#so id like to participate in em! its just a bit too much.

[fun-mad-ochouse]

HEY OMG I HAVE A FUN IDEA.

What if we (creators on Tumblr) did an Advent Calendar type thing- but instead of candy it's an OC tidbit or some lore. I think this could be used for just one OC or maybe one story, if said creator has several of those (like me). It could be a really nice method of encouraging people to put stuff out there, maybe some days could be art based- not strictly! Maybe just as an encouragement, or one of 2 options or something.

I'm just spitballing here ofc.. I'd love input from others-

[dragonstoravens]

Babylon Vol. 1: Bad Behavior, A Dancer in her Own Right

[ID: a blue patterned banner with text reading “BABYLON.” End ID.]

(Two chapters today, but this one’s a bit of a shorter update anyway. Believe it or not, we’re getting towards the end of volume 1 now!! It’ll be all posted by the end of December, and then in the new year at some point we’ll start posting 2. We’re also looking into Wattpad, and maybe even making an audiobook, so keep an eye out for those updates. Enjoy the chapters!)

Taglist (ask to be added or removed!): @charlottedotexe @glitterandstarshine @rainbowcoloreddays @the-starlight-chills @erased-in-stone

General: @elywritesbydarkness @residentofthedisc @humour-and-hyperfocus @skyfirewrites @viawrites-andacts

17. Bad Behavior

    A tap on her shoulder alerted Azure to someone just behind her. She turned, smile plastered to her face. The woman was about her age, grinning conspiratorially. That was never good, in her book. Grinning usually meant there was a plan for the conversation, and conspiratorially meant she’d have to actually participate. She washed away her distaste for the idea with some champagne before speaking.

    “Hello, I don’t believe we’ve met.”

    “Oh no, we haven’t. Samantha Whitewater, my family owns the Whitewater mining firm.” The introduction was followed by a small bow, which Azure returned. A colony family, then. Whitewater continued. “I just wanted to congratulate you.”

    Congratulate her? She hadn’t done anything of note to these people. She never made deals and she talked about herself as little as possible, trying to create a black box of a history no one would question. There was nothing to congratulate, and even less for a stranger to bring up out of nowhere. She touched the comm.

    Hey Hotshot, you remember anyone from the Whitewater family?

    I think I got a proposal from them once, he responded. More business than pleasure, though I think they wanted a marriage too. At least they didn’t keep pushing when I denied both.

    That was all she needed. At least Samantha and her family had manners. Her smile relaxed to something more genuine. She didn’t know what she was about to be congratulated for, but at least it wouldn’t be underhanded. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, things have been awful slow for me lately.” 

    “Oh, nothing like that. I’m just congratulating you on making such a good match. No one else here could say the same, though of course the Jericho name is something of a hot-ticket item to many of us. My own family included, I have to admit.” She laughed like it was some kind of joke between friends, and Azure’s blood pressure rose. Trinity, seeming to just take notice of the conversation as Azzy’s burgeoning anger began to make itself known through their mental link, began to turn, a crease in his brow the only sign of confusion showing through the ice-sculpture poise he wore around these events like armor.

    She blinked to cover for the twitch in her eye, tucking her hands behind her back to cover the sparking. She ignored the vague warning of Azzy, no, that buzzed in the back of her head from Trinity, bulldozing on. “I wasn’t aware he was on sale in the first place.” Her words came out clipped, stilted, and poisonously sweet. Speaking of her friend as though he was an item made her stomach churn, even in retaliation. These events often weren’t terrible until something like this came up, the word choice surrounding people objectifying and economic in the worst manner. But never once had someone brazenly spoken about Trinity to her face before, like it was normal or expected. That was her friend Whitewater was talking about, the one who’d taught her about shrimp forks and helped her reach high shelves in her lab and made poorly edited images of frogs telling bad jokes for her when she was sad. She seethed. “I suppose that would explain why you caught me off guard then.”

    The woman blinked. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what it’s like where you come from--” the incredibly rude phrasing was somehow undercut by the fact that she still didn’t seem to think she was insulting anyone at all-- “but clearly you’re not used to this kind of society. We’re all a commodity here. The best he or anyone should hope for is to find someone equally as useful to him as he is to them, and maybe someone he can get along with-- though with someone as Icy as Jericho I never held out too much hope for that. That could have been me, but I guess it’s you.”

    Azure opened her mouth to speak, but Trinity’s hand on her back stopped her just long enough for her to hear him out. Azure. She’s right. Drop it.

     Azure shot back a response with a dangerous growl entering her mental voice, indignant and angry and protective. I don’t recall askin’ how anyone else here felt about it but me, so you drop it. She cleared her throat, her tone once more painted over with a thin veneer of polite but apparent disdain. “It is me, thank you very much Miss Whitewater. I wish you the very best of luck in finding someone merely useful to you.” If it wasn’t going to get her kicked out, she’d have spat at the woman’s feet like she used to when people bullied Crim in elementary school. Instead, she grinned conspiratorially with entirely too many of her teeth. “Because as we both know, that’s simply the most one can hope for in this wonderful little bubble.”

    “Like you’ve done any better.” Whitewater finally seemed perturbed, angry that something was disrupting her sterile worldview. Her lip curled slightly. “That man touches you like he’d rather be doing anything else. Two inches away from anything that could be considered a little risque, even while dancing? At least someone like me would’ve known what I was getting into, with someone like him.” 

    Trinity saw Azzy draw in a breath, and knew whatever she was about to say would be even worse. So before it could leave her mouth. Trinity had turned fully to face the two of them, and in an instant his arm was wrapped firmly around her waist. His hand rested squarely on her hip-- right on the strip of skin her dress’ cutout bodice left exposed to the air. His fingers dug into her flesh just slightly. Not hard enough to even leave prints on the skin, but just enough to send a message. Azzy relaxed in posture only, looking for all the world like a guard dog that had just been told to sit as she looked up at him sidelong. “I’m sorry, Miss Whitewater, but my date and I have business elsewhere. Will this be all?”

    “Of course. Enjoy your evening, Jericho. Garza.” Whitewater’s voice was stilted. Trinity turned Azzy around and used his arm around her to begin to shepard her away-- he wasn’t sure she was prepared to actually leave this alone, left to her own devices. They made it about ten feet before Azure looked back over her shoulder, sliding her arm around his waist as well and winking back at Whitewater, Garza’s supposed devious intention with Trinity on display. Internally, there was a small blip of take that, asshole, and then a self satisfied calm. Trinity sighed. He hated to play into whatever that was, but unfortunately a deserted hallway was likely the only place he was going to be able to talk to Azzy alone. He tugged her away into a winding passage off to the side of the main ballroom, gritting his teeth as he imagined the scandalized stare that Whitewater woman was probably still sending after them. He couldn’t deny that it was… amusing, to an extent. But he liked to avoid attention he wasn’t looking for at this kind of thing, and the last thing he needed was a jilted business-lover spreading around the fact that he’d pulled his date into a secret corner in the middle of an event. What was done was done, though, and he had to admit he hoped Whitewater felt sufficiently humiliated by the end of all that. Whatever it was.

    Finally satisfied they were alone, he let go of Azzy-- careful not to let his hands linger a second longer than they had to-- and sighed, leaning against the wall with a slightly bemused smile. “What was that about? And why did it seem to have everything and nothing to do with me?”

    Azure blew a stray curl from her face, absently rubbing her hip where he’d touched her with her opposite arm. The consequences of her actions appeared to be finally setting in, and her face was apologetic in that same way it was when she realized she’d started eating in massive bites at dinner instead of polite and small ones yet again. She looked almost bashful as she looked up at him. “Sorry Hotshot, I just...I don’t know, she started talkin’ about you like you were a thing instead of a person. I’m used to ‘em talkin’ about how hot you are, and that’s fine because it’s true at least, but no one’s ever said anythin’ like that about you right to my face before, it pissed me off.” She finally let her own hip go, shaking her hands to rid them of sparks and avoiding his eyes to avoid letting it be known just how honest she was about to be. “It’s rude, and it’s dehumanizin’, and I just believe real strongly that you deserve better than that.”

    Trinity almost denied it, wanting to cite times he certainly had not deserved better, but the last thing he wanted was to open up that can of worms. The wound of his profiteering off that war-torn planet was still too fresh, his apology still somewhat inadequate. Instead, he just shook his head. “I know what you think, but whether that’s truly how I am or not, it’s how I’ve presented myself for years to these people. Besides, she practically called you a bumpkin to your face too, and I’m not sure you even noticed.” He felt something soften slightly inside him as he looked at his friend. She’d been defending him. God strike him down if he knew why. God would probably strike him down regardless.

    She waved a hand, looking unaffected. “Who gives a shit about me? I am a bumpkin for all these people should care. But you’re…” she struggled, squinting her eyes and scrunching her freckled nose as the machinery of her mind ground its way to some kind of an end to her sentence that was eloquent. It failed. Instead, she came out with: “You’re cooler’n they are and they should admit it to themselves and act with some damn respect.”

    Trinity tried and failed for several moments to hold himself together before he burst, doubling over with laughter. She’d never seen him laugh like this in person-- heard it, maybe, over a particularly good meme or something, but never like this, actual tears forming in his eyes. She grinned, wide and crooked, her job here complete. He slapped his knee, struggling to straighten back up. “Ah, Az. You’ve brought us full circle.” He wiped a hand over his eyes. “I give a shit about you. I am also what she said about me. And you are also ‘cooler’n’ them. Yes?”

    Now suddenly she was bashful again. No one ever called her cool. Smart, maybe, or nice or even helpful sometimes, but never cool. She blushed. “Sure. At least I know how to act normal. Sorta. In comparison, at least.” Her hand reached up to scratch behind her ear, sympathy painting her features. “It’s a sad little life she’s about to lead. Honestly, I hope it’s what she actually wants or else she’s gonna be damn lonely without an actual someone to connect with.”

    “It’s a sad life most of us lead,” was his only response. His face was turned slightly from her, into the shadows of the dark hallway, leaving his expression unreadable. “Sometimes there are things more important than our own happiness. Shall we?” He held out a hand, gesturing back down the hall towards the well-lit bustle of the ballroom. It struck Azzy that things in this world seemed to hide better among glitter and blinding lights than they did in the dark. Nevertheless, she placed her own hand gently in his.

    “Now remember, act like you like me or else I might actually have to throw down one of these days.”

    “Right, right.” Trinity huffed out a tiny little laugh, his fingers finding the skin of her hip once more. “As long as you’re alright with it.”

    “I’m a bad actor, this is easier.” She leaned her head into his shoulder, wrapping her arm around his waist and leaning into him. “Plus, this way I don’t even have to stand up straight.”

18. A Dancer In Her Own Right

    Her boots made a gentle beat against the hard metal of the floor. One step then another, sure of herself even as she looked in the opposite direction to her movement. There was a rhythm to her every sway, every object she tossed over her shoulder and caught in the other hand a step in a dance she was choreographing on the spot. Something from this drawer, cross the room to another cabinet, all of it swirling around that constant central point that was the examination table and her workbench. Watching her set up for a deep maintenance test was like witnessing a ballet. Her stretch for something off a high shelf was easy, graceful. She knew exactly how far everything was, exactly how many steps to get there. She carried the objects she collected as though they weighed nothing, a spring in her step the whole way. 

    Trinity sat on a counter as far out of her way as he could get, but he might as well not have been there at all, for all having another person in her space slowed her down. He couldn’t help but marvel a bit at the sureness of her movements, now that she was in a place entirely her own. In society and on a ballroom floor she stumbled occasionally, one might even assume she was clumsy. That thought would be long gone the moment they saw this dance, one made by and for her, the perfect combination of grace and power. Ballroom dances were as much for the observers as the dancers themselves, but being able to observe this felt like a privilege more than a right. Being allowed to appreciate this sight as an outsider, a friend but someone who would admit freely that he couldn’t even begin to understand her, was a gift. In this moment, Trinity relaxed, and let himself appreciate the organic yet mechanical beauty of her, without letting his brain get in the way. After all, dancing was supposed to be instinct above thought. 

    She held out a hand, and he automatically picked up a wrench that sat at his side, placing the handle in her palm. She took it without looking, and the dance went on. She vaulted casually onto a countertop like it was the most natural thing in the world, grabbing some gray box off a shelf near the ceiling and hopping down without a hint of hesitation, no signs of exhaustion as sparks flew in her wake. She made her way back to the center to drop both things off, to pick up something else, to continue this seemingly endless waltz. Individual curls of hair freed themselves from her braid, her beanie long discarded in favor of having the goggles she typically wore around her neck situated atop her head. She stopped briefly at the edge of her stage, only to map out a new path that carved the edges of the room from the center, a small bucket in hand to hold whatever things she needed as she went along. She needed a lot of trinkets and tools, and she knew what each of them were. She paused briefly in front of him, and pointed above his head. It took him a moment to insert himself into her rhythm again, then he knew what she wanted without words. He slid off the counter and held out his hands to make a step for her, boosting her up to whatever it was she needed to reach. She stepped lightly onto his outstretched hands, opening a cabinet and pulling a bottle down in the same motion as her descent back to the ground. She flashed him a grin, crooked and pleased. He heard a snippet of something she was humming to herself, low and sweet, her own orchestra to accompany her own dance. 

    Now that he was no longer needed for the moment, Trinity hopped back up on the counter, content to just watch her work in perfect harmony with herself.

[voidselfshipp]

Troubled troubles

Ok to rb

Summary:Basically s/I and adler fluff, a bit of angst and a buttload of oc stuff

Gif by travellar on Tumblr

@romancologist @mycinnamonapples uwu

Another Slam of hands on the table announces jerico that adler is yet having problems with something, she sighs Rolling her shoulders back, and her two cats sit ontop of them.

--Oh boy I do love hearing my boyfriend mad--she said playfully leaning on the doorsill of adler's Office.

