#we as a country are free falling backwards we as a planet are literally…

[lyanro]

I don’t want to live in this world lolllllll

[downtonabbeyrevisited]

Season Two Episode Two

Following a typically chaotic opener, Episode Two of Season Two strikes a far more sombre tone. The arrival of Henry Lang as Robert’s valet brings the first of this episode’s three plot points that address the impact of WW1 on the mental health of its soldiers. There is nothing funny to say about either shell-shock or suicidal ideation both of which are vast, complex issues that, for my money, Downton Abbey isn’t the vehicle explore in (because they require more time and depth than the pace of the plot in Season Two affords) and it certainly isn’t my place to make light of them in this rather irreverent corner of the internet. So I’m going to have a go at treading a fine line here. Forgive me if I stumble. 

Lang is clearly in the grips of something awful and yet in an attempt to avoid the indignity of having maids in the dining room, he is bumped up to footman duty. He struggles throughout, culminating in him depositing his cargo on Edith’s dress. Mrs O’Brein has firmly taken Lang under her wing, recognising that he is struggling and offers him assurance and comfort that she has never gifted to Thomas. 

Across the Village, Lieutenant Edward Courtenay is in the hospital having been blinded by gas. The use of gas (both chlorine and mustard) had a devastating impact on soldiers in WW1 but was also the root of the development of Zyklon B. Frtiz Haber, a German Jewish chemist, enabled chlorine gas to be used a weapon in WW1 and his research was later developed into the Zyklon process which was used by the Nazis to murder millions, including his own family. This is only one of a dizzying number of appalling ironies to be found in the World Wars but as I said last episode, I’m not a military historian so I’m going to leave it there. Edward had plans to return to the country after his graduation from Oxford to pursue the simple life (although one gets the feeling that his idea of the pursuit of a simple life will still be one that is very well upholstered). Thomas has taken it upon himself to read Edward’s letters to him and  together with Sybil is helping him to adjust to living life with a different set of parameters. But growing pressure on the hospital’s limited capacity means that he is to be transferred elsewhere. All three voice their dissent at varying volumes to Major Clarkson who falls back on the very real backlog of wounded men. After Edward has died, Major Clarkson, Isobel and Sybil talk about a renewed need for the Abbey to become a convalescent home, an idea that has been bubbling under the surface for a while now. Meanwhile, Thomas has been left on his own to process both Edward’s death and the implications of witnessing a lack of support given by his own physician to those with depression.  

The usually reliably jovial Mrs Patmore also has a more somber episode with her pursuit for the truth about the death of her nephew Archie. Robert finds that he has been shot for cowardice. Not only does this mean that her family is in mourning but they will now have to navigate the stigma and undue shame that came with having a relative die in this way. So entrenched in British life was the derision levelled at those who were shot for cowardice or desertion that it was only in 2006 that pardons were offered by Britain for 309 of those that were executed by firing squad during WW1. I know I said I’d leave it there with the military history, but that felt like an important bit of context. 

We are now in 1917 and Matthew is still in the same trench that he was in 1916 (a detail I hadn’t actually noticed until I got the screen cap for this) so it looks like his strategy of downing tools mid-fight and continuously popping back to Blighty for important plot developments isn’t really paying dividends. Perhaps the addition of William to the ranks will help him? William certainly seems to think so and if the speed at which he moves through the various stages of his ‘relationship’ with Daisy is any indication of his tactical prowess, the British Front will not only be well within Germany’s borders but will be breathing down Russia’s neck in a fortnight. In any other episode, this would certainly get the award for oddest relationship dynamic but Sir Richard Carlisle exists. 

Sir Richard makes his debut at Downton, having been introduced in name only in the previous episode. He and Mary met at Cliveden which is a regular haunt of mine, giving me hope that one day I too will from a strategic alliance with a newspaper magnate. He may know how to talk his way around a boardroom but he is lacking in the sartorial department. Whilst Sir Richard manages to avoid catching fire in his tweed, Lavinia is not free from the heat as he threatens her with his connection to her uncle. He may not know much about navigating the niceties of Downton, but at least he has cottoned on to the fact that any major disagreement should occur under a specific tree. Whilst Mary’s signature move is weeping into her gloves, Sir Richard’s is grabbing women by the forearm. A female friend of mine told me that one of her favourite things about the pandemic and the compulsion to keep 2m away from anyone (and not just emotionally) is that she has not been ’steered’ by a male hand on her lower back since 2019. It turns out that she can enter and exit rooms just fine on her own and I get the impression that Lavinia could get the gist of Sir Richard’s rage without the vice like grip of a man probably about twice her age. 

Twinned with the ’tree of emotional conflict’, the ‘platform of romantic uncertainty’ provides the backdrop for Sir Richard’s proposal of marriage to Mary which is a declaration that really feels like it should come with a series of well-formatted charts. Mary’s heart, however, is still very much with Cousin Matthew. After being counselled by Carson in a type of conversation I cannot imagine her ever having with her father, she is on the verge of coming clean with Matthew. But in the second round of Lavinia vs. Mary, Lavinia declares that she ‘could not go on living’ without Matthew and Mary winds her neck in. 

Also having a romantic entanglement this episode is Edith. Drake, previously of dropsy fame, has lost his farm hands and Edith turns up to offer her help in a wildly unsuitable trouser and heeled boot combo. But she soon gets down to it by pulling up a tree stump and flirting in a barn whilst a rather lovely border collie looks on (I’m currently trying to talk myself out of getting a border collie and this incident has done nothing to help things). After showing Drake that she can drink from a bottle like literally every single other human on the planet, the two share a kiss and some highly awkward dialogue that only slightly resembles ‘Carry on Downton’. 

Whilst Edith is more than happy to crack on in a barn, Mr Molesley is much more backwards about coming forwards. Apparently having predicted the creation of ‘The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society’, he figures that a book is the perfect kindling for romance when you exist in a glossy depiction of the past. Sadly neither Elizabeth nor her German garden can lure Anna from Bates who is fast shaping up to be schrodinger’s boyfriend. Anna proceeds to make some odd analogy where she compares Mr Bates to her moon-based child, revealing a rather unhealthy amount of codependency in that particular relationship. 

Romantic declaration of the moment 

Again, it feels like anyone but Sybil and Branson should get this but I am an agent of chaos and here we are. Branson defends Sybil’s will to work and has ample opportunity to see her shine in her chosen field. The admission that she will not be returning to her old life is a little chink of light that Branson basks in. 

Expressive eyebrow of the week 

I nominate Carson’s entire face when he realises that he has taken on too much and goes an impressive shade of red. As Carson frets about spoons, sauce, and something I can’t quite fathom, he starts to resemble a man who is re-arranging the deckchairs on the Titanic. Carson’s battle to get a cork out of a bottle and knocking into chairs is a warm up to his rather dramatic collapse which is accompanied by a pretty disturbing groan. Sybil springs to action and he is soon efficiently ensconced in his own quarters. 

Wait, what? 

“I got a lot done on the train” Clearly Richard was on a train that was unencumbered with the wifi issues that plague the Pendolino.  

“It takes a good deal more than that to shock me.” Mary’s shock-o-meter is a pretty odd instrument. It is unresponsive to corpses of diplomats but goes into absolute meltdown at the notion that she might have to live in a cottage. 

“Let's hope my reputation will survive it.” I’ve not checked (and I categorically never will) but I would put money on the fact that someone has created a rarepair out of this. 

“How can Matthew have chosen that little blonde piece?” Is Lavinia blonde? Women’s hair is not really my forte but I would have thought she was more akin to Tim Minchin than 1998 Justin Timberlake. 

“I believe in this war. I believe in what we are fighting for.” William seems to have a better grip on what all of this is about than I ever did in high school history. The ‘A’ that eluded me is heading his way. 

“I thought he might've died for love of you.” How I love snipey Thomas. It’s good to have him back. To borrow a quote from Bottas (another man who is currently living a life in which his destiny is his own demise) ‘traditions’. 

“Fold it in, don’t slap it” The more season two goes on, the more I think that Moira is just an amalgamation of some choice elements of Julian’s kingdom. 

[love-and-socialism]

There’s a new Iron Curtain falling. Here’s a tiny observation. America and Britain are on the verge of forming something very much like the old Soviet Union. A new bloc, a global axis, an entity that follows its own paradigm, trades among itself, treats its citizens like dirt, enriches its elites…and shuts out the rest of the world.

Let me explain, beginning with America.

What got America to this point? It wasn’t al-Qaeda or ISIS or the commies. As it turns out, the thing that wrecked America was good ole’ home grown capitalism. Now, I catch flak for saying that, Americans get instantly defensive, because capitalism is to them what socialism was to Soviets: neither really understand their ruling ideologies well, which is the point of an ideology, really.

So let’s quickly cover with what capitalism isn’t. Contrary to popular belief, capitalism isn’t your local drycleaner or bar or bartender or the guy that polishes shoes at the train station. It’s not really small or even medium-sized business at all. Those guys aren’t capitalists — they’re barely eking out a living, weary, humble, average. Capitalism is Goldman Sachs throwing bailout money at hedge funds to build bots to trade Facebook shares with by the nanosecond…so there’s every more profit. More, more, more. Is your local bartender obsessively, ritually, fetishistically, single-mindedly concerned with maximizing profit at the expense of the planet, democracy, and the future? Does he only care about increasing his quarterly earnings, to meet profit targets set by Wall Street analysts? Is his stock publicly traded? Does he have a fiduciary duty to those shareholders? I didn’t think so. He’s not a capitalist. The capitalists, my friends, are the robber barons of American collapse…the average person trying to start something new and cool and interesting, or just making a meagre living from their passion, isn’t a capitalist, a soulless impersonal profit-maximizing entity, and they never will be. Do you see the difference? Please tell me you do, because it drives me a little crazy that Americans don’t know what capitalism actually is.

(Now, this is more like the European definition of capitalism, it’s true. The American one is more like “corporatism.” Call it what you want — let’s not get hung up on semantics. I’ll stick to capitalism not “corporatism”, because Europe has corporations too, but they’re not as insane and abusive as American ones.)

Phew. OK, let’s get to work now. What collapsed American life? Capitalism did, obviously. It can’t have been anything else, because there isn’t anything else. There’s no public healthcare, retirement, childcare, etcetera. Not surprisingly, deficits of all these very things, which are the basics of life, caused life to crater. Meanwhile, capitalists, who by now had lobbied to privatize all these industries and many more began to charge Americans an arm and a leg (literally, maybe) for things that were…free…in every other rich country. Insulin, visits to the doctor, retirement, parental leave.

Fast forward to today. The average American is effectively the weird paradox of a poor person in a rich country. The majority of Americans can’t afford food, housing, healthcare, and bills — hence, they just go deeper and deeper into debt…debt which they never pay off, hence the majority of Americans literally die in debt, too. Yes, really. Think about that for a second. What happens to nations that plunge into fresh poverty — where the middle class implodes? Fascism does. Hence, American fascism ignited at precisely the moment when Americans plunged into poverty: not a coincidence — cause and effect. And what caused the weird situation of American poverty — a new kind of poverty, poor people in a rich country — was capitalism: it ate through everything Americans had, in its quest for eternally rising profits, which meant that they were left broke, perpetually on the edge, unable to afford the very things they were often involved in producing. Again — that’s capitalism: it doesn’t care about paying you decently, it just cares about maximizing its own profits, getting as rich as possible, everything else be damned. But the inevitable result was a fascist meltdown.

