused.

In fact, he was so focused, he jumped at the sudden, feminine voice filling the room, “John, I found another article I think you would like to see about most common places criminals… John?”

Crap, he was halfway into the fetal position. Slowly uncurling, John nodded, “Oh, thank you, EOS. I’ll start reading it shortly.”

The noise of her lens adjusting sounded throughout ‘Five again, “Of course. Let me know if you would like me to start searching for a different topic, though. There has to be a limit to how many “You wouldn’t believe this” articles one can take, and I think I’m finding it really quickly.”

For the next few seconds, John was suddenly filled with a rush of determination he had been trying to get after their little confrontation in front of a locked elevator door to ‘Five.

She had been helping him out so much the past couple of weeks. Running unnecessary tests for him, searching parts of the web only she could search without getting tracked by some secret mafia, letting him know it was okay if he couldn’t get everything right the first time when two months ago she snapped at him for getting a simple algebra equation wrong due to lack of sleep. She had been especially patient with him recently, even after their little spat in the hangar, and John wasn’t sure how to process it. A tiny part wanted to resort to anger again because he clearly didn’t deserve her, but the more prevalent parts preferred something like depression or even apathy.

She had been making sure his world didn’t spin off its axis, and John couldn’t even tell her sorry until now.

“EOS, I’m sorry.”

She stopped moving, turned around and let her lights blink yellow for only a moment, “For what, John?”

The man in question waved his hands around in front of his face, lost, confusing her more. With a sigh, he explained, “For a lot of things, but mainly from a few weeks back when we had that argument. I said something that wasn’t okay, and I didn’t have the balls to own up to it until now. So, I’m sorry. I crossed a line I shouldn’t have even been near.”

For a little bit, it was quiet. John waited as the A.I. contemplated his words. Then, she spoke her judgment, “Well, I know you are. You haven’t exactly been working off your butt over nothing, right? Plus, reliable sources say one of the ways guilt manifests is anger. I’ve seen that with the rest of your family. It would make sense yours would too.”

John blinked. Part of him was expecting her to not fully understand why he was apologizing, but the other wanted her to just so he could get over this, just so he could let go of even just the teeniest amount of guilt he had, “EOS, anger isn’t a valid excuse. What I said was wrong. I don’t believe those words and you shouldn’t either. The whole point of this partnership is to show you that there’s more to life than just calculations and probabilities. It’s kind of hard to see that when the one person who promised to be different went and screwed it up anyway.”

John hoped EOS was at least questioning things now instead of letting his words go in one ear and out the other. Her next words said she was doing exactly the latter, “Okay. I don’t disagree with you, John, but I don’t know why you’re so hooked on this. I understand. We don’t have to worry about this unnecessarily anymore.”

Yes, you do understand. That’s the fucking point.

They weren’t getting anywhere, yet John didn’t even have the energy to groan in annoyance. He could even get his eyebrow to twitch.

All he could do was simply lean his head back against the wall and let his hair stick up against it like static electricity was flowing through it. The real reason it was sticking up was probably due to a mixture of Zero-Gs and grease from all of the showering he hasn’t been doing, however. His eyes had deep rings around them, and for a second, EOS thought about how relative age could be as a number while John softly spoke, “The Hood was an angry man, too, you know. He felt slighted by our family and wanted us to feel the same. It still doesn’t make what he did right.”

EOS thought about his words before coming to a logical conclusion, “Well, that’s certainly a leap in logic. There’s a big gap between simply yelling because you’re annoyed and literal kidnapping. One gives people a sour mood, the other gives them a significant amount of jail--”

“Yes, EOS, I’m aware of that,” John brought his hand to his face, but underneath it was a grin, telling the world that he was feeling fond exasperation more than anything. EOS was more obtuse than him sometimes. It was one of the few things of himself he wished she didn’t copy so easily. He sighed and brought his hand back down, “I’m just... putting things into perspective. I want you to see why my words were wrong. It would make me feel better if you did.”

EOS hung still, letting John’s admission roll over her wiring like a wave of electricity, “You have a lot of needs and wants. What takes precedent?”

More inflection. This time, John welcomed it. It gave him something to stand on. John wanted a lot of things. Alan to be home safe and sound, Dad to have not disappeared for nearly a decade, for his brothers to stop slowly killing themselves, for himself to stop, but the needs of the many, even the needs of one, outweigh the wants of a singular man like him, but, “Well, needs obviously, they’re necessary, however… it’s okay to be selfish every once in a blue moon. It doesn’t make you inherently bad.”

It was advice he parroted many-a-times to his family, some of them more often than others, seldom to himself if at all.

Scott, it’s okay if you have to tell them you can’t make this business conference.

Virgil, you can count inventory in the morning. You didn’t get any sleep last night either.

Gordon, if you can’t smile for a day or two, that doesn’t make you a bad person.

Kayo, you don’t have to patrol every night. We have security cams for a reason.

Alan, I know we tease you, but you missing a chore or two isn’t the end of the world.

Grandma, you already do enough for us, you barely cooking for us is the least of our worries.

That last one might be more for the rest of his family than not, but hey, two birds and one stone. Keeping his back against the wall, John stood up straighter against it, face suddenly serious, “In fact, wanting to be selfish is one of the best ways to tell that you’re human. You can’t escape it. It only becomes bad when you end up only being that.”

EOS sat in silence, her lens flickering in that way it always does when she was signifying she was about to pass judgment like a Goddess, which she seemed to be doing a lot more recently, “Well then… If I’m allowed one moment of self-reprieve, I suppose I should say that those words did… hurt.”

John grimaced despite very much understanding that he deserved it. The return of the inflection didn’t exactly help. Pushing himself away from the wall, he felt the metaphorical weight fall off his shoulders, “Yes, they did, and while they weren’t okay, it is okay to say that they weren’t. I still am very sorry.”

EOS adjusted her camera, probably to stall for time, “I know you are, John. I still forgive you, but am I correct in assuming I’m allowed some time to… recover isn’t the word I’m looking for, but--”

“Yes, EOS,” John helped her explain her own point, “Recover is a good word. You’re allowed that if you want it.”

John wasn’t sure how, but it seemed like EOS visibly relaxed, “Thank you, then, for letting me do that. This.”

For some reason, John did too, “Of course.”

It was a soft kind of awkward silence, where both parties had something on their mind but they weren’t entirely sure if they wanted to say it out loud. This is why EOS appreciated John more than the others, he simply let silence be silence. It allowed her time to think, unlike how Scott and Virgil kept asking questions, or how that awful duo made noises and messes only to have a chance at making people laugh. As if that was the most important thing they needed to do.

The nights the youngest called John were endless with his constant babbling that tended to grate her circuit boards. The only reason she let it happen was that John seemed to loosen up at the interaction. He became less weary, less worried-filled. He seemed to greatly enjoy the audial presence of Alan Tracy, let alone the way he lit up when the youngest actually showed up in person. It was just unfortunate that it seemed like the kid could never keep his mouth shut.

Then again… from what John said, the whole reason there wasn’t any more Alan was because he did keep it shut. At the worst moment possible. Now there wouldn’t be any more babbling period. Alan was gone, and the whole family was suffering from the new silence. EOS reasoned it was from the general idea of forced silence instead of just freely being able to leave the room or being able to tell him to quiet down, but maybe it was more than that. She could make another list of options to consider.

Plus, it was weird to think about a future where all of those video game walkthroughs she was forced to save would never be used again. John insisted that they weren’t just wastes of megabytes, so...

Hmm.

“Could you…” EOS trailed off, and before John could comprehend the unusual behavior of the A.I., she started speaking again, “Could you tell me more about Alan? I’m starting to think I judged him rather harshly.”

John took a moment to register her words and promptly snorted, “Well, most of your assumptions about him aren’t entirely unfounded, but that’s one of the joys of being an older sibling, I guess. Surprises around every corner,” there was regret in her voice and John knew he had to treat this as gently as he would a newborn child otherwise he would never hear it again.

EOS flickered, “I thought you didn’t like surprises.”

Uh, “Well, not usually, but there are a few from time to time that I could look back on and call them… quaint, in a sense.” Suddenly, a memory resurfaced, and John found himself grinning like he was doped up on nitrous oxide, “Yeah, they can have good surprises occasionally…”

It was a week before his next rotation. Scott would be back home in about three days, which allowed the second born to actually have a few moments with his only older brother. He was looking forward to it just as much as Scott was. Right now, though, he had to make sure he got the right angle.

Right as he did, he heard the soft pitter-patter of footsteps come up the ladder, and when he turned around, he was met with a bundle of freckles, “Oh, hey Alan.”

Hi, Johnny, the kid squirmed out, Is it okay if I sit next to you?

At first, a list of things wanted to fill John’s head. You look dead on your feet, you should be asleep, you have a lot going on this week so why are you wasting sleep? but instead of any of those filling the void that was his brain, John simply nodded, “Yeah, sure, come pop a squat, Sprout.”

John looked away right before he could watch Alan’s nose wrinkle in displeasure. Despite the usage of the nickname (that Alan secretly liked, don’t think you could pull that wool over our eyes, little bro), the kid still toddled over and flopped himself down right next to his older brother. Sighing, the kid leaned his head on John’s arm and absentmindedly stared out into space, both figuratively and literally. Satisfied his brother was comfy, John went back to his current objective.

As John examined the night sky, he also carefully looked over Alan out of the corner of his eye. Every bruise that John could see was finally dulling out into that familiar greyish-yellow as bruises do, and the sight was enough to calm any negative emotion being created from the reminder. John refocused on his telescope to help as well.

The kid had been through one hell of a week, bullies being their typical selves. Every Tracy outside of Scott and Gordon had their fair share of their own experiences with nasty people, and it wasn’t even the first time they’ve left their special kind of blue-and-black marks, but seeing it on Alan was… worse, somehow. Virgil had unsavory anonymous notes at ‘best’, and John knew first hand that their hits bruised more than just physical skin. So to see Alan get the same treatment and not say anything...

John was starting to understand why his older brother greyed so easily.

Speaking of which, Scott was pretty peeved at the idea of not being there for Alan. Because of this, John made sure to be the sole one to call him and inform him of the awful news while the older brother was out at his designated Air Force base. John wanted to see with his own two eyes that Scott wouldn’t do anything rash and made himself liable to be put on some kind of list.

You would think he wouldn’t be that stupid, but the Tracys are known for breaking expectations over their sweet, sweet kneecaps.

(“Scott, you’re not going to steal an Air Force jet just to come and beat up some dumb kids.”

“Watch me.”

“They’re only a year older than Alan.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

John pinched the bridge of his nose, “Listen, we already scarred them enough as it is, let alone their expulsions. Grandma’s threats to the adults were liable for a government-mandated therapist, Virgil just being there had them running for the hills, the computer I was sporting sent chills down their spines and throughout the hallways, and that’s not even to mention Gordon’s threats to the kids themselves. Seriously, where would a 15-year-old even get the tools to do that?”

Scott visibly relaxed at John’s point, but he still sat a little taut, not fully accepting the idea of people being cruel enough to hurt a literal ray of sunshine, “Fine, fine, I still want to talk to the kid over a call at some point. He was the one who dealt with those idiots.”

John’s shoulders deflated, “Yeah, you got me there. He’ll be back with Virgil and Gordon soon enough, you can see him then.”

Scott smiled in a way that washed away the greys in his hair, if only for a moment, “Awesome, I--”

John wasn’t completely done, “But I’m going to be with Alan while you talk to him. I don’t trust you to not be in search-and-destroy mode, and the last thing Alan needs is an angry you with no buffer. Besides, I’m pretty sure we have the same questions. I can play the angsty-Scott translator tonight. Usual fee, 10 bucks each word.”

The groan that managed to fill the whole house despite the tiny speakers was one John would never forget.)

Too lost in thought, John didn’t catch Alan’s movements at first. Leaning away from his telescope, John focused on Alan, “Sorry, Allie, did you say something?”

The child simply shrugged and smushed his chubby cheeks against John’s side, shaking his head, followed by his hands, I just wanted to see what you were doing.