Russel turns to look at her, he smiles a bit --Hey princess, sorry for makin too much noise,I know you dont like that

Jeri shrugged and Walked over, sitting on her boyfriends lap--Okay let me see whats up

--Ive been trying to fix this radio for Woods, nothings workin

She takes the radio and looks at it--Did you notice some of the cables are broken? Like when your headphones cable is broken and you twist the cord around for it to work?

--...wait what?

--Yeah its broken see?

Adler internally facepalms as his cheeks turn red--How could I not notice that?

Jer kisses his scarred cheek and leaves the radio on the desk standing up--Anyway ill go chance, todays prayer Day at cycle coasts main temple,you sure you dont want to go?

--No babe,im alright you go enjoy your terran stuff

She chuckled and shook her head walking over to her room to change.

The Roaring of the motorcycle engine drowned out any other sound in the garage, jerico put her helmet on,both of her cats tucked in her backpack,peeking through the semi Open compartment.

Her black cat mewls and presses their snout against the back of her head--Im alright vica,I just wish Russ came with me whenever we have celebrations, its something I dont want him to miss...but alas...--Her cat hissed and she snorted a chuckle-- dont be mad at him,our culture can be hard to digest

The cat rolled their eyes and sunk back into her backpack.

The wind hit her visor as she drove to cycle coast, she looked at the cloudy Sky, and sped up.

The drums could already be heard, jer chained her motorcycle to a post and Walked to the beach,there people in traditional terran wear danced with fans,banners and sticks, she sat amongst the crowd listening to the old woman talk.

Her hair was long,braids sprinkled about her hair, white as the moon,the traditional pristess robe, blue and black touched the sand and her long sleeves draped as she talked.

--Jerico...nice to see you could join Us.

Jerico smiled--Id never miss it

--did you bring your handsome boyfriend with you?

Jeri looked away--no,hes not really into our culture

The old womans brow furrow--such a shame...I wanted to meet him--she then perked up at the audience --You see, jerico has come here since she was a little trouble making bean about this tall--she puts her hand against her shoulder--so she heard this tale Many many times

When humans and gods lived along eachother--the elder pristess said-- and demons Ran amok at night,our goddess of death fell in love with one of those creatures.

She had Fallen for the King of the black demon hell, and had a child.

This is the child we'll talk about,in our books hes named xazo kazlaz or bell, it says that then elementus got wind of their relationshipp and they had to split.

About deaths son however.. she raised him to be the one that would guide the people to the afterlife...or hell navigating through the vast ocean of the dead with bells to guide him and Open the Doors to each realm...

Does anybody know why hes represented as an axolotl?--

Jerico raised her hand, and the pristess let her talk--because hes both a god and a demon, hes half and half like the axolotl that is an amphibian creature

The woman nodded-- very good,now lets commune back at the temple shall we?

As the people left, both the priestess and jeri were left alone,both Walked a bit distanced from the crowd.

--Thats one of my favourite stories you know zaivelaz

The woman smiled--I know thats why when I got your letter of you coming I changed it, its more interesting that the story of our patron goddess fighting over a piece of cheese

Jer started to laugh--Yeah that day was one hell of a day

Zaivelaz shook her head--Being a goddess amongst humans is hard?

--Like you have no idea,specially with my boyfriend,two of the people gods in my family had human partners and they...they died,im scared something similar Will happend to him

Her companion put a hand on jericos shoulder--It wont...I promise

--Thanks...zai

The steps along the floating bridge were Many,jeri couldnt help but wonder how it would be if adler was here.

She struggled so much with showing him her culture that it made her feel sad,then again one of the moral rules in Terras was not to force anyone,and she wouldnt break it.

She sat on the floor with the priestesses and closed her eyes interlocking her fingers as she softly whispered.

--Hey ozi...Been a while...--she sighed-- I left you some offerings by your statues feet, I know you dont like this sorta stuff...but ive missed you, a lot, just...just..tell eryz and abbadon that I love em..and that same goes to you..i love you aunt ozi

After the prayers it was time for the festival, jeri Spotted a young Man wearing all black, white eyes,and black hair in a bun.

The Man seemed to notice her as he ran to her,hugging her tightly.

--Abbadon!--She said kissing her cousins cheek--Ive missed you

Abbadon put his hand in his pockets--Ive missed you too...what I could not miss is this festival! All because of our family?, wow!

Jer giggled and offered her hand--Wanna dance?

--You bet!

Their feet moved in synch,the flags spun in circles as they danced.

Abbadon threw his banners and jeri catched him, and he hers.

They were enjoying themselves when the music stopped abruptly.

They Turned to see the people around them that were equally confused.

The musicians pointed at the huge tide approaching them.

Both demigod cousins stepped infront of the tide and stopped it as its about to break, they both looked at eachother and nodded.

Jeri pushed it to one side, and abbadon followed, the water splashed them and them only and nobody got hurt.

--Your mom needs to stop sending tides that could literally drown someone when she wants to send a sign...

Abbadon crouched putting his hands on his knees,batting his hand at his cousin--i tried... no way talking her out of It

The celebration ended with no further altercations, jerico went back home and took a quick warm shower to then collapse on the bed.

--Hes still with that fucking radio isnt he?...--She sighed giving up--why do I even try anymore?

The sun filtered through the blinds jerico groaned and opened her eyes,only to find her boyfriends spot on the bed empty.

She grunts and sits up, her cats sitting on her lap-- I know I know..--she picks them up and walks to the kitchen where she gives both of them their food.

Jeri felt a pair of arms hug her from behind, she sighs nuzzling into adlers chest.

--Good morning sweetheart

--Hey...

--Watcha cooking there?

--Bacon and eggs for you and a healthy terran breakfast for me

--Oh...good

Both ended up eating their breakfast in silence, Russell could tell there was something wrong with his girlfriend, he took her hand and she looked at him,those beautiful eyes he loved looking at were filled to the brim with sadness.

--babe...whats up?--He asked concerned.

--I just...wish you could come with me whenever we have festivals here--she said taking a bite from her waffle that had cream and pieces of caramelized fruit--its something I really really want you to participate in...but I know you dont like this sorta stuff and I wont force you

Adler sits back realizing what he had done, hes been neglecting a part of her that is important to her,those were her roots and he was stepping all over them.

He finished his breakfast and Walked over to her, lifting her up and hugging her--Im so sorry babe--he kissed her cheek-- I know this is important to you and i--

Jeri smiled kissing him again and cupping his cheeks--How about you come to todays festival in time temple with me huh?you dont have to wear our traditional attire,but I tell you it gets cold there

--Id love to, do I have to bring something?

--Not really, im going to make an offering though,it depends on the person

--perfect then...cant wait

Both smiled and kissed again.

The end of the day arrived quickly between work and chores to do.

Adler was waiting by the door fixing his leather jacket.

--How do I look?

Russ looks up at jerico and gasps--Very pretty

She smiled playing with the hem of her green turtle neck that had her shoulders peeking, her roman sandals clicked and clacked with every step she made.

The drive to time temple wasnt long, and luckily they arrived just in time for the story.

The elder priestess smiled when she saw jerico and nodded, proceeding to talk-- a long time ago, the second generation of dieties were born, they were meant to regulate life, amongst the three of them we find our patron goddess...chronos the incessant pass of time...

Elementus tasked a human to build a machine that could measure time, that is when the first sun clock was born,the human handed it to the Creator and with a sprinkle of magic the clock changed into a small girl, with short black hair, she had pale skin and two pale blue eyes, and from there,she was born.

Trained by elementus sister, Ray,the god of war...she then moved to her Realm where she measures time and the life of every being in existence..., from humans to animals and even objects, some say that she collects clocks of all kind and if.you want to meet her youll need to bring the rarest of clocks,of course, its all myths...or...are they?--the priestess finished her tale,and the offerings began.

Adler uncomfortably stayed behind as jeri prayed,she then Turned to him and ushered him to come closer.

--And this is my boyfriend, Russell

--Babe what are you doing?

--Introducing my aunt to you

--Your...aunt?

--Yeah ive told you like a month ago im half goddess..and this is my aunt...chronos

--I...I thought you were joking when you said that --Jeri Turned at her boyfriend with a face of pure disbelief,he hunched his back--Sorry...

--Anyway..chronos...hes my boyfriend Russell, I wish you were here to meet him...hes very sweet sometimes

--Sometimes?

She chuckled and kissed his cheek-- sometimes--she then Turned at the statue--i wish you were here to meet him, I really miss you--Adler gave her some space and sat back on the chair--i miss you and dad so much...--she stood up--Ill..ill see you later auntie chronos--she smiled and Walked over to adler hugging him.

The festival inside the temple was full of music and food of all kinds, and both came back home exhausted.

Adler maybe got a solid six ours of sleep before hes awaken by her girlfriends voice--Babe...babe wake up...

He smiled kissing her--Morning princess

--There you are,change quickly my family came to visit

His eyes Open wide --What?

--Yeah they are here, come on change

She patted his chest and Walked into the kitchen, where abbadon was setting the table.

Adler Walked in a few minutes later only to find two men and three women talking with her girlfriend,who noticed him and hugged him--Okay everyone, say hi to russel,Russell this is abbadon, this is chronos--she said pointing at the woman with short black hair and glasses-- those are my aunts eryz and ozi, aka the goddeses of life and death--

Adler was baffled at the normalcy jeri used when talking about her family,he looked at ozi,her black Long hair fell down to the floor, a scar along her left eye and she was wearing a long blue. sundress,eryz had short brown hair, using the same glasses as chronos was, she had vitiligo and was wearing a white shirtdress with a green fitted blazer--and this is my Dad,Raymond.

To say adler was scared shitless was an understatement,his father in law was wearing a black leather jacket,black jeans and boots,a white t-shirt and aviator sunglasses, he was also way taller than him,with his black hair pushed back and two scars on each side of his face,one under his right eye and one right on the left side of his jaw in the middle between his mouth and the spot where both jaw and neck meet.

Chronos laughed and softly elbowed Ray-- Raymond youre scaring the poor human

--He better treat my daughter alright..

Jeri smiled and kissed russel--Dont worry dad he does

They all sat to eat breakfast, adler seemed intimidated by the dietys around him,but slowly let his guard down, they were a pleaseant bunch in their own way, more human than hed like to think.

Sadly after breakfast they all had to leave.

After saying their goodbyes russel and jerico end up cuddling on the bed.

--Your family is nice--russel said as he ran his fingers through her hair.

--nexts to meet yours

He chuckled--Maybe

They kiss, and he hugs her waist enveloping her in a tight bear hug.

--I love you jer

--I love you too russ

[jenovahh]

The Honey Pot - 2

This was originally titled “Black Rose” but i’ve finally settled on a title \o/

===========================================================

“They’re making you go after who?!”

You wince slightly at your friend’s shrill scream of outrage, bowing slightly in apology to the other customers in the restaurant.

“Lyse, you really need to keep your voice down,” You try to hush her, pushing her bowl of noodles a bit closer to her person. Her sparkling blue eyes are aflame in anger, hand roughly snatching the bowl so quickly that broth sloshes onto the table. Her blonde hair is tied up high in a ponytail, her police uniform clean and pressed. 

“How can I be quiet when they are having you do such a high level mission?!” She snarls, all but shoving her chopsticks into her food.

“Really Lyse, her captain wouldn’t have given her the assignment if she didn’t think she wasn’t capable.” Y’shtola chimes in, ever the calm to Lyse’s occasional hotheadedness. “Though I must admit, I have my reservations...” She trails off, brows furrowing. “Also, could you tell me where my chopsticks are?”

“Three o’ clock.” You and Lyse reply, to which the Miqo’te woman thanks you. Though blind, Y’shtola was a nurse at a local hospital, and though she did not work directly with you and Lyse, you had often bumped into her enough times on calls to make her acquaintance. With delicate hands, she picks up her chopsticks and begins to eat.

“Look guys,” you begin, taking a sip of your soda, “I’m nervous too, but like ‘Shtola said, I don’t think the captain would give me this mission if she didn’t believe in me.” Picking up your chopsticks as well, you lightly stir the noodles in the broth, resting your chin on your free hand. “Besides...if this mission goes well, imagine what it could mean for me in the long run? A promotion? Climbing up the ranks?”

“A promotion? In this economy?” Lyse snorts, pausing to slurp up some more noodles. “According to the files, no one even really knows much about the guy’s son anyway and they’re just throwing you in there on a hunch! You said in the reports that this Zenos guy right,”

Y’shtola has to stop herself from clapping a hand over her friend’s stupid mouth. “Lyse! Be careful!” She hisses, tail frizzing up.

“What else am I supposed to call him? We don’t know shit about him right?” Lyse defends, pointing her utensils at the riled Miqo’te. “They are feeding our friend to the wolves Y’shtola! I have a right to give the captain a piece of my mind,” You stop your friend’s tirade by reaching across the table and flicking her square in the forehead. “Ow! What did you do that for?!” She whines, rubbing at the offended spot.

“Lyse, while I appreciate your concern,” you begin diplomatically, giving her a small smile, “I’m not worried about this mission at all. In fact I’m a little excited.” You admit, your smile growing wider.

“Only someone as crazy as yourself would be eager to go fight the son of a crime lord...” Lyse grumbles, not at all hiding her pout. “Regardless, you promise to be careful, won’t you?” Y’shtola presses, her voice leaving no room for argument.

“Of course ‘Shtola. I would never be anything less.” You grin, steering the conversation onto easier, more pleasant topics such as Y’shtola’s relationship with her boyfriend Runar and Lyse fending off coworkers who can’t take no for an answer. 

The next day finds you back at headquarters preparing for a debriefing. Your name is no longer yours it feels like, being written away like that one movie you watched as a kid. Honey is the name you are given, and though it is a bit masculine, you find yourself unable to care. It isn’t your name, and that’s what matters.

