#Because it puts her on this shiny pedestal above all others that kind of makes me resent her a little even tho I fucking adore her

[whogirl42]

So I like... I really don't know how I feel about the whole bi-regeneration thing.

Something that sours it for me is like... I was so upset that we were only gonna get the 3 eps with 14 and Donna - ideally for me we would have had a whole season or even a half-season to do them justice. It made me sad that I'd have to say goodbye to them so soon. Tho I did take comfort in that there'd basically be an open invitation for Donna cameos in the future, in a similar way to the Kate Stewart and Unit ones.

HOWEVER. Now??? As much as I fucking adore Donna and David Tennant as the Doctor... I kinda never wanna see them on screen again??? Cause I feel like it sorta cheapens the concept of the 15th Doctor and all the other future adventures he'll have. It was one thing with Tentoo cause he was banished to another universe and was limited to a mortal's lifespan. But having two fully fledged Doctors??? Both with Tardises??? In the same universe???

It doesn't just cheapen the 15 Doctor and all future Doctors, imo it also cheapens David Tennant himself. Because there's a bittersweet beauty in letting go. In saying goodbye. Of accepting the next phase in life. The bi-regeneration doesn't do that. There's no closure. There's no faint loss accompanying the joyous rebirth. It's just.

It just feels very emotionally hollow.

[twoidiotwriters1]

The Curse of Oenone (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: A couple that gets angry together stays together angrily or something like that -Danny Words: 3,101 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'A Million Pretty Pieces' -by Fleurie & Nightly

XXVIII: I'm Mere Seconds Away From Violence

"Check it out," Jason points at a bronze statue of Neptune.

"He's naked," Ara makes a face. "Why?"

"Ah, jeez." Leo groans quietly, but his eyes scan the statue anyway, as they do with everything. "Some kind of clue?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Jason replies. "There are statues of the gods all over the place in Italy. I'd just feel better if we ran across Jupiter. Or Minerva. Anybody but Neptune, really."

"I feel like he's judging me—hey, you little runt, you threw my son to hell!" Ara tries to imitate the god. "New York is packed with statues, and they were all there for a reason. This can't be just for show."

Leo approaches the pedestal where Neptune is. "They were automatons, right? The ones back in New York? Perhaps this dude can give us a hand..."

Leo enters the dry fountain, his eyes moving around like he can read an invisible text over it. She loves it when he does that, it feels like he can do anything and it gives her a sense of safety. As long as she's with Leo, there is no problem they can't solve.

"It's mechanical," he announces. "Maybe a doorway to the dwarfs' secret lair?" 

"Ooooo!" Exclaims a voice behind them. "Secret lair?"

"I want a secret lair!" Whines a second one.

"Oh, you can talk!" Ara follows the voices and finds one dwarf sitting at a café table. "Good! That means you'll understand the curses I'll put on you when I send you back to Tartarus!"

"If we had a secret lair," continues the dwarf ignoring her, "I would want a firehouse pole."

"And a waterslide!" adds the other, seated on the statue. He's the one in possession of Leo's belt.

"Stop that!" Leo tries to seize the creature by the foot, but he can't reach him.

"Too short?" The dwarf cackles from above his head.

"You're calling me short?" Leo looks around in anger, then turns to glare at the little guy. "Give me my belt, you stupid—"

"Now, now! We haven't even introduced ourselves. I'm Akmon. And my brother over there—"

"—is the handsome one! Passalos! Singer of songs! Drinker of coffee! Stealer of shiny stuff!"

"Stinky, annoying, and about to die," Ara lists, drawing out Almighty. Passalos runs away at an impressive speed, and she crashes onto the table before she can catch him.

"Hey!" Akmon frowns as he spots her sword. "I stole that! How did you take it back?" 

Passalos snorts. "Because you're lousy!" He pulls out Katroptis and starts cleaning his teeth with it. "I'm better at stealing than you."

"Hey!" Jason points at him with a scowl. "That's my girlfriend's knife!"

He tries to catch him, but once again the dwarf jumps and holds onto Leo's waist. "Save me?"

"Get off!" Leo tries to beat him away, but Passalos moves before he can even touch him, and the moment he's out of reach, Leo's pants fall around his knees.

Passalos shows them Leo's zipper with a pleased grin, holding it above his head to taunt Leo. Ara blushes, if they continue like this they're going to steal everything from them.

"Give—stupid—zipper!" Leo struggles to keep himself covered while trying to seize the creature.

"Eh, not shiny enough," Passalos tosses the zipper away.

Ara's mind is trying to do something with the information she's gathered, but without her Octopi, she doesn't have the tools to make anything, and she can't go back to the ship and risk losing track of Passalos and Akmon. Only Leo has the skill to make something out of nothing.

While the boys argue with the dwarfs, she turns Almighty back into a compass and stares at it. "C'mon..." The needle makes an abrupt movement and points to the statue.

"Who are you two, anyway?" Jason demands.

"The Kerkopes! I bet you're a son of Jupiter, eh? I can always tell."

"Just like Black Bottom," Passalos adds.

"Black Bottom?" Leo raises a brow.

"Yes, you know—Hercules. We called him Black Bottom because he used to go around without clothes. He got so tan that his backside, well—"

Ara's blood boils at the teasing, she doesn't allow any kind of jokes concerning the children of Olympus, it has become a touchy subject for her. "Give us our stuff back, or I'll give you both black bottoms."

The Kerkopes look at her with amusement. "You're the new daughter of Olympus, aren't you? That bag of yours had this," Akmon pulls out her laurel wreath and places it on top of his ugly hat. "We hadn't seen one in centuries!"

"Don't touch that!" She fumes.

"At least Hercules had a sense of humor!" Passalos makes a face. "He was going to kill us when we stole from him, but he let us go because he liked our jokes. Not like you. Grumpy, grumpy!"

"Hey, I've got a sense of humor," Leo says through gritted teeth. "Give me back our stuff, and I'll tell you a joke with a good punch line."

"Nice try!" Akmon pulls more stuff out of Leo's belt and beams. "Oh, very nice! I'm definitely keeping this! Thanks, Blue Bottom!"

Ara tries hard not to get distracted by Leo's underwear. These creatures have embarrassed and mocked them, and they're toying with them like... The Kerkopes have lured them to the statue, holding their stuff just out of reach so they are tempted enough to follow them closer. Her trickster senses tingle.

"That's it!" Leo's palms burst into flames. "My stuff. Now. Or I'll show you how funny a flaming dwarf is."

"Now we're talking," Jason summons a storm above the fountain.

"Step back!" She demands urgently.

"In a moment," Leo says without looking. "I'm cooking dinner first."

Ara glows teal, she pulls dirty-looking water from the rusty pipes and sweeps it under Leo and Jason's feet. Since Leo is closer to the water and his pants are around his ankles, he gets dragged out easily. Jason, however, is standing firmly in place and barely moves when the water hits him. 

Thin wires shoot down and trap him, lifting the boy upside down. Ara swears in ancient Greek, Percy would've summoned a larger amount of water in her place, but her blessing isn't strong enough for that.

"Bravo!" Akmon chortles from the café table. "You make a wonderful piñata, son of Jupiter!"

"Yes! Hercules hung us upside down once, you know. Oh, revenge is sweet!"

Leo gets up from the puddle of water and summons a new ball of fire in his palm, then throws it at the dwarves without warning. Passalos and Akmon yelp and narrowly avoid being toasted. The Archimedes sphere slips out of their grip and lands near Leo.

"Time to leave!" Akmon exclaims.

Passalos ponders whether to try and get the sphere but Leo ignites his palm again, glaring at the little guy with an enraged gaze Ara has never seen before. "Try me."

"Bye!" Passalos rushes out of sight.

Ara approaches Jason while Leo picks up the sphere and inspects it. The girl scans the wrappings tightly bounding Jason to place except for his right arm, still out and holding his sword.

"I'm sorry, I should've realized they were reeling us in—It's what Lily, Mike, and I used to do during Capture the Flag..."

"You saved me," Leo inches closer to the pedestal. "I sensed the trap too late. Hold on, Jason, if I can find a release switch—"

"Just go!" Jason urges them. "I'll follow you when I get out of this." 

"But—"

"Don't lose them!"

Ara looks at her compass, the needle pointing ahead to the path the Kerkopes followed. "Okay, let's get our stuff back..." Ara glances down at Leo's pants and her cheeks flush. "And a belt."

Ara and Leo aren't talking much, and their annoyance is palpable and uncomfortable. Usually, when one of them is upset, the other is ready to lighten up the mood, but the two of them angry means they're going to pull one another deeper into the pit until they fix what's bothering them.

"They're baiting us," Ara watches the dwarves climb a high tower. "Guiding us to a secluded area they most likely control. We need a plan or a way to catch them before they catch us."

Leo glares at the tower while holding the Archimedes sphere with one hand and his pants with the other. "Well, they have your plushie. And Piper's dagger. And my tool belt."

Ara makes a face. "They remind me of my kid self—Petty little criminals. We'll spur them on if they see us angry. We must trick them by doing the same thing they're doing to us—wiggle over their heads a shiny prize they can't ignore."

Leo looks over at a grocery store, his skin glows golden as he walks over to it. "I can work with that."

"What are we doing?" Ara follows him.

"We're making something shiny."

When they enter, Ara spots a flashy tourist struggling to read labels and she tilts her head towards Leo. "Be right back."

She approaches the man and snaps her fingers in front of him, talking in Italian. Ara messes with the mist and the guy starts talking in English and while he explains that he doesn't understand whether the contents of a can are carrots or mashed pumpkin, Ara leans closer and steals his stuff.

The girl solves his doubt and goes to find Leo with his arms already full of stuff. "Here," she takes the products and hands him a belt. "Pull up your pants, you're distracting me."

"Where did you get this?" Leo raises a brow.

"A guy," Ara replies vaguely. "He won't miss it."

"You stole it?" He asks in shock.

"I got his wallet and his watch too just in case."

"Ara!"

"He won't miss it!" She repeats. "Guy was wearing a Rolex, he can get over a stolen wallet! We need the dough—"

"I have money!"

"Oh." Ara pulls out the wallet from her pocket. "Okay, I'll hand this to the cashier, then. I'm keeping the Rolex, though."

"Thank the gods you know Italian," Leo says as they walk out. "What was she saying anyway?"

"She was asking what two kids like us were doing with all that—I told her it was a science project."

"And when you gave her the wallet?"

"She called me a nice girl and blessed me," Ara snorts. "I hope that doesn't count—"

Leo stops her before they can be visible from the tower. "You have enough blessings as it is, yeah, but saved my ass from getting locked in with Jason with one of them, so I don't mind it if you get more of those."

"My blessings aren't that strong, if I'm not fast bad things end up happening," she eyes him as he quickly gets to work. "I need to be better."

"Finding 300 euros in a guy's wallet can't be considered bad luck," he teases her.

"Shut up," she keeps an eye on the tower. "Build your toys, Valdez." 

Leo replies without looking up. "Fine. Just give me five minutes."

He finishes in exactly five minutes, and Ara runs out holding a couple of his creations. A brief examination helps her understand what he's made, and once again she's torn between awe and jealousy. It's hard to ignore her shortcomings in emergencies like this one.

As they reach the tower they realize it's not lax in security, there's a guy inside what appears to be a ticket booth yelling at them to stop and pay for entrance. Ara opens her mouth to reply but Leo finally loses his patience. 

"Seriously? Look, man, you've got dwarfs in your belfry. I'm the exterminator." He lifts his can of bug spray. "See? Exterminator Molto Buono. Squirt, squirt. Ahhh!" 

Ara watches him perform with a pained expression, then pulls out the 300 euros and slides them across the booth's desk. "Non ci hai visto."

The guy stares at the money in shock, takes it, and ushers them forward. "Avanti!"

"Grazie!" Ara pulls Leo along.

"See? Everything always works out in your favor," he smirks.

Ara looks up at the long flights of stairs and frowns. "You had to talk..."

"I thought you loved climbing?"

"Rocks, not stairs!" She pulls out Almighty and turns it into a grappling hook. "Hold onto me."

Leo balances his creations in one arm and holds her by the waist with the other. Ara shoots and the hook gets stuck somewhere at the top, then they're pulled upwards speedily. Both teens get to the top and Ara helps Leo climb the railing.

The Kerkopes toss the cards they were using to play and blow loud raspberries at her. "That's cheating!"

