#it's near a bunch of medical and government buildings | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

somebodyssherlock-heterodyne · 1 year

Note

HI i need ur bullet point ideas for the tattooed pete/cult priestess vespa/name reveal rabbit hole we’ve gone down on my desk in da morning (please the urge to write this is so trying i need the planning PLEASE)

OK so I don't have much other than what I already posted BUT

-Vespa became a cult leader when she was wasted between assassination jobs and saw a bunch of total randos basically lay siege to the local government building of the local shitty government with like, molotov cocktails and a riding lawnmower that had been modded into a tank. Vespa, who had until two hours ago worked for said shitty government and hated them even more as a result, helped them out, which counts as automatic inauguration into the cult of the Angel of Brahma. She lent her services as a medic to those injured, decided to also take a look at their sundry other sick/injured members, and realized that this cult not only overthrows local shitty governments, they also act as a safe haven slash underground railroad for anyone trying to get the hell out of dodge. She crashes on their couch and wakes up the next morning with a shit hangover, and a bunch of flowers on the coffee table next to her. The flowers are from a few refugees she'd helped out, who wouldn't have been able to leave the planet to reach the next outpost of the cult without her patching them up. Vespa is curious enough to ask, and discovers that the cult of revolutionaries who smuggle people out for only the price those people can actually afford to pay isn't, like, unified or anything. There's no central leadership, just the tenants of the Angel of Brahma as they were written by the cult's founder and the only known member to have met the Angel in person. Vespa is, on one hand, busy as shit, but also like. These branches of cult don't really have established communication or any centralized interplanetary leadership, or interplanetary members, and hey, she gets around, she can pass messages along. So Vespa ends up connecting the disparate groups together, and giving them some advice on how to establish good governments to replace the shitty ones, which turns into accidentally becoming the leader of a cult that spans several dozen solar systems and has a grudge against basically every government they've lived under. Vespa does some digging into the Angel, cause like, that's their beacon of hope, yknow? That's the symbol people turn to. She can do some research. She turns up fuck all, except that the Angel has to be a goddamn shape-shifter to have made it out of New Kinshasa and that they might actually straight up be a biblical angel cause she's struggling to come up with anything else that could've scared Brahma's whole government this shitless. There's also a lot of like. Prison breaks and thefts that happened right afterwards, that apparently were so ballsy and impossible that while the near destruction of New Kinshasa put the fear of God into the Brahmese government, this stuff is what cemented it. So she shares this with her fellows, not realizing she's written a sermon, and they ask for more so she digs up more and oops she's written the mythology of the Angel of Brahma.

Eventually the cultists formalize it and it's customary to have a faceless image of the Angel behind a little statue of their high priestess Vespa on your altar. Someone designs cult robes that double as riot gear for when you're toppling tyrants with molotov cocktails and modded riding lawnmowers, and puts some fancy embroidery on Vespa's, and then Vespa gets asked to lead a couple celebrations and that's when she realizes this is her life now.

-Peter’s tattoos coincide with him getting absolutely trashed in response to the first, second, and third anniversary of Mag's death, so he can't really make himself think about them long enough to book an appointment and get them removed. The cat whiskers were the first one, suggested by a random child he met on the street while wasted, who he allowed to draw cat whiskers and ears on him because they asked very politely if they could. Some jackass walked by and was like "that's so ugly I bet he'll wash it off as soon as you leave" and the child was visibly trying so hard not to cry so Peter, seventeen and wasted off his ass, said "bitch bet" and grabbed the kid's hand and they got to watch him get their drawing turned into a tattoo and they held his hand in case it hurt. This is the only tattoo Peter actually has a full memory of getting, and he doesn't remove it because 1 spite 2 that child was ADORABLE he can't betray them like that.

The mascara streaks he knows next to nothing about besides the fact that he wasn't wearing mascara when he went out to kill half the cells in his liver, so his best guess is that he decided he needed mascara tears for the vibes that night and his brain jumped to "get mascara tears tattooed on" instead of "apply mascara and continue crying".

The Aurinkay shipper one he is unfortunately perfectly able to extrapolate because it happened during the height of his fan boy phase when he was writing RPF about Vespa and Buddy and some BITCH had the audacity to tell him that nobody from Brahma could possibly ~understand them~ well enough for proper characterization (the worst thing they could have said to 19yo Peter Nureyev given that like five of his recent heists were in the name of finding out more details about their crimes so his fanfiction was as accurate as possible). Hence, well. Brahmese calligraphy. He went on to write his most popular fic to date afterwards though, to this day it's the standard by which all other Aurinkay RPF is judged.

-When Vespa asks them to make a stop so she can lead the high holy day of her cult, Peter registers nothing besides being glad for the amazing distraction from who's death day it is. They are halfway through the sermon, and Peter has been thinking 'wow this sounds a lot like that prison break I staged when I was eighteen' which turns into OH NO when Vespa finishes the introductory tale with 'today we praise the Angel of Brahma for freeing all those they have freed, from prisons of stone, prisons of law, prisons of fear, and prisons of oppression.' He spends the entire rest of Vespa's run through of myths/genuinely giving praise to this person who has inspired so many people convincing himself that hospitalizing himself so he can leave is not worth how pissed Vespa would be. Juno is holding his hand, face totally blank, trembling with what is absolutely repressed laughter. They get back to their room while Jet, Buddy, and Rita give Vespa all the compliments she can take, and Juno barely waits for the door to close before he's laughing too hard to stand. When he finds Peter’s folder of RPF fics he started working on after joining the Carte Blanche (a mix of rewrites now that he can be more on point with personalities and sequel fics that may or may not be slightly to the left accounts of their adventures on the Carte Blanche), Juno raises the very valid point that Peter has nothing to be ashamed of considering the sermons Vespa read last week.

-Vespa starts talking more openly about the Angel to the crew, both as "proofread this sermon" and, more rarely, as admiration for the symbol that she focused on during the darkest time of her life, one she might not have made it through that darkness without. Buddy starts looking into the Angel too, because she likes doing things for her wife. Rita's just curious about what kind of person you gotta be to make Vespa Illkay religious.

It's actually a job that has the crew finding out Peter’s from Brahma, given the necessity of someone who can read Brahmese calligraphy for this particular heist. Vespa asks if he wants to join the cult and he turns her down flat, immediately after the words are out of her mouth. Vespa, suspicious, asks him why not. Peter replies that it wouldn't feel right to do so, and the subject is dropped, though Vespa takes 'it wouldn't feel right' to mean 'I don't support what they stand for enough to fight for it' and she adds that as a point in favor of Peter’s origin being 'wealthy heir from the Outer Rim who got into crime for thrills, probably from New Kinshasa'.

This causes some tension, but no super major issues, until Rita's digging into the Angel turns up the name 'Peter Nureyev' and said Peter Nureyev has a fucking heart attack walking into the kitchen and hearing Rita say 'Mistah Nureyev', to which he unthinkingly responds 'when did Juno tell you my name?' And immediately drowns the whole kitchen in dead silence, because Juno is standing by the coffee maker about to ask where the hell Rita learned that cause it wasn't from him, Jet, Buddy, Vespa, and Rita were discussing the true name of the Angel of Brahma before those two walked in, and everyone is coming to several realizations in very quick succession.

When Peter can finally be coaxed out of where he's folded himself into the trunk of the Ruby 7, Buddy suggests they all sit down and talk, and that's when the call about the Brahmese government trying to hunt down Vespa's fellow cultists comes through.

Peter and Vespa, eerily enough, are operating on the exact same wavelength, that being 'you fucked around and now you're finding out' though Vespa is furious and Peter is mostly just bitter and tired and wishing he could've been done with this shit but NO the Brahmese government just HAD to be a dick again even after he'd gone through felony charges like a bucket list dissuading them from that. Fine. Fucking fine. They fucked around and now they're finding out.

So the Carte Blanche leads the Brahmese revolution to victory, with Juno being a BAMF to so public and epic a degree the cult names him the Sunlit Saintess, establishes a new government and a set of lovely houses that will await their retirement, huzzah the death laser system is dismantled even if the flight one is left intact, and hm. Resources are a problem.

Cue Carte Blanche stealing a truckload of crap from the nearest rich bastards, both necessities and not; art, fabric, food, supplies, jewelry, so on and so forth, both the stuff people need to survive and the stuff that helps people live. They make rather a lot of stops in that fashion- craft supplies, tools of various trades, the list is varied and longer than Peter is. With Brahma acting as a local haven for everyone fleeing a dictatorship, there's a big resurgence in culture and the Outer Rim finally has a planet with a solid government that weilds enough power and resources to actually have diplomatic relations with the Solar planets. Postwar diplomacy is actually going alright for the first time ever, basically.

Anyways at some point Juno buys Halloween costume angel wings for Peter to wear to their next stop on Brahma. He's still sleeping on the couch when they arrive. Rita asks Peter if he'll wear them with the halo she made and he can't fucking say no to her so he does, and now whenever they go to Brahma there are wings on the back of his outfit because Buddy does embroidery and is perfectly fine robbing the laundry basket.

The Jupeter wedding is hosted on Brahma, considered a wedding of their two major religious figures. It is lovely and epic. Vespa is basically the Brahmese Pope, which amuses her greatly. Please picture the Kanagawas/Valles Vicky/Alessandra Strong/Mick/Sasha reading the newspaper, oh Brahma's Angel and Saintess got married, huh- and then immediately spit out their coffee becuase IS THAT JUNO FUCKING STEEL. (Mick moves to Brahma and within the week he's everyone's favorite Solar boy who doesn't have a normal braincell in his skull. He starts designing churches for the cult. The worst part is that he's actually pretty good at it, so Juno just has to let him draw mosaics and frescoes and stained glass windows of him and Nureyev).

It is only after all of this that Buddy and Vespa find out about Peter’s face tattoos and the RPF folder. Vespa gleefully adds the RPF about the Carte Blanche crew to the mythology of the Angel and credits Peter in her sermon. He watches it from the living room of Chateau Blanche (the little secret port/fortress they park the Carte Blanche at when they stop by Brahma) and Juno snickers while Peter just buries his face in his hands and gives up. He's still in that position on the couch when Vespa comes home.

4 notes · View notes

wily-one24 · 9 months

Note

How are you? How is life? What are you watching?

Hey Anon!

Welcome to my life.

My life is actually pretty boring. I am a single mum of two teenage boys, I have a near-full time job in admin for disability care, I have multitudes of chronic illnesses and am on the waiting list for a multi-organ transplant.

But day to day? My life is fairly stable. It's pretty good. I'm in a much better place now than I was 12 months ago and so much better than I was five years ago. Financially, medically, and mentally.

As for watching? Well.

Anyone who's seen my tumblr in the last few weeks knows my current obsession is Law and Order: SVU. I am currently rewatching that (there are 24 seasons, so it's a huge undertaking).

I have a weakness for kick ass ladies with tragic pasts who are somewhat lax with their own personal safety when it comes to the pursuit of justice. This fits Olivia Benson to a tea. I am also watching The X-Files for the first time since I was 14 years old. So that's fun. Actually, it's really fun because it's *good*, but the 90s was not so much into the reality/reasonableness/logic of things. Like, honestly, there was a corporate building and a suspense scene in which a business man was being stalked/murdered by the computer monitoring system, and the whole feel of it was ruined by the fact that he was in the company bathroom, public stalls and all, and received a call from the creepy system. In 1994. So it was an analogue phone plugged into the wall and operational, IN A PUBLIC BATHROOM RIGHT NEXT TO THE SINK.

WTH? What kind of company is this? Who are these people? No wonder the computer decided to kill you all.

And Mulder goes into a town to search for alien conspiracies and twelve goons in black suits, sunnies, and sporting machine guns pull up and surround his car to tell him there's "nothing" to see. Like, really? Because the government goons are always protecting nothing.

He breaks onto a facility to look for hidden spaceships and they keep him prisoner and parade right past the freakin' ship. Like, c'mon... just... force feed him a bunch of alcohol and drop him off at the local drunk tank... NOBODY is going to believe the drunk dude spouting about aliens and government conspiracies. Not even Scully.

It's still really fun and I am enjoying it. David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson are rocking their little socks off and acting it out of the park.

How 'bout you, Anon?

#welcome to my life

1 note · View note

constanceiscute · 1 year

Text

Sometimes, its enough to just observe

Sometimes its enough to check out of thought, of any thought at all

And just check in to your surroundings, into life itself

Bare witness to the cogs that run the relentless machine of life

And sometimes its enough to live vicariously

And some times you have no say in the matter at all

Lydia Lane Lay Lamenting Long Lost Memories of When she meant something, of when her name struck fear into the hearts of fascists

Lydia Lane lays a wreck, barely mobile beneath the neck

Here she lays and waits adorn, of scars that tell of a life well lived

In this building filled with kids, some are dying, some new born

She is the resident witness, all who pass through either do so under her protection or not at all

Lydia Lane, she laughs and groans "I'm sick of this shit!' She bemoans,

But behind the jokes and "I'm doing fine" She years In her heart for the picket line

She promises herself before she kicks it, she'll tell these suits where they can stick it

So as the lights come on to signal night, Lydia readies for her final fight

"I'll have to do it, whilst I have the time", Lydia says lifting her sign

"I'll make this bastard world all mine", she groans trying to find a rhyme

She rekindles an old fashioned type of pleasure, and adds some swear words just for good measure

"I'm sorry to be awfully blunt, but you government lot are a bunch of"

I'll spare you the details, for the sake of brevity

But safe to say, it was filled with levity

So Lydia grabbed her sign then planned, how she'd stick it to the fucking man

As the clock would finally strike twelve, Lydia Lane would readily delve, into the yellow painted jail, that would hold her for years without fail

But this time her medical prison would falter, not even Guantanamo Bay could hold her,

She ran and escaped through the employee car park, and put on the late night news for a lark

But to her shock, and to her suprise

Upon the screen, a potato with eyes

She hated this cunt and she'd make him heed her, it was ofcourse the opposition leader

He was doing a speech soon, later today

Just down the street From where Lydia laid,

Before she did jump to her feet and would say

"I'll make this evil sack of potatoes pay"

So she sat and she waited, for minutes then hours

And the clouds did open for some morning showers

But she managed to keep herself occupied, and rhymed on her sign whilst biding her time

Lydia Lane was old and was frail, but she waited 89 years for this day

To finally show these fascist scum

The power of a lonely pissed off Mum

The night would pass the hour was near, Lydia steadfast standing without fear

On her warpath a man full of glutton, the man built just to push her buttons

A man who's wife is certain he'd beat her, was no match for Lydia when he'd finally meet her

As she runs and she jumps her bones begin to creak

And all mouths fall shut as she begins to speak

"I've waited years for you, you wretched cunt"

All eyes turned towards Lydia's stunt

"I've travelled the country, and seen her battered brusing scars, ive walked her scars and stand here now

To tell you how

Over 89 years I've witnessed her pain, but those you seek to kill will still now remain

And you may find my words to be funny

But behind your shit eating grin and oil money

Is but a human, weak fragile frail

And in the name of these people, I will make you wail"

Lydia used the last of her energy to leap into his arms, and then she went stiff and died without charm

His eyes widened and she puked in his mouth, her last dying action to humiliate Voldemort of the south

In his arms Lydia Lay, a reminder there will always come a day

Where we break even.

0 notes

dcrie · 3 years

Text

#this cinema near me has weird vibes #i guess #idk #it's near a bunch of medical and government buildings

0 notes

pixielle-hrrngrv · 4 years

Text

Here’s a little 1K word excerpt from a much larger posts3 Harringrove fic I’m currently working on. It’s rough and unbetaed as the rest of the fic is still in that rough state, but it’s the Max & Billy family details I’ve been craving to write since I first watched the back half of s3 and Max’s “I really hope it’s not you” and her breakdown at his death.

TW// Abuse of a Child, Descriptions of Blood, Descriptions of Violence.

===

About a week after Billy… died (because he did die, his heart stopped beating), Max couldn’t contain the scream that had been building in her throat.

It started with the dissonance to Neil’s mood when Dr. Owens called him after Billy had been gone for a whole week after the mall’s collapse, assuring him that his son was now stable but comatose. It was all an act, she could see it on his face in her mind, small “mhmm’s” the only thing he said as Dr. Owens spoke for a while longer.

“And this is government related? You’re holding him without my consent?”

Max slid along the inside of her door to hear better, feet falling near silently, but she knows he can see her shadow move along the floor of the hallway. Max can hear Dr. Owens try to respond about something regarding confidentiality, but Neil cuts him off. His voice is firm, angry underneath, and the vitriol grows as he continues to speak. It spits out of him like a venomous snake.

“Then take him as a ward of the state, he turns 18 in less than a month. I don’t care what he did to get himself in this mess, that’s his problem. You should’ve left him in the rubble of that fucking mall because I’m not paying a goddamn cent in medical bills.”

The phone is slammed down into the cradle at the same moment Max’s door hits the wall of the hallway.

And Max, she snapped.

Screamed into Neil’s face about how horrible he’d been to Billy his whole life, that he made all of them into angry, broken people, and if he was worth anything he would be at his bedside, with her, atoning and begging the broken visage of his son for forgiveness for his actions.