“So, Honey, here’s how we’re going to weasel you into the crime underworld.” Merlwyb’s voice carries clearly in the room, Raubahn sitting casually at his desk, but his eyes are as hard as ever. You turn your eyes to the projection on the wall, showcasing the Rakuza District. It’s certainly not the seediest place in the city, but even you wouldn’t go out of your way to go there. 

“Word on the street is every once in awhile, you can catch a few decent brawls down there. Simple stuff, some petty gangs getting together to strut their stuff. None of them are anywhere near the level Varis is on in terms of their ‘goods’, but still they attract Zenos’ attention all the same.” The slide shuffles over to a seemingly abandoned warehouse. “Rumor has it that Zenos himself has been known to grace these lowlives with his presence in hopes of a challenge.”

“You’ll be working closely with another operative, whose code name is Thancred. We’ve had him slithering into a low level gang called the Marauders; all they do is petty crime. Break into a few jewelry stores, rob some gas stations. My twelve year old could take on these chumps.” She scoffs in disdain, complete with an eye roll. “We could clean these guys off the streets any day. But what matters is they’re our in; you’re going to join them under the guise of being a new recruit. Showing up on your own would look too suspicious.” She crosses her long arms pinning you with her stare. “I’m sure you understand that you must use whatever means necessary to catch his attention.” 

You definitely catch what she’s implying, and resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Hopefully he’s just interested in a good fight and nothing else.” You sigh, shifting in your seat. Merlwyb nods and gestures to Raubahn, who then speaks.

“We want you to look the part, play the part as much as possible. Don’t worry about any small theft or crime they have you participate in; it’ll be cleared from your record. We need you to be as convincing as possible. These people are smart Honey, the top of their class. Do what you must to get the info, but most importantly do what you must to stay alive.”

You nod in understanding, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You are moved to a new apartment on a different side of town from your own, given a different car, a different ID, a different wardrobe.

You wonder if it’d be too much to ask them to let you keep it all. After all your thighs do look amazing in fishnet tights and tight leather shorts, a snug leather vest sitting just so under your breasts atop a red tanktop. Your favorite fighting gloves adorned your hands; the only real leather you owned prior to this whole operation. With your combat boots and some black eyeliner, you finished off what you hoped was a bad girl look. You had binged on a few movies to try and get the look as close as possible.

“Hey baby, how you doin?”

Well it seemed to get the “right” attention anyway. The first few weeks at the Marauders are surprisingly uneventful, the hideout seeming restless as if waiting for some action. Sure enough Merlwyb’s words ring true. They’re nowhere near the level of crime that the Galvuses are. It’s just a group of big, burly men and women acting tough, Maetifyst heralding as their leader. He’s certainly the biggest and burliest of them all, and Thancred warns you to steer clear of him at all costs.

You do your best to hold your own, not at all trained in matters of espionage. You decide that aloof and mysterious is the best persona to take on; aloof to the point of oddity. That strangeness seems to give you a negative reputation in the gang, though it is soon bolstered with respect when you start winning your first infights. The members of the gang are all worse than amateurs compared to your training, with zero combat experience and used to simply throwing their weight around at whoever pisses them off. There are a few who approach you in challenge, thinking themselves bigger and smarter, only for you to send them packing and running to get patched up with their tail between their legs.

It is your talent however, that puts you right in the way of Maetifyst. 

“You’re tough lil’ cookie ain’t cha?” The Roegadyn’s green skin somehow glows warmly in the light of his makeshift office, looking deceptively decent somehow in this abandoned warehouse. Dressed in a stark black suit and his hair styled upwards, he certainly carries himself as the boss. “Checkin’ up on new recruits ain’t much to me. All I need is muscle who will do as they’re told. You however...” his eyes run across you in a way that had you not needed to be undercover, your fist would be through his chest. “You might be just what we need.”

You pause for a moment to tilt your head. “Need for what?” You ask, playing the innocent doe.

“Tell me girl, have you ever heard of the Galvuses?” His voice his hushed now, his hand reaching to pour himself a glass of whiskey from a nearby bottle. He gently grabs a nearby glass, pouring the liquor smoothly until it is half full.

You take another moment to pause before answering. “You mean like the businessmen?” You question, watching as the man smirks.

“Aye, the businessmen. ‘Cept they ain’t no businessmen. They’s some right crooks, that they are.” He chortles, swirling the liquor in its glass. “The Galvuses have little people like us under their heel yeah? Might shock ya to know, but they’re actual crime bosses; like the ones in the movies.” He reclines in his chair, knocking back the whole glass and slamming it on the table when he’s done. “And we’re sick of ‘em.”

You lean forward slightly to show your interest. “Do they...bully you or something?” You ask, wincing at your choice of words. Maetifyst seems to not notice, instead bellowing in laughter, eyes twinkling with mirth.

“S’pose you could say that huh?” He chuckles, crossing one leg over the other. “When it comes to crime in Kugane, we answer to them in a way. Ya see we deal in DVDs, watches, even some cheap drugs on the side. But it’s not the real stuff. It ain’t Black Rose.”

You do your best to hide your spike of interest, fighting to remain aloof as Maetifyst just gives himself away. He must really want you to worm your way into the Galvuses’ gang to be giving away this info for free. “Black Rose...isn’t that,”

“It’s the good stuff.” He chuckles. “Students love the shit, yeah? For awhile the Galvuses had a monopoly on the stuff, but seems like they got a bit too big for their britches if ya catch my drift. I got in contact with a fellow gang called the Gunbreakers and they been cookin’ up some equally good shit. It’s been bringin’ in some real money for us.” Opening a drawer at his desk he pulls out a cigar, accompanied by a lighter. “However, them Galvuses ain’t too keen on us pushin’ in on their turf. Things been tense lately. But with you...” He trails off, giving you a once over again.

“If I can get you to catch Zenos yae Galvus’ attention with skills like yours, you just may be our in.” He sneers, taking a long drag from the cigar. “Not to say I don’t like havin’ ya around, but we could probably trade ya for some corners. I wouldn’t worry much about it. I know they treat folks good over there, with all the cash they got.”

You can’t hold back your snort fast enough, fumbling to recover. “Me? Good enough to get in with the Galvus line?” You do your best to come off as incredulous as possible, hoping he buys your slip up. The irony of the situation is not lost on you.

“Now’s not the time to act humble kid. My fightin’ days may be over, but even I can tell you wreck shop.” He takes another long drag, blowing out smoke into the stuffy office. “The Galvuses keep their crew tight. Don’t replace their ranks unless one of them ‘leaves’ if you catch my drift. Your opportunity comes this weekend, where we’ll be putting you in their little tournament. Climb to the top and snag the attention of the Galvus’ lines higher ups. If they like ya enough, maybe they’ll send one of their boys on their way out.”

“Just like that, huh?” You question, trying not to huff at Maetifyst’s easy grin.

“Just like that.”

[frankmillerturnonyourlocation]

*throws this at you* here have 2.5k words about my Detective Pikachu self-insert and their Wigglytuff GO

Wigglytuff bounced up and down, the excitement growing too much to bear. Its large cerulean eyes pleaded with Emerson as it quietly chanted its own name.

Emerson’s face bloomed into a smile of adoration. “Of course,” they said. “I’ll stay here to sign you up– go hang with the others. Play nice, okay?”

Elated, Wigglytuff let out a cry of joy and sprang into the air, rushing towards the Bellossom and Oricorio dancing on the stage. Halfway there, it froze, spun on a dime, and hopped back towards Em, leaping into their arms for a surprise hug. Just as quickly, it hurried back to the other dancers, singing as it went.

“That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Lucy said.

Still grinning, Em shoved their hands into their jacket pockets and rocked back and forth, feeling quite the same and riding the high. “Wig’s a sweetheart,” they said. “It’s so cool that Ryme does stuff like this– for the ‘mon who love performing, y’know? We haven’t had the chance to do much like this since the Super Contests in Sinnoh.”

Tim lifted an eyebrow. “Super Contests. My grandma watches the coverage on those religiously.”

“Yeah? She might have seen us once or twice! Wiggl– Jigglypuff, actually, was really good at the appeals. I still have our old ribbons in storage– if I had more of a knack for it, we probably could have gone really far.” Their eyes lingered on the stage, where a few Bellossom seemed to be teaching Wigglytuff the choreography they had been practicing. “Maybe we’ll head back to Hoenn when this is all over. Give the circuit there a try now that I’m older.”

“Battling and performing?” Lucy drawled, nudging Em forward so that she could lean against the sign-up table without it being weird. “You’re a real jack-of-all-trades, huh?”

Em snorted at Lucy before nodding politely at the organizer for the recital. “Good morning! I’d like to sign my Wigglytuff up there for the recital. Do you have a pen I could borrow?”

“Of course,” the organizer smiled. “Sign up here– trainer name and ID, Pokémon species name, contact information.”

Lifting the pen with quick thanks, Em continued over her shoulder, “Yeah, sure. As if. Contests were so not my thing. Tried ‘em once when we first moved to Hoenn and had such a bad experience.” They bit their lip, still smiling. “Never thought I’d set foot inside a Contest Hall again. But when Igglybuff grew up and–” They laughed. “Started straight-up defying me in the middle of battles? Well, we talked through it, figured out that battling wasn’t its thing anymore, and found something that Wigglytuff liked much better.”

“Wait,” Tim started, “I thought you said you raised Wigglytuff from the egg? You don’t usually see defiance in Pokémon unless they’re with someone other than their original trainer.”

Em clicked the pen closed and turned, looking Tim straight in the eyes. “No,” they said, “you usually don’t, huh?”

Then they smiled and turned back to the event organizer. “Thank you! Is that it?”

“One more thing– we need your Pokémon’s footprint as a signature of their willingness to participate. Could you call your Wigglytuff over?”

“Sure, one sec!” They cupped their hands around their mouth. “Wigglyyy! C’mere for a minute!”

Tim watched as Wigglytuff spun around, made eye contact with its trainer, and then… spun back around. He smothered a nervous smile and glanced at Emerson.

Their posture deflated. “I’m sorry,” they said to the organizer, “this’ll just be a minute. Psyduck?” They turned to the startled Pokémon with an air of seriousness. “Can you save my spot in line? I’ll be right back.”

“Ps–psy...” The response was tepid, but less confused than it could have been. Em nodded and hurried towards the stage, vaulting over rows of seats that they absolutely could have avoided.

“Do you…” Tim’s brows pinched together. “...think they meant for us to, uh, follow?”

“I mean, it’s Emerson, so it’s not like they need help,” Lucy ventured, as though that explained everything. “But like, they did tell Psyduck specifically to save their spot, so…”

Psyduck tilted its head to the side.

Lucy and, with some hesitation, Tim walked down the sloped floor towards the stage, at the foot of which stood their friend. Wigglytuff, it seemed, was still endeavoring to ignore them in favor of finishing a new dance with its new friends.

“...well, okay then,” they heard Emerson say. “It’ll be sad, but we won’t be able to dance in the recital. They need your footprint signature to let us join, see.”

“Tuff?” Wigglytuff wobbled, stumbling into an Oricorio. “Wiggly! Wigglytuff!”

“Then c’mon, let’s go!” Emerson said. “It won’t take long. Then we’ll get to play some more.”

Though it didn’t seem terribly thrilled, Wigglytuff chirruped a quick farewell to the other dancers and hopped off the stage. Slowly, it walked to Emerson’s side. Em held their hand out; Wigglytuff accepted. They gestured with their head for Tim and Lucy to follow.

“Thanks for waiting!” Em said cheerfully, leading Wigglytuff back to the sign-in desk with little regard for the people who were patiently– more or less– waiting in line. “Luce, can you unzip the tiny pocket on my backpack? There should be a little pouch with like, a little flower on it?”

“Found it.” Lucy had begun to unzip Em’s bag as soon as they started speaking. She proudly reached over Em’s shoulder to drop it in their hand.

“Okay,” they said, “one sec and we’ll be ready.” They fiddled with the bag until they were able to pull out a small blue cloth, no more than six inches long when unfolded. Wigglytuff cooed; Emerson held the cloth out for Wigglytuff to nuzzle against it and sat down right on the floor. Ink pad in hand, the recital organizer made their way to the other side of the sign-up table as Wigglytuff sat down next to its trainer. Psyduck peered around Lucy’s legs, curious.

“It’s a sensory thing,” they explained, more for Tim and Lucy’s sake than for anyone else’s. “Wigglytuff’s always hated the feeling of the ink they use for these things– some Contests have made us register like this, certain League tournaments, that sort of thing. I wasn’t thinking ahead, didn’t expect we would need it– but Wig figured out what we needed it for the second I called. But it’s okay,” they said, their voice growing soft, “because I’m right here, and I’ve got our towel to wipe it right off like we always do. And a few Poffins to munch on afterwards. Maybe we can share with our friends, huh? What flavors do you think they’d like best?”

As Emerson spoke, the organizer gently but swiftly pressed Wigglytuff’s foot to the ink pad and then, with the fluidity of experience, to a sheet of white paper. They marked the paper with Emerson’s ID and paperclipped it to their sign-up form.

“Perfect!” Em grinned, immediately squeezing Wigglytuff’s foot with the soft, blue cloth. “Very good job, Wigglytuff. I can’t wait for our first rehearsal. When, uh,” they asked, turning back to the event organizer, “would that be, exactly?”

They smiled. “First rehearsal will be this Sunday at four.”

“Thank you! And would it be okay if Wigglytuff played with the other Pokémon for a little while longer?”

The organizer acquiesced politely if briefly, hurrying the group away from the sign-up table as professionally as possible. Tim nodded apologetically at the people in line behind them as they went.