"I'm about to impale you with my sword, and that's your concern?" Ara scowls.

"You know what, doll? Let's just go," Leo glances at the Kerkopes. "And just so you know, you losers forgot something shiny."

"Impossible!" Akmon exclaims. "We were very thorough." 

"You sure?" Leo shows them the grocery bag. "Look."

Ara closes her eyes and even then she sees a bit of the blinding flashing through. The dwarves shriek and cover their faces, trying to find the exit, but Leo throws small firecrackers at their feet scaring them away from the windows.

The girl walks in while Leo tinkers with the Archimedes sphere and releases a thick fog, which she endures by tearing half the bottom of her shirt and using the fabric to cover her nose. Ara's skilled hands take the belt from Akmon's waist and toss it to Leo, then he tosses back bungee cords and she ties up the Kerkopes.

Ara stands up and crosses her arms. "Where is my Octopi?"

Leo drags the little guys to a corner and points near a window. "There!"

She searches through it anxiously and finds all her belongings there, except her gold wreath, that is on top of Katroptis. Leo helps her retrieve the rest of their stuff while the Kerkopes cry behind them.

"Please! Don't take our shinies!"

"We'll make you a deal! We'll cut you in for ten percent if you let us go!"

"Afraid not," Leo replies without turning. "It's all ours now."

Ara examines the treasure surrounding them, and her hands itch with interest. Lighting hits one of the windows and she jumps away cursing out loud. Jason enters right after. 

"Hey! A warning would be nice!" She scolds him.

"Man, you just wasted an awesome entrance," Leo whistles appreciatively.

 Jason frowns. "What the—"

"Mr Firecracker did that," Ara turns back to her search, picking up random stuff and tossing them over her shoulder right after.

"All by myself," Leo nods and winks at the blond boy. "I'm special that way. How did you find us?"

"Uh, the smoke," Jason points over his shoulder. "And I heard popping noises. Were you having a gunfight in here?"

"Something like that." Leo tosses Piper's dagger at him and continues to search.

Ara picks up an astrolabe and walks over to Leo to show it. "This looks interesting..."

"Take it!" Passalos exclaims. "Odysseus made it, you know! Take it and let us go."

"Odysseus?" Jason asks. "Like, the Odysseus?"

"Yes! Made it when he was an old man in Ithaca. One of his last inventions, and we stole it!"

"How does it work?" Leo questions.

"Oh, it doesn't," Akmon replies. "Something about a missing crystal?"

"'My biggest what-if,'"��Passalos nods. "'Should've taken a crystal.' That's what he kept muttering in his sleep, the night we stole it. No idea what he meant. But the shiny is yours! Can we go now?"

She knows Oddysseus's story front to back, Lily and Mike used it to motivate her to get better, she knows what this astrolabe was most likely created for... and Leo is eyeing it with lots of interest. Ara thinks of Percy, staring longingly at a bright moonlace outside their bedroom window.

"Should we take it?" She asks hesitantly. "The Kerkopes would leave it to rust, but..."

Leo looks up waiting to hear the rest. "But?"

She stares at it scowling. "I don't know."

Shrugging, Leo puts it in the pocket of his tool belt. "But that can't be what Hecate wanted us to get from here, right?"

"That thing is not shiny," Ara points to a book next to Leo. "What's it doing here?" 

Leo lifts it and shows it to the Kerkopes. "Nothing!" Akmon squeaks. "Just a book. It had a pretty gold cover, so we took it from him."

"Him?" Leo raises a brow.

"Minor god," Passalos says vaguely. "In Venice. Really, it's nothing." 

"Sounds like something," Ara turns to the boys. "I think we should take it."

"Venice." Jason says. "Isn't that where we're supposed to go next?"

"Yeah." Leo examines the cover. "Good job, doll! Guess this is it... Where exactly can we find this minor god?"

"No! You can't take it back to him! If he finds out we stole it—"

"He'll destroy you," Jason shrugs. "Which is what we'll do if you don't tell us, and we're a lot closer."

"Okay, okay!" the dwarf squeals when Jason threatens him with his sword. "La Casa Nera! Calle Frezzeria!"

"Is that an address?" Leo asks her.

Ara nods. "Black House. Frezzeria street."

"Please don't tell him we stole it," Passalos pleads. "He isn't nice at all!"

"Who is he? What god?" Jason inquires.

"We can figure that out later," Ara picks up her stuff. "Time to go."

"What do we do with them?" Jason asks her. "Send them to Tartarus?"

"Please, no!" Akmon begs. "It might take us weeks to come back."

"Assuming Gaea even lets us! She controls the Doors of Death now. She'll be very cross with us."

Ara would like to send them away, but they'd be back fast and angrier, and if Gaea finds out what they did to the Argo II, she'll send them back with a crueler plan.

"We can't do that," she sighs. "It's not a good idea."

She wonders if this is her or Athena's blessing talking, either way, she knows she's right.

"Okay... so we let them here?"

"Nothing can slow them down," Leo muses deep in thought. "I wonder..." 

Ara and Jason turn to him and ask at the same time. "What?"

"I'll make you a deal." Leo approaches the Kerkopes.

"Thirty percent?"

"We'll leave you all your treasure," Leo points over his shoulder, "except the stuff that belongs to us, and the astrolabe, and this book, which we'll take back to the dude in Venice."

"But he'll destroy us!"

"We won't say where we got it," Leo assures them. "And we won't kill you. We'll let you go free."

"Uh, Leo...?" Jason starts, but Ara raises a hand to stop him.

"I knew you were as smart as Hercules!" Akmon says happily. "I will call you Black Bottom, the Sequel!"

"Yeah, no thanks," Leo brushes it aside. "But in return for us sparing your lives, you have to do something for us. I'm going to send you somewhere to steal from some people, harass them, make life hard for them any way you can. You have to follow my directions exactly. You have to swear on the River Styx."

"We swear! Stealing from people is our specialty!" 

"I love harassment! Where are we going?"

Leo smirks. "Ever heard of New York?"

Ara has no clue what she'd do if she didn't have Leo.

Next Chapter –>

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[shiroandblack]

Finwë, the Progenitor of the 'Fins'

[Disclaimer: what you are about to read are basically my thoughts and interpretation of Finwë. So if you have different thoughts and opinions that's perfectly fine]

Oh, and I'm totally not doing this because I'm procrastinating on the Fëanor thought-vomit I have going on in my head. Pfft, absolutely not!

Finwë, High King of the Noldor, Daddy to Fëanor, Findis, Fingolfin, Lalwen, and Finarfin (not that kind of daddy, get yer minds out of the gutter), husband to both Míriel and Indis, the Ned Stark of the Silmarillion, (depending on who you ask) the Fin to Elu's Finelwë -

I should stop.

First of all, we have no idea where this guy came from (I think?). He just suddenly popped out as an ambassador who basically went out with his buddies (OG Goldilocks and Tall Boy) to scout Valinor and see if the elves should move there or not. Prior to that, Finwë is not mentioned anywhere. People are generally divided if he was Tata's son as was Ingwë being Imin's son and Elwë being Enel' or if he's Unbegotten. Some also headcanon him as an orphan with his parents gone via Morgoth Kidnapping which was why he was chosen as an ambassador. I mean, magical guy on horse saying he'll take their society somewhere? I wouldn't really send the heirs or chieftains, I'd send someone competent enough to be a diplomat but ultimately no great loss to the tribal society of Cuiviénen (my god did I spell that right) if magical guy does pull a Dark Rider. Personally I do think that if he was indeed an orphan, it would explain some things in particular, like his want for many children and just a big family in general.

Anyways, the three go on their joy trip to Valinor and come back and go like "come, come, there are two pretty trees and no Dark Rider". I personally would have gone because of the no Dark Rider part but hey, if you like shiny, glowing trees and that's your main motivation, no judgement. Right after that, we don't know what happens to Imin, Tata, or Enel. Working on the assumption that the three are different people to the three '-wë's then they could have become Avari since the Avari are Tatyar and Nelyar. Interestingly, the Minyar all go and there is no more mention of Imin despite he was chieftain of all chieftains and then suddenly Ingwë is High King of all Elves? I'm gonna go with @squirrelwrangler's Klingon route here from their story 'Of Ingwë Ingweron' because I think there should be more depth to Ingwë and on a completely irrelevant note I have had a crush on 'the boy who would be Ingwë' since I started reading. You probably didn't need to know that, but now you do :)

(As you can see, I'm being very objective.)

BACK TO THE MAIN POINT. THIS IS A POST ABOUT FINWË. So anyways, the Great Journey happened and for some reason he and Elwë decide to meet up in a forest to do what nobody knows. Anyways, Elwë got skadooshed by Melian and Finwë went to Aman forever regretting the fact that he never got to do Elwë - I MEAN DO WHATEVER HE AND ELWË PLANNED in the woods of Nan Elmoth.

There he got married. Now, this is where I actually stop making fun of Finwë (yeah, no) and give you my interpretations and analysis which none of you have asked for but I'm doing anyways. So right off the bat, even when Míriel is obviously tired from giving birth to the baby who is his own crematorium - sorry, I meant Fëanàro - Finwë goes like "oh he's so pretty, I'm sure our other kids will be just as pretty". Which goes to show us that Finwë likely wanted an armada of kids right from the start. Y'all know what happens next. Point is, Míriel's dead and gone and Finwë is understandably a Sad Boy™.

Now, he also exhibits a certain impatient streak after Míriel dies. Surely he knew that the more he bothered Míriel about "hey, when are you gonna come back?" the more obstinate Míriel would be about not returning. I say he is impatient because he is an elf. He technically has all the time in Arda to wait for Míriel to return, but curiously he doesn't wait. Now, Fëanor was born in YT 1169 and Fingolfin in YT 1190 and since one YT is about 10 solar years (I'm pretty sure it's 9.8 years ish but I suck at maths so please have mercy on me) that means that Fëanor was around 200 years old when Fingolfin was born and we know Findis is elder. 200 years for an elf is not long at all, hell to the elven perception of time Finwë marrying Indis is probably like someone going out dating after 40 days of abstinence after a break up. This means that he married Indis relatively quickly after Míriel died, which shows that he was very eager for the marriage to happen.

Why? Was it because he knew Míriel wouldn't return for a very long time? Or was it because he wanted more kids? Or maybe that impatience is just intrinsic to Finwë's character? I actually don't know what to make of his motivations regarding this, so I'd love to hear anyone's opinions.

Finwë supposedly fell in love with Indis when he was going to visit Ingwë and saw her singing and the light was golden and Indis glowed and yeah. Prior to that, they most likely met in Tirion or even in Cuiviénen as Indis was close kin to Ingwë so I highly doubt that this was their first meeting and Indis was in love with Finwë since the early days of when the Vanyar and Noldor still stayed together in Tirion. This does make me wonder that even when Finwë was married to Míriel, were there seeds of feelings towards Indis? No, I am not saying he had an affair with Indis while married to Míriel, but you can feel attracted to someone even while married to another. But considering Finwë's favouritism towards Fëanor, I don't think this was the case and he probably began falling in love with Indis when he saw her singing and being basked in golden light. I do wonder what would have happened if he saw her picking her nose instead but hey, elves don't pick their noses in the Silm because all the nose dirt is removed by the sheer amount of times they must've cried in the First Age. Snotty crying ftw.

Many people in-universe seem to think that his second marriage was a mistake, but I do not think his marriage per say was a mistake. To me Finwë had the right to move on from Míriel, but what I don't agree with was that the Valar basically locked her up in Mandos for eternity. But this is a point of conflict that I feel I should address in a separate post about the Valar. In any case, what I think was the mistake was Finwë's impactful favouritism of Fëanor and his failure to reconcile Fëanor and his children by Indis. As there are a lot of external factors to him being unable to make his kids get along, I will be focusing more on the negative effects of his favouritism.

Finwë's marriage to Indis seems almost like a spontaneous decision, I don't think he actually sat Fëanor down and explained things to him quite well. After all, in Fëanor's mind Indis is the reason his mother is forever dead which is not really the case. Finwë wanted to marry Indis and Indis wanted to marry Finwë. It takes two to make the relationship work, after all. But despite Indis giving him what he wanted which is more children and a big family in general, Finwë still favoured Fëanor. Now I do get favouritism because everyone has favourites, but Finwë's favouritism only served to create more strife between Fëanor and Fingolfin. With one child, he lavishes praise and attention to the point that it's detrimental to Fëanor's growth as a person and with the other children, Fingolfin felt ignored enough to tailor his entire life into proving that he is more worthy to be Finwë's heir to - for a lack of better word - get his father to look at him the same way Finwë looks at Fëanor.

