#but lets keep with the “potentially” for the sake of this hypothesis

[dirtytransmasc]

people try and adultify Hobie so much, like leave the poor kid alone, he's not an adult, he's not somehow responsible for the other teens (cause people who keep saying it's proship will in the same breath say that Hobie's like a mentor/father figure... like, no, no he's not, he's their peer, their friend, big brother at the very very most) he's just as much of a kid as them. not to mention how people say this half the time in justification, at least partially, for sexualizing him.

if i see one more person call chaipunk or punkflower proship i am going to tear my eyelashes out of my face goodnight hobie is literally a teenager too 💀

[forevercloudnine]

Scarebat Fic Rec

Scarebat is a weird rarepair because despite my calling it that, it does have over eighty works on AO3. It just so happens that the vast majority of those works are for continuities I’m not interested in (mainly Gotham and Nolanverse). For my own reference and for the sake of anyone else who enjoys the pairing in a more comic-based continuity, I thought I’d put together a list of fanfics I’ve greatly enjoyed and reread often.

tell me your nightmares by gloriousmonsters

1.2k words, a oneshot from Scarecrow’s perspective exploring different occasions on which he’s been able to dose Batman with fear toxin. Very poetically clinical internal monologue from Crane about his experiments.

FT was useful as a weapon, delightful even, but it reached its full potential when Jonathan could use it as a tool of therapy. Take someone into its influence, through it down to their deepest fears; bring them into the light and let them run their course. Done properly it was an atheist’s exorcism; painful and ugly but a thing of beauty, where he played God and drew out the demons.   

Put the Offer Out by @wander-over-the-words​

5k words, an ambiguously-tentative established relationship oneshot from Bruce’s perspective with a reformed Scarecrow who works as a consultant at Wayne Enterprises. Deals with the potential fallout of the ever popular comic plotline of “Scarecrow becomes immune to fear.” Extremely southern take on Crane.

He supposes it’s fine for Jonathan to have a passion for something; he’s been obsessed with fear for so long, Bruce doubts any kind of therapy could get him over it just like that. It’s what he’d been doing with that obsession that had been a bad thing. So Jonathan can have his obsession, but what he needs is an outlet.

Mask Blindness and The Dating Game by @not-the-drones​

A three chapter fic and its five chapter continuation, 26.8k words total, mostly from Bruce’s perspective. Not scarebat specific (they also feature batjokes and riddlebat) but Drones has a very fun take on Scarecrow’s character. AU where Crane was never fired from his position at Gotham University, and Scarecrow is his criminal dual identity.

Once inside, Bruce was pleasantly surprised by the interior. The soft light he just saw over Jonathan’s shoulders came from an old chandelier that dangled above the main hall. It seemed that the professor had opted to keep most of the original furniture, but did a decent job at restoring it. The tables, chairs, couches; all looked like they’ve been repainted and reupholstered, while keeping their period charm.

However, that did not stop Bruce from comparing it to the start of a slasher film.

he broke into my head (so i tossed the key and locked it) by @fairestwriting

5.8k words, oneshot from Scarecrow’s perspective. Being defeated by Batman has made him obsessed with payback, though he finds that revenge isn’t as satisfying as he assumed it would be.

Batman tore those things away from him, but maybe not because he didn’t understand. No, he saw the value in the manipulation of fear, that much was clear with how cautious the oh so brave dark knight was around him, almost like he’s walking on eggshells. The reason he opposed Scarecrow was beyond not understanding him, no, he had a motive, a drive. Maybe he didn’t even mind that he went so far for science, for power — Ah, no, he had a hypothesis his reason ran much deeper than morality, it was personal, selfish. It wasn’t something heros were made out of.

[ignitification]

Random Theory Time! UA Traitor + Experiments.

Disclaimer: this might be the absolutely most stupid thing I ever said on this site (and I said a lot of bs), so proceed with caution. Also tw for death, murder, experiments on animal AND humans, violence.

As the DfO theory reclaims more and more attention, and with each passing chapter it becomes more and more plausible - another thing which has somehow not being paid attention to, has been brought to life (always thanks to my enlightening conversations with @purplemys, that is). 

Nezu, as we know him, is the current Principal of UA; but how did he get there? We know that Nezu has been experimented on, and that thought birthed the possibility that maybe, since we know nearly nothing about him or his creature-like potential, might it have actually been AfO experimenting on him, through the doctor-like abilities of Ujiko?

After all, we do not know a lot about the Noumus (or rather, the process they are formed through, save for the modification on their brain and the fact that the idea has been taken from Machia), but I think it is clear that the process which the corpses/former humans have been through, should have started been started by something (the idea of Noumus did not originate from a blank note of AfO saying 'let's experiment on corpses just for the sake of it', but as I mentioned before, Machia is the inspiration). However, It is common practice, or It was in human history, to experiment on animals before humans. So, in this sense, it would make sense that before starting their trial on human corpses, AfO and Ujiko might have messed with animals (which would also explain not only Nezu’s Quirk, but as well why it is not exactly possible to understand what type of animal Nezu is). Further than that, AfO always said that he likes predicting what other people will do, and as far as we know that’s exactly the Quirk that Nezu has (well, more or less).

Now, if this hypothesis holds true, and Nezu IS the product of Ujiko and AfO’s experimentation trials, it might also make sense that AfO has conditioned and basically directed the play as we know it: he put Nezu in such a condition to become the trusted President of UA, then recruit AM, and once he is in dire need of a successor, strike (right when he is at his weakest)(ofc not taking into consideration the existences of the vestiges, or the particular circumstances which lead to Izuku being the last OfA holder). This matter would make it pretty clear that Nezu, behind the scenes, has always been the Traitor (he said it himself that he cannot prove that he IS NOT the one, and the fact that the UA dorms have been built, might have just been an excuse to monitor the people he needed to, more closely). An episode that might confirm this hypothesis, is the innocent interaction AM and Nezu have during the time the USJ attack is happening. AM has been doing hero work during the morning, so he cannot maintain his form for a long time anymore, but he knows that something might have happened, as he cannot contact both Aizawa and Thirteen. But guess who shows up to keep him there for longer? (It can be argued that he does not want AM to confront the Noumu, but in the other sense, he is also putting the students in danger and obstructing AM from saving them). 

However, if you notice, there is a missing step in this theory, which might be the connecting bit - but also the one letting this theory fall into crumbs. (Yes, it is the Dad for One theory). As much as I personally do not enjoy it, and it would add just more chaos to the narrative as it is now, I think that it might make sense for AfO to have had a son, which he then let Ujiko diagnose as ‘Quirkless’, and whose path crossed AM when he was the more in need of it (or rather, their encounter was ‘lucky’ and needed for both - after all, AM has been already recruited to be a teacher at UA at that time, but he still had not met Mirio, so it was the only possible moment, a chance of sorts, for AM to meet Izuku and for him to inherit OfA). 

However, this would entail an absurdly high planning level (of which I am sure, AfO is more than capable). 

Considered from this perspective, the birth of Izuku was functional: another experiment made in order for him to take over his body, reformed and more apt to take on his Quirk than anyone else (especially if AfO’s goal was always to take ahold of OfA. Therefore, creating a situation in which he himself spawned a child, which not only was fit to receive his Quirk, but would also be able to contain OfA - reuniting it into its original power, and with Izuku’s ‘new and fresh’ body, would make the perfect basis for his perfect plan to become basically invincible)(an argument that can be made forward this hypo is that Izuku’s body has taken little to no damage from handling multiple quirks). 

Of course, in addition to this, we’d have to take into consideration Shigaraki. Much as I stated here (which was also one of the starting point for this absolutely digressing stream of thoughts), Shigaraki has been kidnapped right around the time of Izuku’s birth (in terms of age, Izuku and Tomura pass each other around 5 years, which is the age at which Tenko has been kidnapped) - and he himself, might have been since the beginning, a pin in the Grand Plan of AfO to take over not only OfA, but to realise his selfish dream to be the New Demon Lord (notice the wording of Greatest Demon Lord as opposed to Greatest Hero... which is Izuku's introduction)(and this has been, more or less confirmed by AfO himself).

Shigaraki might indeed represent a potential patient 0, or even a plan B in case AfO’s end goal to overtake Izuku’s body fails, as well as trial run. We see AfO convincing Shigaraki so hard to rage and hate, in order to develop feelings which are strong enough to overtake OfA, and then force him into submitting his own body to him - but it has not been working well, whether it is because his level of completion of the experiment has been suspended, or whether Shigaraki’s will is just that strong. 

So, is Shigaraki not only a way for AfO to get back at Nana and OfA (which has been the main assumption of why exactly he has been kidnapped and groomed), but is it also because he had to serve as an experiment (much like everyone else) in order to gain his ultimate access to power? After the birth of Izuku, if that is the case, AfO might have had all the time to predict what was going to happen, hidden, and formulate a plan which would kill two birds with a stone: generate a potential threat from a moral point of view for OfA, because AfO still probably did not know that AM would surrender his power - and also to have a body to fall onto in case the worst case scenario happened. 

Further than that, the ‘You’re Next’ that AfO says to Izuku in chapter 316, could very well be interpreted as him being the next one to be taken over (after Shigaraki, that is).

In conclusion, if we take as a fact that Nezu is after all, the creation of an experiment by Ujiko and AfO, that became the President of UA and made it so that AM and a successor could meet, before the creation of Noumus, and that in order to create the perfect person in which body AfO could possibly become the New Demon Lord, he first had a hand in creating his own flesh and blood, which then he diagnosed as Quirkless in order to put away any suspect, kidnapped a kid which would pull at AM’s strings and which would also be an experiment and a plan B to which fall to in case plan A (overtaking Izuku’s body) failed, this would all make sense. A Grand Plan, starting with experimenting on an animal, and ending up influencing the potential to inherit in one body, both OfA and AfO together - jumping from one experiment to the other, and basically influencing and directing every single piece of fact that we know of the narrative so far. 

[lettrespromises]

PLAN À TROIS.— TODOROKI, BAKUGOU.

A.N:

❝ dear reader,

why hello it is i, nikki, back at it again. this post was specifically written thanks to @sasukelore’s big brain, meaning that this one is for the boys with the booming system, top down, AC with the cooler system😔✊🏻. it’s my first attempt at writing smut (which means it’s a direct ticket to hell) so please bare with me, i hope you’ll like it! if you have any feedback, please feel free to send it to me! also, my requests are open for business hehe.

sincerely yours,

nikki.

P.S: “plan à trois” has a double meaning— it means “threesome” in french but it also literally means “a plan involving three people” which is the core of the story, both literally and figuratively. ❞

Genre: Smut. (All three of the characters have been aged up.)

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of drugs (but no actual use of drugs), unprotected sex (please use a condom), nudity, spanking, choking, cunnilingus, blow-job, temperature play, threesome, dirty things.

Word count: 6.5k (she’s a big girl, don’t be shy.)

Letter object: One hotel. One gala. One mission. One person to take down. Three heroes. You and Shoto have to play the perfect fake couple to gain your enemy’s trust, the only thing is, Shoto has no clue how to behave as a couple. The unexpected help comes from Ground Zero who seems a bit too impatient and eager to show Shoto how to really treat a lady.

Metaphorically speaking, the heroes are seen as the predators and the villains as the preys, it’s always been that way— an eternal game of hide and seek, which only ends in binary results, either victory or loss. The latest news concerning the hero world had put this little game to a halt: the hushed rise of the anti-quirks drugs were concerning. The enemy was everywhere and nowhere, it was all whispers, a thread of ‘who said what’, mere illusions replaced authentic clues. The rules of the game had been changed into a paradox where the villains became the predators and the heroes were deemed as the preys.

The rule of silence, which could have easily been personified as the ringleader of this dystopic scenario, was cruel— anyone could be suspected of being a link of the drug chain. But fret not, if you were suspected and voices started to echo around louder and louder, a little bit of hush money was the price to pay to reinstate the rule of silence. Anyone could be a culprit, even (or mostly) into the highest spheres of society. Those who are worshipped in an agnostic way, they were on top of the social food chain and, perhaps even, on top of the drug chain. These elites have been very vocal about their will to suppress the almighty authority pro-heroes possess— feeling threatened for their own sake and their own inferiority complex, they were willing to play dirty to be able to rule the country with an iron fist.

The corrupted elites still remained as elites and enjoyed their mondane occupations— galas being one of them. It was a dream opportunity for you as a pro-hero, a room crowded with highly potential culprits served on a silver plate with a cup of champagne to serve as the cherry on the cake.

Stealth missions were highly dangerous if you didn’t have a cover good enough, and treading on the playground of influential people could possibly cost you your career as a pro-hero, but if you managed to succeed, you were bound to bask in glory. Keeping a realistic cover is the number one check on the list entitled “how not to blow up your whole mission and be hated by the rest of the country.” Luckily enough, your agence had already done all the dirty work for you and sent you everything you needed— a flawlessly cut evening attire, a shockingly well-done fake ID and a full file regarding the background of your character, all down to the tiniest details. And I cannot emphasize enough “all” the details...

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me…” Amongst the myriad of details (and some of them were completely unnecessary, I mean, was your favorite fruit really important?), one of them was impossible to ignore. “Shoto Todoroki, really?” His name rolled off your tongue for a reason, you were supposed to play his pseudo fiancée for the night. Your thumb brushed the surface inked with his name, unconsciously wishing that if you were brushing hard enough, his name would disappear and so would your almost wilted high school crush on him.

Your silent complains were cut short, the sound of someone knocking on your door stirred you from the invasion of your thoughts. Then the knocking sound echoed once more. “Just a second!” Has anyone heard of the concept of patience? Waiting a few seconds for someone to open the door isn’t a inhuman task. Eventually (although it could’ve have been funny to let this mysterious person fume because you purposefully took too long), you opened the door to your hotel room and it just felt like you had welcomed a storm in. Much to your surprise, there were two surprise guests, two U.A alumnis just like you— Shoto and Ground Zero.

“Well, shit, were you planning on letting us fucking die in the hallways, woman?! What the fuck took you so goddamn long, ha?” When I mentioned a storm earlier on today, I meant Bakugou Katuski— his annoyance was transcripted upon his face through the frowning of his eyebrows and the wrinkle sitting between them. “It’s good to see you too Bakugou, glad to see you missed me after all this time.” His hands were shoved in his pockets, clearly not keen on listening to your sarcastic remarks nor wearing a tuxedo for the night. “Tch. Keep your smart ass talk to yourself, dumbass.”

You had indeed let a storm invade your hotel room. But unbeknownst to you, you had also welcomed a hypotizing breeze, the polar opposite of Bakugou, and apparently future fiancé for the night: Shoto Todoroki. His facial expression reflected nothing but pure serinity, a signature stoic face which radically clashed with Bakugo’s scowl. Todoroki was so discreet, almost blending his presence with the newfound silence. He was wearing an evening suit of his own, aquamarine was his color after all, it was a known fact since your high school years.

“Y/N, as you may be aware, I am here for the stealth mission. Bakugou is going to accompany us just in case something goes wrong. It was a last minute change, but considering the household names who are going to attend this gala, too much precaution is better than not enough.” Ohh, so that was the reason why the angry gremlin was here. Although, you wondered how Shoto felt about the two of you acting as a fake engaged couple, was he still serene about that? “Yeah, while you two fake lovebirds will be busy eating each other’s faces off, I’m gonna be around to check if there is any intell on these anti-quirk selling bastards.” Each of his word was accompanied by a hand gesture pivoting between you and Shoto and, of course, the same old look of annoyance plastered upon his face. You and Shoto, on the other one hand, appeared a bit surprised at the use of “fake lovebirds”, it just hasn’t sunk in yet... Denial, perhaps?

“Speaking of kissing and shit— you, half and half bastard, do you still have a fucking stick up your ass or do you know how to act in a relationship?!” His interrogation was accompanied with a daring glance thrown in Todoroki’s direction and an eyebrow lifted just to emphasize the characteristic of his question a bit more. A bold question which immediately found its answer from the mouth of Todoroki, needless to say, you felt this remark coming. “Bakugou, you’re the last person here who could pretend having the knowledge necessary to provide relationship advices.” You couldn’t help but let a laugh escape at Todoroki’s remark highlighted by its bluntness, although you quickly changed your mind once you felt Bakugou’s stare landing on you with such rage causing you to hush your laugh by biting your thumb.

“Ha?! What the fuck did you just say, half and half bastard? Use that fucking mouth for yours for good measure and let’s see if you can kiss Y/N correctly. I won’t let this mission be blown up by your stupid ass.” This time, there was a hint of amusement in Bakugou’s voice, it was hard to distinct if he asked that because he truly cared about the mission or if he just wanted to push Todoroki out of his comfort zone. But the ghost of a smirk drawn upon his face seemed to support the second hypothesis.

“Guys, just a second here. I understand why we have to take care of our cover but it’s not like Todoroki and I are going to kiss all night long.” Your gaze alterned between Todoroki and Bakugou, it became impossible to hold your gaze on a fix structure due to how flustered you felt, and soon enough, your cheeks were quick to adopt a rosy tone. “Y/N, are you scared of kissing me by any chance?” You secretly hated the obvious tone of concern in Todoroki’s voice, he was willing to do anything to make this mission a success but also make sure you were comfortable around him. “N-No! It’s just… I don’t mind it.” What a miracle, you finally managed to look at him in the eyes but the blush on your cheeks was as lively as ever. “Then damn, if you don’t mind it just fucking kiss already we don’t have all night, dumbass.” You could tell by Bakugou’s body language that he was growing more and more impatient by the second, his arms were crossed over his chest— he was getting pissed.

Todoroki captured your attention once more when his index brushed the surface of your skin right below your chin while his thumb was carefully set upon your jawline. His orbs shone by their gleam of reassureance, his eyes met yours, as a silent way to ask your for permission and you fluttered your lids shut as an answer. As if it was some kind of second nature to him, his other arm compassed your waist in order to bring you close to him. His lips finally touched yours. Each one of his actions was so soft, you could barely feel them yet, you felt like you were floating on a cloud. His lips were melting ever so perfectly with yours, as if your lips were the sole one which could fit is, you couldn’t help but to hum as the carefulness of his lips overwhelmed you. The kiss was shy, experimental, and yet so agonizing. He was temptingly and agonizingly slow, which only made you crave for more. However, given the lack of oxygen, you had no choice but to (relanctutly) break the kiss. You opened your eyes and basked in Todoroki’s beauty, still in awe at what just happ—… “Oi! Have you ever kissed anyone before, Icyhot? Fucking hell, what was that?!”

Of course this was bound to be expected— the angry gremlin in his natural behavior. You and Todoroki exchanged a look which held a thousand questions before you felt your wrist being caught by a much warmer palm, and eventually, you were yanked straight into Bakugou’s chest (not that you were complaining.) “Open your damn eyes and look, this how you fucking kiss a woman, dipshit.” The sound of his voice roaring against your eardrum made you flinch in the nicest way possible. Bakugou naturally made himself at ease all while maintaining his gaze upon Todoroki who was looking at him in return with a noticeable disdain in his eyes.

Bakugou was challenging him in a way, he perfectly knew that Todoroki was observing his every move, hence why he took the liberty to let his palm roam over the curve of your derrière as a way to taunt him. However, the taunt didn’t last too long not to make you feel uncomfortable. He quickly settled one of his hand on the small of your back (to maintain you as close to him as humanly possible) whilst his other hand was set upon your neck. He didn’t waste any more time and went straight to business.

Bakugou’s kiss was, as expected, a vivid contrast compared to Todoroki’s kiss. While Todoroki’s felt hesitant, caring, sweet… Bakugou’s kiss was rough around the edges and his sole purpose was to make your knees weak. Once he crashed his lips upon yours, he immediately swiped his tongue over the surface of your bottom lip, demanding immediate access to your mouth. You knew better than to upset Bakugou so you pleased and allowed his tongue to explore your mouth— your tongue was at his mercy for a few instants before finding a steady rhythm for you two. His presence was overwhelming— his smell, how close you were to him with nowhere to escape, his mouth, his tongue, everything caused you to rightfully let a moan escape into the kiss. At the sound of it, Todoroki’s eyes widened while Bakugou smirked into the kiss, he knew he made a point. You, in return, started to tug at his blonde hair— the rough atmosphere of the kiss affected your actions as well. Just prior to breaking the kiss, Bakugou’s teeth dug into your bottom lip and applied a few pressures while you were looking at him with pleading eyes to continue. Once he got what we wanted, he ended the kiss with a surprisingly soft peck upon your lips.

With his hand still settled on the small of your back, Bakugou turned to Todoroki’s direction and offered him his biggest smirk to show his secret victory. You were left breathless by the kiss, a series of uneven hot breaths crashed down onto Bakugou’s skin. 

If anyone were to walk in your hotel room, they would be able to feel and even touch the graduating tension in the air which almost felt agonizing. The tension was mostly radiating off of the two men, a silent battle for dominance had been declared through glances, holders of pure will to outbest the other. 

Todoroki observed the scene on his chair, and unbeknownst to him, Bakugou had indirectly offered him the best seat in the room to watch the manifestation of his talents. An almost inaudible sigh left Todoroki’s lips which translated into a sign of discontentment. “Y/N, come here.” The tone was strict, cold even, and you felt obligated to do as told. 

Detaching yourself from Bakugou’s embrace (you could tell he didn’t want to let you go judging from how his palm lingered on your back), you stepped away and made your way to Todoroki, a quizzical look noticeable in the reflect of your eyes. “What now?” You asked. Todoroki gestured to his lap and you knew what it meant, it was a speech without any word necessary. 

Paradoxically enough, Bakugou stared at the scenery in front of him in pure silence, and although it was very unlike him, he was mimicking Todoroki’s actions earlier on- he wanted to witness how Shoto was going to respond to his own deeds. 

You placed your hands over Todoroki’s shoulders to gain stability before sitting on his lap, it was a foreign feeling, but goodness, it was already addicting as hell and you were not interested in finding a cure. Both of Shoto’s hands crawled on the same spot where Bakugou’s hands used to linger just a few moments ago, you understood rather quickly that he was using his own methods against him. You were the center of Todoroki’s attention, his gaze graced your frame and he was loving the sound of your uneven breath, he wondered if he could make your respiration even more irregular.

He paid no mind to mind to the silent Bakugou who was already fuming in his corner as Shoto delivered a succession of pecks on the delicate flesh of your neck, and you tilted your head just enough to let him play on a wider surface. He traded the pecks for a few daring bites on certain areas, he needed to find your weak spot. “A-Ah... Shoto!” the sound of his name rolling off your tongue coated in such bliss was enough for him to curve his lips into a smirk. 

It was a brief moment of peace before he dug his teeth on the same spot and you failed to prevent any whimpers from coming out by biting your lower lip. He knew you were restricting yourself, prisoning these beautiful sounds of ecstasy, and he didn’t like any of it. He focused on your lower lip and rubbed the oh so soft surface with the pad of his thumb to prevent your from biting it, and thus, keeping your sounds of pleasure to yourself. 

“Don’t be shy, love. I’m pretty sure both Bakugou and I can agree on the fact that the little sounds you’re making are too divine to be hushed. Will you be a good girl and let us hear the sounds you’re making?” It was as if his voice was coated with honey, just his voice alone was enough to make you feel weak, and if you paid enough attention, you were pretty sure he purposefully blew a fit of cold air onto the skin of your neck. “Yes, please... I’ll be good, so good.” From that moment you knew you were at his mercy and he enjoyed every second of it. “You’re such a good girl for us.”

And so he continued, but it was rougher this time, a harsh contrast compared to his hesitant kiss from just a few moments ago. His teeth dug into the flesh of your skin harder this time, the sole purpose of leaving a mark on your crimson colored flesh was haunting his mind. To accomplish said purpose, Todoroki alternated between biting motions and a few swipes of his tongue on the newly bruised skin. The whimpers coming out of your mouth shamelessly only added fuel to his fire. He knew what he was doing, and you knew just how sensitive this particular area could get. 

Once he judged it was enough, he delivered a few pecks on the love bites, a way to kiss his art into your skin. “You’re so perfect, love, so perfect with my name written over your skin.” He whispered between kisses. Your head was thrown back, fingers grasping at the roots of his hair, your mouth agape- your whole body language testified of the addictive effect he had on you.

Such bliss couldn’t last for long, and quickly enough, another voice was being heard, a roar even. “Oi, oi, oi! Don’t even think for a single fucking second that you can have her all to yourself, half and half bastard.” It was almost a miracle that Bakugou had observed you in silence, but as expected, patience was nowhere near his forte. He had already crossed his limit long before you sat on Todoroki’s laps. Bakugou’s eyes were strictly focused on your frame, he was completely under your spell after observing how your chest would rise and fall unevenly to grasp any ounce of oxygen. 

Your knees felt weak already, you could only stare at Bakugou and silently ask him to continue, to make you feel even weaker, to make you experience pure bliss. You wanted to say his name, it was right on the tip of your tongue, but as you observed his figure reducing more and more the space between the two of you, you just admired him in silence. 

“Hah? What’re you looking at, brat? You want more? Is that it? You want fucking more? Say no more.” You should’ve known that the wicked smirk plastered upon his face was a pre-indicator of what was bound to happen. He lifted you off of Todoroki’s lap, the latter frowned a bit at the lack of your presence on him, and carried you to the bed before dropping you on the mattress. Todoroki was quick to follow from behind and stood right next to Bakugou, his hands already busy taking off his jacket and unbuttoning the first button of his evening shirt. “I’m sure that Bakugou and I can find a little agreement. After all, we can share, correct?” Todoroki’s rhetorical question found its answer once Bakugou let a discreet chuckle escape from his mouth after throwing his jacket God knows where and messily undoing his tie. “We’re gonna take real fucking good take care of you, baby girl.”

You were refraining yourself from already touching you, it took all the strength in the world not to give in to the most passionate temptations. But deep down, you already knew you were bound to be overwhelmed by pure bliss judging by how they were looking at you. You could only hum in response, unsure of how your voice would have sounded under the heavy influence of desire. 

Bakugou made the first move, after all, his poor soul felt left alone when Todoroki overwhelmed you with pecks and bites. He crawled over you, his knees were on each side of your waist, his hands however, assured total domination- his right hand clutched your wrists now pinned above your hand while his left palm settled by force on your throat, needless to say, the pressure was already applied on your windpipe. “You wanna’ play that game with me, hah?! Let Icyhot have all of you to himself and I got fucking nothing in return? Babygirl, I don’t watch, I fucking play.” It was too ferocious to be qualified as a whisper, and yet, when Bakugou pronounced the last bits of his sentence right in the shell of your ear, you felt like you were floating in pure bliss. “Answer me.” His grip on your throat felt a bit tighter. “P-Please... Ju-Just do whatever you want... With my body.” The lack of oxygen felt agonizing, you were deprived of fresh air and you were laying on the bed while Bakugou exuded pure confidence and domination, an aura so thick, you wished you could’ve touched it. “That’s my babygirl.” 

As Bakugou’s lips crashed onto yours, forcing its tongue into your mouth while maintaining the right amount of pressure on your throat to offer you a panorama of new sensations, Todoroki had already gotten rid of his shirt. If you paid close attention, you could see shy flames on his shoulders, he was absolutely adoring the scenery unfolding before him. Everything about you filled his senses, the sight of you giving in to Bakugou was nothing short of divine, the whimpers leaving your mouth in cascade whether the reason was the lack of air or the fierceness of Bakugou’s intentions was the sweetest melody he had ever heard. Everything was perfect. 

You felt the oxygen become one with your body again once Bakugou broke the kiss and allowed his hand to travel from your neck down to your chest, but his eyes were never leaving yours. He wanted to watch you come undone under his touch, he swore it to himself.

“I’ll take the bottom half. Icyhot, I don’t give a damn about what you do, just don’t fucking interrupt me.” His eyes were already set on the prize, your heat in all its glory. Shoto said nothing in response, you were the holder of all his undivided attention. As Bakugou took a firm grasp of your thighs, opening the way to his newfound purpose, Todoroki took over the top half of your body- he started by planting a succession of pecks from your lips down to your collarbone, passing by your neck, and each kiss was amplified by the cold air he was blowing on the surface of your skin. The contrast in temperature cause you to allow a few whimpers to escape, you already knew you craved for more, it was a way of manifesting it.

 “You won’t need that, will you, love?”  He said while pointing at your shirt, as his index was already hooking the fabric. It was a rhetorical question of course, you simply answered by humming. Your silent response was the only thing necessary for Shoto to send your shirt flying somewhere in the room. He continued his trail of kisses down to the valley of your breasts, the same cold air following him as he went.

Bakugou, on the other one hand, had already gotten rid off your skirt, but not before letting his palms explore the generous cheeks hidden underneath it, and eventually, leaving a slap right on this area which caused you to yelp in surprise. The pad of his thumb was already brushing against the surface of the fabric, oh what a pleasure it was when he felt the sensation of humidity coming through your underwear. A sensation so good, so addicting, so divine that it brought a sly grin to his face. “Already so wet for us, babygirl? You’re not wasting your damn time, hah?” Your skin was burning under his touch, you could already feel the chills running down your spine and he hadn’t even taken off your underwear yet. 

Todoroki took the strap of your bra between his thumb and index, and much to your suprise, he used the right amount of his quirk to burn the fabric and applied the same treatment to the other strap. Before you could even protest about the poor outcome of your bra, he planted his lips on your own to keep you quiet. Now, he focused his attention to your breasts and the bits of clothing left which prevented the upper half of your body from being fully exposed. He took the opportunity given by Bakugou who had gotten rid of your underwear which made you arch your back to unclip your bra. There was nothing stopping him now. He let his gaze fell on you, so full of adoration, while he leaned down and caught the last piece of fabric remaining of your bra between his teeth. His eyes held so much envy, so much desires which reciprocated in the reflect of your own orbs. 

Shoto threw your bra out of his mouth, and there you were- your body bare in all its glory. “Fuck, you’re so perfect...” He whispered right against your chest, causing you to let out a sigh you didn’t even know you were holding. He used his mother’s inherited side to trace the contour of your breasts, he knew he was going to earn a moan in return and he was so please to hear such a sinful melody at the clash of his cold fingers against your burning skin. His thumb and his index worked in harmony to twist the bud of your nipple and overwhelm it by Shoto’s cold touch while his tongue delivering hot saliva on your skin was already doing wonders on your other breast, a perfect balance between cold and hot which made your arousal erupt even more and someone was quick to notice...

“Oi, doll face, focus on me, not on this goddamn fucker. Don’t you feel so fucking good when I touch you like that, hah?” His burning jealousy amplified the voracity of his deeds. Every single one of his touch served the purpose of pleasuring you, but also outdo Todoroki’s touches. He needed to be the best at everything, including making you melt under his touch. You struggled to keep your eyes open, the desire to close your eyes and let your body attract all the attention while basking in pure bliss was too strong and yet, Bakugou’s voice roared into your mind, you couldn’t help but lay your eyes on him through half-closed lids. 

Once he knew he was the bearer of all your attention, he put his body and mind to work. Both of his hands planted your thighs on each side of his body, you felt too weak to move under his touch and did not dare resist the pressure. You whined in advance because you knew what was coming- and boy, did he look good with his face buried between your thighs. 

One long, sharp, vertical lick was all it took to let yet another moan escape your lips once more, and to Bakugou, it was the best reward. The heat of his tongue responded to the heat of your core, it was pure harmony. He licked the your core over and over again, tasting you, loving you, worshipping you even. One time he left lingering kisses to the side of your core, another time he was left licking motions all over your folds because your taste was the best thing he had ever felt. His motions echoed to your whines and moans, he was sure of hearing a sinful melody each time his tongue entered in contact with your skin.

“Keep making these noises for me, don’t be fucking shy.” His hot breath on the center of your heat embraced perfectly the succession of his actions, “Y-Yes... P-Please, I want... I need more.” Bakugou couldn’t help but let a low chuckle leave his lips, in response to your needy attitude, he left a harsh slap on the surface of your butt, to which you whined loudly in response. “Such a fucking filthy mouth you have there, hah?” He smiled to himself, knowing perfectly that what he was about to do was bound to leave you as a whimpering mess. Without any warning, he slid two of his fingers inside your core, and fuck, you were tight. His thumb was brushing against your sweet bundle of nerves which had already been cherished by Bakugou’s tongue earlier. 

You clutched the sheets of the bed to release some of the buildup pressure inside, it was as if a tornado, a volcano and a firework were exploding at the same time in your stomach, each of them resulting in a series of whimpers and moans at the overstimulation. Your lids were shut close already, yet, they kept fluttering over the invisible crimson touches left by both Todoroki and Bakugou.

Speaking over Todoroki, he was tasting you in such a different way as he started to get the grip of Bakugou’s mechanic. His mind kept roaming and roaming, he knew that just one mark on your neck was not quite enough and he needed to beat Bakugou at his own game- he positioned himself right over your right breast and blew a fit of fresh air, causing him to smile at himself for being the reason of such a reaction, and dug his teeth into your flesh. Motivated by the the way you kept tugging at his hair, he kept biting the same area over and over again until sucking your flesh just enough to create yet another love bite over your breast, such an intimate area, isn’t it? And now his whole name was written on it. 

“B-Bakugou... I can’t take it... Ahh! Anymore, please, please...” His fingers weren’t enough anymore, you were pleading his name, begging him to become one with you because you were unsure as to how you were going to keep the unleashed pressure within you ruin you. “So eager for my fucking cock, aren’t you?! You’re gonna count with me each inch entering your fucking cunt, got it?” You were willing to do anything at this point- Todoroki’s bites and his cold touch, Bakugou’s fingers and tongue, it made you fill dizzy but you knew, deep down, you were slowly approaching a pure state of bliss. “Yes... Yes I will.”

For his own purpose, Bakugou took his fingers off your core and flipped you on your stomach so you could be on all fours. You were giving him the view of worthy of a masterpiece: the crimson colored marks on your butt cheeks, the vivid rosy tone of your dripping core, oh he wanted all of you. “Love, don’t you forget that I’m here too, right? Open your pretty mouth for me.” You did as Todoroki preached, opening your mouth for him to stick his index in there. “Suck.” he commanded, to which you obliged by creating hollows in your cheeks and embrace his finger around your tongue, this feeling was beyond perfect, beyond the wildest fantasies his imagination had to offer. He could only let his subconsciousness roam about how his cock would feel around your perfectly pouted lips.

Bakugou’s hands gripped your hips tightly, his fingers turning white in the process while your flesh adopted a reddish tone in response. With the use of the pad of his thumb, he spread the pre-cum leaking all over his length, and so it began: the first inch. “One.”, it sounded more like an order than a statement, “...One.” you echoed, your response didn’t come quick enough to Bakugou’s liking, making you earn a harsh slap on your cheeks in return. Then another inch “Two.” , another faint sound coming from your lips “T-Two...”, yet another slap on your abused flesh. And so it went on, the process remained the same- another inch, another whisper escaping your mouth between sobs, another spank. 

On the other side of the bed, Todoroki was stroking his own length at the sight before him. You were on the brim of tears, and Bakugou didn’t show any mercy regarding your current state. “I’m sorry, her mouth is going to be full soon, she won’t have room to count out for you.” Bakugou grunted in response to Todoroki’s taunt. His strokes became gradually faster, like a crescendo if you will. His other hand, however, was placed right underneath your jaw to give you some support and your mouth was already open in anticipation for what was bound to happen. 

With his hand to keep your jaw steady, you welcomed Todoroki’s lenght into your mouth and he automatically let a groan as the tip of your tongue caressed his sensitive tip. You imagined how rewarding it must have felt for them to hear your own moans and whimpers because hearing Todoroki’s moan felt like a blessing to your eardrums.

Your tongue circled around his cock, your hand was pumping his length, and Todoroki wondered if this is what heaven looked and felt like. Your whimpers were hushed by the presence of his member in your mouth, but somehow, even these half silenced sounds of pleasure sounded even better to his ears. He felt his lids shut close under the miracle work of your tongue while his hand lingered in your hair to motivate you to keep going.

Bakugou, frustrated by this change of plans due to Todoroki’s own personal pleasure, slid the entirety of his phallus into you abruptly. The shock caused you to remove Shoto’s member from your mouth momentarily to catch your breath and release yet another whine before pleasuring Todoroki again. That came as a surprise to no one, not even Shoto himself, but Bakugou’s pace was rough and almost animalistic. 

The sound of his testicles clapping against your flesh testified of the pace and yet, it felt so enticing. Bakugou was not so vocal, but he did leave his fair share of grunts as he buried himself into you more and more until reaching your cervix. It was too much, your core was burning, hell your whole body was on fire. The tears that threatened to fall had put their threat to execution, you knew you were close, the overstimulation was getting the best of you leaving you in a whimpering, trembling mess. 

You continued to stroke Shoto’s length with your tongue, but his need to take control took over him. The same hand that rested in your hair suddenly took a firm grasp of your hair and he thrusted himself into your mouth and from there, his grunts became more repetitive. Truthfully, it was the only push he needed to bring him over the edge, the previous work of your tongue had put him under a spell. A spell he never wanted to wake up from. He knew what was coming, you felt it too but how the tip of his phallus was tickling your throat deeper and deeper. 

Shoto didn’t even notice the small flames making their apparition on the blades of his collarbone, meaning that it was finally time for him to cum. He set your mouth free and hinted his length towards your chest, letting the drips of cum color your skin, and allowed the most magical moan to leave his already parted lips in satisfaction. “Love, look what you fucking did to me. You’re so beautiful, so beautiful with my cum all over you.” Your first instinct was to fill your lungs with oxygen, something so common yet it was cruelly needed. You looked through your lashes at Shoto with pleading eyes while he looked at you with a glimpse of adoration in his. His digit was carefully wiping the excess of cum leaking down your chin to place it right into your mouth. He could only stare in awe at the sight of you tasting him. He felt so full, and fulfilled. He was finally at peace, soaking in pure bliss.  

The grasp Bakugou was holding over your hips became even harsher, which you though was impossible just a few seconds before. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He grunted, trying to keep his volume at bay by digging his teeth into his lower lip but it was all too much to be contained. He knew his climax was close, so close that he could picture it if he closed his eyes just for a second. Bakugou’s name fell on your lips like a forbidden prayer, his name had turned into the only thing you were able to say. “I-...Ah! Inside, inside, fuck, please...”, you felt a wave of pleasure taking over your body, a pleasure so intense, no word could have done it justice. Oh well, that was the sole indication he needed to hear before digging his nails into your sides, causing you to arch your back and bite the sheets, already preventing the cascade of whimpers from echoing in the room. “Fucking hell... Cum with me, now.”

 With one last thrust, Bakugou came within you, his face was facing the ceiling as he came undone with you. His cum slid within you and in return, your body thanked him by letting your own juice flow all over his length. 

Silence invaded the room. No more grunts, no more moans, no more cries. Pure silence inhabited by the uneven breaths of three protagonists who had just touched heaven by the tip of their fingers. Three victims of passion.

Bakugou pulled out of you, earning a whimper in return at the sudden feeling of vacuity. Your legs were shaking, and you secretly thanked every God for allowing you to stay relatively steady on all fours for this long and be able to endure the bestial-like pace of Bakugou. Needless to say, you were panting, you mouth was agape and you were crying for air. Your body immediately crashed onto the mattress, the soft feeling of the sheets enveloping your skin after reaching heaven made you feel as if you were floating on a cloud.

Bakugou and Todoroki shared a look, a small grin even, before crashing down onto the mattress next to you. You were unable to move, your mind was comparable to a wild blur as a result of your orgasm. A rush of words flew through your air but absolutely none of them was powerful and meaningful enough to qualify how you were feeling. At peace? No, not strong enough. Full? Nope, did not carry enough meaning. It was a unique feeling, worthy of all the praises in the world. 

Todoroki draped an arm over your waist and left a trail of kisses upon the flesh of your shoulder, a silent way to thank you for allowing him to experience heaven in a rush. Bakugou, on the other one hand, was facing your back and allowed his index to draw invisible patterns on the skin of your back. Paradoxically enough, the silence carried more words and emotions than an actual speech. Until...

“So... Um, about the mission?”

[themurphyzone]

This post is a combination of the 90s PatB alongside the reboot’s Ep 13. Spoilers below. 

So...I was certainly not expecting a flashback in this ep. Great usage of the ‘everyone asks how, but no one ever asks why’ question by Pinky. 

No matter the adaptation, Brain is always presented as a mouse with a pathological need for control because he sorely lacked it as a young mouse. When he loses that control, whether in this episode with being locked in a car and taken on a road trip against his will, or in other episodes with different situations, he’ll lose control of himself, the very thing he’s trying to avoid. 

Anyways, the flashback presented in this episode can reasonably fit with the origin episodes in the 90s PatB, so I’m gonna try and present these in an order that can fit together, so let’s start off with Leggo My Ego, shall we? 

Anyway, Brain starts life as an innocent field mouse. Ain’t he the cutest little thing you’d ever see? 

Um...hey guys, maybe we could let the cute mouse baby blow a feather around and be happy? 

Nope...oof. Time to begin a life of trauma. 

He’s a babey.... He needs hugs! How do you people not have sympathy for him??????

So basically, the 90s cartoon presents several origins and some of them are more contradictory than others. I believe Leggo My Ego and The Visit are the only episodes that mention Brain was originally a wild mouse captured by humans, but it’s generally the most widely accepted origin for him.

In Leggo My Ego, Freud notes that Brain’s desire for world domination appears to be a subconscious desire to return to the simple life he once led. 

So..let’s bring in Snowball now. 

In this post, I’m trying to be chronological here. In this flashback, Brain describes how he and Snowball were once very close and how he could always make Snowball laugh. 

Brain and Snowball grew up together, and Brain genuinely cared about Snowball, even into adulthood when the two became enemies. 

They went through the gene splicer together after an experiment gone wrong. The gene splicer exploded and supposedly messed with Snowball’s mind. 

Snowball did something that caused him to get kicked out of ACME Lab. The rift became permanent, though what was the exact cause or if clashing ambitions fueled it is unknown. 

This event left a permanent mark on Brain, and Pinky himself had never heard about Snowball until he tried to steal one of Brain’s schemes. 

But anyway, the exact timeline of the splicing and the break in friendship is unknown. So...I think this flashback in the reboot’s Ep 13: Roadent Trip might fill one of the blanks in on an event that might’ve occurred during Brain’s time with Snowball, before he met Pinky. 

Alright, so for this post’s sake, I’m going to present the new flashback as if it took place shortly after Brain’s splicing with Snowball. I’m also going to disregard the 90s PatB episode Project BRAIN, because there’s stronger canon evidence that Brain was born in the wild and that he grew up with Snowball. However, I do enjoy keeping that Brain named Pinky. 

Anyways, that’s enough for the introduction. Grab your tissues if you haven’t already. 

Pinky: “You’re always trying to work out how to take over the world, but you’ve never told me why you want to take over the world, Brain.” 

*moment of silence*

Pinky: “Brain?” 

Brain: “If I answer this, you’ll let me expire in peace?” 

Honestly, a GIF would do Brain’s reaction justice, because he doesn’t outright dismiss Pinky’s question. He’s more hesitant because he realizes this moment is going to lead to a heart to heart talk, something he’d rather not engage in. And you know what? I can’t recall any instance of Brain admitting to Pinky about why he wanted to take over the world, just how or that he was going to do it with this particular plan. 

I think this correlates well with Leggo My Ego above; that Brain doesn’t reflect on the ultimate driving force behind his actions, just that he wants it and he’s going to somehow get it. If he does have a moment of clarity, he always dismisses it and goes right back to the drawing board. 

And most importantly, that he just wants love and respect. Does he create his own misery? Yes. But at the same time, he’s sadly a product of the combination of human curiosity and ignorance. 

So...I deeply apologize for this tangent real quick before I move onto the rest of this post. 

*takes deep breath* 

LOOK AT THIS BABY HE’S SUCH A CUTIE I WANNA HUG HIM SO BAD HE DOESN’T DESERVE THIS CRAP YOU WILL LOOK AT HIM AND YOU WILL LOVE HIM 

Okay, so like I said before, due to his head shape and how he seems to display early cognitive abilities here, I honestly think the best timeframe for this would be sometime in the 90s, just after his and Snowball’s splicing. Again, Brain was ultimately a child in Snowball, but since he’s the one narrating, we’re led to assume he set his sights on the world right away. 

Actually, it seems more likely that while Brain’s capacity for knowledge was enhanced, he still had to make the effort to learn. What he knows as an adult didn’t come all at once. So here, he has cognition, but he’s still fairly optimistic because the weight of the world truly hasn’t set in yet. 

Alright, so my explanation is that Snowball was elsewhere in the lab, and that they’re simply separated for the day. Brain was lifted out of an experiment with other mice, and placed directly into a solo study. 

The scientists place a huge slice of cheese on a stun plate, with the intention that Brain will be shocked if he tries to go for the cheese. Of course, who would be able to resist having this much food placed in front of them? I certainly wouldn’t. 

But the moment he tries to go for the cheese, he gets shocked. But since he’s very much learning, he doesn’t understand why he gets shocked if he steps on the plate. 

It’s this pose that makes me believe he’s spliced at this point. Brain adopts that thinking pose well into adulthood. However, he doesn’t really have a plan. He just thinks he’ll succeed if he goes for it enough times, much like the world. 

Also, compare his tail shape between this photo and the one above it. Rather fitting for it to be a lightning bolt, is it not? Mice tails do get kinked in real life if handled improperly, which is very much the case here too. 

Scientist 1: “The idea is that once we remove the electronic stimulus, he still won’t go for the cheese.” 

Scientist 2: “Learned helplessness.”  

And sadly...their hypothesis is proven correct. 

And the thing is, Brain does recognize that the shock is turned off. He does learn that he shouldn’t touch the plate. So he tries once more...

And stops. 

Even with the cheese’s proximity, it’s still unattainable. The only thing that holds Brain back is himself. He wants the cheese, but he’ll get hurt if he tries to go for it. So...despite there being no obvious danger, Brain doesn’t go for it again. 

Learned Helplessness Wikipedia Page Link

This could potentially be the moment where Brain finally loses his innocence. He has to control everything because the moment he doesn’t...he’ll get shocked. 

Notice how everything Brain’s ever wanted at any stage is always in close proximity to himself? In Leggo My Ego, he was extremely close to his parents and the tin can upon capture. In Snowball, he clearly desired companionship, but he and Snowball were never in the same cage. In this flashback, the cheese is ripe for the taking with the shock turned off, and he doesn’t try again. 

Brain is able to learn. And he learns that the world is cruel, that he’s only an interesting specimen for science with no autonomy of his own. He learns that he has to be in control to stop hurting so much.  

“From that day hence, I vowed I would be the one in control. Of myself, of my surroundings, of the world. Yet again, here I am, totally helpless.” 

Okay, I swear this wasn’t intentional and I didn’t notice this until I made this post, but look at how similar the final pose in the flashback and Brain’s pose in this shot are. 

That in some ways, Brain is still that child with simple desires. Maybe he phrases them differently, but that’s what it ultimately boils down to.  

And from Brain’s emotionally charged delivery of the above line, this experience was so traumatic that he kept it hidden for two decades. 

And while the cheese is supposed to represent how he can’t obtain the world despite living in it, I think there’s another thing that went unstated. It also happens to represent: 

Pinky is the cheese. Brain won’t step on a stun plate if he tries to touch Pinky. Rather, Pinky will welcome any affectionate gesture with open arms. 

But Brain believes he’ll be hurt if he tries. The humans set the precedent. Desire affection, desire love, you’ll get hurt, they taught him. 

The only thing holding Brain back is himself. 

And it’s absolutely tragic.

Be like Pinky. Give Brain a hug.   

If you’ll excuse me, Imma go cry. 

[immortalcoelacanth]

Conductor x Oblivious!Reader Oneshot: Is it Still Called a Ship if it Involves a Train?

My muse is all over the place and I have tons of ideas, my mind cannot contain them all and I don’t know how I wrote this. Also as a heads up I’ve been thinking about backing up my other reader oneshots on Tumblr on AO3 just in case something happens, so if you see them there don’t be surprised. 

Wordcount: 2791

Summary: The Conductor loved his train and wanted it in peak condition, that was why he visited the repair shop so much, and of course you were always the technician who checked everything, you specialized in trains after all! It only made sense!

Now, what didn’t make sense was how oblivious you were to his feelings. 

“The Conductor’s back?! Again?! I thought we just checked out the train last week! Everything was fine!” 

“Maybe he blew some of it up again? Like in that one movie?”

“I doubt it! He’s just train crazy!”

You let out a chuckle at the banter between your coworkers as you clicked away your computer, scanning through the active tickets and what needed to be done after. You worked in a repair shop for all sorts of vehicles. Most of the customers had cars that needed to be checked out, but some had more unusual modes of transportation. 

Like the Conductor and his train. 

He was one of the more… interesting customers you had interacted with. He was loud, very loud, and self-centered. 

Not that he was ever rude to any of your coworkers, or your boss, but you assumed this was because you were the ones responsible for keeping his train in tip top shape. 

Granted, the pool of people responsible for the maintenance and upkeep of his train had slowly dwindled until you were practically the only one checking it out. This was mainly due to the fact that you were the one on site who was the most knowledgeable about trains, they had been your passion since you were a child, and… 

Well, for some reason the Conductor always wanted you to be the one doing the work. 

You assumed this was for consistency’s sake, and the fact that it would make it far easier for him to get to know you as it was generally a good idea for a mechanic and their long term customer to have a good relationship, but he was surprisingly insistent about it even if there were long wait times. 

Fortunately he was never rude to your coworkers while he waited, nor did he insist on rushing anything. He just waited patiently for his turn and occasionally spoke to some other customers about his movies, being surprisingly polite when one of them mentioned not having seen them. 

Which was very out of character according to some of your coworkers, and speaking of them-

“Hey! You got Conductor’s ticket again?” The coworker nearest to you asked, their overalls stained with oil and grime, as were their feathers. “Since he’s just gonna bug us until we ask you to…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll cover it!” You quickly nodded while walking over to them. “Do you know what he’s coming in about?” “I dunno, something about his train sounding weird earlier.” They shrugged. “According to the boss he didn’t sound super worried or anything, but he insisted on coming in later today.”

“CAW!” You both jumped at the sudden noise and spun around, facing the newest arrival of the slowly forming group. Towering above the both of you was yet another coworker.

Or, perhaps croworker would be a more accurate title to call her by. 

She crossed her wings and glared down at you. “Are you the reason why he’s back, again?! I thought you fixed everything the last time he was here!”

“I did!” You insisted, taking a step back and raising your hands defensively. “Everything was fine when he left, and I didn’t see any problems other than cosmetic damage in the first place!”

The occasional bump and scrap was much better than the broken up and busted train that had been brought in one day, the Conductor sheepishly scratching the back of his head as he briefly mentioned something about a filming incident. 

You had cried true, honest tears upon seeing all that damage. That poor, poor train. 

The Crow stared at you for a moment longer before leaning down and asking a rather strange question. “Did you say yes or no then?”

“... To what?” You countered, extremely confused. Your confusion grew when she threw her wings up into the air and stomped off, yelling something about dense bird brains.

“I wonder what’s up with her?” Your other coworker mused, and you offered them a weak shrug before getting back to work. 

Hours passed and eventually the train engine belonging to the Conductor appeared in the front of the shop. Already, you could hear the mumblings and grumbling of the train being immaculate, and it was fine before, followed by a why is he here?

Even your boss seemed to be a bit annoyed at the Conductor’s insistence on getting the train looked over, and probably would have scolded the bird if it were not for how much money the shop made off of him. 

It was a lot of money. 

You were snapped out of your musings when you heard that accented voice grow louder, indicating that he was getting closer. You quickly dusted off your overalls, smiled that signature, customer service smile, and made your way towards the source of the shop’s annoyance. 

And then there he was. 

The Conductor. 

There was no mistaking his short stature and the brightness of his feathers. Although, something that was quite unusual was the bag he was carrying with him, the plastic giving away nothing about what item might be contained inside. He was looking around the shop, trying to find something from the look of it, but the moment his gaze landed on you-

“There yer are!” He called out, waving eagerly as he practically ran over to see you. You instinctively smiled and waved back. 

It was good to be polite to customers, especially someone who spent as much money as the Conductor, but you also enjoyed your talks with him. Watching him ramble about his train and his experiences driving it were always fun, and you had learned that he was a magnificent storyteller. 

You missed the way one of your coworkers elbowed the other while quietly whispering something to get, getting a laugh out of the one they had spoken to. 

“Hello, Conductor!” You cheerfully greeted, smile immediately growing more genuine at the thought of being able to chat with him once again. “So, what’s going on with the train?”

“Well, erm… me train started soundin’ a bit… off.” He explained, sounding strangely nervous as he discussed what the problem was. “Can yer check the engine?”

“So you think the sounds were coming from the engine? Not the wheels?” You pressed, leaning forward as your eyes narrowed in concern. “Did you do anything to the train? Any… intense activities?”

Did you blow up your train again?

“N-Nae!” He quickly objected, quickly shaking his head. “Nothin’ like that! Just strange sounds. Can... can yer help?”

“I can take a look and tell you what I find.” You said, getting a toothy grin out of the Conductor. 

“Yer an angel.” The bird sighed, sounding quite relieved at your offer. “If yer’d like ta know more-”

“Of course I would!” You immediately replied as you made your way over to the train. “You and I need to have a long chat about what you’re worried about, and I’ll keep you updated on the status of the train. I’m assuming you’ll be waiting here?”

“Aye!” The Conductor was quick to nod, secretly happy to be able to spend more time with you.

You were definitely the best part about visiting this shop. Your personality was so bubbly and warm, but you also were not afraid to put rude customers in their place as he had seen you do on multiple occasions. You were smart and confident, yet you were also very humble and compassionate. 

Far more compassionate than he was, and he knew this. He knew how rude he could be at times, the Receptionist had scolded him on multiple occasions about his behavior, but… 

Every reason that caused him to act the way he did, his inner insecurities and worries and fears that bubbled up and filled his mind to the brim with their screaming seemed to fade whenever he was around you. 

You and your questions about his movies and his train, about the stories that he had memorized to tell his grandchildren over and over again. He knew he would get mocked if he ever voiced such feelings, so he always kept them hidden and to himself. 

Although, his feelings were not quite as hidden as he had hoped for since it seemed as though most of the workers in the repair shop had figured out why he was so insistent on you being the one to look over his train. That, and the smug looks some of them sent his way.

Especially that one Crow…

He was shaken out of his thoughts when he noticed you making your way over to the train, and he quickly rushed over to join you, the bag on his arm swaying. That’s right, he still needed to give you that, too. 

But first, train inspection. 

Together, you both climbed up the side of the train, with you taking a moment to make sure the Conductor was still following you, before making your way inside. You were unable to stop the impressed noise from escaping you as you took in the interior of the train engine, all the high tech glowing buttons and levers covering the main console. It was so easy to imagine how amazing it must feel to drive this train, the sheer amount of power and speed.

It left you breathless. 

… But, the interior was as spotless as it had been the last time you had seen it. Granted, you had not thoroughly checked anything yet, but the sheer amount of light reflecting off of the metallic surfaces, and the general lack of dirt and grime led you to believe that the problem was not here. 

And your hypothesis was proven soon enough as, after spending nearly an hour looking over all the intricate mechanisms, and chatting with the Conductor, you did not find anything that was damaged or showed signs of potentially causing problems. 

You let out a concerned hum and looked at the Conductor, not really registering how some of his feathers took on a more reddish hue, nor how he seemed to anxiously mess with his suit. Without a word, you made your way out of the train and moved to inspect the massive wheels, assuming that the problem might be there.

Nope.

Nada.

Nothing.

“There… there isn’t anything I can see wrong.” You slowly concluded as you backed away from the train. “No breaks, no other forms of damage, no malfunctioning parts, nothing.”

“Aye? Erm, well, perhaps yer should take yer time? Try not to rush and give yerself a break-” The Conductor rambled as you practically glared at the train, as if trying to force it to give up all its secrets. 

Where, where could that problem be?

You crossed your arms as you contemplated how to best solve this problem. The engine was… fine. Nothing seemed to be out of place or broken, nor were there any leaks or other signs of potential sources of problems. It was downright immaculate, what you had come to expect from the Conductor, but you knew you would not rest until you figured out what the problem was. 

It was a source of pride for you, how thorough your work was, and it helped that your boss rewarded you for your efforts. Not knowing whether the train was actually fine or not would… nag at you. 

Immensely. 

Although, given the fact that the train was stationary and the Conductor claimed to have heard those strange noises when he had been driving it, it was possible that the problem would not show itself unless the train was moving. Something that might be caused by stress, or even a poorly connected section of the tracks. 

You clapped your hands together as you came up with an idea. Yes! That would work perfectly! Excitement filling you at the prospect of your plan, you turned to the Conductor and spoke. 

“Can you give me a ride?”

The reactions to your question were… varied, to say the least. 

You heard one of your coworkers break down laughing hard enough to the point where they started coughing, you heard what sounded like someone facepalming hard enough to leave a mark, and as for the Conductor-

He squawked, loudly. 

The feathers on his face took on a more reddish hue, especially around his cheeks and forehead, and his maw hung open in what you assumed to be surprise. The feathers on the side of his head also seemed to have fluffed up at some point. It made him look…

Cute. 

“I might be able to find the problem if I’m with you when the train is moving.” You explained, watching as the red flush faded from the Conductor’s feathers. “So, would it be okay if I joined you on your next train ride?”

“Erm-course!” The Conductor quickly replied, still strangely flustered. “When… when should I pick yer up, then?”

“Hmm…” 

Obviously you needed to conform to his schedule since you had a feeling his days were pretty busy between running his train and filming movies, plus you were certain you could haggle your boss into covering how many hours you were there for.

“How about I spend the day with you?” You suggested. “That way I have plenty of time to check out the train without interrupting your schedule. Does that sound good?”

“Yer… yer be wantin’ ta spend the whole day…?” The feathers around the Conductor’s face started taking on that reddish hue once again. “From sunrise ta sunset?” 

“For as long as you’ll have me!” You answered with a nod. “And you can tell me to leave if I start bothering you.”

“Nae! Nae! That won’t be a problem!” The Conductor quickly objected as he flailed his feathery hands. “Yer can spend as long as yer want on… me train-”

Wow, I wonder why his voice cracked like that…

“Alright, it’s a date, then!” Once again you were oblivious to how his face flushed as he replied with his own, eager nod. Instead all you could think of was how wonderful it would be to ride a train across the tracks, see the sights and feel that wonderful breeze. 

“Ah, and I got yer somethin’ as thanks fer keepin’ me train in top shape.” The Conductor added as he reached into the plastic bag from earlier and pulled out a small cactus. 

“I remember yer mentionin’ that yer liked deserts, so-” He started to explain before he was cut off by you quickly picking up the cactus to inspect it. 

“I love it, and that’s so sweet!” The cactus was so tiny and round and just… looked adorable! You smiled brightly at the Conductor and instinctively reached out to hug him. “Thank you!” 

His suit felt surprisingly soft and warm as you wrapped an arm around him for the hug, careful to keep the cactus away so neither of you got accidentally pricked. His feathers were pretty soft, too, and you just barely managed to restrain yourself from impulsively running a hand through them. 

“Yer… yer welcome.” He mumbled, still blushing furiously. 

“I need to find somewhere safe to put this so it doesn’t break. Oh! I also need to find a good spot to put it when I get home, or maybe I can keep it here and it can be our little mascot!” You rambled as you made your way over to the staff room, too distracted to remember to say goodbye to the flustered bird. 

The Conductor just stood there, maw open in surprise at the fact that you had hugged him.

Oh god, you hugged him. You actually hugged him. 

He was dazed, stunned, and frozen on the spot as the memory of you hugging him replayed itself over and over in his mind. How warm you were, how bright your smile was. 

It was nice to see you smile, see you so cheerful and happy. 

He wanted to see that smile again. 

As the Conductor stood in place, too surprised to move, the operations of the repair shop slowly resumed. Technicians and mechanics got back to their assigned vehicles, and even the music that had been quietly playing in the background increased in volume. Of course, this also meant that conversations resumed, including ones focused on the interaction that had just taken place. 

“So,” The Crow began, leaning down towards one of her coworkers and whispering to them. “Are we shipping them, or do we call it something else since there’s a train?”

The resulting laughter could easily be heard by you in the staff room, leaving you confused as to what they were laughing at, and somewhat concerned as to what might have happened. 

Oh well, you had to get ready for your date tomorrow with the Conductor anyways.                                     xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Maybe I'll write a follow up to this, maybe not~

I hope you all enjoyed reading!

- ImmortalCoelacanth

[anomander-dragnipurake]

Possessed Part 2 Chapter Four: Discussion

Back in the lab, the boxes were placed haphazardly all over the floor. E. Gadd was already sorting through them while Polterpup chewed on a bone in the corner and Gooigi seemed to just be sort of standing around, watching. They looked up and lifted a hand in a small wave as Luigi, King Boo, and Mario entered. King Boo even let Luigi return with his own wave. It was nice to see Gooigi again, though Luigi felt a bit bad about having not thought of them much the past however long King Boo had been possessing him for.

“Did you tell him?” E. Gadd asked, looking up from his work to swivel around in his chair to face them. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what he had to mean.

“Yes,” Luigi said. He would’ve still preferred not to but there was no way they could’ve kept it a secret for long no matter what.

“Good. I already explained to Gooigi so you don’t have to worry them.” That was one worry off Luigi’s plate at least. Whatever Gooigi felt about the situation was impossible to guess but that was how it was always was with them.

“You can fix it, right?” Mario asked, walking around the boxes to stand by E. Gadd at his desk.

“I don’t know yet but I’m going to try. I have to adjust the KBE blueprints some and might need to send you four out for more parts to build it. So it’s still days if not weeks away from being done. And I don’t even know if that time frame’s going to be an issue or not. How fast does it take for two souls to become one? At what point does separating them become impossible? There’s so much we don’t know.”

Neither King Boo or Luigi had thought to consider that before. What if they’d already reached the point of no return? If not how far away were they from it? It could potentially take weeks for E. Gadd to finish the KBE, that was a scary amount of time when under an unknown time limit.

“You two,” E. Gadd said, pointing at King Boo and Luigi, “You haven’t said anything about it but you must’ve noticed symptoms of what’s happening with your souls by now. About how long ago did they start? If we can pinpoint about when the process began, we might be able to calculate approximately how fast it’s occurring.”

Both of them thought back to when they’d first started becoming more aware of the other’s thoughts and emotions. They both came up blank though; their memories from before their trip to the Boo Kingdom were foggy and indistinct. Neither of them were even sure how long King Boo had been possessing Luigi for.

Which is your fault. If King Boo hadn’t been running around injecting Luigi’s body with every chemical he could find they would know more. Also, he would’ve gotten bored of the game sooner, possibly resulting in them not being in the mess in the first place. Or heck, if he just hadn’t possessed Luigi in the first place, things would be better for both of them.

‘How was I supposed to know this could happen? If anything, it’s your fault for making defeating you any other way so difficult.’

In the interest of keeping what little peace they could have Luigi wasn’t going to reply to that. “Longer than two weeks ago,” he said out loud instead.

“Much longer?” E. Gadd asked. “Or about two weeks?”

“Uh… I…” Luigi began before King Boo cut him off. “We’re not entirely sure because most of our time was spent experimenting with every inebriating substance we could get out hands on. As a result, we were barely aware of much of anything a lot of the time, let alone our thoughts getting closer, and we certainly can’t remember any of it well. So we can’t say when it started, only that it was longer than two weeks, probably by a fair bit. Before we found out about it was fun though, drugs, alcohol, and the ability to sleep are the only good things the living have.”

Why’d you have to tell them that? Luigi had had no control for any of it but he still felt ashamed and would’ve preferred no one ever knew of it. … Which was exactly why King Boo had told them.

Mario glared but as he opened his mouth to speak, King Boo cut him off.

“Before you get all mad at me about that, let me share just one more thing and ask a very important question related to it.” With an evil smile, he pushed back against Luigi’s attempt to make him shut up because mentioning that wasn’t necessary. Luigi didn’t want to think about it ever again. … Too bad, King Boo wanted to know why it had happened and there was a chance it might be useful information to E. Gadd. “On the day we discovered our predicament, I tried multiple ways to fix it myself. I only came here as a last resort after all. But the way that definitely should’ve worked but didn’t for some inexplicable reason was death. I tried to kill the meat suit but it wouldn’t die.”

“You did what?” Now Mario was really mad as he took a menacing few steps closer.

With an evil chuckle, King Boo pulled down the collar of suit, better revealing the mostly healed wound on Luigi’s neck. “I slashed his throat,” he said as he ran the thumb of his other hand over it, sending a shudder down Luigi’s spine. “Deep too. He couldn’t breath and he bled what seemed to be most of if not all his blood out. I even stopped his heart. And yet, he wouldn’t die.”

“You bastard!” Mario grabbed King Boo by the shirt and shoved his back roughly against the wall. He reared a fist back for a punch but seemed to catch himself just in time to punch the wall next to Luigi’s head instead of Luigi himself. “How dare you?”

With in inward chuckle, King Boo surrendered control to Luigi. Mario pushing him against the wall was suddenly the main thing keeping him up right as he shook from just the memory of that incident. It made him nauseous but he could almost recall what it felt like to lie there, bleeding out but not dying, not even passing out.

Mario jerked back with a stricken look. “I’m sorry Luigi, I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s fine,” Luigi interrupted. “I uh… just don’t want to think about… that.” He wanted to say more but…

Having had his fun messing with Mario, King Boo took control back; steeling against the trembling and even pushing down the growing panic and forcing away the memory of it which Luigi wholeheartedly welcomed and assisted in. He then put a hand on Mario’s shoulder to push him to the side a bit to stroll past him. “Why did that happen?” he asked he strode over to stand in front of E. Gadd. “Why can’t the meatsuit die?”

E. Gadd looked shocked but quickly recovered, shaking it off before replying. “Hmmm… well I can’t say for sure without more data but my hypothesis would be that it has something to do with your souls merging. One of your souls is dead while the other is not, together you’d be something that’s sort of in-between, right? Meaning you’re neither fully alive nor fully dead and thus you can’t die. Oh uh… you may have actually discovered the secret to immortality, congrats! Hmm… I wish I could run all sorts of tests and experiments on you but… I can’t. My lab’s in shambles and there are lines I won’t cross even for science, letting a friend’s soul merge with someone so vile is one of them. I need the prioritize finished the KBE above all else.”

Luigi could’ve hugged him for that and with all he’s been through lately, he probably would’ve if King Boo wasn’t there to restrain him. … That hug with Mario had been more than enough for the day, King Boo refused to tolerate any more. So Luigi had to settle for a shaky, “Thank you,” instead.

E. Gadd grunted an acknowledgement as he spun his chair back to face his desk. “Speaking of that, I have work I need to get back to. Revealing your… stunt reminded me just how urgent his is.”

Unhappy but satisfied with that answer, King Boo turned back around to grin at Mario who was back to looking mad. “As soon as you’re out of my bro’s body, I’m gonna make you pay for everything you did to him,” he said, making it sound like a promise.

With an evil chuckle, King Boo raised an eyebrow. “Really? And how do you plan to do that? We’ve fought before, remember? Three times now. I won easily every single time. If it wasn’t for your bro here, you’d still be wall art.”

“I don’t care. You’re going to pay.”

Luigi wished he could take comfort in that but… he just couldn’t. Mario didn’t stand a chance against King Boo; three times were certainly enough to prove that. Maybe if he had a Poltergust he would but even then, he didn’t know how to use it, did he? It didn’t match his style of combat at all.

‘If he tries anything, he’s doomed.’ … So hopefully he wouldn’t. If he did, Luigi would have to try to convince him not to. But that was thankfully something he didn’t have to worry about right now, getting free of King Boo came first.

 -

Over the next however long, they sort of just hung out at the lab. E. Gadd worked, only occasionally calling Gooigi over to help with something. He called King Boo and Luigi over once for one more scan just for the sake of it and to see if anything had changed; it hadn’t. Other than that, none of them had anything more they could do right now but seemingly nowhere else to go.

It was Mario who eventually pointed out how late it was. Neither Luigi nor King Boo had noticed beyond taking note of Gooigi falling asleep in the corner but it was nearing midnight. King Boo’s magic and seemingly the whole half dead, half alive thing reduced their need for sleep – and other life sustaining things like food and water – making it easy to lose track of how late it was.

“Rest is for those without coffee,” E. Gadd protested upon the suggested he should rest and continue tomorrow.

Mario frowned at him. “While I agree, this is very important and needs to be done as soon as possible, it’s probably better if you rest.”

“I agree,” King Boo said. “If you fuck this up because of sleep deprivation or any other reason, I’ll make you death a slow one.” As much as he’d like it if E. Gadd could work on it 24/7, even he knew that the living needed sleep or they didn’t function properly. He’d rather it take a little longer to ensure E. Gadd did it right then rush it and probably result in something in it not working right and thus the whole thing failing.

E. Gadd groaned and complained in a way that was almost funny before finally spinning around and hopping off his chair. “Fine whatever. Let’s all get some rest. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Mario said as E. Gadd walked off. He then turned to look at King Boo and Luigi, still leaning against a wall to the side. “You want to come back to the castle with me? It’s a shorter drive back here than to your old place. And we can car pool.”

“You… really want me coming back with you?” Luigi asked because anywhere he went, King Boo went too and no one in their right mind would invite King Boo over to their house.

‘Wow, rude! I’m perfectly good company.’ … That was so blatantly untrue it wasn’t even worth a response. … ‘When I want to be I am.’

“Of course I do, your my bro. Even if you got an uh… unwelcome passenger right now, you’re still welcome over.”

“Let’s go then,” King Boo said as he stood up. He was bored and sleep sounded nice right about now anyway even if they didn’t feel much need for it yet.

 -

Mario didn’t live in the castle itself – though he did have a room there that he stayed in sometimes – but a house very near it. Luigi had lived with him there until a few years ago when he’d decided to try to be a little more independent. Which actually was part of what had led into the original haunted mansion trap so maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

Regardless, the place was almost exactly how Luigi remembered, the red couch in front of the outdated TV, the kitchen doorway to the right, and the hall leading to the bedrooms, except messier. Mario had never cared much about tidiness the way Luigi did. … King Boo preferred tidiness too. … Finally, something they had in common so at least when their souls merged, whatever kind of person they’d become would still be neat and tidy.

‘No need to be so pessimistic.’ It dampened King Boo’s confidence that this would turn out fine.

Can you blame me for being pessimistic when you’ve been making my life a living hell for however long we’ve been like this? Honestly, as bad as the idea of their souls merging into one was, it would probably be better than continuing to exist with King Boo in control of his body. So I think I’m allowed to be as pessimistic and negative and whatever else I want however much I want.

‘You should really stand up for yourself more. It’s more exciting than your whimpering and cowering is.’ Though part of why it was exciting was that the whimpering and cowering had gotten old after being exposed to it for so long.

Fuck you too. Even if he wasn’t physically tired, he was mentally and he just wanted this nightmare to be over with already. He’d reached the end of his rope a long time ago. That earned a chuckle from King Boo, before he could properly reply though…

“You okay?” Mario asked, stepping in front of them.

“No,” they said out loud together because it was impossible for them to be okay in these circumstances.

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Unless you’ve been hiding a way to get me out of this meat suit, then no, you can’t help,” King Boo replied.

Mario glared at him. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

“It’s fine Mario,” Luigi cut in before King Boo could reply with a snarky taunt. “I’ll be fine… hopefully. I trust the professor, if anyone can fix it, it’s him.” What if he couldn’t though? What if it was too late already? Or too late by the time he finished the KBE?

“Yeah, you’ll be free of King Boo soon, I’m sure, just got to hang on a bit longer.” Mario gave him an encouraging smile. Luigi had always been a little jealous of his confidence. “Let’s go to be now, huh? It’s been a long day.”

Ignoring him, King Boo strode past him towards the bedroom. For the sake of getting along… ‘Which room is yours?’ He was tempted to head for Mario’s room to mess stuff up but it would accomplish nothing.

The one on the right. Luigi wouldn’t have let him mess with anything anyway.

“Uh… goodnight then Luigi,” Mario called after them as King Boo started down the hall. “Sweet dreams.”

“’Night Mario,” Luigi returned before King Boo could close the door.

[darlingpetao3]

Reprimand (EoWells x Reader)

Rating: M (Smut)

Summary: After telling a potentially identity-revealing joke to Team Flash, Harrison is pissed at you, then takes you into the Time Vault for your reprimand and teaches a lesson on how to keep quiet.

A/N: Here we go! Another installment of the Good Girl series! To catch up on the previous stories, see Good Girl, Praise, Bad Girl, and Punishment.

Tag List: @blogforhoes​

Sometimes it’s just so hard to keep quiet.

More specifically, now, when it’s so difficult to not straight up tell Team Flash that the man they’re after is helping and hiding among them. It’s almost funny, actually. And you wouldn’t intentionally give away his biggest secret, but today, it was impossible not to toy with your villainous boyfriend’s little mice.

“Where does he even go?” Barry wonders, still tense after the other day with yet another showdown with the Reverse Flash. “Where does he live? Does he ever rest?”

“He must rest sometime,” you offer. “He’s probably just like you. Goes to work, goes home to loved ones.” And then it flies out of your mouth, “...sits around a lot because he runs so much?”

Harrison turns his head to face you from over at the computers, and you can tell it took everything in him to not get whiplash at the speed he could have turned to you.

If Speedsters could even get whiplash.

“An interesting hypothesis, (Y/N),” he says. Harrison shoots you daggers. Oh, he’s angry.

“Think about it, honey,” you take another daring risk, “villains need a break, too.”

Thankfully, no one else in the room was the wiser in detecting that Harrison - Eobard - was pissed off except you, and merely take your theories as a joke to lighten the mood. Your man had an excellent poker face. His only tell in this particular situation was that he just snapped his pencil in half.

Sometimes you wish he’d-

Harrison rolls up next to you, breaking you from your naughty thoughts.

“Could I pester you for a moment about something, dear?” he asks you, sounding normal to the average ear. You bend down to give a deceptively chaste kiss to his lips, and you can already feel the corner of them twitching.

“Of course. Whatever you need.”

“Oh great,” Cisco says, “they’re probably going off to be gross or something.”

You certainly hope so.

Walking beside him in his wheelchair down the hall, Harrison still does not talk, so neither will you. You can virtually feel the electricity of his frustration. Eventually, he stops outside the room which he calls the Time Vault and places an angry hand to the wall. You follow him into the chamber and immediately, as the secret door closes, Harrison rises from his chair and stalks you until you hit the wall opposite of the entryway. He boxes you in and reveals the secret closet where he keeps his Speedster suit.

Is he going to put it on and punish you?

You sure hope so.

“Good afternoon, Doctor Wells,” Gideon appears to greet your dangerous lover.

“I’m not so sure, Gideon,” he replies, “I want you to power down for the rest of the day. Do not appear unless I provide the passcode, understand?”

“Absolutely, Doctor Wells. Signing off.” The massive A.I. head vanishes, leaving the room significantly quieter.

“Do you know what you did back there?” he asks you sternly.

“I made a joke?” you feign innocence. Harrison huffs a laugh and looks to the ceiling.

“No, no, no. You almost told them my secret. Do you know what that could have done?”

You press your lips together. “Jeopardize everything you’ve worked fifteen years to create?”

“Good girl, right answer.” He presses his hand to another compartment beneath where he keeps his suit. When this drawer pops out, you can’t decide whether to gasp or moan or some other lusty sound.

It’s a gag.

“I want you,” Harrison says slowly and carefully, “to stand over there and wait for me.” He points to the standing console, and for the sake of the time ahead, you try not to let your eyes light up.

“Yes, Sir.”

Doing as he says, you move to your designated spot, and bounce back and forth on your feet in anticipation. With the gag held in his hand, Harrison walks a few feet, then stops.

“What are you doing just standing there?” he asks rhetorically. “Take off your clothes. Now.”

Of course you have to put on a little show as you do - making sure your movements are slow and seductive. This is what he wants, you know it. If he wanted this done quickly, he would have undressed you himself.

As your final garment of clothing is removed, you swear you hear the man growl like the animal you know he can be. Harrison finally moves close enough to touch, and when you try to, he snatches your wrist and twirls you around to face the opposite way. He presses his groin against your naked behind. Your hands rest down on the console.

“You know, I think you talk a little too much. Especially to those impressionable young men.” He proceeds to put the gag around you as if he was fastening a necklace, only the final element, in this case, was to stuff the gag in your mouth. You welcome it happily.

“There,” he says, staring at every inch of your exposed skin in the bright white lights of the Time Vault. “Now, bend over.” Leaning forward, you press your breasts against the console and let your ass stick out behind you.

It would seriously kill your mood if Gideon suddenly appeared right now.

You turn your head around to catch a glimpse of Harrison, but he snaps at you. “Face forward unless I say otherwise.”

You make a noise behind the gag as if to say, “okay.” His hand lays on your behind only to smack it sharply, eliciting a squeak from you.

“You could have outed my secret, (Y/N), and I can’t let that go unpunished. Do you understand that?”

You nod, but that wasn’t good enough for the villain. He squeezes your ass with one hand and yanks your head back with the other. In response, you try to speak your answer only to have it relayed as a jumble of sounds. That’s what he wanted. Harrison pets your hair back down and gently rubs your behind, the same place he had spanked you. His mouth is so close to your neck, but there is no contact yet. This drives you even wilder.

His lips barely touch your ear when he whispers, “It’s time for your punishment.”

You swallow and hope your stiff reprimand will come fast and hard.

When you turn your head at the sound of his belt and zipper coming undone, you shortly realize the mistake you made.

“What did I tell you?” he barks. “Face forward.”

A whine escapes you, but that soon develops into a deep moan at the feeling of his thickness sliding in between your legs.

“You know you’ve been bad, don’t you?”

You nod, “Mhm.”

“But you can show me how good you can be, can’t you?”

More furious nodding. His back and forth motions grow slicker from your own excitement. When he stops moving, you rock back against him. You don’t want it to end. “Mhm, mhm.”

The intensity of hands on your hips is deliciously firm. And when he finally enters you, a high pitched noise leaves you, albeit muffled by the gag. You momentarily imagine how it would have sounded if it weren’t for the damned toy, but that thought leaves you as you try to accommodate the sheer size of your disciplinarian boyfriend filling you up.

His hands have now migrated from your hips to your breasts - squeezing them territorially and occasionally flicking your sensitive nipples. He positively drives you crazy doing this. Your head is fucking scrambled at what he does to you. Harrison’s thrusts grow rougher, more forceful. Taking him in soon feels like a blessing and a curse, but if this is the cross you must bear, then so be it. You’re sure he can feel you fucking yourself back on him just to have more.

“You like this, hmm? You like me fucking you as punishment?”

You grunt in response. You’re pretty sure your fingers are turning blue from how hard you’re gripping the console. He rams into you repeatedly and you want nothing more than to scream your head off, but with the gag on, there is no way to reach the maximum volume.

No one would hear your screams anyway.

“Show me you can stay quiet. Show me for the future. Don’t. Make. A. Sound.”

Oh God, that’s going to be impossible with how you’re sensing your fast-approaching orgasm. But you would and will do anything to please him.

After every few thrusts into you, he sends a sharp smack to your reddening cheek. You feel your desire start to drip…

Don’t make a sound. Don’t make a sound. Show him. Show him how good you can be.

You want to curse, you want to scream and shout and make the lewdest sounds in the history of ever. It takes everything in you to take him and stay silent. Well, not completely silent. You’re breathing is wild and erratic. But he lets that slide.

“Look at me,” he commands.

You obey, and watch as the corner of his lip turns up and delivers a final slap that results in you tightening around him and never let go. You swallow what would have been a pornographic moan. Your knuckles are white and you’re full-on panting while you continue to rock back on him, burying him in deeper to feel himself release inside you. White lights flash from behind your eyes. Everything - every part of you - feels like jelly. You don’t think you can move after all that.

After Harrison pulls out from you, you nearly collapse onto the console, needing it to hold yourself up. He undoes your gag from behind and chucks it to the floor. You breathe a sigh of relief. Harrison slowly ghosts up behind you and runs his fingers gently down your shoulders, then arms.

“You did wonderfully, my girl,” he nearly hums in your ear. “I’m impressed.”

Your emotions skyrocket at his praise. You turn around and hug his middle, pressing yourself against him again.

“So… does that mean I’m forgiven?”

Harrison laughs a little as if to signify, you are the real trouble here.

“You are forgiven.” He can’t help but grin at you. “You have paid your dues. Thinking back though, I may need to come up with a better punishment. You enjoy this a little too much.”

“That may be true,” you agree, “but don’t pretend like you don’t like disciplining me, Mister.” To emphasize your point, you reach down to grasp him in his pants.

Though his eyes twinkle in response, he carries on, “Can I trust you to not do that again? We are playing the long game here, (Y/N).”

“I know. It won’t happen again, I promise. I learned my lesson.” You’re sure to throw in a wink.

“Now,” he says, straightening himself in his pants, “put your clothes back on and get back to work. It’s still a workday.”

“Yes, Sir.”

~

Anonymous Request: Hi! My request is to add a new fic to the 'Good Girl' stories. Just something smutty with Eo and the kinky dynamic from those fics cause they are delicious.

[fuckyeahastrophysics]

What the F*ck is a Wormhole?

Wormholes have been a beloved aspect of dozens of different science fiction novels, TV shows, and movies. If you've watched or read anything science fiction, you've probably heard of them. They're typically portrayed as just a door or tunnel, that when stepped through, you simply “arrive” at the other side, often times many thousands of light-years away. Not only do they sound pretty f*cking neat, wormholes actually have a fair amount of mathematical support behind them. 

Ever since wormholes were officially introduced into the scientific community in 1957 by John Wheeler and Charles Misner, scientists have been thoroughly tinkering with their fascinating and also terrifying possibilities. Despite the fact they seem too good to be true, Einstein's field equations permit a traversable wormhole to actually exist in our universe. The ability to use wormholes would make traveling to otherwise unreachable areas of the universe a real possibility. So, instead of traveling from point A to B in a typical linear fashion—which in terms of space travel usually means many lifetimes—a wormhole is just a shortcut. 

Here's a nice Wikipedia photo since the description of my bank account is equal to my artistic ability—not so good. It vaguely illustrates how a wormhole connects two points together by manipulating spacetime.

A wormhole is sort of like plugging a Game Genie into the universe. Just plug the Game Genie in, open up the cheat menu, and well, it might cause glitches, but f*ck it—let's just create a whole separate dimensional plane in which to travel through and call it hyperspace. In all seriousness, this dimensional plane is literally known as hyperspace (all hail sci-fi nerd scientists). Hyperspace is the where the actual “tunnel” of the wormhole exists. Sound like some sci-fi bullshit right? Well, it's not.

Wormhole problems

Around 1985, Caltech professor Kip Thorne, with his graduate student Mike Morris, set out to design a fully traversable wormhole. But they had to iron out a few rather glaring snags preventing theoretical travel through a wormhole. 

A traditional wormhole has two “mouths” that tend to open and close with a flicker. They close with such speed and force that it would be impossible to traverse through without something to “hold the mouths open.” This makes safe traversing somewhat problematic. Without something to prop it open, it would collapse on you with the collective pressure of a neutron star (which, in case you were wondering, is a ridiculously goddamn high amount of pressure— you'd be f*cked into another dimension).

In order to avoid being f*cked into another dimension, they needed something to keep the wormhole open artificially. Thorne conceived a “recipe” to solve this rather glaring problem—negative, or exotic, matter. Negative matter is just normal matter, but in reverse. Normal matter is damn sexy (attracts), and negative matter is ugly as hell (it repels). The repulsive gravitational field generated by negative matter would be enough to keep the “mouth” of both ends of the wormhole open long enough to travel through, or to keep it open indefinitely.

Thorne, among other scientists, have speculated that an advanced enough race could develop a method to easily manipulate negative matter as they please—allowing effortless travel through the cosmos.

Fun fact: Thorne worked out much of the scientific details of his wormhole to help Carl Sagan with his novel, Contact.

Time Travel?

Thorne (and many many other scientists) believe a wormhole could potentially act as a bridge in time. For the sake of simplicity, I won't go in to the entire complex nature of this hypothesis. Though the more you delve into it, the trippier it gets. For a small taste, here's an example from Igor Novikov I simplified: say two clocks, with the same time, are at either end of a wormhole, but one end is within the gravitational field of a neutron star (the pace of time depends on the strength of the gravitational field). Stepping through would essentially send you to the past. You could even see yourself about to enter the wormhole if you waited long enough. So, you could potentially see yourself from a different point in time. F*ck, my brain hurts.  This example just keeps getting more complex depending on the gravitational field, the amount of observers and their locations, and the amount of times you step through.  There are also a vast number of paradoxes that can occur from even a simple example like this one. Trying to shit on times comfy, linear home is a dangerous game to be played, as illustrated in numerous science fiction tales.    

I'll delve deeper into wormholes and other mathematical curiosities which would permit time travel in a future article!

Conclusion

For now, unfortunately, wormholes are still just a mathematical curiosity. They have never been directly observed quite yet. But the universe is sort of a clusterf*ck of crazy things happening, so the possibility of a bridge in spacetime existing is no longer just science fiction.

For the sake of brevity I've cut out a great deal of additional content about wormholes. Wormholes that can be conjured up from “quantum foam,” wormholes without event horizons, the Ellis-Bronnikov wormhole which functions without exotic matter (they were the first ever to publish a paper on a traversable wormhole), etc.

Would you like to see a part 2? Think this article was garbage? Think it was great? Think I’m a shill for Thorne, and that the Ellis-Bronnikov wormhole is the truly proper wormhole? Let me know in the comments/re-blogs :)

Autie/ND Facebook page

References: The Future of Spacetime, How To Build a Time Machine, The New Time Travelers.

Image Credits, from top to bottom: Corvin Zahn (wormhole illustration), Panzi (Source), Les Bossinas (Advanced spacecraft)

All other sources or references used are linked to in the article :)

[doomedandstoned]

Esogenesi Harness The Power of Death and Doom in Harrowing Debut

~By Clem Helvete~

Photographs by Raffaele Godi

Italy has had a healthy output of heavy music for quite a while now. From psychedelic sludge heavyweights Ufomammut to quality labels such as Heavy Psych Sounds and Argonauta Records putting out a slew of great albums, the boot-shaped country has plenty of reasons to keep fans interested. While I never really associated Italy with doom-death metal, the Milan-based band ESOGENESI is the living proof that my southern neighbors have even more to offer than I thought! The band’s first album is reminiscent of bands such as Un, Loss, or early Ahab in its combination of melodic guitar work and sheer heaviness. The least I can say is that it came up as a very unexpected and pleasant surprise.

Art by Korvo

“Exogenesis” is the hypothesis that life as we know it on Earth originated elsewhere in the universe. Now, pair this idea with a very intriguing artwork by Italian artist Korvuz Korax and you have great hook to grab the attention of any curious mind looking for a musical journey. Formed in 2016, the Italian combo Esogenesi is about to release its first album on Transcending Obscurity Records. With a wide array of bands in its catalog, ranging from black metal and death metal to doom/sludge metal, and names such as Jupiterian, Gaerea, Eremit, Heads for the Dead, Paganizer, and Lurk in its roster, Transcending Obscurity means business and hits another home-run with Esogenesi’s first album. Esogenesi plays a mixture of doom and death metal which draws inspiration from science-fiction and philosophical concepts. So if you’re looking for massive slow to mid-tempo tracks with atmospheric parts and abyssal growls, you’re in for a treat.

Self-titled (Death/Doom Metal) by ESOGENESI (Italy)

The album begins with "Abominio," a nine-minute piece showcasing the band’s ability to craft complex and thoughtful tunes. The album sounds very clean and tight, which highlights perfectly the musicians’ technical abilities. Although I usually like grittier productions and I am easily turned off by recordings that sound too crisp and clean, the sound fits the band music and I cannot imagine Esogenesi’s album any other way. If I were to describe this album in a couple of words, “subtlety” and “balance” would be it. Esogenesi sounds heavy, at times otherworldly, but never overdone or stuffy. This is one of the most notable aspects of this album -- top-tier musicianship and songs that are written in a very thoughtful way, which results in longer tracks that never become boring or bull.

I cannot emphasize enough how much I enjoy the cohesiveness of this band. The two guitars are complementing each other really well, the bass lines are tasteful and melodic without ever being showy or over-the-top, and the drums provide a solid backbone for the tracks. It makes no doubt that the members of Esogenesi are seasoned musicians and that they have mastered their instrument to the point that they know exactly how to shine while leaving room for the rest of the band. Not only is it extremely enjoyable to hear but it is something any musician can appreciate and applaud.

The tracks work really well together and form a cohesive album which takes you through an interdimensional journey you will not want to leave. As I previously mentioned, the difficulty with long tracks is to master this format without becoming over-indulgent. This is a pitfall that Esogenesi manages to avoid with a great sense of style. There is always something going on and the riffs are never redundant for the sake of it. It is also particularly pleasant that the vocalist knows when to leave room for music, rather than trying to cram as much lyrics as possible. By using vocals sparingly and letting music speak when it is more befitting, every word becomes meaningful and brings extra weight to the songs.

Even after listening to Esogenesi’s album many times, one cannot help but be amazed by the maturity and tastefulness of this first effort. The first two tracks of the record, "Abominio" and "Decadimento Astrale," are perfectly cohesive and form what could be considered the first act of the album. Many a time, I let myself drift away along with the melodies created by the intertwined bass lines and guitar leads.

The half-way mark of the album comes in the form of "...Oltregenesi...", an almost four-minute long post-rock influenced instrumental piece which feels like a bridge between the two acts of the record. The melancholic arpegios joined by layers of acoustic and electric guitars tastefully build up to the following track, "Esilio Nell’Extramondo."

The pace slows down a bit for the second act of the album. The gloomy atmosphere thickens up, giving the impression that we’ve ventured far into an unknown world. The forlorn melodies, pounding bass-drum combo, and solemn vocals of "Incarnazione Della Conoscenza" give way to a final burst of energy with closing blast beats accompanied by tremolo picking guitars which lead us to the end of our journey.

Esogenesi’s first album is impressively balanced and mature. The melodies are expertly woven with heavy and airtight riffs and there is always something going on to catch your attention. The band never gets self-indulgent, every note and every silence serves a purpose. Wherever you ear may wander, it will find something interesting in Esogenesi’s world.

Last but not least, I believe that an album artwork should be more than something purely esthetic and non-related to the content. Experiencing an album as a whole is important, especially in a day and age where downloading music and listening to it on-the-go has become standard practice. Transcending Obscurity Records never disappoints when it comes to artwork, especially with the label’s gorgeous CD and LP box sets. Esogenesi’s album is no exception. The surrealist space creature floating in a world of grays and blues superbly illustrate the band’s music and the atmosphere the music paints through this album. This is a remarkable debut album and Esogenesi is displaying a lot of promising potential. I am looking forward to see where the band goes after such an accomplished first album and you should, too.

Follow The Band

Get Their Music

[telltalejem]

Give Marinette some credit pls!!

This is me ranting about Oblivio, and the characterization of Marinette. Enjoy lol

My main points:

Mari is smart;

She is so smart she is completely capable of figuring out herself that Adrien is Chat Noir, and coming up with a plan to let the cat out of the bag;

But she is also aware of the dangers of knowing who Chat is so while she is capable of figuring it out, she is in a dilemma (more on the dangers in @bingespammy​‘s post)

There is a huge potential in diving into these dangers more explicitly and this dilemma of Mari, and I am actually contemplating quitting the show if these issues are not going to be addressed at any point in the future

+ embedded ranting about Backwarder, and about how the miraculous ladybug in Oblivio doesn’t make sense at all

I just really wanted to put down my main points before I start off this rant/analysis because I have no idea where it is going but I will be trying to reign myself so it can make sense to anyone. Still, this is probably going to be a really long post...

Marinette is an incredibly smart girl. Like Backwarder smart, for one instance. Of course, we all know how clumsy she is (again, Backwarder clumsy. Seriously, that episode has been the black sheep of the whole series since it was aired, I just have so many problems with the characterization of Marinette in that, I can’t--). However, despite her clumsiness, she is still one of the brightest and clearest minds of the show, especially if the issue has nothing to do with Adrien. And Ladybug and Chat Noir kissing in Oblivio obviously doesn’t have anything to do with Adrien, not for a Marinette who is not aware of the identity of Chat.

My point is that if the creators have any respect left for the character of Marinette, and her smarts, and if they are just slightly interested in redeeming themselves from the mistake the Backwarder is, then she is going to figure out who Chat really is. And she is going to have a huge dilemma about it and leading up to it, because keeping their secret identities is a serious issue, and we and the creators better start treating it so (@bingespammy​ has already made a post on why it already is a serious issue).

In the last minutes of Oblivio, we see how Marinette deals with the whole issue of kissing Chat. She even asks, “How could this have happened?” And Tikki brushes it off with a “Who knows, maybe you still have things to learn about him?” (which is a concerning issue in itself, because it suggests in between the lines that Tikki is encouraging her to find out who is under the mask of Chat Noir). But while Tikki is seemingly so casual about it, I think Marinette is troubled by the issue, because she realizes how this event affects her image as a superheroine not only in the eyes of the public but for Papillon too (”The love you both secretly have for each other will be your downfall”). She sees all the risks, and troubles knowing this information will bring upon them as the saviours of Paris. I think she is/will be just so troubled by the mere fact that she kissed Chat that she just cannot get over it. She is thinking about it day and night - whenever she sees Chat, whenever they work together, whenever she is reminded of it. And the reason for it affecting her so much is because it was her choice to kiss him. It wasn’t for saving Paris. It wasn’t a necessity, as their first kiss was. She knows she has to stop, she shouldn’t try to figure out why the kiss happened, but she cannot stop herself thinking about it either, because she is just so self-conscious about it happening. She will eventually figure out that Adrien is Chat, not because she wanted to know it, because obviously, she knows all the risks, she knows that knowing who Chat is is the last thing she should know, but she will still figure it out, simply because she cannot help herself.

But why cannot she stop thinking about kissing Chat Noir? Because (1), as I have already said, she knows it was her conscious decision to kiss him. I imagine Mari sitting over the picture of her and Chat kissing and thinking. She knows Oblivio made people forget everything prior, and that they had already been defeated by the time of the kiss. Thus, it did not happen because she needed to kiss Chat to save him. And to support all this, she knows Oblivio was Alya and Nino, because unlike other akumatized people they stupidly miraculously remember that they were akumatized which doesn’t make any sense at all!! why the heck would everyone who was hit by Oblivio forget about what happened during the time between they were hit and the miraculous ladybug restored everything, but the akumatized people suddenly remember that they were akumatized, and even, the reason they were akumatized?!! It just doesn’t make no sense aaargggh. She knows Alya took the picture. She knows that the kiss happened before miraculous ladybug, and even if she is not entirely sure about, she can just ask Alya (or Nino) - boom, fact. And (2), she is 14. I don’t know how other teens are at 14 today, but I don’t think this changed that a kiss is not a small thing unless you are playing truth or dare. Marinette comes off to me as a sensitive person, who at times worries about how others see her, especially if that ‘others’ is Adrien. She doesn’t dwell too much on the past, but she is quite troubled with her actions, she worries that she will screw up. She think about things really carefully: she has been baking a single macaron every Sunday, hoping that one day she will have the courage to go up to Adrien and give it to him! I am aware that these are not the best arguments, and that actually I was really bad at arguing for this second point, as to why she would be so troubled over a kiss, but I do think that a kiss would be quite significant for Marinette and not something that she would be able to just brush off as if it was nothing.

The next question is, how is she going to figure out who Chat is? Again, as I said before, Mari is smart. And honestly, I think this is a really straight-forward deduction that just needs proving. Chat is in love with LB, which means that the person under the mask is in love with LB too. She is LB, that is, she kissed Chat. She is in love with Adrien, she cannot imagine herself kissing anyone else than Adrien, but let’s move away from this for the sake of the argument. So Marinette kissed Chat Noir, which she would not have done otherwise. If she reflects on what happened during the akumatization of Oblivio, she can figure out that she and Chat both used their superpowers by the time they were hit by Oblivio. From which she can conclude that they knew each others’ secret identity before the miraculous ladybug. Which means that she knew who Chat was and still decided to kiss him. Which means that Chat is probably a boy she would kiss. Which is Adrien only at the moment, or maybe potentially Luka. From here on out she just needs to test her hypothesis by outsmarting Adrien/Chat (which is honestly not that difficult in my opinion because that guy is head over heals over LB XD). She could for example seemingly roam around the city as LB and “accidentally” run into Adrien and tell him she has a meeting with Chat at X place at Z time and then just wait for Chat to show up. She could try the same trick as Marinette, telling Adrien she has a meeting with Chat. In both scenarios, she would first have to look for the reaction of Adrien, coz I bet ya he will be super confused about having arranged a meeting as Chat while he hasn’t actually, but he cannot say anything, because ya know, he is not Chat Noir *wink wink*. So calling Mari or LB out as liars would give him away. Also, I just can only imagine him being super confused over LB/Marinette lying to a degree where he actually thinks that he did agree on a meeting just forgot about it. So the first clue would be his reaction. The second would be him actually showing up. Or Marinette could come up with a smarter plan since she is such a smarty pants, and I am not lol

[oruni]

The Hawkins Experiments: Entry I

August 17th, 1977

Before I describe the nature of the seemingly ridiculous mission that I have undertaken and the moments leading up to my decision to do so I must pose one absolute fact for the reader, whoever that may be, to keep in mind. I am a man of science. I did not decide to venture down the superstitious paths that I have with ignorance and delusions of grandeur as many others have and will. I aim to do so only with infallible reason to be my guide, and only in the pursuit of truth. All manner of the occult I regarded as fiction, fiction that intrigued me but was fiction nonetheless, until I came into possession of documents which contained a hypothesis on the subject which finally seemed plausible. These were the notes of one late Dr. Amanda Hawkins, one whose abrupt death a man with less conviction than I might have interpreted as a prophetic warning.

The way through which I came into possession of these notes is shrouded in mystery. Dr. Hawkins and I’s areas of study did not overlap and we shared no other connection. Before finding her notes strewn across my desk from a thick, stained manila folder as if tossed there haphazardly I had never even heard her name. My study had been secure when I had left it, of that I was certain. The sound of the lock clicking open as I twisted the key in its heart just a few moments prior was fresh in my mind. Still, I am a man of science. I could not ignore the trove of unidentified information that I had perceived as a gift. The suspicion of just how it had gotten there was very quickly overpowered by the unyielding drive of my own curiosity. I pushed the heavy door of my study shut with a thud that resounded off its lofty walls and was upon these mystery documents in an instant.

I’d never been enthralled by text in quite the way I was by Dr. Hawkins’ account of her surreptitious experiments. I don’t know how many hours I sat, looming over my desk to absorb her secrets in a trance-like state of reading. Her notes were expansive, and at first, organized with an admirable level of care. I could tell that this was a labor of love. She left no room for inquiry, detailing with perfect clarity every aspect of her experiments as well as the reading which gave her the theories that made these experiments worthy of her investment. It quickly became apparent to me that the theories that justified such great effort were based in the occult. It was my first instinct to recoil in disgust at the thought of a woman of science falling to such nonsensical depravities, but as I continued to read, I found that not only were her conclusions reasonable, to me they made sense. Dr. Hawkins’ ultimate goal was not only to prove the effectiveness of “Magick”, but to explain it in the language of psychology and neuroscience rather than superstition and rituals. Circuits of consciousness and bundles of cerebral nerve clusters rather than voodoo dolls and hexbags. This was a language that I understood very well.

By her account a ‘Unity State’ could be achieved by the conscious, preconscious, and unconscious, at which point one’s mind was capable of extraordinary things. She listed several methods by which this feat could be achieved. Deep meditation, insurmountable fear, severe blood loss, and even orgasm. A theory that explained the appalling nature of many occult practices but made me no more eager to practice them. Further reading revealed that Dr. Hawkins’ preferred a far more convenient method of achieving Unity State. LSD. Rather than have the subjects of her experiment undergo the arduous months, potentially years, long journey of mastering meditation in order to perform the rituals of the occult consistently in a controlled setting she needed only add a single, volatile ingredient. The drug proved a powerful aid. Too powerful. Though she experienced wild success and recorded it with glee, the invocations often coming to fruition, one by one she lost her test subjects. They complained of the terrible visions they saw while under the hallucinogenic influence of the drug following them in their waking life like an esoteric wolf stalking its prey. Within three rounds of invocations several committed suicide. The rest, rather than descend further into madness, quit together shortly after. I could not find anywhere in the texts what happened of these people. Whether their visions ceased with the rituals or if they met similar fates I cannot guess. The last passage graced with the coherence and sound reason that I had come to know and respect Dr. Hawkins’ for ends with an angrily scribbled footnote.

“They lack the sensibility to combat the side effects of the ascension of the human psyche. But I am a woman of science. If anyone has the logic necessary to quell insanity and unearth the truth it must be me. It must be me.”

In the pages that followed the documents grew to be less and less coherent. She began to speak in cryptic riddles and foreboding prophecies. Her once neat and concise penmanship had degraded to erratic hardly legible scratchings and in the margins she sketched horrifying things of which I could not for the life of me identify and I assume she hallucinated. She began to quite regularly use the sigils that she once penned only for sake of explaining the rituals in place of words, and soon after replaced her speech entirely for it. Just over half way through, the entirety of the remaining pages consisted only of chaotically etched sigils, some of which had been penned forcefully enough to rip through the parchment.

Having finally finished the stack I fell back into my chair in exhaustion and drew my hand up to rub my poor, tired, eyes. I would find no solace in rest, for the moment they closed, her sigils and sketches burned in the interior of my eyelids. I had never been shaken so deeply, let alone by something as simple as a text… Luckily, I had stowed just the right medicine for such an occasion in the form of a half empty glass bottle of irish whiskey, accompanied by a dusty glass, in a cabinet built into the arm of my desk. Only for special occasions. A powerful breath blew the cobwebs out of the glass, replaced not a moment later by a pungent amber liquid. The scent alone brought terrible memories of the last time I felt inclined to indulge, but indulge I did. Alcohol dulls the higher senses, so I regard it as poison. When one’s mind is racing faster than he can comprehend, though, it can be instrumental in slowing it down. I’ve heard a thought that the difference between medicine and poison is sometimes in the dose, but I argue that it’s in the context.

I lamented the descent into madness and assumed death of someone who had the potential to be an increasingly rare colleague worthy of respect but could not resist the pull of the unanswered questions and riddles that her incomplete work posed. It was in no short amount of time, and admittedly, in no short amount of alcohol, that I had resolved to finish her work. I felt a strong compulsion to do so in a sense that I’ve never been compelled to do anything before. To myself, I reasoned that I couldn’t bear to see her questions unanswered and her work lost to history. After all, I am a man of science, and the pursuit of truth was and always will be my ultimate priority.

I slept in the study that night. I read and I drank and I re-read and I studied the sigils until they blurred before me. Not long after that effect set in I fell to sleep, but just before, in the void of my heavily inebriated thought, my face pressed against the cold surface of my desk, I swore I heard them speaking to me in some forbidden language I couldn’t hope to understand. When I woke and my faculties returned to me I rationalized their whisperings as tricks of the drunken mind and immediately after began the penning of this document — the first entry of many to come in a journal of sorts. A logbook of my experience serving both as a measure of defense to help preserve my sanity and as something of an alibis in the event that I lose this battle and cannot explain my actions as Dr. Hawkins could not.

With the end of this entry I shall make the rare treacherous journey from my secluded manor, through the snowy peaks, and into town to gather a stockade of strange supplies and referenced texts that I’m sure will cost my reputation. A necessary sacrifice, for if anyone can complete Dr. Hawkins work, it must be me.

— K.H.

[segadores-y-soldados]

The Immortal Soldier?

Or “Is Jack Morrison semi-‘Reaperized’?”

Disclaimer: I don’t fully believe this idea myself.  However, I’m writing it down because it’s haunting me (ba-dum-tssh), and because I think it’s worth putting out in the open.  A lot of it relies on other hypothesis - which may or may not be true - and thinly-connected context clues, so again, I don’t know if this idea even really has solid ground to stand on? But anyways. TL, DR: post-fall Jack Morrison is basically “Retribution era” Gabriel Reyes, possibly with wraithy powers and all.  However, he may not realize he has those powers, or he may be missing a “step” in that “unlocks” them (e.g. Moira’s involvement).  Different types of circumstantial evidence can be interpreted as pointing towards Jack being very “hard to kill.”

This idea relies on the concepts I put forth in the first half of “Long Reasons Not to Trust Moira in Retribution.”  A quick recap:

1. Hypothesis/semi-confirmed?: Gabriel Reyes gained some sort of “Reaper” powers and his “Reaper” medical condition from SEP.

The basis for this is drawn from a few things.  The first - his “Soldier ID: 24″ folder is found in Moira’s present-day Genetics lab in Oasis.  The second - no one in “Retribution” (aka McCree, Genji, and Moira) are surprised by Gabriel’s “in game” powers (Wraith, Shadow Step, Death Blossom), and the trailer for the event shows Gabriel using Death Blossom freely.

The third - Reaper’s “Soldier: 24″ skin has no change in abilities (i.e. none of the effects or voicelines are altered (see things like Witch Mercy, Cultist Zen, Dragon Sym, etc)) and appears to represent Gabriel during his “experimental state” in SEP.

The fourth - the wording on Reaper’s hero profile is “intentional,” specifically the parts about Reaper being around for “decades.”

(More under the cut)

However, as I argued in “Long Reasons,” this did not necessarily mean that Gabriel was “healthy” or even immortal.

2. Hypothesis: though Gabriel Reyes had some level of “Reaper” powers/condition from SEP, he was not completely immune to being hurt or getting scars.  However, Gabriel might not have been aging correctly either.

This is taken from the idea that Gabriel’s appearance has small changes over the course of thirty years but that it does not change nearly as intensely as his similiarly-aged friends.

Gabriel does accumulate scars, and possibly some wrinkles.  However, unlike Ana, who is only two years older than him and gains wrinkles and grey-to-white hair, Gabriel appears to age relatively less significantly.

This is semi-confirmed by an interaction in “Retribution” between Gabriel and McCree:

McCree: Did you even consider what was gonna happen before you pulled the trigger?

Reyes: I made a decision - I’ll deal with the consequences.

McCree: What, like gettin’ the four of us killed?

Reyes: That’s not going to happen.

McCree believes that Gabriel can die during the events of “Retribution.”  And Gabriel probably can die.

“Hard to kill” =/= “immortal”

Gabriel’s pre-fall “Reaper powers/condition” make him “hard to kill”, but he can still be wounded, still accumulate scars, and still probably die.

This appears to be in direct contrast with:

3. Hypothesis: Post-Fall “Reaper” has become effectively immortal.

Reaper can still feel pain.  We know this.  He appears to even struggle with healing injuries sometimes.

(Personally, I think he’s faking this scene in “Infiltration,” because he wants to create a opportunity for Sombra to blackmail Katya.  But for the sake of discussion, let’s say he’s possibly genuinely in pain here.)

However, Reaper is able to take the full force of the Tesla Cannon without dying.  He 1v1s a new Volskaya mech in “Infiltration” without serious side effects.

In “Old Soldiers,” the sleep dart doesn’t affect Reaper at all, and while the sleep dart isn’t lethal, it does indicate - along with the events of “Recall” and “Infiltration” - that “Reaper” might now be much more immune to damage than he was pre-Fall.

One of Reaper’s respawn lines in the game says:

This is my curse...

Which seems to imply that his curse is being unable to die.

This goes along with the idea that Reaper in the present-day is working with Moira for a “cure” for his condition.

And that this may be the basis for their current working relatioship - Moira gets to continue her research on Gabriel, and Gabriel “eventually” gets a cure from it.

This is related to:

4. Hypothesis/semi-confirmed: before the fall, Gabriel recruited Moira specifically to help him try to solve his “pre-fall Reaper condition” before it got “worse” (and uh, we know that didn’t happen).

“She was recruited by Gabriel Reyes to be a member of Blackwatch.  And uh, during that time she had relationships with the Blackwatch crew - McCree, Genji - they all have their own sort of likes and dislikes for each other.  Reyes wanted someone could help advise him on, uh, some matters of genetics that he was, uh, interested in, shall we say.” - Michael Chu, 3:47 (https://youtu.be/HsJU3PEk9JY?t=227)

Moira is already conducting research on Gabriel at the time of “Retribution.”  This is indicated by her Biotic Grasp and Fade - which were “created” by Moira when she repurposed parts of Gabriel’s biodata for her own artificial means.  Moira has a couple of interactions in “Retribution” which imply that she thinks certain “changes” may be occurring in Gabriel (though he himself does not reveal if these “changes” are actually happening, or if he is aware of them happening at the time).

However, what appears to be implied by the timeline of Overwatch is that Gabriel’s medical transformation into “post-fall Reaper” (not his actual persona or motivations, but his physical state of being) needed more than just Moira’s experiments to “unlock”:

It needed something much bigger to induce the full “Reaper” potential in him.

Reaper, upon respawning:  That which doesn't kill you, makes you stronger.

Different types of stressors and trauma may activate or deactivate the phenotypical expression of genes - this occurs in real life, and, since Blizzard is using stuff like “enhancements”, “nanobiology”, and “hard light technology” as “firm science fiction” elements to explain more “magical” plot devices (e.g. immortality, resurrection, teleporters, talking gorillas, etc), it’s possible that they’re using this concept (albeit very loosely) to explain Gabriel’s final medical transformation into “Reaper”.

This aligns with Reaper’s own explanation for what happened to him (although I’m leaning more and more towards this moment as being a “mixed truth” than a genuine explanation from him):

Setting aside the debate on if Reaper actually blames Soldier: 76 or not, he tells Ana that his “suffering” transformed him into “this thing”.  We know that Gabriel is “the same” from “Retribution” to “Uprising,” leaving only one (known) major event that he could be referencing here: the explosion of the Swiss Base, which he and Jack were caught in.

We don’t know the “exact ratio” of “SEP experimenting” to “Moira experimenting” to “explosion” that creates the “perfect mixture” to result in post-fall Reaper, so yes, one of these things could be more “impactful” on his condition than the others.  But the explosion having a significant impact on transforming him from “hard to kill” to “effectively immortal” aligns with a lot of the pieces that we already know or have clues about.

Now -

The reason I bring this all up -

Is because Jack Morrison has become very similar to pre-fall Gabriel Reyes in personality.

Soldier: 76: I don’t play by the rules anymore.

Soldier: 76:  You ain't seen me angry.

Soldier: 76:  I didn't start this war... But I'm damn well gonna finish it.

Also stuff like: 

Moira: You did what needed to be done, Gabriel.  Don’t apologize. Gabriel: I never have, and I don’t intend to start now.  Someone has to be the one to get things done.

Soldier: 76:  I'm just doing my job. Soldier: 76:  Save the medals, I've had my fill. Soldier: 76, killing an enemy Reaper:  Someone had to do it.

---

McCree: Is this what we’ve become, Gabriel? Gabriel: Blackwatch has always had one purpose: to do the real work of keeping the world safe.  I thought you had the stomach for it.  Looks like I was wrong.

Soldier: 76: Think you can do my job, do you... Winston: Someone has to.

Winston: Someone's going to put a stop to your illegal activities. Soldier: 76: You're one to talk! You and your friends are breaking the law, same as me.

Soldier: 76, killing an enemy Winston: Your hesitation is your weakness.

But Soldier: 76 also has a number of...interesting lines.

Lines that I initially thought were just “flavor text” - you know, stuff that gives us an indication of his personality, his motivations, his ideas, etc.

But can also be interpreted...differently.

Ana: Seems like neither of us like being dead very much. Soldier: 76: Old soldiers are hard to kill.

Soldier: 76: Old soldiers never die... And they don't fade away... 

Soldier: 76: Aren't you supposed to be dead? Reaper: Didn't take.

Soldier: 76: One of these days someone is gonna to put an end to you. Reaper: I invite them to try.

(The last one is interesting because Reaper appears to imply that “trying to end him” is effectively impossible.)

Because, I mean...read another way -

It sounds a lot like Soldier: 76 is talking about himself, either directly, as in the interaction with Ana, or more indirectly, as in the interactions with Reaper.

Again.  I get it.  Like I said, I don’t fully believe this myself.

But let me try and walk through some of the steps here:

1. Pre-explosion Jack Morrison ages “normally.”

Or at least, he ages about the same as Reinhardt, Ana, and Torbjörn.

“Golden Era” Jack Morrison

“Retribution” Jack

“Uprising” Jack

His hair is fading from blonde to white, he’s accumulating wrinkles, etc.  He is, however, missing two major “features” on his face that define him as “post-Fall Soldier: 76″:

His scars.

However -

Gabriel’s “pre-fall Reaper” condition never prevented him from gaining scars.

And though it is “flavor text”, Soldier: 76 has a voiceline for his Daredevil and Stunt Rider skins that says:

Bones heal, pain is temporary; scars look good.

Which is a modified version of a quote from Evel Knievel.

2. Post-explosion Jack might not be aging correctly.

Ana: For a man of your years, you're looking pretty good, Jack. Soldier: 76: Well, all that stuff they pumped into me has to be good for something.

Prior to “Retribution,” I took this interaction to be - well - just a cute little discussion between Ana and Soldier: 76, but when it was revealed that Jack was the youngest member of the original Strike Team, this interaction...made me pause.

Why would Ana say that to someone who is likely 5-10 years younger than her?

At the time of Recall, Jack Morrison could be between the ages of 48 to 55-56-ish.  We know he is younger than Gabriel when he enlists in the U.S. military and joins SEP, which automatically makes him younger than Ana and Reinhardt.  He is likely younger than Torbjörn (as Torb is only one year younger than Gabriel), which makes him the youngest member of the original team.

And look, I love Jack and think he’s a great character and attractive for having gone through a lifetime of war and fighting.

But let’s not kid ourselves.

If this man is 48, that’s a hard 48.

If he’s in his early-to-mid-50′s, sure, that might be more...understandable.  But even then, you have characters like Reinhardt (who Ana also compliments), Mercy, Moira, Doomfist, Hanzo - all of whom are aging “gracefully” (if you want to call it that) for being in their late 30′s to late 40′s (or Reinhardt in his 60′s).

I mean, if Jack is 48, that means he’s the same age as her:

And Moira has very few of the changes Jack has.

(Please, I’m not looking for a discussion on character designs here.  If you want that conversation, there’s plenty of other posts or people to discuss with.) “But Jack lived a stressful life!  And he survived an explosion!  Of course he’s aged more heavily - that takes a toll.”

Which is -

Different types of stressors and trauma may activate or deactivate the phenotypical expression of genes

Precisely my point.

I’ve seen a lot of people make the hypothesis that Jack Morrison may have had a different type of supersoldier “enhancement” injection serum than Gabriel Reyes.  And that’s logically a very good argument - after all, Jack never shows signs of being “wraithy”.  He doesn’t teleport, he gets hurt, he doesn’t have any sort of “lifedrain” ability, etc.

But we also don’t know if any of that - the serum, the “non-wraithy” stuff - is true or not.

Because when Ana remarks about his age and appearance, Jack credits the injections for “being good” for that.

And when Ana herself comments that Jack is “so hardheaded that [he] wouldn’t know how to die” and that Jack is “lucky to be alive”, Jack himself comments with:

(Ostensibly, he’s quoting Gabriel here, who was once Jack’s “old boss”)

Again, it appears that Jack is merely copying Gabriel’s pre-fall personality, or “evolving” into being a renegade and rogue-like character, just like Gabriel was during “Retribution.”

But it is intriguing that Jack credits the SEP injections with his...current “hard-to-kill-ness” and his seemingly “good” appearance.

3. Jack survives a lot of stuff.

Canonically, Jack survives: 1) the Swiss Base explosion, 2) fighting the Helix guards at Watchpoint: Grand Mesa, 3) fighting Los Muertos members in “Hero,” 4) a grenade thrown by a Los Muertos member in “Hero”, 5) a literal shotgun blast to his lower back (?), and then 6) a fistfight with Reaper.

Yes, he gets hurt.

But “hard to kill” =/= “immortal”.

Soldier: 76: Old soldiers are hard to kill.

“Ana heals him in ‘Old Soldiers,’ though!”

You’re right, she absolutely does.  And based on gameplay, Soldier heals himself by his Biotic Fields.

But we also see him literally “walk off” a grenade blast in “Hero.”  And he appears to survive the Swiss Base explosion with only scars. 

And while he never appears to use “wraithy” powers like pre-fall Gabriel, it might be that Jack isn’t fully aware of what’s happening to him.

Gabriel has had “decades” to explore his “Reaper condition.”  He may have even had help “training” his abilities in SEP.  Jack, on the other hand, probably went through the program thinking he was just “another supersoldier” and not a...ghost soldier...fighter...warrior person like Gabriel (or whatever SEP wanted to describe them as - “ravagers”, maybe?).

After all, Jack’s own description of SEP is very brief in “Uprising.”  Initially, he seems to indicate that the program “tried everything” in a desperate bid to end the war - including likely conducting experiments like the kind that produced pre-fall “Reaper” - but that other things (“politics, mismanagement, egos”) seemed to be the downfall of SEP and other U.S. military endeavours, thus pushing Gabriel and Jack to agree to join Overwatch together.

And in “Retribution”, we know that Gabriel appears to think that Jack can die.

Hence Gabriel’s whole motivation for trying to “get a jump start” on Talon by getting intel from Antonio.

Gabriel believed that an explosion could severely hurt Jack -

Or do worse to him.

And yet -

Not only does that not actually happen, Jack appears...almost... stronger than before, emerging “from the ashes” six years later as “Soldier: 76″, equipped with the Tactical Visor and a new, updated version of the Heavy Pulse Rifle.

4. In “another life,” Jack is “immortal.”

“Junkenstein’s Revenge” occupies a very...odd space in the Overwatch universe.  It is, arguably, the only “canon AU” made by the developers themselves.  By that I mean - not only is the “story itself” canon to the world of Overwatch, as a story that Reinhardt is literally telling his friends during one Halloween:

But the events that occur within the story have obvious and clear parallels to the “canon world of Overwatch.”

Each of the main characters - both the “heroes” and the “villains” in both years - correspond to “real characters” in Overwatch.  Moreover, all the “roles” that they play in the story have “canon costumes”/skins (with only Reinhardt and Genji currently missing theirs).

For example:

Mercy, who is dressed as a witch at the Halloween party, is the witch in the story:

Torbjörn is a Viking, Ana is a “pirate alchemist,” McCree is a vampire/demon hunter (Van Helsing, to be exact), Junkrat is the scientist, Roadhog is the monster, etc etc.

The story gets expanded in Year 2, where Widowmaker, Zenyatta, Genji, and Torbjörn all become playable, and it “canonizes” the Huntress and Cultist skins for Widowmaker and Zenyatta as being their “in-story roles”.  Genji, who we don’t see up-close, will likely get a “demon wanderer” skin to match Hanzo’s in a future event.

But there is a character who doesn’t match his “canon costume” with his “Junkenstein role”:

And before people are like, “That’s just his Daredevil skin!” - I know.  I’m aware of that.

However, I also know that they seriously considered making “Old Jack in his Daredevil outfit” a real thing for him:

Of those seven pieces of concept art (I’m counting both Reins as one), five of those eventually became fully-fledged skins.  Reinhardt’s will likely show up in a future event.

However, they got to the point where they actually made a mock-up of “Old Jack in his Daredevil costume.”

And yet.

They chose this.

Yes, I do believe the Immortal skin is an homage to Michael Jackson’s Thriller.  After all, “Junkenstein’s Revenge” as a whole references a number of horror stories or Halloween ideas - everything from the Headless Horseman to Van Helsing to “Frankenstein” itself.

But if the Soldier skin is a reference to Michael Jackson’s Thriller, why call it “Immortal?”  Why not call it “Zombie” or “Ghoul” or something?

As I said earlier, “Junkenstein’s Revenge” has a lot of parallels to the canon world of Overwatch, and the story around each of the “roles” has connections to their “canon versions”.

For example:

Ana: What reason brings you to travel so far from home? Hanzo: I was banished from my home for taking my brother's life. I can never return.

Ana: I once met a man who could summon a dragon as you do. Hanzo: Impossible. Only my clan possesses the skill. My brother could, but he is dead.

McCree: What's home like for you, Archer? Hanzo: A village, high atop a hill. There are cherry blossoms in the spring. I miss it dearly.

Soldier: 76: A soldier, an alchemist, an archer and an oddity. A motley group we have assembled here. Ana: Just as it has always been. You attract strange companions. 

Hanzo: I sense that you and the Soldier have history together. Ana: Indeed. And much of it unhappy.  Or Ana: This is not our first battle together. And not the last. Unless he does something foolish.

Interestingly, many characters often break the fourth wall (or at least attempt to hit it):

Reinhardt, if some of the heroes start dying:  The heroes' defense was not enough, as one of their numbers fell. If only they had a shield to stand behind. Reinhardt: Oh, how the heroes lamented their need for a shield, realizing too late they had taken for granted its protection.

McCree: You're not bad with a bow, but don't you think it's a little old fashioned? Hanzo: Perhaps there is still a future for anachronisms.

McCree: You seem awful familiar. You sure we haven't met before? Soldier: Maybe in another life.

While all the characters have lines and interactions pointing to their “canon versions”, Soldier in particular has many - almost all of his interactions refer to his “canon story” or refer to his “canon relationships.”

Soldier: It's time to finish this fight, old friend. Ana: Let us hope we have the strength to see it through

Ana: If we survive the night, this should be our last battle. Soldier: No, I cannot rest until we have justice! (for what...or for whom?)

Hanzo: What sort of monster do you think the Reaper is? Soldier: The worst kind there is - a wicked man. McCree: So, where are you from? Soldier: I don't stay in one place for too long, came from a town called Bloomington, Indiana

Soldier: In my younger days I'd have hardly broken a sweat, but those days are over.

Related to that is the subplot that the “Junkenstein version” of the “Reaper” knew Soldier and the Alchemist at one point in time:

Once a man, the Reaper retained no trace of his former self.

Rumor said that the Reaper had betrayed his former comrades, and was thusly cursed. (eliminated by Ana) The Alchemist slew the Reaper, feeling a moment of sadness for the man she had once known. (eliminated by Soldier: 76) The Soldier struck down the Reaper, and hoped that it would be for the last time.

However, Soldier expresses an...interesting sentiment when he kills Reaper in “Junkenstein’s Revenge”:

Soldier, eliminates Reaper: At last, the Reaper's curse is lifted.

From both “the canon story of Overwatch” and “Junkenstein’s Revenge,” we see that Soldier: 76 in “both modes” considers it his duty to both fight the Reaper and free him from his “curse.”  In “both modes,” this means killing him.

I’ve seen a lot of the fan idea that “the Immortal Soldier” is a human thrall or some sort of vampire (based predominantly on Reaper’s second Halloween skin, “Dracula”).  While it isn’t a bad idea (and I enjoy it, personally), that’s not actually “canon” to the story of Junkenstein’s Revenge.

In fact, Soldier’s “story” in Junkenstein’s Revenge is almost identical to his “canon story”:

McCree: You don't seem like someone who'd put his faith in alchemy. Soldier: You have to believe in something. May as well be the thing that keeps you alive. McCree: You ask me, you pump something full of these chemicals, electricity and whatnot, that's not a man - that's a monster. Soldier: Maybe so, or maybe they're not as different as you'd think.

In the “Junkenstein’s Revenge universe”, the Immortal Soldier is alive because he himself has been through some sort of alchemical experiment.  McCree’s lines about “[pumping] something full of these chemicals, electricity, and whatnot” is very similiar to not only this:

Ana: For a man of your years, you're looking pretty good, Jack. Soldier: 76: Well, all that stuff they pumped into me has to be good for something.

But also incredibly similiar to this:

“That’s not a man - that’s a monster.”

And Soldier’s remark?

“Maybe so, or maybe they’re not as different as you’d think.”

In fact, now that Moira is part of the game, I’m super interested in seeing how they evolve the Halloween event for the third year, or if we’ll get some sort of new “canon AU-style” story that incorporates her and Brigitte into the event.  Moira very much fulfills the “canon role” of the “Witch” in the world of Overwatch, moreso than Mercy does, and the fact that Moira canonically hold the power of “Reaper’s cure” over Reaper does imply that certain aspects of the Reaper subplot in “Junkenstein’s Revenge” have parallels to the canon story.  It will be exciting to see how Moira is integrated into future Halloween events.

I’m also very interested to see how characters like the Soldier and Alchemist “evolve” in their roles in relation to Moira.

But that’s for the future.

For now, Soldier in “Junkenstein’s Revenge” is...semi-immortal.  Much like the other heroes - demons, vampires, cultist...monk...robots... - the Immortal Soldier can still die, and he can still get hurt.  But the implication that he doesn’t age correctly, or won’t “die of natural causes” is...telling.

Like I said, I’m not sure how much I actually believe the idea as a whole.  But I do think there are odd bits and pieces that point to it being plausible, or something that could become a plot-point later in Overwatch’s story.  Jack being “hard to kill” has worked out as “convenient plot armor” when the story calls for him to get injured or fight someone, but it could evolve into something more...complex.  Again, the fact that Moira is seemingly in the process of making a “cure” for Gabriel’s “post-fall Reaper condition” could have a lot of impacts on Gabriel’s decision-making, his motivations, and those who are affected by them -

Jack, in particular.

Jack is the only other known character who has gone through the same “Soldier Enhancement Program” as Gabriel.  He’s one of the main characters guiding Gabriel’s motivations at the time of “Retribution.”  He’s the only other known character to have survived the same “Swiss Base explosion” as Gabriel, who became the fully-fledged “Reaper” (e.g. effectively immortal) after that.  The same event left Jack with what appears to be only scars, but otherwise, he continues to fight very well.  Post-fall Jack has a number of personality and motivational comparisons to “Retribution-era” Gabriel, including a desire for enacting “retribution” on those who wronged Overwatch and a seemingly “hard-to-kill” physiology.  And in a “canon AU” story, Jack’s role is that of an “immortal soldier,” who may have some...similarities with the “monsters” in the story that he isn’t totally sharing with his comrades.

We know Jack’s canon goal is to find the conspiracy that brought down Overwatch, and implement retributive justice against them.

But is that his only goal?

We will have to see.

[giahann95]

How To Get Hotel Jobs

Let us learn a lot more of the hospitality industry and its job potential today. Hotels belong to a vibrant and everchanging industry and freshers and veterans keep themselves challenged with new opportunities therein.

You are at the intersection of your profession, and are captivated by glamorous work air of hotels, they seem, by all accounts, to be welcoming and luring with a range of offerings. No big surprise individuals world over pay a premium to appreciate the unmatched offerings, and you need to test them direct, things are progressing pretty well.

Seen Reality

First things to start with, the time has come to disperse the myths and second thoughts encompassing the Hospitality business. Nature may seem, by all accounts, to be appealing when you take a quick look at the set up, nonetheless, when you test somewhat more profound, you would be astounded to find that there is without a doubt a major separate between saw reality and what you experience in individual. You may also be intrigued with how to get hotel jobs

The Surprises

So as to minimize the amazements that may be surreptitiously sprung at you, you need a look a boo at the functionings of the neighborliness setup. You may experience a voyaging sports escort, including guardians making a peculiar solicitation, for an extra dinner room or meeting space so as to empower their kids to have their offer of fun and skip, a superbly authentic solicitation, may attempt and satisfy it too, yet with a squeeze of salt, the rider is to tell them heretofore that any breakages, or unsettling influences must be borne by the guardians, on the off chance that they go crazy in general society territory as opposed to the children zone or children pool and any harms must be made great.

Class and Discretion

Manager Jobs

Some of the visitors are in the propensity for gloating about their stay and go to the degree of saying, they stay at the property constantly, well, you would dependably remain in great stead, on the off chance that you bring things with a squeeze of salt, as hoteliering is about showing politeness and prudence, notwithstanding mounting weight, saw or genuine. Pulling down the feign ought to be a simple thing for a prepared proficient, you should simply to check, the stay history, a true blue visitor would not have to feign at all in any case to claim benefits, it would be consequently agreed.

The Airport Shuttle

At that point you would go over some odd solicitations, which one can securely assume is not the situation with different enterprises. Individuals may customarily demand to make utilization of the airplane terminal transport to drop them at the bar, while working inn occupations in India you would go over such abnormal solicitations, amuse it on the off chance that it is for the air terminal bar and affably decay refering to hotelcareers  lodging strategies, may recommend a feasible option like taking cabs forward and backward fro the bar as the gathering might just be affected by liquor.

Delay

Progress and then you would run over individuals making intense solicitation for settlement, notwithstanding when they are totally mindful that the inn is sold out, overbooked, there is a delay, the lodging is taking into account right now, and there you have couple of visitors tossing their weight around by requesting unique concession for the sake of being a prizes part. Clarify the circumstance in a cool and created way and let them know amiably, how might they feel when advised to clear a space for favored visitors.

Last Thoughts

So you have seen hitherto, not at all like whatever other industry, it offers dream livens and obliges you to show class and prudence to taste achievement and rise higher up in the chain of command, this is only a preliminary, a cut of what goes ahead in inns, to prime you for inn occupations in India, so you don't lament your choice of putting resources into costly and tedious lodging administration training and lament the decision you made suspecting a ruddy workplace, be educated it is definitely not that, a sensible blend of down to earth and hypothesis is emphatically upheld, with a capacity to put in genuine diligent work, the resultant advantages like going by remote districts and working anyplace is essentially unmatched, no doubt.

While most industries looking to hire robots and use information technology for maximum work, there are few industries that still believe in human interventions. The hotel industry, in particular is the first in terms of usage and maintain human resources.