Now look across the pond. There’s Britain. It’s the world’s second most capitalist country. If you understand all the above about America, what might you expect to happen to Britain? More or less the same thing — only less so, no? And that’s what did. Did you know that the only two countries in the world with the combination of falling life expectancy, flat incomes, and spiking poverty are…America and Britain? Apart from maybe North Korea and the Congo…but those are places that never were democracies at all.

So here we have these two countries — the Romeo and Juliet of modern collapse. Europeans live pretty good lives. Sure, times are tough, they are everywhere. But only in America and Britain did times get so tough that the extremists literally rose to the heights of power and controlled the destiny of nations. Europe fought them off in its most recent election, in fact.

So the Romeo and Juliet of collapsing countries — what are they doing? Well, they’ve made their choice. Their choice is capitalism. They’ve both rejected social democracy. Britain’s rejected the “democracy” part — it doesn’t want to be part of the EU, and America’s rejected the “social” part — it’s still so backwards it thinks socialism is some kind of horrible curse, not how people get working healthcare and college and retirement in the rest of the world.

So Romeo and Juliet have made a kind of suicide pact. They’ve decided to go all in on capitalism.

And that brings us to now. Trumps’s in Britain, trumpeting (sorry) a “trade deal.” What does all that really mean? Well, it means the following. Britain is effectively a strategic beggar on the global stage now, and it has to take what it can get. What America will demand is that American capitalism has access to all Britain’s remaining public goods. Britain never built a full social democracy, but it got further than America did: it has public healthcare, education to a degree, retirement of a kind, housing, and so forth. All of those will be “opened up” to American companies, which is to say, they’ll be sold to them, privatized. That means American capitalism will now be running what’s left of Britain’s public goods.

Imagine the NHS for a second. Who “owns” it? Nobody and everybody does, in fact. Local towns and cities, if you want to nitpick. But really — everybody and nobody. Now consider the fact that when it’s privatized, there will be a dude — an American “hedge fund manager”, which means some clueless Ivy League nitwit — or two who literally “owns” the NHS. And the BBC. And the retirement system. And the education system. Are you getting my drift? How rich will that dude, the guy that “owns” the healthcare system of a country, be? Obscenely, I think is a fair term to use. It’s the kind of thing we once associated with failed states.

Now think of how perfect that is for American capitalism. Why? Because it’s sucked Americans dry, that’s why. They literally have nothing left to give. Less than nothing. The majority die in debt — that’s how poor Americans are now. They never break even their whole lives long. Capitalism can’t take more from them, because they don’t have it. Nor does America have any real publics goods to cannibalize. Ah, but Britain does. Britain’s expansive public goods — though they’ve been underfunded for decades — are just what American capitalism needs to prey on.

Why? Because the crux of American capitalism is ever increasing profits. It’s bled America dry in its quest for those. But that game is done now, as Americans have plunged into lives of dire and ruinous poverty. So where to look? Britain is the perfect target. If you can’t increase profits forever…you’re not going to stay a capitalist for very long.

Do you see how perfect this setup is? American capitalism needs fresh meat to tear apart and feast on. There’s Britain, who’s rejected European social democracy, and chosen…capitalism. It’s not just a marriage made in hell — it’s a suicide pact.

Here’s what will happen — what’s already happening, in fact. America’s declaring trade war after trade war — China, India, Europe. Britain is too — thats what Brexit is. But they’re seeking succor in each others’ arms. They are building a new entity, a new bloc, a new kind of Soviet Union in a sense. A part of the world where these two countries basically trade only with each other, do business with each other, care for each other. Where these two countries will have intertwined their fates, and linked hands in a shared destiny.

That much is already happening because it’s more or less inevitable. Americans can’t ever question capitalism — and Brits rejected social democracy. So where does that leave them, except together, in a new Soviet Union of capitalism, whose Iron Curtains are already falling, to shut their people off from the rest of the world, whether Europe, China, or Mexico? What else is Brexit? Trump’s wall? The coming trade deal between them?

Now, if you’re a Brit, that means that your life is going to get worse. A lot worse. Fast. You’re going to live like an American. You’re going to eat American food, watch American TV, and get American healthcare and retirement and childcare. Oh wait, there isn’t any decent version of most of those things. You see my point, then. British livings standards will plummet to American levels — which are the lowest in the rich world by a very, very long way.

If you’re American, on the other hand…this also means that life will get worse, too. That’s because instead of learning from the better parts of Britain — the NHS, the BBC, the Royal Societies, the education system, and so forth — America’s basically intending to take a wrecking ball to them. That means capitalists will go on getting rich — imagine how rich the dude that ends up “owning” the NHS is going to be — and Americans will go on getting poorer and poorer. But worse, because this new union, only really trading with itself, thinking about itself, listening to itself…it’ll just stay stuck in a loop of collapse.

I know. A lot of you will probably whine reading this article — “that sounds outlandish!” Does it? You’re missing the point, completely. Britain’s rejected the EU. America’s rejected the EU, China, and Mexico. Both have rejected everyone else, in a kind of mass delusion, a hysterical tantrum of macho man tears. Who do they have left? Birds of a feather flock together, my friends, when it comes to political economy. Europe is a union of social democracies. So what else can the last two capitalist countries do but flock together, too?

The last two capitalist countries on earth have no one to turn to but each other. Reinforcing that, of course, is a healthy dose of entitled white supremacy, to be sure. But it’s political economy that drives it. How can a capitalist country have a union with a social democracy? A socialist one with a capitalist one? They can’t — impossible. These political economies are too different — which is why, for example, America and Canada never really joined hands in any real way. Hence, Britain and America, in choosing capitalism, have also chosen each other.

So there they are, the last two capitalist countries on earth. I don’t mean: “the last two countries where any capitalism exists” — I mean: “the last two countries on earth where capitalism is the dominant, monopolistic organizing principle of all life, thought, action.” They’re star-crossed lovers, America and Britain, the Romeo and Juliet of capitalism.

Capitalism is what led them to collapse. Collapse is what made them to turn to each other. And turning to each other kept them firmly capitalist. Choosing to stay capitalist in each others’ arms took away the chance to join the more prosperous, modern, social democratic world around them — Canada, Europe. But capitalism was the very compound whose overdose poisoned their systems to begin with. How could anything but more ruin come from overdosing together, all over again?

And yet no one asked, no one saw, and no one cared very much. Their eyes were full of dollar signs, and their blood ran hot with the thrill of conquest.

Umair 

May 2019

[96thdayofrage]

Here’s a little secret. It’s going to sound obvious and trite, but I don’t think it is. You be the judge, by the end of this essay. Liberalism and conservatism won’t get to social democracy, but America’s — and the world’s — choice is social democracy or collapse. Sounds absurdly, almost childishly tautological, doesn’t it? And yet one of the most fundamental myths that many of us believe is that “progress” comes from pitting “liberalism” against “conservatism”, over and over again, forever, like beating a head against two brick walls. Somehow, these two poles, in opposition, we’re told, lead societies forwards— only no one really examines how, or why, or even if. We just believe it. But is it really true?

What’s going wrong with the world is in a way very simple to understand. Huge surpluses have piled up at the top of the global economy. So vast that there is nothing left to do with them except pile them up offshore, hide them like buried treasure. These fortunes have been earned, mostly, by doing nothing of benefit to societies, people, and the planet whatseover — merely exploiting all three ruinously. Without a way for those surpluses piled up at the top to find themselves back in the hands of the average person, discontent, rage, and fury will continue to grow, as people lose hope, faith, and belief in their systems, societies, and futures. Those sentiments and passions will fold back upon themselves, becoming extremism, fanaticism, fascism. That way lies a new dark age.

All this is precisely what happened in the 1930s — the only thing that has really changed is that nations aren’t indebted to each other, so much as average people are indebted to a class of hidden, shadowy ultra-rich, who have come to own the critical systems and structures in entire economies. That imbalance produces just the same social tensions, though, as during the 1930s — fury, panic, a sense that people are just barely hanging on, redirected at the easiest targets, the powerless, who are then scapegoated, hunted, and demonized.

Hence, the world needs more social democracy, and it needs it now. Societies like America that don’t have it, which have never had it, need to develop it in spades. Societies like Europe that do have it need badly to strengthen and recommit to it, maybe even to rediscover its values and principles, which is what I’d say the Gilets Jaunes protests are really about.

Now. The question is this. If the world needs more social democracy, then can liberalism and conservatism get it there? It’s pretty easy to answer this question, and I’d bet you already know the answer, even if part of you fights against knowing it, so let’s think about it anyways.

Which country never joined the global movement towards social democracy, that roared across rich countries after the last world war? America, of course. America’s politics, uniquely, remained stuck, split, in a weird, binary way, between “liberals” and “conservatives” — mostly because America was clinging on to old notions of supremacy, still institutionalized in segregation, which ruled out any kind of social democracy absolutely.

So what did decades of binary liberalism versus conservatism accomplish for America? Did the dialectic lead to progress? Not at all. It led to stagnation. The answer to what did liberalism and conservatism achieve for America is: precisely nothing. Less than nothing, in fact, one could argue. This is the point at which Americans will cry, “there goes Umair! Being hyperbolic again!!” Ah, but am I? What does the evidence say? The average American’s life isn’t more prosperous today than yesterday — it’s less so. Life expectancy is falling. His income is less than his grandfather’s. He’s broke, though he works longer hours, at a less stable job. Suicides are soaring — and maybe he himself is giving up on life. Who could blame him? He faces bizarre, weird, and gruesome problems, like his kids being shot at school, and having to beg strangers for money for healthcare online. He spends sleepless night wondering he ended up impoverished, despite playing by the rules — maybe not quite understanding that the rules were designed to exploit him.

Decades of liberalism versus conservatism didn’t lead America forward — they turned it into a surreal, bizarre dystopia. The empirical reality of American living standards is this: they haven’t risen during our adult lifetimes. They’ve imploded, to the point that Americans live lives of indignity, shame, fear, and rage. That’s vivid evidence that liberalism versus conservatism accomplished precisely nothing for Americans. (Nothing positive, that is. They accomplished plenty of wasteful, stupid things. Fake wars. Tax cuts for the rich. Weird “market-based” healthcare systems that worked for no one. Bailing out banks. And so forth. They accomplished a lot — for capitalists. By siphoning off everyone else’s money, power, and possibility.)

Why didn’t liberalism and conservatism lead to progress? Well, because in America, they converged to two flavours of largely the same thing — “neoliberalism” and “neoconservatism.” Neoconservatism was a little more trigger happy, always ready to start a war, and neoliberalism was a little more utopian, but their foundational precepts didn’t end up being very different. Wealth would trickle down. Trade should be free, but movement shouldn’t. A person’s worth was how much money they made. And, most crucially of all, given these first three — society must never, ever invest in itself.

Hence, this fatal convergence of “neos”, of liberalism and conservatism to the same lowest-common-denominator, produced modern American dystopia: a rich society of impoverished people, a powerful one of powerless people, a generally decent one somehow ruled by bigots, fools, and ignoramuses. It’s a place in which people are quite literally left to fend for themselves, as best they can, with zero support, investment, care, or consideration. In fact, Americans are taught from the day they are born that caring for their neighbours, society, planet, or even themselves, is something to be scorned: a moral weakness, a social shame, a cultural crime, and an intellectual mistake.

Yet despite all that, many — maybe most — Americans are emerging social democrats. They might not know it — but when 70% of them want public healthcare and debt-free education and safety nets and so forth, that is precisely what they are. They don’t know it, at least many of them, because American pundits and intellectuals act like it’s still 1962, and act as if social democracy never happened, still pitting “socialism” against “capitalism” in a Cold War that no one really won — unless the wrecked state of America today means “winning” to you. So Americans are emerging social democrats despite the tremendous stigma, misinformation, and baffling stupidity that’s become commonplace in America’s public sphere — which is a good thing.