I don't doubt that Finwë loved his kids. I think he did love both Fëanor and his children by Indis, but the thing is . . . his actions always show that he loved Fëanor more. And I think that must have been devastating for his other children and what was the worst in my opinion is that Finwë doesn't seem to realise this. This could be a form of selective ignorance on Finwë's part or it could simply be that Finwë felt that he was giving equal attention to his children and that Fëanor needed more attention because he didn't have a mother. This is a logical thought process for him, but just because something seems logical it doesn't mean it's the right thing. Personally, I think Finwë's feelings towards Fëanor revolve around love and guilt and that guilt over denying Fëanor a birth mother makes him put Fëanor on a pedestal above his other children.

Now I'm gonna dive in to the circumstances up to his death. Prior to the infamous 'point-a-sword-at-traitorous-half brother' incident, the Noldor already had factions brewing under each of Finwë's sons. Which means that there were different groups supporting different sons (I'm just gonna give this quick glance because Noldorin elf politics and succession matters requires its own post honestly), both Fëanor and Fingolfin's group were advocating for these two princes to be Finwë's heir while Finarfin's most likely stayed neutral as throughout the text Finarfin has shown no real desire for kingship as his brothers (well, little did he know that his mother-name would come true in an arguably sad way). What is very interesting is the fact that Fingolfin thought he could be king after Finwë to begin with, which suggests to me that Finwë hadn't formally declared an heir. Usually it is assumed that the eldest son is heir and there would be no formal declaration needed, but the thing is Finwë had sons by a different queen and what's more is Fingolfin and Finarfin were the children of the ruling queen. Why he didn't do a formal declaration, I do wonder, because while it may have embittered Fingolfin for awhile I do think that if Fëanor had been assured of his position then maybe the two could have had some semblance of a healthy relationship. Maybe he viewed it as causing a greater rift between his children?

Now we finally get on to the sword pulling incident. We all know what happens, so I'll just skip on to the aftermath. Fëanor is exiled by Manwë, Finwë views this as an insult to his authority. I do agree that this can be viewed as that because as a Noldo, Fëanor should answer to the king of the Noldor and Manwë is exiling someone who is not his subject. But the thing is, Finwë probably wasn't going to really punish him and that's why Manwë stepped in. Hell, we have no evidence of a trial going on for what Fëanor did. But the thing is, this isn't just a regular Fëanor and Fingolfin screaming match this was Fëanor actually threatening harm to Fingolfin in front of everyone. The guy literally sashayed into the room, wearing armour and drew a sword. This must have been the equivalent of a bank robber drawing out a loaded gun to the elves.

Anyways, ya know what good ol' Finwë did to protest against Manwë's interference and Fëanor getting exiled -

He incited the Fourth Shinobi War -

No, he just yeeted off with Fëanor. Look guys, I have neutral feelings towards Fingolfin I mean he is no victim (in general) because he has done some pretty presumptuous things (which is what makes him interesting, let's be honest), but I have never ever felt so bad for him before. Hell, this is an even worse 'fuck you' then making him cross the Helcaraxë because Fingolfin's main motivation in life thus far is probably to be equal to Fëanor in Finwë's eyes. I mean, he did leave Fingolfin regent (did he? Oh gosh, I honestly forgot) but still dealt an emotional blow anyways.

Right, so we don't get much of what Finwë did in Formenos but maybe this whole thing was just for him to get a holiday. And then Melkor comes and fucks shit up by killing Finwë. Now, I'm going to talk about Finwë's murder and why it is in my opinion the Inciting Incident™ of the Silm, the Chekhov's gun being fired so to speak, the equivalent of Ned Stark's execution in the Tolkienverse. Everything else, Melkor's lies, the creation of the Silmarils, the drama between the brothers, it was a build up to this moment. And everything after, the exile of the Noldor, the War of the Jewels, it was what happened because of Finwë's murder. Prior to this, there were already factions among the Noldor as previously discussed above but none of these factions actually openly made any moves against each other. Why? Because Finwë was still alive, because Finwë was essentially the lynchpin holding the Noldor together. Now, I'm pretty sure that Morgoth killed Finwë just to fuck Fëanor's shit up even more, but what he did was quite tactically brilliant. He has effectively wrought chaos among the Noldor in one single swoop.

And thus the Quenta Silmarillion happens.

In Mandos, he meets Míriel and tells her about his life. Because maybe it went something like this:

Finwë: so yeah, you know I was with our son all the way through and then I died. What have you been doing?

Míriel: oh, you know the usual things one does when one is condemned to Mandos for eternity.

Anyways, he gives up any opportunity for life for Míriel. Which is admittedly a nice thing to do since the reason Míriel is kinda stuck there is related to him, until you find out Míriel weaves the history of the House of Finwë instead of well, I don't know building the Mírindis ship? Yeah, she probably weaved Fingon getting his head smashed open by Gothmog and getting his corpse trampled. Oh and the 'If I Die, You Die' duel between Celegorm and Dior which probably wasn't as badass as Katniss' "If we burn, you burn with us" line from Mockingjay made it seem but more bloody and violent. Also Maedhros throwing himself off into a fiery chasm. Finrod getting mauled by a werewolf.

Good times, I'm sure.

But hey, at least Fëanor comes within a few seconds after stepping into Beleriand to keep him company.

So, I'm done with teasing my analysis of Finwë. Thank you for your time. Have a nice day.

Just keep procrastinating <3

[mswyrr]

lucifer s4 trailer

I think it looks really good! It looks like they’re digging into character and theme stuff I’ve wanted them to handle in depth.

Chloe

They started out well in S1&2 balancing the romance but I think that they delayed the reveal just a little too long with the stretched out S3, so here we’re getting the chance to catch up with important elements of Chloe’s side of things. Notably, her moral/identity struggle. It’s been limited by her lack of knowledge and that worked at first but leaning too heavily on Lucifer’s POV tends to lean towards pedestalizing her. She’s not actually PURE (tm) or else she wouldn’t find him so attractive as a person. As I mentioned in my meta post here, telling a “monster romance” like this, from the monster’s pov, does have that weakness of potentially not giving enough material on the fact that the heroine is attracted to the monster as a way of relating to her own darkness/suppressed desires.

And that is, I think, what she has to cope with here: she’s drawn to this person on a deep, soulful (in addition to physical lol) level. (When it was just physical, she wasn’t into him. She’s genuinely into him as a person.) He speaks to something in her deepest self... and now she has to deal with the horrifying moral/ethical/existential mindfuck of it turning out that this person she rings so true with--who is something to her no one else has ever been, who touches her heart in a way no one else has been able to reach--is, you know, SATAN lmao

Not “canon Satan” but still... And she just had a horrible clusterfuck of a relationship with Cain, so Biblical Evil is not exactly looking that shiny right now.

Linda never rang true soulfully with the guy like that - they just banged, you know? They’re good friends and they used to bang. And her self-identity isn’t structured so strongly around a fundamentally moral worldview as Chloe. Sure, Linda is a wonderful person! But her pov is more interpersonal/psychological, whereas Chloe really centers herself in her own deep thinking on what Right and Wrong are - something she’ll go against the tide of other peoples’ opinions to defend. She can be so strong! BUT the one thing that can absolutely destroy her is if her foundations are shaken...

Without that core she’s lost. She has to rebuild it from the ground up.

She’s an intensely moral atheist thrown into a world where all this supernatural crap is real and btw... this figure she was so drawn to, this trickstery sweetheart, kinda nuts but at his worst a self-destructive “homeless magician” is something far, far different than she thought.

Her foundations are how she manages to be so strong for others. That core of truth she’s worked out for herself. And that’s been ripped away. 

Lucifer is himself, with all the issues we know so well, so he’s really focused on his own self-worth stuff but IMO her conflict isn’t exclusively or primarily about whether she loves him enough, it’s about her own identity issues and this big question of “What even IS right and wrong in this new world?” and “Am I allowed to want this?” “What does it say about me that I love this person so much?”

Eve

This show is good about letting female characters be flawed and even do awful things but still be treated with narrative sympathy. I think Eve’s “You don’t have to change. You’re already perfect.” is clearly setting her up as representing the antithesis of the entire damn show, textually and meta-textually. It’s all about growth and redemption and change and she’s planting her flag against that.

IMO her classical role with Lucifer has been reversed: this time *she’s* the one offering the temptation.

And it’s not even about sex, drugs, and such. It’s just: give up and stop doing the painful work of growing. It hurts, why bother?

But I also trust that she will be handled with as much care as, say, Mum was, so I’m SO TOTALLY down for her. What she’s telling him is probably a lot about herself and her own issues - in choosing to have Eve show up they’ve got a female character who has been as misrepresented and vilified as Lucifer himself, which is going to be significant (since apparently she’s very no1curr about him killing her son??? LOL Okay, hey, if I had a son like that... /snort/).

Like, Eve was used to justify the oppression of women for centuries in the West. It was no joke. Early feminists actually had to reinterpret her in order to articulate their position. (“Eve’s Apology in Defense of Women” from 1611 by Amelia Lanyer is a personal fave of mine, in terms of women’s literary work and women’s history.)

I really hope that this show will give her due respect as a female mythological/religious/etc figure. In their wonderfully stylized totally bananas way ofc! They have a good track record on BONKERS theology and writing complex women, so I have every reason to be optimistic.

Overall Themes

For her part, I think the images of Chloe walking into the Catholic church and talking to the spooky religious guy is all about her being tempted in the opposite direction. Eve is all: go wild! Stop trying to work to be better, just be the perfect devil you are! And Chloe might very well be tempted by the comforting absolutism and clear “hard work” of the forms of false certainty people offer.

They did a really good job showing self-righteousness as a sin with Amenadiel’s fall and I think it would be really cool to represent moral certainty as a kind of “apple” that Chloe-as-New-Eve is tempted with now that her foundations have been ripped away.

Again, like with Eve--but doubly so because the writers love Chloe--I am confident this will be handled well.

IMO the core of the show is a kind of humanism/human goodness. Lucifer was broken by the cold absolutism of the celestial vision of goodness. And the fact that evil very much isn’t his thing either. Heaven and hell weren’t home, as he said to to Mum. LA is the only place he’s found belonging, and it’s explicit in the canon that it’s not just the place, it’s a person.

The warmth of the kind of fierce humanistic morality and love Chloe embraces, that feels like home. Humans let you be messy and incomplete and still worthy of love. They embrace struggle. They come up with genius things like “therapy.” They glory in all their contradictions.

They can, like Chloe, believe there is no God and yet be incredibly decent and loving.

She’s off-kilter because of the reveal and so too is he, each in their own way. They’re supposed to balance each other so when one is struggling the other will too. The goodness the show is aiming for can be compromised either by a truly selfish hedonism that doesn’t care about trying to do better by others or also by a moral absolutism which is harsh and unkind. This is because self-righteousness is ultimately also putting your own satisfaction above the well-being of others, just like a selfish hedonism is. The pleasures of the two are superficially different, but at core they’re the same. I think it’s cool paralleling if they’re tempted by these respective sins in the show’s moral vision.

The idea of them both being tempted and struggling and then coming back together could be really amazing. With the clearly increased budget for visuals, I am hoping we get a really great poetic visual moment of them coming back together. That could make for an eXCELLENt arc.

[salarta]

Why Havok should NOT be involved with Polaris

It’s time I made a post about a very important topic: why Polaris should not be interacting with Havok at all right now, especially not in any kind of romantic sense.

Before I go into detail, I’ll just say: I obviously have no creative control over what companies do. I have no control over what people tell companies that they want to see. I’m not the sole arbiter of what can and can’t be done with Polaris. And frankly, no one person should fit that bill. It limits options.

However, I know, for a fact, that shoving Havok into things Polaris is doing will absolutely ruin her. No amount of promotion for her on Gifted, or with a cover for X-Men Blue, or anything else, is going to matter if it all gets funneled into putting Havok on a pedestal and establishing Havok as “better” than her.

The history I’m about to describe explains all of this, and why I can be so absolutely certain Havok is terrible for her.

After the paragraphs above, I’m going to start in the last place you expect: good beginnings. You see, when Polaris was created, she was the more feminist alternative of the team. 