Ah, that made sense. Alan had been continuously signing for the past year because of the obvious, so John rolled with the punches. It was always funny when they talked about these years in the future. Alan talked, Alan said, Alan brought up: it was always metaphorical, and nobody could believe them when they said Alan was fluent in ASL, let alone because he could actually go half a day without talking.

It was ironic because even with no words, Alan still managed to be the loudest thing on the planet. His hands always screamed with excitement whenever he felt like ‘talking’, and no brother ever felt like shutting him up. Especially when it was so easy for Alan to simply not shake his hands to hide the fact that he was in trouble--

Right, don’t go there. John shook his head to bring himself out of his thoughts and replied to the non-verbal admission, “Just looking at the stars. Recording their coordinates and whatnot.”

A small gasp had John jerking immediately away from his scope to see Alan suddenly very worried, maybe even fearful, But won’t you lose your eyes?!

Aha, what? “Allie, you’re going to have to give me more than that.”

John almost didn’t catch what Alan was trying to explain with the way he frantically shook his hands even faster than before, Mrs. Gatsen explained to us that the sun was a star too, but we’re not allowed to look at it for too long because it’ll steal our eyes! I don’t want you to lose your eyes, Johnny!

Ohoho, the part of John’s brain that was all about the smartsy stuff was gearing up to have a full-blown seminar of sorts, but the way the kid seemed so sincere in his worry, in his fear, John felt partially bad for giggling instead, “Oh, Allie, no. Here,” John was activating his inner Virgil and Scott with the way he grabbed the youngster and placed him in his lap, “Yes, the sun is a star, but there are many kinds of stars. Most of which don’t hurt your eyes. Take a look.”

Alan gave one last sentimental look at John, who nodded again just to reassure the blonde before the boy gulped and put his eye against the tool like Johnny did. This time, the gasp that came from him was more magical, more child-like, as it always should be. John watched on as the kid became stuck to his telescope like glue.

Suddenly, Alan leaned back into John, somewhat knocking the wind out of him. Honestly, now that he was thinking about it, John realized he was pushing it by letting Alan sit next to him in terms of his personal comfort zone. He loved Allie just as much as the rest of the family, but letting them in, letting them get close, was veering dangerously close to that specific ‘hug’ territory like he and his parents had.

Before John could explain that in a child-friendly way, and hopefully in a way where the too-smart-for-his-own-good kid couldn’t pick up on the hidden message, Alan looked him directly in the eyes and confidently signed his wants, Can we do this more often? Can we?

Just like that, John’s mind blanked. Alan wanted to do something with him. Not swim with Gordon, not music with Virgil, not do, well, anything with Scott, Allie found something that he would like to do with John.

Huh, interesting, “Yeah, sure. If we can’t do it in the next week, then the first thing we’ll do when I come down is stargaze, because that’s what it’s called: stargazing.”

Alan started gripping his arm tighter and leaned more into his chest, nodding vigorously at the news and looking back to the sky with newfound wonder. Letting Alan be, abruptly forgetting his grievances with things like touch, John went back to his telescope. After another minute or so, John reached a point where he needed both sides of his body, except it looked like one of them was going to be kept immobile unless the spaceman said something to Alan.

John tried doing just that, just without looking away from his device, “Hey, Allie, I don’t mind the sitting-in-my-lap and stuff, but I do need my arm back to--”

Snoring.

Oh.

Jerking his head to physically look at his sibling, John found Alan passed out and squeezing his arm like a freckled koala bear. The ginger flinched a little bit at the drool dripping onto his sleeve, but the way Allie melted into him made him-- actually, he was very suddenly aware that this whole night he hadn’t really been thinking at all, and that thought made him continue to stare mindlessly at the dozing brother.

He always thought about, well, everything. What he was going to say, what he planned to do tomorrow, about what the future held now that they were down their second and last parent. If he didn’t think about it beforehand, he rarely did it. He had to make sure he went through all of his options before haphazardly jumping into the pits of hell.

Yet the way his younger brother looked at him like he was the world himself tonight made John throw all of his training to be as cautious as possible out the window in a need to comfort and care for the small thing in front of him.

It was shocking to his mind, yet he didn’t resent just being able to do without worrying too much. Was this how smother complexes started? Did he ever drool on Scott’s arm? Still staring at Alan, John’s mind continued to be robotic as he simply let his younger brother be and went back to his telescope. Alan had been needing to get a little more sleep lately anyway.

Yeah, it was fine. He could figure out how to follow up on his words later. It wouldn’t be that hard to figure out a way to squeeze Alan into some of his already-planned stargazing nights while making sure the kid still got sleep. Also, John’s used telescopes wearing a cast and sling before, he might prefer two arms, but he has been okay with only one.

If Grandma yelled at John for spending too much time on the roof again, well, she would have to get over it. Alan got an extra hour of sleep and that was all that mattered.

EOS watched as John finished the story. Once he was done, he continued to be quiet while grinning at nothing. All he was doing was simply staring at the floor… It was slightly creepy, and EOS cleared her nonexistent throat, “Huh, I didn’t realize he got a lot of his interests from you. Maybe… maybe you could show me why he did. He can too. More perspectives always get more data.”

John blinked and was immediately taken out of his trance. He brought his hand to his mouth and cleared his throat, “Yeah, he-- wait, what?”

EOS sighed. This is another reason why she snapped him out of it; his inability to listen to someone right in front of him. She simplified her words, “If Alan comes back, can you two take me stargazing? I don’t think I’ve ever seen what the stars look like down there, or, at least, I never looked at them long enough to understand what you all find to be so fascinating about them.”

John blinked a few more times with his mouth slightly gaped. He looked around nervously before bringing his turquoise eyes to look EOS directly in the middle of her camera, “Yeah, sure, EOS. When Alan gets back, that’s the first thing we’ll do.”

EOS didn’t mention anything about the correction of if to when, “Thank you, John, I would like that very much.”

John nodded and floated back to his tech, “Of course. Now then, we’ve got work to do. I’ve been meaning to stargaze recently anyway.”

He still had one more day up here.

And a baby brother who needed saving.

How hard could it be?

---

Very.

Growling in frustration, he thumped his fist against the wall next to him rather harshly.

Not enough to leave any kind of mark or dent, but enough for him to focus on the tiny amount of pain it gave him. He vaguely heard EOS’s lens flare at the sudden noise, but he was a little too focused on why he felt the need to hit his girl.

It was the end of the last day, and he didn’t make it any further like he thought he would.

Some bleak part of his mind was hoped, prayed that his girl would have the tools to find their baby brother. He was willing to bend her entire satellite to be able to reach the far ends of the galaxy if he had to, but even he had to concede that she wasn’t enough. The Hood wasn’t dumb, unfortunately, and he wasn’t going to go easy on them. That is if he was even going “to go” on them to start with.

While it wasn’t the first time he failed spectacularly, this failure certainly hurt the worst.

Half of him wanted to curl up into a ball and forget everything for a moment (or maybe forever), but the other half won out in terms of what his body contorted into. Instead of curling up like a prickly hedgehog, he leaned backward to be floating with his back to the ground and his face to the ceiling with his face in his hands. Meanwhile, EOS silently gazed from her camera in the corner. Watching John struggle this way was… new, and it twisted her wires in a way she wasn’t sure she could describe.

EOS watched him mumble something. Huh, peculiar as ever. Adjusting her camera, she tried small talk, “What was that, John?”

Still mumbles, but more intelligible, “... I need to drop the ‘s’.”

A flicker of yellow, nothing but pure confusion for once in her robotic life, “The ‘s’ of what?”

Suddenly, the astronaut was standing (well, floating) upright with a look of disdain, but EOS could see that it wasn’t meant for her, “Of ‘she’. It’s not ‘Five’s fault, God, it never is, but maybe… maybe it’s mine.”

All of her programs should allow her to say something. Anything, sugarcoated or not, would be beneficial to this seemingly one-sided conversation, but this was the moment she learned that humans could be faster than computers since John steamrolled right to the point without hesitation, “He wasn’t good enough sounds better. Nothing I’m doing is getting any results. I gave my family false hope that I would find something and now I have to go to them and essentially break them. They were already barely holding it together as it was, but when the “smart one” in their family says there’s nothing he can do…”

She found herself going against the logical part of her program-- because despite the idiot John Tracy could be, when he made an argument that had any kind of evidence you never could go against it-- the first time in, well, ever, in an attempt to comfort her partner, “John… I think you’re grasping at straws here.”

He looked up from the floor, and EOS had to shrink her lens at the sight of unshed tears in his eyes, “Who was the one that called him?! Me! He was standing there only a few rooms over, probably terrified out of his mind, and I didn’t know. I let him slip between our fingers because I was so caught up in the moment and I hate myself for it.”

EOS found herself speechless for once, and the few droplets of tears that floated in front of John’s face didn’t help. She had been trying her best recently, especially recently, to understand the fluctuations of human emotion, and she was pretty sure she had decent tabs on at least John nowadays, but this was something unexpected, a thing her programming never really liked to deal with. It involved lots of new calculations and new sims, why, it made things seconds longer when they didn’t have the time to deal with it!

Her electronic voice box made a noise with the intent to say something, as she thought she finally had the time to deal with it, but just her luck, more unexpected things made her reapproach the issue at hand, “John, look out! The Chaos Crew!”

Blinking out of his self-deprecation train, John was uncharacteristically panicking, “What, where?” After doing a full 180, John eventually saw one of his comm radios with the familiar pink symbol floating above it.

John’s pupils shrunk and his eyebrows tilted downward in that unfamiliar emotion: anger.

Fuck this.

The mood change was as fast as the speed of lightning. John practically flung himself to the communication device on something akin to a warpath. No longer regretful or depressed, John was filled to the brim with fury at the sight of one of the men that was a constant thorn in the Tracy family’s side, “What the hell are you doing here? How the hell did you--”

“Wait wait wait!” Fuse pleaded, making John momentarily pause enough to listen, “I’m not good at this like my sister is, so this connection is going to drop soon. I need you to reopen the line yourself so I can explain what I’m here for! Trust me, I swear I’m not--”

Zip.

Blinking at the lack of noise, John slowly turned his head to look at his A.I. to get her opinion on the matter. It wasn’t a positive one, that’s for sure. Her dots were bright red, and for the first time in a while, he found himself flinching at the sight and sound of her, “It wouldn’t take much of me to get rid of the nuisance, you know.”

Taking a few deep breaths, John shook his head, “No, EOS, give me a sec. Don’t send him careening into space.”

Yet.

With shaky hands, John did as Fuse begged and found the comm line the guy haphazardly threw together. Right as Fuse jumped at the sight of one of the Tracys actually hearing him out, John’s voice spoke coldly, “You have five minutes. Go.”

Fuse gulped, “W-Well, I suppose the first thing to do would be to apologize. I’ve caused a lot of messes for you and your family-- heh, ‘messes’ probably doesn’t even come close to explaining what I did-- and I realize that now, so I want to--”

Ah, that tactic. The one where they try so desperately to seem like they were repentant. John wasn’t familiar with it, but Scott sure was. Shady business owners trying to shy away from their consequences made the eldest very aware of how slimy those in power could be. Scott complained about it a lot, so John made sure to always remember it just in case he ever ran into it himself.

Preplanning wins again in the Tracy household. You should listen to John’s advice more, Gordon, “Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.” John muttered mostly to himself and moved in a way that signified something was going to happen.

Fuse sputtered and stopped immediately. Crap, he was going about this wrong. These were all things he was suddenly genuine about, he really was, but the Tracys didn’t want useless apologies at the moment, and he understood that. Hopefully, he didn’t understand it too late. Right before John could do anything to him or give any kind of command to his satellite, Fuse blurted the information he should’ve said the first place, “I know where he is!”

John felt like the Earth flew right off its axis.

Everything froze, including EOS. His hand was out in front of him for some reason, probably subconsciously reaching for some kind of button, as he absentmindedly listened to the whirl of ‘Five and his brain fully processed what Fuse was promising, “... What?”