“Actually,” Lucy sidled up next to the event organizer, “could I steal you for a few more minutes? Lucy Stevens, reporter for CMN. I’m looking to do a story on the…”

That was their cue to dip. With a quick, polite wave that definitely didn’t make up for the oncoming interview, Emerson, Tim, and Wigglytuff made their way towards the stage.

Hopping higher the closer they got, Wigglytuff eyed Emerson questioningly– almost a little bashfully.

Em smiled and slid their backpack off their shoulders. “Lemme find those Poffins.”

Five minutes later, with Poffins distributed and two flat soda pops in hand, Tim and Emerson sat in the old theatre seats and watched the Pokémon play onstage.

“It’s a different situation, when you hatch ‘em out of an egg,” they said, with no preamble.

Tim looked over. “What?”

“The defiance thing you asked about earlier.” They switched the cross of their legs. “When you catch a Pokémon in the wild, it’s like, they find you as much as you find them, right? If you go out looking for a friend, the wild Pokémon feel that. If you go out looking for a fight, the wild Pokémon feel that. They attack you when they want a fight too– they’re the Pokémon who like fighting in the wild, who want to get stronger, and they’re trying to see if they can reach that goal with you. Whether just by fighting you, or by joining you. It’s an agreement based on hope and a shared goal.” They adjust their glasses. “A partnership. You know.”

Tim nodded. He did know.

“But when an older trainer you’ve known for two days asks you out of nowhere if you want a Pokémon egg, and you’re twelve, so you’re like, hell yeah, and you hold onto it until it hatches, it’s like–” They smile and shake their head. “It’s different when the Pokémon is stuck with you. And that’s a harsh way to put it, but it’s– that’s how it is. And you have to come to terms with the fact that– you have to be prepared to give that Pokémon what it needs, whatever that is, whether it fits in with your goals or not. And if you can’t, you have to be able to… y’know. Find it someplace that can.” They swallow. “Which like. With any Pokémon, you know, stuff happens, even in the best relationship, and sometimes Pokémon and trainer part ways. But it’s so much harder when the Pokémon’s your baby, you know?”

The lights onstage shifted as the stage crew tested the colors; the Pokémon onstage startled, then twittered with delight. Wigglytuff’s fur blushed lavender in the blue light.

“While we were traveling in Sinnoh, we hit a pretty rough patch. Battles got tougher, roads got longer.” Emerson pressed the palm of their hand into the side of their neck, watching the Pokémon onstage. “I think we went… augh. Close to a month without a solid win against another trainer.”

“Whoof,” Tim mumbled.

“Yeah!” Em leaned back. “It was rough. But we got through it! Took a break, stayed in one place for a while. Really got to know the town. Helped some people out, made some new friends. Built our confidence back up, all that stuff. Is Lucy still interviewing?”

Tim craned his neck to see behind him. “Mm.”

“Cool, alright. So like, anyway, right after that was when I first noticed Jigglypuff acting weird. And that’s like, the only thing I can think of that would have caused it, you know? It was like, there were too many bad memories associated with battling, so Jigglypuff wasn’t going to try anymore. It stopped being fun.” They shrugged. “Or maybe it was never fun, and Jigglypuff just got sick of pretending it was. Can’t know for sure.”

“So you tried Contests instead?”

“Ha! No.” They ran a hand through their hair. “Not right away, anyway. I had no idea what to do at first– I had never had a Pokémon that just stopped listening to me out of nowhere, let alone one who had been my friend for so long. I kind of freaked out– Jigglypuff had lost its faith in me, soon the others would follow, I was a terrible trainer who had, like, ‘ruined’ a Pokémon by raising it wrong… that sort of thing.”

Tim was quiet, letting Emerson tell their story. The stage lights reflected off his dark eyes.

“First, I box’d it– wanted to give it some time away from me. Then I called up a friend of mine from Hoenn, a real veteran, mostly retired, in, like– in tears, begging him to take care of Jigglypuff for me. Talked about giving him other Pokémon, too– I was like, this is it, it’s over, I can’t be a trainer anymore.”

“Clearly, that didn’t–”

“It didn’t end up– yeah, that didn’t pan out. He talked me down.” They closed their eyes. “He really– really gave me the conversation I needed. Listened to what I was feeling, but like, pointed out the things I was saying that were kind of messed up– like ‘ruining a Pokémon,’ what the hell does that mean– and just sort of. Restructured the way I was thinking about the whole thing. And he told me to talk to Jigglypuff, which was something–” They laughed. “Something I hadn’t thought to do just yet, like, really sit and talk with it, let it know what I’ve been noticing and that I want to help. Because even if it can’t talk back–”

“It feels what you’re feeling,” Tim finished. Em gave him a small, warm smile and nodded.

“So, yeah! I pulled Jigglypuff back out and promised it that I would never force it into a battle again. If that meant it never battled again, that would be fine. It would be Jigglypuff’s choice. And when I asked Jigglypuff what it wanted to do, it just kinda…” Emerson twisted their hands towards the ceiling, cradling the air. “...jumped into my arms, and hugged me, and… that was good enough. That was more than enough.”

Hand under his chin and listening fondly, Tim asked, “How did the Super Contests factor into the equation?”

Emerson grinned. “Totally by accident. I was gifted a big case of Pokémon dress-up clothes by someone who was doing a promotional thing, and I figured it would be a waste to not use it at least once, and, well… Jigglypuff liked wearing the silly hats. We gave it a try.”

“That thing you said you’d never try again?”

“Yeah.”

He sat with that for a moment. ”You say that like it’s not... a big thing.”

They shrugged. “Eh, you know. I…” They paused. “I’d like to say that the Super Contests grew on me, or that it got better? But like. It really didn’t. I really never could figure out the dancing appeal.”

Tim snorted.

“We understand each other better now, I think. Wigglytuff can be a little difficult, sometimes, but it’s not doing it because it’s lazy, or to stick it to me, or to like… make me look like a bad trainer or anything. It’s got reasons for why it will or won’t do certain things, and the best thing I can do for it is to respect those reasons and try to understand them. And since it knows that I’m willing to go out on a limb to be there for it…” Em’s eyes got a sort of faraway look in them. “Wigglytuff’s been there for me when I’ve needed it. In more ways than one.” They took a long sip of their soda and continued, with humor in their voice, “Poké-parenthood, man. Maybe I should be talking to your dad about this kinda stuff.”

Opting for the lighthearted approach to that idea instead of… really delving into all that, Tim said, “Be careful. He might start giving you parenting advice– it’ll involve reckless self-medication in the form of caffeine and an awful sense of humor. And yours can’t afford to get any worse.”

Em almost choked. “Wow, zing! Alright, Tim.” They held out their soda bottle with a grin. “Cheers to that one.”

Tim returned a soft smile of his own. “Cheers,” he agreed, and clinked his bottle against theirs.

[mycasandstarrs]

SPN 01X01: “Pilot”

I’‘“cI personally believe (and know) that I have a bit of an issue with not knowing how much to share about myself, but I figured I’d tell y’all a bit about my history with the SPN Rewatch experience.

I actually participated in last year’s SPN Rewatch and had a lot of fun with it! I had originally wanted to liveblog it on here but chickened out at the last moment and ended up liveblogging it (so to speak) in my journals. When Hurricane Harvey hit, the Rewatch was the thing that kept me going and gave me a sense of stability.

I’m more than happy and excited to be doing this all over again, with the added bonus of liveblogging here on my blog! I’ve got a good chunk of time on my hands and I figured it would be good character development for me to do this publicly, so without further ado, here is my liveblogging of S1EP1 “Pilot”.

Lawrence, Kansas. 22 years ago. 

“Come on, let’s say good night to your brother.” Mary’s first words on the show.

“’Night, Sam.” Dean’s first words.

“Hey Dean.” John’s first words.

They seemed like such a normal, happy, loving family. *cries*

I think the show does a great job of setting up Mary as a regular housewife and the Winchesters as an ordinary family; it made me believe at very first viewing that what happened to them next was just an unfortunate stroke of luck, as opposed to something that was in the works and destined for them for years, hell, decades.

(I’m noticing old, vintage wedding photos. Are they the wedding photos of John and Mary’s parents?)

“Sammy? Sammy!” Mary’s last words.

And there’s the scream of horror.

Oh, jesus christ. Nothing prepared me for that death and even now my stomach turns seeing Mary on the ceiling like that. RIP Mary Winchester.

“Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don’t look back! Now Dean, go!”

(Little baby Sammy was so cute.)

Our first (silent) title card!

Enter Jess. “Sam! get a move on! We were supposed to be there like 15 minutes ago. Are you coming or what?”

I don’t know the exact details of the night Sam left for Stanford (besides the blow out fight between Sam and John) but at some point Sam packed the photo of his parents and he has it out on display in his apartment. That’s incredibly sweet.

THERE’S OUR SAMMY! 

Proud girlfriend Jess leads a toast to Sam and his LSAT score. (174!)

There’s a notable concern in Jess’ eyes when Sam tells them that his family doesn’t know about his stunning achievement. Did she ever ask about Sam’s family or did she ever plan to ask about them?? She seems like the type to let things go if someone asked her to, but eventually it had to be worrying her...like here.

“I’m proud of you. And you’re gonna knock ‘em dead on Monday and you’re gonna get that full ride. I know it.”

“What would I do without you?”

“Crash and burn.”

*screams in foreshadowing*

Jess was such a good and supportive girlfriend. Sensing that Sam didn’t have a good upbringing/home life, she really goes the extra mile to show her support for him, which I’m sure Sam deeply appreciated.

And there's my beloved Dean!

AWWW THOSE BABY VOICES.

Ah so, Jess knew Sam had a brother.

LMAO @ Sam for pulling the “Whatever you have to say to me, you can say it in front of her” card.

THEN he tries to fucking be a smartass when Dean tries to put it delicately. (”Dad hasn’t been home in a couple of days.”)

And finally, there’s the backfiring on Sam’s part when Dean says the now famous (and later paralleled) line:

I can see the Lucifer/Michael parallels as early as right here: Sam, rebellious and angry at the absent father vs Dean, dutiful and loyal to the absent father.

“You think mom would have wanted this for us?”

No, Sammy, she did not.

“I can’t do this alone.”

“Yeah, you can.”

“Yeah...well i don’t want to.”

Still true to this day.

The Impala’s arsenal! Still so awesome.

“Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?”

On first viewing, I immediately thought, “Dude, he looks old enough to be on his own” just as Dean said:

“I’m 26, dude.”

and that’s the exact moment I claimed him as my favorite.

Wow, 3 weeks? No wonder Dean was worried.

WHOA how did Sam have THAT KIND OF BLADE WITH HIM??

“Hey, everything’s gonna be ok. I promise.” Sam’s last words to Jess. Oh jesus, why.

I got fucking jumpscared by the show, goddamn it.

Welp, RIP Troy. I’d feel worse for him if he hadn’t tried to cheat on his girlfriend.

Real rich of Sam ragging on Dean about the credit card scams, when about 9 years later (S10) he offers to teach Claire about the very same thing. That’s A+ character development coming up.

“Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole.”  

(I think this is Dean’s first “Sammy” of the show, no?)

agH Netflix still hasn’t got the right music for this season. No AC/DC for me here. :(

I love seeing Sam’s ~shocked~ face at all the fake ids. What an innocent baby.

Posing as federal Marshals.

“You two are a little young for marshals, aren’t you?”

“Thanks, that’s awfully kind of you.”

LMAOO. I wish I can brush shit off like that. #goals.

That accurate display of sibling culture: 

Now posing as Troy’s uncles. (Really? Uncles?)

Sam and Dean: “What do they talk about?” (That synch up!!!)

The first scene Jensen and Jared filmed together: the library research scene. :’)

1981. Constance Welch, 24 y.o, jumps off a bridge. An hour before the suicide she called 911 to report that her kids were dead in the bathtub. “Our babies were gone, and Constance just couldn't bear it," said husband Joseph Welch.”

At the crime scene. A bro fight is a-brewin’.

“Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back.”

Them’s fightin’ words!

Wait about 11 years on that, Sam.

Dean is loyal to both absent parents.

And Sam didn’t even apologize for that! Dude, wth. (Tho Dean didn’t apologize for slamming him into the bridge, so I guess its even.)

There’s Constance.

“Who’s driving your car?”

*Dean holds up car keys*

lmao.

How fucking athletic of Sam to hold onto the side of the bridge, hot damn.

Then there’s poor Dean covered in mud.

“That Constance chick, what a BITCH.”

“You smell like a toilet.”

Sam picking his first lock on the show.

Just noticed that John had an area on the wall dedicated to “Deals and Demons”. ohohoho, hoo boy.

Monster of the Episode: Woman in white (Constance Welch.)

Oh there we go, Sam’s apologizing for what he said on the bridge.

“Hey, no chick flick moments.”

“All right, jerk.”

“Bitch.”

John had a photo of him and the boys. :’)

Oh, Sam’s listening to a voicemail left by Jess.

Welp, cops. 

“So come home soon, okay? I love you.” Jess’ last words to Sam.

“So. Fake US Marshal. Fake credit cards. You got anything that's real?”

“My boobs.”

I fucking love S1!Dean. What a babe.

Dean, er, “Ted Nugent” is in “real trouble” here.

John’s journal. Unceremoniously dumped on the table in front of Dean.

“DEAN 35-111″

Joseph Welch.

Sam, now posing as a reporter.

Sam taking a plunge and telling Joseph about the Woman in White. 

Welp, he got kicked out but he got the info he needed.

Out goes Dean, courtesy of Sam’s fake 911 call as a distraction.

“I’m taking you home.” OOOHHHH THAT ONE LINER THOO

Aaand he drives the Impala into the house. 

Creepy ghost children. 

Oh good lord. RIP Constance Welch, again and permanently.

They are the absolute cutest :)

Blackwater Ridge, Colorado.

Aww Dean. He got so used to having Sam around. :(

“I’ll take you home.”  Makes me sad that S1!Sam’s “home” was a place without Dean and Dean knew it.

“You know, we made a hell of a team back there.”

Dean’s goodbye, because actually saying “goodbye” would hurt too much. (Or maybe he was trying to plant the seed of “come hunting with me” in Sam’s mind...)

Sam enters his apartment...goes into his bedroom (eating something too, maybe the cookies Jess was baking?)

And there it is. RIP Jessica Moore, died the exact same day and way that Mary died.

Ugh god, that instance when Dean looks up and sees Jess on the ceiling. That one tiny moment of shock, horror, and realization that that’s how his mother died too. Jesus, Jensen’s a good actor.

And then it’s straight to saving Sam.

One brother pulling the other brother away from his lover to save his life, at the cost of leaving the brother’s loved one behind. Totally won’t be repeated later on in the series...

Dean doesn’t even know what to say to Sam. I don’t blame him.

OOHHHH!!!!!!

And that’s the Pilot. One of my favorite Pilots of any of the tv shows that I watch, and a pretty good episode for Supernatural. I love revisiting the baby faces and voices of the brothers, and I love pointing out all the things that are gonna change for the brothers in upcoming seasons (from Sam’s disdain of credit card scams to Mary “not coming back”).  Overall, an A+ episode for me.

[boo1a4]

11 question tag!

Hey guys so I was tagged by 5 of my fav gals to do the 11 questions tag (THATS 55 QUESTIONS WHY ARE YALL LIKE THIS) but anyway I was tagged by @s-lay-ing @sambashua @achuu-nice @indiepoptime and @yongpal-i (this tag is fucking eternal help me)

Cloud’s Questions!

Do you know a ksong by heart? (bc I don’t :x I can hum a trillion tho)

Blackpink’s As If Its Your Last, Heize’s Star, Day6 I loved you and You Were Beautiful, most of seventeens title tracks and most of their ballads, lastly  Pristin’s Aloha! I'm sure my pronunciation is way off but those are tho the ones that I've taken the time to actually sit down and learn!

When it comes to friendships, are you low or high maintenance? (As in your friends gotta talk everyday with you or you’ll feel like the friendship is dying OR if you can spend days without talking to them yet you still remain close)  

Ummmm I think it depends on the friendship? also I think I can tend to be a bit of both (cause I'm an insecure ass binch), tho I don't ever feel like my friendships are dying lmao

Do you have a secret that you will take to the grave? (Ofc I’m not asking you to reveal it)

not that I can think of?? like I'm sitting here thinking if there is anything and like honestly no????

Recommend me 5 songs (not necessarily kpop songs)

Dracula Teeth - The Last Shadow Puppets(honestly cloud just listen to all of their music is so great) Daydream In Blue - I Monster (this is honestly one of my all time fav songs I love it too much) No Way Down - The Shins (you know I can't go 2 mins without mentioning them, some great lyrics right here tho also give September a listen in beautiful) Beechwood Park - The Zombies (I'm assuming you know the zombies cloud but on the off chance that you don't BINCH THEY ARE MY ACTUAL FAVORITE well beside cream and zeppelin but they are up there) Kimbra - Miracle (kinda of a random one but this song just never seems to leave me!) Big Bird -Hyukoh (oh that was 6 BUT THIS SONG IS SO GREAT also listen to wing wing!!)

What do you prefer?: first, second or third gen kpop songs?

I generally prefer second generation??? I think????? I like a bit of all of them tho. but like there is no definitive answer to when each of the generations start and end so like I don't even know??? but most of my fav groups as far as music goes are older around 2nd gen but a fair amount of them are gen 3, I have a really strong love for kpop that was released between 2009-2014.

What’s the cheeeeeeeeeesiest thing you’ve done? (one time a former friend of mine was telling me about a problem she had and at the end of our convo I kissed her in the forehead bYE)

girl idk just my whole fucking life tbh, but my family members and irl friends will all tell you I do this thing where I yell sing songs and change the lyrics to their names this includes badly sung kpop songs IM SCREAMING THO CLOUD WHO ARE YOU AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA

If you were asked to participate in a variety show, which one of the following would you pick and why? (Pick two!): problematic men, master key, hello counselor, weekly idol, one fine day, law of the jungle

um probs ofd?? id say weekly idol also but damn the hosts would literally be like who is this weird binch!

Your top 10 kpop songs of 2017?

In no order but 1. Would U - Red Velvet 2. Let’s Hang Out - SF9 3. Night Rather Than Day - EXID 4. Aloha - Pristin 5. Missing You - BTOB 6. I Loved You - Day6 7. Teenager - Got7 8. Habit - Seventeen 9. As If It’s Your Last - Blackpink 10. You, Clouds, Rain - Heize

Would you rather live in a huge mansion or a compact studio house?  

Im a real messy binch so definitely compact studio

Tell me a fun childhood story (I’ll start! One time an aunt gave me money to buy ‘papas’ (potatoes) at the grocery store so bc I’m obedient af I went and asked the counter lady how many of em could I buy with the money I had so she went ‘uhh, not many tbh’ so i ended up getting like two and when I returned to my aunt’s house she laughed her ass off and said: I meant ‘papas fritas’ (potato chips) Not those! - and uh yeah this is funnier in Spanish but it proves that I’m such an innocent angel I mean wow)

ok so I spent a lot of time at my aunt Lori’s house when I was a kid (like summers, and after school) and my cousin was the BUG queen so she hand made leashes for her pet toads (that she caught) and we walked them around on leashes for like a week but I was always so afraid of them and also hurting them so I WAS NOT ABOUT THAT ahahaha dumb story but it makes me laugh alsoalsoalsdo they had this bench swing in their back yard and my cousin my sister and I would swing on it together for hours at a time and one time we were swinging real hard (REAL HARD) and the links?? or whatever that held it to the ceiling it was hanging from snapped and the three of us of us flew off of it and we all collectively blacked out??? it was so weird but I woke up to my cousin stuggling to get me off of her and then there lays my sister underneath the bench just blacked out chilling (she was fine) then my aunt came running out cause she had just heard the loudest crash ahsdfasdf not long after my uncle put stronger links on it and that bench is still there! From time to time when the three of us get together this story gets brought up its still the most hilarious thing ( ALSO CLOUD YOU ARE SO PURE I LOVE)

If you were offered to start a band, would you accept?

yeah I love music so much why not! not sure I would be able to contribute much  lmao

Mir’s Questions!

If you could travel anywhere, but were completely by yourself, where would you go?

hmmmmm do you mean like I wouldn't be visiting anyone and just traveling alone?? or like going someplace where I know no one?? ok cause for the first I would book it straight to az TO SEE YOU MIR!! AND SISTER!! but for the second I would love to go to Japan (my cousin lives there tho so that also doesn't technically count lmao)

What inspires you?

Music, books, and tv shows! Also really well written characters or just interesting people I guess! but on like a ??spiritual?? level my mom?? she's just that binch you know ( like seriously Ive never met anyone kinder or more driven and hard working in my life she's wild)

How many pets would you have in your ideal future? Any specific names or types in mind?

47 KITS, no realistically I want 2 kittos and they will be named Bellamy and Murphy cause I got too also lowkey want to name a cat rami or Elliot or also kaz or Inej damn all the good names wow. Also the name Calloway is my fav name of all time and I WANT SOMETHING WITH THIS NAME

What are you opinions on fedoras

um eww?? what other opinions are there?? what is this question mir I'm???? but like ngl when worn in a none cringe manner then can look nice!

how many spoons can you balance on your face at once (picture or video proof preferred (i’m trying to get someone to do it pls anyone))

girl I've done my time (lowkey did you put this on her cause I told you about my gravy spoon today???)

What is your favorite type of tree?

I like Birch trees!

If you could convince one person to like kpop who would you convert?

damn MY MOM cause then she might listen to something other than bruno mars once in a while

What are three things you are normally associated with and/or what are three things you want to be associated with?

art, sleeping, reading and um idk?? tbh??? like maybe not being shitty and being funny??? idk??? like I don't know????

If you were in a kpop group what position would you hold (ie. leader, main vocal, moodmaker, etc) feel free to tag your mutuals and who they would be!

um hm im a moody binch bonch so probably moodmaker?? mir is main dancer cause yes duh ivy is leader cause she's the only sane one kennedy I feel would be a great rapper like she got that chic thing going she could do it I feel??? and cloud would be our talent tbh??? nom would be the maknae cause she's small I feel! Jeddy would be my happy virus bud cause she's a fun and funny gal ( I love) Jamie ALSO ONE OF OUR TALENTS wow yes I feel a main vocal here she’d go solo and be singing ballads left and right! JESS WOULD BE THE SWEET MOTHER MEMBER THAT EVERYONE LOVES AND IS JUST THE SOFTEST,,,A SUNSHINE GAL.

If you could have any wild animal as a tame pet what would it be?? (i’m ocelot loyal all the way)

damn idk I'm like horrible at taking care of things (including myself) so like honest id just stick to the kit kats

What is your opinion on mint chocolate chip ice cream? (for maj)

The best ice cream (tho I can't eat it anymore and its very cursed)

Nom’s Questions!

how are you? :D

I’m good Nom thanks for asking!

sad ballads or happy upbeat songs?

Im a ballad ho these days they are honestly all I listen to anymore, but I do love me an good upbeat song I'm just slightly more picky about them!

fave anime movie?

ok tie between Whisper of the Heart and Howl’s Movie Castle, I honestly need to see more that arent Ghibli!

dogs or cats?

Cats! (my dog is practically a cat tbh)

do you keep stuffed animals in your room?

I have one! its a portal companion cube! its not technically an animal BUT I LOVE IT ANYWAY ITS ALL IVE GOT!!!! also if you count tsum tsums I've got a few big hero 6 ones!

someone you miss?

My dad, its been especially hard lately.

describe your phone case?

its like rainbow watercolor! I have a pop socket that matches

favorite lore/myths?

Not technically myth or lore but Beowolf! I've seen the movie at least 40 times and I've read the epic! generally I find northern european mythology/literature to be more interesting than southern. but if we’re going for like ubran myths tbh not really my thing ahahaha.

eardbuds or headphones?

both for different things! but when I first listen to an album I like to listen with my headphones!

can I steal your heart?

you already have ~~~~~~~

favorite thing about your ult bias?

His sensitivity and kind heart! I love a sweet boy! Also I'm really here for Boo’s cheeks!

Jamie’s Questions!

If you could only listen to one song for the rest of your life what would it be and why?

ohhh there are a few songs that I really really love, Heize’s Star is a song that I listen to daily and I feel like I could listen to it for the rest of my life! also September by The Shins! Miracle Aligner by The Last Shadow Puppets also. Idk man I just really love songs with a mystical quality to them.

If you were in a kpop group what would your group be called and what would your fandom name be?

BINCH AND OUR FANDOM NAME WOULD BE BONCHES

If you could acquire mastery over ONE skill instantly, what would you pick and why?

Singing!! its just about the only kind of musical talent I think I’d be any good at! Im a vocalist ho I just want to be like my favessssss

First reaction if you spotted your favorite celebrity on the street?

I would literally hide so fast omg

First reaction if your favorite celebrity followed you on your favorite social media site?

SCREAMING ALL THE LOVE FOR BOO SEUNGKWAN 24/7 and literally only doing art of him and nonstop posting it

Snap your fingers and you get to steal your favorite outfit off of a kpop idol. What outfit do you pick, off of whom, and why?

OK literally all of Soonyoungs airport looks cause damn that boy does not get enough credit for his fashion (he's the best dressed in the group fite me)

If you were to get a painless tattoo that you could remove with the press of a button, what would you get and where would you get it?

umm probably something really pretty? and colorful? I'm not sure what put I like  arm tattoos!

What is your most prized possession?

probably my laptop?? also my collection of sketchbooks!

What’s a YouTube/online challenge that you have always wanted to try?

Im always interested to try those youtube art challenges, I've done the three marker challenge before and the draw this again challenge also!

You get a guarantee that your favorite celebrity will see your social media post but you only get 100 characters. What do you say to them?

I would literally just send my art to them! I feel like it says more than 100 characters can!

You wake up in your dream room. What does it look like?

LITERALLY A LIBRARY AND LIKE NICE AND DARK AND WARM BUT NOT TOO WARM LOTS OF BLANKETS

Kennedy’s Questions!

Make a 10-song playlist for your current mood.

it is here

What vine do you quote the most?

what is that?? who you fighting?

What do you value most in a friend?

I like people who are good listeners! but also people can keep a conversation going! But really tho just genuine kindness and openness.

If you could learn any kpop choreography instantly, what would you learn?

DAMN THIS IS HARD, so many great ones that I love a lot but probably Red Flavor?

If you go to your Tumblr activity page, who does it say is your “number one fan?”

damn Idk them so I'm not gonna like tag them or something lol

What is your ideal clothing style?

I like simple dark clothing that is comfortable.

What is your favorite Snapchat filter?

I really like the ugly ones tbh I don't use them enough

What subject would you like to study, but wouldn’t necessarily want to make a career out of? (for example: I really want to learn about botany!)

psychology, I really love learning about how people work.

Would you rather be constantly half an hour early to everything, or constantly 15 minutes late?

early of course, I hate being late

Would you rather have a single day to spend with your top bias or a week to spend with your number 2 bias?

damn neither??? ahahah no a day with boo would be very blessed!

If you could bring back any disbanded OR inactive group, who would you bring back?

F(X) BINCH I NEED MORE MUSIC

My Questions!

if you had to chose one kpop stage outfit to wear for the rest of your life which would you choose?

favorite music video aesthetic?

Group you are most excited for in 2018?

Recommend me some underrated kpop songs/groups?

If you could join any group other than your bias group who would you join and why?

Favorite soloist? and some song recs?

Childhood Story? (thanks Cloud)

Were you in any fandoms before you got into kpop, if so what were they?

Favorite Comeback/debut of 2017?

astrological sign? Myers Briggs type? Hogwarts House (I'm a Gemini, infp, and Gryffindor)

Random question but what are your favorite names?

Tagging : @s-lay-ing @sambashua @achuu-nice @indiepoptime @yongpal-i (y'all can do mine if you feel like it!) @forgetjunnot @babybyuny @kae-popx @kiheehyunie @jeonwoooo @trbldean130 @howcaniwait @joshhjs @maetaamong and if you’ve already done this you don't have to do it again ahahahaha I feel like everyone has done it already lol

ok thats it do it if you want!

[because-its-important]

what’s the most annoying question to ask a nun* in 1967?

tl;dr - In 1967, a very long survey was administered to nearly 140,000 American women in Catholic ministry. I wrote this script, which makes the survey data work-ready and satisfies a very silly initial inquiry: Which survey question did the sisters find most annoying?

* The study participants are never referred to as nuns, so I kind of suspect that not all sisters are nuns, but I couldn't find a definitive answer about this during a brief search. 'Nun' seemed like an efficient shorthand for purposes of an already long title, but if this is wrong please holler at me!

During my first week at Recurse I made a quick game using a new language and a new toolset. Making a game on my own had been a long-running item on my list of arbitrary-but-personally-meaningful goals, so being able to cross it off felt pretty good! 

Another such goal I’ve had for a while goes something like this: “Develop the skills to be able to find a compelling data set, ask some questions, and share the results.” As such, I spent last week familiarizing myself with Python 🐍, selecting a fun dataset, prepping it for analysis, and indulging my curiosity.

the process

On recommendation from Robert Schuessler, another Recurser in my batch, I read through the first ten chapters in Python Crash Course and did the data analysis project. This section takes you through comparing time series data using weather reports for two different locations, then through plotting country populations on a world map.

During data analysis study group, Robert suggested that we find a few datasets and write scripts to get them ready to work with as a sample starter-pack for the group. Jeremy Singer-Vines’ collection of esoteric datasets, Data Is Plural, came to mind immediately. I was super excited to finally have an excuse to pour through it and eagerly set about picking a real mixed bag of 6 different data sets.

One of those datasets was The Sister Survey, a huge, one-of-its-kind collection of data on the opinions of American Catholic sisters about religious life. When I read the first question, I was hooked. 

“It seems to me that all our concepts of God and His activity are to some degree historically and culturally conditioned, and therefore we must always be open to new ways of approaching Him.” 

I decided I wanted to start with this survey and spend enough time with it to answer at least one easy question. A quick skim of the Questions and Responses file showed that of the multiple choice answer options, a recurring one was: “The statement is so annoying to me that I cannot answer.” 

I thought this was a pretty funny option, especially given that participants were already tolerant enough to take such an enormous survey! How many questions can one answer before any question is too annoying to answer? 🤔 I decided it’d be fairly simple to find the most annoying question, so I started there. 

I discovered pretty quickly that while the survey responses are in a large yet blessedly simple csv, the file with the question and answers key is just a big ole plain text. My solution was to regex through every line in the txt file and build out a survey_key dict that holds the question text and another dict of the set of possible answers for each question. This works pretty well, though I’ve spotted at least one instance where the txt file is inconsistently formatted and therefore breaks answer retrieval.

Next, I ran over each question in the survey, counted how many responses include the phrase “so annoying” and selected the question with the highest count of matching responses.

the most annoying question

Turns out it’s this one! The survey asks participants to indicate whether they agree or disagree with the following statement:

“Christian virginity goes all the way along a road on which marriage stops half way.”

3702 sisters (3%) responded that they found the statement too annoying to answer. The most popular answer was No at 56% of respondents. 

I’m not really sure how to interpret this question! So far I have two running theories about the responses:

The survey participants were also confused and boy, being confused is annoying!

The sisters generally weren’t down for claiming superiority over other women on the basis of their marital-sexual status.

Both of these interpretations align suspiciously well with my own opinions on the matter, though, so, ymmv.

9x speed improvement in one lil refactor

The first time I ran a working version of the full script it took around 27 minutes. 

I didn’t (still don’t) have the experience to know if this is fast or slow for the size of the dataset, but I did figure that it was worth making at least one attempt to speed up. Half an hour is a long time to wait for a punchline!

As you can see in this commit, I originally had a function called unify that rewrote the answers in the survey from the floats which they'd initially been stored as, to plain text returned from the survey_key. I figured that it made sense to build a dataframe with the complete info, then perform my queries against that dataframe alone. 

However, the script was spending over 80% of its time in this function, which I knew from aggressively outputting the script’s progress and timing it. I also knew that I didn’t strictly need to be doing any answer rewriting at all. So, I spent a little while refactoring find_the_most_annoying_question to use a new function, get_answer_text, which returns the descriptive answer text when passed the answer key and its question. This shaved 9 lines (roughly 12%) off my entire script.

Upon running the script post-refactor, I knew right away that this approach was much, much faster - but I still wasn’t prepared when it finished after only 3 minutes! And since I knew between one and two of those minutes were spent downloading the initial csv alone, that meant I’d effectively neutralized the most egregious time hog in the script. 👍

I still don’t know exactly why this is so much more efficient. The best explanation I have right now is “welp, writing data must be much more expensive than comparing it!” Perhaps this Nand2Tetris course I’ll be starting this week will help me better articulate these sorts of things.

flourishes 💚💛💜

Working on a script that takes forever to run foments at least two desires:

to know what the script is doing Right Now

to spruce the place up a bit

I added an otherwise unnecessary index while running over all the questions in the survey so that I could use it to cycle through a small set of characters. Last week I wrote in my mini-RC blog, "Find out wtf modulo is good for." Well, well, well.

Here’s what my script looks like when it’s iterating over each question in the survey:

I justified my vanity with the (true!) fact that it is easier to work in a friendly-feeling environment.

Plus, this was good excuse to play with constructing emojis dynamically. I thought I’d find a rainbow of hearts with sequential unicode ids, but it turns out that ❤️ 💙 and 🖤 all have very different values. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

the data set

One of the central joys of working with this dataset has been having cause to learn some history that I’d otherwise never be exposed to. Here’s a rundown of some interesting things I learned:

This dataset was only made accessible in October this year. The effort to digitize and publicly release The Sister Survey was spearheaded by Helen Hockx-Yu, Notre Dame’s Program Manager for Digital Product Access and Dissemination, and Charles Lamb, a senior archivist at Notre Dame. After attending one of her forums on digital preservation, Lamb approached Hockx-Yu with a dataset he thought “would generate enormous scholarly interest but was not publicly accessible.”

Previously, the data had been stored on “21 magnetic tapes dating from 1966 to 1990” (Ibid) and an enormous amount of work went into making it usable. This included both transferring the raw data from the tapes, but also deciphering it once it’d been translated into a digital form.

The timing of the original survey in 1967 was not arbitrary: it was a response to the Second Vatican Council (Vatican II). Vatican II was a Big Deal! Half a century later, it remains the most recent Catholic council of its magnitude. For example, before Vatican II, mass was delivered in Latin by a priest who faced away from his congregation and Catholics were forbidden from attending Protestant services or reading from a Protestant Bible. Vatican II decreed that mass should be more participatory and conducted in the vernacular, that women should be allowed into roles as “readers, lectors, and Eucharistic ministers,” and that the Jewish people should be considered as “brothers and sisters under the same God” (Ibid).

The survey’s author, Marie Augusta Neal, SND, dedicated her life of scholarship towards studying the “sources of values and attitudes towards change” (Ibid)  among religious figures. A primary criticism of the survey was that Neal’s questions were leading, and in particular, leading respondents towards greater political activation. ✊

As someone with next to zero conception of religious history, working with this dataset was a way to expand my knowledge in a few directons all at once. Pretty pumped to keep developing my working-with-data skills.

[crazyartdad]

A New Home

“Let's hear the story from your side now” The counselor asked Stuart with a cautious look taking note of the distant body language as Stuart clung close to the other side of the couch.

“We pretty much heard it a thousand times…” he speaks in a shallow voice.

“I'm trying to fix this, if you just bloody participated-”

“Mr. Niccals if you'd like this to work I suggest you wait, calmly, till your husband is willing to share his feelings”

“He pretty much shared em when he sliced my fuckin arm!” he spat while showing the scaring mark across his arm, disfiguring his tattoo across the middle. “Mr. Niccals..” The counselor warns causing Murdoc to relieve a heavy sigh, sinking into the couch.

It's been a steady hour of their session and it felt to all of them once again that, nothing's going nowhere, As the counselor adjusted her glasses she sets her notepad down to look at Stuart, folding her hands gently in her lap.

“What did you do that day, what happened beforehand?”

Stuart eyes her with a glaze of grief and anger in his now void like eyes, debating whether or not to answer her. He could, not say anything. He could just settle in a silent car ride home to fall in the new trend of hiding from everyone. Wait until after dinner to fall asleep on the couch.

“Stuart?”

“... I got up that Morning to go to a doctor's appointment” he said, breaking his oath of silence. “Was this the Doctor for your eyes?” “Yea..” he says thinking back to the doctor inspecting his eyes that day, prescribing him new meds and answering various sorts of questions till it made his head spin. “And how are your eyes doing? Are you dealing well after the accident?” “Well...two 8 ball fractures ain't nofink but it's alright…” he mumbled twitching his fingers.

Murdoc watched the pair talk one on one, finally relieved to hear something out of the other.

“Noodle was at school, she had about another hour before I had ta pick her up n Murdoc didnt answer me about lunch..so I figured I he’d back home for a bit of practice.” “You're a pianist correct?” “Yeah I used to play competitively, now I just play..for fun and stuff” “They said you called the cops?, did things get physical?” she asks “Did shit get physical, what the fuck do you think?” Murdoc asks under his breath in spite. “I heard noises, I thought I was bein robbed, so I called them when I first got home, went upstairs n..” he doesn't think he’ll ever forget the scene, no matter how much he tried to drink to forget the imagine of that chick riding him in their bed, it still haunts him at night, it's even gone as far to keep him up for days as the bags under his eyes made it apparent he hasn't slept. “My friends always told me you were gonna cheat, I just figured you loved me enough, did-I what did I do?, Am I just that ugly now? Are my eyes that freakish that you can't even stomach the thought of me? What the hell did I do?” Stuart asks through sobs.

Murdoc jolts upright at the sound and places a hand on Stuart's arm to comfort him, only to have it smacked away, facing the mean red streaks running down his face. The Bluenette cowers away even more so, wiping his face with the sleeve of his coat. The counselor offers a tissue as she turns to Niccals.

“Would you like to add anything Mr Niccals?” she says in a soft voice. “ Your not ugly, it's a change but it's nothing bad Stu...I-” “Can we call it?, we gotta pick up Noodle” Stuart spits interrupting Murdoc. “ May he finished speaking?” “ No its ok, lets...lets just call it..

Ten minutes ticked by before they officially were able to leave, having to agree to try any exercises she might have given them as homework that would likely be left untouched till the next session. The walk out of the building with silent, same as the walk through the parking lot as well as the drive. Stuart spent the majority of the time with his head down or fixated out the window till Murdoc spoke up, thrusting Stu out of his day dream.

“Stuart…..I love you, but..”

“...”

“If you want a divorce, i'll do it. I don't want too but if it'll make you happy…” He looks to his husband with eyes trying to hide his worry, his voice failing him.

“Is...that what you want?”

“....no” Stuart says finally breaking the fear rising in Murdoc's chest.

“I just..I want to know why”

“...I dont know”

“You dont know? Mudz this why I cant , You have to give me more then that” Stuart says jolting his gaze to him with his void like eyes, eyebrows knitting in worry

“Id fucking tell you if I could!”

“ You would think, womanizing a fucking student, youd have some knowledge to what you were doing” Mumbling the sentence under his breath Murdoc grabs his hand firmly to catch his attention once more.

“Stuart, we've been married for how long. I don't tell anybody shit cept you, you know about my dad, my jail time, my drinking, and what did you say to me.”

“..No”

“Stuart”

“Don't pull this shit on me..” he shot back yanking away his hand only to have them both grabbed again persistently.

“What did you say in your vow?” his voice low, littered with anxiety

“.....I don't care..”

“And what did I say?”

“......”

“I'll be there for you and no one else” He says finishing the sentence, each word hitting deeper into the other's brain.

Silence

It seemed to be the only normal thing anymore, as they sat in their car ignoring the ongoing noise of busybodies outside the vehicle. A single fat teardrop splattered on their hands as Stuart began to, once more, be wracked with sobs. This seemed to be the only thing normal, that is until he allowed Murdoc to hold him for the first time in months.

“ We just need a new start”

[tariqk]

falling out of love with Iain Banks’ the Culture

So, like, I had this thought yesterday about Iain Banks' Culture books, that kind of drove the nail through my love of the series. It's been a long while coming, to be honest — I was in love with the idea of the Culture, but there was always parts of the books that I was leery of — but yesterday's epiphany, especially with regards to the thinking I've done about transhumanist ideas, just sealed the deal for me.

NB: I've only read, so far, Consider Phlebas, The Player of Games, Use of Weapons and Excession. So that is, from what I can see, Banks' earlier work on the Culture. I don't know if he's changed after that, but guessing from the discussion that's happening, and what's been said... probably not.

If you want to know more about the series, here. I'm putting the rest behind the cut, because it honestly is heavy shit that deals with genocide, murder, rape or consent violation, and heavy shit like that. If I've missed anything send me an ask and I'll add more warnings. Also, spoilers ahoy.