Jean Grey was more “traditional” due to being made in 1963, while Polaris was made in 1968, right as feminism was rising and shortly before the Equal Rights Amendment. Lorna represented women standing for themselves and exhibiting independence. We had the potential for Polaris and Havok to have a relationship as equals.

It all came crashing down pretty quickly as soon as people at Marvel decided to make Lorna and Havok exclusive.

What are you seeing here? As explained by other, more well-read people, Uncanny X-Men #127 - released in 1979 (correction: I’ve been informed this was a new story added to Classic X-Men #33 in 1989, which was a reprint of Uncanny X-Men #127 plus this story) - serves as an explanation behind why Polaris and Havok left the X-Men. The explanation? Havok keeps imagining horrific ways he and Lorna could die. How does he express that?

By blasting the shit out of some rocks and yelling at Lorna with alternating rage and mania, with extremely possessive language. Havok doesn’t care what Lorna wants, what Lorna needs, it’s all about him. He’s afraid of the danger and prizes his life above the common good, so when he decides to ditch the X-Men, Lorna “has” to ditch the X-Men too.

Polaris as introduced, and not exclusive to Havok, was a firecracker who didn’t hold back her tongue. But now? Now, she’s perfectly pliant and submissive. Her feminist backbone and independence is completely missing.

I know what some of you are thinking. That’s just one depiction. That’s one awful story. Hold on to your butts. There’s more.

Here’s Lorna Dane in Uncanny X-Men #219. She’s cowering behind a rock, absolutely terrified that Sabretooth is after her. She’s so afraid of the big bad Sabretooth, in fact, that she’s thinking about how badly she wants her savior Alex Summers to “kiss the bogeyman away.” Uncanny X-Men #219 came out in 1987. From 1968 to 1987, Lorna went from badass feminist woman, to passive and submissive lover, to complete infantilization.

How did that happen? With occasional appearances like this.

In X-Men #97, published in 1976, we see Lorna supposedly happy to be a doting would-be housewife out in the country, taking care of the housework and waiting on “her man” to come back. She’s completely out of anything X-Men or mutant related, and she talks him up like he’s her whole world.

In Incredible Hulk #150, 1972, a biker gang harasses her, and Havok rescues the “damsel in distress.”

Another example:

This is from a What If? story from 1981. It’s not 616 canon, but it still greatly affected perceptions of Lorna and potential stories for her. In this story, Lorna sacrifices herself for a plan that (if I remember correctly) is devised by the Summers brothers - both Cyclops and Havok. Her dying cry is to say Havok’s name, establishing the idea that even in death he’s all that really matters to her.

These depictions built up a toxic pattern where she became exclusively dependent on Havok to define her as having any value whatsoever - and that she had to be increasingly pathetic to demonstrate Havok’s importance.

After this, Lorna got a series of additional poor treatment where other characters besides Havok (e.g. Storm, Zaladane) were used to tear her down. Havok isn’t the only character that benefited from stories that treated Lorna poorly. This post exists because he’s the most notorious and persistent case. He’s the only character who continues to benefit from this history and continues to hold Lorna back to this day. It was very important for me to acknowledge other issues exist in the gaps and why the focus here is on Havok before I move into the next phase: what happened after Claremont, after the 70s and 80s.

Or to put it another way, it’s time to get into X-Factor! Great! Right?

R.... right?

Oh hell.

To make a long story short, when Lorna is finally a) in control of her own body, b) given her actual power set back, and c) not being written by someone (read: Claremont) who gives her a power that’s literally about how her very existence makes everyone hate her and breeds hatred in general, we’re still left with two decades of “Lorna exists only for Havok” garbage as her be-all and end-all.

Now, to be fair, Peter David did make crucial baby steps to fixing things for Lorna, and the short arc be DeMatteis is excellent. On the other hand, this.

tl;dr Wolfsbane is implanted with a psychic bond that makes her crazy obsessive for Havok.

So, going into X-Factor, there’s acknowledgment that Polaris and Havok have been linked as a couple way too much over the past two decades. Havok gets Rahne as someone obsessively lovesick for him in a major and consistent fashion, to the point where she will even threaten and attack Polaris out of jealousy. What does Lorna get?

Nothing.

Lorna has no one. The closest she gets is Random for like an issue. Havok, as leader of X-Factor, gets two women jonesing for him on his team: Polaris and Wolfsbane.

See, this is the way things go. Havok gets romance options. He had Goblin Queen during the Claremont era, Wolfsbane here, Wasp in Uncanny Avengers recently, and I’m sure many more. Lorna’s only ever really had Havok. The obvious reason for that? She’s seen as an extension of him. She’s seen as a character who literally can’t figure out what to do with herself without him.

Oh, you thought I was exaggerating? How cute.

At one point, Havok “died.” He disappeared to the Mutant X alternate universe, but people thought he died. With his apparent death, writers had no idea what to do with Polaris. Havok being her entire world and only reason for being was so firmly entrenched that in efforts to find a story for her, they made her obsess over his goddamn clothes and costume like a hoarder for his specific brand of man funk.

No, I wasn’t kidding. Marvel really went there. They decided Lorna should be so “committed” to Havok after his “death” that she’d treat his costume like the one true holy cross.

We’re seriously not even done yet. There’s still fucking more.

Eventually, writers started to remember that she had connections to Magneto decades ago and thought to actually explore those connections again. I’m talking about Genosha. They finally gave her a story that wasn’t about how great and glorious and shiny golden boy Havok supposedly is.

Until they tried to force it back into being a story about how great and glorious and shiny of a golden boy Havok supposedly is.

Out of nowhere, her motives for being on Genosha shifted from finding her place in the world and becoming her own woman, to getting involved in Genosha exclusively for Havok’s sake. Whether it’s “What would Alex want me to do?” (WWAD for short) or doing things there only to try to bring him back, Marvel tried to turn her into a female proxy/adherent for Havok’s will. In his absence. Due to presumed death.

When this junk wasn’t being done, for a good 5-6 years, Lorna actually got to develop her own interests and beliefs. She experienced things unique to her, like surviving the Genoshan genocide and dealing with that trauma.

No, we’re still not done. After the genocide and trauma, after Havok returned and she had a big bridezilla moment from Havok leaving her at the altar, after losing her powers on M-Day and having an identity crisis, and after her time as Pestilence for Apocalypse, Marvel ultimately decided they should be on a path to romance again.

Here’s how they decided to kick off the attempt.

Start of Uncanny X-Men #475? She’s independent. She’s touring the world. She’s dealing with a direct personal threat with a promising potential story arc that could have easily spanned multiple issues.

A few pages in? She’s “rescued” by Havok and crying as she insists she’s some kind of dangerous monster who deserves to be in prison. For what, I have no goddamn clue. If it’s for her time as Pestilence, she had no control over her actions. If it something after Pestilence, we never saw it.

We’re not told what Lorna supposedly did wrong - because in Marvel’s eyes, whatever the hell happened to her doesn’t matter. What matters is that big strong golden boy Havok gets to look like her savior as he consoles her for some made up crime that for all we know amounts to having given someone a sliver. Oh, and she made sure to have makeup on for his entirely unexpected arrival for maximum arm candy hotness.

She then joins the Starjammers to be on Havok’s team, just like she was on Havok’s team for X-Factor before that, just like she left the X-Men to go out in the middle of nowhere and gush about getting to clean his dirty underwear before that.

I know you’ve been patient, but no. It gets worse. Keep in mind, this happened between 2007 and 2011. We’re not talking about decade ago anymore. We’re talking about recent events.

Polaris gets captured with the rest of the Starjammers and gets tortured. We get zero insight into her trauma and pain, her thoughts, her ordeal. We get Havok sulking in his manpain about getting her in the situation, but all we get of Lorna’s POV is a bunch of sleep and getting knocked out with a punch to the face.

There is so, so much that could’ve been explored with Lorna in her own right even here. The Genoshan massacre immediately comes to mind. But, no. That would acknowledge that she has worth and character development outside Havok. Can’t have that.

During their time in space, toward the end, Polaris actually does get rare moments with Crystal and Luna. In these moments, she gets to show some of her actual personality.

With Havok? We get this.

A depressed, emotionally broken mess.

With other characters, Lorna is playful, witty, full of life. With Havok, she’s a sad mess. Because in those scenes, her purpose is to enhance Havok, not be her own character with her own thoughts and feelings. Her sadness in those scenes is to support Havok’s sadness by making her worse so he can “comfort” her.

And then they get back home, and Polaris follows Havok to X-Factor, because of course.

Throughout this massive post, I’ve guided anyone still reading through a chronology of how awful Havok has been for Polaris. You might still think “Those were terrible stories, yeah, but things can be better in the future.” Here’s some visuals. They serve a purpose. I’ll explain below them.

These pictures are just a small sample of covers and general art. In some, body language is possessive. Havok has an arm over Lorna’s shoulder, or she’s leaning in a cheesecake pose, establishing his authority over her. In others, Lorna is very close, but slightly behind him - demonstrating that she’s in his shadow and he takes priority.

A lot of people disregard covers and details like this, and think it’s all nitpicking, but covers actually send messages. The message here is that Polaris should be seen as a character primarily in Havok’s shadow.

Are there other covers where Lorna is in a better position? Of course. But covers like the ones shown here are more common. And that’s the point. They represent the prevailing attitude toward Polaris that Havok is more important than her, and her unique identity should be subsumed in favor of boosting his prestige.

When they’re together, Havok comes first, she comes second if at all.

And as you have seen in aaaaall the examples I’ve given here, history keeps repeating. Every time Havok gets anywhere near Lorna, everything goes to shit fast. Anything she has to offer gets utterly demolished and thrown away.

THIS is why Havok should not keep getting shoehorned into everything Polaris is doing right now. He’ll ruin her. It’s guaranteed.

There’s a chance that enough time kept apart, with Polaris getting to establish who she is in her own right, could eventually lead to their relationship being a good thing for once. But we’re a long ways off from that. The relationship between Polaris and Havok contains decades of toxicity. You can’t wipe that slate clean with five years apart - and we know this because five years apart wasn’t enough time when they tried it in the 00s, either. It didn’t prevent how horribly she was treated to get her into space and make her part of the Starjammers.

And even as they’ve been apart as a couple, Marvel won’t let Polaris do anything without him popping up. Havok was there for reuniting with her father, for her origin story, as cameos on All-New X-Factor, and recently for her “big return” on X-Men Blue (which put far more effort into promoting Havok than it put into Lorna).

Even when they’re not a couple, Marvel is so wedded to the idea that Lorna’s identity should be all about Havok that they keep shoving him into her stories. As if she needs his permission before she’s allowed to have any kind of character development.

While Marvel excluded her from Uncanny Avengers and Axis while Havok was on them without her, and put Havok on an X-Men anniversary amalgam cover with 4 of the O5 but didn’t put Lorna on any of them.

Compared to Lorna, Havok has been given an obscenely high pedestal and infinite opportunities. Lorna’s had neither. She didn’t get her origin story told or get to lead a team of her own for over 40 years in part because of Havok. It’s time she got respect in her own right for her own merits and potential. She won’t get that with Havok around.

So when you see me rage online about Havok horning in on a story she’s in, or say I’ll drop The Gifted if he ever appears on the show, now you know why. I don’t trust anyone - not Cullen Bunn, not Neil Gaiman, not anyone - to write Polaris and Havok interacting right now. The track record shows that no matter how good they are or what their intent might be, it’ll ruin things for Lorna.

As a Polaris fan, I want the best for her. Not the worst.

[theintrinsicwarrior]

The ‘Illusion’ of Hot Women

Yes, you read the title right. I believe that hot women are an illusion. You either have a curiosity about this opinion or a resistance to it. "Aden, what type of drugs are you on right now!? In what world do hot girls not exist? Maybe you’re spending too much time on Oxford street on a Saturday night!” I can imagine these are the thoughts of a guy reading this. I get it. Before I get into this, I just want to say that some of the things I say in this post may cause you to feel uncomfortable due to the way guys are wired to think in society today. It will probably challenge your perception of how attractive women appear in your reality. It might take the fun out of ‘hot girls' for you, and if thats something you don’t want, I’d advise you to stop reading now. If you’re a guy who goes around rating women on a scale of 1-10 and you’re not willing to be a little open minded to different view on that, same thing, stop reading. If you’re open minded and are genuinely curious about what I have to say about this, let’s go!