John was keenly aware that sounding so weak, so hopeful, was something that Fuse could spinelessly abuse if the man wanted to, but John had a good lie detector. The words that fumbled out of half The Chaos Crew’s mouth were sounding good, great, and John could tell that he wasn’t bullshitting anything, “I know where he’s keeping your bro. I mean… shit, what The Hood did wasn’t right, maybe it never was, but I know this specifically is--” a break in his speech in an attempt to words things better. Fuse failed, “Bad. I just…”

John’s head involuntarily tilted at the way Fuse trailed off. For once in his life, John was at a loss. This was highly uncharacteristic from what John had seen of The Chaos Crew, and the astronaut was so flabbergasted he couldn’t even begin to come up with any possible ulterior motive behind Fuse’s actions at the moment.

Suddenly, Fuse looked back up with big eyes, almost reminding John of Alan a little bit. Not in the obvious ways, because Fuse was on the verge of seven feet tall and built like a truck whereas Alan was the teeniest thing on the planet, but… John could see similar traits of innocence in them. The eyes of someone desperately clinging onto the last few shreds of hope they had, but still ready to do what's right because of it. Because even if the light at the end of the tunnel was small it was still worth fighting for.

Fuse, seeing that John wasn’t going to say anything, bit the bullet, “I don’t know, call it selfish, call it smart, but if The Hood is willing to do something like this to someone so young, I… I don’t want to be apart of it. I can’t give any information about my sister, I’m no snitch, but I want out, even if it means spending the rest of my days in a GDF cell.”

John was suddenly aware of a burning question, “Wait, how old are you, Fuse?”

A tired sigh, aging Fuse to something that was probably three times what he was going to say, “I turn 20 in two weeks.”

John sharply inhaled, “Jesus, I… I didn’t realize you were that young.”

A lot of things made sense quickly and abruptly like they always do for the ginger.

If The Hood was willing to do this to someone so young, that didn’t stop him from doing this to someone like Fuse. The logical conclusion the now ‘ex-villain’ made probably danced the wildest jig in his head, and before anyone could clap their hands, he got as far away as possible. John wouldn’t be surprised if The Hood made idle threats for not following orders or for “being stupid”, so Fuse had every right to feel threatened.

Jeez, he was probably terrified at the implication. A dark, buried part of John selfishly thought good, it sucks you had to learn the hard way, but now you see why we all hate him, but the first thing that came to his mind was something unexpected yet expected all the same.

John was reminded of Alan again.

Except Alan had four older brothers to run to when the monsters got too big or too frightening.

…

Scott was going to kill him, “Park her over on the left and come in. We’ve got a lot to talk about. Bring inside whatever you think will help.”

EOS’s shrill John! ringed throughout the room, yet it was overruled swiftly. Fuse’s mouth was wide open, “For real?”

John couldn’t tell if he was losing the knots in his stomach or forming completely new ones, “Yes. Don’t do anything funny, though. I have eyes everywhere.”

Fuse gulped again, yet he was very business-like with his next words, “Of course.”

The line cut a millisecond before John wanted it to. John knew exactly why, “Listen, EOS--”

EOS was suddenly in his face, and it spoke miles at how far she’s come that she wasn’t blaring any alarms in anger, “No, you listen, John Tracy. I cannot believe the level of ignorance you are displaying!”

Gordon always joked about her being his daughter, but right now, John’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance at the feeling of being scolded by an overbearing mother, “I get this may seem like I’ve lost it--” jokes on EOS, who says he hasn’t at this point? “Listen, there’s nothing else left to go off of, and I know this makes me look like a crazy man desperate for information that might not even be there, but--”

“No buts!” EOS shrieked, “You told me that if you followed a sentence with a “but” that what you were about to say shouldn’t even be considered an option! What is making you throw all of my training out the window?!”

John’s mouth became very dry. This conversation was taking a very different turn, “Wait, EOS, why is this all about you suddenly--”

John was starting to regret giving her more mobility at the sight of her jamming her camera directly in his face even more, “It’s not just about me! This affects you too! You said you always based your decisions on the here-and-now, so I should too, so why am I the only one doing so?! You’ve seen what he’s capable of!”

John’s mind tended to be made of gears, and all of them began spinning at the same time. Dammit, he didn’t pick up on this because he didn’t even consider it a factor: EOS being scared. Hell, it wasn't even considered because the last time he remembered her being this scared was when she thought he was a threat during the first time they met (was it really that long ago?). She was scared that Fuse was going to hurt John like he hurt the rest of the astronaut’s family. Like he hurt Gordon.

The only difference is that nobody could get to John like they did Gordon, so that left the ginger at an impasse if the small chance that Fuse was here to hurt him came true.

John found it very hard to breathe all of a sudden. Closing his eyes and struggling to get enough air in, he realized a fundamental problem. EOS was based on data and things that have been recorded, and so far, the only things recorded about Fuse was that he was hellbent on hurting the Tracy family, a family that John was apart of.

She didn’t know any other way to feel about the guy, she didn’t have any other example.

John would love to be that way too, honestly, to just focus on the data. Numbers never tended to be wrong, and the idea of being a simple number-crunching bot would make life a shit-ton easier, but he can’t. He’s human. One that’s very much willing to go against the numbers and probabilities if it meant helping his family.

A rarity for John, to follow his gut and nothing else, but at the end of the day, he was a Tracy, and following his gut was as familiar to him as it was to name all of the immediate constellations in the summer’s nighttime sky, “EOS, I know it’ll be hard to believe me, hell, I’m having trouble believing myself, but Fuse isn’t here to hurt me. The here-and-now is different for reasons I don’t have enough time to properly explain, okay? If there’s anything to believe, believe in the trust you have in me to make the right decision like I always do.”

EOS made no noise, not even a flicker of her lens. He expected her usual sass, something along the lines of, Who says I trust you, moron? but what he got punched away what little air he managed to collect, “... Do you promise?”

That was the million-dollar question. Of course, he couldn’t. He didn’t like making promises after the age of 12. Too many probabilities, too many what-ifs, made promises somewhat of a theoretical impossibility. But just like that night on the roof with Alan, John was able to not think, “I promise, EOS. You wanted to go stargazing with me and Alan, right? Fuse might be able to let us do that again.”

‘Family’ was a Wild Card. Nothing was possible, yet everything was at the same time when it came down to it. ‘Family’ was what made Scott go from day to day without keeling over. ‘Family’ was what got Virgil to sleep at night when he just couldn’t by himself. ‘Family’ was how Gordon managed to keep smiling and joking despite everything in the world trying to make him stop. Hell, ‘Family’ was how their father kicked the word impossible right in the groin and live.

‘Family’ might have been why Alan was stuck in such a shitty situation, but it was also the reason the kid was willing and able to go that far in the first place. He learned that selflessness from his ‘Family’, after all.

John was intent to use that fact to the fullest.

EOS’s lights blinked in contemplation before she quietly spoke once more, “Do I have permission to shock him if he makes even the slightest suspicious movement?”

John rolled his eyes yet grinned all the same, “Sure, only just a little voltage, though. Right in the ass. Would be a nice pick-me-up after all of this.”

Well, despite the year they’ve had, John wasn’t aware EOS could snort. Another sign things might be going right for once.

The door swwwshed open and Fuse floated into where the two hyper-intelligent beings were hanging about and got straight to the point, “Thank you. I hope… I hope I don’t let you down.”

John found himself light as air, and it wasn’t just the zero-gravity this time, “Sounds good. Let’s get cracking.”

While the first thing he did back on Earth was scare his father and his immediate younger brother shitless, the way they and the rest of the family lit up at the plan he and Fuse came up with (after making sure nobody killed the dude, which was surprisingly more difficult than expected, and boy was it expected) made it all worth it.

Well, maybe the sight of Fuse occasionally jumping and yelping at a strange pinch in his bottom with no known cause was worth it too. John wouldn’t tell his brothers that, though, he was the responsible one, remember?

You always made me look at things differently, EOS. Thank you.

[justforbooks]

We’re not going back to normal

To stop coronavirus we will need to radically change almost everything we do: how we work, exercise, socialize, shop, manage our health, educate our kids, take care of family members.

We all want things to go back to normal quickly. But what most of us have probably not yet realized—yet will soon—is that things won’t go back to normal after a few weeks, or even a few months. Some things never will.

It’s now widely agreed (even by Britain, finally) that every country needs to “flatten the curve”: impose social distancing to slow the spread of the virus so that the number of people sick at once doesn’t cause the health-care system to collapse, as it is threatening to do in Italy right now. That means the pandemic needs to last, at a low level, until either enough people have had Covid-19 to leave most immune (assuming immunity lasts for years, which we don’t know) or there’s a vaccine.

How long would that take, and how draconian do social restrictions need to be? Yesterday President Donald Trump, announcing new guidelines such as a 10-person limit on gatherings, said that “with several weeks of focused action, we can turn the corner and turn it quickly.” In China, six weeks of lockdown are beginning to ease now that new cases have fallen to a trickle.

But it won’t end there. As long as someone in the world has the virus, breakouts can and will keep recurring without stringent controls to contain them. In a report yesterday (pdf), researchers at Imperial College London proposed a way of doing this: impose more extreme social distancing measures every time admissions to intensive care units (ICUs) start to spike, and relax them each time admissions fall.

Each time ICU admissions rise above a threshold—say, 100 per week—the country would close all schools and most universities and adopt social distancing. When they drop below 50, those measures would be lifted, but people with symptoms or whose family members have symptoms would still be confined at home.

What counts as “social distancing”? The researchers define it as “All households reduce contact outside household, school or workplace by 75%.” That doesn’t mean you get to go out with your friends once a week instead of four times. It means everyone does everything they can to minimize social contact, and overall, the number of contacts falls by 75%.

Under this model, the researchers conclude, social distancing and school closures would need to be in force some two-thirds of the time—roughly two months on and one month off—until a vaccine is available, which will take at least 18 months (if it works at all). They note that the results are “qualitatively similar for the US.”

Eighteen months!? Surely there must be other solutions. Why not just build more ICUs and treat more people at once, for example?

Well, in the researchers’ model, that didn’t solve the problem. Without social distancing of the whole population, they found, even the best mitigation strategy—which means isolation or quarantine of the sick, the old, and those who have been exposed, plus school closures—would still lead to a surge of critically ill people eight times bigger than the US or UK system can cope with. Even if you set factories to churn out beds and ventilators and all the other facilities and supplies, you’d still need far more nurses and doctors to take care of everyone.

How about imposing restrictions for just one batch of five months or so? No good—once measures are lifted, the pandemic breaks out all over again, only this time it’s in winter, the worst time for overstretched health-care systems.

And what if we decided to be brutal: set the threshold number of ICU admissions for triggering social distancing much higher, accepting that many more patients would die? Turns out it makes little difference. Even in the least restrictive of the Imperial College scenarios, we’re shut in more than half the time.

This isn’t a temporary disruption. It’s the start of a completely different way of life. Living in a state of pandemic.

In the short term, this will be hugely damaging to businesses that rely on people coming together in large numbers: restaurants, cafes, bars, nightclubs, gyms, hotels, theaters, cinemas, art galleries, shopping malls, craft fairs, museums, musicians and other performers, sporting venues (and sports teams), conference venues (and conference producers), cruise lines, airlines, public transportation, private schools, day-care centers. That’s to say nothing of the stresses on parents thrust into homeschooling their kids, people trying to care for elderly relatives without exposing them to the virus, people trapped in abusive relationships, and anyone without a financial cushion to deal with swings in income.

There’ll be some adaptation, of course: gyms could start selling home equipment and online training sessions, for example. We’ll see an explosion of new services in what’s already been dubbed the “shut-in economy.” One can also wax hopeful about the way some habits might change—less carbon-burning travel, more local supply chains, more walking and biking.

But the disruption to many, many businesses and livelihoods will be impossible to manage. And the shut-in lifestyle just isn’t sustainable for such long periods.

So how can we live in this new world? Part of the answer—hopefully—will be better health-care systems, with pandemic response units that can move quickly to identify and contain outbreaks before they start to spread, and the ability to quickly ramp up production of medical equipment, testing kits, and drugs. Those will be too late to stop Covid-19, but they’ll help with future pandemics.

In the near term, we’ll probably find awkward compromises that allow us to retain some semblance of a social life. Maybe movie theaters will take out half their seats, meetings will be held in larger rooms with spaced-out chairs, and gyms will require you to book workouts ahead of time so they don’t get crowded.

Ultimately, however, I predict that we’ll restore the ability to socialize safely by developing more sophisticated ways to identify who is a disease risk and who isn’t, and discriminating—legally—against those who are.

We can see harbingers of this in the measures some countries are taking today. Israel is going to use the cell-phone location data with which its intelligence services track terrorists to trace people who’ve been in touch with known carriers of the virus. Singapore does exhaustive contact tracing and publishes detailed data on each known case, all but identifying people by name.

We don’t know exactly what this new future looks like, of course. But one can imagine a world in which, to get on a flight, perhaps you’ll have to be signed up to a service that tracks your movements via your phone. The airline wouldn’t be able to see where you’d gone, but it would get an alert if you’d been close to known infected people or disease hot spots. There’d be similar requirements at the entrance to large venues, government buildings, or public transport hubs. There would be temperature scanners everywhere, and your workplace might demand you wear a monitor that tracks your temperature or other vital signs. Where nightclubs ask for proof of age, in future they might ask for proof of immunity—an identity card or some kind of digital verification via your phone, showing you’ve already recovered from or been vaccinated against the latest virus strains.

We’ll adapt to and accept such measures, much as we’ve adapted to increasingly stringent airport security screenings in the wake of terrorist attacks. The intrusive surveillance will be considered a small price to pay for the basic freedom to be with other people.

As usual, however, the true cost will be borne by the poorest and weakest. People with less access to health care, or who live in more disease-prone areas, will now also be more frequently shut out of places and opportunities open to everyone else. Gig workers—from drivers to plumbers to freelance yoga instructors—will see their jobs become even more precarious. Immigrants, refugees, the undocumented, and ex-convicts will face yet another obstacle to gaining a foothold in society.

Moreover, unless there are strict rules on how someone’s risk for disease is assessed, governments or companies could choose any criteria—you’re high-risk if you earn less than $50,000 a year, are in a family of more than six people, and live in certain parts of the country, for example. That creates scope for algorithmic bias and hidden discrimination, as happened last year with an algorithm used by US health insurers that turned out to inadvertently favor white people.

The world has changed many times, and it is changing again. All of us will have to adapt to a new way of living, working, and forging relationships. But as with all change, there will be some who lose more than most, and they will be the ones who have lost far too much already. The best we can hope for is that the depth of this crisis will finally force countries—the US, in particular—to fix the yawning social inequities that make large swaths of their populations so intensely vulnerable.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[curus-creations]

The solstice had come and gone last week, the sun still high and fierce, the nights still pale and temperate. Under the crooked cover of the forest, Ked walked. Stout, round-faced and tan, clothed in old leather and older furs, she wandered aimlessly. This deep into the forest, there was only ever the singing of hidden birds and the occasional beast running through the undergrowth.

Until today.

She spied the pale limbs of the creature, like birch branches, darting behind an oak. Clearly no human – but certainly no animal Ked knew of, either.

"You know I saw you, aye?" "Maybe so," responded a thin voice, "but you need not see me again. Or ever." "Well and good. But I'm sure you know that shrub at the base of this tree is witchberry." Ked pointed, mostly for effect, at the short reddish plant. "Given I've never seen it nor any others before in this wood, and I've lived here all my life, I can only assume you take them for your own purposes." "...A fair observation." "And I assume whatever your lovely kind needs them for, it greatly outstrips our want for them. But even knowing that, such is the value of this plant that I cannot leave it unclaimed, unless you take it before my eyes. If witchberries were left to rot on the stem it would be a terrible shame."

The creature did not emerge for a while. Ked stood her ground, invested in her own curiosity.

"Not unreasonable..." A hand of rootlike fingers crept around the oak. "Not the worst argument I've heard." Its face was barely a face, really. Its black eyes were wide and glassy, its mouth a short flat line at the bottom of a noseless plain. Ked felt those eyes take her in. The fae watched her like a rabbit in a field as it bent down, cutting away the fruiting stem with a swipe of its hand.

Between blinks, it was gone.

*

A month on and the day was humid, the low sun leaving a thick blanket of haze on the world.

Ked sat on a fallen trunk, watching the witchberry stand perfectly still in the airless afternoon. The fae picked through ferns, tall and green-white. Ked thought for a second on how she might be better hidden in the forest than it, and smiled.

This time it did not hide, instead crouching to the shrub in plain sight. "Can it really be that no-one has ever stolen these berries?" It was not surprised to hear her speak, though it had not once looked in her direction. "I've never once heard of them being seen here, and they grow often enough somebody must have spotted them."

"...Come here." Startled by this request, Ked dropped to her feet and came over, maintaining a respectful distance of just within touching range (for the fae). It swung round, holding the shrub in front of her face. "See." Its other hand pointed to a ring, positioned between two twigs on the lower stem. "The golden band hides what is our king's from all but observant eyes."

Ked saw the golden band – much like the ring, but larger – fitted snugly to the fae's left wrist, and wondered.

*

"I'm Ked. May I know your name?" "Is your curiosity not sated?" "Sorry. I don't have many friends." Ked watched the dry wind shake the leaves above. "Or any." The fae glanced over Ked with those wide, black eyes. "...Call me Sigh."

"Does witchberry normally grow this fast?" Ked changed the subject. "If it ever grows outside of our auspices, it grows as slowly as anything else, I assume." "I can't imagine what great use you have for them. To need them this often, I mean." Sigh looked Ked over again. She was getting used to seeing the faint twitch in their blank face, the glint in those featureless eyes. "Our king drinks the wine of the witchberry daily." She chewed her tongue.

*

"Have you any idea why the band on your arm didn't hide you from me?" Sigh touched their wrist reflexively, like flinching. The browning leaves shivered in sympathy. "Some humans are more observant than others. You said you had no friends?" Ked flinched, and the leaves did nothing.

"...Couple months after we were married. Husband died. People got it in their heads it was suspicious – couldn't stand to hear the rumours, so. Learned to live by myself." Sigh inclined their head. "Don't fret for me. I'm doing alright."

But the fae stayed looking at the ground.

"...The band marks the property of the king. Most cannot see me, but all the same – if you had lain a finger on me, he would have full right to destroy you." Ked coughed. "How? Can he smite someone from afar, or something? What do you do in the meantime? Can't you – can you defend yourself?" "I could never!" Sigh backed away. "I'm only a servant, Ked. I have no right to harm anyone."

Ked shook her head; but as she moved towards Sigh the fae looked to the setting sun. "I must leave you. I have to return home." Before she could say anything, they had loped away.

*

The next day, Ked picked her way through ferns and ice. Snow had come early this year; not a particularly thick layer, but enough to crunch underfoot and soak into old boots.

The witchberry shrub was there. It had been cut down yesterday, an early frost had attacked its young shoots, and still it stood, bright green and just unveiling its first full leaves – a little piece of Spring. Ked grabbed the thing, crushing its leaves. Sap began to leak from a crooked stem as the golden ring glinted in the cold sunlight -

"Don't!" Ked let go and stood up. Sigh was gripping the oak tree tight, half-hiding behind it.

"Does the king know you're here?" "No, but -" "Can you take the band off?" Sigh grabbed their wrist, moving around the trunk to face Ked. "Ked. What are you -" "Come with me." She offered up a hand. "I can't offer much, but – but I won't own you. You deserve to be someone, not someone's – not someone's property."

Sigh's wide black eyes were not looking at Ked, but taking in everything; that prey-like look she thought they'd shook the habit of. She thought, too, that she was used to silence – but this was becoming painful.

Sigh slipped the golden band from their wrist, dropping it to encircle the witchberry sprout. They examined their arm, wonderingly, anxiously – it wasn't quite theirs anymore, except, of course, it was.

"I don't know the way out of here. To your lands, I mean." "I can show you," Ked laughed. "Of course I'll show you!"

Sigh's fingers were flexible, fragile-seeming, in Ked's small rough hand. Like roots curling around a rock in the soil, the fae crouched to follow the human, back the way she came, somewhere they had never been before.

***

Ked found no more witchberries after that.

The pair had a full year to themselves, a year of storms and hail. Sigh – who was working on a new name for themselves, but had not yet settled on one – proved to be a very skilled farmer, when they dared to leave the house. Despite waterlogged earth, snapped stems, and frosts both early and late, the two had nurtured enough at least to eat over the winter.

(Sigh seemed to consider food optional, but Ked, suspicious of self-sacrifice, insisted on sharing the burden of hunger.)

The next solstice was approaching – the nights were longer than the days by far, until life felt lived in a perpetual grey gloom.

At sunset after a vicious rainstorm, somebody knocked at Ked's door.

He looked human, and noble – or at least rich. The fur of his cloak was dry and unmatted; rain did not drip from the rings on each finger. "Thank you," he said, sweeping forward into Ked's house. "I am far from home, and I need somewhere to dry off." He looked about the room, while she only glared at him.

After a cold silence, he spoke. "You are not married, are you?" "Right enough." "Then I shall marry you!" His whole countenance changed – he swept down onto his knee, grabbed for (and missed) Ked's hands. "It cannot do to have a woman like you living alone. How sad! It is only right and honourable of me to -" "No thanks."

The noble's face struggled to hold onto its expression of awe, briefly scrunched into a look of rage and then settled on a flat stare. "Why ever not? Do you really think you can manage alone for the rest of your life?" "Been doing alright so far." Ked stared back. The noble stood, smoothing down his unwrinkled clothes. "And when you grow old? What then?" “I shall cross that bridge when I get to it, sir."

"...At least let me buy this house from you. I can replace everything in it – twice as good, twice as plentiful. It's of trivial worth to me." "I'm sure it is. But no."

Another long silence – eventually, the noble broke it, slamming his hand upon Ked's table. Immediately, the wilting cabbage sat on it sprang back into health, leaves regaining strength and colour before her eyes.

"Enough! Fine. I have power, human. You know that." The table itself was beginning to twist under his hand, new shoots pushing from knotholes. "I can do anything, give you anything you wish – just return what you stole from me!"

"I stole nothing."

The truth in her words struck him, staggered him. The king looked to the door, and Ked was all too happy to help him, throwing it open and pointing out to the chill, sodden night.

The king, though Sigh often feared it, never returned; and Ked – whose crops never failed and who entertained strange, fae visitors in her lonely house – passed into legend, at least for a brief while.

If she enjoyed her new fame, she never said so.

[raccoon-james]

Midnight guest

Pairing: Billy Bennet x Reader 

Words: 2522 

Universe: Deadly Class syfy 

Requested: Yes 

Summary: The reader has an unexpected guest in the middle of the night. 

Warnings: kinda bad writing I guess? 

A/N: As you can see, I’ve finally uploaded my work! It’s my first published fic, but I thought it’s good enough to show it to you guys. English is not my native language so I’m sorry for every grammar/language/spelling mistake I had made while writing it. Also, it’d be nice to receive some feedback, some pieces of advice – please leave a comment or sth. It’s very helpful and motivates me to write more.

                                                      ●○۞○●

Nights at King's Dominion contrasted with the school in the daylight. Relative calm seemed to return to school halls every time when sun comes down. No noises, no running or fighting - no whatever-made-pupils’-daily-rutine. With sun held up, high at the sky, the school was bustling with life, but with the moment of sun disappearing time seemed to slow down immediately.

Sitting in the room with the door closed, you could easily feel cut off from that little world you have lived for some time. It wasn't hard to feel lonely sometimes. All you had to do then was talk to your roommate, or sneak out to meet friends living in another room. If you wanted peace and silence it was enough to not speak to anyone, play music and take care of whatever had to be done - like homework or makeup.

You liked nights here. Somehow you managed to get a small single room, which was a godsent for you, someone who enjoys being on their own, and the lack of unexpected guests was a guarantee of a successful night. It gave you a feeling of control. You could choose when you wanted company or not; if you wanted some time by yourself, you just stayed in your bedroom. That kind of control was enough to make up for many things, that the legacy status had taken from you. People think if you have a high position in the walk of life then it's easier to live. Bullshit. Why is no one speaking about the expectations everyone suddenly has for you? That you have to be the best, never miss a bit in a fight, never hesitate to pull the trigger, to know all poisons at the back of your hand. And what if you simply cannot live up to the expectations? That's when the lynch starts. "She? I can't believe..." "You're so not what I expected" "The shame of our family"... People pick you clean, then go to work on the bones.

It was couple minutes before midnight and the only audible sounds were your breath, pen writing something down on a sheet of paper and the turning of pages of numerous books surrounding you. Tirelessly you've been repeating materials for the “fundamentals of psychopathy” class. It was interesting, specific but exceptionally enjoyable.

The conception of motive that you had focused on this night was far more addictive than you could imagine. For you it was like digging in someone else's brain. Coming to the conclusions about the killer’s personality based on his actions - adding the way of killing, some repeated patterns and you can compile information about their past, present...the top of the top in this field can speculate - based on tiny details found at the crime scene – about the traumas and habits of the criminal.

The cracking of the door interrupted your flow. While studying in a school for assassins, unannounced visits after midnight don't bode well. In any moment then you could find yourself stabbed or with broken arm, your position meant nothing. Everyone could become a target, from children of the heads of state, through mafia bosses, to the average street rats.

With daggers, the fight technique you have been training for several years, you almost never part with, always keeping them within reach. That was the main reason why you grabbed the weapon so quickly.

Ready to defend yourself, you turned towards the door, no longer sitting but standing. Feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, ready to fend off the attacker.

"Y/N, put the dagger down" said Billy closing the door, in the tone of someone who's welcomed by people ready to slit his throat at least three times every day.

"Uh, I don’t know, I like it... Brings out the color of my eyes, dontcha think?" you said relaxing a bit. You fliped the dagger that made a full rotation in the air and than came back to your hand, that fist on the handle again. Pretty easy trick but always impressing Billy - until one day you'd be very unlucky and loose a hand while catching the blade.

"So, what's the matter?" you asked putting down the dagger. You tossed it on opened notebook on your desk. It was obvious that the studying session is over for you, at least for that night.

"You better tell me, huh?" said the teenager seemingly upset, pointing out to a half-packed suitcase on the floor. Shit... You promised yourself to tell him about you leaving right before They come to take you, which would be about 7 am, definitely not midnight! For all intents and purposes you didn't even know who or where was supposed to take you by tomorrow morning. All you knew was that your parents admittedly, may have overplayed your hand a little. You were a kid after all, a student who'd rather stay up late studying killers’ minds than actually becoming one. Still, have you ever had any other options but learning how to live under direct orders of your family?

"I'm leaving...for some time" you mumbled averting your eyes.

"And what? You...you didn't want me to know? Just leave?" he started, and by that moment you realized what was going to happen. It was going to be a bloody long lecture about your incompetence as a very best friend, as a main theme.

You haven't completely got used to the relation between you and green-haired Billy Bennett. Since your connections with other people were built on viable alliances, and because your loyalty twords them was like loyalty of an average whore from the brothel, you haven’t had many friends. All that had to happen was an extremely unlucky incident, a broken nose and slippery wooden stairs, for you to make some changes in your social life. That was how you met Billy.

"Could you once in your life shut the hell up, maybe?" you stopped his speech before he got a chance to get started with it, slowly looking up at him. He shut his lips and tilted his head a little, raising his eyebrows, noticably surprised with your reaction. You sigh heavily, running your fingers through your hair, wondering what you actually wanted to say when you stopped him. Or was that only self-defense because you didn't want to hear him whine about how bad you really are.

"Y/N..."

"No" you cut him off again. Tiredness that studying drew away, now started to slowly overtake you. "I seriously wanted to tell you but..."

"But when I couldn't do shit about it, right?" he snarled looking little piqued.

"It's not always about you" you hummed staring at your white socks "I don't even know what they want me to do. I received a letter saying I have to pack up and be ready to go at 7 am in the morning. Nothing more. No greetings, how are you or a fuckin hello. It doesn't matter if I told you about this crappy trip today or tomorrow morning, you can't do shit about it.  I can't disobey direct orders" you managed to keep your tone serious. You glanced at the rat, still standing near the door. It could be harder for him without you at hand but come on! He could handle it before, so why the hell would anything change now?

Before you had the chance to think about anything else, Billy was standing next to you, embracing you all of the sudden. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close, gently rubbing your arm. Despite the heaviness in your stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of your body pressed against his. You sunk into the warmth of his side, appreciative of the simple gesture. His touch made the room warmer somehow, your future within its walls seeming a little less bleak. Still, you were confused after that sudden display of benevolence coming from Billy. Your body was tense, ready to attack. It took you a moment to edge off but when you did it, you returned the hug.

You liked Billy. He was like cat. Not a fluffy kitty, pretty as a picture but homeless, a bit scraggly and scrawny with unbelievably stunning eyes. These cats you want to take with you even if they aren't drawn to you. And honestly you'd never thought, till this moment, that leaving the cat would be so damn hard. Stupid Billy... Why on earth did he hug you? It was clear now why you had avoided profuse goodbyes all your life. It was so much easier to leave not realizing what's left behind you, because without "goodbye" it feels like you'd never really left. You spared yourself the heartbreaking pain and feeling of  loneliness, that goes hand in hand with every long-term goodbye.

"Do you have any plans for tonight?" you mumbled into Billy's t-shirt, hoping your voice wouldn't crack and reveal how devastated you started to feel with every passing second. You used to keep a stiff upper lip, but now it's harder, apparently.

He stepped back at the length of an extended arm and grinned as only he could, which warmed your heart.

"Sleep? I guess..." he answered slightly shrugging his shoulders.

You smirked wrinkling the bridge of your nose, waited for a moment just squinting at him and than turned on your heel so you can walk over to a nightstand and reach the alarm clock.

"I'm not sayin' now, right? But what else would I do at this hour, haha..." Billy muttered while staring at you, tracking all your movements when you were setting an alarm for 6;30 am. You mumbled something like "mhm" putting the device where it was before.

Bennett once again was like a torrent, an unbelievable flow of words which wasn't exactly what you needed right now. Soon it would be half past one, your mind has told you that six hours of sleep is definitely not enough for you to be full of energy by tomorrow morning. Billy was concerned with your actions but didn't ask any questions, hoping you'd tell him what was on your mind. What the hell were you trying to do? Well, you wanted to turn off the only light in the room which was the lamp on your desk buried in books and notes. And when you did it, complete darkness surrounded both of you.

Billy was ready to ask question about what the fuck you were doing. He raised his arm, opened his mouth but that instant you grabbed his raised wrist

"Come" you whispered, dragging him to bed.

"Wha...No! Y/N what the fuck?" he squealed, acting like he didn't want to go with you, yet somehow his body didn't fight back and let you sit him on the bed, so his behavior didn't match the words he was saying at all.

"God...I don't want to bang you man!" you rolled your eyes lying down on the mattress "I had already packed my emotional support teddy bear. How do you think I'm gonna fall asleep now, hm?" you were kinda joking, but kinda not - it was true you had packed your stuffed animals but it didn't really have any influence on your ability to sleep well. You just wanted Billy around, even though you haven't thought about it earlier. The boy widened his eyes on you or at least the darker spot on the bed that should be you. Pretty hard to see anything without any source of light.

"You're still sleeping with a teddy bear? What are you? Twelve?" he laughed. Not exactly laughed, more like attempt to laugh. He was cut off with a cold blade of the dagger near his throat, the best way to silence him in your opinion.

"Say a single word about it and you're gonna end up stuffed just like that teddy bear" you hissed not anymore laying on the bed

"Jesus, how many of them do you have here?" whined Bennett moving away the blade. You couldn't help admiring his ability to stay so chilled and cool with your threats. It was really impressive. Something (the dagger) landed on the floor as evidenced by the hollow metallic sound going with the sound of a laying back body.

"But waking up so early...I don't know..." boy was still whining around while taking his shoes off.

"I'll do my best to not wake you" you said calmly waiting for him to lay near you. To be honest you had never ever slept with him. Sure you had laid down together, sometimes even he managed to take a quick nap but you never lowered your guard.

Billy tried to lie down comfortably but it was hard since it was single bed, not exactly what two people need to sleep together. Your back was slightly touching the wall against the bed, sticking to the boys body, hoping it would compensate for the lack of the bedsheets. You were actually lying on one but it was pretty warm already so it wasn't necessary. With your arms around his neck and a leg over his belly you breathed softly into his hair. You know you should have found it adorable but after all you liked your space. Still you couldn't resist it since you haven't got any idea when you would meet him again. You weren't really much of a hugger when it comes to people,  but liked teddy bears as a kid and it you stuck with till now.

Time was passing and the feeling of tiredness disappeared, leaving you on standby mode exactly the same that you were on while being on a lookout. Just like someone if was about to burst into your room now and attack both of you. You haven't locked the door, it was haunting you now but you didn't want to move, scared it would wake Billy up. He was probably asleep by then. You could tell by the regular deep breaths and silence.

With your right hand, you reached for the boys head. For a couple of minutes, you were playing with his short green hair tangling them between your fingers until you would get tired again. That relaxing activity, it made it inevitable for unpleasant thoughts to come across your mind no matter if you were or were not prepared for them. Obviously, you weren't.

Was it possible for you to come back to school in one piece? Who would protect Billy from getting in trouble during your absence? Would you have a telephone wherever you were going, to call Billy here every evening or at least once a week?

It was mind-blowing for you since you have never, ever had problems like that! But also you never had a friend like Billy to make your life more complicated than it already is. Master Lin was right when he said that when you have someone who you would die for, sooner or later things were going to get messed up...

The red numbers on the screen of the clock showed five minutes after one a.m. when you finally dozed off.

[blog-unabashedcreationcolle-blog]

French language Course - Learn French Online | Frenchtruly

This week I was supposed to share a lot of things in my life. So many of you have reached out to me with various questions or questions, since President Macron finally spoke to us on Monday,

I do not fully know how much I do not speak about the Yellow Vests but from speaking with my students, it's clear that they are quite opaque to them. Of course you know I study Philosophy and love History & Politics Post a comment? Some people are scared, some people are suffering, some people are outraged, some people are excited, some people are fed up. I feel like I'm living history. God only knows how long this revolution will last.

Today I want to share with you two things:

1- The origins of the clash

This very helpful article from FranceTVInfo.fr , written in French.

You will find this article on the subject of anger against the backdrop of Macron from, starting with the presidential elections back in May 2017. If you have questions about the article, just add them to the section everyone can benefit from the Q & A.

2- President Macron speech in French: video + transcript

Many of you asked where they could listen to President Macron's speech (in English) finally addressing the Yellow Vests on Monday December 10th. So I'm adding the video + below you'll find his "speech" written down word by word so you can easily follow.

Verbatim: Emmanuel Macron's speech against the "yellow vests"

"French, French, here we are together at the rendezvous of our country and our future. The events of recent weeks in France and overseas deeply troubled the Nation. They have mixed legitimate demands and a chain of unacceptable violence and I want to tell you right away: this violence will not be lenient.

We have all seen the game of opportunists who have tried to take advantage of sincere anger to mislead them. We have all seen the irresponsible politicians whose only project was to shake the Republic, seeking disorder and anarchy. No anger justifies attacking a policeman or a gendarme who is degrading a business or public buildings. Our freedom exists only because everyone can express their opinions, others may not share them without anyone having to be afraid of these disagreements.

When violence is unleashed, freedom ceases. Henceforth, calm and republican order must prevail. We will put all the means because nothing will be built sustainable as long as there are fears for civil peace. I gave the government the strictest instructions to that effect.

But at the beginning of all this, I do not forget that there is anger, indignation and indignation, many of us, many French language learning people can share it and that one, I do not want to reduce it to unacceptable behavior that I have just denounced.

It was first anger against a tax and the Prime Minister has responded by canceling and removing all the increases planned for the beginning of next year but this anger is deeper, I feel it just in many ways . She can be our luck.

It is that of the couple of employees who do not finish the month and get up every day early and come back late to go work far.

It is that of the single mother, widowed or divorced, who does not even live anymore, who can not afford to have the children looked after and to make ends meet and has no hope. I saw them, these women of courage for the first time saying this distress on so many roundabouts!

This is the modest pensioners who have contributed all their lives and often help both parents and children and do not fare.

It is one of the most fragile, people with disabilities whose place in society is not yet sufficiently recognized. Their distress did not start yesterday, but we ended up cowardly by getting used to it, and in the end, everything was as if they were forgotten, erased.

It is forty years of malaise that reappears: malaise of workers who do not find themselves there; malaise of territories, villages as neighborhoods where we see public services shrink and the living environment disappear; democratic malaise where the feeling of not being heard develops; discomfort with the changes in our society, secularism and shifting lifestyles that create barriers, distance.

It comes from far away, but it's here now.

No doubt we have not known for a year and a half to provide a sufficiently fast and strong response. I take my share of this responsibility. It may have occurred to me to give you the feeling that it was not my concern, that I had other priorities. I also know that I happened to hurt some of you by my comments. I want tonight to be very clear with you. If I fought to shake the political system in place, habits, hypocrisy, it is precisely because I believe more than anything in our country and that I love it and my legitimacy, I do not draw from any title, no party, no coterie; I only draw it from you, from no one else.

Many other countries are going through this evil living of ours but I deeply believe that we can find a way out of it all together. I want it for France because it is our vocation through history to thus open paths ever explored for ourselves and for the world.

I want it for all of us French language course because a people who divides so much, who no longer respects his laws and the friendship that must unite him, is a people that is running to ruin.

I want it too, because it is by foreseeing this crisis that I presented myself to your suffrage to reconcile and lead and that I have not forgotten this commitment and this necessity.

It is first of all the state of economic and social emergency that I want to declare today. We want to build a France of merit, of work, a France where our children will live better than us. This can only be done by a better school, universities, apprenticeships and training that teach young and old what it takes to live free and work.

The investment in the Nation, in the school and the training is unpublished and I confirm it.

We want a France where one can live worthily from one's work? On this point, we went too slowly. I want to intervene quickly and concretely on this subject. I ask the government and Parliament to do what is necessary so that we can live better from the beginning of next year. The salary of a worker at the SMIC will increase by 100 euros per month as of 2019 without it costing one more euro for the employer.

I want to get back to a good idea: that the extra work accepted is an extra income; overtime will be paid without taxes or charges from 2019. And I want a real improvement is immediately noticeable; that is why I will ask all employers who can, to pay an end-of-year bonus to their employees and this premium will not have to pay any taxes or charges.

Retirees are a precious part of our Nation. For those who receive less than 2,000 euros per month, we will cancel in 2019 the increase of CSG suffered this year; the effort that was asked of them was too important and it was not right. Tomorrow, the Prime Minister will present all of these decisions to parliamentarians.

But we must not stop there. I need our big companies, our most fortunate citizens, to help the Nation succeed; I will bring them together and make decisions in this direction as of this week. I know some would like in this context that I come back to the wealth tax reform but for almost 40 years it has existed; did we live better during this period? The richest left and our country weakened. In accordance with the commitments made to you, this tax has been eliminated for those who invest in our economy and therefore help to create jobs; and it has been maintained on the contrary for those who have a real estate fortune.

Going backward would weaken us even as we are recreating jobs in all sectors. However, the government and Parliament will have to go further to put an end to undue benefits and tax evasion. The leader of a Learn French Online company must pay his taxes in France and the big companies that make profits there must pay the tax, it is simple justice.

As you can see, we will respond to the economic and social emergency with strong measures, faster tax cuts, better spending control rather than setbacks.

I hear that the government is pursuing the ambition of the transformations of our country that the people chose 18 months ago; we have before us to conduct a profound reform of the state, unemployment compensation and pensions. They are indispensable. We want rules that are fairer, simpler, clearer and reward those who work.

But today, it is also with our collective project that we must reconnect. For France and for Europe. This is why the announced national debate must be much broader. For this, we must above all, assume all our homework together. The duty to produce in order to redistribute, the duty to learn to be a free citizen, the duty to change to take into account the urgency of our climate and budget debt.

To succeed, we must come together and address together all the issues essential to the Nation. I want questions about representation to be asked; the possibility of seeing the currents of opinion better understood in their diversity, a more just electoral law, the taking into account of the white vote and even being allowed to participate in the debate of citizens not belonging to parties. I want to ask the question of the balance of our tax system so that it allows both the justice and the efficiency of the country. I want to ask the question of our daily lives to cope with climate change: to stay, to move, to heat. And the right solutions will also emerge from the field.

I want to ask the question of the organization of the state, the way it is governed and administered from Paris, probably too centralized for decades. And the question of public service in all our territories.

I also want us to agree with the nation on what its deepest identity is, that we address the issue of immigration. We have to face it.

These fundamental changes that require deep and shared reflection require an unprecedented debate. It will have to take place at the national level in our institutions, everyone will have its share: government, assemblies, social partners and associations; you will have your share. I want to assure myself the coordination, to receive the opinions, to take the pulse of our country.

But such a debate is not only about institutional representatives; it must also take place everywhere on the ground and it is natural interlocutors, citizens who must receive requests and relay: they are the mayors; they carry the Republic on the ground. That is why I will meet the mayors of France, region by region, to build the foundation of our new contract for the Nation.

We will not resume the normal course of our lives, as too often in the past in similar crises, without anything being really understood and nothing changed. We are at a historic moment for our country: through dialogue, respect, commitment, we will succeed.

We are at the task and I will come back to express myself in front of you to realize.

My only concern is you; my only fight is for you.

Our only battle is for France.

Long live the Republic, long live France. "

Hopefully these two elements will help you see more clearly!

Remember if you have questions, add them to the comments 🙂

[civilcoconstruction]

Smart Digital Locks are a Necessity (Review)

Do you really need smart digital locks?

Some 15 years ago, smart digital locks for your door were for homeowners who could afford it. Others felt that smart digital locks weren’t as secure as the traditional lock and key and were easily hackable.

It’s different nowadays, where majority of the homeowners prefer smart digital locks for better convenience. Habits like digging through your bag for the keys, misplacing your keys when you’re in a rush to step out of home are no longer an issue thanks to smart digital locks.

There are so many brands of smart digital locks to choose from. But I went with igloohome for its award-winning design and technology. Being a local company, it is also a plus for maintenance. I am reviewing this as a first-timer’s experience using smart digital locks at home.

First impression

All of igloohome locks are black, which is the easiest colour to match with different kinds of door and gate colour or material. It can be boring for some, but I’m fine with just one colour as locks shouldn’t stand out too much.

Size and measurements of your door and gate matters for compatibility, so make sure you check them over at this link before making your purchase. Both the Mortise 2+ (for main door) and Rim Lock (for gate) come with an electronic keypad that brightens up upon touch. The Mortise 2+ has an additional fingerprint scanner.

Rim Lock

Mortise 2+

Smart Digital locks compared to traditional locks

We used to lock our main doors, then gate and we’ll add an additional padlock for enhance security—all with keys. How are these secured comparing with smart digital locks? It may sound dumb, but personally all locks can be open (if the perpetrator really wants to), regardless if it is digital or key. As such, it really doesn’t matter which is more secure. What matters more is—once again—convenience. In this case, going for smart digital locks makes more sense.

Choosing a secure smart digital lock

That said, I would avoid digital locks that require a WIFI connection to operate because they can be hacked. You will also want to find one that has Advanced Encryption Standard (AES). I read that having 2FA authentication is a plus, but I’m not sure if I will have this over faster access to open the locks. Finally, get a smart digital lock that has the ability to create longer passwords to prevent ‘brute force attacks’ from hackers. These are just some important security functions to look out for in a digital lock, and igloohome locks fulfils them.

How many different access options?

Everyone opens their smart digital locks differently, and it later on becomes a habit after choosing the one you find the easiest and most convenient. This is why locks have a variety of different functions made available, though most of the time you will use just one or at most two of the available options. Mortise 2+ can be operated with the following methods:

Fingerprint Sensor: My favourite option, because you have your fingers/thumbs with you all the time. And thankfully the fingerprint scan has a high success rate of getting it right. Out of the 10 times we tested, we managed to open the lock eight times. Fingers must be aligned straight though.

PIN Code: You can set a ‘Duration PIN’ that works for a period. It’s useful if you have temporary visitors you don’t want to give a physical Bluetooth key to, people like your part-time helper or a confinement nanny. The ‘Recurring PIN’ works every one day of the week. ‘One Time PIN’ works only once, great if you would like your friend to collect an item from your house while no one is at home.

Bluetooth Key: This unlocks the door via a mobile app. And as an admin, you can also set someone else in the family to have the mobile bluetooth key on their phone without them having admin controls.

Keycard: A physical small card which you can bring along and put it in your wallet. Notably, the keycard even works through a leather wallet. Multiple cards can also be registered through your mobile app.

Physical Key: This is also called the emergency key which you should carry it with you in case you’ve forgotten to bring along your phone, your keycard or can’t remember your PIN… which chances are very slim for all to happen at once. But I still carry it with me, just in case.

The best part about this smart digital lock is that all entry and exits are logged into your mobile app which you can review if required. It’s great because all individual access methods can be named, and you know who comes in or out and at what time of the day.

From Left: Emergency Key (M2+ and RL), Keycard, Key Fob

Home Page in Mobile App

Basic Unlock Button

  Configurable Access in Mobile App

All Access of Individual Lock

So many options for what? Just gimmicky?

People like options, that’s just how it is for most products. Most importantly the options of the product must work well. Personally, the Fingerprint Sensor is a must-have and it works well. You can save both your left and right index fingerprints in the event you’re carrying items on one hand. It is simple to use and even my son enjoys using it effectively.

I haven’t been using much of the various PIN Codes because most of the time someone is at home, but it may be of great use to you if you’re often out and about. Sadly, the fingerprint scanner is not available in the Rim Lock (Gate), so I use the regular pin for that.

Good Sensor with High Success Rate

Battery type and lifespan

Thankfully, the type of batteries used for both digital locks are the same: AA batteries. With Mortise 2+ requiring eight pieces and Rim Lock requiring four. The batteries do last very long. For the M2+, it started operating on 2 February 2021, and to date, 87% power remains. That is six months of usage! Considering that a door lock is used daily, that is phenomenal performance.

The changing of batteries is easy too, especially for M2+ that only requires pressing on the back cover to open the battery compartment up. Rim Lock though will require a tiny Allen key to open it up, as it is reachable by outsiders.

Mortise 2+ Battery Compartment

Rim Lock Battery Compartment

Is the set up difficult?

The instruction manual can be found on the QR Code. Even without that, it is actually pretty simple if you just follow the instructions in the app. There are step-by-step guides from adding in a new lock into the app to giving access to your key cards. The UI/UX is very intuitive and most if not all the functions are within the app.

Also, there is no need for Internet connection at all. They have created a technology called algoPIN, that uses a combination of their mobile app, cloud system and PIN code to work. There’s a lot more to the technology behind, so if you’re keen to know how to works just check it out here.

Do note that it’s best to leave the film intact as it helps to keep off fingerprints. I regretted taking out my Mortise 2+ film.

Some REALLY useful features

Masking/Decoy pin: The purpose of the Masking PIN makes it difficult for anyone to see you pressing the PIN number or for anyone to guess your pin by the fingerprints left on the keypad. It is not foolproof, but at least it confuses people who wants to know your number. All that is required is to add in additional numbers in front of your actual PIN number.

Masking PIN & Actual PIN

Key Fob: This small key is included in the Rim Lock purchase. And its sole purpose, according to the installer, is to allow homeowners to open both the main door and gate digital locks with just a single press on the button from inside (at home).

How far a distance can you use the Key Fob to unlock? Can you use the Key Fob outside of home?

The sweetest part to the key fob is to actually bring an extra key fob when you’re out. I’ve tested it out myself and within a distance of approximately 6 metres away, you can press the key fob and both locks are opened by the time you walk in the front of your door. This is probably the fastest access method out of all.

Key Fob on the side of Main Door

Child Lock proved useful too for my toddler

Things to improve on

It will be great if there are widgets for the mobile app or even an Apple Watch. Imagine having a widget within easy reach that allows you to unlock the door even before reaching home, or being able to create a last minute random PIN that allows your Mother-in-Law a delivery person to drop off your online purchases from a widget—with the assistance of an in-house CCTV of course. At the moment, you will need to open the app and configure the above.

Pressing the Key Fob opens both locks, but it takes about three seconds for them to open, which I think could be shortened to 1 to 1.5 seconds.

There isn’t a button to unlock the Rim Lock from inside, which, obviously, is to prevent an easy reach-in by anyone who is outside. To do so, you will need to use the Key Fob or a Keycard to reach the Rim Lock sensor outside. But I feel there should be an easier way. For example, when you open the main door (Mortise2+) from inside, the gate (Rim Lock) automatically opens as well. I wonder if that is possible for other brands?

Internal of Rim Lock with small locking button

Summary

Although igloohome locks allow multiple access methods, it doesn’t force you to use only one just because the rest of them sucks. All methods work great, and you also have the option to disable (not use) certain access.

For example, you can choose not to use any Keycards if you’re worried that it may get lost. This adds versatility in how you want your lock to perform based on your lifestyle. If you want a very secured PIN number you can create a longer code, but that also means that you will need a longer time to access, which kinda defeats my personal purpose of having a smart digital lock.

Two daily changes to how I open and lock my door make a huge difference to my lifestyle: not needing to find the two keys within a bunch of other keys while carrying groceries, and simply having both the automated gate and door locked up when we are leaving home. You will know it is worth the change after experiencing it yourself firsthand. Smart Digital locks have been a great home product for my family!

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from CIVICLO Construction & Interior https://civilco.construction/smart-digital-locks-are-a-necessity-review/

[captainantoniaus]

Can you die because of erectile dysfunction?

The sexual health of a person is a major predictor of his or her sexual life. The physical intimacy you share depends largely on your sexual organs and your sexual intensities and decides the level of your sexual health. As a happy partner in a nurturing relationship or marriage, we all wish to have sexual pleasures and passionate sex life. And what all efforts do we make to keep our physical bonding at pace matters a lot.

Sexual health disorders aren't a new concept. For a long time, people have been facing various health issues including sexual problems too. It's just that the social stigma regarding talking about your sex problems hasn't changed. We have come a long way now to understand and be aware of what's happening to the sexual phase of our body, still, there is some hook and corner of the mind that seems to hesitate in opening up about it in front of your partner or a close friend or even your doctor. 

If there is something wrong happening to you sexually, because of which you are not able to enjoy your sex life properly or are suffering from mental stress and depression, then it may be more than just a small issue. Well, the most common sexual health disorder seen in men as they age is Erectile Dysfunction. This is the condition in which the person isn't able to achieve and maintain firm erections for enjoyable sexual intercourse. 

There are many factors associated with the triggering of ED. It includes physiological factors like your health comorbidities involving cardiovascular diseases, kidney or liver disorders, atherosclerosis, etc. whereas the psychological factors involve the mental disturbances you go through like stress, depression, performance anxiety, fear, overthinking, etc. Poor lifestyle and wrong eating habits can also cause ED. But even after all these factors playing a major role in increasing the risk of ED, have we ever considered the fact that Erectile Dysfunction can be life-threatening as well or that it can lead to death?

The first study that claimed that ED is a predictor of death states that men suffering from CVD and ED were two times higher on the risk of death than men not suffering from ED. Major of the death causes through ED links are closely associated with the vascular disturbances that build up plaque leading to heart attacks, stroke, etc., and endothelial dysfunction causing atherosclerosis, all of these are what we call strong death markers. 

Another study done at European Male Ageing Society throws light on low testosterone levels in men and the higher death risk associated. The research was focused on around 1913 participants and the analysis of the relationship between their hormone levels and sexual functions. It was concluded that the incidence of Erectile Dysfunction in these men increased the risk of death by around 51 percent as compared to men without ED. 

So, clearly, Erectile Dysfunction is somewhat related to your lifespan too and can be the cause of early death if immediate medical attention is not taken. Generally, the chances of death are more prominent in men in the later stages of their life as compared to younger men as ED is considered more of an old-age issue.

Now, when you have seen how your ED can keep your life at stake, it is high time you opt for the right medical treatments, the good point being that ED can be completely curable and treatable with the right measures followed. Many treatment methods can work right as the cure for your ED. Let us have a look at them in detail.

Lifestyle modifications

As stated above, how you live your daily life and what all habits you manifest largely influences your mental, physical and sexual health. The chances of ED increases when you have a poor lifestyle involving lots of overwork, too much stress, no me-time, less leisure time, and love-making moments with your partner. Also, what you eat every day also greatly influences your health. Too much junk or eating out every day increases the incidence of ED triggers. So, make sure you have a balanced diet with a major emphasis on nutrients especially proteins, zinc, vitamin E, etc. Some good sources are green leafy vegetables, dairy products, broccoli, nuts, etc. Also, try including a minimum of 30 minutes of physical exercise daily in your routine to keep your sexual health active.

ED medicines as a clinical approach

Lifestyle modifications are a long-term process that takes time and effort. However, the importance of clinical approaches cannot be avoided when it comes to treating a disorder such as ED. Within these, ED medicines are one of the most effective and safest treatments. Men suffering from this problem and doctors, both approve of ED medicines as a trusted and preferred choice for ED cure. 

Vidalista 60 mg is one such ED medicine preferred by many men globally. It is a medication primarily used to treat the problem of Erectile Dysfunction in men. Belonging to a class of PDE5 inhibitors, Vidalista 60 mg contains Tadalafil as its active component which works by blocking the PDE5 enzyme which interferes with the release of cGMP factor and nitric oxide, both favoring easy blood flow towards the penis by relaxation of smooth muscles and blood vessels.

Vidalista 60 mg is an oral medication that should not be crushed, chewed, or broken and is taken wholly with or without a meal. Usually, it works better if taken on an empty stomach. It is usually consumed around 30 minutes before your planned sexual course and works only if the person is sexually stimulated.

Just like every other prescription medicine, Vidalista 60 mg comes with certain side effects which may come into play if you have overdosed on the medicine or consume it against the dosage instructions. In some cases, your body might reject the medicine as well. Although the symptoms are mild and common, one needs to be careful if he experiences any of these-

Muscle and joints pain

Bleeding nose

Diarrhea

Difficulty in breathing

Flushing

Headache

Sneezing

Redness on skin

Difficulty in sleeping

Pain in the eyes

Ringing sound in the ears

Fatigue

Nausea

Precautions to take while consuming Vidalista 60 mg

Vidalista 60 mg is not intended for children aged under 18. Pregnant and breastfeeding women should consult with their doctor before consuming this medicine.

Avoid the consumption of Vidalista 60 mg with high-fat foods and alcohol in particular.

Make sure you do not drive or operate machinery after consuming this medicine as it causes drowsiness.

Do not recommend Vidalista 60 mg to anyone else without any proper prescription from a certified doctor. As our bodies have different reactivities, what suits you might affect the other person.

Vidalista 60 mg is a drug interactive medicine so if you are already consuming anti-depressants, laxatives, tranquilizers, antibiotics, anti-HIV drugs, or any other medications in the same line, consult your doctor prior.

People with other health problems like cardiovascular diseases, diabetes, high blood pressure, kidney problems, liver disorders, atherosclerosis, etc. should remain careful of the dose of Vidalista 60 mg. It is advised to consult with your doctor for more information.

Store Vidalista 60 mg at room temperature in a dark and dry area without any exposure to sun and moisture. Keep the medicine out of the reach of children.

Overall, to prevent yourself from any serious mishappenings that can keep your life at risk due to Erectile Dysfunction, it's better to seek immediate solutions by consulting your doctor.

Keywords

Vidalista 60 mg

References

1)https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2010/03/100315161911.htm#:~:text=Summary%3A,according%20to%20a%20new%20study.

2)https://www.outlookindia.com/newsscroll/men-with-erectile-dysfunction-may-be-at-high-death-risk/1787229

3) https://www.cheapmedicineshop.com/vidalista-60mg.html

[christfocused]

It's Time To Wake Up

To kick off this message I want to ask you a few questions. In fact, grab a piece of paper and a pen or pencil.

Now on the front of that paper, I want you to write down the answer to question number one. Here it is.

If you could instantly change anything about anyone who would you change and what would you change?

Turn the page over and let’s answer question number two. So question number one was on the front and question number two will be on the back.

If you could instantly change anything about yourself what would you change?

Now I have a third question, but you don’t need to write anything down.

Which of these changes – Changing someone else or changing yourself – is more likely to happen?

So hold those thoughts and I will come back to it later.

We have been in a series titled How to Survive in a Post-Christian World. Over the last few episodes we have learned:

That God places leaders over us – Kings, Queens, Prime Ministers, Presidents – and for that reason we are to subject ourselves to them.

There is one exception to our obedience. We obey our leaders as long as our obedience does not conflict with the Bible.

These governmental leaders are God’s ministers. He uses them to restrain evil.

We have also learned that God commands us to love our neighbors. Neighbors are those who are closest to us – our spouse, kids, parents, and people in the immediate community. We are to love them even when they disagree with us or even hate us.

Today we will complete Romans 13 and God has for us two distinct lessons.

Is to wake up

Is to work on ourselves.

Today you will learn this one thing: As the return of Jesus draws closer we are to wake up and wear Christ.

Wake Up

Turn in your Bibles to Romans 13. I will read verses 11-14

And do this, knowing the time, that now it is high time to awake out of sleep; for now our salvation is nearer than when we first believed. 12 The night is far spent, the day is at hand. Therefore let us cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armor of light. 13 Let us walk [c]properly, as in the day, not in revelry and drunkenness, not in lewdness and lust, not in strife and envy. 14 But put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to fulfill its lusts.

Look again at verse 11.

And do this, knowing the time, that now it is high time to awake out of sleep; for now our salvation is nearer than when we first believed.

When Paul writes, “knowing the time” he is saying “understand the season you are in.”

That is why we are studying life in a post-Christian world.

What season are we in?

The Bible is clear. We are in the “Last Days.”

This not based on current events, or on the signs of the times. It is what the Bible teaches.

When did the Last Days begin? There are two possible answers.

Is with the Ascension of Christ.

10 days later with the outpouring of the Holy Spirit.

Turn to Acts 2.

Let’s look at verse 14

But Peter, standing up with the eleven, raised his voice and said to them, “Men of Judea and all who dwell in Jerusalem, let this be known to you, and heed my words. 15 For these are not drunk, as you suppose, since it is only [e]the third hour of the day. 16 But this is what was spoken by the prophet Joel:

17 ‘And it shall come to pass in the last days, says God, That I will pour out of My Spirit on all flesh; Your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, Your young men shall see visions, Your old men shall dream dreams.

Peter goes on quoting the Prophet Joel. When we read Joel we have to treat it like Peter. The prophecy was partially fulfilled on the day of Pentecost and will be fully fulfilled as we approach the last last days.

According to both, Joel and Peter, we are in the Last Days.

Going back to Romans 13, we should consider the Last Days like a season, like a period of time. And we are in this season.

The question is, how should we live during the last days?

First of all, we should be awake and aware of our walk.

Many believers today are sleepwalking through life. Pastor David Guzik writes about this in his commentary. He points out that we can do a lot when we sleepwalk. We can:

speak when we are asleep

hear when we are asleep

walk when we are asleep

sing when we are asleep

think when we are asleep

I will add that we can go to church while we sleep and even go through the motions of worship while we are asleep.

Here’s how I know that.

When you read the Scripture are you listening to what the Holy Spirit is saying through the Bible or do you go through the motions?

Sometimes I read a chapter only to finish and wonder what I just read. My mind was not engaged. I did not think about the words or ask God to show me what He wants for me to learn.

And even more importantly, I ignore what God is doing in my life with that passage. I am sleepwalking in respect to the ministry of the Holy Spirit and the Word.

When you sing in church, do you sing out of rote – mechanical, habitual repetition or do you think about the words you sing?

Do you use them to actually worship God or do you just repeat the words you see on the screen or in a hymnal with never a thought?

As we sleepwalk through life a few things can happen.

We will miss out on what God is doing.

Here is God working all around us, but our eyes are closed and we are unengaged. Maybe God is pulling at the heartstrings of your neighbor but you do not notice because you are asleep.

We will not be changed by what God is saying.

2 Tim 3:16-17 tells us that all Scripture is given by inspiration of God for a reason – to teach us, to reproof us, to correct us, to train us, so that we will be competent and equipped. But none of that matters if we as sleepwalking through this life.

We will be attacked by the enemy.

The devil is out there and he wants to ruin you and your testimony. You need to wake up before he destroys you and your family. 1 Peter 5:8

We will sin. Rom 13:12

Romans 13:12 Paul tells us to cast off the works of darkness. Because we have been sleepwalking we have fallen into sinful habits.

Wake up to the Word of God.

Wake up to the Holy Spirit.

Hear Christ knocking at the door of your heart. He wants to come you’re your life and walk with you in fellowship.

Every day is one day closer to Jesus’ return. Tomorrow is one day closer to the Rapture. Do we really want to be found napping when Jesus returns?

Work on Yourself

So let’s come back to our original three questions. Look back at that piece of paper I had you fill out.

Who and what would you change?

What would you change about yourself?

Which of the two changes is more likely to happen?

The rule of thumb is that we cannot change other people but MAYBE we can change ourselves.

Let’s talk about change.

It is important to remember that God never changes. This is called immutability. God is immutable. He doesn’t change.

Often we use the doctrine of the Immutability of God to teach against current trends. I have used it to teach that God’s views on marriage – one man to one woman – has not changed.

That idea is important but immutability is much larger than that. God’s mercy, kindness, love, justice, and wisdom also never change. They are always perfect. God’s love for you never changes, even when you sin.

Because God is immutable it is impossible for Him to change.

People change. We are mutable. Everything about us can change – our weight, hair color, and even our values and opinions. God has given us the ability to change.

I can choose to lose weight. I can dye my hair. I can political parties. God has given us power over these things and more. God has given us the power to change.

But there is one thing unbelieving humans cannot change. There is one thing that unbelieving humans have no control over and that is the power that sin has over them.

An unbeliever cannot help but sin.

Notice that I said “unbeliever.” A believer, someone who is truly born again, that person has power over sin and can change. If you are a believer, you can resist temptation and the power of sin.

Look again at Romans 13:12-14. Let’s pick up midway through 12.

Therefore let us cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armor of light. 13 Let us walk [c]properly, as in the day, not in revelry and drunkenness, not in lewdness and lust, not in strife and envy. 14 But put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to fulfill its lusts.

Look at those actions again.

Cast off

Put on

Walk properly

Put on

If the Bible commands it, then we can do it. If the Bible tells us to cast off and put on, then we can do those things.

Whereas the unbeliever has no choice but to sin, we choose to sin when we sin. And we choose not to sin when we walk properly.

How does this work?

Put On Christ

When a believer puts on Christ, Christ becomes the believer’s armor. We do not just assume the character of Jesus. We do not just copy the ways of Jesus. We put on Jesus. Jesus becomes our armor. We call upon Jesus to protect us, to defend us, to empower us.

Turn to Ephesians 4:17-

17 This I say, therefore, and testify in the Lord, that you should no longer walk as [f]the rest of the Gentiles walk, in the futility of their mind, 18 having their understanding darkened, being alienated from the life of God, because of the ignorance that is in them, because of the blindness of their heart; 19 who, being past feeling, have given themselves over to lewdness, to work all uncleanness with greediness.

20 But you have not so learned Christ, 21 if indeed you have heard Him and have been taught by Him, as the truth is in Jesus: 22 that you put off, concerning your former conduct, the old man which grows corrupt according to the deceitful lusts, 23 and be renewed in the spirit of your mind, 24 and that you put on the new man which was created according to God, in true righteousness and holiness.

It is not enough to learn about Christ. We must learn Christ.

Daily as you walk with Christ and talk with Christ He changes you. Although behaviors are changed the more important thing is a heart change – inner change.

Sin affects or corrupts our behavior. When we sin we do things that are counter to God’s teaching.

But sin also corrupts our thinking. The unbeliever in verse 18 is corrupted and blinded by sin. An unbeliever’s thinking has been corrupted. That’s why when you talk to a loved one or neighbor about the things of God they just don’t get it. They even come up with silly, stupid, or corrupt ideas and opinions. Sin has blinded them and made them ignorant.

But God, in Christ, makes us a new creature. He teaches us. We learn from Him – IF we listen – If we allow Him to teach.

You are a New Person

Romans 13:14 says that because we put on Christ we make no provision for the flesh.

Look at Galatians 3:26

26 For you are all sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus. 27 For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ. 28 There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus. 29 And if you are Christ’s, then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise.

When you became a believer you became a new person. God changed you. You have a new nature.

That nature should not make provisions for sin. Whoever you were before Christ has been changed.

What’s happening here? God is not just forcing a behavior change. God is accomplishing an inner change, a heart change.

There is so much more we need to discuss. Like the armor of God. The elders will preach on this subject in the future. And much more on putting off and putting on.

But I will stop here and answer another question. What does this have to do with a post-Christian world?

In a post-Christian world, it is essential that we live as good citizens, obeying our leaders but defending the truth.

In a post-Christian world, we must love our neighbors as God has first loved us – regardless of their mindset and behavior.

And during these times, as we see the world slipping deeper and deeper into darkness, we need to wake up and put on Christ.

When we are awake and walking properly then no matter how crazy things may get we still wear Christ. We still represent Him and His Word. And we will respond correctly to the madness around us.

If you, a believer, have been walking in darkness, wake up and put off the deeds of sin. Remember, Jesus is one day closer to coming back. Don’t be caught napping.

And if you have never placed your faith in Jesus Christ, then you are completely living in darkness. You are consumed by sin. Everything you do takes you farther and farther away from God.

But God loves you. He sent His Son Jesus to die for your sin. Call upon God to save you. God wants to forgive you of your sin.

How can you be forgiven? The Bible says, “Believe on Jesus Christ and you will be saved.”

I am asking God to open your eyes and show you that you are a sinner.

I am asking God to awaken you to your greatest need – you need to believe that Jesus died for your sin.

Tell God you are a sinner.

Turn away from that sin.

And turn to Jesus and ask Him to save you.

This is Mark Jones and I will speak with you next week.

Check out this episode!

[spirit-shroud]

v long vent post under the cut, some advice would be really nice right now

my mom is a narcissistic, soul-sucking, god awful person with no sense of humanity, only money. she has a very rich(!!) boyfriend right now who lives in north carolina and has a very big house and is very nice, allegedly, and upon visiting his gigantic house and learning just how much money he makes, she decided her best next step was to straight up fake a house foreclosure, and casually tell me we're going to sell everything we own and pack up and move to north carolina with him in another three months. she also cancelled our health insurance so I can't continue my hormone replacement therapy or even get regular therapy, which i've desperately needed now for the past three years more than ever.

i told my sister and brother in law about this and they agreed to let me stay there, they said they'd try to get me on their insurance and i wouldnt have to worry about things like rent/getting a job or anything until i felt ready. that was the plan. i'd be able to move in with them in early june, and i'd be able to start getting back on my feet. i planned on getting my GED, getting a big headstart on my game, and going to school in NY to get a business/marketing degree (though i've also been very interested in becoming a robotics engineer as well for a few reasons). but of course, some issues came up

first off, my mother magically doesn't have the money to let me be able to visit them later in april, which is when we would've finalized moving plans anyways. which, seeing how everything else has been going, i'm going to chalk up to being a lie, and another means of keeping me trapped with her.

second off, my biological father is dying, apparently -- nobody will tell me any specifics on how or why. i don't know how much time he has left or what he even has. my sister wanted me to go visit him with her except here's the thing. i dont know my dad at all. i see him two days or less per YEAR. he has never once called me, nor texted me though he has my number. he doesn't contact me ever through skype/discord/social media even though he has access to all of those things. he doesn't send christmas cards or come visit or anything. he's a stranger to me. even when i send the first message its rare i get anything back.  he has all the tools to try and come into my life and be a father -- and i’d love him to! he’s been invited at several points! -  except he has never once tried. however, he'll talk to my sister all the time. i've been told they're on the phone lots and while i'm very glad that SHE gets to see him, i don't have that. i don't want to start that if he won’t. i told her i didn't want to pay him a visit now that he doesn't have much time left because he's a stranger, and i really don't think she understood what that meant because she's on the opposite end of the spectrum. he's her father, but not mine. and after our last talk about it, i'm so afraid to try and talk to her again. she's probably in a lot of pain over the whole thing and i just feel nothing towards him. hes a stranger!! he's not my dad and honestly what's been making me feel much worse about it all has been everyone like 'well he's your dad you SHOULD be caring' but i just dont! i can’t even FAKE any feelings for the guy. if he WANTED TO TRY HE WOULD'VE BUT HE DIDN'T. its like i just don't exist to anyone.

which leads me to another point of problems too that i've been really heavily realizing lately. everyone knows about my sister. she graduated college with like a 3.9 average or something and a fancy degree in biology and she has a stable job at a really cool lab doing what she loves. she's getting married soon. she's the only one my mom ever talks about to people. my sister. she's successful and my mom is so proud of her. most people don't even know she has a second child because im a dropout and im disabled and im trans and i'm too distant and unloveable and don't care enough about myself or others. people confuse me with my sister and when i introduce myself, they look confused. they've never heard of me. my mom only has one child. i'll never stand up to her. i'll never have that same light that she has because i'll never be able to follow my dreams. my mom tells me so often i'll never be her because im lazy and bad and stupid and all im ever good at doing is putting things off. and she words it like that, too. you'll never be like her. you'll never be successful. you're just going to live at home forever with me and you'll never get better. its a mantra. a haunting, crippling mantra. i'll never be her because she was just better, and able to run away to college at 18 and dropped all contact with us for years. she's better because she escaped. she's better because she's not me. i've surpassed living in her shadow. we're not even family. i'm a different species compared to her and that's all i'll ever be. what can i say except i'm jealous and i'm angry and so so worried about getting invested into anything?

and i'm just so afraid of finally moving, and saying one wrong thing, or slipping back into my old dumb habits, my old disorders, lazy streaks, my dumb breakdowns and finding myself out on the streets when my health is already so sketchy, or having to live in some strange house with some strange guy and that woman, the bitch who drove me to hate myself. both aren't good options. both aren't reasonable. there isn't a good choice and i know its my fault that it has to be like this because i let her get to me along the way, its my fault i believe my mother every time she screams at me i'm not good enough and that i'm the reason she's hurting too much to work or clean or do anything. its my fault i've been having panic attacks daily. its my fault im jealous and don't have any family. im worthless and useless and lazy and horrible and nothing i ever do will matter because nobody wants me. ive been getting hesitant on following my own dreams of writing or making a game or letting other people in on the things i want because i know i'll just fail. she was right. she's been right all along.

and even at the time in my life where i could get away from her, she's managed to block the path. i dont even want to live right now. honest to god the thought's been crossing my mind constantly. i don't know what to do anymore. im stuck here. there's nothing i can do. she won. that's all there is to it. she won.