So. First, the revelation: In Excession, there is a ship, that's well-known for violating the taboo that the Culture's most powerful beings (the Minds, transcendental intelligences way above the human range) have with regards to not meddling with the minds of its citizens. It's name is the GCU1 Gray Area, but everyone calls it — admittedly, behind it's back, because GCUs are pretty fucking capable: Culture ships are able to lay waste on planets and star systems with not trouble — Meatfucker. This is supposed to convey the contempt Grey Area is held by its peers, because it's a highly-charged insult.

My revelation was this: If the Culture prizes the liberty of its individuals, why is Grey Area called Meatfucker and not something worse?

Let's be real, here: it spends the beginning of Excession in orbit around a planet, delving into the minds of its biological inhabitants, extracting and copying memories, constructing a history of what happened there, and, after identifying at least one person, subjecting at least that one person to horrific mental torture until they literally die of terror.

That these people, and the people of this world, were perpetrators of a (very successful) genocide might be seen as justification for Grey Area's actions... maybe? But that doesn't excuse Grey Area's actions, it merely explains it. But why is Grey Area called Meatfucker when their proper name ought to be Rapist? Because that's what they are.

Like, if you have mind-altering and mind-reading tech, and you don't hesitate to use it, my concern isn't that you're “consorting with lower beings”, or substrates, it's that you're violating someone's consent. For a society that's pretty big on liberty, and is an anarchist society par excellance, the fact that one mind can subject its “lessers” to mental violation and escape merely with censure is... pretty telling.

Actually, the pathological meat-hate that exists among Minds in the book is very telling. Meat is, as seen by the first scene in Excession with a Zetetic Elench2 drone3, slow, inefficient, and a waste of space. Minds and drones treat humans with a sort of benevolent condescension, except when the mask of benevolence comes off and violence is threatened.

It's rare that it happens, but when it does, drones and Minds that do so are rarely if ever brought to task or made to make amends — in The Player of Games, Jernau Morat Gurgeh, a Culture-born human, finds himself blackmailed and threatened by Mawhrin-Skel, themselves a decomissioned Special Circumstances drone, into a traumatic, year-long campaign against a society so breathtakingly violent and brutal that by the end of it, it's pretty clear that Gurgeh himself is traumatized.

We only later find out — Gurgeh never does, not even to his dying day — that he was manipulated into events by Special Circumstances, thanks to Flere-Imsaho, ostensibly another drone, but in truth Mawhrin-Skel. Such is the respect that drones and Minds of the Culture towards their “lessers” that they don't even try to hide signs of their subterfuge.

In some ways, I don't think Banks — and by the extension, the Culture — actually get what liberty and consent mean. Like, the empire that Gurgeh goes against — the Empire of Azad, named after the game that Gurgeh later uses to dismantle the entire empire by defeating their emperor with it — is horrifyingly brutal, with all but a small group of elites basically oppressing, suppressing, torturing and murdering everyone else, with the Culture essentially making value judgements to the Azad and ultimately finding them wanting.

Yet, at the same time, this is the same Culture that interferes with the Empire, causing enough death and destruction along the way, while traumatizing and manipulating one of its own citizens for reasons that aren't entirely clear (couldn't one of the Minds have played the same role, or put themselves at the same level of risk? Apparently not). We're made to understand that, what was wrong with the Azad was their tendency to dominate, forgetting that domination, at least in controlled environments, like in, for example, play, is expected and often encouraged, so long as the participants are consenting.

That the Azadi do not engage in consent among its participants is understandable — they are a society of biological beings, limited in power and understanding, based on Banks' logic. Yet the Cultre does not either, and thus cannot escape judgement. Not that they are omnipotent or omniscient, though — they aren't. But they don't even appear to bother to try. Consent is manufactured or manipulated in, and characters like Gurgeh often appear to consent... yet by how much? Information is withheld, or in Gurgeh's case, is finally shown to him in all it's glory, in a way, again, to traumatize him, to manipulate him to the Culture's final goal. It's telling that by this point, Gurgeh doesn't say — but of course he cannot, he is completely dependent on his survival by Flere-Imsaho — how does the Culture's actions differ from the Empire, in other ways other than in degree?

In some ways, this makes the actions of other characters facing the Culture, either as opponents (Bora Horza Gorbuchul in Consider Phlebias) or as collaborators (Cheradenine Zakalwe, in Use of Weapons) more understandable. Horza constantly rails against the Culture's Minds, who are seen as stifling the agency of the beings under them, and aligns himself with the Idirans, who eschew creating sapient minds and are ultimately doomed (the Idirans are themselves finally defeated when the Culture “awakens” — you'll note a common thread here — the Idiran's planetary network, who then coerces the Idirans to surrender and eventually subsume into the Culture). Zakalwe is often used as a pawn, put in danger — even (quite literally) losing his head in one case — kept in the dark, yet even he had a final revelation that was too horrifying for the Culture to stomach — and one that finally leads to “Zakalwe”'s abandonment by the Culture.

All of this, kind of, outlines my dissatisfaction with the entire business of Banks' work. As complex narratives with cool science-fictiony bits jammed in, the Culture, as many science fictional works, delivers. It really does. But outside of that, in the axioms that form the ethical and moral dimensions that the works operate in, Banks' work is, to be honest, mediocre. And I'm kind of done with it.

General Contact Unit, a specific kind of Culture ship (a list of ship types are provided here). ↩︎

a Culture spin-off, that consists of members of the Culture that disagreed with the Culture and spun off their own society ↩︎

another Culture name for independent, autonomous robots with intelligence comparable to human minds ↩︎

[avanneman]

Regarding Michael Brendan Dougherty, who can, on occasion, strongly resemble a three-armed gorilla

What can you say about a man who can both beat his own chest and pat himself on the back at the same time? Michael Brendan Dougherty, or Mickey B, as I sometimes call him, manages this display of anthropoid dexterity in a recent column warning us never-Trumpers that “We’re Becoming Like Him”, taking the old “stare into the abyss” shtick for another walk around the block.

Michael thoughtfully reminds us of how prescient he was one year ago: “I feared that American society at large, and the political class that felt insulted by his election, would begin to find their inner Donald. Maybe even a worse one than the one we have.” As an example of “our” descent into the abyss, he remarks on the following:

“We’ve begun playing fast and loose with conspiracy theories, the way Trump has in the past. When BuzzFeed published the infamous Steele dossier — the document that made many allegations against Trump, including that he hired hookers to urinate on a bed he believed Obama had slept in — it did so with great chest-beating1 about its “ferocious reporting.” This brag came right alongside an admission they “have been investigating various alleged facts in the dossier but have not verified or falsified them.” In fact some of the claims turned out to be easy to falsify, a fact that should have colored any release.”

First of all, what does saying that “some of the claims turned out to be easy to falsify” mean? Does Mike mean “easy to make up” or “easy to disprove”? If the former, so what? Lots of things that are “easy to make up” are still true. If the latter (or the former), why doesn’t Mike deign to give us a few examples, or even a link?2

Secondly, what about the most salacious claim, Trump’s supposed interest in observing, though not participating in, a golden shower? Here’s the Donald on his Studio 54 days:

“I would watch supermodels getting screwed, well-known supermodels getting screwed, on a bench in the middle of the room.

“There were seven of them and each one was getting screwed by a different guy.”

This is a guy who likes to watch.3

Yes, some of the mainstream press has been a bit overeager to bring down the tyrant, but what has the mainstream media done to Trump that can compare with what the right-wing media did to both Bill Clinton and Barack Obama for the entirety of both men’s administrations? Perhaps Dougherty is too young to remember the unending outpouring of filth that burst from the right practically from the day the Clintons set foot in the White House, but I remember it well—endless allegations of drug dealing and murder, a prime example being the 1994 video The Clinton Chronicles, promoted by Jesus huggin’ Jerry Falwell to expose a long list of Clinton “crimes”, lies endlessly repeated by everyone from Rush Limbaugh to Ann Coulter. “Just putting it out there, folks.”

More recently, the right ran furiously with another Clinton “murder”, the death of National Democratic Committee staffer Seth Rich, which was hyped with particular fury by Fox windbag Sean Hannity. Can anyone imagine that a “Clinton dossier” or an “Obama dossier” would not be immediately leaked by such leading authorities in smut like the Drudge Report?

On a smaller scale, recall, if you can, the earnest indignation that poured from the high-brow right—Wall Street Journal, the Weekly Standard, and Dougherty’s own National Review—over both Clinton’s and Obama’s wasted hours on the links.4 If these publications wrote as much about Trump’s addiction, they wouldn’t have space for anything else.

Dougherty's piece is yet another in the unending annals of "evenhandedness"—“neither side is perfect”. To say that the Democratic Party is imperfect is to say that the sea is wet. Ninety-five percent of Democratic “policy” is spending more money on everything. But the Democrats have confidence in their ideas—strong welfare state, aggressive environmental policy, international cooperation—and confidence that a majority of the American people support these ideas. Republicans have no such confidence.

Republicans believe that they must cheat to win. They have believed this ever since the election of Bill Clinton. Newt Gingrich was the first apostle of “the worse the better, ruin, then rule” mythos. The Tea Party was simply Newt writ large, and Donald Trump is the Tea Party’s apotheosis, a leader chosen for his explicit lack of scruple, a man who proudly tells that he is not a man but rather an animal. Two legs bad, four legs good! I know it gets boring writing about how terrible Trump is, but he’s the goddamn elephant in the goddamn room, and pretending he isn’t is the biggest lie of all.

Afterwords Since I’m, well, pissing on Mike, honor compels me to remark that he wrote a pretty good column, “Was It For This?”, pointing out that Trump had delivered on precisely none of his “populist” objectives, though I hasten to add that most of his populist objectives stink. Bu in yet another column, on the Hawaiian missile scare, (he does knock them out, doesn’t he?), Mike goes off on another unattractive tangent, moaning about the so-called “holiday from history” of the Clinton era and claiming that, thanks to North Korea, we’re living under the gun just as much as we were back in the fifties.

Except that we’re not. I guess it’s rude to point out that the Clinton administration had worked out a “no nukes” agreement with North Korea that was deliberately sabotaged by the Republican Congress and explicitly repudiated by the Bush Administration, resulting in the resumption of the North Korean program, a boon, really, to the right, which wants to “prove” that international agreements never work and that only overwhelming military superiority can provide security, even though, as it seems, our military superiority can never be overwhelming enough. And so we are oblige to be terrified (or, more likely, pretend to be terrified) of “insane” leaders who might attack us at any time, when in fact they only wish to ensure that we never attack them. And so, supposedly in the interests of peace, we continually threaten them with “regime change”—because, as we all know, people will do anything you want as long as you just threaten them enough.

Yes, I lifted Mike’s metaphor and beat him over the head with it. Welcome to DC! ↩︎

The Washington Post—yes, that Washington Post—has a “dispassionate” take here that only identifies one major “disproved” (probably)—the claim that Michael Cohen, Trump’s special counsel, was in Prague in August 2016 for a meeting with Russian officials. This is the same Michael Cohen who pseudonymously transferred $130,000 to another pseudonymous lawyer, representing the obviously pseudonymous "Stormy Daniels" weeks before the 2016 election, said payment most definitely not made in return for Ms. Daniels' silence regarding an affair with Donald Trump, which, Mr. Cohen assures us, most definitely did not happen. So I'm sure there was no hanky panky regarding the Prague thing, which most certainly did not happen as well. ↩︎

Although Studio 54 was, notoriously, cocaine central during the eighties, Trump did not sniff. ↩︎

The Standard reported anonymous allegations that Big Bill took an occasional mulligan on the course (aka a do over) in tones of pure horror. A president who takes mulligans? Will our long national nightmare never end? In his deeply admiring biography of Dwight Eisenhower, Stephen Ambrose reported that as president, Eisenhower would demand “gimmies” on two and three foot putts, while insisting that his opponents sink two inchers. And if the Standard ever reported on Trump’s habit of driving his cart across a green, I never saw it. ↩︎

[oldguardaudio]

Rush Limbaugh points out some FAKE NEWS from the Washington Post: Immigrants Go Hungry So Trump Won’t Deport Them

Rush USA Flag at HoaxAndChange.com

rush obama shadow government against trump at HoaxAndChange.com

rush-limbaugh @ Old Guard Audio

Mar 16, 2017

  RUSH: You want another example of journalism as it exists today? Stand by for this. Greetings. Welcome back. El Rushbo on the EIB Network and the distinguished and prestigious Limbaugh Institute for Anti-Left Studies — Advanced Anti-Left Studies. (laughing) The telephone… (laughing) The telephone number is 800-282-2882 if you want to be on the program. The email address, ElRushbo@eibnet.us. The Washington Post has a very, very long story today. It is chock-full of charts. It has big charts, little charts, graphs. It’s got all of the visual aides.

The headline: “Immigrants Are Now Canceling Their Food Stamps for Fear that Trump Will Deport Them.” Now, wait. (laughing) Nobody even questions why illegals should get food stamps in the first place. The assumption here is that it’s entirely reasonable, it’s understandable — and, of course, it’s natural — that illegals would get food stamps. Otherwise, why would there be any outrage over immigrants canceling their food stamps? So that’s the first thing. The assumption is that, “Hey, you want to get on welfare?

Come on in! That’s what we’re here for. You want food stamps? Get across the border and voila! Your dreams have come true. But wait. This gets even better. I mean, this is chump change compared to what’s coming. It’s a long story — page after page after page, chart after chart after chart, graph after graph after graph — and then there’s this quote: “The evidence is still anecdotal — and The Washington Post was unable to speak directly with immigrants who chose to cancel their [food stamp] benefits.”

There’s no proof! They have no proof it’s happening, yet the headline: “Immigrants Are Now Canceling Their Food Stamps for Fear that Trump Will Deport Them.” They are relying on people at illegal immigration think tanks and places like the centers for immigrant law and places like this, and they’re just telling the reporters (impression), “This Trump! This Trump! This guy, he’s so mean. People are so afraid of this guy. Illegals are canceling their food stamps so there’s no record of them in the country, ’cause they’re afraid Trump’s gonna deport them (stammering) and — and — and — and they’re going hungry.

“They’re starving! People in America are starving ’cause they’re afraid of Trump.” But they have no proof. Quote, “The evidence is still anecdotal — and The Washington Post was unable to speak directly with immigrants who chose to cancel their [food stamp] benefits.” So how does this begin? “Luisa Fortin sometimes sits up at night, wondering what her clients are eating. She is the SNAP Outreach Coordinator for the Chattanooga Food Bank — but lately she has done less outreaching. Her families, working immigrants in northwest Georgia, are spooked by the political climate, Fortin said.

“Increasingly, she’s being asked to explain how food stamps may impact immigration status, if not to outright cancel family food benefits. Since mid-January, five of Fortin’s families have withdrawn from the [food stamp] program. One, the single mother of three citizen daughters, had fled to Georgia to escape an abusive husband.” Of course. There’s always gotta be a rotgut man involved in stories like this. “Another, two green-card holders with four young children, were thinking of taking on third jobs to compensate for the lost [food stamps].

Today’s illegals are Tomorrows Democrat Voters at HoaxAndChange.com

“These families represent a small fraction of Fortin’s caseload — she estimates she has signed 200 immigrant families up for [food stamps] over the past six months,” as though she’s signing athletes to contracts. I’ve sign ’em up! Yep! I’ve signed up 200 immigrant families for food stamps in the last six months. “[B]ut based on the calls she gets from other clients, she fears more cancellations are imminent.” In other words, she’s the source, and people like her are the source. The Washington Post has not yet reached a single immigrant who’s complained about this.

It’s guaranteed to be these wacko, leftist activists creating a panic here where there may not be one. But, again, it’s built on presumption that an illegal immigrant is entitled to American welfare benefits. “‘I get calls from concerned parents all the time: “should I take my kids out of the [food stamp] program?”‘ Fortin said. ‘They’re risking hunger out of fear … and my heart just breaks for them.’” So, “They’re risking hunger out of fear…” They’re deciding it’s safer to not eat and not be on some food stamp registry than it is to eat and get the food stamps because Trump may be looking.

And if Trump spots your name on a food stamp list, Trump’s coming for you under cover… Much like Reagan was said to have walked over to Lafayette Park under cover of darkness and steal cans of pork ‘n’ beans from the homeless there and take them back to the White House and eat them himself. It’s amazing how the stories don’t change, just the players, just the subject matter. “Chattanooga is not an outlier here, either. In the two months since President Trump’s inauguration, food banks and hunger advocates…” Who advocates for hunger?

“Little Johnny, you’re sitting there playing with GI Joe. What do you want to be when you grow up?”

“I want to be an advocate for hunger, Mr. Limbaugh! I want to be an advocate for hunger.”

“That’s very nice, Little Johnny. What does an ‘advocate for hunger’ do?”

“Well, I think it’s somebody that advocates for people, uh, to be hungry.”

“Exactly right. That’s exactly what it sounds like to me, too, Little Johnny. Why would you want to advocate for somebody to be hungry?”

“I don’t know, but it sounds good. It makes it seem like I would care.”

There you go, and Little Johnny’s future is assured. So “food banks and hunger advocates around the country…” Shouldn’t it be anti-hunger advocates? Who is advocating for hunger? And what about the thirsty? You note how they’re always left out. And yet climate change is destroying the clean water supply. I don’t mean to divert myself. Let me continue. This just a little bit more, just to give you a flavor. This is what modern journalism is. They haven’t talked to a single person that’s given up food stamps.

They haven’t interviewed a single person, and they admit it, that all of this is anecdotal. I mean, by definition, it’s not journalism. “Their fear, advocates say, is that participation could draw the eye of Immigration and Customs Enforcement or hurt their chances of attaining citizenship. Without federal nutrition benefits, many are resorting to food pantries and soup kitchens to feed themselves and their children,” and here it comes: “The evidence is still anecdotal — and The Washington Post was unable to speak directly with immigrants who chose to cancel their [food stamp] benefits.”

BREAK TRANSCRIPT

RUSH:  All right.  The Washington Post changed its headline it looks like here.  The headline was “Immigrants Are Now Canceling Food Stamps for Fear that Trump Will Deport Them.”  The headline now is:  “Immigrants Are Going Hungry so Trump Won’t Deport Them.”

Well, I don’t know when they changed it.  Keith from up at the website just sent this to me.  I don’t know the timing of it.  But obviously they changed the headline because they don’t have any evidence that people canceling — they’ve not talked to any of these people who have canceled their food stamps, only these hacktivists. So immigrants are going hungry rather than people canceling food stamps.

Rush Limbaugh points out some FAKE NEWS from the Washington Post: Immigrants Go Hungry So Trump Won’t Deport Them Rush Limbaugh points out some FAKE NEWS from the Washington Post: Immigrants Go Hungry So Trump Won’t Deport Them…

[avanneman]

Yo, Paleoliberals! You can’t go home again! (not really)

David Ignatius reports that Charles Peters, long-time editor of the Washington Monthly and, not incidentally, one-time mentor/editor to David, has the solution to the Democrats’ electoral woes, presented in his new book We Do Our Part.

In writing the book, Charlie gets in line behind paleolibs Thomas “What's the Matter with Kansas?” Frank and Michael “Up From Conservatism” Lind, not to mention Robert Reich and a host of others, about whom I am too lazy to be funny. The gist of all these books is that “we” need to go back to the good old days of Franklin D. Roosevelt, Harry Truman lunch-bucket liberalism when the Democrats stood up for the little guy and won all the elections, instead of all this Chablis-sippin’ bicoastal milquetoast1 bullshit that doesn’t help anyone with less than five mil in his portfolio.

Well, I agree with about 40% of their rap, but since I live two blocks from Dupont Circle and listen to opera, when I’m not watching it, I’m not crazy about their tone. Still, they make some good points. I’ll get to those later, however, since it’s more important to talk about the ways in which we differ.

My basic point is that we can’t go back to the good old days and (point two, actually) we shouldn’t want to. The New Deal liberalism that all these dudes love so much what “Recovering Republican” Chris Ladd has shrewdly labeled “white socialism”. The original Social Security Act did not apply to farm workers (i.e., share croppers and others) or servants, cleverly excluding the majority of the black population. Eligibility for unemployment insurance was governed by state law, ensuring that lazy good for nothings (like, you know, black people) would be kept off the rolls. Employer-provided health insurance, which came in during World War II and was officially recognized as a non-taxable benefit in the early 1950s, was effectively restricted to white-collar (that is to say, white) employees and workers in union shops, found only in the North. Farm subsidies poured cash into the pockets of land owners, who were almost all white as well.

The GI Bill provided extensive benefits to veterans, but blacks were largely left out, for a variety of reasons. Thanks to substandard educational opportunities, and non-existent health care, many blacks could not meet minimum standards for service. In addition, blacks were more than three times as likely as whites to receive a “not honorable” discharge, disqualifying them from any benefits.

Blacks were defenseless against this discrimination both because of their numbers (about 15% of the population) and because most of them lived in the South, where they couldn’t vote. As blacks began to move north their economic and political situation improved, but as Democrats moved to expand “white socialism” to include everyone, the New Deal coalition cracked. Peters, Frank, Lind, et al. simply won’t recognize that the white working class stopped voting reliably Democratic when the Democratic Party leadership made clear its intention to make blacks full participants in the social programs once reserved informally but effectively for whites. The “Tea Party” was very largely born as a reaction to passage of the Affordable Care Act, which effectively turned “white socialism” into “socialism”.

Peters and the rest of the paleolibs gloss over the "white only" aspect of the New Deal reforms because what they remember is not the thirties but the fifties and sixties, when the post-war boom did float all boats, although, even then, white boats rose faster than black ones. The paleolibs believe we can go back to the way we were in a sheer act of will, despite the fact that none of the "objective factors", to sound a bit Marxist, that led to the postwar boom exist today. After WWII, the U.S. had been starved for investment in such basic areas as housing for a good fifteen years. Consumers had spent the war buying savings bonds, and now they were ready to spend. The population was growing rapidly, and so was the education level. Above all else, the United States had the only "advanced" economy in the world--American goods were the best, and the cheapest, that you could buy.

It didn’t matter that the U.S. economy was heavily cartelized. Even though there was little real competition, U.S. goods were the best, and the cheapest in the world. It didn't matter, very much, that they could have been appreciably better, and cheaper. The dominant companies, like U.S. Steel, General Motors, Boeing, etc. could enjoy monopoly profits, and pay monopoly wages to their unionized workers, and still provide their customers with unbeatable "bargains".

Those happy days are gone forever. It's true that the U.S. infrastructure could stand some sprucing up, but there's nothing like the underinvestment that once existed. The population isn't growing the way it did after WWII, and it probably never will. Educational attainment in the U.S. soared through the seventies, but has plateaued ever since. Most of all, of course, we are no longer a unique economy. Other nations have learned all our tricks. We can't change monopoly prices anymore, because we aren't a monopoly.

The paleolibs don't want to hear this. They aren't interested in economics. Their model of the economy is the "Walter Reuther" model. Reuther was the long-time head of the United Auto Workers. His model was simple: the bosses have an infinite amount of money. No matter how high wages and benefits go, they can always go higher.

According to Ignatius (remember him?), Charlie Peters (remember him?) praises, then faults, Bill Clinton for talking the talk in his 1992 campaign, but then not walking the walk once elected. That’s because in 1992 Bill Clinton ran more or less on a platform of white socialism, promising to “fight for the people who work hard and play by the rules” (that is to say, not lazy blacks), to “end welfare as we know it in two years” (time to go to work, lazy black people!), along with a middle-class tax cut (so the government will stop giving your money to lazy black people).

I agree with Peters’ complaint that Clinton effectively “went Hollywood” when virtually his first act after taking office was to attempt to integrate homosexuals into the military.2 But, as everyone knows, the real catastrophe was the health care bill. Yes, Hillary’s incompetence was a dead weight, but the real killer was the simple fact that a great many working-class whites don’t think health care should be a right. It should, somehow, be “earned”. And they don’t want their “earned” benefits reduced or taxed to pay for the benefits of lazy black people.

The paleolibs simply can’t accept the fact that many working class whites are racist (racist and now xenophobic). They continually moan that white voters are being “tricked” by Republicans when they aren’t being offended by the politically correct shenanigans of the left. Well, there’s something to the latter, but working class whites aren’t being tricked when they vote for Republicans who talk about how much they hate big government. They know that “big government” is code for welfare and foreign aid, not for “white socialism”. Ronald Reagan, who never got tired of telling that hilarious “joke” “The scariest sentence in the English language is ‘I’m from the government and I’m here to help you’” is the same Ronald Reagan who “saved” both Social Security and Medicare (programs that he loathed) and also boasted in 1986 that his administration had given more money to farmers than all previous administrations combined!3

The paleolibs don’t know why the Democrats keep losing and they don’t know how the Democrats can start winning. Where do we agree? We agree that economic inequality in the U.S. is growing, that this is a bad thing, and that “markets”, of which I am much fonder than they, can’t solve the problem all by themselves. So what can be done, and, more to the point, what should be done?

First of all, markets can help. Specifically, liberals in enclaves like New York, San Francisco, Washington DC, et al. should lower the drawbridges and drain the moats. Forget about “smart growth” and go in for “real growth”. Get rid of rent control, height restrictions, and all (or most) of the restrictions that discourage new housing construction. Just let it happen, without planning!

Yes, you read that right. Stop being like the Old Man of Sung, who used to pull on his rice plants to make them grow faster, and just let construction happen. The cost of living will drop, and employment and wages will rise. Yes, your condo/exquisite townhouse will lose value, and you may even lose your view as well (I have a view and I would hate to lose it, but, yes, I would make the sacrifice). The heart-felt cry “That’s why I moved here in the first place!” (so don’t change anything) is not the clincher that most people take it to be. According to a paper by Chang-Tai Hsieh and Enrico Moretti, reducing geezer-friendly restrictions on housing in New York, San Francisco, and San Jose alone would boost the U.S. Gross Domestic Product by 9.5%.

Beyond that (and a few other things), we should address economic inequality directly through the earned income tax credit, discussed by Cass Sunstein here. The EITC could be greatly expanded and, as Cass explains, simplified as well. Unlike food stamps and other economic distribution programs, the EITC is both invisible and portable.

Sadly, to go back to my less than modest proposal for relatively unrestricted housing development in prosperous urban areas, I think it’s very unlikely that anal-retentive condo-canyon liberals will wise up to the fact “letting go” is not seldom the truest wisdom when it comes to economic development. Their hatred of the profit motive constantly leads them to cut off their nose to spite their face. But at least my dream would work. Which is more than I can say for the paleolibs.

“Milquetoast” as an epithet was fading even when I was a kid. “Casper Milquetoast” was a once very famous newspaper cartoon, drawn by H. T. Webster. Mr. Milquetoast, as you have no doubt gathered, was a fastidious sissy. The strip ended in 1953, and Word can still spell his name. Impressive! ↩︎

Actually, I don’t think Clinton “effectively” went Hollywood. I think he literally went Hollywood. I think he tried to bring homosexuals into the military because Barbra Streisand asked him to. ↩︎

Ronnie learned that price supports are sacred the hard way. In the 1976 Iowa Caucus he was holding forth on the merits of the free market when the assembled farmers asked his position on “parity” (i.e., price supports). “You don’t understand,” Reagan told them. “I want to give you the benefits of the free market.” “We don’t give a damn about the free market!” the farmers told him. “Where do you stand on parity?” “Well, I don’t know what ‘parity’ means,” lied Ronald Reagan the coward. ↩︎