What’s your definition of a 'hot girl’? If I go and ask some random guy on the street this, he will probably tell me something like ‘are you serious? a girl who is sexy, of course!’ Or ‘a girl who is super glammed up, takes care of her appearance’ Basically he’s going to give a very vague answer that is probably subjective to his personal tastes. He might give me references of celebrities he finds attractive, or an ex girlfriend or current girlfriend. We don’t think about (or maybe I do, clearly!) what it is that really makes a girl ‘hot’. My argument here is that, what if beauty is contextual? What if that ‘hot girl’ you see walking in a bikini down Bondi beach is your own perception based on the circumstances, behaviour and several other factors? Picture this scene (trust me, you’ll like it if you’re a guy!): A young, blonde girl, maybe around age 21 walks up to you while you’re at a table in a restaurant with your friends. She’s wearing a low cut top on with tight jean shorts. Make up is done perfectly. Smells like every perfect smell to ever exist and has an adorable, polish accent. Her hair is shiny and straight as can be, ending at her lower back. She sits next to you, introduces herself and starts flirting with you. Her facial expressions are seductive. The way she touches your arm as she laughs at something you said in your story is equivalent to everything good in life. The way her eyes light up when you tell her that you’re into surfing or basketball or any sport you like. Got the picture? Of course you do! Obviously, you as a man are going to be like "am I dreaming right now? Why is this happening?” But let me flip it. Imagine that same girl, but this time her hair is all frizzy and clearly not washed and she has no make up on. Her breath reeks and her B.O is assaulting your nostrils like no tomorrow. She’s wearing an oversized hoodie with long baggy pants. She introduces herself but doesn’t say anything after that and sit’s next to you awkwardly, while you look at your buddies awkwardly, with you decaying in the uncomfortableness of it all. So I ask you, is that second girl still hot? It’s the same girl! Are all the thoughts you had about the first version of that girl going to be the same with the second version? Think about that. You see, we don’t take into account the different things that go into a ‘hot girl’. Yeah, its abit of a bummer isn’t it? Let’s use porn stars as another example. (Disclaimer: If you love porn and don’t want to think about what goes into it all, or want it to be ruined for you, once again, stop here). Besides cringe worthy acting, what you’re seeing in those videos is the result of quality lighting, precise make up work, a ‘porn star persona', different angle shots, different takes, exaggerated sex sounds, the ‘bow-chicka bow-wow’ music, and video filters. Editing! Thats what your seeing! If you see those women in a different context, without those things, ‘hot’ probably won’t be the word you’ll be using. ‘Good looking?' Yeah, maybe. ‘Attractive?’ Maybe. It’s going to be a noticeable difference, thats for sure. This applies to instagram models, magazine models, movie stars etc. you get the idea. “Geez! Thanks for being a downer, Aden! Why can’t you be normal, not overthink this and just be a freaking guy!” Yes, I know you might be thinking something along those lines. Allow me to break it down. A common thing I see in young men and in myself when I was younger, is a natural tendency to put women who are ‘hot’ on a pedestal. The psychological pedestal where, because a girl has a 'banging body’, is ’fine as a dime’ or some other cringe expression for a physically appealing girl, she is worshipped. She is the equivalent to that of a celebrity, even if she isn’t one. She is the ticket to your clout boost or status upgrade if you can ‘get her’. You’ll be swimming in the validation of everybody within eye distance of you and her together. Why? Because she looks a certain way in a certain CONTEXT. She’s that girl who every guy is shooting his shot with at the night club. The famous insta-model (who probably uses facetune) posting ass shots everyday and has pathetic men frothing in her comment sections and DM’s. The ‘hottest girl’ in your year 12 class, or maybe even the school. Are you starting to see it? If you don’t, its so simple: Stop acting like women who you ‘perceive’ as hot as being celebrities and trophies to obtain, knowing that ‘hotness’ is all in your mind! It’s subjective. It’s contextual. It’s an Illusion.    

Another thing I want to speak on, and I’ve done it myself, is this universal rating system from 1-10 guys use to ‘rate’ a girl. “The girl I went on date with the other day? She was a 6.5. She’s alright, but I’d kill for that 9.4 who works in marketing, I heard she’s single!” Yeah… Hearing that in person you’d swear you’re in a maths class for crying out loud!. The issue I have with this is literally the same thing as the whole ‘hotness’ thing I was talking about in the previous paragraph: Pedestals and this unconscious desire to acquire these ‘hot’ women for some external validation. As you can imagine, a ‘7.4’ gets treated and viewed differently to a ‘4.3’ (obviously!) And the ultra rare ’10’? Shiiiiiiiiiet! You better be coming with that 1988, Michael Jordan-type game to get her, my guy! This is also where the whole notion of ‘leagues’ comes in: “I like Anna, but she’s a straight 9 and I’m only a 6. I can’t do it. She’s out of my league bro!” Listen to that life-changing confidence! Like, what makes a ’10’ any different to a ‘5’? Are they a different species? Do they have different operating manuals? Don’t get me wrong. I’m not judging here. As I said before, I used to behave like this. In fact, I used to be worse than this! I had my own ‘special’ rating system that was based off video resolutions. That’s right, I used to walk around, look at girls and say “she’s a 1080p!” Or “She’s only 720p, but has potential to be 8k” and had the nerve to call myself a human being! So besides the pedestals and objectifying of women, this behaviour also leads to men having near impossible standards for their dating lives. So you can believe that my standards were all kinds of stupid, having a stupid ass rating system. You can believe that I was never satisfied and blew so many great opportunities, all because of this ridiculous mindset. So that ‘5’ you went on a date with, you thought was ‘alright', could honestly have a personality that you can actually vibe with if you just looked past that massive 5 you put where her face is. You can actually be happier, more satisfied and content with women when you remove these dumb ass rating systems and select women based off a ‘yes’ or ’no’ approach. This how it works: You see a girl and if you’d like to get to know her, feel attracted, be with her or whatever, then she’s a ‘yes’. If not, she’s a ’no’. Simple. She gets viewed as a person who may or may not be into you as well, as opposed to a ‘rating’. This ‘yes’ or ’no’ system has done wonders for me personally: A guy who was rating women as video resolutions at one point! I now am able to look past a woman’s appearance, attempt to connect with her on a genuine level and not get caught up in looks! And not have it be life or death for my ego! Howbowdeh! You know what else is great? When you genuinely connect with a girl over conversation and get to know her, no matter what her appearance, she has the potential to become 'better looking’. It’s this strange phenomenon I’ve recently found since adopting the ‘yes/no’ system. I call it the ’Shallow Hal effect’. If you don’t know that reference, watch the movie Shallow Hal, trust me, you’ll love it! The main character in the movie, Hal, is literally the personification of the modern day, Instagram-model worshipping, sad-case, no self worth, thirsty man. Before he gets hypnotised by Tony Robbins to see the inner beauty of every girl, he’s exactly like the men I described above: Chasing the ‘hot girls’ because how a girl looks is a reflection of his own need for validation. So to sum up this post: What you perceive as ‘hot’ is all contextual and based off your personal rating system, which is likely to make you put women on a pedestal and limit your potential to have decent interactions, relationships and sincere joy with them. Before I finish this post, please don’t think I’m some sort of asexual weirdo who has a problem with good looking women and think they’re overrated. Don’t think I was rejected by countless hot girls and now I’m bitter and resentful because of it. Believe me, I absolutely love women and how they look. In fact, I think looks do sincerely matter and should be appreciated; Just not to the point where you put a girl on pedestal, temporarily change your personality in her presence and treat her like a celebrity just because she has a nice dress on, perfect make up and puts on a ‘sexy girl’ persona. In saying that (and quoting Drake): “Know yourself, know your worth”

‘Your impressions of a woman’s beauty do not define who she is, they define who you are’ -Unknown

[mozgoderina]

Some Thoughts About Richard Serra and Martin Puryear (Part 2: Puryear)

Like Serra, Puryear went to Yale’s famed M.F.A. program (1969–71), but he attended five years after Serra had graduated. In fact, Serra and Robert Morris were visiting artists while he was a student there. During his time at Yale, he studied with the sculptor James Rosati and took a course on African art with Robert Farris Thompson and a course on pre-Columbian at with Michael Kampen. Before attending Yale, Puryear had studied at Catholic University of America, Washington D.C. (1959–63), where he got a B.A in Arts; worked in the Peace Corps (1964–66) in Sierra Leone in West Africa; attended the Swedish Royal Academy of Art (1966–68); and took a backpacking trip with his brother in Lapland, above the Arctic Circle. By the time he attended Yale, Puryear was what the poet Charles Baudelaire would have characterized as “a man of the world.”

From the outset of his career, Puryear refused to give up what he knew and studied in order to align his work with the prevailing aesthetic. Some people believe they should do whatever it takes to fit in, while others accept that they will never fit in and do not try. There is the assimilationist who wants to be loved by everyone, and there is the person who knows that this kind of acceptance comes with a price. In Michael Brenson’s article, “Maverick Sculptor Makes Good” (New York Times Magazine, November 1, 1987), this is how Puryear described his response to Minimalism:

I never did Minimalist art. I never did, but I got real close…. I looked at it, I tasted it and I spat it out. I said, this is not for me. I’m a worker. I’m not somebody who’s happy to let my work be made for me and I’ll pass on it, yes or no, after it’s done. I could never do that.

For me, what is interesting is the nimbleness, stubbornness, determination and intelligence with which Puryear negotiated the aesthetic choices available to him in the late 1960s, a veritable minefield that stretched between the entrepreneurial and the confessional, formalist purity and identity politics.

Historically speaking, Puryear studied art in America and Sweden, lived in and traveled through Scandinavia, Europe and Africa, and worked in the Peace Corps in Sierra Leone during the convulsive 1960s. Culturally speaking, during this tumultuous decade of war, assassinations, desegregation and race riots, America witnessed the rise of Pop Art, Minimalism, Color Field Painting, Painterly Realism, Land Art and the Black Arts Movement, which was started by LeRoi Jones in Harlem in 1965, after Malcolm X was assassinated. The Black Arts Movement advanced the view that a Black poet’s primary task was to produce an emotional lyric testimony of a personal experience that can be regarded as representative of Black culture — the “I” speaking for the “we.” I doubt any of this escaped Puryear’s attention. Faced with these choices, his decisions were bold, adamant and, to my mind, inspiring.

According to Robert Storr, in his 1991 essay, “Martin Puryear: The Hand’s Proportion”:

Of major sculptors active today, Puryear is, in fact, exceptional in the extremes to which he goes to remove the personal narrative from the aura of his pieces. Nevertheless, he succeeds in charging them with an intense and palpable necessity born of his absolute authority over and assiduous involvement in their execution. The desire for anonymity is akin to that of the traditional craftsman whose private identity is subsumed in the realized identity of his creations rather than being consumed in the pyrotechnic drama of the artistic ego. As embodied in Puryear’s sculpture, however, this workmanlike reticence allied to an utter stylistic clarity is as puzzling and as evocative as a Zen koan.

Given the choices open to him between 1960 and ‘70, I don’t find Puryear’s “workmanlike reticence” puzzling, but exceptional. Recognizing that neither skill nor ideas were enough, he rejected becoming a formalist using outside sources to make shiny objects, refused to rely purely on his skill, recognized that craft was a storehouse of cultural memory, and chose not to become an “I” speaking for a “we.” Choosing the latter would have likely required that he evoke his ancestry while making art that alleviated liberal guilt. Influenced by Minimalism’s emphasis on primary structures, which were supposedly objective and non-referential, Puryear inflected his pared-down forms with the possibility of a shared or communal state as well as with a marginalized history that is both haunted and haunting.

In Puryear’s work, it is not an “I” using the form to speak, but a diverse and complex “we” speaking through the form. I think that in his devotion to craft (or his “workmanlike reticence”), which he always puts at the service of his forms, Puryear is attempting to draw upon this storehouse of cultural memory, in order to channel all the anonymous workers and history that preceded him. It is their eloquence, tenderness and pain that he wants to tap into because he understands that he cannot speak for them. The work functions as testimony and homage whose meanings (or narratives) don’t necessarily fit neatly together.