The problem is that while many Americans are emerging social democrats, nobody, really, represents them. The GOP obviously doesn’t — it represents the poor deluded fool who wants to rewind to 1862, more or less. But neither do the Democrats. They are still focused on the same old half-baked, ill-thought-out “compromises” of neoliberalism. For Democrats, markets still trump public goods, social investment, and national institutions, every single time.

But that is precisely why liberalism and conservatism can’t get you to social democracy. Neither one has any interest whatsoever in rewriting a social contract that isn’t severely compromised. Both quite happily put profit before people, capital over society, money over meaning, accumulation before justice, speculation before investment, concentration before distribution, and the same old hierarchies above genuine equality. But what we’ve seen in America is the ruinous consequences of these beliefs — they are mistakes, which lead nowhere but downwards and backwards. Yet how can two ideologies which believe in all the same mistakes at root make any progress?

Let me put that more bluntly. Liberalism can free you — and conservatism can protect you — if you’re a rich white dude, sure. But what if you’re a poor white dude — or an even poorer brown woman? What good are “self-reliance” and “personal responsibility” to you? What if you’re a family who’s a member of the people formerly known as the middle class — does being able to buy little a Johnny a cheap Chinese-made toy, aka “free trade”, make you any better off when you can’t give him decent healthcare or an education? If you’re any of these people — which is to say, 90% of society, at this point — then you need investment in you, by everyone else, and everyone else needs just the same thing. You need healthcare, education, retirement, a decent job, savings, a sense that your life matters, that you belong, and so forth — but you can never have any of those unless everyone agrees to provide them to everyone else. The other 10% — the capitalists, the dynasties, predators, and so forth — aren’t ever going to give them to you, except at the cost of everything you will ever make, money, time, ideas, imagination, life savings. That is precisely the trap the average American is in today — why he is broke, going nowhere, stuck, and losing hope.

Do you see my point yet? Let me make it clearer. The fundamental beliefs of liberalism and conservatism, their mistaken and impoverished priorities and notions, mostly boil down to the same thing, in slightly different ways. Only the strong should survive, eliminate the weak — everyone will be better off! Exploitation will lead to prosperity for all! (Hence, time and again, soon enough degenerate into outright violence.) If one person in a society has lots of money — then we can call the whole thing a success!!

LOL. These are not just strange and foolish beliefs, my friends — they are also obviously false ones. Nobody much was made better off by enacting them. America is vivid proof of the failure of both liberalism and conservatism, and the unworkable compromises they forge. Both are now badly obsolete — maybe they worked in feudal, agrarian, or industrial societies, to better the relative lot of some, at the price of others, through things like slavery, segregation, and today’s predatory capitalism, but that work having been done, they will not work any longer in this century.

At this point, a better, fairer, wiser social contract is precisely what the world needs, or else. Or else what? Or else climate meltdown, inequality, extremism, fascism, and various flavors of collapse and implosion do. To make that point clear, let’s look at America again.

The result of relying on liberalism and conservatism as the sole engines of forward motion that progress in America is stuck, stalled, that America is in stalemate. But stalemate means collapse, because societies need ongoing tending and cultivation, just like a garden. Yet maybe no further progress is possible at all, without a genuinely social democratic movement. And whether or not the Democratic Socialists are such a thing still remains to be seen — because they seem to be focused more on pie-in-the-sky ideas than simply proposing an American NHS, BBC, or retirement system, imitating what works, improving upon it. That’s OK — they’re young, and they haven’t studied the world enough yet. Time will tell if that familiar American arrogance comes to be their undoing, too.

The lesson is very simple. Liberalism versus conservatism ends in collapse, via stalemate, not progress. It’s one of the most fundamental myths that we believe, perhaps, is that progress is only ever the result of these ideologies “compromising”, or “battling”, or “debating.” But it’s not true. Liberalism and conversatism do indeed compromise — in fatally impoverished ways. By making it impossible for people to make shared investments, for societies to measure anything other than money, by assigning life, work, being, no inherent worth, purpose, or meaning, they reduce and abstract away what matters, and privilege and protect exploitation — of people, of democracy, of nature, of the future, of life — and in that way, settlements between them are compromised things to begin with. Both are altogether too comfortable with, reliant on, exploitation to be engines of prosperity in a century where abundance can no longer come so easily from exploitation. All that is what the American example proves, in no uncertain terms.

The greatest discovery of the 20th century was social democracy. Prosperity with a minimum of exploitation, of violence, of domination. All those things are human moments, chances, possibilities, that can be put to better, wiser, truer use. It is just that simple. That insight, that breakthrough, is what made decades of peace, progress, and stability possible, and led to the highest living standards in human history. Yet it’s equally great lesson, which we are still struggling to learn, wasn’t that the future is made by pitting liberalism against conservatism. It was that the future is made by transcending both, and building societies that can invest in themselves, in order to overcome and undo the old ways of violence, dominance, and control, with true freedom, equality, and worth.

[transformationstuck]

how about 3 troll girls of your choice quite literally losing their heads?

Aradia pranced under the ancient, monolithic arches, leadingKanaya and Vriska into her newest excavation. A few trolls and humans werescattered here-and-there, carefully brushing sand off of priceless artifacts,but the group’s leader paid them no mind as she led the other two towards thetemple’s entrance.

“This is so exciting!” Aradia squealed, turningaround to face the others and starting to walk backwards. “The firstintact Suomenusko temple! In fact, the onlySuomenusko temple! We didn’t even know if they existed!”

“What, satellites haven’t combed every inch of theplanet yet?” Vriska asked grumpily, obviously not wanting to be here.

“We’ve had the data, but no human or troll had laidtheir eyes on the right image yet. There’s a lot of planet to scour, and theforest doesn’t help matters.”

“Hmph,” Vriska grunted as Aradia turned around tomake sure she didn’t slam into the ornate doorway. “Still wish I was upon-orbit getting wasted and kicked out of casinos.”

“Vriska,” Kanaya said, “casinos do not playgames of chance. Your luck won’t help you.”

Vriska turned and grinned. “We’ll see about that when Iget out of this backwater country.”

Kanaya sighed, knowing full well that there was no point inarguing with Vriska. She’s just have to learn the hard way that the odds don’tmatter when one player is cheating.

“This way!” Aradia gestured to them, herding themdown a side passage adorned with elaborate depictions of the temple’sconstruction into a large room. It was roughly a square with three doors on theopposite side. Above each door was an aspect symbol - one for space, one fortime, and one for light - and in front of them were three slabs, sportinglimb-straps and a headrest.

“… Okay, that’s pretty weird,” Vriska saidcautiously, approaching the light door. She felt around for an obvious way toopen it, but found none.

“How did they know?” Kanaya asked Aradia, who wassitting down on her slap.

“Don’t know yet. That’s what we’re here to find out!Tairek’s got a theory that only a space player can open the space door, and thesame for the others. ”

“Okay, I’m in,” Vriska said, clapping her handstogether.

Kanaya’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

“Uh, duh? There’s probably a super-awesome, legendaryancient weapon here! I’ve got to get my hands on that!”

“You’ve been playing too many video games…”Kanaya berated her, turning to Aradia. “What do we need to do?”

Just then, another Aradia materialized in a flash of redgears. She motioned for the past Aradia to get up, and future Aradia sat downonto her slab. “Well, it’s to do with these blocks. Aradia, strap us allin. Keep our hair off the slabs.”

Past Aradia complied with her future self’s request,strapping her in first - legs, arms, and resting her head on the headrest.

“Um, I don’t think-” Kanaya began before Vriskainterrupted her.

“Come on, fussyfangs! Live a little! Why would these behere if not to open the doors?”

“Hmm, let’s see… ritual sacrifice, BDSM torturedungeon…”

“Okay, stop right there. I don’t want to know what youand your matesprit do in your alone time, alright?”

Kanaya just smirked and waggled her eyebrows, causing Vriskato plead with past Aradia “Just strap me in already.” She was morethan happy to do so, making sure Vriska was well-secured before moving ontoKanaya. She tapped her foot impatiently.

“You already saw me acquiesce to this, didn’tyou?” Kanaya asked.

“Yeah, it’s inevitable unless you want to doom thetimeline,” future Aradia confirmed from her bondage.

Kanaya sighed. “Fine. Just do it,” she relented,rolling over onto her stomach and spreading her limbs out, which past Aradiaquickly secured.

“Now what?” Past Aradia asked.

Just then the ground started to rumble. A recess opened upin a nearby wall, revealing a lever. Once it was fully extended, the rumblingstopped.

“Now you pull that,” Future Aradia said.

Past Aradia walked up to the lever, feeling its rough,age-worn handle with care. “Yep, this shouldn’t crumble when I pull it.You girls ready?”

A chorus of affirmatives reached her ears.

“Okay! In three… two… one…”

Past Aradia pulled the lever. Three metallic clinks soundedout, as well as two startled gasps. Three more Aradias materialized in front ofthe strapped-down trolls, catching something black and carefully puttingwhatever it was down, before all but one disappeared.  The remaining Aradia pointed in front of thedevices, and lever Aradia had to move a bit to see what she was pointing at.

When she saw, she gasped.

The heads of future her and her two friends were lying onthe floor, complete with two equally-shocked expressions.

Immediately, lever-Aradia went back to catch the heads asshe had seen herself do, leaving only two Aradias left.

Vriska was the first to speak up. “What the shit?”she said, her body straining against her bonds. “What is going on?”Kanaya remained silent, occasionally closing her eyes and re-opening them,obviously not believing what had just happened.

Future Aradia, on the other hand, grinned. “We all lostour heads!”

Vriska turned hostile, trying to turn her severed head tolook at future Aradia. “You. You knew about this?”

Past Aradia tentatively approached Vriska, rotating her headso she faced the others.

“Yep! Pretty great, huh?”

Vriska spluttered. ‘What? No! No, it’s not great!“ Vriska’s body’s strugglesintensified. ”You just cut off myfucking head!“

Past Aradia decided to make herself useful, tiptoeing aroundthe slabs to free future Aradia’s body.

"I am inclined… to agree with Vriska,” Kanayasaid carefully, still very much in shock. “How is- how is this 'great’,exactly?”

Instead of answering the questing, future Aradia begancounting down, as her body moved around and picked up her head. “Three…two… one…”

And with another rumble, the three doors opened; stone slabsreceding into the ceiling.

“See? It worked!” Future Aradia said, turning herhead to her past self. “You ready to go back?”

Past Aradia didn’t even hesitate. Within a second she wasgone, only a red gear marking where she once was before even that faded away.

Aradia smiled as she remembered her past self’s thoughts.How eager she suddenly was, as she realized one of her major fantasies wasabout to come true. She’d discovered an odd human porn subgenre, where peopledrew pictures and wrote stories about just this sort of thing. People withoutheads, people who were just heads, and people who had both a head and a body,but separated from each other. It had quickly become her ultimate fetish, andshe so wished she could experience it for herself. She had been resigned to alife with a tragically intact neck, not knowing of a way to perform theprocedure without triggering a god-tier resurrection - until moments ago. Sheknew her past self hadn’t gone straight back to the beginning to complete theloop - she’d gone further back, immediately ripping off her leggings andfuriously touching herself, climaxing in record time.

Now here she was, at the end of the loop, holding her ownsevered head in her hands, her breasts sagging down onto her horns, and Aradiahad never felt more alive.

“I’m going to unbind you both now,” Aradia said.“If you’re going to run off, don’t forget to pick up your heads before youbolt, alright?”

