#need someone to force me to read theory at gunpoint

[communist-hatsunemiku]

to be fair I am a piss poor communist

[astroninaaa]

clarke griffin sucks here’s why

Hi! I’ve wanted to actually write some anti-Clarke discourse for a while now, specially because I’ve hated her since I first heard her talk to someone else in the show, but I was always hesitant because of blorkes and Clarke stans and all that. Well, I’m doing it anyway.

(DISCLAIMER: all this comes from her depiction in the show. I have no idea how book Clarke is, since I’ve never read the The 100 books. Now buckle up and enjoy my angry and not-that-thought-out rant.) (And I’m putting it under the cut because it is... a lot.)

I know many people started to dislike Clarke after season 3 or whatever, but I believe she has been problematic since the beginning. 

For starters, she put herself in a position of power during season 1, and that’s a fact. People say she “had no choice but to become a leader”, but that’s a lie. Just like Bellamy did, she made the decision to bear leadership: from the moment they arrived, she was already making orders and trying to boss people around. Was she wrong? No, she wasn’t! She wanted to keep herself and others alive, which is a good thing. But she didn’t have to. Btw, if she had never done anything things wouldn’t have change, to be honest, since they did not get to Mount Weather and built their little cute camp around the dropship. I mean, Jasper wouldn’t have been speared and they would have found out about the Grounders a bit later, but I think nothing much would’ve happened. Actually, maybe things with the Grounders would have been easier, considering I firmly believe the theory that the only reason they attacked Jasper in the first place was because he was all happy about finding Mount Weather, the place that had been kidnapping and killing Grounders for a long ass time. 

My point is: I believe Clarke wasn’t actually needed as a leader when they first came down to Earth. I think she was just a spoiled priviledged girl, just like Bellamy said she was, who could not get around to letting go of the power she held. There was no more priviledged and non-priviledged, so she secured her influence by becoming a leader. 

An important statement that people tend to forget: she was just as guilty as Bellamy was for Murphy’s hanging, if not more. She was always talking about justice and whatnot, but when she had the chance to be just, she wasn’t. A knife is not enough evidence to fucking accuse someone of murder — during 1918 and 1919, there was a serial murder going around called “The Axeman of New Orleans”, who used axes he found in people’s houses to kill them (I’m a fan of true crime sorry not sorry). If police went by Clarke’s logic, the dead would’ve been the murderers, which certainly does not make much sense. The least she could’ve done was talking to him separately, conducted a trial or whatever, anything but accusing Murphy of murder before the whole camp. She knew they hated him, and so did Bellamy, and that’s why Bellamy didn’t want her to tell everyone about Wells’ yet. And yes, sure, she was grieving, but grief is still not an excuse for what she did to Murphy, it isn’t. She might have tried to stop the hanging later or whatever, but it was still a direct consequence of her actions and would not have happened at all if she had stopped to think for even a moment. The truth is that Clarke does not comprehend that she can actually be wrong, a fact that repeats itself multiple times throughout the series.

(There are other times she fucks up during season 1, but Murphy’s hanging is what stands out the most to me, so I decided to leave it on that. But don’t worry, I have many other examples!)

I can’t even express how much she pissed me off during season 2. Yes, Mount Weather was a very suspicious place and she was right to be wary, but how could she leave her people and escape? She wanted to get help and all that, but she fucking knew they were bleeding out the Grounders and was definetely aware they would soon try something alike to the 48, and she still left them. She left them alone and clueless to the danger they were in, and she didn’t even know if the Ark had come down alright or if there were other survivors. Mount Weather was lying to them about not finding anyone but she couldn’t be sure of that — everyone could have been fucking dead and she would have left her “people” to die too.

I’m not even gonna talk about Lexa’s betrayal because that wasn’t actually her fault, I admit that. Was she stupid to trust a Grounder? Yes. Should she have considered the fact they tried to kill Raven the first opportunity they got (when Lexa’s cup was poisoned) and the fact that the Grounders did not trust them because of Finn and wrongly Raven? Obviously. Does that make Lexa’s betrayal her fault? No, but she should have seen it coming, tbh.

And, again, she put herself in a position of power where she wasn’t needed. There were actual adults ready to look for a better solution, but she didn’t let them. Of course she didn’t  — how could Princess Griffin let go of her power?

Letting Mount Weather drop the bomb on TonDC was... horrible. It was not the act of a leader and it was not the act of a good person. It was selfish, it was the act of someone who leaves their people to die with the excuse of “looking for help” without even knowing if there is help waiting for them at all. It would have revealed Bellamy’s position, yes, but Bellamy would have preferred that than letting people die like Clarke and Lexa did. THEY LET PEOPLE DIE. Hundreds of people! God, they didn’t save the Grounders and the Skaikru that had come for a DIPLOMATIC AND PACIFIC reunion, but Clarke really thought her deal with Lexa would mean something if a better deal appeared, right? Damn, that was naive.

And then she left her people again by the end of the season, of course. “I bear it so others don’t have to” my ass — Bellamy still went apeshit and Jasper still got depressed and no one actually saw her bearing it, so they bear it too. The only thing girlie did was leave behind responsibility and betray her friends so she didn’t have to face regret for her actions. Meanwhile, people needed her, since she had put herself in a position of power for so long that everyone actually looked up at her, for some unknown reason, since she mainly fucked things up.

I don’t remember season 3 that well, but I know that Bellamy’s rant to her when she came back and was trying to be his friend was absolutely reasonable and true. She fucked off into the woods, represented Skaikru in Polis without them knowing for a while, came back to Arkadia and tried to get some power again, but then no one cared about her. Bellamy was too busy making the wrong decisions because of his emotional pain and sorrow to actually give a shit and they had greater things to solve than filling Clarke’s need to be worshipped.

Also, the whole “blood must not have blood” shit? Funny, real funny. It’s just like Lexa pointed out: “blood must not have blood until it applies to your people”. She is SUCH a hypocrite it pains me. And she did not spare Emerson for “blood must not have blood”, she did it because she knew it would make him suffer more and that came back to bite her in the ass. Karma’s a bitch, I guess. And she tried to make Luna become Commander against her will, which I’m not gonna talk about, but was just really fucked up.

I think my hatred for Clarke peaked during season 4. First, she didn’t want to tell the Grounders the world was about to end again and was apparently okay with letting them burn, until Roan found out and got mad about it. She tried to become Commander, blatantly disrespecting Grounder culture just so she could boss all the people in the world around. “She wanted to help!” “She had no choice!” Yes, sure, she had no choice but lying to everyone and disrespecting a whole nation. She couldn’t, you know, talk about it. Okay. I mean, that’s how Clarke does things, right? Kill and deceive first, give a half-assed apology later. It has been working so far, there’s no reason for her to stop.

Forcing Luna to give them her bone marrow? Very problematic, but “Welcome to Mount Weather” was one of my favorite Raven quotes. Abby was also a fucking bitch for being alright with killing Emori but throwing a tantrum when Clarke finally came to her senses and decided to test Nightblood on herself instead of murdering people who went all the way there to help her, but that’s not what I’m focusing on.

Locking Murphy up while she attempted to kill Emori? Not good. Emori knew from the beginning she would be chosen for testing Nightblood — she is a Grounder, and Clarke’s disregard for Grounders has been made very clear before. (And no, having a Grounder girlfriend in a very unprofessional and non-diplomatic way does not excuse her from discriminating against Grounders.)

And then she took over the bunker, disrespecting Grounder culture once again by betraying the conclave and, well, many people. (I know Echo did it too, but I’m not talking about Echo right now so if someone brings this up I’m gonna riot.) I also think it’s funny how she was always talking about saving everyone and all that shit but was so fucking fast to leave Raven, Octavia, Monty, Harper and Kane to die. You know, the people who were supposed to be her friends and all that. Oh, well.

Then Octavia won. And she still did not open the bunker. Man, opening the bunker would save so many lives, including the life of her oh-so-called best friend’s sister, but she still didn’t do it. Classic Clarke God-complex: she decides who is worth saving, and the Grounders aren’t. Then there’s the whole thing with holding Bellamy at gunpoint and then using “but I didn’t shoot!” as an apology. Bitch, it isn’t about shooting, it is about the fact you looked your supposed best friend straight in the eyes and pointed a gun at him, threatening to kill him if he dared to try and save his sister and many others of certain death.

She sacrificed herself by the end of this season, great. I mean, yeah, that was nice of her. Congrats for doing a good thing for once, I guess, even though she knew she probably wouldn’t be able to get back in time anyway so the least she could do was making sure the others lived. I wish she had actually died then, it would’ve been a great end to her arc (finally saving her friends at the cost of her life after betraying them and leaving them to die repeatedly — damn, I might had even started to like her a bit after that) and I would be able to stand the worshipping of her done at the start of season 5, since she would be, yk, dead. Sadly, that did not happen.

She was a villain during season 5 just like Octavia and I wish she had been depicted that way. She wanted to kill Blodreina (because just overthrowing her wouldn’t do) but she wasn’t okay with letting Madi take the chip. I know these are different things, but see it like that: killing Octavia was a way of taking control of Wonkru at the expense of a life. Madi becoming Commander was a way to take control of Wonkru at the expense of Madi’s childhood. Are any of them good? Not really, but Commander Madi does not envolve killing someone and even has a nice ring to it. Besides, Madi had given consent to taking the chip.

(Another point: Octavia was actually thrown into a position of power, just like everyone claims Clarke was. Octavia was the conclave’s champion and was expected and even obligated to lead, while Clarke simply decided she was more competent than the others and became a self-proclaimed leader. After that, she whined for all seasons about how she didn’t want leadership. Octavia never did that, despite being the one who became a leader unwillingly. Just like Raven put, Octavia and Clarke are the same, but Octavia doesn’t pretend to feel bad for empathy points. Damn, I love Raven.)

She left Bellamy to die in the fighting pit, because now Madi is the one she cares about so fuck everyone else. She gave over Raven and Shaw and let them be tortured for nothing. She betrayed literally everyone and was the one to put McCreary in a position strong enough he had the power to literally destroy Earth. Clarke Griffin was directly responsible for Earth’s end.

And then she said “sorry, I had no choice” and most characters fucking forgave her. I hate the way this series throws Clarke’s half-assed apologies onto us and expect us to accept them. I think it is very annoying, since Clarke would be an awesome villain, but they insist in making her one of the good guys, even with the whole “there’s no good guys” theme, which I wholeheartedly believe to be just a way to justify why Clarke needs to be forgiven again and again and again. It is not much more than bad writing, to be honest.

During season 6 she again becomes a leader without being prompted to. I loved Josephine and I think that the fact Clarke wasn’t actually Clarke was the only reason I didn’t absolutely despised her like I have done for the previous seasons. Again, I would have loved it if she had actually died then. Imagine Josephine becoming a main character for season 7 too? Amazing, brilliant, showstopping, incredible.

And she is not even there for season 7, at least until “The Queen’s Gambit” lol. Guess they finally saw how much of an annoying character she is. The only thing I remember of her is the “I don’t believe in Karma” thing, which was... expected. I mean, someone who has done as much harm as she has can’t believe in Karma anyway or she wouldn’t be able to sleep at night, and Clarke’s whole thing is about pretending to be sorry but not actually trying to change, so we can’t have that.

In conclusion, Clarke Griffin fucking sucks. She is a bad person and the way everyone always forgives every bad thing she does is bad writing. The series tries to sell her as one of the characters on the “good” side, but she actively works against it. She is not even a GOOD villain to watch, like Murphy was for many seasons. She is just an annoying character with a God complex who fucks things up, betrays her friends and lets people die again and again and then is forgiven because she is supposed to be an admirable main character. She is selfish and abusive and manipulative and power-hungry and fucking sucks, so please don’t stan her.

And that’s on that! Nice.

(DISCLAIMER PART 2: this blog DOES NOT support Eliza Taylor and Bob Morley, specially after Arryn Zech’s accusations. I know we cannot be sure of anything, but I prefer to side with a potential liar than with a potential abuser.)

[waitimcomingtoo]

In Case You Don’t Live Forever - Chapter Twenty One

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!reader

Warnings: Far From Home spoilers

Masterlist

Authors Note: the final chapter is finally here. I cannot thank you enough for all the likes, reblogs, and comments. I appreciate it all so much. I’m still going to write so let me know if you want to be on my tag list for future updates. There’s a part in here inspired by Jane the Virgin but I won’t spoil it. As always, enjoy the story and thank you for reading. ❤️

The room turned back into the warehouse and the voices stopped. Peter was no longer held at gunpoint, and was instead standing in front of you with a gun aimed at your forehead. Only, it wasn’t Peter. Beck turned himself into Peter when you were distracted by the voices. Peter was tied up and gagged as he was forced to watch his own clone hold the love of his life at gunpoint.

“Get up.” Beck said sternly in Peters voice. You raised your hands up and slowly got to your feet.

“Why are you doing this Peter?” Your voice trembled. Peters heart broke at your belief that that was really Peter.

“You saw things you weren’t supposed to. Stark left me his industry. This is what I’ve decided to do with it. Spider-Man won’t be treated like a kid when he defeats an Avengers Level threat like the Elementals. You were never supposed to know. Now you better run and never tell anyone what you’ve seen today.” Beck as Peter threatened.

“Why wouldn’t I hand your ass right over to Fury?” You asked cautiously.

“You’ve seen what I’m capable of. Is that a bet you’re willing to take?” Peter asked. “I can turn myself into you and destroy children hospitals, homeless shelters, nursing homes, you name it. I can ruin you. I can make you the enemy. Do not cross me, honey.”

“This isn’t you.” You decided. This wasn’t Peter.

“You don’t know me.” Peter replied. The real Peter recognized those words from when you had supposedly broken up with him. Beck was smart, but he wasn’t that good of an actor.

“Don’t I, Beck?” You smirked.

Beck dropped the gun as a bullet went through his chest. His Peter facade melted away as he hit the ground. Peter watched as Fury came out from behind Beck with a gun. Maria Hill untied Peter and helped him down.

“Now, who else knows about Beck other than you and Y/n?” Fury asked Peter. Peter looked around for you but he didn’t see you anywhere.

“I told Ned and he might’ve told his girlfriend, Betty. That’s it.” Peter told Fury.

“And do you think Y/n is gonna tell anyone?” Fury asked.

“She’s an investigative reporter. She’s gonna tell the whole world.” Peter said proudly.

Fury laughed and looked at a device on his wrist.

“You are so gullible, Peter. And thanks to you, I have to kill a bunch of kids.” Fury said as he turned into Beck. Peter felt like he was going to throw up. He had no idea how much was true and how much had been an illusion. Were you ever there at all?

“Where’s Y/n?” Peter demanded.

“I pretended to shoot at her until she left the building. I was disguised as you, of course. She thinks you’re gonna come after her again. And, who knows? Maybe you will. Or I will. And I’ll look her in sad little eyes and kill her, all while she thinks I’m you.” Beck forewarned.

“You wouldn’t.” Peter growled.

“I will. It doesn’t matter anyway. She will never forgive you Peter. Everything I said to you when I broke up with you cane directly from her. You’ve been neglecting her for Spider-Man’s sake. And now, she thinks you tried to kill her. There’s no use fighting it anymore, Peter. It’s over. It’s all over. Laters, baby.” Beck smiled and before Peter could speak, he was hit by a train at full speed. Peter clung to the side with his bloody hands. He used all his strength to pull himself up and get on the train. He woke up in a jail cell surrounded by foreigners. Peter let himself out and asked a vender for his phone. After being told he was in the Netherlands in a town Peter couldn’t pronounce, he called Happy.

Happy had never been too fond of Peter. He didn’t understand what Tony saw in a high school kid in red and blue pajamas. But Happy also knew that when Tony trusted someone, he trusted someone with all his heart. And Tony trusted Peter to carry on his legacy after he died. No matter what Happy felt towards Peter, he knew Peter had to be something special.

“Calm down.” Happy said after Peter slammed his fist down in pain. Happy had to patch Tony up a number of times and knew how to do sutures pretty well. He just didn’t know how to make it hurt less.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Peter yelled and got up angrily. Happy was surprised by his outburst after only ever seeing the timid side of Peter, vying for approval from Tony and the rest of the Avengers. Happy let Peter vent about his struggles with Tonys death, recognizing a child in need of comfort and support. And eventually, they got to his struggles with you.

“I love her, Happy.” Peter said hoarsely. “So much. Maybe a little too much.”

“I’m sure she knows that.” Happy assured him. The conversation made him reminisce in old conversations he had with Tony about his future with Pepper.

“How could she?” Peter laughed sadly. “I never should’ve listened to Ned. I should’ve taken her on those walks and sat with her on that stupid plan. I drove her right into the arms of another man. And now, I might never get the chance to tell her how sorry I am.”

“Why wouldn’t you get the chance?” Happy asked the teen.

“Because she has every right to never speak to me again. I yelled at her and called her a cheater. I didn’t trust her or listen to her when she tried to tell me something was wrong. And now, she thinks I tried to kill her. She probably hates me.” Peter dragged his hand down his grimy face. “I can’t think about this right now. I gotta tell Fury that Beck is a fraud.”

“Fury knows.” Happy informed Peter.

“What?” Peters head snapped in Happy’s direction. “How?”

“Y/n told him someone was going around pretending to be her, Loki, and then you.” Happy replied.

“And Fury believed her?” Peter asked. Fury wasn’t one to entertain half baked theories.

“Hell no.” Happy laughed. “But then she told him you held her at gun point-“

“It wasn’t me.” Peter interrupted.

“Yeah, I know, dipshit. Let me finish” Happy said grumpily. Peter sat down and didn’t make any further interjections. “Y/n said you held her at gunpoint and started saying a bunch of crazy stuff about taking over Stark Industries. She said you called Tony “Stark” which we all know, you never do. Fury still didn’t want to believe her but she was relentless. You should’ve heard her. She swore up and down that you’d never hurt her and it couldn’t possibly have been you. She said you didn’t have a malicious bone in your body. She refused to leave until someone believed her. So, Fury did some research and found out Beck used to work for Tony. He helped design BARF. We think he’s using the same technology to create the Elementals.”

“She figured it out.” Peter whispered, eyes gleaming with pride in you. “She figured out that Beck was the bad guy and and played dumb at the warehouse so he wouldn’t know she knew.”

“There would be a lot more casualties if it weren’t for her.” Happy nodded. “We’ve got eyes on Beck now but only you can stop him. Are you up for it?”

“Yes.” Peter nodded, now filled with pure adrenaline. “But could you do me a favor?”

“Sure, kid.” Happy sighed. Peter pulled out the Black Dahlia necklace and carefully handed it to Happy.

“In case someone happens to me, could you give this to Y/n? And tell her that I love her and that I’m sorry?” Peter requested.

“What do you mean in case something happens to you?” Happy asked for clarification.

“In case I don’t live forever.” Peter said decidedly.

“Uh, what?” Happy questioned.

“Sorry. It’s a reference. You wouldn’t get it.” Peter shook his head and thought of the song you sang him all those years ago. He always came back to the song as a source of comfort. The melody always carried in his thoughts like a safety net. “Just please give it to her?”

“I will, kid.” Happy nodded.

“And make sure she knows that if I died, I died loving her and wanting her forgiveness.” Peter continued. Happy had heard enough of Peters doubts. He knew Peter couldn’t go into battle thinking he wouldn’t come out.

“You’re not gonna die, Peter.” Happy said gently. “No one is gonna let them happen.”

“I know, but, just in case.” Peter said timidly. “Can you just promise me?”

“I promise.” Happy nodded.

Happy took the necklace and tucked it safely into his pocket. He felt guilty for having misjudged Peter all those years. Peter wasn’t a just kid in pajamas. He was a good person who’d do anything to keep people safe. As Happy watched Peter crafting his new suit, he was again reminded of Tony. He saw little flecks of Tony’s personality blooming in Peter.

“How about some music?” Happy asked as Peter did his thing.

“Can I request something?” Peter asked as he slid his arm into a virtual web shooter.

“Go ahead.” Happy replied.

“Could you okay In Case You Don’t Live Forever by Ben Platt?” Peter asked nicely.

“Is there a specific reason?” Happy asked as he typed the title into the music player.

“Y/n sang it to me once.” Peter smiled in light of the memory. Happy didn’t look amused. “Please? It helps me focus.”

Happy sighed and pressed play. He watched as Peter sang along softly and sighed. He hoped more than anything that Peter would be the one to give you the necklace.

Happy and Peter split up. Peter went inside the smoke monster as Happy went to find you and Ned and Betty.

Happy found MJ, Flash, Ned, Betty, and you running down the bridge in fear of the monster.

“I need you all to get in the jet.” Happy shouted above the chaos as he tried to corral you all towards the jet.

“Who are you?” MJ asked. You nodded, also not recognizing the man.

“I’m Happy Hogan. I work with Spider-Man.” Happy announced, still trying to lead you to the jet.

“You work for Spider-Man?” Flash squeaked, still love streaming the entire event.

“I work with Spider-Man, not for Spider-Man.” Happy clarified, sounding a little offended.

“Where is Spider-Man?” You asked, careful not to call him by his first name.

“Yeah, where is he? Is he okay? Is he in peril?” Flash shoved you out of the way to get closer to Happy, desperate to know his idol was okay.

“He’s fine.” Happy assured. “But I really need you all to get into the jet.” Happy pointed to the jet right as it blew up. Happy turned back to you all and looked around.

“New plan. Everyone get in the Crown Jewels vault.” Happy shouted, pointing towards the exhibit. You all ran towards the vault as drones gunned you down.

Once inside, everyone split up and hid behind a different pillar in the armor vault. You tried to slow your breathing so the drone wouldn’t hear you and find you. Just as you thought you were in the clear, Betty knocked over a suit of armor and the drones started firing like crazy. Everyone ran into the crime jewels vault and Happy blockaded the door. The drones continued to fire at the door, leaving dents in it with each bullet and weakening it severely. Everyone knew the outcome couldn’t be good. Happy did his best to calm you down, but there was no use in telling a bunch of teenagers who were about to die that everything would be okay.

“We’re about to die and I wasted my life playing video games!” Ned confessed in a panic.

“I have a fake ID and I’ve never even used it!” Betty admitted, just as fearful.

“I post stupid videos online so people will like me!” Flash chimed in in the spirit of confessing things before you all were shot but drones.

“I’m obsessed with telling the truth even if it hurts other people’s feelings!” MJ shouted.

“I’m in love with Spider-Man’s aunt!” Happy blurted. Everyone looked at him. You knew what your confession had to be.

“We are Venom!” You yelled as you turned into Venom and punched the drone square in the center. It shattered around your fist and fell to the ground. You let out a roar and shot a web out of both wrists. They latched on to two drones on either side of you. You pulled the webs together and the drones smashed into each other, breaking upon impact. You grabbed a drone with a gun aimed at Flash and bit in in half. You smashed a drone pointed at Ned and Betty to the ground and punched one aiming at MJ. You grabbed the last drone that was about to fire at Happy and ripped in in two. You threw it on the floor and stomped on all the drones until they were nothing but dust. You turned back into yourself and turned around to face the group. You met with several stunned faces, minus Ned who already knew.

“You’re Venom?” Flash squeaked.

“No.” You blurted. Venom slinked around your neck hovered above your left shoulder. “I’m not.”

“We are Venom.” Venom smiled. Flash passed out and Happy bent down to catch him.

“How did I not notice? I notice everything.” MJ whispered, questioning her entire schtick.

“If you’ve got things handled here Happy, I have something to take care of.” You said as you spun on your heel to leave.

“Wait!” Happy called. “Take this.” He pulled a broken necklace out of his suit pocket and handed it to you. You touched the black petals with your nail and looked at him in confusion.

“It’s from Spider-Man.” Happy said gravely. Flash snapped awake.

“Spider-Man?” He asked, eyes wide. You looked at the flower pendant before racing out of the vault. You ran down the Tower Bridge until you saw Peter, clad in a new spider suit. He was limping and looked like he’d been through hell. You ran towards him as fast as your legs could carry you.

“Wait!” Peter held up a hand when he saw you. You did as he asked and stopped where you were. “Tell me something only you would know.”

“You cried after our first time and told me your ATM code.” You blurted. It was the first thing that came to mind. You remembered laughing at him as he begged you never to repeat what happened.

“What was the code?” Peter asked, still cautious and keeping his distance.

“6969.” You said seriously.

You and Peter stared at each other, panting from the chaos, before small snickers escaped both your lips.

“It is you.” Peter sighed in relief. Come here.”

You ran into his arms as he limped over to you. You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck and squeezed. Peters arm went to your waist and he closed his eyes as he took in your scent. It was you. Really you.

“Are you okay?” You said into his shoulder.

“I’m okay. Are you okay?” Peter asked.

“I’m okay. Everyone’s okay.” You assured him.

You pulled apart and brushed your fingertips over a bruise on his cheek. Peter leaned into your touch after being deprived of it for so long. You stared at him fondly for a minute.

“Uh, there was this sweaty guy in the jewels vault with us.” You suddenly remembered. I think he said he works for you. He gave me this.” You pulled out the Black Dahlia necklace and held it out for Peter to see.

“Oh no!” Peter gasped. “It’s broken. Y/n, I’m so sorry. I tried to give it to you earlier as a part of this stupid plan and I-“

“It’s okay.” You cut off his apology. “I actually like it better broken.”

Peter smiled in relief and stared at you again.

“Y/n, I cannot apologize enough for this trip. Everything went wrong. I’ve been terrible to you. I don’t even know why you came back for me.” Peter spoke sadly.

“Oh, I’ll always come back for you.” You said, matter of factly. “But you didn’t. You didn’t come back to me for five years.”

“I know and I’m so sorry-“ Peter tried to apologize again.

“I forgive you.” You interrupted. “I forgive you for leaving. Because even though I know it wasn’t on purpose-“

“It hurts like it was.” Peter finished, remembering Brads words.

“Yeah.” You nodded, unable to express how happy you were that he understood. You were finally making progress and telling each other what’d you’d bottled up for so long.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you about the break up. I know that wasn’t you. I should’ve trusted you when you said someone else was doing it.” Peter took your hands in his gloved ones and looked you sincerely in the eyes.

“It’s okay. Mysterio fooled everybody, not just you. And I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Loki or the snap.” You finally admitted the words to Peter.

“No, it’s okay. Fake you made a good point. There was never a good time to tell me. But is that really true? Did you really snap?” Peter asked.

“I had too. Someone needed to do it and I was the only one with nothing to lose.” You answered. You didn’t really remember that day. Snapping took a lot out of you. There were large gaps in your memory. The one thing you knew for certain was that you did it in the hopes of Peter Parker’s eyes gazing at you one last time, even if you weren’t there to gaze back.

“But you could’ve died.” Peter choked out. He had wished it hadn’t been true, and that Mysterio made that part up. Peter hated to think about you being so careless with your life when his whole life revolved around you.

“I died the day you and Venom disappeared.” You stated. “I didn’t care if I died that day too. All that mattered to me was bringing everyone back.”

“I don’t deserve you.” Peter shook his head and looked down at your intertwined hands.

“Yes you do. And I deserve you. In every version of reality, we deserve each other.” You spoke, remembering your conversation with Doctor Strange at the funeral.

“Who told you that?” Peter wondered.

“A little doctor friend of mine.” You smiled coyly.

Peter smirked at the thought of the all powerful Doctor Strange helping two kids fall in love.

“I just wish you would’ve told me all of this was happening. Venom and I could’ve helped you.” You changed the subject, but wanting the honesty to stop. If you didn’t air it all out now, you feared you never would.

“We’re always here for you, Peter. Even when we want to eat you.” Venom said as she rested comfortably on your shoulder.

“I know.” Peter sighed, ashamed of his own stupidity. “But I didn’t want to involve you after all you’ve been through. I had to do this on my own. The world needs its next Iron Man.”

“No.” You put your hands on Peters face and made him look at you. “The world needs Spider-Man.”

Peter was quiet as he though about what you said. You’d always believed in him. You made that very clear. Peter was forever grateful that he had you by his side. You never doubted him, unlike the rest of the world.

“Look, Peter.” You said softly. “I love that you’re Spider-Man. But I love Peter Parker more. And I never get to see him.”

“I know, peaches. I’m sorry for that too. Beck, uh, Mysterio told me you said I’d been neglecting you because of Spider-Man and that’s why you broke up with me. Or, why he broke up with me, as you. Is that true? Is that really how you feel?” Peter asked, scared of what your answer might be.

“Peter, I’d never break up with you because of your job. I know how important Spider-Man is to you. You love me, yes?” You asked.

“Yes.” Peter nodded, but understanding why you’d ever doubt that or need clarification.

“And I love you?” You went on.

“Yes.” Peter confirmed.

“Then that’s all I need. If you need to take some time to do some navigating or if you need some space, that’s fine. And if you have to ditch me at a four hour opera to go save the world, that’s fine too.” You laughed gently. Peters eyes became wet with tears of joy. “I’d never get mad at you for that. Yes, I wish I could see you more. But I’m not gonna solve that problem by breaking up with you. If I have to spend some nights alone because you’re out there saving the world, then, well.” You shrugged. “Whomp whomp.”

“Whomp…whomp?” Peter questioned.

“Yea. Whomp whomp.” You repeated. “I just mean, it’s not a big deal. I’m never gonna get mad at you for doing your job. You can be Spider-Man as often as you need. I’ll always be there when you get back.”

“I’ll always be there too.” Peter nodded.

You bit your lip, deciding to be completely honest with Peter. It was the only way to make your relationship last. “Will you?”

“What?” Peter asked, visibly hurt. “You don’t believe me?”

“I want to believe you.” You touched his face again. “But I’ve been having a hard time letting you back into my life because I’m scared you’ll disappear again. I can’t handle that. You’re out on the streets every night doing beyond dangerous things. You’ve been hurt badly before, just look at you now. And I’ll always be there to patch you up, but what if you don’t get back to me in time? How can I know you won’t leave again? Can you guarantee me you’ll always come back?”

“No.” Peter said simply. “I can’t guarantee that.”

You sighed and looked away from Peter, taking his words as a defeat.

“I can’t guarantee I’ll always come home. But I can guarantee forehead kisses every morning when you wake up, cups of tea when you’re sleepy, a hand to hold when you’re scared, eyes to look back at you and arms to hold you. I can guarantee you will never doubt wether or not you are beautiful. I can guarantee a lifetime of celebrated birthdays and poorly made birthday cards. I can guarantee someone to listen to your fears and your dreams and everything in between. I can guarantee an undeniable feeling that you are loved for as long as I walk this earth. I can’t guarantee I’ll always be here. But I can guarantee you all of that.” Peter spoke from his heart. He’d never had a way with words, but his little monologue left your heart glowing and knees week.

“Is that a lifetime guarantee?” You asked as you brushed a curl off his sweaty forehead.

“Absolutely.” Peter confirmed.

“No return policy?” You asked coyly.

“Nope.” Peter shook his head.

“And I don’t have to pay shipping and handling?” You pretended to gasp.

“I-what?” Peter was lost on your attempt at sounding like an infomercial.

“Then I’d like to place an order.” You ignored his confusion and continued with your bit.

“Are you 18 or older?” Peter asked, finally catching on. “If not, you’d need a parent or guardians permission.” Peter said in his best talk show host voice.

“Okay, we have to stop. I’m going to throw up on the London Bridge.” You laughed and pretended to gag.

“It’s actually called the Tower Bridge but-“

You cut Peter off with a kiss. Peter sighed against your lips and kissed you back. It’d been forever since your last kiss. You slid your hands into the curls at the back of his neck and gave them a gentle tug. Peter placed his arms securely around your waist and lifted you off the ground. Despite being surrounded by rubble and tiny fires, it was the most romantic kiss of your life. You pulled away and sighed happily.

“I love you, Peter Parker.” You said, still wrapped in his arms.

“I love you too. More than you’ll ever wrap your head around.” Peter smiled.

“You really love that song, huh?” You laughed, recognizing the lyrics.

“I do. And I really love you too.” Peters eyes suddenly widened. “I have something else to give you.”

Peter got down on one knee and pulled out the ring he had made for you with trembling hands.

“Oh, Peter.” You whispered as you put a hand over your mouth. “You got me a promise ring?”

“No.” Peter said firmly. A little smile appeared on his battered face. “This is an engagement ring.”

You couldn’t speak. You felt a completely new sensation bubble up in your chest. You put your hand over your heart to keep it from giving out.

“It was originally going to be a promise ring, but I don’t think we need that anymore. We’ve already made our promises to each other. I was gonna wait and get you the biggest engagement ring that the worlds ever seen, but you just reminded me that materialistic things don’t matter. All that matters is that we love each other. So, I hope you’ll accept this little pebble on a band.” Peter professed.

“I accept.” You took hand away from your mouth momentarily to get the words out.

“In that case, Y/n L/n.” Peter took a deep breath. “Will you-“

You dropped to your knees so you were at his level.

“Yes.” You interrupted

“Marry-“

“Yes.” You said louder, thinking he didn’t hear you.

“Can I say the words?” Peter laughed.

“Yeah, of course, sorry.” You nodded profusely.

“Okay.” Peter took another deep breath. “Y/N L/n, will you-“

“Yes.” You interrupted again.

“Let me say it!” Peter yelled with a smile.

“Sorry.” You urged him to go on.

“Will-“ he began again.

“Yes.” You face palmed. You weren’t even meaning to interrupt him. You were just so excited. “Sorry, sorry, sorry!”

“Will you marry me?” Peter rushed out before you could interrupt him.

“Absolutely not!” You said as you pulled his sweet face in for a kiss. Peter kisses you back as he pulled you to your feet. You broke apart briefly so Peter could slide the ring on your finger before kissing him again.

“What’s going on? Are you pregnant?” Venom interrupted.

“No.” Peter laughed. “We’re engaged.”

“At this age?” Venom asked, sounding a little too much like Captain America for your liking. “I heard you tell Dani on the phone that Peter was at least 8.”

“I wasn’t talking about his age.” You quipped. “And we don’t have to get married right away. We can have a long engagement. Everything will be alright.” You said as Peter nodded. He pressed a kiss to your cheek and admired the ring on your hand.

“We should probably get back to the class.” Peter sighed, not ready to go back to reality just yet.

“You should change first.” You gestured to Peters spider suit. “Unless you want Flash to have a heart attack.”

“Right.” Peter laughed. “I’ll meet you there?”

“I’ll be there.” You smiled. Peter nodded and pressed another kiss to your lips.

“See you soon, fiancée.” Peter grinned as the words rolled off his tongue. He skipped in the opposite direction to go get changed. You watched him throw his fists in the air in celebration and laughed at his giddiness.

“I’d say our move to New York was a success. Wouldn’t you, baby?” You asked as you walked back to the London Tower.

“If you consider getting a child bride successful.” Venom sassed. You laughed and ran towards where you last saw Happy. You had some news to tell him.

This time around, Peter sat with you on the plane and you watched your favorite movie with his dual headphone adapter. You snuggled into his chest and felt him laughing at the funny moments. Brad watched you guys and smiled to himself a little.

Back at the apartment, you helped Peter unpack his bags. A few of his things had been blown up, but most things were saved.

“So.” You said as you slid Uncle Ben’s borrowed suitcase under Peters bed. “Who’s gonna tell Aunt May we’re engaged?” You asked as you waved your hand with the ring on it in Peters face. Peter laughed and kissed your knuckles.

“It depends on if you think she’ll fall for the “technically I’m 23 I just happened to blip” excuse or not.” Peter replied.

“It should be you. I can’t imagine she’d be too pleased when I tell her her 18 year old nephew came back from Europe engaged.” You remarked. Peter rolled his eyes in agreement before pressing another kiss to your knuckles. “I love seeing that ring on your finger. My ring.” Peter grinned proudly.

“Peter Parker, I always have, and always will be, yours.” You repeated the words you said to him when he first asked you to be his girlfriend. Peter smiled, recognizing the words. You both jumped out of your happy daze when you heard the laundry basket May was holding drop. You both looked slowly and saw Aunt May standing in the doorway, eyes trained on the ring on your finger. Mays eyes widened at the sight.

“What the fu-“

The End

Tag List 🏷

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[rosebloodcat]

Changeling Nelson Tethers

I’ve been playing and enjoying the game Nelson Tethers: Puzzle Agent but I can’t help noticing just how odd Nelson himself is. Like some of his antics, shown in his facebook page, seem a little bizzar for a normal person to do. I started wonder if, maybe, Nelson wasn’t as human as he thought he was. And I started writing his odd quirks in-game/universe and basically started puzzling it all out.

So here is my argument that Nelson might actually be a Changeling and not fully human. This got pretty long, so Imma put it under a Read More. Feel free to throw in your own ideas!

I feel like Nelson Tethers is kinda toeing the line between being a “normal” human and being distinctly “ab-normal”.  He’s saner and more down to earth than most of the people seen in Scoggins, but when back in DC he doesn’t quite seem as normal as everyone there.  I point out the little images and notes posted by Grickle on Nelson’s twitter and Facebook pages (and reposted on @majorpepperidge ‘s blog on Tumblr)

Nelson might not be a changeling himself, but he could be the descendant of one that was never discovered by their human “parents” and he grew up as a mix of human and a fae. He may even be completely unaware of his heritage.

His ability to out think people so often, to have such advanced critical thinking (for puzzles) and to be able to manipulate people’s uncontrolled “impulses” to his advantage could be seen as Fae or Changeling traits. And he seems to be more athletic, or at least more resilient, than most people.

But, at the same time, he doesn't seem to see himself as unusual. Despite doing a lot of odd, quirky things (like cover his office in post-its then trying to find patterns in them, and not leaving his office until he figured them out. Or releasing chickens into the vents and then finding and catching them again). He's very bright and intuitive as seen in his knowledge, understanding, and ability to solve puzzles. Especially at the level and complexity we see him have and solve in the game.

And he seems to understand people more than most believe. He's able to figure out the quirks and personalities of the people of Scoggins and then use them to his advantage when he has too. (Like when he's being held at gunpoint by the sheriff and is able to escape by tossing aside his unfinished crossword.)

Nelson also seems to be the sort to meddle when it isn't strictly needed. You could argue that it's related to his sense of Justice (like him going back to solve Isaac Danvers' disappearance) but that's not what I mean.

I'm actually referring to his habit of hunting down puzzles and solving them even when they have no relation to the case he's solving. Although his need to know everything and get into places he's not wanted seems very Fae-like to me.

Another thing that stands out is his encounters with the Hidden People. More specifically how obvious and often they happen.

One would assume that Hidden People were more equivalent to urban legend. Something the locals believe in but never actually see or have proof of. Yet Nelson, in just his first visit to Scoggins, has more run-ins with them than anyone would normally have as a resident of the town. And for a few, he meets more Hidden People at once than anyone else. Something especially strange when you consider that Nelson is basically an outsider. He's not from the forest or the town or even the state and yet he has more close-encounters than anyone else. (Except maybe the puzzle-crazed guy from the Inn, but that's debatable.)

If he was a Fae, it would make their openness to him understandable. It would mean that, despite being an outsider, he's "one of them" or least he was somewhat "like" them. Enough that they would decide there was no real reason to put a lot of effort into avoiding him. And it would even give enough wiggle room for some of them to decide to help him. (Which they do.)

Most of these examples are from the first game and from Nelson’s Facebook page, but more evidence of this theory (in my opinion) is seen in the second game where Nelson seems to show some superhuman/supernatural powers of his own.

Like being able to reach people in the grips of insanity/lunacy and bring the back (mostly?). The two puzzles where he’s “solving” the insanity that had been afflicted on two different people in Scoggins. Not only does he reach them, but he also is able to get somewhat coherent responses from them.

And when the Hidden People do use their powers on him, he’s able to recover from it on his own. And not just from the Hidden People, but from the Lunacy Ray too.

At that point, it seems like both things are supposed to be permanent. Once afflicted by either one, it’s implied the person is supposed to be gone for good. They’re not going to recover. But not Nelson. He returned to coherence after the whispers AND from the ray. He never stayed insane, unlike every other human affected.

It could mean that maybe, just maybe, his mind isn’t completely human. It doesn’t quite work the same as a human’s does and, therefore, can shake off outside forces trying to change it.

When he was running around in his skivvies in Scoggins he didn’t seem to be too affected by the cold. Most people would have frostbite of some kind from that. And he didn’t seem too beat-up when he came-to at the landing, surrounded by FBI agents. (That could be argued as hard to show in the artstyle, but still.) And that’s without bringing in the strength needed to lift, carry, and run with the Lunacy ray itself.

It all just seems like more than a (mostly) ordinary human man could do. So, maybe, he isn’t human. At least not fully. So I think either he, or someone further back in his family tree, might actually be a Changeling.

Changelings are a type of Faerie; specifically they’re a faerie child left to be raised in a human home.

The stories about Changelings vary, but the most common version is that a faerie stole a healthy/pretty, human baby and swapped it for their own sickly/ugly baby. Some stories also have them as an old fae that was dying and wanted to be well cared for before passing, and others have them actually being objects magically altered to look/act like a normal human baby before “dying”.

Versions of the stories say that they do it because they couldn’t raise their sick child and that they felt a human house would be able to give them a good life. So they made the swap to ensure their child could live a good life, however long or short it was.

Other versions say it’s because their child is too ugly for them to stand, and they wanted a pretty baby instead.

In some of the tales, the faery child always knew it wasn’t human and that their original parents had abandoned them and wouldn’t get along with their new family because of that. But some Changelings forget that they’re actually fae and spend their entire lives as mostly-normal humans, and have good relationships with their human families.

With all of this, I think Nelson might be the descendant of a Changeling that forgot they weren’t human or he’s one himself.

If he’s a descendant, maybe the reason he’s so odd by most people’s standards is due to his old fae genes being more active than the rest of his family. As if he was on the edge of being a Fae, but was still mostly human. And, maybe it would be possible to push him over that edge.

(Like, say, finally meeting and being exposed to the presence of other Fae? Like the Hidden People?)

I suppose the only question left is: Which type of Fae was Nelson/his ancestor?

[student-film-lying-piece-of-shit]

Hello! So I'm here today with an idea I've been bouncing around for a long, long time. A few folk have been headcanon-ing that Tim may have DID, but I do think it's a 100% canon possibility Tim has an alter.

I know some people might think that me talking about this possibility could be seen as me mirroring other possible tropes we've seen in horror films (let's look at media such as Split, which dictates a kidnapper who has several personalities as the prime one) and the countless almost comedic portrayals in others (the strange reoccuring theme of "sneezing to become xyz in anime for some odd reason?). However with Tim it's different.

So, I want to start off with this. Marble Hornets is a heavy character study, and the lore isn't too highlighted on. What I mean is that we don't know how the operator takes over people, and we're not sure how these dissociative states work. Not that we're constantly left in the dust. It's a manner that it's focused on the protagonists going through these trials and tribulations rather than spoon-feeding us the intricate details on how this being works.

We know the side effects, and we know how to "stop" it (the medication we see throughout) but as far as how the operator actually takes over the characters (more so referring to Tim and Brian), it's more up to us to break down if we want more than just "spooky being does spooky stuff!"

So I will use this allagory for how I see it: Brian and Tim both have a car (this is a stand in for their body). Brian owns his, it's all in his name and he doesn't let anyone use it. Tim has a car, however, he shares it. It's understand two names legally.

Imagine Brian gets robbed and he's held up at gunpoint to drive. He has to do whatever this guy says or else he'll get shot on the spot. Or even that the robber straight up puts Brian in the trunk, and drives and does whatever he wants with the car and Brian is absolutely left in the dark. This car may be his legally, but he's barely the owner anymore.

Okay, now that we have that, imagine Tim drives the car, and it's pretty okay. Then the other person he shares the car with gets hijacked and the robber forces him to do things, or throws this person in the trunk and does whatever he wants. However the robber returns the car to Tim with seemingly no damage, alongside with his friend. Every time, or nearly everytime the other person drives, this happens. Tim has absolutely no control over these things, and sure, he does get his car back sometimes, but at what cost?

The main thing that makes Brian and Tim different is how Brian never, canonically, had a break in his hoodie state. He never wakes up as Brian, scared and confused. He never is not under the influence. The fact he carried the audition tapes can make this theory a bit wonky, but back to the car metaphor. Imagine Brian bashing his legs and screaming in a trunk, and the robber noticing. He has to do something to get him to shut up, even if it's something small. So it could easily be that aswell. However I'm going by the deal that there was never a break.

Tim is not in the Masky state (from what see, which to be fair, could be a lot more) as frequent as we make it up to be. He loses giant gaps, but we see him a handful of times on screen as "The Masked Man". The big deal is that Tim has these breaks and they're for days, weeks. He isn't always under this influence. He has more control.

We can chalk this up to the medication they take, and I feel like Hoodie at one point would've takened the meds? And we would've seen Brian. We also see empty med bottles around where Hoodie's been (he could've dumped them but still, I wanted to say.)

I don't think the meds 100% prevent Tim's dissociative states. It just helps with the other aspects and ends of his slender sickness, and it can aid in it, but I  think him taking the meds /=/ him not becoming absolutely feral. He should of course take his medication, but I think it more so helps with his seizures and psychotic effects.

Hence why he shares it with Jay: why would he share something that Jay wouldn't need? Jay never has a masked state, canonically. Why would Jay need meds for something that focuses on Tim not dissocating? It feels weird, not to mention very out-of-character and pointless.

Now, let's look at the functionality of how dissociative disorders work. We're gonna focus on the disorder I believe Tim has in the cluster of dissociative disorders, Dissociative Identity Disorder. The basic criteria is

-  having one or personalities (inculding the core) which distinct, individual features

- amnesia (ie: missing large gaps of time due to people fronting, "knowing" people despite never remembering meeting them, waking up in random places you don't remember driving to)

- feeling detached from your body, also known as dissociation, or just not in control

One thing we can obviously apply is the first two. "Masky" is obviously a state that is distinct from Tim's, and is obviously not him. The second one is also stated

"...imagine going into your job only to find out that they fired you for not coming in for three weeks."

As an example of this being canonically said. We are aware Tim feels out of control, and that he doesn't own this body, he's very vocal about not understanding what's going on in his life and body. That he was dragged into this situation and he knows just as much as Jay (though near the end he does have tapes that have information, but even then he barely knows what he's doing in those tapes / has no memory of it).

The second biggest difference between Brian and Tim's slender sickness experience is that Tim has delt with this his whole life. He's seen as a carrier of the sickness the entire third season by Alex and even by himself for some time. He was rasied in a hospital and he talks about how they locked him in his hospital room during outbursts that he didn't remember. His childhood together is something extremely vague to him.

One thing I WANT to highlight, and this thing was actually vital for me to understand there's ambiguity here is how Tim says "They settled for Schizophrenia, but even they weren't really sure."

DID is so commonly misdiagnosed, and there's such a common misconception that Schizophrenia carries the symptom of having multiple personalities. Even among the professionals because of how frowned upon it is to diagnose it if it isn't 100% the ideal presentation of what to expect with a dissocative disorder. Tim 100% could've easily been misdiagnosed as a child.

DID is also a disorder that nearly always stems from severe childhood trauma. It's usually asiocated with heavy abuse. However, picture a 5-8 year old being abandoned by their parent(s) in a facility, which even if it's not the stereotypical psych ward, is still a horrible place to live. As someone who lived in a facility for years, there's so many things to list that I won't weigh on this post. But it is a very stressful place for the staff, let alone a mentally ill child.

Tim had symptoms of a psychotic disorder beforehand, but that doesn't mean he's immune to developing a traumagenic disorder.

So, here's how I see the entire deal:

Tim being a child abandoned by his mother, under the care of inpatient staff, easily witnessing violence and could've been at the end of the horrible health care system (especially for minors) developed an alter to protect him from the stress of the inpatient. When TO came into their lives more frequently, Tim's alter was the victim of TO's influence, not Tim himself.

So yeah! This is my take. I'm willing to talk but read the banner below if you're gonna talk to me about how I'm explaining DID 🙃

[batwayneman]

Accomplice Chapter 7

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

It took a lot of self-control to not sprint up to his office as soon as he finally arrived at the GCPD. He was already itching with anticipation to check on it, and the traffic had seemed particularly bad this morning, as if taunting him.

He truly didn't know what to expect in his office, and the suspense was making his heart pound like a jackrabbit in his chest.

Jim walked quickly through the halls, deciding on the spot to duck through one of the large break-rooms as a shortcut to get across the building. The sunrise was just starting to light up the room orange when he walked in. Like he had hoped, it was deserted; the only movement was the TV on the wall.

Just as he was about to reach for the door handle to continue his trek to his office, it opened towards him, and he had to back up to avoid being hit.

"Oh! Sorry Captain Gordon!"

Jim looked up. One of the newest rookies, Detective Fatima Hamid, was standing in the doorway.

"It's alright Detective Hamid. Busy shift?" He asked, noticing the haphazard way she had packed her overstuffed bag.

"Yeah, it was. Actually, I've got some paperwork for you in my office, if you can wait a minute." She must have noticed his hesitation, adding on, "It's only just down the hall."

"Sure, of course," he said, keeping his reluctance out of his voice. She turned around and darted back out of the room.

Begrudgingly, he had to admit that it would be nice to have the paperwork as early as possible. He set his bag down on the table with a slight sigh, idly watching the TV as he waited.

Someone had left it on the news, the station with the comically overproduced and overdramatic hosts. As Jim watched, they transitioned from the new government scandal to a panoramic shot of the Gotham skyline, with the words 'The Gotham Bat' underneath. The news of Batman had finally reached outside of the city.

Jim sighed. At least they weren't in the news for a famous murder this time.

The TV volume was turned down too low for Jim to catch every word, but Jim didn't need to hear what they were saying when he could clearly see the amusement on the news anchors’ faces.  

This was nothing new.

Gotham had been a national joke as long as Jim had been alive. Particularly violent crimes from other cities were described as 'Gotham-esque', their crime rates mocked. Of course their resident vigilante would be a prime source of entertainment for the rest of the country.

The door creaking open announced Fatima's return.

"Oh, are they still going on about him?" She asked irritably, walking up behind him and looking up at the TV. "They've been making fun nonstop about 'the Batman myth' for two days now."

"They always do this when something interesting happens in Gotham. They'll be bored in a few days."

"I guess," she said skeptically. Fatima had moved from out of state recently to work in Gotham, and wasn’t used to living in the county’s punchline. "Though they wouldn't be calling him a myth if they had seen what he did to the kidnapper last night."

A sudden shot of adrenaline set Jim’s heart start pounding in his chest again.

Now he knew that Batman had been out the night before. The only question left was if he had seen Jim's signal and found the files.

"He's fine, just really really beat up," she said quickly, misinterpreting the look on his face. "He deserved it anyway. The kids were fine though, they're back with their mother now. It's all in the report." She held out her small stack of paper.

Jim pushed his lips together in a half smile. "Thanks, I'll have a look," he said, grabbing his bag from the table and taking the report from her hand.

"Busy day ahead?" she asked, leaning back slightly as she looked him over. If half the apprehension that he felt was showing on his face, he wasn't surprised she was checking what was going on.

"It's always busy here," he said with a small smile, hoping to reassure her. "It's actually little less busy now with Batman here, if you can believe that."

"You're right, I don't believe that!" she said with a smirk. "Have a good shift captain!"

He raised his hand in goodbye as she left the room.

What a strange thought, the idea that Batman had been working longer in Gotham than she had. Jim shook his head slightly as he made his way across the room towards the stairwell.

The GCPD building had seemed to triple in size since yesterday, but after ducking through a few more hallways he was finally at his office.

It was only for years of practice of keeping his hands steady when stressed that allowed Jim to unlock and open his office door without fumbling with the keys.

Somehow entering his own office felt like he was entering someone else's home, like he was intruding.

The rising sun was trying to peek between the buildings to get into the office, but Jim turned on the lights anyway. The small room was filled with the familiar hum as they flickered on.

Jim swallowed, then walked over to his desk.

There were no big clues, no big signs that said 'Batman was here!', and Jim hadn't expected there to be, after so many months of the main signs of existence being the numerous bruises and a few batarangs.

The first thing that Jim noticed, with a rush of adrenaline, was that his flashlight had moved from being propped up near the windows. He spun on the spot, and quickly found it where it was lying innocuously on his desk. It was on top of Zsasz's file.

He picked it up slowly and looked at it, huffing a quiet laugh of astonishment when he saw that someone turned it off.

No. That the Batman had turned it off.

He let himself slide into his chair, taking off his glasses and rubbing his moustache as he looked at the flashlight and the file on his desk. Supposedly, Batman had moved the flashlight on top of the file to demonstrate that he had read it.

The mix of trepidation and relief nearly overwhelmed him; he could still barely believe that his hasty plan to communicate had worked in the first place.

The flashlight made a slight thunk as Jim put it on his desk. He put his glasses back on, and narrowed his eyes. The flashlight wasn't the only thing in his office that had changed.

Last night, in his mad rush to leave out Zsasz's file before he could second-guess himself, he's certain that he had messily pushed all the other paperwork on his desk to the side in sloppy piles.

Jim narrowed his eyes. The surrounding paperwork had all been straightened up, organized into perfectly straight piles.

It looked like he had even grouped them by case number and date.

In theory, Jim supposed that Batman could have been checking to see if any of the other files had to do with Zsasz, and put them back in order. But that's not what his instincts said.

He had a twelve, almost thirteen-year-old daughter, and he knew when he was being teased.

The Dark Knight of Gotham was unquestionably fucking with him.

He slowly put Fatima's report on the desk as he stared suspiciously at the paperwork like it might spontaneously become messy again.

When he had been unable to sleep last night, terrified of what he might find in his office, he had never considered that Batman would passive-aggressively mock Jim’s organizational skills.

Still, a sense of relief filled him, sitting at his desk as the sun came up. At least now everyone that could help bring Zsasz down had equal amounts of information.

He had done his part, and all of Gotham’s protectors were on the lookout.

"Wait, wait run it by me again."

Jim forced back a frustrated sigh, instead opting to take a long drink of his coffee. He wasn’t mad at Sarah’s question, but at the fact that they had been up all night, that the case they were working on wasn’t coming together, and that the coffee at the GCPD was shit.

They had been there so long it had gone cold, which didn’t help.

"In the last eleven days, four restaurants were all robbed at gunpoint in the evening, usually a few minutes before closing. The most recent one was two nights ago," Jim started to summarize, not for the first time that night.

"Right, right - But which restaurants are with the mob?" she interrupted, fiddling with her pen as she stared down at her notes in front of her. "Do we know?"

“Well the first restaurant is definitely Maroni’s, he's been using it for smuggling for years," Jim took another big gulp of his coffee to finish it off. It continued to be disgusting. "The name of the latest crime scene sounds familiar. I think it is Falcone’s, but I’d have to check my records."

"So we don’t even know if these are mob crimes."

"No," Jim grumbled in agreement, leaning back away from the table they had been working on.

"But you think they are," she said, trying to force a straight answer out of him.

Jim's face twisted into a grimace. "Yes. I don't have proof, but I don't think robbing Maroni and Falcone in less than two weeks could be an accident. Most people would know to avoid robbing those two," he paused heavily, "I think this is the Penguin, messing with both of them even more, or trying to distract them from Zsasz."

In the two weeks since Jim and Bullock had discovered that Zsasz was killing again, another dead body with the characteristic slit neck had been found. Her link to the mob wasn't known, but she had been left in Maroni territory.

Sarah swore exhaustedly. She had not been happy to learn about Gotham's new gangster, and his pet serial killer. Holding a hair elastic in between her lips, she wrestled her hair back into a ponytail as Jim stared unseeingly at all the case notes on the table in front of him.

“It's too late for this,” she declared when her hair was off her face again, “I’ll clean up here, you go find that file in your office and check if the latest robbery was at a Falcone place. We’ll come back with a fresh head tomorrow.”

Jim's sigh was long and drawn out, reluctant as he was to leave the case on a bad note.

He was barely paying attention as he walked to his office, most of his attention was going over and over the case facts, though they had long since blurred together in a mess of numbers and locations. Sarah was probably right, recommending that they take a break for the night.

He unlocked and entered his office, kneeling down in front of his drawer to look the file with the name of Falcone’s restaurant. It was only from last year, and it didn’t take him long to find it. He closed the drawer, and went to put it on top of his desk so he could confirm the name of the restaurant.

He froze.

There was already a file, lying face down on his desk. His goddamn flashlight had been moved so that it was sitting upright on top of the file.

He picked it the foreign file and flipped it over. Batman’s now-familiar formatting looked up at him; a picture of a dead woman prominent.

"My window was locked this time," he complained to the empty office.

He hadn’t tried to communicate with Batman since he had left out Zsasz’s file two weeks ago, having nothing new to share.

Apparently, Batman had something for him.

Which seemed different, somehow, than when Jim had left out his own file. Jim had been offering a warning at least, or if he was being honest, directly asking for help in taking down the serial killer. Batman leaving his own information seemed to carry an implied expectations; a test.

No, not a test. Something more like trust.

Jim pushed back the nagging guilt and started to read.

The file was about the shooting and murder of twenty-two-year-old Angelica Garcia, dated from the night before. Jim furrowed his eyebrows, rubbing at his moustache with the hand that wasn't holding Batman’s report.

Why had he sent Jim a file of a random murder? Batman had never had trouble taking down murderers by himself, so it seemed unlikely that he was asking Jim for help, especially since he had nothing to do with this case.

The file continued, describing how Garcia had been shot three times in the chest. She had been killed in the early hours of the morning, outside of the restaurant she worked. One of her coworkers had found her body, but there had been no sightings of the murderer.

Which was tragic, but still didn't explain why Batman wanted Jim to see this file in particular.

He flipped to the next page, which went into more details about her murder, including the name of where she worked. Eyes suddenly widening in realization, Jim grabbed at his own file, quickly flipping through it to find the name of the restaurant. He found it fast enough - he had been right, it was one of Falcone's places - and looked back at Batman's file. They were the same.

Jim leaned back, thinking. So the woman, Angelica Garcia, worked for the restaurant that had been robbed, and had been killed the day after the robbery.

The two crimes were too linked to not look into it further.

Batman had considerately included the police's case number in his report, and it didn't take Jim long to find it on his computer.

The officers on the case had already brought in a suspect, who was already in a holding cell.

He grabbed both his files and Batman's and left his office, walking back to the break room where Sarah was waiting.

"What took you so long?" she greeted him when he entered the room. “Did you find the file?"

"No, I found it. I was right, the latest robbery was a Falcone place. But we have to get to the interrogation area, we might have a suspect."

"What? Where'd you pull a suspect from?" she paused, looking him over suspiciously. "What's the other file in your hand?"

There was no point in trying to play it off.

"It's... a Batman file," Jim winced.

Her eyes widened in shock, before narrowing again. "That really only raises more questions, Jim," she deadpanned. "Where on Earth did you find one of Batman's files?"

"It was just sitting on my desk."

"He broke into your office?!" she sprang up from where she was sitting.

"Apparently." She was unappeased, staring at him with one eyebrow raised. "His file is on a murder case, and I think that it might be related to our robberies. And Batman does too,” he said.

"How did he know to leave a file on your desk in particular? Last time he left his files in the break room." He didn't reply. "Jim. What is going on?" She asked, softening slightly.

He took a deep breath, and told her about how he had left out Zsasz's file for Batman a few weeks ago.

"Oh my God Jim," she whined when he finished, sounding like she was pleading with him to tell her that he hadn't really shared information with a vigilante, that he was playing a joke on her.

"He had to know about Zsasz," Jim said stubbornly, repeating what he had told himself that night he had left the file.

"So your solution was to invite him into your office?! That's insane. You're insane."

"I had to give him a chance to help with Zsasz." Jim sighed explosively. "I didn’t realize that I was giving him a free pass to come to my office whenever he wanted!"

She scoffed harshly, and dragged her hand down her face.

"Let me see the file," she said shortly, holding out her hand. Jim smiled slightly as he handed it over.

Honestly, she had taken the news that Jim had communicated willingly with Batman better than he thought she would.

Now they both had to wrap their minds around Batman communicating back.

"The suspect they found is in interrogation?" she asked, handing the file back to him once she had finished reading.

"Yes, we can go talk to him right now." With a new lead to go on, the desperation to go investigate made the idea of waiting any longer unbearable.

He held open the door for her as they left the room.

"I’m still not happy about this,” she muttered to him. "You working with a criminal."

"Does it help if I told you it wasn’t an easy decision and I felt guilty about it?" Jim looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

She paused, tilting her head slightly. "Actually it does, a little."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Maybe you haven’t completely lost your mind," she smirked. "I’m still tattling to Bullock though."

Jim sighed.

The officer in charge of the murder case was surprised to see the captain coming to ask to speak with the suspect, but didn't mind giving Jim all the evidence he had collected and letting Jim and Sarah in.

The suspect himself was a short, twenty-something-year-old man, who looked terrified to be sitting at the interrogation desk.

"Hi, Zackary Gibbs right? Can we ask you a few questions about Angelica Garcia?" Jim asked, sitting down in front of him.

"I didn't kill her," Zackary said immediately, looking at Jim with wide, red-rimmed eyes.

"Ok," Jim accepted for the time being, "Can you tell us about what happened the day she was killed?"

"Or the day before," Sarah chimed in from behind him.

"I..." he trailed off, biting his lip and looking at the table.

"It says the report that you lived with Garcia. The officer arrested you for a domestic homicide," Jim said, reading off of the file.

"No! No, it's not like - I'm gay!" He blurted out. "She's my friend, we're rooming together, I didn't know anything until they came into the apartment and said that she, that -" he broke off with a wet gasp.

Jim met Sarah's eyes for a brief second, catching her nod of agreement. "It's alright. I don't believe that you did it. I think something happened at her work. But we can't help you, or find out what happened to her, unless you tell me what you know," Jim said softly.

"She was really scared when she got home from work a few days ago, she didn't want me to tell anyone," Zackary blurted out in a rush.

"What happened?" Jim asked lowly.

"She was in the back when the place was being robbed, she didn't see anything or who did it, or anything. But, but when she was putting the garbage out, right before she left for the night she saw -" he gulped in a staggered gasp of air, "She saw one of her coworkers stuffing bills into his vest and realized that he was the one who had robbed it. She said she tried to pretend like she didn't see him, but that he was staring at her when she got on the bus."

"Did she mention at all what the robber looked like?"

Zackary's face twitched into a hard expression. "His name is Todd. She was always complaining about him. I tried to tell her not to go to work the next day but..." he trailed off again, sniffing loudly and wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

Jim could finish the story from here. She had gone to work, and the robber had been waiting for her there. And he had tied up his loose end.

Sarah left and came back a moment later with a cup of water, which she pushed towards him. Zackary quickly swallowed it back.

"Thank you for all your information, it's gonna be a big help," Jim said, starting to stand up. He paused. "I'm very sorry about your friend."

"Thanks," Zackary sniffed heavily, before starting to speak loudly again, "I tried to tell the other officer, but he-"

Anger sparked through Jim's chest at the mess the other officer had made of the case. "I understand. He'll be spoken to, I promise." Jim said grimly, forcing back his anger.

Jim took care to close the door softly, to not let his rage bleed out to affect Zackary.

Together, Jim and Sarah started walking towards the cars, to drive to the restaurant.

She must have picked up on his fury.

"Spit it out Jim," she said.

"The officer just took in the closest suspect he had? He didn't think at all, just took in the man she was living with, just assumed! To make his life easier. It's just fucking lazy police work," he snapped as they walked out the front doors.

"Yes it is," she paused, letting him fume as they walked.

He didn't say anything.

"You can yell at him later. You should be happy though! Batman breaking into your office totally paid off!" She said with a shit-eating grin.

He glared at her.

"Are you going to leave him a thank you card on your desk?"

"I hate you," he grumbled halfheartedly, and she laughed, the prospect of having a solid lead to go on beginning to lift both their spirits. They climbed in the car.

"You know," Jim started to say, carefully keeping a smirk off his face, "Between the officer, and having to deal with Batman's delivery service, I think I should be able to smoke in the car, just this once." He watched her out of the corner of his eye for her reaction.

She let out a loud gasp of a laugh as she pulled into the road. "There is NO smoking in the car, you asshole!"

"Worth a shot."

It hadn't taken them long to go to the restaurant and find the man that Zackary had described. He all but proved his guilt himself by drawing a gun and trying to fire on them when they questioned him, though Sarah knocked the gun out of his hand before it could be a real threat.

A search of the robber's apartment had turned up the stolen money; enough to come from each of the restaurants he had stolen from, not just the one that he had worked for.

They had combed his apartment, but hadn't found anything tying him to Penguin.

Bullock, once he had finished calling Jim a hypocrite for communicating with Batman and laughing himself silly, had been as unnerved as the rest of them that one of Penguin's guys was working undercover at a Falcone place. They had all thought that Penguin was new to Gotham, but if he already had established undercover agents, he had either been there longer than they thought, or was smarter than they realized.

So it was just as well that they didn't have any case against Penguin. Jim would rather know a little more about the gangster before directly antagonizing him, especially with Zsasz still an active threat.

It had been a rare quiet night of patrol when a panicked, static-y call interrupted the calm, blaring a call for help over the car's radio.

"Active gang fight, shots fired, calling all backup to a warehouse by the docks on Industrial Street and Basins Road, I repeat -"

With fluid movements made from years of practice, Jim flicked on his sirens with one hand as he screeched into a U-turn with the other, screaming down the road the way they came. At the same time, Bullock responded to the radio, telling them they were on their way.

The drizzle of the rain coated his windshields with droplets of water, sending the light from the streetlights scattering across his dash, interrupting the dark night around them, but Jim didn't let up from the accelerator for a second.

"Give me the details Bullock," Jim said tersely, taking a sharp right turn and accelerating again towards the docks.

"Gang shootout, between Falcone's people and someone else. A team was investigating a possible drug deal location and happened to be caught in the crossfi-"

"What team?" Jim asked before Bullock had finished talking.

"Not sure. One of the rookies and her partner. That Fatima girl maybe? It was her partner on the radio I think. Turn right here."

"Fuck," Jim swore savagely as he cranked the car around. It was bad enough that any team was in the middle of a gang fight, but it was so much worse that a rookie was involved, who didn't necessarily have the experience to handle a dangerous situation like a shoot-out. Things could go wrong so quickly. "Fuck!"

"Lopez was also on patrol, she and her partner are heading over too. Everyone else is further away."

Even with the way Jim was driving, it seemed to take forever for them to finally turn onto Industrial Street, only to have to slam on the breaks as another police car - Sarah’s - turned onto the road in right front of him. He followed the car to the warehouse; which was only a few minutes down the street, but it felt like the road had quintupled in length. Both cars pulled up just down the street from the warehouse, and everyone stepped out at once.

Automatically Jim scanned the building from afar as he shut the car door and drew his gun. The front doors of the big concrete building were closed, and there were no windows to look through to get a clue what was inside.

"No eyes to the inside," a voice echoed Jim's thoughts. It the officer who Sarah had been patrolling with - Aaron Brenner, the trigger-happy cop from commissioner Eaton's task force.

Which wasn't ideal, but they'd have to make due.

"Is there a side entrance?" Jim didn't like the idea of walking straight through the front doors, especially since whoever was still alive had had time to prepare for them.

"I think there's one on the west side wall," Bullock said. Sarah nodded in confirmation.

As a group, they stalked towards the building, using the scattered shipping crates as cover where they could. When they had to cross in front of the main entrance doors, Jim kept his gun trained on the entrance, but there was no movement, either from the officers inside or from the mobs.

It wasn't a good sign, that there was no one responding to them being out in the open. The radio had been silent since the first call for backup.

They found the side door quickly; there were lights attached the wall above that bathed it in light. They all crept quickly up to it, two people on either side of the door.

When everyone was in position, Bullock - being the largest of the four - stepped up in front of the door and resoundingly kicked it in. Jim and Sarah immediately moved to flank him, holding their guns in front of them as Brenner covered the space behind them.

It led to a little hallway inside the door that was separate from the main warehouse. Old light bulbs that hung naked from the ceiling were the only light, colouring the hallway in a harsh orange. The bulbs were so spaced out that they left pockets of shadow throughout the hall, leaving more hiding space than Jim would prefer.

"It's quiet," Sarah noted in a hushed whisper as they started walking. Jim had noticed the unnerving lack of noise as well.

Normally shootouts were terribly noisy, charged with screaming and swearing, and the bursting explosions of gunfire. The only noise in the building was their own heavy breathing and muted footsteps.

The silence was damning.

They turned the corner quickly, Jim leading the way with his gun clutched tightly, but steadily, in both hands. He scanned it quickly, and though he didn't flinch at all, was startled to see the first sign of people in the warehouse.

Someone - or someone's body - was on the ground, leaning against the wall underneath one of the light bulbs.

His heart dropped painfully to his stomach when he recognized Fatima's hijab.

He walked quickly towards her, hardly able to stop himself from running. When she moved, turning her head to find the source of the noise, only hard-fought experience kept him from gasping in relief.

"Captain Gordon?" She asked weakly as they came closer.

"Are you alright?" He kneeled down in front of her, letting the others provide cover for them. Immediately he saw the source of the problem; she was clutching a bloodied bandage to her shoulder. She'd been shot.

"It's fine, it's really not that bad." But she let him gently peel back the bandage to look at the wound. True to her word, the bullet wound didn't appear imminently serious.

The nagging sense of wrongness of the scene suddenly occurred to Jim.

"…Where did you get a bandage?"

She jolted as if reanimated by the question, frantically grabbing at his arm with her good arm and meeting his eyes with a feverish glint.

"He was here," she gasped.

"Who?" But even as the words were coming out of his mouth Jim realized who it was. Premature relief slowly started to spread through Jim, starting in his chest and radiating outwards.

Maybe the silence of the building wasn't a death sentence for everyone inside.

"Batman! He- Tanner, my partner, and I were investigating rumours of a drug deal when everyone started coming in from the doors. There was yelling about a murder, and revenge and the shooting started," She gasped a stuttering inhale and continued, "We tried to get out, and we were almost at the door, but there was someone waiting there and-" she gestured meekly to her shoulder with one hand.  She paused, catching her breath.

Jim wanted to give her more time, but the clock that had been running in his head since the call first came in continued to tick.

"Then what happened?" he asked as gently as he could.

"A - a shadow came down and knocked out the man who shot me. Batman pulled me out of the room into this hallway, pushed this bandage on my shoulder and went back in. It was really loud inside for a while, but it's been quiet for a few minutes. No one has come out the door since."

"What did he look like?" Bullock asked lowly.

"Huge. Huge and fast, I couldn't really get a good look at him. He was like a blur. He had wings though! Big black ones."

"Alright," Jim said, thinking. He turned to stare at Brenner. "You say here and guard the hallway. Call for an ambulance, but don't let them in until we've secured the building." If the shooting started again, Jim didn't want the impulsive shooter joining them in the main warehouse, spraying more bullets everywhere. Someone needed to watch Fatima anyway.

If Brenner was upset at not being allowed in the actual warehouse, he didn't show it; only checking his gun and getting into position.

"Detective Hamid," he said turning back to look at Fatima, "You're going to be fine, you did everything right. Good job."

"My partner was still in there," she groaned, worry plain in her voice.

"It'll be ok," he said with confidence that he only half believed.

With a nod to Sarah and Bullock - no words needed with them - the three walked toward the door to the main warehouse.

It had been left slightly ajar, making it easy for them to enter quietly; there had still been no noise in the building.

If there was such thing as a good place for a shootout, the main warehouse was it. Pallets and shipping containers created lots of space for cover, though it also created lots of places for an ambush. It was better lit that the hallway had been, throwing everything in harsh fluorescent detail.

"Split up, search the room," Jim said, his voice barely a whisper.

They set off.

The smell of blood and freshly dead bodies was already starting to spread, Jim noted as he crept along the wall. He stopped at an intersection of two shipping crates; the body of a man with half his head blown off was on the ground, which had left scattered bits of skull and grey matter and far too much blood on the ground. Jim stepped over his torso and kept moving.

The next body Jim saw wasn't blown to bits, was merely unconscious on the ground. One of the dull batarangs was lying next to the man's gun a few feet away, and if Jim nearly sagged with relief.

Not everyone was dead. Batman had been here - Fatima had been right - and he had gotten here in time to keep both sides from completely killing each other. So many shootouts that Jim had arrived at too late had ended with everyone on all sides dead. He allowed himself one deep breath, let himself revel in this new Gotham that didn't always let everyone die.

It was several long minutes of carefully creeping around every shipping container; of checking each corner before stepping around it before something interrupted the rhythm of seeing dead and unconscious bodies.

"Jim," Sarah's voice came from a few shipping containers over, but carried no urgency. She sounded more shocked than anything else.

He made his way towards her voice, still checking every blind corner as he went.

She was standing in a small clearing, facing the front of the warehouse. Turning when she heard him coming, she gestured slightly with her gun to whatever was in front of her. Jim walked into the clearing and immediately understood her awe; it was enough to make him freeze in his place.

Zsasz was lying unconscious on the ground, arms wrapped around one of the vertical supports, possibly by handcuffs. He was easily identifiable; without his shirt, his hundreds of scars were thrown in sharp relief by the harsh lights. His nose was bleeding steadily on the ground, and bruises were already starting to swell, darkening the skin on his ribs, making the deadly scars stand out more.

Jim's breath caught in his throat, his head spinning with something akin to whiplash.

The last thing he had expected to see was the infamous serial killer, here, in the middle of a gang fight.

"Captain?"

Jim started, whirling his head to the source of the voice.

Tanner Peal, Fatima's partner, was standing beside where Zsasz was bound. Jim hadn't noticed him at first. He had a wild look in his eyes that Jim had long since associated with an adrenaline high, but looked uninjured.

"I stayed in here to make sure no one came back for him," he said, speaking quickly. "The fight was over so fast, I was looking around and found him and -"

"No, that was good thinking," Jim said, though he couldn’t keep his eyes off Zsasz.

"I don't know where Fatima is," he said, sounding desperate.

Jim tore his eyes away from Zsasz's scarred body. "She's in the hallway outside, injured, but she's -"

The sound of heavy footsteps interrupted his thought, and three guns were immediately trained on the source.

Bullock stepped into the little clearing, arms raised in sarcastic surrender.

"It's just me. The building's clear, why are you all -" Bullock froze, noticing Zsasz for the first time. "Jesus fucking shit."

"Peal," Jim said, finally starting to recover from the shock of seeing the nightmare that had haunted his summer tied in front of him, "Go into the hallway outside, tell Brenner that the building is clear and to send the ambulance in for Fatima. If other officers have shown up yet they can come in to help too."

He nodded and left without another word.

That left the three of remaining in the middle of the warehouse, all staring at Zsasz.

"I thought some of the wounds on the guys back there looked like stab wounds. Thought I was just losing it," Bullock muttered.

"What was he even doing here? Look, he literally brought a knife to a gunfight, it’s right there!” Sarah exclaimed, pointing to the ground where there was, in fact, a bloody knife, half hidden in a shadow.

"Those dead guys back there thought he did just fine," Bullock pointed out.

"It doesn’t matter right now, we can deal the why he was here later," Jim interrupted before it could turn into an argument.

A sudden twitch and low groan from Zsasz made them all flinch and turn their guns on him. The entire building seemed to hold its breath, and the bright lights felt like a spotlight as they watched him slowly wake up.

He looked up at all of them, blinking blearily as he tried to orient himself, but went still when he met Jim’s cold gaze.

They looked at each other. There were several new scars on Zsasz's collarbone that had been hidden from view before, though they were still freshly bleeding. He must have cut himself immediately after stabbing the men that Bullock had found. Jim swallowed, but didn’t otherwise move.

When Zsasz finally recognized Jim, he tried to lunge forward with a shrieking snarl, but was held back by his bound arms, falling back against the pillar with a pained grunt. His earlier rage was quickly replaced by an unnatural stillness, and he smiled.

"I remember you," Zsasz sneered in his deep voice that didn't match his spindly frame at all. "I never did get around to killing you. I won't make that mistake again." His face softened around the word 'killing', caressing it.

"Pretty hard to stab anyone when you're cuffed like that," Jim replied steadily. "Considerate of Batman to leave you like this, wasn’t it?"

Zsasz bared his teeth. He fiddled with his cuffs with small movements, trying to hide what he was doing, but couldn't suppress his wince. Maybe a fractured arm or wrist then, based on how gingerly he was holding himself.

He deserved it, if that was the case.

"The Batman won't always be around," Zsasz snarled, narrowing his eyes.

"Maybe," Jim agreed nonchalantly, recognizing Zsasz's angry bluff for what it was. "But I'll take my chances. It's paying off so far. Definitely worked better than your failed team up with the Penguin."

Zsasz's face went slack in surprise, then went carefully blank, though he couldn't hide his furious flush.

Jim smirked. So they weren't supposed to know that Zsasz had been working for the Penguin.

Sarah and Bullock shared a look of glee with him.

It didn't happen near as often as Jim would like, but the joy of knowing more than the criminals did, of catching them off guard, would never get old.

The following hours were filled with a tornado of activity. Securing Zsasz in a cell, leaving Bullock to guard him and come up with a list of other officers who could be trusted to watch him, to make sure that Penguin's guys didn't come to break him out, or keep Falcone's people from killing him. Organizing a clean up of the warehouse, setting up a perimeter in case either Penguin or Falcone's people came to see what happened. Checking on Fatima, ensuring that her injuries were as non-threatening as they had first appeared, which they thankfully were.

It wasn't until much later, sitting in his office as the sun tried to rise, attempting and failing to start the paperwork before he had to go home for when Barbara woke, that Jim truly realized what had happened that night.

The tip that Jim had left for Batman those weeks ago had paid off, better than he could have imagined. Batman must have been following Falcone's actions when he had come across Zsasz; it was the only reason Jim could think of for how Batman had gotten there and stopped the fight so fast.

Because of Jim’s given knowledge, Zsasz was going back to jail. The road of a guilty conscience and sleepless nights had lead to the killer being captured and put away.

And if this - the warehouse that wasn't completely dead inside, the rookie still alive and expected to fully recover, the killer back behind bars, the city safer - if this was Jim could expect when he worked with Batman, then he wasn't going to feel guilty about helping him anymore. How could he possibly feel bad, when Batman had proven again and again his commitment to helping Gotham in a way that didn’t end with more people dead?

When Batman had first appeared in Gotham, Jim had waited for the day he would find one of Batman's victim’s shot, or at the very least dead. Somewhere along the way, Batman’s appearances had started to automatically mean lives saved, not lost.

Gotham had seen enough death. And if Batman wanted to help Gotham like Jim did, he would do everything he could to help.

He smiled and huffed a laugh to himself in his quiet office. He just couldn't argue with the results, and he was done trying.

[imperialdramons]

Things I personally can’t stand in fics and writing in general. LONG rant, so stick with me people. This is a long overdue list that’s been in my drafts for ages.) VERY SUBJECTIVE in case that wasn’t obvious from the first sentence lmao. 1) Characters shipping the otp mentioned. I already like said OTP otherwise I wouldn’t be reading this fic. You don’t have to sell me on the concept of these characters dating, again, it’s why I’m reading the fic. You also don’t have to make characters ship them because, again, that’s what you have friends for- you talk to each other about what you like about the ship rather than sit by as a bystander while two other people go on talking about why they like said ship without allowing you to contribute a word. This is what we have social media for- conversation and opinions. 

I really despise when everyone in a fic suddenly decides “these characters ought to date yes they’re soul mates” almost as if they’re part of a hive-mind when this is the most unrealistic thing to expect when you put two characters in a room full of different people. Trust me, most people would be very uninterested in other people’s love life. The most you would get would be a few close friends making gags (but again- you don’t have to sell ME on the concept of the characters dating. I fail to see both the charm and the point of this) If you’re going for realism, this isn’t where you’ll find it. If you’re going for a joke, I fail to see the humor in it. If you’re planning to make me resent a otp I normally would love by literally forcing me to read opinions of people I don’t even know- you brought your A-game pumpkin, and you succeeded. I often get the impression characters that ship the fic’s otp are trying to either parody what I feel about the characters, or tell me how to feel about the characters, and neither of these leave a good impression. Is the point of this stunt to make the characters feel awkward? There’s many different scenarios you could put them into that could make them feel equally as awkward and give more rewarding results- especially since the fics i’ve read including this have had the characters react very little to others “shipping” them- it kind of just goes on in the background (why? if there is no point to it, why include it? again, it feels like you’re trying to sell me something i’ve already bought). Is it written so often bc there’s some satisfying factor in knowing everyone agrees with you both inside and outside the fic? Oh. I think we’ve reached the reason this is so popular in fics. Score 1+ for the hive mind!

2) Convenient stupidity. When a character acts in a way to either mislead or derail the plot from its actual purpose without getting punished for their stupidity or given a chance to redeem themselves. It’s such a time-waster, and often causes the plot to regress and for the characters to go through the same motions again. It’s not a deal-breaker, but it’s a real joykill to have to read about the characters trying to fix a problem that could easily have been avoided had the character just not acted stupid when it seemed convenient to drag things out further.

3) PLEASE DO NOT COPY SITCOM JOKES FROM SHOWS LIKE SEINFELD AND THE BIG BANG THEORY I WILL LITERALLY FLIP MY LID. It doesn’t take a trained eye to notice when a joke doesn’t fit the phrasing of a character. Some lines from popular sitcoms work with every character because they’re so generic, but sometimes the lines sound absolutely out of character when they come from a character who feels like they’re being held at gunpoint just to hammer in a joke or two. I have seen characters butchered momentarily just to hammer in a few jokes that immediately lose their humor, mainly because the jokes are not funny if I can tell someone is forcing the words into the character’s mouth. It doesn’t sound like anything they’d actually say, but something someone else wants them to say. It isn’t a deal-breaker, but it really takes me out of the fic. There was one fic that actually had me dig through my bad 90′s sitcom archive to find 3 shows with the exact same joke as said fic. Do you know how disturbing it is to read a fic and suddenly see Jerry Seinfeld’s face pop up in your mind like a jump scare? It’s terrifying.

4) I can’t stand when a fic has all the depression tags, all the dark and tragic story tropes, but let’s throw in a joke in every third paragraph despite talking about a dark subject- let’s even ruin the most serious moments with a joke because hey jokes are supposed to break tension right. Let’s not care if it looks out of place or forced, we have to have a joke dammnit. Yes, humor is often used to lighten up the mood when things get too serious- but you actually have to allow your audience to have a pause for things to remain serious for a while before you can make a joke. A lot of the joke relies on the element of surprise (timing), and the delivery. If you don’t allow us to breathe in and grow accustomed to the serious and dark tone, you won’t be able to make us laugh when you genuinely write something funny. It’s just harder to get into it when there’s so many jokes. Instead of being a dark fic with some nicely paced jokes, it turns into an internal conflict of whether or not you label the fic as a dark humor satire or dark themed fic with a lot of comedy in it that just doesn’t pace well. Very few people can get away with this without making the humor seem completely out of place (but I have actually seen it done), and it takes a huge amount of skill to actually make dark humor work- because when dark humor doesn’t work, it just sounds offensive or insulting. (Dark Humor is often offensive, but what’s offensive has to either have some truth to it, or genuinely be funny to work as dark humor.) Meanwhile, when regular humor doesn’t work, we often either don’t notice the joke, or just shrug at it “yeah it was bad but i’ve read worse” and keep reading. I have seen so many fics write dark themes wrong by making light of a very dark situation and that is all fine and good if you’re writing a comedy that is mocking tragic and dark tropes in the form of a satire. However, this doesn’t work if you want said fic to be “inspirational” or “educational” (or even SERIOUS) about mental illness or disorders. It really just confuses the reader as to what your actual goal is with the fic if you’re both trying to mock the problem, and educate people about the problem. This just goes out to the smartasses that dismiss criticism bc “I has the depression so you are wrong and your opinion is stupid bc you dont have the depression so anything you say is wrong 8D” Please gently fuck off.

5) This might be an unpopular opinion, but I personally rank a fic’s appeal by how well they conduct a premise. You might also say I rank fics by how badly they mess up an easy premise/moral they have to work with and make a simple topic seem very absurd. I don’t care if the premise is simple- if they wrote it well, they deserve props for it. If they wrote a difficult premise and the fic kind of fell apart, I can still give them some props because I can tell there was effort put into trying to make something work. However, when a fic takes an easy premise and completely butchers it, ohhhh boy. It almost becomes something akin to reading my immortal- for shits and giggles- a beautiful trainwreck. However, here’s a fun fact; I don’t hate my immortal, or hellstorm evangelion, and wouldn’t class them as “the worst fics in harry potter and evangelion”. Why? Because they started off with an absurd premise. As soon as I read an absurd premise, I know the fic is going to be absurd. The fic delivers what it promises, and I genuinely can’t flaw it for that. Of course the fics are bad, OOC on top of crazy ideas, but it didn’t really market itself differently or as anything but OOC and crazy- and this is why I also don’t take them seriously- because in a way- they don’t take themselves seriously.

What I do take seriously however are fics that try their hardest to make a point and then fail miserably because they didn’t bother to do even the smallest amount of research- and I really do mean the most minuscule amount of research. I read a fic where a bruise lasted for 2 months. A bruise. Lasted 2 months. If a bruise is big and dark enough after 2 weeks you shouldn’t see a doctor, you should see an exorcist- because that thing needs to be sent to the shadow realm and fast. 2 months? A simple google search would have solved this. I actually didn’t know how long a bruise lasted for, but I took one look at that and shook my head, thinking “No. I really don’t think this is accurate.” but I actually decided to go look it up because “I might be wrong”. I might be nitpicking, but when your fic is trying to go for realism it doesn’t really help that you have these small bits of misinformation that could easily be corrected... One or two won’t kill the mood if the fic is good enough, but if the fic focuses on a subject that involves, oh, I don’t know, doctors/medicine (which i might add- i know near to nothing about) and relies on misinformation that even I can spot?... Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to just skim some reliable sources for relevant information about what you’re writing about. Small aside- I get bothered when people put the word “literally” in front of things they mean to say are “figurative”. I can actually gloss over this most times (i do it too sometimes almost unknowingly), but when someone writes “Literally kicked the door down-” and in the very next sentence, say the door “swung open”- No. That is inaccurate. You can’t just shove “literally” in front of things and not expect it to change meaning. That is literally illiteracy.

6) Nicknames. I really cringe at “Darling” or “Cutie” in fics. Yes, people do this in real life and I’m guilty of it too- but have you ever been that one friend in a friendship circle where you don’t exactly feel as if you belong there and then you’re hearing 2 people call each other "darling” over and over again? Doesn’t that feel even the least bit uncomfortable? I often get that impression when I read fics of two characters going back and forth like this- i feel like the awkward third wheel that’s imposing on their fun. I can handle some pet names, but when they constantly say “darling” and “sweetie” over and over again, I can’t help but to feel as if the characters are losing some of their character in the dialogue (it is actually very corny). Most fics of non-canon ships are already putting characters into situations that are hard to swallow- but nicknames like “darling”? That’s probably an aspect of fics i’ll never be able to handle. I can’t say why I feel this way other than the fact it always feels forced and shoehorned in (unless the character themselves have also used this word multiple times) There are of course the exceptions. The exceptions are the characters who you can actually see say this kind of thing. Ringabel from Bravely Default is an easy example, or say, Cat Noir from Miraculous- but the phrases fit because they align with their character, and aren’t just put there to “be cute” but to be “accurate” to the portrayal. That doesn’t mean “if you dont use pet names for these characters, you’re misrepresenting them”- it just means that these specific characters seem like they might engage in petnames, whereas someone as... hm... let’s say Jotaro from jjba probably wouldn’t do it in a serious manner, and neither would Cyrus from Platinum. Some characters fit the bill and others don’t, and I know this is highly subjective, but to make things simple; the goofy characters are always the ones who I can see use such language seriously or unironically without it feeling out of place.