I cannot stress this enough. Puryear goes beyond simply remembering those who are invisible or marginalized, a “we” that is pushed to the sidelines; he also enlarges the definition of “we” through his work. As underscored by such titles as “Some Lines for Jim Beckwourth” (1978), “Ladder for Booker T. Washington” (1996) and “Phrygian Plot” (2012), this “we” isn’t defined by a single race, culture or history. (Jim Beckwourth, 1798-1866, who was bi-racial, was freed by his father and master and became a renowned explorer and fur trader; later in his life, he was the author of an as-told-to autobiography (written down by Thomas D. Bonner) about his life among different cultures and races: The Life and Adventures of James P. Beckwourth: Mountaineer, Scout and Pioneer, and Chief of the Crow Nation of Indians [New York: Harper and Brothers; London: Sampson, Low, Son & Co., 1856].) In this regard, Puryear has never been an essentialist in his materials, approach to art, or subject matter. By not following in anyone’s footsteps, aligning himself with a pre-established aesthetic, or branding his work, Puryear has gained for himself what all artists and poets are said to desire most: artistic freedom.

With “Cedar Lodge” (1977), which Puryear built shortly after his studio in the Williamsburg area of Brooklyn burned down on February 1, 1977, he completed the first of what might be defined as a sanctified space. At the same time, “Cedar Lodge” feels temporary. In fact, the artist dismantled and destroyed the piece after it was exhibited at the Corcoran Gallery of Art, Washington D.C., perhaps because there was no place for him to store it.

In “Self” (1978), which Neal Benezra describes in his 1993 essay, “’The Thing Shines, Not the Maker’: The Sculpture of Martin Puryear” as “a dark monolithic form,” Puryear is able to convey the illusion of a solid, heavy form “planted firmly in the earth,” and therefore partially hidden. And yet, as one learns from looking at the sculpture, the self is not inherited, a byproduct of nature, but something that is made, created out of what is at hand. According to the artist:

It looks as though it might have been created by erosion, like a rock worn by sand and weather until the angles are all gone. Self is all curves except where it meets the floor at an abrupt angle. It’s meant to be a visual notion of the self, rather than any particular self–the self as a secret entity, as a secret hidden place.

In these early sculptures, Puryear began further defining a path that distinguished him from every movement as well as from his elders and peers; he was on his own path. Central to his decision is a belief in interiority; sacred spaces; a self-created private self; survival and temporariness. At the same time, knowledge of craft, which has cultural roots, and a study of history play a significant role in Puryear’s work. What is deemphasized in these works is the “I” or artistic ego.

Puryear’s philosophical position occupies the opposite end of the spectrum from the influential one taken by Andy Warhol: “If you want to know all about Andy Warhol, just look at the surface of my paintings and films and me, and there I am. There’s nothing behind it.”

Or, for that matter, Frank Stella: “What you see is what you see.”

In works such as “Bower” (1980) and “Where the Heart Is (Sleeping Mews)” (1981), which was inspired by a Mongolian yurt, the artist alludes to the movable house, a temporary sanctuary that can be quickly transported from one place to another. At the same time, as Elizabeth Reede notes in a footnote to her essay, “Jogs and Switchbacks” (2007):

"Puns are not uncommon in Puryear’s titles. A mews is a hawk house, and the title Sleeping Mews is a pun on Constantin Brancusi’s Sleeping Muse (1910)."

In using puns, Puryear recognizes that neither language nor meaning is fixed or stable, that everything is contingent. Seemingly mobile, Puryear’s sculptures both critique and share something with Serra’s take on the relationship between viewer and object, which I cited earlier:

"The historical purpose of placing sculpture on a pedestal was to establish a separation between the sculpture and the viewer. I am interested in creating a behavioral space in which the viewer interacts with the sculpture in its context."

Rejecting the pedestal, Puryear places his works directly on the floor. Often composed of both an exterior form, such as a sensual, layered skin or a skeletal, enclosing structure, and an inaccessible but visible interior space, the sculptures invite the viewer’s interaction; they evoke a behavioral space in which a possible intimacy can occur. Whereas Serra’s space tends to privilege an authoritarian shepherding of the viewer through a carefully designed, architectonic structure, Puryear’s work seems to invite the viewer’s speculation as it creates a space of reflection. Made at the beginning of a decade dominated by the “death of the author,” the denigration of craft and skill, the promotion of entrepreneurship, and the elevation of appropriation, Puryear’s “Bower” and “Where the Heart Is (Sleeping Mews)” represented a direct challenge to mainstream art and thinking.

Here, the difference between Serra’s site-specific installations and Puryear’s sculptures cannot be clearer or more telling. In sculptures such as “C.F.A.O. “(2006-2007), “Ad Astra” (2007), “Hominid” (2007-2011), “The Rest” (2009-2010) and “The Load” (2012), Puryear uses wheels he has had in his possession for many years as well as rounded posts and a wheelbarrow to convey the sculpture’s mobility; it is something that can be moved from one place to another, from an open public space to a hidden one, if necessary.

“Ad Astra” is a sculpture incorporating two wheels that the artist found fourteen years earlier on a farm in France. A crystal-like form defines the body of the wagon, which has been described as chariot-like. A tripod has been built into the axle; and from the tripod a stripped-down tree trunk rises more than sixty feet into the air.

In his 2007 retrospective at the Museum of Modern Art, New York, Puryear placed “Ad Astra” and “Ladder for Booker T. Washington” in the museum’s five-story-high Marron Atrium. It seems to me that Puryear placed these works there for a number of reasons, which have less to do with their size and more to do with the dialogue they uphold between history and aspiration, adaptability and inflexibility, particularly with regard to human rights and equality.

Booker T. Washington, who was bi-racial, is a complex figure in America, at once revered and reviled. Considered a racial accommodationist, he rejected the pursuit of racial equality in favor of vocational training. As the first principal of Tuskegee Institute, a school founded after the Civil War for African-Americans, he helped establish the reputation of the school as well as secured its financial stability. Meanwhile, the thirty-six-foot crooked ladder, which alludes to ambition, objectives, to what Washington called “racial uplift,” and to Jacob’s Ladder (or the staircase to heaven that Jacob dreams about in the Bible), is nearly a foot wide at the bottom and a little more than an inch wide at the top. At the Museum of Modern Art, “Ladder for Booker T. Washington” was suspended in the air by wires so that it hung three feet off the ground, becoming a doubly impossible ladder to climb.

By playing with the relationship between perspective and the actual physical length of the piece as it recedes into the distance, Puryear assembled a visual conundrum in which the viewer could not tell if the artist manipulated its rate of diminishment or if it was in fact naturally thinning into space. Instead of stripping all possible illusionism from the work, which, according to Krauss, is one of Serra’s highest achievements, Puryear employs illusionism to carefully orchestrate the misalignment of the visual and the physical, resulting in a perceptual paradox. In doing so, he synthesizes formal issues with his knowledge of history to create a form from which a variety of different and contradictory meanings can be teased out. In “Ladder for Booker T. Washington,” Puryear has used a simple, recognizable form to develop a prolonged mediation on American history and racial relationships. It is a piece that raises a multitude of questions rather than offers solutions.

By playing with the relationship between perspective and the actual physical length of the piece as it recedes into the distance, Puryear assembled a visual conundrum in which the viewer could not tell if the artist manipulated its rate of diminishment or if it was in fact naturally thinning into space. Instead of stripping all possible illusionism from the work, which, according to Krauss, is one of Serra’s highest achievements, Puryear employs illusionism to carefully orchestrate the misalignment of the visual and the physical, resulting in a perceptual paradox. In doing so, he synthesizes formal issues with his knowledge of history to create a form from which a variety of different and contradictory meanings can be teased out. In “Ladder for Booker T. Washington,” Puryear has used a simple, recognizable form to develop a prolonged mediation on American history and racial relationships. It is a piece that raises a multitude of questions rather than offers solutions.

In an interview in the Brooklyn Rail with David Levi Strauss, Puryear, speaking about “Ad Astra,” stated:

There are two Latin phrases the title derives from: Ad astra per ardua, meaning “to the stars through difficulty,” and Ad astra per aspera, which translates as “to the stars through rough things or dangers.”

The ungainly wagon, which is at rest, underscores that one must be prepared to undertake any journey toward fulfillment despite the obstacles. At the same time, there is something impractical about the wagon with this tree trunk rising into the air and seemingly vanishing into infinity. Meanwhile, the body of the wagon evokes a crystal, a form that is both organic and geometric. We think of it as transparent and, as the Greek root (krustallos) suggests, cold or made of rock. By making it out of wood, Puryear has undermined our associations with the crystal-like form, complicating any single or simple reading of the sculpture.

Along with such works as “C.F.A.O.,” “Hominid,“ “The Rest,” and “The Load,” all of which have wheels or rounded, post-like forms suggesting mobility, “Ad Astra” challenges the long held idea of a sculpture as a stationary form, pedestal or no pedestal. A stationary form (whether sculpture or monument) suggests a belief in stability and eternalness, ownership and entitlement. As Percy Bysshe Shelley ends his sonnet, “Ozymandias”:

And on the pedestal these words appear: My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!’ Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away.

Ozymandias, who possesses the giant artistic ego, commands others to do his work.

Like “Ad Astra,” Puryear’s bronze wagon, “The Rest,” with its nearly black patina, rests on its backside, its pull-bar jutting into the air. Has the journey come to a halt, been interrupted, or will this form of transportation, which evokes the wagons used to transport runaway slaves along the underground railroad, be needed again to carry something through enemy territory?

“The Load” is a two-wheeled wagon that holds a cage-like wooden cube made of an open-lattice grid. Inside the painstakingly constructed grid is a giant eyeball made of white glass with a black circle (or pupil) in one section. Is it an open box for prisoners? Viewers can peer into the black circle and discover their reflection in a mirror, which allows them to investigate the ribbed dome from inside, temporarily becoming a “prisoner.” In this case, it is as if the giant eyeball (or hapless witness) has entrapped us.

In his reversal of the viewer’s position (from witness to victim), his challenges to permanence, stability and ownership, his recurring evocations of mobility, migration and survival, his meditations upon history, particularly colonialism, his reminder that craft is a form of memory, Puryear effectively challenges the status quo that believes in sculpture as a stationary object (a sign of stability); the death of the author and craft; the primacy of entrepreneurship; and a euro-centric view of art history culminating in a celebration of the purely formal. More than continuing a tradition of sculpture, Puryear effectively re-imagines it. In doing so he asks us to examine what we take for granted and why. This is the lively and heated conversation that Puryear and Serra are having through their work. Perhaps it is time to begin weighing in.

  Source: Hyperallergic / John Yau. Link: Some Thoughts About Martin Puryear Illustration: Martin Puryear [USA] (b 1941) ~ 'Untitled I', 2002. Aquatint on Rives Lightweight Buff paper (12 x 15 cm). Moderator: ART HuNTER.

[rpchive]

104th Encounter-- All For One; One For All

this one’s got a little bit of a drowning kinda moment, but other than that it’s all good!

Collin opens the door to his room and steps inside, glancing around. "Jay? You still here?" Closing the closet door behind himself, Jay comes into the room. "Yeah, what's up?" Collin: I'm uh.... about to go talk with the pantheon about the big split, and I'm... pretty nervous actually. Do you want to come with me, or would you rather pass? alienrabitt: ...Already? Well...of course I'll go with you, but are you sure you're ready to talk about that? Collin: I'll be okay. The sooner we can figure something out and fix this, the better. I'm just hoping no one jumps to a wrong conclusion at first. alienrabitt: ...Yeah. Alright, let's go. Collin takes Jay by the hand as he approaches and they leave together, making their way down the hall to the pantheon's room. Using his free hand, Collin knocks on the door a few times and waits for a response. The door swings open on its own as Tellus makes her way over from a reading chair across the room.

Tellus: Well hello! What brings you two here?

Collin: Hey Tellus. We need to talk with everyone, if that's alright.

Tellus: Everyone? Is something wrong?

Collin: It's... something we need to talk out together. Do you have a way for us to...?

Trying to downplay a concerned look, she nods and waves them in. "Of course, just come inside first. You don't have to stand in the hall."

As the pair step through the doorway, a familiar fog swirls around them, and within moments they find themselves standing back in the godspace as shiny and resplendent as ever. Tellus is standing there with them. Sanglied and Ezorius appear to be cuddling together in a large bowl-shaped seat, although Sanglied perks up at their arrival.

you use so many words I’ve never even seen before out of nowhere, lmao

Sanglied: Well well, this a surprise. What brings you two here again?

Tellus: Apparently they have some sort of important thing they need to talk to us about.