Vriska harrumphed, and Kanaya tried to nod, instead onlymanaging to topple her head over.

Aradia circled around, putting her head down on her slab asshe unstrapped the others with her body. It was an odd feeling, having her bodymove without her head moving with it. But she managed to not topple, andreleased the bodies of the other two trolls.

Vriska immediately stood up, tried to take a step, and fellover.

“Owwwww!” she yelled from the other side of herblock. Aradia reached down to pick her up and led her over to her head, whereshe got a lot more coordinated upon seeing her body.

Kanaya took her time after hearing Vriska’s fall, carefullyfeeling her way around to her severed head, grabbing it by the horns and bringingit up to where it should sit atop her neck. It was dizzying, and she had totake a moment to recover. When she did, she saw that Vriska had done the same.

It was an odd sight - two girls holding their heads in place- and after a moment’s hesitation Vriska broke down in laughter.

“You look ridiculous,” Vriska said.

Upon heading this and seeing what Vriska looked like, Kanayaconceded that this was probably true, and decided to copy Aradia instead. Sheheld her head beneath outstretched arms in front of her belly, and Aradiasmiled at her once she’d done so. She had to admit, it was a more comfortableposition.

Vriska’s headremained atop her neck, instead staring at the space where Kanaya’s head usedto be. “It’s smooth,” she said, unbidden.

“What?” Kanaya asked.

“Your neck. It’s just a smooth patch of skin.”

“Yours is too,” Aradia said. “Which meansmine probably is as well!”

Vriska lifted her own head up and looked down at her stump.“What…” she said, confused.

“Is the cut on our heads smooth too?” Kanayaasked, tilting her head to expose the other side of her stump.

“Yup!” Aradia said, giddily. “This is soamazing!”

“… Yeah, I guess it is,” Vriska said, moving herhead in front of her belly like the others had done. “So, we gonna gothrough these doors or not?”

Kanaya spluttered. “What happened to you beingmad?”

Vriska shrugged, the action moving her head up a bit.“Well yeah, but what can you do? You gotta roll with the punches orlife’ll knock you down.”

“That’s the spirit!” Aradia cheered, and the twoshared a rare grin. “Let’s go!”

Vriska immediately walked into the light door, while Aradiacircled around to go through the time door. Kanaya rubbed her temple andfollowed their lead, heading through the space door.

As Vriska had predicted, each had a reward waiting for them.She got an M624 Kinetic Railgun, and the others heard her whoop even throughthe stone walls. Kanaya got two dresses and one shirt, all designed toaccentuate her new neck stump, and with one of the dresses coming with acarrier for her head around its waist.

Aradia got a note, written in her own handwriting.

“hey! make sure to plant the others rewards. youll knowwhen the time comes. to get into the rooms in the past, fly down through theholes in the ceiling. see you when youre me! 0u0”

Aradia tilted her head up and chuckled. They could’ve justjumped through the roof this entire time? She decided to not tell the others,for obvious reasons.

She exited her room, finding Vriska struggling to hold thehefty assault weapon and her head at the same time. She stumbled andinstinctively saved the rifle from the fall instead of her head - the followinghiss of pain made Aradia laugh.

“Oh stuff it Megido,” Vriska said, stuffing therailgun into her bag and picking up her head.

They both waited about 15 seconds with no sign of Kanayabefore Vriska called out. “Hey fussyfangs, you alive in there?”

“One moment,” a muffled reply came back.

“What’s she doing in there?” Vriska asked, towhich Aradia just shrugged.

After about two minutes Kanaya emerged.

And she was beautiful.

She was wearing a black dress with red highlights, a frillyknee-length skirt, and a lace ring surrounding her neck stump; her head washeld firmly in place by a carrier in front of her belly.

“That’s a pretty good idea,” Vriska saidwistfully. “Kanaya, can you make me one?”

“Me too!” Aradia piped up.

Kanaya, for the first time since the incident, smiled.“Of course.”

“The chop”, as it had come to be known, was allover the news. Headlines like “PLAYERS LOSE THEIR HEADS” werecommonplace all over the internet, complete with pictures of their now-headlessforms. Kanaya had quickly made duplicates of her harnesses for the other two,which they all took everywhere.

They were all finding uses for their heads’ new freedom ofmovement. Kanaya found it convenient to only wash her body on days where shedidn’t need to wash her hair. Vriska was able to raise her head above crowdsand pathfind through them more effectively, finally overcoming her shortstature. And Aradia really enjoyed licking her own pussy and rubbing her neckstump, which she found out very quickly was now an erogenous zone.

After an incident where Vriska couldn’t find where she’dleft her head, leaving her body stumbling blindly around her hive for twohours, the three commissioned an engineering firm to design them each a collar.They were placed on the edge of their stumps; when a button on them was pressed,their sense of sight, smell, and hearing were switched to emanate from thecollar. It would also synthesize their voice while it was on, finally allowingAradia to fulfil her dream of leaving her hive completely headless.

Their lives may have been drastically altered, but each ofthem was happy, in their own special way. Aradia from the sexual thrill, Kanayafrom all the new fashion options her condition provided, and Vriska from allthe attention she got.

But this new state of relative normalcy was not to last.

High up on-orbit in one of the many prestigious casinos onEarth’s orbital ring, Vriska was down to her last hand. She’d come up withmillions to her name, but after a mere nine rounds of poker she was down to herlast 100 grand. She couldn’t believe what was happening. The Thief of Light wasgetting unlucky!

“Dealer has a full house. You lose”

“What‽ Noooooooo…” she wailed as the last of herchips were taken away.

“And with that, you are out.”

”This isridiculous,“ Vriska thought. "Thereis no one - no one ­- in this systemluckier than me.”

Refusing to accept defeat and certain she was about to winall her chips back and then some, she picked her head up off of her lap andplaced it on the table. “Can I bet this?”

“Uh…” the dealer looked at her, confused.“I’ll have to ask my supervisor.” They pulled a radio out from theirpocket and started inquiring as Vriska waited. She was going to win. She had to.

“Okay, we’re allowing it on the condition that, if youlose, Spacedock LLC gains the right to use your head however they wish, withyou waiving all rights to is being a part of your body. In addition, footage ofthis hand may be used as promotional material for this casino. Do you acceptthese terms?” An assistant brought a contract out and placed it in frontof her.

“You bet!” Vriska replied, grinning as she signed.

“Well… alright then,” the dealer said, disturbed- nobody actually expected her to agree! “Hand ten.”

Vriska reached up to the front of her collar and pushed thesmall red button, switching her point-of-view to the collar.  She was handed her cards, but as with eachhand before, she didn’t look at them. Her luck would carry her through.

“All in,” she said, unnecessarily - it wasn’t asif her head could be divided up.

Now all she had to do was wait for her victory. The dealerconsidered their moves every time a community card was turned over, untilfinally all cards were revealed.

“Dealer has one pair.” Yes! This was it!“Vriska has eight high.”

…

What?

“You lose.”

The dealer’s arm wrapped around her head, pulling it totheir side of the table.

Vriska simply sat there in shock. She lost everything? Shelock her fucking head?

As she watched an assistant come over and push her lostchips and head into a bag, she snapped. “What the fuck? Hey! You can’t dothis!”

“I’m sorry ma'am, but you signed the contract. Yourhead now belongs to Spacedock LLC, and is legally no longer a part of yourbody.”

“I don’t care! Give it back!” She stood up,hostility clear in her stance, but before she could assault the assistant whohad her head a burly security guard tackled her and pinned her against thefloor. She kicked and screamed, thrashing in their grip.“Fuuuuuuuuck!”

Another guard arrived, and between them they carried her tothe exit and unceremoniously tossed her out onto the street.

Battered, bruised, and thoroughly defeated, Vriska crawledon the pavement into an alleyway. She sat up, resting her stump against herknees, and sobbed.

Kanaya walked off the runway and behind the curtains, andtook a deep breath. That had gone… better than she’d thought it would.

She’d been invited to model at a fashion show in Japan.Normally designers don’t get to walk the walk, but with her figure and herbeing a player it brought a lot of publicity to the event - and thus, to herclothing line. Not that she really needed it, given her aforementioned playerstatus.

After the initial shock had worn off Kanaya had followedVriska’s example and taken her headlessness in stride. After all, there wasn’tmuch she could do about it, so why bother worrying? She walked the streets withher neck held high and her head nestled tightly in its carrier - the absolutepinnacle of confidence.

Today, however, had been different. At the request of theevent organizers she’d walked out onto that catwalk with no head in sight - itwas sitting back at her hotel room, resting on a pile of pillows. UnlikeAradia, Kanaya had been reluctant to go out without her head. There were somany emotions one could express with their face that simply couldn’t beaccurately conveyed without it; but more importantly, she simply felt morecomfortable with her head around. She’d inhabited it all her life, and whilethe sensory collars provided some pragmatic upgrades she couldn’t help but feeluncomfortable when she used it. It felt unnatural - which, she supposed, wasbecause it was.

“You did great out there Kanaya,” one of theorganizers said to her as they approached. “The crowd loved it, andthere’ve already been inquiries about acquiring some of your products.”

“That’s good,” Kanaya said, not in the mood forconversation.

“There was a biologist in the crowd as well, and she’sbeen talking about how if she can get her tech working, headlessness might bethe next big fashion craze.”

“Uh huh,” Kanaya said, only half-listening.

The organizer was silent for a few seconds, and then blurtedout a question. “Can I touch your stump?”

“What?” Kanaya asked, having missed the question.

“Uh… can I touch your stump?”

“No,” Kanaya responded assertively, “you maynot.” She immediately pushed off the wall and made her way towards theexit. After many accostings of that nature, she had learnt how best to get her viewon the matter across.

“It was nice meeting you!” the organizer calledout as she pushed her way through the back corridors towards the exit.

Her patience had not risen to the same level her confidencehad. Despite publically stating multiple times that nobody but her and her quadrantmateswere permitted to touch her stump, Kanaya still got the question at least twicea day, and it annoyed her.

She walked across the street to her hotel, took the elevatorup to floor 12, opened her room, and laid down in her bed. She pressed thebutton on her collar, switching her perception to her head, and observed herbody lying centimetres away from her face. She stood back up and shimmied outof her dress, unceremoniously throwing it on the floor, and laid back down,picking her head up and hugging it to her chest. This was her new favourite wayto sleep - naked, with her head pressed up against her soft breasts.

It didn’t take long for her to drift off.

Kanaya was awoken a few hours later by an alarm. She reachedfor her phone and turned it off, groaning and pulling her body out of bed. Shelooked at the time and yelped in shock.

“Airport!” she yelled; she quickly threw on somecasual wear, grabbed her dress from the event, stuffed it into her suitcase andheaded straight out the door. After the world’s slowest elevator ride shewalked a few blocks to the nearest train station and barely made it onto a carriagebefore the doors closed. She got a lot of looks from the other passengers, butshe just ignored them and took her seat.

It took about half an hour to get to the airport, by whichtime the flight information board stated that her flight was only three rowsdown from flights that were currently. She rushed through baggage checkingusing her frequent flyer pass, and hurriedly made her way through security. Shethanked whoever had created her birth universe that she wasn’t pulled aside forfurther questioning - probably because everyone knew who she was - and made itto her gate just in time for boarding to start. Once again she jumped the queueand was seated in business class.

It would be another 45 minutes before her flight would depart- there was a hell of a queue for takeoff - but once they were in the air andcruising at FL320, she pressed a button on her seat to call for a flightattendant.

“How may I help you Miss Maryam?” the Japanesetroll girl asked her.

“Water please,” she replied.

“Certainly. I’ll have it brought out in a moment.”Kanaya was about to take out her phone to listen to music when the attendantcleared her throat. “Uh, ma'am?” she asked. “How do- uh, how doyou drink?”

“What do you mean?” Kanaya asked, turning to faceher.

“Um, well it’s just, you don’t have a mouth, and thereisn’t a hole on your stump, so…”

“What are you-” Kanaya began before stoppingherself. She reached up to her center of vision, and to her horror, she felther collar instead of her eyes. She slammed her stump against the back of theseat in frustration.

In her rush to make her flight, she’d left her head back atthe hotel! Something must have bumped her collar’s button in the night… howcould she have been so stupid - so careless? How could she have forgotten tocheck if she had her fucking head withher!

“Uh… should I cancel the water then?” theattendant asked.

Kanaya tried to nod, but quickly caught her mistake andinstead responded with a curt yes.

The attendant backed away slowly before turning to serveanother passenger, and Kanaya changed her plans for the flight. She pulled acurtain between herself and the aisle and pressed her collar’s button,immediately finding herself back at her hotel room.

“Hello! Is anyone there?” she yelled, trying todraw someone’s attention. She tried this for a few minutes, but after nobodycame, she changed tactics. She used her mouth to try and drag herself to the roomphone, hoping to call somebody at the front desk to explain her situation andhelp her; but the phone was on an end-table that was just slightly too far awayfor her to shuffle her head onto it. She groaned and closed her eyes infrustration.

This was going to be a longflight.

These sensory collars were great! The vision was sharper,the hearing was above-par, and the sense of smell was more sensitive. Aradia’shead practically never left her house these days - she much preferred doingeverything headless. The only reasons that she’d kept her head at all were a senseof sentimentality, and what her mouth had learnt to do with her body’s moreintimate places.

That last point, though, was getting less and less relevant.A few weeks ago she and Feferi had taken their relationship to the next level,and Aradia soon discovered that no matter how skilled her own tongue was,nothing could quite compare to the touch of another.

So when she got an email from a prominent player museuminquiring as to whether her head could be put on display, Aradia was intrigued.

Amazingly, she didn’t really need her head anymore. Itwasn’t necessary for anything she did; Feferi thought her neck stump was supersexy, and she even seemed to be less into sex when her head was around. She’deven been asking prying questions about the device that had chopped Aradia’s headoff, almost as if she wanted her own head’s weight off her shoulders…

Still, one couldn’t predict the future. Maybe she’d need herhead later.

She typed out a reply.

hey!

sure you can put myhead on display! one condition: i want to be able to take it back with say 1weeks notice. just in case anything comes up.

-aradia0u0

And so, after an exchange lasting about two days, she showedup to the back entrance of the Zurich CreatorMuseum, her head stuffed in a duffel bag. The receptionist asked her toleave her head with them, and just like that Aradia walked back out the door,sans one head.

That night her and Feferi went at it with a ferocityunmatched by any prior bout of passion. She thought it was so sexy - how casuallyAradia had given up her head, as if it had meant nothing to her. Aradia didn’tactually feel that way, but she went along with it because of just how muchFeferi was into the idea. After they were both satisfied, Feferi finally posedthe question that Aradia had suspected was brewing in the back of her mind.

“So you think there’s any more temples out there?”

Aradia sighed happily and cuddled up to her cold-bloodedmatesprit. “We spotted another one in an old satellite image the otherday. The expedition is planned for next month.”

“Can I come? Can I come?” Feferi yelled excitedly.

Aradia reached up andstroked Feferi’s neck. She whispered into her ear: “Enjoy this while itlasts… it’s not going to be intact for long.”

Feferi squealed, vibrating elatedly against Aradia.“Thank you thank you thank you! Ooh, I can’t wait!”

Aradia giggled and reached down to stroke her matesprit’snook. “Ready for round two?”

And so, over the coming month, Feferi grew more and moreexcited about the prospect of losing her head. Aradia often had to physicallypush her out the door to get her to go to work at the solar colonizationprogram’s headquarters. At home she animatedly talked about how she was goingto toss her head onto a colony ship almost as soon as she got it removed,sending it off past the asteroid belt, never to be re-united with its body.

Those nights were some of Aradia’s favourites, as Feferimade excellent use of her tongue while she still had it.

Shortly after she’d handed off her head, Aradia discoveredthat she could control her head from any distance. Throughout the month Aradia hadbeen switching her senses to emanate from her head, finding it sitting up on a pedestalin the museum, and had started talking with patrons. Her talks about the gamedrew such a crowd that the museum worked out an official schedule with her, andthey started selling tickets to her lectures at a large mark-up. It was quitean experience for her, as oftentimes while her head was talking her body wasmasturbating - pinching her nipples, rubbing her nook, and touching her stump -hot and bothered by the thought of her head sitting on a podium, with no bodybelow it, casually giving a talk to hundreds of patrons.

Feferi was rubbing off on her.

About two weeks before the expedition to the new wasscheduled, Feferi came home looking morose.

“What’s wrong?” Aradia asked, embracing her in atight hug.

“I’ve just realized I’m never gonna kiss youagain.”

“Having second thoughts?”

“Oh my glub no! My head is on borrowed time! But… yougot rid of your head so suddenly, I never got a chance to kiss yougoodbye.”

“Hey, there’s still time!” Aradia reassured her,rubbing her back and resting her neck stump on her matesprit’s shoulders. “Oneweek’s notice, remember? I can recall it for that kiss you want, and then sendit right back.”

Feferi lit up. “Really?”

“Really. I can call them right away, if you want.”

Feferi embraced her in a crushing hug, momentarilyforgetting her seadweller strength. “Do it! Do it now!” she yelled,pulling away and jumping in place excitedly.

Aradia pulled out her phone and made the call. But as itprogressed, Feferi’s excitement died down. Aradia went from happy, to confused,to resigned - Feferi had gotten good at reading Aradia’s body language in thelast month, and this was quite obviously not good news.

As soon as Aradia hung up, Feferi trepidatiously asked herwhat was wrong.

“They sold it.”

“They did what‽”Feferi recoiled.

“They sold it. Some wealthy collector snatched itup,” Aradia replied, shrugging.

“B-B-But, how could they do that? Without consultingyou? It’s your head, for shell’ssake!”

“I didn’t include a no-sale clause,” Aradia saidsimply. “They were well within their rights.”

Feferi slumped against a wall and slid down onto the floor, restingher head on her knees. Aradia knelt down beside her.

“You gonna be okay?” she asked.

Feferi sighed and forced a smile. “Yeah, eventually.Honestly, you’re taking this better than I am. It’s kind of funny.”

Aradia chuckled. “What can I say? I really don’t needthe thing.”

Feferi punched her playfully. “You’re weird, you knowthat?”

“Is that a bad thing?” Aradia asked, tilting herstump quizzically.

Feferi laughed, raising her head and kissed Aradia’s stump.“Not at all.”

Later that afternoon, Aradia got curious as to who exactlyhad bought her head. And so, after locking herself in the hygieneblock, shepressed the button on her collar, and she opened her eyes.

“Ah, I was wondering when you’d show up,” amasculine voice said. Aradia spotted a human male in an expensive suit,lounging in what looked like the most comfortable chair ever to be invented.

“I presume you’re the new owner of my head?”Aradia asked, and the man nodded.

“Quite a strange thing that happened to you lot, isn’tit? To have one’s head chopped off and live to tell the tale…” hechuckled lightly, “you creators are always subverting our expectations.Tell me: how does it feel to no longer be the legal owner of your own head? Howdoes it feel to know that whatever happens to it is entirely up to me?”The man stands up and walks over to her, cupping her cheeks and lifting her offa shelf. “How does it feel to be helpless?”

Aradia’s damp nook answered the question for her. She closedher eyes and bit her lip, while in her bathroom she slipped two fingers intoher slit. “Fucking hot.”

The man smiled. “That’s what I thought.” He puther down and returned to his seat. “I have a business proposition foryou.”

“I’m listening,” Aradia said, trying not tovisibly react as she pinched a nipple.

“Downstairs from us is Italy’s - perhaps even Eurasia’s- finest brothel. Men and women, humans and trolls, come here from all over theworld to sample our merchandise. We cater to the standard crowd, yes, but we’realways looking to expand into new markets. And you, dear Aradia, represent asignificant market.”

“NBM fetishists and people who want to have sex with aplayer,” Aradia guessed.

“Exactly. You’re a bright one, aren’t you?”

“I try,” Aradia said as she got a third fingerinto her nook.

“So, my proposal is this. We’ll induct you as anemployee of our brothel and let our customers use your head for whatever theywish, as long as it doesn’t leave permanent harm. You’ll get a cut of the feeswe charge for your use, and we’ll give you the standard EU annual leavepackage, wherein we’ll let you take possession of your head.”

Aradia was smiling wide as she heard this - her body wasflush with arousal, and she’d moved her other hand from her nipple to startrubbing up against her stump.

“What do you say?” the man asked.

Aradia moaned, giving up any pretence of professionalism.“I’ll- I’ll need to see a- a contract,” she said.

“Of course. We’ll draw one up and we can have your bodyover to sign it at your leisure.”

Aradia closed her eyes and tried to throw her head back, butonly succeeded in knocking herself over. “Yes! Yes, oh god yes!”

The man’s hands grabbed hold of her head and brought her upto his eye-level. “Excellent. Now,” he pointed her down to his crotchand she saw his member straining against her suit’s pants, “would you likea demonstration of your job requirements?”

“Yessssssss!!!” Aradia yelled as she came,shuddering in pleasure in her bathtub.

“Very well,” the man said, pulling down his pantsand freeing his rock-hard erection. He shoved her eager mouth down his length,and Aradia’s eyes rolled back into her head.

She was definitelyhaving more than one orgasm today.

As the man’s cock pistoned in and out of her hungry mouth,using her as a mere sex toy, and as she violently squeezed her stump, Aradiafelt she might have to talk Feferi out of sending her head out into space whenthe time came.

“After all,”she thought as she relished the taste of pre-cum as she climbed towards hersecond orgasm; “this, right here, isso much more fun.”

[satisfaction-explorations]

What are the worldwide 100 things that need to be figured out and decided to make environmental solutions, and especially, especially, especially climate change and plastics solutions- that are good for everyone- move forward? (including supporting couple of pieces of information)

How about this as one of the 100: our coronavirus year has been challenging. And the first few years of the required climate changes are going to be challenging. However- it needs to be done sooner or later and it is what it is. Once we get business going again, why can’t we just leap into the environmental changes required ASAP, while people have built up a ton of skills and characteristics from this year? Any two years we jump into the requirements to stop those tipping points are going to be tough, so let’s just rip the bandaid off and do it ASAP, especially considering the level of skills built now. Any year when the environmental changes happen are going to be tough at first. Why don’t we use all the problem solving capital to get it going ASAP (once business is healthy enough again). For example, apparently a lot of jobs are going to be created from the new environmental industries (as we still need electricity- we just need to figure out how to make environmental cheaper/ profitable enough to be good). Why sit around and wait forever for the stop tipping point 2 years? After business is up and healthy again, let’s just rip the bandaid off now and do those two years ASAP.

Also, if this is any help, I think that the sales and marketing world literally trains people into what their purchasing priorities should be. We have 8 billion people- it’s too artificial if the 8 billion forget the specific reasons WHY we’re motivating everyone with this- but, based on the reasons WHY, our 8 billion can get the world to focus on the 100 most useful purchasing priorities for everyone to be employed, everyone to have enough income, and everyone to be meeting their purchasing priorities (e.g. saving for a house/ holiday/ car) while at the same time spending enough disposable income to stop recessions from happening. Here are some good purchasing priorities: a variety of healthy foods from different locations, mental health support, experiences rather than products, absolutely everything that is low plastic or no plastic, exercise “experiences”, bucket list adventures, making travel really safe and really rewarding in previously poorer areas. Yes, we need to save for our car/house/holiday, but we also all need to do our part to stop recessions and also have purchasing priorities that are healthy for us, healthy for our communities and healthy for our environment. Also, some goods should be free (how to prevent certain illnesses), some goods should be made highly accessible (e.g. food, water, affordable healthy housing), and some goods can be any price whatsoever (e.g. blue cheese, which I personally would pay a lot for, we’re all unique).

Information: There are a bunch of tipping points in the future, where if we pass these tipping points, problems- especially humanitarian problems and natural disasters- are going to accelerate rapidly. Let’s not freak out. Let’s say there are 20 different tipping points. We’re almost guaranteed to pass the first 2-4 tipping points with all the accelerated crises they’re going to bring.

But our world work each month very strongly affect the 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th and 7th tipping points. I look at it like this- if you are trying to break a huge boulder without hurting anyone (let’s say that it represents solving some incredibly complex, important and urgent problem like climate change above), it seems impossible… until you find yourself a few pickaxes and get a billion people to constantly take weekly 3x30 minute turns on it until the problem is solved. Because climate change is so popular, I haven’t worked on it as much, but how many times have I tried to solve other problems? 100? 300? 500? It looks like nothing is happening the first 490 times but actually every single thing is progress, and at one point all of a sudden breaks the rock and you get all of the benefits. It’s like playing the pokies but with much a higher probability if you get enough people involved to do what’s needed. Although it’s also equally important to not accidentally cause large negative side effects. That needs to be communicated too. I wonder what I will work on next? I’ve been really stuck on these weird puzzles around the world economic system and how it can help all people without creating recessions or poverty. Like the paragraph two points up. It’s frustrating because the potential negative side effects are very high, but for me this one area is incredibly interesting. Definitely moving towards making my mental potential something real. But every person has their own special areas- I think a lot of people really like seeing improvements in countries and human areas, because you get to experience so much travel and cultures, as well as connecting with people on a deeper level and helping them a lot too/ being a great/really good person. But again… being strongly aware that naivety is a 0/10 area when it comes to risks.

.

I personally think that “real” development is achieved when the problems fixed are truly long-term- many people would call a 40 year improvement in that falls backward “development” but I wouldn’t call that development, I would call it help. 

Therefore, I want to ask this question… across the next 9,000 years, what do you think is going to be the profile of the thousand or so people who cause the most problems for our planet and people. In movies we think only bad people cause problems but that’s false. Sure, psychopaths are real. Genetic brain traits that cause serious problems are real. Sociopathy is real. The dark triad is real. Yes these are definitely, definitely real, whether you have seen people like this or you never have.

But I bet 50% of the people in the 1000 list won’t be stereotypically “bad guys”. For one, zero people are ‘all bad’- most people are a mix of characteristics and most people want to feel good about themselves (except maybe people with certain kinds of brain abnormalities). And for another, some things are mistakes. Or chains of events. Or who knows what. For example, why exactly was Mugabe so harmful? What was the original reason for everything he did? Yes, something about his brain had to explain why he didn’t act like 99.9999% of other people. But at the same time, I think there was another specific cause too. However- 90% of the harm was still his fault- there would be millions of other people who went through the exact same trauma who would have been incredibly unhappy with what he did.

The thousand are very problematic- never approach them or people like them, that is a terrible idea that should be avoided. But the whole point of the above is this question: what will be the 100 or 1000 most effective 9,000 year deterrents to prevent these thousand or so people from getting to that point, in order from most effective to least effective.

[siodymph]

Science Bros Day 7

And here it is! Last prompt! This whole week has been such a blast! Honestly it really rekindled my love for science bros, I didn’t realize how much I missed writing for these two! And now this week has even inspired me to flesh out my day 4 prompt into a full fic! And it’s wonderful to read some many different stories and see such cute art everywhere again! You guys are just so great and wicked talented!

And while “Yours” may be the last official prompt, I’m still going strong, and will begin publishing some of the request that I’ve received. And if there’s any ideas you’d like to see me write feel free to send them my way! I’ll keep going till the 21st !

You can read this story under the cut or on my AO3! Hope you enjoy!

word count: 4058

It was a Monday morning and the Banner/Stark family was getting ready for a new day and a new week.

Bruce had several of his lectures this late morning until the afternoon and a few labs in the evening so it would be a full day for him. Tony was organizing all his blueprints, his research, to bring it all back to work with him. And their two oldest had school. It had become a ritual of sorts when they had the time in the morning for Tony and Bruce both to go see them off at school before going their separate ways to their own jobs. Bruce got two lunches together as well as one for himself while everyone went about their morning routines in the kitchen.

Tony had their youngest kid, little Kennedy, in one arm as he brought several holographic blueprints all around their kitchen back into a tablet with the other hand. Bruce always loved the awestruck look Kennedy would get on her face, entranced by all of her Daddy’s holographic work. Today she would be going with Tony to work over in the Stark industries. Tony’s reasoning was always that having a cute little tike in the room made it surprisingly easy to make deals and get through long-winded meetings but Bruce always had a feeling he did it just because he liked to bring her with him to work.

Ramona, their oldest at 11, had her nose in her workbook. Just like her adoptive fathers she was brilliant, but especially like Tony she had a bad habit of putting off busy-work she didn’t like till the literal last minute. So she scribbled out a half-assed homework assignment for her English class as she drank a bowl of cereal straight from the bowl, forgoing a spoon as she hurried.

And their middle child at 9 and only boy, Aiden, came quietly down the stairs. He seemed upset about something. He barely made a peep as he poured himself a bowl of cereal and sat down next to his sister. Bruce wanted to ask him what was wrong but he had learned with Aiden if you were too sudden or direct with him, he’d shut down. So Bruce stayed back and waited. Aiden would open up in his own time. When he did speak up, Bruce made sure to let him know he was listening.

He came over Bruce and leaned heavily onto his side. “Hey Papa? Can I skip school today? I don’t feel good.”

Near instantly Bruce brought his hand to feel Aiden’s forehead. He felt fine, no fever. But he did still seem really upset about something. After several mishaps it had become a family rule to only ask Bruce to miss school. Tony would always say yes and let the kids go to work with him instead. And while both of them had crappy experiences with the American School system, Bruce still wanted their kids to at least try going to school. As long as nothing was wrong of course.

“I’m not sick.” Aiden admitted honestly. “I just don’t feel good.”

“Well then how do you feel?” Bruce tried gently.

“I don’t know. Bad? I just want to miss school for one more day, please Papa?”

Bruce wanted to say yes. But he also wanted to understand. There wasn’t much he could do for Aiden unless he knew what was hurting his son. “Maybe. Can you explain why you don’t want to go to school?”

“You remember Thursday?”

“Yes.” Last Thursday Bruce had to go meet Aiden at the principal’s office after he got in a fight with a kid in the fourth grade. He hadn’t hurt him badly but still made an awfully strong impression on the kid, all his friends and his very angry mother.

“All Friday I kept seeing him. We didn’t fight but I could hear them laughing when I wasn’t looking. I felt really mad all day.”

Bruce felt himself getting mad but he tried not to show it. “Do you want me to go in and talk to your Principal about it?”

“No!” Aiden shouted, panicked. “They don’t actually mess with me. They’re too scared to now. If they got in trouble things would only get worse…”

Sadly Bruce could understand that, in 30 years the public education system still impossibly mishandled bullying in their schools.

“This whole weekend though I didn’t see him. I felt fine. And I want to feel fine today too.”

“Aiden.” Bruce said sighing. No way in hell he’d ever put his children in harm’s way. But he hated to think that a place meant for him to learn and grow had become a place he hated. A lot like himself. “Aiden? You know we’re really alike, you and me. I had a lot of anger issues when I was a little older than you.”

“So what did you do?” Aiden asked.

Bruce tried to think back on his own experience, something that would help Aiden understand. “Well, it doesn’t just disappear, your emotions. It’s healthy to let things go but sometimes it’s hard to know if you’re really letting something go, or if you’re just swallowing it down. Letting it bottle up inside you. If that makes any sense at all.”

“I guess. Our teacher always is telling us to forgive and move on.”

“She’s coming from the right place. But sometimes it’s hard to just drop the way you feel. Even if everyone around you assumes you should. And it’s ok. You’re allowed to feel upset about a situation or a person.” Bruce continued, not wanting to give Aiden the wrong idea. “However, it’s not fair to act out on the way you feel just because you’re upset and no one else is. You can defend yourself, but it’s not nice to hurt others deliberately.”

“I know that, Papa. I just don’t want to feel so bad all the time.”

“Well I found the best thing to do is talk to people. Talk to someone you trust about the way you feel. Or if you don’t feel comfortable talking you could try keeping a journal. You could write in it whenever you’re upset and when a problem you have is resolved. Finding an outlet to channel your emotions into can be very helpful. Do you understand Aiden?”

“Yeah Papa.”

“Do you still want to miss school for today?”

“… Can I? Just for today.”

Bruce sighed in defeat. “Hey Tony, you got room for another kid today?”

“Always do!” Tony said beaming and ruffling up Aiden’s hair. “I can take you down to the workshop when Kennedy’s taking her nap. That’s how you really learn, working out in your field, gaining experience! Hey Ramona!”

“Tony no-“

“You wanna skip school too? We can do a field trip!”

Ramona considered it, but in the end she shook her head and shoved her homework into her book bag. “I can’t. I have a spelling test.”

“Well you know if you’re sick on a test day, you can always take it the next day. And you get an extra 24 hours to study.”

“Tony!”

“I’m kidding!” Tony said, kissing Bruce on the cheek as he collected up his laptop and scooped up Kennedy back into his arms. “You sure sweetie?”

“Yeah I’m good.” Ramona said, strapping on her backpack.

“Alright. We’ll drop you off at school, then we’ll head out to work.” Everyone began grabbing their things and heading for the front hall. And Bruce took a tiny moment just to watch them go. Smiling. He had a family. Bruce Banner truly had a family.

Tony gave him a teasing look, swinging the front door open rather dramatically. “Hello? You coming big guy? We don’t have all day!”

“Yeah, I’m coming!” He said, looking down and grabbing his keys before leaving for the day.

Bruce was ready to follow them all out the door when something strange happened. And the illusion began to crack.

Bruce!

He could hear Tony saying something. When Bruce looked up, he was already down the hall with the kids. But his voice sounded like it was directly in front of him.

“Bruce? Are you feeling alright?”

Bruce! Bruce, come on! You gotta snap out of it!

Tony’s voice was right there in his face, and it sounded so different. Frantic, maybe even scared. And he knew the truth was there. Standing in plain sight. A part of Bruce had known the whole time. An inkling in the back of his mind. He’d just hoped it had been a trick. That he was just feeling paranoid over nothing.

But he was fast realizing the truth. And everything began slowly fading away.

He felt himself stumbling back. He needed to get out of here. But he never wanted to leave!

“Papa?” Aiden and Sophia looked at him with eyes full of fear. Kennedy started crying.

Come on! I know you can break out of this!

He wanted this to be real. He felt like he was being torn apart. Please, just let him keep this.

BRUCE!

But he couldn’t. Because Bruce Banner didn’t have a house in the city with houseplants in every room and garden boxes in every window. Bruce Banner didn’t have an esteemed position with one of the biggest universities in the country. Bruce Banner didn’t have a healthy hold on his emotions. Bruce Banner didn’t have kids. And he never would have kids because it was too dangerous. Bruce Banner had horrible powers and many people wanted him caged or dead.

And as Tony and their children raced towards Bruce, he felt like he was falling backwards. He looked at them all one last time and closed his eyes.  

When he opened his eyes again it was all gone.

  He was lying on his back. On an alien planet. And Tony was right there, staring down at him and looking extremely relieved.

“Thank god, knew you could do it!”

Bruce let Tony pull him upright. There was a migraine pulsing in the front of his head but he still forced himself to wake up. All around them it seemed like other members of their group were in similar states. Some recovering with headaches, others still lost is some sort of trance. The red aura of the Scarlet Witch was hovering over everyone. “What the hell happened?”

He remembered everyone being split into two groups. Bruce was in one and Tony was in the other. And from the looks of it something had gone horribly wrong in Bruce’s team.

“We’re not 100% sure yet. But from what we collected, one of Thanos’s lackys got into Wanda’s head and used her powers against her. It’s like she was hacked. Those alien guys are still trying to calm her down.”

Bruce could see the Scarlet Witch several yards away. She was completely trapped in her own powers. Eyes glowing a bloody, deep red and she was openly sobbing. She was crying out incoherently and Bruce could make out her brother’s name in her words. She was completely unaware of the people surrounding her, trying to help her. One of the alien woman with a set of antenna on her head grabbed Wanda’s arm and began crying too.

“Pepper told me everything she knew. Wanda was showing everyone in your group their desires. Like the really big stuff. And from the look of it she’s been seeing her own desires too.”

His desires… It truly was an illusion. Just a trick of the mind. None of it was real.

“Hey Bruce? You ok?”

Bruce? Are you feeling alright?

It would never be real.

He found himself getting up fast. Tony was at his side asking him if he was really alright to keep going. Bruce said he was. But he couldn’t look directly at Tony. Whenever he did he kept seeing flashes of that other Tony sketching out some blueprints in a kitchen. Or that other Tony holding their kids by the hand. Tony actually relaxed, truly happy and utterly carefree. A Tony that wasn’t real, couldn’t be real. At least not the Tony he knew right now.

But he couldn’t afford to let that distract him any more than it had. Their team was in trouble and needed his help. Now.

So he tried to swallow down the turmoil of feelings coursing through him. Tony tried to talk to them as they went but Bruce couldn’t bring himself to truly listen to him. He still couldn’t look at him. He felt like he was lagging behind his body a few steps. Everything was going so slow and they had work to do. He and Tony went separate ways to try reviving as many of their teammates and friends as they could. And as they all came back to their senses, regrouped and prepared to head out, Bruce’s mind and heart refused to go numb.

Bruce isolated himself as much as he could once they were on the Guardians’ ship. Some sort of small storage space. He needed to be alone. He needed to find a way to shut his brain off.

Every time he closed his eyes he could still see it. The house. The kitchen. Tony with the kids. God, his kids. That had to of been the cruelest part of all.

He just wanted to forget the whole thing. Stop thinking entirely. But his mind wouldn’t stop. Nothing he did would make it stop. He couldn’t let the image go, it was seared into his mind. And his brain kept going and going, it felt like white static in his skull.

When he heard someone come to the door he was ready to snap at them to leave him alone. Just give him a minute! But he held the words back when he saw it was one of the alien women, Mantis. In the time Bruce had gotten to know the Guardians he’d learned Mantis was a well-meaning but shy and soft-spoken person. And he’d feel bad for yelling at her for no reason. So instead, as she stepped into the small storage space he’d let her come in.

“Hello. Mantis, right?”

“Yes, that’s correct.” She said. Bruce had been willing to let her in, but when she sat down on the floor across from him he tensed. “Are you ok? You stormed off after the attack. Many people seemed concerned about you. Especially with the whole mind-manipulation you were caught under.”

“I’m fine. I just needed some time alone. To get my head on straight. I’ll be alright in a couple minutes.” Bruce said, trying to gently get Mantis to leave.

But instead, much to his dismay, Mantis didn’t seem to pick up on his suggestion and scootched a little closer towards him. Looking rather excited for someone sitting on the floor of a storage unit with Bruce Banner. “Perhaps I can be of assistance then!”

“Uh thanks, but that’s not necessary-” Bruce tried, but Mantis quickly brushed him off.

“No. You see, this is the sort of situation my powers were made for! I have the ability to feel another’s emotions. To help others understand! All I need to do is touch their skin with my hand and I can know them. I can do this for you! If you’re willing of course.”

She held her hand towards Bruce and he thought it over. The idea of someone knowing exactly how he felt seemed very invasive to him. And usually he handled his own emotions himself where he couldn’t bother, upset or hurt anyone else.

And yet despite that he still found himself rolling up his jacket and offering his arm to Mantis. Curiosity was a cursed thing.

As soon as Mantis’s hand touched his shoulder she doubled over shuddering. Bruce feared for the worst when he saw her antenna began to glow green and she drew a shuddering breath. But she didn’t grow any worse than that and slowly pulled herself back up.

“Oh… Oh my goodness…” Mantis gasped, trying to compose herself. She looked back to Bruce looking like she was about to either start sobbing or screaming. But she kept talking in between shaky breaths. “You’re mourning a dream. You’re yearning for something, but it’s so painful! It’s broken your heart so many times. But it still aches. And it infuriates you so. It’s… It’s so much!”

She pulled her hand away and hugged it on her chest as if it had been burned. It took all of Bruce’s willpower not to get up and leave when Mantis turned towards him with such pity.

“Do you feel like that all the time?”

Bruce shrugged, trying to ignore that direct look. “Not all the time. Not as often.”

“Oh…” Mantis said. She looked like she wanted to touch Bruce again, but she pulled her hand back. “I’m sorry you feel like that Bruce. That hurt.”

“You don’t have to apologize, it’s not your doing.”

“I understand. But I still wish I could help more. You’re feeling so many different emotions at once.”

Mantis didn’t continue right away. She paused for a moment, trying to collect her own thoughts. And a weird-feeling silence took up the space before Mantis worked together what exactly she wanted to say. “There was some strange things in your feelings. I sensed a great loneliness in you. But not only that, you had this acceptance for loneliness too… Perhaps you should go talk to some of your friends? I know you hold a lot of compassion for them and they care for you too. The woman with red hair, the woman with red hair who’s also molten hot, the man with lightning. And especially the Iron Man.”

“Ok that’s starting to sound more like mind-reading.” Bruce said accusingly.

“Oh, no. I didn’t pick that last part up in your feeling. No, I saw it seeing you and your friends’ battle and in the aftermath.” Mantis added. “Many of them did seemed worried about you.”

Bruce sighed. He was beginning to wonder if Thor and the others pushed Mantis to come in here to try and help him. He rubbed at his face. “Ok. Well can you go tell them I’ll be out soon? I just need a little more time. Alone.”

This time Mantis accepted what he was saying. And with a quiet “Of course” She got up and made her way back into the hallway.

“Thanks for your help.”

Mantis stopped before leaving completely, confused. “I don’t understand. I got so overwhelmed when I tried to read you. I wasn’t able to help you.”

“You did try. And even if it’s not everything, it was… nice, I guess, to put a name to some of this… stuff.” Bruce offered, and gestured to his head as he spoke.

Hopefully that had been the right thing to say. Mantis straightened up a little and smiled from the door.

“Ok. I’ll leave you be for now then. Are you going to speak with anyone else?”

“I will, don’t worry. I think I’ll go talk with Tony later. Iron Man.” He owed his boyfriend that much. He was a huge part of the vison after all. And he’d been avoiding him for half-an-hour now because every time he looked at his he was reminded of that fake Tony in his dream. He owed him an explanation at least.

He finally left the room after a few more moments alone. As he walked through the ship he saw the damage done. Today’s attack had hit harder than any physical tactic waged against them. Moral had plummeted. And Bruce felt helpless as he saw the state of everyone in his group. Nat seemed like she still might be in a trance, she starred numbly out a window at the stars. One of the Gaurdians, Gamora, sat by her side giving her an understanding look but didn’t say anything. Thor acknowledged him as he passed but his lips were firmly pressed into a tight frown and his hand clutched at a hammer no longer there. Several people were still crying. Wanda especially so. And Mantis was going from person to person, trying to help people the best she could. Giving council to those willing to accept it.

He found Tony down in the workshop-station. The one run by an ornery but brilliant raccoon. But Rocket wasn’t in there at the moment. Nobody else but Tony. He was hard at work repairing one his busted gauntlets on the Iron Man suit.

Bruce knocked on the wall as he came in, “Uh, hi?”

“Hey you!” Tony called out in a slightly forced voice as he looked up from his gauntlet. He pulled off a pair of goggles so he could see him better. “What’s up?”

“I was just looking for you. Everyone seems really… worn from today’s fight.” Bruce said.

Tony sighed and began to let that front he’d first put on slide. “Yeah. Looks like our buddy Thanos isn’t above psychological warfare. Are you doing ok? Cause everyone was forced to see some pretty messed-up stuff.”

“Yeah, I’m ok enough. That’s… That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. My vision.” Bruce came closer and sat by Tony’s side.

“You don’t have to tell me what you saw if you don’t want to, Bruce.”

“I know…” Bruce said. Tony didn’t respond so Bruce kept going. “I didn’t have my powers… We had a family. We were all eating breakfast. They were getting ready for school.”

He watched as Tony’s closed his eyes and rubbed at his eyelids. “Shit. I’m sorry Bruce.”

“It’s not your fault. It was my own mind that was manipulated.”

“But I know how much you like kids…”

He heard Tony sigh. And neither of them said anything. He quietly turned to look more closely at him. The real Tony Stark. In the florescent lighting and his own exhausted state, Tony almost looked ashen. And with them fighting every day Tony’s hair had gone a long time without any dye and had really started greying along the sides. He was thinking hard about something. Probably overthinking. And whatever it was it wasn’t good from the way he looked towards his broken gauntlet with such a resigned acceptance.

“… Do you think we could ever do that? I mean, if we somehow manage to survive all this and save the world. You think when we get back to earth, we could ever do that?”

Bruce didn’t know what to say. Yes. He’d wanted something like that for years, decades now. He’d always wanted to be a father. But he would never be able to give them a safe home. Any kid they might take in might always be in trouble just being in proximity of him. And that was even if any adoption agency would ever like the likes of them adopt kids. But he had finally mastered his powers, he found peace with the other part of himself. But there were also so many other obstacles in their way than his own powers.

“I don’t know. I’m really sorry. I want to but I just don’t know.”

He felt Tony, gently hug his shoulders. And he spoke softly. “Hey, it’s ok. It’s alright. Honestly. I mean, who even knows if we’ll ever get back to earth!”

Tony laughed, but there was a grim look in his eyes. And Bruce found himself mirroring back that sad, sort of humor. “We don’t even know if we’ll live long enough to see the end of this war.”

“Yeah, you’re right. So I’m gonna say this. And I’ll probably tell you every day we’re still alive cause I’m dramatic like that, you know.” Tony said, he held Bruce by both so hid shoulders so they were looking face to face. Then slowly moved closer as he spoke until their foreheads were touching.

“No matter what happens I’m staying right here. I’ve never regretted choosing to be with you and I never will. I love you, Bruce Banner. I’m yours.”

Bruce pressed his lips softly against Tony’s trying to convey everything he was feeling. And he felt Tony smiling against him as he pulled away.

“And just in case you wanted a reminder. This? This right here? This is real.”

“Yeah… I hoped so.”

[sortyourlifeoutmate]

A Drive In the Country

A silly story about taking the Mako for a spin.

I have no idea what's going on with the characterisation here, it's mostly just me grinning and imagining how the Mako handles and how weird those surface missions were. Basically, I just love the foibles of ME1's design. The thing I missed out (but shouldn't have) was Omnigel. That shit was hilarious.

Locked door? Pour some gel on that! Sort it right out.

Tally ho!

The Normandy came in hot and low. The thin atmosphere of the planet helped, of course, but a considerable amount of the manoeuvre was style. Not that anyone was complaining. Tali and Garrus were too busy clinging to whatever they could grab a firm hold of for that.

“You guys ever done a landing like this before?” Shepard asked, flicking a switch and not looking back. They then flipped the switch again. And again. And a few more times for good measure. Shepard frowned. What did that switch do again?

“There wasn't a lot of call for this sort of thing back at C-Sec,” Garrus said. Seatbelts inside the Mako were conspicuous in their absence. On closer inspection, it looked like they'd actually been removed on purpose. Except for Shepard's. He still had his.

“That's a damn shame! Very little in life like falling out a ship in an armoured vehicle, ready to ride forth across the surface of an unknown world! I mean, I knew all the worlds I dropped on. But I can't imagine this being that different!” He said, rubbing his hands together as the Mako jostled about. It wouldn't be long now.

“Did you say 'falling'?” Tali asked. She even raised her hand which – while cute – was useless since Shepard still wasn't actually looking back as he talked. He was just shouting.

“It's controlled falling! More like dropping, really. Speaking of which, three seconds! Hold onto something now!”

Three seconds did not leave a lot of time for protests and by the time Shepard's passengers had got their wits enough together to ask pertinent safety questions it was far too late. They were now falling. 'Dropping', rather – sorry.

The experience was a singular one. It was very much like the floor dropping out from under all of them. Because that's sort of what it was. There was screaming but the source of it was unclear as everything got very noisy. Shepard's tastes in music – and preference for volume – did not help. It was human music that clocked in at over a century old or nothing. Luckily at least it wasn't far down to the surface thanks to Joker's fondness for low-altitude delivery.

In a normal Mako the jets cut in automatically to soften descent but Shepard had found this feature far too namby-pamby and so had torn those bits. He activated manually, and trusted to his (considerable) abilities to keep everyone in one piece. It worked, of course. Like it always did and probably always would. They touched down shaken, but breathing.

“Ah! Perfect, as per the USHE. Heh,” Shepard chuckled. Saying 'usual' was for amateurs.

Compared to arriving, actually moving off in the Mako was lovely. The suspension was such that even the reasonable bumps and dips of the plain they'd been dropped onto were impossible to notice. Truly a triumph of engineering. Garrus and Tali began to relax, exchanging glances as they did so.

“So what are we here for, Shepard?” Garrus asked. Shepard hadn't actually told them anything about where they were or what they were doing, at least not yet. He certainly seemed to know what he was doing, at the very least. The way he'd taken control of the Normandy as if though he'd done it dozens of times before, knowing exactly where to go and what to do when he got there. It was a little disconcerting, actually. Wasn't this his first day as a Spectre? Didn't seem like it.

“Just having a look round, you know. Oh, and also we got a message about some Geth up to no good in the system. So there's that. Keep eyes peeled!”

Tali and Garrus exchanged looks. They were not filled with confidence.

“Shouldn't we be following up on, you know, the leads?” Garrus asked, as delicately as possible.

“All in good time, Garrus! All in good time,” Shepard said as he wagged a finger, foot pressing down onto the pedal on which was written the word 'GO'. In marker. The Mako shot forward, the roar of the engine filling the compartment. From what few technical specifications of the thing Garrus had seen once (idly thumbing through some surplus magazine or other one time) it should have been whisper quiet. This disconcerted him.

“Stick with me, Garrus. We'll go around the galaxy, we'll right wrongs, find cool shit and we'll bring that mean old Mr Saren to justice,” Shepard shouted to the back of the Mako, jerking the wheel violently from side to side. This seemed to have very little influence on where it actually went.

A map screen was pulled down and consulted briefly, though the icons were too small for those in the back to see. Shepard seemed excited though, tapping out a waypoint on an area of interest.

“Hey sweet a crashed probe, hang on a tick,” he said before slamming his foot down and spinning the wheel once more. This time it actually seemed to do something and the whole vehicle veered to the right, nose going up sharply a moment later as they started to climb. Garrus and Tali barely had an instant to appreciate the ridiculous ratio of the hill Shepard had chosen to go up before they went tumbling straight to the rear of the crew compartment.

“I love the Mako. This thing is just unbelievable. Climbs just about anything short of a cliff. And unless someone's actively shooting at it it's basically indestructible – how's that for engineering! It's even got jets! Ooh, a crevasse – hold on.” Shepard was talking as if nothing in the world was wrong and they weren't all almost horizontal. With a surge from the engine they levelled off but only for a moment or so before a lurch upwards sent them sailing through the air. Garrus and Tali had no reservations about screaming again at this as the Mako tumbled end-over-end all the way to the bottom of a cleft in the landscape. The Mako was utterly unscathed, and somehow so was everyone in it. The vehicle even managed to right itself, though it was still at an alarming angle.

“Right! Helmets on! Not you Tali, you're way ahead of us,” Shepard said, disengaging the harness holding him to the seat and heading straight to the Mako's access hatch, slapping his helmet onto his head as he did so. Garrus barely had enough time to pick himself up from the heap he'd ended up in to do the same himself before the hatch opened. By the time he and Tali had stumbled dazedly out onto the surface of the planet and after Shepard the Commander was already squatting over the mangled and rusted wreckage of a crashed probe. His arm had disappeared up to the shoulder in and he rummaged around for all he was worth.

“The things people leave lying around, I tell you,” he said. With a wrench and a spray of sparks something within the probe gave way and Shepard pulled his arm free, holding up a handful of indeterminate items for closer inspection.

“Armour piercing rounds? Motorised joints for armour? Who put these on a probe? What beautiful genius knew that I would here one day, at this exact spot, at this exact moment to receive this bounty? I thank this individual, wherever they are. You chose well what to stuff into a probe! Well, I mean, screw the joints obviously but the AP rounds are going to be useful! I can feel it.”

Shepard regarded his acquisitions with pride before unslinging his rifle and inelegantly cramming the ammo module into a slot on the side. Or what was assumed to be a slot. The vigour with which he slammed his fist into the module to get it to fit suggested that he had perhaps picked the wrong place. It fitted in the end. Just.

“Everyone back in!” Shepard shouted, running back to the Mako with the other two close behind.

Once inside Shepard picked out another spot on the map – which, when Garrus got a closer look at it, seemed to be marked in several arbitrary places – and opened up the throttle again to get them all moving. Following a precipitous climb (which sent Garrus and Tali tumbling to the back once more) things actually leveled out for a time they enjoyed an expansive stretch of relatively flat, featureless terrain. For a given value of 'enjoyed'.

Then they took a sharp right turn as Shepard had spotted something on the radar.

“There's gold in them there hills,” he said with a wink.

Turned out he was right, too. There was literally just a chunk of gold sat out in the open. It defied belief but the Commander didn't seem to mind, jumping out to drop a beacon off before jumping right back into the Mako.

“Someone'll come and pick that up later. Every little helps!”

Neither of the others were sure what this meant or who he was talking about. The time for questions had long-since passed however, and they knew this. On they went. Onwards and upwards, back into the mountains. They assumed Shepard knew where he was going. It looked like he was following a waypoint, after all.

“Nearly there...ah, mind the bump.”

Garrus and Tali barely had enough time to exchange glances before the Mako clipped the very top of a hillock and spun on its nose, swinging around wildly and ending up facing backwards towards the way they were meant to be going. How the suspension hadn't been smashed to bits was anyone's guess. Shepard just laughed.

“See what I tell you? Indestructible,” he said. Then he frowned, as though something had only just occurred to him. “Of course if someone does start shooting at it the whole thing comes apart like a tissue in a rainstorm but who's going to be shooting at us down here? Oh. Wait. Geth, look.”

Rockets and sizzling bolts of indeterminate energy whizzed past the Mako as a clutch of Geth vehicles and turrets opened up on them. Shepard, reversing with one hand operating the turret with the other, didn't seem phased in the slightest. Instead, he seemed to be scanning the terrain.

“Aaaaand there. That'll do,” he said, bringing the Mako back the right way around (and letting off a wild shot from the main gun as he did so, hitting nothing). Dodging another volley more through luck than anything else Shepard sped over a gentle rise that overlooked whatever it was the Geth were guarding and brought the Mako round in a screeching one-eighty.

“You might want to hold on for this bit,” he said.

The Mako rolled forwards, bouncing over the ridge. The instant its body flopped down and brought the firing angle on the gun down to a viable one Shepard fired, immediately slamming the whole vehicle into reverse as the gun cooled down for the next shot.

This continued for some time. Shepard was at least vaguely accurate, scoring more hits than misses, but this was cold comfort to his poor jostled passengers. Both of them were starting to feel quite ill by the time he'd blown up the turrets and all but one of the walkers. They felt palpable relief when he didn't go backwards after firing and instead drove straight into the remaining Geth, knocking it down and rolling right over.

Then he stopped.

“I think it's stuck underneath us...” he said, cocking his head. The Mako was shivering in a most unusual way. Shepard pantomimed putting on a helmet before doing so himself and then disembark again. Sure enough, he was right.

The thing was well and truly stuck. The head was trapped beneath one of the Mako's wheels and it's whole body twitched as it tried and failed to shift the weight pinning it. It wasn't firing at them, for whatever reason. Even so Garrus and Tali made sure to stand well clear. Shepard had no such reservations.

“Look at that Geth Armature,” he said, shaking his head and nudging the thing with his foot. Garrus did a double take. No-one had seen the Geth for hundreds of years. As far as he knew, no human had ever seen a Geth at all.

“How do you know what's it called?” he asked. Shepeard tapped a finger to his helmet.

“The targeting wotsit in my HUD calls it that,” he said. Garrus considered this, but it wasn't a good answer.

“How does it know?”

“...I don't know.”

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence where all involved felt they were naught but cosmic playthings. The Armature continued to squirm silently and uselessly. Shepard was the first to speak.

“Let's shoot it.”

This at least was something all of them could get behind. Guns folded out and in a flurry of fire the Armature's barriers were stripped and what little remained of its structural integrity was shredded. The light of its eye went out and it finally stopped moving. They took a moment to appreciate this.

“I wonder if it has armour piercing rounds in there somewhere...” Shepard mused. He thought better of investigating it, however. Briefly he wandered over to the trio of Geth computer terminals standing out in the middle of nowhere that had previously been guarded by what was now just smoking wreckage. The terminals were non-responsive. Nothing he did work. Shepard frowned, hands on his hips.

“You'd think these would be important, wouldn't you? Maybe they'll be important later. Still seems odd to just have them here. But what do I know?” He said. Garrus, who'd been checking his map, pointed to the horizon.

“Map says there's a Geth outpost maybe a click or two east of here. Think it's worth investigating?”

“Oh, most certainly,” Shepard said. Then he sighed, head hanging. “You know, I think we have a very long journey ahead of us.”

“...it's only a few kilometres, Shepard,” said Garrus. He felt he was missing something and it looked for a moment that Shepard might tell him what. He didn't though. He just sighed again and patted Garrus on the back, wandering back towards the Mako.

“Tali! You're very quiet. What's up?” He asked as he passed her. She shrugged.

“I don't know what's going on,” she said, quite honestly. She really didn't. Shepard chuckled.

“Do any of us, really?”

END