The backhand she got for it sent her into the hallway wall. It was so forceful her neck snapped back and a picture frame shattered on her impact. It came free from the wall and hit her on the back of the head on her way down to the hardwood floor.

The front door slammed, but she didn’t flinch. She just took a breath, gritted her teeth, and reached back for the frame where it settled against her skull.

Her mother found her alone when she got home from work, nearly an hour later, clotted blood coating Max’s red hair and the glass embedded in it. Silent tears fell onto the remaining broken glass in the frame as she stared at the picture.

It was a generic Sears Christmas photoshoot, from when they were still in California. When they were still trying to appear like a compressed Brady Bunch. Still trying at all.

Billy was 13 in it, baby fat softening the features of his face, but you could hardly tell from his upright military posture and set jaw, curls cropped far, far shorter than they were when he died. A faint grimace wrapped around his face as he stood between Susan and Max, arms folded behind his back. It was one of the only photos of all four of them together in existence at all. And now it would be the last.

Seeing it tearstained with a fat drop of blood in the upper corner, spreading to obscure Neil’s face, she finally got it. She understood.

Max clenched the 4x6 in her hand as she was carted into the ambulance, paramedics tending to her head wound and doing preliminary eye tests for concussions. To the sounds of sirens, head still pounding as blood flooded against the clot of her wound, she folded and ripped the leftmost, bloody, quarter of the photo away. She leant over and slipped the rest of the photo into her mother’s purse, safe, while she balled up the torn off piece in her hand.

When she was lifted out of the ambulance, she let her hand fall casually towards the edge of the gurney, dropping the shred of photograph to the parking lot of the hospital when no one was looking. She watched it get ground beneath the wheels of a passing car as she was pulled into the hospital, gone from her sight, forever.

She was cleared and diagnosed with a mild, grade 1, concussion within the hour. When her head wound was sewn shut and wrapped up with a thin ice pack sandwiched between the layers of gauze wrap, both her and her mother rode the elevator up to the ICU. They could only stay for a minute, one of Chief Hop- no, a Hawkins Deputy, was waiting down in the lobby for them.

Max sat up near Billy’s head and leant down to his ear, whispering to him. Despite the fact that she knows her mother can’t hear her from the door over the noise of the respirator.

“I only made it a week without you, dickhead.” Max’s breath shakes as she tries to start, “A fucking week.” Her head shakes a little bit, almost laughs as she bites down on her bottom lip.

“Thank you for saving me for all those years. When you’re ready, we’ll be here and you will be safe from him.” She didn’t know if she meant the Mindflayer or Neil. Probably both.

A final tear tracks out of Max’s sore, bloodshot eyes and falls into Billy’s flat, greasy curls where they lay limp against the pillow. It makes her breath hitch, but she holds it and takes a pair of deep breaths as she stares at how small, how defenseless Billy looked in that hospital bed. She had never described Billy as defenseless in her life before these past two weeks and she hated it.

Susan wraps her arms around Max as they walk through the halls. Max’s expression doesn’t change, but she leans into her mother as she makes eye contact with the Deputy across the lobby. He stands and tilts his head towards the cop car waiting out front.

One more deep breath, filling her lungs as much as she could.

For Billy, who couldn’t.

Because she was done crying.

It was time to be strong.

#max mayfield #billy hargrove #harringrove #writing #hope this came across as realistic #bc i've had this experience down to my older brother being in the hospital bed #🙃#too personal? yeah #at least he was conscious when i was crying in his lap #and hadn't been speared by an interdimensional hell demon #AT LEAST

48 notes · View notes

redfoxwritesstuff · 4 years

Text

Of Dust and Ashes. Chapter 31

So, good and bad news. The good, you’re getting your update right on time. More good news? The next update should also be right on time! In exchange for two bits of bad news, my laptop died. RIP and my daughter has been Covid’ed out of daycare and is stuck home until her test result comes in which means I too am stuck at home. I may be around more... or less.

Chapter warnings: None? Some blood and talk of the aftermath of the snap. Series warnings: Dude, at this point- if it can be a warning, it’s probably either already in the story or planned. Please read responsibly. Series rating: M for mature themes, graphic violence, sexual content and death.

Wanna catch up? Masterlist is here. Wanna drop me a tip? Buy me a Ko-Fi.

Chapter 31: Stew

Dee paced the waiting room. Each lap across the wood floor took less time. When she realized she was near a jog, she forced herself to slow down. It wouldn't do to work herself up.

She should have been talking to Rachel. Now was a perfect time to explain the situation with Sasha in more detail. How else could Rachel ever feel comfortable enough to trust the new woman. If Rachel didn’t trust Sasha, how could they be sure that she would stay with her?

If Rachel left the Clinic and struck out on her own, it was very likely that her baby would die. If she got lucky, she herself would survive until the spring. Dee didn’t want to put much time, effort or resources into keeping the ungrateful woman alive but she also didn’t want her to die. There had already been more than enough death.

The fact that they’d already done too much already to keep her alive gnawed at her. They had left the safety of the farmhouse to keep her alive. They killed people to keep her alive. Trust got hurt because they decided to save her. She owed it to them to survive until the spring. If saving her resulted in Trust's death, she owed it to them to survive.

Swallowing her anxiety, Dee forced herself to sit next to Rachel. “Make yourself at home.”

“What?”

“This is where we’re going to be leaving you.” Dee didn’t want to be talking. She wanted to be trying to sneak up on the exam room again. She wanted to check on Trust. But she knew she would only be a distraction. Clint wanted her to work on setting Rachel at ease.

“I thought… I thought we would be going to a house… This isn’t somewhere people can live.”

Dee took a deep breath, willing herself to be calm. Silence ticked on around them. She reminded herself that she had a different experience with the Decimation than Rachel. She had known many horrors during the last five months but she had traveled. She had seen the extent of it through a great portion of the country. She had seen what it did to cities, towns, people and most importantly, to families.

Rachel only knew what this small part of the country. She was a local to Kansas. She’d lived in the small town she had grown up in. Those who remained had banded together to protect themselves and their supplies. When King Jacob’s men had shown up and offered to absorb them at the cost of a minor tax, it was hard not to hear them out. It had seemed like a great way to gain more safety and support. The majority agreed to join with King Jacob, believing with all their hearts that they were doing what was best for the town.

They hadn’t expected that the minor tax would include most of their supplies. It had taken the King’s men looting the town for them to stand up and say enough. The result was only bloodshed and the kidnapping of most of the women and young boys.

Dee had listened to a bit of her story while they had walked through the city, on their way to the truck. If that was what had happened here, she could only imagine what happened to those living within the expanding territory of King Mason. There were so many other self named 'kings'. How were they running their territories?

Clint had mentioned that the reforming government was working with the self titled Kings on the East Coast. What were they like? How many people had they hurt? The idea made her sick.

“You can live anywhere, now. Zoning rules don’t apply.” It was a bad joke and Rachel didn’t laugh. “There’s a stove, generator, well water, rooms and beds.”

“Exam rooms and beds.” Rachel pointed out.

“True. But the walls are thick and solid. It’s out of the way and you’ll be living with a nurse.”

“But-”

“We won’t make you stay. But this is where we will bring supplies and this is where we will leave you. The rest is up to you. But if you come and go from here, come back to get supplies and leave again- you could lead others here. It’s up to you.”

Rachel was silent for a moment. Finally, she opened her mouth to say something as Clint rounded the corner. Dee shot to her feet and rushed across the room, heart beating wildly in her chest. Her stomach rolled. Blood was smeared on his hands. Though she tried, she couldn’t make her voice work.

“He’s okay.” Clint’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a tight hug. It was everything she needed. “He’s okay.”

“Really?” Tears slipped down her face. She told herself it was dumb to cry over a dog but couldn’t stop.

“Sasha was able to remove the bullet. Stitched him right up. He got lucky, it missed everything vital. He may always have a limp though, it nicked his shoulder blade but she doesn’t have a way to cast it.”

“He’s going to be okay?” She asked again, as if he hadn’t already said he would be.

“Yeah. Some pain meds for a few days. He’s going to be sore for a while.”

“He’ll be fine, assuming infection doesn’t set in.” Sasha added, rounding the corner. “I’d like to keep him in an exam room overnight to make sure he rests. We’ll offer food and water in a while when he’s fully awake.”

“Why can’t he stay with us?”

“I don’t want him ripping the sutures. If he’s alone in a small room, he won’t be doing much moving around. Just for tonight, maybe some of tomorrow.”

“Hopefully he leaves them alone.” Clint grumbled. “I don’t exactly have a cone of shame in the truck.”

“If you could get one, that’d be best.” Sasha offered.

“We’ll see.” Clint grumbled. His back was sore. His legs were sore. His head ached from lack of sleep and stress. “It’s not something that many would think to take and hoard at least. Shouldn’t be too hard to come by.”

“If you can, antibiotics and animal medications? Any literature they have as well- I’m a nurse, a people nurse. Not a vet. I’m playing a dangerous game of guesswork using what I’ve got on him.”

“Not likely on antibiotics. Most people know that they will need antibiotics if they get hurt. Most don’t know the names- they probably just shoved everything they could in a bag and called it a day. But a cone and maybe some books should be easy enough.” Clint didn’t want to go anywhere. He wanted to sleep. Still, Sasha was a valuable resource that was already paying for her keep. The least he could do was enable her to be a bigger resource. “I’ll go after we eat, swing by the farmhouse and load up supplies as well.”

“You will come back.” Sasha pressed. Though it wasn’t presented as an option or a question, it was. The way she twisted her hands and her eyebrows bunched together gave it away. She would have been a pretty young woman, before everything had happened. Clint would bet that as she came into her new life now, she would once again be a pretty young woman.

“I will. You’ll have Trust so I have to. Can’t leave the mutt behind, now can I? Dee’d be heartbroken.”

Sasha nodded and turned. “You’re all probably hungry. I’ll see what I can make.”

“Let me.” Dee insisted.

“I’ll build up the fire.” Clint offered, dragging himself to the wood stove.

“But-”

“I’d rather you give Lizzy a checkup and her shots. Rachel could use a once over as well. We can make food while you do what we can’t.”

Dee made her way over to Rachel who was still huddled in the chair. “Sasha here is going to give you and Lizzy a once over, okay? If Lizzy is strong enough, she’s going to give her her shots.”

“Why?”

“The shots? Because we want to protect her from as much as we can.”

“Herd immunity is questionable at best right now.” Clint added. It had been something that had been weighing on his mind. More than a few of Lauren’s mom friends had opted out of giving their snot goblins shots. They would give imaginary reasons full of made up science that only made sense on the most surface level. “Half the population is gone and antivax was gaining traction. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if there is a resurgence of most of the shit we gave shots for in the next decade. There may not be enough kids in some areas that had their shots, kids born now probably won’t get their shots for a while, if at all- large holes in a very thin herd.”

“I’ll give shots to any kid who needs them.” Sasha pointed out. “Other doctors, nurses still alive will too. We don’t want to see things like whooping cough and measles outbreaks becoming routine again.”

“You will. But others may only give it in exchange for food or supplies. Others still may hoard the vaccines, only giving them to members of their family or group. It’s a new world and you’ve got to stop thinking in terms of this being temporary.”

“But the Avengers, You’ll fix this.” Sasha pressed.

“No. We. Won’t.” Clint punctuated each word with the toss of a handful of twigs and kindling into the wood stove. “We- They tried. They failed. The grape that did this is dead. The stones are destroyed. It’s over and this is what’s left.”

“But-” This time it was Rachel that spoke up only to receive Clint’s glower.

“But what? The world will come back to something that looks normal? Fat chance.” Clint directed his attention wholly to his task when he noticed both Sasha and Rachel shrinking back from his glare. “The Avengers are working with the government to re-establish order and rule on the east coast, moving west. They’re filling the government and military ranks.”

“That’s good then?” Rachel offered. Sasha had abandoned the room to prepare for the exams.

“Is it?” Clint scoffed as he took a long stick lighter from Dee’s offered hand. Before long, Sasha would have to light her fires with matches and then, learn to strike a fire with flint. It was one of the many ways people were not prepared to live a life like this. “They are absorbing the self titled rulers, naming them governors and mayors. Do you think King Jacob would have made a good mayor? That’s what he would have become, if they came and he still held the city. Sure, they’d require him to raise the standard of treatment of the people, give them freedom but still.”

“They can’t be. They’re heroes. That’s not-”

“It is. Tony’s got crippling PTSD and has all but given up. Thor’s busy doing whatever to settle his people. Bruce has locked himself in a lab. Nat and Steve are working damn hard to bring the government back damn near on their own but they are only two people. They can’t be everywhere and they can’t fill every spot. The Avengers you hold so dear are down to one super soldier and one very tired assassin.”

“What about you?” Rachel asked. “You’re still alive.”

“Am I?” Clint snapped, regretting it instantly as Dee draped a calming arm across his shoulders.

“You are.” She whispered in his ear and he clung to that.

“I can’t support putting people like that in charge of other people's lives.” Clint said.

Both he and Dee knew there was more to it, though they rarely spoke of it. Clint was bitter. He was angry. He blamed them. They failed to save everyone. He blamed himself, too. He wasn't there to have the chance to help, to fail with them. Now, he wouldn’t- no, he couldn’t help them put people like the self named King Jacob in power.

He understood why they had to do it. He wouldn’t help but he wouldn’t stand in their way. Let the terrible king’s reign for now, someone would likely go through and kill them later. Someone like-

“Come on.” Sasha called out, ushering Rachel and the baby out of the waiting room with a clipboard in her hand and what looked like two charts. It was so normal that Dee couldn’t help but smile at the sight. If playing doctor made Sasha feel better, all the better.

The fire crackled as Clint stacked a few large logs on top of the pile of flaming kindling and thick sticks. He waited for the first to begin catching before adding the next.

“There are others like King Jacob.” Dee said.

Though it was not a question, Clint answered. “Yeah. I won’t let them hurt you. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“Can you really promise that?” Dee asked. “Our own government, your friends are allowing them to keep power and giving them authority.”

“I won’t let them touch you.” Clint insisted.

“Back in California, there was a man calling himself King-”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No, I never had a encounter with him. I’d hear him and his people on the radio, making announcements of their power or whatever. There were stations that resisted, TV and radio. One was taken over while on the air. People died. He isn’t a good man.”

“Bad people are going to rule the world, at least for a while.”

“They did before too, I think. It was just less obvious.”

Clint laughed, though the sound was bitter. “True enough. But there were others who kept them in check.”

“Like we did today?” Dee whispered. Her heart was pounding in her ears. She knew she was dancing around something but she couldn’t pinpoint what. It was something dark that didn’t want to be given voice. Perhaps it was evil. Perhaps it was madness.

“Yeah.” Clint whispered. “Just like today.”

“I’ll see what I can find for dinner.” Dee said.

With that, they turned away from the unnamed madness, leaving it hanging and powerless. If they didn’t look at it too long, maybe they could ignore the siren call. What would happen if they listened? What would happen if they gave it voice? What would happen if they took more power than they had now? What power could they have?

~~~~~<3

“Well, Lizzy seems to have gained a good bit of weight. She’s doing much better than that first day. Got her shots in. I’d like to keep her on the normal schedule for them, if possible.”

Sasha’s voice cut through the room as they entered. The heavy smell of stew greeted them. It smelled heavenly and drew a rumble from her stomach. How Clint and Dee could manage to make something that smelled that divine with the food she had, she couldn’t imagine. Somehow, they did though and she couldn’t wait to dig in.

“Everyone’s okay, then?” Dee called out, straightening her back. She’d been slumped over the stew, mixing the pot to keep it from burning. Clint was next to her, making something akin to flat bread on the stove top.

“For the most part.” Sasha wouldn’t call Rachel healthy but she would admit she could be in worse condition.

“There should be plenty to eat, at least.” Clint said, flipping the bread like disks when the first side was browned. “Grab bowls so we can eat up.”

The meal passed with soft words and long spells of silence. Sasha and Rachel both ate two bowls and many, many disks of bread. Clint wasn’t surprised. Sasha had looked to have been stretching her food. He couldn’t blame her. She had no real reason to trust that he would come back with supplies like he had promised.

While they had been waiting for Sasha and Rachel, Clint had taken his time to poke around her supplies. She had some canned meat and a almost empty freezer. He had every intention of filling her freezer with meat and ice. He’d see to it that they could last a month between supplying trips, if they ever were unable to make the trip.

Setting his empty bowl to the side, Clint stood up. “I’ll go grab supplies as promised before it gets too late.”

“You’re going to come back, right?” Sasha asked as if he had somewhere else to go with all the supplies.

“Yeah.” He directed his attention to Dee. “That stew will taste even better tonight. When the fire burns down, throw it back on the stove to simmer.”

She nodded her agreement, pulling herself to her feet as Clint gathered his keys, boots and coat. As he stood from tying his boots, she wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. His arms crossed over her’s, his hands clasping around her’s.

“Be safe.” She pleaded.

“Always.”

“Come back to me.”

“Always.” He promised again. “I will always come back to you.”

“I love you.” She whispered, as if it was a sacred secret.

Turning, he placed his hand on the side of her face. Fingers slipped into the strands of her hair as he brought his lips to her’s. The kiss was soft, sweet and chaste yet it was somehow everything she needed from him. “I love you, too.”

After letting him go, she watched him slip into his coat. He checked his gun before pushing the furniture from in front of the door. As it closed behind him, she squeezed her eyes together. After taking two slow, deep breaths, she began pushing everything back in place.

She wondered if it would ever be easier to watch him leave.

~~~~~<3

Tag list: @usedtobegoodfriend96 @alcoholic-muffin @theoneanna @alexakeyloveloki, @toozmanykids, @winterisakiller, @j-u-s-t-4. @bambamwolf87, @missaphrodite23, @nonsensicalobsessions, @tinchentitri, @xoxabs88xox @queenoftheunderdark, @carissime72 @myoxisbroken @coyotesongwriting @wegingerangelica @tnystrk-exe @faemapfae, @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123

#clint x oc #clint x ofc #clint barton x ofc #clint barton fanfiction #clint barton x oc

33 notes · View notes

whirlybirdwhat · 4 years

Text

Accidental Family Man Au

remember that one ask where I talked about some projects? This is one of them. Enjoy dad franky!

So it begins with Franky – a back alley repair in the illustrious mechanic city of Water 7 – a miracle engineering city, they call it, with intertwining roads of cars and rivers. Venice, if Venice was made of concrete and had a road system above its water system, twisting above houses and everything.

Franky used to be one of those engineers that created those miracles, but an accident later, and he’s the scourge of the city and half bionic, making his living in back alley repair shops where you either pay with cash or your life.

He never said he was a good guy, did he Ice Burg?

He still has connections though – and these connections lead to Iceburg, and to the Straw Hats.

Iceburg’s the mayor, of course, and while he doesn’t care much for his public image, he knows that if he starts accepting money from shady kids who showed up to his doorstep possibly covered in blood with a woman who he swears he’s seen before beside him, that maybe Water 7’s people will take a hit for harboring criminals.

But hey, He knows a guy already doesn’t he?

So he sends these kids and their broken van down to the Franky House to see if he would fix their beloved, broken, van.

The Straw Hats never reach it, because the woman (Robin) gets kidnapped and a fight breaks out, leading to the separation of the group,

So the story really begins with Franky and the little broken down RV called The Going Merry, previously belonging to the kid who’s standing in front of him, begging him to fix it.

More Hcs Below cut including actual dad Franky stuff lol

That kid is Usopp, and he’s asking because Franky’s the only repair man in the illustrious city of Water 7 that will possibly accept the cash that Usopp has to offer.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he attempts to kick the kid out and gets kidnapped in return.

Oops

So, Franky’s introduced to Ennies Lobby one of the worst places this side of the country – where people go and never come back, and hey, whats this kid doing kicking down the door?

Safe to say, Franky is rescued, and learns a little more of their story.

And Safe to say, Franky sees the woman they are going to save (him, and a bunch of teenagers and some 12 year old brat) and he near damn falls in love with her on sight and definitely does when he actually talks to her.

They save Robin, and start running – of course, Merry the van is just barely struggling to save all their added weight but they make it but also merry’s totaled.

So Franky shows them his pet project, The Thousand Sunny, supposed to be his super get away, home a way from home rv but with a few modifcations… the Straw Hat Gang has a new home. And a new crew member.

Franky learns everyone’s stories and about all the absolutely shady shit they are into. He learns he fits right in.

And then… then the moments start happening.

He helps Usopp fix up the Sunny, and teachers him about cars and such.

He and Chopper start bonding over bionics and medical shit that went into building his body.

Zoro and him geek out over comic heroes (this, at least in zoro’s part, is canon the big nerd.)

He helps Nami out with some headings and listens to her troubles.

Sanji and him go fishing one day and it’s the most surreal experience of Franky’s life because this teen is in a three-piece suit and catching giant fish out on the shore of some lake? What?

Franky gives Luffy advice and pulls him out of fights and shows him cool robot things.

And its two months in when Franky realizes – here is it actually typed out lmao

“In all honesty, Franky doesn’t know how it happens.

Well.

He has a vague idea.

(Can you save her? Please? Merry’s the best.)

But still – tracing the events that led up to him frantically calling Ice-for-brains at one am in the morning at a near abandoned gas station on the west coast was a hard task.

“Hello?”

Finally.

“Ice-for-brains,” He starts using the familiar name.

“Flunky? The hell? What are you calling me now?”

“Iceberg.” The use of his real name quiets him. He knows this is serious. Franky takes a deep breath, and exhales, saying the next words in a single breath. “I accidently became a dad to six crazy teenagers. Help.”

…

“Goddamnit bastard-berg this is no time to laugh!””

AND THEN HE GOES ON TO HAVE MORE DAD ADVENTURES INCLUDING:

Organizing the kids at Sabaody Park

being emotional support for all these kids trauma please world, give them a break

doing his best to say no to allowing luffy to swim with sharks but giving in anyway

being a component (aka fierce menacing bodyguard) in his daughter’s nami’s schemes

breaking up fights

Attempting to ground known criminals who may or may not be stronger than him

Modifying the RV so that they can have Brook and Jimbe on it as well

“MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS!”

Overthrowing the government in at least three different countries because his kids wanted to

Doing experiments with illegal fireworks on Usopp’s behest

“Do you want to play catch” “Franky that’s dynamite that we found in the stach what the fuck- “Do you want to play catch” “…Yes.”

Explaining Safe Sex to teenagers who have biggers worries such as the government

Teaching them all how to drive. He thinks hius heart has popped out of his chest.

Snoring loudly on their tiny couch and everyone just dogpiling on him

Also I had this in my notes

So that’s a thing that’s going to happen!

Uh anyway uh PART TWO – THE OTHER FCKING STRAWHATS

Note: Everyone is aged down three years from pre TS ages to enforce the fact that 1) the government is fucking nuts for assigning bounties to these kids in this au 2) give more dad moments as while we all need a dad in our lives at any age it gives me more plausible reason here 3) plot related issues and the fact that this story takes place over several years and 4) the image of a 14 year old taking down the government is hilarious to me.

So.

Moving on.

Luffy – 14 years old and an absolute bastard

Luffy grew up in the port city of Fuusha as a way for Garp to keep an eye on him because of his family connections and make sure nothing bad happened to him - didn’t quite work out.

dads a terrorist, his brothers a world class criminal, his gramps is an abusive piece of shit but also weirdly protective marine officer, his family’s complicated.

he grew up in the seedy underbelly of the city and made friends with a lot of criminals (who helped him get out because hey that five year old who used to steal our food is a brat and maybe we should help him get out before he becomes to chaotic (too late) and becomes our friend (also too late) )

Among these criminals are Shanks, who wanders through once in a while, Buggy, begrudging friend, Jimbe, because he has connections, Crocodile, because this brats a bastard, and Rayleigh, among others.

Annoys them to make him his friend, continues annoying them afterwards.

He just thinks they’re neat.

Luffy leaves two months after Ace, his brother under Dadan’s, the local gang leaders, roof, leaves because Ace can’t tell him to stay behind anymore

but the govt got word now he’s on the run – Coby helps him escape

As such, Luffy grows up with a very very skewed moral compass as in canon but a bit more, and now literally is almost ten times more feral as he should be.

His goal is now to do whatever he wants, without people telling him what to do or that he can’t do that – He’s going to be free, damnit.

Franky understands and learns over time to adjust his Parenting Skills accordingly

Zoro – 16 and illegally owning a motorcycle because he thought the best way to improve his skill was to go out and hunt down people to fight, and of course he needs a motorcycle to do that, doesn’t he?

He was pulled over for speeding then taken in for being underage

He is also caught up in some bad stuff (fight circles, bounty’s, etc. this kids 16 and breaking grown men’s spines.)

Then comes Luffy who was also arrested for dine and dashing and is in the back seat.

Luffy, who after the police car pulls over, punches out the police officer, unlocks Zoros cuffs and tells him “Drive”

So they drive

“Hey, hey Zoro. Join my crew. It’ll be fun.”

“Anything you say captain”

knows Luffy for three seconds and is immediately down to murder with him

Its great

He wants to become the greatest sword fighter still, which is still a thing in my fantasy modern world, so anyway, picture this 16 year old going up to you and tell you to fight but he has a sword in his mouth and in both hands and the most dangerous look in his eye.

He and Luffy immediately rob a sword shop to find him new swords after they meet, it becomes a thing later on where they will steal (horribly, they literally crash in through the window every time because they have no subtly) something small from each city they visit.

Nami - 15 year old pick pocket in the city where luffy and zoro stop, just trying to scrap up some money to pay off her family’s debt.

Bellmere’s still alive damnit.

Nami thought Zoro and Luffy were police originally (because they are driving around in stolen police car) and tried to pull the ‘oh officer help me’ card when the people she stole from chased after her

To her surprise, it was two kids her age in the front seat.

Luffy: “get in”

she gets in

they dont talk about it

The people who were chasing her was Buggy’s gang who Luffy waves at as he goes by

Buggy sends a message to Shanks which is essentially “hey that brat u liked is still alive”

And Shanks is like “oh thank god” not knowing the terror he has unleashed upon the world

A month later Arlong has mysteriously disappeared and the Bell-mere farm is flourishing while the second daughter becomes a world class criminal.

Bell’meres never been prouder and it gives Nojiko a great conversation starter.

Usopp’s 14 and lives in a trailer park called syrup alone

Has a business where he sells odd herbs and such, passing them off as anything that will get him some money – think of it as Toad Oil from Wano but with some popgreens and such mixed in.

His goal is get enough money to stand on his own and leave the park but its slow going. And then…

Luffy punches the heck outta the creep that was creeping on the owner of the park, kaya, and think’s Usopp’s stories are super cool.

Usopp wants to go with them, to explore the world With Luffy.

At this point, the Straw Hats have realized that driving a stolen police car around is a bad idea

so they take the huge van - a gift from Kaya named The Going Merry, and set off, using Nami’s stolen funds to get them by.

Sanji - 16 year old who longs to be a chef with the best food and just wants to feed people who need it

He hates government cause they don’t feed people and has a lot of petty grudges and helps Zeff run a lot of kitchens to help people.

He’s still the Sous chef of the Baratie and still has a penchant for kicking unruly customers around. Baratie has a less then stellar reputation for service but the food? The best in the land.

He feeds Luffy the food.

Luffy likes the food.

Luffy kidnaps Sanji

Zeff worries about it but he can’t do jack since he actually is not Sanjis legal guardian (he kidnapped the kid first on accident after they both were stranded. He still tries to call anyway, and is proud of the change his son is making in the world. He’s currently working to get suspicious government people off his back about his missing Sous chef with the unique curly eyebrow…

Anyway, Sanji becomes the cook for the strawhats and is really happy because everyone likes his food and he can help anyone along the way and send business to the baratie

Its a good deal for him, and with all the places he visits his skill grows as a chef.

Chopper - 12 year old prodigy who really wants to be a doctor but both his legal guardians are out of the way

Hiruluks dead and Kureha, against her will because she’s still beautiful at 100 dammnit, is in a nursing home trying to break out

Chopper has nowhere to go but still tries to pursue his medical career, and this fucking twelve year old does so by patching up people from bar and gang fights.

The Straw Hats pick him up and Usopp hacks into a govt control thing to sign him up for online medical course

Kureha’s proud and gives him a book of pressed cherry blossoms that was Hiruluk’s

He cries

Chopper gets lots of practice for medical stuff with Luffy and Zoro who like to fight in fighting rings just for the heck of it, and for the money that Nami wants.

Robin – 25 year old depressed archeologist (and assassin) they found in a mafia in the next country over (Vivi’s)

Crocodile’s running it, aka Luffy’s criminal uncle number 500

Luffy’s pissed about it and smacks him into the dust because it’s his friends country, and then drags Robin along because she needs to have some adventure, and hey, they are checking out the ruin’s next, wont that be cool?

So robin comes along as the ‘adult super vision’, at least in Nami and Usopp and Chopper’s mind.

She learns that these kids have some how been able to dodge school, and starts teaching them the basics of what they would need to know, and then any thing else they want to know. (Zoro, she finds, is extremely good at math while Sanji enjoys chemistry. Nami and Usopp catch on quick, while Chopper has his own studies already but enjoys talking to her. Luffy dislikes learning, but if the promise of pirates or foods or letters that wont spin in his head is involved, he’ll gladly sit down for a bit. He especially loves the stories however.)

Robin finds herself inching dangerously into mom territory, and accepts it whole heartedly after meeting Franky, who she finds handsomely hilarious.

She has a shady past but is slowly opening up about it, and knows she will watch the world burn for this crew.

Y’all know about Franky already so im gonna move on.

Brook – super fucking Old musician they found on the street looking for his dog Laboon

He used to be a star but lost his fame but doesn’t care – he only wants to make people happy with his music.

Luffy just straight up just drags him into the sunny, its becoming a habit of him kidnapping people, that’s not how you make friends Luffy (or at least it shouldn’t be – he always seems to make it work.)

Everyone just goes with it at this point while Franky sighs and triie sto figure out how to make a giant RV even bigger

The Crew find out his dog is living in luffy’s home town and used to play with Luffy when his friends weren’t around. They vow to go back once everything dies down, but in the mean time Dadan gets a new guard dog in her house hold

Usopp posts one (1) video of Brook (on Halloween in skeleton make up) and he instantly becomes a revived star, thriving on the mytery of the Skeleton Soul King.

He now posts videos from around the world of him singing but its impossible to predict where he will be next, and he’s invisible with out his make up to the internet, so its good for the whole criminal thing.

Jimbe

(best) Criminal uncle 501

No one knows exactly how he knows luffy beyond luffy himself but they are 90% sure its something to do with the underground warlord system that Luffy has connections too

He gives the best hugs, Uncle Iroh but without the well-meaning manipulation.

He’s tired of responsibility that he has in his underground position and kinda wants to fuck off to the Caribbean but then he meets luffy again and is like this is better

He Leaves the fishman gang behind with subordinate in charge and joins strawhats

He becomes stressed - “Why did you choose an archeologist and a man who wears speedos for adult supervision, how are you alive, do you need a hug, do you know basic math, have you even gone to school, oh thank god Robin is here - ”

Two minutes later

“Do you have code names, can I have one,”

He’s a big faker the dummy everyone can see right through you, you’re aren’t on this crew if you have common sense

Between dad moments, essentially its just the Straw hats breaking in and causing havoc where ever they go, building their bounties and being a found family.

That’s it for now, but please ask questions! Sorry this was so long lmao, ill also add something for Vivi later!

147 notes · View notes

cetaceans-pls · 4 years

Link

Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne

What are two good men meant to do when faced with an epidemic within a pandemic?

Bruce and Dick take to the steppes and ride across Inner Mongolia, bringing justice, mare's milk, and help in their wake.

Or, how Bruce and Dick try to show mutual care and respect in spite of: terrible communication skills; a global health crisis; a regional health crisis; tetchy horses; eyebrow gel; and coal-mining, set in endless, glorious Inner Mongolia.

I have never not been a horse girl, and that’s the extent of my justification for writing this. Pls enjoy, and if you hit me up with a good prompt I might once again end up with 15 tabs wide open in my quest to figure out what a cool Mongolian lady might be named ;9

Usually, Bruce is happy to delegate external work to external workers. He’s a one-man force for justice, full of vim and spite, but he’s also stuffed to the brim with barely-healed bones and a chronic shortage of sleep. Staking a claim to Gotham is so important exactly because it’s the only claim he can actually defend, and so he does it whole-heartedly. That’s the purpose of the Justice League, after all. It’s only by the grace of some god that he isn’t a meta-human, or he’d have the whole world under his sharp purview.

Bruce has toppled his fair share of terrible dictators, and looking at them is a little like looking in a mirror sometimes, so if there is a God maybe she’s got the right of it.

The thing with all the superpowers that make up the League is that while it’s brilliant in times of intergalactic or even international trouble, when a pandemic’s up and about, the Flash being able to run through every city on Earth in under a minute means that he’s potentially the world’s most super spreader, and Superman evacuating buildings needs to make damn sure he sanitises between rescues. Wonder Woman’s all lasso nowadays, because happily divine products are extremely anti-viral, but right now the things that make the strong strong also make them oddly, sharply weak.

They’re living in interesting times, all right.

So when a call comes through that there’s been a horrifying spike in pneumonia-like symptoms in children in Inner Mongolia, everyone's a little… stressed. Flyers are already up and about delivering things that need delivering, anyone with anything approaching healing powers have been dispatched to hotspots, and Bruce is pretty sure the last time he had a full night’s sleep was sometime in January. Here lies yet another problem with an uncertain cause, one that can’t be defeated with a punch or a meeting, and they’re already strung out to capacity.

When needs must, Bruce tries to rise to the occasion. He’s had pneumonia dozens of times before, he speaks Mandarin and Mongolian, and he’s the only one who has and knows how to run a one-man research lab in the middle of a field mission. He’s been trialling a bunch of vaccines on himself too, and he’s still up and kicking, so obviously he’s the best choice.

There’s the opposite of sound agreement during the League conference call.

“You tried how many what-nows?” somebody’s shouting, but Bruce hopes they know him well enough by now to know that when they’re on the BatZoom he blocks all their videos.

“Vaccines. Who else would I try them on? A sample size of one isn’t encouraging, but barring reinfection I do seem to have produced the antibodies, so obviously I am the best choice.”

There’s more raucous shouting that he ignores, but he doesn’t hang up because he knows that everyone on this call also likely had their last full night’s sleep in January.

“Hang on, B, we’re not letting you go into the wilds of Inner Mongolia to identify a new, potentially lethal disease by yourself.” That’s Clark, because he’s the only one who can be cajoling and gently condescending all at once. “I’ll admit the numbers are alarming, but the WHO are going to look into it-”

“Superman, if any organisation could manage the current health crisis, you wouldn’t be up to your shoulders in parts assembling ventilators in Brazil. This is just a courtesy call, not a debate. I’ll be departing ASAP with my equipment once I finish collating the health data.”

They all start arguing again, all at once, and they all make valid points. Bruce doesn’t actually know what he is and isn’t immune to at this point, and if it’s something new then that’s even more of an issue. By virtue of his relative uselessness, though, Bruce is the one in the best position to run recon for an extended period, as well as the one most likely to be able to self-quarantine without leaving thousands to die by his absence. Gotham’s in a good place, because the Bat coming after irresponsible citizens and lawmakers alike and Bruce Wayne coming after unfair labour practices are about 5000 times more effective than the federal government, so he can step up. He should step up.

He will step up.

So it’s a no-brainer.

All the voices shut out all of a sudden, which means one of the administrators has put everyone on mute. He didn’t do it, and Clark would likely sooner eat a bright red Super boot than be that rude to people, which leaves them only with the worrisome woman.

“All right, Batman, we’ll respect your wishes. I have informed Nightwing of your plans, as he’s requested that I share your more exotic missions with him. I’m sure he would love to discuss the situation with you.” Lord, her smug smile is excruciatingly evident in her tone.

Bruce mutes his own mic to groan long and loud and hard, and tries to will away the near-Pavlovian headache that tends to manifest when he finds himself saddled with one of his children for an awful case.

He unmutes his mic.

“Noted. Thank you for your concern, Wonder Woman. Batman over and out.”

If Dick has to travel up from Bludhaven, there’s a chance Bruce can be off and away before he gets here. That’s fine; a quick getaway is a skill he’s honed over a great many years. He just needs the time-lapse of the distribution of the illness to finish getting mapped against urban areas in the computer, and he can go-

The lights suddenly dim, down to the faint yellow that indicates that the main power and generators 2 through to 5 have been cut off, with just 6 up to keep the computer and general equipment working.

Generator 6 is not linked to the hangar doors, though, so there’s….that.

The desire to scream is almost overwhelming. He knows Diana keeps in contact with more people than his soft human mind can even comprehend, but to even recruit Alfred to her devilish ways…

Bruce groans again, and irritatedly starts packing the equipment he’ll need as he waits for the arrival of (one of) his prodigal son(s).

The lights come back on to full just as Dick launches himself over the handrail and down a 30-foot drop, because dramatics, if not genes, run in this entire damn family. He’s not even dressed as Nightwing, just as a devastating young man. This many years on, Bruce’s heart still stutters in that instant before Dick hits the ground, because what if this is the time he doesn’t stick the landing?

The Graysons’ terrible death sure did hit them both differently.

“Hey, B,” and it’s just Dick whole and complete, smiling brightly.

“Where’s your mask?” Bruce asks brusquely.

Dick looks startled, before he looks down at his jeans and sweatshirt. “I was going for a more casual look?”

Bruce rolls his eyes. “Not that mask.”

The implication lands, and Dick rolls his eyes like a late echo. “Already off and away in Alfred’s washer, ‘course. Not like I took the crowded way over, anyways. Roads are empty as all hell, and rooftops even emptier. But Bruce, don’t try to irritate me to distraction.” Dick wags his finger at him.

It’s a little sweet, because Dick clearly had been distracted before he’d pulled himself back into focus.

“What’s this I hear from Wonder Woman that you’re running off to Mongolia to try and miracle-cure a mystery sickness?”

Bruce is already hauling up the last rucksack he needs for the trip, though he doesn’t bother to pull up the cowl. “Likely exactly what Diana told you. She was wrong about my needing you or your support, though. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Bruce brushes by him and heads towards the fully-loaded BatWing, banking on being enough of an unpleasant son-of-a-bitch that Dick sighs and gives up on him and goes home where an at least marginally better known disease is running rampant. It’s a technique that’s worked before, enough to have Dick rage at him and storm off and avoid him, and it’s unpleasant every time, but needs just really must sometimes.

The thing about Dick, though, specifically Dick more so than every other person Bruce has had the pleasure and displeasure to have ever met, is his unbelievable knack of having an endless capacity to forgive Bruce without taking any of his shit.

So Dick will be upset and he might leave, but he always finds it within himself to come back, and when he does, he always lets Bruce know all the places where he failed, and inadvertently explains all the ways Bruce could be just a little bit better. He will forgive and it damn well seems like he even forgets all these little injustices, and it’s maddening.

The concept of endangering one of the world’s best men on a dodgy medical mission out in the steppes? A goddamn laughable concept. Bruce would be delighted to bear a spot of wrath when he comes back instead.

Sometimes, though, the full arc of Dick’s mood after being brushed off goes from anger to acceptance so quickly that Bruce doesn’t get enough time to go off and do the damn-fool thing he’s about to do. Sometimes, like tonight, Bruce sweeps past Dick dramatically, and gets pulled up short by Dick grabbing the back of his cape and tugging.

He comes to a not-very-graceful halt, choked a little around the neck, and looks over his shoulder at Dick with tremendous affront. “Dick, what are you doing?”

Dick just smiles sharply, clearly out through the other side of the angry cycle. “I’m ignoring you being a complete asshole out of some misguided sense of heroism, B, and I’m letting you know that I know you’re trying to get me so annoyed I just leave you. Alfred’s got me full-up with good cheer, and I’m in a good mood, so you’re just shit out of luck.” His voice softens, goes a little sad and round in the edges. “Let me help, Bruce. None of us want you out there alone. You would never let any of us take a case like this alone, so just give in. Okay?”

Bruce knows there are ways out of this. Dick in his infinite trustingness would not expect a sedative dart to the neck, and Bruce could always fall back on his standard operating procedure from years long past and nuke this tentative moment by doubling down on how he doesn’t need anyone and how he doesn’t answer to Dick, who is still little more than a child. There’re a dozen ways Bruce could disentangle himself from this, and they both know this.

Dick still chooses to trust and believe, the way he inevitably always does, and Bruce is short on 3 months’ worth of sleep. All he wants is to take care of the people he needs to take care of.

Plus, vaccine trial #8 is giving him the sweats, and he feels uncharacteristically desperate to just… relent.

“Get your stuff and get in the Wing. I’m not waiting.”

Of course Dick takes so much longer than is reasonable to grab gear from his room, and of course Bruce sits in the Wing with the engine idling, like all beleaguered parents waiting in their vehicles worldwide.

With a final hurrah from Alfred who appears with enough packed food to have them camping in luxury for a week, they are finally, finally off.

Air traffic’s the quietest it’s been in decades. There’s something surreal about not needing to push the Wing to her upper height limits to stay invisible, instead cruising along like some, ah, passenger plane. They see geese, which is the highlight of their trip, before they finally go up and up and up to evade any hot nonsense Eastern Europe or Russia may be in the mood to throw at them.

At least, that’s Dick’s explanation of their trajectory, after Bruce wakes up from a drugged-scone-induced nap (courtesy of the enormously traitorous Alfred) just in time for them to discuss where to land. Still groggy but decidedly better rested than he was 6 hours ago, Bruce licks the cottonmouth out and intrepidly takes a sip of what he’s hoping isn’t knock-out tea as he looks at the map Dick’s pulled up on the windscreen.

Poison pastry or no, Bruce accepts that the reason why he’d actually stayed asleep is because his eldest is by far the best, most trustworthy driver in the family. It’s been so long since he’s been in a situation where Dick drove that he had forgotten that absolute fact.

“The most cases registered of an unconfirmed respiratory illness is in the capital, but accounting for population density, the pandemic, and the usual rates of pneumonia, it’s not where we need to focus on.” Bruce pulls up a map of the region, and the capital of Inner Mongolia lights up in glowing orange, ‘Hohhot’ written in Papyrus because Tim cannot be trusted with software updates.

At least it’s not Wing-dings.

“We should split up,” Bruce continues after glaring a touch too long at the hideous writing. “You try to get a read on how things are in the hospitals in Hohhot, and I’ll head out into the steppes to touch base with the more rural communities.”

He doesn’t sound excited with the plan, because he already knows he’s not getting away with it.

Dick doesn’t even have the decency to pretend to agree and defer, laughing instead as he starts plotting the course for a landing on a patch of grassland exactly like any other patch of grassland a ways’ way away from the bright city lights. “Yep, B, I definitely broke 15 different traffic laws to get to the Manor in time to stop you from going solo, just to let you ride off into the desert like the lone ranger.” There’s a gentle beep to warn them of some military surveillance equipment in their vicinity, and Dick smoothly drops the Wing into a pretty banked turn that takes them away with a gentleness that wouldn’t have turned even the most hungover tummy. “I took a look at your maps while you were out, and I figure if this thing’s worse for kids and we don’t know where to start, we should just go be pretend doctors and make a circuit of all the little community schools.”

“That’s a good idea.”

That has Dick turning in the pilot’s seat to look at Bruce, clearly shocked. “Wait, what were you planning on doing?”

“Break into the peoples’ homes at night and take samples from as many children I could get. If I get caught, I would be in costume, and therefore very likely to be mistaken as a nightmare, or potentially a demon.”

There’s peace and quiet for a few moments, and then Dick’s laughing again. It’s an insulting delight.

“Bruce!” Dick pleads, struggling for breath. “ Please say psyche. You cannot have seriously been planning to give every kid in Inner Mongolia nightmares while you steal blood from them!”

Time was short, and what Bruce had was the Batman costume and the general ability to be misconstrued as a demonic entity at first glance. “I would have needed more than just blood samples, to be thorough.”

The ground spreads out endlessly below them, the sky endlessly above. The grass is blown gently out of the way as the Wing drops into a perfect vertical landing, which is amazing considering Dick is actively wheezing at this point. “Wait till Alfie hears that this was your great plan.” The landing gear hits ground, and they have now made contact with gorgeous, gorgeous Inner Mongolia. “Seems pretty, uhm, intense even for you, B.”

Neither of them move to get up and get out; they’re both just slumped in the admittedly comfortable pilot seats of the Wing, looking out at the rolling hills and more stars than Gotham’s ever, ever seen.

“It’s been an intense time.”

Dick’s laughter softens, peters out as they just keep on sitting and looking out. The swaying grass and endless blank horizon is hugely different to the chaos and stale fear that’s blanketed Gotham and much of the world the past few months, and it’s such a helpless pleasure to not need to think about all of that, right now.

Eventually, Dick gets up and squeezes Bruce’s shoulder. “We’re still hours away from sunrise, B. C’mon, let’s get some sleep, we can start fresh and early.”

Bruce touches the hand on his shoulder, doesn’t dislodge it and doesn’t squeeze it. Just a touch on a touch. “You go first. I’ll be along in a minute.”

Dick relents and wishes him a good night. Bruce just sits there and stares and stares and stares.

Bruce is woken up by the smell of fresh coffee, and it’s a gentler wake-up call than an emergency klaxon or Alfred running down the steps shouting “Master Bruce!” on the 4 occasions they have prevented the apocalypse since February. It’s as disorientating as a slap to his face, and he blinks to a still starry sky as Dick comes up from behind him bearing gifts.

The thermos breathes out steam like a caffeinated dragon, and Bruce is also bestowed with a breakfast sandwich. Double-egg, buttered English muffin, and it’s a touch of classic Alfred magic that it tastes and feels this good after 12 hours and a blitz in the Wing’s ‘microwave’ that’s really a radiation vent for the nuclear engine.

He makes a happy little sound, and it’s echoed by Dick with his bowl of cereal and milk, matching mug of coffee wedged between folded calf and thigh. “Alfred packed like 8 types of cereal, and there’re like boxes and boxes of all sorts of food.” With his unencumbered leg, Dick prods Bruce’s arm with a socked foot. “Have you been up to no good again? This is classic stress cooking Alfred.”

It really is. Bruce knows with the force of religious fervour that if he digs around, he will find white chocolate and raspberry cookies. “It’s been a busy time with the League.” And the world. “I told him he didn’t need to worry.”

Dick snorts as he gulps down the disgusting dregs of cereal milk. “He worries when you worry and you’re always worrying so he’s always worried. It’s a cycle of whole-ass adults not knowing how to tell each other when you’re freaking out.” Dick prods his side again. “It’s sweet, but you also seriously need to keep him and us more updated, y’know.” The prodding escalates. “You can’t keep doing these things to yourself by yourself, B.”

Bruce catches an ankle, squeezes it lightly, and puts it aside. “It’s my job.”

Dick, when he snorts, can get awfully loud exclusively because when he decides to be undignified he goes extremely all out. Bruce’s ears might be ringing , and Dick doesn’t even look apologetic. “You don’t have a job, B, you’re a billionaire bachelor man. Everything you do in your life is an extracurricular activity. Batmanning, the Justice League, picking up orphans left and right, none of it’s your responsibility.” The long leg retracts, Dick now curled up like a half-measure spider, sipping his coffee like he hasn’t said anything insane at all. “So, y’know, just take it easy, let the rest of us carry our own weight.”

It’s madness. Bruce has been shot and been less shocked. Bruce has been proposed to by aliens on intergalactic missions and been less taken aback. “Dick, what do you mean , it isn’t my responsibility?” It’s been nothing less than an absolute honour, a literal privilege, to have been able to raise Dick, to give his children a home. Can one’s reason for living really be called an extra-curricular activity?

It’s the whole curricular, surely.

An alert pings! on the dashboard, and Dick doesn’t bother with a response for a point he feels he’s made plenty clear. “That’s our queue, big guy. The school by here opens in 3 hours, and it serves the entire district so we need to get there early if we want to get our cover story straight.”

“There’s a herdsman I made arrangements with already, 2 miles out form here. He’ll have horses ready for us.” Bruce polishes off the last of his breakfast and coffee, and neatly puts aside what Dick thinks he should and shouldn’t do for a more thorough look-over later. “How’s your Mongolian?”

“Horrible, I’m sure no Damian,” Dick says cheerfully. “But my Mandarin’s not too bad. You wanna be the local guide and I can be the cool doctor from a big city?”

It’s as good an idea as any; Bruce hadn’t exactly been worried about cover stories with his night terror plans. He gets to his feet, and tries to avoid brushing crumbs to the floor. “We’re going to need actual disguises.”

In a terrifying show of skill and disdain for normal human conduct, Dick just vaults over the back of his chair, cereal bowl in one hand and empty mug in the crook of an elbow. “I’ve heard the stories, B. Time to whip out the beard-wig?”

Walking like a much more reasonable person towards the kit he’d brought with him, Bruce rolls his eyes. “Beards prevent the correct application of a face mask, Dick.” He presses a button, and a 57-piece sfx makeup collection tailored for (literally) every occasion pops out of a locked chest. “And it’s culturally uncommon to have full beards here, so I’ll just make do.”

Dick doesn’t need much of a disguise; he’s a little ambiguous-looking at the best of times, and the force of his personality is such that generally people’s impression of him are just soft floppy hair and a killer smile.

Bruce, meanwhile, would need a full face of prosthetics just to stay under the radar. What he has is fake tan and eyebrow gel and dark brown contact lenses, but he’s done more with less, so.

At least by the time they reach the herder’s campsite and are welcomed by a smiling man built so strong and compactly that even with his affected stoop Bruce towers over him, Dick’s gotten used enough to the patched-together look to stop bursting into laughter every time Bruce turns to look at him.

Gantulga bullies them into his home for some tea when they arrive, provides a wonderful opportunity for Bruce to relearn the sounds he’s forgotten in his Mongolian, and cheerfully accepts that Bruce is an oddball guide originally from a nomadic tribe close to the Mongolian-Russian border, who found himself here of all places because he fell in love with a woman from Hohhot.

“It’s the same for me,” the man had said, grinning widely when his wife lightly smacks his shoulder. “And the land here knows no borders. Thank you for coming to look after our children.”

Dick is left out of the loop, because a shared language is a terribly powerful bond against present and conceptual oppressors, and Bruce tells Gantulga with as much seriousness as he can that, “It is my job to take care of you.”

They leave just a little past dawn on two horses, with two more carrying their equipment, and Gantulga waves them off with well wishes for both them and his horses before he returns to his herd and his work and his family. As the testy gelding picks a gait that means the wooden saddle will eventually physically castrate him, Bruce sets their course for the little wooden school building set close to the blossom of summer tents of nomadic herders, and thinks about the duty of care he imposes on himself.

In the fresh air, with his son whipping about on a stallion that has taken a liking to a kindred spirit, Bruce figures that for all his usual angst, protecting people that need protecting isn’t a burden that will ever get heavy enough to put down.

They ride.

Arriving at the school unannounced would ordinarily be a big problem, but these are unusual times. With some official-looking documents printed on the Wing and Dick’s ability to charm absolutely anything breathing, the stressed-out headmaster gives them his blessing to collect samples from all the children. The reach of a global pandemic has struggled to get out this far away from dense cities, but whatever’s in the air right now is doing a number on his kids and it’s clear the man needs a nap and a solution.

They can’t exactly provide him with either right now, but part of the reason the horses’ saddles are so heavy is because Bruce has brought along all the equipment and medication that he thought even had a chance of helping. Dropping cutting-edge miniaturised air filters in Inner Mongolia is a big risk given a government that’s infamous for loathing external intervention, but the equipment is designed to look cheap as all hell and break down irretrievably if a remote kill switch is tripped, so Batman’s covered his bases as best he can.

Even if he couldn’t, it wouldn’t exactly be the first or even the hundredth time he goes against the wishes of the authorities. If push came to shove and tomorrow he had to do a fly-by in a helicopter dropping nebulizers for 100,000 people, then that’s what he would do.

He’s startled out of his thoughts by Dick gently tapping him on the back. “C’mon, B, let’s get the kit set up. Kids are gonna be coming in soon, you don’t want to scare ‘em with your brooding.”

The little classroom doesn’t have an electrical outlet, and has no furniture that suits anybody over 5’5, but Dick still looks like he belongs in his neatly-pressed white coat and nitrile gloves. The plan is simple: get as many samples as possible. Dick’s already looking picture-perfect as a doctor literally anybody would trust, energetic and dependable.

Bruce is prepping the ‘gift bags’ full of therapeutic medication, bits of tech, and hyper-nutritious candy, ready to be given out to every patient. “Even fully dressed up I have never managed to scare a child, so I’m not worried,” he says, drawing wonky teddy bears and butterflies on the plastic wrapping with a BatSharpie. Honestly, Dick’s plan is genius. When he had been determined to go in as nightmare fuel, he had just planned to leave the care boxes at the front door with some official-looking stamp from the government and hope that people wouldn’t throw it away. Instead all the children who come to them get to go away with chocolate ration bars that only barely can’t resuscitate the dead and air filtration systems that NASA would fight bears for.

The testing equipment they left on the ship, because while it isn’t hard to look under-funded and hard-done-by when all you have on you is some cotton swabs and bits of tack, the PCR machine running on solar power would stand out significantly more. Dick’s disinfecting the ever-loving hell out of the chairs and tables when he hears Bruce’s response, and he’s quick to flash a smile. “It’s your BDE, I guess. It’s kinda amazing that it was switched on so strong even when I first saw you.”

Unwilling to admit that he has no idea what in the hell a BDE is, Bruce does a furtive Google search while pretending to go through the school registration list. It’s a strange revelation.

“What does the size of a dick have to do with anything?” He’s trying to sound normal while he wonders if he’d done anything inappropriate that night at the circus to deserve this.

“Close, B, but not quite. I meant Big Dad Energy.” In the distance, the sound of horses’ hooves comes closer and closer, heralding the arrival of the children. It’s almost time to start, and Dick takes a seat by his stash of needles. “It’s weird to think ‘bout it now, but I know that when kids see Batman they see somebody who’ll take care of them no matter what.”

There’s a slam! as the front door to the little wooden schoolhouse swings open, and the excited chatter of children filters through. Dick, however, is not done dealing body blows to the state of Bruce’s head, even if he sounds absent-minded as he does it. “I think I saw it too, that first time, even out of uniform. Funny, huh?”

The door to the classroom is pulled open by the harried headmaster while a gaggle of children stare curiously at them, and Bruce goes straight to one knee to address them at face level about what’ll be happening today. He doesn’t get to ask what’s so funny about Dick saying the single most inhumanly complimentary thing Bruce has ever heard, nor does he get to ask if Dick still sees the same thing now.

It’s yet another thing to ponder over later; for now, he just tells the children that he is Bat-Erdene (of course), and that he will help the doctor help them.

Getting stuck with a needle and losing a bit of blood is a novel experience for many of the kids, so Bruce lets them hold his hand while Dick does quick, neat work, and takes special care to wince or go ‘Ow!’ dramatically whenever a child squeezes him hard.

It ends up with the children (and Dick) laughing at him, and telling him kindly that Bat(-Erdene) is not a strong man but that’s all right because he gives them treats.

By the time they’re herded outside to have lunch along with the kids, they have 25 samples, and Dick has no less than 3 kids sitting on his lap as they draw horses and people in the dirt, babbling at each other in mutually-unintelligible languages through thin barriers of surgical masks.

Going by just temperature, nobody here has a fever, but half the kids complained furtively to Bat-Erdene that they cough a lot a lot in the early mornings, and their parents worry because something unpleasant is spreading across the world and what if it has spread to them?

It’s a lot to think about, but the absence of any signs of infection is… encouraging. Somewhat. There’s a lot that he can do if it’s an environmental hazard, after all.

For example,

“Doctor! That’s dangerous!”

Dick has the gall to just wink at him as he walks around on his hands, a horde of children screaming and laughing as they hang on to his fluttering legs. In the near distance, the loud, tired sigh of the headmaster is a feeling that Bruce can very deeply relate to.

The headmaster and five separate sets of parents offer them dinner and lodging for the night, and they beg off all of them with the excuse that they needed to ride hard to get to the next little school which is over a day’s riding away. They nevertheless are sent on their way with bottles and bottles of mare’s milk and a gentle lecture on how to brush down their horses properly, the whole school wishing them a safe journey as they disappear into the endless rolling hills that lie between them and their next destination.

Once they’re far away enough that a quick scan reveals them to be sufficiently isolated in the twilight, Bruce and Dick abruptly drop the mannerisms and postures that marked the Doctor and Bat-Erdene, with Dick unbuttoning the high collar of his jacket and Bruce coming out of his slouch. Camp is another hour’s ride away, where the BatWing will be waiting and the horses can be settled down for the night. So far, so successful, and Bruce is willing to admit to himself if to no one else that having company for this mission has made it actually, genuinely pleasant.

Dick breaks the silence first when he whistles at the moon rising from the open horizon, massive and solitary and quietly terrifying. “You don’t get a view like that in Gotham, do you?”

It is, indeed, a hell of a sight. With grasslands stretching out every which way, there’s nothing for the human eye to use for scale and context. It’s just this giant glowing thing that could be a mile or an eternity away, rising like a lamp under the blanket of night.

At the crest of a gentle hill they draw to a stop to let the sight sink in, two men and their four horses and this one mission. Dick looks over at Bruce, all aglow with a healthy tan developed after an afternoon’s worth of running after children while shouting in cheerful broken Mongolian, and he looks more like the embodiment of hope than any superhuman Bruce has ever met. “I’m glad you let me talk you into taking me along, B.”

The words are the wrong way around! Bruce is the one who’s glad that on the worst day of Dick’s life, he looked at Bruce and saw someone worth believing in! That just yesterday he looked into the depths of Bruce’s obstinacy and still decided to help!

Those words are old and awkward and heavy, though, so Bruce just slumps in his astonishingly uncomfortable saddle and tries not to smile too obviously. “There’s no one I’d rather have with me here, Dick,” he says quietly.

And then, less quietly because this is urgent and an ever-present danger for every parent with more than one child, “Don’t tell the others.”

Dick rolls his eyes, and nudges his horse into a quick trot. “I know, B, can’t let your favorite find out you just said that.”

He’s off, rolling into a hard full-out gallop as the pack horses clatter and bang after him with their lighter saddle bags, a wild thing into the moonlight, leaving Bruce to ponder over yet another mystery: who the hell is meant to be his favourite, and though he fundamentally does not have one, why would Dick assume it wasn’t him?

The mystery respiratory sickness had better be easier to uncover than whatever has Dick feeling like this, because Bruce is only one man and he’s not even a good one.

By the fourth school they get to, tales of their exploits have spread ahead of them on the wings of traveling herdsmen. This school’s in a proper town, with half a dozen summer gers dotting the grasslands just past the little road that has a grocery store and the one post office. There’s even a bit of a welcoming committee, kids on horseback racing out to meet them the minute they come within view.

Dick and their pack horses are pretty happy with the attention, breaking into little races, sprinting off this way and that while Bruce’s decidedly more stand-offish horse ignores all the cheer to keep stolidly plodding towards town. He spots yet more people on horseback, adults this time in bright dress, and rides up to meet them and introduce himself as the ‘local guide’.

Some of the faces even look familiar, which means that even with them both going at maximum speed, a bunch of people casually outraced them to get here and apparently organised this warm, warm welcome.

There’s a fearsome woman who stands on the ground but somehow manages to look about three times as imposing as the men on their horses around her, and at first sight Bruce’s brain registers matriarch as loudly as a scream in the ear. He’s willing to put money on ‘headmistress’, given the look of awe and trepidation of the younger horsemen around her, and makes haste to greet her.

Her name is Narantsetseg, tall and proud as the sunflower she’s named after, enduring like the fields and fields of the stuff that they’ve ridden through to get here, and she tells him that while he and the Doctor are greatly welcomed to their little town, they would need to do a little more than just test the children.

Bruce doesn’t let the unease show on his face, but he does move back slightly to maintain a sightline on Dick, who’s glancing over with false casualness. Is she connected to the government in some way, and she knows that they’ve been falsifying their credentials? Luckily, looking gruff and unmoved is his specialty as far as expressions go, and he just asks her to explain.

At an imperious wave of her hand the wall of horses part, and there is a line of red-cheeked young women in all their finery. As one, they all surreptitiously sneak a glance at Dick who is a juggling three water bottles while going at a fast trot, much to the delight of the children.

“We have heard that the Doctor is single, and in need of a wife,” Narantsetseg tells him. “You won’t find better women anywhere else, and none harder working.”

Somebody in the back pipes up, and his face is vaguely familiar to Bruce. “The Doctor doesn’t speak Mongolian, but he’s good with children! Askaa took a needle and he didn’t even cry afterwards!”

There’s a lot of impressed murmuring, and Bruce is left to wonder how badly dear Askaa usually takes to getting jabs, and how his father got to this town so quickly.

“I cannot speak for the Doctor,” he tells them, trying to barter for peace. “He’s from the city; I don’t know what he wants in his women. You know how these city-types are.”

Askaa’s father will not be stopped, though, and Bruce wants to smack him. “He also helped fix the engine of my truck, along with you, Bat-Erdene. His doctor hands got dirty, and he didn’t even mind! And he’s strong .” The man is really hitting his stride, and sounds alarmingly starry-eyed. “He lifted two of my sheep without blinking.”

The impressed murmuring gets louder, and while Bruce agrees with the sentiment (Dick is, indeed, a very good boy), he’s less fond of how much attention they’re getting. “I would be happy to translate for all of you, but he is on his doctoring mission and he can’t stay around for long-”

He’s cut off by a sharp scream that has him spinning around and dropping into a ready crouch, just in time to see a girl get unseated when her horse startles at a rabbit leaping out of its burrow. It’s not a long way to the ground, and Bruce already sees her righting herself to take the fall well, but that’s not what happens.

What happens is: Dick leaps off his stallion onto her horse in the blink of an eye, holding on to the bucking horse by thigh strength alone as he pivots in the saddle till he’s sticking out at a right angle, catching the girl by her waist in a brilliant show of skill and instinctive heroism.

The timing is wild; the chatter amongst the adults is at a fever-pitch, with some outright cheering and applauding, and Bruce is pretty sure that any hope of keeping a low profile here is now extremely low.

Narantsetseg steps towards Bruce, and a hush falls over the assembled adults. She touches him on the arm, expression serious and serene. “Bat-Erdene,” she calls him.

“Yes?” he answers helplessly.

“Let the Doctor know that I am a widow, and that I would be happy to welcome him into my home.”

And that is that on that.

The days progress in much the same chaotic, fond way; sometimes the distance they have to cross takes days by horse, and they can’t just use the Wing to zip around the whole time because the horses tend to spook if they had to fly for more than just a couple of hours. Fortunately, between the fresh air, ceaseless good company, and the frighteningly invigorating experience of being on a semi-wild horse that on a whim can and will try to kill you, time out in the steppes gives them plenty of opportunities to work out what they know so far.

Over 200 samples taken from a huge transect stretching from just outside of Hohhot to the actual literal godforsaken Gobi desert, and the picture’s become somewhat clearer. Two weeks in and they find that the bulk of the worst cases are focused in the Ordos desert, over a hundred miles away from where they first touched down. By this point both Dick and Bruce have ridden the most they ever have in their lives, their thighs might well have been cast from steel, and the sensation of a non-aching groin is a distant, distant dream.

Dick can literally snipe a rabbit from horseback with his stallion going at full gallop; he swears that he can do it while standing on the saddle, and for one crazed moment Bruce was extremely tempted to let Dick try. Common sense that sounds like Alfred stays his stupid tongue, but there’s plenty to be impressed with by the way Dick is on a horse and on a mission.

It doesn’t really remind Bruce of days long gone when it was just him and Alfred and the first Robin, because Dick isn’t a child anymore, has just grown better and better with time and it drives home again and again that whatever Bruce’s doubts about everything he has ever done in his entire life, Dick did become a spectacular adult and Bruce got the pleasure of being there and seeing it happen.

They’re riding towards the Wing now, with the last batch of another 15 samples from the last schoolhouse in Bruce’s saddlebag and another dozen bottles of mare’s milk clickety-clacketing on Black Thunder, their small pack horse who has never met a man he would not bite. His name is courtesy of the first time the small black horse had bitten Bruce’s knee, going for it so hard that Bruce’s pained cursing had thundered across the plains. Black Thunder is a blight on what would otherwise have been a very pleasant series of rides, and is the only one they have officially named because Bruce’s horse responds to ‘horse’, Dick’s responds to ‘baby’, and their other pack horse would sweetly come trotting up to them at ‘the nice one’.

Bruce is maneuvering closer to Dick to share the latest update on the air composition breakdown from all 200 odd filters, but he has to hold the data pad high up in the air when Black Thunder comes by for fear of losing yet another piece of him to the cursed thing. Fortunately, instead of almost-murder the terrible beast appears to just want some head scratches from Dick this time.

“B, if you keep scowling at him of course lil B’s gonna feel antagonised,” Dick tells him jovially as he leans down to pet the demon.

If Bruce had tried a similar move he would have lost all his fingers and maybe even a few toes, but he’s got too much dignity to do more than be a bit huffy about it. “I know a crazed villain when I see one, Dick,” is all he will say on that , thank you very much. “As I was saying, the sickness is pretty constrained to just the Ordos. Your bacterial and viral cultures didn’t yield any results, so I cross-referenced the early instances of respiratory distress against any recent human activity in the area; a new supermassive coal mine opened up just before the first cases started cropping up, and it’s our most likely culprit.”

Dick lets go of Black Thunder despite the sad little whinny, and pulls out a notepad from his breast pocket. His police training means that no amount of technology Bruce throws at him can stop Dick from writing down his thoughts, but fortunately Dick’s handwriting and concept of ‘helpful notes’ are literally illegible and indecipherable to anyone except for him, so it doesn’t leave much of a paper trail. The bigger question is how he manages to write at all while horseback-riding, but Bruce is a man who's learned how to accept miracles at face value.

“This area’s rich as hell in coal, what makes you think this specific mine’s the problem?” The fwip-fwip-fwip of pages on a spiral-bound notebook match the pace of his horse’s trot. “The filters haven’t logged a dangerously high level of carbon monoxide or coal waste products, and there’s been no record of increased smog.” He winces. “And B, you know I’m not exactly a Tim-level lab tech. Maybe you can re-do the cultures to double-check.”

“I would stake my life on the work you’ve done,” Bruce says sharply, as he’s found himself more and more wont to do every time Dick says anything that even slightly indicates that he regards himself as lacking in some wildly incorrect way. “Also, Oracle did some digging into this new company. It’s half a dozen shell companies away from Lex Corp, so it’s questionable that they’re actually mining coal, and even more questionable that they’re doing it with a care for the people living here.”

Aerosolised mystery kryptonite is clogging the air, potentially, and Bruce is so thankful that his general predisposition for lone-working and paranoia meant that it isn’t Superman or Kara who came zooming by to help in the area. He already wants to slap a mask on Dick and tell him to breathe less, and Dick’s absolutely built to last through worse things. They would need to do more testing to know for sure, but the air filters they’ve been handing out like candy are designed to extract any particulate matter so there’s hope yet that the things will help.

Pick up of the equipments' just become a lot more important though, if they have hundreds of traps out catching idle Kryptonite. Maybe this will be the perfect occasion for a ghoulish Bat to just burst into and out of gers, hmm.

In the distance, the shielding rolls off of the Wing because they’ve breached her perimeter and been recognised as themselves, glinting in the sunset as night overtakes day with startling quickness out here in the desert. In what has become tradition by now, Dick takes the last couple hundred yards at a dead gallop, Baby becoming a blur of glossy brown, and Bruce compels Horse to run after him, because at this point in their adventure few things ring as fundamentally true in the head as the sheer exhilarating joy of being a man on a horse with all six legs off the ground.

It’s a time for thoughts to rapidly arrange themselves, and by the time they come up to a halt right by the ship, Dick’s got his notebook tucked away and a look of sublime thoughtfulness on his face. “What’s the relationship like between Wayne Enterprise and the Chinese government, B?”

Bruce dismounts as soon as Horse comes to a halt, because he’ll never stop feeling faintly apologetic for being so heavy a man on so small a beast, and he’s just left to look up at Dick with the moon at his back. “You know I’ve always had a problem with authoritarian figures,” Bruce says with a bitchy little grin. The steppes encourage a type of wildness in him that’s very different to the stoops and cornices of Gotham; he feels a lot more teeth than shadow here.

Dick’s at home here in the grasslands the way he’s at home on the trapeze and at the Manor and at Bludhaven PD, along with the dozen little niches he’s sprouted roots in and made better. Dick’s always been all teeth, and it’s only usually a smile. “What do you say, up for a bit of breaking and entering, Mister Bat-Erdene?”

Bruce is already heading for the open loading bay, excited to get the sand out of his hair and cold cream on his thighs and Batman on him. “Thought you’d never ask, Doctor.”

The thigh guards barely fit now on Bruce, and the fabric stretching across Nightwing’s legs are pulled so taut over new muscle that it looks even more, ah, provocative than usual.

Bruce tries to convince Dick to wear Bruce’s larger under armour instead, but Dick ignores him as he takes a dozen pictures of his new-and-improved legs to share on the family group chat.

They leave the horses at their campsite, and over the duration of the flight to the facility, Bruce forcibly ignores no less than 15 pictures from both Jason and Damian doing squats with increasingly heavy weights in an effort to not be shown up.

Everyone comes together and admits that Cass probably takes it, when there’s a short video of her having Alfred on one shoulder and Steph on the other going down and coming back up without breaking into even the littlest bit of sweat.

It’s a weird but exceedingly pleasant reminder of the home to look forward to once they wrap up here, and it takes more will than it should’ve to not just send a bunch of missiles screaming into the accursed mine run by the accursed men. Instead, they land well before the perimeter alarms, and run over the plan.

“We’re going to verify what it is they’re mining, and then reconvene and plan our next step.” This is exclusively a recon mission, despite his personal feelings. Bruce doesn’t have the jurisdiction to wreck merry hell here, and if there is some important mineral vein down there, even if they shut down this mine they would just have to deal with another one. He can’t even just buy up all the land, because losing land to foreign entities isn’t the Done thing in these parts, and Bruce just has to unfortunately admit that his hands are extremely tied here.

Dick doesn’t seem so eager to go along with the plan. “If we just leave it as is, what’s going to stop them from ramping up production and taking out more kids, B? No, I say we just shut things down right here, right now.”

All teeth.

Bruce tries not to lose his stupid temper, but it’s hard going. “If we blow up the mine now, what stops them from coming back? What stops them from bringing in mercenaries and weapons and making the area a war zone to protect whatever it is they’re mining?” He scowls, but tries to keep his voice even. “Not doing anything means short-term losses and long-term gains. You need to listen to me, Nightwing.”

It’s not a popular opinion. Dick has got a scowl that looks out of place on his face, a snarl to the edge of a lip. “No, B, you need to listen to me . With everything else that’s going on in the world right now, no one’s got any resources to spare to check this place out. The only thing capping production is going to be Luthor’s goodwill, and there’s nothing good about that.”

They glare at each other, on the cusp of a fight, before Nightwing exhales and holds both hands up in a plea for some calm. “Look, I know I’m not exactly the genius strategist type or like, even in the top half of most-skilled-Bat-associates, but I’ve got a plan and can you just listen to it before you shoot me down and insult me?”

The kryptonite’s gone to Dick’s brain, that’s the only explanation. “There’s no ‘top half’, Nightwing,” Bruce says, voice rougher than he means it to be but it’s been gnawing at the back of his brain for weeks and weeks now that Dick somehow thinks he’s lesser. “You’re not less smart, you’re not less capable, you’re not less skilled; you are the one I trust the most.” It’s just tonnes of trust in Dick for all things, ranging from driving the BatWing responsibly to being the final word on decisions that need making while Bruce is indisposed.

Dick just smiles, but he doesn’t look particularly happy. “You say all these things to make a man feel good ‘bout himself, B, but if you trust me so much why the hell won’t you listen to what I have to say?”

Ah.

It comes with unpleasant clarity, squatting in a rock outcropping with the shadow of the mining facility looming in the distance, that if Dick has doubts in himself, how much of a hand did Bruce have in putting them there and letting the rot propagate?

He swallows, and chokes back that sense of perpetual righteousness that comes part and parcel with the cowl. It's one thing to be a controlling asshole in the League when he's the only unpowered human in a room of well-meaning dumbasses who could destroy the world if they woke up in a Mood one morning.

It’s another to be a controlling asshole to his son, who is twice the man he’ll ever be, whose primary character trait is a fundamental goodness that would put Superman to shame.

Dick’s not perfect, but he is damn, damn good, and Bruce won’t lose out to just listen.

He’s been doing a lot of that as Bat-Erdene and neither he nor the children of Inner Mongolia have been led astray, so out in the prairie maybe he can afford to put his money where his mouth is and more aggressively demonstrate how much he believes in Dick.

So Bruce leans back a little, makes an effort to lower his hackles, and breathes deeply.

“I’m sorry,” he says and he means it for many, many things. “I’m listening.”

The plan is chaotic and flashy and buck-fucking-wild, which Bruce has come to realise is quite the done thing with a mission with Dick at the helm. Nightwing can go undercover with the best of them, but given an endless arsenal of makeshift weapons, Bruce would go for a needle, Jason would go for a hammer, and Dick would set fire to the barrel of firecrackers and laugh in the aftermath.

This is that. Late on a mid-pandemic night, the mine is empty of all but the barest security team on the surface. Sneaking past them and down the shaft into where the green veins glow like a ghastly dream isn’t particularly difficult, nor is planting the special bomb charges they’ve cobbled together from BatWing parts. This deep underground his communicator struggles to keep a line to Dick who’s working in the main office, but an emergency would be accompanied by dramatic explosions so things are going to plan, probably.

He sets up the 4th charge at the east side of the mineshaft, and starts making his way back up. He would feel a lot better about this if they had more charges, or just more resources in general, but on a shoestring budget Dick sure knows how to make a little plan look like a big one.

They’ve taken out as much from the energy cell of the Wing that they can while still having enough juice to get them home, and when life only gives you four radioactive bombs, you make do. They’re lucky to have caught on Luthor so quick; the mine’s still new enough and small enough to make a two-man operation feasible, but if they hadn’t caught wind of this when they did…

It doesn’t bear thinking about, so he puts it aside and scales the steep sides of the mine. With the black earth all around he’s more spectral than usual, so thoroughly a shadow that he even gets the drop on Dick when he climbs into the office, face smudged with dirt.

“Jesus, B, you look 175% more wraith-like than usual,” Dick says, hands flying across the keyboard. Trying to leave a fake digital trail of corporate espionage and malpractice stretching over several months over the course of a night is a steep ask, but it’s the same with the bombs and Bruce’s darkened eyebrows and ambiguous twang.

They only need the look of the thing to hold out just enough.

“I’ve planted the charges. Ready when you are.”

With a dramatic flourish Dick signs off on the final incriminating e-mail, and sends it off with a dramatic slam of the enter key. “All the guards have been sent off, and there's nobody here except for you and me. Give it to me straight, big guy; on a scale of 1 to 10, how likely is this gonna work out for us?”

Bruce pulls out the remote detonator he’d cobbled together using a spare burner phone and the gate key fob for the Manor, and hands it to Dick to do the honours. “Wherever we land on the scale, we can work with it.” It’s like the idea of a doctor-y masquerade; sometimes being out and loud is the best way to stay hidden, and it’s somehow a new lesson for this old Bat. “It’s a crazy plan, but it’s a good one.”

Dick beams at him, and even in the full Nightwing get-out, it’s easy to tell he’s genuinely pleased. “Then let’s go go go before we let this place blow baby, blow!”

Sometimes Dick opens his mouth and what comes out is a ghost of a leer, a popped collar, and gelled-back hair, a Cool Guy caricature who’s so earnest he goes from Cool to Uncool and then right back to Cool just by sheer force of personality.

Bruce can’t help snorting in slight amusement; by a deep pit in the ground, who’ll judge him?

They get back to the Wing, get the engines running nice and warm, and from a perch high up in the air, they watch things go ka-boom!

An explosive(!) story spreads at a speed significantly greater than one plane, two men, and four horses, and by the time they’ve done their final round of checks and have arrived at Gantulga’s ger to return his horses, even the herdsman is keen to let them in on the news.

At this point they’ve turned down dinner every single time they’ve been offered it, so when Gantulga insists that he wants to celebrate their safe return with some roast lamb and arkhi , the alcoholic version of thin, clear liquid cheese, they can't and don't want to say no. They sit around the fireplace, the air filter humming happily in the background as they all tuck into a spectacular dinner, while the man shares the news.

“I’m sure you have already heard, but a big coal mine in Muu-us exploded a few days ago. Natural gas accumulation, apparently, but my friend who lives there said the new mine was built on land it shouldn’t have been built on, so…” Gantulga shrugs, as though the outcome is obvious. Maybe it is. Mongolian spirits couldn’t be fans of Luthor if he was pumping out particles that were killing their children, after all.

Bruce nods politely, knocking back the liquor and telling himself that he enjoys the taste of powerful rancid yoghurt. “We were already heading back here, but we heard about it. Did anyone get hurt?”

Gantulga shakes his head. “No, no locals were hurt. Apparently the company in charge of it was a big foreign one, and the government found radiation there so now there’s a big international fight because the foreigners were secretly mining for things they shouldn't have.” The man cackles as he grabs a piece of lamb, peruses it and finds it to be of above-average quality, and drops it in his wife’s plate. “Good riddance to them. We have enough problems without outsiders interfering, eh, Bat-Erdene?”

“We certainly do have a lot of problems, but now at least there’s one less,” Bruce concedes diplomatically.

Most of the way through the meal, little Idree coughs a little, and as one all four adults turn to look at the toddler in alarm. Gantulga’s wife gently rubs her back, frowning lightly. “She has been a lot better since you and the Doctor came to see her,” Zayaa says, then looks a little surprised when Dick asks for Idree in pretty good Mongolian.

While Dick looks over the girl, listening to her breathing with the stethoscope that has had pride of place around his neck these past few weeks, Gantulga looks at Bruce with some surprise. “The Doctor speaks our language now?”

Dick tells Zayaa in atrocious grammar but a passable accent that the girl appears to have just choked on a little chunk of vegetable, calming down the tiny toddler with hands that have looked after many a younger brother and Mongolian child.

Gantulga grins at Bruce, smacks him heartily on the back. “Looks like the Doctor has learned the right words!”

Bruce doesn’t get a chance to reply, because Dick has turned and is beaming a million-watt smile directly into Gantulga’s face. “Of course,” Dick says, looking as at home in this warm, warm ger in the plains as he does in his police officer's uniform, as he does in a tux at the Manor, as he does leaping off a building to apprehend a bad man. He reaches over, and smacks Bruce even harder on the back. “I had a good, good teacher.”

And that, well beyond the alcohol and the company and the wellness of thousands of children and the thorn they’ve shoved right into Lex’s side, is what goes straight to Bruce’s head, and he goes bright bright red much to the absolute delight of absolutely everyone.

Dick raises his glass of arkhi, a shit-eating grin on his face. “To good health and Bat-Erdene!”

Bruce can’t have that, so he raises his glass and says with resolute calmness,

“To good health and better children.”

And that’s that on that, thank you very much.

---

T/N: I think a lot about what it’s like for Dick to grow up and gradually feel outclassed by increasingly outlandishly overpowered younger siblings and father figure, missing how the world runs less on existential angst and violence, and more on the willingness to be kind in the face of a lot of unkindness.

#nightwing #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #inner mongolia #god trying to figure out a viable solution to a conflict i created was so hard #saved by a fuckin breakfast mcmuffin #how many times did i mention dick's laugh or smile #u ain't discreet i say to myself #next up is batman vs something supernatural #fists up bruce wayne picks a fight with a cryptid and will NOT be stopped #hope everyone is taking care of themselves in these dank days!!#whale writing

38 notes · View notes

we-future-first · 4 years

Text

The world economy is on the verge of collapse. Our future is in grave danger if we don't address wealth inequality

Hundreds of years ago, the world was ruled by the wealthy, and the elite. It's the year 2020, and things have changed, but the only things that have changed our the wealthy members of society becoming even richer than they were before, and wealth inequality becoming even worse.

Just prior to President Barack Obama’s 2014 State of the Union Address, media[7] reported that the wealthiest 1% of Americans possess 40% of the nation's wealth; the bottom 80% own 7%.

The fact that the bottom 80% only owns 7% of the wealth in the USA describes the problem perfectly. Most of the country is incredibly poor, yet they are the ones doing all of the work. This society is fueled by society as a whole, everything that makes up society, and makes up the cities that we live in.

What have the wealthy done to make the world worse off, you might ask?

It's a good question. What exactly have the wealthy done to make this world worse off?

Consistently decreased pay, eliminated jobs, outsourced labor to other countries, basically anything to pay people in society less, and bring more money to themselves

Taking advantage of natural disaster, famine, sickness, and even tragedy to make themselves even richer. When there is any tragedy or natural disaster, media companies get a sudden influx of attention from society, which brings them much higher ad revenue. this money doesn't go to the people who work for the company. It goes directly to the owners. When GM was on the brink of bankruptcy, the first people to go where those that made their products, and kept their business afloat. The government swiftly gave them a bailout, which they used on their own selves, rather than the company. One of the executives was even criticized for using bailout money to buy a new plane. So during tragedy, the working-class suffers, and the rich get even richer

During the coronavirus pandemic, grocery stores, medical supply companies, hand sanitizer producers, Mask producers, and even hospitals began to get a huge influx of business. The result of this incredibly costly tragedy was millions of people losing their jobs, while the people whose businesses were benefited by the coronavirus pandemic got even richer and didn't trickle down any of that wealth to their employees. many nurses, doctors, medical staff, essential workers who work at grocery stores, none of them got paid additional pay for risking their lives. Yet the people who run the companies they work for got millions and millions of dollars of extra sales. my local grocery store refuses to do refunds right now because of the coronavirus. Employees are not paid anything additional as far as I know. but grocery stores are making bank right now office pandemic, while society is near collapse

Large companies purchasing smaller companies continuously, until basically every single company in the a certain industry is owned by one single parent company, with some wealthy elite billionaire on top of all of it who can ensure that millions of people are getting paid less, and that any new small businesses that may arise are quickly bought out, or made to fail

Lobbying and paying government officials under the table to ensure that they are allowed to do corrupt, immoral, unethical things legally and keep getting richer

Why is being a wealthy elite a problem?

The wealthy elite have complete control over all of society, even though they accounts for a very small number of people. they can single-handedly ensure the government protect them for slashing salaries for their employees, or allows them to purchase mid to small-sized companies and build their company into a monopoly

Earn an unfair and unproportional amount of money simply because they own or make decisions on behalf of something. They are free to cut salaries for people doing all the work for them at any time

The wealthy elite always take active measures to ensure that the working-class is never any better off than they were the previous day. They cut salaries, outsource jobs, make things cost more, make things counterintuitive so you have to rely on them continuously, lobby and pay corrupt politicians huge sums of money to ensure nothing ever changes, and society never becomes more fair. These are all counterintuitive to progress, and moving into the future. We need an educated, motivated, and fairly paid society to reach the future that we desire

Finally, the wealthy elite are greedy beyond your wildest imagination. Some people work their lives away doing an incredibly tough job, and barely get paid enough to live in a one-bedroom apartment with their children. Yet some wealthy elites have several mansions reach big enough to fit hundreds of people. When society begins to struggle and things get tough, the wealthy elite take advantage of society, and use tragedy and misfortune to make themselves even richer.

What is the solution?

The world needs a new order. the Constitution we have today was written hundreds of years ago when the country hardly even existed at all, and it was a bunch of remote colonies, far removed from any sort of society. It's far too open, and unrestricted, and offers no protection for the working class of society

We need a new Constitution that makes society Fair, and still allows people to become rich, but never allows someone to become so rich that they control almost the entire economy, or even a huge portion of it.

There should be an earnings cap, for starters. one person should never be allowed to have more than a set amount of money, just as an example. Why should someone have 50 billion dollars? 50 million would be enough to live off of for an entire lifetime comfortably. So why does someone need over 500 times that? they don't. There needs to be provisions for how much each individual person can possibly earn

We need protections for employee wages that ensure employees are paid fairly for the difficulty and amount of work they do

We need laws to cap earnings four members of the government. Someone who is working for congress should never be allowed to be paid any amount of money by anyone. They should have a standard salary and that's it. why should someone in Congress make millions upon millions of dollars, be paid under the table or secretly through some foundation or hedge fund by a third party, so they can be manipulated into changing legislation for society as a whole? That doesn't make sense.

submitted by /u/basicbreeze943 [link] [comments] source https://www.reddit.com/r/Futurology/comments/iknnc7/the_world_economy_is_on_the_verge_of_collapse_our/

#Future #Futuristic #Future oriented

1 note · View note

raybyanothername · 5 years

Note

Can you do a Seal Team fanfiction with Brock. Something where a higher-up looks down on him for being a dog handler and the team is super protective of him. It could be the higher up gets violent with Brock or something of the nature.

The Goodest Boy

Cereberus growled low as Admiral Doherty entered the briefing room. His attache, Captain Walsh, eyed the dog with a wrinkled nose and pursed lips. Brock patted Cerb's side and the dog settled. The rest of Bravo eyed the brass as they walked up to Harrington.

"This particular mission is high priority," Harrington cleared his throat, raised a hand to indicate the two men beside him. "Which I'm sure you've all gathered."

"The mission is both time sensitive and politically volatile." Captain Walsh stepped forward and clicked a button on the remote Harrington handed him. The screen behind him flickered as a map of Canada popped up - Quebec specifically.

Sonny snorted, "Politically volatile? Looks like political suicide from where I'm sittin'." Clay and Trent nodded, chuckles barely suppressed at a look from Jason.

Captain Walsh cleared his throat, "You'll be aiming for zero detection for that reason, Mr. Quinn." Sonny's eyes narrowed at the address.

"So what, exactly, do you want us to do?" Jason asked as Ray's attention flickered over the brass. Harrington and Blackburn were just as in the dark as they were - given the tension in their jaws and tightness around their eyes.

"Your primary mission is the retrieval of a prototype."

Brock snorted. Walsh glared at him. He just grinned as the man continued to explain what was, basically, government-sponsored corporate espionage.

All of Bravo was wearing a blank face by the end of the briefing. Even Harrington had flat eyebrows as he took in the plan that Walsh had laid out for them.

"And we're delivering this prototype to a bunch of contractors?" Ray's lips twitched as he asked the question.

"Only after you cross back into American territory." The Admiral finally spoke, eyes sharp as he pointed a finger at the map. "If you're captured on the other side of the border you'll be disavowed."

Brock barked out a laugh, "Great!" He patted Cerb's head, "I always wanted to be a spy as a kid." He winked at Walsh, "Had too much common sense and morals for the CIA recruiter."

That earned him a chuckle from Mandy. And Sonny was cackling. Admiral Doherty pinned him with his eyes, "I'm not sure what use a spy organization would have for a dog walker, Mr. Reynolds."

"That's Petty Officer Reynolds. Sir." Brock ignored the look Blackburn was shooting him. Talking back to an admiral was probably not great for his career. But…the asshole deserved it.

Cerberus jumped down from his chair to take up position at Brock's feet. He did not sit back down. Brock barred his teeth as the Admiral glanced at the dog.

"Don't worry," Jason pipped up, a sardonic smile gracing his face, "The dog's a total teddy bear."

"Maul you just as good as one too," Trent chuckled, his eyebrows jumped up to emphasize his point.

Harrington coughed and Bravo turned as one to face him. Their faces went flat. Cerberus kept his own attention on the admiral.

"What are we thinking for infil?"

They hammered out the details for the op within the hour. There weren't a lot of options for a silent run like this.

"You know, I've never been to Maine." Trent commented as they walked into the ready room. Brock only half listened to Sonny's tirade about the dangers of the Appalachian mountain and snow and moose.

He did catch the part where he called them meese, which had started Clay. Apparently there was a linguistic reason why such a pluralization was offensive to the English language.

Brock tuned the reason out and handed Cerberus a bone while he fit his harness on him. He grabbed Cerb's travel bag next. He dug around a bit - it was the only bag Davis didn't pack for them - before pulling out the near empty doggy water bottle.

"If you don't want to use mooses, what about moosak?"

"I ain't referring to an animal that fights with whales as a genre of elevator music!"

The door of the ready room closed just as Clay was launching into another explanation about orcas - which, yeah, there was no way Sonny wasn't provoking him on purpose now.

One day the kid would realize Sonny spent most of his time outside of bars watching documentaries and the discovery channel. That day was obviously not today though.

"Petty Officer Reynolds."

Brock was stopped before he reached the end of the hall by the voice of none other than Captain Walsh. Brock turned on his heels to face the officer, but he didn't bother with a salute.

The captain's face puckered. "I'd like to talk to you about disrespect of a commanding officer."

"He started it." Brock snickered.

He was not only on base, but in one of the most secure buildings on the whole installation. His team was literally a room away. He was talking to a Navy officer. An officer!

There was no reason to have his guard up. None at all. Which is why being slammed into the cinderblock wall came as a shock. The air in his lungs abandoned ship immediately.

"Look here, your only value is in your handling of that dog." The captain was literally sneering. Brock would have laughed if he wasn't coughing from the sudden exfil of his air supply. "You've obviously got an over-inflated ego from the-"

Captain Walsh had his guard down too. Though having it up would not have saved him from the teeth sinking into his arm. Cerberus had lunged right for the bicep of the arm pinning Brock to the wall.

Jason was blinking from his position by the door of the ready room. Brock rubbed at his chest and knelt to pick up the water bottle he'd dropped before whistling.

Cerberus backed away from the captain, who was now a simpering heap cradling his arm. Brock nodded to Jason and then continued on his mission to refill the water bottle. Cerberus hung at his heels, whining dramatically.

"Wow." Jason walked over to the captain lying on the floor. "You should probably see a medic." He grinned down at the man, "I'd get Trent, but, uh, he's got a strict policy about not fixing any damage that Cerberus causes."

Jason knelt beside the captain. He was bleeding, but he'd certainly live. He patted the hand gripping the dog bite. Walsh flinched.

"You got off easy." Jason's voice dropped to a flat tone as he whispered into the captain's ear. "You ever touch a member of my team again, Cerberus will eat well for months." He patted his hand again and stood to return to his cage.

Cerberus held his head up as he and Brock passed by again. The medics were loading him on to a stretcher - with many an eyeroll exchanged.

"Don't worry," Brock called over his shoulder, "Cerb's had all his shots." One of the medics stifled a laugh as the captain began muttering.

"You're gonna owe Blackburn a case of beer you keep that up," Ray shook his head at Brock walked into the room. He was smiling though.

Trent grinned ear to ear, "I saw we put it on Sonny's tab."

"He is the bad influence!" Clay added as Sonny squawked from his cage. A new debate emerged between the two men, with Trent egging them on from the sidelines.

Brock just repacked the bag for Cerberus and handed him a treat. The dog took it cheerfully, tail wagging as he sat at Brock's feet.

#ask ray #prompt ray #ray writes #cbs seal team #seal team cbs #seal team #brock reynolds #cerberus

27 notes · View notes

ablanariwho · 4 years

Text

Quarantine Story - An Antidote

“Doctor saab, doctor saab!” Someone was calling from outside. The doctor was sleeping on a rickety couch. It was the 9th day of his quarantine. He rubbed his eyes and picked up his steel banded wristwatch kept beside his pillow. It was 6 in the morning. The soft sunbeams were entering from the half open wooden window. He could see lot of dust particles floating in the air.

“Who was calling me? Or was I dreaming?” he thought sleepily.

He looked around the room from inside the mosquito net. He remembered the first day when he unlocked the rusted lock and opened the creaky door of this room. A musty smell hit his nose hard. The paint and plaster on the walls were peeling off in many places. Thick cobwebs were hanging in almost all the corners. Layers of dust, droppings of insects and lizards covered the floor. In some places, mites had built their nests.

The apartment, allotted to one of the staff doctors of the hospital, was vacant for quite a long time. He had his own house in the city, much better than this staff quarter of the government hospital. Every day he traveled to the hospital from his own home. The doctor had to get the keys of this flat from one of the neighbors to use it for his quarantine.

The mobile phone started ringing. It was cousin Amulya.

“Good morning brother. I got to know you have been staying in quarantine. What happened?” he asked.

“It’s all because of that irresponsible idiot, you know. He came to see me with all the symptoms of covid-19,” the doctor came out of the mosquito net while speaking on the phone. “I don’t understand how such well-to-do, educated people can be so callous and irresponsible. He didn’t inform the clinic before arriving and waited with other patients. After the check-up, when I asked him to go for isolation and tests, I could already sense his reluctance. Later I came to know he had gone into hiding. He was a medical student studying abroad. How could he be so negligent?" the doctor narrated agitatedly while going towards the washroom.

"I know. Such people not only risk their own lives, they also cause risk to others," the cousin brother adds.

"There are few doctors in the hospital now, you know. Most of them stay in the city. They are either not able to or willing to come and attend their duties. I am the only one who stays here and now I am also stuck. Who will see the patients in the hospital, tell me?" the doctor shares his concern.

Eight days ago, the doctor had called his mother in the afternoon.

“Maa, I am going to stay here, at Dr Sinha’s flat on the ground floor. Namita will tell you the whole story. Don’t worry. This is only a precaution. I will be fine,” the doctor assured his 82-year old mother. She suffers from anxiety and paranoia. “I needed to tell her the truth. No point in hiding. Eventually, she will feel assured knowing I am in the same building and doing fine,” the doctor thought after speaking to her.

His mother broke into tears. “I told you not to go to the clinic. Why didn’t you listen to me? You are no more a young guy. You are almost 60, about to retire shortly. Now if you get the virus, what will happen?” “Maa, I understand your worry. Even I am worried. It is most likely nothing will happen to me. That is why taking precaution,” he tried to explain to his mother. The old lady continued ranting. But there was not much time to listen to her or engage in the conversation. The doctor needed to make arrangements for staying in the room. He had asked the sweepers to come and clean it. Damodar, the head sweeper, came with his twenty something son Srihari almost immediately. Damodar had retired recently. Both father and son got down to work.

After giving them instructions, the doctor called his mother back. “There is no furniture in that flat. Are you going to sleep on the floor? I am afraid you will anyway fall sick if you stay there,” she complains. “I will not sleep on the floor Maa. Don’t worry. I am making some arrangement. Damodar and Srihari are cleaning the room for me. You take care of yourself. I will see you after 14 days’ quarantine. Okay?" the doctor said. "Listen Maa, Corona wants me to go for a 14 day-exile like queen Kaikeyee wanted Rama to go for 14 years’ exile to the forest. But Rama defeated Ravana. Right? I will also defeat Corona. I won’t let it get to me," the doctor tried to be humorous. He thought it would divert his mother’s mind and assuage her anxiety.

“Doctor saab, doctor saab.”

The doctor was brushing his teeth when he heard him.

“Someone is calling me. Who is this? No one comes near my room in fear of catching the infection. Neighbors do not even respond if I try to talk to them from the window. Hope everything is fine. It sounds like Srihari, the head sweeper’s son,” the doctor washed his face and walked back to the room.

Srihari was standing outside the window.

“What happened, Srihari? Is everything okay?” the doctor asked while wiping his face with a towel.

“Yes, doctor saab. Everybody is okay. How are you doing, doctor saab?” asked Srihari, with real concern on his face. He was a primary school drop-out. Being Damodar’s eldest son, he had to join his poor father in helping him quite early in life.

“I am okay Srihari. Thank you for asking,” the doctor said in a relaxed tone. “Keep this with you doctor saab. It must be very difficult for you to stay in this room. Isn't it? No AC, no proper bed. My grandmother says these leaves purify the air. Very healing,” Srihari extended a bunch of twigs with fresh, green Neem leaves on it.

Illustration: Vidya Bhamre

The doctor was amazed by the genuine concern and thoughtfulness of this youth. Such a gesture is usually least expected from the likes of him. Society looks at them as illiterate, uneducated and lower class.

“What a contrast between an educated youth and him. They must be of the same age,” the Doctor thought.

Tears welled up in his eyes. He felt ashamed and guilty. He felt so grateful too. “What happened doctor saab? Take this.” He pointed towards the bunch of Neem leaves he had kept on the windowsill.

“I know you are a doctor. You give medicines. But our mother nature is also a good doctor, you know. She has a cure for everything. We have to trust her,” said Srihari with the wisdom of a sage, yet a childlike smile on his face. The doctor picked up the bunch. He could hardly utter the words “Thank you.” They got drowned by the surge of emotions in his heart.

Srihari looked relieved and grinned.

“Don’t worry doctor saab. You will be fine and will come out soon of this room. Whenever you need me to clean your room, just let me know. I will come and clean it. Take care doctor saab,” - Srihari disappeared from the window.

#Quarantine #Corona #covid 19 #corona virus #sarscov2 #neem #medicine #corona medicine #death #hope #humanmind #kindness #economicclass #behavioural science #psychology #mentalhealth #anxiety #depression #healing

2 notes · View notes

skepticraven · 4 years

Text

Dear Trump Fans,

I keep hearing you say that Trump has done so much for America but you never elaborate on that, even when I ask you to. So, I’m asking again & my question is simple. What has he done that you think is so great? Aside from insulting people you don’t like, I just don’t see any achievements. This is what I do see:

-Trump didn't end the overseas wars like he promised. Instead, he got us involved in Syria. And he has nearly started a couple new wars with Iran & North Korea

- It seems you don't have your giant, waste-of-money wall. You have a small amount of fencing that anyone could cross should they want to. And Mexico won't EVER pay for it. Now, I’m fine with no wall but you shouldn’t be.

- Trump is trying to cut the CDC budget by almost 20% amidst a pandemic.

- Trump fired the pandemic response team last year.

- Trump is already saying he wants everyone back to work by Easter & all of the churches full on Easter- except every doctor & all his medically educated advisors are advising Trump against that. The cases of coronavirus are still increasing rapidly. Sending people back into such close proximity to one another will only inflame the problem, increasing the number of infected & dead tenfold.

-Trump has violated the emoluments clause of the constitution by failing to put his assets in a blind trust & thus is charging foreign leaders & American politicians inflated prices to stay at his hotels to win his favor & get private access to the president since he goes there all the time

- Trump is guilty of blatant nepotism. For example, he appointed Jared Kushner to negotiate peace in the middle east, handle diplomacy with China & Mexico, address the opioid epidemic, manage the wall construction process, etc. Jared isn't qualified for any of that, he only has that job because he bones Trump's daughter. Jared wouldn’t be qualified to manage a Pizza Hut. He was born rich and has done nothing but lose billions when he landed in his father job because his father went to prison for tax evasion, witness tampering, & illegal campaign contributions.

- Trump, who claims to be tough on terrorism, signed a multi-billion dollar weapons deal with Saudi Arabia RIGHT AFTER they murdered & dismembered an American journalist. Not to mention the genocide they were waging in Yemen. There is a reason that 80% of the 9/11 terrorist were from Saudi Arabia.

- Trump has eliminated funding for programs that work to de-radicalize people in extremist groups/organizations & help them escape that life.

- Trump cut his own taxes & that of his rich buddies & corporations BY 40%. Due to all the tax loopholes & shady financial dealings (like equity swapping or offshore tax havens) which the wealthiest Americans & corporations do, they already historically weren't paying anywhere near the marginal tax rate they should be on paper. Trump cut the corporate marginal tax rate from 35% to 21%. So after the loopholes & their shady bullshit, they're very likely paying a lower effective tax rate than you are. Thanks to Trump, many paid no income taxes at all in 2018 like Amazon, Netflix, Chevron, IBM, Delta Airlines, General Motors, Whirlpool, Goodyear Tires, etc.

-Trump promised to reduce the deficit but he has actually raised it by a lot. When you decrease the amount of taxes coming in that drastically & you increase government spending that much, the deficit is going to increase. The Caronavirus situation has only exacerbated that problem but the problem was already there.

-Trump pulled out of the Iran deal, solely because Obama did it. And Mr. Art of the Deal did not even try to negotiate a new deal.

- This great healthcare Trump promised hasn't happened. Less people have insurance now than when Trump first took office. Drug prices have only gone up. There have be cuts to Medicaid as well.

-Trump appointed a judge who clearly lied to congress & whom likely sexually assaulted someone. Why Trump did not pick a different conservative judge to nominate, I will never understand.

- Trump cut all the social safety net programs that help the poor & disabled: SSI Disability, Food Stamps, Medicaid, HUD, etc.

- Like it or not, Trump was technically impeached. He just wasn’t removed from office by the Senate because there are a bunch of scared Republicans who are too scared to do or say anything against Trump. Tribalism saved him. That’s it. Because he admitted on national television that he talked about Biden & his son on that phone call- you can even see the exact moment when he realizes he shouldn’t have said that. So, he did do what he was accused of.

-His administration is a revolving door of hiring & firing/quitting. Trump said he knew the best people so why would he need to fire so many of them? Think about how many people have come & gone. These are just some of the big names who left the administration but there are WAY MORE than I am listing: Rex Tillerson, Mike Pompeo, Scott Pruitt, Steve Bannon, John Bolton, Jeff Sessions, John Kelly, Anthony Scaramucci, Reince Priebus, Sean Spicer, Sarah Sanders, James Mattis, Rick Perry, Nikki Haley, Dan Coats, Alexander Acosta, Scott Gottlieb, Bill Shine, Tom Price, H.R. McMaster, Ryan Zinke, Mick Mulvaney, James Comey, Sebastian Gorka, Omarosa Newman, Gary Cohn, Don McGahn, Rod Rosenstein, Michael Flynn, Sally Yates, Tom Homan, Ty Cobb, Tom Bossert, K.T. McFarland, Rob Porter, Dina Powell, Rick Dearborn, Matthew Whittaker, Ezra Cohen-Watnick, Hope Hicks, Brenda Firtzgerald, Rob Snyder, Michael Dubke, Sean Doocey, etc.

-This is kind of a minor point but it does illustrate Trump’s hypocrisy. Trump criticized Obama for golfing so much & then Trump turns around & plays 2.6 times more golf than Obama in his first 2 years and 91 days & has cost the tax payer an estimated $74 million more than Obama.

- Does it ever embarrass you how little Trump knows about anything? Ever notice how he never goes in depth talking about anything? Its all vague because he doesn’t know enough about healthcare or the Iran Deal or climate change to address it in any kind of depth. You still see that idiocy spill out regardles. During an interview for SiriusXM’s P.O.T.U.S. channel, Trump said that former President Andrew Jackson was angry about the Civil War. The only problem is, Jackson couldn’t have been angry about the war. He died in 1845. The Civil War was in 1861. Another example would be during a call with Canada’s prime minister, Justin Trudeau, Trump claimed Canada burned down the White House during the War of 1812. Canada didn’t exist as a country until 1867. That was the British... Trump also claimed General John J. Pershing dealt with Muslim terrorists by shooting them with bullets dipped in pig’s blood. That did not happen. The story began circulating the internet around the September 11 terrorist attacks. Apparently Trump believed it was factual, talking about it during his 2016 presidential campaign & again after a terror attack in Barcelona. Then, speaking to the conservative radio host Hugh Hewitt, Trump confused the Quds Force, a unit of Iran’s Revolutionary Guard, with the Kurds, the minority group battling ISIS in northern Iraq (who he would later abandoned). Maybe that confusion could be forgiven for an average Joe but if you’ president, you need to know stuff like that (especially given the region these two groups are in). Hence why most presidents study political science, law, or economics in college or at least, they bother to read up on this stuff. But Trump doesn’t really read. The only book he claims to have read was a biography about Andrew Jackson whom, he thought was mad about a war that happened 16 years after his death & he also seems to have missed the whole Trail of Tears thing.

- By pulling out of the Iran Nuclear Deal & the Paris Climate Accord, Trump has isolated us from our allies. Our word means nothing anymore. And who can blame them for being pissed? Whether Iran has a nuclear weapon effect more than just us. Given the size of our nation, our refusal to take the looming threat of climate change seriously is a detriment to the entire world that can & likely will have devastating consequences for everyone. Furthermore, Trump trash talks our closest allies & has placed tariffs on nearly all of them. For example:

AUSTRALIA: Shortly after taking office, Trump reportedly berated then-Australian Prime Minister Malcolm Turnbull over an agreement between the U.S. and Australia involving refugee resettlement.

CANADA: Trump also attacked Canadian President Justin Trudeau as “meek, mild, dishonest, & weak” during a conversation on trade at the G7 summit in 2018. He also threatened to withhold the U.S.’s signature from a joint communique from the meeting over the feud. Trudeau he also found it “insulting” that tariffs were placed on Canada under a rarely invoked law that allows levies to be placed on a country in the interest of national security. Since when is Canada a national security threat?

DENMARK: Trump also went after Denmark’s Prime Minister Mette Frederiksen after she refused to sell him Greenland. She called the idea “absurd,” & Trump referred to her as “nasty & inappropriate.” The people that live there don’t want to become American. You can’t just buy a country on whim. Greenland belongs to Denmark but its semi-autonomous.

FRANCE: Trump threatened to slap tariffs on French wine & called French President Emmanuel Macron “foolish” after he signed a digital services tax on tech companies making at least 750 MILLION EUROS annually, a figure which meant U.S.-based tech giants like Apple, Google, Facebook & Amazon would be included.

GERMANY: Trump has had a particularly tumultuous relationship with German Chancellor Angela Merkel. The president has repeatedly threatened Germany with auto tariffs, saying if companies like BMW and Mercedes wanted to sell cars in the U.S., they should build them in the country. German Chancellor Angela Merkel on Friday criticized President Donald Trump's tweets about four Democratic congresswomen of color telling them to go back to where they came from. She said that the president's tweets contradict "the strength of America." "I distance myself firmly from this & feel solidarity with the women who were attacked," Merkel said. (Canada’s prime minister, Justin Trudeau also criticized Trump for the same thing).

JAPAN: Trump has lamented the U.S.’s responsibility to defend Japan if attacked, saying the alliance between Washington & Tokyo is uneven. Trump has also threatened Japan with auto tariffs, though it announced in May it was delaying any levies for six months.

MEXICO: President Trump has repeatedly torn into Mexico, slamming it on trade but focusing much of his ire on the country over immigration. Trump has threatened America’s southern neighbor with tariffs over its alleged inaction in working to stem the flow of undocumented migrants in the U.S. And let’s face it, he doesn’t exactly talk about the Mexican people in the nicest way and stroked racial tensions.

SWEDEN: President Trump feuded with Swedish Prime Minister Stefan Löfven after American rapper A$AP Rocky was detained in Sweden & charged with assault following a June incident in Stockholm. Apparently Kanye West told Trump about it. 🙄 The rapper was ultimately released in & returned to the U.S AFTER he was convicted & had to pay a fine (plus time served).

UNITED KINGDOM: While Trump has bashed the United Kingdom over trade practices, threatening tariffs on one of the U.S.’s closest allies to rectify what he sees as an imbalance, he has directed much of his criticism toward the country’s handling of Brexit. He also attacked the UK's National Health Service, claiming it is "going broke & not working." That’s not true but its not really his business either way. Trump is so disliked in the UK that at one point, 75,000 protestors gathered in central London’s Trafalgar Square to protest U.S. President Trump’s visit to the U.K

SOUTH KOREA: The Trump administration is reportedly demanding South Korea pay 400% more for U.S. troops in the region- despite the fact that having a base in South Korea is essential as much for us as it is for them. We need a base near North Korea should we ever have to attack. Maybe raising it some is reasonable but raising anything 400% overnight is a little absurd.

I see failure & corruption in Trump. I see a danger to America. Feel free to try to change my mind.

#politics #conservative #liberal #democrats #republicans #explain #political blog #PoliticalQuestions #potus #potustrump #failure

3 notes · View notes

fluffynexu · 5 years

Photo

Kaas City Districts

Dromund Kaas is the capital world of the Sith Empire. Although not a ecumenopolis like Coruscant or Nar Shaddaa, the planet’s Kaas City is a massive megalopolis in its own right that roughly covers 70% of the continent with a population in the billions.

Unlike other large continent or planet spanning cities in the galaxy, Kaas City has a reputation for efficiency and cleanliness. There are currently 25 districts within Kaas City. And while one can find the necessary resources such as schools, housing, hospitals, and food stores in all of them, each have their own “specialties” that gave rise to their unofficial district names.

1. The Citadel Not necessarily a true district, but the building itself is massive and integral to the whole city if not the entire Empire. It was rebuilt by Darth Nostrem in 937AE after a famously violent Kaggath destroyed the original building. The current structure houses all branches and heads of governing bodies as well as having a small enclave for the Mandalorians.

2. Capital The Capital District surrounds the area around the Citadel. It houses all other major Imperial buildings relating to governing bodies and an unbelievable number of bureaucratic offices that regulate every aspect of Imperial life. There aren’t many attractions in this district since it mainly functions to govern and thus presented in a fairly austere manner. All organizations found in this district fall within one of the twelve spheres. Few notable agencies are Imperial Revenue Service, Ministry of Imperial Aquaculture, Ministry of Imperial Agriculture, Imperial Department of Transportation, Office of Nutrition Distribution, Sith Cultural Preservation Council, Ministry of Trade, Imperial Security Bureau and so on.

3. Cultural The Cultural District subdivides into the visual and performing arts. This district is well known for the numerous museums, opera houses, concert halls, galleries, parks, and even some historical sites. It also has some of the more unique looking buildings with some having or being large, intricate works of art. Some highlights include, the Grand Opera House, the Historical Art Museum, Central Grand Park, Museum of Sith History, Bolâts Falls, Lords’ Concert Hall, the Imperial Gallery and much more.

4. The Nexus This district features the famous Nexus Room Cantina which was originally a large indoor-outdoor shopping mall. Over the years it turned into a large cantina since it served as the main hub, and thus the main waiting area, for the The Nexus which is an elaborate system of subterranean, planetary public transportation.

5. Trade The largest district in Kaas City, the Trade District has all of the best, top end shops and the largest warehouse stores. Anything from the entirety of the Empire and the greater galaxy can be found, sold, or bought here. Some of the foreign goods include items such as nuna meat from Naboo, krayt dragon pearls from Tatooine, killik-silk from Alderaan, and wampa pelts from Hoth. Some of the more common domestic products include the extensive meat and fish markets on Butcher Row, the stunning jewelry selection in the area known as the Gem Pocket, and even shops that sell special lumber from Ziosti oaks.

6. Spaceport Kaas City Spaceport is located on the far eastern region of the continent and is not directly connected to city. There is a small stretch of jungle between the spaceport area and the rest of Kaas City which is usually handled through public transport. Around the spaceport are many hotels and a few spas travelers can stay at to refresh before heading out into the city.

Having the largest populace in the Empire, especially within this one city on the planet, there are a number of residential districts where most of the citizens reside.

7. The Dens Most average Imperials live in the Dens. It’s a modest yet cozy residential area with everything a family could need or want.

8. Lake By contrast, the Lake District is known for the high property values being next to the lovely Crystal Lake. The lake floods twice every year, submerging the specialized buildings on the northwestern edges of the lake and allowing people to live with an underwater view. This feature and its clear, calm waters with unique wildlife draw in a lot of tourists from other Imperial worlds.

9. Outskirts People who live in the Outskirts have, as Imperial law mandates, everything one would need for a stable life. But it is the most minimal version of what one would find compared to the Lake District or even the Dens. The lowest and poorest of the Imperial population usually reside here, but unlike other worlds where crime go hand-in-hand with low income, the Outskirts remain virtually crime free just like any other city district.

10. Highrise The Highrise is known for the grandiose houses and mansions. Many of which float gracefully in the air with entire lawns and gardens of their own. Whether on the ground or in the air, the housing here can easily cost a fortune. Which is why it is mainly home to the Sith and high ranking Imperials.

11. Tech The Tech District is the center for Imperial innovation, technology, and information gathering. In addition to all of the usual research and development one can expect, the Sphere of Imperial Intelligence also has multiple, obscure offices within this district to monitor holonet activity of the Empire’s citizens. Activity from this district has attracted some non-Imperial ventures and one can see sites such as the Czerka Tower.

12. Scarlet More formally known as Qoshrajakzândor, it was established when the planet was resettled as a sanctuary for the Red Sith. It remains the only district to be surrounded by physical barriers in the form of large, imposing walls. There is an entrance on each of its five sides, all with their own pair of giant mowhef statues. Officially, there are no laws that keeps non Red Sith out of the district, but it is still heavily implied within Imperial society that only Sith (and preferably only the Red Sith) can walk freely in and out of this near-sacred place.

13. Temple Sitting right next to the Scarlet District is the Temple District. It is the main burial site for most Sith and houses many cemeteries and tombs. There is also a somewhat hidden passageway in one of the large crypts that leads to Dark Temple on the island of Mognosk. Around the burial sites are temples used for funeral ceremonies from where the district gets its name.

14. Medical Hub While there are many adequate clinics throughout the city all of the major hospitals, rehabilitation centers, psych wards, and treatment facilities are located in this district. The medical facilities here are the absolute best in the entire Empire.

15. Garden The Garden District is a combination of a residential area mixed with a recreational one. Nearly all of the buildings here are covered or decorated in plant life in some way. Not only are there a bunch of parks and botanical gardens, but this district also has the highest number of cafes and tea houses within the city.

16. Fashion It could be said that the only reason this district even exists is due to the fact that the Sith are known to be ostentatious. That assumption would be correct. The Sith spend a lot of time and effort into their appearance and some of that has influenced Imperial culture as well. The result is the Fashion District which has anything and everything relating to fashion and beauty. Top designers, Imperial brand names, make up artists, hair stylists, and body augmenters all thrive in this district. The major fashion show are also held twice a year to highlight the newest trends.

17. Education Although there are many primary, secondary, and boarding schools all over the city, the Education District has the major universities and higher learning facilities. As confusing at it may be to outsiders, there is Dromund Kaas University (DKU) and Kaas City University (KCU). Both are considered top tier schools that produce the Empire’s best officers. Other institutes include Kaas Military Tech, Kaas Medical University, Dromund Kaas Law School, and Dromund Kaas Sith Academy.

18. Little Csilla When the Empire allied itself with the Ascendancy during the last war some of the Chiss began immigrating into the Empire. They settled on the outer edges of the Dens, converting it into its own distinct area over the years. Now its own proper district, Little Csilla offers Imperials a chance of authentic Chiss food, art, music, architecture, and culture within the heart of the Empire.

19. Entertainment There are many places within the Entertainment District that are be considered “family friendly”. These places are the amusement parks, sports stadiums, specialized movie theaters, race tracks, and zoos. But this district is also known for some of its more adult-oriented entertainment. There are many bars, clubs, and cantinas that dot the area around the various Pleasure Houses and fighting rings. Prostitution is legal and heavily regulated within the Empire and is one of the bigger revenues of tax. Likewise blood sports are also popular but are heavily regulated to the point where a Hutt would lose interest.

20. The Grotto After the Old Town began to fade this particular area became neglected and eventually became its own district over the years. It can be said that this is the the only seedy part of Kaas City. Imperial citizens cannot become homeless but the streets of the Grotto are filled with people. These are usually “discarded” slaves who loiter and wander around. It seems that this district only exists only because no one seems to care renovating a dying part of a city filled with alien slaves.

21. Business Major corporations and business of the Empire situate their headquarters within this district. In addition to the usual administrations the Business District sees a lot of the banking and finance as well. There are aspects of Imperial culture that encourage forming friendly bonds with ones compatriots, as such the Business District also has a fair number of Singing Rooms for social gathering between coworkers.

22. Historical Also referred to as The Old Town because, as the name suggests, it is one of the oldest parts of Kaas City. It was quickly developed when the fledgling Empire came to Dromund Kaas and used to cover a much greater area. Ore was mined from the nearby jungle to be refined and power was generated with the surrounding river and waterfall. These factors helped to create the first Imperial fleet as well as the other districts. However, overmining in the area made it almost unlivable by human standards and it took decades of cleaning and reconstruction to restore the district. These days it’s seen as a historical heritage site for Imperials and serves as an educational tourist attraction.

23. Industrial The Industrial District sprang up from the remnants of the Old Town. Once the area around the Old Town was depleted production moved and settled into what is now the Industrial District. Originally the district mainly had factories that processed the raw ore, but over time different plants and refineries were built. There are even some slaughterhouses for fish meat production and facilities for textile manufacturing. A lot of the work here goes into producing goods that can be used in other ways for the Empire.

24. Military This is the main area for military training on Dromund Kaas. There are other camps and bases all over the planet but the bulk of the operations and exercises are held within this district. Soldiers here aren’t just from the local area but from all over the Empire since military units are expected to undergo survival courses in differing terrains. Despite being a training ground for the Imperial military and navy there are small comforts for those who live there in the form of cozy, specialty diners.

25. Expansion Kaas City is old as the Empire itself and it’s still growing in size. With the war in recent years the city is in flux once again. Currently it is unclear what kind of new development the Expansion District will turn into. It’s mostly filled with half finished buildings and large constructions sites digging into the landscape.

heyyyy... it’s done!

so uh, in case it wasn’t obvious.

you can obvs live in any of the districts. and all of them have like supermarkets, banks, hospitals, schools, etc. it’s just that the names reflect what each district is best known for essentially.

7-10 are the residential districts which are basically like the different flavors of suburbs. you got middle class (7), rich hipsters (8), poor ppl (9), super rich and important (10).

i hc that you can be poor in the empire but you’ll never starve or be homeless. like you’ll always have food and a roof over your head, but if you’re poor it’s the bare fuckin basics man. tiny apt with like one room and ration bars kind of deal.

12, the mowhef statues are a heritage site which means tourist trap lol. bc they’re BIG and Special and sith related... so you have your flocks of imperials from DK or other planets coming by to take selfies and what not.

19, yes prostitution is legal. no it’s not looked down on. it’s treated like any other profession. and it’s not always about sex (tho it is most of the time). likewise the ones participating in blood sports are top tier athletes and not desperate slaves tossed into a pit (which i imagine is what hutts do). blood sports also involve animal fighting but like... pokemon style and not rl dog fights (if that makes any sense). also, is gambling legal? yea, but it’s super regulated like everything else and your winnings will get taxed xD

20, “discarded” slaves are basically the ones who’s master died but also forgot to specify what happened to them. these ppl also have kids which are born into the state of poverty and homelessness.

24, i’m just saying there’s prob small mom and pop diners that serve ziosti comfort food.

25, idk man. i think this was in the game and it had a bunch of angry droids and def looked half finished so...

#swtor #omg #it's finally done #and it only took forever #i just wanna know where everything is #and where everyone is going #....by the off chance i actually write lol #long post #worldbuilding

493 notes · View notes