Sanglied: Ah, round table time, huh? Fine, but let's not make this too long, alright? You're cutting in on our cuddle session.

Tellus leans over to them, whispering exaggeratedly. "Don't worry about them. They've been there for hours now."

A large round table suddenly assembles itself out of a section of floor tiles in the main area, along with a matching array of chairs. Sanglied puts a hand to their lips and lets out a sharp whistle, and within a few minutes the gods have assembled and taken seats at the table along with Collin and Jay.

Precantaro: So, what's the big news, you two? Seated beside Collin, Jay stares down at the table as he mumbles his response. "...Well, I mean, it's...I guess it's kind of a big deal, but I...my...I, uhh..." Collin puts a hand on his arm and takes squeezes it slightly. "I know this is old news, but Jay's wish tied his existence to mine. The problem is that ever since I was joined to you guys, the extra... "load" I guess, has been overloading Jay's tether to me. The magic sustaining him can barely support the strain from all of us, and it's finally getting to be too much for him to bear. The only way I can see to fix this is to, well... find a way to untether you guys from me but still keep you here."

A moment of intense silence follows as the gods process his words for a moment.

Precantaro: That...

Fereldir: ... is big news. alienrabitt: ...I'm sorry...I didn't want to say anything; I'm sure you didn't want to hear something like that... Sanglied: I mean, at least you didn't just cut ties and fling us back into nothing again. Still, that's a lot to chew...

Collin: I know, I'm sorry to just drop this on you guys. It's just that the pain is making Jay consider some... extreme options, so I can't afford to wait on this.

Tellus, who took a seat next to Jay, places her hand on Jay's free one. "I'm so sorry, Jay. I had no idea we were hurting you like this..." alienrabitt: It...it's okay; I mean...I didn't realize what was causing it at first either. I thought it was just because I wasn't used to my powers or something, but after things settled down, and when people quit messing with my oracle, it still hadn't stopped, so I...I didn't know what to do about it...

in all likelihood this is probably why Jay can’t make gates by himself too

Brahmzen: Well, I suppose that should be our next discussion. However, assuming we find a way to do this, what effect will it have on Collin? With the way our minds and magic have melded, there's no telling what separation might cause.

Collin: As long as it doesn't kill me, I don't care what it takes. Jay's life depends on this, I can't afford to back out. Sanglied nods once solemnly, while Ezorius chimes in. "I understand. However, how would we go about such a feat? Untangling souls is no parlor trick."

Terrae: Have any of us even done something like that before?

The pantheon thinks for a moment before simultaneously turning to face Fereldir.

Fereldir: You know, I can't help but feel singled out suddenly. alienrabitt: ...Can you do it? Fereldir: Me personally? Not quite. But I once made something that could. A mortal's husband once made a mistake while summoning an extremely powerful wraith, and as a result was merged into its form. Normally I wouldn't have intervened in such a case; such is the nature of witchcraft, after all. However, the mortal pleaded a case that I... couldn't ignore, so I set about making-

Ezorius: The Apparatus of the Divided Souls.

She cuts Fereldir off in a mockingly dramatic tone.

Sanglied: Seriously, what's with your naming schemes? The Well of Suffering, Convocation of the Damned, Cry of the Eternal Soul...

Fereldir: You wanted to name it "The Soul Thunder from Down Under". I hardly think you're in a position to judge.

p l e a s e

Precantaro: It's okay, love. I think they're fine names.

Sanglied: I smell a bias in here for some reason...

Collin: Uh, guys?

Fereldir: ...Right, sorry. At any rate, the Apparatus could probably accomplish what we'd need, since thanks to this crystal we have a "body" of sorts again in the physical world. However, we'll need at least one other person aside from Jay if we're going to use it. alienrabitt: Demo already knows about all this, unless you'd want to tell somebody else...though I'm sure the whole IT's gonna know if we have to go somewhere. Fereldir: It doesn't matter who you choose, so long as you trust them with both ours and Collin's lives. Our lives will be quite literally in your hands. alienrabitt: ...Then Rio. Collin: Rio? Of course. Rio cares about you just as much as I do; and she'd never hurt anybody, either. Collin: ... I guess you're right. I just hope she doesn't get freaked out by the idea of this. alienrabitt: I think she'll just be worried for you. I'm pretty sure any of us would be...okay, well maybe not Maya, but don't tell her I said that... Sanglied: I still can't figure out if I like that girl or not...

Ezorius: She's got your fire, but not so much your charm.

Sanglied: Aw, you're so sweet...

Ezorius: Or your eating habits.

Sanglied: ... My statement stands.

Precantaro: Alright, well before we go down some other tangent, we should let you two go get her. We'll head to the console room and tell whoever's there where to take us. alienrabitt: She'll probably be there too; but I guess we can pull her aside and explain things. Precantaro: Right, she is normally there, isn't she? Well, let's not waste time then.

The room vanishes into mist once more. Jay and Collin find themselves standing back in the pantheon's room with Fereldir. He leads them out of the room to the console room. Rio is seated at the console with Nydins. Though Nydins gives a sort of dismissive wave of greetings, Rio seems to be much happier to see company as she eagerly waves at the trio.

Rio: What's going on? I know something's happening when you're all in one room! Collin: Well, you're not wrong? We actually need your help, but... actually can you just come over here for a minute? Getting out of her chair, Rio approaches the trio eagerly. "Oh, you've got a secret? It must be really serious!" Fereldir splits off to go direct Nydins while the others talk.

Collin: I should warn you, this is actually really serious. We're doing something to help Jay, but the pantheon and I have to put our lives in your hands to do it. If you'd rather not do this, it's okay. We can probably find someone else to help us. I'm not going to think less of you. Rio: ...It's really dangerous, huh? But if I can seriously help you guys for once, I want to be able to do it. I'm glad you came to me for this. Collin: Of course. I'm not exactly sure what you'll need to do, but we'll find out when we get there I guess.

He pauses for a second and then gives Rio a quick, tight hug. "Thanks, Rio." Rio hugs Collin back, swaying him a little as she does so. "It's no problem! I won't let you guys down!"

you’re like...way too soft for this job, we were nuts to pick you

A short time later, the IT touches down. Fereldir wastes no time in heading for the door, beckoning the other three to follow. The group finds themselves in the hallway of a dark stone tower. Torches of green flames illuminate the interior, and an enormous intricate door covered in runes and stonework stands before them. A skull with a clenched jaw and a strange indentation in the forehead sits in the center of the door.

Fereldir produces a bright blue gemstone and slots it into place in the skull, causing the jaw to snap open with a loud crack. The mechanisms of the door spring to life, pulling back layer after layer of reinforcement. After several seconds, the final layer retreats and the door slides open to reveal a large circular chamber within.

Near the door stand two weathered pedestals. A pair of worn and somewhat rusty shears hovers above the leftmost pedestal. Its handles are wrapped in old cloth, and a red gemstone sits in the hinge of the two handles. Above the rightmost pedestal is a pair of gloves reinforced with a crimson metal and a green gem in the back of each hand.

Across a floor covered in circular runic patterns sit two almost vertical stone beds with small restraints built in. Fereldir strides into the middle of the room and turns toward the others.

Fereldir: Alright... Jay, please take the shears. Rio, the gloves, please. With similar senses of reluctance; unease; and confusion, the pair takes their respective objects. Fereldir: In theory, this should be simple. Collin will take position in one bed, and we will take the other. Once you're both ready, I'll activate the Apparatus. From there, it will be entirely up to you two. The Apparatus will draw out the connection between us in the form of threads, one for each of us. Rio will need to grab a thread with both hands, and Jay will need to sever the thread by cutting between her hands. I should warn you that once you sever the connection, magic will rush out of both ends, and there's no telling what it will do. You'll need to quickly connect each side of the thread to the respective person, then repeat the process for the remaining threads. Any questions so far? alienrabitt: I...think I understand.

Rio: W-well, if it doesn't blow us apart, maybe all we'll have to do is just...match colors! Tying 4 into 2 seems pretty easy... Fereldir: Four? There are seven of us, which means seven threads connecting us. Bringing the thread halves back to us is simple. The left side goes to the left person, and vice versa. The problem will be avoiding whatever magic spews out of the threads. That and, well, doing it in time. The process is... incredibly draining to the subjects. We can rotate out to share the load, but Collin will be feeling the drain the entire time. If you don't hurry...

no fucking pressure you fucking goth-ass grandpa

Rio: ...This is suddenly seeming like a whole lot...b-but! If it's the only way to help, then there's no other choice...! We'll just have to handle it anyway...!

alienrabitt: ...Yeah. Whatever's thrown at us, I'll tank it all out. Let's do this. Fereldir: I suppose I should mention that you could cut multiple threads at once in theory. Keep in mind that if you do, you'll have multiple...results to deal with. However, you would save time in theory, which means less of a drain on us, especially Collin.

Collin: High risk, high reward, I guess? alienrabitt: ...I'll figure it out! All this talk is making me nervous...I just have to do it...! Fereldir: Fair enough.

He calmly approaches the righthand bed and lays against it, allowing the restraints to click shut over him. Collin approaches the left one, taking a deep breath before letting the bed secure him as well. With everyone in place, Fereldir chants a short incantation, kicking the Apparatus to life. A strange chandelier lowers from the ceiling and fills the room with a strange glow. Belts spin around different sections of the chandelier, creating a constant humming noise. Fereldir winces in pain as Collin cries out while the Apparatus kicks into gear. Seven threads shimmer into view before Jay and Rio; light green, dark green, red, purple, brown, gray, and white. There is little discussion as Rio grabs a handful of the threads, carefully separating them into two bunches; one of 3, and one of 4.

"Let's do four first; if it gets bad, we won't have much to do after!"

Without hesitation, and with little more than a nod, Jay cuts the clump of four threads. Both Collin and the pantheon scream again as the cords are severed, and a massive surge of magic surges out of the eight halves. Several green orbs fly out of one thread and begin to take on humanoid shapes while the second green thread spews out energy which forms into wooden armor around them. The white thread rapidly infuses the sprites with various sigils and wards, and the purple begins twisting them into larger and more foreboding shapes. Collin's threads, meanwhile, constantly release a stream of mana for the sprites to feed on, increasing their strength. Wicked laughter echoes throughout the chamber as they focus on the pair below them. Frantically attempting to tie the threads to their corresponding halves, Rio releases the remaining three. "Okay, bad idea! Okay; bad idea!!"

Quickly stuffing the shears down his scarf, Jay summons up several of his Hermes dolls, each one sporting a weapon with a glass ball filled with a different color of magic. "D-don't worry about it, just stick behind me and keep going! It's just magic; if it really comes down to it...!!" As Rio gets within arm's reach of the first person, their corresponding threads tug against her grip and seem to attach themselves back to the person, quickly fading away. While Rio returns the threads to them, the sprites swoop down at the pair and unleash a barrage of various spells at them, both elementally based and practically unidentifiable alike. The first hermes doll bounces forth; a shield with a sphere of blue magic lodged in the center in its plush paws. Placing the shield down in front of the pair determinedly, the shield creates a barrier that protects Rio, as well as a small radius around her. A second doll springs forth; pistols with red magic domes upon the barrels rapidly firing off barrages of magical bullets that seem to shrink in size, but grow in speed as they get further away from the guns themselves. Summoning up a wall of spears behind himself, Jay begins his own assault as well. After Rio connects Collin's threads back to him, the sprites lose their source of reinforcing magic. Now somewhat weakened, one of the sprites is punched through by several of Jay's bullets and bursts apart into green motes of light. The other two sprites split off and continue attacking them from two directions. One of the sprites manages to strike Jay with a strange water spell which causes a bubble of water to swirl up around his head, cutting off his supply of air. Staggering backwards, Jay shakily looses the remainder of his spears towards his attacker, while the gunner doll aims for the remaining sprite. A third doll remains in the background, a simple hourglass in its paws, the sand slowly counting something down. This doll remains motionless; unblinking; and entirely unguarded. Picking up the shielded doll, Rio starts to move over to the pantheon in an attempt to reconnect the remaining threads. One sprite focuses its spells on Rio but can't punch through the barrier around her. In the split second it loses focus, the gunner doll manages to pierce through it as well, banishing it. The other sprite evades Jay's spear attacks and cackles in mock laughter. It spies Jay's hourglass doll and swoops down, lifting it up into the air with it. It bats it around above its head while continuing to loose spell after spell at Jay. Despite the sand shaking around in the hourglass, nothing seems to change as a result of the doll's abuse. Summoning up what is arguably too many spears, Jay unleashes one final volley as an entire wall of them is sent towards the remaining sprite; the gunner doll firing shots between the spears. In the commotion, Rio practically dives towards the pantheon with the remaining severed threads, allowing the doll to fall beneath her. The sprite turns when it sees an opening form against Rio, but the wave of projectiles overwhelms the wards around it, ripping it apart. The bubble of water around Jay's head bursts, sending water everywhere around him. Meanwhile, the threads leap from Rio's hands and reconnect to the pantheon, cutting off the remaining streams of magic. The chamber goes somewhat quiet again, although the hum of the Apparatus and the cries of the two on the beds continue. The remaining three threads connecting Collin to the pantheon sit on the ground; red, brown, and gray.

this is singlehandedly the most stressful, combat heavy log, and my dumb ADHD ass could not keep up with all the shit I needed to do. I’m so glad I’m never gonna have to write anything like this again

anyway, on the plus side, we get to see what Jay can actually do combat-wise! which is...a lot of dolls. I’d argue he’s a lot like Alice Margatroid in that his magic only really shines through his creations, but he can fight on his own if he has to

Gasping for air, Jay collapses onto his side, removing the shears from his scarf. "...If that's all they've got...then I'll just take the last three too; hand them here..."