Before you begin reading it and questioning it, here are some quick facts on employment in the hotel industry. Here's an info-graphic on key statistics on work in the hospitality industry. These key statistics about the hotel and hospitality as career is presented by Les Roches, a first-class international business school. You can debunk many myths simply look at the facts in the hotel business for the hotel sector is probably the largest of these growing contributors to job opportunities.

'Let me explain this in detail:-

1.   337 million jobs worldwide in the hospitality industry in 2023

2.   1-10 employable people would be employed in the hospitality and tourism industry in 2023

3.   Even when there is a global slowdown in all sectors of travel and tourism will grow by 4% per year

Now we will go to the myths and bust, one by one, presenting various facts of the hospitality industry.

Few myths about jobs in the hotel industry

"Hospitality Industry and     Hotel Industry are the same thing"

Before discussing the details of myths to work in the hotel industry, it is important to clarify a basic myth. Jobs in the hotel industry and employment in the hospitality industry may be similar, but it certainly is not the same. One is the subset.

Now it is the biggest myth that prevails in the industry. Most people outside this industry, and many in the industry believe that the hotel and hospitality industry are the same things.

The truth is different, though.

The hotel industry is an integral part of the hospitality industry such as cloud computing is the information or diesel technology is the oil industry.

It is a crucial part of the sector, but there is much more to the hospitality and tourism than hotels. We cruises, aviation, theme parks, other public transport, shopping centers, restaurants, travel giants like Expedia and TripAdvisor, apartments, motels, events, educational institutions, e-learning platforms, media and more still.

"Job opportunities are     limited in the hotel and hospitality sector"

The reality is that as a hotelier who are only limited by ideas and not by chance.

We mentioned to the facts of the hospitality industry at the beginning of growth in the hotel and hospitality sector.

The sky is the limit, if there is a will to do the same. If someone in the hotel industry feels they are not growing at a desired speed, they have many other options to explore in the hotel and outside.

In the hotel sector

1.   Try to have a cruising season of two years (which would have to earn their place if)

2.   Working in the tourism industry. There are many options, including several multinationals.

3.   events theme park take place during the high season and can be a good option for job seekers who are bored of the routine life Hotel

4.   The casinos are another attractive employer in the hotel industry.

5.   There are other endless options and explore in the hospitality industry.

hospitality

1.   Become hospitality consultant. If you have experience, many management consultants would be interested in its potential. Try to explore these.

2.   Hospitality Information Technology If you are a technology enthusiast, get a good education or certification and technology or aggregators which unites companies that also meet the hotel and hospitality industry in its portfolio.

3.   Participate in the education sector or work for the platforms of professional training.

4.   Become an entrepreneur and work to achieve what you like.

Therefore, those who believe that employment opportunities are limited in the hotel and hospitality sector should check his facts about the hospitality industry.

"Getting     jobs in hotels is possible for agencies

Although most industries have moved from regular agencies to high technology platforms, the hospitality industry continues to use many agencies.

This is not because the industry is set in terms of technology, but because of its seasonality. During the high season, the demand for part-time and full-time staff was kept afloat by recruitment agencies.

However, those who believe that these agencies are not the way to find a job in hotels are very wrong. Network is the key instead for a landing the best jobs in the hospitality industry.

It is time that events in the hospitality industry are rewritten, in particular through the participation of recruitment agencies.

Speaking of hospitality and hotel industry

Social media is the new recruitment agency and does not even charge anything from you.

Most hoteliers work the employers but now have an internal team which is very active in the network. They are well connected in network and through the social networks, and can get the best talents.

So, if you are not in the network and wait for the agencies to do the trick, you will miss a lot of opportunities. You should be able to work in the hospitality and research workplaces on LinkedIn through Facebook to stay ahead of the pack.

Then there are plenty of career hospitality portals to assist in the job search process.

Those who think that only the agencies are safe for jobs in hotels, it's time they step out of the old age. Embrace technological and networking skills and see change.

"Hospitality industry is     only for people who are not good in the academic world."

Now it's terrible, I must say. Yes, we do not need many scientists in the hospitality and hospitality industry, but there is more demand for success in the hotel industry.

Dealing with the human being was the most intellectually intriguing task over the years.

Well, the truth is that work in this area has to be an all-terrain. An expert in a field might not be the best solution because the hotels have a dynamic work environment.

However, this means that it is not an academic interest in the hotel and hospitality industry sector. Most who read this are experts in their fields and have been outstanding in studies as well.

Guests entering the hotel are greeted by the guards, participated boys and Bell have their rooms cleaned by the guys in the room with the bed linen collected from the laundry staff. If it is found in small hotels or small properties of galaxies, the perception of this myth is developed.

We dissipate the myth use of some of the facts of the hotels:

1.   Most of the hotel's main hospitality facilities can speak more than 3 languages

2.   The best schools of hospitality include in their programs of corporate communication, geography, accounting, human resources, marketing, other language, etc. Out of the regular forms of hospitality.

3.   Hotel Management is a career choice and there is a rigorous selection process to enter the best schools. Yes, there are schools that enroll, no exams, but it is not true for engineering and other courses?

4.   The best home-based business schools have a research center with hoteliers committed to the innovation of improved start-up ecosystems.

In recent years, Delhi has successfully attracted a lot of tourists around the world. The world class infrastructure and rampant increase in industrialization, in and around the capital city, has proved to be a magnet to people all over the country looking for jobs and good lifestyle. So, the tourism industry, especially hotel industry in Delhi has witnessed a huge boom in the past ten years. You can easily find a good 5-star, 4-star, or a 3 star hotel in Delhi without any hassle.

The areas around airport and railway station in Delhi have become a hub for all kinds of hotels that try to lure almost every person coming out of the railway station or the airport! Airport hotels in Delhi have all kinds of facilities for all types of people they expect could hire a room in the hotel. They have special city tour packages for people coming to explore the city. Some have other 'Indian' facilities for relaxation that foreigners would love. For example, yoga, meditation, Indian massage, etc. Hotels with international standard, preferred by foreign tourists, see to it that the guests have an 'Indian experience' during their stay.

The increase in the number of hotels has not adversely influenced the quality of services provided by these hotels. In fact, in spite of prices of hotel rooms going down, the quality of services has remained the same, if not improved. The main reason behind it can be increased competition. Also, the more the visitors in the hotel, the lower is the cost per visitor.

However, tourists are not the only people the Delhi hotels are interested in. The population of Delhi has grown manifolds in the last decade and this is of course not due to just increasing birth rate. Delhi, being the capital of the country, is industrially very sound. Many industries have cropped up in and around Delhi. This has drawn a lot of work force to Delhi from all over the country. So, there are a lot of hotels that cater to the needs of those who have come to the city in search of a job.You might just be lucky to get Hotel Jobs In Delhi .

Some hotels in Delhi had long time back realized the new opportunity of catering to the immigrant work force. So now you will find a lot of hotels, not only near Delhi but everywhere in the National Capital Region. You will find a lot of good quality budget hotels in Gurgaon, Faridabad and Noida. Many people migrate to Delhi after getting a job there. So, in the first few days they stay in hotels, till they find a suitable permanent accommodation for themselves. Many hotels have utilized this opportunity by making good deals with multinational companies in Delhi. So, every time the companies expects a guest, has training seminars or has hired employees from other parts of the country, they companies knows where to look for accommodation for them.

[thesariinadraws-blog]

How To Get Hotel Jobs

Let us learn a lot more of the hospitality industry and its job potential today. Hotels belong to a vibrant and everchanging industry and freshers and veterans keep themselves challenged with new opportunities therein.

You are at the intersection of your profession, and are captivated by glamorous work air of hotels, they seem, by all accounts, to be welcoming and luring with a range of offerings. No big surprise individuals world over pay a premium to appreciate the unmatched offerings, and you need to test them direct, things are progressing pretty well.

Seen Reality

First things to start with, the time has come to disperse the myths and second thoughts encompassing the Hospitality business. Nature may seem, by all accounts, to be appealing when you take a quick look at the set up, nonetheless, when you test somewhat more profound, you would be astounded to find that there is without a doubt a major separate between saw reality and what you experience in individual. You may also be intrigued with how to get hotel jobs

The Surprises

So as to minimize the amazements that may be surreptitiously sprung at you, you need a look a boo at the functionings of the neighborliness setup. You may experience a voyaging sports escort, including guardians making a peculiar solicitation, for an extra dinner room or meeting space so as to empower their kids to have their offer of fun and skip, a superbly authentic solicitation, may attempt and satisfy it too, yet with a squeeze of salt, the rider is to tell them heretofore that any breakages, or unsettling influences must be borne by the guardians, on the off chance that they go crazy in general society territory as opposed to the children zone or children pool and any harms must be made great.

Class and Discretion

Manager Jobs

Some of the visitors are in the propensity for gloating about their stay and go to the degree of saying, they stay at the property constantly, well, you would dependably remain in great stead, on the off chance that you bring things with a squeeze of salt, as hoteliering is about showing politeness and prudence, notwithstanding mounting weight, saw or genuine. Pulling down the feign ought to be a simple thing for a prepared proficient, you should simply to check, the stay history, a true blue visitor would not have to feign at all in any case to claim benefits, it would be consequently agreed.

The Airport Shuttle

At that point you would go over some odd solicitations, which one can securely assume is not the situation with different enterprises. Individuals may customarily demand to make utilization of the airplane terminal transport to drop them at the bar, while working inn occupations in India you would go over such abnormal solicitations, amuse it on the off chance that it is for the air terminal bar and affably decay refering to hotelcareers  lodging strategies, may recommend a feasible option like taking cabs forward and backward fro the bar as the gathering might just be affected by liquor.

Delay

Progress and then you would run over individuals making intense solicitation for settlement, notwithstanding when they are totally mindful that the inn is sold out, overbooked, there is a delay, the lodging is taking into account right now, and there you have couple of visitors tossing their weight around by requesting unique concession for the sake of being a prizes part. Clarify the circumstance in a cool and created way and let them know amiably, how might they feel when advised to clear a space for favored visitors.

Last Thoughts

So you have seen hitherto, not at all like whatever other industry, it offers dream livens and obliges you to show class and prudence to taste achievement and rise higher up in the chain of command, this is only a preliminary, a cut of what goes ahead in inns, to prime you for inn occupations in India, so you don't lament your choice of putting resources into costly and tedious lodging administration training and lament the decision you made suspecting a ruddy workplace, be educated it is definitely not that, a sensible blend of down to earth and hypothesis is emphatically upheld, with a capacity to put in genuine diligent work, the resultant advantages like going by remote districts and working anyplace is essentially unmatched, no doubt.

While most industries looking to hire robots and use information technology for maximum work, there are few industries that still believe in human interventions. The hotel industry, in particular is the first in terms of usage and maintain human resources.

Before you begin reading it and questioning it, here are some quick facts on employment in the hotel industry. Here's an info-graphic on key statistics on work in the hospitality industry. These key statistics about the hotel and hospitality as career is presented by Les Roches, a first-class international business school. You can debunk many myths simply look at the facts in the hotel business for the hotel sector is probably the largest of these growing contributors to job opportunities.

'Let me explain this in detail:-

1.   337 million jobs worldwide in the hospitality industry in 2023

2.   1-10 employable people would be employed in the hospitality and tourism industry in 2023

3.   Even when there is a global slowdown in all sectors of travel and tourism will grow by 4% per year

Now we will go to the myths and bust, one by one, presenting various facts of the hospitality industry.

Few myths about jobs in the hotel industry

"Hospitality Industry and     Hotel Industry are the same thing"

Before discussing the details of myths to work in the hotel industry, it is important to clarify a basic myth. Jobs in the hotel industry and employment in the hospitality industry may be similar, but it certainly is not the same. One is the subset.

Now it is the biggest myth that prevails in the industry. Most people outside this industry, and many in the industry believe that the hotel and hospitality industry are the same things.

The truth is different, though.

The hotel industry is an integral part of the hospitality industry such as cloud computing is the information or diesel technology is the oil industry.

It is a crucial part of the sector, but there is much more to the hospitality and tourism than hotels. We cruises, aviation, theme parks, other public transport, shopping centers, restaurants, travel giants like Expedia and TripAdvisor, apartments, motels, events, educational institutions, e-learning platforms, media and more still.

"Job opportunities are     limited in the hotel and hospitality sector"

The reality is that as a hotelier who are only limited by ideas and not by chance.

We mentioned to the facts of the hospitality industry at the beginning of growth in the hotel and hospitality sector.

The sky is the limit, if there is a will to do the same. If someone in the hotel industry feels they are not growing at a desired speed, they have many other options to explore in the hotel and outside.

In the hotel sector

1.   Try to have a cruising season of two years (which would have to earn their place if)

2.   Working in the tourism industry. There are many options, including several multinationals.

3.   events theme park take place during the high season and can be a good option for job seekers who are bored of the routine life Hotel

4.   The casinos are another attractive employer in the hotel industry.

5.   There are other endless options and explore in the hospitality industry.

hospitality

1.   Become hospitality consultant. If you have experience, many management consultants would be interested in its potential. Try to explore these.

2.   Hospitality Information Technology If you are a technology enthusiast, get a good education or certification and technology or aggregators which unites companies that also meet the hotel and hospitality industry in its portfolio.

3.   Participate in the education sector or work for the platforms of professional training.

4.   Become an entrepreneur and work to achieve what you like.

Therefore, those who believe that employment opportunities are limited in the hotel and hospitality sector should check his facts about the hospitality industry.

"Getting     jobs in hotels is possible for agencies

Although most industries have moved from regular agencies to high technology platforms, the hospitality industry continues to use many agencies.

This is not because the industry is set in terms of technology, but because of its seasonality. During the high season, the demand for part-time and full-time staff was kept afloat by recruitment agencies.

However, those who believe that these agencies are not the way to find a job in hotels are very wrong. Network is the key instead for a landing the best jobs in the hospitality industry.

It is time that events in the hospitality industry are rewritten, in particular through the participation of recruitment agencies.

Speaking of hospitality and hotel industry

Social media is the new recruitment agency and does not even charge anything from you.

Most hoteliers work the employers but now have an internal team which is very active in the network. They are well connected in network and through the social networks, and can get the best talents.

So, if you are not in the network and wait for the agencies to do the trick, you will miss a lot of opportunities. You should be able to work in the hospitality and research workplaces on LinkedIn through Facebook to stay ahead of the pack.

Then there are plenty of career hospitality portals to assist in the job search process.

Those who think that only the agencies are safe for jobs in hotels, it's time they step out of the old age. Embrace technological and networking skills and see change.

"Hospitality industry is     only for people who are not good in the academic world."

Now it's terrible, I must say. Yes, we do not need many scientists in the hospitality and hospitality industry, but there is more demand for success in the hotel industry.

Dealing with the human being was the most intellectually intriguing task over the years.

Well, the truth is that work in this area has to be an all-terrain. An expert in a field might not be the best solution because the hotels have a dynamic work environment.

However, this means that it is not an academic interest in the hotel and hospitality industry sector. Most who read this are experts in their fields and have been outstanding in studies as well.

Guests entering the hotel are greeted by the guards, participated boys and Bell have their rooms cleaned by the guys in the room with the bed linen collected from the laundry staff. If it is found in small hotels or small properties of galaxies, the perception of this myth is developed.

We dissipate the myth use of some of the facts of the hotels:

1.   Most of the hotel's main hospitality facilities can speak more than 3 languages

2.   The best schools of hospitality include in their programs of corporate communication, geography, accounting, human resources, marketing, other language, etc. Out of the regular forms of hospitality.

3.   Hotel Management is a career choice and there is a rigorous selection process to enter the best schools. Yes, there are schools that enroll, no exams, but it is not true for engineering and other courses?

4.   The best home-based business schools have a research center with hoteliers committed to the innovation of improved start-up ecosystems.

In recent years, Delhi has successfully attracted a lot of tourists around the world. The world class infrastructure and rampant increase in industrialization, in and around the capital city, has proved to be a magnet to people all over the country looking for jobs and good lifestyle. So, the tourism industry, especially hotel industry in Delhi has witnessed a huge boom in the past ten years. You can easily find a good 5-star, 4-star, or a 3 star hotel in Delhi without any hassle.

The areas around airport and railway station in Delhi have become a hub for all kinds of hotels that try to lure almost every person coming out of the railway station or the airport! Airport hotels in Delhi have all kinds of facilities for all types of people they expect could hire a room in the hotel. They have special city tour packages for people coming to explore the city. Some have other 'Indian' facilities for relaxation that foreigners would love. For example, yoga, meditation, Indian massage, etc. Hotels with international standard, preferred by foreign tourists, see to it that the guests have an 'Indian experience' during their stay.

The increase in the number of hotels has not adversely influenced the quality of services provided by these hotels. In fact, in spite of prices of hotel rooms going down, the quality of services has remained the same, if not improved. The main reason behind it can be increased competition. Also, the more the visitors in the hotel, the lower is the cost per visitor.

However, tourists are not the only people the Delhi hotels are interested in. The population of Delhi has grown manifolds in the last decade and this is of course not due to just increasing birth rate. Delhi, being the capital of the country, is industrially very sound. Many industries have cropped up in and around Delhi. This has drawn a lot of work force to Delhi from all over the country. So, there are a lot of hotels that cater to the needs of those who have come to the city in search of a job.You might just be lucky to get Hotel Jobs In Delhi .

Some hotels in Delhi had long time back realized the new opportunity of catering to the immigrant work force. So now you will find a lot of hotels, not only near Delhi but everywhere in the National Capital Region. You will find a lot of good quality budget hotels in Gurgaon, Faridabad and Noida. Many people migrate to Delhi after getting a job there. So, in the first few days they stay in hotels, till they find a suitable permanent accommodation for themselves. Many hotels have utilized this opportunity by making good deals with multinational companies in Delhi. So, every time the companies expects a guest, has training seminars or has hired employees from other parts of the country, they companies knows where to look for accommodation for them.

[federicodeleonardis]

The specificity of artistic languages-as voiced by Glenn Gould and Joseph Brodsky

M. Rotchko, Huston, 1971 and R. Serra, Venezia, 2005

It is a pleasure to lend an ear to two megaphones of the caliber of the two artists cited to get at that colossus (of Rhodes?) that bears the name of Marcel Duchamp. It’s been exactly 34 (1) years since I started my battle, but my bullets bounced off a rubber wall rebounding to the sender. I have to thank heaven if I have come out unscathed so far. The thread of the discourse of the two unravels very clearly in different fields that never touch visual art, but it is also valid for this. Substantiated by very few others (including Susan Sontag and Franco Vaccari), it cannot be dismissed as biased: which, if one speaks of music and the other of poetry?

G. de Chirico, 1913, and Pontormo in S. Felicita, Firenze,1526/27

So let’s keep in mind what JB and GG say about their fields, but let’s ask ourselves why there should be a different discourse in that of visual art. If we give the etymological meaning to semantics and not that of the expression of its content, every interpretation, as Sontag (2) states, is a usurpation, a grand deception. Art cannot exhibit any semantic content separate from its form, because it is exactly this that conveys it. The ambiguity linked to the meaning does not interest us, but the mystery of form does (3). If a plethora of exegetes have strived, with good results for their profit, to give an explanation to the convoluted arguments of the “Frenchman”, this does not justify forgetting that the visual language possesses an autonomy of signs that do not preclude the past and are in search of a future that has nothing to do with the lingua franca, even that of the most distinguished critics, one that does not suffer from a translation. Even mine right now: I don’t pretend to do poetry.

G.B. Tiepolo,Venezia,1757 and Gordon Matta, Paris, 1975

Mine is an effort of collation of arguments produced in the lingua franca by two true artists: each of their own words, carefully chosen by me, can be applied to the green of a Poet’s dream as to the Conical hole of Gordon Matta-Clark or Tiepolo, to the pink of Santa Felicita (or to the Hand that indicates it; who? the Pontormo or Giovanni Anselmo?) as to the black of the Rothko Chapel, to the unbalanced Spiral space of Serra as to the agitation of Erasmus of Narni (who is able to curb it in its stillness?). There are no borders in art, nothing sets and often the classics are revived.

Gordon Matta, NY, 1974 and Federico De Leonardis, Peccioli (PI),1990

Here is the series of promised quotes. I’ll start with Gould. After pointing out Bach’s indifference if not unwillingness to write for a given keyboard instrument, Gould uses terms such as smug, silken, legato spinning resource for his own Steinway. This says a lot about the attention to the characteristics of one’s own expressive language:

Giovanni Anselmo, Pointing hand

Bach’s compositional method, of course, was distinguished by his disinclination to compose at any specific keyboard instrument. And it is indeed extremely doubtful that his sense of contemporaneity would have appreciably altered had his catalogue of household instruments been supplemented by the very latest of Mr. Steinway’s “accelerated action” claviers. It is at the same time very much to the credit of the modern keyboard instrument that the potential of its sonority—that smug, silken, legato-spinning resource can be curtailed as well as exploited, used as well as abused.

I suspect I may have unwittingly engaged in a dangerous game, ascribing to musical composition attributes which reflect only the analytical approach of the performer. This is an especially vulnerable practice in the music of Bach, which concedes neither tempo nor dynamic intention, and I caution myself to restrain the enthusiasm of an interpretative conviction from identifying itself with the unalterable absolute of the composer’s will. Besides, as Bernard Shaw so aptly remarked, parsing is not the business of criticism.

As for the reasons for his abandonment of concert halls for recording ones:

Well, you see, Bruno, I don’t really enjoy playing any concertos very much. What bothers me most is the competitive, comparative ambience in which the concerto operates. I happen to believe that competition rather than money is the root of all evil, and in the concerto we have a perfect musical analogy of the competitive spirit. Obviously, I’d exclude the concerto grosso from what l’ve just said.

Marliave’s mention of “the intimate and contemplative appeal to the ear“ illustrates an approach to these works based upon philosophical conjecture rather than musical analysis. Beethoven, according to this hypothesis, has spiritually soared beyond the earth’s orbit and, being delivered of earthly dimension, reveals to us a vision of paradisiacal enchantment. A more recent and more alarming view shows Beethoven not as an indomitable spirit which has overleapt the world but as a man bowed and broken by the tyrannous constraint of life on earth, yet meeting all tribulation with a noble resignation to the inevitable. Thus Beethoven, mystic visionary, becomes Beethoven, realist, and these last works are shown as calcified, impersonal constructions of a soul impervious to the desires and torments of existence. The giddy heights to which these absurdities can wing have been realized by several contemporary novelists, notable offenders being Thomas Mann and Aldous Huxley.

If you are particularly fond of the last works of Strauss, as I am, it is essential to acquire a more flexible system of values than that which insists upon telling us that novelty equals progress equals great art. I do not believe that because a man like Richard Strauss was hopelessly old-fashioned in the professional verdict, he was, therefore, necessarily a lesser figure than a man like Schoenberg who stood for most of his life in the forefront of the avant-garde. If one adopts that system of values, it brings about the inevitable embarrassment of having to reject, among others, Johann Sebastian Bach as also being hopelessly old-fashioned.

His opinion on the relationship between the tastes of the time and the eternity of language see the following fragments:

The generation, or rather the generations, that have grown up since the early years of this century have considered the most serious of Strauss’s errors to be his failure to share actively in the technical advances of his time. They hold that having once evolved a uniquely identifiable means of expression, and having expressed himself within it at first with all the joys of high adventure, he had thereafter, from the technical point of view, appeared to remain stationary—simply saying again and again that which in the energetic clays of his youth he had said with so much greater strength and clarity. For these critics it is inconceivable that a man of such gifts would not wish to participate in the expansion of the musical language, that a man who had the good fortune to be writing masterpieces in the days of Brahms and Bruckner and the luck to live beyond Webern into the age of Boulez and Stockhausen should not want to search out his own place in the great adventure of musical evolution. What must one do to convince such folk that art is not technology, that the difference between a Richard Strauss and a Karlheinz Stockhausen is not comparable to the difference between a humble office adding machine and an IBM computer?

The great thing about the music of Richard Strauss is that it presents and substantiates an argument which transcends all the dogmatisms of art—all questions of style and taste and idiom—all the frivolous, effete preoccupations of the chronologist. It presents to us an example of the man who makes richer his own time by not being of it; who speaks for all generations by being of none. It is an ultimate argument of individuality—an argument that man can create his own synthesis of time without being bound by the conformities that time imposes.

But one last examination of this hypothetical piece: let us assume that instead of attributing it to Haydn or to any later composer, the improviser were to insist that it was a long-forgotten and newly discovered work of none other than Antonio Vivaldi, a composer who was by seventy—five years Haydn’s senior. I venture to say that, with that condition in mind, this work would be greeted as one of the true revelations of musical history-a work that would be accepted as proof of the farsightedness of this great master, who managed in this one incredible leap to bridge the years that separate the Italian baroque from the Austrian rococo, and our poor piece would be deemed worthy of the most august programs. In other words, the determination of most of our aesthetic criteria, despite all our proud claims about the integrity of artistic judgment, derives from nothing remotely like an “art-for-art’s-sake” approach. What they really derive from is what we could only call an “art-for-what-its-society-was-once-like” sake.

The deficiencies of this argument arise from the fact that its proponents simply cannot tolerate the idea that the participation in a certain historical movement does not necessarily impose upon the participant the duty to accept the logical consequences of that movement. One of the irresistibly lovable facts about most human beings is that they are very seldom willing to accept the consequences of their own thinking. The fact that Strauss deserts the general movement of German expressionism (presumably, in Rosenfeld‘s terms, the embodiment of “Nietzsche‘s modernism”) should not be more disturbing than the fact that the unquestioned innovator Arnold Schoenberg found it extremely difficult in his later years to fulfill the rhythmic extenuations of his own motivic theories. The fact is that above and beyond the questions of age and endurance, art is not created by rational animals and in the long run is better for not being so created.

It would be most surprising if the techniques of sound preservation, in addition to influencing the way in which music is composed and performed (which is already taking place), do not also determine the manner in which we respond to it. And there is little doubt that the inherent qualities of illusion in the art of recording those features that make it a representation not so much of the known exterior world as of the idealized interior world-will eventually undermine that whole area of prejudice that has concerned itself

with finding chronological justifications for artistic endeavors and which in the post-Renaissance world has so determinedly argued the case of a chronological originality that it has quite lost touch with the larger purposes of creativity.

Whatever else we would predict about the electronic age, all the symptoms suggest a return to some degree of mythic anonymity within the social-artistic structure. Undoubtedly most of what happens in the future will be concerned with what is being done in the future, but it would also be most surprising if many judgments were not retroactively altered because of the new image of art. If that happens, as I think it must, there will be a number of substantial figures of the past and near past who will undergo major reevaluation and for whom the verdict will no longer rest upon the narrow and unimaginative concepts of the social-chronological parallel.

And so it seems to me a great mistake to read into the fantastic transition of music in our time a total social significance. Undeniably, there do exist correlations between the development of a social stratum and the art which grows up around it, just as the public manner of early baroque music related to some degree to the prosperity of a merchant class in the sixteenth century; but it is terribly dangerous to advance a complicated social argument for a change which is fundamentally a procedural one within an artistic discipline.

Of course, the early propagandists for atonality pointed with a good deal of pride to the fact that the movement toward abstract art began at almost exactly the same time as atonality, and there are certain comfortable parallels between the careers of the painter Kandinsky and the composer Schoenberg.

But l think it is dangerous to pursue the parallel too closely, for the simple reason that music is always abstract, that it has no allegorical connotations except in the highest metaphysical sense, and that it does not pretend and has not, with very few exceptions, pretended to be other than a means of expressing the mysteries of communication in a form which is equally mysterious.

The figure of Schoemberg outlined by the writings of G is emblematic for understanding the linguistic work of a great composer and his responsibility in the detachment of cultured music from popular music:

But the odd thing about it was that with this oversimplified, exaggerated system Schoenberg began to compose again; and not only did he begin to compose: he embarked upon a period of about five years which contains some of the most beautiful, colorful, imaginative, fresh, inspired music which he ever wrote. Out of this concoction of childish mathematics and debatable historical perception came an intensity, a ioie de vivre, which knows no parallel in Schoenberg‘s life. How could this be, then? By what strange alchemy was this man compounded that the sources of his inspiration flowed most freely when stemmed and checked by legislation of the most stifling kind? I suppose part of the answer lies in the fact that Schoenberg was always intrigued by numbers and afraid of numbers and attempting to read his destiny in numbers –and, after all, what greater romance of numbers could there be than to govern one’s creative life by them? I suppose part of it was due to the fact that after fifteen years awash in a sea of dissonance, Schoenberg felt himself to be on firm ground once again. Still another part of it is certainly that all music must have a system, and that particularly in those moments of rebirth such as Schoenberg had led us into, it is much more necessary to adhere to the system, to accept totally its consequences, than at a later, more mature stage of its existence.

I think there can be no doubt that its fundamental effect has been to separate audience and composer. One doesn’t like to admit this, but it is true nonetheless. There are many people around who believe that Schoenberg has been responsible for shattering irreparably the compact between audience and composer, of separating their common bond of reference and creating between them a profound antagonism. Such people claim that the language has not become a valid one for the reason that it has no system of emotional reference that is generally accepted by people today. Certainly concert music of today—

that part of it, at any rate, which owes a great deal to the Schoenbergian influence—plays a very small part in the life of many people. It cannot by any means claim to excite the curiosity that was generally aroused by significant new works fifty or sixty years ego. One must remember that at the turn of the century, any new work by a Richard Strauss or a Gustav Mahler or a Rimsky-Korsakov or a Debussy was a major event not only for the cognoscenti but for a very large lay audience as well.

No matter how little interest there may be in the more significant developments of music in our time, I think that there is little doubt that there are some areas in which the vocabulary of atonality—using this term now in a collective sense—has made quite an unobjectionable contribution to contemporary life. It has done this particularly in media in which music furnishes but a part—operas, to a degree (if you can consider styling Alban Berg’s Wozzeck a “hit”), but most particularly in that curious specialty of the twentieth century known as background music for cinema or television. If you really stop to listen to the music accompanying most of the grade-B horror movies that are coming out of Hollywood these days, or perhaps a TV show on space travel for children, you will be absolutely amazed at the amount of integration which the various idioms of atonality have undergone in these media.

Until here: Glenn Gould. Let us now turn to quoting Brodsky. The following fifteen lines (taken from On Grief and Reason) represent an eloquent summary of his thinking on art in general and poetry in particular, as well as on the meaning of the word “language”. Below I have collected other fragments (also taken from Less Than One) that specify its depth and richness. The only fundamental difference with the visual arts is on the affirmation of the inalienability of the word to the semantic value (unfortunately), but with the specification that this does not apply to the other arts.

For poetic discourse is continuous; it also avoids cliché and repetition. The absence of those things is what speeds up and distinguishes art from life, whose chief stylistic device, if one may say so, is precisely cliché and repetition, since it always starts from scratch. It is no wonder that society today, chancing on this continuing poetic discourse, finds itself at a loss, as if hoarding a runaway train. I have remarked elsewhere that poetry is not a form of entertainment, and in a certain sense not even a form of art, but our anthropological, genetic goal, our linguistic, evolutionary beacon. We seem to sense this as children, when we absorb and remember verses in order to master language. As adults, however, we abandon this pursuit, convinced that we have mastered it. Yet what we’ve mastered is but an idiom, good enough perhaps to outfox an enemy, to sell a product, to get laid, to earn a promotion, but certainly not good enough to cure anguish or cause joy. Until one learns to pack one’s sentences with meanings like a van or to discern and love in the beloved’s features a “pilgrim soul”; until one becomes aware that “No memory of having starred I Atones for later disregard, / Or keeps the end from being hard”—until things like that are in one’s bloodstream, one still belongs among the sublinguals. Who are the majority, if that’s a comfort.

In that, it-life-differs from art, whose worst enemy, as you probably know, is cliché. Small wonder, then, that art, too, fail-s to instruct you as to how to handle boredom. There are few novels about this subject; paintings are still fewer; and as for music, it is largely nonsemantic. On the whole, art treats boredom in a self-defensive, satirical fashion. The only way art can become for you a solace from boredom, from the existential equivalent of cliché, is it you yourselves become artists. Given your number, though, this prospect is as unappetizing as it is unlikely.

Herein lies the ultimate distinction between the beloved and the Muse; the latter doesn’t die. The same goes for the Muse and the poet: when he’s gone, she finds herself another mouthpiece in the next generation. To put it another way, she always hangs around a language and doesn’t seem to mind being mistaken for a plain girl. Amused by this sort of error, she tries to correct it by dictating to her charge now

pages of Paradise, now Thomas Hard}-“s poems of 1912-13; that is, those where the voice of human passion yields to that of linguistic necessity—but apparently to no avail. So let’s leave her with a flute and a wreath wildflowers. This way at least she might escape a biographer.

Of course, when talking about the signs of the word (semanticity) one cannot avoid addressing the theme of the relationship between art and life:

Now, the purpose of evolution is the survival neither of the fittest nor of the defeatist. Were it the former, we would have to settle for Arnold Schwarzenegger; were it the latter, which ethically is a more sound proposition, we’d have to make do with Woody Allen. The purpose of evolution, believe it or not, is beauty, which survives it all and generates truth simply by being a Fusion of the mental and the sensual. As it is always in the eye of the beholder, it can’t he wholly embodied save in words: that’s what ushers in a poem, which is as incurably semantic as it is incurably euphonic.

In “Home Burial“ (Frost’s poem) it results is both. For every Galatea is ultimately a Pygmalion’s self-projection. On the other hand, art doesn’t imitate life but infects it. …

… This is a poem about languages terrifying success, for language, in the final analysis, is alien to the sentiments it articulates. No one is more aware of that than a poet; and if “Home Burial”

is autobiographical, it is so in the first place by revealing Frost’s grasp of the collision between his métier and his emotions. To drive this point home, may I suggest that you compare the actual sentiment you may feel toward an individual in your company and the word “love.” A poet is doomed to resort to words. So is the speaker in “Home Burial.” Hence, their overlapping in this poem; hence, too, its autobiographical reputation. …

… So what was it that he was after in this, his very own poem? He was, I think, after grief and reason, which, while poison to each other, are languages most efficient fuel—or, if you will, poetry’s indelible ink. Frost’s reliance on them here and elsewhere almost gives you the sense that his dipping into this ink pot had to do with the hope of reducing the level of its contents; you detect a sort of vested interest on his part. Yet the more one dips into it, the more it brims with this black essence of existence, and the more one’s mind, like one’s fingers, gets soiled by this liquid. For the more there is of grief, the more there is of reason. As much as one may be tempted to take sides in “Home Burial,” the presence of the narrator here rules this out, for while the characters stand, respectively, for reason and for grief, the narrator stands for their fusion. To put it differently, while the characters’ actual union disintegrates, the story, as it were, marries grief to reason, since the bond of the narrative here supersedes the individual dynamics— well, at least for the reader. Perhaps for the author as well. The poem, in other words, plays fate.

For poetic discourse is continuous; it also avoids cliché and repetition. The absence of those things is what speeds up and distinguishes art from life, whose chief stylistic device, if one may say so, is precisely cliché and repetition, since it always starts from scratch. It is no wonder that society today, chancing on this continuing poetic discourse, finds itself at a loss, as if hoarding a runaway train. I have remarked else-

where that poetry is not a form of entertainment, and in a certain sense not even a form of art, but our anthropological, genetic goal, our linguistic, evolutionary beacon. We seem to sense this as children, when we absorb and remember

For art is something more ancient and universal than any faith with which it enters into matrimony, begets children—but with which it does not die. The judgment of art is a judgment more demanding than the Final Judgment.

Rilke’s Orfeo gives him the cue to clarify his thought on art, which in addition to the close relationship with the meaning of death, arises precisely from the rubbish of life:

This economy is art’s ultimate raison d’être, and all its history is the history of its means of compression and condensation. In poetry, it is language, itself a highly condensed version of reality. In short, a poem generates rather than reflects.

For why should we empathize with him? Less highborn and less gifted than he is. we never will be exempt from the law of nature. With us, the journey to Hades is a one-way trip. What can we possibly learn from his story? That a lyre takes one farther than a plow or a hammer and anvil? That we should emulate geniuses and heroes? That perhaps audacity is what does it? For what if not sheer audacity was it that made him undertake this pilgrimage?

A man of my occupation seldom claims a systematic mode of thinking; at worst, he claims to have a system—but even that, in his case, is a borrowing from a milieu, from a social order, or from the pursuit of philosophy at a tender age. Nothing convinces an artist more of the arbitrariness of the means to which he resorts to attain a goal—however permanent it may be—than the creative process itself, the process of composition. Verse really does, in Akhmatova’s words, grow from rubbish; the roots of prose are no more honorable. …

… Art, generally speaking, always comes into being as a result of an action directed outward, sideways, toward the attainment (comprehension) of an object having no immediate relationship to art. It is a means of conveyance, a landscape flashing in a window—rather than the conveyance’s destination. “If you only knew,” said Akhmatova, “what rubbish verse grows from . . .” The farther away the purpose of movement, the more probable the art; and, theoretically, death (anyone’s, and a great poet’s in particular, for what can be more removed from everyday reality than a great poet or great poetry?) turns into a sort of guarantee of art.

The hierarchy between ethics and aesthetics further clarifies his thinking on the relationship between art and life. This applies to all the arts, as the discourse about what art language means also always applies to all:

On the whole, every new aesthetic reality makes man’s ethical reality more precise. For aesthetics is the mother of ethics. The categories of “good” and “bad” are, first and foremost, aesthetic ones, at least etymologically preceding the categories of “good” and “evil.” If in ethics not “all is permitted,” it is precisely because not “all is permitted” in aesthetics, because the number of colors in the spectrum is limited. The tender babe who cries and rejects the stranger who, on the contrary, reaches out to him, does so instinctively, makes an aesthetic choice, not a moral one.

Unlike life, a work of art never gets taken for granted: it is always viewed against its precursors and predecessors. The ghosts of the great are especially visible in poetry, since their words are less mutable than the concepts they represent.

In such an absence, art grows humble. For all our cerebral progress, we are still greatly subject to relapse into the Romantic (and, hence, Realistic as well) notion that “art imitates life.” If art does anything of this kind, it undertakes to reflect those few elements of existence which transcend “life,” extend it beyond its terminal point—an undertaking which is frequently mistaken for art’s or the artist’s own groping for immortality. In other words, art “imitates” death rather than life; i.e., it imitates that realm of which life supplies no notion: realizing its own brevity, art tries to domesticate the longest possible version of time. After all, what distinguishes art from life is the ability of the former to produce a higher degree of lyricism than is possible within any human interplay. Hence poetry’s affinity with–if not the very invention of—the notion of afterlife.

Poetry after all in itself is a translation; or, to put it another way, poetry is one of the aspects of the psyche rendered in language. It is not so much that poetry is a form of art as that art is a form to which poetry often resorts. Essentially, poetry is the articulation of perception, the translation of that perception into the heritage of language—language is, after all, the best available tool. But for all the value of this tool in ramifying and deepening perceptions-revealing sometimes more than was originally intended, which, in the happiest cases, merges with the perceptions—every more or less experienced poet knows how much is left out or has suffered because of it.

It would be false as well as unnecessary to try to divorce Platonov from his epoch; the language was to do this anyway, if only because epochs are finite. In a sense, one can see this writer as an embodiment of language temporarily occupying a piece of time and reporting from within. The essence of his message is LANGUAGE I5 A MILLENARIAN DEVICE, HISTORY ISN’T”, and coming from him that would be appropriate.

A great writer is one who elongates the perspective of human sensibility, who shows a man at the end of his wits an opening, a pattern to follow.

Burning books, after all, is just a gesture; not publishing them is a falsification of time. But then again, that is precisely the goal of the system: to issue its own version of the future.

Whether one likes it or not, art is a linear process. To prevent itself from recoiling, art has the concept of cliché. Art’s history is that of addition and refinement, of extending the perspective of human sensibility, of enriching, or more often condensing, the means of expression. Every new psychological or aesthetic reality introduced in art becomes instantly old for its next practitioner. An author disregarding this rule, somewhat differently phrased by Hegel, automatically destines his work—no matter what good press it

gets in the marketplace—-to assume the status of pulp.

But to clarify the undemocratic nature of the language, just these sketches taken from some of his most important essays are enough:

Herein, of course, lies arts saving grace. Not being lucrative, it falls victim to demography rather reluctantly.

For if, as we’ve said, repetition is boredom’s mother, demography (which is to play in your lives a far greater role than any discipline you’ve mastered here) is its other parent. This may sound misanthropic to you, but I am more than twice your age, and I have lived to see the population of our globe double. By the time you’re my age, it will have quadrupled, and not exactly in the fashion you expect. For instance, by the year 2000 there is going to be such cultural and ethnic rearrangement as to challenge your notion of your own humanity.

Starting with the authors mentioned above, some may find these notes maximalist and biased; most likely they will ascribe these flaws to their author’s own métier. Still others may find the view of things expressed here too schematic to be true. True: it’s schematic, narrow, superficial. At best, it will be called subjective or elitist. That would be fair enough except that we should bear in mind that art is not a democratic enterprise, even the art of prose, which has an air about it of everybody being able to master it as well as to judge it.

For poetic discourse is continuous; it also avoids cliché and repetition. The absence of those things is what speeds up and distinguishes art from life, whose chief stylistic device, if one may say so, is precisely cliché and repetition, since it always starts from scratch. It is no wonder that society today, chancing on this continuing poetic discourse, finds itself at a loss, as if hoarding a runaway train. I have remarked elsewhere that poetry is not a form of entertainment, and in a certain sense not even a form of art, but our anthropological, genetic goal, our linguistic, evolutionary beacon. We seem to sense this as children, when we absorb and remember

The evaluation of reality made through such a prism—the acquisition of which is one goal of the species—is therefore the most accurate, perhaps even the most just. (Cries of “Unfair!” and “Elitistl” that may follow the aforesaid from, of all places, the local campuses must be left unheeded, for culture is “elitist” by definition, and the application of democratic principles in the sphere of knowledge leads to

equating wisdom with idiocy.)

taking inspiration from a poem by W. Auden, B. engraves his thoughts on language:

Time that is intolerant

Of the brave and innocent,

And indifferent in a week

To a beautiful physique,

Worships language and forgives

Everyone by whom it lives;

Pardons cowardice, conceit,

Lays its honours at their feet.

But for once the dictionary didn’t overrule me. Auden had indeed said that time (not the time) worships language, and the train of thought that statement set in motion in me is still trundling to this day. For “worship” is an attitude of the lesser toward the greater. If time worships language, it means that language is greater, or older, than time, which is, in its turn, older and greater than space. That was how I was taught, and I indeed felt that way. So if time—which is synonymous with, nay, even absorbs deity—worships language, where then does language come from? For the gift is always smaller than the giver. And then isn’t language a repository of time? And isn’t this why time worships it?

Uncertainty, you see, is the mother of beauty, one of whose definitions is that it’s something which isn’t yours. At least, this is one of the most frequent sensations accompanying beauty. Therefore, when uncertainty is evoked, then you sense beauty’s proximity. Uncertainty is simply a more alert state than certitude, and thus it creates a better lyrical climate. Because beauty is something obtained always from without, not from within. And this is precisely what’s going on in this stanza.

But you don’t dissect a bird to find the origins of its song: what should be dissected is your ear. In either case, however, you’ll be dodging the alternative of “We must love one another or die,” and I don’t think you can afford to.