THERE’S MORE, But I’m tired and this rant has been long long long and I want to go eat eat eat. Maybe later i’ll add a few more in a brief because this kind of went on for a lil too long than necessary.

[bloomingtonsolidaritynetwor-blog]

Who Will Survive in America?

CW: Racism, Gaslighting, Police Brutality

The following is a testimonial by a former IU student who requested that BSN help share his story. As the reader will learn, Daven Patton has been the recipient of extreme discrimination, intimidation, harassment, and gaslighting. His story helps to demonstrate the lived reality of oppressed people in Bloomington and the U.S. more broadly. Bloomington and Indiana University are not immune to the racism and classism engrained in the very fabric of our society despite what local leaders and revisionist historians might lead us to believe. These issues have always been here and the rapid development and speculation in the housing market has only led to an increased militarized police presence designed to secure the gap between the wealthy and the poor and oppressed. Please read, share, and discuss Daven’s story so that we can begin to build a counter-narrative to the rosy picture of the idyllic liberal town that is sold to attract investors while the stories of people’s suffering and resistance are lost or forgotten. Please also consider reaching out to BSN to find out how you can help support Daven

March 3, 2016, my junior year of college at Indiana University, I left a box outside of the Student Center building with a tongue-in-cheek note attached: “Call the bomb squad, because this shit is mind blowing,” along with a reference to the Kanye West song “Who Will Survive in America?” scribbled on the outside. My only hope was that someone would curiously open it and be inspired in the same way I was. The box was filled with books. My intent was not a hoax, a replica, or a prank; it was simply a box of books. Little did I know Student Center employees would soon report the box to authorities as a “suspicious package”, and later that night, guns drawn and in full tactical gear, my house would be raided by IU Police. By the end of the day, I had been accused of inciting “terroristic mischief” because of a box of library books.

I remember clearly the night my room was stormed by IUPD. I had gone to a Lil Wayne concert at assembly hall wearing my brand new “Yeezy 2020” shirt; I had completely forgot about the books. I had no idea that the IUPD had called in the IED disposal unit from the Indiana State Police department for the “suspicious package”; no one at the concert knew, either. The school didn’t think the box was a threat and didn’t send out a safety alert. I left an old I.D in the box in case someone wanted to return the books to me. On the shuttle ride back home from  Assembly Hall to Linden Hall no one was talking about a “suspicious package” or “terroristic mischief” on campus; they were talking about how good the concert was. The Student Center is right across the street from my apartment, and there was no way to tell that the I.E.D disposal unit was there that night. When I made it back to my apartment, I played Fallout 4 for a couple of hours and then took a shower to get ready to go to bed. While I was still drying off I suddenly heard yelling in my apartment hallway. It was the IUPD. I walked out of my room naked with my hands up to see a squad of all white, aggressive officers pointing rifles at me and screaming. My roommates also had guns pointed at them and were lead out into the hallway at gunpoint by the IUPD. Still naked, I surrendered peacefully. The IUPD double-cuffed me and sat me in my kitchen. They wouldn’t even allow me to get dressed.

Handcuffed and nude in my kitchen, I asked them why they were there. They said to search my apartment. I then asked to see the search and arrest warrant. The officers hesitated at first, but then put a copy on the table and I quickly picked it up. Once I saw what was on the search warrant I realized what was going on. I saw that they were looking for my “Yeezy 2020” shirt (I found out later in the police report they described Kanye West, 21-time Grammy winning hip hop artist, as a stereotypical ”heavy set black man”), some more clothes, and strangely a “weapon of mass destruction”. The officers also took a picture of my “Hands up Don’t Shoot” calendar I had got from a protest in Ferguson which they described as “evidence”. I also had a newspaper taped to my window which I got from the same Ferguson protest that said “Who Killed Sandra Bland?* This GODDAM System! We Need REVOLUTION—NOTHING LESS” which you could see from the street if you walked past my apartment.

The IUPD used the search warrant as an excuse to rummage through me and my roommate’s apartment. The IUPD took miscellaneous items from my room like tape, my balaclava, some bucket hats, and a small, novelty pocket book I got from Urban Outfitters called Insults and Comebacks. I jokingly told them that if they search hard enough they might also find some anthrax. The IUPD also confiscated some prescription Ibuprofen(Tylenol) from one of my roommates(because it was his girlfriend’s) and a small amount of marijuana from another roommate of mine. He wasn’t home at the time but the IUPD cited him later. Most of the items the IUPD took were not on the search warrant.

One of the officers finally gave me some boxers to put on and one of my shirts and then took me away. An officer put me in one of the squad cars and then went to go talk to another officer. While I was in the car over the police radio I heard a cop say “You get that n***er yet?”.  

I was already afraid, but when I heard that I began to fear for my life.The arrest already seemed unusual, but now it was obvious it was motivated by racial animus. I know once the police found out I was black from the I.D card I left in the box, they classified the box as a “bomb threat” so that they could arrest me. Unfortunately I wasn’t simply arrested, first the cops took me on a joyride.

First I was taken to the IUPD station, then to the hospital, then to jail. At the IUPD station the officers tried to interrogate me without reading my rights or allowing me to have a lawyer present. As soon as they walked me into the interrogation room I saw a camera and made sure that I clearly stated to the camera that my miranda rights weren’t read. The officers tried to coerce me into talking to them, but instead I started making fun of them. After a while the cops stopped trying to interrogate me and called me a “danger to myself and others” as an excuse to take me to hospital. Before they took me to the hospital they took me outside in the early spring cold and stood me by the squad car in nothing but my boxers while they wore their warm police jackets.

When I was at the hospital they handcuffed me to the hospital bed. There were more officers at the hospital than were at my apartment when I was arrested. There I was given a forced blood draw, and later that night they attempted to inject me with an unknown sedative despite hospital staff saying I was being “intentionally difficult” to the officers.  I refused and started yelling my objection to taking the shot. After they saw concerned people starting to leave their hospital rooms to see what was going on they gave up on the shot. They then took me to Monroe County Jail where I has held all weekend.

When I got out on March 6th I had found out that my face was all over the news saying that I was accused of “terroristic mischief” and that the cops had lied about what the box really said. The cops lied to the media to assassinate my character and to cover up their illegal search and seizure of my apartment. I told the school that the IUPD violated my civil rights, that I wanted video tapes from the incident, and asked the University questions like “Why wasn’t a campus safety alert sent out if the police claimed there to be a ‘bomb threat’?”, “If the police ‘believed’ a weapon of mass destruction was on campus later in the night then why wasn’t Linden Hall evacuated? Why wasn't the IED disposal unit from the Indiana State Police on campus at the time when I was arrested if the police claimed there was a “weapon of mass destruction?”, and “why wasn’t anyone told about the alleged “weapon of mass destruction?”. The school responded by detaining me again and again taking me to the hospital for a 72 hour psychiatric hold because the cops said I was a “threat to myself and others”, but in reality this was an attempt at gaslighting me. and the school used this as a pretext to retaliate against me by summarily suspending me because of my allegations of police misconduct.

I spent the next year fighting the malicious charges of “terroristic mischief” and another retaliatory charge of “intimidation” because I called the Monroe County Courthouse asking for video tapes and accusing the IUPD of violating my 4th amendment rights. All of the charges were meritless and were eventually dropped. I also spent time recovering from the trauma the IUPD caused me, studying political theory, economics, and philosophy, and in November of 2017 I decided to fight back against the school and file a Clery Act Complaint with the Department of Education. The Clery Act is a federal statute enforced by the D.O.E’s Financial Student Aid Office that deals with sexual assault and campus security.  I am alleging multiple violations of the Clery Act. One for not sending out a safety alert for what the IUPD claimed was a “bomb threat,” and another for the IUPD lying about “Weapons of Mass Destruction” to obtain a search warrant and not following protocol. The D.O.E followed up with me in January of 2018 to let me know my complaint was filed and I have been working with the D.O.E ever since. My complaint serves two purposes:

1). Improve Campus Safety

2). Substantiate my allegations of Police Misconduct(Perjury)

In March of 2018 the school retaliated against me as a “whistleblower” under the Clery Act by denying my petition for reinstatement and used the PTSD the University Police caused me as an excuse despite my evidence of police misconduct, me providing a letter from my therapist saying I have recovered from the trauma without them asking, and me improving campus safety by filing a Clery Complaint. I again felt like the University was trying to gaslight me. Because the University used a discriminatory reason to deny my petition for readmission the D.O.E Office of Civil Rights opened an investigation into unlawful discrimination. Little did I know that the University police also started targeting me again around this time because of my accusations of police misconduct and me filing complaints against the school with the D.O.E.

Then in June of 2018 the University again retaliated against me for standing up for my civil rights by again falsely arresting me on bogus and meritless charges of “intimidation”. The University used numerous emails I had sent them about the D.O.E, and various related topics in my reinstatement letter such as the war on terrorism, censorship, state violence, police misconduct, anti-fascism, white supremacy, mental health, black power, and revolutionary socialism as a politically motivated excuse to arrest me for bringing them under investigation. In the e-mails that IU cited, I make it clear I was intentionally sending them inflammatory, radical left wing topics and articles to mock their politically motivated crimes against me. The same e-mails that University officials call “threats” contradict them and prove that there is no wrongdoing on my part.

As a result of these numerous e-mails the University used one e-mai in particular containing a song from Kanye West’s new album as the pretext to arrest me the second time. The song is the first song on Kanye’s new album “I Thought about Killing You”. The song title is the title of the email and with an explicit link to the song in the title. The intent was to make fun of the IUPD for making up “threats”, which the University in turn ironically did. You did not even need to open up the email to see that the title of the email is a song as gmail (University email accounts are powered by google) allows you to see the first part of the email without opening it. The cover art on Kanye’s new album says “I hate being bipolar and its awesome” which I thought was a perfect coincidence, because I am a Kanye West fan, he is open about his “disability”, and the University is currently under investigation for disability discrimination. The e-mails debunk the University’s motivations as further politically motivated harassment and intimidation and prove my innocence. The University is trying to keep the “terroristic mischief” incident secret and censor me so I have decided to make the emails public. I will not back down to political suppression and repression by the school and am well within my constitutional and federally protected rights. I am also a strong believer of openness and transparency. My arrest was retaliatory and I can prove there is direct causation between my D.O.E complaints, my allegations of police misconduct, and my online activism.

You can find the link to the emails here:

https://drive.google.com/open?id=1ruXAD_jvD2Pi-ZcAuAdydtFqRVjcQxmS

The IUPD tried labeling me a “terrorist” as an excuse to try stripping me of my civil rights and the University’s actions have been unconstitutional starting with police officers committing perjury to accuse me of “terroristic mischief” and then violating my 1st amendment rights for trolling them about the D.O.E investigation. Standing up for your civil rights is not a crime and I will not be silenced by the University. Civil rights activist Julian Bond once said “an American can be black and an American can dissent, but no American had better compound these two crimes” and I unapologetically dissent to the American system built on inequality and systemic racism and am unapologetically black. If the University did not want me to file a Clery Complaint against them then they shouldn’t have classified a box of books as “suspicious package” and as a “bomb threat”; they shouldn’t have lied about a “weapon of mass destruction” in Union Street, and if the University didn’t want to be investigated for unlawful discrimination then the University shouldn’t have violated my civil rights. Indiana University is a public college and has no right to attempt to censor criticism and radical viewpoints. IU is mandated by the federal government to obey federal statutes and antidiscrimination laws like every other institution that accepts federal financial aid funding. The college on one hand pays lip service to “inclusion”, “tolerance”, and “diversity” and on the other engages in extreme discrimination and retaliates against victims of police misconduct. The corruption of the University’s administration runs deep and the University’s “progressivism” is nothing more but white supremacy with a smile.  IU’s racism is institutional and systemic. From the covert racism of officials in the administration using discriminatory seemingly neutral policy, practices, and procedures that have a disproportionate adverse effect on members of a protected classes to the overt racism of the overly militaristic state violence of the IUPD. I will not let the University and University officials intimidate me and stop me from exercising my constitutional and federally protected rights and I cannot, as a man of good conscience, be afraid to speak up or back down from the oppression and malice displayed by the University and the IUPD.

“If, in the present chaotic and shameful struggle for existence, when organized society offers a premium on greed, cruelty, and deceit, men can be found who stand aloof and almost alone in their determination to work for good” - Lucy Parsons

I am asking other people of moral and good conscience aid me and show solidarity with me in not only my personal struggle but also the collective struggle against classism,racism, and all other forms of discrimination.

-t