Rio: I...I think that's a bad idea...!

alienrabitt: Just do it! I can handle it...!

Reluctantly, Rio picks up the remaining threads as well as the shielded doll, bringing them over to Jay, who cuts them all at once yet again. He places the hourglass doll upright at the base of the pantheon's bed.

"...It doesn't matter what they have, if things get rough enough, they won't stop me. Now go..." A thick black smog pours out of the gray thread and forms a humanoid shape in front of Jay. Dead branches of wood seem to grow out from inside of it and coil around it like weeds. As its growth slows, red markings flow down the branches and vines, forming intricate runic patterns around it. In a voice that echoes out like a rumbling whisper, it calls out to Jay. "Hello, young one. I would normally ask what deal you wanted to make, but it looks like you have other plans in mind, don't you?" alienrabitt: ...I'm just trying to do my damn job. I won't let anything get in the way of that... ?: A shame. Then die.

Several vines reach out in front of the shade, creating a swirling ball of red and black energy in the space between them. It launches the ball at Jay with a reverberating boom. Unable to react on such short notice, Jay takes the blast full force as Rio desperately relays the threads and shielded doll back towards the pantheon. As Jay lies on the floor, the hourglass of the third doll finally empties out, and the doll simply rotates it back over; the sand shifting to a brilliant shade of cyan and chartreuse. Coincidentally, the blues of Jay's injured arm also shift to chartreuse, and he lifts himself up off the floor, dusting himself off as off he had simply fallen over.

"...Looks like it's my turn for once. You ready to die too?" The shade makes a guttural sound of annoyance as it loses connection to its spawning threads, now solely feeding off of the magic from Collin's. The branches rearrange themselves and form three separate orbs this time. "Petty tricks will not save you, whelp!"

It releases every blast, one right after the other. The kleivenn before the figure shifts into Jay's former true form, however the hole in it's chest exposing their oracle has now stretched all the way down its belly, revealing no further bodily contents beyond a bone structure. Kicking off from the floor with a force that cracks it, the kleivenn speeds forth like a bullet, deflecting the blasts with its mighty wings as it aims its grasp for the shadow. Caught off guard by the sudden transformation, the shade fails to fully evade the kleivenn's grasp. The branches grow razor-like thorns and begin slashing at the kleivenn in an attempt to break free. Gnashing its fangs in preparation, green flames build forth, rapidly filling the entire inner contents of the kleivenn and igniting even the accents along its body. Purple spines raise up along their back as they unleash a flurry of magic and fire, burning brighter and brighter until the flames are absolutely white hot.

Rio, stumbling forth in her confusion finally grasps the edge of Collin's table, the remaining threads still in her grasp. As Rio finally reaches Collin, the final threads reconnect to him, cutting the shade off entirely. With no source of mana, the shade is unable to do anything against the kleivenn's onslaught. Hellish shrieks cry out from the flames as it is engulfed, and within seconds all that remains is ash and wispy smoke. Detecting that the process is complete, the Apparatus slowly grinds down to a stop. Collin and the pantheon go limp as everything finally shuts down, though the restraints continue to hold them temporarily. Spines lowering, and dolls dispelled, the kleivenn turns towards Rio; takes about four steps forward; and collapses on the floor, reverting to their humanoid form. Breathing heavily, they remain lying down, rolling over onto their back as they stare up at the ceiling.

"...Is he okay...? Are they all...?"

Unsure of who to help first, Rio hurries over to Collin's side. "Y-you shouldn't have pushed yourself like that...!"

Jay?: If he dies; we...dies. So yeah; I did...burning out; that can be fixed...dying, not so much...a soul's pretty easy to bring back, but a personified concept...? ...Whatever, just tell me how he's doing; I'm really tired...

Tori has a lot of agnaktor/gore magala themes; with a little bit of Toothless mixed in

Collin appears to have passed out from the strain and seems somewhat pale, but is still breathing normally. His markings are completely gone, including the one that normally stays on the back of his left hand. Aside from that, he appears to be fine. Rio: ...I'm no XL, but I think he's gonna live.

She hurries over to the pantheon while the person on the floor gives her a shaky thumbs up.

Jay?: Okay...great; I'll just...lie here, then...

The green markings on their arm flicker to blue as they pass out. The pantheon seems to be shifting between several members for a moment before finally settling on Sanglied, who appears to be significantly more coherent. "Wow... that sucked. I feel bad I couldn't take more of the hit, but... that would've just made things worse for you guys. Mind touching the table so this thing will let me go, sweetie?" Rio: Oh, that's how this works? Okay...!

Rio gingerly places her hands upon the table. The restraints click open again and Sanglied carefully drops down onto their feet, staggering slightly for a moment. "Appreciate it. Stars above, I can't believe he knocked himself out though. He's got no sense of romanticism, I swear. Now instead of dramatically carrying his partner to safety, we've gotta lug both of them back to the IT." Rio: At least he's really lightweight? But I agree, that was pretty reckless...I don't think he wanted to risk anything... Sanglied: His heart's in the right place, but his execution needs work. Anyway, if he's lightweight, I'll get him. I can still run my mouth a lot, but heavy lifting is... a little beyond me right now. Go get Collin, but be careful. He's probably pretty worse for wear after that. Heading over to Collin's table, Rio places her hands upon the edge as well. "I'm just glad you're all alright...I don't know what I would've done if we'd messed up..." Collin slumps forward into Rio as soon as he's released, still unconscious.

Sanglied: Hey, don't worry about that. These two made a good call getting you for this.

They kneel down and scoop Jay up into their arms, then struggle for a second as they force themselves back up on their feet. "I'm just wondering how you would've handled it if all three of us couldn't move. I don't think Fereldir kept a wheelbarrow or anything in this place. You got him?" Very carefully, Rio slides her arms beneath Collin and scoops him up.

"...I probably would've just gotten help from everyone else; but I'm sure they'd have...a lot of questions..." Sanglied: Yeah, stuff like "Wow Rio, why'd you knock everyone out like that? Not cool." Rio: Probably more like "who's rusty murder dungeon did you get dragged into this time;" even if it was the opposite of that... Sanglied: Yeah, I'm pretty sure the murder dungeon is way further down in this tower. Been a while since I've been here.

Rio: Um...I'm still sure Nydins is gonna have a lot of questions when we get back...and XL... Sanglied: Yeah, we should get these two back home... Also the uh, murder dungeon was a joke, for the record. Anyway, let's go.

Rio and Sanglied leave the Apparatus and return to the IT. [A couple of hours later...]

Collin groans slightly as he comes to. His eyes flutter slightly as they adjust to the light, and a few seconds later he slowly turns his head to glance around the room. Jay is seated on the floor beside Collin's side of the bed, though he's been holding Collin's hand the whole time. Humming quietly to himself, he continues to stare at the ceiling, having not noticed Collin quite yet. Collin squeezes Jay's hand slightly after noticing his touch. "... Hey..." Jumping slightly, Jay scrambles to turn around, grasping Collin's hand with both of his own. "Y-you're okay! I mean, I knew you'd be okay, but...! I'm...I'm glad you're up...I was totally expecting to sit here for a few days." Collin: Well... I'm probably not... getting up for a while, heh... Feels like I got... hit by a truck... or three... alienrabitt: ...Then I'll stay here until you can! Okay, well maybe not right here, I'll, uhh...

Getting up off the floor, Jay takes a seat on his side of the bed. Collin laughs quietly. "It's okay, babe... How're you feeling now?" alienrabitt: ...Better. A lot less painful, that's for sure. I'm still kinda hurting, but that's probably because I got stabbed and drowned a little...doesn't help that Tori kinda went all-in at the last second. Collin: You got what? alienrabitt: Uh, well...when we cut all those threads, they kinda wound up summoning some stuff instead of just raw, chaotic magic or whatever, so I kinda had to go all out by myself. If it weren't for Tori's magic, we'd all be totally dead. Collin: Fuck... What about Rio? And the pantheon? alienrabitt: Oh, nothing even touched Rio; Sanglied was up and about earlier, but I think they might be the only one who can do anything right now... Collin: .... Okay. But you're okay too... right? alienrabitt: I'm...yeah. I used up a lot of magic to keep everyone safe, but I still have enough to stick around, so I'm okay; I just won't be fighting any time soon. Collin: Fair enough. Not gonna lie... I would've been really worried if you weren't here, hehe.... alienrabitt: Well, the way you were looking, I kinda figured even if you got up, you wouldn't have been able to get too far, so... Collin: That bad, huh? alienrabitt: You did not look good when I woke up. Needless to say, XL was very much not happy about all this. Firefly yelled at me even more than her, though... Collin: Firefly? What got her upset? alienrabitt: Finding out what we did, and why. I got a whole lot of "this all could've been avoided if you'd thought more about yourself instead" and stuff. Something, something, "a shield made of glass doesn't help anybody," blah, blah, whatever...Demo didn't even know what happened, but she still called me a moron for getting so burnt out "doing whatever;" kinda expected that one, though. Collin: I mean... they're not wrong? You shouldn't let yourself burn out like that. What if something happens... after you do that? alienrabitt: I mean, I'd just be burnt down to my oracle by that point. Can't fight at all if you're not technically there; though if something got that bad, we'd have bigger problems. Collin: That's... not really the point. N-Nevermind, I can't really argue right now. alienrabitt: ...I guess I get what you're saying, though. Doesn't matter what my role is, I'm always gonna want to do everything I can to help, even if it's risky. Even if I'm not part of the FPF anymore, there's just some stuff I can't shake. Once I dedicate to something, I'll just keep at it til it's over, so nah, I don't think this could've ended any other way. I was always gonna dedicate my life to keeping you safe, wish or not. Collin: Wow, are you the sappy one in the relationship now too? alienrabitt: --Ugh, no way! You know I don't say this stuff often... Collin: I'm just teasing... Although it is nice to hear from time to time, ahaha... alienrabitt: ...Is it quiet now? Looks like you lost your magic... Collin: Did I really? I knew I was feeling pretty drained, but... I don't know, it's hard to tell when I'm feeling like this. alienrabitt: The markings are totally gone right now, but who knows? Maybe they'll come back or something... Collin: Mm... Well, I didn't have markings back when I could only really use lightning, so... I guess we'll see? alienrabitt: Hey, magic or no magic, you've still got me, at least. ...Whenever I'm able to fight again. Collin: Thank God for that.

He squeezes Jay's hand again. "... Although I will admit, I kinda hope I kept /something/ at least. I'd hate to give up being able to go out and help." alienrabitt: Hey man, if Daedalus can do it, so can you. Worst case you just gotta borrow some of Maya's weird stuff. Collin: Well... let's hope it doesn't come to that. Hey, can you do me a favor, actually? alienrabitt: Of course; what's up? Collin: Come down here so I can kiss you. I can't push myself up still... Jay visibly debates just lifting him upright, but ultimately leans down to kiss Collin instead. Collin eventually breaks away from the kiss and looks back up at Jay. "I love you so much." alienrabitt: I love you too, Collin.

so much cheese; ugh. next time, we deal with some stuff in Lobotomy! O: